#twdfic

Quick fluffy story Eugene x Reader (not beta-read, sorry for mistakes). Hope you like it!

Sitting under a tree with Eugene, trying to understand what’s wrong with that damn radio, you got distracted by Alden passing by, carrying wood planks for the new barn with Daryl. You stared at them for a moment and Eugene noticed.

— I know they are eye candy, but could you at least focus a bit more on the task at hand?

You blushed and stuttered, returning your attention on Eugene.

— Wh... what?

— I’m not mad. Even if I’m not attracted to male, I know what kind of guys women tend to be appealed by.

You chuckled and shrugged.

— Yeah right, if I was twenty-two! I’m much more into… let’s says appreciation asset.

— Appreciation asset? Explain your thought.

— Well, Daryl and Alden are hots. They aren’t dumbs, but they aren’t really smart neither. Over time, they can’t get hotter, but a smart guy can get smarter. A smart guy is an appreciation asset, a long term relation, and a hot guy is a depreciation asset, just to play for a few years or so… or look at on a hot day like today. Eye candy, but not husband material, you know?

Eugene had listened carefully to you, looking at you with a dead serious face. You could see him think about what you had said, processing everything in that big brain of his.

— So… you like smart guys? You know, my intelligence has been objectively measured. I’m smarter than most people here. I am fully a man apart, so I’m wholly confident that I’m an appreciation asset; husband material.

You giggled at how serious he seems.

— You know Eugene, you can’t just say: I’m smart. It’s like saying you’re nice or you’re good at cooking. I get to judge if you are smart enough to be an “appreciation asset”, not you.

— How? I think I already proved my brainpower, with all the work I’ve been doing here.

— I did it with you, remember?

You kind of felt bad when he looks back at you with that sad expression in his eyes. You take a last glance at Alden and Daryl while they were removing their shirts, sweating and showing off their muscles to all the ladies staring at them, then returns your attention on Eugene. He also noticed all the girls gawking at the guys and suddenly felt bad. Not only he doesn’t look like his comrade, but you are denying him one of the most valuable things he has to get a girl: his intelligence. Ok, he doesn’t look bad either and he has a lot of other qualities, but being smart is clearly his strongest point.

— You know what really turn me on?

Eugene bashfully looked up at you, curious and confused.

— Daryl and Alden removing their shirts on a hot, humid day?

You chuckled and pushed him playfully on his shoulder.

— No! It’s fun to look at, but that’s about it. No, what really turn me on is when a guy tell me something incredibly smart, like for example recite me the periodic table…

— That’s easy…

You smiled:

— With the atomic mass.

There’s a pause before he replied:

— Hydrogen 1.0079 Helium 4,0026 Lithium 6,941 Beryllium 9,0122 Boron 10,811

Your smile vanished and you started feeling hot. Is he really reciting the periodic table with the atomic mass of each element?

— Carbon 12,0107 Nitrogen 14,0067 Oxygen 15,9994 Fluori…

link

Rarl Book I’m writing

Rating: Mature 

Warnings: Anything that you’ve seen in The Walking Dead, i guess. it’s all in the tags

desc: 

Ahhh, yes of course!! A beautiful friendship for my beautiful friend!! This takes place in the first couple of episodes of season three because I just watched them and I am feeling a lot of things. 

send me twd fic requests

The quiet falls quickly - the sun disappears and leaves in its wake only exhausted sighs and the soft rustling of sheets and scratchy, government-issue blankets. Rick walks the length of the cell block one way, and then the other, and back again. He peers into cells as he passes them: Lori and Carol, tucked away and sound asleep; Beth, restless in her bunk; Glenn with an arm laid open on the mattress, as if waiting for someone to rest against it; Carl, out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow. Daryl, out in the open and shielded only by a flimsy nest of scavenged bedding, snores from his spot on the catwalk. 

The first time he passes Hershel’s cell - room, he tries to correct, but the iron bars stand out far too starkly for him to see it as such - Maggie’s back is to him. Her head rests on her father’s chest, her hand entwined with his. Rick can’t tell if she is asleep or not.  The second time around she raises her head. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, but still she smiles.

Hey guys, just here shamelessly promoting my DarylxOC fanfic like there’s no tomorrow.

It revolves around a well rounded POC family, it includes LGBT+ OCs, some of whom suffer to some degree from mental issues, and it’s a slow burn...

It also includes an important mystical/fantasy twist which runs in the background of the story that will keep you wondering.

Also on AO3

Seeing Daryl again was like seeing a ghost.  Rick barely processed that he was real, alive and in front of him, before he had to take action.  Daryl had called them family.  And he trusted him beyond a shadow of a doubt.  However Daryl had come to be involved with these men Rick was certain of Daryl’s loyalty.  

These are good people.

Rick thinks he blacked out, coming out of a daze back against the card door, ass on the cold hard ground, something wet crusting on his chin in his beard.  He tastes iron.  Blood.  Oh god.  It comes back to Rick in flashes.  The taste of the man’s blood and flesh as he tore it from his neck.  The look on Carl’s face as Rick turned from the rapist he’d massacred.  He’d lost himself to his rage.  He had never done that before; never allowed the darkness he held inside to bubble up—to take over like that.  Rick pulled his knees up and laced his fingers together, bowing his head.  Dear God what have I done?

He’s achieved a sort of meditative trance by the time Daryl comes back, and he looks up at the tap on his shoulder.  Daryl wets a rag and holds him out to him.  Rick shook his head slightly in declination.

“You cain’t see yourself,” Daryl insisted.  “He can.”

I can.