#and he fuckin picks em up and pins em to a cupboard like that one chicks boyfriend WNWNWNNWMW

[usamey]

MIKEYYYYY

#egads! it speaks! #WNWNWNMWMWMWMW #MICHAELLLLLLLL <333333333 #MIKEY MY BROOOOOOO #im micheals New and Improved hoe sister <33 #i sit a little too close to ghostface for mike’s liking #and he fuckin picks em up and pins em to a cupboard like that one chicks boyfriend WNWNWNNWMW #ANYWAYS #we have matching coveralls its sooooo fun #we get em embroidered with ‘IM WITH STUPID➡️’ on the backs of em #OUGH OR NOT/GAY (even tho we are both incredibly gay) #and he gets pissedddddddd whenever i wander off WNSNSNMSMS #like whatever man im tryna help you out. what no bussy does to a mfer🙄🙄😒😒 #WNSNSMMSMSMS #mickey ds🤡

[bigbrotherlouis]

the bag of chips scene from 'i ate you up the day we first spoke' for the director's cut meme!

whoohoo i actually loved writing this scene and i’m so glad someone asked about it yeeee

(director’s cut meme)

everything eases back into normal. tk picks nolan up for practice, because nolan’s car is inexplicably always out of gas, (this is true, i read an article about it somewhere) and ties nolan’s ties for him on game days, and follows him into his living room to eat all the good snacks nolan hides on increasingly higher shelves.

“how did you even get those?” he asks when he comes out of the washroom and finds travis eating illegal all-dressed his mom had sent down in his last care package. he’s pretty sure they were hidden, like, on top of the cupboards this time. he literally had to throw them up there. (food, when you move countries, is a really big deal. i always want to keep the mutlicultural aspect of a lot of hockey players in mind, because i was a young multicutural person in the united states, and home foods is usually a good way to do it. all-dressed are pretty distinctly canadian, and my cousin gets her parents to send them to her in california, so i borrowed that from her. also i liked the image of TK climbing on the counters to try and get at a bag of chips.)

tk shrugs and crams a handful of chips into his mouth. “smart thinking.”

“those are mine.”

“i don’t see you eating them,” tk says smugly and nolan thinks about it for precisely point two seconds before he launches himself at the sofa. (no thoughts, head empty)

it’s a familiar ritual, this one. tk cackles, going limp so he can noodle off the cushions onto the floor, the bag still clamped in his hand. he scrabbles backwards until he’s out of reach of nolan’s admittedly long arms.

“sucks to suck, babe,” he gloats, except nolan is not emphatically giving up, those are his chips, and he’s not going to let his idiot of a best friend eat them all. tk grunts when nolan lands on his lower half, hard, and pins down his legs so he can’t escape. he sits on tk’s knees and ignores the yelling. (travis “has never shut up once in his life” konecny strikes again)

“mine,” he says savagely, snatching the bag out of his hands. tk huffs, shoving at his legs.

“it’s rude— not to— share— fuck, patty, what are you doing in the gym?”

“some of us don’t skip leg day.”

“yeah, well, some of us aren’t built like a fuckin’ ox,” tk complains, as if he’s not just as in shape as nolan is. “i can’t even fuckin’ pinch you because you’re wearing jeans.”

“now who’s the smart think—  fuck!” (not you, pat. not tk either but still not you.) he shouts, flinching and rubbing at his side. that pinch is definitely going to bruise. tk uses it as a distraction to roll them, nolan’s shoulders thudding painfully against the floor, and straddles nolan’s stomach with his thighs. there’s another struggle but tk gets hold of nolan’s arms, pins them under his knees so nolan’s fists are at his sides. he’s effectively trapped. (too many nolans but what do you do when writing m/m. also this isn’t specific to this scene, but especially in hockey with all its nicknames, i like to write people’s internal narrative with whatever name they probably think of themselves as. that’s why nolan isn’t pat/patty here, and why tk is usually not travis)

“still me,” tk says, grinning at him with undisguised glee. he works the chips free and sits up, putting his weight just under nolan’s ribs so all the breath gets knocked out of him for a second.

“fucker,” nolan hisses, trying and failing to wriggle his way out. “what the fuck, teeks?”

“that’s what you get for not growing up with brothers, bro. gotta fight to survive. survival skills.”

“bud, you don’t even know. sisters have nails and they’re not fucking afraid to use them,” nolan says, his best murder glare in effect. he probably still has the scars in some places. (i know i do) tk snorts.

“sorry, i don’t see you scratching me here,” he says.  

“let me go and i’ll scratch you up real good,” he threatens and then his brain catches up with his mouth, his face going red as he realises what he’s maybe implied. “uh.”

tk doesn’t take the obvious chirp, just raises an eyebrow. there’s a considering look on his face, one that makes nolan want to squirm more and it settles somewhere down deep in his stomach. (so i wrote this scene because i needed a turn for both of them, relationship-wise. iirc, there’s been a few places where tk’s interest might be noticeable, but nothing super concrete for pat or for the reader. meanwhile, on tk’s side, he needed clear signals that pat’s into him before he tries to tell him again.)

“uh,” he says again because his brain is just fucking offline and his arms are still locked under travis’ legs and travis burns hot because nolan can feel it against his skin, through his t-shirt, and this is all going to get incredibly, incredibly awkward in about three seconds. (unfortunately, i love a good run-on sentence to build tension) he’s pretty sure popping a boner because a teammate is sitting on you is, like, not something you can get away with by laughing.

tk shifts, sitting up the tiniest bit, and reaches out the hand that’s not currently occupied with the fuckin’ chips— probably all crushed to hell now, anyway (foreshadowing!! also strategic last mention here so we know that tk is still holding them, and then they aren’t mentioned until the shoe drops for optimal dramatic effect) — and brushes his fingers against nolan’s cheek. he traces the blush from his cheekbone carefully down his neck, pausing to thumb at his jaw, and then bumps his fingers against his collar, where it disappears down into his shirt. (i really liked building the tension here. also this is fully just projection bc i would love to touch patty’s blush once in my life)

“you’re glowing, pat,” he says, so soft, and it makes nolan go redder. he glowers at a spot by tk’s ear, unwilling to look him in the face and see whatever is written there. (would tk actually tell nolan he’s glowing? probably not, but fictionally it gives the reader a good picture of what nolan looks like to someone else. i didn’t want to overuse red-- which didn’t quite feel like a strong enough word-- or blush, so glowing it was.) tk hooks his index into the collar and there’s a moment when nolan thinks he’s going to pull it down, see if his blush goes all the way down his chest— it does, if he’s embarrassed enough. it’s fucking terrible— and he turns his head away, dragging in a breath through his nose. he’s, like, so incredibly fucked that he can’t even think about it without going dizzy. (you’ll probably see this a lot if you look for it in my writing, but i like to add in a “like” or something similarly bro-ish when things get particularly emotionally fraught, to keep it more realistic. also i think it’s funny. anyway, i like the contrast of tk not being able to take his eyes away from something he wanted and nolan not being able to look at it. characterisation, wahey!) it’s better to just not look.

of course, it’s the exact opposite of what tk wants.

“hey,” he says. “look at me.”

nolan refuses, a muscle ticking in his jaw. (this is hot to me idc) tk lets go of his collar to pull on his hair instead, just a little tug of a piece by his ear, and nolan can’t quite bite back the punched-out sound that he lets out. (also hot.)

“look at me,” tk says again, an edge to his voice, and nolan does. tk won’t stop until he does, he knows that well enough. (another look at their dynamic and how well they know each other) he lifts his chin, just a tiny bit, because he’s not going to do anything without a fight. tk’s hand tightens in his hair and it keeps him in place, nailed— ha— to the floor. (i write for the people whose brains make inappropriate jokes at the wrong moments) he couldn’t move if he wanted to, watches helplessly as tk leans down.

the hope in his chest is so thick, nolan thinks it might actually smother him, stop his heart. he’s breathing fast and shallow, almost on the verge of panting, and jesus fuck, isn’t that embarrassing. he’s so desperate, he could squirm with it and he briefly remembers travis months ago, writhing on his very rug and how much nolan wanted to help. he can smell snow again, sharp in the back of his nose. (this does the double work of calling back to an earlier scene-- ya girl loves a good callback-- and also building the anticipation some more. the snow reference reminds the reader that this is still a werewolf au, even in the midst of this. also, once when i was like fifteen, i read something about how to write kisses/romance and it talked about picking one or two aspects of the kiss to focus on-- breathing, hands, the feeling of someone’s mouth, etc. i still use that advice.)

tk shifts his weight and nolan has enough time to think holy fuck, is this happening? before travis fucking konecny upends the bag of all dressed-flavoured crumbs all over his face. (OKAY a lot going on here! it’s one of my favourite moments, really. first of all, here’s the resolution of all the chips talk! sure, i could’ve just abandoned them, but the subverting of expectations was a lot more fun and the story still wasn’t quite ready for them to kiss yet. second, this is tk chickening out. he had two choices and he chose violence. or, like, the buddies option, which is amusing to me because this is not buddies, boys. finally, the full name was necessary to convey nolan’s disappointment and anger, as was the full description of the chips. nolan is upset, and he’s going to notice these things, and that shows up in his internal narrative.)

“got ‘em,” he crows over nolan’s sputtering, letting himself get bucked off onto the floor. nolan wipes furiously at his face, all his feelings a confusing mix of horny and angry and confused, all with the thick overtone of humiliation.

“you’re a fucking dick,” he says and it’s flat, but tk is gloating too much to care. (he’s not, he’s trying to cover, but nolan’s too embarrassed to realise)

“you should’ve seen your face, pat.”

nolan glares daggers at the carpet, the chips spread out everywhere. it’s going to be a bitch to clean up. tk had better help. (makes sure the punch landed, and to give a final resolution.)

he leans against the sofa and waits for tk to tire himself out, listening to the laughter and trying not to get too angry or, like, cry. his neck feels hot, prickling uneasily. he rubs at it with his hand, startles when tk kicks him gently in the ankle. (in order for tk to not come out of this looking like an asshole, i needed him to make up his obliviousness by being observant in other times. and in order for tk to notice patty being mad, i needed to give patty actions that could be noticed, like not laughing along with the joke)

“sorry if i made you mad,” tk says quietly, all the giggles finally worked out of him. “you looked tense (no shit bud) and i thought it would make you laugh.”

it’s not tk’s fault nolan thought he was gonna, like, kiss him. (”like” again, to break up a too-honest moment) it was a dick move but tk doesn't have a cruel bone in his body, so: “it’s fine,” he mumbles and shrugs his shoulder. “it was funny.”

tk preens for a second. “i know.”

“you owe me a bag now.”

“i’ll buy you a family-sized pack. i’m sure they’ll ship it down here, amazon or ups or somethin’.” (patty’s attempting to be normal and tk is attempting to make amends.)

nolan nods and scratches at his face, tipping his head against the couch cushions. (little motions like him scratching his face aren’t super necessary for like plot or development, but it helps humanize characters and i like to add them in whenever i can, as long as it’s not overkill. they can also be helpful in pointing to emotional state without directly saying it.) it’s quiet for a few seconds, just the sound of them breathing heavier than usual, and it would be so normal. should be normal, by all counts, but nolan still kind of wants to crawl into a hole for while. wants to push tk out of the apartment and eat ice cream and google ‘how to stop a crush,’ like his sisters used to do when they were upset. he’s already googled it, a few days ago, and there was nothing but maybe someone’s offered good advice since then. (people make an impact on you, and family even more so, and i always like reminders of how close nolan seems to be with his sisters. also, it’s funny.)

tk flicks him on the wrist. (this is something that tk does consistently through the story, and even though it’s not super important to this scene, it establishes a behaviour in the larger story. that’s important too!)

“pat,” he says and it sounds it’s not the first time. nolan blinks.

“yeah?”

“i just asked you if you were hungry.”

“oh. uh. no, not really,” he answers truthfully. tk wrinkles his nose.

“do you, like, have anything in your fridge to eat?”

“mm, probably not.”

“typical,” tk mutters under his breath, as if he ever has anything regularly stocked besides protein powder and bacon. (protein rich foods that are easy to eat after a full moon, or after a workout) at least nolan has eggs pretty consistently. (also a protein rich food that’s less easy to eat after a full moon, but are easy to make when you aren’t a werewolf) “wanna go get sushi?”

nolan thinks about it. shoves his sweaty hair behind his ear and considers going out to their favourite place and pretending he’s not still fucking mortified. and, like, a little turned on. it makes him nauseous. (i get such physical reactions to emotional things that i write everyone into having them) 

“no,” he says. he’s not facing tk but he can still see him deflate, his shoulders hunching over. “i don’t— no.”

“okay. that’s… okay.”

“i think i’m getting a migraine,” lies nolan. “think i’m just gonna lay down.”

“do you need me to stay with you? keep you company?”

nolan’s shaking his head before tk even finishes the thought. “no, trav. i’m fine, i promise.” (the trav here works as a signal that something isn’t right! it’s why tk looks at him for so long in the next line.)

tk studies him for a long minute, his eyes searching the side of patty’s face presented to him. nolan keeps his expression as blank as possible and stares hard at his feet.

“text me if you need anything,” he says finally, the words coming out slow and gentle. it’s a lot to handle. “i’ll come back.”

“i know. i will.” he won’t, but that’s not for tk to know. he doesn’t move when tk goes out the door, squeezes his eyes shut when the door doesn’t slam into its frame, (tk’s taking care of him, still!) and decides to leave the pile of crumbs to deal with later. (the climax of this scene happened a while ago so this is another little reminder of what happened, just so it’s solidified in the reader’s head after the longish comedown. i end scenes a LOT like this-- two actions, and then a callback-- because they’re simple and effective, and usually sound great!)  /fin

ahh thank you so much for asking!! this was really fun to, like, process through and remember my logic for! i was actually really nervous writing this scene, because i knew the tension and the break had to be PERFECT for it to land right. but i do like how it turned out so at least there’s that. ily!!

#it took longer to write but i had fun!! #thank you caitlyn!!!!!! #fic talk #hockey rpf #hockey bros #my fic #hockey #tk/patty #idiots to lovers #cactusandfir #long post

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 4)

Let me know what you guys think of this so far. I currently have 10 chapters written, this story is just coming to me right now. If there's anything you’d like to see happen, let me know. If it fits the story I might use it as inspiration. I always love it when people suggest things to help me along.

I’m posting this as I go, so it should be once a day as long as I stay ahead of my writing. All my other Daryl fics (I think I have like 6 others?) I won’t post until I’ve completed them. So shout out to my awesome beta @rhyatt-deauxtreve for currently beta reading one of them for me so I can get it finished.

Also, I’m currently dying of food poisoning.

Pray for me :’)

-----------------

The Jackpot, that's what this place was. It wasn't just a roof over their heads, it was the fucking jackpot and Daryl couldn't believe their luck. After they checked the place for threats, Merle had rummaged through the cupboards and found it stocked full of food and even bottles of water. There was enough there to last them at least a week and Daryl felt the relief flood his body at the idea of just resting for a damn minute. Daryl had asked his brother if he had any ideas about how to reinforce the place. It was a rickety old wooden cabin, the wind would make it fall over if it picked up. He was concerned a hoard of the dead would come along and take the place with them. They needed to do something if they planned on staying here a little while. Merle had promptly disappeared saying he had an idea.

Daryl plonked down on the worn armchair, his eyes casting over to Charlene as she stood in the kitchen, opening a can of peaches she had found with the can opener Merle had found in the kitchen drawer. Once she got it open, she slurped some of the syrup greedily and let out a soft moan at the sweet taste. Daryl's pants tightened and he looked away, the tips of his ears turning pink. He felt like such a fucking creeper, but damn if that noise wasn’t the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. He was broke out of his thoughts when Merle walked back in. He tossed a bundle of barbed wire on the small coffee table in front of Daryl and Daryl quirked a brow at his brother.

“Found this in the little shed out back. Could make a fence, maybe string some cans up on it so we hear if there's any visitors,” he explained as he flopped onto the couch ungracefully.

Charlene padded over then glancing at Merle before her eyes landed on Daryl. She shot him a sweet smile that made his throat constrict. Kill me now.

She sucked the juice off her fingers as she sat down and Daryl had to fight the urge to groan. Should I shoot myself or stab myself? Bullet would prolly be quicker.

“Barbed wire? They don't feel pain though do they?” she asked softly, nibbling her lower lip that was still glistening from the syrup. Maybe I could just set myself on fire...

“Nah they don’t, but it’ll tangle ‘em enough for us to go out and deal with ‘em. ‘Sides, the cans, we’ll hear if there's a hoard, we’ll know to get the fuck outta dodge,” Merle said seriously for once. The girl's eyebrows raised right off her fucking head at his brother's plan, at how good it sounded, well thought out. He knew what she was thinking, she didn't expect his brother to be able to come up with something like that. His brother was only a little high right now, just weed most likely. Nothing hard it seemed and that's when he noticed his brother was the best version of himself. When he was on the hard stuff, he would either be a fucking sexual deviant or just plain aggressive. But this right now he could work with. His brother was chilled out but his brain worked, that was all Daryl could ask for right now.

Merle and Daryl went outside to make their makeshift fence. Winding the barbed wire around the trees and making a parameter that the dead wouldn't be able to get through easily. They attached some empty cans they found in a trash bag and Daryl had to admit, his brother's plan was pretty good. It wouldn't stop them from getting in when it came down to it, but it would slow them down and give them enough warning for them to get out safely. When they were done, Daryl looked as Merle checked it over, making sure it was done right. His brother looked deep in thought and that was a rare thing, Daryl was worried about what he was thinking about. He didn't have to wait long before he looked over and spoke to him.

“I wanna ask ya somethin’ and I don't want ya to bullshit me here,” Merle said firmly, glaring at Daryl. Daryl blinked warily at him, wondering where the fuck this was going, he had a feeling he wouldn't like it, it was weird seeing his brother so serious.

“Alright,” Daryl replied hesitantly. Merle scratched the scruff on his chin, straightening himself out, looking like he was preparing himself to say something whilst his younger brother watched on carefully.

“Those marks...she deserve it?” Merle asked roughly, making Daryl's jaw clench in anger, like his brother was trying to justify the actions he didn't even understand himself and find a way out of this.

“For fuck sake Merle!” Daryl growled, narrowing his eyes at him.

“I’m serious here! Did she do somethin’? Hit me? Provoke me?” Merle asked him, sounding almost desperate, it was pathetic.

“It ain't matter what she did or didn't do! She's a tiny little thing Merle, look at ya. Fuckin’ built like a house and hopped up on whatever the fuck that was. Ya damn near snapped her neck!” Daryl yelled, he felt his anger deep into his bones. Merle shook his head with a growl as he started to pace and Daryl could see him unravelling. Merle wasn't exactly used to feeling guilt or remorse and it seemed to be eating at him.

“It weren't me alright?!” Merle shouted as he stopped pacing, pinning his brother with his gaze.

“I know it wasn't. But ya still hurt her, scared her half to death. Ya can't do this shit no more Merle! It ain't fair to any of us. Whatever that was, ya better not use it again, because if ya lay a damn hand on her again, I won't be fuckin’ responsible for what I do to ya,” Daryl threatened, his eyes turning cold as Merle just blinked at him.

They both had issues from their past and watching their father beat their mother mercilessly, that was something neither of them would forget. It was the very reason why they wouldn't ever lay a hand on a woman that way. They despised woman beaters, and now Merle was riding that thin line and he felt like his sanity was slipping away from him. When he was high, sometimes, depending on what he took, he changed into a different person completely. One without the same morals he usually had, one who seemed to have no control of that Dixon temper that had plagued him his whole life.

They didn't need words, Daryl could see it, the remorse, how it was affecting his brother. He hoped it had woken him the fuck up enough not to use whatever it was that got him that way again. He was glad his brother regretted it, showing him he hadn't lost his compassion completely, that his brother was still in there somewhere. They just watched each other for a moment, Daryl's anger ebbing away as Merle lowered his eyes. It reminded him of when they were younger, very young when their mother was still alive and she would tell him off for something he had done. He felt a pang in his chest and he pushed it down, way down into the deepest darkest parts of him, never to emerge again. He stalked off back into the cabin, needing a break, needing to see the girl and make sure she was alright. He turned back when he got to the door, seeing Merle opting to stay outside, no doubt to think about shit and clear his head.

He heaved a sigh as he walked through the door. Charlene was sat at the dining table, all the cans of food in front of her as she organised them. Seeing them on the table like that, it made him feel good seeing just how much shit they had. If they rationed it right, it could last for a little bit. He could also hunt around the area, see what he could catch. Maybe they could stay here for a while and just rest up. He knew soon enough food would run out, they would once again be on their way. He wanted to enjoy some semblance of normal before that happened. As normal as he could get stuck with his drug-addicted brother and a girl he barely knew.

“The fuck ya doin’?” he asked with a quirked brow as he sat in the chair opposite her. She gave a soft snort as she glanced to him then back to the can in her hand.

“I got bored, I decided to see what we’ve got. There's a lot. I also found some clothes. There's some shirts I’m gonna take. They look like a teenagers so they’d fit me better. The rest should fit you and Merle. Although you’d probably wanna rip the sleeves off,” she smirked wryly at him, making him lower his head feeling bashful all of a sudden as he scoffed. She had a pile of clothes on the chair next to her. Some jeans and plaid shirts.

“Probably,” he huffed, his lips tugging into a half smile.

“Why do you do that? Ripping the sleeves off?” she asked curiously, resting her chin on her hand like she was so fucking interested in the answer. He could feel the tips of his ears turning pink having her watch him so intently like that as he chewed his thumb.

“Just easier to move about with the bow I guess,” he shrugged.

“I guess that makes sense. You’ve got those broad ass shoulders and huge arms. I bet it's uncomfortable with sleeves,” she said breezily, like it was no big deal what she said.

All Daryl could do was blink at her for a minute as she went back to organising the cans. Shit, was that a compliment? He was bewildered and he glanced down to his shoulders and arms. He felt a strange feeling in his chest swell. The same kind of feeling he would get when he bagged a big buck on a hunt. Pride? Is that was it was? He didn't know but he fucking liked it. He didn't exactly know why she was organising the cans, but he didn't say a word. She was busy, and that meant she wasn't looking at him. That, in turn, meant he could look at her without her realising and calling him out on being a fucking creep.

Her long brown hair was up in a messy bun, but she still somehow looked good. Even with her mud-stained cheeks. She looked better now she had eaten and drank something, no doubt the feeling of safety from the cabin helped too. She looked less tense.

“Ya’ll never guess what I found outside!” Merle hooted as he burst in the front door, a shit eating grin on his face. Daryl and Charlene turned their eyes to him but made no move to talk.

“Well shit, don’t all ask at once,” Merle huffed a laugh, making Charlene snort a little as she toyed with the can in her hand. Daryl just looked at his brother expectantly.

“They got some sorta water system rigged up out back. Works on rainwater,” Merle grinned. The girl’s eyes lit up and Daryl couldn't tear his eyes away from her, watching a beautiful smile grace her face.

“There's running water?!” she asked looking excited.

“I’m gonna guess there is,” Merle smirked, looking so proud of himself it was ridiculous. Anyone would think he rigged the system up himself.

“Yes! I’m gonna take a shower. I presume you guys won't mind me taking first dibs,” she said casually as she grabbed one of the smaller shirts off the pile.

“The fuck does that mean?” Daryl scoffed, looking so fucking offended it made Merle bark a laugh. She stilled, eyes wide as she looked to Daryl and his offended face.

“Oh...I...Uh...I just meant that...you two don't look the type...to be concerned with showering...is all,” she stammered, looking awkward. Daryl frowned, was she saying he was dirty? She had just fucking complimented him damn near a minute ago and now she was insulting him? He didn't understand what was going on.

“She ain't wrong baby brother,” Merle laughed, walking past him and smacking him on the back brotherly, making him tense and flinch for a second.

Charlene was clutching the clean shirt to her chest, looking awkward as a light blush graced her cheeks, Daryl squinting at her.

“I didn't mean...I didn't mean it in a bad way. You're all...manly and stuff, ya know? And you guys are out there, you're used to it...the mud,” she rambled nervously, her hands fisting the material of the shirt.

“We are manly,” Merle smirked, slurping on a bottle of water.

“I didn't say you were manly, I was talking about Daryl,” she scoffed, making Merle choke on his mouthful of water. Daryl bit his lower lip and ducked his head so he didn't laugh at his brother's reaction. He still had no idea what was going on. Was she insulting him or not? Now she was saying he was manly, he didn't know which way was up right now. But watching her squirm was a little amusing.

“I’m just saying, I’m not used to this. I’m a girl and I've never been in the woods before and I-” she started rambling again and Daryl rolled his eyes.

“Just go,” he snorted giving her the out she so desperately fucking needed. She glanced at him once more before scurrying off and Daryl shook his head and huffed a laugh.

Merle flopped into a chair at the dining table with a scowl.

“I’m manly,” he huffed, sounding like a petulant child as he glared at his water bottle.

“Uh huh...whatever ya say,” Daryl smirked, grabbing a can and opening it with his knife, shovelling the canned fruit in his mouth.

“We gonna go huntin’ tomorrow? Could see what's out there, hopefully make the food last a while,” Merle asked, glancing to him. Daryl swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Might as well. Seems good here, be good if we could stretch it out a little,” he shrugged, making his brother nod, the pair of them thinking about it. Even Merle had to admit this little set up was nice. Daryl really hoped they’d bag a deer soon. They could prep the meat and ration it, make it last a while between them all. He wondered how she would react, having him catch something big like that, something to fill her belly with for a while. He felt a twinge in his stomach and tried to ignore it, grabbing more fruit and pushing it in his mouth to distract him. The girl was making him feel all kinds of shit and he wasn't really sure what to think about it. So he opted not to think about it at all. Ignorance is bliss and all that shit.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon writing #twd #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #The Walking Dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfic #merle dixon