#Glenn's arm is just too fucking short and it looked wrong to have him grab Seph's head so we swapped

[soldier-lodbrok]

"You're gonna live... Sephiroth." / sketch

I told you, since Zack can have his dramatic death-scene and that EC event threw the Glenn&Sephiroth and Zack&Cloud comparisons in my face, this would happen.

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

New World CH. Sixteen

Title: The Governor

Words: 4040

Warnings: Strong language, assault, sexual assault, canon-typical violence, talk of rape (no actual rape)

A/N: The scene that happens to Maggie when she meets the Governor happens to reader in this chapter. Most of it happens in the very beginning so please skip that if it makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

New World Masterlist

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

[Y/n]

You could hear Glenn and Merle talking in the room next to you and when the blows started landing, it took everything in you to not make a sound. As it started getting worse, you couldn’t keep the tears from forming in your eyes. How had everything gone so wrong? It went on for a while then stopped abruptly. A door slammed closed and five minutes later, it opened again. This time you could hear the sounds of a walker and Glenn fighting it off.

 When things fell silent, your mind started racing. After a couple of minutes went by and you heard nothing, you were about to call out for Glenn and the door to your room opened. Jolting slightly, you saw a man walk inside. He said nothing as he closed the door behind him and walked closer to you. He pulled out his knife, admiring it for a second before going behind you and cutting the tape holding your hands together. You quickly brought your hands in front of you and took the rest of it off, trying to keep your anger and fear hidden. The man then walked to the other chair and pulled it out from under the table before stopping and looking at you.

 “May I?” He said. You didn’t reply and he sat down. “Thank you.”

 “We’ll take you back to your people and explain that this was all a misunderstanding. We can drive you there. You just have to tell us where they are.”

 “A misunderstanding? What I heard happen in that room didn’t sound like a misunderstanding. What your man did to me wasn’t a misunderstanding either.” Your arms were crossed in front of you and you glared at the man. “I need to talk to Glenn.”

 “I can’t let you do that.”

 “Why not?”

 “You people are dangerous,” he said, head slightly tilted. “You handcuffed one of my best men to a roof. Forced him to amputate his own hand.”

 “I wasn’t there when that happened.” Your eyes were hard but he looked like he had no care in the world.

 “Just tell us where they are and we can bring them here. You’ll all be safe here, I promise.”

 “No.”

 “No? Alright, let’s try something else.” His expression had changed and you had to suppress a shiver of disgust. “Stand up please.”

 When you still stayed silent and didn’t do as he asked, the man leaned forward in his seat.

 “Stand. Up.”

 When you realized that you had no choice, you stood up. The chair fell from the force of you standing and crashed to the floor.

 “Take off your shirt.”

 “No,” you said lowly.

 “Take of your shirt,” he said, leaning back into the chair. “Or I’ll bring Glenn’s hand in here. Your choice.”

 You knew that he wasn’t joking so you took of your flannel and tank-top, throwing them both to the ground. It took all your willpower to keep your arms by your sides and when he told you to keep going, your breathing became shaky. Hands trembling, you reached behind you and took your bra off, immediately covering yourself after it fell to the floor.

 The man was staring at you intently, paying close attention to your stomach as he stood up. He took off his gun belt before going around the table to stand behind you. Kicking the fallen chair away, you felt him start to touch your hair. Your whole body was shaking now and you were fighting back tears. After a few seconds of him lightly touching you, the man slammed you onto the table. A small yelp left your lips as your hands left your chest to brace yourself. His hand was on the back of your neck and it hurt.

 “Are you gonna talk now?” He said.

 “Do what you’re gonna do. Then you can fuck off and go to hell,” you spat.

 He chuckled at you and your trembling voice, and put the hand that was on your neck onto the middle of your back. You could feel his pelvis on your ass and right when you thought things were going to continue, he pushed himself off you and rounded the table again. A tear slid down your face and you exhaled shakily. Your relief was short lived because right after the man put his gun belt back on, he grabbed your arm and hauled you up.

 ---

 Dean

After about a half hour of driving, Rick pulled the car over onto the side of the road. The woman had said something about patrols and the fact that they’d be better off on foot. So Dean went to the trunk and took the duffel bag he put in there, pulling out a shotgun, two pistols and a big knife.

 “Little overkill, don’t you think?” Michonne said.

 “My little sister’s been taken. There’s no such thing as overkill when it comes to that,” Dean said.

 “How far is it?” Rick asked.

 “Not far. A mile, maybe two.”

 “Alright. We need to get going if we’re gonna make it there before nightfall.”

 Daryl shut the trunk and the four of them made their way into the woods. Dean was walking only slightly behind the woman, eyes alert. He noticed the group of walkers the same time Rick and Daryl did and he knelt down quickly when they started stumbling towards them.

 “Stay in formation, no gunfire,” Rick said. Dean took out his knife and twirled it in his hand before rushing forward and killing any walker that came too close.

 “There’s too many of ‘em,” Daryl said.

 “This way.”

 The group ran in the direction Rick pointed and they came across a small cabin. Dean shut the door as soon as everyone was inside. It didn’t take long before the dead were banging on the door, trying to get in.

 “We have to get out of here,” Dean said. That was when Rick noticed something odd about the bed in the room. He whistled softly and yanked the blankets off the bed, revealing a man. He woke up with a start and started yelling.

 “Who the hell are you?” He said, grabbing his rifle. “Get outta my house!”

 “We will, but we can’t right now,” Rick said.

 The man kept yelling and the banging started getting louder. He wouldn’t calm down and when he ran to the door after trying to shoot Rick, Michonne stabbed him through the chest, killing him instantly. The walkers were still trying to get in so Rick and Daryl heaved the man up and after Dean gave the all clear, they shoved him outside. The walkers were distracted enough for the four of them to get by and they continued on to Woodbury.

 ---

 They got there after night had fallen. Keeping to the shadows, they surveyed the wall that was set up. There were two guards on either side, two big spotlights scanning the darkness. After a minute of looking, Michonne started walking away.

 “Hey!” Rick whispered. She didn’t respond and kept going.

 “God dammit,” Dean said as he watched her go.

 “We’re gonna need to downsize,” Rick said. Dean nodded and took the duffel off of his shoulder, pushing it under the car they were hiding behind after he took out the weapons he brought.

 “Ain’t no way we can check in all them buildings,” Daryl said. “Not with all them guards there.”

 “We might have to,” Dean muttered. Right then, a twig snapped behind them and all three of the men turned quickly, guns raised. It was Michonne and she gestured with a hand before walking off again.

 “Let’s go,” Rick said. The men followed her and she led them to a back entrance. Once they were inside the town, she took them to a building.

 “This is where you were held?” Rick asked her.

 “This is where I was questioned.”

 “Is there anywhere else they could be?” Dean asked her.

 “I thought ya said there was a curfew,” Daryl said, looking outside, before she could answer Dean.

 “Those are stragglers. The streets are packed when it’s light out.”

 “If anyone comes in here, we’re screwed,” Rick said. “We need to move.”

 “Hey, you never answered me,” Dean said, walking up to Michonne. “Is there anywhere else they could be holding [y/n] and Glenn?”

 “They could be in his apartment.”

 “But what if they ain’t?”

 “Then we’ll look somewhere else,” Michonne said. Daryl and Rick walked up to stand by Dean.

 “You said you could help us,” Rick said lowly.

 “Look, I’m doing what I can.”

 “Then where the fuck is my sister?” Dean said angrily. Rick put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and led him slightly away from Michonne, Daryl following.

 “If it goes south, we’re cutting her loose,” Rick said.

 “You think she’d lead us into a trap?” Dean asked.

 “I don’t know. But our first and foremost priority is finding [y/n] and Glenn and getting them back home.”

 “It’s the blind leading the blind. We should split up,” Daryl said.

 Someone knocked on the door and all four heads whipped around to look at it before silently running to the back room.

 “I know you’re in here. Saw you moving from outside,” a voice said after the door closed. “You’re not supposed to be in here and you know it, so come on out. Don’t got to be any trouble.”

 Rick came flying out of his hiding place and put the barrel of his gun to the man’s head. “Shut up and get on your knees. Hands behind your back.” Rick helped the man to the ground and threw a zip tie to Dean. Dean tied his hands behind his back while Rick started questioning him.

 “Where are our people?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “You’re holding some of our people, where the fuck are they?!”

 “I don’t know,” the man whimpered. It was clear that the man really didn’t know so Rick grabbed a cloth and stuffed it into his mouth before Daryl hit him over the head with his crossbow, effectively knocking him out. Once Rick dragged the man and stuffed him in the corner, the four of them went back into the main room. That’s when gunshots were heard.

 “Where did that come from?” Dean said. “That had to be them.”

 When everyone outside was running away from the noise, the four of them moved quickly and silently towards it. They came across a warehouse of sorts and moved throughout the corridors, coming to a halt when they heard someone talking angrily.

 ---

 [Y/n]

Whimpering from the grip he had on your arm and the fact he was touching you again, you barely had time to cover yourself before he was dragging you out of the room. You weren’t out in the open for long. He took you next door to where Glenn was. Merle and another man were there too.

 Glenn was in bad shape. One eye was ringed with purple, he had a bloody nose, and there were scratches on his cheek. Blood had dripped from his nose all the way down to his chest, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead.

 When Glenn saw you, anger and disbelief were painted on his face and it made more tears escape your eyes. The man who had violated you still had a firm grip on your arm and when Glenn went to hit him with the table leg in his hands, his grip tightened. You whimpered from the pain and from the gun now pointed at your head.

 “Drop it,” the man with the gun said. Glenn dropped it, not being able to take his eyes off of you.

 “We’re through playing games,” the man holding you said. “Now one of you is going to tell us where your camp is and you’re gonna tell us now.”

 He took out a gun and pointed it at your stomach. Glenn’s eyes widened and he surged forward slightly before stopping himself. The man let go of your arm and cocked the gun. That’s when Glenn broke.

 “The prison,” he blurted out. You took a step closer to Glenn, Merle holding out an arm to keep you from getting any closer.

 “The one over by Nunez?” Merle asked.

 “That place was overrun.”

 “We took it.”

 The gun was now trained on Glenn’s face and the man holding it looked over at you.

 “How many are you?” He asked.

 “Sixteen. There’s sixteen of us and five are kids, including a newborn baby.” You didn’t want to tell them anything, but if you didn’t, Glenn would die. One of your best friends would die and the other would die of heartbreak. You couldn’t do that to Maggie or Glenn.

 “So only eleven people cleared the prison of the biters, one of them pregnant. The whole prison?”

 Merle had turned to face you and you glanced at him for a second before looking back at Glenn. The man pressed the gun into Glenn’s forehead and you let out a shaky sob, more tears falling down your face. Then the man dropped his hand and walked back to you. You sniffed and he caressed your face. Even when you flinched and shook your head, he didn’t stop.

 “S-Stop,” you cried quietly.

 “Hey, now,” he said, almost gently. “It’s alright.”

 He pulled you into his chest and you struggled to get away but he was a lot stronger than you. One of his hands was on your cheek and the other was wrapped around your waist, his fingers brushing over your slightly curved stomach. Glenn was staring daggers at the man, tears of anger in his eyes. When the man kissed your forehead, you whimpered again and he turned to Glenn, a shit-eating smirk etched on his face. After that, he lightly shoved you towards Glenn and he pulled you into his arms, shielding you from the other men in the room.

 You were full-on crying now, not even trying to hide it. Face buried in Glenn’s neck, you missed the look Merle had given you. When the door shut and locked behind you, you jumped slightly and Glenn held you tighter.

 After a minute, you had calmed down enough for Glenn to give you his shirt to cover up. He turned around to give you privacy and when you were done he reached to pull you into his arms again, you clinging to him tightly.

 “I got you,” Glenn said. The two of you slid to the floor and you wiped some tears away, more taking their place. Glenn sat next to you, his hand gripping yours.

 “Did- did he—“

 “No. H-He barely touched me,” you choked out. You were still shaking and to see you broken like this made Glenn’s heart constrict in sadness and anger.

 “A-All this time we were running from the dead and we f-forgot that the living are-are more dangerous. We forget what people d-do. What they’ve always d-done.” You looked at Glenn. “Look at what they did to you.”

 “Doesn’t matter. As long as he didn’t—“

 “He didn’t. I promise.” You managed to give him a smile, but the both of you knew that it wasn’t real. Sniffing again, you wiped your face as Glenn stood up with a groan.

 “What are you doing?” You asked. He limped over to the dead walker and pulled off its arm.

 “Glenn, don’t over exert yourself.” Standing up, you watched as he broke the arm and started pulling out bones. He handed you one, and you took it with a shaky hand. Your eyes met and you nodded in understanding.

 It didn’t take long before you heard footsteps. Quietly moving to stand by the door, it flung open a second later and Glenn charged the man standing there. He then went for Merle and you stabbed the other man in the throat with the jagged piece of bone. When you ripped it out, the man fell to the floor and his gun went off. You automatically crouched to the floor and grabbed the gun after it stopped firing. Merle had Glenn pinned to the floor, knife-hand at his throat, and you pointed the gun him.

 “Let him go, you fucker!” You said. Merle grinned and put his hands up.

 “Okay.” You heard a gun cock behind you and you turned to see one of the men from before. While your attention was there, Merle stood up and grabbed the gun from your hands.

 “Gimme that!” Glenn groaned from his place on the floor and Merle looked at him before yelling, “Get up!”

 Someone grabbed Glenn and hauled him up, Merle going to get you. You flinched when he touched you and he faltered for a second before pointing into the room. Following his silent order, you fell to your knees next to Glenn. Shakily, you grabbed Glenn’s hand.

 “Glad we could catch up,” Merle said. Bags were put over your heads and you felt someone tear apart your hands, tying your wrists together.

 “On your feet! Let’s go, move!”

 You were grabbed and the grip was so tight it made you cry out. Someone pushed you forward and you started walking. Then you heard a loud bang and you stumbled backwards, coughing from smoke. You took the opportunity to take the bag off your head and you sobbed in relief when you saw Dean.

 “D-Dean!” You cried. “Sammy, where’s Sammy?”

 “I gotcha, sweetheart, I gotcha. Sam stayed at the prison just in case you got out before we got here.” He led you through some tunnels and you could hear the men who almost killed you firing at your backs.

 Rick was leading the group and when you got outside, you could see the people living in the town start to panic. Quickly, Rick ushered you all into what looked like an uninhabited building. Dean was the first one in and he made his way to the back of the room. Glenn and Rick were next, Glenn falling to the floor in pain. You were after them, Daryl right on your heels. The door shut behind you and when you felt arms go around you, you freaked out.

 “[Y/n]? It’s just me, babygirl,” Daryl said quietly. He went to give you a hug again and you buried your face in his chest, fingers griping his shirt.

 “There’s no way out back here,” Dean said, walking back to the front.

 “How’d you find us, Rick?” Glenn asked.

 “How bad are you hurt?”

 “I’ll be alright. Where did that woman go?”

 “She was right behind us,” Rick hissed. He went to look outside but closed the curtains soon after opening them.

 “Maybe she was spotted,” Dean said.

 “Want me ta go look for her?” Daryl asked.

 “No. We have to get Glenn and [y/n] out of here. She’s on her own now.”

 Dean handed you a gun and you took it, automatically checking it and seeing how much ammo you had.

 “Daryl, this- this was Merle,” Glenn groaned. He was putting on a sweatshirt and you could hear how much it was hurting him.

 “You saw him?” Rick asked.

 “Face to face. He threw a walker at me and was going to execute us.”

 “S-So my brother’s this governor?”

 “No,” you said. “More like his lieutenant or something.”

 “He know I’m still with ya?” You nodded.

 “He does now,” Glenn said.

 “Rick, I’m sorry but we told him about the prison. We couldn’t hold out,” you said quietly.

 “Don’t. You don’t need to apologize.” He brushed hair off of your forehead and gave you a smile, you returning it with a small one.

 “They’re most likely gonna be looking for us,” you said. “We need to leave.”

 “We do.” Rick looked at Glenn. “Can you walk? We got a car a couple miles out.”

 “I’m good.”

 Rick and Dean helped Glenn off the ground and you peeked out of the window.

 “If Merle’s around, I gotta see him,” Daryl said.

 “Not now.”

 “He’s my brother, I ain’t—“

 “Look at what he did! We gotta- we gotta go now.”

 “I gotta talk ta him. Maybe- Maybe I can work somethin’ out,” Daryl said, hope in his voice.

 “No, you’re not thinking straight.” Rick lowered his voice, trying to make it so you couldn’t hear, but you were close enough that you could.

 “Look, even though they say they’re alright, they’re both hurt. Glenn can barely walk and something bad happened to [y/n]. She’s never flinched like that when someone touched her before. We have to get them both out of here. What happens if we run into a herd and the governor catches up? I need you, you with me?”

 “Yeah. I’m with ya.”

 Daryl knelt down next to the bag they brought and pulled out a couple canisters while Rick took his place next to the door. You and Glenn were behind him and Dean was behind you.

 “On three, we run. Stay tight,” Rick said. He counted to three and Daryl threw the canisters into the street.

 When the smoke was thick enough, you all ran outside. It wasn’t thick enough and one man saw you, pointing you out to his partners. They started firing at you and you fired back. You hit one in the head and watched as he fell off of the bus he was standing on. Rick got one and Daryl got the other right before you heard gunshots ring out from behind you.

 “Behind ya!” Daryl yelled. The two of you turned and returned the fire, walking backwards as quickly as you could without tripping.

 “Get cover!” Rick yelled.

 “[Y/n], come on!” You looked at your big brother and ran after him, following him into a little alcove. It was a small space and you were afraid someone would get shot.

 “How many are there?” Rick asked.

 “Don’t matter. There’s gonna be more of ‘em,” Daryl said.

 “We gotta go,” you said, shooting at a man that got too close. “Got any grenades left?”

 “Yeah,” Daryl grunted.

 “Get ‘em ready. We’re gonna run to the wall,” Rick said.

 “Y’all go on ahead. I’m gonna cover ya,” Daryl said. You shook your head.

 “No, Daryl. We gotta stay together.”

 “Can’t. Too hairy. I’ll be right behind ya.” Grabbing his face, you kissed him.

 “You come back to me, Daryl Dixon. Don’t you dare go.” He kissed you back softly.

 “I love ya,” he whispered. He pulled away and threw a smoke-bomb. Rick grabbed you and you ran, firing at the men who took your family.

 “Come on!” Rick yelled. “Keep going!”

 Dean ushered you in front of him and you followed Glenn. Dean helped Glenn onto the bus and you hauled yourself up, taking Dean’s outstretched hand when Glenn was clear. Dean was calling for Rick and when you were on top of the bus, you called for Daryl.

 “Daryl!” You screamed, firing your gun.

 “Go!” You heard Daryl yell.

 “We gotta go, [y/n]!” Dean said. When you didn’t move he said, “[Y/n], come on!”

 Reluctantly, you jumped off the bus and followed Rick. The four of you moved silently and Rick led you to where they stuffed some bags.

 “Get down,” Rick said quietly.

 “Come on, Daryl,” you whispered. Your eyes were shut and when you heard a rustling, you turned around. You were hoping to see Daryl, but you saw the woman from before instead. Rick quickly got up and pointed his gun at her, everyone else doing the same.

 “Where the hell were you?” Rick spat. “Put your hands up.”

 She put her hands up and Dean took the sword off of her back. You never lowered your gun.

 “You get what you came for?” Rick asked.

 “Where’s the rest of your people?” She asked.

 “Daryl’s missing, did you see him?” You said, voice trembling. She shook her head.

 “If I find out that something happened to him—“ Rick started.

 “I brought you here to save them. They’re saved.”

 “Thanks for the help,” Rick said sarcastically.

 “You’ll need help to get them back to the prison or to go back there to get Daryl. You’re gonna need me either way.”

[sunshinefic]

You've Got Sunshine

Chapter 6 - Sister

No world's were spoken as everyone gathered around the three fresh graves. Everyone was still processing what had happened. (y/n) didn't go, she wanted to be alone, as pathetic as she felt it was, she was to ashamed to be around anyone after the incident at the barn. She remembered throwing up in front of everyone, the memory of her mothers crushed skull still plaugued her.

"Should be with em" (y/n) turned to find Daryl standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She was surprised, he hadn't stepped foot into house since Hershell had fixed him up. "ya sisters a mess"

"She'll be fine, s'got Maggie" she replied, turning away from him and shoving her face further into the pillow she had been resting on. "Doubt she'd want to see me after" she took a deep breath "y'know"

"After what?" He asked in a rough voice, like he was angry with her. "After ya saved her life?" He huffed and leaned against the door frame. "You did what ya had t'do, none of the rest of ya family did shit!"

"The fuck is your problem?" She snapped, sitting up right to face him again. "If this is your way of comforting m-"

"I ain't tryin t'comfort ya" He growled, then proceeded to walk towards her. "Am telling ya t'stop hidin' away and keep doin' what ya gotta do!" How this escalated to a fight she had no idea.

"I don't 'GOTTA' do anything." she stood up and marched up to him, poking at he chest harshly. "What you 'GOTTA' do is get the fu-"

"(y/n)!" Glenns sounded panicked, he ran into the room and looked momenterly puzzled by Daryls presence, the larger man left almost immediately after this interruption. "(y/n) something wrong with Beth, shes with Maggie in her room. You gotta come now."

***

"And daddy come out side and yelled 'What the hell is going on!' and Beth just looks at him all innocent like 'we was just swimming daddy." (y/n) let out a chocked laugh, smiling through her tears at the story Maggie was telling Andrea. She remembered that day just as vividly, she remembered the way their family used to be, when it was whole. She carefully stroked Beths arm, silently begging her to come back to them. Rick and Glenn had gone off to find Hershell after finding his flask, empty on his dresser.

"Rick and Glenn are gonna bring your dad back." Andrea promised, forcing a smile. Maggie grabbed (y/n)s hand and held it tightly.

"Yeah"

***

"Oh thank god" (y/n) breathed a sigh of relief as she watched her step father get out of car, seemingly unharmed. She watched Maggie run right past him to hug Glenn and smiled slightly at both her love of the Asian boy and her unconscious rudeness. She ran to Hershell to give him the hug he very much needed. "you're ok!" she said, holding him tightly.

Rick informed the group of his rash decision to save Randall, they didn't take it well but (y/n) admired his compassion, his want to help people dispite the danger he may face.

She spotted Daryl later, sharpening his bolts by his camp. She wandered over to him, pushing away any feelings of embarresment after the way she had acted before. He was clearly a hot head, that much she was sure of but he did try to help her in his own way.

"Hey" she smiled, kicking the dirt and trying not to sound too awkward.

"Hey"

"Sorry about before" she said, her world's were genuine. "You were right about doing what to have to do." He shrugged at that, not much of a talker unless he was pissed about soemthing. "So thanks"

"Y'say that too much." Her cheeks felt hot as the slight criticism. "Don't gotta be so damn thankful all the time, yer good."

"Thanks" she kicked her self "er, not thanks - I guess" and for the first time, they shared a real, happy smile.

That smile was only short lived as Andrea ran up to her, informing her that Lori was desperately looking for her. (y/n) ran to the house, worried that something had happened Beth, that maybe her condition had gotten worse. She didn't expect to Lori to hold up one of their steak knifes and tell her that Beth had secretly taken it, obviously having horrific intentions.

(y/n) and Maggie sat with Beth, on her bed. Their younger sister sobbing and telling them she didn't want to live through this anymore.

"You do it too" She said. "We can go together, all three of us." (y/n) was pained, sure she had thoughts of doing it herself, to escape the visions of her mothers rotting corpse as it was crushed behind her own boot, but Beth? She deserved to live her life and damn it all if she wasn't gonna make sure she did. Beth was the only 'real' family she had left. (y/n) stroke her sisters long blonde hair, then held her teary face in her hands.

"No" she spoke softly. "Noone else is gonna die, not tonight."

From then on they didn't leave her alone, someone was always with her, either (y/n), Maggie, Hershell, Jimmy, Patricia, Lori or Andrea. Beth didn't speak much during their time together. when they were younger and (y/n) would occasionally sleep in her room, they would talk into all hours of the night until one of them couldn't stay awake any longer. Now that (y/n) was sleeping there every night to watch over her, it was just silence.

Until she finally spoke one night. "You don't have to babysit yknow." she sighed, turning over to face her older sister.

"Bethy if anything happened to you.. I'd die."

"You'd be alright, youd have Maggie and Dad, Patricia, Jimmy, and Glenn is nice too."

"Beth you're the only thing I have left to hold on too, please don't hurt yourself."

"That's not fair. You can't make me live just for you."

Silence again.

***

"Andrea was supposed to be watching her, but when Maggie and (y/n) went to check up on her, the room was empty. Suddenly they both heard glass smashing, coming from the bathroom.

"Beth!" Maggie yelled, banging on the door. "Please don't do this, let us in"

"Bethy please we aren't mad, just open the door." The other sister begged. When they finally got into the bathroom Beth was crying, holding her bleeding wrist, she cried out apologies as Maggie held her. (y/n) ran to get Hershell and he rushed to help her. She was about to follow when she saw Andrea talking with Lori.

"Where the hell were you?" She yelled, pointing at her aggressively. "You were meant to be watching her!"

"What happend?" Lori asked, concerned, unlike the blonde women who looked indifferent.

"She tried to kill herself."

"Tried" Andrea repeated, "She didn't go through with it, she made her choice she wants to live."

"Her dad is up their right now stitching up her wrist." (y/n) growled

"Now she knows what she wants." Andrea said, "It worked out."

"What if it didn't?" (y/n) stepped closer to her, backing her out on the porch. "What if she had died? You almost let her die!" Andrea open her mouth to talk but the angry women in front of her cut her off. "You come near my sister again, you come near my house again" she started, pushing Andrea again and again until she was off the porch, looking up at her furious expression. "Il kill you!" and she stormed off onto the farm, not wanting to see her face anymore, and not wanting to overwhelm Beth with too much attention since Maggie and Hershell were already with her.

She wandered aimlessly, allowing her anger to slowly decrease until all she was left with was dread. What if Beth had died, what would she have done then?

She saw Daryl sitting alone, he looked lost in his own thoughts just like she was.

"Daryl hey" she said.

"What d'ya want now." He grumbled, looking like he was already exhausted from this conversation, before it even started.

"Sorry, I was just getting away from the house, Beth tried to kill self, Andrea let her do it, i honestly thought I was going to kill her" she told him, making way to sit down next to him.

"Tried?" He asked. "We got bigger problems than an attention seeking kid!"

"Daryl! She's my sister, shes in pain" (y/n) started to cry, she hadn't really taken much time to process what had happened and Daryls comment cut into her.

"Why ya cryin' t'me about it?" He asked "It ain't my problem, you ain't my problem." He stood up from where he was seated, wanting to be alone.

"Daryl i-"

"Nah, sorry ya lost your husband, and yer brother but I ain't no replacement for em, and I ain't yer dad neither, so go tell someone who cares."

What the hell.

[luvelyhs]

Heyy!! I was wondering if you would do like a small blurb to "If I could go back?" Where Daisy calls again? I cried so much over it, and "One Last Time." I love your writing, they are all chef's kiss!

thank you lovely!!! <3 here she is!

in which daisy calls

read if i could go back here

-——-

“So…” Y/N started, trailing her fingers up and down Harry’s naked chest. They had just finished a few rounds of love making, relishing in the aftermath and pillow talking.

“Hmm?” Harry let out a sound to show her he was listening, even though his eyes were shut and her touch was sending him into a sleepy state very quickly.

“You never told me about what happened with Daisy.” She didn’t want to bring her up, but she was curious, and she wanted to know what happened between them.

Harry’s eyes shot open to look down at the amazing woman lying beside him. He disliked that she was still thinking about her, because Daisy meant nothing to Harry now. She had manipulated him into being the guy who picks up the pieces, and it took an emotional toll on him.

“Why are you asking, bub?” He turned over so that he was no longer lying on his back, he was now facing Y/N, so he could see her facial expressions and get a sense of what she was thinking. He didn’t want her to have any doubts about him or their relationship.

“Just curious, ‘s all.” She hummed, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend who cuddled back into her.

“Told her to fuck off, basically. She’s out of my life now, baby. Made sure of it.” His tone was adamant, and she trusted him. He has given her no reason to, and she knows Harry, has known Harry. They were friends before anything, and she knows he would never do anything to hurt her.

“Okay.” She snuggled closer into his chest. “I’m sorry she hurt you. You didn’t deserve it.” She reached her arm up and stroked his back, loving the feeling of touching him.

“She’s gone now, you’re all that matters.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and they fell asleep within each other’s arms.

———

A few weeks later they had driven over to Mitch and Sarah’s house, meeting up with the band and Jeff and Glenne. They were discussing things for the upcoming tour and Y/N wanted to catch up with Glenne since she hadn’t talked to her in a while.

A few pizzas later and a margarita, Y/N was full of more than just food. Laughter made her belly warm when the conversation surrounding work stopped and there were lighthearted conversations and even games played throughout the rest of the night.

After a game of charades, she had relaxed on the couch with Harry, taking his phone for a quick picture of the two of them. He laid his head on her shoulder, smiling into the camera. Her face mimicked his, two beaming bright faces was snapped. In the second after she took the picture, the phone still held above their faces, a call came through with the caller ID labeled “Daisy”.

The sight made her heart drop. She didn’t know why but she thought he had blocked her number. He hadn’t explicitly stated that, but she just assumed. He told her to fuck off, why is she calling him?

Harry had reached over her to grab the phone, getting up and walking over to the hallway for some privacy. Y/N gulped, slightly hurt that he had answered the call and not turned it off, or even answering it and telling her to fuck off, but he hadn’t, he had took the phone, answered the call, and escaped from prying ears and eyes into the secluded hallway.

Y/N sat there, unsure of what to do. She just waited for Harry to come back, and when he did, his face remained blank. He set his phone on the coffee table and resumed his position beside her.

“Everything alright?” Y/N questioned, nudging her shoulder onto his.

“Yup, everything’s fine.” He tossed her a quick smile and she could tell it wasn’t genuine. Brushing it off, even though she felt her stomach drop like something was wrong, she had continued to watch their friends play the game taboo.

She had felt off the rest of the night, he had closed off to her and she didn’t know what to do. They had been dating for a few months, and this was something new. Harry was naturally open with her, he knew he could rely on her and her with him, so why was he closed off after that phone call with Daisy?

She was angry, sad, hurt, frustrated. Before he could assume she was spending the night again, she asked if he could drop her off at her apartment.

“You’re not spending the night?” He questioned. Eyes remained on the road, so hers was too. She blankly stared at the empty roads and city lights.

“Have to meet a client for breakfast.” Great, now she was being distant. Her clipped tone finally made Harry look at her in confusion.

“You’ve met clients in the morning before, lovie, and you still slept over. Want me to stop by your place and you could pack a bag?”

Playing with her phone, she scrolled through social media, absentmindedly liking some fashion pictures.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve gotta prepare tonight anyway.” He got the hint she didn’t want to and he became quiet.

“Are you okay?” Harry questioned hesitantly.

Y/N looked at him. He was trying to keep his eyes on the road and on you at the same time.

“You tell me. You’ve been a bit distant tonight, H. What happened? Why did she call you?”

He sighed, “so that is what this is about?”

Y/N was annoyed. “Yes, Harry, because getting a call from the girl you used to be in love with is mildly concerning, but when you answer the phone and leave the room, that was even more concerning. You swore you’d never hurt me, H. I’m not trying to, to come across as a clingy desperate girlfriend always vying for your attention, but this is hurting me.”

The car pulled to the side, next to a closed restaurant.

He put the car in park and took off his seatbelt.

“What are you doing?”

Harry grabbed your hands, clasping them in his.

“‘m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m sorry ‘ve been distant, I was jus’ overthinking. I get in my head too much, and I know I shouldn’t have thought of it, but I thought about being hurt again, and I-“

“You thought I would hurt you next?”

“Yeah.. It was wrong of me to ever think you’d do that intentionally and I’m sorry for being distant tonight. You always come first.”

“What happened with the call?”

“She was asking how I was doing and if I could meet her. I told her to fuck off, again, actually told her to “get some therapy, you’ve got issues that require a deep dive into, never contact me again.” I also told her to fuck off and I think she got the hint this time. I told her I was so happy with you and that she wasn’t wanted or needed in my life. I swear, me bragging about you was basically half of the short conversation.” Harry laughed, recalling the conversation and how Daisy was speechless. She had started crying but Harry knew her ways, and immediately blocked her, what he should have done after the first time he told her to fuck off.

Y/N leaned over the console and planted a deep kiss to his mouth.

“I would never try to hurt you, H. You mean so much to me. When you hurt, I do too. I- I love you, so much. Please don’t forget that.”

Harry gripped her head and brought it back to kiss her passionately.

“I love you so much.” He mumbled against her lips.

“So can you spend the night tonight or..?” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance, “way to ruin the moment, H.”

“Heeey, not my fault I want to wake up to you in my bed every morning.”

“Yeah well, put a ring on this finger-“ She held up her left hand. “and you’ll get to see my lovely face every morning for the rest of your life.”

“Noted.” He smiled, and they drove off into the night, holding each other’s hands and singing along to Fleetwood Mac.

[crossbowking]

Space Between Us

Summary: (Set at the beginning of Alexandria) After the reader has one too many drinks, she finds herself being taken care of by the archer.

Request: “I’m here if you need anything, okay?” @anonymous 

A/N: I’m so sorry this one has taken so long for me to finish! With all of the shit going on in the world, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. I hope everyone out there is staying safe during this time!

Also, I’m so sad about the season 10 finale getting pushed back because of this virus. 

Ugh.

Hopefully, this story can bring y’all a little joy during this time.

xx crossbowking

Masterlist

Ko-fi Account

It wasn’t until after you’d finished your fourth glass of wine that you realized you should’ve stopped at your third.

You hadn’t been able to help yourself though — you’d just gotten caught up in the moment, the normalcy, of what was going on around you.

Alexandria was like nothing you’d ever seen before. You hadn’t thought places like this could even exist in the new world you lived in. Yet, here it stood — with steel walls and fortified gates, with watchtowers and armories. There were children of all ages, running around as if there weren’t flesh-eating hoards of the dead roaming outside. There was enough food and water for all, enough medical supplies to stock up a small infirmary. There was even a beautiful garden, for fuck’s sake.

The people within the community had no clue — no concept — of just how bad things had gotten outside their walls.

And just how good they had it inside of them.

When Deanna had first invited your group into her home, to partake in some sort of makeshift ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ party, you’d been hesitant. After everything you’d seen, after everything you’d been through the past few months — the Governor, the Claimers, Terminus — the last thing you’d wanted to do was dress up and play pretend, as if the world hadn’t completely gone to shit.

Still, it was important that you try, that your entire group try — to fit in, to mingle, to get a feel of what exactly you were about to get yourselves into.

And even more so, it was important that you scoped out the people of Alexandria. Your group didn’t trust easy — and for good reason.

You had a little more faith than Rick and the rest of the group. Faith that there were still good people out there and maybe, just maybe, you’d found some here.

Although that could’ve been the wine talking.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, waving back and forth. “Hello? Earth to Y/N,” Maggie teased from beside you, drawing you back from your dazed thoughts.

You glanced down at her sheepishly, swaying slightly from where you sat, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hm?” you hummed faintly, a lazy smile creeping across your face.

Maggie laughed aloud, her features softening for the first time in what seemed like forever as she turned to whisper something to Glenn, who sat beside her.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’re you two love birds whisperin’ ‘bout over there?” you protested with a pout, leaning over in an attempt to eavesdrop — but you suddenly found yourself tipping over, your balance having disappeared right around that second glass of wine, and landed in a clumsy pile beside Maggie.

The pair dissolved into a fit of laughter as you struggled to upright yourself, finding an unexpected giggle slip through your own lips as you gave up with a huff, your face pressed against the back cushion of the couch. “Help?” you asked pathetically, words muffled against the fabric.

Maggie stifled another laugh as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up into a seated position. Glenn shared an elusive look with Maggie, the two seemingly having a silent conversation, before he stood suddenly, extending his hand towards you. “Alright, come on.”

You accepted his reach without question, allowing him to help you up, swaying slightly on your feet. “Ooh, where we goin’?” you mumbled as Maggie joined the two of you.

“Glenn’s gonna take ya home, alright?” Maggie assured, still looking as though she was struggling to keep a straight face.

“What!” you protested, pulling your hand from Glenn’s. “I’m fine — seriously, I’m — I’m fine,” you nodded, waving off the couple as you attempted to do your best impression of a sober person.

“Okay, Y/N,” Glenn relented, crossing his arms over his chest before he smirked at you, shooting Maggie a look you couldn’t quite interpret. “Say the alphabet backward,” he challenged.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring how the motion made your head spin. “Hey, hey, no! That’s not — that’s not supposed to be your shit! Shit, I mean shtick,” you fussed, waggling your finger. “That’s — that should be Rick’s thing, right? ‘Cause, ‘cause he is a man of the law,” you grinned, drawing out the word ‘law’ before you grabbed onto Glenn’s shoulder. “Ya feel me? Ya feel me, brother?” you gasped softly, looking around in bewilderment. “Whoa, that was weird.”

Maggie covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing directly in your face before she excused herself, spotting Rosita motioning her over from the other side of the room.

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Glenn ushered you forward despite your weakening protests.

You groaned dramatically, earning a side-eye from a couple of Alexandria’s residents — but you simply ignored them, allowing your friend to guide you out of the living room and through the front door.

The cool night air rushed to meet your flushed skin as you inhaled sharply, shaking your head back and forth in an attempt to clear some of the haziness you felt. But the motion threw you off balance and you teetered at the edge of the porch stairs for a moment before Glenn steadied you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he cautioned before helping escort you down the steps safely.

You turned to him once you reached the sidewalk, widening your bleary eyes as you grabbed onto his arm. “Hey, can I ask you somethin’?” you suddenly mumbled, staggering briefly.

Glenn’s expression became serious as he turned to face you fully, his kind eyes locking with yours. “You okay?” he asked, worry etching his features, making him seem much older than he was.

“Is — oops, shit, sorry,“ you fumbled backward for a moment, having accidentally stepped on Glenn’s foot. You stiffened, keeping yourself upright as you took a deep breath. “Is Glenn short for Glennith?”

Glenn froze for a moment as though the question hadn’t fully registered before a smile broke across his face.

“What?” you questioned, brows knitted in confusion. “Come on, what!” you pressed, suddenly unable to stop giggling as you swayed back and forth.

“This is my favorite version of you,” Glenn laughed, reaching out to steady you once more before he jerked his head to the side, making a move to leave.

You took a step forward before faltering, gasping softly. “Shoot,” you murmured under your breath. Glenn shot you a confused look, quirking a brow at the dramatics. “I forgot my jacket,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest as a chill racked through you.

“Oh, I got it,” Glenn offered, turning back towards the house — but not before shooting you a firm look. “You just hang out here for a second, okay?”

You nodded, giving your friend two big thumbs up.

Glenn rolled his eyes, though a smirk was still etched on his face. “I mean it,” he urged, pointing a finger at you as he hurried back up the stairway and disappeared inside the house.

You sighed contently, unsure of the last time you’d felt this good — this free. Clearly, your tolerance for alcohol wasn’t what it used to be — but in that moment, alone in the quiet, the chilled night air biting at your exposed flesh, you simply couldn’t find it in you to give a damn.

“What’re ya doin’?” came a sudden voice, breaking the stillness.

You startled, spinning around on your heels towards where the sound came from. But you misstepped, one foot slipping off the sidewalk and onto the road, pitching you forward. Though you managed to stay standing, you straightened too quickly, suddenly losing your balance completely and tumbling down hard onto your right side. “Oof!” you huffed as your body slammed against the pavement, the skin on your right palm tearing as you attempted to catch yourself before your face hit the ground. “Yep, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you groaned through clenched teeth as you rolled onto your back, throwing one arm across your eyes.

You were vaguely aware of footsteps approaching, boots scuffing against asphalt before halting in front of you. “The hell’s wrong with ya?” came that same gruff voice from before, though closer this time.

You lifted your arm slightly, peeking up at the archer now standing above you before you covered your eyes once more. “I fell,” you exhaled defeatedly.

Daryl grunted softly. “I saw.”

You sighed once more, pushing up onto your elbows, locking eyes with the archer. “What can I say? I’m an athlete,” you shrugged sarcastically, waving one hand around as though you were royalty.

“Mhm,” Daryl murmured, nodding along — though you could’ve sworn you saw the hint of a smile toying at his lips before he reached his hand down towards you.

The sober version of yourself would’ve been mortified — but this version, this version couldn’t care less.

You took the archer’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet, swaying briefly until you found your balance. You huffed, blowing a misplaced strand of hair out of your face before your eyes settled on Daryl’s, noticing that he’d already been watching you. “Hi,” you smiled sweetly, wondering if you should be concerned that you could no longer feel your face.

Daryl scoffed lightly, unwinding his hand from yours, shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans before his expression became serious. “Ya shouldn’t be out here alone, ya know,” he rumbled, surveying the surrounding area with guarded eyes. “Ain’t safe.”

You pursed your lips, looking up and down the darkened street before pointing towards the massive walls surrounding the community. “That’s why — that’s why they built these big ass walls, Dixon,” you shot back, tapping your finger to your temple. “Keeps the outside — the outside, uh, outside, you know?”

Daryl grunted. “Ain’t the outside we oughta be worried ‘bout,” he muttered under his breath before pausing, giving you a brief once over as if he was really looking at you for the first time. Then he slowly leaned forward, narrowed eyes boring into yours and you found yourself subconsciously holding your breath under his scrutinizing stare.

“What?” you asked, somewhat self consciously, ignoring the heat suddenly rushing to your cheeks.

“How much have ya had?” he questioned blankly.

“What —“

“Ta’ drink, Y/N,” he demanded, growing irritated for reasons unbeknownst to you.

“Oh,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “What’s it matter?”

Daryl opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a door closing drew your attention away.

You spun around, wavering slightly, your nerves still buzzing from the moment previous as you watched Glenn hurry down the steps, your jacket in hand. “Glenn!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up into the air.

But Glenn didn’t seem fazed — instead, his expression looked tenser than it had before. He spotted Daryl behind you and nodded an acknowledgment as he approached. “Hey,” he breathed, slightly out of breath, glancing over his shoulder back up at Deanna’s house. “Here,” he murmured, handing over your jacket, peeking up at the house once more.

“What’s goin’ on?” Daryl questioned immediately, stepping up onto the sidewalk beside you.

You glanced over at the archer, his normally unreadable features back in place — but he clearly knew something was going on that you hadn’t noticed.

“No, nothing — just —“ Glenn sighed, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. “Sasha. She’s — she’s kind of having a tough time in there.”

Then as if on cue, Sasha came barreling through the front door, rushing down the stairs as though someone was after her. She spared the three of you a quick, flustered glance before she pushed past Glenn’s outstretched hand and stormed down the sidewalk, away from everyone else.

Glenn exhaled heavily, looking back at you and Daryl somberly. “Like I said, she’s having a tough time,” he murmured, rubbing a hand through his hair as he shifted, looking torn all of the sudden.

“Go,” Daryl suddenly rumbled.

Glenn glanced at you before looking at Daryl. “But —“

“M’ goin’ back ta’ the house anyways,” the archer interrupted. “I got her.”

You were about to ask who this ‘her’ was that they were talking about — but then Glenn was jogging off in the direction Sasha has just gone and Daryl was nudging you in the opposite direction.

“Wha — oh, alrighty then,” you stumbled forward slightly, feeling Daryl grab onto your elbow to keep you upright.

The longer you walked, the more your buzz began to wear off, the crisp night air having an efficient way of sharpening your senses. Neither you or the archer spoke, walking side by side in silence — you didn’t mind, though. You’d always felt oddly comfortable around him.

When you’d first joined the group back at Atlanta, everyone had warned you of the archer. They’d said he was hotheaded and aggressive, hostile and impulsive — especially living under the shadow of his older brother. But you’d never thought any of that — honestly, when you’d looked at him back then, you’d just thought he seemed scared.

And rightfully so if you had anything to say about it.

You sighed aloud, hugging the jacket you still held close to your chest. The house your group shared came into view — you’d only been at Alexandria for a couple of days and it seemed like no one was quite comfortable enough to move into their own spaces yet. You didn’t care — you preferred to be in close proximity to your family — it was the only way to keep everyone safe.

Daryl was so silent, you almost forgot he was beside you. Not even his footsteps made a sound — that was probably why he made such a good hunter, you thought to yourself. But you didn’t have to look at him to know he was deep in his thoughts, his mind constantly on edge, reliving the brutal past and anxiously waiting for the next bad thing to occur.

You nudged him gently. “Hey,” you murmured, your hazy eyes locking with his troubled ones. “We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered softly.

Daryl huffed, approaching the front steps of the house. “I jus’ don’t trust ‘em, is all,” he finally grumbled.

“You? Not trusting people? You’re kidding!” you teased, feigning surprise as you stepped up onto the stairs.

Karma came at you full force then — you realized too little too late that you’d misjudged your growing sobriety. Almost immediately, your foot slipped out from under you, causing you to topple forward, the steps rushing up to meet your face. But before you could fully face plant, you felt Daryl grab onto one of your flailing arms, stopping your fall just in time. “Shit,” you breathed, craning your neck to look at the archer. “I guess I deserved that one for sassing you,” you groaned, using your free hand to push yourself up.

You hissed suddenly, pain spreading through the palm of your right hand as you straightened — you’d forgotten all about your little tumble outside of Deanna’s. But before you could get a good look at your palm, Daryl’s hand snaked around your wrist, bring your arm closer to his face. He inspected your hand by the light streaming from the front porch, his expression neutral. “C’mon,” he mumbled, releasing his hold on you, nudging you up the stairs.

You cradled your hand to your chest, the pain sharper now that you were sobering up. But above anything else, you simply felt embarrassed. For drinking too much, for making an ass out of yourself — especially in front of him.

Your head hung low as you carefully maneuvered up the stairs and followed the archer inside. You spared the back of his head one last look before sighing, turning towards the stairs that led to the second floor, determined to stow yourself away in pure mortification.

“Where’re ya goin’?” Daryl’s voice cut through the silence.

You faltered, one foot already on the first step. “Oh —“

“C’mere,” he stated simply, waving you forward as he made his way into the kitchen — it wasn’t a request, you realized a moment later.

Your brows knitted in confusion as you set your jacket down on the railing, following the archer into the next room. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching Daryl stomp around the kitchen in a whirlwind, opening and closing cabinets, clearly searching for something. He glanced at you from over his shoulder. “Sit.”

His tone of voice made you feel like a child — but still, you did as he told, sliding down into one of the chairs around the dining table. You propped your head up with your left hand, uncurling the fingers on your right hand to examine the cut.

It wasn’t as bad as you’d thought — there were a couple of scrapes, some deeper than others, and little dark specks inside of the torn skin, most likely rocks or small pieces of gravel.

A soft clink drew your attention and you noticed the archer now standing beside you, a glass of water now placed on the table. “Drink,” he grunted before turning without another word.

You watched his retreating form, your eyes narrowing as he began searching the cabinets once more. “Have you always been this bossy or am I just realizing it now?” you challenged, quirking a brow. Daryl didn’t turn around but you heard a soft grunt which you chose to interpret as a ‘yes’.

You rolled your eyes, but grabbed the glass of water nonetheless, nearly chugging the entire contents in one gulp — you hadn’t even realized you’d been that thirsty. Daryl continued to move about the kitchen, clearly on some kind of mission, searching for something he was having trouble locating. But you were content to sit and simply watch him exist — you’d always found him as somebody you had a hard time not noticing.

You took another long swig of water as the archer reappeared at the table, holding a bowl in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He set the bowl down and slid it towards you. “Eat,” he rumbled, his tone still demanding as he sat down on the chair diagonal from you.

Whatever smart-ass comment you were about to make fell short when you peered inside the bowl, a soft gasp escaping through your lips as you peeked up at the archer. “Is — is this —” a small smile crept over your face. “Spaghetti?”

“Aaron,” the archer answered simply, sliding a fork towards you.

You picked up the utensil from the table, digging into the meal without a second thought, unable to stop the blissful moan that came out of you after the first bite. “Oh my God,” you sighed around the food in your mouth. “I love him — I, I mean, I truly love him.”

“Alright, easy, girl,” Daryl grumbled, rummaging through the kit before pulling out tweezers, gauze and alcohol wipes.

You laughed softly. “Don’t be jealous,” you teased, shoveling another big forkful of pasta into your mouth.

The archer merely rolled his eyes, though you could’ve sworn his gaze darkened. “Lemme see,” he suddenly grumbled, grabbing the hand you’d injured, laying it onto the tabletop, palm facing the ceiling.

Using your free hand, you continued eating, every mouthful further sobering you up. Your body was starting to feel sluggish, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment as you finished your last bite, sighing contently.

You pushed the bowl away as you propped your head up with your free hand, watching the archer’s steady movements. He picked up the tweezers, resting them between his fingertips as he slid his other hand beneath yours, bringing your palm closer to his face. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the cut on your hand, using the dimmed light above the kitchen table to survey the damage done.

He pulled your fingers back slightly, the skin on your palm stretching as he hunched over, his soft breath tickling your skin. His touch was surprisingly gentle, you realized then.

“Huh,” you breathed softly, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

Daryl glanced up, regarding you warily. “What?” he mumbled, almost self-consciously.

“Dr. Dixon,” you waggled your eyebrows, a soft laugh slipping through your lips as the archer rolled his eyes, though you could’ve sworn you saw the tips of his ears suddenly turn pink.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, though his tone lacked any harshness. He brought the tweezers to your skin, slowly pushing them deeper into your palm until he was able to grasp an imbedded piece of gravel.

You winced, fighting back the urge to curl your hand into a fist. Daryl glanced up at you, scanning your features for a moment before he continued removing the small pieces of rock, moving a fraction slower than before.

Daryl was efficient — he had your wound cleaned and bandaged within minutes, neither of you uttering a word the entire time. You were content to just watch, keeping your gaze on his features to distract you from the burning sensation on your palm. He was incredibly focused — looking as though he was diffusing bomb instead of simply wrapping your hand in gauze.

His brow was furrowed, eyes narrowed — though that seemed to be a permanent feature of his. You suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to touch him, to brush away some of the worry etched on his face — to just be closer to him.

But you fought back the urge, instead bumping your knee against his to draw his attention. “Hey,” you murmured as your eyes locked. “Everything’s gonna be okay, you know.”

Daryl was quiet for a moment, his gaze searching yours before he finished the last wrap, releasing your hand from his.

“I mean it,” you pressed, sighing softly. “Even if it doesn’t work out here, we’re gonna be alright. I need you to know that, D. I just —“ you exhaled, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m here if you need anything, okay? Anything.”

The archer remained silent, a flash of something flitting across his features as his eyes flickered down to look at your lips before locking with yours once more. “Ya got somethin’ on your face,” he suddenly murmured.

“What!” you squeaked out, leaning away from him abruptly, feeling your face flush.

Daryl pointed to the corner of his lips. “There,” he motioned, his mouth twitching as though he was struggling to keep a straight face.

Your lips formed into a pout as you pathetically felt around your face. “I was just trying to have a moment with you — you know what, whatever!” you fussed dramatically as you wiped your face, realizing a moment too late that you’d used the back of your bandaged hand. You looked down at the red stains now soaking into the gauze. “Spaghetti sauce,” you whispered defeatedly, glancing up at the archer.

Daryl was still for a moment before his face softened, a deep, rumbling laugh coming from his chest — the sound so rare it immediately caught you off guard.

And so you sat back in your seat, fondly watching the archer, desperately wanting to savor the fleeting moment.

Daryl’s gaze caught yours and his laugh faded, in its place a small, somewhat sad smile. His features settled after a moment before he lowered his head — you couldn’t place the emotion he was suddenly exuding, but it seemed to resemble something like embarrassment.

For letting his tough exterior slip? For allowing a moment of joy to overcome him?

You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that you’d give anything — anything — to soothe his bruised and weary soul.

You regarded him carefully, studying his features under the dimmed kitchen light — his guarded eyes, focused downward, his pressed lips, only parting when he brought the side of his thumb between them, the faint scar above his right eyebrow, peeking through the hair that fell over his face.

Then without thinking, you reached forward.

You didn’t miss the way Daryl flinched at your sudden movement, his entire body going rigid. You faltered, pushing past the unexpected heartache you felt. Your outstretched fingers hovered between you before you extended your reach, gently brushing back the hair that covered the archer’s eyes. “There,” you whispered, a somber smile flickering across your lips.

A beat of stillness passed as Daryl’s gaze searched yours, clearly caught off guard but a look in his eyes you had never seen before.

You exhaled, hoping the archer couldn’t hear the shakiness within your breath as you leaned back. “I —” you breathed quietly, attempting to collect yourself. “I should probably get some sleep,” you murmured, pushing past the lump in your throat, afraid of what would happen if you spent one more second with such little space between you.

“Mhm,” Daryl mumbled, nodding once, his expression unreadable though the air between you was buzzing — practically electric — every nerve ending in your body feeling as though they’d been set ablaze. It was as though there was some sort of magnetic pull, drawing you together, the distance between you becoming smaller and smaller until —

The front door suddenly splintered opened, you and Daryl simultaneously jumping to your feet at the intrusion, heavy breaths mirroring each other as you spun towards the noise.

Acting on pure instinct, Daryl yanked his hunting knife from the sheath hanging from his belt, taking a defensive step forward, part of his body automatically moving to shield you.

But when Sasha came into view, storming past the kitchen and up the stairs without a second glance, you let out the breath you’d been holding, your head dropping into your hands as your cheeks flushed, the moment prior finally registering.

What the fuck was that.

From the corner of your eye, you watched Daryl slowly retract his knife, slipping it back into its sheath. You snuck a glance at him, his body so still you weren’t even sure he was breathing.

You dropped your hands with a huff, carefully maneuvering around the archer without touching him, keeping your gaze forward as you slowly walked to the kitchen doorway. You paused once you reached the entrance, turning around to glance back at Daryl, who remained frozen in place.

“Uh,” you murmured awkwardly, gnawing on your bottom lip for a moment, trying to push past the fuzziness you felt in your stomach. “I’m — I’m gonna head to bed. Uh, thank you —“ you held up your bandaged hand. “Thank you for this,” you finished, awkwardly waving at the archer.

Daryl’s eyes remained fixed on the far wall, motionless, avoiding your gaze completely.

You sighed quietly, feeling like a fool for whatever had transpired before — and though you knew you should’ve just gone straight to bed, you couldn’t help the next words that came tumbling from your lips. “I’m sorry — shit, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t mean — you and I —“ you huffed a breath, throwing your hands up. “Damn it, I don’t know. I’m just — I’m sorry.”

You were mortified — even more so when Daryl barely even flinched at your words, acting as though he hadn’t even heard them at all. You sighed quietly, turning to leave when suddenly, the archer spoke.

“Y/N?” his voice seemed thick, like it’d caught in his throat.

You locked eyes with him from over your shoulder, your heart beating a fraction faster. “Hm?” you hummed, not trusting your voice.

He was silent for what seemed like forever until he straightened, as if he was attempting to build some courage, steeling himself for whatever he was about to say. “Ya don’t ever gotta apologize ta’ me,” he rumbled simply.

You let his words settle, the intent behind them more meaningful than you could even comprehend in that moment. A small smile grew across your lips as you nodded slowly, a familiar heat flushing across your features. “Goodnight, Daryl,” you whispered, pushing away from the doorway and towards the stairs.

And as your foot landed on the first step, you heard a soft mumble echo from the other room.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

A/N: So...how did y’all like this one!?

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[kineticallyanywhere]

I'd love to hear those fusion thots :eyes: the pacific rim ones were V good

If you’ve been around this house for a hot minute you might know that fusion aus are My Entire Jam Garden so you might imagine I’ve already put some thought into this and you would imagine right. The following was brainstormed in consort with @aryashi my second brain. 

The basis for this au is that fusion is possible in the forgotten realms and is just a thing people there can do. This also applies to sudden interdimensional travelers. 

tl;dr I wrote basically a one-shot’s worth of words down there but in short fusion is rad but also there's an unexpected amount of drama. which is basically a summary of the podcast but replace "fusion" with "fatherhood"

(preface: fusion is not a sex metaphor, just like pacific rim. Platonic fusion is normal. Familial fusion is normal. Okay, continue.) 

First inter-dad fusion: “I silence his dumb ass with a kiss” except its “I silence his dumb ass by accidentally fusing our bodies and consiousnesses into a single being w h o o p s” 

I like to name fusions as something other than their romantic ship name so let’s call him… o h yeah we named all of Henry’s fusions after animals. So this guy is Hare (like Darryl). Hare is pretty stable from the outside, but their internal dialogues clash really hard so they're incredibly slow to make decisions. 

Internally, Henry feels like he's crossed Darryls boundaries. They have to hold it, but he lets Darryl take the wheel and all similar mistakes are made. They make it through the thing with the Lance before unfusing. Darryl has no idea what that was and already has a lot of intimacy issues, so he’s not particularly inclined to try that again for funsies. Henry is curious, but there’s a buried part of him that’s making him deeply unsettled by the whole experience. He can barely have a straight thought about it, much less articulate the feeling, so he doesn’t try. He lets it go. 

First sons fusion: When the Lord of Chaos throws back his robe, yelling “Dad! !” it’s a GIANT Lark&Sparrow. They’re like trying to fuse two rubies together, you just get a bigger ruby. This changes a bit later, when the twins start to diverge from each other vis a vis Love Wolfism, but basically the Lord of Chaos is an Oak Twin the size of their dad. But still looks 12. It probably actually takes the Love Wolf speech from Henry and their divergent reactions to get them to unfuse. 

Second inter-dad fusion: That other time Henry and Darryl smooched while high on drug flowers. It was very unpleasant, they don’t talk about it, they don’t try that again for a while. 

They get a book on fusions from the Library that reads almost like a birds and the bees talk and there is minor culture-shock panicking about whether fusion is Like That, but something in Henry is telling him “No. It’s not Like That.” He doesn’t really know why he’s so solid in that belief. He understands that fusion is unique and powerful and a wonderful thing, but something about doing it is just… getting under his skin. 

Third inter-dad fusion: Glenn and Ron. I’m not even sure the exact context or anything. Maybe they were just vibin’. All I really know is that I imagine these two occasionally fuse for the weirdest things, like

Fourth inter-dad fusion: also Glon, fishing magic items out of a giant toilet. They needed to be taller. 

Glon is… gosh, what the heck is Glon. Performative out the ass, for sure. Down for basically anything. Allowed to wear bootie shorts. 

Back up a hot minute though, because first dad-son fusion: almost happens on the Tower of Terry. It comes so close. They’re in that hug, and Ron thinks maybe if they fuse, the magic won’t take TJ. Or even if it takes them both, that’s better than TJ getting taken alone. They don’t have to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you, son” out loud, but before it really takes, Terry gets ripped away. Because Willy can’t have that, can he? 

Fifth inter-dad fusion: is Glon again, but the circumstances are way different because Ron just saw the mummy of his wife and Glenn is trying to help him breeze past it and it works until it doesn’t and they fall apart with Ron a crying mess. 

Sixth inter-dad fusion buckle up because we’ve reached Ravenloft. Before dad-fusion 6, Henry gets caught in his dad’s claws. He feels something very familiar and rejects it with everything he has, and escapes to grab Glenn. Then he gets hit by Calm Emotions, Glenn reaches up, trying not to fall, and Henry is already super chill about everything all of a sudden, so when Glenn tries to fuse out of panic, Henry goes for it. 

Gila—Henry and Glenn—can do actual bard magic. They’re like Opal, in that a single moment of disconnect is enough to snap them apart and finding that disconnect is not difficult. But when the situation is saving their kids and telling their asshole dads to get lost, that’s plenty enough connection to cast an actual magic-ass thunderwave with a guitar and maybe a bit more. 

(Barry didn’t like that.) 

So another fun thing about adding this factor to cannon is that this lets the dads have glimpses inside each other’s heads. So certain conversations could change a little bit. For example, in the van while they’re driving away from the Ravenloft fight and Henry’s explaining a few things. 

Henry: I don't have a lot of memories from that time in my life—  Glenn: Not a lot? Try "not any.” Henry: Glenn—  Glenn: Dude, none of my business, but your brain was weird.  Henry: Glenn.  Glenn: Like did the government get to you when you showed up on earth or—   Henry: Glenn what the fff—rick are you even saying just shut up Darryl: …

Darryl had noticed, too, but Glenn has other fusion experience to compare with. Henry could catch glimpses and imprints and trains of thought which ground in different points of Darryl/Glenn’s entire life, and Glenn and Ron can do that equally with each other. But a bunch of things for Henry, if you try to backtrack to where the decision comes from it just. Stops. Especially with using magic, which Glenn got to do. And Henry’s thoughts on fusion end dead hard. 

(filtering all of this through Freddie’s headcanon that Glenn always figured Henry was from Faerun but was just wildly wrong about all the details is so much fun)

This is the part in the fic series where there’s a one-shot about Henry having a panic attack just outside of the camp at night, and the most he can explain is just that something about seeing his dad again set him off. 

And then we get to a lighter turn for first dad-son fusion but for realsies this time: Ron Stampler nat 20s to hug his son and then also is the son. And that dad. And dads are supposed to be inside to do a ritual for a demon cow. 

RJ is the sweetest dude. Also if you don’t sit on him he will wander off and do the most extreme version of the first thing that comes to his mind for a problem solution or release from boredom. And he will not tell you about it in advance, so seriously. Sit on him. 

So they stand there for a second like "yes... Yes. Yes... Okay. Im... I'm the dad. But I'm the kid? But im. The dad. And all the other dads are also the kid so... Dad... Trumps kid status. And I'm the dad... Cool." and they go in to help with the demon cow. 

The kids are flipping out outside. 

Henry spots them and drops the cage, almost like he’s Garnet and just spotted Stevonnie. While all the other dad’s are freaking out/fawning/curious, Glenn lifts their glasses and theres four eyes and he drops the glasses and never mentions this again. 

Rj: hi um. I'm a dad.... Yeah. So I'm here tooooooo frickin kill a demon cow let's do this Rj: got the good dad vibes comin out of my butt

For realsies though Terry should be outside, so they unfuse for the cow thing and the bbq but then Dennis happens. 

Second dad-son fusion: Dennis: are you sure you've got this?  Ron: i can do it  TJ: he can DO it dad GIVE ME YOUR HAND

RJ’s an arcane trickster and it’s real cool and Dennis looks so jealous ha ha ha and also they separate after the fight and suddenly Terry’s unsettled and needs to talk to Ron for a second because “Hey Dad is Dennis not real????????” 

Third dad-son fusion: is way less eventful, but who the heck can say no to more reasons to cry about the Wilsons at the tail end of the Supper Bowl arc? 

Fusion is not a replacement for talking, but it is a bit smoother in communicating emotions. It doesn’t happen until the end of their talk, when Darryl’s got his arm around Grant. I don’t think either of them are super attached to this whole fusion thing, (If Grant is, it certainly wasn’t his dad he’d been thinking about trying it with. Maybe one of the other kids… “maybe Terry.”) so they may not even pick a name. Henry certainly cries at least twice as hard, but when they want to just get something to eat and maybe just hang out for a while, nobody pushes. 

I think the most important part of this is that it gives Grant a kind of… emotional break. Lets him feel something nice again— like he does in the show, too, but in a way that’s a bit more stable while it lasts. Like the feeling when you’re a kid on a long car ride with your parents, one that ends in getting home late and you’ve fallen asleep and they carry you out of the car. 

Good things for Grant Wilson for til forever. 

Somewhere in that arc, though, Glenn approaches Henry by themselves. Glenn’s not really a feelings guy, but whatever’s going on in Henry’s head is a problem. It’s a one-up the o-dads have on them, and they can’t afford that right now. 

Glenn: so you like... Really don't hardly remember being a kid?  Henry: Glenn, I don't want to talk about it  Glenn: I bet your dad's gonna wanna talk about it  Henry: well... i don't care what he wants  Glenn:... You seriously don't know how you got to earth?  Henry: [exasperated] the frick are you-- I got to earth like anyone else, Glenn. You know where babies come from, right?  Glenn: of course i fucking know where babies come from. A mommy and a daddy love each other very much and then their kid runs away so hard he skips dimensions  Henry: wh-- wait you-- do you think I'm an alien?  Glenn: obviously  Henry: Glenn that's-- [sighs, rubs his face] Glenn this isn't the kind of time for your conspiracies  Glenn: hey as far as I'm concerned, a man who sleeps with an axe under his pillow is a fool every night but one. and you shoot poison from your hands and shape shift into bears

Which adds nicely to the slide of heading to Oakveil next

Henry: y'know what. When we leave here, we can get my kids next.  Glenn: your interdimensional kids  Henry: to prove to you you're being crazy. Again.  Glenn: De Nial is a river man, and we left it back on earth

And one more dialogue bite, because…

Glenn: claim your powers latched onto you from this world all you want. But that language you and your dad spoke, didn't come out of the air, it came out of the door in your head

...fusion means the other dads get to learn about the metaphorical brain door. 

This brings us into the most recent arc, heading into Oakveil. He and Ron sneak in, and Beary tells Henry he’s home, and pieces start to click together. Henry’s from this world, so he understands why he’s had such a particular view on fusion and that basic cultural understanding. That it’s considered normal. And that it’s even normal for a kid’s first fusion to be with their parent. Their parent who loves them and knows them wants to see them grow. 

Bear Ry’Oak is not that. 

First O-dad fusion: Henry’s first fusion was with his dad. 

I think the worst thing is that, when fused with his dad, Hen doesn't feel like he's not himself. one of the interesting things about the Oaks is that they're kind of all slight alterations on the same traits. Like as gross as it feels to admit, Beary is just Henry but with the condescension turned up to a billion and his high horse is basically an elephant and no self-awareness or care for how others might have different perspectives from him

But Beary is still so overwhelming to Henry that it just flattens pretty much anything that makes Henry, Henry. Specifically the parts that Barry dislikes. like Henry's anger. To directly quote Aryashi: “Beary thinks using fusion for combat is barbaric. obviously fusion is for Conflict Resolution. Fuse with Beary so he can sort out your disagreement with him!”

(and then bathe in bleach)

So Beary finds them in Oakveil and Henry starts panicking and he tries to Handle Henry like he did when Henry was a kid, fusing with him to stomp down on his feelings to cut a panic attack or outburst off at the pass. If Henry's in no place to fight back it usually works, but if Ron's there--literally pressed against Henry's back--to see the fusion coming, maybe he reaches for a fusion, too, and lets Henry's instincts choose which pull to follow, and Henry's instincts choose Ron.

Seventh inter-dad fusion: Wren is suddenly there before Beary can even start his attempt to coach Henry through breathing (his half-effort to help Henry and be able to say that he tried freakin hate him) and is sitting on the ground and the disgusted look Beary gets seeing this. (Fusing with an outsider is something he considers so beneath his son.)

Beary:... Ah. Ronald.  Wren, existing, suddenly, and mostly being Ron's processing power as Henry's mental wheels try to slow down to match Ron's pace (cultivated through a childhood of dealing with Willy) rather than amp them both up: uhm... It's just Ron, actually Beary: would you mind... (there's other people around so he can't say "decontaminating") liberating my son. (as if ignoring the role his son had in choosing this fusion over his) Wren: Henry is uh... (me? Not me? Yes me, not up for this, we should go somewhere else that usually works fine, we can just leave and find the others and that'll be fine) he's good. We're good, we're gonna... (looking at the other people who look like Henry and the "not amping each other up” thing is working less and less)  Wren: bye

And then they just stand up and fast-walk away

Wren is either chill af and rolling with every punch or the living equivalent of a coke bottle that you popped a whole roll of mentos in and then closed immediately. At this moment, it’s very much the coke bottle side. Beary lets them go because he knows Henry will be back, and they make it just outside of town to where the others have just shown up before they fall apart. 

Ron: We found the door!  Darryl: what door?  Ron: the one in Henry's head!  And all the dads know what he's talking about Glenn: did you open it?  Henry: no  Ron: a little bit  Henry(probably now starting that panic attack): the anchors in there  Ron: his dad came out of it  Darryl: his dad???????? Henry, vulnerability, Oak: I AM FEELING VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW AND I HATE IT  [chorus of mumbled sorrys] Ron: oh also Oakvale is Henry's home Darryl: WHAT Glenn: Uh hey anyone gonna pick up the phone cause I FUCKIN CALLED IT Henry: That's not my home! My home is with Mercedes back on Earth! Glenn: Yeah, this is just where you were born.  Henry: Glenn I swear to God-- Glenn: Dude lay off, I was agreeing with you! Home's where the heart meds are and all that jazz Darryl: Wait, you have heart meds? At home? When was the last time you took your heart meds? Glenn: Uhh... not since I came here? It's fiiiiiine. Never felt better! Ron: Not to interrupt but Henry's on the ground breathing funny. Glenn, are you sure you don't have any heart meds? Henry: being hugged by both of his sons in a simultaneous way that is not their normal simultaneous way (i.e. the Lord of Chaos way): WHY ARE MY SONS TALLER THAN ME Glenn: I'm more surprised that they're hugging you  Lord of Chaos: to assert dominance! Any moment now, we will turn this hug into a suplex!

And that basically brings us to now? I want a Triple Oak Fusion (the King of Chaos) but with how the fight with Beary went I’m not sure where it’ll go. OH YEAH. 

Autumn stopped fusing with Hen even when he was a kid because she couldn’t stand to see how much her son craved the approval of that evil man who stole her life away. And whether or not Henry ever fuses with anyone ever again after finding out he’s got Eldritch in him has gotta be up in the air. 

And at this point I could easily be convinced that the next inter-dad fusion is Darryl and Glenn, those beautiful idiots. They could be… Denn. Glarryl? We’ll workshop it. 

[cavalierious-whim]

Felix's life is turned upside-down when Sylvain comes back after years away to hustle at his pool hall. #

Ever have an idea that's neat until it grows legs and just becomes 12k words worth of filth? Yeah, that. My google search history suffered intensely for this fic, but now I know that you can use cue stick oil as lube. You're welcome. Read here on A03 for better quality, and for wips, updates and more, follow me here on Twitter!

#

Felix runs a clean establishment which is why the red-headed idiot is the bane of his existence.

Every night, he’s there, running the action for a dime a pot. Making his victims even up before they start a new round. Regulars know that he’s hustling; he makes his targets put the money in the rack and then before they know it, he sweeps them in the last game, taking the pot for his own.

The newbies don’t stand a chance. Everyone else stays to watch the slaughter.

Felix waits before he steps in. He might run a tight ship but he can’t risk his regulars running out because he puts a stop to the usual entertainment. So, Felix watches from his corner spot on the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he scowls.

The idiot has cued up a tricky three-rail bank shot. His opponent looks confident that he’s going to win but everyone else knows better. Ingrid tries to warn the new guy; tugs on his arm to whisper into his ear. The man only smiles at her like she’s dumb, twirling a lock of her short hair around his finger.

When Ingrid smiles back, it isn’t kind.

The idiot takes his shot, the cue ball connecting with all three walls just as planned before sinking the eight like there’s a magnet in the pocket.

The newbie’s cigarette falls from his mouth, Ingrid stamps it out before it can do any lasting damage, and Felix makes his move before things get ugly.

“Sylvain,” he snaps, sliding in near the billiards table and leveling him with an unimpressed glare.

Sylvain’s already snatched up the money, thumbing through it and double-checking even though he knows it’s good. The bills never leave the table, not under his keen eye. Sylvain pauses dramatically and offers him a smarmy smile.

“Felix,” he greets in a low baritone.

“Are you done swindling my customers?”

“Hey, I’m a customer too.”

Felix scoffs. “You’re a leech and I can throw you right out.” The crowd around them is used to the theatrics of it all and begins to disperse, making themselves scarce. Ingrid hangs back for a moment and exchanges a knowing glance with Felix.

She isn’t much better than Sylvain at the end of the night, hustling her own targets in games of Cribbage before clearing the table, but she and Felix have an agreement. Felix and Sylvain don’t. Mostly because the latter is impossible to reason with.

“You won’t,” says Sylvain, back to counting his bills. “If I made this much, you easily made twice that.” He folds them before tucking them into his pocket.

Sylvain isn’t wrong. He might be a hustler, but he’s a damn good pool player, and people will spend all night in the hall just to peek at a game or two. Sylvain makes good change, but Felix takes a better cut off the booze and food he sells as a result.

It’s a win-win and it’s why he’s never actually kicked the man out despite his idle threats. Among other reasons, those far more complicated. Still, it’s the principle of the matter.

Sylvain orders a whiskey, neat, and Felix scowls. When Annie brings him a crystal tumbler, Sylvain gives her a wink. He’s barking up the wrong tree and knows it, but it’s harmless flirting that they throw between them on the regular. Annette finds it cute.

Felix finds it appalling.

Sylvain takes a sip and sets the glass aside, picking up a cue stick and rolling it between his palms. “So, it was a good night, I’m sure,” he says conversationally.

“I don’t talk shop with patrons, least of all you.”

“Here’s a reminder that I bring in money--”

“You could bring in Blaiddyd himself, and I still wouldn’t talk.”

Sylvain whistles lowly. “That’s a bit low,” he says. “Blaiddyd wouldn’t ever step foot into a place like this.”

Dimitri wouldn’t. Felix knows it, but it’s not because his pool hall is tucked into a dark corner of Fhirdiad. It’s because he and Dimitri aren’t on speaking terms and likely never will be again. The red-headed idiot doesn’t know that, can’t know that. He and Sylvain haven’t properly talked in years. Hustling in his hall is a fairly new development and it’s haunted Felix’s dreams for nearly a half-year.

Sylvain’s calling a blind-eyed bluff and Felix lets it ruffle him.

“Insufferable fool,” snaps Felix.

Sylvain shrugs as Felix rounds the table to clean it off, grabbing the wide boar-bristle brush. He sets about sweeping up the chalk marks from the felt because Sylvain’s shit at doing it.

Or, he doesn’t even bother, racking up another game without any consideration. Truly, the bane of Felix’s existence, a constant aggravation, from the way that he hustles patrons in his carefully cultivated pool hall, to that damned smirk that is more attractive than it should be.

Old habits die hard, especially when it comes to the decade-old flame still flickering in Felix’s pathetic heart.

When Sylvain leans against the table, Felix stands up, instantly high alert. When he sits his ass on the rail with his entire weight, Felix nearly has a coronary.

“Off!” he snaps, shaking the brush at Sylvain. “You’ll fuck up the balance.”

“I can fuck up a lot more than that, you know,” says Sylvain. “All you have to do is ask.”

Felix isn’t a mobster so he doesn’t murder the man. But he is a pool shark, so he does the next best thing. “You and me,” says Felix. “Later when the doors close. One-on-one, house rules.”

Sylvain regards Felix with one long, sweeping gaze across the entirety of his body, and Felix almost snarls back. But he doesn’t. Ingrid would be proud.

“I’m a front-runner,” says Sylvain, as though it makes a difference. Of course, he’s a front-runner, he’s likely the best player Felix has ever seen aside from Glenn. But Glenn’s dead and that doesn’t matter anymore.

“I’m no slouch,” says Felix.

Sylvain smiles a curling thing that spells danger. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen you shoot a rack or two.” Or two thousand. Sylvain looks at his whiskey glass, swirling it gently. “And the stakes? A dime? Two?”

“Rights to play here,” says Felix. “You lose and I get to kick you out once and for all.”

“And if I win, you never bother me about hustling again.” Felix opens his mouth and Sylvain cuts him off. “Ah-ah-ah, none of that. You and I both know that I bring in more business than this dusty old place would see without me.”

Felix hates that he’s right and he hates that he doesn’t have the guts to refute it. He swipes the brush over the table angrily. “Fine, I’ll take your damned deal.”

They don’t shake on it, but Sylvain does tip his glass in a salute. Good enough for Felix since the faith of Sylvain’s word doesn’t mean shit.

#

So the thing is, they’ve actually known each other since they were children. Ingrid and Dimitri as well; they’d grown up together during the tail-end of Prohibition, spending their afternoons with Glenn shooting pool on tilted tables with badly balanced cue sticks.

Felix was good, but Sylvain was the prodigy when it came to shooting racks, an absolute monster that no one wanted to challenge. Back then, he didn’t hustle, he just enjoyed the sport. And Felix did too, their days spent leaning over chalk-dusted felt and hand-me-down sticks.

Then Glenn died, Sylvain went pro and Felix turned bitter and angry. And everything between them stretched wide and thin, colored by wanton attraction and the fear of fucking it up.

Dimitri bought this place to relive fond memories. Abandoned it when he lost his mind for fancier clientele. Felix, unable to forget his youth no matter how he tried, stepped in to keep it from shutting down entirely.

No longer in its prime, the place struggled for years, Felix barely paying the bills and keeping it afloat.

Until Sylvain walked back in one day. It’d been five years without a word, and nearly a decade of sore, unbidden feelings. Felix wanted nothing to do with him. Didn’t want to relive those memories.

One problem, though: Sylvain can’t take a fucking hint. Felix has told him to his face that he’s unwelcome and Sylvain just shoots him that signature smirk of his, the one that’s so impossible to ignore, and pretends that nothing was ever said.

Felix never kicks him out because he lacks any resolve, something that haunts his dreams. It makes Ingrid laugh.

“So, house rules,” says Sylvain, sliding up next to him with a smooth swagger that Felix makes a point of ignoring.

“Eight-ball,” starts Felix, but Sylvain tuts.

“Where’s the fun in that? That’s a family game.” Felix doesn’t like the glint in Sylvain’s eye as he leans against the table rail. “Nine-ball. Best three out of five.”

“Nine-ball’s a tournament game,” says Felix. “I don’t do tournaments.”

“You could,” says Sylvain with a shrug. He’s right; Felix can. But he won’t.

“You know that I don’t compete.”

“Anymore,” says Sylvain, a quiet correction that turns Felix’s blood red-hot. Sylvain must see it because he raises his hands in deference. “Not the point, not the point. I’m just saying. We’re playing for a high pot so might as well make the game match.”

Felix doesn’t think that playing for his pool hall is a high pot but there isn’t a point in arguing-- Sylvain’s been bit by a competitive bug and it’s too late to stop it.

“Fine, nine-ball,” says Felix. He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at Sylvain. “Casual rules, though. Ball-in-hand--”

“Ugh.” Sylvain sounds positively offended and Felix smirks.

“And none of that fancy shit you like to pull.”

“Felix, you wound me.”

Felix levels him with an unimpressed look. “I don’t have time for it,” he says. Then he kicks Sylvain’s shin. “And off the fucking table. I won’t tell you again.”

Sylvain hops off but doesn’t apologize. “I’ll rack--”

“I’ll do it,” cuts in Felix, reaching for the triangle rack instead of the one used for nine-ball. “I don’t trust you further than I can throw you.”

Sylvain pauses, frowning the slightest bit, a tiny little crack in his carefully maintained facade. Felix nearly pauses-- nearly. Sylvain isn’t the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve. He only shows what he wants other people to see. But this here, it doesn’t seem intentional. He’s already off his game, distracted by something.

“I only meant you setting up the game,” says Felix.

“I’ve no qualms about you racking, but you know it means that I get to break.”

A calculated decision that Felix has already considered. Felix isn’t bad at getting a good spread, but Sylvain’s better at it. It’s a risky move to give him the first shot since he’ll likely sink one at the get-go, but it’s a risk Felix is willing to take.

Sylvain pulls a cue from his bag and twists it together, carefully wiping it down with a soft little cloth. Felix watches while he arranges the balls, nine in the middle. He presses his fingers against the bottom of the diamond, pushing them tight into the corner of the triangle. Not a traditional method, but Felix can get a better grip if the rack isn’t in the way of his fingers. Sylvain hasn’t noticed his stare.

Instead, he’s too busy inspecting the tip of the cue that he uses for breaking before chalking it up.

Once the balls are racked, Felix steps off to the side, showing off the table. “All yours.”

Sylvain offers him a smile, something small and genuine and for a second it’s like they’ve gone back in time. All that unwanted shit he’s tried to forget just wells right up from the depths of his heart. Felix pretends that they aren’t friends, that they were never close, that he hates Sylvain quite severely.

It isn’t true. When Sylvain left they’d been sitting awkwardly, hanging strangely in their friendship. Trying to figure out what they were together. For Felix, it’s never been something as simple as just friends.

And it never was for Sylvain either, which is why everything’s so fucked up between the two of them. Sylvain, despite whatever he feels, isn’t the type to settle down. And neither is Felix. But they’d thought about doing it, together.

Feelings can’t save shitty relationships, though, no matter how strong they are. They’re better off like this, frenemies that constantly dog each other.

Sylvain looks slick as he runs a hand through his wild auburn hair. The light above the pool table is dim and casts a shitty glow, but Sylvain looks alive as he takes his place at the south end of the table. He’s focused when he leans over, break cue held loosely in his hand. He lines up his shot, utterly focused on the task at hand, and then he brings the cue back before letting it loose.

There’s a crack as the cue ball flies across the table. The diamond scatters and balls bounce off the rails. He doesn’t sink one on the first shot which is an immediate red flag.

“You missed,” says Felix. “You did that on purpose.”

Sylvain shrugs, unconcerned as he swaps out his break cue for his regular. He chalks it up. “There isn’t any fun in running the table on the first go.”

Felix scowls. “You’re playing for keeps.”

“It’s best three out of five,” says Sylvain. “Might as well make it worth it.”

He’s a hustler through and through. Sylvain makes his bread and butter swindling poor sots out of their coin, pushing and pulling pots as he sees fit. Ingrid’s no better, but she’s already at a disadvantage. No one takes her seriously because she’s a woman, and if her goal is to take men down a notch, Felix isn’t going to be the one to tell her no.

Sylvain, however, doesn’t do it for the money, he does it for the thrill. He’s always been like that, living by the seat of his pants because it’s the only way that he feels things. Like right now. It’s the only reason he even bargained the game to begin with.

Felix only wanted a go at it, a friendly game between somewhat enemies. Sylvain was the one that put stakes on the table.

The cue that Felix uses is old and a little battered, but it’s straight and it’s got a decent weight to it. Nothing fancy, but he doesn’t need fancy, he only needs functional.

The spread on the table is good. The one-ball sits at the bottom left and the nine is at the right side pocket. The rest have enough space to get in a good table run if he plays his angles right. Felix leans over the corner of the table, lining up his shot.

Sylvain watches as Felix thinks it through. Nervousness prickles down Felix’s spine. He might play a game or two alone after the doors shut, but he’s admittedly, out of practice. Felix already knows if he mucks this shot up, Sylvain will spend the rest of the night poking fun at him.

The cue stick strikes true and Felix sinks the one-ball in the opposite side pocket. So far so good. The two is near a north corner, an easy shot. But the three is along a rail, leaving behind a tricky follow-up lie. Felix sighs and sinks the two, the cue ball kicking back to the left.

Not far enough, leaving him in a precarious position.

Sylvain whistles low and says, “Tricky, tricky. Not where I’d want to sit.”

“Shut up,” says Felix, scowling. He chalks up his cue, thinking about his next shot.

Sylvain shrugs, sipping at his drink. “I’m just saying. You’ve always been shit at putting spin on the ball.” Sylvain’s right. Felix never did practice his English much.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve played a game,” says Felix. Not since before Sylvain fucked off. He’s watched him, of course, but Felix hasn’t shot a rack around Sylvain since he came back. “Plenty of time to pick up some skill.”

“It wasn’t ever about skill, you just sucked at it even with how much you practiced.”

Felix would spend hours hitting shot after shot. He’d set up complicated lies and work out the math. He’s good with angles, and he’s decent at putting spin on the ball but it’s definitely his weak spot.

Felix doesn’t answer and Sylvain crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not trying to be rude--”

“Zip it,” cuts in Felix, shushing him. “I’m thinking.”

Sylvain’s quiet for exactly ten seconds before he says, “Lower half, middle of the ball. Put some meat behind it and it should stop dead.”

Felix ignores him on principle, hitting slightly to the right instead. The cue ball connects with the three, then banks to the side, flubbing the shot entirely.

Sylvain snickers from behind his hand, amused.

Felix knew it was a bad shot the moment his arm moved. He’s unsure why he’s so obstinate when it comes to taking Sylvain’s advice on a go. But then he sees the insufferable smirk plastered across Sylvain’s face.

Scratch that, he knows exactly why: Felix refuses to give in to his hustling.

“Should have just listened to me,” says Sylvain, getting up from the barstool and chalking up his cue.

“I’d rather sell out,” says Felix. And he would. He’d sooner leave him a good shot, sitting pretty on the table than give him any sort of satisfaction.

“Thought we were playing for keeps,” says Sylvain, repeating what Felix snarked earlier. “At least give me some satisfaction.” He leans over the table, marking up a shot at the three. He pulls the cue back once, twice, testing the wait of his aim.

“The only satisfaction you want is someone stroking your big, fat ego.”

Sylvain stops right in the middle of his shot, head cocking to the side as he shoots Felix a dangerous look. “Oh trust me, there’s something else I’d rather you stroke.”

Felix turns red in anger, hissing at the innuendo. Here it is, that unspoken thing that’s loomed between them for years. Sylvain’s always been overtly flirty with it, low whispers as he murmurs dark and dirty words into his ears. Felix refuses to be just another notch in his belt.

And it’s hard, so unbearably hard because the worst part is that Felix wouldn’t say no. Ingrid tells him that it’s stupid to hold off, that he should just get it over with and satisfy his fucking curiosity.

Felix refuses.

Sylvain bursts into laughter, shaking his head. “Man, you should’ve seen your face, Felix,” he says, setting up his shot again. He falls silent as he baits the cue ball, his practice strokes smooth like buttered perfection. Then, he takes the shot and sinks in the three, lining up for a perfect hit to the four.

And the five, and then the six. Sylvain cleans the table with little-to-no effort, calling his shots because he knows it pisses Felix off.

“Eight off the seven,” says Sylvain, grinning widely as he surveys the table. “But I’m going to bank it off this rail and nail the corner pocket instead.”

It’s an absurd trick shot and Felix tells him as such. “You’re wasting time with these superfluous tricks.”

“Sit back,” says Sylvain. “Relax. Shit Felix, this is supposed to be fun.”

Felix knew that it wasn’t going to be fun the moment he proposed it. He knew he’d be staring at Sylvain’s long and lean form, bent over the table as he figures out math and angles. Sylvain’s a smart guy, despite what people think. It’s one of the few times that the look on his face is truly genuine.

He’s more handsome now than ever before, something straight from Felix’s most vivid wet dreams. He has a love-hate relationship with those.

“Nothing about this is fun,” says Felix finally. “It’s infuriating.”

Sylvain bites the inside of his cheek in a huff, a nervous tic that he’s never been able to get rid of. “You’re the one making it so,” he says smoothly. “As I said, just relax. We’re here to play a game.”

“That I need to win if I want you good and gone.”

Sylvain pauses at that, still hanging over the table as he looks at Felix. “Is that really what you want Felix?” For once in his damn life, he sounds serious, not his usually mocking tone.

Felix doesn’t warrant the question with an answer. Instead, he just crosses his arms over his chest as he lurks in the corner near his pool cue.

Eventually, Sylvain gets tired of waiting. “Suit yourself,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Felix to hear. He lines up his ridiculous shot and takes a few practice sweeps. The moment he pulls back, Felix speaks.

“Of course I want you to piss off.”

Sylvain fucks up the shot, nearly miscuing. The cue ball lurches to the side, misses the seven entirely, and nearly sinks in the nine-ball instead. That’d be a game lost, one to Felix’s favor, which is greatly amusing.

To his credit, Sylvain doesn’t look angry, despite his swear. He looks dejected. And really, what does he expect? That he’d come back here to find everything normal? Back to the way it was? Felix is too tired for ifs, ands, and buts. He moved on years ago.

Or so Felix pretends. It’s his most practiced lie, second nature at this point.

The look, though, that shadow of sadness that falls across Sylvain’s face is gone nearly as soon as it appears. He schools it into a competitive grin instead, nodding to the table. “Well, here’s your chance,” says Sylvain, leaning onto his stool, cue resting against his thigh. “Knock me out of the game.”

Felix surveys the table. The ending lie of Sylvain’s kicked shot leaves Felix in a decent position. Just enough to smack the seven-ball in and clear the table if he can keep his mind empty. Felix looks at Sylvain again who stares right back. Easier said than done.

He sets up his shot, pulling back the cue a few times. He sinks the seven easily and with the left spin he put on the cue ball, it rolls over to the eight. The side pocket’s an easy target that leaves only the nine left.

“Think it through,” says Sylvain.

“Shut up.”

“Look, I’m just saying. The easiest shots are always the worst, especially when it’s the nine.”

True. Felix can hit a stellar shot and still fuck it up-- there are a thousand ways to lose a game of pool, almost all of them your fault. Felix knows that he should take a deep breath, sit back and think about angles and spin.

But he won’t because he’s too fucking impatient, the absolute worst quality he has.

“Nine-ball, corner pocket,” says Felix, gesturing with his cue. He forces himself to try and take his time, at least, breathing in deeply before letting it loose.

He fucks the shot up royally. Taps it a little too hard and overshoots, the cue ball sinking in right after the nine. A scratch, and the worst kind-- entirely self-inflicted because he’s far too distracted to keep his head in the game.

Felix blames it on Sylvain. Doesn’t matter what part of him-- that handsome, devilish smile of his; the way that he twirls his cue around nonchalantly; the gentle grasp he has around his crystal whiskey tumbler; the ease as he sinks in ball after ball.

It’s all the same shit as far as Felix is concerned.

“Man, you dogged it,” says Sylvain, a badly concealed smirk set across his face.

“You’re taking way too much pleasure in it.” Felix is beyond annoyed.

Sylvain’s expression changes as he raises an eyebrow. “Felix, if I wanted to take pleasure from something, it certainly wouldn’t be you losing.”

“Is that so?”

Sylvain doesn’t answer, he only stares him down, the depth of his face smoldering. And Felix stares back, frozen in place as he worries his lip between his teeth. At least after the game, he thinks. The pool hall deserves that much.

The tension between them is so thick you could cut it; the kind of joke that Ingrid would happily make were she watching their sorry asses dance around each other. Ridiculous, Felix thinks. Utterly ridiculous, how the two of them still act like teenagers who can’t keep it in their pants.

“You nearly had it,” says Sylvain finally, trying to diffuse the tightness in the air. “Next time I can show you--”

“I don’t need your pity,” says Felix suddenly.

Sylvain blinks. “An honest offer,” he says. “No pity involved.”

Felix knows there’s a catch, though. There has to be. When it comes to Sylvain, there’s always an ulterior motive.

They fall silent again for a moment that stretches a little bit too long. Staring at each other, neither willing to make the first move.

It’s Sylvain that finally does. “Rack them,” he says, pulling the balls from the pockets on his end of the table.

Felix says nothing as he sets the next rack, the nine-ball right in the center. He rolls them back and forth, pressing his fingers in between the wood and resin, ensuring a tight diamond.

“Three out of five, one to my name,” says Sylvain as he swipes some of his drink before cueing up his for his break.

It’s effortless as always, the crack of his shot deafening in the awkward quiet. He sinks two balls on the first go, the three, and the seven. Sylvain isn’t playing around this time. Felix knows he isn’t angry. He’s trying to distract himself.

And Sylvain does that by doing what he does best-- sharking pool.

He continues to clean the table in relative silence, intensely focused on the game. He gets like this when he’s thinking about things. Goes weirdly quiet as he formulates what he’s going to say next. Most think he’s inherently suave, an instinctual casanova, but that isn’t it at all.

Sylvain’s the best pretender around, carefully cultivating how others perceive him. Everything he says and does is by design.

Especially when it comes to Felix. It’s a well-practiced game to Sylvain when it comes to whatever the fuck their relationship is. Felix maintains there isn’t one, that there wasn’t ever. But it’s hard to hold to that when Sylvain’s two feet away in the pool hall, hustling right next to him every night. And Felix can’t stop looking, hasn’t ever been able to stop.

Even now.

“It’s hot in here,” says Sylvain, hooking a finger into the collar of his shirt, pulling at it slightly. It is, and a little humid too. That’s what the weather does this far south, as far away from Fhirdiad as you can get.

“You’re the one insisting on being fully clothed,” says Felix.

Sylvain’s usual fare of dress is high-class. Crisply ironed button-downs paired with a well-tailored vest. Sometimes he wears his pocket watch, sometimes it’s a pocket square. He always rolls up his sleeves though, showing off well-defined forearms. Paired with the sleeve garters, everyone can’t help but stare.

Felix included.

“Gotta look the part,” says Sylvain with a tawdry wink. “You know that.”

“You already do,” Felix huffs, “With all the money you spend on those ridiculous brand-name labels.” Because it’s always been the best of the best for Sylvain.

Sylvain responds by reaching up and pulling his tie loose, unfastening the top few buttons before pressing the collar open, showing off his collarbone. And the sheen of sweat that glistens in the shitty glow of the light hanging above the table. Felix finally looks away, settling his gaze onto the wall.

“Nine off the eight,” says Sylvain. “Corner pocket.” He doesn’t point to the corner pocket that Felix would aim for.

Sylvain leans against the table, ass on the railing, the cue behind him. Shooting backward because he’s a gluttonous prick who can’t help but show off.

“Wrong corner pocket, you dick,” says Felix, obstinate as always. Mostly because he can’t stop staring at Sylvain’s ass when he should be watching the game. Between that and Sylvain’s gleaming collarbone on display, Felix is a goner.

Sylvain’s aim is impeccable, so naturally, he sinks the nine, winning the second game. “Rack ‘em,” he says with a smirk, jumping off the table.

Felix snarls before doing as he’s asked. Sylvain keeps smirking, running a hand through his unruly hair, stretching out his neck just so. Because he knows; he’s seen Felix looking and he’s hamming it up.

“Insufferable git,” says Felix, dropping the balls into the triangle-shaped rack and shuffling them around.

“You’re the one who keeps staring.” Felix pauses, looking back at Sylvain. He knows a challenge when he hears one and Sylvain’s looking at him like he’s ready to eat him right up.

“Only because you’re utterly ridiculous,” says Felix finally. “Pompous and loud, cheating my good patrons out of their money. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Sylvain hums at that, sipping at his whiskey. “Well, if someone’s going to, I prefer it be you.”

Felix nearly throws the rack at him but he doesn’t, hanging it neatly where it belongs under the table instead. Ingrid would be proud of his remarkable restraint. “Your break,” says Felix, turning away.

Sylvain’s already chalking up his cue. Figuring out exactly how he wants to set up his final run. “One more, my favor,” he says. “Better step up your game.”

Felix intends to, tired of this song and dance, of playing cat-and-mouse. They’ve chased after each other for years. It’s time to put an end to it. As Sylvain preps his shot, Felix switches cue sticks, pulling a second one from his bag. Pitch black with mother of pearl accents, but a tad beat up and not well-polished.

When Sylvain turns to him, he goes stock still like he’s frozen in time. Watches as Felix screws it together, brows knitted as recognition sets in.

“You kept that old thing?” asks Sylvain, quietly.

“It shoots straight. Might as well.”

Sylvain’s surprised because he gave the cue stick to Felix. Spent nearly three month’s loose change when they were young and desperately poor. Probably thought Felix chucked it the moment that he fucked off. Felix nearly did, and nearly has repeatedly over the years. Never quite gets there.

There’s one thing that Felix is really, really bad at: actually getting rid of Sylvain once and for all. It’s a complicated thing, full of complicated feelings. For better and worse. Felix and Sylvain were very nearly something all those years ago. Shared a few kisses in dark corners, wandering hands here and there.

Childhood friends to nearly-lovers, then rivals to whatever the fuck they are now.

Felix has caught Sylvain off guard, judging by his unsure expression. And for once, Felix doesn’t know what he’s thinking, can’t really tell. Sylvain just looks at him with this entirely unreadable expression.

“What?” asks Felix, a little more bite to his tone than he wants.

Sylvain doesn’t immediately answer, just rubs at his chin with his fingers. Thinking. But then he smirks, shooting Felix a rather dirty grin, and just like that everything’s back to normal again,  brushed away like chalk from the table felt.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, swiping the cue ball from Felix’s hand and their fingers brush, Sylvain lingering. Felix is the one to pull away.

But, he can’t look away when Sylvain sets up his break, or the long lines of his frame as he leans over the table and tests the slide of his cue. Draped over the felt like he belongs here, in this dingy pool hall. Right before Felix, just like the days of old.

Felix sighs. He’s tired of longing for the past.

Sylvain’s cue makes great contact and the break spreads well. He sinks the two and four-ball and leaves a good lie for the one. Sinks that, and then the two. Leaves the three, and the five onward. Felix bites at his thumb nervously because Sylvain’s likely about to run the entire table with little effort.

He’s fucked this up.

Sylvain spares a glance at him and pauses, biting at his lip. Then he lines up his shot for the three. Should be an easy shot into the side pocket, incredibly straightforward. Until he fucks it up.  Intentionally.

“Shit,” murmurs Sylvain, “Jawed the tit.” Bounced right off the corner edge of the pocket.

Felix’s eyes narrow. Unlike before, this time it doesn’t seem like he’s giving him a chance to catch up or drag the game out. He’s left Felix with a pretty terrible lie. Whatever Sylvain’s plan is, it’s something else entirely.

Something that Felix isn’t sure he wants part of.

Which is why he doesn’t call it out. Instead, they swap sides, slowly rounding the table. Felix has been left with a shitty option for the three-ball, but still doable. He lines it up and calls his shot, takes a deep breath, and then shoots.

Sylvain watches from the stool on the opposite side, strangely quiet. The cue ball hits one rail, then the second, then connects with the three-ball, sinking it into the left corner. Felix lets out a sigh of relief and Sylvain a low whistle.

Felix makes quick work of the five and six-ball, leaving the seven in a good spot on the side pocket. He freezes, hesitating. The last time he had a shot like this, he fucked it up, leaving the table open for Sylvain to take the win.

And Felix knows that Sylvain won’t risk losing because he isn’t playing to keep hustling, he’s playing to keep Felix at his side. Even if they aren’t anything.

Anymore, Felix’s brain unhappily supplies.

“Think about it,” says Sylvain, just like before.

“I am,” says Felix irately.

“If you want, I can show you a trick. Help you sink shots like that with no issue.”

“I’d win.” It isn’t a guarantee, of course, but a high chance. The spread on the table is in Felix’s favor if he sinks this shot.

Sylvain shrugs and stands. “Fine by me,” he says. Sylvain walks around the table, running his hand along the wooden rail smoothly. Felix tracks the movement. Then Sylvain’s behind him, leaning close.

“Alright then,” he says right next to his ear. “Mind if I guide you?”

Felix nods minutely, words stuck in his throat because he lacks any conviction to say no. Sylvain reaches around him and takes the cue, carefully arranging Felix’s arms. “Loose form,” he says. “Lift your elbow just a bit, yeah, like that.”

Sylvain’s hand isn’t just warm, it practically burns through the sleeve of Felix’s shirt. “From this angle, you want the cue ball to kick left, so you’ve got to put your spin here.” Sylvain slots himself even closer, his pelvis flush with Felix’s ass. One hand on his waist, holding him there gently as he reaches even further to point to the cue ball.

The only thing that Felix can focus on Sylvain’s crotch and-- “Are you seriously hard right now?”

Sylvain freezes but he doesn’t move. “Can you blame me?” he asks simply. Like there’s nothing to it, like it’s completely normal. He doesn’t make any further movements to manhandle Felix, he just stands there nonchalantly as Felix’s gut twists at the thought of it.

Definitely not how this game is supposed to go.

“Yes,” says Felix, “I can absolutely blame you.”

A pause. Sylvain’s mouth is very close to his cheek, Felix can feel the gentle puffing of his breath against it. “Do you want me to move?” asks Sylvain, sincerely.

“No.” Felix’s answer is barely above a whisper and comes far too quickly. Sylvain’s breath hitches slightly as he shifts his stance just barely, his hardness more evident than ever before. “But at least help me finish the shot.”

“Felix--”

“You never give away your tricks,” cuts in Felix. “I’m not letting this opportunity go.”

Sylvain laughs mirthlessly but complies, guiding Felix’s cue to the proper position. “Tap it here, on the right. Not too hard, just enough to kiss it.” Felix swallows, trying not to think of the insinuating verbiage. He doesn’t want to kiss the ball, he wants to kiss Sylvain instead.

Sylvain pulls back but doesn’t move away entirely, still holding onto his waist. Felix sinks the shot and the cue ball kicks back just as it should.

Time slows, the both of them hesitating. Sylvain makes the first move. He doesn’t give Felix the chance to lean into another shot, turning him around and pressing him against the edge of the pool table.

Felix lets him, but says-- very weakly-- “We’ve got a game to finish.” He still has a cue in one hand as the other reaches up and latches onto the tie hanging loosely around Sylvain’s neck, tugging at it slightly. Teasingly, if he were the sort to tease.

Sylvain certainly takes it that way, reaching up to grip Felix’s chin lightly. “The only game I was playing wasn’t pool,” he says, thinking he’s smooth.

“I’m aware,” says Felix. “Noticed it the moment that you undid your shirt. How annoying.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

It certainly didn’t help, thinks Felix, but he’d been gone long before that. Before this night, weeks and months ago. He was gone the night Sylvain walked right back into his life.

“I’m tired of pretending,” says Felix. “Of ignoring it.” Because he is. Tired of being the last to leave work because he knows he’ll go home with Sylvain if he isn’t. Of watching from afar, itching to touch but resigning himself to stay on the other side of the room. Of Ingrid’s eye-rolling and suggestive hand gestures. It’s exhausting.

“So don’t,” says Sylvain.

Felix pulls him down and Sylvain meets his mouth eagerly. Felix is risking the balance of the pool table for this, leaning onto it fully as Sylvain presses in close, slipping a thigh between Felix’s legs.

Kissing Sylvain is like riding a bike; Felix remembers exactly how to do it. What Sylvain likes and the amount of pressure. The way their mouths slot together like it’s meant to be. Sylvain moans against his mouth, just a soft breathy sound like he can’t believe this is happening.

Maybe he can’t. Felix isn’t the type to reciprocate and he’s been fighting this for months. Not that Sylvain hasn’t tried his best to unruffle him, to get him to fall back into the ease of it.

Felix finally gives in, tumbling down that darkly lit corridor to chase that tell-tale fire that stokes slowly in his gut.

Sylvain’s lips are soft against his and he holds him too tenderly. Felix responds by yanking at the tie again and nipping at his mouth. Sylvain opens it in surprise and Felix’s tongue finds his, seeking out that wet warmth and comfort.

The sound that Sylvain makes is enough to fill Felix’s cock halfway.

They part to breathe and Felix knows he looks a mess. Flushed and breathing heavily in the hot and humid pool hall. Half-sprawled across one of his carefully balanced tables. He can’t find much care in it, his brain muddled by the sharp press of Sylvain’s body against his own.

“Shit, Felix.” Sylvain runs a thumb across the high arch of Felix’s cheekbone. Just looking at him as it slides across the seam of his mouth. Felix nips at the digit in response.

Their next kiss is a little slower, driven by Sylvain’s persistence to take his time. Felix is impatient but lets him lead, relishing in the softness of his lips. Sylvain slides a hand down his front and pulls his shirt from his pants. His fingers are cold against Felix’s skin despite the heat of the room, splaying smoothly across the planes of his stomach.

But he hesitates, nails just barely scratching at the top of Felix’s waistband.

“Touch me, you imbecile,” says Felix, demanding and needy, kicking his hips closer to drive home his point.

“Right,” says Sylvain against Felix’s lips. “Yes, okay.” He sounds even needier, something that Felix takes great pride in. Sylvain’s stopped kissing him, nose pressed into the nape of Felix’s neck instead, resting there. No doubt savoring the moment or whatever other romantic bullshit that Sylvain thinks when lost in the moment.

Felix’s only complaint is that he isn’t moving fast enough. “Sylvain,” he warns, “I’m this close to shoving you off and taking care of myself in the office.” Not his favorite option and not nearly as fun.

Sylvain pulls back, one hand gripping Felix’s chin. “You wouldn’t,” he says.

“Try me,” says Felix defiantly. Because he definitely would and Sylvain knows it.

And the way that Sylvain looks at him in response, how his gaze smolders as he smirks knowingly, makes Felix want to drown in the heat of it.

Sylvain surprises him by dropping to his knees against the hard ground, grasping Felix by the hips. Nuzzles at Felix’s crotch, where he tents his trousers. Felix lets out a soft moan, fingers finding Sylvain’s hair, scratching at his scalp.

They’d shared kisses in the past and rutted against each other fully clothed. Fevered hands grabbing at each other over rough cotton in dark corners as they roughly jerked off.

Sylvain’s hand is soft as he drags it over the front of Felix’s trousers, the touch somehow still familiar. Then he grips a little firmer, cupping him properly.

“Sylvain--”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Sylvain, fingers already pulling at his zipper instead. “Impatient as always. Just like old times.” Even with Felix egging him on, Sylvain is unbearably slow when it comes to undressing him. “I’m savoring it,” he says when Felix grunts in frustration. “You only get one first time with another.”

Felix can’t dispute that. Still. Felix moves, shimmying his trousers past his ass, letting them drop to the ground.

“That’s one way to do it, I suppose,” says Sylvain with a chuckle. Then Felix’s briefs quickly follow and he stops laughing. Sylvain’s mouth falls open as he stares, hands gripping Felix’s thighs tightly. “Felix,” he croaks, looking at him like he’s a man starving, fingers itching to touch. And do more.

Felix isn’t an angel. There’ve been others. But this is Sylvain, and Felix has never been like this with him, never given him that much.

He would’ve but it never panned out.

Sylvain leans in close, pressing a kiss at the juncture where Felix’s groin meets his thigh. Then to the base of Felix’s cock, his lips lingering there. Felix takes a deep breath, his eyes slipping closed at the sensation.

Then Sylvain swallows him down, his mouth hot and wet around his length.

“Fuck,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip on Sylvain’s hair. “Fuck.”

Sylvain moans around him as he bobs up and down his cock, tongue flat along the underside of him. Then on the upstroke, Sylvain’s tongue curls around the tip and his hand finds the part of Felix’s cock that isn’t buried in his mouth.

Felix wasn’t expecting this and he tells him as such. “You’re the kind that takes what he wants,” says Felix in a light-hearted jab. Even if this had gone another way, he wouldn’t have complained.

Sylvain pulls off to retort. “Oh, darling,” he says, pressing a sweet little kiss to the crown of his cock, “I never do anything that I don’t want to. And this? I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

“Insufferable bastard,” says Felix, but the insult dissolves into a blissed-out moan when Sylvain’s mouth finds him again, this time sucking around him properly. Felix can’t get enough of it, the tight and wet heat that engulfs his cock. The way that Sylvain works him like he’s trained his entire life for this.

Felix likes to think he has.

Sylvain’s hand moves to cup his balls, rolling them softly in the palm of his hand, and Felix nearly pulls Sylvain’s hair right from his head. He can feel the way that he smiles around his cock, the way that his laugh rumbles up from his throat. How it caresses his dick.

Felix shoves Sylvain’s face off none-too gently, his chest heaving as he tries his best not to come right then.

“Oh,” says Sylvain in surprise. Then his face melts into something amused. “Oh--”

“Shut it,” cuts in Felix. “I’m losing my patience and I didn’t want to finish in your mouth.”

“But what if I wanted you to?”

Felix blinks, the words barely registering. “What?”

“What if I wanted you to come in my mouth?” Sylvain looks up at him, eyes half-lidded and hazy with want. “What if I wanted to swallow it down?” It’s sinful, the earnest way that he says it. The way that Sylvain still cups his balls in one hand and drags lazy circles across Felix’s thigh with the other. Eagerly waiting.

Felix swallows thickly, thinking about the debauched image that fills his mind. Then he guides Sylvain back to his cock, his hands on either side of his face, thumbing at his cheekbones. Sylvain happily accepts it, tongue out and waiting before slotting his mouth around Felix’s length once more.

And he keeps going until the tip of Felix’s cock hits the back of his throat, and Sylvain’s nose is near the coarse hair at his pubic bone.

Felix is going to die, he’s pretty sure of it. Not a bad way to go, all things considered. One hand moves to grab at Sylvain’s hair tightly, the other still cupping his jaw. Sylvain’s efficient in the way that he moves, sliding up and down, tonguing expertly around him. The pressure as he sucks and laps at his cock.

“I’m--” Felix tries to warn that he won’t last much longer. “Sylvain, I’m--”

Sylvain doubles his efforts, letting go of his balls to press his fingers a little further back. Against the smooth skin there, massaging at it gently. Felix curses and spills into his mouth, doing his best to not buck against him. The tightly coiled tension has snapped and Felix does his best to come down from the high of it, but he’s nothing but a puddled mess, leaning back against the pool table. His legs shake like jelly.

When Sylvain pulls off him, he looks triumphant, swallowing Felix’s spend like it’s an expensive delicacy. Which is almost worse, the fucked-out look of it. Seeing Sylvain like this, on his knees before him, lips swollen and face ruddy in the aftermath of spectacularly sucking him off.

It’s almost enough to get Felix going again.

Felix tugs at Sylvain’s tie and he stands, leaning over him again, slotted between Felix’s open legs. Felix doesn’t care where his mouth’s been, he pulls Sylvain in for a kiss. Tastes himself as Sylvain deepens it, licking into Felix’s mouth.

Sylvain’s cock is fully hard and digging into his thigh.

“You’re wearing too much,” says Felix when he breaks the kiss.

“Going to return the favor?” asks Sylvain, his hands braced against the table rails on either side of Felix.

“No,” says Felix. “Not this time. You took too long, indulging as you did.”

“You weren’t complaining about it.”

“And I won’t.” Felix knows he’s being cheeky but Sylvain loves it, the way that he teases. Felix presses a hand to the open collar of his shirt where it’s undone, fingering Sylvain’s collarbone there.

“Irritating,” he continues. “How good you look when you show off your skin.”

“Only for you, babe,” says Sylvain.

Felix scoffs. “That, I doubt.”

Sylvain’s expression changes, softening. “No, really,” he says. “Not in a long time.” It isn’t a lie; judging by the subtle change in his demeanor, Sylvain’s sharing a rare moment of truth.

Felix stares at him for a long moment, and Sylvain stares right back. Then, Felix’s hand shifts down to Sylvain’s vest. “So, no one else has peeled this off you in a while, then.” He toys casually with a button.

“That’d be right.”

“That must’ve been annoying.” Felix undoes one button and then the rest, and Sylvain shucks the vest off faster than Felix can finish his sentence. “Knowing you.”

“I managed,” says Sylvain.

Felix hums as his hand curls into the front of Sylvain’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Must’ve put your hand through the wringer,” taunts Felix. He unbuttons the rest, pulling it from Sylvain’s trousers. Sylvain’s always looked good, but he’s downright unfair now with his trim waist and just-enough-muscle.

“A downright nightmare,” says Sylvain with a chuckle. “Damn near sprained the thing.” Then he leans close, his mouth near Felix’s ear as he whispers, “Last few months especially, with all the thinking I’ve done about you.”

Those are the words that do him in. Felix’s hands drop to Sylvain’s waist, pulling at his trouser band. His hands are steadier than expected he when unzips them. Not so much when he slips his hand in, caressing Sylvain’s cock through his underwear.

The moan Felix gets in response can set him on fire.

“You’re cruel,” says Sylvain through a punched breath.

“Not as much as you with how slow you’re being. Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Sylvain has two modes. The first is the saccharine one where he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his voice smooth as silk. The kind that makes women swoon at romantic, chivalrous ideas, toes curling in their shoes.

This is the second; the searing hot one where his smile is a devilish smirk, and everything that he whispers against Felix’s ear is dirty and salacious. “Is that what you want?” asks Sylvain, before pressing a kiss just below Felix’s chin. “Goddess knows it’s what I want, you underneath me all hot and bothered.”

Sylvain’s intoxicating in the way that he leans close to him, and the weight of his hard cock pressed against Felix’s thigh.

“You’re all talk,” says Felix, rubbing a thumb across the front of Sylvain’s briefs, relishing in the wet dampness there. The way that his cock tents against the soft cotton there, twitching slightly under Felix’s grasp.

Were he more a patient man, he’d suck Sylvain off. But Felix isn’t, so he’ll save it for another time.

“You wound me, Felix,” says Sylvain, eyes shutting as he bites at his lip.

“Certainly no action,” says Felix, fingers tugging at the waistband of his briefs, letting it snap back into place.

Sylvain groans. “Have you forgotten so quickly? How I was on my knees before you just moments ago?”

Felix’s hands still as he thinks about it. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget such a sight,” he says.

And he won’t. It’ll haunt his dreams for decades to come. Even now, Sylvain looks so delectable; his face flushed, his shirt is open in the front and showing off his pecs, and his sleeves rolled up to the arm garters, revealing perfectly toned forearms.

Felix said it before, how irritating it is; how he can’t help but stare, to drink up and memorize it so he’ll never forget. Maybe he won’t have to. Maybe this’ll be the start of something new and a little more permanent. He won’t hold his breath.

Sylvain’s unpredictable at best and despite his earlier promise that there hasn’t been anyone else, for years, it’s always been the flavor of the week when it came to his interests.

“I’m waiting,” says Felix, tugging at Sylvain’s briefs again.

“Okay,” breathes Sylvain, kicking off his pants entirely. His briefs land in a messy pile on the floor beside them. His hand finds Felix’s hip, squeezing it gently as he looks down. Felix feels the heat of his gaze deep in his gut, his cock already twitching again.

Sylvain smirks as he sees it, hand sliding over Felix’s front and then down, his fingers nestling into the hair at the base of his dick. “Gorgeous,” says Sylvain, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Felix’s neck. “But you know that.”

“Yes,” says Felix. Then pauses, huffing. “Still waiting.”

Sylvain licks a stripe up the side of his neck, then says, “Lube?”

At least he’s considerate. Felix is too impatient to even think about something like that at the moment. “What, none on you? What’s happened to your stellar reputation?” As a player who was always ready. Felix is going to tease him about it until the end of time.

“Wasn’t expecting this to happen,” says Sylvain, looking around the room.

“You practically orchestrated this.”

“Trying to seduce you isn’t the same as actually doing it.” Sylvain’s got a point there. Felix is notoriously prickly. He’d managed to ignore it the best he could for months. Until he couldn’t anymore. Sylvain’s gaze settles on something at the far end of the room. “Jackpot,” he says, pulling away from Felix.

Felix watches his backside with a burning gaze, eyes honed in Sylvain’s perfect ass. Sylvain digs through his cue stick bag before pulling out a bottle. Then, Felix narrows his eyes. “Is that your cue stick oil?”

“What?” asks Sylvain, looking incredibly dumb as he stands there mostly naked and confused. “It’ll work.”

“Sylvain, I’m not--”

“It’s linseed oil,” cuts in Sylvain, “and it’s very good for--” Felix bursts into laughter and Sylvain stops dead. “What now?”

Of all the things they can argue about, it’s what they’re going to use as lube. Not their sordid past, or the awkward shit between them, or hell, why Sylvain even left in the first place. But lube.

Sylvain crosses the room in record time. “I’ve broken you,” he murmurs.

Felix clears his throat and says, “Not yet.” He leans back onto the table and spreads his legs, and Sylvain’s gaze drops right to where Felix wants it. Sylvain’s throat bobs as he swallows. “But I expect you to ruin me entirely.”

“Shit,” says Sylvain, a soft little curse as he looks skyward. “I can do that.” His hands find Felix again, squeezing at his hips, running along his sides, pressing close enough that it’s hard to tell where Felix ends and Sylvain begins.

“I mean it,” says Felix. He’s never been one for dirty talk, but with Sylvain, it feels natural. He reaches out to grab the loose tie that still hangs limply around Sylvain’s neck. Felix’s other hand dips into the open shirt, smoothing over a pec. He thumbs at Sylvain’s nipple and gets a low moan in return. “Make it impossible for me to forget.

Sylvain will, Felix knows it. Can already tell by the way that Sylvain whimpers softly against his neck when Felix’s hand drops to grab his cock. Felix’s fingers finally circle around him after such a long wait. He’s hard and wanting in Felix’s hand, already wet at the tip.

“Turn around,” says Sylvain when he regains his senses. Felix responds by sliding his hand up and down instead. “Felix, move--” Felix palms the crown of Sylvain’s dick and he chokes out a sound that Felix would give his first child to hear again.

Sylvain turns him around and presses Felix’s chest down against the felt of the table. “We’re going to fuck up the table,” says Felix, teasing. He doesn’t give a shit about the table anymore, the only thing that matters is Sylvain’s hands on his ass, settling him into a more preferable position.

“Not as fucked as you will be,” says Sylvain, leaning over and whispering into his ear. “Thoroughly and extensively. Within an inch of your life.”

Terrible, terrible lines that absolutely work on Felix. “Do your worst, then,” says Felix, goading him.

Sylvain smiles against the side of Felix’s neck. Felix can imagine it, the way that Sylvain’s lips are curled dangerously. Sylvain presses a soft kiss against the skin there, directly contradictory to the way that his hands slide across his ass, massaging it gently.

“Is that a challenge?” asks Sylvain.

Felix scoffs. “Everything’s a game with you, isn’t it?”

“Not this.” Sylvain’s voice is quiet as he bites at the back of Felix’s neck. “Never this.”

Felix loves it, the way that Sylvain sprinkles in romantic shit as he touches him. “Is that a promise?”

“Yes,” says Sylvain immediately. Sincerely. Like he’s holding the world in his fingertips. One hand slides around Felix’s front, tweaking a nipple through his shirt that’s stubbornly remained on.

Felix hates how much he craves this kind of attention, those soft-spoken words of attention that he’s longed to hear, even when he was pushing them away. In the end, he’s never been able to say no to Sylvain, even if he tries. He’ll always come back.

Still, Sylvain’s insufferably slow at this, taking his damn time. Fingers skimming across Felix’s skin as he relishes the way he’s pressed into the pool table underneath him. “You’re playing lemonade,” says Felix. Stalling everything intentionally, slowing the pace of the game to a crawl. “Get on with it.”

“Yes, yes,” says Sylvain, pulling back. He spreads Felix’s ass cheeks and stares. Felix squirms under the touch, kicking his hips, trying to get the game on the road.

Sylvain slicks his fingers with the accursed cue stick oil and presses one against him. Felix’s breath hitches in anticipation, huffing slightly as Sylvain carefully circles around his entrance. When he slips the finger in, Felix moans so loudly that it’s embarrassing, practically echoing in the empty pool hall.

“Dammit, Felix,” murmurs Sylvain, working his finger in gently, pressing around inside. “Your--”

“So it’s been a while,” Felix bites out. “Fuck off.”

“No, that’s not--” Sylvain pauses, biting at his lip. “Goddess, I can’t wait to just--”

“Faster then, you idiot. I won’t break.”

Felix knows that Sylvain will still be careful, though, treating him like he’s something precious. Sylvain keeps it slower than Felix prefers, pressing in and out leisurely as he tugs slightly at his rim. Then a second finger joins the first. Felix loves the stinging pressure and the way that it makes him feel alive. It sets his blood on fire as it starts to boil, the pressure mounting deep in his gut.

Felix is hard again, cock twitching as it hangs below them.

Sylvain’s fingers move a little faster, setting a prickling pace. The way that he slips them in, the way he spreads them wide to lovingly stretch him-- Felix thrusts back against Sylvain’s hand, trying to speed up the process.

A third finger is added, Sylvain perfectly attuned to the wants and needs of Felix. Felix moans again, bites at his lip, grips tightly at the table rails below him. Sylvain’s good at what he does, prepping him so nicely.

Then his fingers stroke across his prostrate and Felix tightens up.

“Bull’s eye,” says Sylvain triumphantly.

Felix huffs, trying to seem indifferent. “Took you long enough,” he says, but his voice pitches high, crying out wantonly as Sylvain caresses him there relentlessly.

“Not yet,” says Sylvain. He slows his fingers but he doesn’t stop, moving them slowly as Felix does his best to not buck against his hand. “Don’t come until I’m inside you properly.”

“Give me some credit. It’s going to take more than your half-assed efforts.”

Sylvain’s fingers halt. Then he pulls them out entirely, leaving Felix suddenly bereft, his hole clenching around nothing.

“Half-assed,” repeats Sylvain, opening the bottle of oil once again. Felix looks back, watching as he pours it over his cock. He’s delicious looking, long and hard as Sylvain spreads the oil around with his hand. Then he’s spreading Felix’s ass again, thumbing at his loosened hole, watching with a dark and heated gaze. “I thought we weren’t playing games?”

“That was before you decided to take too long. I think I’ve already threatened you about that.”

Sylvain laughs before pulling Felix’s hips back. He nudges Felix’s entrance with the tip of his cock. “Ready?”

“A decade ago,” says Felix. It’s a double meaning, they both know it. They’ve wanted to indulge in this for far too long which is why Felix is so tired of waiting. He has to commend Sylvain on his valiant show of constraint because if it were Felix in his position, he’d have already lost.

Sylvain slides in like it’s second nature. He fills Felix up like he’s always belonged there. And maybe he has, maybe this is what Felix has been missing for so long. The heat and pleasure of what’s probably the world’s most perfect cock.

The man attached to it isn’t so bad either.

“Fuck,” says Sylvain, leaning forward once he’s fully seated, pressing his brow into the back of Felix’s neck. Waiting. Trying to ground himself. His fingers grip Felix by the hips, nearly bruising as he hangs on.

“You aren’t yet.” Felix can’t help the banter and Sylvain chuckles. Presses a kiss to his neck and then moves.

The slide of his cock is smooth. Sylvain’s lazy in the way that his length drags through Felix, a carefully maintained pace that’s just gentle enough. The kind of pace that’s wholly satisfying but not nearly enough.

It’s Felix’s turn to curse; filthy words, Sylvain’s name, anything that he can remember at the moment. He presses back, meeting Sylvain’s thrusts eagerly.

“Are you going to come like a clean shot?” asks Sylvain, his lips finding his ear, tongue licking around the shell of it. “Without me touching you? Like you’ve sunk the nine-ball without any interference.”

Felix should hate the ridiculous pool analogy on principle. He doesn’t, tightening up in response to the jargon. Felix moans at the words, biting at his lip and Sylvain smirks like he’s just won a new pot of money. Felix feels so satisfyingly full. Sylvain’s cock hits in all the right places as he moves over him. In and out. Pulls at his rim with stinging satisfaction.

Sylvain lifts Felix’s leg slightly, the angle changes and suddenly, Felix is seeing stars. Blinding white pleasure now that Sylvain’s cock has direct access to his prostate. Felix is mostly sprawled across the table now, his cock pressed into the soft felt of the table. Dribbling precome pathetically all over it.

“The table’s wet,” whispers Sylvain naughtily into his ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. Felix knows he doesn’t mean the humidity of the room and how it can fuck up a game. Sylvain reaches around to grab Felix’s cock, hand sliding along the length in time as he thrusts into him. “Felix, look at the mess you’ve made.”

“More,” says Felix, needily. He barely recognizes his own voice, too busy chasing the high that’s coursing through him. He can only focus on the thrust of Sylvain’s hips and the way that he fills him so perfectly, setting his nerves alight with every touch.

Sylvain delivers, pressing in as deep as he can go. He’s got a slick grip on Felix’s cock, fingers curled around it loosely as he jerks him. Sylvain bites at the meat of Felix’s shoulder, marking him up, and Felix moans, craving it.

“Felix, fuck.” Sylvain sounds so gone, his hips dragging against Felix in stuttering motions. He’s close, Felix can tell. And Felix is close too, the heat in his groin tightening more and more with every touch of Sylvain’s hand over his dick.

“Inside,” says Felix.

Sylvain pauses. “What?”

“I said to come inside me, you bonehead, not to stop. As in--”

“Yeah, yeah,” murmurs Sylvain. “Shit, Felix. You’ve got a way with words don’t you?” Then he lets go of his cock, leaving Felix feeling stripped of pleasure and entirely on edge. “Think you can do it? Come from just my cock?”

Felix can and he will, wholly determined. It’s perfect, Sylvain’s perfect; from the heat of his length, to the way that drags at him-- Felix can’t think of coming any other way. “Yes,” he says, his voice cracking like the word’s been punched straight from his gut. “Yes.”

Sylvain leans back, fingers digging into the meat of Felix’s waist. He doesn’t speed up, but he thrusts in hard and deep, sweeping strokes that aim to finish this off quickly.

“Look at you,” says Sylvain, “Taking me so well. Always knew that you would.” He spreads Felix’s cheeks, watching as his cock slips in, watching the way that Felix’s rim is stretched around him. Felix can imagine that satisfied smirk on his face, the kind that he gets when he’s won a pot.

Felix is the first to come, his cock just barely touching the felt of the table as Sylvain ruts into him. He tips over the edge, crying out Sylvain’s name and a litany of curses. None of them bad, all of them deserved. He feels rung out and limbless, legs shaking as he collapses onto the table.

Sylvain’s right behind, thrusting in only a few more times because he comes deep, filling him up.  The resulting sound is downright sinful, Sylvain’s moan the kind of thing that Felix dreams about every night.

Even his dreams can’t compare. Sylvain lives up to the hype, thinks Felix as he breathes heavily, awkwardly folded against the pool table. His only regret is that he’d been facing away, that he wasn’t able to see Sylvain’s face in the throes of his orgasm.

Next time.

Sylvain’s careful when he pulls out. He’s gone for only a moment before he’s back with his polishing towel, splashed with lukewarm water from the tap. He cleans Felix up with a soft touch, pausing to look at his work. Felix can feel his spend leaking out of him. Moans when Sylvain presses it back in, his thumb lolling around his hole with smug satisfaction.

“Was it an adequate ruining?” he asks Felix.

Felix shoots him a rude gesture back, too tired to say anything else. Sylvain only chuckles, finishes wiping him up, and then leans in close for a sweet kiss against Felix’s sweaty head.

“For the record, I think you ruined me more,” says Sylvain. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Felix won’t either. After a few minutes, he finds the strength to move, pulling back from the table. Then he sees the absolute mess he’s made all over the felt. Felix pinches the bridge of his nose, hissing at the idea of it.

Sylvain looks over his shoulder, wincing. “That’s, uh--”

“It’s ruined,” says Felix. “I’ll have to get it re-felted.” It’s his fault, though, not Sylvain’s. Not entirely at least. Felix was so gone he didn’t even think about it, lost entirely in their passion. Felix sees Sylvain’s expression and he reaches out, grabbing him by the shirt sleeve. “It isn’t a big deal.”

Sylvain’s flushed and sweaty, his cheeks pink and his hair mussed. Looks like he ran a marathon. Might as well have; Felix put him through the wringer. But then Sylvain smiles like he’s found the meaning of life, a wide grin that makes Felix’s heart stutter.

Felix leans back against the edge of the pool table gingerly and pulls Sylvain close. Sylvain follows, his hands immediately finding purchase on his waist. “Does this mean I’m not kicked out?” asks Sylvain quietly.

“You do bring me a lot of business,” says Felix.

“Oh, so this is all business then?”

Felix is quiet for a moment, fiddling with Sylvain’s collar. “No, it isn’t all business. It’s definitely something more.”

Sylvain cups his cheek, looking at him seriously. Felix pulls him down for a kiss, the kind where lips linger because you want them to. He doesn’t want to forget the way that Sylvain tastes.

When they part, they clean up. Felix limps about slightly, resulting in more raunchy innuendo from Sylvain. He’s never going to hear the end of it.

But Felix doesn’t want to, smiling softly when Sylvain isn’t looking.

They leave the pool hall tired and satisfied, fingers melded together as they walk hand-in-hand. Sylvain stays the night at Felix’s shitty apartment and it’s surprisingly chaste; they fall asleep fully clothed, shoved into a too-small bed, and wrapped around each other.

The next night at the pool hall is the same old bullshit.

Sylvain’s hustling Felix’s customers, stripping them of their money by winning pot after pot. Felix stands against the wall not far off, arms crossed over his chest as he watches. His expression is disgusted as usual. But his demeanor is entirely soft.

Ingrid notices. “Something happened,” she says.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” says Felix, obstinate as ever.

Ingrid levels him with a look. “You and Sylvain. Spill.”

“We played a few games last night.”

“Did you win?”

Ingrid sits on the edge of the doomed pool table. It’s covered that night and entirely off-limits. Felix isn’t sure that he’ll ever be able to look at it again, his face burning red at the mere thought of what he and Sylvain did there.

“You--” Ingrid’s mouth falls open. Then her gaze drops to the table which usually isn’t out of commission. “No,” she says. She jumps off it. “ No.”

Felix doesn’t confirm nor deny it, just sips at his well-deserved alcohol as he looks back at Sylvain. He’s dashing as ever, despite the shitty lighting, sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. He isn’t wearing a vest this time and the collar’s undone, showing off what Felix would consider his biggest fucking weakness.

He swallows thickly and Ingrid makes a disgusted noise.

“I mean, about fucking time,” she says, “But really, Felix? Here?”

“It wasn’t planned,” he says truthfully.

Silence stretches between the two of them, relatively comfortable. Sylvain wins another pot, leaving behind an angry victim. Looks like someone’s about to go fisticuffs.

“You should go stop whatever that is,” says Ingrid.

“Yeah,” murmurs Felix, pushing away from the wall.

Back to normal, thinks Felix as he tries to talk the scorned gentleman down from punching Sylvain right across the face. Except that it isn’t. Things have shifted entirely, almost like they’ve both gone back in time, and moved forward. The start of something fresh and new.

Felix can think of worse things.

[oingo233]

If It Hurts

Summary: A run goes terribly wrong and Daryl, wounded, must depend on you to get the two of you out.  But will the threat be more than you and the group can handle?  

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Authors Note: This is for Ria’s writing challenge. @im-a-writer-right​. I hope this turned out alright, I enjoyed writing it!  Also the prompts are in bold.

Warnings: Violence, Gore, unwanted sexual comments(not smutty), cussing, and a whole lots of angst which was actually unintentional and just happened, but now I’m crying at 12 in the morning.  Death, and changing POV’s.

Word Count: 4k...oops.

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A song played softly from the trucks radio as Rick, Carol and you hum along.  Glenn and Maggie are seated in the back of the truck with the bags you’ll all set out with when you get to your destination.  You were about an hour or two from the prison, out on a supply run.  Daryl found a small, deserted town and thought it would be a good idea to look for supplies there.  We were low on medicine and food, hoping to find that and whatever else you could, if we were lucky we’d find seeds too.  

Your window was rolled down and you stuck your arm out of it, spreading your fingers and letting the wind caress your hand.  After the world went to shit, you learned to enjoy the little things, life was too short not to.  You shiver as Daryl glances back at you all, smiling at the way your hand was lazily out of the car, you gave him a small wave and he revved up his engine in acknowledgment. Carol and Rick share a look which you don’t bother to make a snarky comment about, these happy moments were fleeting and you weren’t going to ruin the mood.

You knew the truth, and accepted it long ago.  You loved Daryl, an overwhelming amount at times, and he loved you too.  But in a way that you weren’t sure if he was just being friendly or not. So you kept quite, and decided that just being around him was good enough for you.  You have known Daryl since before y’all found Ricks group. He saved you from a group of walkers that killed your friend, you were devastated and scared of being alone.  He took you in, well, you followed him for three days until he let you join him begrudgingly.  He says he only kept ya around for walker bait if he’d ever need it.  But you knew this wasn’t the truth.

You were the person closest to Daryl, able to understand him and him you.  You were always the first one to ease a smile out of him, or the first to piss him off. Daryl was the one person, who if he was by your side, you always felt better about the world you all lived in today. 

The easiness of the day filled your heart with joy, and you hollered out the window, letting the wind carry your voice else where.  Everyone in the truck chuckled, but up ahead Daryl sped up and screamed into the window with you.  Rick sped up too, laughing.  Everyone knew that no walker could touch you at this speed.  

Soon, you all arrived at the destination.  Glenn and Maggie climbed out of the truck, engaged in a conversation. You sneak a glance at the couple, and internally cooed at the way Glenn was looking at Maggie.  As if she was the world.  You watched as Daryl approached the group and wondered if you looked at him that way.  He caught you staring and winked, you ignore your blush and push forwards some confidence.

“Miss me?”  You call out to his approaching figure.  He shrugs off his crossbow and gives you a pointed look.

“Nah, I was just thinkin’ bout how quite it was without ya, until ya screamed out to the fuckin’ wind.”  He feigned annoyance at first, then looked back at you with a slight smile.  You roll your eyes, and bring your hand to your mouth, pretending to zip it up.  He was the one to roll his eyes now as he walks past you towards Carol to retrieve a bag from her.  She was handing them out from the back of the truck, and when Daryl came back he threw one at you.  You caught it with a tight smile. Nearly hit your damn face.  

Everyone was quite as Rick explained the plan.  “We move as a unit, no one needs to get hurt today.  Last time we checked this place is was uninhabited, but watch out for walkers.  It’s a big town so lets not split up...unless we need the time.  Alright.”  He frees his gun from the holster and holds it out infront of him.  

“Thought you said it was uninhabited.”  Glenn said, Rick glanced back at him.

“I also said ‘last time’.” Rick replies, Carol chimed in with a warm smile.  Seems I wasn’t the only one enjoying the day.

“Nothing wrong with being careful.” She says, pulling out her own gun and following Rick towards the first store.  Glenn and Maggie move infront of you and then Daryl pulls out his crossbow and nudges you to move forward.  You push him back a bit before walking forward, you don’t need to see him to know the massive eyeroll he just pulled.  

It was only out in the open like this, with people he trusted and loved that he was comfortable.  Back at the prison, with all the new arrivals, Daryl was closed off and distant from a lot of people.  Some might even call him brooding.

You guys made it through three separate stores before everything went to shit, and just like that the peaceful day turned into a living nightmare.

You were walking the sidewalk with Maggie, keeping watch while the others cleared out the inside of the fourth building.  You heard Daryl whistle letting you know it was all clear, when the first shot rang out.  Everything felt slow as you sprinted around the side of the building, covering yourself.  You looked around for the source of the sound, but saw no one.  You saw no one.  You were filled with dread as you realized you were all alone.  Maggie must have ran inside the store, instead of to the corner of it, out in the open...god how could you be such a dumbass. 

You put a hand over your mouth and pushed further against the wall as you heard footsteps.  They echoed against the eerie silence in the town, horror filled you as you counted numerous steps all at once.  There was a group of hostile survivors, and you were alone with a pistol and an axe.  You tried to fill yourself with positive thoughts, reminding yourself that you’re a badass.  You could take them, easy...

“Come on out, pretty thing.”  A deep voice rumbled out, the sound filled your body with queasiness.  “I’d like to run a number on you...”He let out a loud wolf whistle and you heard a shuffle from inside the store, before it fell deathly silent again.  Only the sounds of footsteps getting closer and closer.

“C’mon, we just want one of ya.  Though we’d take two given the chance.” Obnoxious laughter rings out before a new, younger voice speaks up. 

“Pretty girls are hard to find now a days.  Why don’t you be nice and come out for us.  We’ll treat ya for it.”  The laughter sounded again, and this time it was closer.  You gripped your pistol tighter, finger rigid on the trigger.  Then a loud sound came from inside the store, yelling and crashing.  

“Daryl no!”  It was Carols voice, and you swear you heard Rick telling him to wait.  But it was too late, your heart stopped at the thought of Daryl getting hurt.  The footsteps fade away from you and towards the entrance of the door. Through the commotion you heard the whiz of a crossbows bolt.  A loud groan rang out and your heart gave out, until you heard another bolt and some gunshots.  

You stepped out from the corner only to be dragged away as more gunshots rang out.  You scream out and fight to get away, but the strong arm was unmoving from your waist.  You were dragged into the nearest store, you looked around at the unfamiliar surrounding and noticed it was one you haven’t checked yet.  You scream louder, hoping someone from your group would hear you.  “Shut it, girl.”  The hand moved from your waist and you spun around to see Daryl.  His crossbow in one hand, and the one previously wrapped around your waist was hugging his own.  

“Daryl...”You breathe out.  You felt more relieved than you should considering the still risky situation you were in.  “I thought...”Your eyes water and you pull Daryl into your chest for a tight hug.  He stiffens for a moment before hugging you with one arm, the crossbow digging into your shoulder but you didn’t care.  He tucks his head away in the crook of your neck, his lips part and you feel his hot breath roll down your neck and shoulder. 

“I know.  Me too.”  He grunts out, his voice rougher than usual.  You pull away confused.  You feel a strange wetness against your side and look down to see your shirt covered in blood, but it wasn’t your own.  At a shocking speed you look at Daryls stomach to see him holding his side, blooding leaking through his fingers.  

Your chest heaves and constricts at the sight.  His shirt dripped blood every few seconds and his shirt seemed to be just a red puddle against his waist.  You blink back tears and grab Daryls shoulder, not able to look him in the eye.  He was hurt because of you...

“Lie down.”  You say stiffly.  He grunts out and tries to move towards the door and the chorus of gunshots and fighting outside.

“M’ fine.  We need to go.  Ain’t safe.”  You take his other shoulder and meet his stare.  

“Lie down.”  You say softly.  He only stares at you.  Your heart beats even faster and your primal fear of losing him kicks in.  You were losing too much time, he was losing too much time and too much blood.  “Daryl, lie the fuck down and let me help you.  Please.”  He lets you grab the crossbow from his hand and lightly set it down, his hand was sticky with blood.  But he doesn’t lie down, he looks behind you towards the window where we can see Rick duck behind a car after firing another round at these dangerous strangers.

  He looks back down at you, ready to say another thing about leaving, but his words fall short as he sees tears stream down your face.  You roughly wipe them away.  With one last look at you, and an agonized groan, Daryl laid down.  Before he fell back completely you stopped him.  

“On your side, I need to see if there is an exit wound.”  Daryl stared at you a while longer, you’ve only seen his scars once and it turned into a fight.  He couldn’t look at you for days after.    “Please, Daryl I can’t lose you.  You don’t get to die today because you’re a stubborn asshole.” You beg. He tucks his head under his arm and avoids your eyes as he turns on his side. You wipe at more tears furiously as he waits for you to look at him in disgust.  You remind yourself to talk to him about this later, as you see the distant and uncomfortable expression he wears, glaring at the shelf across from him.  You weren’t sure if it was the gunshot wound, or this moment you two were about to relive that made him act this way.  

“May I look?”  You ask him softly, knowing that either way you were going to, but you knew he’d appreciate it.  He nods slowly, taking a deep breath not unnoticed by you.  You kneel down and replace his hand apply pressure with your own, smaller one, his fingers retracted slightly from you, before he placed his shaking hand on top of yours. Softly you lift the fabric up his back.  He winces slightly.  A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you see that right above his hip, there was a gaping hole.  An exit wound, and it didn’t seem to be in a critical place.  You quickly stole a look at his scars, it was unintentional but filled your heart with even more love for the man. He was strong, and he would survive this...he had to.  

But his skin felt feverish, and you looked at his face to find him shockingly pale.  You only then noticed the small puddle of blood forming around your knees. You quickly push his hand down on the wound again and let your hand apply pressure to the exit wound, a small sob escaping your lips.

“That bad huh?”  He grunts out.  You control your breathing, refusing to lose control and let him die.  You quickly grab a shirt from the nearest rack and press it against the wound.

“Stay here.” You say, deciding on a plan.  His head whips to yours, and he groans out in pain, eyes fluttering dangerously.  

“You ain’t leaving.”He demands.

“Well, you ain’t dying.  I’ll be back before you know it.”  You offer him a soft smile before kissing his temple, and running out the door.  Lips burning. You ignore his shouts as you open the door, and burst out onto the battlefield.  Your group hidden behind cars, you feared the body count and pain you’d all carry after today. With Daryl in the condition he was in, your heart couldn’t stand the thought of any of your make shift family members dead.  Rick catches your eye, and you notice his expression falter at the sight of all the blood on you.  “Daryl.”  You mouth to him.  “Cover me.”  He swallows his emotions and nods to you.  Getting the attention of everyone as you run towards the store you saw needles in, and left your bag in, which had some alcohol in it.

Daryl’s POV

Daryl keeps his eyes trained on (Y/N) for as far as he can see through the broken window.  His side crippled with pain, and every time his eyes unfocused a bit more he’d be struck with a wave of hopelessness.  Is that was dying feels like?  Well, ain’t a bad way to go, he thought, taking the bullet for someone you love.  His thoughts turn bitter as he glances out the window, anxiety crushing his lungs.  Only for ‘er to fucking run out and kill ‘erself.  

“(Y/N)” He called once more. He listened for your sweet voice, hoping to hear you say some smartass thing.  Hoping he wouldn’t die alone.  

“(Y/N)!” He croaked out once more.  He didn’t care if he was being too loud, he was scared, he’d never say it out loud, but he was.  His heart sighed as he heard shuffled footsteps.  Ready to tell you off for being reckless.  But as he glanced over his shoulder he was met with the sagging, bloody face of the undead.  

Despite his pain he uses his feet to push himself backwards up against a cold metal shelf, empty of food.  A low moan left the walkers mouth and Daryl reached for his crossbow a few feet away.  He couldn’t reach it.  Daryl gritted his teeth and overeached, he fell on his shot side and yelled out in pain.  A new rush of blood pushes past the fabric of the two shirts.  

With a weak, trembling hand he shot the walker in the shoulder.  He gritted his teeth, still on his side, and shot the walker again, this time, through the head.  The walker fell to the floor not too far from him.  Daryl stared in it’s shallow eyes, wondering if that’ll be him soon.  It sure felt like it.  He lays and stares at the walker when he noticed something wrong.  It was silent.

No more gunshots, or yells.  No more fighting. He propped himself up on his elbow painfully, and glanced out the window.  What he saw made his heart drop.  He gripped his crossbow tighter, and struggled to get up.  But he just collapsed back in a puddle of his own blood.

“We got the girl.”  A man was holding you by the hair with one hand, and holding a knife to your throat with the other.  He rubbed his graying beard against the side of your face in lustful affection. “Just the one I was hoping for too.”  The men behind him that were still alive chuckled. Daryl let out a growl worst then the walkers and tried to aim his crossbow at the man whose arms you were squirming in.  Arms you were hurtin’ in, he thought.  But even a fool knew the bolt would fall short.

Daryl felt like he was drowning in cold sweat and blood, the crossbow slipped from his hand.  

“You let us walk away safely, and we won’t kill her.” The man says. Rick stood from behind the car, holding his weapon free hands in the air, a sign of surrender, but Daryl saw the strategy, or at least hoped there was one.

“Give us the girl, and no one gets hurt.” Rick says.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move.”  The guy yells, firming his grip on (Y/N)’s hair making her hands fly to his wrist.  He shakes her hands off of him and throws her to the ground.  He pulls out his gun and aims it at her head. “Don’t move...”

Rick stopped walking.  Daryl wanted to shout for him to kill the fucker, or better yet he wish he could do it himself.  But he was starting to feel weaker and weaker, until his legs were near numb and he couldn’t get up despite how much he struggled.  He could die, but he could never watch you die.  He closed his heavy eyes, giving into his tiredness as he hears a gunshot ring out. It echoes in his head long after it is silent.  He didn’t want to look, his heart heavy, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t.  He couldn’t feel a thing.

*****

Daryl was rocking.  Like a baby in a mothers arms, he was being tossed around.  But how?  Where was he?  His eyes opened briefly before closing, the sun was never this bright before.  He wasn’t sure why, but he called your name.

As if an angel answered, he heard your voice.  “I’m here Daryl.  God, please wake up.  I’m here!”  You sounded more upset than he has ever heard you.  Were you in danger?  

“(Y/N)?”  He calls out again.  As his haze begins to fade, the confusion is filled with pain.  A loud, gritty moan of agony left his lips as his side withers with pain.   How did he get shot?  The question was fleeting as everything in the last 2 hours came back to him.  Survivors, the group attacked, (Y/N) shot.  But how were you here?  

“The men?” He asks.  He felt a clammy hand caress his cheek.  

“They’re dead.”  It was Carol’s shaky voice.

Someone was prodding at his gunshot wound, the pain worse than ever before.  He pushed the hand away only for it to return with more force.  His eyes shot open, and he caught himself staring at your face.  His pain became less relevant as he took in yours.  His hand instinctively reached to trace the fresh black eye you had, his fingers fell down to your busted lip.  Groggily he pulled on your lip, seeing that the cut ran deep inside your mouth. You faltered in your movement and looked at him, leaning into his touch. He pulls away as everywhere his hand touched, a trial of his blood was left.  You looked into his eyes, the redness and panic in them scared Daryl.  

Daryl looked around, Carol and Maggie were crouched down beside him, both looked like they were holding back tears.  Daryl’s hand fell next to (Y/N)’s knee and he felt the familiar truck underneath them.  Daryl was rocking like a baby, because Rick was driving like a mad man to get to the prison.

Daryl looked back at you but his expression turned sour as an overwhelming amount of pain reached all the way up from his side.  He glanced down to see your hands soaked in blood, between your shaking fingers was a threaded needle.  He closed his eyes as you pulled the needle through his side again to bring the skin back together.  He didn’t want to watch, instead he opened his eyes again and kept them on you even if you weren’t looking back. He couldn’t keep his pain a secret anymore no matter how hard he tried, another cry falling from his lips.

Your lips pucker out and another tear falls from your puffy eyes.  You stop for a second and look down at him.  Daryl catches his breath. Right now he just saw and felt you, a little broken, but you made him feel good, at peace.  You made the pain bearable as you softly pull back his hair from his sticky forehead. It took him a while until he realized you were speaking.

“...Daryl, this is going to be uncomfortable but it needs to be done.  If it hurts...”Your words falter and you bite your lip, holding back a sob.  Hurting him was the last thing you wanted to do, but you knew there was no line you wouldn’t cross to save him.  “...Just take me by hand and hold me tight.  It’ll all be over soon.”  He stared at you expressionless, feeling like he was in a fever dream.  Maybe he was, and maybe you were actually dead.  The thought alone caused him terrible pain and he closed his eyes, nodding to you.  He opened them and reached for your bloody hand.  His grip was weak, but his fingers gripped onto with all he had at the moment and it gave you the strength to carry on.  You use the thin thread you pulled out of your shirt in a quick compromise, to stitch his wound shut.  Praying the bleeding would cease.  His grip grew tighter as the process dragged on, stitching was harder with one hand.  His eyes found your soft lips, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to finally kiss them.  He was a fool, he thinks, a fool to let you pass him by. He gave your hand one last squeeze before he closes his eyes for the last time, thinking of you.

Your POV

You finished the last stitch and stared hesitantly at the job you have done, Hershel would have done better.  Maggie, who was watching with a horrified expression, cut the thread with her knife and gave you a weak smile.  Carol was caressing Daryl’s head, her fingers running through his hair, either to calm him down, or herself.  Daryl gave your hand a tight, long squeeze, causing you to smile down at him.  But his hand soon fell limp, and his eyes fluttered closed.  Carol whimpers and grabbed his face, desperate not to lose another person she loves.  

“Daryl...” She sobs out.  His eyebrows weren’t tight in a knot, or raised sassily up, he wasn’t frowning, and he didn’t look troubled.  He didn’t look alive.  With a shaky breath you call his name, again and again you scream at him.  You can’t hear as Maggie yells for the prison gates to be open, or as Rick shouts out for Hershel.  

You gather Daryls hand and hold it tight against your chest, your tears running down his forearm as you make his hand cradle your cheek. Your tears leave his hands a little cleaner than before, and you hope that if there is a heaven that he’ll be allowed in, even with all the blood on his hands and the things he has done.  You push your face further into his hands, gripping them with your own and missing the warmth he gave you just seconds ago.

“Daryl...” Your voice leaves you, as Hershel, Rick and Glenn drag Daryls body to the medical cell block.  You claw at Carols arms wrapped around your waist, her face tucked into your neck, crying.  Maggie holds you both, her burning eyes following Daryl’s body through the field, and the bloody trail that follows.

You sat outside of that cellblock for hours that day, knowing the truth.  It was void of life.  You heard hours earlier as Rick sobbed, driving the knife through his head.  Daryl, your Daryl, wouldn’t ever wake up.

[bruhimaunicorn]

The one with betrayal, back stabbing, and Daryl Dixon

Paring : DarylxReader

Summary : After getting hurt on a run, you come back to find your best friend with Daryl. But not all as it seems as your best friend might have been playing with the both of your heads...

Warnings : Betrayal, mind games, cursing, mentions of dead parents, fluff, angst, implied smut, wounds, blood, and walkers.

A/N : A little pyscho bestfriend one shot! Hope you guys like it and leave a request !

 “You need to be more careful, Y/N “Hershel sighs at you, smoothing a bandage over your knee. You grin at the older man and hop off the make shift bench beneath you - which happens to be an old milk crate that you drag out at night to smoke- and kick it to the corner “ Blame your son in law, he’s the one who dared me “. Hershel rolls his eyes and turns his head in the direction, Glenn is currently at “Are you going to help me? “. Glenn is mid chew into a apple and goes wide eyed. He knows better than to pick a fight with you and encourage Hershel’s warnings. “You’re both hopeless “Hershel sighs, defeated, but smiles as you give him a small kiss to his cheek. “I’ll try ok? “. He just nods and you know it’s just out of his concern for you, so you leave him to his business and walk outside for the first time since you got hurt, to start work outside.

 The sun is welcoming on your skin- hence the reason your wearing shorts and a tank top- and you smile as you can see Emma and Daryl patching up the fence East of you. It’s hard to imagine Emma actually working being that she’s the timid type, but she really did try and replace your needed hands while you were healing. Or at least that’s what she told you she was doing. “Dixon! I thought we were best friends! “ You yell, parting the two with your voice. Daryl’s lips perk up at the sight of you, not hiding the fact that you are his preferred company, and Emma jumps slightly since you aren’t supposed to be up until tomorrow. You limp slightly over to the two and he looks you up and down “ Yer’ not supposed to be walkin’ around ,girl”. You roll your eyes, but don’t miss the fact that he’s been checking in on you through Hershel. “ Couldn’t sit in that bed anymore. It drove me crazy “ You shiver thinking about it, but turn your attention to your friend. “ Thankfully too right? I know he’s probably drove you crazy” You joke and she smiles with a little shrug.

 “ He wasn’t too bad “. She combs her stray blonde hair behind her ears , a clear red flag you should’ve recognized earlier, but you looked past your friends actions “ Well I guess this means your free! “. You confidently take your place back at Daryl’s side and inspect the piece of fence they’d been working on. “ Oh.. uh . Yeah I guess so “ she mumbles to herself, and returns to being Judith’s nanny. Daryl watches her leave, clearly about to say something private, and you turn to him “ What is it ? “. He has a tight expression, but spits it out “ She’s a lil’ strange “. This wasn’t news to you. Emma’s always been the quiet type, but in a different way from you. You’ve known her since high school and she’s never really been the most social person. Which worked perfectly for you both since you weren’t either. It stemmed from your dad passing away and she was the only one that truly understood that and didn’t push you to be the perfect all American girl. 

 She stayed with you in the quiet and didn’t push you, which in return you gave her the same respect. Which is probably why you two have been friends for so long. You wouldn’t be here without each other. “ She’s got good intentions “ You defend her, but don’t snap at him. Daryl holds back what he truly wants to say -- afraid that he would push you away -- and it wasn’t worth it. You two are closer than ever and he doesn’t want to ruin that by bashing your oldest friend. “We just need some chain to close this gap “ You examine, changing the subject. He nods in agreement. If you were smarter, you would’ve realized that the chains were internally cut. “ Guess we’ll need to go on a run “ You suggest, causing Daryl to scoff at you. “ Yeah right like ima’ let you go and get your knee fucked up even worse “. “ Didn’t know I needed your permission “ You tease, turning your attention back to the man next to you.

 His blue eyes engulf yours and you take a moment to appreciate his features. Daryl had really surprised you. Never did you expect when you met this man, that he would become the one to make you catch your breath. Or the one to leave a flower in your room while you were healing. “ Thanks by the way “. He doesn’t play the game where he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. He just nods. That’s what draws you to him. That he doesn’t play games with you like other men have. Sure, he was older than you and isn’t too straight forward with what he wants, but he makes your feelings valid. Other men loved what they saw when they looked at you, but always sent you running into Emma’s arms each time it fell through. But not Daryl.

 “ How’s it feelin’? “ he asks, his true concern coming through, “ Thought ya’ shattered it the way you fell “. You wiggle it in front of him “ It’s ok. My basketball career might be over though “. You can still picture the look on his face when you fell. Stupidly, you let Glenn egg you on about playing some make shift basketball and let’s just say you’re very competitive. That would be thanks to a very extensive life of soft ball. And it did not end well. All in all, you did it just to get people to smile. The governor loomed over you all and tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. And as soon as you broke free of Glenn’s blocking, you slipped. Hard. And Daryl was the first one to reach you. His blue eyes were wider than ever, but it truly showed you his feelings.

 He just smirks as he knows you had the best of intentions. Sure, you could kill anyone within your path without flinching, but you were a big softie for those you love. Hence, the night he found you dancing with Judy just to keep her from crying all night long. Really he spied on you, but you looked so happy spinning around the baby that it didn’t matter. You would’ve made a great mom if you had the chance. “ I need to get out of this place , Daryl. I’m crawling out of my own skin “. He looks around before deciding to grab your wrist “ If they send you out on a run, they’re not going to let me go too. I won’t be there to protect you “. You love his touch in any way you can get it, but you know you don’t need him to watch over you. “ I’ll be fine. You know I can take care of myself “. He breathes deeply through his nose, but nods. He trusts your confidence.

 If you weren’t so distracted, you’d see Emma watching you from a far. And it would’ve saved you so much time...

 ———

 After much convincing, Rick decided it would be ok to send you on a run. After all, it wasn’t a secret that the prison was struggling and baby Judith was gobbling formula by the day. So, you mapped out a church that wasn’t too far that had a surrounding neighborhood of newly constructed houses. It would hopefully store everything you need. Sighing, you climb in the truck they deemed ok to leave and toss your bag in the passenger side. You turn the key and bring the old truck to life, just in time for Daryl to slap the side of the door “ You got your list right ? “. You nod at him and point to the dirty paper in the seat next to you. “ Got your gun? “ He asks as this is part of you twos checklist. If you could’ve predicted this would be your going out check list two years ago you’d laugh. “ Yup “ You pop the p. It’s clear he’s not excited about this, but he doesn’t get a say.

 Not yet at least.

 “ Don’t worry ok? I’ll be back tonight “ You try to ease him. He doesn’t seem to take much comfort, which you understand. You’d be in the same position roles reversed. “ And maybe I’ll find you some smokes huh? “. This finally breaks his fine line of grimace “ I’m going to hold you to that “. You smirk back at him “ Goodbye, Dixon “. He parts his lips to speak, but decides not to. Instead, he backs up and let’s you drive away. He watches you speed through the gates with no hesitation and feels his stomach drop. This didn’t sit right with him, but he doesn’t have a right to speak for you. The thought causes him to grimace again. How do you open up to someone like you? How do you cross that line? “ She’s going to be ok you know? “ Emma squeaks, causing him to jump slightly.

 Where did she come from?

 Daryl just clears his throat and tries to leave this conversation Emma was trying to initiate. It’s none of her business to address his concern for you. Best friend or not. She just rubs him the wrong way lately. “ Wait I didn’t - “ She tries to stop him, but he turns around unexpectedly and glares down at her. “ I’m going to make this clear. I’m not stupid. I can see yer’ up to sum’ stupid shit I want ‘nothing apart of “. She’s caught off guard with wide eyes “ What are- “. He cuts her off immediately “ I might look stupid to you, but I’m not. You claim to be Y/Ns good friend, but the other day you proved that wasn’t true “. She looks like a deer caught in head lights, but Daryl isn’t having any of it. “ Look I know you and y/n are.. talking, but you’ve been ‘ talking ’ for months “ She suddenly gains confidence. The statement, while true, is like a blow to Daryl. First off, she’s betraying her friend, but secondly is assuming that means that he’s free to be with anyone. And that’s just not true. While neither of you had said it, he was yours.

 “ And I know her better than anyone. She goes through men like she goes through walkers. You might be the apple of her eye now, but just wait.. she’ll pull away and leave you in the dirt. Just like she did my brother “. Daryl is still recovering from her words and she takes the opportunity to strike. She gets closer to him “ I bet she used this run as a opportunity to get away from you. Sure, she said she’ll be back by tonight, but she’ll take her time. She’ll figure out a plan to let you down easy.. “. Emma knows exactly what she’s doing as she tugs at his insecurities. “ It’s ok that you’re not ready to kiss me back.. I’ll wait “.

 And with that she continues the games she’s playing and leaves him to his doubts.

 ——

 It’s nearly midnight, as you are crammed in a tight space praying that the monsters just five feet from you can’t smell you. This whole run had taken a dark turn. It all started with the truck breaking down miles from the church. You found it was leaking oil after a quick inspection causing you to curse your luck. Of course after you gave Daryl a promise that you’d be back tonight, God had other plans. Sighing, you decide to finish the task by walking there. Everything seemed fine at first, but the walk was putting your pressure on your knee and it began to swell. But you made it to the town anyways. And as soon as you found the church, it was like you rang the dinner bell. Turns out that the church had an old security system that had a hell of a battery back up and as soon as you opened the door, it blared for the whole world to hear.

 You cursed for the hundredth time and fled to the closest house, walkers already flooding to the noise. You barricade the back door to the house and quickly observe your surroundings to find the front door wide open , but it’s too late for you to shut it. Your eyes go wide as you can hear the groans and as you try to run in the other direction, you cut your arm deeply on a broken picture frame. You don’t have time to even wince as two walkers bustle inside and you dart for the stairs as it wouldn’t be smart to try and take them on with your injuries. You rush up them, blood dripping on the stairs and you pray there’s somewhere to hide. You find the unfinished upstairs to be baron besides a closet and without hesitation you dive into it . You’re hoping they won’t notice. You hold your breath as you can feel nervous sweat drip down your neck. You’re screwed. Hours go by of them shuffling through the hallway and it’s clear they haven’t lost interest in you. It’s like they could smell wounded. And right now you reeked of it. Fortunately, there was duct tape left in this closet and you taped it over your deep cut. Daryl was right. Why did he have to be right all the time?

 If you could, you’d scream at the irony, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to wait the storm out. And grip your knife to your chest like a security blanket.

 ——

 It’s two days later now and everyone at the prison was growing worried. It wasn’t like you to be gone this long. Had the governor grabbed you? Had the walkers eaten you? Are you stranded somewhere ? Everyone’s nerves are showing, but Daryl’s is the worse. He’s pacing constantly, snapping at everyone when they approach him, but it’s even worse when he’s alone. Was Emma right? Was this your excuse to get away from him? Did he wait too long? And what did she mean about her brother? Daryl knew James. At the beginning of all this it was the three of you. And he saw the way James looked at you, but you never reciprocated it. Did you lead him on? Little did he know this is what Emma wanted. The psych major was twisting the two of you and neither of you realized it.

 Daryl reaches into his pocket to find his cigarettes and sighs when he finds your little note inside the flap.

 ‘ You owe me Dixon ‘

 There’s a smudge of your fingerprint there beside it , reminding him of how you aren’t scared to get dirty. All the other girls here hated it, but you didn’t care at all. He can see you now with a dirty grin and big eyes. It makes his heart skip a beat. But where were you? And is Emma’s story about you true?

 - Another two days later -

 Everyone is now beyond concerned. It’s code red and time to act. “ Someone has to go get her! For fuck sakes she’d come after us! “ Glenn yells, Rick being the blunt end of his rage. Maggie is behind him, the same expression on her face, but she holds his arm back. “ You don’t think I want to go after her?! But we can’t! You know what’s outside these walls! “ Rick yells back, just in time for Daryl to enter the cell block. Glenn sighs in relief “ Daryl! Explain to him that we’re going after, Y/N!”. Daryl looks between the couple and Rick, reading the situation for what it is. You were gone and they love you, but why were you gone? Why were you putting them through this? Daryl notices out of the corner of his eye that Emma is standing in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest as if to say I told you so. “ This isn’t like her, Daryl. You know her .. she wouldn’t just disappear “ Maggie speaks to end the silence.

 But how well does he know you? We’re you the woman who smiles so big at him and makes him feel wanted for the first time in his life? Or are you the impatient girl Emma seems to believe you are. Everyone can hear Emma scoff in the corner and this causes Maggie to turn on the small girl “ What’s your problem, Emma? This is your best friend we’re talking about”. Maggie is ready to defend you as the girl parts her lips “ This is what she does. She runs”. Now Glenn has to grab Maggie’s arm “ You need to watch your mouth! Y/N has always been here for us! She saved Glenn from that horde just a week ago! “. Maggie’s loyalty is clear. “ But where is she now huh? When the governor is breathing down our necks and we’re running out of food? Sounds like the perfect time to cut her losses “ She purposely makes eye contact with Daryl now.

 Maggie is the one to scoff now and she looks to Daryl for back up. She expects him to defend you like he always has, but her stomach falls when he just looks away. “ What the hell, Daryl? “ Maggie swears at the man she thought loved you. “ What’s wrong with you? “ Maggie spits. Daryl snaps his eyes at your true friend “ She’s perfectly fucking capable with taking care of herself! Stop lookin’ to me to take care of her ass! Maybe she cut and run huh? She’s always acting like she’s better than this! “. He throws his arms around him to point out the prison. Glenn now glares at Daryl “ That’s fucked up to say, man”. “ It’s the truth “ Emma brings attention back to herself, eyes locking back onto Daryl’s.

 And in that moment, Daryl’s mind snapped.

 ——-

 Your loud scream is muffled as you bite down on your worn out belt and a metal scrap is shoved down on your wound. Tears stream down your face as you force yourself through the pain and you try to think of better thoughts. Your mind frantically searches for happiness and it lands on an old memory of Daryl that does the trick. It’s a little fuzzy, but you can still picture the moment.

 There’s a fire burning out near his tent , signaling to you that he’s the last one up and you take the opportunity to be near him. You creep up towards his little place to call home and offer a small smile when you find his face “ Hey “. He’s currently fiddling with the whole in his jeans, but looks up to find your grateful face. “ What ya’ doin’ up so late ? “ He asks, trying not to accept the fact that you stayed up just to spend time with him. “ Couldn’t sleep “ You shrug your tank top clad shoulders, hoping he buys it. His blue eyes graze your face, stopping only for a moment on the bruise on your upper lip, and then points to the spot across from him “ You can sit “.

 You take his offer and sit Indian style across from him. He glances from his hole to your lip and you touch it subconsciously “ I’m fine “. Daryl rolls his eyes, a man twice your size punched you dead in your face in the bar fight with Randal. He’s seen men go down for less. “ Yer’ not” he declares. You just roll your eyes back “ Well I’m here and he’s not so “. Daryl gives you that. Right after he punched you, you took a vodka bottle and shoved it straight into his neck. Which is why you have blood stains on your arms. “ Ya’ look a mess “ He tells you instead of agreeing. You just laugh in response “ Oh and you look any better? “. His smirk slowly grows. He loves to push your buttons.

 “ Besides, we both know I’m still a ten even covered in shit “ You wink at him, grabbing a laugh from his chest. You’re the only one he can do this with and you know that for sure now. “ C’mere “ he now waves you over, pulling out a rag from his pocket. He wets it with water and grabs your arm as soon as your in reach. He runs the rag over your smooth skin and you awe at how he treats you. No way would he ever clean the blood off anyone else. He’s quiet as he works his way up and down your arms, but you can tell he’s taking his time for a reason.

 He likes this just as much as you

 This memory would’ve made you smile in any other situation, but all you can do now is suffer through. You finally remove the metal from your skin where he once touched you and you quickly wrap the forming scar in a piece of your shirt you cut. Tying it with your teeth, you wonder how long you’ve been gone. They were all probably freaking out and you hate the thought of what they’re going through, but you’d make it back to them soon and that’s what counts. And not empty handed either. Even after escaping the herd and slaying through walkers with one good arm, you made it to an old Piggly wiggly five miles from where you started. There you found formula, cans of green beans and sweet carrots, and even a half pack of cigarettes you found on a walker. This is just who you are.

 Maybe a week? It seemed accurate, but after all the blood loss it could’ve played with your memory so you just put the thought away. Now you just need to find a way home. You debate walking, but it didn’t turn out good the first time... So hot wiring a vehicle was your only true option. The piggly wiggly is scarce of cars so you would at least have to walk half a mile to the next available store to find a car. You began your walk,but stop as you see in the corner of your eye a bike. It’s pink and has a stupid little basket on the front, but this would do. You jog over to it with obvious objections from your knee, but grin at the first sign of hope. You can already hear Daryl’s jokes about this bike, but it would do.

 You swing your leg over it and let a happy laugh escape, before heading back.

 Only if you knew what was waiting for you when you got there....

 ——

 Arriving at the gate, you let the bike drop and run to it “ It’s me! Let me in! “. There’s no one around to hear you causing you to groan. Of course when you get back it wouldn’t be this easy to come home. You now look to each guard tower and when you find a warm body you wave your hands in its direction “ Hey! Let me in! “. The body raises a rifle and once they realize it’s you, they drop it quickly and rush down the tower. It takes five minutes for them to reach you and you realize it’s Glenn and Maggie. “ Y/N! “ Maggie yells happily, ripping the gate open before throwing herself in your arms. You gladly hug her back with your good arm. “ I’ll go get the others! “ Glenn yells excitedly and darts for the prison. Maggie’s scent reaches your nose and you finally let a relaxing breath out. You were home.

 But all of the sudden she pulls back as she remembers she needs to warn you. You can see the stress now on her face , a complete 180 from before “ What’s wrong? “. She grabs your arms, now noticing your burn, and goes wide eyed at it “ What happened?!”. She begins to pick at your makeshift bandage, but you grab her hand “ It’s fine! What’s wrong?”. She drops eye contact for a moment as if she’s ashamed to tell you this, but it’s too late as you hear everyone running out to greet you. First, you see Rick and Glenn again, then Carol and baby Judith, and then it hits you. And it hits you hard. There in broad daylight is your ‘ best friend’ with her arm hanging around Daryl’s waist. Maggie’s grip tightens on you now and it reminds you that this is all real. That your best friend since high school, the same person who you confided in about Daryl, is now holding him like you should be.

 And you can see everyone looking at you like this is high school. Like it was your dad’s funeral again. “ Y/N “ Maggie whispers as if it’s in condolences. You just lock eyes with Daryl with betrayal in your chest, but he says nothing. He just stands there. Allowing her to hold him proudly. “ How long? “ You whisper, your teeth grinding. Maggie’s eyebrow arches “ Wha- “. “ How long have I been gone! “ You interrupt, patience long gone. “ A week- almost two .. we were so - “ She begins, but’s all you needed to hear. “ TWO FUCKING WEEKS?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ?! “ You scream, charging out of Maggie’s grip. Emma’s eyes go wide, never expecting you to come for her this way since you’ve never been the person to handle your issues so publicly, and Glenn tries to stop you “ They’re not worth it “. He’s standing in front of you with his hands up, but you just look past him “ Glenn I don’t want to hurt you”. Glenn looks to Rick for an answer and you take the opportunity to move past him, and in a swift movement your right in front of the pair.

 She’s now behind Daryl, holding onto his shoulder as if he can save her. No one can save her now. It’s beyond wrong what’s going on here and it’s obvious where the groups loyalty is considering they’re not in any hurry to stop you now. “ Who the fuck do you think you are ?! “ You yell at the girl who you once considered family. She doesn’t say a word, obviously this wasn’t part of her plan. “ Some friend you are huh?! How many nights did I come to you about him?! How many nights did you listen to me and wait for your time to strike ?! “. She’s still silent as your anger boils over “ Real quiet now for a fucking back stabber! I’m sure you weren’t quite when you fucked him huh?! “. Daryl now steps in as you look ready to kill her “ Back up “. And that’s what kills you out of all of this. You take a step back in denial. You thought he was the one man who actually loved you. But it was all a lie . All of it.

 “ Some big man you are , Dixon. Did it feel good huh? Hurting me like this? Make you feel like a man ? Well I’ll tell you what .. fuck you! Fuck you both! Your dead to me! “ You now dig in your pack and throw the cigarettes at him” You’re going to fucking need this ! “. With that you walk away, and begin to throw Emma’s stuff out of your cell. You make sure to break most of it on its way out and once done, you slams the door shut and pull the curtain. You were done. “ Fuck them both! “ You growl, tears pouring down your face.

 Everyone around the new ‘ couple ‘ just stared at them. You deserved loyalty. Glenn and Maggie are the first to go in after you, but Maggie makes sure to glare at Daryl “ You know every day I saw you with her. I saw you care for her and watch after her. And I saw you love her. It’s sick that you threw that away on someone so disloyal “. Emma tries to defend herself, but Maggie looked just as ready to punch her for you. And with that, they all went inside.

 Once it was just Daryl and Emma, she tried to speak “ I knew she wasn’t going to take it well but- “. It’s obvious he’s not listening to her as he opens up the cigarettes and finds another note .

  ‘ Kinda risked my life for this, but you’re worth it ‘ - Y/N ‘

 And it finally makes since to him.

 ——

 That night, you didn’t speak to anyone. Not even when Hershel forced his way in to inspect your burn. You let him do what he needed to feel better, but after that you sent him away and spent half of the night staring at the picture of you and Emma at graduation. When exactly did she decide to fuck you over? It only pissed you off more and eventually you left your cell to burn the picture. You want all evidence of the so called relationship gone. And you plan to do so as you exit the prison with a lighter. “ Fuck you! “ You grumble at the picture, setting it ablaze in front of your eyes. Now you aren’t the woman to let a guy get in the way of a friendship, but this was not that. This was a betrayal. This was to hurt you. You can still see her arms wrapped around him. You can see her doe eyes sparkle at him when she expected him to defend her.

 In this moment, you wish your dad was here. He was always there to help you. To be the wise in your crazy. What would he tell you now? To leave? To forgive--well that wasn’t happening. You shove your lighter back in your pocket and grasp the necklace on your chest. His wedding band dangles from it and you close your eyes as it’s the closest you can get to his touch. “ Tell me it’s all going to be ok, Dad. Cause I don’t know that it is “ You whisper, tears slipping again. Never had you been through this. You wonder if he had. If when he was dating your mom that someone had tried to steal her away and succeeded for a brief moment in time. You bet he would’ve fought for her and the thought makes you smile.

 You’ve only seen pictures of your mom, but she seemed to truly love you and your dad. You wish you could’ve truly met her. That your parents could be here to hold you, but instead you were truly alone. Emma was your rock and she .. she’s just gone to you now. And sure you have Maggie, Rick , and the others .. but it’s not the same. A sob racks your chest as you realize it’s true. Your alone again. Just like you were at sixteen. You let your body fall to your knees and you don’t even feel your knee whine , only your heart beating. Why did you make it through this last week for this? “ Tell me what I’m supposed to do now! “ You yell, not caring who hears. You sob so heavily that your throat hurts from the lack of air, but you don’t care.

 In a guard tower not to far from you, Maggie and Beth watch your break down with frowns. “ Why did they do this to her? “ Beth asks, her heart yearning to help you. Maggie just shrugs half heartedly “ I don’t know, Beth.. I don’t understand why Emma would betray her like this or why Daryl would fall for her “. Beth agrees “ She doesn’t even help “ . Maggie’s attention darts to her sister as if she shouldn’t have said that. “ What? This last month she hasn’t helped me with Judith at all. She’s always sneaking off somewhere “. Maggie begins to question Emma’s where abouts and motives. “ Something’s not right here “ Maggie looks to you again as you’ve finally grown silent. She watches you just now blankly stare out into the darkness and notices the void you’re feeling.

 “ I’m going to figure it out “ Maggie vows, with no objections from Beth.

 ——

 The next week, Maggie begins to follow Emma’s trail. Whilst you just keep to the following schedule: ting up after two hours of sleep, eat half an apple and save the rest of it for later, ignore everyone’s concerned stares, leave the room as soon as Daryl enters, and make sure to take as much guard duty that you can. It wasn’t much, but it was the best you can do right now. And Maggie didn’t like that, which fueled her to truly find out Emma’s motives. She follows the girl for three days. What she’s noticed so far is that one Daryl is ignoring her, two she journals after every day, and three she weirdly stares at you when you’re not paying attention. Like she’s waiting for you to figure something out.

 Emma’s also anxious lately. Maggie decides she’s going to get that journal from Emma at dinner tonight while she’s distracted and get to the bottom of this. Carol is currently cooking a couple of rabbits Daryl caught so she knows it’s coming close to time. Glenn already has a prepared alibi for his wife and everything is set in place. You, having no knowledge of this, approach Carol to see if she needs any help since Daryl is now decided to take tower duty. You force a smile for the woman “ They’re not the best to skin , I know “. You stretch out your hand for her to pass one of the dead animals and she gratefully does. “ That’s an understatement”. The two of you laugh quietly at the fact. You can feel eyes on you right now, but this time it feels different. You look in its direction to find Daryl staring from his position and you’re surprised when he doesn’t look away once you’ve caught him. It’s the same signal he use to give you when it was clear to come be around him, but you just ignore it.

 He was with Emma now and he could go fuck himself. You look back to your task and begin to skin the animal again, this time with more force. You don’t even notice Maggie leaving the surrounding group of people, her plan going perfectly so far. She creeps back into the cell block where Beth is waiting for her “ Go stand by the door and whistle if someone’s coming “. Beth nods and goes to position as Maggie rushes to Emma’s new cell. It takes a moment to find the journal, but she does and takes the moment to open it. As soon as she opens it, there’s a picture of you with her taped inside.

 ‘ Prom 2000 ‘

 Maggie smiles at the goofy you in the picture with a flask raised to the picture taker. It truly sums you up in one flash. But why does Emma still have this? Obviously, your friendship is over. Maggie begins to flip through the pages until she gets close to recent entry.

 ‘ Y/N told me last night about , Daryl again. Honestly thought this was a passing phase just like the others were. At this point shouldn’t he have broken her heart like the rest? I mean he hasn’t even kissed her I don’t understand the pull towards him... But they seem to be getting closer. I saw them a couple of days ago by his bike and she was grinning up at him like he held the stars in the sky himself. She also had her hand in his jacket pocket like she was in high school again..

 It’s honestly just time for him to screw up. He’s awkward when it comes to all this and I’m sure I won’t have to step in like all the other times . But I’ve got a plan just in case he doesn’t ... she’ll forgive me too. I’m all she’s got ‘

 Maggie immediately flips the page for more proof and once she finds it, she’s running out the door and right to Daryl. This was all so screwed up. Daryl was just part of this controlling girls mind games and he deserves to see this. Maybe it can even salvage what he and you have. She’s running up the stairs before she knows it and once she’s in front of the hunter, she shoves the journal in his hands “ She fucking used you”. Daryl’s eyes narrow at your friend and he takes it to see what she’s talking about.

 And once she sees the anger reach his face, Maggie knows she’s got her.

 ——

 You’re actually enjoying being around Rick and Glenn at dinner again, even if Glenn is telling you some dumb knock knock joke he’s told you a million times. It feels good to just laugh again. “ It should be illegal to tell that joke so many times “ Rick nudges your ankle to join in. Glenn rolls his eyes at the former cop “ Oh ha-ha “. You’re just about to join in, but everyone stops what they’re doing as Daryl throws some kind of book at Emma. It’s clear some type of couples drama is about to erupt so you’re just going to make your quick exit. “ Well this was nice, but I am not ready for whatever that’s about. See y’all in the morning “ You calmly tell the two, and get up from your spot to do so. “ Uh-uh you don’t fucking move “ Daryl now points at you, causing you to groan out loud now.

 Who is he to tell you to do anything? “ I’m actually good -- I don’t need to be part of this bull shit again so do me a favor and fuck off “ You stand your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes soften as he sees the pain in your eyes. You’ve been through hell and he has a part in that. “ Stay “ He demands, his voice dropping slightly. Maggie now joins your side to help him keep you there. You roll your eyes and let the show begin. “ What is this huh? “ Daryl now looks to Emma. She grabs it from the ground and holds it to her person like that’s going to stop this from all happening. “ Daryl- it’s - it’s not what you think “ She takes a step towards him, but he’s quick to back off from her like she’s a mental patient.

 You’re very confused at this point. Why are you being made to watch this? Is this just to twist the knife left in your back? “ Shut the fuck up! Read it! “. She’s shaking as he yells at her and for a moment you feel for her. She’s never done well with yelling. “ I-I “ She’s scared now, her true colors now on display. “ What is this about? “ Rick now stands to end this all for good. Daryl just holds his hand out to his friend “ You’ll see. Trust me “. Rick now turns to Emma “ Read it”. The girl now has no choice.

 “ Ok.. ok “ She squeaks, opening the book. There’s a pause as she’s trying to buy herself enough time, but Daryl takes a step forward and she jumps into it.

 “ Y/N told me last night about , Daryl again. Honestly though this was a passing phase just like the others were. At this point shouldn’t he have broken her heart like the rest? I mean he hasn’t even kissed her I don’t understand the pull towards him... But they seem to be getting closer. I saw them a couple of days ago by his bike and she was grinning up at him like he held the stars in the sky himself. She also had her hand in his jacket pocket like she was in high school again..

 It’s honestly just time for him to screw up. He’s awkward when it comes to all this and I’m sure I won’t have to step in like all the other times . But I’ve got a plan just in case he doesn’t ... she’ll forgive me too. I’m all she’s got ‘ “ She quoted herself, causing shock to spread through the group. “ Y/N I’m so - “ She begins to plead, but you can’t believe your ears. She did this to keep you close to her? Every guy you’ve been with... she’s sabotaged. You feel like you’re on some episode of the twilight zone. And then it also occurs to you, she used Daryl. She twisted his head with the information you confided in her with. She was watching and waiting to strike. “ You cut the fence didn’t you? “ you ask, pitting the pieces of her plan together. Maggie already read this, so she confirms this for you “ And she tampered the truck you drove. She’s the reason you were stranded”. She put your life in danger...

 “ You tried to kill her! “ Rick yelled, now having all the evidence he needs to kick her out. She’s frantically looking around for help “ No! I knew she’d be fine!! I just.. I just “. “ You just thought it was a window of opportunity right? That walkers won’t take a chunk out of her ? That the governor wouldn’t find her ? “ Rick is now furious, already walking towards her with his pistol drawn. “ Wait! “ She’s begging, but Rick grabs by her arm and yanks her towards the prison. Her screams are cut off by the slam of the prison door and your now left to silence. You now take the moment to rub your face in frustration “ What.. Just “ . It would be so great right now if some camera crew came out and said this was all some big joke. You’re honestly waiting for that to happen. That there’s no crazy best friend, that Daryl was never brought into her crazy, that there’s actually no governor and no walkers. “ Y/N ? “ Maggie asks, as your hiding in your hands. You peak through the cracks “ This is a joke right ? “.

 Her tired eyes tell you no and you mentally scream. How could you be so stupid? How could you let her do this to Daryl? Why did you let yourself need someone so bad that she felt she could do this? You look around to see if someone could answer your mental questions and find that you’re the only three outside still. They must’ve all went in to help with Emma. She’s obviously getting removed from the prison tonight. Maggie now squeezes your shoulder “ I’m going to give you two a minute “. You’re still trying to wrap your mind around what just happened, but you let her walk away. Once she’s inside, you peak over at Daryl “ I don’t know what to say “. He just shrugs “ Ya’ seem to like fuck you lately “. You roll your eyes at him “ You deserved that. I won’t take that back”. He smirks slightly “ Seems fair “. You feel like a child about all of this. He’s still the same person to you that he was before. “ Honestly, I have wanted to punch you so hard this whole week and now .. I don’t know what to do “ You dig your hands into your hair instinctively.

 Daryl knows you only do that when you’re nervous , so he offers you a cigarette. You walk over and accept his offer “ Thanks “. You let him light it for you since your lighter is in your other jeans. He watches you inhale for a long moment before letting it go. “ You can do it Ya’ know “. You raise your eyebrow and take another drag “ What? Punch you?”. He nods, now taking a drag from his own cigarette. Now you’re rolling your eyes again “ I’m not going to hit you, Daryl”. “ I deserve it “ He admits, but you don’t believe that. “ No. you deserve a girlfriend who doesn’t have a psychotic best friend who tries to mess with your head “. You inhale the sweet poison again, this time hoping it’ll help the pain in your knee. “ Are we that now? “ He asks, causing you to realize your words.

 Your eyes grow huge and you look at him as if you can now take it back “ I didn’t - I’m not - “. Daryl can count on one hand how many times he’s actually seen you so nervous and the only other time was when you two were stuck hiding in mud from a herd. Your whole face was covered in awful smelling fresh mud, but you never took your eyes off of his. He throws his cigarette to the side, followed by tossing yours as well , and he grabs the side of your neck gently. You allow him to rest his forehead on yours and having him this close was all you needed to calm down. This meant you two are fine. That nothing has to change. He smells of smoke and some type of wood that you can’t make out, but you love it. His callous thumb rubs your neck lovingly and he whispers “ Yer’ mine “. You smile to to yourself. That’s all you’ve wanted for the past year. When you were stuck in the mud with him all you wanted was for him to say that, when the farm fell and you didn’t know where to go next that’s what you wanted, and when you got drunk that night in the barn and threw yourself at him all you wanted was him to give in.

 You run your hand over his that’s on your neck and he opens his eyes to find yours already look up at his “ You’ve made me wait a long time for that “. You watch a embarrassed blush appear, but you just remove his hand from your neck and run your own into his hair “ You’re worth waiting for, but I can’t wait anymore ok? “. He’s expression changes quickly to confused, but instead of using words you just bite your lip and kiss him. You don’t know how he’s going to take this, but you were going to take the chance. He’s frozen at first, not moving at all,but after a moment his lips move in harmony with yours. He gives you a happy grunt in return before he balls the back of your shirt in a fist.

  You part for just a moment to catch your breaths, but he’s quick to reconnect. You welcome the embrace. He doesn’t waste time to pick you up and your arms wrap around his neck without hesitation “ Where are you taking me, Dixon ? “. Your smiling at him and he gives you a slight shrug “ Guard duty”. You raise your eyebrow “ Why? “. He just rolls his eyes as he throws the tower door open “ You’re always askin’ too many questions“. Smirking , you let him set you down so he doesn’t have to carry you up the stairs “ I just like to bust your balls. I’m great with ‘ guard duty ‘ “. You show him your air quotes and throw him a wink before leading the way up the stairs. You open the next door and he’s quick to shut it behind you both.

 “ Yer’ a pain in my ass “ He tells you, before grabbing you again.

 ——-

 The next morning, you wake up on the hard guard tower floor. Your knee is already thanking you for that smart decision, but you’d take the pain. Because you were waking up in Daryl’s shirt. You grin at the fact, but turn over to find he’s not there. Your eyebrows furrow when you find a note in his place.

 ‘ Went to help Rick fix a walker problem. Be back soon.... Didn’t know you snored ‘

 “ Dick “ You smirk at his note, but sit it to the side so you can get dressed. Last thing you needed right now is for Glenn and Maggie come up here and find you in just a shirt. Not that you haven’t found them in the exact same situation, but you’d like to keep that whole score 0-1 . You shove on your jeans and your shirt from last night before heading out of the tower , Daryl’s shirt in hand. It’s early enough that no one should be up anyways so you shouldn’t have to hear anyone ask where you were last night. When the dead started to walk, people lost their reality tv shows so you just know how it would be if you don’t go and ‘ wake up’ in your cell. Your about to do so, when out of the corner of your eyes you see Rick and Daryl out by the entrance.

 You try and find any walkers around them, but you only see one other body and that’s Emma. It occurs to you that they were getting rid of her now instead of it being a big show. Daryl was just nice enough to call it ‘ Walker problems’. You sigh at the site, but don’t give it anymore thought and step inside where your actual family is sleeping. It’s quiet inside, but you can hear Judith beginning to stir and to save Carl some sleep, you quietly grab her from her crib and sway her around.

 “ I know you’re ready to play “ You coo at her as you walk her around to keep her content. You make funny faces for awhile until her dad returns to the cell block to retrieve her . Daryl is right behind him and you smile at the sight “ Your daddy’s here to steal you from me, Judith! Tell him you want to stay with your aunt! “. She smiles at you even though she can’t understand and Rick laughs while taking her from your arms “ You like daddy better “. You just scoff as he walks off to feed her and Daryl smirks at you “ Are you training her to like you better ?”. “ It won’t take much persuasion. Her and I have a great time together as you can see “ You joke, but you can see he’s ready to tell you about Emma. “ I saw you take care of - that - I’m good not talking about it if you are “. He just nods.

 “ Oh and you think I snore? Try sleeping next to someone who steals the pillow! Much worse! “ You accuse, causing him to roll his eyes and place a kiss on your lips. “ Should’ve been prepared “ He accuses you, just to annoy you. “ I see how you are, Dixon. Sleep with a girl and then blame her for the lack of preparation. Next time I’ll just kick you out of bed ! “.

 “ Mhmm so all I heard was next time “ And that’s when you realize you’ve truly ended up with your best friend.

[stardust-walker]

High Hopes: Chapter 10

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

word count: 4302

_________________________________

Dove sat still except for her fingers drumming on the table as Shane succeeded in bringing down the mood. Why did he have to still try to be the alpha? Why couldn't he just let people be fucking happy and blissfully ignorant for once. Rick had been right, after all. The military couldn't handle it according to the doctor. The tension in the room was stifling until Glenn spoke up from the corner. "Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man," Glenn grumbled as he sank into a chair next to Jacqui.

"Fuckin real Debbie Downer, Shane," Dove added as she ran a hand through her hair before chewing on her thumb nail. Finally, it seemed to be a little too much for the doctor too. He forced a smile as he stood up.

"Ready for the real tour," he said in an overly friendly way that made Dove's skin crawl but she had to admit she was curious and so was everyone else apparently. The dark haired woman took Sophia's hand and started after the doctor; she only stopped to put her backpack over her shoulder before they started down the hallway.

"Couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like," the man explained as the lights turned on down the hallway.

"Anything's better than sleeping on the cold, hard ground in a sleeping bag, man," Dove said in response. This earned her an actual smile from the doctor.

"Make sure you don't plug in anything that uses power," the doctor turned and pointed at all of them. "Also goes for the shower. If you use it, go easy on the hot water." Dove had stopped paying attention when the word 'shower' was mentioned.

"Hot water," Glenn beamed as he turned to face everyone.

"That's what the man said," T-dog laughed. The tension was now replaced with excitement that everyone seemed to be feeling.

"I call first," Dove shouted suddenly before she took off in a sprint down the hallway. The feeling of hot water on her skin made her shriek with excitement as she was finally able to step into the shower. She wished she could stand there forever. Just alone with her thoughts and feeling normal. Still, she was careful to spare the hot water especially due to the doctor's warning. She wrapped a towel around herself before carefully reaching out to grab clean clothes from where she had thrown them in her rush to get in the shower. As she turned to step back into the stall, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The young woman turned slightly and let out a quiet snort of laughter.

Daryl's head snapped around, his eyes wandered for a second before they snapped right back up to her face. Impressive eye contact. "What're you laughin at," he narrowed his eyes at her as he drummed his fingers on the bottle of whiskey.

Dove clutched her towel tightly and shrugged her shoulders. "Nothin, just didn't realize you were white under all that dirt," yep she had definitely had a little too much to drink. But so had Glenn, since she heard him laugh from about 2 stalls down. The only response she got was a 'hell with ya' followed by a quick exit before she turned to finally go change. She was grateful to be able to be in comfortable clothes, which for her meant an oversized t-shirt and some pajama shorts.

Once back in her room, Dove was able to lay down on a cot. She stretched her arms above her head as she closed her eyes. It was quiet. Not the scary kind of quiet that it had been out there, but it was a nice kind of quiet. A small shake of her shoulders made her open her eyes. It was Carol. "You look like you enjoyed yourself," Carol joked as she pulled her cardigan tight around herself.

"Oh you know it, mama bear. I don't think I've had that much wine since…jesus I don't even know," Dove laughed as Carol joined in.

"Sophia and I are going to go down to the rec room and check it out. Come with us," Carol smiled down at her sister.

Sophia chimed in from the doorway, "Yeah come on! Maybe they have some books and boards games and stuff like that!"

Dove sighed as she pulled herself into a sitting position, a smile on her face. "You had me at books, kiddo."

Dove sat down on the couch in the rec room as Carl and Sophia began to rummage through the board games. Dove sighed as she leaned back into the cushion. Carol spoke as she wandered over to the bookshelf, "You want anything to read?"

"Nah I'm good. I feel like if I tried, the words would swim off the pages," Dove chuckled as she shook her head slightly. Dove sighed and opened her eyes to see that Sophia had found a coloring book and Carl had found some markers. "A wise choice. You guys can't kill each other while you color." Carol laughed quietly as she walked over to sit next to her sister.

Carol opened her book before she turned to the younger woman. "How long do you think we'll be here?"

Dove shrugged her shoulders as she leaned to her right. She didn't necessarily want the kids to hear. "Dunno. Maybe a few months at most? Maybe weeks. Who know how much food and everything Jenner has left here anyway. But maybe by the time we leave everything will be better upstairs."

Carol sighed and nodded her head before she plastered a smile on her face for Sophia's sake. "I was thinking so too. I hope you're right."

Dove didn't know how long they were in the rec room or how long it was before she dozed off. Carol had been reading next to her and the next thing she knew, she was woken up by Carol's voice close to her ear. She groaned and rubbed her eyes as she sat up, only to see that Lori had walked into the room. "Hey Lori."

Lori chuckled as she greeted the other woman before she turned back to examine the room. Dove let out an exaggerated sigh right along with the kids as Carol announced that it was time for bed. "Aw come on, do we have to," Dove groaned. Sophia let out a quiet giggle as Dove rose to her feet. "C'mon Carl, we'll make sure you get to your room, buddy." Dove ruffled the little boy's hair as his mother wished him a good night.

Up ahead, Carol said, "Tonight might be the first night we get some real sleep. It's a miracle."

"Amen, hallelujah," Dove raised a hand in the air. Carl laughed as they exited into the hallway. Dove spotted movement down the other end of the hallway as they reached the door to the room they were sharing and stopped for a moment. "You guys run up ahead. I'll catch up before you even fall asleep, bug." Dove didn't wait for a response as she started down the hallway. She squinted and tried to see what was going on down the other end when she realized what it was. It was Daryl headed down the hallway, bottle of liquor in his hand as he stumbled back to his room. "Rough night," Dove leaned against the wall as she eyed the bottle in his hand.

Daryl nodded at her and stopped a few feet back, "Poor Glenn had to be carried back to his room. I don't think he's ever had that much to drink in his life," he laughed as he brought the bottle up to his mouth and took a drink.

"Yeah well I haven't had that much to drink in," Dove was cut off by a rough shove to her shoulder as someone rushed around the corner. "Hey!" She yelped as she stumbled forward a few steps and grabbed Daryl's arm to steady herself.

"What the fucks his problem," Daryl turned to look down the hallway as Shane slammed the door to his room shut.

"Shane's a fucking asshole is his problem. Alcohol just intensifies that in some people," she said quietly as she released the man's arm and stood up straight again. "You better get some rest before that hangover catches up with you."

Daryl nodded, "Same to you. I hear wine hangovers are a bitch," he patted her arm as he walked off down the hallway.

Dove backtracked and just before she opened the door to enter the room, she stopped. "What a bunch of fucking loonies."

~

Wine hangovers are, in fact, a bitch. Dove remembered this as she tried to keep her focus on making the walls not move around her as she sat down for breakfast across from Lori and Carl. "Well good morning, sleeping beauty," Lori laughed as she took one look at Dove's miserable face.

Carl frowned at the woman and looked to his mom, "What's wrong with her?"

"This, little buddy," Dove groaned as she took the pills that Lori had just offered her, "is called a hangover. Imagine the worst headache of your life. Only worse."

Lori smiled a little, "Exactly. And your daddy will probably feel the same way," she pointed at Carl.

"So much for drinking on a professional level," Daryl snorted as he walked in and took a seat a few chairs down from the younger woman.

Dove wrinkled her nose as she swallowed a gulp of water, "Shut up, Daryl."

She jumped in her chair a little bit as T-Dog piped up from behind her as he reached around to set the plate in front of her. "Here's some breakfast for the little birdie," he joked as he rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Okay firstly, I thought that cannibalism would be a more sensitive topic given our circumstances," Dove rubbed her forehead. Lori tried her best to hide her laughter. "Secondly, thank you very much. You spoil me." Dove sighed happily as she picked up her fork and began to dig in right along with everyone else.

Dove snorted as she caught a look of Rick as he walked in. Shit he looked worse than she did. "Are you hung over? Dove is and mom said you would be," Carl said in an almost excited voice. Dove had to stop herself from laughing.

Rick just smiled at the little boy, "well your mother was right."

Dove could already feel the focus coming back into her life. Dove looked down the table and chuckled as she saw Jacqui had started to rub Glenn's shoulders. She leaned over and patted his arm from her seat a few spots down as T-Dog began to talk about the eggs. "Aw my poor baby. Do you need me to kiss it and make it better," she cooed at him, but it only earned her a glare from the younger man as he continued to rub his face.

Dove stopped her joking as she heard T-Dog ask Shane what happened to his neck. A glance down the table showed her that Daryl had the same thought she did as they locked eyes for a moment before her attention turned to Shane. Were those scratch marks?

"Must have done it in my sleep," Shane said.

Dove rolled her eyes and this earned her a subtle slap to the back by Carol. She didn't need it. She knew better than to start something with the other man. He seemed really unstable and that was coming from someone who had spent hours at a time over the past few days with Daryl Dixon.

~

The human brain was a fascinating thing. Dove didn't want to say anything, but she almost felt excited to be able to see what this virus did to people's heads that made them behave the way they were outside. Her hands were wrapped around a cup of coffee as she followed behind Sophia back to the main room. She heard Jenner begin to talk to the computerized voice, VI, again. She stopped on Carol's other side and only leaned closer to her as Daryl stopped next to her.

"What are all those lights," Shane questioned as the person's brain activity began to play on the screen. Dove felt her jaw drop as she watched the light show on the screen.

"That's someone's whole life. Somewhere in all that organic wiring is you," the doctor turned and pointed at Sophia. "The thing that makes you unique and human." Dove really had to appreciate the doctor's way with words. He made it sound pretty damn beautiful.

"You don't make sense ever," Daryl questioned the man. Dove rolled her eyes but turned her attention to the redneck.

When she spoke, she sounded confident. Like she knew what she was talking about, at least somewhat. "What he means is, inside the brain. All those lights? It your synapses. Automatic reflexes, ability to talk, memories. You know what I mean. Every time a different part of the brain is lighting up, that's something that person is thinking about or doing that makes them who they are." She stopped and turned her attention back to the man in front of the group. "I mean at least that's my understanding of it. I almost failed neuropsych so…"

The doctor chuckled and nodded his head. "Basically, you're right. The only thing you missed is that they are the electrical impulses that carry the messages through your brain." Dove couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of herself as Carol gave her a pat on the back. "Everything a person says or does from the moment of life to the moment of death.”

"Is that what this is? A vigil," Rick stepped forward and Dove felt her heart sink.

When Dove realized what they were about to watch, she tuned out the rest of the world and focused on the screen in front of them. Her fingers clutched at the stone on her necklace as she watched the person's brain go dark. "Is that what happened to Jim," she heard Sophia say. Sophia was always a smart kid. Maybe too smart for her own good.

She couldn't stop the sense of dread that crept in as the brain stem became active on screen.

"The you part doesn't come back. A shell, driven by mindless instinct." Dove jumped slightly as she watched a bullet go through the person's head on the screen. That was it. There was no explanation for what was going on. They really had come all this way for nothing.

"You have no idea what this is do you," Andrea eyed the man.

"It could be microbial, viral," he continued on as Dove ran a hand through her hair and rested her head in her hands.

"Or the wrath of God," Jacqui stated. It was just as likely an option in Dove's eyes.

Dove began to pace back and forth between the rows of computers.

"Man, I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk…again," Daryl shouted as he began to pace.

Dove stopped as she heard something that made her even more hopeless. "VI what happens when the power runs out?"

"When the power runs out," the computer began, "facility-wide decontamination will occur."

Dove just stared at Carol, both of them were seeking an answer the other didn't have. Both just wanted the other to say they weren't going to die down here under the ground without a chance. The two of them led Sophia back to their room as she began to panic. "Listen to me, Sophia. I promised I wasn't going to let anything happen to you and I meant it." Dove pulled her into a tight hug as they entered the room and Carol began to pace.

Suddenly, it went dark for a minute. There was a loud 'what the fuck' from the next room as Sophia shrieked before the lights came back on followed by an announcement about emergency lighting being on. Dove froze in her tracks as she raised up on her tiptoes and held a hand to the vent. "I'll be right back."

Before either of them could protest, Dove had left the room, rounded the corner, and banged on the door she was looking for. Daryl looked angry as he ripped the door open. "What? Can't a man fucking accept death coming by getting shit-faced in fucking peace, bird?"

"No," Dove stated simply as she marched past him into the room. The door got slammed behind her as he rounded on her. "Listen! Just listen! None of us want to die down here. There has to be a way out right?" She turned to look at him.

Daryl scowled as he raised the bottle to his lips, "The hell you askin me for."

Dove threw her arms in the air, "Because maybe you're not a total idiot and actually my usual sounding board is off trying to save our asses in the fucking basement of the CDC!" Her voice raised with every word until it finally cracked. There was another surge of power and the lights went out again. Dove jumped at the sound it made and shrieked.

Daryl finally looked nervous. "What the fuck is going on?"

Then she heard it. Doors opening in the hallway and loud voices. "Why is the air off," a voice spoke up.

"Carol," Dove said quietly as she made her way to the door but Daryl beat her to it.

"What the hell's going on? Why is everything turned off," he called out into the hallway as Dove peeked her head out right after him. She didn't miss the suspicious look that Dale gave her, though. Nosy bastard.

Dove's eyes widened as the doctor swiped the bottle of alcohol from Daryl as he started down the hallway. "Energy use is being prioritized."

"Air and lights aren't a priority," Dale spoke up from the other end of the hall. Dove ran out of the room behind Daryl as he started after the other man.

"Hey man, I'm talking to you," she heard Daryl shout just before she caught up to them on the other side. "What do you mean it's shutting itself down? How can a building do anything?"

Dove reached out a hand behind her as Sophia clutched her hand tightly in a panic. Dove just nodded her head as Rick instructed everyone to go and get their things. They weren't fast enough though, as the doors leading out of the room shut right in front of their eyes.

The doctor was scaring the kids, hell he was scaring everyone as he began to rant about the horrible diseases that they didn't want getting out. Her head was beginning to pound again and it felt like the room was spinning as Sophia clung to her arm. Dove narrowed her eyes at the man as he sat down in the chair. "In event of a power failure or terrorist attack, H.I.T.s are deployed to ensure public safety." He stated as he regained his calm composure.

"H.I.T.s?" Rick questioned.

The computerized voice spoke again, "H.I.T.s. High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear."

Dove felt Sophia's hand slip away from her as Carol wrapped her arms around her daughter. Dove sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands as the voice continued and Dr. Jenner finished. "It sets the air on fire. No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, and regret. Everything."

Dove shuddered as she tried to hold back tears. It was all turning chaotic. Even Rick. Calm, good cop Rick still tried to hold it together but he couldn't. Dove just watched from her spot on the floor next to Carol as Shane and Daryl tried their hardest to open the door. Carol and both of the kids hadn't stopped crying. Dove wrapped an arm around Carol's shoulders as she looked over at Lori. The older brunette still looked like she was just in shock.

"You should've left well enough alone. It would've been so much easier," Edwin spoke from his chair. Dove felt anger start to bubble in her stomach.

Lori snapped back at him, "Easier for who?"

"All of you, you know what's out there. A short, brutal life and an agonizing death," Jenner sounded like it actually made sense to him.

Dove leaned forward and almost growled at the man. "That still doesn't give you the right to make that choice for anyone you psychotic prick! Like burning us alive in your underground fucking dungeon is any better than what's out there." She had reached her limit with this guy. There was no way he was going to justify the fact that he was going to wipe out whole families right now.

Andrea, on the other hand, seemed just as eerily calm as the doctor did. It scared her. Shane finally ran back down the walkway, "We couldn't make a dent."

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Jenner explained.

"Well your head ain't," Daryl shouted as he ran full speed down the ramp, axe swung back over his shoulder.

Everyone yelled again as the men all moved to grab him and stop him from killing the doctor.

"What part of everything's gone don't you understand," Andrea spoke up from the ground.

Dove glared daggers at the blonde woman as Sophia started to cry again.

"This is our extinction event."

"Yeah well, last I checked they were still finding things as old as the damn dinosaurs in the ocean, doctor," Dove hissed as she leaned over to comfort Sophia.

"You can't just keep us here," Carol sobbed.

"One tiny millisecond, no pain," Jenner leaned forward. Dove started to see red.

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this," Dove watched as her sister buried her face in Sophia's hair and broke down.

"Wouldn't it be kinder? More compassionate to just hold your loved ones," Jenner continued as Dale helped Sophia and Carol to their feet. Dove stayed where she was, despite Carol's attempts to pull her arm. "And wait for the clock to run out?" That was it.

Dove screamed and launched herself at the man. Her fist connected to his face once before a few sets of arms pulled her back. "You fucking prick! Fucking bastard! You wanna die? I'll gladly fucking help you," she shrieked as the arms pulled her back as she kicked her feet and tried to reach his head again. Once she was across the room, she felt herself get set down in a chair. T-Dog and Glenn both stared down at her. She noticed the slight fear in Glenn's eyes, but she didn't care as she sat there. Her fingernails dug into the arms of the chair as she tried to steady her breathing.

"Now you stay there," T snapped at her as he walked off to help with the door. Nothing else sunk in as she watched Shane pull a gun on the doctor now. Her knuckles hurt. It had only been one hit, but she felt like it had been a hard one. Sophia's quiet voice brought her back to her senses.

"I don't wanna die down here," the little girl cried.

Dove sucked in a deep breath before she spoke. "I don't think Rick's gonna let that happen, sweetie." Dove jumped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around her family as Shane started to fire at the computers.

Rick finally spoke up again. "I think you're lying about no hope. If that was true, you would've bolted or taken the easy way out. You didn't leave. Why?"

Jenner stood up, finally really engaged in the pleas of everyone around him. "I had to. I made a promise to her. My wife." Dove squeezed Carol's arm.

"Oh my god," she heard her sister utter from next to her.

"Test subject 19 was your wife," Lori stated.

"She begged me to keep working as long as I could have. How could I say no? She was dying. She ran this place! Hell, I just worked here. She could have done something," Jenner explained as Dove heard the bangs on the door begin again. She pulled away from Carol with a quick nod and ran up the ramp. The young woman stood on her tiptoes and began to feel along the ridge of the door.

"What the hell are you doin," Daryl shouted as he swung the axe further down the door.

"Lookin to see if there's a gap! Even if there's a tiny one, maybe you can slide the axe under there? Get some leverage and pry the son of a bitch open," Dove called over the repeated hits of the axe.

"So what are you talkin for? Keep lookin," Daryl shouted as Dove rolled her eyes. A whoosh sound startled Dove enough to cause her to fall back. The door was open. They were free. A strong grip was on her arm as Daryl had dropped the axe and pulled her to her feet. "C'mon let's go!" He shouted back to everyone.

A sense of relief rushed through the woman as Sophia ran up the ramp and right into her arms. Without a moment of hesitation, Dove picked the girl up as best she could. Carol followed close behind and started down the hallway to wait for everyone. There would be time to hug each other later, but right now they just had to worry about getting out of here alive.

___

@crossbowking​ @momc95​ @chaotic-gary-king-stan​​

[groovycatcollector]

The Wonderfully Right, And The Horribly Wrong (Daryl Dixon Love story)

Summery: After losing her brother and his wife, one young woman is left on her own, caring for a new born and trying to survive. After being taken in to a community after years of mistrust, how will she adapt, and what effect will a certain archer have on her. Starts the last episode of season 5

Warnings: slow-burn, angst, eventual fluff, violence, strong language. ptsd, age gap

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x OFC

Chapter 11

I wake again with the usual start, but this time immediately regretting sitting up straight, the banging in my head making my lie back down. The second thing I felt was my foul dryness in my mouth, then I heard a soft whimper of the baby. I reached an arm out to rub his stomach, feeling it fall down, I peeped an eye open to see I was on the couch not my bed. Hhm, odd.

I slowly sat up, wondering where Cain was and seeing a light on in the kitchen I crept over trying to keep my feet soft so I wouldn’t make any noise.

Still slightly hungover I squinted at the light, and saw a peculiar sight, a sweet sight really. Daryl was rocking my nephew, feeding him a bottle. He looked comfortable holding a baby.

I leaned agents the archway, feeling something bubble in my chest. “What are you doing with my baby Dixon?” I asked, rubbing one eye that still refused to let go of sleep my body so rudely awaken me from. I smiled lazily looking at Daryl shushing Cain to be quiet. He looked up, still looking a bit tipsy with rosy cheeks and a half smile. We kept drinking long after we strolled back.

People had brought over small gifts, some pickled food, and some small jars of wine which were now empty. I was shocked to see people be exited for a baptism, I knew I small talked with most people. I had helped stich up a few people and momentarily watched a few kids here and there but I didn’t think people even knew I was here.

Daryl’s lips curled into a crooked smile “Ahh, Natasha” He wrinkled his nose, slurring the last syllable of my name. I barley grumbled a ‘Piss off’ before grabbing a glass and gulping down three of water. The water felt sweep and stopped my tongue sticking to my pallet. I filled it again and held it up for Daryl, which made up do an awkward ‘swap you a baby for a glass of water’ dance.

I bounced Cain, wanting him to keep the heavy sleepiness so he could pass out soon enough, pretending not to watch him drinking down the water. Obviously he noticed and smiling he asked “What?” I smiled back “You got a bit of ugly on your face” Daryl raised an eyebrow before walking past me towards the couch. I followed.

I watched as he took a seat, stretching out his arms over the top of the sofa. I sat next to him, being careful to not wake Cain “I have a question” He announced, like he was proud of himself. “If you’re real names Natasha, why did you say your name was Nina?” He looked like he just found my deepest secret, that he had deeply outsmarted me.

I rolled my eyes, I used to get this all the time when I was younger. “My baba called me Natasha out of this old book, but my older sister Mary-Grace couldn’t say it because she was only two or three, so she called me Nina and it stuck” I had rehearsed that line so many time before, when it was still important. He nodded, implying that it was satisfactory. I suddenly felt a chill over my arms, and pulled Cain closer to me.

I pointed behind at the woollen blanket next to Daryl “Could you grab that? Im freezing” For a second he looked bewildered, before reaching behind and lied it on my legs. I pulled Cain up so his head was by my shoulder and adjusted the blanket. I mumbled a thank you before closing my eye, but Daryl had other ideas.

I felt half the blanked come away with a tug, leaving my left side completely uncovered. “I’m fucking cold too kid, don’t be an asshole” He was still slurring his words a bit, but now I couldn’t tell if it was the drink or his accent. We sleepily wrestled about the partition of the blanket, before decided to just sit closer together. Apparently using the argument of “I have a young baby that will freeze to death and then eat you” worked on a drunk archer.

 I barley remember falling back asleep but this time I woke up slowly, my eyes unopened, and listened to Carols muffled footsteps upstairs. I slept well, slept well for the first time in a while. My eyes still closed I shifted, on hand still on Cain’s back, and I snuggled myself into the warmth.

Warmth…

Oh shit.

Fuck now I felt it, the side of my face smushed into a chest and the arm curled around my waist. I must have leaned into him in my sleep. Shit what do I do? If I move I’ll wake him up, not that I want to, I’m pretty comfy -Oh sweet jesus I can’t be thinking like this he’s my friend. This will probably be very awkward when he wakes up, should I move ? Can I move ?

I reluctantly peeked an eye open and glanced around the room. It was already light out, light enough to be at the infirmary, defiantly missed helping Maggie then. I allowed myself to shift my head up a little, to see Daryl sound asleep. He looked a lot younger actually, and his hair all ruffled up like that was sweet- Nina whats wrong with you leave him alone.

He smelt good, like oak and something distinctly man Fuck sakes Nina not the time. Oh god I’m proper snuggled up to him, he was warm. I felt my cheeks flare up, and his steady heartbeat was drowned out by the blood pumping in my ears. Stop thinking about how warm he is and how sweet he looks and how he smells just so good and think danmmit !

Okay, actually how about he deals with the awkwardness of waking the other one first. I’ll just close my eyes, pretend I’m asleep, and let him deal with it.

Yeah … Good idea.

 I drifted off again, leaning into the comfort of a loose hug. This time I woke up alone, to Cain whimpering on my chest, then feeling his weight lift from me I sat up completely alert. Carol stood over me looking a bit shocked before relaxing with a smile, easing a bottle into Cain’s mouth.  

I thanked her, before grabbing some breakfast, well lunch now. Carol still held onto Cain after I’d splashed my face in an attempt to wake myself up .“Daryl’s on a run with Rick” She chimed in from behind me. Oh god, She must have seen us on the couch, Or after we came back from my little walk. Oh fuck she must think I’m a right perv… or maybe she didn’t? Maybe that’s what friends do in an apocalypse?

I rolled my sleeves up before taking Cain back. “Thanks again for last night, it was nice to let off some steam” I smiled, hoping and praying that she hadn’t seen. Her eyes narrowed for a spilt second before her face softened into a smile “It wasn’t any trouble, gives us an excuse for a few drinks”

I looked down at my boots, trying to distract myself from the embarrassment that had washed over the back of my neck “Yeah, ehh sorry about going a bit crazy”. She laughed at that  

 **

 “How’s the head Ms Natasha?” Denis sang with a half-smile, looking far too amused with herself. I put Cain down in the corner “Jesus how does everyone know that’s my first name?” I huffed. Denis laughs before clearing her throat and putting on a god awful Russian accent.

“You’re not cutting me off, Natasha Ilyinichna Irena Lebedev Price can handle her drink, she is true Russian”

I stared at her in shock, thank god I wasn’t holding the baby because I would have dropped him right there. “I did not” I barely got out a whisper. She handed me a cup of coffee, giving me a look of no sympathy. “You did”

I slowly sat down on the bed, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve done drunk. One time I flashed my tits to a police officer, who didn’t press charges thank god.

I sipped the coffee, wincing a little at its bitterness but drinking it knowing I’ll need the energy today.

The day was actually pretty normal considering how unusual it started. Did the routine, gossiped a little about the people last night, about Carol and Tobin, when rick and Michonne would get together, how red Glenn’s face got when he drank ect.

I was boiling the equipment to sterilize them when Denis gave me a look, a look that I give to Carl whenever I figure he’s been screwing around with Enid. She fumbled with her hands for a second, leaning agents the counter next to me. “What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She hummed, looking around the room. “Remember how I said that I thought you and Daryl had a thing?” Oh shit. I nodded slowly “Yeah, what about it?” I was careful with my words, not wanting to give away how intrested I actually was on the matter.

Okay, maybe I have a tiny crush.

Denise simply cocked her head at me, like I was supposed to know where this conversation was going. I looked back, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

The doctor cleared her throat before straightening up “You guys were just pretty friendly that’s all”

My eyes followed her “I don’t kno-“my undoubtedly-would-have-been witty response was cut short by something moving in my peripheral vision, instinctively making my hand go to the knife in my pocket.

“Why ar-“I put my hand up to silence her, keeping my eye on the back room.

Could be someone just looking for help, but could be a rotter. Denisse eyes follow mine as I crept into the back room only to see Cain.

I let out a sigh of relief before glancing back, he was in a different spot to where I put him.

Thankfully Denise was there to fill in the blanks “Holy shit he’s crawling”

I froze, my eyes fixated on the clumsy movements while he moved closer toward us before stumbling a little and flopping onto his stomach.

I let out a hearty laugh before stooping down to pick him look from his armpits. Holy shit, my baby’s crawling. “Hey look what you did” I cooed, looking into his his (literal) baby blues.

**

 I burst through the door into the house dizzy with excitement and placed Cain onto the wooden floor.  I wanted to see it again.

“What are you doing?” I quickly shushed Carol, who stamped passed me to close the door into the night. Carol let out a little squeak seeing Cain flop forward again and begin to drag himself toward Daryl, who sat on a stool near the kitchen.

I gasped, still shocked at his new skill. “Aren’t you just the cleverest little thing !” Carol exclaimed, picking him up once he fell again, nearly mirroring my reaction. I chuckled bringing my figure up to rub under his chin.  “He’s gonna be the next Usain Bolt I betcha”

 **

It was just me and Daryl playing a game of poker on the couch that evening. I had put Cain down after his feed about twenty minutes ago and Carol had gone to see Tobin when she thought none of us would notice.

Honestly we were both a bit awkward once it was only us, so Daryl offered a game. It helped, we were back to our usual snarky remarks and sideways glances after the first round. Neither one of us had mentioned this morning, which was fine.

Totally fine.

…

Maybe I wanted to talk about it, maybe I wanted to know how he felt about it.

…

Maybe Denis was right and I had a major crush.

His laugh brought me out of over thinking. His eyes lit up as placed a full house down in front of my eyes. “Awh fuck you Dixon” I snarled, trying to force down a laugh at his exited face. Daryl’s green eyes scrunched up with joy “You’re just Jealous Dolly that you’re crap at this game” My chest fluttered with the new nickname.

He was right. I was crap.

“Dolly?” I grumbled, giving him an eye while I reshuffled the cards. “Like Dolly Parton?” He smiled again, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much. I liked it.

Daryl didn’t even get an answer out before I joked “Just because of the blonde hair and big tits?” My turn to smile. Daryl’s ears turned a bright red before shaking his head. “Nah” His eyes were not fixated on his cards, his long fingers fumbling trying to put them in order. “You’re just always singing her that’s all”

I hummed, accepting that excuse. But it was definitely because of my blonde hair and tits.

We were quiet for a time, focusing on the game, and once it became clear that I was once again going to lose I tried to distract him “How was the run today?” I asked, looking up from my cards to see his brow furrowed in concentration.

He took a moment to respond. “Shit, found a big truck full of supplies that ended up in a lake”

That took me back and I let my cards go limp. Daryl’s shoulders slumped a little, obviously not something he wanted to talk about.

We played for another round before my nattering was interrupted with a  sudden question.

“Do you want to stay?” Daryl didn’t look at me, kept his eyes fixated on his cards I scanned his face, wondering why he was asking. I dropped my cards, suddenly feeling the room become serious. “Well I want Cain to grow up safe, and Denise needs me in the infirmary and-“ He cut me off “I know a roamer when I see one Nina” His chest rose and fell

“You’re saying you have to stay, but do you want to?” He looked at me, his eyes filled with something, something close to desperation.

The same desperation that was reflected mine the past few days. I let out a shaky breath, feeling myself my heart thumping in my chest “I’m starting to” his eyes darted down to my lips for a fraction, and I bit my own. We just sat there looking at each other for what felt like a lifetime, my mind racing and stopping at the same time.

I don’t know who leaned in first or whose hands reached out first but in an instant our lips met, and his hand was on my cheek. It was slow, like neither one of us was sure it was a good idea, but perusing anyways. 

Tags:https://tmblr.co/mJ8tAevvokZdRi9HxEHeCrw

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten 

[jasons-exposedspine]

Stronger then you know  chapter 1

summary: Negan finds a girl that looks just like Lucille and has the same name. she is with an abusive man but Negan comes into her life like a saving grace.

Warnings: physical abuse, swearing, angst, fluff

Authors note: if you get triggered by physical abuse don't read this chapter or some of the next. Liked the idea of this story but it probably is shit so ya know give me fucking hate if you want.

Relationship: Negan x Lucille (my OC) 

The only love that Lucille knew in the world full of the dead was the ‘love’ of her abusive boyfriend Jake. When Rick had found her she was alone in the woods fighting off walkers with just a kitchen knife. Rick had taken her to Alexandria and made sure she was safe even though he knew she could take care of herself. When Jake came along she thought he was good at first but then he started to hit her along the way. Rick and the others never knew that he was beating her behind closed doors. 

She was a thirty eight year old woman she could take care of herself and she had been most of her life. She feared Jake more than she feared the walkers outside of the fences, she couldn’t even say not to him without him hitting her. But she held on and she always told herself that he loved her and that’s what she kept telling herself every time he would give her a new bruise. He had forced himself on her many times and she ended up with multiple bruises on her thighs and stomach. She hid the pain so no one knew what was going on. 

She wished she could kill him, how she wished she could but she was afraid of Rick would do and if she failed she was afraid of what Jake would do to her. Then Negan happened to their community, he killed Glenn and Abraham but the only person that wasn’t afraid of him was Lucille. She feared Jake more then anything, Negan strutted into Alexandria with a huge dimpled smile on his face. Lucille was at the gate, his smile made butterflies rise in her stomach. 

He had handed his bat to Rick and walked in as if he owned the place which he now did. “Rick”, called Lucille who needed to discuss something with him but she just stood their as Negan froze to the spot. Negan heard the sweet sound of a woman’s voice, it can’t be her? The woman that called Rick sounded like her, she sounded like Lucille but she was dead. He turned his head towards the woman and  his mouth immediately dropped open. The woman looked just like her, long black hair, blue eyes, slightly tanned skin and that slight Southern twang when she spoke.

Could it be possible for someone to be the absolute spitti’n image of his wife, he didn’t know if he was going mad or if it was real. He slowly strode toward her and stopped a few centimetres away from her. Her breath caught in her throat, she didn’t know hat she did wrong. Rick and Lucille exchanged glances before she looked straight into Negan’s hazel eyes. “Hey I’m Negan” he said holding out his hand to shake hers, Lucille was hesitant at first. She grasped his hand it was warm and larger than her own and she shook it “Hey I’m-“ but before she could finish she was cut off by Jake. She let go of Negan’s hand as Jake stormed over to her. 

“What do you think your doing that’s MY girl your touching” he said angrily. “Jake it’s fine he was just introducing himself” she swallowed hard she knew what would come next after she talked to him like that. Negan immediately saw the fear in her eyes as Jake had walked towards them. “Why the fuck are you protecting him he killed our friends or have you forgotten.” Lucille shook her head “no I…I was just being polite” she began to stutter her words.

Negan realised how frightened she was of her boyfriend and he wanted to protect her but they had only just met each other. Rick suddenly stepped in “Jake that’s enough” he said walking towards her, Jake and Negan. Negan held his hand up “I can fucking handle this Rick” he demanded and Rick stood still. “Like she said I was just being fucking polite and so was she or have you forgotten what manners are you fuck tard.” 

Negan got into his personal space, Negan was a few centimetres taller than Jake so he looked intimidating. “Now I’m gonna ask the pretty lady here her fucking name again and if you interrupt Lucille will have a few things to fucking say.” Lucille knew about Negan’s bat and she guessed it was named after a late wife that he had lost. Negan held out his hand again and flashed her a dimpled smile and a panty dropping wink. “Hey I’m Negan” he repeated, she shook his hand “Hey I’m Lu, short for Lucille.”

 Negan froze in place not only did she look like her and sounded like her she had her name too. Was this a gift from heaven? God had already punished him, had god sent Negan another chance? Negan let go of her hand “well it’s nice to fucking meet you tiger lily.” Lucille smiled widely at the nickname, she liked it, no-one including Jake had called her something pretty like that. Jake’s nostrils flared at the nickname and at the way Lucille was smiling at the name. “Well I have to get my shit but I will see you around tiger lily” he beamed. Lucille watched Negan turn away and walk down the street with the sun beaming down on him. Lucille felt Jakes bruising grasp on her arms as he dragged her away “Jake let go please.” He just ignored her and dragged her in between two houses, he let go of her wrist. 

“Jake I…I didn’t d..do anything please” she stuttered as she felt the fear creep into her and she was getting prepared for what was coming. “Didn’t do anything? Are you fucking stupid? You touched him and you protected him. I’m your boyfriend not him” he yelled pointing to his chest. Lucille felt brave enough to get up into his face “I was just being polite and you fucking say I’m the one who didn’t do anything. I know your my fucking boyfriend and I would never disobey you.” Jake grabbed her shirt, Lucille closed her eyes getting ready for the hard blow. Jake punched her right in the jaw which sent her falling to the ground, no tears fell from her eyes. 

She was used to the pain and the abuse “don’t you ever fucking speak to me like that again do you hear me?” He spat as Lucille helped herself up off of the ground. He backhanded her across the face splitting her lip “I said do you fucking hear me you dirty little slut?” “Y..yes” she said her voice shaking from fear of another hit to the face, “good girl” he muttered and left her there. She licked the blood from her cut and walked quickly to her house a few houses down. As soon as she got inside her house she pressed her back to the door and slid down it. 

Lucille felt tears fall down her face she let out a quiet sob as she curled up on the floor into a ball and just cried. She wanted the pain to go away but she was afraid of what Jake would do. She only feared him and him alone, she had grown up with men like him but he was more worse than what they were. As she lied there she heard the sound of the engines of the trucks start and she sat up to look out the window of her door. She saw Negan talking to Rick and then she saw him get into the white truck and leave.

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter One:  Unimpressed Doesn’t Begin to Cover It

"Little pig, little pig-let me in," I heard a gruff voice call from the gates with an accompanying metallic clang and rattle, as I was taking my little sister Judith out for a walk. Rolling my eyes, I let out a huff of breath and started back to our house.

I passed Dad as he was rushing to the gates, he paused long enough to kiss my forehead and hers. I smiled at him in encouragement and continued toward the house. Negan. The murderous psycho that killed two of ours wasn't supposed to come by for another couple of days. I wasn't surprised. Clearly he was an asshole.

I hadn't been with the others during the mission to flatten the Saviors. Dad had decided that I was more helpful to them if I stayed in Alexandria and kept morale up, while also taking care of Judith. That was fine with me. Not that I was afraid of standing up for our people, but honestly, usually my mouth tended to get ALL of us in more trouble then we started with. My only excuse, and one I was careful not to use too often, was that I'd been an only child for my first six years of life. Dad and Mom had spoiled me rotten, and by the time Carl came along, well it was way too late to reign me in. My mouth at least. Mom had called me "Sassy Pants".

Bouncing Judith in my arms, kissing her silky blonde curls, I considered whether I should rush inside and stay far away from Negan and his minions, or settle on the porch in one of the white rocking chairs and watch. Dad would probably want me to hide, with Judith, inside. Unfortunately, I rarely considered what Dad would want. I mean, I kind of wanted to see how horrific this dickhead was for myself. But I didn't want him or his people to see Judith. I rushed into the house, carrying her upstairs, and was happy to see that she was clearly ready for a nap. I grabbed one of the baby monitor's receivers and pushed it into the pocket of my skinny jeans. I had it turned loud enough to feel the vibrations, just in case she woke up in the middle of the unannounced visit.

Rushing back downstairs, I opened the front door and sat down on the top step. This would give me more options to run, if I chose the chair, jumping over the banister might break my damn leg. As I sat, I considered what Carl had told me about the night Abe and Glenn had died. The night Negan stole Daryl away. The night he nearly forced Dad to cut my baby brother's arm off. I'd felt so much rage and pain since that night. Losing so much, especially when I saw how fucking broken he'd made Dad. Nothing had hurt him so much that he lost sight of what was important, but now? Now he was almost a husk.

Things had been tense, not just in the community, but in our house. Michonne and Dad seemed almost on pins and needles around one another. Carl looked like he'd rather do nothing other than storm the gates and take Negan's head himself. And little Judith was picking up on the entire mess and making her sleep less restful. Me? I felt like I had when we first learned that the dead walked. Like nothing could get fucking worse, but then God laughed and considered that thought a fucking challenge.

I heard that same gruff voice give an order that made little sense, until I caught a glimpse of Dad walking beside a tall man in a leather jacket, barbed wire baseball bat on his shoulder. Negan, I thought, and then my eyes caught the reason for the order. "You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him." Daryl was creeping alongside one of the minions. He was dressed in the dingiest sweats I'd ever seen, looking far worse than I'd ever seen him look before. Saviors? I snorted to myself. Sure.

I watched, trying to decide if Negan looked as scary as everyone felt he was. He came closer and more in focus, and I tilted my head. Dark hair, slicked back like an old fashioned greaser, a little gray brushing here and there. His face was far more salt than pepper, but his scruff looked too perfect, deliberately careless. The leather jacket was more fitted than I'd imagined. The bat was less intimidating, but then again, he wasn't playing a disturbing game of "Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe" with me. The rest of him looked like most of the men in my life, just far cleaner than I thought he'd be.

"And what do we have here?" He whistled and I saw my dad flinch. Shit, guess I'd been too far inside my own head to realize they'd grown closer and now the asshole had his attention focused on me. "Shit, Rick, who the fuck is this little beauty?"

I rolled my eyes and stood, crossing my arms across my semi loose wine colored v-neck t-shirt. I really hoped he didn't think I was going to fucking kneel like he'd made my family before he killed two of them, because that shit was NOT going to happen. He'd asked Dad to tell him who I was, so I didn't feel the need to answer. Dad was looking at me like he'd wished I'd gone all the way inside, but I could also tell he was happy that Judith wasn't with me.

"My daughter," I wanted to scream at the quiet defeat I heard in Dad's voice. "This is my daughter, Callie."

"Fuck, Rick, if you'd brought her along to negotiate, you'd made it out far fucking better than you did." Negan hadn't taken his eyes off of me, rather off of my body, since he'd caught sight of me. "Your wife must have been fucking gorgeous." He walked closer to me and I stood my ground. "And shit, she's lookin' at me like she doesn't fuckin' care who I am." His dimples grew deeper as he shot me a smile that might have been charming if it wasn't attached to a fucking psychopath. "Damn, darlin', you gonna say 'hello' to your new leader?"

I raised an eyebrow and smiled just as deeply. "Sure," I looked at my dad and said, "hello, Dad!" And gave him a little wave.

Negan gave a bark of laughter and stared up at me from his position on the bottom step. It wasn't a far tilt of his head since I'm so goddamn short. "Fuck, you've got a fucking sassy ass attitude don't ya." I stared at him full on, refusing to be charmed or intimidated. "Shit, I swear to fuck your fucking mouth is making my dick hard." I rolled my eyes, breaking contact first, but honestly what the hell?

"That sounds like a very personal problem." I answered, and squinted at him. "Since, I'm guessing that bat on your shoulder is your compensation for the inadequate one in your pants, I don't think you'll have a problem working through it."

Another loud laugh and I could fucking swear his eyes were twinkling at me. Shit, was this fucking foreplay for him? "Hot damn, you got a firecracker here, Rick the Dick!" He winked at me and turned back to Dad. As they walked away, I moved into the house thinking that I could last a fucking lifetime before I had to deal with that dickhead again.

The visit was terrible for so many reasons. They took our weapons. They took comforts, like mattresses and furniture. They took so much, and for what? For power? Because they could? When Carl tried to fight back, I was upstairs holding Judith. She could sense the tension in the air, I swear, and she'd become fussy. When I heard the shots, I clutched at her tighter, wondering if today would be the day that everyone died.

It wasn't, but we weren't safe. Luckily they'd left the food. Apparently Negan wasn't as complementary to the other women, at least not poor Olivia. It was more than certainly better that I'd stayed inside. If I'd heard him make the obscene comments about her weight, I wouldn't have been able to hold my tongue. Or my knife, to be fair. I hated when anyone shamed someone else for a perceived shortcoming. Fat shaming, slut shaming, any type of shaming was fucking wrong.

I heard Dad and Michonne discussing retaliation. Numbers, Dad says, are the issue. Savior numbers are far more vast than they had planned for, and he completely shoots down her idea of utilizing Hilltop. He urges her, and all of us to just learn to live the way we have to now. It's our new reality.

A FEW DAYS LATER

I look all over for Carl, wondering where the hell the kid got to. Dad and Aaron are off trying to find supplies to satisfy their new overlord, and for once I cannot fucking believe that I've become Mom and lost Carl. Shit. Carrying Judith with me, I look from street to street, going all the way to the front gate and seeing nothing. I swear to fucking God, I think I am going to ring my brother's fucking neck.

Hours pass, with Olivia visiting me and helping me keep Judith occupied. We talk about the things we miss from before, something I try really hard not to do when the rest of my family are around. It's too painful, and it almost seems ungrateful seeing as we have all this.

"My cell phone," I nearly moaned. "I swear, I used to threaten to throw the fucking thing in a ditch, but I'd kill to have it back, along with the people I used to text and call." I sober at the thought.

She smiles at me. "Starbucks," her eyes closed thinking of her daily dose of overpriced caffeine clearly. "All the complicated orders and my name misspelled on the cup." We giggle, Judith starting to yawn.

"I'll be right back," I say, picking up the toddler and jogging upstairs to her room. I put her carefully in her crib and smooth her curls. "Sleep tight, baby Jude." I whisper, kissing her forehead as she closes her eyes and drifts off.

I'm coming down the stairs when I heard voices. Thinking it's only Carl, I call out, "I swear to fucking God, I'm going to strangle you." As I clear the bottom step, I'm confronted with a leatherclad chest, and fuck, fuck, fuck more laughter.

"Strangle me?" Negan places his leather gloved hand over his chest as though I'd wounded him. "Fuck, I never thought I'd find a threat so fucking sexy." His voice was low and I rolled my eyes again.

"Not you," I growled, seeing my brother standing by Olivia, "him." Carl didn't have his bandage on and I returned my attention to the asshole blocking my path. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

Negan stepped back slightly, frowning at my tone. "Me? I didn't do shit to him. He came at me, shot more of my men. Fuck, your people, your fucking brother can't seem to get this shit through your fucking heads." He was leaning forward now, regaining the intimidating image that may make someone else cower, but he clearly didn't fucking know me.

I brushed past the overbearing asshole and pulled Carl to me. "Are you alright?" I asked, cupping his face in my hands, even if he was taller than me. "Where's your bandage?"

"Why does he need it?" Negan's voice demanded behind me. "He looks more badass now than he did with the fucking gun he tried to shoot me with." I rolled my eyes and then focused on the terror in Olivia's face. Oh for fuck's sake.

"And her?" I asked, releasing Carl from my grasp and turning to face Negan with my hands on my hips. "What did Olivia do to make you upset her?"

He grinned, dimples trying to distract me by coming into play. "I may have teased her a little. I apologized and even offered to fuck her after she slapped me."

I had to fight against rolling my eyes again. More time spent around him and I'd know what my own fucking brain looked like, enough to detail all the fucking wrinkles. "Do you think that's charming- or?" I squinted up at him and watched him process what I was insinuating about his desirability.

"I'm Prince Motherfucking Charming, darlin'." He winked at me and leaned closer. "For you? For you I'll be anything you want."

I lost the fight against rolling my eyes. "I suppose I should thank you for bringing my brother home. Dad isn't here, he's on a run to get you and your savages more supplies." I make it sound cheery, waiting to see if he noticed that I should thank him, but I didn't.

"Yeah, uh," he looked toward Olivia and I could see he was confused about her name. "She told me about Rick. I think I'll wait for him."

I glared up at him. "Fine. There's a porch right outside, make yourself at home there." Southern hospitality it wasn't, but I was trying to keep him far away from Judith.

He shook his head and started to wander through our house. I shot a look at Carl, televising that I was going to totally fucking ream him over coals for this. He had common sense to look a little bit ashamed.

"Olivia," I said, looking at the woman that Negan had been so rude to. "Why don't you head back?" I walked her to the door, once out of his earshot, I grinned at her. "You really fucking slapped him?" She nodded, a smile forming on her own face. "Way to fucking go, girl!" I hugged her goodbye and walked back into the living room.

Negan was taking in what was left of our luxuries. "Making yourself at home?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "Don't get too comfortable, I'm sure your minions will be around to collect you, after all you have complete power over everything. They probably can't go potty without your approval."

He turned to me, dimples in full bloom. "Darlin', what the fuck did I do to you to get your panties in such a fuckin' twist?" I noticed he'd placed the bat down, near enough for him to reach it, but down as thought he really was at home. "Your dad did all this, sweetheart, not me. Why don't you be a lamb and make a little lemonade?"

"What?" I asked, looking at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. "Before the world went to shit, did someone give you a proper diagnosis? I mean, you're fucking insane, right? Like hard to pronounce, long latin worded, diagnostic insanity." He was still grinning. "Does being insulted and smacked turn you on?" For fuck's sake, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"No." He answered, sitting on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Boots still on his fucking feet. "I'm not certifiable." He turned his head to stare up at me. "And as for turning me on? Oh, sweetheart, that's gonna be a LONG conversation for you and me real fuckin' soon." His dimples mocked me and I glared at him. "Now about that lemonade-"

"Get your fucking boots off the furniture," I demanded, glare still firmly in place. "As for the lemonade? We'll see." I pointed at his feet.

He was there for HOURS. He did take his fucking boots off, then he moaned at the feel of the carpet on his bare feet. Moaned indecently, by the way, as though he thought that would somehow make me swoon. I made his fucking lemonade, only because we had the supplies for it readily available. Not because he requested it. He wasn't my God for fuck's sake.

Carl had disappeared upstairs, I hoped he was keeping Judith company because I didn't want the idiot to see her. But of course, he wanted a fucking tour. And he found her nursery. He'd picked her up with more tenderness than I expected him to be capable of, glancing at me as he kissed her head and talked quietly to her.

"What?" I asked, as he alternated looks between the two of us. "Seriously, what are you doing?" I was about to reach for her and take her away from his grubby paws, but he just held her gently and actually fucking rocked her in his arms.

Another kiss on her head and he smiled at me. "You two look nothin' alike." I sighed, I was NOT going to explain Judith's parentage to this idiot, no more ammo for him against my dad. "Course, you don't look like your little brother either."

I smirked, no I didn't. I looked like my paternal grandmother. The auburn hair, the green eyes, my tiny stature, and from what Dad told me, my sass had come directly from her. "So?"

He shrugged and started toward the door with Judith still in his arms. "Nothing." He answered, walking away.

He drank so much lemonade that I thought he must want to have that sour taste on his tongue for days. Then, as though holding us hostage with his presence was his only goal, he took Judith out to sit in the rocking chairs and held fucking court waving to the neighbors like he owned the fucking place.

I heard him say something that made no sense to me, but Carl understood. Then he offered a chilling thought, and I wondered if he were serious, or if this was one of his games. "Maybe I should just bury you both down there in the flower beds, then me and your hot as fuck older sister and this sweet angel in my lap could settle in the suburbs." He chuckled and kissed Judith's nose, staring at her sweet face asking, "What do you think about that?"

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Are We Really Doing This

This is my submission to the Negan fic exchange (love day addition) made by the wonderful @annablack1102 

This is a day late but not a dollar short and I’ll tell you why. The sweet @annablack1102 helped me edit my fic. SO if it’s amazing and so much better to read then any of my other stuff thank her. She is super sweet and awesome for helping me. She gave me ideas upon ideas and shes just great. Thank you darling you helped me and didn’t need to and I can’t thank you enough for that. Your amazing! Anyways...

This fic is for  @inappropriatecabbage  I hope you like it darling it’s a long one... Real long...

Trope: Are we really doing this?

Reader needs a date for her office party. 

Negan x Reader

Warnings: Language and fluff so much fluff. (it’s almost mushy)

Sitting on my couch at home half asleep watching Friends I barely react when my phone dings telling me I had an email.

I pull it off the coffee table and unlock it just to have my heart drop.

“Crap..” I say looking at the email.

It was from my boss inviting me to the Valentines day party this weekend. No matter what the holiday she threw a party. “To lift the mood of the office.” It was fun until this was your third time showing up empty handed.

Sighing I groan. As if I put out a distress signal my phone lit up Maggie’s face showing up on the screen.

Accepting her call I put it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“What’s wrong?” She asks making me pout.

“Love day party….”

“Oh, right…”

“Don’t ‘oh right’ me. You’re married, you don’t have to worry about being alone.”

“I don’t have to worry about having a date, but I have to worry about spicing things up.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

She laughs it off, making me smile.

“Don’t go if it's that big of a deal.”

“If I don’t go then everyone will think I’m pathetic.”

“They will not.”

“I have to go.”

“Do you really?”

“No, but I don’t want to be the only one not there.” I say standing up and walking to my kitchen.

“So go. Who cares if you are alone?”

“Me. I care.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can take another year of Andrea’s smirk while she rubs up on her boyfriend all night.” I say getting ice cream from the freezer.

“Why do we hate her again?”

“Because she sat on her ass taking credit for my work.”

“Oh right. Well just bring someone.”

“Who? You wanna let me borrow Glenn?”

“That’s funny, but I’m sure there is someone who can go. I can ask around.”

“I don’t want to just bring someone random with me. This isn’t a hallmark movie. I can’t buy a fake boyfriend.” I say walking back to the couch.

Glancing out the window I do a double take when I see my neighbor Negan in his own apartment in nothing but a towel.

He was standing in his kitchen getting a beer giving me a clear view of his back and the few tattoos littered over his skin. When he turns around and sees me, he waves with a smirk on his face, making me blush and quickly turn away

“Are you there?”

“Huh?” I ask realizing I wasn’t listening.

“I asked if you knew anyone free who could pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“Someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, maybe that cop that patrols the neighborhood.”

“Rick is engaged.” I say knowing she is talking about the sheriff that goes to the same coffee shop as me.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I thought he had kids.”

“Yeah I think he has two of them but his first wife died.”

“Oh right, that’s so sad.”

“Yeah..” I say wondering how he kept going after losing her.

I slowly eat my ice cream as Maggie names off different people that were either married, moved away, or with someone.

“What about that one asshole that lives in your building.”

“Gonna have to be more specific.” I say putting my ice cream away.

“You know he’s rude, has a dog...”

“Daryl? He’s not an asshole.”

“Good what about him?”

“I’m good thanks.”

“You don’t have time to be picky.”

“Because I like him as a person and don’t want him to feel weird if I ask him to be my fake boyfriend.”

“Well I can’t help you.”

“No one can thanks for trying.”

“Your welcome sweetie.”

“Enough about me why did you call?”

“Oh right, I’m pregnant.” She says the excitement clear in her voice.

“Really? That’s amazing!”

We spend the next better half of an hour talking until her husband gets home.

I spend the next two days getting ready for the party. I didn’t have a date but at least I would feel sexy. It was the day before the party when my doorbell rings. I open it to see Maggie standing there.

“Hey.” I say smiling and accepting her hug.

“Whatcha doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood.” She says shrugging and walking into my apartment.

“You want something to drink?”

“Lemonade?”

“Sure.” I say knowing she can’t drink.

We were sitting on my couch talking when someone knocked on my door.

“Food!” I say jumping up and running to my bedroom. “Mags get the door please.” I say while digging through my bag to get my wallet.

Getting a twenty I walk back into the living room stopping in my tracks when instead of a Chinese delivery man was none other than Negan.

“Umm hi.” I say making both pair of eyes turning to look at me.

“Hey there darling.” He says, smiling at me and making his dimples show.

“He’s got some of your mail.” Maggie says holding up my mail.

“The mailman mixed them up again.” He says smiling.

Sometimes I think the gods above mixed our mail up just to treat me to the sight of my sexy neighbor. Negan was a silver fox in the perfect way. I also think the gods did it to punish me. Negan always seeming to show up when I didn’t look my best.

“Oh, thanks.” I say trying to make my brain make normal sentences.

“No problem.”

Walking up to Maggie I take the envelopes from her.

“Well, you ladies have a good day.” He says winking at me and turning to walk back down the hall.

I close the door as my senses come back to me.

“Who was that?” Maggie asks a smirk on her face.

“That was Negan.” I say calmly, moving to lay my mail on the coffee table.

“Who’s Negan?”

“He lives across the street.” I say not meeting her gaze.

“You like him!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t even know him.”

“Not yet.” She says making me turn around to face her.

“What--” I stop talking when I realize I was alone a Chinese delivery boy standing in the open door frame.

Maggie comes back fifteen minutes latter and hands me a slip of paper.

“What did you do?” I ask her opening it to see ten numbers wrote across it.

“Your welcome.” She says smiling.

“I’m not gonna call him.”

“Well good thing I gave him your number too.”

“Maggie!”

“You can thank me later.”

“What if he’s a crazy person?”

“You’ll be in an office with other people. I doubt he will do anything. Besides, I explained everything to him.”

“You what?”

“Look Y/n you got a date, that’s what you wanted right?”

“Yeah but-.”

“But nothing be happy and enjoy yourself.”

Sighing I lay my head back on the couch.

“Fine…”

Later that night, I try not to think about the fact I had Negan’s number or that he had mine. I keep glancing at the paper on my stack of mail, but won’t let myself call him. This was a bad idea and embarrassing no matter what Maggie said.

I sat on my couch, my knees in my chest and my stomach in knots. I held my phone about to call him and tell him it was just a joke. When I looked at the time I decided against it, not wanting to wake him up. I chewed my lip wondering why he hasn’t called yet.

I jump when my phone starts to ring and unknown number popping up on the screen.

“Hello?” I ask picking it up.

“Are you watching movies without me?” Says a smooth, deep voice.

“Umm excuse me?” I ask confused.

“Oh sorry darling. This is Negan.”

“Negan.” I say blushing.

“The one and only.”

“What’s up?” I ask then close my eyes at how stupid that sounded. My face getting hotter when Negan chuckles.

“Just about to head to bed. I wanted to know what time I should pick you up.”

“Pick me up?”

“Tomorrow night, for the party. Your friend Maggie said you needed a date.”

“She was just being silly.”

“Really? So you don’t need a date?”

“Well no, I mean yes but-.”

“Y/n relax it’s no big deal, if you don’t want me to take you...”

I shake my head knowing he can’t see me surprised he knew my name.

“But I mean you do kinda owe me after getting a free peek the other night.”

“What? I didn’t-.”

“I’m joking. I’ll pick you up at six okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.” He says, the line going dead.

I sit there going over what just happened.

I was going on a date with Negan. The sexy, older man that made my me feel like a teenager all over again every time he was around.

I was screwed.

I spent the time I got home from work till six getting ready. I only had an hour and a half and I was gonna use every second.

I make sure my legs were smooth as silk in the shower and my hair fixed just right. I reapply my lipstick twice, wanting it to match my pink dress. It was short sleeved and lace. Most of my back showed from the heart cut out of the fabric. It stopped mid thigh and hugged me in all the right places. I paired it with black ankle boots and a half jacket.

I was making sure I had everything when a knock came from the door.

Taking a breath I try to ignore my stomach bouncing around.

“It’s open.” I call doing a double take of how I look.

“Hot damn doll, look at you.” Negan says walking into my room like he owned it.

I try not to notice that was hot to me. Speaking of hot he was. He was dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. It was open and hanging off his body making him look even taller.

“You ready to go?” He asks smiling.

“Mmhmm.” I nod grabbing my clutch and walking past him to the door.

He stopped my his long fingers wrapping around my arm. Spinning me around to face him.

“You seem upset.”

“No.”

“Nervous?” He asks smirking.

“A little.” I admit my cheeks heating up.

“Well relax. I’ll be the fucking best fake boyfriend you've ever had.”

“Fake boyfriend?”

“Yeah, that’s what we are fucking doing right?”

“Right.” I say smiling feeling my stomach drop.

Of course this was just a fake date. What else would it be?

“Great.” He says smiling and letting go of my arm. “Any rules I need to know about? I've never done this thing before.”

“Me either.” I say letting out a snort before I can stop myself.

He lets a chuckle, his arm wrapping around my shoulders.

“Glad I’m not the only fucking one.” He says leading me out of my apartment.

“I guess we should learn some things about each other to make it believable.” I say lifting my shoulder in a shrug.

“That’s not a half bad idea. What do you want to know?”

“How do you take your coffee?”

“My coffee?”

“Yeah, every couple knows how the other takes their coffee.”

“Alright, black. And you.”

“I don’t like coffee.”

“How the fuck do you not like coffee?”

“I don’t know.” I say shrugging, a giggle escaping my mouth by the way he said it.

“Your gonna be a hard one huh?”

“I guess…” I say as we step into the elevator.

“I like a fucking challenge.”

“Well you got it…”

“So what’s the party we are heading to.”

“It’s just for my work. It’s casual, at a hotel meeting room.”

“Casual? This is how you dress fucking casual?” He asks his eyes tracing up and down my frame making my skin heat up.

Licking my lips I look away from him and shrug.

“It’s party casual.” I say not wanting him to think I did all this for him.

“Well remind me to take you to more casual parties.” He whispers in my ear.

Digging my teeth into my lip, tingles shoot up my spine when his hand lays on my lower back.

He leads me out of the elevator and through the front doors of my building, a motorcycle parked out front.

“Is that yours?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t make a lady ride a bike in a dress. That’s mine.” He says jerking his chin towards the black truck parked a few cars down.

Feeling a bit embarrassed about assuming that he was driving the bike I walk with him to the truck. He holds the door open for me as I climb into.

He jogs around the front and gets in.

“Where to princess?”

“White Lily Hotel.”

“Yes ma’am.” He says starting the truck and pulling out onto the road.

“So what is it you do?”

“Oh, I’m secretary, nothing fancy.”

“Probably more than me. I deal with kids all day.”

“You’re a teacher?” I take a guess.

“Gym teacher for mainly high school, some college from time to time.”

“That’s kinda cool.”

“Yeah right.” He says.

“Well you’re helping kids that's not a bad thing.”

“More like trying not to knock some fucking sense into them.” He says chucking, it’s a happy sound.

Smiling I turn to face him more.

“You’re not what I thought you were.”

“What did you think I fucking was?”

“Don’t know. It’s hard to tell by just looking at someone.”

“Oh you are peeping on me now? I thought the other night was the first damn time.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I say blushing.

“I guess it’s my own damn fault for not closing the fucking blinds huh?”

I nod as my answer.

“But you don’t close yours either.”

“Now whos peeping on who?”

He smirks looking at me him once again looking me up and down.

“Lucky me, I got a hot neighbor.”

Blushing I roll my eyes and look out the windshield.

“Don’t believe me?”

“Why should I? You’re my creepy neighbor.” I say making him laugh, which I quickly join.

“Well here we are.” He says pulling in front of the hotel.

“When did we meet?” I ask looking at him.

“Coffee shop, few months ago.”

“Good enough.” I say reaching for the door handle.

I stop when Negan’s hand covers mine. Turning to face him I find our noses only a few inches apart.

“Relax, stick by me and I’ll have everyone believing your mine. Any man in their right mind would be happy to have you.”

Blushing I nod and open the door getting out of the car feeling like I was about to explode with how close he was.

The musky scent of leather and the spice of his cologne was invading my senses and making it hard to think.

When my feet hit the sidewalk I look up at the building making me realize I was really here. This wasn’t a dream or in my head. I was really here with someone. Not just someone, but Negan. My sexy neighbor that made me think very dirty things. On top of that we were here pretending to be together, pretending to have been together for months and we only just had a real conversation in the past hour. Suddenly feeling dizzy, my stomach flipping, I try not to fall.

“Are we really doing this?” I ask looking at Negan as he comes to stand next to me.

“Come on darling it’s a fucking party what could go wrong?” He asks wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“I can’t believe Maggie asked you to do this.”  

Grinning it making his dimples show he winks at me.

“Don’t act like it’s a bad plan.”

“It’s not that, it’s just I-.” I was cut off by someone calling my name.

I look to the left seeing Andrea walking up to us, her arm wrapped around her boyfriend Shane.

“I thought you said you were staying home tonight?” She says smiling at me, her eyes looking up at Negan.

I try not to react as his arm drops from my shoulder to my waist.

“I got tonight off so we decided to come.” Negan says smoothly.

“And you are?”

“Negan, her boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” He says holding his hand out to her.

“Andrea, my fiance Shane.” She says but doesn't take his hand.

Negan nods and offers his hand to Shane him taking it.

“Lets go inside before it starts to rain.” Shane says smiling.

“Sounds good.” Negan says gesturing his arm to the hotel doors.

“After you.”

Andrea gives a tight smile and walks into the hotel.

Negan leads me to the doors his mouth dropping to my ear.

“You okay?”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.” I whisper back honestly.

“Well just be sure to faint in my arms.” He says, winking at me then pressing his lips to my head.

My heart flutters a bit at the show of affection as we walk into the large room. It was decorated in pink and red, hearts everywhere. People moved and mingled about.

Once again Negan walks in like he owns the place, him leading me to the open bar.

“Everyone is staring.” I whisper to him.

To anyone it most likely looked like we were being cute and flirty when really I was about to head for the door.

As if Negan could since that his hand slipped into my him tangling his fingers with his.

“Well duh, you look fucking perfect in that dress.” He says smirking at me.

Blushing I duck my head as he orders me a glass of wine and him whiskey.

“So does your boss like playing matchmaker or something?” He asks leading me to a empty table.

“No, why?”

“Why else have a party for “Love day”?” He asks pointing to the banner with the words Love Day wrote on it.

“No, she just likes making sure we are relaxed. We used to have it at the office but people started having sex in closets so she moved it to the hotel.”

“Makes sense, liquor plus a beautiful woman will do that to ya.”

“I guess.” I say lifting my arm in a shrug.

“You never hooked up at any of the parties?”

“I was usually alone. The last guy I was with wasn’t big on the PDA.”

“Why the hell not? I want everyone to know your mine.”

“Wow how romantic of you.” I say taking a drink of my wine.

“Hey now don’t go getting all uptight. PDA shows everyone I fucking belong to you too.” He says sipping from his own glass.

“I guess so..” I say never really thinking about it that way.

“Come on now, we are meant to be having fun here.”

I don’t get a chance to respond when my boss Carol walks up to our table.

“Hello Y/n how are you? Who’s this?” She asks smiling then looking at Negan.

“I’m good and this is Negan my date.”

“Oh, nice to meet you.” She says holding her hand out to him.

“Same to you.” He says taking her hand giving it a quick shake. His hand then quickly returning to the back of my chair. “Some nice party huh?”

“Oh thank you. I tried to make them fun.” She says smiling making her eyes wrinkle at the sides.

“Wait you’re Y/n fucking boss?”

“Negan.” I say, smacking his leg with the back of my hand. I didn’t mind the cussing, but I didn’t want him dropping the F bomb around my boss.

Looking at me he throws his head back letting out a belting laugh.

“I did not see that coming.”

“Is there a problem?” Carol asks.

“No ma’am, there ain’t a fucking problem.” Negan says placing his drink down and standing up.

“If you’ll excuse me I’d like to take my lovely girlfriend to dance.” He says holding his hand out to me.

Blushing, I smile at her and take his hand letting him pull me to the dance floor.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” I ask as he wraps his around my waist his other hand grabbing mine.

“You had me thinking your boss was some young thing wanting to spend the company's money and then I’m faced with that.”

“Are you saying Carol is old?” I ask taking a step away from him.

“Relax darling I didn’t mean any fucking harm by it. Just surprised is all.”

I drop the subject despite the fact I wanted to know what he meant. The fact that this was only for one night kept me from doing so.

“Let's just get through the night.” I say placing my hand on his shoulder.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.”

We dance for a few songs until they bring out the food. I get in line very aware of someone's eyes on me.

Looking up I have to resit the urge to roll my eyes when Andrea makes the point to pull Shane into a kiss.

“Wanna tell me the story of that one?” Negan asks looking at her then back at me.

“That’s Andrea, she has my life. The job I’m still working for, the car I want, the house I almost bought, she even has my boyfriend.”

Negan lifts his eyebrow as if to say explain.

“Remember the boyfriend I mentioned? You’re looking at him.”

“The one that didn’t like PDA?” He asks, looking at them doting on each other.

“Guess he didn’t like PDA with me.” I say shrugging.

The conversation drops when we get to the first buffet table. It doesn't pick up again until we reach the table.

“Thank you.” I say when Negan pulls out my chair.

Sitting down I don’t get a chance to eat as Negan’s large hand turning my face to his. He leans in close his mouth brushing my ear as he talks.

“How about me show that prick what he’s missing out on?”

“What?” I ask confused.

“Just don’t slap me.”

Pulling away he doesn't go far his lips meeting mine. I blush but don’t react shocked. His thumb brushing my cheek pulls me back to earth. I kiss him back letting my eyes close as I relax into it.

His lips are softer than I expected them gently caressing mine. It was slow as if he was easing me into it. I wrap my arms around his neck his tongue pushing over my bottom lip. My cheeks get hot when his hand runs down side settling on thigh.

When Negan pulls away I resit the urge to pull him back or even to frown. Seeing Carol standing there makes me realize she cleared her throat to get us apart. I barely remember hearing it. It reminding me I was in a room full of people not just me and Negan.

“There are rooms open if you two would like to get one.” She says making me blush, wondering how heated was our kiss.

“Thank you but I think we are gonna head on home.” Negan says smiling at her.

“Are you sure? I didn’t mean-.”

“You’re fine, it's just getting late.” He says standing up.

“Come on sweetheart.” He says smiling holding  his hand out to me.

Placing my hand in his I let him pull me up and smile at Carol.

“I’ll see you monday.” I say letting Negan pull me away from the party and back to his truck.

“It’s getting late huh?” I ask when we are back in his truck the clock reading it was barely past 10.

“It’s getting late for you, princess.” He says winking at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you normally go to bed around this time?”

“How do you know that?” I ask it sending a nervous feeling threw me.

“We see into each others houses. I’m sure you know when I go to bed.” he says making me realize I kinda did.

“Some time after me I’m guess.”

“11 if you must know.” He says starting the truck and pulling off.

“This is the weirdest conversation I have ever had.” I say earning a laugh.

“Yeah well that's what you get for going on a date with your sexy neighbor.”

“You think I’m sexy? Thank you.”

“Damn right I do.”

Smiling I softly push his shoulder.

“Did you have fun?” I ask after a moment of silence.

“Fun enough.” He says lifting his arm in a shrug.

“Oh sorry… I’m sure there was better ways to spend your friday night.”

“Don’t sweat it. Better than sitting at home dick in hand.”

“Oh my gosh! I didn't need to know that.” I say covering my face with him laughing.

“You know for someone who walks around there house in a t-shirt half the time you sure are shy.”

“I’m closing my blinds when I get home.”

Chuckling he pats my leg.

"I'll be sure to remind you." he says grinning making me realize he enjoyed teasing me.

Feeling a little bit better knowing that I take a breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why did you kiss me? I mean, you didn't have to do that."

"I got tired of you doubting yourself."

"Doubting myself? I thought you did it because of Shane?"

"Maybe that was fucking part of it but the whole night you kept saying stuff that made me realize you don't know how mind blowing sexy you are."

"I'm not sexy. I don't think I'm ugly but I'm just me."

"But you’re not. You are a whole hell of a lot more. You have an amazing body, curves in all the right places. Your eyes are gorgeous and you have a sense of humor. I'd be happy to have you in my bed."

I blush and duck my head.

"Sorry I didn't mean to embarrass you doll."

I shake my head and look up at you.

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

I shrug not wanting to talk about it.

"Come on it can't be that bad."

"Everyone acts like I'm some secret closet freak in bed but I've never even had sex."

"Wait, your a virgin?" He asks, making me look out the window ashamed.

I don't answer him, not knowing what to say.

"You've really done nothing with anyone?"

I shake my head my throat tightening up.

"How the hell have you not been laid?"

I clench my fist my eyes watering. I wanted to be out of this truck and lucky for me we pulled up to my building.

"I got it from here, thanks for coming." I say hating when my voice cracked.

I quickly get out and resist the urge to run up to my apartment.

I ignored Negan's calls and texts.

I tried to move around my house like i normally would but I always felt like I was being watched. I finally close my curtains and go to bed.

I know it wasn't Negan's fault. I shouldn't have opened my mouth, but I felt judged. His voice playing over in my head asking me if I was a virgin. I try to move on with my life but I quickly realize when Andrea came in asking questions about Negan that I couldn't just pretend the night never happened.

I also realize that I more or less liked him. He was funny and charming and gorgeous. But older than me which meant he had more experience and would never be happy with me.

When my phone ringing woke me up from my nap I pick it up without looking at who it was.

"Hello?" I say my eyes still closed.

"You watching movies without me again?" Asks a smooth voice making me look at the caller ID.

Negan's name on the screen.

"Negan?" I ask wanting to hang up.

"The one and only. What are you up to?"

"Umm napping? Do you need something?"

"Yeah do me favor?"

"Umm okay?" I question, hearing a knock coming from my door.

"One second someone's at the door."

Standing up, still holding the phone to my ear, I unlock my front door and open it. I'm shocked to see Negan standing there holding a basket and roses.

"So about that favor." He says smiling.

"Umm hi." I say, dropping my arm.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes?" I say it sounding more like a question but I move out of the way nonetheless.

"You were watching a movie without me. That's a big no no." He says setting the basket on the coffee table.

"What's going on? Did Maggie put you up to this?" I ask, confused.

I close the door, getting a glance at myself in the mirror behind it.

My makeup was smeared and my hair was a rats nest.

"Why the hell would she do that?" He asks as I quickly try to detangle my hair.

I jump when Negan appears behind me.  Touching my arm he turns me to face him his thumbs brushing the smeared eyeliner away.

"You look perfect." He says lifting the corner of his mouth in a smile.

Blushing I smile back.

"So-."

"Hush. Have dinner with me, then you can ask me questions."

Lacing his fingers with mine he pulls me to the couch.

"I'm sorry if I said something wrong. I just don't know why you are here."

"I'm here because I made an ass out of myself and I'm gonna fix it." He says, pulling tupperware from the basket.

It was still steaming when he opened it showing spaghetti and meatballs.

"It's been a while since I've been in the kitchen so if it tastes like shit feel free to tell me." He says, setting out plates and glasses.

"You made this?" I ask wondering what's going on.

"Fuck yeah. I’m not like most assholes. I do know how to take care of myself."

"I didn't mean that. I just want to know what's happening."

"I told you I'm righting a wrong."

"You didn't do anything."

"You mean to tell me that you've been avoiding me for the hell of it?"

"What? I haven't.. Look I know you don't like me. I made things awkward last week and I'm sorry but you don't owe me anything."

"I don't like you? Darling you had me calling you like a damn schoolgirl. I made you fucking spaghetti and you think I don't like you?" He asks looking more amused than angry.

I blush and nod, shrugging.

"I'm nothing special."

"Maybe not to you but I think you're pretty damn special."

"How? You don't even know me?" I ask looking up at him.

"No because someone wouldn't answer my damn text. But I would like to get to know you. If you want to get to know me."

"Why wouldn't I want to get to know you?”

“Few reasons, I’m older than you for one I’m a fucking jackass for another.”

“I haven't thought about the age and all men are jackasses.” I say him let outing a chuckle.

Running his hand over his face he nods.

“I guess we fucking are.”

“It’s okay, somebody has to be.”

“You’re a little smart mouth aren't you.”

“I guess so.”

“You know I've had a few ideas on what to do with that mouth of yours”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” I say blushing.

“Oh I would be more than happy to teach you.” He says lifting his glass to his mouth and taking a drink.

“Go ahead.” I say shrugging.

“What?” He asks almost choking on his wine.

“That’s why you're over here right? I wouldn’t answer your calls so you came to see if you could get the one that got away.” I say being down this once before.

“I don’t understand the turn on of being a virgin but I’ve got to lose it at some point right.”

“Whoa, hold up, Y/n I didn’t come here to fuck you. Don’t get me wrong it would tickle me fucking pink to do so but I came here because I was a dick the last time we were together. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.”

“So you came here just to apologize?”

“Not just to but that was the plan yes.”

“Well apology accepted you don’t have to stay here and make me feel good about myself.” I say standing up.

“Now hold on a damn minute.” Negan says grabbing my wrist stopping me.

Setting his drink down he stands up his grip never leaving me.

“If you want me to go hell darlin’, I’ll make sure you never fucking see me again. But something tells me you want me to stay. As a friend or a lover I don’t care which. If you’re worried about me fucking you on the counter I wouldn’t do that unless you asked me to.” He says making me blush and look away from him.

He grabs my chin and makes me face him.

“But here's my two cents whatever hell they are worth. I want to know you. You've been in my head all damn week and it’s driving me fucking nuts. So let's have dinner, watch a movie, talk.”

“But you don’t really want that.”

“What the hell do you think I want? Sex? Fuck yeah I want sex but I’m a big boy. I can control myself for as long as you want me to.”

Sighing I look at the table not knowing what to say.

“You think I’m gonna get bored don’t you?”

“I know you will. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex I just want it to be right. Not late night drunk sex or first date sex, or planned… I want something that’s not real…”

“Baby doll you just want something that is real. I’ll make you a deal. One week. Put up with my ass for one week afterwards if you wanna call it off no hard feelings.”

He says smiling kindly. Not like he was trying to sell me something he seemed to really want to give it a try. Whatever it was.

“A week of what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“A relationship…?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Why, why do all this for me?”

“Because I saw something in you and I wanna keep around for a while.”

“One week?” I ask not seeing the harm in one week.

“One week.”

“Okay.” I say earning a grin the one that makes his dimples dig into his cheeks.

After dinner Negan left but not before he kissed me goodbye. It was similar to the first one. Soft and sweet as if he didn’t want to break me. It was a contrast to his personality but I didn’t mind it. I actually enjoyed not having someone's tongue shoved down my throat.

The next day Negan took me out to a “real dinner” to his favorite diner. He was clearly relaxed there and it showed. I had fun watching him cut up with the cook and even more fun when he pulled me into a kiss.

He called me every night to tell me when he was going to bed. It always ending with him telling me to dream about him. I don’t know why but I felt like he enjoyed having someone to talk to just as much as I did.

I told Maggie about it because I had to her coming over Tuesday when Negan was there. She later texted me wedding plans saying me and Negan would make cute babies.

When Negan invited me over to his place Wednesday night I was nervous. Telling myself that he was already bored and ready to call this off. But when I walked into his open floor plan apartment I was shocked to find him in dressed in an apron.

“What’s going on?” I ask walking in and letting him take my jacket.

“I thought we could spend a night in if that’s okay with you.” He says his lips brushing my neck as he pulls it down my arms.

“Hey you said a whole sentence without saying fuck I’m proud.” I say earning a playful glare which I giggle to.

“So why am I dressed in clothes I can ‘get dirty in’?” I ask quoting the text he sent me at lunch.

“Because I’m going to teach you how to cook.”

“I know how to cook.”

“Cook something good.”

Sticking my tongue out at him, I follow him over to the kitchen realizing he is barefoot.

“Should I have taken my shoes off.”

“If that’s what you fucking want.”

“I’ma take my shoes off.” I say going back to the door and slipping my sneakers off.

“So what are we making?” I ask taking the apron he hands me.

“Kabobs.” He says helping me tie my apron behind my back.

“Sounds fun.”

“Do you want to chop the veggies or the meat?”

“I think I’ll take the veggies.”

“So I’ll handle the meat.” He says winking my cheeks tinting.

“Your a child.” I say earning a laugh.

“Yeah just like that.” Negan says looking over my shoulder as I start making my first kabob.

“So what made you pick this?” I ask picking up a pepper.

“It’s funny. I normally do it when the fucking games on to pass the time.”

“You are so much more down to earth then I thought.”

“Well fucking thanks.”

“No, I just mean I expected a player or something but you have these little nuggets of sweet in there.” I say bumping him with my hip.

“I’ll fucking take that.” He says picking up a pepper it braking when he tries to put it on his stick.

I let out a snort then a yelp when he throws it at me.

“No. We are not having a food fight.” I say throwing a mushroom at him.

“What if we fucking do?” He asks smirking throwing a cube of stake at me.

I squeal when it smacks my cheek getting marinade on my face.

“You smacked me with meat?” I ask before I think about it Negan’s face lighting when I do.

“I didn’t mean that!” I say as he starts laughing loudly.

“Negan stop.” I say my cheeks hot.

“I slapped you with meat and my dick was still in my pants.” He says belting out a laugh.

“Negan…” I say smiling despite the want to.

“That’s fucking great.” He says smacking his leg bent over.

“I have stuff on my face.” I say wiping at it.

“Let me see.” he says still chuckling but at least standing up.

Picking up a rag he brings it to my face but quickly moves down to lick my cheek making me blush and start laughing.

“That was so gross.”

“You fucking liked it.” He says wrapping his arms around me pinning my arms down and trapping me.

“Says you.”

“I could lick something else.” He says wiggling his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes my heart picking up. Unable to go anywhere, not that I would want to, I accept the kiss pressed to my mouth.

Kissing him back him, he takes my bottom lip between his. One thing I've noticed is his kiss goes a little farther everytime he does it.

When his tongue brushes over my lip I timidly meet his with mine. The taste of spices and tonights choice of scotch fills my mouth as his tongue does. When his grip moves to settle around my waist, I wrap my arms around his neck. Pulling away from me he presses his forehead to mine letting us take a breath.

“We should finish dinner.” He mumbles clenching his jaw.

“Do we have to?” I ask, my stomach full of butterflies.

“Fuck no.”

Blushing I press my lips back to his, him reaching down to pick me up to carry me to his room  for the night.

It wasn’t late night drunk sex, or first date sex and sure as hell wasn’t planned sex, but despite all that it was better than anything I could have wished for.

Something that turned into a one night fake date then to a week trail ended being the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t ask for it to happen any other way.

[usertimothee]

Could I request - things you said [after a fight] with Rick and Michonne please?

(Sorry this took so long to get out, anon, but I hope you’re pleased with the final product.  Again, I seem to be incapable of writing something short, so there’s a lot of preamble before the direct answer to your prompt, and I left the reason for their fight intentionally vague.  But I actually quite like this, and hope you will, too.❤️)

They never fight.

(Well, almost never.)

Which is probably the reason why, on the rare occasions they do fight, it’s so jarring.  So severe, in the way it turns everything askew.  Like someone’s tilted the world on its axis and shifted everything a few feet out of place.  Like all of her rights have been switched with her lefts.

He closes up when he’s angry.  He isolates himself, and stops talking, and avoids her like she’s a damn walker.  It’s actually impressive how he manages to stay out of her way; she can count on one hand the number of times she sees him every day.  And at night, after he puts off coming upstairs as long as he can while still being semi-reasonable, he enters their room and goes to sleep with his back towards her, without a word.  Without a sound.

It drives her absolutely insane.

But she resolves not to give in and make the first move.  She refuses to.  Hell would have to freeze over first.  The world would have to go back to the way it used to be.

Rick closes up, but Michonne fills with pride.  She decides that she won’t be wrong - that he’s more wrong than she is - and that he’ll apologize first.  She’ll apologize back, and admit her fault, but he’ll do it first.

And so days pass, without a step in each other’s direction.  Without clemency.  They’re both stubborn, sometimes to a fault.  And they’re the only people left on Earth that have a prayer of matching the other’s stubbornness.

And days pass, with nothing.

Carl, surprisingly, is the one who makes them start to chip at the ice between them.

All four of them are in the kitchen for breakfast, Michonne putting laser focus into cutting up toast and feeding it to Judith at the table while Rick fumbles around through drawers and fridges and cabinets for nothing in particular, both of them putting all their energy into giving each other the cold shoulder.  Carl sits across from Michonne, barely picking at the scrambled eggs in front of him as he shifts his gaze from Michonne to Rick over and over again.  The tension in the room is as thick as the oppressive humidity of the summer day outside, and hangs off their skin in the same way.  Judith babbles away obliviously, and Michonne envies her.

Rick gives up on looking busy and walks over to the table, kissing Judith and Carl on their heads as he bids them goodbye.  He barely throws a glance and a shrug in her direction before he heads to door to pull on his boots and start his day, and she ignores the pang it puts in her heart because she will not crack first.

As soon as he vacates the room, Carl turns to her.

“Did you and Dad break up?”

Her head snaps toward him and her stomach twists and his question is so startling that she swears her heart stops for two seconds before it starts beating again.

She’s not breaking up with him.  She’s fucking mad at him, but she’s not breaking up with him.  Even the sound of it seems so juvenile and callow compared to the seriousness of their relationship.  It feels almost disrespectful to the both of them to even consider it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Rick, paused in the middle of putting on his shoes, standing just close enough to hear the conversation but far enough back from the doorway that Carl won’t be able to see him from where he’s sitting.

Her brain is foggy, and it takes her a moment to answer.  Judith keeps talking to herself, and pulls gently on Michonne’s fingers.

“We didn’t…break up,” she stutters out, and the words taste odd as they leave her lips.  Like they’ve sneaked over from a parallel universe that she has no interest in ever visiting or recreating.  “Why would you ask that?  Why would you even think that?”

Her eyes dart to Rick for a split second, just long enough to see he’s still there and listening, before moving back to Carl as his skin turns pink and he drops his head, his long bangs falling into his face.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles.  “You guys have been really tense and quiet the past few days.  If you think you’ve been hiding it, you haven’t been.  You’ve been avoiding each other.  And it just kind of…I don’t know, it kind of reminds me of my mom and my dad were back at the prison.  Before Judith and before…everything else.  I know they weren’t happy.  And if what…happened to my mom…hadn’t happened, I’m not sure they would even be together like that right now.”

She looks at Rick, who’s attention is entirely on Carl now, his eyes wide and hurt and almost embarrassed as he stares at his son.  She’s filled with the urge to get up and go to him, to comfort him, but she steels herself and turns away quickly.

She won’t break first.

Gathering her thoughts, she clears her throat and reaches across the table to lightly grasp the boy’s arm.

“Carl.”

He sighs and lifts his head, and his expression is sad when he locks his gaze with hers.  He looks younger than she’s seen him look in a long, long time.

“I hated when they were mad at each other,” he whispers.

She nods, and runs her hand over his forearm.

“Carl, your dad and I aren’t breaking up,” she reassures him.  “I love your dad with my whole heart, and that hasn’t changed at all.  Even if we’re not exactly thrilled with each other right now.”

“But you are mad at each other?” he questions.

“Well, I love him, but that doesn’t mean we’re gonna agree one hundred percent of the time,” she says, sitting up in her chair.  “Nobody agrees on everything.”

He nods slowly to himself, but doesn’t respond.

“Carl, you know your mom and your dad both loved you so much,” she tells him, reaching out to him again.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”

“And you know that my love for you and Judy is totally separate and independent from your dad, right?  I’m still gonna be around and be here for the two of you, no matter what would happen with him.”

He finally smiles at that, nodding again, and grabs her hand gently.

“Yeah.  I know that, too.”

They grin at each other, and then he gets up and grabs Judith before he turns to her, the gloominess finally beginning to fade from his face.

“I’m going to take her up to get dressed,” he says, and then starts for the stairs.

Michonne smiles to herself as she watches them go, and then stands herself, picking up a few of the dishes on the table and beginning to walk them to the sink, when she sees a flash of Rick, still standing in the doorway.

She looks at him because she almost can’t help it, because every atom of her body is attuned and attracted to him like a magnet is to metal.  He’s staring at the empty table still, the lines on his face drawn and sad.  She feels it again, that need to be there, with him and for him.

But she won’t break first, and soon enough she hears his boots click against the hardwood floor and the front door open and shut.  She puts the dirty plates down and grips the edge of the counter, turning her face up and closing her eyes.

She’s late coming home that day, and it’s been dark for at least an hour by the time she turns onto their street.  She knows that Judith is already asleep, and that Carl has retired to his room by now, and she hates not being able to say goodnight to them but sometimes things happen and sometimes it’s necessary.  Today was one of those days.

She can see her house by now and she can see him sitting out on the top step of the porch, the baby monitor and what looks like a glass of whiskey sitting next to him, his forearms resting on his knees and his head hung in front of him.

She feels a obstinate tug in the pit of her stomach trying to convince her to take a detour through Maggie and Glenn’s yard and go in through the back door, to not give in, to not break, but she’s tired, so tired - tired of not talking to him, tired of avoiding him, tired of being so far away from him.  And she can still see his face staring at their empty table that morning.

So she stays on course and lumbers up the stairs, taking her sword off her back and sitting a few feet from him on the top step.  He doesn’t look up.  She sighs as she grabs the baby monitor to glance at Judith, and smiles softly at the gray image of the little girl, laying on her stomach with her thumb in her mouth and her bum in the air.  She puts the screen down, picks up his whiskey and takes a gulp, swallowing with a grimace as she sets the glass back on the porch with a soft clank.

She stares out at the world in front of her, wringing her hands together as the silence between them starts to eat at her.  She wants to say something - she knows that - but she can’t think of what to say.  She could almost scream from the frustration that’s been building inside her over the past few days, and that seems to be choking her suddenly as she sits there beside him.

“I miss you.”

The words ring out quietly into the night air, but they’re unmistakably there and they’re unmistakably his, and she’s so happy and relieved that tears well in her eyes.

“I miss you, too,” she says, turning her head to look at him, and she finds him staring back at her, his blue eyes shining the same way hers are.

He moves the monitor and the whiskey out of the way so he can reach for her, and their hands meet in the middle of the space between them because she’s reaching for him, too.  They pull themselves towards each other, and she lays her hands over his chest as his come up to stroke and caress her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and he shakes his head, running his fingertips across her forehead and then tucking one of her locs behind her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he insists, moving his thumb over her cheekbone again and again.  “And I don’t want to fight about this anymore.”

“Me either,” she agrees as she shakes her head, bringing up one of her hands to cover his and hold it against her face.  “We can’t.  We won’t.”

“We’ll talk about it more.  Talk about it with the others, find something that works for all of us.  For both of us,” he swears.  “I won’t let it happen like before.  I won’t let it get like it got between me and Lori.”

She frowns at the quiver in his voice, and at the tear that escapes from the corner of his eye.  She wipes at it with the pad of her finger, and then pulls his face down to hers, bringing their foreheads together.

“I love you,” she tells him, and she delights in the way the corner of his mouth twitches up at her statement, in spite of everything.

“I love you, too,” he says, pulling her even closer and inhaling as she nuzzles her face deeper into his palm.

The stay like that for awhile, pressed together and breathing each other in, reveling the feeling of coming together again after spending silly days far apart.

“So did you mean it?” he asks suddenly.

“Mean what?” she inquires, pulling back from him slightly and raising an eyebrow at the slight grin resting on his lips.

“When you told Carl we weren’t breaking up, and that you love me with your whole heart.”

She smiles at the mirth in his eyes, but she doesn’t miss the shadow of doubt and insecurity that lurks deep inside, and so she pulls him close as she answers, makes sure they’re focused on nothing but each other.

“Yeah, Grimes, I did.  You couldn’t get rid of me now if you tried.”

He laughs lightly, and wraps one of his arms around her lower back.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good,” she whispers, and she pushes a strand of his hair out of where it’s fallen in his face, rakes her fingers over his scalp, and leans up to kiss him.

send me a ship + a number and i’ll write you a story!

follow my writing @reciprocityfic!

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Future Serial Killer [ongoing]

Chapter 38

Carl tried not to look too alarmed by what he’d just seen when Daryl left Rick’s side as if he’d burned him, the older man approaching with a softened expression when he saw Jasmine in the teen’s arms.

‘Who’s ‘at?’ He asked, voice still as low and gruff as it always was which put Carl at ease.

He held Jasmine more securely in his arms while she stared up at Daryl, her pacifier moving in time with her suckles. Carl smiled, kissing his daughter’s head before he answered the question.

‘This is Jasmine, our little girl. That’s Uncle Daryl, Flower.’

‘More like Great Uncle Daryl now. Yer the third gen’ration, Lil’ Warrior.’ Daryl reached a hesitant hand out to touch her cheek and Carl relaxed when Jasmine nuzzled against his hand like a cat rather than pulling away.

He brushed the toddler’s curls away from her eyes and smiled brighter when her eyes darted between him and Daryl, not knowing who to gaze at.

‘Can I ‘old ‘er?’ The question came out hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if Carl or Negan trusted him that much.

Carl could see the sadness in Daryl’s expression and knew that Jasmine was reminding him of Judith and how they lost her. He felt the same every day when he looked in her eyes, though he tried not to.

Hoisting Jasmine a bit higher in his arms, he glanced at Negan, seeing him talking animatedly to one of the other Hilltop residents as if they were friendly. As if he hadn’t murdered at least ten of them, even though it had been months since he acted like that guy. It was refreshing to see him smile at someone who wasn’t a part of their Saviour inner circle back at home, and the expression actually looked genuine.

‘Neeg?’

The older man’s head lifted as soon as he heard his husband’s voice calling, whisky eyes turning to him with an immediate brighter smile.

‘Yeah, Rabbit?’

‘You think Daryl can hold Jasmine?’

A flash of something protective showed in Negan’s gaze but he shook his head, pointing to Carl.

‘You decide, you know him better.’ He smiled, going back to his conversation, and leaving Carl to turn back to Daryl.

‘Of course, you can hold her. You’re the best nanny I know.’ He replied, letting the man take his daughter and watching as they bonded.

Daryl wasn’t one for saying much. In fact, Carl had witnessed a steady decline over the years of his willingness to speak, like he had gotten more socially awkward as time went on in the apocalypse, but he found that he was good at communicating non-verbally, which helped when talking to his still utterly silent daughter.

Jasmine stared up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, though she stared at anybody who gave her attention that way, and Carl watched while she grabbed at Daryl’s growing hair like she did to his own.

‘Should call you Lil’ Hair-Puller instead.’ The man laughed and caused Jasmine to giggle too, her copying behaviours still intact as she grabbed onto his hand instead, resting her head on Daryl’s shoulder without caring about the muck on his arms.

The archer held her securely, a consistent smile on his face now as he and the toddler stared into each other’s souls.

‘I think she likes you.’

‘I like ‘er too. Missed ‘aving a kid around.’

Carl smiled with a sympathetic expression at Daryl’s words, glancing to where his dad used to be but seeing the space empty. He started walking with Daryl still holding Jasmine, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

‘So… you and my dad?’ He brought up the subject hesitantly, feeling far too awkward about what he’d witnessed.

Daryl gave him a shrug in response, stroking Jasmine’s hair as he replied.

‘Didn’t mean nothing. Thought I’d feel somethin’ but it didn’ change my life.’

Carl nodded, shrugging.

‘Sometimes it takes a few mistakes to find the right person, Negan certainly wasn’t my first guess at who I’d end up with. Did he have a fight with Michonne?’ He asked, wondering why his dad would kiss Daryl when he already had someone in his life.

The older man glanced at him, nodding a little.

‘Fight, yeah. She’ll be back soon, went on a run.’ He explained, shrugging, and giving Jasmine a smile when she tried to get his attention.

Carl let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and scuffing his foot on the ground. He wasn’t sure how long it would take Brie and Oliver to pack up the supplies, but he figured they would be done soon. If Michonne wasn’t there to feed him like she always did, he wasn’t sure he’d be welcome any longer period of time.

Negan definitely wouldn’t be.

He was proved wrong about that though when he heard footsteps jogging towards them from behind. Maggie’s short brown hair appeared beside them, a kind smile on her face.

‘Why don’t we eat together? I can make eggs and I’ve got some soup in the fridge we could have for lunch.’

Carl was surprised that the lunch offer came from Maggie of all people. For a moment, he wondered if Negan had done something to force her into inviting them both into her house. He hated thinking that Negan would do something like that, but it was the only explanation he could think of to why Maggie would make lunch for the man who murdered her husband.

He frowned, asking the question just in case he had to scold the man for threatening her.

‘Did Neeg say something to you? Did he threaten you?’

Maggie shook her head, squeezing his shoulder gently and giving him a smile.

‘He got on his knees and kissed my damn hand, apologised and insisted he regrets what he did. That’s all I needed, for him to admit he did wrong.’ There were tears shining in her eyes, making his heart break.

Unable to stop himself, he pulled the older woman into a hug. He stayed latched onto her for a few quiet minutes, relaxing when Maggie hugged him back tightly and kissed his hair.

‘I’m sorry…’

‘I don’t blame you for who you’ve fallen in love with, honey, you had no control over that the same way I didn’t choose to fall in love with Glenn. It’s no one’s fault but Negan’s that he’s dead and your husband has apologised so I’m happy to have you both in the house.’ She responded in a gentle tone of voice, cupping his cheeks when he finally pulled away and giving him a smile.

It put Carl at ease to know that even Maggie accepted Negan into the community now. He knew Negan wanted them to work together – the older man was tired of fighting people who weren’t a threat anymore – so the teen was glad they could finally get a little bit of peace for both of their communities.

‘Kid, Lil Warrior’s gettin’ fussy. You bring formula with you?’ Daryl spoke up from further down the path, bouncing Jasmine up and down in his arms to keep her quiet.

Carl turned to look at him, seeing that the little girl was making more noise now and approaching quickly, taking her back into his arms.

‘Are you hungry, Flower? I think your Papa has some formula with him. Negan! Did Cara give you a bottle for Jazz?!’ He called out to his husband, sighing when he shook his head in response.

‘I don’t think she put any in the bag!’

‘Fuck.’ Carl swore under his breath, ready to stress out before Maggie put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Don’t panic, I have a box in the house I never threw out after we lost your sister. Come on, Dandelion.’ She smiled at Jasmine, taking her from the teen and starting to walk towards the house.

Carl sighed, glad to have others to help him with his daughter. He smiled when he felt arms around his waist from behind, leaning into Negan’s chest and kissing his beard when the man leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek.

‘Thank you for apologising to Maggie.’

Negan nodded, kissing his cheek once more and leaning his chin on top of his head as they headed for Maggie’s house.

‘She deserved to be able to let that rage go. Wasn’t fair to force her to feel that shit, it’s hard enough losing the one you love.’ He sighed, waving to Daryl who just grunted and went inside by himself.

Carl watched the other man disappear with a frown, reaching his hand up to pet his bearded cheek as they stepped inside and milled around while Maggie made lunch.

‘I wish he had someone to talk to. He’s getting lonelier as he gets older.’ The teen hummed, causing Negan to nod.

‘I’m sure he’ll find someone eventually. Shame it didn’t end up being your dad…’

‘Yeah…’ Carl sighed softly, moving to the stove to help Maggie cook lunch.

∞

‘I hope I see you again soon, Dandelion. Auntie Maggie loves you so much.’ Maggie kissed all over the toddler’s face to make her giggle while the supplies shared by Hilltop were packed away.

Carl smiled, watching them interact with a fond expression on his face before moving to talk to Daryl who was still milling around at the edge of the group. He brought him in for a tight hug, feeling how hesitant he still was about physical affection.

‘Keep living with Maggie. I don’t like the idea of you all alone in that little cottage of yours, and I don’t want you becoming a hermit.’ He teased, listening with a laugh when he started grumbling.

‘M’ not a hermit.’

‘Sure, you aren’t. I’ll see you next week.’ He reassured, nudging his arm affectionately so that Daryl didn’t become any more uncomfortable.

The older man nodded, gesturing towards where Maggie was holding onto Jasmine, the toddler reaching out towards Carl.

‘Think Lil’ Warrior wants ‘er Daddy.’

‘I think so too. On you go to your Daddy, Dandelion.’ Maggie hummed, giving the little girl back to the teen after one more kiss on the forehead who hugged her close securely.

He smiled at his chosen family before hearing Negan’s voice coming from the truck, looking over to see him waving.

‘We’re ready to go!’

‘Okay, come on, Flower. See you guys next week.’ Carl waved to the others then climbed into the truck, letting his husband drive so he could hold onto Jasmine and let her wave goodbye as they left the little town.

By the time Negan got them onto the straight road twenty miles away from the Sanctuary, Carl was already fast asleep with his head leaning against the window. Jasmine was out of it too, resting against his chest, with both of them snoring loud enough to fill the whole truck.

‘Can hear your husband even without the walkie.’ Brie’s voice came over the radio as they swerved easily around a dead walker.

Negan chuckled, pressing the button to reply.

‘Try being in front right beside- son of a bitch!’ He cut himself off by yelling when the back tyre started letting out air and causing the truck to lag.

Reacting as quickly as he could to avoid crashing, he pulled the truck over, stopping to get out.

‘What happened?’ Carl’s sleepy voice permeated the air as he woke up at the movement of the truck and Negan’s yelling.

The older man shook his head.

‘It’s just a blown-out tyre, darling, probably went over a sharp rock. Stay here with Jazz.’ He insisted before getting out of the truck slowly, still wary that someone might have attacked the truck.

As he stepped out, he found that Brie and the others had already gotten out to investigate and were now surrounding a hooded figure and a black spaniel. The dog had its teeth bared at the group, snarling at anyone who got close, and the figure had two daggers pointed at everybody, keeping them away.

Negan approached slowly, coming up to stand beside Brie and trying to speak to the stranger so they didn’t murder any of his men.

‘Hey there. My name’s Negan and these are my friends. We aren’t going to hurt you so could you please put those blades away?’ He tried to reason with the figure, giving them a neutral smile to reassure that they weren’t going to be attacked.

Their surroundings went silent for a moment, only the faint sound of birds nearby reaching them. Then the figure lifted their hands and pulled back the hood of their cloak to reveal a young woman with long black hair and mud-coated skin staring back at them. She stared at Negan, tilting her head, and then started to use sign language.

Negan did his best to focus on the signs, sighing once he realised what she was saying.

‘You don’t speak English, okay, brilliant.’ He groaned, running a hand through his hair, and then pointing to his chest.

‘Negan.’

The woman stared at him for a few seconds, narrowing her hazel eyes at him before pointing to herself.

‘Liùsaidh.’ Then she pointed to the dog still snarling at everybody.

‘Sorcha.’

Negan nodded, giving her a smile, and putting a finger up to indicate he’d be back in a second. Turning away, he went to the front of the truck and opened the door to talk to Carl.

‘I need you to translate, you’re better at sign language than me.’

Carl frowned at him, confused but getting out of the truck anyway, carrying Jasmine in his arms as he walked around to the back of the truck. He eyed the woman standing there suspiciously before giving Jasmine to Negan and starting to sign to her.

‘My name’s Carl. Are you part of a group?’

Liùsaidh shook her head, seeming calm until one of their idiot Saviour supply runners came up behind her and tried to take her daggers.

‘Iain, don’t!’ Carl was too late to save him.

As soon as the idiot Saviour touched Liùsaidh’s shoulder, she grabbed his wrist and flipped him onto the ground. She stood on his throat, not waiting another second before stabbing him in the side of the neck. Ripping out the dagger, she let him bleed out and kept her boot on his throat even though he kept trying to shove her off.

She turned to look at Negan with a glare on her face.

‘Touch me and I kill you.’

Carl gulped as he translated, nodding to her, and putting his hands up in surrender before signing while speaking so the others could understand him.

‘No one’s going to touch you again, I promise. If we’re on the same page, would you like to come with us? We have food, showers, beds, we can help you.’

Negan nodded in agreement to put the young woman at ease, pointing towards Sorcha while talking to Jasmine.

‘That’s a doggy. Isn’t it cute?’ He smiled, watching the little girl’s dreamy expression while she stared at the dog.

Carl noted how Liùsaidh’s expression seemed to soften at the sight of his daughter and grinned when she nodded.

‘Thank you. I’m sorry for slashing your tyre.’

The teen shrugged, gesturing to Oliver who was switching the stabbed tyre out with their spare one.

‘That’s okay, we have a spare. You can sit in the front with me and my husband, there’s a middle seat in there. Come on.’ He gestured for her to follow, waiting as she got Sorcha to jump into the back of the truck with the others.

‘Rach còmhla ris na daoine snog sin, chì mi thu nuair a ruigeas sinn far a bheil iad a ’fuireach. Nighean mhath.’ She spoke in a language Carl didn’t recognise then followed him with a gruff sound of acknowledgement, reminding him of how Daryl usually communicated with strangers.

Lil translation for the Scots Gaelic above:

"Go with these nice people, I'll see you when we get to where they live. Good girl."