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gutsby · 4 months

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Best Served Cold

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Warning: NSFW. Attempted SA. Unprotected p-in-v. I don’t condone cheating (unless it’s on abusers lol). Semi-public sex and getting caught doing it in a tent 🫣 Based on this kickass idea from @dilfsandmartinis (I'm so sorry it took this long for me to post the story) !! 💓

Your man returned to your tent that night like he did most others: slick with sweat and too tired for sex. At least not again, not with you. He would undoubtedly claim to have been checking the perimeter, standing guard like a good leader should, but any blind man in that quarry camp could’ve seen he was just boning Lori.

A lot.

You were really more offended that he thought you stupid enough to abide by his lies than the fact he was fucking someone else. That part wasn’t new—his dick never knew how to stay in one hole longer than a month or two—but in an apocalypse? With his newly-deceased best friend’s widow? That was low, even for Shane.

Which was why you felt no compunction yourself as you slipped quietly from your tent toward the water’s edge that night, pink vibrator clutched tightly in hand.

Useful little thing that it was, a six-setting suction device that worked wonders on your clit, even underwater. You figured since Shane couldn’t be bothered with you or your sexual pleasure so long as the former Mrs. Grimes was occupying his time, you’d make use of this sex toy instead and start really leaning into the “self care” you’d been craving for so long.

The water was warm all the way up to your chest, and the air around you tepid. You moved around, treaded in place, and finally reached comfortable bearings a couple yards from shore. You relished the solitude and silence.

The moment you felt the toy come to life in your hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Exhaling as you brought the tip close to your center.

“Shit.” Even the gentlest setting too harsh on your clit, you nipped your lower lip and bit back a whimper.

You swirled it lightly on your inner thigh, tried painstakingly as ever to acclimate yourself to the buzz of the rubber, but damn were you sensitive. Almost too tender to be touched, too ripe with excitement and aching for the feel of something on you, or in you, or just barely skimming the surface of your skin underwater.

A low moan escaped your lips the second the head drifted back to your clit. Your toes curled into rough, rocky terrain underfoot, and your breaths started to quicken. You made a gentle motion with your hips—a sweet, semi-circular thing you’d been doing over Shane’s lower half as long as you could remember—begging for more friction, needing more of that mechanical hum.

You pressed the button for a higher setting. The peaks of your pleasure soared to new heights.

You were helpless to the trembling of your knees and felt immensely grateful for the water’s aid in keeping you straight. You pressed the rounded tip of the toy even tighter to your core and didn’t heed a thing around you as you sighed several expletives under your breath. A jolt of bliss washed over your body.

Your eyes had just started to close in the first throes of that wild sensation, when a new sound startled you.

“Ya done pissin’ or what?”

You shot a look toward the shore and saw a slightly less-than cheery individual standing at the edge of it, the toes of his boots grazing the incoming waves.

You froze in place. You hardly knew what to say.

“Ain’t safe fer you out here ‘n you know it. Come on.” Daryl beckoned you with one hand and started to turn.

At what point was it appropriate to tell him you were naked?

You thought he could surmise from the fact you were neck-deep in the water and refusing to move that maybe something more was keeping you in. Daryl seemed clueless, however.

“I ain’t got all night, kid,” he snorted, “’f you don’t hurry, Shane an’ the rest of ‘em’ll be out and— ah.”

Ah.

At the last, he stepped on a pile of clothes folded neatly on the shoreline nearby, undergarments and all.

So this wasn’t a midnight swim or a late night piss at all, but a full-blown skinny dip. He should have known you weren’t the bikini type.

Awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, Daryl gathered what clothes of yours he could and chucked them closer to the lake. Then he turned on his heels and stalked up the beach without another word—fuming, it seemed to you. Once averted, though, Daryl’s face betrayed a look of horror. Like a parent who’d just stumbled upon a box of condoms in their daughter’s sock drawer after swearing she was still a virgin.

In the few short weeks since you’d been thrown together in this mess, Daryl had practically taken to you like family. He hated Shane ‘Shit-for-Brains’ Walsh most days, it was true, but the fact that you were you, and times were tough, and nothing seemed to occupy Daryl’s mind quite like the thought of keeping you safe, that he had to keep you close at all times. He just hadn’t imagined your proximity would turn this intimate so suddenly.

“Keep up,” he spoke more sharply than usual. Didn’t even wait for you to dry and dress completely before snagging your hand in his.

You glanced at your taut, hardened nipples poking up through the damp material of your tank top and suddenly wished you’d brought a towel. Or a bra. Your shorts, too, clung to your ass like a second skin and made you feel extra bare before Daryl’s eyes—even if he hadn’t spared a look at you once as you’d traipsed behind him through the woods.

When you tripped, he held you up; when you nearly ate shit over several rocky spots, he carried you over them. His eyes never strayed toward your body, though.

Once you’d made it to the clearing where your group had made camp, Daryl lowered you to the ground and still couldn’t find it within himself to look your way. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, now standing inches away from the tent you shared with Shane.

“Thanks for...that,” you said, flatly.

Daryl managed a curt nod.

Before you turned in, you decided to venture a look at Daryl’s chest, and you felt an influx of embarrassment. The taupe-colored cutoff he wore as a shirt was soaked with water. Instinctively, you brushed your fingers over the stain—as if touching it might dry the fabric, or else mask your humiliation at being the cause. You tried not to evince a hint of surprise at how sturdy he felt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daryl.”

You hadn’t thought any man was capable of looking more afflicted than Daryl did before, but somehow, incredibly, he appeared even more ill at ease when you touched him. You immediately retracted your hand.

“’S’okay,” he managed. He would’ve given anything not to be where he was, or who he was, at that moment.

Just when another apology leapt to your tongue—feeling even worse that you might’ve crossed a physical boundary you shouldn’t have—a twig snapped close-by.

You and Daryl jumped in your skin. You turned toward the source of the sound.

Shane was tugging his pants into place, pulling the zip up in haphazard fashion as he marched out of the woods.

He’d either been blowing Lori’s back out (again) or off to take a piss in the bushes. By the looks of his dazed and drowsy expression, you guessed it was the latter.

“Got a nice rack, doesn’t she?” Shane observed, careless as ever.

He walked past the two of you and unzipped the tent.

“I was jus—” Daryl started.

“Don’t care,” Shane cut in, “Goodnight.”

You were amazed at the level of nonchalance your fiancé exhibited. On finding you soaked to the bone and touching another man in the middle of the night, the old Shane probably would’ve laid Daryl flat on his ass.

But overprotective, possessive Shane was no more.

Before disappearing into the tent, Shane reached for your elbow. You barely got another glimpse at Daryl as you were ushered inside.

The tent was re-zipped in an instant, and you assumed Daryl would be quick to leave the scene, too.

You turned and saw Shane fumbling to unscrew the lid of his canteen. Taking several big gulps before re-fastening the top, tossing the jug to the side, and letting out a sigh.

“You get a look at the hard-on he had?” Shane chuckled.

You almost choked on your spit.

“What?”

“Pitched a tent in his pants bigger’n this,” he returned, gesturing to the polyester enclosure overhead. Then he got back to his feet, walked over to you, and kept going, in spite of your perplexed expression, “He must really wanna fuck you.”

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were more baffled by Shane’s serene demeanor or the fact that you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s boner. You decided to overlook the erection for the time being.

“And you don’t...care if he did?” Instantly chiding yourself for the twinge of indignation in your tone.

“Nuh-uh,” Shane said. His hands came to rest comfortably on your hips, and he seemed to be hearing your words without really comprehending what you meant. As usual.

If he picked up on the irritation in your voice, he didn’t show it. He just rolled the denim of your shorts between his fingers and pulled you closer.

“This,” he hummed, fingers sinking between your legs, “is not for him.”

And Shane was community dick. Made sense.

You didn’t attempt to conceal your annoyance this time as you rolled your eyes and pushed his hands away.

“Well maybe if Daryl asked nicely…” you trailed off, starting toward the bed.

Shane stopped you before you could. He took a firmer hold of your sides and showed the first real hint of jealousy in his eyes. You were almost glad to see it.

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. Then, snaking his touch back down your legs—with the fabric of your shorts fisted in his hands this time—he continued amidst your quiet protests.

You were gripping his wrists, trying to keep them from moving any further. But Shane was insistent.

“He wouldn’t get to ask nicely, because I’d blow his fucking brains out before he ever got the—”

“Shane.” You were actively shoving his hands off now. You didn’t mind this envious side coming back to the surface, but you would not, under any circumstance, be Shane’s sloppy seconds the same hour he’d fucked Lori.

“No. You— you smell like—” you cut yourself off before the woman’s name could leave your lips.

“Like what?” Shane snapped. Suddenly intrigued to hear what you had to say.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but when you couldn’t, and when he pressed you again, you sputtered some nonsense about his drinking—how he reeked of booze, not Rick’s wife.

“Thought you liked it when I fucked you drunk,” Shane grinned, voice dripping with condescension, “Said it gave me stamina.”

You’d said no such thing. You groaned lightly as Shane managed to pull your panties and shorts, together, to your ankles. When he started to take them off at your feet, he hardly seemed to notice your nails dig in his shoulders, silently begging him to stop.

“Think I should invite Daryl back over? Let him watch me fuck you stupid?” Shane’s mouth was hovering close to your center, hot breaths fanning over your lower half.

In any other situation, you would’ve craved him here: on his knees, ready to suck and lick and dick you down like he always used to do. But things were different now, you had to remind yourself. Apart from the walking dead invading your world, there was no Rick in the picture, no semblance of platonic feelings between his widow and your fiancé—you felt physically sick at the thought of Shane touching you now. You tried to stand the instant he threw you on the bed.

“Shane, I don’t wanna—”

“Fuck? Yeah, I figured,” Shane shrugged as he tried to peel your shirt off your body.

“Then quit,” you hissed. You were starting to fear the fabric might tear if you held on any tighter.

When it seemed evident you weren’t going to give in on the top, Shane let go and turned to his pants instead. Pinning you down with one hand, he unbuckled his belt as you whimpered and pleaded that he stop. The sounds only made the mound in his pants more pronounced.

The two of you had dabbled in CNC before, but this was not that. No safeword, no fallback, no trace of consent between you, and to be frank, you were starting to get scared. The second Shane freed his cock from his boxers, you felt a surge of panic rise to your chest.

“Fuck— STOP!” Without thinking, you jerked your knee.

You hadn’t meant to hit his balls so hard. But you did. And he folded in half, seizing with pain, while you took that as your chance to slide off the bed, slip on your panties—and hightail it the fuck out of there.

Shane’s cries pierced the night air like a blade through rotted flesh. You stumbled, half-blind in the dark, and blazed a reckless path through the tents all around you. Weaving in and out of neighboring spaces, searching desperately for any lone, dim glow of a lantern to tell you someone was awake to hear your pleas if needed. But sadly, no tent was alight but yours, and the entrance to that was presently being torn open once more as Shane staggered out there himself.

“Y/N!” he bellowed.

In your haste, you’d tripped over Glenn’s knapsack. You scraped your knee, scrambled back to your feet, and tried with everything in you not to make a sound as you retreated further from Shane’s voice.

You probably looked feral, weaving in and out of tents with your knee leaking blood and your pupils grown wide with fear. You scampered fast across the rocky campgrounds and made a beeline for the woods.

Until Shane’s footsteps fell heavy mere feet away.

Quickly changing course, you dove for the nearest tent and ripped it open. When you slipped inside, zipped it up, and went crab-walking backward like a panic-stricken animal, you hardly saw much of anything else.

Had your pulse not been pounding in your ears and your gaze not glued to the front of the tent, you likely would’ve gotten a pretty good laugh at the sight behind you.

At the very least, a chuckle or a smile or a slightly sheepish blush would’ve been supplied in a second, seeing someone wide-eyed and holding his cock in a death grip just inches from your rear.

You’d unwittingly scrambled into the tent of a man who’d just been beating his dick off furiously to the thought of you—and there you were, sitting pretty in pure, unadulterated fear for the sight of your fiancé any second now. When you turned your head, your hand flew to your mouth.

“Dar— oh!”

Like before, your heads snapped in the direction of a new sound, quick to sense that it was Shane, and this time, you went crawling over to the archer without a second thought. Hardly noticing his pants were down, you leapt into his lap.

“Y/N—” Shane hissed as he tripped over something outside. You heard a clatter and a bang, the sound of a few curse words sputtered in vain, and a groan. Daryl’s arms snaked around your sides and pulled you closer.

“What’ve ya gone and done this time?” he whispered.

“Told him no,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to feel the singe of Daryl’s gaze boring straight through the side of your head. Then a little lower, to your near-bare lower half and shaking legs. It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened.

“Y/N,” Daryl started, far louder than you could bear. You shushed him swiftly, ignoring the flare of anger in his eyes that told you he was currently conjuring up fifty different ways to kill Shane and just aching to act on it.

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“Did he—”

“No. I...kneed him in the balls before he got the chance.”

“Oh.”

Shane was pacing outside, like he knew you were somewhere close. He called your name every now and then, drew near enough to send you rigid with fear. Then Daryl would hold you tight, stroke your hair, or else just graze his lips on your shoulder to let you know he was there, and eventually, the fright would subside. You nestled yourself into that touch and felt something far kinder than fear for the first time in a long time.

You felt aroused.

Ever more inspired by the sound of Shane stewing, fuming outside within earshot and the nudge of Daryl’s member against your barely-clothed core. Well…you were tempted, to say the least. You just weren’t sure if Daryl would be on board for being your lightning-quick rebound fuck of the night.

You sighed as his hips moved gently against your own.

“You think maybe—” you started.

“Yeah?”

“—you might…tell me what you were doing before I barged in here?”

Even in the dark, you could sense a blush creeping up his neck. You loved to see a man like Daryl flustered.

“Oh, uh, that?” he said in half a chuckle. Glancing down at his groin and going back and forth between two thoughts in his mind, most likely. Tell you the truth or come up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“Just…jerking off to you.”

He never had been any good at a bluff.

Your face visibly brightened in the dim glow of the tent. You tried not to let your elation get too far ahead of you, though, lest your voice raise above a whisper and draw Shane’s attention.

“Yeah? What about?”

Daryl never thought it possible for a woman’s enthusiasm in a question to turn him on, but yours did. He looked to your lips and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for how to answer.

“I…well…”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Y/N. If you don’t—”

Your fiancé’s voice was as close, and as terrifying, as it had ever been. You eased Daryl onto his back.

“Were you thinking of this?” you teased.

You made that soft semi-circular motion with your hips and watched a brand new face contort with pleasure. The footsteps outside hardly registered in your mind any longer, as your attention was singly focused on Daryl.

He fought a groan in his throat as you grazed your slick heat over his length.

You coated him with your arousal quicker than even you had expected. You knew you were turned on, but never had it been like that, where you were damn near dripping sweet nectar all over a man’s cock. You let a little whine leave your lips.

You couldn’t help it; your cunt rocked back and forth over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and made obscene sounds as you did. The archer’s hands found your hips and gently guided you up and down as his own moans struggled to break loose.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, you figured—if you hadn’t been so fucking wet that the head of his cock slipped inside of your heat the second you and Daryl bucked your hips together. An inch was quick to stretch to seven before you could think or blink or do anything else but groan in pleasure, and suddenly, he was bottoming out inside you.

“Fuck!” Daryl hissed.

“Daryl!”

“Daryl?”

Fucking Shane, of all voices you didn’t want to hear in that moment. Fortunately, he’d heard Daryl’s voice alone and not the sound of your moan, calling his name at the same time, for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Daryl gritted his teeth as you bounced on his cock,

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Y/N. You seen her, brother?”

Seen you, felt you, fucked you, yeah—he had.

Daryl closed his eyes and tried not to blow his load on the spot as you squeezed around him.

“No— no, I haven’t. Not since earlier,” he grunted.

“You sure?” Shane pressed, dissatisfied, “I heard her running around this way.”

You braced your knees against the ground and rode the man beneath you even harder, taking every ounce of resentment you felt toward Shane out on Daryl’s cock. Fuck if revenge sex didn’t feel nice when the object of your ire was standing right outside the tent.

You almost wanted to moan, wanted to whimper, but were quick to think better of it the longer you spent moving up and down his length. Seeing shades of lust in his eyes like never before, you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pry yourself off any time soon.

Daryl sank his fingers into your thighs and sighed, leaving ten perfect crescents in their wake.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he murmured.

“Could ya— could you come outside and help me look?”

‘Come the fuck on’ seemed to be the silent, shared sentiment between you and Daryl as your bodies writhed fast against each other and your highs came close into view. You braced your hands against his chest and begged him not to answer with your eyes, but you also knew Daryl couldn’t not say something to him, either.

“I…I’m sure she’s fine.” Daryl tried, weakly.

He flipped you over so you were flat on your back, hands careful not to make much noise or cause you discomfort as he did. Cock never leaving your wet, greedy hole, he found it easier than ever to resume the pace you’d made above him—now pounding you quietly into his sleeping pad.

You gripped his back and, simultaneously, bit down on his shoulder to keep from letting out a shriek when he grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Tried not to whine when he hit it again. And again. And again.

Shane was growing impatient. Hovered close to the front of the tent so you could see the outline of his shadow.

“You got something better to do, Dixon?” he snapped.

Yeah, fuck your fiancée, Daryl thought with a smirk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper.

That light, airy feeling preceding ecstasy was close at hand. You wanted to give in—let the levee break and just relish the sweet sensation quick to follow—but you knew you couldn’t. Knew yourself too well to be a screamer not to hold on a little longer, until Shane had left.

But the way Daryl’s cock was pumping in and out of you at present made it hard, to say the least.

“Just…tired, ‘s’all,” Daryl groaned close to your ear.

“Tired from what?!” Shane jeered, “Wrist been hurtin’ from how hard you’ve been jerkin’ it to Y/N, huh?”

You almost burst out laughing. Daryl quickly cupped your mouth. Fucked you harder to shut you up.

And shut up you did; but not for long, you feared. The faster he pounded you, the more that coil in your stomach came to swell, and soon enough you might—

“Eat shit, Walsh.”

“Just help me out. Please.”

Daryl shook his head and fucked you harder, much to your chagrin. You didn’t want him to stop, but you needed him to, in truth, or that swollen thing inside of you just might get the better of you and burst. You pressed your hands to his chest and tried to whimper something softly, but Daryl just hushed you with his hand to your mouth and kept on at that breakneck pace. Your eyes rolled back, your legs started to shake, and if Daryl hadn’t had to tear his attention away to say something to Shane, he might have seen how close you were to blowing your cover…before it was too late.

With one more stroke inside your wet, sensitive hole, you felt a cord inside you snap and a flurry of wild, unbridled bliss take over, stronger than you’d felt in ages.

A shriek desperate to escape your throat, your teeth raked down Daryl’s flesh with the force of it, and, instinctively, the man yanked his hand away and yelped.

You hated to do it, but the feeling was just too good. Your lips parted to release one of the most lewd and obscene sex screams of your life—with Daryl’s name following over and over as you came.

Daryl’s eyes grew to half the size of his face, it seemed. Stilling inside you, feeling your sweet, hot juices flow down him in waves, he sat there and couldn’t quite decide if he was more turned on or terrified.

When Shane tore through the fabric of the tent and charged inside, he figured it out pretty quickly, though.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut #shane walsh #shane walsh smut

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intergalacticaquarium · 2 years

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Jesus Walt really thinks skylar is a fucking idiot doesn't he

#u cant have it both ways creep #walt: somebody is coming to our house to kill our entire family #skylar: ok the children are not safe with u then if somebody wants to kill ur entire family #walt: yourr being dramatic and watch too many movies #fer real tho wtf does he want from her i hate him so much #he tells her its safe and then makes fun of her for believing him #then screams at her that hes the most dangerous man alive #and then berates her for being afraid of him #he doesnt even argue when she calls herself his hostage #i hope skylar is happy now #i once had a dream i was on a boardwalk and i saw a sign that said skylar whites bone collection and i think that would work for her

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ghouljams · 12 days

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Observation and Interview Logs pertaining to SCP-141-c, John "Soap" Mactavish.

Interview Log 1, SCP-141-c:

Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Please state your name for the tape. SCP-141-c: John Mactavish. Aye you are one bonnie lass aren't ya. You got a man at home? Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: (annoyed) Please only answer what I ask. SCP-141-c: Ask me anythin' you want bonnie, ahm an open book. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Would you please repeat the laws of thermodynamics as you understand them? SCP-141-c: How smart are you lookin' for me to be? Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: As smart as you can be. SCP-141-c: Cheers, ah like a lass with brains, more fun fuckin' 'em outta ya. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: The laws please. SCP-141-c: Fine, fine. Total energy in a system isnae created or destroyed, only changed. Entropy constantly increases in a closed system. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Anything else? SCP-141-c: Isnae thermodynamics. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: I'd like to hear it. SCP-141-c: Matter cannae be created or destroyed unless ya can hit it with somethin' that'll get the entropy whizzin' then it'll self implode on the rate of increase. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: And you understand that isn't how that works, right? SCP-141-c: Is. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: It isn't. SCP-141-c: It is. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Look I'm not arguing with you about this, it isn't. SCP-141-c: Is an ah ken how tae dae it. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Alright. SCP-141-c: You don't believe me. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: "Whizzin'" is not a scientific term, and your claim directly contradicts another law. SCP-141-c: Look all I need is some black powder, some batt'ries, maybe somethin' to work as the accelerant, and a fair closed system. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Right, I'm not getting you any of that.

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Experiment Log, SCP-141-c:

SCP-141-c is brought into the testing chamber. Chamber is made of blast proof ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️ metal alloy with reinforced ⬛️⬛️⬛️ beams capable of withstanding ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️ ton blast. Chamber has been cleared of all objects pre-testing. SCP-141-c exposed to SCP-141 for five minutes pre-testing, and has been presented with a table of inert chemicals labeled as those requested, faulty switches, non-conductive wiring, and various tools. SCP-141-c has been instructed to demonstrate his perceived "fourth" law of thermodynamics as he explained it to Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️. SCP-141-c has been told that the materials he is presented with are as he requested. Under normal circumstances for a non-anomalous individual it should be impossible to utilize any of the materials presented to craft any sort of explosive. - SCP-141-c has begun work on his explosive. Use of chemicals is in line with how they have been labeled, and he seems unaware of any differences between these and what he'd requested. SCP-141-c follows all assumed steps towards making a bomb. - SCP-141-c has done something with his "accelerant" and it is now glowing. - SCP-141-c has presented his bomb to the glass for inspection. He is excitedly explaining what he's done to it, though his voice is muffled so details are difficult to catch. His knowledge of chemistry and physics seem deeply flawed. One of the other researchers has suggested, sarcastically, that he attempt operation of the "bomb". SCP-141-c seems unsure, but after assurance that we will retreat to a "safe" distance has activated the timer* on the bomb. *Where did he get a timer, and how did he get it to work? - SCP-141-c has directed us to evacuate personnel from the blast shelter. Request denied. - SCP-141-c has taken to watching the security feed of the blast shelter over my fellow researcher's shoulder, but assures us that we will be able to see the explosion. - What the fuck.

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Interview Log 2, SCP-141-c

Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Please state your name for the tape. SCP-141-c: Aw don't be like that hen, ah said ah was sorry. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Your name. SCP-141-c: *sigh* John Mactavish. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: This interview is regarding the events of [date redacted] which transpired at [time redacted] at site [redacted]. SCP-141-c: Which ah apologized fer. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: You blew up a multi-million dollar testing facility. SCP-141-c: Technically imploded. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: There wasn't even a speck of dirt left, how the fuck did you do that. SCP-141-c: Ah told you, you get the entropy whizzin'- Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: and the matter will implode at the rate of acceleration, I remember. What I don't understand is how you were able to create a detonator or explosion of that scale with the minimal tools you were given. SCP-141-c: Implosion. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: (annoyed) Does it matter? SCP-141-c: Well, if ya wanna be specific about it. SCP-141-c: Fer the record. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: You've got a real annoying mouth on you, anyone ever tell you that? SCP-141-c: Aye, ya wanna see what else ah can dae with it, hen? Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: No. SCP-141-c: You more fun when the lab coat comes off? Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: No. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: How were you able to achieve detonation? SCP-141-c: Listen ahm nae doin' anythin' special, and ah cannae tell what you're hopin' to accomplish with these anyway. Ya asked me tae make a bomb an' ah did. Dr. ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: You were given non-reactive chemicals and a dead switch. SCP-141-c: (mumbling) Seemed pretty reactive tae me, took out yer whole range with it.

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Observation Log, SCP-141-c:

SCP-141-c has been studying the walls of his cell recently.

#soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mwii #cod soap #johnny mactavish #SCP au

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sentientcave · 1 month

Text

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter Two - An Understanding

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Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

The captain looks at you for a long moment, dark blue eyes wide with surprise as he takes you in. You have to admit that he’s handsome, dark brown hair and well-groomed facial hair (muttonchops, no less) flecked with silver, and a nice nose that skews to the large side. It gives him a friendly, approachable demeanour, despite the weight of his stare. His heavy attention shifts from you to the other three, and his expression turns serious. “Lads,” he says, his voice a rumble that you can feel through your own body. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Weeeel. It might be,” Johnny says apprehensively. “But I did my research, sir. She’ll be perfect for ye, ye’ll see.”

“She’s a good girl,” Ghost adds. “Sweet as can be. Won’t be any trouble for you.”

“Already moved her in and everything.” Gaz gestures around the room, looking rather too proud of their work.

The captain nods slowly, taking in the new additions to the space. “So you did. And did this pretty little thing agree to having her life upended, or did you lads just decide for her?” His arms shift around you, and you feel almost protected, oddly enough, even though by the size of him, he’s just as dangerous as the others. Probably even more dangerous, the way they defer to him, standing in a line like cadets, eager for his approval.

“Not… Not exactly,” Gaz admits. “I mean, we didn’t ask. But this’ll be better for her. She was living in a real rat hole before. Tiny little apartment in a shite neighbourhood. Was only a matter of time before something bad happened. We’re just looking out for her.”

Johnny shuffles his feet. “Dealt with a few neds while I was doin’ reconnaissance, even. Poor lass coulda been in real trouble if I hadna been there. Bawbag employers would ask her to stay past the last bus to watch the bairns an’ no’ even offer her a ride or ta pay fer a cab.”

“It wasn’t that far a walk,” you protest, glaring at Johnny. As if it’s any of his business. “And they did offer to drive me, I just wasn’t— It doesn’t matter! You had no right—”

The captain shushes you, and your words wither on your tongue, your cheeks turning hot under his stern blue gaze. He cups your jaw and turns your head to face him again, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you and I will talk in a moment. Soap’s right about that not bein’ safe, and you know it.”

Your stomach flutters nervously. He gives you a little smile, and his crow’s feet deepen, the lines fanning out further. There’s a moment where you’re tempted to smile back, but his legs shift under you, and you wince sympathetically instead. “Sorry, I should get off of you,” you say quickly. “I’m heavy.”

“I won’t stop you if you’d like to sit somewhere else,” he says, that cheeky smile deepening more. "But you’re not heavy, and I'd like it if you stayed put."

"Told ye he'd like her," Johnny whispers, loud enough that it shatters the isolated pocket of reality that, for a moment, housed only you and the captain. "Hasna even introduced himself an' he's flirtin' like mad."

"Soap!" Gaz hisses back. "Shut up."

Ghost scruffs them both. "Let's finish getting dinner on. Give 'em a minute to talk."

Johnny grins at you and gives you two thumbs up as he circles around to the kitchen, as if you’d actually been a willing participant in all of this.

"I'm John, by the way," the captain says, calling your attention back to him. He drops his hand and settles it on your knee, his fingers curling around the joint. "You alright, doll?"

A loaded question. "Well. Not really."

"You're keepin' it together real nicely, all considered. Wouldn't blame you if you were hissin' and scratching."

"I'm not much of a fighter," you admit. "And even if I was, I don't think it would do me much good."

John chuckles, squeezing your knee lightly. He's gentle, but there's power in those hands, the kind that comes from years of hard work. There's scars all over it, from his the tips of his calloused fingers up to the leather band of his watch, etched in evidence of violence. If there are scars further up his arms, their hidden by the buffalo plaid flannel. "No, it probably wouldn't."

"Are you going to let me go home?" you ask.

He sighs. "The thing is, doll, the boys have put me in an awkward spot here. If I let you go on home, you're going to get them in trouble, and I don't want to see that happen."

"I promise, I won't say anything, I just--"

He shushes you again, and you shut your mouth, biting your lip. "Let me finish, sweetheart. You're being so good right now because you're scared. But that's not gonna last, is it? And worse, it sounds like you don't really have much to go back to."

"I'll find a new job. I always do."

"With another family who doesn't appreciate the work you put in? That doesn't make you feel safe?" His fingertips toy with the edge of your skirt absently, but his eyes are on your face, studying your reaction with rapt attention. This is how a rabbit must feel, pinned under the stare of a grizzly bear, frozen in place and hoping that no claws come down on top of it. "I can read between the lines, doll. That man you were workin' for made you feel so uncomfortable that you'd rather walk through a bad neighbourhood at night than get into a car with him alone."

You can't dispute it, although you're surprised he can glean so much information from half an outburst. "It wasn't like that-- He wasn't that bad."

John hums. "You're tellin' me you've had worse?"

A dozen jobs with a dozen managers or coworkers that took your silence as permission to stand too close, or put their hands on you flash across your mind. Mr. Kinsey was just the latest of many. You know that the thought is displayed on your face, from the way his eyebrows pinch together just slightly, not angrily, but concerned. You try to deflect with a little laugh. "Oh, well. I suppose I have. But hasn't everyone?"

"Soap had a bad lieutenant once and locked the man in his own car when he was just a private. Just because you have a bad boss doesn't mean you have to take it." He looks at you so seriously as he speaks, his fingers dancing distracting circles against the top of your knee, rough fingertips catching on the nylons just slightly. The heat from the arm curled around your waist bleeds through the fabric of your dress, his hand twitching slightly, like all he wants to do is take a handful of soft flesh. “You should speak up when you’re not comfortable, doll. You just need some practice standin’ up for yourself, don’t you?”

If a statement could have teeth, this one would, and you’re not sure if agreeing or disagreeing will have him closing his jaws around you. He’s probably right, you do need to do a better job of standing up for yourself. But you’re certain that he doesn’t want you to start by standing up to him, or his three attack dogs either. “I’ll work on it,” you say meekly. You test his commitment to the statement by gently picking his hand off of your knee, although there’s nowhere to really put it either.

“We’ll work on it,” he agrees, lacing your fingers together. When he rests your now-entwined hands, it’s a little further up your thigh. “You want a drink, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You wouldn’t mind another tea, but you don’t think that’s what you’re being offered.

The scrutiny he puts you under is intense, like he’s determined to figure out what every microscopic shift in your expression might mean. “You sure, doll? You gotta ask if you want somethin’, or you won’t get it.”

“I would like a tea. But I can make it, I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Nonsense. Lads?” he tips his head back slightly.

“On it, sir,” Gaz replies cheerfully.

Ghost leans over the back of the couch to hand John a tumbler. Whiskey or scotch, by the sharp smell that hits you. John pulls his hand away from yours to accept the glass. “Thank you, Simon,” he says pleasantly. "Good lad."

“S’your party, sir. An’ you’re busy, ain’t you?” Ghost rests his hands on the back of the couch and studies the pair of you, dark eyes gleaming with pride. The man has the demeanour of a cat that’s brought in a helpless little bunny to his master, while it’s still alive and struggling.

“Gettin’ to know our pretty guest.” John smiles at you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Isn’t she just?”

“Could I, um, sit over there?” you ask, glancing at the chair. Somehow John had managed to distract you from the idea of moving for a while, but you were still eager to get a little space from him, especially with Ghost looming over both of you.

“Of course, sweetheart,” John’s arm loosens, and you quickly get up and move to the chair.

You almost feel cold, without the heat that radiates off of his body. His attention feels weightier now too, or maybe it’s just that his body isn’t shielding the stares from Johnny, Gaz and Ghost, and you’re subjected to all four of them watching you, like you’re either fascinating or delicious (or both). You cross your arms over your chest and shrink into yourself as much as possible, eyes wide.

"Here's yer tea, hen. And may I just say, ye've go' a fantastic rack from this angle." Johnny hands you the mug and sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over you. "Weel. Ye've go' a nice rack from any angle. Nice arse too. Captain's lucky I like him so much, or I'd've gone for you myself."

You breathe in steam, wrinkling your nose slightly. It doesn't smell quite right. "Did you put something in this?"

"Aye. Finger of whiskey. Ye look all stiff and peaky still. Need a pick me up, don't ya?"

You look at him reproachfully. He sighs and plucks the tea from your hands and takes a big sip. "There's nothin' else in there, if that's what yer askin', ye suspicious wee daftie. A little whiskey ne'er hurt no one." He hands the mug back to you, smile crooked, doing his best to be charming, but he's too intense, too fervent, to be anything but unsettling.

“Got Johnny checkin’ everythin’ for poison, do you?” Ghost asks, chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you.” He nudges John with the back of his hand. “She’s smart, worth keepin’ an eye on that. Know’s ‘ow to ‘old ‘er tongue, but she’s listenin’ and payin’ attention.”

“Of course she is! Wouldna choose a lass withoot a brain in her head. Wouldna be worth the captain’s time. Weel, maybe worth a wee bit of time.” He winks down at you. “But no’ wife material, ye ken. Chose her because she’s delightful, no’ just ‘cause she’s bonnie.”

The few times you’d spoken to Johnny before you’d thought that he was so nice. Laughing and joking with you in the pick up line while you waited for the children you were respectively responsible, greeting his niece and nephew with big smiles. And Finn and Rory were always so excited to see him, you’d chalked him up as harmless. Clearly you hadn’t been paying enough attention then, too focused on the Kinsey kids and your job, maybe. You hadn’t noticed that he was appraising you like a piece of livestock, judging your value like you’d been put up to auction.

The whisky-fortified tea is a bit on the strong side, but you take a few sips anyway. Getting drunk would be unwise, but you’re so tense that your whole body is starting to ache, and that’s not doing you any good either.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gaz announces, untying his kiss the cook apron and setting it on the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. Soap made a cake earlier too.”

John raises an eyebrow. “You can bake?” he asks, surprised.

“Aye, picked it up while I was gettin’ rehabbed for the big fuck-off hole in my head,” he replies airily. “Was goin’ mental putterin’ around Kirsty’s waitin’ for the bairns to get out of school, so Ah picked it up. Isnae so hard. Just chemistry, aye?”

“He did make a big mess,” Gaz says. “Had to wash about fifty dishes before I could get started on dinner.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ critic,” Johnny complains. “See if I bake ye a cake for yer birthday, Garrick. Ye’ll be sorry then.”

“Oh no, how will I survive?” Gaz clutches his chest like he’s deeply wounded by the statement, laughing. “I have two mums, I’m still pretty much guaranteed a cake.”

“Always braggin’ abou’ that. Thinks he’s more evolved than the rest of us just because his da’s a woman.” He hovers next to you as you get up, and sticks close as you walk over to the table. You don’t choose a seat, in case there’s an order to things you’re not aware of.

“Pretty sure the whole point is that he dun’t ‘ave a dad,” Ghost says. “Now sit down, mutt. Yer not sittin’ next to the bird. You’re botherin’ ‘er.” He points at a chair, and Johnny sighs and slinks into it.

“Here, sweetheart,” John says, putting his big hand on your back to guide you the last few steps and directing you to a seat. He slides the chair in for you too, masquerading as a gentleman, and sits next to you.

Gaz settles in on your other side, all smiles. “Feeling better?”

They keep asking you how you are, as if the answer is going to change. Like all you need to adjust to the reality of being kidnapped and relocated to some stranger’s house in the country is a little time. Like you’re going to be just fine, if you just get a few more minutes to adjust. “Not really.”

"Ah, don't worry, doll. Captain's gonna be real good to you. You'll get there soon enough. Probably'll feel better once you've had a proper meal."

At least they don't try to make you talk much at the table. They fall into easy conversation between them, and let you eat roasted chicken and potatoes and carrots with some kind of sweet and mildly spicy glaze. Ghost pulls the mask down to eat, so you're able to watch when he goes slightly pink from what barely qualifies as spice. Gaz gives you a little side-long glance, and you almost laugh. There's some solidarity to be had, even in a situation like this one, something funny about how a little more spice could probably straight up kill the other three men at the table. Maybe that would be the key to you freedom: Murdering John by feeding him something full of chilies.

Admittedly, you do feel begrudgingly more charitable towards them after eating. You could maybe blame it on the tea too, which, against your better judgment, you do end up finishing.

John stops you from helping clean up when you stand automatically and try to stack Gaz's empty plate with your own. "No, sweetheart. C’mere." He guides you to the door and out into the chilly evening air. You wish that Ghost had let you put on a sweater over your summery dress, but he had been so keen to show you off, and you’d been too scared to insist. You curl your arms around yourself for warmth, and keep quiet, watching as John trims and lights a cigar, looking out into the darkness beyond the porch.

Fear has morphed from pressing terror to something that gnaws at you from the pit of your stomach. You could try to run for it, but you’d probably roll your ankle wearing the stupid red heels, and you have no real idea where you are, or how far you are from someone who could help you. Outrunning John would be a feat anyway. He’s older than you, but he’s in better shape, nearly perfect shape, broad and strong, that long military career not yet forgotten.

There’s a bench by the door, so you sit down to take the heels off. You’re not used to wearing them, it’s so rare that you have anywhere to go that calls for spicier footwear than your comfortable, worn in trainers.

“Here.” John slides his flannel shirt off and drapes it over your shoulders, and kneels down in front of you, cigar clamped in his mouth, pulling your heels off for you. Smoke curls around you for a moment, thin and blue in the scant light, before a breeze carries it away. He leans on his one leg and studies you, but he doesn’t stand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You put your arms through the sleeves of the flannel, humming noncommittally. You know you’re pretty enough, by most standards, but you feel like his interest— And the interest of the other three— is disproportionate, too intense.

“I’d like you to stay a while, doll,” he continues. “I won’t force you, I’m not that kind of man, but I’d have a hard time letting you go back to living paycheck to paycheck in a bad nieghbourhood, workin’ for creeps that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. You deserve better than that.” It’s as though he doesn’t even hear his own words though, or imagines himself better, because he absently runs his hands over your calf, squeezing the tense muscle gently.

“I have to work,” you protest, biting back a moan. You didn’t need to encourage him, even if you weren’t quite brave enough (or willing) to stop him. “I have student loans, and I send money to my lola in Vigan. I can’t afford to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

He nods thoughtfully. “How much?”

"Three hundred pounds a month to Lola. I know it might not seem like a lot, but it goes a lot further there."

"And the student loans?"

"Sixteen thousand. Not that much, I worked through my degree, and I inherited a bit of money from my parents. But I still have to--"

"I'll pay for both. You'll stay until you find a good job, and a safer apartment." He says it like it's a final edict, no room for argument.

You pull your leg out of his grip, tucking both further back under the bench. "No, John, I don't want to owe you either--"

"You won't. My boys kidnapped you and disrupted your whole life. I'd pay a lot more if it keeps you from going to the police over it. Least I can do is make sure you're better off when you do leave here, hm?"

You bite your lip. Starting over with a clean slate is tempting, but you're not sure you can trust John. He seems so earnest, blue eyes clear and guileless, but he can't be much better than the other three. Unless he was just holding their leashes tight as their captain, and had to let them loose when he retired.

"Can I think about it?" you ask.

"Of course." He puts his hand on your knee to steady himself as he leans across to ash the cigar in the ashtray that sits on a little table next to the bench. "But I think you'll say yes. You're a smart girl, hm?"

You're tempted to say no, just to test weather or not he's being honest about not forcing you to stay, but there's a niggling worry in the back of your mind that the veneer of civility will evaporate if you push him on it. He's nice enough now. And maybe that niceness isn't a show, maybe he has no darker side, maybe it's all just paranoia on your part. Perhaps the worst thing about him is his predilection to protect his "boys", even though all three are clearly insane.

Military is like that, isn’t it? The whole brotherhood thing? Maybe fighting for your life beside someone changes how you see them forever.

“How long did you all serve together?” you ask. “Johnny mentioned that he was SAS before— I asked about the scar once.” You tap the side of your head, the same spot where Johnny has a nasty bullet scar.

“Long time. Hand-picked Gaz and Soap for my taskforce about ten years back. Simon and I served together longer. He’s a captain now, even if the lads still call him LT. They’re both lieutenants, and Gaz’ll be a captain himself before long. Probably would’ve been already if he’d transferred out of the 141.” He gets up with a grunt and settles onto the bench beside you. “Don’t think Simon’s long for it. He’s only still in because he wants to keep an eye on Soap. Man’s a bloody romantic. Live together or die together.”

“I didn’t realize that they were together at all.”

“The way Soap’s been droolin’ all over you, I’m not surprised.” He puffs on his cigar thoughtfully. “But Simon’s just like that, as far as I can tell. The world’s divided into three categories. Enemies, his people, and everyone else. Enemies ‘n’ everyone else can’t touch what’s his, but he’s never given a damn about Soap sleepin’ with Gaz, or me.”

“I’m not his people.”

John looks at you and shakes his head. “Course you are, doll. You’re one of our people now. They might’ve gotten a bit overzealous, bringing you here the way they did, but those lads would do anything you asked of ‘em now.”

A bit overzealous. You laugh, but the sound comes out bitter.

"Relax, doll. I know you're determined to hate them, but they're good lads. Their hearts are in the right place." He pets a big hand over your head and rests it on the back of your neck, warmth seeping into your bones, relieving some of the ache from all the tension of the day. John has a way of soothing that terrified little animal in your chest that would otherwise threaten to kick it’s way free from your ribs and flee into the dark trees. “Lookin’ out for me, in their own way. Lookin’ out for you too. If your situation was a better one, they wouldn’t’ve plucked you out of it like that.”

There’s hope in his eyes when you look up at him, hope that you’ll forgive and forget, that you’ll come around to some kind of understanding in time. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot behind your ear, sending an awful, irrefutable thrill through you.

You’re worried that he might be right.

My favourite John Price to write is the sneakiest, most charming, manipulative bastard on the planet. I definitely take a lot of inspiration from 391780 's portrayal of him. The Rear Window and Neighborly have been forefront in my mind while working on this (Largely because I think my John would have taken a similar approach if the lads hadn't jumped the gun. The Rear Window is dark, so be warned! Early writes delicious dark fics, but that may not be everyone's cup of tea, so mind the tags.)

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#Retirement Party #Chapter 2 baybeee #Doll is coming to terms with the weirdest situation she's ever been in #cod mw fanfiction #John Price x Reader #x reader #Some hints of Poly 141 (I think it'll crop up properly later on)#Gaz wearing his kiss the cook apron wondering why Doll's not kissing him ): (It's because you kidnapped her)#Johnny never change baby boy you're a dog and we love that about you

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littlegodzilla · 5 months

Text

Well I heard someone might be a little down in the dumps today. It's been a while since I've posted anything here, but I wanted to do a little something to make you feel better.

I hope you like it

************

I can try.

Daryl Dixon x Fem Reader.

One shot.

@celtic-crossbow birthday present.

Warnings: M. Friends to lovers. Smut.

Words: 10k.

Summary: You and Daryl are good friends, but sometimes is good to try new things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No. Stop... wait..." You gasp with a frown. "Stop, stop."

"What's wrong?"

"That I can't... I can't."

"What?"

"It's not going to work...I'm going home." You push his hands away from you, getting up from the bed, reaching for your clothes.

"But what's wrong with you? I thought you..."

"Yes, I wanted to, but you've been looking for my spot for fifteen minutes... it's not going to go well, I'd better go." You shake your head getting dressed.

"But don't leave me like this! At least let me finish."

"Use your hands, like I'm going to do when I get home." You tell him and quickly leave the room.

"You're such a bitch!"

You hurry out of the house, adjusting your jacket to your body, the weather is still nice, but the nights are starting to get cold. Your feet move fast towards home, you want to get home as soon as possible and get into bed, you'd even like to disappear if possible.

Things have changed. A lot if you stop to think about it. Alexandria has changed for a few years now, after the Wolves, the hordes of Walkers, The Whisperers and some Communities that tried to take over yours, but finally Alexandria is safe and you all live in tranquility, or at least what this new world allows you. Since then, since you have settled there, you have allowed yourself to free yourself a little, of course there will always be guards to keep, to go out for supplies, to fight, but when all is quiet, you allow yourself to be who you were before. You spend days on the porch or in the garden, reading, watching the clouds move, you help in the fields, with the animals, you teach the children, who are more and more in the community. You have boyfriends. You have sex, arguments, breakups. It almost feels like your old life, but something is not right now.

You have been dating Nathan for a few months now, thanks to Deanna you have a new calendar and the days don't go on forever. You've been going out with him for a while now, he's nice, you get along well, you have fun... but in bed you don't quite click. It's frustrating and a bit embarrassing, you've been running away like a rat, but you'd rather cut the relationship before things get even more strained.

You get home. You're going to spend a few days at Rick and Michonne's house, the last storm that hit Alexandria washed away part of the roof of your house, now you entertain yourself in the morning to fix it with the help of other colleagues, but you still have for a few days. You close the door with some violence, your anger coming out.

"Dun be so noisy. There’re children sleepin’." You hear a voice in the darkness.

"Fuck, Daryl!" you jump, holding a hand to your chest. "What the fuck are you doing in the dark?"

"I've just come up now." He says turning on a small light in the dining room. "Rick and I are gonna out fer few days."

"Well turn on the light, you could kill someone with a heart attack." You growl, looking sideways at him, he shakes his head.

"Sorry." He apologizes, you can feel his gaze running up and down you, making you nervous. "Bad night?"

"Frustrating." You reply in a curt tone, making it clear you don't want to talk about it. "Where are you going?" You'd rather change the subject. You know Rick doesn't get out of the community much since RJ was born helping Michonne with whatever she needs.

"Dunno. Not too far. Maybe a couple of days, no more than a week." he answers your question, shaking out his backpack a bit, rearranging the things inside. "Back Rick wants to go to Hiltop, need anythin’ from there?" he wants to know, you stand for a moment thoughtfully and gesture to him.

"Wait." You nod and trying not to make any noise, you go up to your room, coming down shortly after. "Here, give it to Maggie, please." You hand him a small letter. He looks at it, but nods, tucking it into his vest pocket. "Thank you. Have a safe trip and be safe." You ask.

"A'right. Night."

"Good night." You whisper looking at him again and go up to your room.

You've been traveling with Rick's group since they showed up by the Greene farm where you too had taken refuge after your parents were bitten and Hershel locked them in the barn. Your first impression with Rick Grimes' group was rough and wild, but you will never regret following him after that, thanks to him you had a real home in the prison, thanks to him you were still alive, thanks to him you now have this community, you are safe and happy. They are your family now and you know you can trust them, Maggie, Tara, Michonne, Rosita, they are your friends you can vent to, Carol sometimes acts more like a mother and that's not much older than you, but it's her instinct above all else. Carl and Sophia are little siblings to all of you, as are Judith and RJ.

You lie in bed, curling up, feeling your body pulse, the heat coursing under your skin, but you ignore it, your head dull, the anger still lingering. You close your eyes and try to sleep.

"Good morning." Michonne greets you that morning, carrying little RJ in her arms.

"Good morning." You greet her by putting the coffee pot on the stove for breakfast the two of you. "Hey, shorty." You touch his nose and smile looking at Michonne out of the corner of your eye. "Quiet night?"

"Until Rick left...I think he feels it, he's been restless after that." She tells you, tucking the child into her arms.

"Daryl told me it wouldn't be many days, they'll stop by Hiltop when they get back." You tell her, she nods and sighs.

"Sometimes I miss getting out and exploring the world."

"Me too, you can leave the little one with Rosita or Carol, for a few hours I don't think they'll mind."

"I know, but now I have the constant fear of... not coming back." She whispers and you look at her pityingly.

"Hey that's not going to happen, you're our samurai, no one can take you." You joke and she laughs low, chuckling. "Sit down, I've made breakfast."

"Thanks. If you keep this up I don't know if I'll let you go home." She jokes too. "Speaking of which, you came early last night, usually when you meet Nathan..."

"Yeah, well... we broke up..."

"Broke up? Why, what happened?" she sets RJ down in his highchair accepting the coffee you hand him.

"It wasn't working... we didn't quite click..." You explain on top of it, but start to explain more when she prods you a little.

"You know Nathan is going to get hysterical, they're going to say a lot of bullshit..."

"I don't care, at the end of the day I took off leaving him halfway through." You shrug your shoulders as you braid your hair into a braid.

"If you see him get too nervous, we can get him to shut up."

"Don't worry, Michonne, I'll manage."

After breakfast, you leave the Rick family's house, to go to work in the fields and with the animals, that afternoon you have guard duty too, it's going to be a long day, but at least it will help you to keep your head busy.

The whispers, gossip and looks soon spread through the community. Nathan, completely pissed off with you, goes out of his way to make it clear to every man in Alexandria that you are a slut. You try not to make a big deal out of it, but two weeks have passed and your neediness continues to grow and no one pays any attention to you, which makes the situation more frustrating

Daryl and Rick have been back from patrol for a week now, they've brought some people with them, they've made new deals with other communities that are starting to expand, they've even brought more supplies. They are at the bar that opened a year ago having a home brew, it's not great, but it's drinkable. Abraham, Eugene and Glenn are with them.

"We're expanding the southern part of the community." Rick explains to Glenn since he hasn't been around for a while. "We're opening up the walls bit by bit, keeping an eye on the hordes of Walkers and slowly moving the houses out of the compound."

"That's a good idea, we're expanding the farming area too, there are more and more of us and the houses are getting too small."

"If ya guys need help with construction we can form a posse." Daryl says as Abraham nods.

"Thanks, I'll talk to Maggie and Jesus." He nods grateful for the support of those who have always been his family.

"I tell you guys don't let that bitch fool you." They hear talking from another table. "She dried up and took off." He growls again. Daryl frowns.

"Who are they talking about?" Glenn asks curiously and Eugene snorts saying your name. Daryl's blue gaze bores into him.

"Apparently they had a relationship. But the thing didn't work out. They broke it off and he's running around talking all kinds of shit." He keeps talking, this time Abraham. "I've threatened to smash his face in, but he won't fucking listen to me." Daryl sees the anger under the ginger mustache.

"I'll have to go talk to him myself." Rick snaps tongue in annoyance.

"Hey, Nathan." Daryl raises his voice and almost the entire bar falls silent. "Why dun ya keep yer voice down?"

"What do you say, Dixon?" he replies, rising from his stool. Rick and the others tense up, but Daryl remains calm.

"That yer talkin’ shit ‘bout someone who ain't here and can't defend herself." He turns his head to look at him. "Besides, it's bullshit."

"And what the fuck do you know?" he roars, but Daryl doesn't flinch.

"I know ‘cause I've been with her too." His companions' eyes widen so wide they look like they're going to pop out of their sockets. "Ya should stop sayin’ she's a slut, maybe ya weren't able to touch her like she deserved." He spits at Nathan with a growl at the end of the sentence.

"And you do, redneck? Since when do you know what a pussy is?"

"Better than ya, like I see." He replies and when the man wants to pounce on him, the bar owner grabs him and pulls him out of there by force.

"Have you slept with her?" Abraham asks unable to contain himself any longer.

"Nah." He shakes his head, drinking from his beer.

"And why the fuck did you tell her that?"

"To get him to stop sayin’ that shit about her."

"But now they'll think she's your girlfriend." Rick tries to understand. "That's not going to get any guy to want to be with her again." Daryl gives them all a sidelong glance, and goes back to drinking from his beer.

"She's gonna be pissed." Eugene says what they're all thinking. "It's not like she's flirting with the men in this community all day, but she has her needs. Just like everyone else." Eugene says again. Daryl gives them a sidelong glance, but shrugs it off as unimportant.

It's frustrating. And you're pissed off. You don't know what's wrong with the men in the community, but they all avoid you like you're cursed, have a fatal disease, or worse. You don't need a steady partner either, but maybe you do need someone to give you some fucking affection.

"Is it that you guys are avoiding me or what's going on?" you growl when another fellow member waves at you from afar, but he looks scared.

"No, it's just... we don't want any trouble."

"Trouble about what? Hey if it's about Nathan, I understand being pissed, but that's only ever happened to me with him..."

"No, it's not about that, Daryl already said he had a big mouth."

"Daryl? I-I don't understand..."

"You're his girl, he said so. I'll pass on Dixon having me in his crosshairs."

You're speechless, you can't even defend yourself from what he just said before he walks away. What Daryl talked to them? That you're his girl? What's that all about? You don't understand anything. Yet as the pieces start to fall into place, your brow furrows, your cheeks flush as anger bubbles under your skin. You emerge from the bar almost like a basilisk ready to talk to the archer. You discover the motorcycle parked next to Rick's house, so you don't hesitate, you walk determinedly towards the basement door and slam it with all your might.

"Dixon, I know you're in there!" you bang on the door again. "Your bike is outside!"

You're tempted to turn around the house, go in the front door and kick down the basement door inside, but it's too late, surely the kids are already asleep. Then the door opens, Daryl looks at you confused from the other side, his hair is disheveled and his eyes are narrowed, it looks like you've woken him up. At another time you'd feel sorry for him, but you're still angry, so you walk in uninvited, crossing your arms.

"What are you doing?" You bark.

"What?" he grunts, rubbing his eyes. You realize then that he's only wearing his jeans, bare-chested and barefoot.

"What have you been going around saying?" you insist shaking your leg nervously.

"What ‘bout? The beer from the bar still has my head choking." He rubs his hair and cross his arms, hands under his armpits.

"What have you told Nathan? Or all the guys in the community? That we're boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"No. I didn't say 'girlfriend'." He shakes his head, understanding what you're saying at last. "I just shut his mouth. He was goin’ around callin’ ya slut and frigid. I just made him think the problem was his ‘cause he didn't know how to touch ya."

"That was my problem! You had no business butting in." You snort in frustration.

"I didn't want him to keep talkin’ bout ya like that." He's not upset, that much is obvious and it stresses you out more.

"Now all the guys are ignoring me! It's like they're afraid of me. No, they're afraid of you."

"M? Ain't gonna do anything to them."

"No, but they think I'm your girl." You remind him, waving your arms nervously. "You can go to the bar and talk to them, clear it up. Tell them we broke it off or it was a shag. But we're not together anymore."

"’kay." He shrugs. "Sorry."

"Well..." You tell him going to the door again. "Anyway... thanks." You look sideways at him. "I know you just wanted to help me and I appreciate it, but I deserve it too."

"Dun think so."

"I left him half-heartedly, I got frustrated, I couldn't... no matter how much he..." You have to admit you're embarrassed to talk about this with Daryl. "So he had a right to say all those things about me." You shrug turning back towards the door.

"I can try." Daryl speaks and you stop.

"What?" you turn to look at him.

"It's frustratin’, the need, wantin’ to finish but not getting there..." He advances towards you, slowly, calculating his steps. Your eyes follow his every advance feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. "Even when yer alone in yer room, it's as if ya've suddenly forgotten how yer own body works.”

"Y-yes..." You gasp, his thumb brushing your lower lips, his blue eyes sinking into you.

"I can try..." He says again. "Maybe it was just Nathan, that he really didn't know what he was doin’."

It's possible, but you're so enraptured in his gaze that you're unable to respond. Daryl holds you by the back of the neck, his nose brushing against yours.

"I only have one condition, close yer eyes." He whispers very close to your mouth.

You hesitate for a few seconds, not quite sure if you want to figure out how this is going to go on, but your eyes close. Seconds later, Daryl's lips are on yours, very lightly, slowly, they feel warm, but not nervous. The sensation makes you snap your eyes open, seeing Daryl staring at you. He breaks the kiss, but his hand is still holding the back of your neck.

"Close yer eyes."

"Y-Yes." You nod closing them again.

This time his mouth encompasses yours completely, his fingers closing tighter against your skin and hair, you don't hesitate to reciprocate, his lips moving against yours, his tongue entering your mouth and you moan low resting your hands on his bare chest. Daryl kisses the line of your jaw, down your neck, you throw your head back, leaning against the door. Daryl's mouth continues to run down your neck, you feel him bite against your racing pulse and you moan at the pleasure coursing through you. You close your eyes tighter, tempted to open them again to see what he's doing.

A squeak escapes your mouth as Daryl pulls you away from the door to make you walk towards his room. He pulls your shirt off, his large hands caressing your wide hips, moving down to your ass as his mouth kisses and bites your shoulder, moving down to your chest. Daryl's hands grip your ass tighter lifting you a few seconds off the floor then sitting you on his bed. Daryl kneels in front of you, his fingers brush your cheeks and lips, you can't see him because your eyes are still closed, but he smiles at you for being so obedient.

He unclasps your bra, his mouth once again running over the skin of your shoulders as he pulls down the straps of your bra before tossing it to the floor.

"Daryl..." A gasp escapes you.

His fingers grasp one of your breasts, he bites and kisses its shape before catching your nipple in his mouth, which he plays with inside his mouth, sucking, licking and nibbling at his pleasure, not neglecting your other nipple which he fiddles with between his fingers getting your head to start spinning, pleasure forming in your stomach, your body jerking. Daryl releases your nipple with a wet sucking sound, licks your skin with the gate of his tongue, from your sternum, down to your navel as he guides your body to lie on the bed. He bites your navel, licks your soft, bulging skin. His deft fingers unbuckle the belt of your pants as well as your boots quickly leaving you in your panties on his mattress. Daryl stops, giving you a little time to catch your breath, he sees you agitated, he doesn't want to make you nervous. He gets up from the floor, you are tempted to open your eyes again when you hear the sound of his belt slapping against the bedroom floor. You lick and bite your lip, waiting for what else Daryl is going to do with you. You feel his body lay down next to you, his mouth runs down your cheek and neck again, one of his arms wraps around your shoulders under your body, his other hand again caresses your belly, your hips, his fingers tighten on your thick thighs to spread your legs apart. You jerk, his hand under your neck covers your eyes as the fingers of his other hand caress your clothed pussy. You hold your breath for a few seconds, your heart racing, your skin too sensitive to his touch.

"Yer scared?"

"No..." You assure him and swallow hard.

"Anxious." He understands then, caresses your mons, slowly moving down, finding the opening of your folds, feeling the dampness of your underwear. "Needy." He kisses your cheek, your mouth, your tongues tangle in a passionate battle.

You arch your back, Daryl's fingers begin to move in circles over your clit, you spread your legs wider to give him better access, still kissing. You dare to touch him at last, one of your hands grips the back of his neck, pulling his hair slightly, your other hand holds his wrist, not stopping him, perhaps daring to guide him a little, before reaching for your breast and stimulating your own nipple. The hunter's pupils dilate, at the sight of you, his fingers on your clitoris move faster.

"Ya like this, ain't ya?" he whispers against your ear, catching that same nipple you're touching, in his mouth, you withdraw your hand, moaning louder.

"Daryl!”

You're so close, you can feel it, how the pleasure starts coursing through your whole body to pool in your lower belly, you're so close already, your eyes roll under Daryl's palm.

"No, not yet." He denies you and his fingers stop the moment.

"What?" you sound desperate, but you don't care, you were touching the best orgasm in a long time and he's denied you.

"Hold on a little." He asks you, releasing you.

Again the urge to open your eyes and say what he's thinking comes over you, but you hold tightly to the sheets as Daryl grabs your panties by the edges of the waistband. You lift your hips to help him get rid of them, the garment getting tangled around one of your ankles. Your heart races faster as you are aware of what Daryl wants to do to you and you bite your lip again.

"Nathan didn't know how to touch ya." You hear him speak. "I barely touched y’ and look how yer already." He scoffs, his fingers running along your folds.

"Don't... Don't talk about him now." You protest with a thread of a voice hearing him chuckle.

Daryl settles between your legs, spreading them a little further apart, his thumbs parting your folds watching your entrance press against nothing. When his tongue brushes your skin, hot, wet, you jump, your hips thrust against his mouth and Daryl devours you like a starving man. His tongue runs up and down your cunt, between your folds, prodding at your entrance, working its way in, he grunts and purrs at your taste, his lips close and press against your clit, sucking, pressing to heighten your pleasure. Which soon begins to swirl in your lower belly again. You close your eyes tightly, clutch the sheets between your fingers, until your knuckles turn white. Your legs jerk, in your mind you beg for it not to stop again. The air gets stuck in your lungs as one of his fingers finds its way into your core moving in and out, adding a second finger, increasing the pleasure, you spread your legs further apart, moving your hips against his hand. You feel him getting closer and closer, stronger and stronger. Daryl has no intention of stopping, but the point he's taking you to is too much.

"Daryl, wait, wait..." You moan, but you can't stop him in time.

You cum, with a long moan, in surprise and pleasure, you let yourself go, feeling yourself squirt and splash on Daryl's face. It's not the first time you've cum like this, it had happened to you before with other boyfriends who had known how to touch your exact spots, but from experience not everyone liked the experience and you didn't want this to ruin the moment.

"Fuck... Daryl, I'm sorry..." You say apologetically, covering your face with both hands.

"Did ya squirt?" He lifts his head, licking his lips. "I've never seen a woman do that..."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Can ya do it again?"

"Can we pretend it didn't happen and..." You uncover your eyes and look at him, you can't help yourself. "What?"

"Could ya do it again?"

"I- I don't know..." You stammer, completely confused, it's the first positive reaction you've had to this.

“Find out?"

He kisses you again, intense, needy, his teeth biting your lips, his tongue fucking your mouth, his hand covers your eyes again and you close them just the same, lying back, letting his fingers cover your core again, overstimulating your clit, fucking you with his fingers, bringing you to another orgasm, this time faster than before. Your fingers tangle in his hair, you can't help it, and you bite him on the cheek as you cum again, soaking his fingers. Daryl protests at the bite, but his fingers don't stop until you close your legs and hold his wrist.

"Turn around." He tells you in a husky voice.

He releases you and turns away from you.

You do as he asks, turn around, hug the pillow, using it to cover your face, spread your legs apart, dig your knees into the mattress and raise your hips. Behind your back you hear Daryl rummaging for something and the tearing of plastic. You're about to say that at your age you're not worried about getting pregnant, but you're grateful that he's worried about the possibility or you getting something. You gasp as he returns to your side, pushes you slightly further forward, holds you by the waist and guides his cock to your entrance, pushing himself inside, bit by bit. You open your eyes wide, holding your breath, feeling him stretch you, working his way up until he's wedged inside you. You hear him huff and puff, gripping your hips with both hands, he slowly pulls out again, tearing a gasp from you, and you groan as he thrusts in a single thrust, taking on an almost cruel rhythm. Fucking you fast and hard, his fingers digging into the skin of your wide hips. Your moans echo in the room, muffled by the creak and squeak of the bed with each thrust Daryl delivers.

"Oh my God..." You moan holding onto the pillow, bucking your hips against his cock, moving to the opposite direction of his thrusts.

"Fuck..." You hear him say and his movements become more desperate.

The pace is fast, clumsy, sloppy, he's reaching his limit, you can sense it by how tightly he grips your body. But that's not what surprises you the most, it's the fact that he's going to get you to cum again. Three times, since before the apocalypse that hasn't happened to you.

"Daryl, Daryl!" you moan, your toes curling as you tense and clench around his cock.

You hear him curse through his teeth and your orgasm takes over as he spanks your ass hard as he too cums staying still inside you as he unloads and fills the condom.

You both need to catch your breath, you can feel him rocking forward, but he doesn't quite land on your body, his fists are resting on the mattress. You gasp hard against the pillow, trying to process everything that just happened, to stop your knees from shaking.

Daryl steps carefully away from you, you hear his footsteps getting lost down the hallway, all the way to the bathroom, you guess, until you hear the flush of water running. Maybe it's your cue. Maybe it's time for you to grab your clothes and leave. You don't wait for him to tell you. Still feeling weak in the knees, you grab your clothes from the floor, get dressed quickly, leaving the room with your shoes still in your hand. You pass him at the bathroom door. You don't quite know what to say, but he doesn't seem to expect you to either.

“Night." He says.

"G-good night..." You reply, lowering your gaze, walking out of the basement.

You're not sure you'll be able to sleep that night with how fast your heart is beating.

You watch the sunrise. Lying in your bed, looking up at the ceiling, you slowly watch the moon leave its place for the sun, the first rays are annoying, but then you get out of bed. Ready to go on with your daily routine. That makes you think, what's going to happen now between you and Daryl? How should you talk to him? Look at him? What exactly did it mean?

You've known Daryl for years, you've seen him change, that transformation that earned the trust of his entire group, you've seen him fail, make mistakes, but also be loyal, faithful, a friend and protector, you've even seen him joke and laugh when he thought no one was watching. You know his true loyalty is with Rick and Carol, they are the most important people to him, even though he loves the whole group, they are the ones he would give his life for the most. Still, being wandered back and forth and in prison, he took time and patience to teach you how to defend yourselves, how to hunt and how to be invisible. You can say you are friends, almost certainly, you know that if you asked him for help or a favor, he would do it. But this is different. You're not blind, Daryl has his own charm. Many women have noticed that appeal too. Quiet and grumpy, but at the same time he has a big heart. It's also true that you've never seen him with a woman or a man either, but it's clear he knows what he's doing and how he's doing it... maybe before the world went to hell he was in a relationship, or in his travels from community to community he's met other women he's had fun with... no, Daryl's not like that, you don't see him that way.

You let out air loudly through your mouth, trying to stop thinking about it, you adjust your clothes and leave the house to head to the farm area, Olivia gave you a list of things that needed to be replenished in the store room; Beans, tomato, squash if there were still any left, you were starting to plant cabbages as well and although they are not your cup of tea, you are excited to see how the first ones are starting to emerge, slowly forming. It's ironic, how little you loved getting up early on your parents' farm to help them with the work in the fields and how much you treasure it now. You still hate mosquitoes, though.

"Good morning." You raise your head when you see Carol right in front of you, with such a characteristic smile. You smile too.

"Good morning, Carol." You greet her, carefully plucking some tomatoes, dropping them in the box you bring with you. "Do you need anything?"

"I've come to get some carrots and squash to make a couple of pies." She tells you walking into the field with you. "I talked to Olivia and she gave me permission." She jokes, making you smile again. "How are you, I see you in a better mood than you've been these days." She comments absentmindedly and you open your eyes wide.

You know you can't hesitate with her, Carol is quiet but she knows how to observe and as the mother of the group, she will worry if she sees you take too long to answer or try to make up a lie.

"Y-yes, it's just that I went to talk to Daryl yesterday." Your voice trembles for a second and you clears your throat.

"Oh, so that was you, Michonne said someone almost woke RJ up because they were banging on the garage door."

"Shit..."

"Don't worry, I think Rick already calmed her down."

"Argh, I don't want to know about that..."

"So were you able to talk to Daryl?" She asks you again, helping her pluck the carrots. "You know he sometimes acts without thinking, but he doesn't mean it."

"It's like you're talking about a puppy or a child..."

"What's the difference?" she jokes, making you laugh, but yes, if you told her what Daryl had done to you she wouldn't think of him as a child.

"We were able to talk and he told me he'd clear it up, so I was more at ease."

Carol shoots you a curious look, you frown slightly, waiting for her to say something, but the woman remains in a state of mystery. When you finish filling your boxes, you walk together toward Olivia's storage room.

"What, are you going to tell me what's on your mind or not?" You say because you can't stop seeing her smile.

"It's nothing, it's just that your 'courtship' gave a lot of buzz."

"Oh yeah?" You look at her curiously.

"Sure, believe it or not, Daryl has a lot of popularity among women." She nods, your eyebrows raise higher making her laugh.

"But... I've never seen Daryl with a girl... Do you know if he's ever had a girlfriend?"

"Well, we know he's tricky when it comes to making friends, but yeah, I know he had a thing with a girl he met in the woods... you know, after what happened with Negan, that time he took to himself." You nod. "And Connie..."

"I knew it!" You blurt out, perhaps shouting louder than you should have. "I knew it...I thought it was so cute that he wanted to learn sign language." You laugh softly, Carol nods. "But Connie."

"She's in the Commonwealth, you know she comes to see us from time to time, but last time, she told us she'd met someone there."

"Poor Daryl..."

"He was the first one to be happy for her, he's always been so good at heart."

"Yes... And what about the other girl?"

"I didn't know her." She shrugs. "But he told me she didn't want to come to Alexandria, he made her choose and when Daryl went looking for her, she was gone."

"...Do you think he misses her?"

"I don't know, this happened even before Connie, maybe he has her as a good memory, but I don't think so... Why?"

"No, curiosity, like I'm telling you, I've never seen him with a woman and... now you've blown me away."

"Daryl is so much more than you think."

Those words ring in your ears for the rest of the day. Yes, it's true, you found out that very night, when you showed up over there and he did with you whatever he wanted, whatever you let him, but it's not just that. You've discovered that Daryl has his little secrets, he's had his romances, his little love stories. None of them have ended, maybe, well and maybe that's why he's still elusive but it makes you want to know more, it makes you think about you, what has what happened meant to him? Should you talk about it?

"Hey..." His voice pierces your ears, making you raise your head. You're helping Olivia with the warehouse inventory and he's peeking through the garage door.

"Hi..." You whisper, you feel nervous and your hands move awkwardly, you don't know where to put them and you fold your arms. "Are you here to get something?"

"Carol." He answers with a nod. "I was told she had gone to the orchard, have ya seen her?"

"She came all the way out here with me, she was bringing some stuff to make some pies, I guess she's home."

"Nah... she ain't there, I've already looked for her."

"Uhm... maybe she's at the mill, or she's gone to help Rosita with Coco..." You give him several options seeing how he shrugs. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm gonna go to Hiltop." He tells you. "Maggie and Glenn need help there, I'm taking a group for a few days. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh... You've already got the posse closed?"

"Yeah, wanna come?" He shifts his body weight from one foot to the other, squeezing the crossbow band with his hand.

"Uhm no, if you've already got it all organized."

"No, ya can come, if ya wanna, the more hands we have the better." He shakes his body, raising his hands.

"Okay." You nod, you really feel like going to Hiltop, see Maggie, maybe talk to her about what happened with Daryl. "I'll pack the backpack and..."

"Okay, let Rick know, we'll wait for you at the gate."

"Okay."

It looks like things haven't changed between you and Daryl. You're relieved about that. Thinking about how you should act from now on was weighing you down a bit, but the hunter doesn't show any sign of discomfort, or approach either, it's a bit disappointing, but you prefer it that way, you don't want the friendship you have with him to be ruined. Once you have your pack ready, you grab your Halberd and run off in search of the group, Daryl is waiting for you along with a couple of wagons with the horses, your companions and the gear you're going to need.

"Hop on." The archer says to you, looking at the bike. You nod, climbing on without hesitation. It's not the first time you've ridden together on his bike.

On the ride nothing is out of the ordinary, except for how fast your heart feels. You're used to riding the bike with him, but your head is going a mile a minute. Daryl slows down a little as you ride over the bridge you built a few years ago, the vibration of the wheels going over it sends a tingle through your body and you hug a little tighter to Daryl's body. He looks over his shoulder at you, smiles and speeds off again. Arriving at Hilltop fills you with excitement, you almost jump off the bike when the gates open and you finally stop. Maggie, Glenn and Jesus are the first to greet you. You run straight to your friend, hugging her tightly. It's been days since you've seen her, she takes care of the whole community with her husband and Jesus, she had too many obligations on her back.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"I joined the group at the last minute." You smile, hugging Glenn and Jesus too.

"Good, because I hadn't gotten around to responding to your letter yet." He looks at you apologetically and you shake your head. "We've been pretty busy."

"I can see that, I love how you guys are rebuilding it, after what happened with the Whisperers." You sigh. "It's almost like going back to our parents' farm."

"Yeah... come on, we'll show you where you'll be sleeping these days." Glenn gestures for you to leave your things there.

The wagons are put aside, the animals are taken to the stable. Your companions are housed in different wooden cottages and you and Daryl are taken to another, slightly larger, two-bedroom cottage.

"We didn't know you were coming, but I guess you don't mind sharing the house."

"No, no problem." Daryl shakes his head. "It's not the first time."

"No, I remind you that I was the one putting up with his snoring in prison." You joke and hear him snort.

"My snoring? The one moving the walls was you."

"No way!" You look at him offended, watching a small smile form on his mouth.

"I'll leave this here." He changes the subject, dropping his backpack on the couch. "I'm gonna go with the others, to find out what we're doin’ tomorrow."

"Okay, I'm going with Maggie and Jesus."

"Okay." He nods before leaving the house.

With your friend and Jesus you go up to the main house of Hilltop, they have restored it, it is almost as majestic as it once was, no doubt they are trying their best to preserve that place. You feel a little uneasy, you didn't want to make a big deal out of it, seeing that Daryl hasn't changed his attitude towards you, but after what Carol has told you about his courtship, you need to talk to someone about it.

"We've been scouting the northeast area, we've covered more ground since the last checkpoint, across the bridge. We've found some settlements..." Maggie begins to speak as you enter her office.

"I've slept with Daryl." You throw up, unable to contain yourself any longer. Jesus and Maggie raise their heads at the same time.

"What?" is all you can say.

"Are you dating Daryl?" he dares to ask. He doesn't want to get too much into the conversation, but curiosity gets the better of him too.

"No..." You avert your gaze, but you know you've captured Maggie Rhee's undivided attention.

You forcefully release air through your mouth, wanting to shake off the weight you feel on your back. You start talking, you tell her what happened with Nathan, how the relationship started to deteriorate, the little connection you had in bed and how you left his house leaving him in the middle. You then explain to him that Daryl tried to defend himself in his own way, tangling things up a bit more and when you wanted to talk to him, things cleared up, but you were surprised by his proposal.

"Was he the one who told you?" Maggie is getting more and more intrigued.

"Yes...and it was..."

"Okay! I don't want to know so many details!" Jesus refuses. "I'm leaving, when you're done, we'll talk." He tells you and leaves quickly.

"But don't say anything. Daryl keeps treating me as usual, it's not weird or awkward... I don't want things to get complicated."

"But...do you like him?"

"Daryl? Well..." You get quiet all of a sudden.

"Come on, haven't you ever thought about it?"

"I don't know. Have you?"

"No! I have Glenn."

"Let's see...he's changed a lot since we met him at your dad's farm...not just physically, I'm aware of that, but I never thought he...well nor that he could...like me." You shrug.

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" you groan in despair, covering your face with both hands. "I always thought Carol and him, but... well, we're friends..."

"Glenn and I started out that way." He tells you. "Sort of... and now we're married and we have Hershel."

"That last part doesn't bother me, getting pregnant at my age..."

"You can always adopt, like Aaron."

"First we'll figure out what this is, then we'll talk about kids..."

Maggie smiles broadly, you feel your cheeks flush, but you try to concentrate on what's important, the plans your friend was talking about with Jesus, the settlements found, the departures to talk to them, expand the circle of allies or prepare for a new battle. You spend hours planning, talking, rewriting everything they have to show it to Rick and Michonne, planning something also with Ezekiel. When you finish with your meeting you make a dinner for all the people of Hilltop, you use a huge kitchen that they have installed in the main house, there are a few of you who move between the stoves and tables, leaving everything ready. You feel your heart warming up as you look around you, discovering that everyone is enjoying that moment, the peace and calm that surrounds all those people. You look across the table when your eyes connect with Daryl's on the other side, next to Glenn and a few others, he stares at you, you can see him smiling sideways, a smile forms on your mouth as well and you look away, focusing on the food on your plate.

Your heart beats so hard you feel it pounding against your bones.

When dinner is over you feel your body pass you a ton. After all the travel, the community involvement and then the relaxation you've felt from being at dinner, it has taken all your strength. As you enter the house you almost throw yourself on the couch, but Daryl holds you down.

"No, no." He says. "Go to bed." He orders you. "Tomorrow we're gonna start work and ya need to be in top shape."

"Bossy..."

"Get used to it, although I dun think ya care sometimes." He subtly pushes you toward the room you've decided is going to be yours. You know what he means. You've understood his little dig. You turn to look at him, but he just points to your room with his chin. "Night." He says and disappears into his own room.

"Good night..." You whisper at his door.

Things are definitely business as usual. You know what Daryl is doing, he's feeling out the situation, trying to figure out the same thing you are, that everything is fine, that there's no conflict, that you can still call each other friends. Still, you can't help but smile, he tries to flirt with you too, carefully, dropping his words, waiting to see their effect. You wonder again what would have happened if that woman had returned with him to Alexandria or Connie hadn't stayed in the Commonwealth.

******************

Jobs are hard at Hilltop, everyone cooperates to raise the houses, expand the walls surrounding the city, protect the fields, outside Hilltop, so that the Walkers don't enter and destroy everything. Also to keep the animals safe.

Maggie has wanted to know on several occasions how things have been going with Daryl, if there have been any problems, you repeat to her several times that no, it's fine, not to insist on it. Anyway, you come home exhausted every day, the only thing you think about is taking a shower and going to sleep.

Your body is much more relaxed when you get out of the shower, the mist on your skin is the perfect sign that you've used up all the hot water. You feel a little bad for Daryl, but you know he'll understand.

"Rough day?" You hear Daryl's voice from his bedroom door.

"Same as yours." You look at him, he's showered too, before you, so he was already home when you've arrived.

"Come..." He whispers in a little roar that ruffles your hair.

"Okay." You whisper as well walking over to where he is.

Your body weighs down on Daryl's, you arch your back feeling the pleasure coursing through you as the archer, grabbing your ass, helps you move over him and he cums letting out a gasp in a grunt. You lay back on his chest, trying to catch your breath, Daryl's hands are still on your ass, you can feel his fingertips close, squeezing your ass, almost making you laugh.

"I don't know if I'll be able to go to my room..." You say with a trickle of voice.

"Ya can stay here. Dun gotta leave."

**************

There they are again, those same young women who have been after him for several weeks now. You frown slightly. Daryl has just returned from another trip of a few days, this time he brings some gasoline and parts that will be used to reinforce the walls of the community and continue its expansion, your people come and go constantly, some of you stay longer inside the high walls to take care of the city, but he is constantly out, which makes seeing him come back always a relief.

As soon as he drops the bike in front of his front door, there's already a group of girls nearby, wanting to help him, all talking at once, hovering around him, touching him without his permission. What do they intend?

"I think if you keep staring so hard you'll get some of them blown up." You listen beside you. Your heart leaps inside your chest, you raise your head, discovering Carol right next to you. You didn't even realize when she got there.

"I don't know..." You try to make something up, but she sits, on the porch, grabbing another shirt to help you. You're mending some clothes, small holes, adding patches of denim or leather to make them sturdier. Out of caution.

"Are these the girls you told me about?" She asks you again, you just nod.

"They've been after him like headless chickens for weeks." You sigh fixing your gaze for a moment on the patch you're sewing, the last thing you need is to stab a finger. "No matter what time, they're always waiting for him in front of his house."

"How do you know that, do you spy on him?"

"What? No! But we're neighbors, I see them walking past my house and..."

"I don't think you need to worry. I'm pretty sure Daryl has no interest in girls that young."

That shuts you up, also stopping in your tasks. You look up directing your gaze back to Daryl, the girls and now Rick is talking to his brother, the two of them seem engrossed in an important conversation. Ignoring the archer's small fan club.

"I-I don't mean age... Daryl can be with whoever he wants, but it bothers me that they think it's so simple, that he's going to notice them dressed... like this..."

You can feel that like this slipping out of your mouth. There is disappointment and frustration in such a small word. They're young and you understand that, despite the world you live in, they like to draw attention to themselves, feeling safe behind those walls, but you don't think those tiny jean shorts and tight t-shirts are the right bait with Daryl.

"You think Daryl isn't a man who notices pretty legs or a pair of boobs?" Carol asks, mockery and irony shaking her question. You grunt, shaking your head.

"No, of course he'll like those things, but I mean..."

"Are you afraid they'll take him away from you?" Attacks Carol again and that leaves you speechless.

After what happened at Hilltop, you've talked to the group. You've ended up telling them all, whatever is going on between you and Daryl. Maybe your main idea was to take a load off your mind, to clear your head, but you were also hoping for some kind of advice, some encouragement from them. But you only found curiosity and gossip, which makes that every time Daryl is around or comes up in a topic of conversation, mocking looks fall on you, wanting to disappear.

"No. I'm not afraid they'll take him away from me. He's nothing of mine." You fight back, feeling yourself start to get angry, nervous. It always happens to you when you're cornered. "But I think if they knew him well, they'd know that Daryl is not one to be swayed by first impressions, and it's obvious that they're just trying to get his attention because of his physique..."

"They want to have fun with him, yes, that's obvious." Carol agrees, calming down her game a bit when she realizes she's pulling on you too much. "But you know Daryl and you shouldn't worry. I doubt he'll fall for their game."

"I'm not worried...but I find it a little depressing that every day they do the same thing, like hoping that in the end, out of desperation, he'll agree."

"As I say, I don't think you should worry, he's clear about his own interests." Says the white-haired woman again.

You raise your head once again directing your gaze towards the hunter. Rick nods his head several times, Daryl speaks and expresses himself with his whole body, with quick and nervous gestures, but both men seem to come to an agreement. Rick taps him on the shoulder affectionately, helping him with the gas canisters he has brought, Carl is also there to lend a hand, Abraham and Olivia, who notes down everything the archer has brought. Leaving the bike and the empty trailer, Daryl is left alone again, well, the group of young people is still by his side, waiting to get his attention, but the man passes by. Between his hands he fiddles with a piece of paper, it looks like a new list of things to do or bring. You tense slightly as you realize he is walking directly toward your house, toward Carol and you. The girls call out to him, but they stay back, they never get too close when he's with any of you, whether it's Denise, or Rosita or whoever, they prefer to talk to him when he's alone. Or at least try to.

"Here comes Romeo."

"Carol!" you groan, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Hey Pookie!" The woman greets him, ignoring your reproachful voice. "How was the ride?"

"Fine, fine. I brought gas from a stand that traded it for Walkers, they have huge barrels, ain't sure where they get it from or how it stays stable, but it'll help us for a few days." He comments with his voice in a growl. Carol nods. "I've also brought some parts Eugene needed for the radio, I'm going with him to the Commonwealth to see Princess and Merce, Rick has some stuff for them." He shrugs. You raise your eyebrows.

"You're leaving again?" you blurt out, perhaps sounding more distressed than you intend.

"Yes, tomorrow, I'll get some sleep today, pack a car with everything I need and leave early." She nods chewing her lip several times.

"But you just got here..." it sounds almost stupid and you watch as he just shrugs, not understanding why it's a problem.

It's not a problem, there's no problem really. You understand that it's his job, that despite how long Alexandria is his home, Daryl is more comfortable outside the walls, it's his spirit animal, it's who he is. But it's a selfish feeling, you'd like to see him at least a few days over there, calmly, simply enjoying the day, with you, perhaps, doing nothing else. A single heartbeat, strong, forceful against your chest makes you aware of what you have just thought. Your pulse quickens as your face must reflect everything you are thinking, for the faces of your companions change, they look worried.

You want him to stay in Alexandria, with you.

Fuck…

"Are you okay?" Carol asks you.

"Y-Yeah, just..."

"Wanna come to the Commonwealth?" Daryl's voice brings you out of your bubble completely.

"What?" you feel a little stupid for your question.

"It's a good idea." Rick's presence catches you by surprise. You hadn't even seen him, he's there, standing in front of you, hands on hips, with a kind and calm gesture, but at the same time he has an amused gleam in his eye. He knows something, surely Michonne has told him something. "Juanita is going to need help organizing the party she has planned, I'm also going to send Rosita, Enid, Eugene and another group to help, to organize it with Max as well."

"Yes, that's a good idea, besides it's been days since you've been out, I'm sure Connie will be glad to see you." You're encouraged by Carol, for a second you want to ask if she'll be happy to see you or Daryl, but you bite your tongue in time.

"Well, okay, that way I can see how Princess is doing too." You agree although still a little nervous. Daryl nods his head.

"Get some clothes ready, a backpack and we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay..." You nod watching as they all slowly leave, leaving you alone again with Carol.

"You really like him." She comments. It's not a question, there's no hesitation. She just mentions something so obvious it makes you shudder.

"I..." You gasp nervously, looking at Daryl.

"It's possible that you always liked him, but that none of them would have noticed."

"Sounds like a cheesy romance novel..." You mutter and she laughs.

"More like an erotic novel, don't you think?" she jokes getting your cheeks to flush bright red.

You decide to set about getting your things ready after your conversation with Carol. You don't want to think about it too much. Have real feelings for Daryl. Not just the sporadic sex you two have. That makes you nervous and anxious at the same time, you'd like to talk to the archer, ask him if he feels the same way too, but at the same time, you're afraid that he doesn't, and it will all end drastically and awkwardly for both of you.

You leave your backpack, your weapons, your things in general ready at the side of the bed. You go over the edge of your halberd, it's been days since you've been outside the walls of Alexandria, you want to have everything ready so that there won't be any problems later. At night you find it hard to fall asleep, you are nervous about the trip, it's nothing new, it has always happened to you. Sitting on your couch, with a book in your hands and a dim light, you try to lure yourself to sleep so you can go to bed when you hear a knock at the door. Frowning slightly, you put the book down on the couch to open the door. Daryl is on the other side. Maybe in another situation you'd be surprised he was there, but not now. A small smile forms on your mouth in greeting, he gives you a sidelong glance before entering the house as you step aside. The door closes slowly, neither of you needing to say anything. You lean against the wall as Daryl leans into you, kissing you slowly. Your arms go around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Falling asleep after that was much easier.

The next morning, the two of you wake up in your room, not for the first time, here or in Daryl's basement, since that night at Hilltop, sleeping together is also an option and in the mornings it doesn't feel strange, neither the situation, nor the conversation. Daryl gives a gentle touch to one of the legs lying on top of his, waking you up completely. You rub your eyes lazily to look up at him out of the corner of your eye. He looks asleep too, but greets you with a small smile.

"Morning." He grunts, you just hum, unable to find your voice yet. "I'm gonna go home to get my things, gotta everythin’ ready?"

"Yes...but, don't you want some breakfast first?" You offer, looking at him already with your eyes fully open and awake. He shakes his head.

"I'll eat something while I get the bike organized." He comments, you nod letting him free, you move your legs aside, Daryl gets up looking for his clothes.

"Okay, so I'll meet you later at the main house by the warehouse to get the wagon and horses."

"Okay." He nods, getting up, putting on the black sweater and vest.

Even today you find it painful to look at his back, there are many new scars due to the new world you live in, you all have them, but nothing compared to what the hunter has tattooed on him from his previous life. You sigh, earning Daryl a raised eyebrow, you shake your head.

"I don't know if I'll be able to get up." You joke, not wanting to worry him with your real thoughts. Daryl laughs through his nose, lowering his head, hiding his red cheeks with his hair.

"Don't be long, the Commonwealth is far, we need all day to get there, dun want us to get caught in the night." He asks you and you nod your head.

"Yes, sir." You smile, earning an intense stare, but the archer leaves without another word.

Later, already prepared, with your pack and weapons with you, you're finishing off the last few boxes in the wagon, Olivia making a list of everything you're taking with you as you tie the horses to the wagon. Daryl approaches down the same street, Rick meets him at the door of the house, greeting him with a gentle touch on the back to which the hunter responds with the same touch. Eugene and the rest of the group accompanying you are also ready to leave.

"I'll go ahead with the bike." Daryl says. "We'll position ourselves around the wagon to avoid any kind of assault or any Walkers getting too close."

"The group stay well aware, we know what the way there is like, we have communities that are allies, but there are always people who don't respect the rules." Rick speaks as well. "Don't waste ammunition unnecessarily, but don't be intimidated either."

"Don't worry, boss." Abraham says getting into his car. "We'll call in on the radio as soon as we get there."

"Go carefully." He asks you and you all set off.

Before you leave the community you see Carol standing by the front door, waving goodbye to you. A mischievous smile runs across her mouth and you look down, you know what's going through her mind and you don't want her to see your face turn red. A new trip with Daryl, which will keep you out of the community for a few days, surely Princess will offer you the hunter's old apartment, where he lived with the Grimes family. Thinking about it makes your stomach clench, butterflies flutter loudly almost making you dizzy. You shake your head to get those thoughts out of your head. The trip is going to be a long one, you need to stay alert on the road, the last thing you want is for your companions to end up in trouble because of your fantasies.

**********************

Princess and Merce are waiting for you at the huge gates of the Commonwealth when you arrive late at night. The sun is already setting leaving the uncertainty of the night behind you, but it has been an intense journey. You have been caught in an ambush of Walkers, two or three of which you have been able to deal with without much trouble, but further along the same road, they were cutting you off. Among them there was still some Whisperer, guiding them, using them as a shield to continue to survive. The supplies and yourselves are fine, but you arrive tired, covered in blood and mud, which does not prevent your friend from hugging you when you enter the community. Juanita gives Daryl a gentle hug, she has known the hunter for less time than some of you, but has learned that displays of affection with him are brief, with the rest she allows herself to give you a tight hug, smiling broadly and even laughs when she hugs Rosita, excited. Yumiko, Magna and Connie are also waiting for you in the main square, Max runs directly to hug Eugene who wraps his arms around her, happy to see her again. Merce approaches you giving you a handshake, the soldier is still stiff and formal, despite no longer working under anyone's orders.

"It's good to see you again." You hear Daryl mutter, out of the corner of your eye you see him gesturing to Connie. She smiles broadly, giving him a hug that he accepts without hesitation.

You don't like the way you feel at that moment. Connie is a wonderful person and an excellent friend, for your stomach to cringe like that when you see them together, you don't like it. You don't want to feel that way. You and Daryl are nothing and they seem to fit together perfectly. You wonder again what would have happened if the two of them had decided to stay in Alexandria or come to the Commonwealth together. You'd possibly see Daryl a lot less and you'd never have figured out those feelings you have for him.

"Shit..." You mumble under your breath. Magna looks up, they're getting the stuff from the cart where you are.

"Everything okay?" she asks you leaving several boxes in a small trailer being taken away by other soldiers from the community.

"What? Oh, yeah, it's just... it's been a long trip." You lie, though not entirely. Truth be told a shower and a bed wouldn't hurt right about now.

"Okay, let the boys take care of this, come with us." Princess says, taking her partner's hand and you all walk towards the main building. You have a small meeting at the entrance. Max hands out a few things among you, apartment keys, a few bags with some towels and food already prepared.

"We have placed most of you in your old apartments, the rest of you are also relocated to various houses. If you don't know how to get there, we'll drive you, I think some of you are coming to the community for the first time." She says looking at some of the companions who have come with you.

"There is hot water so you can take a shower, the apartments are clean and we have prepared something to eat for you." Max explains as well. "We guess you guys are exhausted, we'll talk about the party tomorrow."

"Daryl." Merce speaks after a while observing the situation. "You guys we've put you in Rick and the kids' old house. Where you were living."

"A'right, thanks... I figure it's time for a well deserved rest." He looks at you, your body trembles, you didn't expect him to invite you, although it's clear, where else would you go? Well maybe in some other apartment, or with Rosita and Coco.

You detect out of the corner of your eye how Connie looks at the two of you, curiously, and then she smiles biting her lip. You open your eyes wide, nervous, feeling your cheeks burn. Something knows, something senses, which is reaffirmed when Daryl gives you a tap to get your attention, you snap out of your self-absorption to look at him.

"Cmon?"

"Y-yeah, see you tomorrow." You smile a little.

"Is there something I should know?" You listen to Merce talk to Princess.

"Later at home I'll explain it to you." She replies kissing your cheek. "Everyone to rest." She gives the others permission to retire.

"You're good at being the boss." Rosita tells her, cradling Coco in her arms.

"Nope. Merce take care of everything, I just pretend I know what I'm talking about." She jokes, making the small group laugh. "People are a lot calmer now that things aren't ruled...well, like they used to be." He shrugs.

A party. The thought keeps running through your mind as you walk the dark but quiet streets of the Commonwealth. True, things are quiet, it almost seems like the world you once knew, but that's... you still remember the first party in that world of the dead. When you arrived in Alexandria, not knowing what was going to happen, who these people were, or if things would work out. Deanna invited you all to a party to welcome you, seeing dresses, party clothes, high heels inside the closet of what would be your new home made you a little dizzy, making you think that that community would not stand for long.

You were glad you were wrong about that.

"It's been a while since I've celebrated Christmas." You comment, not sure if you said it loud enough or just thought it. When you feel Daryl's gaze on you, you know you've caught his attention.

"We've never celebrated." He mutters, not giving it a thought. You look at him in surprise.

"Never?"

"Well, when I was a kid, but I don't remember much...it was just another day my dad came home drunk." He shrugs.

"I'm sorry to hear that..." You whisper pityingly. You know little and less about Daryl's life, only what he's told you, and truth be told, he's never been too cheerful.

"It's not like I care." He shakes his body. "We can do it so the kids can enjoy a different kind of day, gifts, sounds good to me."

"I have to figure out what to get Judith and RJ."

"It's not like you have much of a choice." He tries to joke and you laugh through your nose.

"You're right..." You stand there for a moment thinking. "Do you want to come with me to the mall?" You say it as a joke, but at the same time it's true, you'd like to take a quick trip to the mall near the Commonwealth, “I'm sure it's stripped down, but just to try it out.”

"To the mall next door?" he asks catching you by surprise. "Do you think there will be anything left?"

"I-I don't know, but I'd sure like to take a look."

"Okay, we can make a list, bring stuff for the kids here too..."

"And for us, I mean... I'm sure the others will be excited too."

"I guess."

A small smile tugs at your mouth, biting your lip to try to stifle it a little and not annoy the hunter, but you feel his gaze on you, one eyebrow raised, questioning.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just excited by the idea. Just from imagining the kids opening the presents." You laugh softly and he seems to catch it, snorting.

"You like kids." He understands, looking sideways at you, opening the apartment door. "But I've never seen you with one."

"The world went to shit, Daryl, remember? The thought of bringing a baby into this world scares me, I know we're safer now, that things are different than they were in the beginning, but..." You shrug, venturing inside the house, right behind him. "Besides at my age the chances of me getting pregnant are very small..."

"But it's not impossible." You cut off your thoughts. You look at him, twisting your head slightly, smile trying to joke and put your hands on your hips.

"Is it that you want a baby, Dixon?"

He looks at you, there doesn't seem to be any expression on his face, but the intensity in his eyes make your smile falter, forcing you to hold your breath for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

You, maybe.

"Nah, who'd want another Dixon for the world?"

"I know of a group that would love to help you with that." You can't bite your tongue in time. By the time you're aware of what you've said, Daryl is already looking at you with raised eyebrows and a pursed mouth. How stupid.

"What?"

"Nothing."

But you know his question is rhetorical. That he understood perfectly well what you were referring to, he's just trying to set the conversation straight. You're standing there, in the middle of the living room of the apartment, now it feels incredibly small to you, feeling suffocated, you'd like to leave the conversation there, tell him goodnight and tomorrow will be another day. But Daryl turns on his axis and walks towards you a couple of steps.

"You mean the group short shorts?" He says with an amused edge to his voice.

Oh. He's noticed it too. You think, but of course, how can you not? As Carol told you, why wouldn't nice legs and little ones still in place get his attention? They'd get your attention too if you'd like those things. You shake off those thoughts, taking a small step back, looking at him sideways.

"They are always waiting for you when you come back from some mission..." You try to justify yourself.

"They're just looking for attention. Besides I don't think I could handle all four at once. I'm not that good."

Your gaze shoots to him, there's a small smile on his mouth at the same time the tips of his ears look reddened. You hold each other's gaze for a few seconds before you laugh and lower your head, hiding the laugh between your teeth.

"Idiot."

"I have no intention with any of them." You say again. "I don't like them following me around either, but they don't listen to me."

"Bark, you're good at it when you're angry." You prod him and he snorts.

"I think you like it when I bark at you." He smiles moving a little closer to you.

"You don't bark at me...you just growl at me." You smile wanting to tease him, Daryl growls, brushing his nose against yours, a chuckle escapes you.

"You want me to growl at you?" he whispers against your lips, you nod.

"Yes..."

Opening your eyes you feel Daryl's arm around your waist, pressing you against his chest, fully asleep, or so it seems. Slowly, not wanting to wake him, you look up, discovering how calm and relaxed he seems. His other arm under his head, his disheveled hair falling over his eyes, his mouth half open, letting out several sighs that don't become snores. It is a privileged view that you try to burn into your mind. Very slowly you move between his arms, kissing his chin, the line of his jaw, but the movement wakes Daryl, putting him on alert. His huge hand covers your mouth as he turns sharply, standing over you. Your heart races at the sight of his still sleeping eyes. As he begins to become aware of where he is and who you are, he snorts and slowly lowers his hand from your mouth.

"I'm sorry. I was asleep..."

"I know, it's a miracle I didn't know existed." You joke and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up. What were you doing?"

"Looking at you."

"That's creepy." He jokes and you laugh quietly.

"I like looking at you, you're so cute." You continue to sting watching his ears turn red.

"Why didn't you roll over and go back to sleep?"

"Because we have to go get the kids presents." You smile wider seeing him get a small smile too.

"Okay." He grunts letting you off the hook, sitting down on the bed to get his clothes and get dressed.

It's been days since you've dreamed of that time. Before you and Daryl started this relationship. The Christmas that changed everything for you.

Your relationship with Daryl started to become more evident and continuous from that first night in the Commonwealth. You went next to the mall, talking to Princess, Merce and Max about your gift idea, everyone thought it was a good idea and put together different requests from kids and teens in the community to try to bring everything. While you were looking for the last requests before Christmas day, the party was all organized, the room where it was going to be held was fully decorated, even a Christmas tree had been put up and was being surrounded by lots of presents, but some were left behind and you were doing your best to find them when you and Daryl heard a very soft cry coming from one of the tents.

There you found Oscar, a baby just a few months old, begging for attention, possibly starving. His mother was chained up not far from him and it was evident that she had not long ago been transformed. You didn't even hesitate, Daryl gave his mother rest and then took little Oscar in his arms, he was wrapped in a blanket with that name embroidered on it, so you decided to leave that name for the baby. When you returned to the community there was a small commotion when you saw the baby in your arms, many questions plastered on the faces and eyes of your companions.

"You were supposed to go for gifts for the children, where did you get that one?" Princess asked for the others.

You explained to them what had happened at the mall and no one doubted that you had done the sensible thing. On the other hand, the idea of adopting Oscar didn't cross your mind at first, in fact your idea was to leave him at the Commonwealth, surely someone would take care of him, but Daryl didn't think so.

"We kept it. We found him."

"Daryl, it's a baby, it's not a toy. You can't just… claim him..."

"And what yer gonna do, leave him here for someone to raffle off." He snorted and you opened your mouth but then closed it. If you thought about it...

"I'm just trying to find him a family."

"We could be his family!" He barked and you looked at him with wide eyes.

"We?"

"In Alexandria, I meant... all of us, in the community... you..." mumbled looked visibly nervous. You knew there was something struggling to get out but his mouth refused to spit it out.

"Fine, we'll take him with us to Alexandria, but you can't force me to have a baby, Daryl." You tried to make him understand. "Much less if I have to take care of it by myself."

Again you saw that gesture in him, like chewing his lip as his eyes searched for a spot to look other than you, the ideas building up in his head, but his mouth still didn't want to speak.

"You know Daryl. If you have something to say to me, say it, it's not good to keep things to yourself." You provoked him to speak, but he just turns and walks away. "I thought so..." You growled.

As Rick arrived with the others, even Carol with Ezekiel from The Kingdom, you had to explain again how you had found Oscar, earning you some funny looks from your friends, but you wanted to ignore them, however, in your mind Daryl's words followed, maybe you should take Oscar to Alexandria, he will be safe there too, after all there will be other mothers there who can help you if you had doubts, plus other children he could make friends with. Maybe you should listen to Daryl. During the day you took care of Oscar, taking care of him, bringing out your maternal instinct. It's not that you don't like children, you loved taking care of Judith and RJ, but you never thought you would become a mother. That day with Oscar in your arms, you ended up making the decision that you would be his mother and that he would come back to Alexandria with you.

Daryl got to you before you got to him. At the ball, after getting everything ready, the archer appeared through the party room, walking straight towards you.

"Daryl listen..."

"I wanna have a baby with ya." Your words got stuck in your throat. "Ya asked me if I wanted to have a baby, yes, if it's with ya." You were unable to speak, Daryl was breathing heavily, his nose swelling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Saying all that was complicated for him, it was clear he'd had an intense argument with himself. "You said you didn't think you could have babies and suddenly Oscar has shown up...it's...I dunno..." He was stunned, he simply couldn't get his thoughts together and it was overwhelming him.

"Is that what you want? It would be a commitment... very long term, Daryl, it's..."

"Yer my girl, ain't ya? A commitment..."

"I'm your girl?" your heart raced violently at those words.

"Ya wanna a ring or somethin’?" he asked leaving you speechless once again.

The sparkle on your finger captures your attention, pulling you back out of the memories. You didn't need a ring for Daryl to make it clear how he felt, his words had already done that, but still the archer showed up with a ring that symbolized a little more of how he felt.

"You're such a romantic, Dixon." You laughed with him accepting the gift.

"We were already friends. The sex is fine. All that was missing was the baby." He told you and you laughed.

"Mom?" You hear in the hallway, putting you both on alert.

"Shall I go?" asks Daryl who is already sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Please, I'll be right there and fix some breakfast."

"Okay." He leans over giving you a kiss. "Coming, champ."

"Daddy!" replies Oscar with an excited shout.

You sit on the bed for a few more seconds, enjoying just that, the feeling that is enveloping you, in the distance, you hear Daryl's voice and Oscar's laughter enjoying his father's attentions. You close your eyes feeling goose bumps, your heart racing. How everything has changed with a few simple words.

"I can try…”

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allzelemonz · 8 months

Text

Sit Still: Arthur Morgan X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 6, Dubcon/Frottage Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Slight dubcon, frottage, sex with clothes on, grinding, kissing, neck kissing, marking, low honor Arthur Morgan, dominate Arthur and submissive Reader, sleeping, slight cuddling Summary: With the whole camp noticing Arthur’s darker turn recently, Dutch sent you out to keep an eye on him.

The gang isn’t entirely sure what’s been going on with Arthur. All Miss Grimshaw told was that he’d told Mary-Beth that he’d been killing people without reason. Even Dutch is concerned, shutting himself and Hosea in his tent to talk about their son. You heard John telling Abigail not to let Jack near him for now. Kieran’s been shyer around him. Uncle hasn’t asked him for money. Something is wrong with the Van der Linde work horse, his mind isn’t as it should be.

So being alone with him is a little unnerving.

Dutch warned you explicitly before you left for this overnight job. “Watch him.” He said. “Tell me what you think.”

You glance up at Arthur. His eyes are fixed on the fire as he pokes it with a stick. He seems fine right now and he was pleasant enough on the ride out, telling a few jokes and making idle conversation. Dutch trusted you with this little ruse, a half baked job to observe Arthur’s mental state, because he knows you can handle yourself. You could fight him off at the very least, get to your horse, and you can watch him unlike Micah or Bill.

Still, your heart races.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Arthur mutters, eyes fixing on you as he sits back on his bedroll across the fire. “Somethin’ Dutch said?”

Your breath hitches but you shake it, keeping your cool. “Just cold out here, should’ve worn a better coat.”

Arthur hums, his eyes boring into you so hard you can feel it.

He just seems different, very much not himself. You know Arthur well enough to know he’s not usually the kind of man to feel so off putting. He’s an outlaw, sure, but he’s usually the type you’d feel safe sharing a camp with. Right now you have half a mind to think he might slit your throat in your sleep. But it’s Arthur, he wouldn’t do anything like that. He wouldn’t.

“Cold, huh?”

You meet his eyes for a moment, that same bright color shaded by the dark flames. They look menacing somehow, even though you’ve seen them scrunched with laughter and accompanied by flushed cheeks. You just nod.

“Suppose I am too.” He says without a hint of a shiver. “Maybe we should share, keep each other warm.”

You feel a twinge in your chest. Share? With Arthur? No doubt you’ve thought about it, cuddling up to him in his tent on cold nights at camp. And you especially thought about it when you were up in Colter. But now, with the way Arthur’s been these past few weeks, the thought makes you nervous.

“I’m alright, Arthur.”

“No.” He says gruffly. “I insist.”

You stare for a moment. Insist?

Then Arthur moves, standing and walking off into the dark. You assume he goes to take a piss, not overly concerned about his whereabouts. He’s too far away to see for a while so you give yourself time to think. Arthur Morgan… insisting?

It happens fast, hands shoving your shoulders and weight on top of you before you can do anything. You’re pinned to your bedroll and when you look up, it’s Arthur’s dazzling eyes looking down at you. He’s sitting on your legs, just below your gunbelt, his hands holding your wrists on either side of your head.

You swallow your nerves before you speak. “Arthur?”

He shushes you, soft and smooth, as he moves your wrists together so he can hold them with one hand. You don’t have the present mind to protest anyway. With his newly free hand, he unbuckles your gunbelt and you mindlessly lift your hips to let him pull it off.

“Good boy.” He mutters, his hand settling on your stomach. “Sit still fer me.”

You don’t dare move when he lets your wrists go. Arthur could kill you in a second if he really wanted to. Even if you still had your guns, no one is a faster draw than him. He shifts up your legs a little, leaning forward so his body covers yours. Your mouth goes dry when you feel it, Arthur’s dick pressing into your own. It’s hard, straining against his pants as he begins to grind into you. He hardly bothers to spare you of his weight, leaning hard into you and his arms only serving to sit beside your head as he breathes against your neck. His legs are spread over you, leaving only your own legs as a probable means of escape.

But do you want to?

Arthur’s an attractive man, usually a good one too. The Arthur you know would have asked before pinning you down, he would’ve been more gentle about it. But this… this feels good too. Arthur’s dick rubbing yours through two layers of pants has already gotten you half hard, and when you feel his lips at your neck, you become solid. Arthur groans against your skin, his hips digging against yours further and faster. He’s sloppy, needy, and you wonder why he doesn’t just shed the clothes keeping you apart.

In a way, you’re thankful he doesn’t.

“Ya feel good, boy.” He murmurs, his lips pressing wet, hot kisses along your neck.

“Arthur…”

He shushes you again, moving his head to kiss you properly. He’s warm and he tastes so deeply of whiskey you have to wonder if he’s drunk. The movement of his hips distracts you before you can think much about it. Fast, impossible good ruts that make your clothes rub heavenly against your sensitive dick. And when paired with Arthur’s rough lips on your own and the force of it all, you feel yourself getting close.

Arthur pulls away from the kiss, sitting up slightly as his hands return to hold your wrists. You haven’t moved them, you’ve barely moved at all. Only the slight jut of your hips or the squirming of your legs, nothing Arthur has noticed. He grinds down against you, a low groan coming out of him and you have to hold your own expressions in.

“Knew you’d be good.” He mutters. “Just wait ‘til I do this proper.”

You feel a hitch in your throat, then the waves over take you as Arthur ruts faster. You grind up into him and you can hear him chuckle as he leans down to suck a mark into your neck. Your vision blurs a bit as you come down. There’s a new feeling that accompanies the same heavy weight of Arthur, a wet warmth in your pants. Arthur has drooped into you, his breathing slow and steady and his arms wrapped around you. Timidly, you move your arms around him once you hear the gentle snores.

You have no idea what you’ll tell Dutch now.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #x reader #x male reader #fictober #kinktober

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lunajay33 · 3 months

Text

Enjoy the Silence🌪️

Summary: Things in your past has driven you to be silent but will someone be able to break that shell, will someone finally listen to you(might make this into a series!)

•Masterlist•

Things happened, awful painful things happened to me as a child even as a teen, that feeling never really went away, it was there deep in your heart, lingering at the back of your mind so I learned to never let those things happen again because my heart couldn’t handle that, so now I stay silent I don’t let anyone in

So when the apocalypse happened I got to run away from the things that were holding me back, from the people that hurt me and I got to find a group at the quarry that were so kind, they accepted me, they accepted after awhile that I didn’t talk they were my family now but there was still the thought of getting hurt so I kept that part of myself locked away

But I heard the others talk about it sometimes, they just thought I was mute and I’d rather then think that than the real reason

When we found the prison I thought things might be getting better but then that fell and then terminus brought up so much pain but now we were finally someone secure, Alexandria

The two house split up the group, I stayed with Rick Michonne Carl Judith and Daryl, my room being right next to Daryl’s which made me feel safe, every since I met him at the quarry I felt this peace around him, I never knew why until I saw the scars that littered his body that’s when I knew he felt my pain, he understood

And from the way he looked at me I think he knew why I was also silent which took that weight off my chest

I got up from my bed and went to get ready for the day in mine and Daryl’s shared bathroom in the basement, I brushed my teeth pulled my hair back for the day and got dressed in my shorts and long sleeves black shirt, I opened up the door to leave when I bumped into Daryl scaring me a bit from the impact

“Oh sorry” he said looking down at me

I just smiled and moved to the side to let him past, when he passed he brushed his hand over my shoulder giving me this weird feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before, usually I hated people touching me but for some reason his touch was…..nice

I walked upstairs grabbing an apple and heading out to the gardens, during the day Maggie and I usually worked on maintaining the gardens, it was relaxing and helped me forget about what plagued my mind, the day went on as usual, until it was my turn for watch, I sat on the perch looking over the wall

I always watched at night, me and someone else well whoever wanted to, the others in the group said I shouldn’t be out every night and to switch regularly every other day with someone but I just shook my head and continued this routine

As I was watching the sight before me, the occasional straggle walker waiting for my watch partner, some people I preferred over others as they didn’t push me to talk and just enjoyed the silence with me

That’s when the ladder started creaking as someone climbed up to take watch with me, the grunt that I heard when the person sat next to me I knew exactly who it was and that feeling in my chest was back

I looked at him greeting him with a simple smile which he returned and that feeling just grew, it was confusing I didn’t know what it was it was so foreign maybe that’s just what happened when I felt comfortable with someone, that must be it

“Have a good day?” He asked looking at me

I nodded resting my head on my hand that was perched up on my knee, then I motioned to him for his response

“Day was alright, went on a run actually found somethin fer ya” he said as he rummaged through his bag he brought up, it was a surprise for sure no one really ever got me anything….like every

He pulled out a new pair of boots and a new long sleeve shirt, I gasped at this gesture it made my chest feel tight with happiness

I took the boots and tried them on and they were a perfect fight the shirt looked like the right size too, instead of black like my usually shirt this one was dark green

“I saw yer shoes were falling apart and ya only wear this black shirt, thought ya might like somethin’ new” he said grunting, clearing his through but I knew this kind of thing wasn’t normal for him either

I felt so happy someone would do this for me, I placed my hand on his and squeezed it hoping he realized by my touching him, which was rare, showed how much this really meant to me

“It ain’t a problem” he said turning his hand to hold mine, I thought he’d pull away but he didn’t and I liked it, for the next few hours of our shift we sat there in silence, some occasional questions but he held my hand the whole time, something new, something warm

Our shift was over now as Abraham and Sasha replaced us

“Get some sleep you two” Sasha said smiling as you both started walking back to your house

~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl’s POV

She gasped, a noise actually left her, and it was the cutest thing ever, there was something about her, maybe because she was quiet she didn’t try and fill the silence with stupid chit chat, sure I liked to talk with some people normal conversations but with her it was some of the only time that I felt relaxed

And when her eyes lit up at the present she looked so happy which a lot of us never really got to see, for as long as I’ve known her I’ve never really seen her happy, but this little gesture shows that she never really got presents kind of like me

But even though I was closed off most of the time except with Rick and Carol, I wanted to be able to get closer to her, show her she can be happy, but I don’t wanna push her too much, just a little at a time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Normal POV

Last night I had the best sleep of my life, maybe it was the peaceful evening with Daryl, maybe it was the way he made me feel and distracted me, but whatever it was I was able to sleep through the whole night without waking up from a nightmare

I got dressed in my new boots and new shirt, along with my usual jean shorts, I only had one pair but I felt like too much of a burden to ask for a new pair even though I’ve only been wearing these since the farm when Maggie gave them to me after my pants were ripped

But I mean Daryl gave me this shirt and boots maybe it wouldn’t be too much of a problem to ask for him to keep an eye out on his next scavenging outage, they always came around asking everyone if people needed something and I always declined, so just this once so be fine….right?

I went upstairs and Carl Michonne Rick and Daryl were sat at the table having breakfast, Rick holding Judith and feeding her pieces of peaches, normally I’d take something and leave but after last night I wanted to get closer to everyone even just with small little gestures, so I decided to sit at the table in the open chair by Michonne

Everyone looked at me first with shocked expressions but smiled after they realized what happened

“Morning! Have a good sleep?” Michonne asked smiling as she put a pancake on my plate

I nodded smiling genuinely, finally feeling refreshed after actually being able to sleep through a whole night

“Are you working on the garden again today?” Carl asked

Again I nodded shovelling the pancakes into my mouth, starving from having missed supper last night

“Are the tomatoes rip yet I’m wanna make pasta for the family” Rick asked

I held my fingers close together showing that the tomatoes were close to being done and Rick was happy about it, I helped clean up from breakfast and went to head to the garden but right before I left the porch I saw Daryl was already cleaning his bow and thought this was the best time to ask

I went and stood infront of him fiddling with the ends of my shirt, he looked at me as he sat his bow down

“Ya good?” He asked

It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to someone so this was a big deal for me

“Ummm…..can you look for shorts for me next time you go out, if it’s not too much to ask” I blurted out quickly wanting to get it over with

It was silent for a while and it was getting uncomfortable for me, he was the only one I finally got the courage to actually talk too and now he’s the one not talking

“Sorry” I said turning to leave but before I made it down the porch he gently took my shoulder stopping me

“I can do that, I’ll bring ya back a few ta pick from” he said giving me a gently smile

I felt that weight lift from my chest, I nodded smiling and left to harvest any rip foods, as I was placing some strawberries in a basket I kept thinking about Daryl, I only ever really see him smile like that when he was talking to me or Carol and it made those butterflies erupt in my stomach, and it was driving me insane I didn’t know what this meant

“Here have some water it’s hot as hell out today” Maggie said breaking me from my thoughts as she handed me her water bottle, I wiped of my hands and chugged some feeling a bit better

The sun was really beating down today and the longsleeve wasn’t helping but it was like a safe thing for me to feel covered, shorts were fine but I liked being fully covered on my top half for some reason, maybe I’ll just take a break in side for a second

I took the strawberries bringing them to the kitchen for Olivia to store, I took a few and brought them back to the house placing them in the fridge for the others, after cooling off I headed back out to help Maggie and let her take her break

I was working later into the evening after harvesting the food, I went on to pick off any dead leaves, replanting some sprout to make more plants and doing some watering, now that the sun was setting I sat on the patch of grass off of the garden relaxing after a long day of work, feeling the little breeze blow through my hair

I was so relaxed almost falling asleep when someone sat next to me shaking my shoulder

“Hey” that gruff voice I knew anywhere, looking beside me to see Daryl with his bag again

“Me and Rick went out on a little run today, found a store that was barely looked through” he placed his bag infront of me motioning to it

I pulled out like 5 pairs of shorts all kinda similar to the ones I have now but in varying colors, denim blue, black, light denim, army green, and dark grey plus all the same size as mine now, he really new my sizes perfectly

I held them too my chest smiling so much my cheeks hurt

“Thank you” I said

“No probelm, maybe next time ya can come with me”

“Sure!”

“Ya know I’m still not use ta ya talkin ta me……I like it” he said making be blush

“You’re the only one…..I’m comfortable with you”

“Why?” He asked you just shrugged your shoulders

“Ya can talk ta me ya know”

“I know I’m just not…..not yet”

“I get it, we should go home get some dinner before Carl eats everything” he said standing holding his hand out for me, I held the shorts tight and took his hand but he didn’t let go all the way back to the house

Something new was happening, it was scary but I was willing to try whatever this was

—///—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.2<-

Thinking of doing a part 2 if you wanna be in the taglist comment!!

Taglist: @deansapplepie

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daryldixonsboy · 1 month

Text

It was late at night.

Alexandria was practically silent outside, the only noises being the cicadas chirping in the distance. You were listening to the familiar rhythm of the noise tossing and turning in bed while waiting for Daryl to get home.

He'd been out all day, and you weren't sure why. Most mornings, you'd either wake up with him next to you, peacefully asleep, or you'd wake up to him kissing your forehead before heading out, wheather to was to hunt, or work on his bike.

But today, you woke up with an empty bed and an even emptier house. He was nowhere to be found. You'd been worried something had happened, maybe you'd upset him doing something the day before. Daryl always seemed to close himself off when he was upset. Everything seemed to be okay between the two of you, though. You'd fallen asleep the night before, him holding his arms around your waist with his face nuzzled into the nape of your neck.

Where could he be?

Suddenly, you flipped around at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Slipping on one of Daryl's shirts, you tumbled out of bed and down the stairs, and there he was.

Daryl was kicking off his boots at the front door with his crossbow slung over his shoulders. He looked stressed, setting his crossbow down by the door and scrubbing his hands over his face, sighing.

You stepped forward quietly, until you were stood right in front of him, grabbing his hand and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

"What's wrong, Daryl? You okay?" You ask, keeping your tone soft, like he could break at any firmer of a tone.

"'S nothin'. I'm fine." He muttered, his gaze dropping down to his shoes, hair falling in front of his face.

You wordlessly guided him upstairs to the bed, sitting him down on the edge with his feet planted on the floor in front of him. He looked on the brink of tears, almost, his breathing shallow. His lips were set in a firm line, and he kept his eyes on the floor.

You started pulling off his vest and shirt, getting him ready to relax and lay down. You'd known him long enough that he felt comfortable showing the scars on his back to you. Usually, you found yourself tracing them with the tip of your fingers, gently pressing kisses onto them when he was asleep next to you. (Or so you thought. He could always feel when you did it.)

"I didn't see you today," You whispered to him, sitting down by him and leaning your head against his shoulder. Daryl wasn't an overly affectionate person most days, especially when he was upset. You knew he still loved it when you held him, but sometimes he couldn't handle it. "Wanna tell me what's wrong? I won't push, if you don't wanna tell me," You assured him.

Daryl was dead silent for a moment, still staring down at the ground in front of him. It wasn't that he didn't feel safe enough to tell you, it was more that he wasn't sure how to vocalize his feelings. His whole life, he'd been told by his father and his brother that he couldn't feel as deeply as he did.

"My momma died, 'round this time 'a year when I was a lil' kid." He started, taking another breath and scrubbing his hands over his face. "I don't like thinkin' 'bout it, but I still wanna honor 'er." His voice was so quiet, words breaking up. He didn't dare make eye contact with you.

You thought about your words before speaking. "Was she good to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she was good." Daryl replied, fidgeting with his hands. "She'd... uh, she'd always make sure I was happy. Never remember her yellin' at me or Merle. Stood up fer me when my dad was bein' a dick. I was a pussy as a kid, though, always cryin' when I had ta' be 'round a lotta people. She'd take care 'a me when I panicked."

Daryl had a very fond memory of his mother. The woman always managed to keep a gentle hand with him. When he was young, he'd never stray from her shadow. He remembered the way she'd carefully trim his hair for him when it got too long. She'd patch up his wounds, no matter where they came from, whether it was his father, Merle, kids in the neighborhood, or just a small mistake. She'd hold his hand when they walked through crowds, days that he'd be so nervous he'd break down. She always managed to calm him down.

He was heartbroken after she died. She was his source of comfort; she was his home. He no longer had that sense of security and love, only his aggressive brother and abusive dad. He was forced by the remaining people around him to suppress his emotions, his grief and pain. When it all became too much, he'd run out to the woods and hide somewhere he was sure he couldn't be found and cry all his emotions out.

"You weren't a pussy, Daryl, you just needed some help. It's okay to feel the way you did," You replied to him carefully. You weren't going to push him to tell you more, even though you wanted to know details of his childhood so bad. You wanted to soothe his scars, his hurt.

"She died smokin' cigarettes in bed. I watched my house go up. Kids in my neighborhood, police- hell, everyone was lookin' at me, like I knew what happened." He whispered, his voice getting softer. You soon realized that he was sniffling, physically holding back tears. "I jus' ran- I ran out to the woods. Wasn't nothin' else to do. Couldn't go home," and just like that, the lump in his throat dissolved into nothing, his vision blurring.

"Sweetheart..." You trailed off, taking his beautiful face in your hands. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks softly, watching his expression as he sniffled out uneven breaths.

"'M sorry... 'm not tryin' 'ta--" He mumbled through tears, his voice breaking.

You couldn't help but embrace him, holding him in your arms with his face pressed against your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly, pressing kisses into the top of his head every few minutes. He had his arms wrapped around you, hands gripping the fabric of your (his) shirt. You just sat there holding him, giving him the comfort he deserved, the comfort he'd never gotten as a child.

It appalled you that anyone could hurt the beautiful man in front of you. He deserved so much love, so much care. Daryl was so used to taking care of everyone else, that he'd never gotten the opportunity to take care of himself.

"You don't ever have to apologize for feeling. Not to me, not to anyone, Daryl," You murmured into his hair, listening as his breaths slowly evened out as he calmed down. "I promise, you can come to me when you need to. I'll never make you feel bad for crying- for hurting, either- 'cause I love you."

Daryl picked his head up from your shoulder to properly look you in the eyes, bringing one of his hands up to push some of your hair behind your ear. "What would I do without ya?" He asked, sniffling, not waiting for a response.

You gave him a gentle smile, tugging him back on the bed as you moved to lay down. "C'mere, pretty boy. Let's lay down, yeah?"

Daryl scooted back with you, not arguing. You pulled him so that he was laying his head on your chest, his body weight on top of you. The pressure felt comforting for the both of you, reassuring. You continued swiping your fingers through his hair as he began drifting off.

Right before the two of you could fall asleep, you heard him whisper something to you, just loud enough for you to hear. "I love you, too."

You'd always be there for him; his anchor, his home.

I hope this wasn't too horrible lmaooo it's kinda rushed😭 Lmk if yall want any more concepts like this‼️

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Note

Hmm I wonder if Crowley and the school staff, Riddle, Dence, Ruggie, Azul, Jamil, Epel, Rook, Idia, Malleus, Sliver and Sebek found out that some certain people skipped the school and went to the amusement park? Also how would they react?

I’d imagine they'd mostly have the pretty normal and expected initial reaction of being shocked that the others snuck out on a school night to a sketchy theme park and managed to come back from a human trafficking operation in one piece. To give a little more detail to each:

Riddle would collar Trey, Cater, and Ace, then lecture them for breaking various school rules, putting themselves in danger, disobeying his command to not sneak out and skip school, etc. He especially lays into the seniors for "not setting a proper example" for the Heartslabyul students.

Deuce awkwardly stands off to the side and watches as they get berated, occasionally nodding and going, "That's right!" in response to their dorm leader. (Ace gets annoyed and tells Deuce off, probably saying something like, "Don't act like YOU weren't interested in going earlier, dummy!")

Ruggie wails about how he would've enjoyed hanging out at a place that offers free everything. He makes jokes to cope with the situation, like poking fun at how the "straight-laced" Jack has a rebellious streak and how Leona's soooo responsible and selfless for chasing after his juniors. Ruggie also jokes about how he's glad his walking wallet "best" employer Leona-san made it back safely... and hey, he wouldn't have happened to have brought back a souvenir for his ever-so loyal hench-hyena, would he?

Azul tries to present as cool and uncaring to the twins; he tells them that if they fucked up and lost their autonomy because of their poor decisions and giving into their curiosity... well, that's their bad and they deserve the consequences of their actions. Jade and Floyd pal around with him, draping themselves over his shoulders and teasing him about how "It's okaaay, just admit that you missed us, admit that you were worried!" Deep down, Azul really was (but he'll never say that out loud and let the twins have an upper hand over him).

Jamil has a fucking heart attack knowing just how close he was to a dead and/or missing Kalim. Not because he cares or anything, but because his own ass would be grass if anything happened to Kalim. Jamil looks him over like five times to make sure not a hair on his head is harmed (all while Kalim is laughing, reassuring Jamil that he's fine, and telling him stories about all the fun times he had at Playful Land). When Kalim starts to suggest inviting Fellow and Gidel to their next banquet, Jamil silences him with a firm, "ABSOLUTELY NOT!!"

Rook waxes poetic about how he's so relieved that their beautiful Vil has returned to them. He'll faithfully fetch Vil whatever he needs to rest and recover from such a heart-pounding adventure!

Epel grumbles about how he wishes he could have gone too ("'N shown those puppets what fer!!"), only to get bonked and told off by his dorm leader. (Ace will tell him stories later, which makes Epel super envious.)

Idia tells Ortho that "touching grass" does them no good, it only brings misery and suffering like what he went through at Playful Land! The worry dies down and is replaced with keen interest the more Ortho tells him about the island's operations. They have a jammer that prevented Ortho's normal functions from working? Idia takes it as a personal challenge--who do they think they are, trying to trump this genius inventor? He'll show them what he's made of by powering up his little brother!

Sebek loudly insists they need to go and dismantle the shadowy organization responsible for attempting something so foolish as to entrap and sell THE Lilia Vanrouge off! Who do they think they are?! Man's absolutely appalled and enraged but also choking back tears at what he perceives is Lilia's nobility, so willing to throw himself into the heat of battle to save others!! Sebek tells Ace he should be "grateful" that Lilia saw it fit to save "such a pathetic lot of humans" from absolute destruction.

Silver frets over his father, but he's ultimately proud of him for acting the role of a reliable senpai and looking out for his underclassmen. (This is the reason he assumes for Lilia going to the shady park.) And, of course, he's glad to have his father back home with him. He insists on looking after him the day of his return, saying that Lilia has gone through a lot lately--and as the triumphant hero, he deserves to relax!

Malleus isn't worried about Lilia (he knows that Lilia can handle himself just fine) so much as he's disappointed that he wasn't invited to go along. He's curious about all that Lilia experienced in Playful Land and listens to his tales with wide eyes. Malleus is not really paying attention to the dangers present (after all, he is confident he could blow it all away if it dares to encroach on his autonomy). Lilia laughs and says they should take a trip to another amusement park sometime.

The staff would be collectively sad that their students would act out like they have. This is especially true of Trein, who is more disappointed than mad. He chastises the boys in a way that makes you feel bad for making like... a grandfather upset. He wonders if he has somehow mentored his students incorrectly or instilled the wrong values in them.

Crewel expresses his disappointment in a different way. He's harsher with his students: "Since you bad boys thought it fit to skip Crewel-sama's lecture, you must have already mastered the materials. Pencils out for a pop quiz!" That's his tough love out on full display, stemming from the desire to ensure that his students can survive on their own out there in the cruel wide world.

Vargas tries to not linger on the negative feelings for too long. He'll encourage the boys to get back on their feet and moving. Movement means more blood circulation, and less of a reminder of the stiff puppets the kids almost turned out to be. Vargas never vocalizes his intentions for fear that him having a negative outlook might influence his students. So instead, he wears a grin and belts out a hearty laugh to keep their spirits high.

Sam will listen to his customers' woes, just as any good shopkeep would! There's a lot of useful information to pick apart from the people who drift in. A strange business like Playful Land? It piques Sam's interest in the mysterious and the unknown--he's delighted with such fantastical tales, and invites his customers to tell more. Sam's always here to lend an ear! And hey, if you get thirsty from all the gabbing, why not buy a drink from the Mystery Shop since you're already there? :)

Crowley wipes his brow and sighs in relief... What could have been a massive PR nightmare was just narrowly avoided!! (He still crows at the students that snuck off though, since he's suuuuuch a caring instructor that deeply cares about their education!!)

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funpuddle · 3 months

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Henchman and evil-doer

#nudity #not safe fer work

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darlingdarkly · 3 months

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New Year, New You Part 8

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

9k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, gaslighting

Part 1, 7, 9

You grill him with questions, demanding him to explain to you what he’s talking about. It seems obvious to you that he knows something he’s not letting on. The words fly from your mouth in a panic. “What do you mean it’s not safe? What are you talking about, Johnny? Explain!”

You see him get a little heated, a reaction you hadn’t expected, in fact the whole exchange following your inquisitions is so out of left field that it renders you speechless.

“Obviously hen, ye were a victim of a crime last night. Do ye nae see that?” You hadn’t seen that, it was so hard to remember anything about last night that drawing any kind of conclusion had so far been beyond you.

He sees it starting to click and continues, striking while the irons hot. “How many times in the past have ye gotten black out drunk, bonnie?” You have certainly had your fair share of ragers but black out drunk? To the point of almost total memory loss? Never.

“Did ye really think wakin’ up an’ nae bein’ able tae remember a damn thing was normal? Open yer eyes, lass.” He did this so well it seemed, had a way of breaking you down and making you feel small just to build you back up how he saw fit, cutting through the walls and all the bullshit to speak directly to you in a way no one before him had. It was humiliating and liberating all at once.

He sees he’s made his point. “Ah’m nae kiddin’, lass. I think ye were drugged las’ night an’ ah’d say yer awful lucky ah showed up when ah did.” His voice had taken on a kind of verbal growl, Scottish accent deepening so that it was almost hard to understand. He seemed genuinely upset, more than you could seem to get even though you were the victim, but you could feel it settling into your bones now, the unease.

Your face must be a mask of your emotions because he starts to calm now that he feels he's gotten through to you and he takes your hand into both of his. “Ye need tae understand somethin’, hen.” He seems to be mulling over the words in his head, unsure of the next thing to say. “I care about ye, I want ye tae be safe an’ happy an’ I think ye should stay with me. It’s nae safe fer ye tae be livin’ on yer own.”

You feel a bit surprised at his candidness, a show of emotions you hadn’t expected and it sends a hot flare up from your stomach and heats your cheeks. “Johnny I can’t stay.” He forces his gaze to yours, holds you hostage with it. “Why nae?”

That’s a good question, one you didn’t have an answer for. Why couldn’t you stay with him? Would it really be so bad? You’d been living on your own for so long maybe you were afraid of that change.

You opened your mouth to answer but he stopped you before you could. “Jus’ think about it. I’ll ask ye again tonight an’ if ye dinnae want tae, ah willnae make ye.” He closed it with that, getting up off the bed to signal the talk was over. “Come on, time fer yer warm up.”

After changing, you followed him out the door and into unfamiliar territory, the rest of the house you’ve yet to see. He leads you into an open living area that blended into a nice big kitchen. The house looked like it could house a whole family let alone just the two of you. You followed as your head craned and took it all in. The rent must have been astronomical but it was still Johnny’s house and he didn’t bother with extravagancies. It was spacious but also sparsely decorated making it look huge in perspective.

You cut through the space and into another room. You hadn’t really expected him to have a personal home gym, since he worked at one you naturally assumed he’d just go to work to exercise. The middle of the room was empty and matted, heavy duty, black pads interlocked like puzzle pieces made a twelve by twelve square in the center. The walls of the room were lined with full weight racks, adjustable benches, a treadmill and a power tower.

He stops in the middle of the black square and motions for you to sit. You sit, criss cross applesauce, across from him and he motions for you to begin. You start to go through your warm ups, starting with your sit-ups. He holds your feet and keeps count for you, his grin widening as you progressed.

Today was different and in more ways than one, when you’d finished he had you sit up and hold his feet, meaning for this to be a joint session for the both of you instead of just one sided as it normally was. You had to sit with your knees on the toes of his feet to keep him weighted down and he went for three reps of twenty instead of ten. You could feel the strength he possessed, the power held in the corded muscles of his thighs and calves by just holding him down.

You moved through the first set and into the next, keeping count of his push ups and even clumsily crawling up on his back when he insisted on needing your added weight. While it’d only really been a week since you’d stopped, you found that you’d come to miss this. Partly the healthy routine you’d built with him and partly his presence itself. Slipping back into it was not only easy but welcoming and this new way of having him doing it right along with you was something you secretly found yourself falling in love with.

You practically floated through your warm ups, hardly feeling the burn of them. You sat on the mat with your legs stretched out in front of you in a V. Without any assistance from him you managed a full, complete split and you couldn’t quite hide the elation you felt when his eyes lit up and praise poured from his lips.

Limber and pliant you both rose up from the mat and he walked you over to the power tower, standing out from you as you positioned yourself underneath the pull up bar. You jumped and grabbed ahold of the cool metal. You began, pulling yourself up until your chin passed the bar and then dropping down again.

It was hard but you were determined to finish, huffing and puffing by the last rep but still able to pull yourself past the point without stopping. You caught your breath as he muscled through his. You had long recovered when he finally jumped down, making your measly three look like light work as he managed a solid fifteen before finally coming to a halt.

You knew the next portion was the treadmill but as you made to mount it he stopped you. “Let’s go fer a real run, what dae ye think?” You stopped to consider it. You’d always wanted to go for a real jog, much preferring the open air of outside to the confines of an automated conveyor belt but had been much too scared to attempt such a thing on your own.

You’d always heard stories of women going out on jogs and simply never returning, their bodies found weeks later floating in rivers or lying in ditches. As alluring as the idea was your fears had always kept you inside but with a man like Johnny by your side you could pretty much garuntee total safety.

The prospect of finally getting to do as you pleased excited you and you found yourself chomping at the bit to go. He grabbed his house keys and escorted you to the door, locking it tight behind him and stepping up beside you on the sidewalk. “Are ye ready?”

You smiled at him and nodded, it must have been contagious because one of his own sprung up on his face, lighting it up and making his blue eyes sparkle in the sun.

“There’s a park just doon the way. We’ll head there, do a lap an’ loop back.” You started at a light jog and was pleasantly surprised to see him keep the pace you’d set. You were a bit worried you’d be struggling to match him the whole way, although he did talk most of the way while you struggled to manage anything more than one word replies.

It was a beautiful day, the weather was mild and there was a cool breeze at your back like gentle fingers prodding you encouragingly along. You were suddenly glad for this strange turn of events, as troubling as it seemed at first. Feeling down all last week and then reluctant to go out with Nancy, the anxiety you’d felt in the drive to the club and then somehow ending up in Johnny’s bed the next morning.

Somehow even unable to remember any of the events from the night before, something that, in all reality should leave you mortified and sick left you only feeling a strange sense of calm, like in the end it had all worked out how it was meant to be. You found yourself thinking about this morning and how he’d been almost mad at you for not being more concerned about last night, but you just couldn’t feel it.

There was eventually an underlying sense of unease that he’d practically forced onto you but it was only fleeting, like someone who’s fallen asleep at the wheel only to wake up in the hospital and be informed that you were lucky to be alive. It was hard to understand the reality of your danger when you’d walked away unscathed and without really having experienced it.

Maybe it was shell shock and you just weren’t completely grasping the reality of the situation but you weren’t holding your breath, and as far as taking him up on his offer you just weren’t all that convinced. While it was, admittedly, a problem that you’d drank too much and been unable to make it home last night, you failed to see any real danger in living by yourself.

You’d been doing fine thus far and didn’t see why that should have reason to change. You decided then that you’d made up your mind, you’d spend the day with Johnny, as gratitude for taking such good care of you in a time of need and just to enjoy it as well, it was only early in the afternoon but it was turning out to be a pretty good day in your book. You’d tell him later on when he asked that there really was no reason for you to stay with him. He’d understand, you were sure.

“Lass?” You were pulled away from your thoughts and back to the present. “Hmm?”

“I said what do ye think about havin’ fer dinner. I make an ossobuco that’ll bring ye tae tears.” You had no idea what that was but just expressed your interest anyway as you turned off of the sidewalk and into the entrance to the park.

It was one you recognized, beautfiully landscaped and as old as the hills, this park had been around for as long as you could remember, although it’d been ages since you’d been. They’d updated the playground and had redone the bridge over the pond, there was a flock of geese preening themselves on the surface of the dark, calm water.

You came to a stop at the peak of the bridge, glancing down at your Fitbit and checking your pulse. Johnny leaned his forearms onto the railing and leaned down for a look into the pond as you both caught your breath. He broke the peaceful silence that had settled between the two of you.

“I brought me mum here once. She used tae love feedin’ the swans at the pond near our house when I was wee. Used tae take me over there on our morning walks and I used tae make her laugh tryin’ tae catch one. Ah’ve taken more than one swan nip tae the arse as a lad.” You couldn’t help but laugh imagining him chasing the birds that probably matched him in size as a kid and then laughed some more as you imagined them chasing him, angry and nipping at his heels.

He laughed with you and as you nestled in next to him to stare out on the pond, just as the fit settled he leaned in close, nudged up against your side. “Ye’ll meet her if ye stay long enough ye know. She’d love ye.”

You felt a pang of uncomfortable awkwardness as he brought up the idea of you staying again. You didn’t want to dissapoint him by ruining the moment but you didn’t want to lead him on either. “Johnny…”

He stopped you. “Nae. Dinnae say anything yet. Ah was jus’ sayin’.”

You fell back into silence, a much more uncomfortable one this time but he wouldn’t let it set in as he pushed you back into a jog and lead you over the end of the bridge. It looped back around to where you’d started and it was only a quick jog back to his place where you ended your session for the day.

You both go inside and head for the kitchen, he pulls a blender hidden in a cabinet and sets it up on the counter before pulling out a litany of fruits along with a knife and small cutting board. He chops as he talks, going over your progress and performance, comparing it to your starting time and pace and mooning over the results.

He stops talking as he dumps the fruit into the blender and turns it on, the concoction inside swirling into a deep green slurry. When it’s homogenous he stops and pulls two glasses from a different cupboard. The juice makes a wet plop as it fills the glass and he slides one your way after sticking a bright orange straw down into its depths.

You pull it in front of you and take a long sip, confident in his smoothie skills at this point and relish in the way the sweet cool drink slides over your tongue and down your throat, already working to rejuvenate you.

He downs his quickly, an amazing feat that would surely leave you numb with brain freeze. Setting the glass down in the sink he rounds the counter to you. “I’m goin’ tae take a quick shower and then it’s yer turn.” He slides up close, lean chest pressing into your back and placing a kiss on the back of your neck that sent chills down your spine. “Unless ye want tae join me, that is.”

You do want to, nothing sounds better but you’re still tired from your session and you’ve experienced Johnny in his fulty, intense and unrelenting. If you went at it now you may never recover so you decline, opting to finish your drink and wait your turn. He leaves you and you turn on the stool to take in the decor. The little there is of it seems to be concentrated on a shelf in the corner.

You hop off the stool and walk tentatively over to it, surveying the shelves. There’s a few trophies, the plaques on each read that they’re awarded from some gym for a weightlifting competition. His name and the years were engraved in the middle of the plaque, he’d won them three years consecutively.

The other shelves were adorned with photographs. You glanced at them one by one, picking out Johnny’s radiant smile in each. Here’s one with him on the bank of a river, huddled together with a bunch of people all wearing the same bright orange helmets and yellow vests in varying states of soaked, they’re all holding short stubby oars and smiling.

The next one is a much larger group of people, they’re all different ages but share similar qualities, their eyes and noses on different faces but seem to be shaped from the same clay by the same hands. They’re assembled in front of a sign that reads “MacTavish Family Reunion” and it takes you a moment to pick out Johnny from the crowd of baby blues and deep rich browns. You finally spot him clustered in the back with two other young men hanging off of his shoulders. They look like three of a rambunctious kind.

Beside that is Johnny in a long black robe and mortarboard, from the cap dangles a dark green tassel that hangs in the poofy frizz of long dark brown curls belonging to a shorter stout woman. Her eyes are so bright and shockingly blue they couldn’t belong to anyone other than Johnny’s mother. She looks soft and sweet but strong as she beams at the camera. Her face exudes nothing but pride and adoration for her son. Johnny looks young and happy, his eyes reflect the yet untapped potential of the start of his adult life.

“That’s mah mum an’ I at mah graduation.” His sudden presence startles you and you’re glad to have only been leaning in to observe the photographs instead of holding them, you’re certain you would have dropped them had it been the case.

“Jesus, Johnny. You scared me.” He smiles, a deep grin that you can tell he’s a bit satisfied to have been able to give you a start, despite his following apology. “Sorry lass, Dinnae mean tae make ye jump.”

There’s a small span of awkward silence and to cease it you ask him about the first picture, the one by the river.

He lets out a small hearty laugh and reaches past you to lift the frame off the shelf, bringing it closer like having it here in his hands will give him a better feel for the memories they contain.

“Ah used tae go white water raftin’ all the time. This was a group I joined when ah started. We had just cleared a class four river fer tha first time.” You smile as he reminisces, telling just by his eyes that he’s reliving it a little as he talks.

“Do you still do it? River raft?” He shakes his head and places the picture back on the shelf where it had been. “Nae anymore. Too dangerous.”

He sighs a little, the golden memory disappearing and perhaps leaving a plume of mild gloom in its place but if it had affected him too badly it didn’t show, as his ever radiant smile resurfaced like it’d never retreated.

“Yer turn, hen. The bathrooms in mah room it’s the far door on the left.” You make your way back towards his bedroom as he stations himself behind the sink and busies himself with the dishes.

You pick through the bag on the bed, hem hawing over what to wear when you just decide to bring the whole bag with you into the bathroom. You turn on the shower and let it warm as you retrieve your soap, shampoo and conditioner.

After quickly undressing you step into the warm jet and let it soak into your skin. There was a lot to think about and showers had always seemed like the best time to ponder things. You’re still, even now, in awe at just how things had turned in the past day. You certainly didn’t believe you’d be showering at his place at this time the day before. You poured some body wash into your palm, lathering it as you ruminated.

And then there was his offer, so out of the blue and generous of him. To stay at his place with him and for what? Why? Because you’d drank a little too much the night before and just couldn’t recall any of it? While it’d never been the case for you before now didn’t mean it was impossible for you to become black out drunk. It wasn’t an impossibility, you’d read somewhere that the body's chemical makeup changes roughly every seven years. People all the time grow out of and even develop new allergies as their life progressed. Meaning it was completely possible for your reactions to an influx of alcohol to change over time.

At least, that’s how you justified it to yourself as you rinsed the suds from your skin and began to wash your hair. It just didn’t make sense to jump to conclusions so hastily. And stay for how long? Certainly he didn’t mean to tell you that you were welcome to move in indefinitely. You don’t just extend that kind of an offer to someone like that, he barely knew you. Or did he?

It didn’t matter. For now you just couldn’t bring yourself to impose upon him like that, even if he did offer it up so willingly and insistent. After dinner, you’d gently and politely refuse. He did after all say he wouldn’t make you if you didn’t want to.

You rinse off and turn off the stream, letting most of the water drip off you before stepping out and wrapping yourself in a warm, fluffy towel from the rack. You finally pick out an outfit and stick with it, pulling it on and cleaning up after yourself as you finished, you’d rather not leave a mess for him to contend with later on top of everything he’d already done for you.

You close the door to his bedroom behind you as you step out into the open living room. You had expected him to be unwinding on the couch but instead he was up and pulling on jacket, he had his shoes on and keys in hand. As he spotted you he smiled and stepped towards you.

“Ah need a few things from the store fer dinner. Will ye join me fer a ride?” You smile and nod, turning back towards the room to put on some shoes and retrieve your phone and wallet before joining him to leave. It’s a short walk through the front entrance of his home to the garage. It’s barren save for a big red toolbox and a few boxes stacked in a far corner. His truck takes up the majority of the space, a fairly new dark blue Toyota Tundra. Totally on brand for him, clean and gleaming under the fluorescent lights overhead. He pulls open the passenger side door for you to climb in, which flusters you a bit.

You scurry to climb into it and sit back into the comfy seat as he shuts your door and rounds the vehicle to climb in on his side.

You ride in comfortable silence as he drives you a few blocks down the road to the little grocery mart you’d been to on occasion when you were in need of something on this side of town. He parks and you’re glad to scoot out of the door and join him before he has time to come around and open the door for you again. The chivalry was nice but always managed to make you feel awkward instead of special.

You’re taken by surprise as he takes your hand in his and both make your way towards the entrance. The warmth of his hand envelops yours, his thumb draws lazy, soothing circles on the back of your hand and the flustered feeling you’d been feeling, a combination of the new experience of being seen with him in public and him being so gentlemanly, eases.

You walk side by side out of the car park and into the brightly lit store. He picks up one of the little baskets from a metal cage and begins veering towards the back of the store. He seems to know exactly what he needs and where it all is so you just lose yourself a bit in the moment, looking at things on the shelves and watching him as he shops.

Normally when you shop by yourself it’s a race. A race to get everything you need and get out as fast as humanly possible, it’s something about being out in public for too long that makes your skin crawl. But this. This is different. Something about being with Johnny puts you at an inexplicable ease. He’s confident and knowledgeable, and for once you don’t feel like your mind is moving a million miles a minute under the scrutiny of every other set of eyes in the building. You can just simply relax and be, let him take over.

In produce you watch him pick up three different onions that, to you, look no different but he rolls them in the palm of his hand and gives them each a light toss in the air. Somehow— that decides it and he puts two of them back and places the chosen one down in the basket.

Every time he lets go of your hand for something you’re sure that’s the end of it, just knowing the moment will be lost but he surprises you each time anew when he comes back to you and takes it again, leading you through the sections hand in hand.

You stop in the spirits aisle and grimace as he picks up a bottle of dry red wine. The front is embossed with a duck in a yellow slicker, an umbrella cocked jauntily and tucked securely under one white wing, shielding him from a shower of rain falling from a single dark cloud that looms over its head. In a bright gold scroll underneath this curious image are the words “Rain Duck”. The image is very reminiscent of the Morton salt girl you’d always seen in the spice cabinet of your childhood home.

He looks over and catches your look of disgust and laughs, a hearty cheerful sound that momentarily wipes the scowl from your face and threatens to send you into your own fit of meek giggles. “Dinnae worry hen, s’just fer the sauce. Will nae even taste it, ah promise.”

He sets it down in the basket and heads towards the front of the store to checkout. You stand in line and wait your turn until the cashier clears the person in front of you and Johnny begins to empty his basket onto the conveyor belt one item at a time.

By the time he’d finished, the cashier, a tall skinny man with dark rimmed glasses had already begun to ring you up and Johnny suddenly smacks the palm of his hand to his forehead. “Ahhhh shite. Ah forgot somethin’. Stay here with the groceries bonnie, I’ll be right back.”

He takes off in a power walk towards the back of the store and disappears around a shelf. You rock back and forth on your feet and pray that by the time the cashier is done Johnny will be back. You know if he’s not you’ll cave to the pressure of the people behind you and end up paying for everything yourself, just so you don’t hold the line.

You crane over the partitions of shelves that mark the separate checkout lanes in search of Johnny but your attention is redirected when the cashier clears his throat and calls out to you to get your attention. “Excuse me, miss.”

You turn, dreading the worst but there’s still a good amount of items left unscanned and he’s got the bottle of Rain Duck held past the scanner, looking to you attentively.

You let out a sigh of relief as you realize he only needs your ID to finish ringing up the wine. You pull your wallet from your purse and the relief you had felt instantly dissipates. The pleasantly relaxed state you’d been lulled into suddenly felt like the calm prelude to a horrifying nightmare. The clear plastic pane that normally covered your horrible ID photo was empty. You tipped it open, hoping for some horrible trick of the light or optical illusion but the sleeve was empty.

You quickly shuffled through the individual card sleeves, hoping against hope that you’d somehow slipped it into one of them by mistake but it wasn’t there. Your ID was missing. The panic sets in the pit of your stomach like a lead ball as Johnny squeezes up behind you holding a carton of heavy cream. His smile disappears when he sees your face.

He quickly sets the heavy cream down on the belt and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Bonnie, what is it? What’s wrong?”

The cashier calls out to him impatiently. “Sir?” Johnny looks up at him, with death glaring from his eyes before turning back to you. “Come on, lass. What’s the matter?” You whisper because it’s all you can muster, your vocal cords withered to nothing in fright.

“My ID. It’s gone.” The cashier tried again to get Johnny’s attention and you barely hear Johnny as he speaks very low and angrily at the man behind the counter. Johnny must have done as he asked though because soon enough you feel Johnny’s arms gently pulling you towards the exit. It makes you snap out of your horror for a moment and offer to help carry the bags back to his truck but he’s having none of it, insisting on carrying the whole load in two huge armloads all the way back himself.

You slip into the passenger seat as he puts the groceries in the back and only look up from staring at the lines in your denim jeans when the driver side door shuts and the cab is silent for a moment. He’s looking at you, very concerned and you realize he’s waiting for you to explain in more detail.

“My ID is gone. Completely gone.” He seems to think for a moment before he responds and asks if you’d checked your purse. You quickly do as he’d suggested and go through it but it’s not there either and the momentary hope you’d felt at his suggestion died almost as soon as it’d been born.

“Maybe I dropped it at the club.” A smile begins to form on your face as you grasp at anything other than the truth. “That’s it Johnny! We’ve gotta go back to the club. They’ll have found it cleaning up! And we can go get it and everything’s fine!” He doesn’t look convinced as you look over to him for validation.

“Lass, be honest with yerself fer a moment. How often do ye take yer ID out of yer wallet when ye need it?” Your smile began to fade, he was right. Anytime you needed it you just opened it and flashed it without ever taking it out of the slot, you’d bought that wallet specifically for that feature because you were so worried about losing it.

“I ken ye didnae want tae believe what happened tae ye, but there’s no denyin’ it now. Someone targeted ye last night. Picked ye out of the crowd and drugged yer drink when ye werenae lookin’ an’ they took yer ID in case they couldnae seal the deal right away. He’s got yer address an’ yer name an’ even yer picture.”

You listen to him talk as the cold, cruel hand of reality closes around your throat and the disgust of being violated in such a thorough way begins to worm its way under your skin. You can feel Johnny struggling to find words to comfort you from the seat next to you but he must not find any that are adequate because he starts the truck instead and drives you home in a silence that had on the way been comfortable and passive but now was pregnant with tension and doom.

You get back to his place and he unloads the truck as you sit inside and try not to panic at the situation you’ve found yourself in. You thank your lucky stars that Johnny had found you and brought you home now. If you’d somehow miraculously made it home without incident this mysterious man could have crept into your home while you were incapacitated and done any number of things to you. You imagined all the horrifying possibilities, each more daunting than the last as he unpacked and put everything away.

He must sense your spiraling thoughts because he calls you into the kitchen with him as he starts to cook. Chopping onions, heating shallow pools of oil in two different skillets, measuring out beef broth and flour and water in varying amounts as he practices the fine art of mise en place.

You try, really truly try not to let the fear of your predicament gnaw away at you too hard but it’s almost an act in futility. He looks up at you after cracking his third shot and missed joke while dredging the ox tails in flour and notices you staring down at your hands in deeply troubled thought.

He stops what he’s doing and comes over to the counter, bending down to lean over its sturdy surface and get your attention. You look up at him and feel your heart skip a little as he has no business being so damn attractive covered in flour like he is.

“Listen hen. I ken yer goin through it right now. Probably spooked right out of yer tree, but I promise ye yer in no danger here. I dare him tae walk through that door right now. I swear tae ye ill dismantle him with my flour covered hands before he even so much as touches a hair on yer bonnie head.”

You can’t help but smile as you imagine him wrecking your faceless oppressor, flour flying about in clouds as the impact of his blows knock it loose from his hands.

“There’s tha’ smile. Now be a doll an’ open mah wine fer me. I forgot before ah got all messy.”

You stand from your stool and open the drawer he directs you towards to locate the corkscrew. The rest of the preparation you do in a much better mood. While you had a brand new serious problem on your hands there was no need in sulking over it when there was nothing you could do at the moment and anytime spent with Johnny was hard not to enjoy.

He plated your portion and set you down across from him so he could watch your first bite. You wanted him to eat with you, a bit self conscious at him just watching you eat but he insisted he had to start on dessert before he could sit down to dinner.

You cut the big chunk of meat with your knife and fork and then dipped it down in the pool of sauce just as he’d instructed you to. He watched you intently as you brought the fork to your mouth and took your first bite.

Your eyes widen before half closing, you can’t help the soft moan that resounds as the tender meat and rich, savory sauce feel like they pull your taste buds into their arms and hug them soft and sweetly. It’s absolutely divine and you look up from your plate to see Johnny, smug as a bug grinning wolfily at your reactions.

“Told ye it’d bring ye tae tears.” You can’t even respond, just swallow and take another eager bite, this time with a little of the risotto from the bed that the meat is resting on. “Jesus Christ, Johnny. Where in the fuck did you learn to cook like this?”

His grin is so wide you’re worried it’ll be stuck that way and to your amusement you can tell his cheeks have reddened even under his nice, even tan. “Yer makin’ me blush, hen. S’just what ah’ve picked up along tha way. Ye could do it too. I could teach ye.”

You nod enthusiastically, you’d like that very much and you have a feeling so would he. You really dig into your meal in earnest as he works. His back is to you as he prepares dessert on the stove and you wonder just what it might be. Steam rises up in thin streams as he pours something into two ramekins and sticks them in the oven.

By the time you’re done he’s cracking into his own dinner as you begin working on the dishes. He protests but you stay firm that if he cooked the absolute least you could do was help clean up. He finally relented and let you work as he ate as quickly as he could so he could help dry the dishes at least.

By the time everything was done so was the dessert and he pulled it from the oven to cool as he leaned over the counter and held your gaze raptly with his. “It’s time, lass. What have ye decided?”

But with the way he’s staring you down it feels like he’s on the edge of his seat. Those blue eyes piercing yours and you know every second you don’t answer is killing him, you can read it all over his face so even though you’d made your mind up you told him you weren’t sure.

He looked a bit dejected but it wasn’t the broken disappointment you knew you’d have been graced with if you’d downright shut his proposition down. His eyes light up suddenly in a way you hadn’t been expecting like he’d just had the idea of a century.

“Play a game with me, lass.” You regarded him distrustfully. “What kind of game, Johnny?”

“I’ll show ye, come on.” You follow after him into the bedroom, a bit wary. He stops in front of the pull up bar and turns back towards you.

“Johnny you and I both know there’s no way I’m besting you in a pull up contest, I’d be mental to even try. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Ohhh no, hen. Nothing like tha’, yer right t’wouldnae be fair. All I want ye tae do is hang from the bar. Can ye do that?”

You jump up and grab the bar to see if you’ve got the right idea and he smiles and nods. “Jus’ like that, all ye’ve gotta do is not let go. Think ye can handle it?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?” You felt like there was something hidden in this that he wasn’t revealing and you weren’t wrong.

“Well it would nae be a game if there was nae some kind of a catch now would it, hen?” You swallow hard and watch him saddle closer, pinning you back into the cool metal bars.

“Ye’ve got tae hold yerself up until ye come.” His smirk widens as your mouth drops open a little, at first for some kind of rebuttal but you can’t come up with anything to say so it just hangs open as your mind blanks.

You finally get a grip enough to ask him to explain. “Well, yer goin’ tae hang onto tha bar an’ ah’m goin’ tae try mah hardest tae make ye come. If ye can hold onto it just until then, then you win but if ye cannae do it, an’ ye let go then I win.”

You mull over his terms and he just leans back a bit and lets you, waiting for your answer. Instead of giving him one you inquire further. “What do I get if I win?”

His answer is another simple question. “What do ye want?” A simple question that was complicated to find an answer for. What did you want from him? After a moment's thought you answered. “I want you to tell me everything you remember about last night and I want you to help me find this guy that did this to me. I don’t want to live in fear like this. You take me up to the club and we ask if they found my ID and if not then we ask to see the video footage of that night.”

“Hen, there’s no garuntee—“ You stop him. “I know. Just promise me if I win you’ll help me.” He looks a bit troubled, like he hadn’t meant for this to take this kind of turn and you wonder for a moment if he’ll back out.

“If I win ye have tae tell me the real reason ye never came back to the gym an’ never texted me an’ just disappeared.” You go to answer when he adds. “And ye stay.”

You sort of knew he was going to play that and even though you’d anticipated it, it still manages to fluster you hearing it.

You think about it real hard, just being around him had you more or less worked up all day, you were fairly confident that you could come quickly, even now just having discussed the game with him you knew your panties were damp. But could you hold yourself up for that length of time?

Reluctantly, you accepted. You even felt sure enough to jest him a bit about how easy of a win this would be for you, it was a decision you came to regret as he leaned in close to your ear and whispered. “Ah’m goin’ tae make ye eat those words, hen.”

A shudder of anticipation passed through you as he kissed you on your neck, just below your ear with a pass of his velvet soft tongue, giving you a little taste of what was to come.

The game had apparently begun as he stooped down to help shed you of your jeans, pulling them down and kissing the skin revealed as he exposed it. Next came your panties and they were damp, a fact that tore a rumble of approval from his chest but he wouldn’t touch you yet.

“Cannae give ye too much of a head start now can we?” He patted the side of your thigh curtly. “Up up.”

You do as he says and it’s a little late to be self conscious now but you can’t help it as you dangle from the metal rod and he spreads your thighs so you’re open to him. You worry he’s going to cheat you a bit as he stares at your bare pussy and you begin to complain when it dies in your throat as his tongue licks a broad stripe up the length of your slit. “Shit!”

He chuckles a little and dives in, resting his hands in the crooks of your knees but offering no support as he begins to eat you out in earnest. You can’t help but moan, your eyes glossy and unfocused as you stare down at him feasting on you from below. It feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced, the strain in your arms adding an element of pain that scratches a hidden itch in the back of your brain.

You shift in his hold uncomfortably as his tongue darts into your entrance, collecting your juices on his tongue and drinking them down. You want, so desperately, to be able to grip him by the Mohawk and hold onto him for dear life but you can’t so you squeeze the bar in your grip and sweetly moan his name instead.

His tongue finds your clit and it just about throws you over the edge but proves to be not quite enough as you chase it in hopes of victory. His hands squeeze and grope the flesh of your thighs and ass as he eats. You thought at the start of this that you would have had this in the bag but the stretch of your arms was outweighing the pull of your pleasure.

It wasn’t for a lack of Johnny’s enthusiasm, his head stayed buried in the heat of your pussy the whole time as he drove you towards the edge as quickly and efficiently as possible. Despite the burn in your biceps you could feel your orgasm building to a boiling point, you had no doubt you’d be coming soon but would it be soon enough for you to win?

He suddenly began to run quick sharp circles over the top of your clit with the pad of his thumb, while his tongue laps at your entrance like a bear to a beehive hole. It’s so good you can’t help but moan, low and dragging as you careen towards the center of the nova of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

Your wrists tremble and a cramp unlike any you’ve ever experienced begins to glow like a white hot coal in your armpit and it’s beyond you to be able to hold on any longer. Your pinky finger slips first and then the rest quickly follow. You squeal as you realize you’re going to fall but his arms push your legs up onto his shoulders and he catches you just as you let go.

A flood of relief flows through your aching arms and you realize you’ve lost but the sting of defeat plays second fiddle to the massive orgasm that takes you by the throat just an instant later. He holds you up with the strength in his arms alone as you come undone above him. He spins around as your thighs still tremble and gently places you on the bed.

You are still very sensitive and your thighs go to clench shut when they’re blocked by one wide knee. He wastes no time in slotting himself between them, his mouth crashing to yours as you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. He cages you beneath him, pulling off your lips to bite and suck at your neck. His hands roam you freely, pulling at your top until it’s up over your head and lifting you up for access to the clasp of your bra.

With it successfully pulled away from your breasts he dives down and devours them, lips wrapping around one pert nipple as the other he gropes with the full palm of his hand, trying to hold as much of it as possible. You nearly shriek with the overstimulation of it and he pulls away to whisper both praise and apologies.

“Jus’ cannae help it, bonnie. Need tae be inside you, please? Let me fuck you, hen. Been cravin’ tha’ perfect little pussy. Come on, lass. Give it tae me.” He’s rubbing the very prominent bulge of his cock against your thigh all the while and you can’t help but clench around nothing in anticipation.

“Fuck Johnny! Do it! Fill me up.” He wastes no time, quickly abandoning your breasts to free himself from the confinements of his jeans. He doesn’t even get them down all the way before he’s fishing himself from his boxers and rubbing the tip hurriedly up and down your slit. You jump and squeal at the sensation and he coos more apologies at you before lining himself up and pushing inside.

You moan in unison as he stretches you open and his arms come up to brace himself on either side of your head. He muffles your moans with his mouth as he leans down and kisses you, swallowing them up as he begins to move and your hands fly to his arms, bracing yourself against the onslaught that is the drag of his fat cock.

You pull away for air and immediately expel it into a high pitched whine as he picks up a fast and steady rhythm, hips knocking into yours on each upward thrust. The fact that you've already came does nothing to alleviate the burn that accompanies the stretch of him. He’s a force and you can do nothing against it but hold on.

You try to make sense of what he’s saying as he fucks you stupid but only catch half of it. Something about keeping you safe forever. Poorly worded promises and vows pouring from his mouth as he uses you to reach his release.

You can feel it fast approaching and can do nothing but steel yourself against it as he pounds a second orgasm from you, the snap of his hips and the drive of his cock demands it of you. “Aww fuck, hen. Are ye gonna come fer me again? Hmm? Let me feel it. Come on lass, let me take care of ye forever. Ye can have this fer the rest of our lives if ye jus’ come fer me right now.”

He says it like you have a choice in the matter as you become locked in the throes of your ecstasy brought forth by his hand and in the midst of yours you vaguely feel him reach his. Coming hard and fast deep inside the tight clutch of your pussy.

It takes you both an eternity to recover and when he finally rolls off you, you realize you’d half fallen asleep, cradled safely under him, worn out and sated.

After a moment he gets up and leaves the room and he’s gone forever to the point where you almost get up to go after him but he comes back in with two small white dishes in hand along with two spoons.

You sit up on one elbow as he hands you one and the accompanying silverware. Looking down at it you can see a dark golden brown crust, a glassy glaze over the surface but are otherwise clueless as to what’s before you. You watch him experimentally as he takes the handle of the spoon in between his thumb and index finger and brings the bowl of the spoon down on top of the crust with an audible smack. The crust breaks and there’s a jiggly dense cream beneath.

Following suit, you bring your spoon down onto yours and scoop up a glob of the pale white gelatin. You take a bite and smile as the cool, sweet cream melts over your tongue. You sit there with him, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms and eating crème brûlée.

It gets you thinking, you could have this indefinitely. Do this every night if you’d like and as if reading your thoughts he speaks.

“I won, but the choice is still yers. Stay with me, hen. Ah’ll keep ye safe. No worries, no lookin’ over yer shoulder forever or double checkin’ yer locks all yer life. Let me take care of ye. I want to, an tha’s honest.”

You stare at him, his blue eyes are soft and filled with adoration and honesty. He really wants you here with him and is that really so bad? How many times are you gonna pass up this opportunity before it’s gone? And will you be looking back later with regret once the door has closed?

You have to drop his gaze to decide but recapture it once you do. You go to tell him “Ok, but only until I’ve found a new place.” but he seizes you in his arms after the first word and pulls you hard against him like a five year old child handed a cat and told they can keep it.

“Johnny! You’re squishing me!” You complain but the sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant.

He does everything with you side by side for the rest of the night. He changes with you, he brushes his teeth with you, he even lingers around when you try to go to the bathroom before bed, it takes a good amount of effort on your part to make him leave the room but you know he’s stood just outside the cracked door that he neglects to close on the way out.

Climbing under the sheets with him you wonder just how sleeping together for the first night is gonna go, actually wondering if you’ll get any sleep at all but then he pulls you into his chest and to your surprise he doesn’t try anything sexual. He doesn’t rub a hard bulge against you or grope your tits. He just wants you close, his warm chest filling out the dip of your back, his legs entangle themselves with yours, his feet even nudge yours affectionately in lazy passes.

It’s a while before either of you speak and Johnny thought you’d been long asleep when you say “I can’t afford a membership.” There’s a pause in your words and just when he understands what you’re saying you say more. “That’s why I didn’t come back to the gym, I thought it’d be easier.. for both of us.. if I just disappeared.”

And there’s something about your honesty, the way you’d remembered and honored your whole end of the bargain, the candidness of revealing you struggled with the decision, the mild sleepy drag of your voice that’s barely audible in the darkness that pulls directly on his heart and he couldn’t articulate a response if he’d tried so he doesn’t.

Maybe you believe he’s asleep and maybe it’s better that way. But he’s not. A few moments later he hears your breathing even out and he knows from the previous night that you’re asleep. He lays awake long after that holding you.

He thinks about you and how he’d finally got you to see reason. He thinks about times when the outcome of a situation is more valuable and important— the greater good one might say, than the means it took to reach it. Omelets, for instance, constitute broken eggs.

It takes a certain amount of necessary malice for these things. An agent who realizes what’s at stake and what’s to gain, willing to act on these conditions and set them right, no matter the cost. And lastly, he thinks about your ID, sitting snuggly behind his in his wallet. Tomorrow after he drops you off at work he’ll dispose of it. Maybe burn it, maybe shred it, maybe tie it to a heavy rock and throw it off the bridge at the park, watch it sink into the murky, goose poop filled pond until it gets too deep to see.

No one will know. But Johnny will. Johnny will know that in the end, his end, it justified his means. You are safe and you are his and there is no means too heinous, no act too profound to reach it.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #twdubcon #dark!johnny #darkfic #johnny soap mctavish x you

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spidybaby · 1 year

Text

Party killer

Summary: A girls' night gone wrong while your boyfriend is away.

Warnings: cursing, harassment and SA. ⚠️⚠️⚠️

A/N: This was requested, but I accidentally deleted the request, but I hope Anon, who requested it notice this is them request. 😭❤️ also this has some sensitive topics because anon asked me to add them. Please don't ignore the warnings. If you're sensible to this kind of topics skip this ❤️

"I love the collection. This is going to be huge, mi amor, " you say, applying your primer.

You're getting ready for a girls' night with your friends. On the other side of the FaceTime, Pedro was getting ready to go to bed. Having to work early with Springfield for his new collection.

"I'm so excited, I can't believe that my own collection is ready."

"I know, mi amor. I'm so happy for you."

Pedro explains how tomorrow he has to shoot a video for the colab also sharing what's the idea for the video.

His parents were with him, the shoot for the colab was taking place in London.

Why did they choose London? You had that same question, but you just keep it to yourself.

"Mami says she misses you." He says smiling.

"And I miss her too, miss her today. Our novela is going so well, and she's gone. Who am I supposed to talk to about it?"

He laughs, the camera is directed to his parents.

"Mija, you and I need to have a chat, I need updates of what's happening to Monserrat." Rosy says.

You chat a little with her and Fernando, asking them about the trip, about the collection.

"Hey, y/n. Are you going with Fer to this party?" Pedro's father asks you.

You knew Fer was going to a party because he invited you, since his brother was not in town Pedro named him your caregiver.

"No, sir. Fer is going to a friend birthday party and my friends and I are going to a club."

"Be careful, mija," Rosy says. "I'll text Fer. If you need a ride back home, call him. Also, take a cab no your car."

You laugh at how cute and protective they're with you. Always worrying about you being safe and comfortable.

"Yes, call your brother Pedro, and make sure he has the volume up."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. We're taking a cab with my friends and leaving together. But If you want I can text Pedro when I'm home."

"You do that, preciosa." Pedro yells from somewhere in the room.

You talk with Rosy about the novela while you do your makeup, finishing the call saying goodbye and promising you'll call Fer if you need anything.

Your friends arrived at your house, you called an Uber and while you wait for it you make sure you have everything.

"Y/n, someone's calling you." María, your friend, says.

You answer the call, noticing it was from Fer.

"Hola Fernandito."

"Hola, cuñada favorita."

"I'm the only one." You laugh. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, mami called me and told me you're on your way to the club. I just want you to know that if you want me to pick you and your friends up, I can."

"Thank you, Fercito." you say. "I'll have it in mind. Please enjoy your party."

Your friends announce that the Uber is outside, you grab everything and walk outside, locking the door.

"My uber's is here, I'll text you if I need anything. And remember I'm here if you need anything, if you can't drive because you're drunk or if you need a place to stay because you lost your keys." You joke with him.

"That only happened once." He laughs.

Once at a party, Fernando did a few more shots than he's used to, and ended up calling you to pick him up because he didn't want his mother to find out about the house keys being missing.

"Anyways, I'm here if you need me. Enjoy."

You say a quick bye before hanging up.

The Uber was quick, thankfully for you and your girls the night begins.

You all have a drink since you're not the biggest beer fan. But that quickly turns into two and then three.

"Let's go dance, I love this Quevedo song," you say, grabbing your friends by the wrist, taking them to the dance floor.

The song makes you remember Pedro. This is a song he sings while driving with you.

After good hours of dancing and screaming the songs, you ask your friends if they want more drinks.

"Okay, another round for everybody. I'll go to the bar, go to the table, okay?" You say loudly for them to hear you over the music.

You go straight to the bartender. Asking for all the drinks.

"Do you have a tab?" He asks you.

"No need for that man, add it to mine." A tall blonde guy says, handing his card to the bartender.

"Oh no, please." You say taking the card from the bartender. "Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks." You say, returning the card and turning you back yo him. "You have my card there, table 8"

The guy taps your shoulder, making you turn again.

"My name is Zack." He says, getting closer. "What's your name, pretty girl?."

You back up a little, feeling the bar stopping you from backing up more.

"I have a boyfriend." You say trying to get him away.

"Ufff, not a smart guy, leaving you alone here"

"He's in the bathroom. Please back off."

"Then let's be quick. We can use the upstairs bathroom. I'm a vip."

"No, thank you. Back off." You say, pushing him hard but not enough, moving him only a few centimeters. "Get away from me."

You moved quickly, trying to get back to the table with your friends.

"Hey, not that quickly, don't play hard to get, you're not that pretty to do that." He grabs you hard by the arm.

"Dude, let go off me, I'm not interested."

You tried to get away from his hold. Only for him to press his hand harder on your skin.

"You want this, c'mon."

You can feel his other arm traveling down your waist and squeezing your ass. You pushed him with your free hand and tried to free your arm, only hurting you in the process.

"Let go off me." You pull your arm, bumping into another guy that notices what's happening. He helps you.

"Dude let go off her."

"She's my girlfriend, don't worry, mind your fucking business."

"Doesn't matter, she's asking you to let go so let fucking go off her."

This guy pushes the blonde away from you, making him release the hold.

You run to the bathroom, scared of him following you. The bar bathroom was a solo one.

You can feel the panic raise by the minute, and he air is getting less and less.

You pat your skirt pockets, feeling your phone in one. You grab it, and as you're about to call your boyfriend, you remember he's not in town.

He's in another country, hours from where you're. And you're only going to worry him and his parents.

So you called the only person you can think of. Hoping he was still awake and not deadly sleeping in his bed since it was almost four am.

"Cuñadita, are you still at the party?" He asks, the noise from his party can be heard.

You tried to answer, but the sob that's trying to get out is not letting you.

"Y/n?" He says worry. "Estas bien?" (Are you okay?)

"Fer," you say, sobbing.

"Mierda," you hear him saying. "Estas bien? Que pasa? Muñeca, necesito que respires y me digas que pasa." (Oh shit, are you okay? What's going on? Doll, I need you to breathe and tell me what's going on)

"Some guy." You say sobbing harder. "He touched me." You tried to explain more, but the crying is making it harder for you.

"Hijo de puta. En donde estas? Iré por ti ahora mismo. Send me your location. " (Son of a bitch, where are you? I'll come get you right now)

You send him your location, not being able to speak.

"Estas en un lugar seguro?" He asks you. (Are you in a safe place?)

"El baño." You say. (The bathroom)

"Don't hang up. I'm rushing to get you."

You keep crying, afraid of going out by yourself.

"Can you come inside? I don't want to go out alone." You cry into the phone.

"It's okay, muñeca" he says, his heart breaking with the sound of your cries. "I'm almost there. Nobody is going to hurt you."

"Thank-" you try to say, sobbing interrupting you. "Thank you."

Fer is talking with you. Trying to calm you down.

"Okay, y/n. I'm here, I'm haging up but I'm here."

"Okay. Hurry, please."

He hangs up and runs inside of the club.

When he locates the bathroom and runs to it.

"Y/n?" He knocks loud. "Are you there?"

You get up from the floor. Quickly opening the door.

"Muñeca" he says, looking at you. "Ven aquí"

He enters the bathroom and close the door.

"Ya estoy aquí, tranquila." He caresses you back, trying to calm you down. "Nadie te va a hacer nada. Estoy aquí." (I'm here, don't worry. Nobody's is going to hurt you. I'm here)

"Vamonos, me quiero ir." (Let's get out of here. I want to go)

He grabs some toilet paper to dry your tears.

You smile at him and hug him again.

He took your hand and opened the door.

"Fer," you hold him harder to catch his attention. "My friends, I can't leave them."

He nodded. "Vamos por ellas."

You walk in front of him, hand in hand, you get to where your table.

Nataly, was the only one at the table. She was texting careless.

"Nat" you call.

"Baby, where were you?" She says, hugging you. "Hola Fer." She waves to him.

"Nat, we have to go"

"What? Y/n, don't be like this. We're having fun."

"Nat," you call harshly. "Some dude assaulted me. I just want to go home, please." You say this to her ear, not wanting to yell it.

She looks at you with shook, then looks at Fernando. He nods his head.

"Bien, nos vamos," She says, serious. "Lemme get the girls, I see you outside in five. Fer, can you take us home? I can call a cab if you can't, that's okay"

"No, I can take all of you. It's okay." He nods at her. "My car is the black one on the other side of the road. We'll see you there, okay? Take your time."

Nat nodded and went to the dance floor, where all the other girls were.

"Vamos, muñeca." He says once you grab your bag.

As you both walk outside you feel someone grabbing you hard and pulling you back.

"You really like to play hard to get." The blonde guy says. "Don't be a bitch, come with me."

He tries to pull you to him, but Fernando is quickly

"Ey Cabron, te alejas de ella," he pushes this dude away. "Vete al auto." He says, giving you the car keys. "De este cabron me encargo yo." (Hey asshole, get away from her. Go to the car, I'll deal with his asshole)

"Fer, no." You grab his arm. "Let's just go, please."

But the blonde dude has other plans.

"Your girlfriend is a whore" he yells getting closer. "She was flirting with me, offering herself like a bitch she is."

That's all it took for Fernando to punch him.

"No te atrevas," he yells. "I don't know if you weren't taught how to respect women, but I'm going to show you right fucking now."

The blonde dude tries to get up, but another punch from Fernando has him back on the floor.

"Hey dude," one of the friends from this guy says, getting closer to Fernando and stopping him from punching the guy for a third time. "Listen, your girl was the one throwing herself at him"

"I wasn't doing anything. I told him to leave me alone." You yell at him. "Why can't you and your friend get that."

"Listen, dude," Fernando says, pushing lightly the friend by his shoulders. "I don't give a fuck, she asked him to leave her alone."

"She's just a whore" The blonde one yells from the floor.

"ES MI CUÑADA, CABRON." Fernando yells back, about to punch him again, but the friend stopped him once again. "Te voy a encontrar cabron, estas muerto." He says, then turn around to you. (She's my sister in law, asshole. I'm going to find you, you're dead) He grabs your hand, walking outside the club. "Mi carro es el de enfrente." He took the keys from your hands.

You walked a few steps to the car. He opens the door for you and helps you with the seat belt. "I'm going back for your friends, lock the doors."

You do as you're told.

A few minutes later, he walks with María almost in his arms. Perla and Nat hand in hand while crossing the street.

"Ay, I had so much fun." Perla says. "María kissed a french dude."

"Buenisimo." María says, Fernando laughs at her. "Y/n, you saw me?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Okay, everyone ready?" Fer asks. "Nat, to your house?"

She answered with a small yes.

"Oh, can we get Taco Bell?" Perla ask.

"We sure can." Fer answer.

But sadly for Perla, Taco Bell was closed.

The drive to Nat's house was silent.

Fer has his hand ok yours the whole time.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" Nat asks you. "Please, stay here."

"I'm not but I'll be fine." You answer. "I just want to go home and be alone."

She nods and hugs you, understanding that you want to be alone. "I'll call you later."

Fernando walks back into the car. "María is ready for you to help her shower, and I warmed some Mac and cheese for Perla."

"Thank you, Fer." Nat says. "Please take care of her."

You say your goodbyes and the drive being. "Can you drop me home? I just want a shower and to sleep."

"What?" He turns his head to you. "No way I'm leaving you alone. We're going to Pedro's house. You can stay in his room."

"I just want to sleep and pretend nothing happened." You cry.

"Muñeca," he didn't know what to say. He wanted to go back to the club and beat the shit of that guy.

Once you arrive at your boyfriend's house, you both walk in silence.

"Venga, let's go upstairs." He takes your hand leading the way upstairs.

When you enter the room, he guides you to the bed. "Stay here, I'll be back."

You check your phone for the first time since the bathroom. You text Pedro that you're home like your promised.

"I'm back." Fer announced himself. "Mom did the laundry before leaving. She washed your pijama."

You took the clothes from him, smiling a little.

You left the pijama there because Pedro insisted on your leaving a change for every occasion, so you could stay the night and didn't have yo go home.

Fer notice the way you're so out of the blue. It's like he can read your mind.

"It wasn't your fault. You said no, and he didn't like that so he took advantage of you."

Your eyes water again. "But, I could've pushed him harder or even done something else."

"No, muñeca." He takes you into his arms. "It's not on you, this is not your fault. Dudes like him say whatever they can to blame the girls, but it's not your fault."

"I just wanted my drink." You were a crying mess at this point. "I didn't throw myself at him. I promise."

"Oh, preciosa, I know that." He swayed the two of you slowly. "I believe you. It's not your fault. I promise it's not."

He let you cry the blame you're feeling into his shoulder. He feels like crying, too. You are the most pure person he ever known.

"I'll get you some water." He says once he noticed you calmed down. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook something for you?"

You shake your head no.

"Okay, there's clean towels in the bathroom. I'll get you some water while you shower. And if you need me I'll be in my room."

"Thank you."

"Dont thank me." He says as he leaves the room, closing the door on his way out.

You shower and make sure to scrub extra hard all your body.

You changed inside the bathroom, mentally thanking Pedro, for giving you the idea of keeping some of your clothes at his house.

Once you're done, you go straight to bed. It was passed five a.m.

Hugging your boyfriend's pillow, smelling his scent, you fall asleep quickly.

A few hours later, you wake up by the noise of the gate getting open.

You grab your phone to check the time, noticing it was almost noon.

You get out of bed and went straight to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

You borrow Pedro's slippers, making you way to Fer's room. You knock on the door but no answer.

As you walked back to your boyfriend's room you run into him.

"Preciosa, hi" he says hugging you. "When you texted you were home I didn't think you were here."

You hug him tightly, hiding you face into his neck.

"Te extrañé mucho" he says kissing you shoulder.

But then he notice the way you're shaking, how your breathing is irregular.

"Mi amor, what's going on?"

You only shake your head, not being able to speak.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here."

"No, it's not." You cry harder.

He lift, you hug his body with your legs, not wanting to fall.

He walk into his room. Closing the door with his foot.

"Tranquila, mi amor." He swayed you both. "I'm here, don't cry."

He let you calm down. Once you're breathing normally he puts you down and makes you sit at his bed.

"Tell me what's going on, please." He begged.

You tell him everything. How this dude approached you and the way he touched you. How other guy had to help you in order for you to free yourself.

"I swear to God, hijo de puta." He says angrily. "Ferran knows the owner. I'm finding that dude and killing him.

You stayed silent. Is like a bad movie replaying on your head. The "what if" making you regret not going with Fer to the party where he was.

"Look at me." Pedro says, noticing this. "You know it's not your fault, right?"

"I don't know."

"No." He grabs you face. "It's not. The only one to blame is that disgusting hijo de puta, who took advantage of you."

"But"

"No buts, y/n."

He hugs you again. Not wanting to let go.

"I'm hungry." You say after a good silent time.

"Let's go get something to eat, mi amor." He kiss you. "What do you want?" He kiss your cheek" "I'll get you anything, mi princesa." He kiss your other cheek. "Even that matcha ice cream you love" he kiss your nose.

You laugh at every kiss, feeling the tickles.

"I'm feeling some burger King."

"Whatever the princess wants, it's what she gets." He grabs your hand and takes you downstairs.

"Pedro, wait." You say, noticing you're still in pijamas. "I have to change."

"We're going to the drive-thru, no worries."

After a quick trip to burger King and the grocery store for your matcha ice cream. You're back at his house.

"Pon el helado en la heladera, así cuando lo sirvas esta menos líquido." He says getting out of the car. (Put the ice cream on the freezer, so when you eat it it's not that liquid)

Fer was in the kitchen, drinking some water.

"Hey, we got you a burger. Hope you're feeling like eating one."

"Fuck yes, I need food asap." He laughs.

"Look who's up." Pedro laughs as he enters the kitchen. "I'll go get the drinks. Don't start without me."

You hug Fernando from behind. "Gracias, Fer." You say. "I don't know what I would do without you."

He turns around, hugging you back. "To me, you're like my little sister. Don't thank me, I promised to protect you, and I will punch as many dudes as I need to in order for you to be safe."

Kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly. He returns the kiss.

"Oigan, yo quiero un abrazo." Pedro breaks the silence. "Vengan acá." (Hey I want a hug too, come here)

You stretch out your arm for him to place himself.

"Okay, thats enough" Fer says. You separate laughing.

"Let's eat, the food it's getting cold."

You take the food out of the bag, giving each boy his burger.

You all joke and laugh with stories from Fernando. Laughing at the videos of his friend getting the cake all over his face.

When you're done. You suggest watching a movie.

"I'll serve the ice cream, Fer adds some whipped cream, and you, mi amor, go pick a movie for us to watch."

You nod, kissing him before going to the living room.

"Fer, gracias por lo que hiciste." (Thank you for what you did)

"Joder, tio. Don't thank me, you know you would do the same for my girlfriend. Plus, y/n is like family. If I had to get my knuckles bloody for her I will."

"Es que eres el mejor hermano." (You're the best brother ever)

Pedro hugs Fer, messing with his hair.

"No es como que tengas otro, capullo." (It's not like you had another one, idiot)

They hurry with the ice cream when you yell that you found a movie.

Sitting on each side of you, Pedro's arm rested on your shoulders, hugging you.

He was thankful for his brother. Knowing that no matter where he's at, you have Fernando there for you.

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celtic-crossbow · 5 months

Text

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Night terrors; Mild illness; Minor sexual themes; Allusions to abuse; Mention of scars

A/N: I somehow banged this out with a migraine and a horrible bout of depression, so it may receive further editing. If I change anything major, I’ll highlight it and make it known that there is new content. I’m never confident about my work but even less so this time. This slow-burn is really burning slow because our two damaged, adorable idiots. But they’re making progress! Thanks for sticking with me anyway. 💙

Carol was able to pull Daryl aside early the following morning. When she stopped just below the top step, she could see you were sound asleep on the mattress, curled in on yourself in a way she hadn’t seen for a while. Her heart ached with the knowledge that your trust in her had been damaged, if not destroyed, by two loathsome snakes.

Beside you, atop a sleeping bag on the floor, Daryl was awake with one arm behind his head while the other hand was busy twirling a bolt between his fingers. He already knew she was there, that came as no surprise. He held a finger to his lips that moved to make a shooing motion as he quietly got to his still booted feet. Carol descended and waited on the bottom step.

His hand came to rest on the small of her back to guide her to the main door and outside. No way he’d risk anyone overhearing this conversation.

“What’s up, Pookie?” She grinned at him when he scowled and grumbled under his breath. Why she insisted on calling him that was beyond him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. Maybe it had just settled into their own form of banter and he didn’t really mind at all. That’s not why he was here though!

Focus, dumbass. “Need ta talk ‘bout Y/N.” He felt his cheeks begin to warm, finding himself pleading with any deity that it was too early and there was too little light for her to see.

“So I gathered after that hug I saw.” His gaze snapped up to hers, more surprised than angry. She was immediately holding up her hands to bid him pause. “I wasn’t snooping! I had just come inside and you apparently were so wrapped up— literally —that you didn’t notice me.”

He held his intensity briefly before he deflated. “Th’fuck am I doin’, Carol?” He valued her opinion. She hardly ever steered him wrong, fearing he’d be hurt either emotionally or physically and that was not something she was willing to risk. He knew that.

“I told you before. I think you like her. Here, sit down.” He huffed a breath through his nose but obliged nonetheless, climbing on top of a table with his boots on the bench. Carol took her place beside him. “I think you’re feeling connected with her somehow. Maybe like you and me.”

“Nah. Well…maybe.” He growled and propped his elbows on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair in frustration. “I know I want ‘er ta be safe, wanna protect ‘er. Feel responsible fer ‘er.”

“If you’re asking my honest opinion, and I think you are or I wouldn’t be out here right now, I don’t think this is a question of responsibility, Daryl.” He let his left hand drop and tipped his head to face her, fingers of his right hand still in his hair. “You want to be her friend and even though she’s scared, she wants that too.”

The archer opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a clicking of teeth. He suddenly felt self conscious, worried that his best friend, of all people, would judge him for the explicit thoughts he was having about you. He decided quickly that he wouldn’t divulge that portion of his plight. It made most of the conversation asinine but why did he ever think he could fess up to something so perverse?

“I don’t think spending a little more time with her would be such a bad thing. If anything, maybe you could help her feel safe again.” Carol looked down at her hands, picking idly at her nails.

“Ya gon’ try n’ patch things up with ‘er?” Truthfully, he was grateful to take the focus off of himself for even a moment.

Carol nodded, looking out over the trees at the first light of the morning that began to stretch across the sky. “Yeah, I will. Maybe when she’s in a better headspace.”

Daryl tipped his chin down in a nod, unable to manage any words of support before the prison door burst open. Maggie called out, most likely for him, but he was already moving at the sound of your screams, passing over the threshold in only a few large strides. He cleared two steps at a time on his way up, no hesitation before kneeling beside the mattress.

Nightmares were a part of trauma with which he was intimately familiar.

“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N. Wake up, girl.” He made sure not to touch you. The presence of hands on you when caught between awake and asleep after a night terror would result in nothing good. He knew from experience. Your head rolled back and forth, tears cascading down your temples, your face red from screaming though you had quieted to moans and whimpers.

“She woke up the whole prison.” Carl muttered from beside Rick on the steps, clearly annoyed.

Distantly, Judith had begun to wail; several voices were raised. Daryl turned toward the audience gathered in his space, the discontentment in his glare enough to send them scattering to do damage control. Carol stayed behind, her presence acting as an anchor when he seemed to falter.

He blocked out everything else, his entire focus on you. He usually woke from his nightmares on his own and retreated, but watching you struggle— watching you suffer —wasn’t something he could sit idly by and do nothing to at least try and help you. It was a long shot, but he carefully leaned across to where you laid, as close to your ear as he could get without touching, and whispered so low that Carol could only watch his mouth move.

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul n’ sings the tune without the words n’ never stops at all.”

He felt ridiculous once the first word fell from his lips, but when you began to settle, he blinked and watched you for any indication that you would wake or fall back into your terror. You did neither. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he stood, careful not to disturb the mattress.

Carol appeared just as surprised. “What’d you say to her?”

It was a reflex to become defensive but the sharp words died on his tongue. Had it been anyone else, surely he wouldn’t have held back. He never meant to be cold or cruel to anyone. It was in his hardwiring, and he had been actively attempting to alter the circuitry since finding a place within the group.

“Was a, uh…a thing I read once in school. Kinda stuck with me. Ain’t important.” He was scratching the back of his head absentmindedly, more concerned with the flush he knew had assumed residence on his cheeks.

Carol leaned around him to see you snoring softly. She smirked and patted his cheek, leaving him there to go help with the calamity in the cells. He was chewing his thumbnail seconds after her departure, watching you from the top of the stairs.

He removed his boots there, afraid the noise would disrupt your newfound peace. A sudden exhaustion settled over him, his sleeping bag feeling like the plushest mattress at the fanciest hotel— not that he knew what that felt like anyway. He assumed it would probably be more of a distraction than a comfort. He’d rather have a cot or the hard ground deep in the wilderness any day.

Daryl stared at the high ceilings, barely visible in the darkness that had consumed the space without the flashlights and candles of the perturbed residents. Try as he might to focus on the most trivial things, his thoughts continued to circle back to you.

There was a rustling of fabric and he let his head roll toward the mattress. You had turned toward him, face still relaxed in peaceful slumber. His blue eyes narrowed, the pinched expression he always had when trying to piece something together. Rolling over, he turned his back to you and scrubbed a hand over his face.

He was beyond fucked.

Over the span of the next week, you could take apart a gun, clean it, and put it back together. You struggled with remembering the order of reassembling at first but, to your pleasant surprise, Daryl was alarmingly patient. His jaw would tick once in a while, obviously holding back the urge to rush you. You had smiled gratefully, stifling a giggle at his mumbled curse.

You still hadn’t spoken, aside from the first day in Daryl’s perch. No, not even to him. He didn’t seem to mind but you caught the few times he’d speak and look at you from the corner of his eye, almost like he was hopeful that what he’d said would merit a verbal response.

Regardless, it was as if your voice had just locked itself away somewhere dark in the fissures scattered across your mind. You were even more damaged, more broken than before.

When Daryl was leaving to hunt, you tried to follow. It was one of the few times in this new dynamic between the two of you that he seemed to lose the composure he had gradually been building around you.

“Hell nah! Ain’t takin’ ya out there and babysittin’ ya when ya don’ know shit ‘bout wha’ yer doin’ in here! Get on back inside!”

You flinched away with your lip quivering. He didn’t apologize. With a growl of annoyance, he yelled for the gate to be opened and stomped into the forest. His demeanor was different when he returned, a few rabbits in hand. After prepping and dropping off his kills with Carol, he approached you and said it was time for you to become familiar with a gun.

You thought that pointing and firing was the jist of it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just like the ‘stab and pull’ at the fence, you would now ‘disassemble and reassemble’. It wasn’t clear to you why learning this step was important but if Daryl was uncompromising in teaching you, then you would learn.

You worked hard to familiarize yourself with the weapons, scrutinizing each surface, weighing them in your hands, meticulously examining the parts to see how they fit together. You’d catch the archer watching you while he busied himself with other projects; sharpening his knives, carving bolts, tending to his crossbow. There were a few times that you could have sworn you’d seen him smile.

The man had become a steady presence, allowing you to follow him and learn the more hands-on aspects of protecting the prison. Once you had healed and felt like accompanying him outside, he had trained you for another day with your knife before allowing you to start helping him clear the fences daily. The meals he didn’t skip were spent eating silently beside you, disappearing long before you had finished. He showered daily, sometimes twice. You overheard Maggie and Carol make mention of how they’d never seen him so adamant to remain clean. At the end of the day, sometimes he’d join you in the perch. Other times, you fell asleep alone.

Those nights were when the men that had hurt you would penetrate your dreams, painting them thickly with a suffocating shroud of black and gray. They would corner you, reach out with their filthy fingers like claws, and you’d cower in anticipation of the pain. Always before a single inch of your skin could be marred, a wall erected itself in front of you, protecting you. A warmth would seep from the structure, enveloping you in a safety that forced the darkness from your dreams. You would wake up feeling rested but always still alone.

Daryl, on the other hand, always looked tired. The days he appeared haggard and sluggish were when his patience flagged. He would raise his voice before he would seemingly think better of it, walk a short distance away for a cigarette, and return with that kindness again present in his exhausted gaze.

Today was one of those days.

You hadn’t done anything to set him off, simply cleaning the .22 pistol he’d given you while he sat on the other end of the picnic bench hunched over the table. He didn’t look at you or even check your progress, simply sitting with his elbows on the table and a hand on each side of his head. It was likely better to leave him be, just continue with your task. Attempting to engage him would most certainly lead to nothing good.

Then he coughed.

You made quick work of the reassembling, placed the weapon down on the cloth, and folded your hands on your lap, eyeing the archer for several minutes before he noticed no sound coming from your side of the table. Daryl dropped a hand to the flat surface and squinted red-rimmed eyes at you. He was quite pale compared to just that morning when you’d found him outside. He didn’t seem like he was sick very often. Maybe battered, bruised, and bloody but not sick.

You pursed your lips and slid down the bench, stopping across from him to lean forward with your arms folded on the table.

“Wha’re ya doin’?” His voice was more raspy than usual, a rougher edge that sounded uncomfortable. Your head tilted even though he seemed less than thrilled to be under your scrutiny. “G’on. Work on the gun.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, a deep sigh shifting into another cough. Daryl turned his face into his elbow and waved you toward the other side.

You refused to budge.

“S’wrong with ya? Got a hearin’ prob—” You could see the moment he caught himself and reined in the hostility. “Jus’ take the day. Ya done good. Work on handlin’ the thing tomorrow.” The hunter didn’t wait for you to move. Probably just assumed you would. With his arms now folded similarly to your own, he laid his forehead on top of them with a groan.

Your concern only grew when he didn’t sense you were still present. With a deep breath, you slid back over to grab the cloth and gun, tucking the weapon into the waistband of your jeans and the cloth into your back pocket. You would be lying if you didn’t admit to feeling a small amount of anxiety while approaching him. You needed to repeatedly remind yourself that it was Daryl and he would never hurt you.

When close enough, you placed a hesitant palm against the back of his head. The archer flinched and quickly bolted upright, startling you in the process.

“Th’fuck, Y/N?” He barked hoarsely. Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers loose on the too warm skin in case he pulled away. You motioned for him to follow you with the slightest tug of his arm. He was definitely confused but without knowing what you needed, he followed obediently. Your hand remained around his wrist.

The gloom inside the prison only made Daryl look worse. He was clearly exhausted and battling what seemed to be a cold. Hopefully nothing more than that. He said nothing as you guided him up the stairs and stepped out of his way upon reaching the top. Brow knitted, he pressed the heel of his left hand against his forehead.

“Gon’ explain or ‘m I gettin’ three guesses?” His voice strained at the end when he tried and failed to subdue a cough. Ducking your head to catch his eye after the spell, you pointed to the mattress. “Huh?”

You deadpanned. Daryl was anything but dense. He had to be sick if he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to accomplish. You realized that your hand still held his wrist and walked backwards to urge him along, stepping up onto the mattress with what you hoped was an encouraging smile.

Daryl did not appear to be encouraged. Wide blue eyes vibrated as he attempted to look between your own. “Y/N.” He was gentle when he extricated his arm, stepping backward with a shake of his head.

It was your turn to be confused. You simply wanted to get him to lie down on the— oh. It started as a giggle but soon you were actually laughing, damn near startling yourself. The befuddled alarm he was wearing so exposedly gradually recast to a warm focus. You placed your palms flat together and positioned the back of a hand against your cheek with a tilt of your head, closing your eyes.

The archer’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, his face taking on a pink hue that you definitely noticed before he ducked his head and knelt to pull the laces on his boots. It was possibly the first time you would attach the word adorable to any description of the man in front of you. Daryl was quick to redirect your regard with a finger toward your own boots on the mattress. Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you hopped off, removed the gun from your waistband, and plopped onto the sleeping bag.

“Yer stayin’?”

You stared, incredulous. Of course you were staying. He was sick, no matter how mild. He had stayed with you while you recovered. Why wouldn’t you return the favor? You nodded and patted the mattress.

There was an obvious uncertainty in his approach, movements hesitant, deliberate, as if you would spook and bolt. You wished you could find it in you to speak, to reassure him you were okay and you wanted to stay.

Your confusion regarding the archer was slowly resolving into a confident trust. You were still plagued with doubt and sometimes overwhelmed with questioning curiosity that would result in a reluctance to be near him. It was that gentle luster that would appear in those pretty eyes, subtle and carefully concealed behind an opacity but easily discernible by someone who had been shown nothing by cold cruelty continually for so long, that would coerce you to stay. There was so much more to Daryl than he allowed the world to see.

He sighed when he finally allowed the side of his face to sink into the pillow, turning his head to cough into the softness. You’d have to wash it once he was feeling better. Quick work was made to settle the blanket over him before his shoulders had stilled from the minor fit, his eyes appearing heavy when he rolled his head back toward you.

“Don’ hafta stay.”

Your smile and gentle tilt of your head said where else would I go? Daryl hummed quietly, eyes slipping shut. He was asleep within moments. Maybe his lack of rest was responsible for the cold. As far as you were concerned, he could sleep until he could physically sleep no longer. Maybe you could persuade others to let him rest.

Your knees pulled to your chest, one arm around them so you could rest your cheek there. The other hand ghosted across the fringe that had fallen over the side of his face. His skin was warm but not enough to frighten you. Maybe you could ask Carol for some tea and broth, if there was any available. You needed to speak with her anyway. Well, not really speak. Regardless, you wanted things to go back to how they were.

Dainty fingers continued to stroke across the archer’s forehead, finding an odd sense of comfort in the ability to touch him without inhibition. His demeanor while in your company was in constant fluctuation but rarely relaxed. He appeared younger in sleep, face slack without creases or pinched skin at the corners of his eyes.

You wanted now more than ever to find your voice. You wanted to tell him how hard you would try to learn quickly. How dependable you would be once you could take care of yourself. How valuable you’d make sure you would become. You wanted to thank him. Others in the prison had done so much for you, but none more than Daryl.

Daryl was the reason you were no longer under Big Jazz’s thumb. He was the reason you were there at the prison at all. He was training you to protect yourself and to protect others. He made you feel safe. Even with the sporadic apprehension, there was the constant blanket of safety when Daryl was near. If he hadn’t looked for you that day not too long ago… You pulled your knees impossibly closer to your body, a dull ache inside at the reminder.

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake, even with your fingers now carding through his hair. In the quietness of the moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate how handsome the archer actually was. You had seen the first day, when he had bargained for you. Rugged, rough around the edges, but handsome. For the first time in a very, very long time, you pondered intimacy that didn’t involve subjugation and pain. You wondered how it would have felt if Daryl had taken your offer that first night. Would he have been gentle? Would he have tasted you?

Those potentially pleasant thoughts couldn’t last once your mind pulled forth the images of him under the spray of water in the showers. Regardless of your name groaned from his lips, you could only see the raised ridges and puckered flesh littered across his back. What had he been through? Had it happened after the fall of the world? Who had hurt him and why? Carol had told you nothing and it was not something you felt you could ever ask him about. It wasn’t your business.

Still… the thought of someone hurting him, it made you feel something you weren’t sure you remembered how to feel.

Anger.

You had spent so much time being conditioned to submit, remain quiet, please, you had forgotten the burn of bitter hostility toward another person. Someone you didn’t even know. You were more than justified in your hatred of the men that had taken you, tortured and defiled and humiliated you. Justified but felt so strange. Finding resentment toward an unknown person for a wrong against a man you barely knew was stranger still.

Yet, that’s exactly what it was. You wouldn’t hesitate a single second to drive your knife home into their skull, living or dead. You’d stab them over and over, one for each raised mark on Daryl’s flesh.

A sound from downstairs startled you from your thoughts, a simple day to day chore of some sort that was not meant to raise alarm. Still, it frightened you. Most things did, but it was getting easier to control your reactions. You realized moments later that your face was damp, the hand hovering just over Daryl’s forehead was trembling. More than that, you suddenly felt drained with an exhaustion that left you dizzy.

Needed nowhere around the prison— your only focus meant to be training with Daryl —you decided it wouldn’t be frowned upon if you were to rest while the archer did. Most knew that wherever he was, he would be instructing you, and would only seek him in the event of an emergency. In that case, the hunter would want to be disturbed.

Sliding down the sleeping bag, you reclined onto your side and faced Daryl, worrying your lips against one another before you reached onto the mattress and placed your palm on this forearm. He didn’t stir but inhaled deeply, seemingly settling deeper into slumber. The contact was comforting and hopefully a level of noninvasive that he wouldn’t mind. Either way, it was enough to allow you to easily follow him into a restful, dreamless sleep.

** What Daryl whispers to reader is an excerpt from “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson

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