r66dusthewriter

[r66dusthewriter]

Hiii! I love your works so much — they’re so amazingly written. I was wondering if I can request you do the Hot Ones interview for Drew Starkey with the Outer Banks cast — only if you want to!

I hope you have a great day!!

‘Big news for the unemployed’ | Hot ones versus

Pairing: Drew Starkey x fem!reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: I started my little (a casual 11h first day shift) side/summer student job a few days ago. I filed a complaint to HR and had a screaming match with my supervisor the same night. I have never longed for unemployment the way I do now.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.5k

When Drew spun the bottle, it landed squarely on Maddie, signaling that your team would kick off the first round.

“As the only kook here” Drew began, a grin playing on his lips as he read from the card, “I’m pitting pogue against pogue in a three on three challenge. Lose a game or fail to answer a question and your entire team must eat a deathwing. However, if you pass my test, then I will suffer the wrath of the last dab” 

He glanced up and smiled at Maddie “Madelyn, the bottle landed on you, so your team will answer the question first”

You sat closest to Drew, your legs intertwined beneath the table with his, a comforting reminder of what the two of you had.

“Alright, Y/n” Drew said, nodding toward you.

“Shoot,” you replied confidently.

“Outer Banks has hooked viewers for four seasons with its countless twists and turns,” Drew continued, eyes twinkling “However, name one storyline you think should've never made it out of the writers’ room”

The entire cast gasped dramatically.

“Is this your way of trying to get me fired?” you joked, laughter bubbling through the group.

Jonathan turned to you, a grin on his face “Do you want to eat that wing?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. You shook your head rapidly.

“Oh I know!” you said with a confident tone “Sarah getting shot where she did and literally being able to sprint the next morning. Like, give my girl a break” 

“That’s why I love you!” Madelyn shouted, laughter rippling around the room.

“That’s a solid one,” Chase agreed, nodding appreciatively.

Meanwhile, Drew slipped off his rings, mentally preparing to take on the dreaded deathwing. 

“Oh, now I feel bad” you murmured, worry flickering in your chest.

“You worry too much about him,” Jonathan said with a smile. “He’ll be alright.”

Chase chuckled, watching Drew carefully pull apart the wing. “Oh you’re shaking” 

Then Drew took his first confident bite, a big one, causing you to gasp.

“Just relax,” Madison advised Drew “Oh my god. Big bite!” 

“Baby, no!” you whispered, soon covering your mouth, hoping the mic hadn’t caught that. “He doesn’t have to eat the whole thing, does he?” you asked, turning to the producers.

“Yes, he does. Yes, he does,” Jonathan repeated with a smirk.

“It’s okay baby. I want to” Drew nodded and assured mouth full, the pet name barely audible.

“He does.” Jonathan assured further “He’ll want me to do it and i’d respect that”

Once Drew finished, the chewing looked agonizing. His fist covered his mouth as he fought through it, and you looked at him with concern while the rest laughed and cheered him on.

“It’s getting hot” he coughed, face warming up but proud.

By the time round three rolled around, Drew picked up the next card with a dramatic flair, eyes scanning the words before he read aloud.

“After five years of long shoot days in remote locations, our cast has become like a family. So now, it’s time to see how well you know your co-stars in the game of ‘Who posted it’, you’ll be shown a series of Instagram photos and must correctly identify whose account it is from. The losing team must eat a death wing”

Groans and nervous laughter erupted around the table as the challenge began. Despite a strong start, your team stumbled through the last few images. The final buzzer sounded and the opposing team cheered as the loss was confirmed.

You let out a dramatic sigh, then confidently picked up one of the fiery wings from the tray. 

“I’m usually really good with spice,” you said, squinting at it skeptically, “but why do I feel like this is not gonna go well for me?”

“No, no, no, you got this ba–” Drew began, but was cut off by Jonathn, who grinned and shouted  “Eat that wing baby!” taking Drew’s words right out of his mouth. 

The table burst out laughing as you gave Drew a playful glare and took a bite. At first, your expression stayed neutral. You chewed, shrugged. “That’s actually really good, it’s not that—oh”

The second wave hit. Your eyes widened slightly as the burn kicked in, creeping across your tongue. The opposite team laughed as you blinked through the rising heat.

“I take that back!” you gasped, fanning your mouth. “That’s warm… but good” 

“Look at us!” Madelyn clapped, looking at both you and Carlacia as she chewed. “Taking it like champs…it is really hot though”

Drew leaned over with a smug smile and whispered just loud enough for your mic to catch it faintly, “Knew you’d make me proud”

You grinned, mouth burning but your pride fully intact.

For the final round, the stakes were turned up, quite literally, as each of you added a dollop of the infamous Last Dab hot sauce on your next wing. 

Drew read the final challenge with mock gravity in his voice, holding up the card like it was a royal decree.

“The treasure of the Royal Merchant has caused many to betray their closest allies. This game is no different as we have come to a final ‘Winner Takes All’ challenge. That’s right. No more teams, it’s everyone for themselves in the most cutthroat party game of the seven seas ‘Musical Chairs’” Drew read.

Groans, laughter and a few exaggerated threats echoed around the table as you all stood and the crew prepared the game.

You soon found yourself circling the chairs just behind Drew, tension high and competitive glints in everyone’s eyes. The music stopped suddenly and chaos ensued. You and Drew dove for the same chair at the exact same time. He ended on your lap as the others looked around for who lost. With your arms around him, you patted his chest and he chuckled as he stood up.

“Oh, it’s me,” he announced with chivalry, stepping aside and reaching for his wing

“What a gentleman,” Carlacia teased with a smirk.

“He just didn’t want to sleep on the couch tonight,” JD added under his breath, which you barely heard, making the ones who did erupt in laughter.

Drew shot you a wink, high fived you with a grin and took his wing like a champ, downing it as applause rang out.

“You gotta get outta here” Madison told him, waving dramatically.

“Alright, fuck y’all,” Drew said with a grin, stepping off set as the others booed him playfully. 

The game whittled down quickly, with chairs disappearing and cast members losing left and right. When it came down to you and Chase in the final showdown, adrenaline surged. The music cut out, and with lingering reflexes, you claimed the last seat.

The cast cheered off-frame, someone yelling, “Attagirl!” 

“I told y’all to put your money on that girl!” Madison added proudly.

Once the clapping died down, the cast re-emerged and Drew held out the trophy with dramatic reverence. 

“And here we have it…the wing of champions,” he declared, handing it to you.

You took it with a grin, and held it up, turning toward the camera as the rest of the cast rallied around you. 

“Thank you all for this.” you began in mock sincerity. “The wings were really hot and I’m just honored to survive this. But more importantly, I’m really hoping I can take home the ones we didn’t eat” 

You glanced pointedly at a producer off-camera.  

The cast and crew burst into laughter as you finished “Outer Banks Season 4 is now streaming on Netflix, please watch it… . But seriously though…I’m dead serious about the wings—can i? I have ziplock bags in my purse.”

The screen faded to black as the entire set cracked up behind you.

—--

The "First We Feast” Instagram post announcing the video with the cast blew up almost instantly, but after the full video dropped, the internet practically caught on fire.

Clips were reposted across Tiktok, fan accounts captioned everything from your teary-eyed wing victory to Drew handing you the trophy but what really set the comments section ablaze was the chemistry. 

drewdorabl3 I counted three ‘baby’s’ and two babes’. I am NOT okay.

obxsuperfan1 Just checking if I’m having auditory hallucinations…did anyone else hear Y/n call Drew ‘baby’?

rafesleftsock And Drew too! If you’re wrong then I need my hearing checked too.

mells134 I turned on the captions. They definitely said it!

drewswife.09 here y'all go again. they’re bestfriends 🙄

ikervt Me when i’m delusional

89kovcg Jobs people. JOBS

p0gu3l0v3r Ughhhh the way he looks at her

yenakls445 anyone else hear JD talk about how Drew didn’t want to sleep on the couch? 😭

dellaos.cc yes omg! 

89kovcg Huge news for the unemployed.

c3rtifiedpoguecollector who’s gonna tell them we heard everything?

y/l/y/l/n tell what to who? I’m so lost y’all

madelyncline babe just go ahead and log out

Speculation turned into full-on obsession as fans began dissecting every glance and laugh. Someone even made a compilation called “Every time they forgot they weren’t alone” on TikTok. It had a million views in a couple of hours and naturally, more chaos ensued yet you and Drew, thanks to your lack of social media presence, remained mostly unaware.

[r66dusthewriter]

“No” is a full sentence.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem! reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Requested by @astridphantom

Era: season 1

Word count: 1.2k

⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains depictions of attempted sexual assault and its aftermath. While care has been taken to handle this subject with sensitivity, the content may be distressing or triggering for some readers. Please prioritize your well-being and feel free to skip this story if needed.

Resources for survivors are listed here and remember you are loved and if you haven't heard it today, I love you and i'm proud of you.

a/n: If you are a survivor of sexual violence, know that you are not alone. There is help and support available, wherever you are in the world. Below are resources for confidential support:

RAINN (U.S.): https://www.rainn.org/

UK - Rape Crisis: https://rapecrisis.org.uk/

Canada - Sexual Assault Centres: https://endingviolencecanada.org/

Australia - 1800RESPECT: https://www.1800respect.org.au/

International - Women Against Violence Europe (WAVE): https://www.wave-network.org/

You deserve to be heard, you deserve safety. and you most definitely are not what happened to you. ❤️

The camp had grown more crowded than it was just a week ago, with more and more people slipping through the cracks of Atlanta to seek refuge beyond its smoking edges. Shane and Rick just didn’t have the heart to turn anyone away.

You had been one of those desperate souls. Shane found you almost a month ago, rummaging through abandoned cars at a massive traffic jam, desperate for water, food…anything to keep yourself alive. You’d been skeptical, of course, but when he’d said he had a kid with him your guard slipped, a little naïvely, you realized now. But that security shattered when Glenn brought Rick back to camp and you learned that Carl wasn’t Shane’s son and Lori wasn’t his wife. 

From that moment on, Shane’s kindness twisted into something else, something predatory. Your chores vanished, you weren’t allowed to hunt with Daryl anymore and your dinner portions grew, which you declined. Then, your tent tore, “a bear,” Shane had claimed and now you were sleeping in his. But every night, he scooted closer and his wandering hands grew colder.

You sought distractions during the day that would keep you away from him. That morning, you'd gone looking for Daryl, your anchor, who’d become far more than a friend despite his rough edges and sharp tongue, but found only a note left for you, wedged between some rocks where he knew you’d look. Went huntin’. Be back soon. He hadn’t said it the night before, but the fact that he left the note at all said enough.

As a silent thank-you, you did him a favor he’d never ask for, gathering his dirty laundry and heading down to the quarry before breakfast.

The sun reflected off the surface, and for a moment, with your hands submerged and your voice softly singing to yourself, the world almost felt normal, until a voice startled you from behind.

“Morning,” he rasped, making you freeze. It was Shane, always following you around. “You skipped breakfast.”

Crouched at the water’s edge, you barely looked up when answering. “I wasn’t hungry,” 

“Well, sweetheart, life ain’t about that anymore. When there’s food, you eat.”

“Don’t call me that,” you muttered.

“What? Sweetheart?” He stepped closer. You didn’t notice his hungry eyes on you, nor the way he licked his lips. “Ain’t that what you are?”

You felt his hand grip possessively the back of your neck, thumb stroking your skin. Your whole body tensed for a second and in a single motion you shot to your feet and shoved him back with wet hands, his laughter cold in your ears.

“I said I wanted you to stop, all of it. The looks, the comments, the pet names…”

“Lower your damn voice,” he snapped, a finger stabbing the air.

“The touches while I sleep!”

His hand moved quickly, clamping over your mouth and jaw as terror sparked in your eyes. He dragged you further from camp’s view, ignoring your muffled screams, hits and struggles. With a single jerk, he yanked at your shirt, the fabric tearing easily, baring your chest to the cold air. 

“No! Please, Shane! I don’t want this. Please…” Your begging grew desperate, tears burning down your face.

“It’ll be fast. You want this. I see how you look at me—”

He pressed your face against a rock, rough stone scraping your cheek and temple. The pressure of his hand silenced your scream and you fought to breathe, words lost beneath his weight as he struggled to tug down your pants.

“Shut up. I saved you!” he shouted in your ear as if that granted him a reward. You yelped, willing your eyes shut.

And then suddenly, in a rush of movement and angry shouts, a body tackled Shane off you and with his weight gone, you crumpled to the ground, paralyzed by terror. From where you crouched, you watched Daryl pin Shane down, fists flying in blind rage until Shane finally stilled under him. Even then, you saw Daryl struggle to let him go, which he only did when he saw you there, trembling, wide eyed and vulnerable, with deep sobs cutting through the breeze.

In an instant, Daryl was kneeling beside you, fists red and chest still heaving as he stripped off his button-up and draped it over your shoulders to cover you. His shaky hands stilled and became gentle, cupping your face as you sobbed.

“Hey. You okay? Sunshine, look at me.” His voice was rough but soft, thumb gently brushing blood away from the gash on your cheek. “I’m here. Y’ain’t alone no more.”

You nodded numbly through tears, barely hearing him while your entire body froze in shock and by the time you had the courage to look up again, Shane was gone.

It took hours before you could stand, hours where you didn’t speak either. Your throat was raw and tears threatened to spill whenever you tried. Daryl stayed close but gave you space, never once rushing or pressuring you. When you were finally ready, he snuck you back into camp, careful to avoid unwanted attention and brought you to his tent only after you’d agreed. He then brought you a change of clothes and stepped out so you could change in peace.

When you called him back in, he entered quietly with medical supplies in hand, pausing when he saw you’d put on the shirt he’d given you, a flicker of emotion in his eyes. You made a move to take it off but he stopped you gently, stopping before he touched your hand.

“Ya can keep it,” he said softly.

“Thank you…” you whispered, then sniffled, letting silence stretch between you. “I didn’t think anyone would hear.”

“Ya don’t gotta thank me.” He said, stopping you before you could proceed.

Daryl had been on his way back to camp when he heard a single scream. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had recognized your voice or not but the truth was, he ran much faster when he did. 

He knelt in front of you, laying out gauze and ointment with practiced care. “Can I?” he asked softly.

You nodded, letting him clean your wounds with feather-light touch that never lingered longer than necessary.

“I’m sorry I left your laundry down at the quarry,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“Ya don’t gotta—”

“And for coming in here, touching your stuff—”

“Hey.” He interrupted, catching your gaze. “Take a breath fer me.”

You did, matching his slow, deep and steady inhales until the panic faded.

“Listen,” he said quietly, “ya can come in here anytime ya want. Touch whatever ya need ... .Hell ya can take anythin’. Ain’t nothin’ in here I wouldn’t give ya myself.”

Then, you met his eyes for the first time and he continued, even softer than before.

“I’m sorry this happened t’ you.” He hesitated. “If ya wanna tell Rick—”

“No,” you said, shaking your throbbing head quickly. “Not a good idea. Lori and Shane…and now Rick… I just don’t trust him. Not yet.”

He nodded, understanding plain on his face. “Do ya trust me?”

The word sat in your throat, but finally, you nodded. “Yes.”

He nodded back. “Alrigh’. You’ll sleep here now. I’ll be righ’ outside all nigh’ and If ya need me, you just call. Tomorrow, I’ll go get yer stuff and we’ll figure the rest out…That okay?”

You didn’t answer with words but simply melted into him instead, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

[r66dusthewriter]

Safehouse quickies

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: I'm on a roll this week. Enjoy!

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Wounds, blood (not related to sex) unprotected p-in-v mirror sex, nudity, nipple play? slight pain kink? and creampie.

Word count: 1k

The call itself had broken every single rule in the book and he knew it the moment he answered, but if you were caught, you’d argue you couldn’t stitch the gash on your back alone. Pain radiated through your body, every bruise a testament to the brutal assignment you’d just crawled out of. 

You were nothing like the soldier behind you, the one silently threading needle to flesh with careful, practiced precision. Your very existence was a breach of protocol and threat to national security. You were lawless, followed your own code and the blood on your ledger was the only proof needed.

Your fingers clenched the bathroom sink as the needle bit through your skin. In the mirror, his eyes were focused, sharp and unreadable. You saw no judgment there, only the kind of silence that understood what this kind of life cost. 

“You alrigh’?” he asked gruffly, his accent thick, watching drops of blood roll down your toned back.

You nodded, dabbing at the cuts on your forehead clean. The bathroom was dim and cold, the cracked tiles and buzzing light casting shadows that danced around you. His gaze, quiet and heavy, spread goosebumps all over, hardening your exposed nipples and raising the hairs on the back of your neck.

When he finished, he wiped the stitched wound clean and taped gauze over it with clinical care. His eyes lingered, scanning you for anything else that needed attention but there was nothing left to fix. Not on the surface, at least. 

He stepped closer, deliberately. The press of his crotch against your ass was firm, unmistakable. His masked face dipped to your neck, breath warm against your skin as he inhaled deeply, like he missed the way you smelled.

His hands, calloused and bare, slid around your front, cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples softly between two fingers. The touch was slow, more reverent than rough. You inhaled sharply, body arching back into his. The heat between you was sudden and searing, his arousal pressing hard against you as you pushed your ass back, your lips parting to let through a quiet whine you knew you should’ve swallowed.

“We don’t have time for this” you whispered, voice low, strained. More a warning than a protest.

His hand slid down, fingers grazing your belly before slipping beneath your waistband. He undid your pants with practiced ease, pulling them down as his eyes locked on yours in the mirror.

“We never do” he muttered.

You didn’t move, not when he dropped his own pants and not when you should’ve stopped him before it was too late.

“We said we’d stop”

He only hummed in response, low and rough, one hand wrapping around his cock, already thick, flushed and dripping at the tip for you. You watched, breath caught in your throat as he guided himself between the curves of your ass. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, hips tilting back and spine arching, offering him more. When he slid in, it was far from gentle. The stretch burned in all the ways you remembered, sharp, just enough to make you feel alive. Your lashes fluttered, a soft gasp escaping as your body adjusted around him, walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

His groan rumbled against your neck, deep and guttural, like he was trying to hold back but couldn’t. It was a sound you’d never admit you craved, just like neither of you would admit you needed. You were temptation wrapped in defiance and he was willing to sin with you.

“Give me something to last another six months” he rasped against your ear, voice strained as a single finger circled your clit with maddening precision until you shivered in his arms. 

This was your sanctuary. Your guilty pleasure and the only sliver of normalcy either of you dared to clam.

He thrust in with one brutal, unrelenting motion, burying himself to the hilt. Your spine arched, head falling back against his chest as your breath stuttered. His grip tightened at your waist,  controlling the rhythm as he began moving. 

It was fast, deep…desperate.

The kind of rhythm that didn’t ask for permission when he knew it was what you both needed. The kind that told truths neither of you could say aloud or even indulge in. This was the only intimacy you knew, wordless, punishing and absolutely necessary. 

His eyes met yours in the mirror, dark and wild, drinking in your parted lips and fluttering lashes. His pupils dilated the moment yours rolled back in pleasure. One hand slid across your abdomen, anchoring you as your hips met his in a rhythm that felt like survival. The warm slick dripping between your thighs made everything seamless, every thrust easier, wetter and sinfully louder until the bathroom was filled with restrained need. When your moans grew louder, trembling past your bitten lips, his hand came up to cover your mouth. You arched deeper, taking him further and chasing something unspeakable. 

“Seen you kill dozens without makin’ a sound,” he panted against your ear, breath hot and ragged “I shouldn’t have to tell you to stay quiet.” 

His voice was strained, barely tethered to control. Slowly, his hand slid to your throat, thick digits curling just enough to press. The moment his palm tightened, your body shuddered. A soft whimper escaped, followed by the sharp, sickening tug of a stitch giving way.

“Told you…t’leave, didn’t i?” you managed, voice breaking apart on a yelp as he slammed into you, harder now, angrier maybe at your words or at himself. 

“You think I'd leave you like this?” he ground out, wrapping both arms around you like a shield and a vice all at once. He fucked you like the clock was counting down, like this might be the last time but in never was. 

Your feet barely touched the floor, hands clawed at his forearm like the only anchor you had. And when the orgasm tore through you, sharp and sudden, your body seized around him, every pulsing contraction branding the shape of him inside you. You clenched your jaw to keep from screaming, the sound of skin on skin enough to echo in the whole apartment.

He buried himself to the hilt one final time, cock throbbing as he spilled deep inside you, thick, warm and always claiming. His forehead dropped to your back, breath cooling the sweat along your spine as he held you there, unmoving, as if your job could wait a little longer. 

And maybe it could.

[r66dusthewriter]

Sundress season.

Pairing: Country boy!Drew/rafe x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: This is solely based on Drew saying “I’m from the country ☝️🤠” on that one Jimmy Kimmel Late Night Show interview. This is the first smut I’ve written in what? 2 years? I’m scared, so i'm gonna leave this here and leave.

Synopsis: in which Drew never pursued acting and still lives in the country.

Genre: Smut

Warning: Filth. Read at your own risk.

Word count: 1.2k

From messing around in high school hallways to calling yourself his wife and living on his farm. It still felt surreal sometimes. The air was warming up, thick with the scent of grass and wildflowers and though he always insisted you stayed inside where the A/C could protect you from the heat, you much preferred being by his side.

He liked to act grumpy about it, muttering about the sun and the scorching heat and how he didn’t want bugs eating you alive but the truth was, he loved having you there.

Today was no exception. You’d stepped outside in a soft summer dress paired with your worn-in cowboy boots and the protest he’d been preparing immediately vanished. He just stared for a moment, smiled like he was trying to bite it back, then nodded and pulled open the passenger door of his truck, saying “Alright, come on then.”

You’d spent most of the morning in the passenger seat, bumping along dusty paths while he made small stops, checking out the animals, inspecting rows of young crops, scribbling mental notes for things that needed fixing. He never did anything halfway. Not with the land. Not with you.

On the long way back, he slowed the truck and pulled to a stop near the river crossing the huge property, hopping out and going to help you out to join him.

“I wanna build a dock here,” he said, pointing out toward the water’s edge. “What do you think?”

You climbed onto the opened bed of the truck and settled on a clean blanket he’d laid out earlier for you, your legs swinging off the edge as you studied the view. The way sunlight skimmed the water, the gentle slope of the earth, the stillness of it all…

“I love it,” you said.

He took a few photos of the spot, angles, spacing and depth. Something about how he planned everything made you feel safe, like he was building more than just a life, he was building you into it.

He tucked his phone away and checked the time, then turned to look over at you as you observed the view and he watched you, a half smirk growing on his face. “I’m getting hungry.”

“I can start heading back while you finish out here,” you offered, already swinging to hop down. “Make you something quick until lunch.”

But before your feet touched the ground, he was already there, stepping between you legs, placing his hands on either side of you and caging you in without pressure. He leaned in slowly, kissing your jaw, your neck, the space just below your ear. Lazy, wet and familiar.

Then, with a teasing bite to your shoulder, he murmured, low and rough “Not that kind of hungry”

Your breath caught on a laugh that quickly faded into a quiet moan as his mouth trailed lower, brushing soft kisses along your collarbone, then down the delicate dip of your cleavage. Your fingers tangled in the hair that curled at the nape of his neck, grounding yourself in the moment.

He eased your dress up with slow, deliberate hands, the fabric bunching around your hips. Then, with a quiet groan like he couldn’t help himself, he sank to his knees in the warm grass. The world went still as he looked up, eyes dark, focused, reverent as his lips began to trace soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs.

His hands slid upward, thumbs grazing just beneath the edge of your underwear, his voice rough and playful.

“How about a meal to go?”

You couldn’t even speak, just nodded, lifting your hips slightly in invitation. He smiled like a man who’d just won something that wasn’t already his, then slid your panties down your legs, careful and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. He balled the fabric in his hand, then tucked it into the pocket of his jeans with a mischievous glint in his eyes, like it was some kind of trophy.

His hands found your hips with practiced ease, fingers curling firmly as he pulled you toward the edge of the truck bed. The blanket shifted beneath you, the soft rustle of fabric mingling with the quiet buzz of summer. 

Without a word, he lifted your legs, guiding them over his shoulders, holding you there like you would even think about leaving. His grip was secure, grounding, as his eyes flicked up to meet yours one last time, checking in the way he always did, even now.

Then he leaned in, pressing the softest kiss at the very apex of your thighs before his mouth ascended fully, dragging a long, slow lap of his tongue along the delicate heat of you. You gasped, fingers curling tighter into the edge of the blanket as your head tilted back toward the sun.

His movements were slow, deliberate, each one reminding you just how intimately he knew your body, how deeply he understood the rhythm of your pleasure. His tongue flicked your bundle of nerves until you were pulling him by his hair impossibly closer towards you, your moans overtaking the flowing river next to you. He lapped at your slick cunt shamelessly, fucking you with his tongue until every breath you let out was a pathetic whimper. Your chest heaved and gaze blurred, eyelids finally falling shut allowing you to get lost in the moment.

“Ugh fuck” you cursed, thighs trembling around him and locking tighter as he pressed further, deeper, applying pressure to your clit and making his tongue vibrate against it. He let out lewd groans of pleasure as he selfishly took more from you, your moans becoming louder and louder causing his length to tent in his jeans.

You sank back onto the bed of the truck, the warmth of the metal searing your skin briefly but the feeling was distant, almost forgotten. Your back arched against it as pressure started to build on your lower abdomen, his hand reaching up to grope at your hardened nipples over your dress, rolling them between his fingers just enough until the pain was a peak in your pleasure.

You didn’t have time to warn him before your cunt pulsed against his mouth, leaking sweetness onto his plumped lips as he licked you clean of it. Your breathing slowed down as he did, until he rose to his feet with a last kiss to your heat. 

He smiled, his lips glistening as he looked at your swollen core, skimming his thumb along it before introducing it into his mouth to lick the remnants as he watched you intensely, gaze warming your skin more than the sun was.

“Just wait until I get that dock going” he murmured, a breathless edge to his voice as he discreetly adjusted himself in his pants, then extended a hand to help you sit upright. You took it, your legs still heavy with afterglow. As you settled, he stepped even closer, both hands rising to gently sweep your hair back, fingers grazing the sensitive place where your jaw met your neck, tilting your face upward until your hazed eyes met his.

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, brushing the pad of his thumb across your lip before his mouth followed. His tongue flicked softly at your lower lip before deepening the kiss. Slow, sensual and unhurried. You melted into it, moaning faintly at the taste of yourself on him. When he finally pulled back, his eyes stayed locked on yours, lips still ghosting over yours as he whispered with a crooked smile.

“Delicious”

Looking at you like nothing had ever tasted sweeter.

[r66dusthewriter]

Unfair negotiations

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem! reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: I haven't written smut in so long but this just felt right

Genre: Filthy smut

Warnings: unprotected p-in-v sex

Era: Mid season 10

Word count: 2.1k

The house was quiet in that unsettling way it got after dark, too still, too hollow, like it had forgotten how to breathe without him in it…and so had you.

You were in the shower, letting hot water ease the ache that had crept into your bones hours ago. It wasn’t just your body that hurt, it was everything. The silence, the waiting, the not knowing… .Daryl had been gone a long time, off chasing fading leads about Rick and though you kept yourself busy, between scattered visits and the work in the communities, it was never enough to keep the emptiness from creeping in.

So you let your eyes slip closed, just for a moment, letting the warmth wrap around you like a blanket, like the arms you missed more than you cared to admit. 

Then the sound came, soft, unfamiliar…wrong. Your eyes snapped open.

Stillness. You strained to listen, waiting to decide if it had just been your mind playing tricks, some imagined echo of a world that used to feel safe. Then it came again.

You moved fast, adrenaline wiping the heat from your skin. You stepped out, not even bothering to dry off. One of Daryl’s old shirts hung nearby, soft, worn, it still smelt of him and you slipped it on, the fabric clinging to your damp skin. The water kept running behind you, a decoy you didn't have time to shut off.

Gun in hand, you swept through the house, room by room, heart hammering, until your weapon locked on a broad back hunched over your fridge, pulling something out with the ease of a man who knew exactly where everything was.

“Do you mind?” you asked, voice sharp, your stance unflinching as the water on your skin and shirt started to cool off.

He turned slowly, eyes flicking from your gun to your face, utterly unbothered. “I do, actually”

The second your gun caught up to your heart, you lowered the gun. It clattered softly against the counter as you rushed to the bathroom and twisted the faucet off. Then you were back, crossing the space in a blur and wrapping your arms around him. He held you just as tightly.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he murmured into your head into your soaked hair, voice low, grounded, like it hadn’t been weeks since you’d last heard it. “Wha’s wrong?” 

“I missed you.” Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. You pulled back just enough to search his face, needing to be sure he was real. “I was thinking about leaving early tomorrow morning to come find you…what are you doing here?” 

His hand cupped the back of your neck, thumb bruising your damp skin. “Missed m’ wife,” he said simply, like it was the most natural truth in the world.

“Oh yeah?” you sniffed, a crooked smile forming. “With your nose buried in the fridge?”

“Ya were in the shower”

“Could’ve joined me. What? You’ve grown scared of showers again?” you teased, a spark returning to your eyes.

He let out a low, humorless laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Funny”

“Hilarious, actually,” you grinned, breath catching when his fingers found your sides, squeezing just enough to make you squirm. A soft laugh escaped you and before you knew it, you were walking him backward through the kitchen, his lips chasing yours between stolen words and smirking threats. The backs of his knees bumped the edge of a dining chair and with a grunt, he dropped onto it. You followed, straddling his lap, slow like the moment itself was sacred. His hands were everywhere now, calloused palms sliding beneath the damp hem of the shirt that hung loose on you, the one that still smelled like smoke, pine and the wild outside that had never really left him.

Your hands framed his face, thumbs bruising the scruff along his jaw as he looked up at you like he’d been gone longer than his body could bear. You leaned in, kissing him slow, letting the heat build between the pauses. You could feel him breathing you in like he needed to convince himself you were real, that this was still allowed and that it was his to take.

“Y’ain’t real,” he whispered against your skin, more reverent than teasing.

You smiled softly, hands tracing a slow path down his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your hands. When you reached his lap, you felt the firm pressure straining against the denim, his body already betraying how long he’d gone without this. Without you.

“You came here to check?” you teased, your voice low, lips ghosting over his jaw. 

He let out a soft huff of a laugh, his hands tightening on your thighs as you began rotating your hips.

“Maybe I forgot how good home feels,” he muttered, his voice rough, edged with something deeper than hunger.

You tilted your head, brushing your lips across his again “Want me to remind you?”

His only answer was a slow breathless “Yeah” like he hadn’t realized just how much he needed to feel grounded again, anchored in something that still felt safe.

And you, soaked shirt, damp skin, heart thudding against his, were more than home. You were a promise kept.

Your fingers moved with practiced ease, tugging at his belt, the soft clink of the buckle loud in the stillness between you. He watched you, eyes dark with need, but his hands remained steady on your hips, letting you take your time and letting you lead.

You freed him from the confines of his jeans, the heat of him pulsing against your palm as you pumped him slowly. The air between you shifted, becoming thicker and heavier.

His breath hitched as your touch lingered teasingly. You became impatient, impossibly needy. Lifting your hips and lining him up to sink down on him, pain be damned and all. Your wince turned into a moan, matching his.

“That what you came home for?” you asked, a playful spark in your voice. You began to move, slow at first, finding a rhythm that matched the unspoken ache between you. His hands gripped your hips, not for control, just to hold, to anchor himself in the moment.

He reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from your face, voice low and earnest. “Ya told me t’ be a little more selfish last time I saw ya”

“I did” you agreed, a tad breathless from the sudden peak in pleasure, sweet slick soon creating a film between you.

The room was bathed in shadow, quiet except for the soft rhythm of your breath and the faint creak of wood beneath you. Moonlight pilled faintly through the window, painting silver lines across his shoulders, the curves of your body. His hands gripped your hips with a reverence that nearly undid you and the way his eyes drank you in from beneath his lashes had your heart tightening painfully in your chest.

“Slow down” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your neck as a low groan rumbled through his chest “We got all nigh’”

Your breath caught, your body pulsing with want but you still found the edge of a smile. “You’re not exactly in a position to make demands” you managed, voice shaky with pleasure. You tilted your head back, a sound slipping from your throat that made the air between you burn hotter.

“Fuck” he cursed under his breath, rough and helpless, as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of the shirt that clung to your damp skin. When he finally opened the fabric, he buried his face in the curve of your chest like it was home, like he’d spent a lifetime missing it. “Been dreamin’ ‘bout this,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by your chest, raw and honest.

You cradled the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you moved. Each roll slow and deliberate. You didn’t want to ruin it. You didn’t want to say it but you had to “You need to stop…asking me to stay” you managed, breathless, your voice catching somewhere between resolve and heartbreak.

He shook his head almost immediately, forehead pressing against yours, his palms cradling your waist like you were something breakable. “Livin’ out there…that ain’t wha’ ya deserve.” he whispered “I need ya safe”

You could feel it then, in his grip, in the rasp of his voice, in the tremble beneath his steady exterior. This wasn’t about fear, it was about losing pieces of himself every time you walked away from him, about the way home hadn’t felt like a place since he met you— but a person.

You closed your eyes, your voice barely a whisper “I can’t keep walking away.”

The confession hung between you, raw and trembling, before you leaned into him, forehead to shoulder, clinging to the warmth like it was the only thing keeping you alive. The sounds spilling from your lips grew louder, less guarded, echoing softly through the dark house like a truth long withheld.

Daryl’s hand came to your face, coaxing you to look at him. He tilted your chin with care, his eyes searching yours like he needed to be sure that you meant it. Then, as if reading the tension that still lingered in your bones, his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, swollen and parted from breathless pleas. He leaned in, his voice low, rough with affection and heat.

“Open”

You did without hesitation and when he slipped his thumb past your lips, your eyes fluttered closed, a quiet moan vibrating against it. It wasn’t just the act, it was the way he looked at you while doing it. Like every piece of you, no matter how bruised or tired, belonged to him.

It didn’t take long for you both to chase what was missing, this familiar high that made you both dizzy. You bounced on him with purpose, chasing something that felt less like lust and more like a memory your body had been aching to relieve, his tip pressing deep, tapping your cervix in a way that would force you to remember the feel of him for the next few days. 

His moans were low, guttural and breaking your restraint. You drank them in like a secret indulgence, an addiction you no longer cared to hide, not when your body pulsed around his. 

Your lips fell open, releasing his thumb with a gasp. You threw your head back as an orgasm crashed through you, your name breaking in his throat as he followed, forehead pressed to your chest like he needed to feel your heartbeat as he spilled his seed inside of you.

The stillness of the house wrapped around the both of you, filled only by your uneven breaths. Sweat cooled against your skin, your limbs still trembling. There was no real need for words until he made you look at him. His hand cradled your jaw, guiding your gaze to meet his. His voice was quiet but there was no mistaking the weight behind it.

“I meant it.” he said “I need ya safe. Can’t be out there like this if i’m worried sick ‘bout ya…all I’m askin’ is for a bit more time. Can ya do tha’ fer me?”

Your eyes softened, your forehead resting gently against his, the intimacy of it all blurring the lines between what you wanted and what was right. “I can try,” you whispered, breath brushing against his lips.

“Tha’s all I ask for” he pressed a kiss to your mouth, slow, tender, full of everything he couldn’t say.

A small smile ghosted over your lips when he finally pulled back, breath still mingling with yours in the dark. “This is an unfair way to negotiate” you murmured, voice light but edged with ache.

Daryl’s hand lingered on your waist, rough thumbs brushing the skin just beneath the hem of the shirt. He huffed a quiet laugh, barely a breath.

“Ain’t a negotiation,” he said, eyes never leaving yours “Just tellin’ ya how it is. I want ya safe and i want ya home”

The way he said the word home made your chest tighten, like the weight of every moment you’d spent apart was finally settling in your bones. You nodded slowly, your hand brushing along the side of his face, thumb pausing at this jaw as if to memorize the shape of him again.

He leaned into your touch for a breath, then pressed a kiss just below your palm, eyes never leaving yours.

“Good,” he whispered, voice still low and warm “How bout we go clean up now?”

You smiled, soft and worn, carrying all the unspoken words tangled deep inside. For now, he was home and you told yourself quietly, that maybe, just maybe, that was enough

[r66dusthewriter]

How well do Y/n Y/l/n & Drew Starkey know each other? | Variety

Paring: Drew Starkey x reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1k

You settled into the chair besides Drew, both of you holding up small whiteboards and markers, the familiar hum of set lights warming the space around you. He leaned back slightly, stretching his legs out, already grinning in anticipation.

“This could be the end of our friendship as we know it” you said, voice light but laced with mock dread.

Drew’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide in faux alarm. Then he burst into laughter, the sound spilling over into the crew, who chuckled from behind the cameras.

 “What do you mean? We’ll be fine!” he insisted, shaking his head like you were being dramatic.

You glanced over at him, feigning concern. “We might not be”

“We will.” he said “I know where you live, that’s good enough for the general public.”

You laughed, the warmth of it hanging in the air between you as the interviewer’s voice called everyone to attention. “What year did you both first meet?”

Without hesitation, you both dropped your gazes to the whiteboard, the scratch of a marker against the surface filling the quiet moment. A beat later, you flipped them toward the camera in perfect sync.

2019

Matching answers and matching smiles. From the corner of your eye, you caught Drew turning his head just slightly toward you, the corners of his mouth tugged upward.

“Told you we’d be fine” Drew murmured under his breath, eyeing the matching year scrawled on your whiteboard. 

You smiled, still looking at your board. “We met at the offices where, um…the Outerbanks producers were holding auditions–”

“Yeah, in North Carolina,” Drew added, nodding.

“Yeah” you said, glancing toward the camera as you explained. “I was going in for a chemistry read with Rudy…Rudy Pankow, who plays JJ on the show and you were there with Chase. So for a solid second I thought you’d be JJ. That same afternoon, we ended up doing a last-minute chemistry read”

“And here we are” he said, flashing a smile.

“Besties for life,” you added with a nod.

Drew’s eyes met yours, a quiet pause stretching just long enough to say something unspoken. “Besties?” His brow lifted slightly in that way he always did when he was about to argue but instead, the two of you broke into laughter for seemingly no apparent reason.

“Who’s most likely to stay in character when the cameras aren’t rolling?” the interviewer asked once the giggles faded.

You paused for a second, weighing your answer. Beside you, Drew was already scribbling on his whiteboard, a knowing smile creeping onto his face.

“I put you” he said, holding it up proudly “Just cause…you and your character are basically two sides of the same coin. You’re witty, you’ve got that sharp timing…plus you’re a smartass in real life too” he added with a laugh.

You flipped your board around at the same time, revealing your own name written across it.

Drew leaned back, triumphant. “See? Even you know it. The amount of times I've broken character just because I'm too stunned by the stuff you come up with–it’s wild, and I thought I'd be used to it by now” he said, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it.

You laughed “The problem is that we’re both shocked. I say something, you crack, then I crack because you cracked. It’s a vicious cycle”

Filming with someone who knew you inside and out was both a blessing and a challenge. Spending ten hours a day on set with your best friend meant constant laughter, stolen glances and inside jokes but it also meant holding back just enough to stay professional…or at least try to.

Drew gave you a sideways look, eyes gleaming “Yeah. Professionalism. Because we’ve always been so good at that”

You snorted, already shaking your head “We try”

The crew laughed behind the camera, clearly amused by this dynamic. The blend of effortless banter and the unmistakable kind of closeness that could only come from years of working and growing together.

“Who’s most likely to listen to music on set?” the interviewer asked, grinning as you and Drew immediately burst into giggles, already scribbling down your answers.

“Wait, we have to tell the story” Drew said, laughing before you even flipped your board.

At the same time, you both turned them around to reveal identical answers as you both burst into more giggles.

Both.

“Are you gonna tell it or–” you struggled saying as you laughed through teary eyes.

“No, no, no, you go.” Drew said, pointing at you through his laughter. “It was your trailer”

You shot back without missing a beat “And It was your speaker” you turned to the camera, trying to keep a straight face. “Anyway, having the same call time to set was a mistake.”

“A big one” Drew chimed in, leaning forward like he was letting the audience in on a secret.

“We were in my trailer, just waiting to be called to set” you began, already laughing at the memory. “And this one was way too excited about his new speaker… so we put on some music, just vibing, singing along…” You paused, trying to collect yourself “What we didn’t know was that his walkie was on.”

“Like, fully on. Broadcasting” Drew added.

“We sang through three whole songs,” you said, eyes wide. “And nobody came to stop us. Not one person. Fifteen minutes go by, we walk onto set and everyone just erupts. Laughing, clapping…we had no idea what was going on” 

“It was awful” Drew groaned, covering his face.

“So embarrassing” you said, shaking your head. “Thank the stars we weren’t talking about something else”

Drew shot you a mischievous look, that familiar spark lighting up his face “Like that time–”

“Alrighty!” you cut in, sitting up straight and turning to the interviewer “Next question, please!”

The whole room broke into laughter, the crew chuckling behind the cameras, the interviewer nearly losing her place in the notes. As you both wiped down your whiteboard, Drew leaned in and nudged you with his elbow, voice low and laced with mock betrayal.

“I wasn’t gonna tell it, you know? I would never expose our ‘friendship’ like that”

You didn’t look up as you replied coolly “Expect an NDA in the next few days”

Drew snorted, nearly dropping his marker “Better make it retroactive”

[r66dusthewriter]

New bruises, old stories.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Era: Early Prison. Season 3

Word count: 1.3k

It had been your dumbest mistake to date but if you’d known it would end this way, you would’ve done it the minute the group found the prison. You and Daryl had been clearing rooms, trying to carve some semblance of safety out of the ruins, when you stepped into the old engine room and the door slammed shut behind you. It took hours to force it open, hours filled with bickering and blame, long silences thick with frustration and moments of rest that somehow softened into tired laughter from you. Giggles that made his heart race in a way he wasn’t sure he hated.

His deadpan muttering, always right on the edge of sarcasm, made something in your chest relax when you least expected it and then there were long stretches where you didn’t even try to get out. Not because you couldn’t, but because something about the situation felt unusually right.

A few nights later, unable to sleep, your feet lead you back to that room and there he was, sitting in the dark like he'd been waiting for you. After that day, it became a thing. Not out of restlessness, but out of choice. It became a sacred hour carved out of the daily chaos that no one knew about, where nothing was demanded of you except that you be.

Daryl was still hesitant in all the ways that mattered. Rough around the edges, unsure of the softness he deserved but you kept testing the lines, inching closer, teasing gently and the strange part was that he let you. Maybe even needed you to.

He’d been out scouting the day before and didn’t come back until well into the afternoon. He had spent the rest of the day fixing things, shadowing Rick, saying very little like always but when night came and the world went still, you knew exactly where to find him.

The moonlight painted silver lines across the floor, softening the shadows as rain fell, steady and heavy yet not loud enough to pop this bubble you were in. Daryl sat still at the top of some steps, your weight against him a kind of tether, grounding him more than he’d ever admit out loud.

Your head rested on his thigh, your fingers working slow, practiced strokes against the blade you were sharpening.The candle next to you both flickered in the breeze running through the room, casting soft shadows across the cold concrete and dancing light on your face. It was just enough for Daryl to see it, a thin line of raw skin and crude stitches breaking the familiar curve of your brow. He leaned forward slightly, squinting as his eyes adjusted in the dim glow, the hand that had been resting behind him now reaching toward you. His rough fingers brushed your hair back with more care than you expected, as though afraid you’d shatter beneath his violent touch. He didn’t say anything at first, just let his thumb hover near the wound like the skin there might burn him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet like he didn’t want to wake the moment.

“Wha’ happened?” 

You didn’t look up, didn’t stop running the blade over the whetstone, only let out a soft breath through your nose before muttering “Fell of the bed”

The corner of his mouth twitched, not with amusement but disbelief. 

“We lie t’ each other now?” He asked, eyes never leaving your face. There wasn’t anger in it. Just a quiet kind of hurt, the kind that grows in the space where trust used to sit too comfortably. The silence stretched, only broken by the sharpening stone, the rain and the candles’s fragile flame next to you.

You chuckled quietly.

“We?” you repeated, eyebrow raised. It was the first time you ever heard him say anything like that “I’m already here Dixon. I don't know what else you want”

“The truth, for starters”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk pulling at your lips “Come to me tomorrow with some kind of list and you’ll find out why i spend so much time sharpening this” 

You tilted the knife, letting the candlelight glint off its edge, more in a teasing manner than a threat. 

Daryl didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. “Quit it with the threats ‘n start talkin’”

“It’s stupid”

He shrugged, like he had all night and you sighed, finally setting the knife and stone aside, letting the weight of it all settle in your chest. Slowly, you looked up at him and he looked down at you. His icy blues locked in, steady and relentless like they always were with you. 

“‘M sure whatever ya accidentally hurt yourself for was important t’ you.” he said, his voice low, even. “And we both know y’ain’t stupid”

Your lip curled. “‘We’, first and now compliments? Wow, you must be high”

He snorted, one of those quiet laughs that never made it past his throat “Talk”

The word was simple but it carried weight. Not a demand nor a plea, just a space. One he’d cleared for you.

“When I was little, I loved witch movies and one day I stole a rune book from the library…it wasn’t allowed for my age range. I must have read it a thousand times ... .So I started drawing runes on things wherever I thought it was needed” You wanted to stop there, but when you met his eyes, he was intently listening. You sighed “Anyway, I stopped at some point when I thought common sense should’ve kicked in but lately, I've been having some nightmares about being ripped apart by walkers—I said ‘fuck it’ and did what I used to when I was younger as my last resort. I got under my bed and drew one” You paused but Dayl didn’t speak, knowing there was more.

“Might’ve doodled something under yours too.” 

He blinked but his expression didn’t change much, just a slight lift of his brow, the faitest twitch at the corner of his mouth. You continued.

“Glenn caught me. I panicked and smacked my head on the metal bed frame trying to get out from under it like a damn racoon”

“Let me get this righ’,” he said, that gravelly voice coated in something between amusement and something far softer. “Ya got under m’bed t’ draw…magic symbols…’cause you were scared I migh’ die?”

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds bad…”

He chuckled, a real one that travelled through the room and over the rain hitting the outside walls. “Ya know, coulda just said somethin’. Like a normal person”

You groaned when he didn’t stop.

“Magic symbols…now I gotta get under there t’ see. Might lose an eye in the process”

“They’re called runes” You corrected, almost out of habit, voice soft. You sat up beside him, knees pulled close, the chill of the concrete floor seeping through your clothes. “Told you it was stupid,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He didn’t respond right away. Just leaned back slightly, arms draped loosely over his knees, his expression unreadable. The quiet stretched thin between you, until even the rain seemed to hush, waiting. Then he shrugged, mostly to himself.

“Dun care if it’s runes or rabbit’s feet. If it helps ya sleep…if it means somethin’ t’ ya…’s good ‘nough for me” he paused “It still don’t mean it ain’t gonna take a lot fer ya t’ get rid’o me…” he turned to face you, his voice impossibly lower “Ya know tha’, righ’?”

You didn’t realize how close you’d moved until your eyes locked again, breath catching in the space between you. ALL you could offer was a short, hesitant nod. Your faces seemed to inch closer, the quiet moment stretching taut.

Then, like a whispered sigh, a sudden gust of wind swept through the room, cold and unexpected, raising goosebumps along your skin and snuffing out the candle’s gentle flame. The warmth vanished, leaving the shadows to hold onto that moment, that fragile secret, for a while longer.

[r66dusthewriter]

THE MASTERLIST

Who am i? | Questions answered

Info: Requests will always be open! Feel free to make one if you'd like. More characters will be added that way!

• I do not consent my work to be translated or copied/reposted on any other website. If you want to share and support this blog, the repost and like button are there to assist.

This blog contains explicit content and may touch on sensitive topics, always with proper warnings.

You are responsible for the media you choose to consume.

Need help finding something to read? Here's a quick guide:

Fluff-🩷 Angst- ☹️ Smut-🔥 Personal favorites- ⭐ Sensitive topics- ⚠️

DARYL DIXON

Season 1: "No" is a full sentence - ☹️🩷 NEW!!

Season 3: New bruises, old stories - 🩷

Season 5: Dinner for two - 🩷

Season 10: Spring into summer - ☹️🩷 Unfair negotiations - 🔥

RICK GRIMES

Season 4: A little more tenderness - ☹️🩷

DREW STARKEY

In the noise, you - 🩷

How well do Y/n Y/l/n & Drew Starkey know each other? - 🩷

Sundress season - 🔥

‘Big news for the unemployed’ | Hot ones versus - 🩷 NEW!!

Safehouse quickies - 🔥

[r66dusthewriter]

In the noise, you.

Pairing: Drew starkey x reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: just a sweet lil thing to ease back into it.

Genre: Fluff

Contains: struggles with anxiety

Word count: 0.6k

There were few things in life you dreaded more than standing under the spotlight, not for a lack of gratitude but because it never felt natural. Some would argue you had almost six years to get used to the fame but truth is, it never got better. Becoming famous in the stillness of a pandemic, tucked away from the real reach of it all, meant you had no idea how much impact your “little silly boat show” had had globally. 

Public appearances didn’t get easier, if anything, they chipped away at you differently each time. 

The cast had always been your anchor, showing up for you when it counted… but Drew? Drew had been something else entirely. A constant. A quiet kind of salvation.

You were both very similar in your way of being: barely online, barely seen, always opting for privacy over the chaos. That shared instinct to retreat meant you spent a lot of time in each other's company, quietly inseparable yet easily pointed out by fans. You never confirmed anything publicly, but people knew. It was hard to ignore that kind of connection, the one that needed no name to be understood. 

Now, standing next to the stage at the Tudum event, nerves curled tighter in your stomach with every passing minute. Chase, Carlacia, Jonathan, Madison, Drew and you huddled near the stairs, surrounded by crew and camera ops, voices overlapping in every direction. The crowd buzzed around you, fans screamed nearby, calling out your names and holding up signs. 

You soon started to drift. Your eyes locked on a point in the distance, breathing shallow and automatic while Chase spoke to the group, except to you, his voice was muffled, like he was underwater. Still, you nodded absently, trying to seem present while also trying to calm your pulse. 

Then, a hand on your lower back, gentle and grounding, pulled you a few steps away and with a gentle squeeze, it left your skin, its warmth lingering for a few seconds short of what you had wished for.

“Hey,” called a soft voice close to your ear “Where did you go just now?”

It took a few seconds for your eyes to focus on him, his were sharp, brows drawn together in worry, the kind that said ‘Im’ ready to get you out of here right now if that’s what you need’.

You cleared your throat, blinking the fog away. “I’m okay, just…I’m okay”

He studied your face, clearly reading your lips over the crowd noise. You could see it in his expression whenever you forced your wandering gaze to land on his, he didn’t buy it. His jaw twitched slightly as he leaned in again, mouth near your ear.

“Try now without the lie.”

You couldn’t help the twitch of a smile. That was the thing with Drew, he knew you in a way that left no room for pretending. Sometimes, you were sure he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Just overwhelmed,” you admitted quietly. 

You didn’t mention how guilty you sometimes felt, enjoying moments like this but still getting caught in your own mind, but he knew. He could read it in the slight crease of your brow and though you could tell he wanted to pull you into him, to help block it all out, you were technically at work.

Still, he leaned down again.

“Want to make a run for it?” he murmured, entirely serious.

You huffed a laugh, short but genuine, knowing full well he could do it, contracts be damned. You didn’t need to answer, he already knew you just needed time, space and the impression of silence. He was the one person who could give you all of it without you ever having to ask.

He shifted in front of you, placing his broad shoulders between you and the world. A human shield. Then, without turning, his hand reached behind him.

You didn't hesitate sliding yours into his. Warm and solid around yours. And finally, you could breathe.

Three soft squeezes followed.

I love you.

Your heart stuttered, this time in a way you welcomed.

[r66dusthewriter]

welcome back 🥹

would you ever write for Rick Grimes?

A little more tenderness.

Paring: Rick Grimes x fem! reader ft. 🪸

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: Thank you lovely! and why not? Might aswell try some new things. Also working on a masterlist!

Genre: Angsty fluff.

Warnings: none

Era: Post Woodbury prison. Early season 4.

Word count: 0.8k

Rick watched Carl closely as he helped him with the pigs out on the prison's front yard. His son seemed different, avoidant, unusually quiet and when the ex-sheriff caught sight of you at a distance, watching the two of them, the pieces started to fall into place.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened,” Rick said, his voice calm but edged with steel, “or do I have to ask her?”

Carl stopped, hesitating. He turned around just enough to glance your way, then looked down again, getting back to work immediately. He shook his head.

“Nothing” the kid muttered.

His dad sighed. “Let’s try that again…without the lie.” he paused “Carl…she’s been your best friend practically since the start, besides…you wouldn’t be out here helping if she wasn’t busy and I’m pretty sure she isn’t.”

It was no secret Rick had distanced himself from his family after fleeing the farm and through the long, unforgiving winter that followed. His tension with Lori took over his ability to make rational decisions when it came to the baby and Carl’s sudden need for independence and likeness to violence, made it hard for him to regain that father-son complicity they used to have. Then Lori died and you walked out of that cellblock with bloody hands, holding the baby he thought would be the embodiment of his best friend’s and ex-wife’s betrayal. 

He was on the edge then, teetering, close to losing himself entirely if not already doing so but you pulled him back. You kept him grounded, made sure he didn’t lose his way as a leader with the group but most importantly, as a father. You watched over Carl and Judith like they were your own and even now, with a prison full of people and responsibilities, you held him accountable. Not just for their safety but for their hearts.

The ex-sheriff didn’t realise he’d been staring until Carl’s quiet sigh pulled him back.

“I slipped up,” Carl muttered, eyes fixed on the ground. “And now she hates me”

Rick blinked, thrown “Hates you?”

Carl gave a small, miserable shrug “Pretty sure”

Even with the confession out, Rick could tell something was still stuck in his throat. His son caved under no pressure at all, that’s how he knew it was weighing down on him.

Carl’s voice dropped even lower. “I accidentally called her…mom” he paused and winced at his own words. The silence that followed felt too loud, almost accusatory. “It–It just happened, we were having fun and laughing, and…I don’t know. It’s stupid”

Rick’s face mirrored the one you’d worn when Carl had called you mom. It was far from disgust, nor rejection, just sheer surprise laced with some guilt. You had loved Lori, despite everything. Taking care of her kids had never been about replacing her and for Rick, accepting your help was never supposed to shift the way he saw you but somewhere along the way, his gaze softened, a little more tender now, without meaning to be. 

Before he could even answer, the crunch of gravel underfoot broke the silence and there you were. Your smile settled something in his chest, even though he was sure it wasn’t meant for him.

“Morning” you greeted, eyes flicking to Rick for a brief nod before landing on Carl, his followed. “Can I steal him for a second?”

Carl’s eyes silently pleaded with his dad not to agree, but Rick knew this was something the two of you had to work through yourselves. So he nodded, taking the shovel from his son’s hand. “Go”

Carl’s steps were hesitant at first, dragging slightly through the dirt. As he passed you, you ruffled his hair like you often did. 

“Nice try. Go inside,” you said gently “I’ll be there in a second”

You both watched him walk off, and only once he was far enough that voices couldn’t carry, you spoke. “He didn’t do anything wrong” you began softly, reassuring his father “He’s been doing his chores, pulling more weight than anyone his age should and hanging out with the other kids… even though he kinda hates it for the first 2 hours–”

“He told me,” Rick cut in with a nod. His voice was low, unreadable. He didn’t know what else to say, or whether he should be apologizing for putting you in that position in the first place. After a pause, he added,  “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” you echoed softly.

He nodded, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes “He thinks you hate him”

“He knows I don’t” you shook your head with a faint shrug. “It happens. I don’t have enough fingers to count the many times I called my art teacher ‘mom’ growing up” A small smile tugged at your lips before fading. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all. He’s confused. Things are changing fast and now that this place is starting to feel like a home…”

“He’s looking for the thing that’s missing,” Rick finished quietly.

You nodded.

He sighed, gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again “Yeah” he nodded to himself “I don’t think he’s the only one that’s confused”

[r66dusthewriter]

Hi, hi!!

Grumpy Daryl/Sunshine reader dynamic during early Alexandria. Daryl always chills out when he comes home to reader. So he dotes and loves on her like usual one day. She’s trying to tell him that she had invited everyone over for dinner but he’s just too busy nuzzling and cuddling until someone at the table clears their throat behind him. Cue embarrassed Daryl who goes grumpy but still doesn’t wanna let go of her. :)

Dinner for two.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem! reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: A thousand thank you’s for your request! And everything else you’d done for me without even knowing 🩵

Genre: (can this be called a genre?) Fluff with some suggestive language.

Warnings: none

Era: Early Alexandria, circa mid to end of season 5

Word count: 0.7k

You had been cooking all day, well mostly helping Carol prepare for the dinner you had organized. Since settling in Alexandria, the group had started splitting up during the day, each person trying, in their own way, to blend into the small community just like Rich had asked. For some, it came easier than others.

Daryl had been gone all day and you figured he wouldn’t be back until late, long after dinner was over. The group, along with Aaron and his husband, chatted quietly at the dining table, soft voices weaving around Judith who thrived in the center of it all. You slipped away down the hall to the closet where you’d stashed a few stolen wine bottles from the communal pantry.

Just as your hand reached for the alcohol, a soft noise made you freeze. Instinctively, your fingers wrapped around the, also contraband, handgun tucked beside the dark green bottles. You raised it toward the back door, only to find Daryl standing there, all quiet edges and sharp eyes. You let out a sigh.

“Ya gonna lower tha’ gun?” he asked softly, his crossbow slung over one shoulder, eyes skimming your figure, everywhere but the weapon in your hand. 

You lowered it slowly, fingers flexing around the familiar handle, memory trailing back to the days outside the walls when lowering your guard had real consequences.  

“Wha’? Ya suddenly trigger happy?” he teased, the corner of his mouth twitching as you tucked the gun away. His gaze lingered a little longer this time, more direct. “Ya look pretty”

You smiled, stepping closer and instinctively checking him for injuries like you always did. One of his hands came to rest at your waist, grounding you.

“And you need a shower” you muttered with a smirk.

He nodded once, a low hum rumbling in his chest “Now or after?” he asked, lifting the rabbit in his other hand as if it were some kind of romantic offering.

“Um… Daryl…”

“We can make it real nice ‘n romantic outback” he said quickly, eyes lighting up as his hand came up to brush your cheek. “Sum grilled mushrooms… an’ if I hurry, i can swipe a bottle o’ wine from the pantry”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sound drawing a subtle twitch to Daryl’s lips, right before he started pressing slow, reverent kisses to your face. He spoke between them, his voice low, words tumbling out like secrets meant just for you, each one pulling you further from what you’d meant to remind him of.

“Beautiful”

“Missed ya t’day”

“Found a place i want’o take ya to”

A dull thud echoed in the hallway, the rabbit he’d been holding hit the floor at your feet. Between his kisses and the sweetness in his voice, the last thing you expected was the sudden scrape of a throat being cleared, deep, familiar and unmistakably Rick.

You turned, startled but mostly annoyed, only to see the entire dinner party gathered at the threshold of the hallway, eyes wide, clearly having followed the sound thinking it was an intruder. Daryl, completely unfazed, let out a huff and bent down to pick up the rabbit like nothing had happened. 

“I was trying to tell you…about that” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as he straightened to his full height. His eyes met yours, just for a second before shifting to the unexpected audience.

“Daryl,” Carol called out sweetly, clearly unfazed, “Care to join us? Y/n helped me cook” 

You caught Carl smirking from behind her, like you’d just been caught committing some harmless, ridiculous crime. 

Daryl grunted, biting the inside of his lip the way he always did when thinking “‘M sure she did” he muttered, half to himself, eyes flicking to you with something warm. You were just too sweet.

Rick nodded toward the rabbit in his hand, dry as ever. “I see you brought dinner” 

“It sure ain’t for y’all” the archer said, earning a light smack to the chest from you. Daryl smirked, unfazed, yet corrected himself “Can save ya the fur…make a hat or somethin’”

Rick let out a dry chuckle. “Thanks” he said flatly, laced with sarcasm.

“Anytime“ Daryl shot back, casually taking your hand in his and turning toward the back entrance.

“Wait, wait, wait” you whispered, reaching into the closet before you left. You pulled out a bottle of wine and held it up. “There are two more in there” you told the group with a sly grin.

Daryl gave a low, approving huff, almost a chuckle “Tha’s ma girl” 

And with that, the two of you slipped out, ready for a one on one dinner with a sickeningly hot and steamy dessert guaranteed.

[r66dusthewriter]

Spring into summer

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: I’m back! Bear with me, I haven’t written in a long time.

Warnings: yearning lol

Genre: fluff and angst. No gendered pronous were used for the reader.

Era: Season 10

Wordcount: 1.2k

Frail rocks crumbled beneath your boots, each step landing with the weight of exhaustion as gravity pulled you mechanically towards your destination. Your body screamed in protest, muscles seizing with pain but you pressed on like a machine, only fueled by sheer will. Your mind flickered at the edges and lucidity slipped like smoke between your fingers yet your eyes stayed open, barely, eyelids held apart by the familiar trail you followed but with every step closer, sleep clawed deeper, an insistent pull that threatened your purpose.

You were still a day or two from Alexandria, fully aware that this detour will cost you but so could your state if you continued, so you walked to Oceanside. In a rare moment of calm, you closed your eyes and tilted your head toward the sky, letting the sun bathe your skin with the same warmth you hoped your weary feet would lead you to. You inhaled deeply, letting salty air flood your lungs like a drug you were desperate to grow addicted to.

The birds chirping were so loud that they almost drowned out the sound of something emerging from the woods, a single dry branch splitting, a mistake that snapped your eyes forward as dread bloomed fast, certain that your exhaustion had finally led you to a premature death. The crossbow aimed at your heart was slowly lowered to his side, no arrow had been shot but your heart staggered all the same. As if it had just been pulled from the brink and strangely so, its beat echoed the same rhythm as his laugh once did. Perhaps you had mistaken the snap for the little breaks in your souls.

You ran, so fast you doubted your feet even touched the ground and suddenly, your chest was against his. His hands found you instantly, gripping, skimming, desperate to confirm you were real and not some cruel vision conjured by hope and misplaced grief. He pulled back just enough to see you, his striking blue eyes searched your face like they were memorizing you again. One hand stayed at your waist while the other rose, his thumb traced your cheek, soft and reverent as if you might vanish if he pressed too hard yet stared too long either way.

“Ya’ cut yer hair” He muttered, voice low and gravel-thick, just like you remembered. 

He could’ve said anything else… pointed out the new cuts on your skin, how hollow your eyes looked, how you swayed a little like you might pass out right there in his arms. Hell, he could've shoved you away and barked at you for disappearing like you expected but he didn’t. He stood there, fingers twitching with selfless devotion and eyes darting over your face like every second he got to look at you might be the last.

You let out a soft chuckle through the tears. “You didn’t yours”

“Yeah, well…m’ hair stylist quit” he sassed, the corner of his mouth twitching like he almost meant to smile. You laughed, broken but bright and he reached up, rough fingers brushing away your tears like they didn’t belong. You realized then that that was as much disappointment as you’d get from him, your rehearsed apologies now gone in the wind. No lecture, no anger, just that quiet acceptance that cut deeper than yelling ever could and a joke slipped through clenched teeth. Oh how you wished he loved you a little less sometimes.

After picking up the crossbow he had let fall to his feet, the two of you walked side by side towards Oceanside. Neither of you spoke, but you kept stealing glances at each other, uncertain if there were still lines left to cross or if two winters had buried them deep. You thought you’d tread lightly but you were dropped right where you left off. He practically snuck you in, pulling you from the small welcoming crowd with the same rude gentleness he always had. You followed, helplessly, almost instinctively, like a magnet pulled to its pair. 

The cabin he was staying in felt very much like a passing place but even so, you could still tell what was his, small signs but very familiar things. 

You stared while he rummaged in the bathroom, cursing under his breath and slamming doors in search of something.

The floor creaked beneath you as you stepped towards the bedside table, there wasn’t much on it, just a candle and an old picture of you that you felt drawn to. The edges were worn, soft from being handled but the image was clear. Kept. 

Then suddenly, it was taken from your hand. Daryl was right behind you, quiet as ever, slipping it into the inside pocket of his vest like it was some kind of secret.

“Nobody teach ya not t’ touch what ain’t yers?” he muttered.

You raised a brow at his deadpan expression, your lips twitching upwards “Excuse me?”

He scoffed, already opening the first aid kit in his hands “Mhm I forgive ya. Now sit” he said nodding toward the bed, his eyes locked on the dried blood staining the back of your shirt.

“I can do it myself.”

He hummed, low and dismissive. “Ya always could. Never changed a damn thing”

You sat cross legged on the bed, back to him, unbuttoning your shirt with quiet, shaky fingers. The fabric slipped from your shoulders and he moved in behind you, the mattress shifting under his weight. His skilled fingers hovered just above your skin, cool and hesitant and the silence between you felt like it was holding its breath.

“...Can i?” he asked, voice quieter now, stripped down to something real.

The question sent goosebumps racing across your skin, a shiver pulling through you. You’d bared yourself to him once, in more ways than one and you wondered if he knew you would again, without hesitation, if only he’d have you.

You simply nodded.

As the sting of alcohol met your skin and his rough hands softened with care, you felt the need for more pain rise. The urge to dig in, to say something sharp, something that could tear at your new wounds before they’d even had a chance to heal, to tip off a bandage that hadn’t even been placed yet.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, voice barely holding. You bit back the flood, how looking for people worth saving had dragged you farther and farther from home and how you’d let it. Your breath shook as you prepared to force the next words out but he was faster.

“For wha’?” he asked after a pause. You could feel his gaze settle on the side of your face. “Doin’ yer job?”

“You know what.”

He hummed low in his throat as he worked on the wound “Only stayed ‘cause I knew if ya saw me out there lookin’ for ya, I wouldn’t’ve heard the end of it…Wouldn’t have, if I thought ya weren’t comin’ back at all”

At that, you turned—just enough to meet his eyes. Your heart pounded so loud, so hard, you wondered if he could hear it. Hell, you wondered if he was qualified to check it. You didn’t say anything and neither did he. Your grip on the shirt at your chest loosened, arms falling slack as tears welled. Because even now, this love you both had, carried across seasons and miles, still warmed your skin more than any burning sun ever could.

[r66dusthewriter]

Why you deactivated your previous blog?

It was a mix of things. Mental health, family issues, grief and overall a very rocky start to adulthood. Although proud of what I had built on here, I came to the realization that my life was falling apart and I was going down with it.

With that came fatigue, a loss of creativity, inspiration and of life. I was just so out of touch with certain emotions I was unable to feel anymore so I couldn’t portray them through my work.

Taking that away from myself was a desperate attempt to take control of what was happening to me and to this day, that was the only thing I could chose for myself back then. Maybe it was a way of punishing myself for certain things and for not “having seen it coming” like I did most things.

Now that the person to blame is being held accountable, is about time I start picking up pieces that took part in holding me up back when I had nothing. It doesn’t have to hurt forever ❤️

[r66dusthewriter]

@/r66dus the fanfic writer is back!

Hey y’all… well, this is awkward.

It’s your old, dusty @/r66dus, now rebranded as r66dusthewriter.

It’s been a looooong time. Not entirely sure why yet, but I’m back. This feels like my very own trial and I’ve shown up without a lawyer, no plan and with the vague desire to sit in a prison cell for a few hours at least once in my life, so… here’s proof of my crimes! May I approach the jury?

Dates and drafts are there and so is the fatal end, up to you to judge!

Don't even joke about cuffing me because I will get excited.

Little specification: I never went by my old @ on TikTok or any other social media, including currently on here, that’s someone else. I might change my blogs name completely soon.

Anyways! Let’s keep things light and lively while I try to sand off the rust. Requests are open! Feel free to throw anything my way, maybe a little challenging? I’ll get to them slowly but surely as I re-learn how this works and remember who I used to be as a writer. Also the blog will visually change a lot and probably often until I find what feels right again and you might see a bit of a post-spam if inspiration strikes, so sorry about that in advance.

I’ve seen some of you wondering where I went and asking about old fics, which was sickeningly heartwarming so thank you ❤️. I’m here again… but unfortunately, those are gone forever. If you remember a specific one you loved, tell me what it was about and I’ll do my very best to re-create the vibes.

This still feels really awkward, so I’m going to slowly retreat towards the exit. Call me if the cuffs deal is ever on the table though!

Nervous but excited to write again, r66dusthewriter 🖋️