Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Chapter: 1.02

Three hours into the event and your feet were starting to ache. You had spent most of the evening smiling politely and nodding along as you spoke with the wives of advisers while Cornelius introduced himself to council members, donors, and various Capitol officials whose names you’d never remember.

Standing with the other women, you couldn’t help but feel slightly overdressed. They all looked polished and perfect, but the colors they wore seemed to match the men they accompanied.

The event's decorations were beautiful but overwhelming. The oversized chandeliers that hung above the outside stage glowed brighter with the sky turning darker. The lights cast a golden light over the crowd as Lucky Flickerman’s voice echoed throughout the event.

One by one the candidates were interviewed, and one by one they left you feeling mind-numbingly bored, despite the fact the interviews were no longer than five minutes long each. Men with decades of experience working within the Capitol dribble on confidently about policies, economics, and district management in what little time they have.

Cornelius watches every interview carefully.

Too carefully.

You notice the way his shoulders stiffen each time the audience applauded, even if it was fake appreciation. Excusing yourself from the table, you make your way towards him as he straightens his clothes, preparing to be next.

“Cornelius.”

“Hm?”

Your hand closes around his wrist, “you are going to be great. Stop looking so worried.”

The confidence he carries so effortlessly most of the time was slipping, and you needed to help him. “All those men are uptight and reek of desperation to want to be seen. Be different.”

“How?”

Lucky Flickerman’s delighted voice booms through the speakers. “And next up, I will be speaking with a familiar face and the youngest candidate of the evening, Cornelius Snow!”

Seeing his nerves kick in, you press your hand to the back of his neck, pulling his head down. “Do you trust me?”

Arching his brows curiously, you don’t give him a chance to answer, knowing time was running out, and kiss him roughly. Pulling back, you notice the faint stain of lipstick left on his face, perfect.

“Wh—”

“Whatever he says, remember to smile.”

When he goes on stage, there is a mixture of applause and curious murmuring spread throughout. Coriolanus does well answering the first round of questions without drawing out his answers. Lucky cocks his head to the side and gives the cameraman a look that seems to be a silent command, then starts gesturing at the corner of his own mouth while facing your husband.

There are a few chuckles from the crowd.

“I must say, Mr. Snow, red is your color."

Coriolanus stares at him, confused. "Color?"

The older man grins, “of lipstick, fairly unmistakable. I dare say a special someone gave you a kiss for good luck.”

Coriolanus seems lost for words, then lets out a curt laugh; his eyes briefly move to you, lingering at the sideline as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes, I should really stop kissing right before interviews.”

“Well, you are a handsome man; I will try and restrain myself next time.”

The crowd erupts into laughter.

Lucky follows Cornelius's line of sight and looks over his shoulder directly at you, then motions for one of the cameramen to spin in your direction while the rest are still pointed at him. “Cornelius, tell the viewers at home and our guests here tonight who the beautiful lady is.”

You smile awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable when your face appears on different screens.

Much to your surprise, Cornelius grins. “That is Mrs. Snow, and I must agree with you. She is incredibly beautiful.”

A whistle sounds somewhere within the audience, followed by a genuine sound of applause. Lucky places a hand dramatically against his chest. “Oh, this is wonderful. Here I was expecting another discussion about district taxation.” Lucky chuckles, “although, speaking of Mrs. Snow, I have to ask. That gown is magnificent. I don’t believe I’ve seen anything quite like it before. It almost looks as if there are flames underneath it. And that leads to a difficult question for any husband to answer, do you know where she acquired such an outfit?”

“It’s one of a kind; my cousin Tigris Snow, she designed and made it herself for this occasion.”

The reaction from the audience is immediate; several people begin whispering amongst themselves.

Lucky points a finger at him dramatically. “See, that’s what we like to hear. A family that supports each other. The Snows are making the rest of us look bad.”

More laughter follows, and Cornelius shakes his head, smiling despite himself.

“Unfortunately that’s all we have time for, but I do hope we speak again soon.” Lucky stands and shakes Cornelius's hand, which wasn’t something he had done with anyone else he had interviewed all night.

—

Making your way towards the exit was much different from the arrival. Cornelius was stopped and greeted by so many different people, many of them offering him comments of support.

His arm is linked with yours until you step onto the elevator. You go and stand with your back pressed against the mirror covering the wall. The lift was so small it was only couples and groups no larger than three or four going on at a time, so it was just the two of you when the doors shut with a soft chime.

You wait for him to say something, but Cornelius stays silent. He slowly moves closer but seems lost in a deep thought and doesn’t once look at you, his eyes glued to the ground.

“They loved you.”

The reflection of lights from the garden below flashes through the glass windows on the door of the elevator, casting a golden shadow across his face, highlighting the stony look he was wearing.

“Are you angry?”

His brows pull together, “why would I be angry?”

You don’t reply since you couldn’t think of a straight answer, and for a moment he simply stares at you.

“Cornelius—”

Before you can finish your sentence, his hands gently land on either side of your face and then bring his lips to yours. The kiss is passionate. Demanding. Nothing like the sweet innocent ones you usually share. Your fingers instinctively clutch the front of his blazer as he moves a hand to your hip.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are slightly breathless. He kisses the tip of your nose before resting his forehead against yours. “I’m not angry, never was. But now potential voters will know something else about me.”

“What’s that?”

“How perfectly looking my wife is.”

Hearing the door chime, you quickly separate when the door opens, and you are thankful you do as the hallway leading to the front entrance is flooded with people holding cameras.

—

Stepping into the Snow family penthouse, the front entrance was in darkness, but you could hear the echoing of soft voices and the glow of lights coming from the living room across the hall.

Coriolanus leans down and whispers into your ear, “Grandma’am and Tigris will be staying up late to watch all the coverage. We should let them know we’re back.”

Chewing on your lower lip, you crane your neck to look up at him and feel his breath warm against your face. An unknown tingling feeling was heating up in your chest and between your legs and had been there since he kissed you on the lift. It was unfamiliar, but you don’t want it to end so soon. “We should,” you say as low as possible. “But I think we should go into your study first.”

There was a glint of excitement in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. “Oh, I see.”

After the first couple of steps you realize the issue with trying to sneak in; your heels have made a clicking sound against the floor. Both of you pause when the chatter stops and the volume of the tv is turned down.

“Coryo, is that you?” Tigris calls out.

Coriolanus presses a finger to his lips. When the volume is turned up again, he swiftly picks you up bridal style and carries you to the study, which is close by compared to either bedroom.

In the blink of an eye, you’re sitting on the edge of his desk while Coriolanus is locking the door. When he turns back to you, he loosens the top buttons of his crisp white shirt. A soft smile graces his lips when he stops just in front of you, his eyes roaming over your body, but once again his expression is hard to read.

“What are you thinking?”

When he moves closer, you feel something hard pressing against the inside of your thigh. “How many different laces and clasps are on your dress?”

He wasn’t wrong; it took Tigris and two assistants to help you into it. Not wanting to waste time, you reach for the fabric on the bottom of your dress and pull it up. Every time you had sex with Coriolanus before, it felt almost like a business transaction, something you both silently agreed to need to do, but this was different; you wanted him in a way you had before.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” he whispers while trailing his fingers up your leg. “We need to be quiet—”

You cut him off with a searing kiss; his hand immediately goes between your thighs. Feeling how wet you are, Coriolanus smirks against your mouth. He spends a long time rubbing circles over your clit, even while unbuckling his belt and lowering his trousers painfully slowly. When he finally shifts the damp underwear to the side and lines himself up, you bury your face into the side of his neck to muffle any moans.

“That’s it, you are taking me so well while being quiet.”

His praise spurs you on, and without even realizing it, you begin to claw at his back and grip at his hair. His thrusts speed up, and he lifts you up slightly off the table to stop the wood from making such a loud scraping sound.

It doesn't take long for Coriolanus to reach his climax, but he doesn’t pull out until he knows he’s managed to make you come. He gives you a moment to gather yourself before gently pulling out and putting your pants back into place before any mess could appear on your thighs, then helps you down off the desk.

“Shit,” you mutter, feeling weak at the knees.

His eyes widened, “did I hurt you?”

“No, no, my legs have just gone numb.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, he helps you straighten out your dress or at least make yourself more presentable. “We could go change first if you’d be more comfortable?”

“No, I’d rather wait and watch you trying to figure out how to remove it later.”

Holding back a laugh, Coriolanus links his fingers with yours and leads the way for you to go and speak with his grandma and cousin. Tonight had gone far better than expected, and you liked seeing this version of Coriolanus, for even in the smallest amount of time he was carefree and happy compared to his usual state of stress.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Chapter: 5.13

Walking towards the porch slowly, you watch as Daryl’s head shoots up when Carol picks up Jace. You don’t hear what she says to him, but a frown forms on his face, and he shakes his head and resumes the task of butchering.

You eye Carl suspiciously, “what did—“

“I was just telling Daryl I’m going to take the little one next door so he and Judith can nap at the same time.”

“Okay.”

She winks, making your cheeks feel warm. You weren’t a prude, and truth be told, sex was the furthest thing from your mind until Carol mentioned it, but now… now you wanted Daryl like crazy, but the fear of him rejecting you was in the back of your mind. So much had happened in such a short space. After pondering what to do for a few seconds, you decided to go for it.

Once Carol’s out of earshot, you crouch behind Daryl, pressing a hand to his shoulder, and you say it. "I'm going for another shower. Care to join me?”

He pauses what he’s doing and turns to face you. His expression is hard to read.

“If Jace is being taken care of and we have the place to ourselves…” when he says nothing, you start to doubt that you suggested it, but just as you stand back up, he finally speaks.

“We won’t have long,” Daryl says while gathering his things, “we should go now before anyone comes back.”

Holding back a massive grin, you nod and walk inside the house, once inside and out of sight of the nosy neighbors, you sprint up the staircase, laughing slightly when you hear the door slam shut and heavy footsteps following closely behind.

As soon as the bathroom door is locked, you kick off your shoes and then start to strip. Dirty discarded clothes land on the floor and the sink. When your underwear hits the tiles, Daryl’s mouth is on your neck. Breathing heavily, your bare chest presses against his, and having this type of skin-on-skin contact for the first time in months causes you to feel on fire.

Pulling his head back, you kiss him on the lips, then step back. “Shower, now.”

Blue eyes bore into you as you step into the shower and finally turn it on. The moment the water hits your skin, you start lathering up the soap and breathe in its fruity smell. Seconds later the water circling the drain turns dark as weeks of dried dirt and blood fall from Daryl’s hair and body when he finally joins you.

When he turns to rinse his face directly under the shower head, you trail your fingers along his back, tracing the outline of two demons tattooed onto his shoulder but avoiding the deep scars crisscrossing over his skin.

The thought of him being in so much pain…your eyes start to swell with tears, but you lose all trail of thought when Daryl spins back around and his eyes rake over your body.

No words needed to be said.

Threading your fingers through his wet hair, you pull him in for another kiss. After a few moments he pulls back and starts kissing a path from your jaw down your chest and over your stomach until he’s eventually kneeling in front of you. “Is this okay?”

“God, yes!”

You bite down on your lower lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly when Daryl starts to worship you with his mouth.

—

Standing in front of the sink frowning, you do your best to try and scrub the black leather vest. Daryl wanted to wear it again since he insisted on wearing his own clothes and not borrowing fresh, clean ones from Aaron.

Standing behind you, Daryl cages you between him and the sink. He wipes the water droplets off the mirror and kisses the side of your neck. He was shirtless, his trousers were still unfastened, and you had nothing but underwear on.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where this would lead to… for the third time.

His hands start to roam over your ass and thighs. Letting out a soft laugh, you shake your head. “Abraham, Rosita, and Glenn are literally about to walk up onto the porch.”

You catch him rolling his eyes dramatically in the reflection of the mirror before looking out the window and realizing how close they are. Daryl steps back and starts to redress himself. A comfortable moment of silence passes between you, but just as he starts to re-buckle his belt, Daryl asks, “have you ever thought about having all this before?”

“What, us having sex and hiding it from our friends?”

“No,” he snorts. “I meant this place, us living in a big, fancy community.”

“I’m surprised a place like this exists.”

“That’s not an answer.”

There’s a gruffness to his voice. Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he ties the laces on his boots. “This place is beautiful, but it’s not somewhere I would have chosen to live in my life before, so no. But ever since finding you again, I’ve thought of nothing but us being safe. No big house, no white picket fence, just safe.”

“You think Alexandria could be a safe place to live?”

“I hope so. Have you thought about living in a place like this before?”

A serious look crosses his face while he thinks it over. You drop your gaze to the sink and start scrubbing the vest again, after a moment Daryl stands behind you and presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. “The only thing that’s been keeping me going is protecting you and the kids. If being behind these walls keeps those freaks away from my family, then we can make this place our home.”

—

Brows pulling together, you stare at the space of grass between the two large houses your group was given to stay in as Rick, Daryl, and Carol whisper about something. It had only been a few hours since he showered, and somehow Daryl was filthy again.

“Can I give Jace this to play with?”

Looking away from the window, you see Carl walking towards you with a stuffed toy; the layers of dust on it are so thick it takes you a couple of seconds to realize the toy is a dog. “Yeah, he’ll love it, thank you. I’ll wash it in the kitchen and give it to him once it’s dried. Where did you find it?”

“In the attic next door.”

“What else did you find?”

“A couple of comic books and CDs, nothing that interesting. I went to Ron’s house after.”

Ron, who was the oldest son of the woman Jessie who gave you a bunch of old baby clothes. “How was it?”

“Strange. He had a couple of friends there, and they were playing a video game where you need to kill a certain amount of zombies to get to the next level.” His grip on the toy tightens as he sits down next to you, “it’s just a game to them. They don’t understand that those things are just outside the walls!”

“Hey, hey." Wrapping your arm around his neck, you kiss his cheek. “It’s a lot to process; we’ve only been here a day. It’s gonna be hard to adapt, but we will.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Confused, you softly ask, “what do you mean?”

“These people are soft. I don’t want us to become like that; they aren’t prepared for the world outside. We won’t survive if we do.”

“I promise we won’t ever become soft.”

You stroke Carl’s hair in silence until you feel him start to relax. It was hard seeing him so upset and fighting back tears; Carl was just a kid but was trying so hard to be strong like his dad.

“I’m worried I’ll forget.”

“Forget?”

“Forget what it was like living on the road, the farm, the prison… my mom.”

“Once we have settled into this place, we should make a family tree and write happy memories on the back of it. That way we won’t forget, and Judith and Jace will know where they come from.”

He nods. “I’d like that.”

Hearing Deanna’s voice, you look outside again and see her crouching down so she is eye level with him and gently shaking his small hand. “Hello, young man, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Rick, who was holding Jace, laughed at your son staring at her blankly while Daryl studied her.

You can’t hear anything else they say, but Rick points in the direction of the house, a minute later Deanna is stepping up onto the porch. You squeeze Carl’s shoulder, then go and open the door to let her in.

“Hi.”

She smiles sweetly at you. “thank you for letting me; I don’t want to impose, so I’ll be quick. As I said previously, I assign everyone that lives here jobs. We have a small school set up in the garages, and I’d like you to assist in it. Although we only have a handful of kids in our community, I’m afraid Margret, who currently teaches them alone, isn’t a match for three moody teenagers. So what do you think?”

“How many kids go to it?”

She looks surprised by the question. “Right now there is just Ron, Enid, Mikey, and Ron’s younger brother Sam. Although I’d like to think Carl would join them. As would Jace and Judith one day.”

“I’ll assist Margret. But if it’s okay, I’d like it if Noah could join them sometimes as well. I know he’s desperate to help in any way he can, but he’s still just a kid.”

“I’ll leave it to you to work it out with him, but I have no problem with it.”

“Thank you.”

—

The first night in Alexandria was long. It was strange not fearing every rustle of a bush or snap of a twig was a walker, but instead hearing the faint sound of laughter a few houses down. It was also hard to sleep with the heat coming from everyone sleeping in the living room only inches from each other.

Sitting up right to stretch your back and arms out, you notice the front door is ajar.

Not wanting to panic anyone, you get to your feet as quietly as you can and then walk towards it while reaching for the weapon attached to your belt. But you never unsheathe your knife because you spot Rick sitting on the steps of the porch himself.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“You should be sleeping.”

Letting out a small grunt, you sit next to him, “believe it or not, the ground outside is comfier than the hard wooden floors in there.”

“Or you’re worried. You don’t sleep when you’re worried.”

“Is that why you are out here?”

“I just... I don’t even know. I want to believe this place will work out, that it could be our forever home, but I once thought that about the prison. We built something special there, then it crumbled around us.”

“We lost the prison because of one really bad man. But he’s dead, and we are still living. We can’t afford to ruin something good by still being scared of the past.”

“When did you become so wise?”

Resting your head against his shoulder, you chuckle softly, “right around the time I decided I wanted to be more like you.”

“I hope we made the right decision coming here.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: swearing

Chapter: 5.14

Chewing on your bottom lip nervously, you watch as Pete, the doctor in Alexandria, checks Jace over. Deanna arranged for the babies to be booked in for an appointment first thing in the morning. Michonne brought Judith, who was in and out fairly quickly since Deanna wanted to speak with Rick at the same time. Pete was taking a lot longer with your son than with your niece, making you feel nervous. You just had a gut feeling something was wrong.

You were surprised by the doctor’s place of work. You were expecting a makeshift treatment room in a house with a few medical supplies, but it was a clinical room that looked as if it had been lifted right out of a hospital and was fully stocked. It even smelled clean.

Standing up straight again, Pete picks up Jace and gives him back to you. “How old did you say he was again?”

“Roughly twenty months, I think. It’s hard to keep track of time on the road.”

“He’s a little smaller than Ideal, but then again you don’t look great either. I’m guessing life living on the road hasn’t been easy.”

“Food, water, and shelter are like gold dust out there,” you say, trying not to pay too much attention to his comment on your appearance. It’s easy to judge when you’ve not been living in a bubble and not in the new version of the real world. “So, how is he? Is everything okay?”

“Unfortunately, Jace does have trouble locating sound. We can arrange for you to bring him back for further tests. I will check for fluid buildup, impacted earwax, or signs of a chronic ear infection."

“Does that mean it can be reversed?”

Pete gives you a sympathetic look. “Hearing loss can only be reversed depending on its cause, and from what you’ve told me Jace has been exposed to extremely loud noises since he was born.”

Mentally you rule out infections and fluid buildup because Jace wasn’t crying or showing any signs of pain; it was most likely damage caused by explosions of gunfire.

“I won’t know anything until I do any further tests,” he pulls a notepad out of a drawer and starts scribbling on it. “What’s his full name?”

The simple question caused you to pause briefly; it made you feel strange. It was the first time since your son was born any paperwork with his name would be written on it. “Jace Jeffrey Grimes.”

Without lifting his head, Pete mumbles. “I thought Rick’s son was older.”

"Oh, he is. Carl’s fourteen. Rick’s my brother; have you met him yet?”

“No, but my wife has.”

Irritation grates through his voice; raising your brows, you stand awkwardly while thinking of a way to change the subject since things suddenly felt tense. “Oh so you must be Jessie’s husband? She dropped off a box of old baby—“

“Take this." He cuts you off and shoves a small card into your hand. “I’ll let you know when I’m next free to book Jace back in.”

—

Stepping outside of the doctor's, you jump slightly when the door slams shut behind you so hard it rattles. Pete may be a doctor, but he was also a massive asshole. What the hell was that about? Shaking your head, you shove the card into your back pocket before heading back to the house.

“What do you think Jacey, do you think you can hear mommy?”

He stares up at you curiously while you carry him. When you readjust him so he’s higher up, Jace’s brown eyes suddenly widen as he peers over your shoulder and squeals. “Dar! Dar!”

Spinning round to face the opposite way, your eyes fall on multiple figures moving at once. There was a small group gathering by the gates at the entrance; stepping closer to get a better look, you spot Rick stepping in between Daryl and a guy named Nicholas.

Aiden was standing close by rubbing his jaw.

Oh shit.

Your jaw tightens when your gaze falls on Daryl again, who was now being physically restrained. You didn’t know what had happened or could hear what was being said, but something had gotten under his skin so deeply it had caused him to snap. Spotting you, Rick whispers something to him, and they both turn to face you, and to your surprise, there is no anger in Daryl's eyes, just pain.

With the group of bystanders starting to break apart, you notice Glenn storming off towards the house, noticing you watching, he comes over. “How did the little guy get on at the doctors?”

“He’s to go back to get his ears checked. What the hell just happened over there?”

While still walking, he turns back to face Aiden. “they treat it like a game. They think they know what’s out there, but in reality they don’t have a clue.”

“I’m guessing the first supply run went badly?”

“They had a walker tied to a tree, and it got loose,” he let out a deep sigh. “I’ll explain fully later, but… I don’t know, I’m surprised this community has lasted so long. I’m going for a shower; I’ll catch you later.”

When Glenn starts to walk away, you turn back to face the others and notice Daryl is gone.

—

Standing by the archway in the kitchen, you hand a cup of tea to Rick while observing the rest of your group scattered across the living room. Carol is teaching Tara how to mend a ripped shirt; Noah and Carl are playing with a deck of cards; Rosita flips through a travel magazine; Maggie and Glenn are curled up beside each other on the sofa. Michonne was sitting on the ground cuddling Judith while Jace slept, holding onto the toy Carl found for him tightly.

After everything you had all been through, you’d never take moments like this for granted.

“Do you think we are ready for us to split up?” You ask quietly.

“I think so. I don’t think these people are a threat to us, but we also have good fighters in each house.”

After some back-and-forth discussion within your group, it was decided that everyone would split between the two houses. You, Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Carol, and the kids would all stay in one house while the others would go next door.

You take a sip of tea. “Daryl wants to sleep on the couch.”

The house was big enough that each of the adults could have their own room, including Carl. But yet, instead of sleeping in a soft bed, Daryl was afraid of getting too comfortable. He wanted to be downstairs and ready in case someone broke in.

“He’s not going to adjust easily to this place.”

Rick wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t a fault for Daryl to feel this way, but it was concerning. You’d never shared with anyone else that Daryl had started hurting himself after Beth’s death, but you were afraid he’d start doing it again and were starting to worry you’d handled it wrong.

—

Pulling on a cardigan, you check on Jace, who was sleeping soundly in the crib at the bottom of your bed, before quietly going down the stairs, trying not to cause any creaks in the wooden staircase. It was nearing ten o’clock at night, and everyone had gone to bed early; exhausting catching up with them.

Immediately you regret not wearing shoes when your bare feet come into contact with the coldness of the porch. You stand on the opposite side Daryl is on since he’s smoking and lean against one of the poles. It was peaceful outside with barely any lights and nobody else around.

He eyes you for a moment and lets out a deep exhale, “you really hate it when I smoke these things, huh?”

“Yeah, I do," you smile at him softly. “But not enough to make me stop loving you.”

Holding the cigarette between his lips, Daryl starts to take off his jacket and tries to hand it to you. “You look cold.”

“I’m fine,” you say sincerely, but he doesn’t seem to believe you. “I've been wearing shorts and a vest top because the blankets on the bed are thick; you’ll find out how warm the bed is when you join me.”

He makes a tsk sound.

“Daryl, I’m serious; it’s not healthy to be up all day and night. You need to sleep at some point, plus I’ll feel a lot better with you sleeping in the same room as me and Jace.”

“Rick’s upstairs.”

“This isn’t about feeling unsafe. I just want to know you are with me and not getting yourself into trouble.”

“We can’t let our guard down. If someone were to climb over these walls, we wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

“The responsibility doesn’t need to be yours alone. Tomorrow we can bring it up with the others, and whoever volunteers can take turns keeping watch.”

He nods in agreement slowly. Fidgeting in his pocket Daryl pulls out a small business-shaped card, and it’s not until he starts talking that you realize it’s the one Pete gave you. “Jace Jeffrey Grimes. I remember on the farm Shane saying his name was Jace Walsh.”

"Well, Shane’s not here, and even if he were… we were never married,” you shrug. “I want his name to be the same as mine.”

“Who’s Jeffrey?”

“It’s a family name. The last Jeffrey Grimes moved to Barcelona before the outbreak. I like to think he’s still alive, but I wanted to honor him anyway.”

Taking another inhale, Daryl looks deep in thought, as if he’s struggling with something internally. “The kids got another name for me. Dre or Dar, he’s not decided which one is going to stick yet.

He chuckles softly. Jace was struggling to say certain names, and Daryl was one of them. “What do you want him to call you?”

His facial expressions turn stony. Finishing the cigarette, he stubs it out and then goes to toss it into the grass but stops. Glancing around, he goes over to the ashtray and puts it in that. You had no idea the question would cause him to start stressing out.

“Sorry, I was just curious.”

“Don’t be; I just… fuck.” Daryl quickly moves so he’s standing directly in front of you. Tenderly he strokes strands of hair out of your face, “in my eyes he’s my kid, but I don’t want to presume, and if Shane were here, this would be a conversation.”

“But he’s not,” you kiss the inside of his palm. “I have no intention of never telling Jace about him, but whatever I tell him will be a lie anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

SYRAX!! My fav spoiled girl🔥

Mother 

I miss him already 

No, no, thank you 

I’m so happy the cunty braids are making a comeback 

Winter jacket

Uncle daddy and noodle boy causing scenes as they should

I just know Larys wants to kiss him

Ohhhhhh no, going back now, the eye patch is gone

I’ve missed murderous Cole 

Burn a bitch up, queen

“Look to the sky. Doom and ruin surround us. We will all become beasts before our end.”

I just know my man will be going through it this season😭😭 

Oh, Grandma’s not happy again 

WINTER HAS COME!!

Flowers for Aemond for being a multitasking diva; not many people can serve cunt like him while terrorising Harrenhal 

Nope, nope, whatever this is, I’m not ready for it

Helaena??? That you or?

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings: Emotional cheating

You were a bastard.

A dragonseed.

A nobody.

Yet now you were one of the most hated people on Dragonstone.

Fell so deeply into it.

Your mother's death is what led you to Dragonstone; she was a worker in a brothel and died from complications from going into labour early, leaving you completely alone in the world. She had beautiful dark eyes and a head of full, thick red hair. Before passing away, your mother never named your father, but your pale complexion, silvery hair, and lilac eyes led most people to believe he was a Targaryen.

When news spread that Queen Rhaenyra was looking for Targaryen bastards to become dragon riders, you decided it was a cause worth risking your life for; either die by dragon fire or succumb to illness or starvation living on the streets of King's Landing.

The gods spared you that day, and you successfully claimed a dragon, as did two older men, Ulf and Hugh, and a younger man called Addam.

As soon as the bond between you and the golden-scaled dragon was made, your life changed forever; it was intense. War had already begun, and unlike Hugh and Ulf, you were keen to learn everything you could about House Targaryen and all its history. You sought to understand both the good and the bad.

It was all so innocent.

You were still a bastard, and although being a dragon rider gave you a great sense of pride and you formed a bond with a magnificent creature, it would never change the way most people viewed you.

A lowborn.

A nobody.

But the queen's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys, was one of the few who never looked down on you; he was kinder than most and would help you absorb the vast amount of information he had spent his life learning. The prince would join you in the library when possible and would escort you to the dragon mount so that Vermax and your dragon could fly together.

He had a way of always making you feel heard and important.

There were times when he confided in you.

“From the day I was born, Alicent has been telling anyone who would listen that I am a bastard.”

You roll your eyes at him, something the prince wasn’t accustomed to. “There is a difference, my prince; you are the son of the queen, the heir to the throne, our future king. It is treasonous and punishable by death to call you a bastard, whereas a dragonseed is open to any label. Bastard, bitch, whore.”

Jacaerys frowns. “Well, the next man or woman who says such a thing to you will face the wrath of Vermax.”

Now I'm a homewrecker, I'm a slut.

The first time you went dragon riding alone was a terrifying experience. You had travelled too far from Dragonstone and almost came face to face with Prince Aemond on Vhagar. He pursued you from the waters of Blackwater Bay to Dragonstone; however, your dragon was significantly younger and quicker than the war-hardened she-dragon.

Aemond only withdraws when he spots Rhaenyra standing with five dragons behind her. Syrax, Vermithor, Silverwing, Vermax, and Moondancer.

Upon your return to the castle walls, you receive instructions to attend a meeting with the queen's council. Aemond was brazen enough to fly to Dragonstone, yet the fault was yours. Most of the lords in the room, none of whom have ever ridden a dragon themselves, believe that you are to blame for this situation.

The meeting turned into an overwhelming interrogation, and the moment you could leave, you returned to your bedchamber.

As the day drew into night, you sat on the bed cuddling a pillow close to your chest when there was a knock at the door. You leap to your feet to look more appropriate, but Prince Jacaerys enters before you can.

Your hair was wild and unbraided, your cheeks flushed red, and your eyes swollen from crying. Fortunately, the nightgown you were wearing was sufficiently modest to prevent you from revealing an excessive amount of skin.

“My Prince, I apologise for being dressed inappropriately, but I wasn’t aware you were coming.”

The door closes, leaving the two of you alone in the room. You feel a tightness in your throat waiting for him to speak, but Jacaerys pulls you into his embrace and holds onto you tightly, even when you begin to sob on his shoulder.

All because I liked—

The battle of the gullet was the most harrowing day of your life, second only to your mother's death. So many dead on both sides; however, it remained a win for Queen Rhaenyra, but it almost came at too high a cost.

While attempting to save his youngest siblings, Jacaerys was fired upon by crossbows, and Vermax was struck twice in the one wing and fell into the water. With both dragon and rider vulnerable and struggling to get away, Addam burns the closest ships while you unstrap the harness and leap into the water, freeing Jacaerys, who had been struck twice, and keep him afloat until the men on Lord Corlys's ship were able to pull him aboard.

Queen Rhaenyra was so grateful that she legitimised Addam of Hull, making him Addam Velaryon, and she made you a Targaryen. But before it was made official, you were taken aback when Rhaenyra wanted to know why you did what you did.

“Why did you risk your life to save my son’s?”

“I would have done it for any one of the dragon riders, your grace.”

She raises her brows questionably; she wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Prince Jacaerys is kind, and I believe he will be known as one of the realm’s greatest kings one day.”

Rhaenyra draws her lips together in a small smile, seemingly lost in thought for a brief moment before she speaks again. “My son is quite taken with you, as is his betrothed, Princess Baela.”

—

As the weeks progressed, you found yourself spending more time by the prince's side, maintaining your routine similar to what it was before the Battle of the Gullet. However, when Daemon and Rhaenyra finally reclaimed King's Landing, you hardly saw the prince, not that you expected to see him often, as he spent his days attending to various duties as the heir.

With a few of Aegon’s loyalists still remaining a threat, the dragon riders would take turns patrolling the city, keeping an eye out for any possible attacks. When you return one morning to swap over with Addam, there are two members of the queen's guard waiting for you.

Your mouth had gone completely dry by the time you reached the throne room. The room is empty aside from the queen and her guards.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here?”

“In truth I am unsure, your grace.” Your voice shakes with nerves as you ask, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Prince Jacaerys will be returning to Dragonstone on the morrow and intends to be married by the end of the month…" She gives you a knowing look and waits to gauge your reaction. “The betrothal between Prince Jacaerys and Princess Baela has been dissolved by request of the prince.”

You fiddle with the only ring you own, one that belonged to your mother. You weren’t sure why the queen was telling you this in private, but you felt compelled to say something. “I’m sorry to hear that, your grace; they would have made a fine match.”

“They would have, but…” A small smile pulls on her lips. “My son wishes to follow his heart.”

All because I liked a boy.

Standing on the balcony overlooking the path leading up to the castle grounds, Jacaerys approaches you and wraps his arm around your waist.

“Does your unhappiness have anything to do with those sitting on my council?” he sighs.

Following your marriage to Jacaerys in a small ceremony at the Red Keep, you departed for Dragonstone on Dragonback. Jacaerys makes you happy, and you weren’t a fool; a Targaryen prince choosing to be with a former dragonseed over a princess was scandalous, but no matter how many ladies you smiled at or how much small talk you made, you still received nasty looks and poorly hidden whispers behind your back, mainly ones implying that you lost your maidenhead to the prince out of wedlock.

“I’m not unhappy per se… It’s just that we never even kissed until our wedding, and I feel as if I’m failing you because of the rumours.

“And if I ever find out who started them—”

Before he can finish the sentence, you cut him off with a gentle kiss. “You’ll feed them to Vermax for disrespecting my honour, I know, my prince. Even now, I continue to worry that we insulted the princess by acting so quickly—”

Jacaerys returns the favour and cuts you off with a kiss, only pulling away when he feels you are smiling. “Baela and I share a sibling bond, which is why she gave us her blessing. My mother, the queen, also gave us her blessing.”

“I feel guilt for caring so deeply for you when you were promised to another.”

“Our hearts never belonged to one another; she wishes to be with another as much as I wanted to be with you.”

You fall easily into his embrace, relishing the comforting warmth coming from his body. Fingers locked together, you give him a small smile, “I love you, Jace.”

“I love you, and I promise to spend every day from now on making sure you’re happy enough that no rumour will make you sad again.”

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬

Parings: Baelor Targaryen x Reader

Aerion Targaryen x reader

Ser Duncan x reader

Warnings: Swearing | Smut

1.01

Dawn had barely broken over King’s landing when you returned. You weren’t used to seeing the courtyard and halls so quiet; it gave the castle an eerie feeling.

Sunlight breaking through the cloudy skies spills weakly through the narrow windows overlooking Blackwater Bay. The halls were empty aside from the knight who had accompanied you back from Summerhall walking alongside you and the servants who were already working hard, carrying fresh linens and various different trays.

You hadn’t planned on leaving Summerhall so soon since you valued the time with your siblings, but your patience was being continually tested by Aerion, so you decided it was best to leave before something unfortunate happened.

Your father disliked this, of course, but could no longer demand that you stay.

Walking up the staircase that leads to the royal quarters, you briefly pause while trying to decide which room to return to. The fair thing would be for you to return to your own bedchamber so not to disturb Baelor, but you were exhausted and craved the familiarity he offered.

When you reach your husband’s quarters, you bid the knight goodbye and do your best to open the door quietly. Stepping inside, you’re momentarily confused when you notice Baelor’s large bed is empty and neatly made, then the faint sound of water splashing catches your attention.

“Good morrow, wife.”

Stepping around the carved screen, your gaze lands upon your husband resting in a large copper bath, steam curling around his body. One arm rests lazily along the edge of the tub, while the other brushes his dark hair out of his face.

“Surly, I am not so loud I awoke you from the courtyards.”

Cocking his head to the side, he smiles, watching as you sit on the closest chair to him and kick your shoes off before starting to remove your stockings. “Well, when one hears their wife has returned promptly, it may be a reason to bathe.”

“How did…”

“I’ve had men across kings landing waiting to inform me as soon as your carriage was spotted from the moment I heard you left Summerhall.”

“You don’t seem overjoyed to have me return so soon.”

"Oh, I’m beyond joyful,” he chuckles. Baelor’s eyes linger over your face for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “I must admit, I’m not thrilled you left in the middle of the night without sending word to me first; I would have sent my own men to escort you. And I’ve lost count of how many ravens your father has sent demanding to know if you have arrived yet.”

“The guards at Summerhall are more afraid of my father than the king's guard are here.”

It usually takes over a week to travel between Summerhall and kings landing, however you insisted your return was urgent, therefore it only took five days for you to return.

“What caused you to leave so suddenly?”

Not wanting to speak about the argument between you, Daeron and Aerion, you change the subject. Picking up one of the cloths that smells strongly of lavender, you take his hand that’s lax over the tub and start to scrub at his nails; noticing the dirt underneath them, you frown. “I take it you have been horse riding with Valarr and Matarys in my absence?”

“Yes, and your presence was dearly missed.”

Hearing hints of sarcasm seeping into his voice makes you smile. His gentle nature was something you really did admire. “I’m sure it was; two moons is a long time. However, I see things have fallen apart without me.”

“Oh?”

You motion for his other hand, “without me here the heir to the throne looks filthy.”

“Filthy?”

“My prince, your nails have dirt wedged underneath them, and your hair is overgrown.”

Baelor is amused by your exaggeration. He was known for being so well groomed, even after battle, or so you have heard. You could only imagine how many ladies used to sway at his feet when he was a younger man, although you’d wager now is his prime.

Your mind starts to drift back to the argument in Summerhall…

“Hmm.” Baelon gives you a knowing look. “I am glad you are here with me; otherwise, the people of the city would be frightened by your scowling.”

“I do not scowl.”

“You inherited it from your father as surely as Aerion inherited his temper.”

Dipping your finger into the water, you try to think of anything else that could distract your thoughts from your brother. “It’s been a long few days; I should probably bathe and rest before joining you in attending duties at court.”

Baelor raises his brows, “shall I have a bath prepared in your quarters?"

“I presume my ladies will be awfully busy at this time.” With a mischievous smile pulling on your lips, you stand up and immediately start to remove your clothing. “To spare them the hassle, I’ll just need to share with you.”

Once you have removed the last of your clothing, Baelor takes your hand and helps you step into the bath.

—

Clutching the soft bedsheet with one hand, the nails on your free hand scrape over Baelor’s scalp lightly as he brings you closer to what feels like combusting. After you finished bathing, you found yourself bare and spread out on his bed, with his head buried between your legs. With rapid flicks of his tongue over your clit, he savours every bit of you.

Tears spill from the corner of your eye when you finally break. His name is almost unrecognisable as it falls from your mouth shaken and broken.

Baelor doesn’t give you much time to recover as he quickly starts to kiss up your body, starting from your stomach to your breasts until his lips finally meet yours again. “Two moons without you has been torture."

You whimper, feeling the tip of his cock pressing into you. “Please, please, please.”

Baelor's hands suddenly grip into the side of your calves as he bends your legs back. He slides his cock in slowly at first, but when his lips meet yours, he starts to move at a punishing pace.

You let out a surprised squeal when you feel a sharp bite on your bottom lip. Perhaps he really did miss you or was just ‘cunt starved', as your brother crudely put it.

Letting go of your leg and bringing a pressing, thick finger to your clit, Baelor makes you lose all control. You pant and scream his name, clawing at his back like a feral beast while his thrusts grow lazy until he completely stills inside you.

"Gods", you gasp, trying to catch your breath. When you feel Baelor starting to move, you wrap your legs around his waist before he can completely withdraw. “Can we stay like this for a little long, please?”

A fleeting look of concern fills his eyes, but he nods and then rests his forehead against yours.

—

Hearing a soft knock, Sara, your lady-in-waiting stops unlacing the corset of your dress. Glancing over your shoulder, you stare at the door. “Enter.”

All traces of sunlight were now gone, and it was fairly unusual for anyone to visit so late unless it was your husband, but if it was him, the knight posted outside would have allowed him to come into your chambers straight away.

The door opens and a young steward comes into the room, his eyes glued to the floor. “Forgive the interruption, your grace. A gift has just arrived for you.”

“Thank you, just leave it on the table by the door.”

Redness creeps across his cheeks as he leaves the room. Once he’s gone, you and Sara look at each other and begin to giggle.

“The poor boy was mortified.”

Curious, you go over to the table and unclasp the box at the sides. Close up, you could make out the symbol of your house was burnt into the wood. Whatever was inside was wrapped in deep-shaded purple velvet cloths. It must be fragile. When you finish unravelling it, you momentarily freeze until your fingers start to tremble.

“Is it a hair brush, your Grace?”

The feeling of being slapped hard across the face and kicked in the gut hits you all at once. The ivory brush looks freshly polished, and engraved on the back was a slender sword of deep violet and a single falling star in gold. The design was unmistakably inspired by House Dayne.

“Princess?”

“This… it belonged to my mother.”

Sara struggles for words as you snatch the scroll from the box and read the message from Aerion. You hated him. He was nothing but a loathsome cockroach. The sudden look of unease in your lady's eyes makes you feel guilty, but it wasn’t enough to temper the anger building inside.

“Please just go. Retire for the night.”

She hesitates for a moment, her mouth shaped to say something comforting as you walk towards your bed, trying to hold your head up high, but when the first sob passes your lips, Sara leaves.

Throwing yourself onto the bed, you bury your face into a pillow to try and muffle the sound of cries. Dragons don’t cry. It took a lot for another person's words to get under your skin and cut deep, but the heart of the argument had struck a nerve because there was truth in it. And now, added on top, all you could think of was your mother, whom you missed every day.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed when the tears start to stain your cheeks and the bedroom door opens again.

Feeling a dip in the bed beside you, murmur into the soft cushion, “it’s late. You should be abed.”

“So should you," he rests a warm hand on your back gently. “Yet here we are. I must admit, I’m surprised to see you this upset.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as you try to think of a convincing lie. “I am merely tired.”

“You have never been a convincing liar. Does this have anything to do with your reason for leaving Summerhall so soon?”

“The gods gave Aerion a crown of cruelty and little else.”

Stroking your hair, Baelor lets out a tired exhale. “I don’t recognise the venom in your voice when you speak of your brother, not when you speak of others with such love and compassion.”

For a moment you consider telling him how you really feel but reconsider, knowing how disgusted the Prince would be if he knew how much you despised your own kin. Lifting your head from the pillow, you stare at him through bloodshot eyes, “that’s because you raised two perfect sons; you’ve no idea what a horror my brother is. And how much he’s been allowed to get away with over the years.”

“You’re right, I do not. But perhaps if you tell me what is upsetting—“

“I don’t wish to burden you.”

“You are my wife; anything that burdens you is my concern.” Using his free hand, he sweeps hair that is stuck to your sweaty forehead back. When you look up at him again, his mismatched eyes are moving over the hairbrush. “I remember Dyanna receiving that as a gift; she truly did soften my brother’s heart.”

“After my mother’s death Aerion hid anything of hers that he could. Me and Daeron spent years trying to find anything of hers we could so we could even have a small part of her. But it was just a game to him.” Using the sleeve of your dress, you wipe at your nose, “he said I was nothing more than a barren broodmare. A fruitless wife.”

Finally understanding your hurt, anger flickered across his face, but Baelor, ever the master of masking his emotions, facial features quickly returned to neutral.

"Childbearing is my only duty as your wife,” your sobs turn into a small hiccup. “Perhaps the gods simply decided I’m not fit to be a mother.”

“Do not mistake his malicious intent for the truth.”

Giving in to the feeling of hopelessness, you curl up beside him and rest your head on his chest. “We have never chased to fill a nursery, but after all these years something should have taken root; we both know it to be true.”

Perhaps it was different for him, since Valarr was a man grown and married, and Matarys was nearing his twenties. With two heirs already, the idea of a third son or daughter never seemed appealing.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I would not be able to handle this fine-ass man

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Devastating deaths on TWD

Sophia Peletier — Season 2, Episode 7

Sophia is bitten on the shoulder by a walker after running away from her group during a horde of walkers passing by. It’s later revealed she was being held in the Greene family barn, and after being discovered, Rick Grimes puts down her reanimated corpse.

Dale Horvath — Season 2, Episode 11

After being disembowelled by a walker, and with no way to save him, Daryl Dixon shoots Dale in the head to spare him from suffering.

Lori Grimes – Season 3, Episode 4

Lori dies during an emergency C-section performed in a boiler room due to blood loss. Her son Carl shoots her in the head to stop her from turning.

Merle Dixon – Season 3, Episode 15

Merle is fatally shot by the Governor in the chest and left to turn; after reanimating, his brother Daryl is forced to kill him.

Andrea Harrison — Season 3, Episode 16

After being bitten by a walker, Andrea says goodbye to her friends, then shoots herself to prevent herself from turning.

Hershel Greene – Season 4, Episode 8

He was beheaded by The Governor and later his reanimated head was put down by Michonne.

Beth Greene – Season 5, Episode 8

Beth is shot in the head by Dawn Lerner during a tense hostage negotiation.

Tyreese Williams — Season 5, Episode 9

Tyreese dies from a walker bite.

Noah — Season 5, Episode 14

While trapped in a revolving door at a supply depot, Noah is brutally torn apart by walkers.

Jessie Anderson — Season 6, Episode 9

While trying to escape a horde of walkers swarming Alexandria, Jessie is bitten and then torn apart minutes after witnessing her son Sam being devoured by walkers.

Denise Cloyd — Season 6, Episode 14

Denise is killed by Dwight, who shoots her in the eye with an arrow.

Glenn Rhee — Season 7, Episode 1

Negan beats Glenn to death with his baseball bat ‘Lucille’ during the line-up and continues to beat him in the head repeatedly even after Glenn’s death.

Abraham Ford — Season 7, Episode 1

He was brutally executed by Negan with a baseball bat during the famous lineup scene.

“Suck my nuts.”

Sasha Williams — Season 7, Episode 16

To avoid being used as leverage by Negan against her friends, Sasha swallows a poison capsule, turning herself into a weapon against Negan.

Carl Grimes — Season 8, Episode 9

After being bitten by a walker, Carl manages to save his friends and family one last time before choosing to shoot himself so that he wouldn’t turn.

Rosita Espinosa — Season 11, Episode 24

Rosita is bitten by a walker while saving her baby daughter, Coco, and is later put down by Eugene to prevent her from turning.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of guts

Chapter: 5.12

“Son of a bitch!”

Lips pressing into a thin line, you watch as Abraham takes his frustrations out on the side of the broken-down RV, kicking the thick wheels of it. Arron says you still had roughly nine miles to go, and with two babies and an adult with a broken ankle and hardly any ammo left, it didn’t seem safe or even plausible to try and travel by foot.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Who cares?” frustration bubbling over, Abraham slams the palm of his hand against the side of the RV, his face and neck almost turning as red as his hair. “Can’t win.”

“All we need is another battery,” Glenn says calmly.

“Where in the hell are we gonna find another battery?”

“Right over here.” Glenn disappears round the side of the vehicle and then comes back around with a new battery in hand. The look on Abraham’s face was priceless.

“How'd you know those were there?”

Glenn gives you a knowing look before connecting the new battery. “A smart man once showed me where to look.”

You smile, thinking of the small group you once had. It wasn’t all bad memories. Pondering the short time you lived on the farm, you quickly step back into the vehicle and look for Daryl. He was talking to Rosita while bouncing Jace on his lap. His brows slightly furrow when you go over and start to run your fingers through his long hair, unsure if it was the left or right side Andrea accidentally shot him in.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I couldn’t remember what side the bullet hit.”

Eric’s eyes widened in disbelief, “you got shot in the head and survived? Wow. That makes me feel so much better about my ankle.”

Just as the engine starts again, Daryl shakes his head and tuts, “it was just a graze.”

When your finger slightly glazes over the scar, his eyes sharpen while he looks up at you. Suppressing a laugh, you kiss him on the lips quickly and then sit down next to Rosita. Daryl tries to keep a straight face, but you notice a small smile pulling on the corner of his lips.

—

Your stomach twists as you walk the small distance from the RV to the large metal gate. Its solid appearance is probably why the people on the inside felt so safe, but on the flip side, it would be incredibly hard to try and escape quickly.

“We're going to go see what this place is about, huh?” You mumble into Jace’s hair. “Hopefully it will all work out, baby.”

It had gone quiet, almost too quiet. The kind of silence that made your hair stand on edge and every rustle of the bushes felt like an ambush. The group moves together slowly.

“You hear that?” Father Gabriel whispers.

“Probably nothing,” Daryl mutters, though his eyes scanned over the area.

When you get closer to the gate, you place your free hand on Carl’s back, ready to grip his shirt and yank him behind you if need be. Daryl and Rick must have had the same train of thought as they both stepped in front of you, weapons in hand, ready to use.

You could vaguely make out Aaron’s voice as he sprinted to the front of the group, waving his hands and informing the person on the opposite side and telling them to open the gate, but your heart was beating so fast that it was making you feel dizzy.

Gently squeezing your sweaty shoulder, Rosita softly says, “we’ve got. It’s gonna work out.”

You appreciated her optimism but couldn’t help but feel it was more for your benefit than hers.

It has been roughly three months since the life you had at the prison went to shit when the governor and his men completely destroyed everything. This place was hope. A chance of a new beginning, there was an equal chance that this place could be better than before, the home that everyone needed.

Alexandria.

When the gate starts to open, there’s a metal clanging of a trashcan falling, and Daryl fires his crossbow. The man standing by the open gate watches disgusted as he picks up the now-dead possum.

“Brought dinner.”

—

You watch as Daryl paces back and forth on the front porch of a large, luxurious-looking house, still gripping the possum lightly in his hands.

I didn’t feel right being in a place so normal-looking.

As soon as you arrived, it was mandatory to hand all weapons over; you understood why but didn’t like it. It put your people at a disadvantage, although the community in Alexandria didn’t look like they had done much fighting to survive. “So what do you guys think so far?”

“I think it’s best we don’t show them how sharp our teeth are yet,” Carol says quietly.

After arriving, Carol’s demeanor has completely changed, and she was like a different woman. A housewife who was unsure how she'd made it so long in such a harsh world. Nothing like the woman you all knew. If it wasn’t for Carol, you all would have died at Terminus. That asshole Ed would be so scared if he could see her now.

Aaron had led the group to two houses that were side by side and said it was to house all your people. He also gave you a large bag of clothes that was donated by members of the community. Despite the two houses, most everyone was sitting on the porch together, aside from whoever went for showers next. It was decided that nobody was to go anywhere alone yet, so whenever someone went to wash, another would be guarding the door.

“Dad!” Carl suddenly stands up.

Rick’s expression was hard to read; he kissed Carl on the head before taking Judith from him. Deanna wants to speak to everyone one-on-one to try and figure them out. So far she’s spoken to Daryl, Rosita, Glenn, and Rick.

“What did she want to talk about?”

“She’s asking questions to figure out what kind of people we are.”

It made sense. Whatever the leader had asked appears to have rattled him, “well, what’s gotten under your skin?”

Before he can answer, Aaron appears with his usual bright smile on his face. “She’s ready for the next person, who wants to go?”

Everyone falls silent, waiting to see who will go next; when nobody does, you spin round to face the rest of the group. “I’ll go if someone watches—“

You didn’t even finish the sentence when Michonne got up with a smile on her face and her arms outstretched. “I’ll take him; I’ve not had a cuddle off this little guy in so long.”

Jace happily goes to her and lets out a squeal of excitement.

Going down the few steps to join Aaron, you look back just as Michonne is starting to blow kisses on his cheek.

“Deanna will like that. How loved your kids are.”

“Are there many kids here?”

“A few, but they are closer in age to Rick’s son. So be prepared for Jace and Judith to be spoiled.”

—

Deanna was an elderly redheaded woman; she had a confidence radiating from her that you didn’t think was still possible. Her home office was large, immaculate, and well-stocked with average supplies plus large bookcases stacked to the brim. After reposting her camera stand, she comes and sits across from you, notepad and pen in hand.

“Why are you filming?”

“So I can look back and analyze members of your community. I find some people may be more adaptable to Alexandria than others.”

“So not everyone will make the cut?”

She offers you a small smile, “there has been the odd time someone hasn’t been suitable, but they have never gotten this far. What did you do before?”

“What did I do?”

“For work?”

“I worked a few odd jobs, bartender, waitress, that type of thing. For a long time I wanted to be a social worker or a teacher. I thought i’d figure it out as I went through college, but I never did.”

“Why?”

“I moved college midway and…”

She cocks her head to the side, curious, “is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just hard talking about jobs and college knowing my kid will never get that experience.” That was partly true, but you didn’t want to divulge any further and think about how you loved college to be closer to Shane after you got engaged. You weren’t going to admit you put a man in front of your own education; it was embarrassing.

“You never know,” she says sympathetically. “The world still has time to change.”

Deanna asks you a few general questions about life out on the road, but none of them seem important. It wasn’t the type of question you’d be asking to get useful information.

“It’s hard to believe you are Rick’s sister.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You are more composed. Rick alluded to the fact that he’s done unthinkable things to save his son’s life and walk away with a clean conscience. I get the impression you’d look for another solution first.”

You didn’t know what to say; every situation was different, but you wouldn’t for one minute question how Rick handles things. This lady has had it easy; it was obvious she'd never been put in the position to take a life to save a life, and truthfully, you weren’t sure how she was in a position to judge anyone.

Hearing a baby cry, you look over at the window; you knew that cry. It was Judith’s fussy one; immediately someone would run to her, but it was a reason to go. “I think this interview is over; I need to check on the kids.”

When you stand up to leave, Deanna says. “It’s hard to tell who’s more protective of you, Rick or Daryl. They both had a lot to say about you and your son. Your whole group seems like a family.”

“It’s because we are.”

A warm expression crosses her face as she stands up tall and offers you her hand to shake. “I admire your loyalty; it’s a quality I look for in my community.”

—

Strolling back towards the houses your group has been given, you notice the porch was empty aside from Daryl and Jace. You smile awkwardly at an elderly couple who walk by looking disgusted. Daryl was cutting the possum open, causing its guts to spill out on the wooden porch, while Jace played with a toy happily beside him.

It was normal for people like you.

But not for others.

Carol comes out of the house next door looking like she’s walked out of a Martha Stewart cooking show. With a sweet smile on her face, she mumbles, “it’s important we all look the part to blend in. I’ve already told him that.”

After bathing Jace and Judith, you went for a quick shower, but not everyone has had the chance yet. Although you did have a suspicion Daryl was putting it off deliberately. He doesn’t like change, and suddenly being in a ‘normal’ environment was a lot to adjust to.

“You need to get him to shower.”

“How?” You tut, “I physically can’t force him. He’ll go when he’s ready.”

“His clothes have animal blood on them. The people here won’t let him in anywhere if he’s not freshened up.” She nudges you with her elbow and smirks, “just use your womanly charms.”

“What?”

“Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

Not picking up on her cues, you stare at Carol blankly.

“Join him in the shower. Everyone else is out exploring; you’ll have the house to yourself. Judith is inside napping,” she points to the house behind her. “I could watch Jace as well.”

Heather rushes to your cheeks. You weren’t a prude, but her words leaves you feeling flustered and—