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sourwolf-sterek32 · 2 years

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Broken Trust

Summary: Y/N Walsh meets Daryl Dixon while working as an undercover Police Officer. But, when Daryl finds out the truth about you, you’re forced to move back to King County.

While on duty, a bullet puts you and Rick Grimes in hospital and when you wake up, the whole world has changed.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: language, violence, blood

Previous chapter

Chapter 33-

You ducked down behind some old tractor and raised your handgun towards the door, waiting.

Not a moment later, the door was kicked open and the Governors men rushed in as you pulled the trigger.

In a matter of seconds the men were dead, but you knew there was more of them. Why wouldn't they all come after you? The Governor wanted you dead, you had killed his daughter, he wouldn't give you the chance to get away, so why didn't he send all his men after you?

You were cut off from your thoughts when the front door to the shed slammed open and you mentally cursed yourself for not thinking that far ahead. They had went around the shed and used the other door to sneak up on you. Son of a bitch.

You quickly spun around raising your gun and took down two of the five men before the all too familiar click filled the air and you groaned in frustration. You didn't have enough time to change magazines, instead you holstered your gun and pulled out your pepper spray from the pouch on your belt.

Without hesitation you quickly stood up and sprayed the men running towards you and you watched in amusement as the three of them instantly dropped to the ground with pained screams.

Pepper spray stung like a bitch. You had to be sprayed with it when you were training at the academy so you knew what it would feel like if you accidently got sprayed in the field and that was not fun.

You put your spray back in the pouch and began to reach for your gun to load in a new magazine into, but you didn't get a chance before someone suddenly tackled you from behind.

You hit the ground with a thud and you forced yourself not to scream when you landed on your stomach, your ribs exploding in pain. Whoever tackled you, you rolled your over onto your back and you came face to face with the Governor before he slammed his boot down against the side of your face.

For a moment, you thought you were going to pass out.

Black dots started to cloud your vision, but you forced them away and you stared up at the Governor who standing above you. What was left of his men were still rolling around on the ground a few metres away from the spray, leaving just you and him.

"Just get it over with." You spat, your eyes still trying to focus as you felt blood trickling down the side of your face, the boot reopening some of the stitches.

"Not yet." The Governor responded, grabbing the front of your shirt and pulling you to your feet before he pinned you against the wall and pulled out a knife, holding it against your throat. "Looks like your wounds are starting to heal, I think we'll change that." He added, lowering the knife from your throat before he dug the blade into your left shoulder, reopening the stab wound causing you to scream.

Merle was sneaking into the shed while the Governor was distracted. The eldest Dixon pulled out his silenced pistol, shooting the five guys on the ground silencing them in an instant, but suddenly the Governor froze in front of you and you realised that he noticed his men weren't crying anymore. Shit.

You watched as the Governor pulled out his own handgun and slowly turned around.

Acting quickly, you grabbed his arm and tried to get him to drop the gun, but he just elbowed you in the face, knocking you to floor before he turned around to find Merle standing above his now dead men.

"Merle!" You screamed, catching the older Dixons attention.

Merle quickly spun around, but it was too late. The Governor had pulled the trigger and all you could do was watch Merle staggered back, his hand going to his stomach as blood started to seep through the front of his shirt before he fell to the floor.

The Governor began to walk towards him, no doubt going to finish him off, but you couldn't let that happen. He was Daryl's brother, you couldn't let him die.

Without thinking, you hastily got to your feet, trying to ignore the fact that the room definitely should not be spinning right now. You pulled your knife out and slammed the blade into the side of the Governors neck before he had a chance to pull the trigger and finished Merle off.

The Governor cried out in pain as you yanked the knife back out, blood spraying out the wound and covering you before he dropped to the ground. You didn't waste anytime as you dropped down beside him and stabbed him through the chest.

You weren't really sure what happened after that, you must have spaced out because the next thing you knew, you were leaning over the Governor's dead body, his face now unrecognisable from the amount of times you had stabbed him.

You sat there breathing heavily before pulling your knife from his eye socket and pushed yourself off him as you landed on the ground breathlessly.

Wait, Merle!

Dropping the knife, you quickly crawled over to the older Dixon who was laying on the ground a few metres away with his hands pressed against his bloodied stomach. Shit, that wasn't good.

"Merle? Hey, can you hear me?" You questioned once you reached his side and you lifted his hands to take a look at the wound, but all you could see was blood.

"Ain't walkin' away from this." He groaned through gritted teeth.

"It's just a scratch, stop being such a pussy." You lied, ripping off your flannel shirt, leaving you in what used to be a white tank top, but was now covered in more blood than what you though possible, but for once barely any of it was your own.

"I'm getting you out of here." You insisted.

You tied your flannel around his stomach to try and slow the bleeding causing Merle to wince and he shook his head, but you didn't give him a chance to speak.

"Shut up, I didn't save your ass back in the day for you to just die like this."

You finished tying the flannel before you grabbed his arm, slinging it over your shoulder and tried to get him to his feet, but you really underestimated your strength and Merle's weight. But,to your relief, Merle started to help you and he pushed himself to his feet, most of his weight leaning against your side, but at least he was on his feet.

"Ain't gonna work." He mumbled as you started to walk him towards him door.

You did not like how faint his voice was getting though. It was only a matter of time before he past out from blood loss and there was no way you'd be able to carry his full weight to one of the cars.

"Shut up, save your energy." You groaned, trying to ignore the pain flaring through your shoulder as you helped Merle.

You really should have used your other arm, but too late now to change arms.

For a moment, you thought it was going to work, but the second you opened the door to the shed and took a step outside, you quickly realised that Merle was right. It wasn't going to work. There were walkers everywhere, you couldn't get Merle to one of the cars and take on the walkers at once. Shit.

"Stay here, don't move." You instructed as you gently lowered Merle to the ground under the veranda of the shed.

You stared at him for a moment, hating how pale he looked before you turned around and took in all the walkers stumbling around the area. How the hell were you going to do this? There had to be at least 50 walkers here.

"Fuck it." You muttered to yourself, grabbing your baton from your belt and flicking it out before slamming the end of it into the first walker and moving onto the next.

Walker, after walker, after walker. You smashed their heads in with your baton. Walker blood and guts coated your already bloodied body as you glanced over your shoulder, making sure there weren't any walkers near Merle.

"10 down, only another 40 to go." You said to yourself, turning back towards the walkers.

You raised your baton about to take down the closest one before an arrow suddenly flew past your face and hit the walker through the eye.

Daryl ran towards you with his crossbow in his hands, slamming it into one of the walkers before you quickly pointed towards Merle. Daryl stopped in his tracks and turned to where you were pointing and you could pinpoint the exact moment he spotted his brother. His entire body froze for a split second before he took off sprinting towards him.

You quickly turned your attention back to the walkers and continued to take them out before you glanced back towards the brothers to now find Daryl lifting Merle up. His panicked blue eyes locked with yours from across the yard, looking at you in uncertainty.

"Take the Governor's truck, get him out of here!" You shouted just as a walker grabbed your shoulder and you quickly jumped out the way, kicking the walker to the ground before slamming your boot against his head with a sickening crunch.

"I ain't leaving ya!" Daryl shouted back.

You shook your head before slamming the baton against another walker, but this time your baton got stuck and you were unable to pull it out. Shit.

"You don't have a choice. He's bleeding out, I got this!" You yelled back, drawing your handgun, hastily ejecting the empty magazine and loading in your spare.

You shot the walker about to reach you before looking back over at Daryl. He just stood there with his brother in his arms, clearly unsure with what to do.

"Daryl, go!" You ordered, your inner police voice coming out.

To your relief, Daryl nodded before he started making a beeline for the nearest Governor vehicle and you turned your attention back to the walkers and started to shoot them.

It didn't take long before you heard one of the trucks start up and a few seconds later you spotted the truck take off and you just hoped it wasn't too late. Daryl couldn't lose his brother, not after everything.

You continued shooting the walkers until you ran out of bullets and there was no more spare magazine to load. You glanced around the area taking in all the walkers that were still left and you knew there was no way you could take them all on, but that was okay. Daryl had gotten Merle out of here and now you could get the hell out of dodge too.

Without further thought, you holstered your handgun and took off running in the direction Daryl had came from earlier and to your relief you spotted his old Triumph parked on the side of the road.

Your entire body ached as you mounted the bike. All your old injuries from the first time you fought with the Governor still fresh and you could feel blood dripping down your shoulder from the stab wound, but there wasn't much you could do about it at the moment.

You turned the key in the ignition and to your relief the bike started up on the first try because you knew there was no way you'd be able to kickstart it, not in your condition right now anyway.

By the time you pulled up to the prison the sun was starting to set in the distance.

Carl opened the gate for you and you rode in, parking Daryl's bike in the courtyard. You turned the engine off, but didn't make any move to dismount the bike just yet. What if Merle was dead? What if you were too late? It was your plan to draw the walkers in and take out the Governor that way, it was your plan that might have killed Daryl's brother...

"Aunty Y/N!" Carl's voice shouted, snapping you out of your thoughts as you glanced over your shoulder to find him running towards you from the gate and you took a deep breath before you climbed off the bike. "Daryl said the Governor is dead, is that true?" He asked, once he reached your side, his eyes widening taking in all the blood covering your body and you nodded.

"Yeah, he's dead. Is Merle okay? Where are they?" You asked, looking down at your nephew before he pointed towards the prison.

"In the cellblock, he was bleeding a lot. I don't know, I haven't heard anything since."

You nodded before making your way towards the building, unable to stop the tears rising in your eyes. Merle was probably dead... Daryl would hate you again, it was all your fault.

"Y/N? Thank God, what happened? Merle said you killed the Governor, but..." Rick's voice suddenly said the second you stepped inside the prison.

The man who used to be your brother rushed over to you, his eyes widening as he took in all the blood covering your face and shirt.

"It's not mine... not all of it." You corrected yourself, running shaky fingers through your hair as you looked over at Rick who took a step towards you about to hug you, but you quickly shook your head and took a step back. "Don't." You warned and he stopped in his tracks.

"Y/N, please-" He started to say, but you cut him off.

"Where's Daryl and Merle?" You asked, changing the topic.

Rick sighed, pointing towards the cellblock before you rushed into the cellblock. Maggie and Glenn were sitting on the steps and both pointed towards one of the cells when they saw you.

You simply nodded your thanks and you walked over to the cell they pointed to and stopped in the doorway when you saw Merle lying on the bed, a thick white bandage around his stomach. His skin was still ghostly pale, but you could see the rise and fall of his chest and you couldn't stop the small sigh of relief that left your lips. He was still alive. Daryl was sitting on a chair beside the bed with his head in his hands. You cleared your throat causing Daryl's head to quickly look up and the second he realised it was you, he was on his feet and pulling you into his chest. Neither of you said anything for a while as you hugged each other, but you could tell Daryl was crying. His body trembled against you and you hugged him tighter, despite the pain it caused your shoulder... you really should get checked by Hershel, but that could wait. "I'm so sorry." You apologised once Daryl pulled away, his eyes red and puffy from crying and your heart broke. "Is he going to be okay?" "Hershel got the bullet out, doesn't know if it did any internal damage or not... we just have to wait 'n find out."

He stared at his brother before turning his attention back towards you and reached for your bloodied shoulder, but stopped himself, not wanting to hurt you. "It's okay. The Governor got me good, but it's not bad." You tried to reassure, but Daryl just shook his head. "It ain't okay. None of this is okay. Why'd ya go after Merle? Ya could've gotten yourself killed!" He snapped, before he turned away and started to pace the small cell anxiously. "I didn't want you to lose your brother too. I lost mine and it broke me... I couldn't let you go through the same thing." You admitted, watching as he stopped pacing and stared at the ground. "You can hate me for running off again, it seems to be a habit of mine. But, I couldn't let you lose your brother." "I ain't ever gonna hate ya." He said, taking a step towards you and cupping the side of your face before placing a gentle kiss to your lips. "Let's go find Hershel, ya need that shoulder looked at." "It's okay, stay with your brother. He needs you more than I do, right now. I'll find Hershel." You responded and Daryl looked like he wanted to argue before he looked back over at his big brother lying on the bed and sighed, but nodded in agreement.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #twd #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #Rick Grimes #Shane Walsh #Merle Dixon #Norman Reedus #Jon Bernthal #Andrew Lincoln #Michael Rooker

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 3 months

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This Rotten Work Playlists: Zell edition!

As @evelynhug0 so kindly requested, I'm going to release each of the main character playlists (and one for the main ship, Rachel and Daiyu) once a week leading up to the release of the book!

Third up is Marcel "Zell" Oathkeeper, one of the two best friends of Rachel and our resident disaster poly bisexual. Born into a Magical family, Zell is a bit out of place in the Normie world, what with his yellow turtlenecks, overalls, and ascots, but he's rather enthusiastic about certain discoveries, such as Guitar Hero and Mountain Dew. He likes to experiment with his cooking in his free time and his best friends have been the unfortunate recipients of many Mountain-Dew-related experiments. Underneath his optimistic attitude, however, lies a deep-seated survivor's guilt and worse coping methods than he's letting on, the best of which is the garden of ghosts he's maintaining with his Vine-Slinging powers (aka plant powers).

As Rachel describes him in Chapter 1:

“Excuse you, I love my clothes.” Zell even reaches up and smooths out his neon yellow henley to prove the point.

I arch an eyebrow at the state of his pants. “Tell that to the dirt stains on your knees, Ni.”

“You just can’t appreciate the beauty of nature, Ray,” Zell tsks as he grabs his backpack from Stebbie’s well-organized hands.

That’s Marcel Oathkeeper in his natural form for you: Zell the plant boy. Overalls and plant magic and a rooftop garden above our apartment. Dirt constantly caked under his fingernails and ground into his pants. Long, gangly limbs that looked awkward until he grew into them. He and Stebbie are quite the match, given the nearly twelve-inch-height-difference between them.

@snazzy-hats-and-adhd @blufox3542 @neshatriumphs @khruschevshoe @weedpoop @thesirhandsome-tepalehuia @sillylittlecheeto @nefertittti @henrythepug @meet-me-behindthemall12 @aboutblankpages-blog-blog @artemisiaarm @profiterole-reads @marchionessdebrannas @harrietmjones @thearcaneuniversity @little-bloodied-angel @artemisbones @jacksope-lives @fleuranna @shehungthemoon @spacecatrainshell @celestedeluna @thefiresofpompeii @gerardway-jpeg @fleuranna @henrythepug @smokecloudsandrollingpapers @idealuk @aceumbrellaheroes @evelynhug0

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trailersswift · 1 year

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Prison Break? I need a break!

"We are captives of our own identities, living in prisons of our own creation." ~ Theodore Bagwell The story revolves around an engineer, Michael Scofield, who deliberately installs himself in a prison he helped design, in order to save his falsely accused brother, Lincoln Burrows, from a death sentence.

You'd think if one has designed the prison, it wouldn't take 5 seasons for him to get out of one, considering all the possibilities. That is the thing! It didn't take them all that time to escape the prison, yet they still went on with the show, eventually losing track of what it was initially about.

People seem to rate it highly due to the constant suspense and action, but I see this as its downfall. I am a bit of a fan of the "will they? won't they?" trope myself but not if it has been dragged out enough for me to foretell the next thing in the show. The writers tried to make it unpredictable to the extent that it got predictable. Characters surviving things that they definitely should not and doing things that definitely would not and yet everything is still rather foreseeable. Every episode has these farcical one in a billion chance kind of thing happen on the regular, and like the beloved cliche, the power of trust and friendship and the ridiculously intelligent main character gets everyone through it all.

You'd think having the most wanted criminals in America walking around federal buildings, they'd at least be recognised, if not caught. One thing that I do appreciate about the show is how much they're willing to delve into technicalities in terms of medicine, technology and architecture to avoid any future loopholes. The problematic theme of T-Bag, a convicted rapist, pedophile and murderer, as one of the main characters runs around for almost 4 seasons. But you can't expect convicts to not have a past when the entirety of the plotline revolves around them.

I appreciate the addition of depth in each character, the relevancy of each action, each dynamic and the contribution of every single element to the resultant story. Every character holds weightage in terms of what happens in the end. The show does strays away from its original tale while still trying to hold the audience's attention which it was successfully able to do. But the ratings weren't worth losing what could've been cinematic masterpiece. If you're a fan of flow, I'd suggest watching only the first season of the show.

Overall, I'd rate this series a 6.3/10. Let me know if you have any more tv series or movies you'd like me to review. Have a nice day! <3

#movie reviews #movies #movierecommendations #movie recommendations #review #reviews #tv series #tv drama #mystery #suspense #show review #wentworth miller #lincoln burrows #michael scofield #prison break #michael x sara

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loudhousecomicsandstories3 · 2 years

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the night be came home to be with her

#Lori Loud #lincoln loud #lincori #loricoln #theloudhouse #the loud house #the loudcest universe #halloween #halloween1978 #michael myers #laurie strode #lauriexmichael #michael myers x laurie loud #michael myers and laurie loud #loudcest

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afaimsarrowverse · 2 months

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Meine „Prison Break“-Fics:

A/B/O-Verse:

The Things We Do For Love

A/B/O-AU, A/B/O-Dynamik, Seximus, Gefängnis, Erpressung, Nötigung, Gewalt , Character Death, PTSD, Polygamie, Machtmissbrauch, Vergewaltigung,, die Handlung spielt vor allem in den ersten drei Staffel, es gibt aber ein paar Spoiler für Season 4, während Season 5 wird als das seltsame Paralleuniversum, das es ist, ignoriert wird, Michael/Alex, Michael/Sara, Alex/Pam, Linc/Veronica, Alex/Whistler/Michael, Kellerman/Sara, Kellerman/Caroline, Caroline/Terrence, Gretchen/Whistler. Michael glaubte niemals wirklich daran, dass er damit durchkommen würde. Von all den komplizierten Winkelzügen, die er sich ausgedacht hatte um seinen Bruder aus dem Gefängnis retten zu können, war das hier derjenige, in den er am wenigsten Vertrauen setzte. Ein Teil von ihm war zutiefst davon überzeugt, dass es früher oder später irgendjemanden auffallen würde, dass ihm früher oder später irgendjemand auf die Schliche kommen würde. Michael schleicht sich als Omega in ein Alpha-Hochsicherheitsgefängnis ein um seinen Bruder zu retten. und hat mit allem gerechnet, daber nicht mit dem FBI-Alpha-Spurhund Alex Mahone.

Von dysfunktionalen Familien und Fragen der Liebe

Fortsetzung von „The Things we do for Love“. Sammlung zugesammenhängender One-Shots, die während der 4. Staffel von „Prison Break“ spielen. Michael/Alex, Michael/Sara, Alex/Pam, Linc/Sofia, ein Hauch von Gretchen/Sara, Alex/Whistler/Michael, Gretchen/Whistler. „Ihr wart niemals nicht auf ihrem Radar, sie haben nur beschlossen euch kurzfristig in Ruhe zu lassen. Das könnte sich jederzeit ändern, und ihr würdet es nicht einmal kommen sehen“, behauptete Whistler. Michael hat sein Happy End gefunden, doch eine Bitte um Hilfe bringt ihn und sein Rudel zurück auf auf den Radar der Company.

Point of View

Companion Piece zu „The Things we do for Love“. Die Fic spielt während des Prologs bzw. des ersten Kapitel von „The Things We Do For Love“ funktioniert aber eigenständig. 5 Personen, die dachten zu wissen, dass Michael Scofield nicht das war, was er vorgab zu sein, und eine Person, die es wusste. Gen-Fic mit ein bisschen MiSa.

Die ganze Serie auf AO3:

Kompass-Verse:

Der vorbestimmte Weg

Kompass-Verse-AU, Gefängnis, Erpressung, Nötigung, Gewalt, Gen-Fic, mit ein wenig MiSa, Spuren von Michael/Alex und Kellerman/Sara, Nein, niemals, er konnte es nicht. Er würde alles opfern um Lincoln zu retten, doch was er nicht opfern konnte war der Wegweiser von drei anderen Menschen, die ihm genauso wichtig sein sollten wie Lincoln es war. Michael befreit seinen Bruder aus dem Gefängnis, nicht nur weil er auf seiner Haut steht, doch als er von einem Mann, der ebenfalls auf seiner Haut steht gejagt wird und die Ärztin, die ihm geholfen hat und auf seiner Haut steht, in Bedrängnis gerät, muss er entscheiden, wo seine Prioritäten liegen.

#Fanfiction #Meine Fics #Prison Break #The Things we do for Love #Von dyfunktionalen Familien und Fragen der Liebe #Point of View #Der vorbestimmte Weg #Michael x Alex #MiSa #michael scofield #Alex Mahone #lincoln burrows #sara tancredi #Paul Kellerman #Whistler

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humanpurposes · 6 months

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Mine All Mine

Michael doesn't have a lot of friends, nor does he want them. Now he thinks he might have found his perfect match, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away

Main Masterlist

Michael Gavey x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, Michael Gavey being a little shit (affectionately), possessive behaviour (yk the drill here)

Words: 7k

A/n: This ended up leaning into more of a cuter side, I definitely wanna do something creepier with him at some point! Also available to read on AO3.

He gets to the room early, before the tutor has even arrived. It’s his first tutorial of the year and his first ever at Oxford. He stands straight with his head up and his hands unmoving, a picture of neutrality. He has his problem sheet in his satchel and runs through the questions in his head, not because he needs to, not because he doubts himself, but simply because he can.

He doesn’t even like maths all that much, but he’s always been good at it. He had considered doing something a little less straightforward, physics or economics, but then what would be the point in getting into Oxford to be anything less than perfect?

He knows his tutor’s name from his schedule, Stephen Breyer. He arrives only a few minutes later and they go inside. The tutorial room is small, with three of the four walls covered in bookshelves. In the centre of the room there is a table, an armchair on one side and a small sofa on the other.

Michael takes the seat closest to the door. It puts him in a slightly more direct line of sight with Stephen. It also means his tutorial partner will inevitably have to climb over his legs to sit down and the thought amuses him.

“How are you finding it so far?” Stephen asks, unpacking a thermos flask and a notebook from his bag.

“It?” Michael repeats.

Stephen pauses and looks at him, slightly bewildered. “Well, the course, the college, Oxford. All of it.”

“Right,” Michael says. He takes his time taking out a pencil and his problem sheet before placing them on the table. He sits back against the sofa and rubs his lips together in thought.

He supposes it’s been exactly as he had expected. Lectures have been fairly straightforward, Lincoln college looks the same as it had in the prospectus, and so far, most of the people seem insufferable. So many of them have no sense of urgency, no drive to truly succeed because to them, Oxford is a rite of passage rather than an earned privilege. He’s met maybe one person he’d consider worthy of his time, and even then, Oliver Quick is only a literature student. He might as well get a degree in overthinking.

Stephen is looking at him like he is still expecting an answer. Michael stares back. He’s never been one to bother with smalltalk.

“Alright then,” Stephen says, then nods to the empty place on the sofa. “Do you know if–”

The door opens and a girl walks in, closing it gently behind her. “Sorry I’m late,” she says, eyes flickering around the room and settling on the space beside Michael.

He’s seen her before, in lectures, in the dining hall, walking around the college with her little group of friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were all Cheltenham girls by the way they talk and dress in the stupid outfits rich girls wear to make themselves seem like normal people.

He watches her as she walks towards him, the awkward little smile she gives him before she steps over his legs.

“Sorry,” she says again, falling onto the sofa. Michael almost winces at the sudden jolt of movement and the faint scent of a sweet perfume drifting from his left. “Had some trouble finding the room.”

“You’re right on time,” Stephen says, “we haven’t started yet.”

She’s better at the smalltalk than he is. She has a constant smile on her face and a bright look in her eyes, already having plenty of humorous anecdotes to share, despite the fact it’s only their second week.

As they go through the questions on the sheet, comparing calculations and answers, Michael is horrified to find that he’s a little nervous. His throat feels dry and he can feel his heart pulsing in his chest. It’s her fault, he thinks. Everything about her is distracting, the sound of her voice, the satisfied little hum she makes when she realises she’s got another question right. Her black tights, the way her skirt rides up her thigh when she crosses her legs.

He wants to think she’s vapid, a pretty face dressed up in black boots and a denim jacket, but to his dismay, all of their answers are the same, down to every detail in their calculations.

That is until they reach the last question. It’s terribly complex and he had almost struggled with it. Almost.

He steals a quick glance at her sheet and notices their answers are different. Because she’s missed a step, he realises. He feels a smile creeping across his lips.

He proudly goes through his working out, delighted at the surprised look on her face as she goes over her own sheet.

“I got something different,” she says with a shrug.

Stephen invites her to talk through her answer. Her voice is quieter and softer than it was before, but not as defeated as he’d like.

“She has you beat there, Mr Gavey,” Stephen says.

It’s like being punched in the gut. “What?”

“Overextend yourself a little,” he explains, drawing a line through the last few calculations on his paper. “Make sure to read what the question asks of you.”

His blood is boiling and his fists are clenched. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been wrong. A dangerous impulse in the back of his mind wants to scream his throat raw and tear his paper to pieces.

Then he feels a warmth settle over his knuckles. She’s placed her hand over his.

“It’s a compliment, really,” she says to him.

He looks up at her, only more infuriated by the gentle expression on her face. But he knows better than to let anger get the better of him. It will only leave him feeling ashamed. So he forces a smile and nods. “Thank you.”

She smiles too, sweet and reassuring.

He can’t bear the humiliation. Once they’re dismissed he packs up quickly, practically storming out of the room before she even has a chance to stand up.

He spends the rest of the day in his dorm, looking over the same problem and pulling at his hair, because now his mistake seems glaringly obvious. How could he be so useless? So careless as to not even read the fucking question properly?

His room is on the second floor, overlooking the quad. There are always people around, walking between classes, sitting on the grass, their voices and the smell of cigarette smoke rising and drifting in through his window. He hates it. He hates the noise, the distraction.

But as he goes to close the open window he spots her. It’s only for a moment. She’s walking towards the library with her hands in the pocket of her jacket and her backpack slung over one shoulder. She’s not with any of her preppy friends, in fact she looks rather solemn.

He feels a slight twinge of guilt in his gut. Perhaps he had been a little unfair to her in their tutorial.

He keeps noticing her, especially at meal times and during lectures. Whenever he enters a room he finds himself searching for her, and if he cannot find her, he waits for her to appear. He plays guessing games with himself, waiting to see what outfit she’ll wear, the pretty mini skirt or a pair of faded blue baggy jeans. If she’ll be with her friends or if she’ll be alone.

He never approaches her. He waits for her to look at him, and once they’ve made eye contact she’ll smile at him.

He likes watching her, and comes to the conclusion that she is charming and polite, but not overbearing, and that’s what's so intriguing about her. She knows how to talk to people, even the most insufferable of their peers, but she’s not nearly entitled enough to truly be one of them.

It’s a Friday evening the next time they actually speak. The library tends to be quieter at this time and he has a textbook to look over before his next lecture. Only, when he goes to find the book, he discovers the last copy has been checked out a matter of minutes ago. Fucking typical.

He goes to stalk out of the library, debating whether or not he can be bothered to ask Oliver if he wants to grab a drink in The King’s Arms, when he sees her.

She’s alone, with her chin in her palm, writing in a notebook as she looks at the textbook open in front of her. He’s willing to bet that’s exactly the book he needs.

He approaches her slowly, waiting for her to look up and notice him, but she seems utterly absorbed in what she’s doing. Only when he puts a hand on the back of her chair and leans over her shoulder does she react to him.

He sees her jump when he gets too close. “Jesus Christ!” she hisses, clutching her hand over her chest.

“Sorry,” he mutters, still hovering over her. “Did I frighten you?”

She hums a laugh but composes herself quite quickly. She turns her head to look at him. “I’m guessing you want the book?” she says, her breath fluttering over his cheek.

He straightens his back so he can look down at her. “Will you have it for long? Only I think I’ll get through the reading quite quickly.”

“Oh yes of course, you’re a genius, right?” she says with a grin.

Irritation scratches under the surface of his skin, hot and restless. That’s how he usually introduces himself, but it’s the truth.

“We could just share,” she says, gesturing to the empty seat beside her, “that is, unless you don’t think I’ll be able to keep up.”

There’s something exciting about the way she holds his gaze, the hint of a smile on her lips.

She offers to go back a page so he can catch up and admittedly, he skims through, only writing down a few notes before he tells her to move on. He can find the book again if he really needs to.

He has to lean over his left arm rather significantly to read the book properly. She notices this, and pushing it closer to him, shuffling her chair over to follow. They’re close enough that he can smell her perfume again.

“None of your little friends around then?” he asks quietly, so as not to disturb the other students.

“What?”

“That group of girls,” he says, “I’ve seen you sitting with them in the dining hall.”

She brings her chin back to her palm but doesn’t look up from her notes. “They live on my floor. I don’t need to spend every waking moment with them.”

“Touchy subject?” he asks, perhaps a little too hopefully.

His heart leaps in triumph when she looks up at him. “No. I’m just not sure I’d count them as friends, necessarily.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not my kind of people,” she says.

“Why not?”

She frowns briefly. He thinks she might scold him for being so direct, for asking so many questions, for being too intrusive. But she doesn’t.

The textbook is forgotten. She tells him about the village where she grew up, a sad little place by the sounds of it. She spent most of her schooling surrounded by the same twenty or so kids.

“For a long time, I knew there was something people didn’t like about me,” she says. “I didn’t understand why. I was never rude or cruel, I just kept my head down and did my work. The other girls told me I was a freak, the boys used to tease me, pull my hair, tear pages out of my books. Mum said people hated me because I was clever. Dad said I should stop complaining. So I did.”

He can’t help but draw a comparison to himself. He can feel it when he meets someone new, the inherent distrust, the sense that there is something inherently unlikeable about him. In a way he likes that people are unnerved by him because at least it’s something he can control. He has never been one for friends or common ground, a consequence of being the smartest person in every room.

He watches her intently as she tells him about a private school a few miles outside of her village, a proper posh place, Victorian buildings and sprawling estates. For her, it was her one chance of escape, and while her parents worked hard to make ends meet, the only way she was going to get in was with a scholarship. So she worked for it, got all A*s in her GCSEs, started at the posh school, and from there, set her sights on Oxford.

“You’re rather deceptive,” he says.

She smiles at him. “It’s not like I lied. Were you expecting a daddy’s money brat?”

“There’s enough of them about,” he says.

She huffs a laugh and rolls her eyes. “Fucking tell me about it.”

They start to make a habit of studying together, at first it’s by coincidence, and then she gives him her number so they can organise themselves more effectively. They meet at the library every Friday to share a textbook or go over problem sheets, in preparation for their lectures. They even start to meet before their tutorials together, to compare answers and make sure neither of them are left out. Sometimes they go for coffee after their classes, and branch off to chat about things that aren’t maths.

He tells her about the grammar school he went to, that most of the boys there were rugby playing morons. He tells her about his family, his mum, his dad, the family cat that’s been around longer than he has. He tells her about his summer, running numbers for his uncle’s accountancy firm.

She tells him about the posh school, that starting at a boarding school was like being thrown into a different universe. Sure, she had been the odd one out and got the odd “povo” comment, but it was the first place where she had felt like she didn’t have to be ashamed of her own intelligence. She learnt how to fit in, to the point where he can’t tell if she actually likes her preppy friends or if she just puts up with them for the sake of it.

He starts to wonder if he could consider her a friend. He likes that she’s smart and sharp, the slight air of competition when they compare notes or go through a problem together. He likes challenging her, making her second guess herself, watching the way she squirms and tries to hide that she’s flustered. Just once, he thinks it would be fun to one-up her, but of course, she never slips up, and she never makes a mistake.

On Halloween she mentions a party at Magdalene College being hosted by one of her old school friends. Of course he’s sceptical. Hanging around a bunch of stuck up posh kids, who no doubt will all be in slutty costumes and getting off on each other’s egos, isn’t exactly his idea of fun. Although, part of him is intrigued to see her in a different setting.

So he agrees to meet her outside her dorm at 10pm exactly. He doesn’t bother with fancy dress, opting for jeans and a black jumper so that he can just fade into the background.

She appears with some of her preppy friends. They’re all in pastel dresses of differing colours, matching wings strung on their backs, glitter on their cheeks, a little pack of fairies. She’s in white mini dress that floats around her thighs as she moves, more like an angel.

She introduces him enthusiastically to the girls, already giddy from their pre-drinks, pink gin and rosé. None of them seem that interested by his presence and he grunts in response.

She links her arm through his as they walk over the cobbles, through the maze of ancient buildings to the dorm where the party is being held. She talks about everything and nothing. She tells him who’s going to be there, who’s been uninvited but might show up just to stir shit, how many girls are going to be there and that they’re all going to be trying to get into Felix Catton’s Calvin Kleins.

“Are you going to get with anyone?” she asks.

He makes a sound of disgust.

“Come on, Michael, live a little!”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think– I don’t know–”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and turns him to face her. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

He swallows thickly. It’s not something he’s ever been ashamed of before, now it feels like a weight crushing down on his chest. “No,” he says, simply, determined to remain indifferent.

“Get with someone tonight!” she says excitedly, “just for the fun of it, we’ll find you someone good.”

He hates the idea, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her. Perhaps it seems like fun to her, but to him it seems like an impossibility, and he thinks he’d rather have the consistency of being unwanted.

The party itself is loud and sparsely lit by neon lights. He starts off on bottles of beer to ease himself into it, but seeing everyone else is doing pills and white lines, he thinks he might need something stronger to get through the night, especially when she keeps getting distracted. The angel is quite the social butterfly and insists on saying hello to everyone, even the people she’s never met.

He finds himself in a common room and reaches for a bottle of whisky and a cup when he spots her. She’s leaning against a wall, wings discarded on the floor beside her. A tall boy, wearing nothing but jeans, a pair of feathery costume wings and a horrible Carpe Diem tattoo on his forearm, has his hands on her waist. She’s smiling and giggling into his neck every time he goes in to kiss her. Of all the girls Felix could go after.

His skin feels tight. He fears if he keeps having to watch this little display he’ll retch his guts up, and yet he’s utterly hypnotised by it, the way she had her arms around his shoulders, the way her fingertips trace the base of his neck. And fuck, he’s never seen her look so beautiful.

He ends up downing the rest of the whisky straight from the bottle and most of the night becomes a blur after that. At some point he thinks he starts trying to talk to one of her pastel fairy friends. He doesn’t catch her name, and he wouldn’t care to remember it anyway. She plays with his glasses, tries them on and giggles hysterically. He thinks she must be completely off her face, considering the look of utter disgust she had given him at the start of the night.

Somewhere in the noise of the party she throws her arms around his neck and they sway clumsily to the overwhelming bass of the music. He thinks he feels her lips graze his cheek, his jaw, his neck, but where he can help it, he keeps his eyes on his angel. Felix has one of her legs around his waist and his hands halfway up her skirt.

Fuck this.

He pushes the nameless girl off him and storms over to put an end to the scene before him. He grips Felix by his shoulders to pull him off her, grabs her by the arm and drags her out of the dorm. He doesn’t look back to see if Felix protests, he’ll probably find some other throat to stick his tongue down.

She tries to shout over the music. “Where are we–”

“I’m tired,” he snaps, bringing his face in close to hers. He gets closer than he means to, pressing his nose and his forehead against hers. He’s breathing fiercely, he realises, desperate to contain the full extent of his anger, his jealousy. “I want to leave.”

She stares back at him with parted lips, and nods.

He feels better the moment they’re outside, away from the disorientation of the party. He takes deep breaths of the night air, cold and sharp in his lungs. He snatches off his glasses, runs his hands over his face and his hair to find himself drenched in sweat.

His angel tucks herself in against him, under his arm, huddling her arms around herself and shivering.

“Do you want my jumper?” he says. His voice and the words on his tongue feel strange. His limbs feel weightless as he pulls it off and helps her into it.

“Hmm, thank you,” she says dreamily, clinging onto his arm as they stumble back to Lincoln College. He burns where she touches him, her fingertips digging into his skin. He loves it, and hates that her hands were on someone else before him.

“You were getting rather cozy with Miranda,” she says.

“Who?”

“Lilac fairy costume,” she says, playfully hitting his arm. “Did you kiss her?”

His heart sinks. He presses his lips together but she doesn’t seem to pick up on his annoyance. “No,” he says with a tight jaw.

“Oh no,” she says, looking up at him with a comically sad pout.

“It’s not important,” he says.

“It’s your first kiss! Or should have been your first kiss. It’s important. Did you at least have a good time before you got tired?”

“No,” he says, “your friends are all imbeciles.”

They walk the rest of the way back to her dorm in silence. He makes sure she has her keys, holds her face between his hands and tells her to drink a whole glass of water before she falls asleep.

She leans into his touch with a sleepy smile. “Yes, yes, I will,” she whines.

The sound stirs a wanting in his stomach. Suddenly his heart is beating faster than it ever has before.

“And call me if you need anything–”

“Would you want to kiss me?” she asks.

His eyes flicker down to her lips. His hands are still cupping her cheeks. “What?”

Her eyes are wide and alert. “I just mean, I could be your first kiss, if you wanted to.” She places her hands on his wrists, tracing her fingertips over his skin, along his forearms. It’s such a simple touch, and yet he can feel it driving him slowly insane.

He imagines her hands running over the rest of his body, down his chest, his stomach, teasing over the growing hardness in his jeans.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, terrified of how desperate his voice might sound.

She rises onto her toes, inching her face closer to his, drawing her nose over his cheek. “So?” she says, lips brushing over his skin, “I promise it’ll feel good.”

Their lips find each other in a simple movement. It’s easier than he thought it would be, following the movements of her mouth, letting his hands fall from her face and rest on her waist. He can feel her breathing, the little hums she makes as she kisses him and runs her hands through his hair.

He decides, in that moment, that she is perfect. She is bright and beautiful, passionate and kind, soft and sharp, everything he wants for himself, the only person he has ever felt a need for. That need burns through his bloodstream, goes straight to his head and makes his mind hazy. It tightens in his gut and only makes that wanting feeling in his chest feel emptier. His heart races, his trembling hands graze over the thin, silky material of her dress.

His glasses come askew. He feels her smile against his lips and it feels good. Really fucking good.

His hands clench into a firmer grip on her waist. He needs to keep her close, to touch her, feel her, know she wants this as much as he does.

Only she’s slipping away.

Her hands come away from his neck and the cold night air stings his skin in her absence. She pulls her head away, not abruptly, but that’s the pain of it. He leans forward to chase her lips but he has no choice but to let her go in the end.

She looks up at him with a vague smile. “See? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice in the moment. Pure torture that he’ll have to spend the rest of the night clinging onto the memory, only able to imagine how good it felt.

After that night he cannot escape the thought of her, when he’s in his lectures, when he’s in the library, when he’s walking between classes, when he’s in the dining hall. If he’s with her he cannot help but notice every little detail about her, her clothes, her hands, the colour of her nail polish, every micro expression, every word, every laugh, every sigh.

And when he’s alone, he can’t help but picture her in that white dress, the sound of her voice, the feel of her lips. He can’t help but imagine what it would be like to run his hands over every inch of her skin and make her a breathless, whining mess. When he’s in his dorm, it’s inevitable that his hand will end up dipping into his boxers, stroking himself until he spills over his knuckles with a grunt or a whisper of her name.

He’s never known himself to be so distracted.

Worst of all is the rage that comes with the wanting. He hates walking into the lecture hall to see her chatting to someone else, seeing her with her preppy friends around the college or drinking with that old school friend in the King’s Arms. None of them deserve her. None of them. Does she even realise it? How long before she loses herself, before she decides she doesn’t need him?

He knows he’s not a sentimental person. He doesn’t have a lot of friends nor does he want them. People have come in and out of his life, but this girl is different. He feels a draw to her, a hunger that he can’t satiate with his own imagination. She is everything he wants for himself, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away.

As Michaelmas terms comes to an end, the colleges and libraries are covered with garlands and wreaths. Despite the lingering worry in the back of his mind, Michael is rather happy with his collection of outcasts, though poor Oliver Quick seems rather unhappy at being a designated Norman-No Mates.

He finds it easier to get her attention as the term and the workload progresses. They’ve had tutorials and summative assignments, and she’s finally starting to struggle.

And then there was the incident about the scholarship. One of the preppy friends let slip that she wasn’t paying for her tuition fees or her accommodation, likely done out of jealousy after she’d gotten close to Felix at the Halloween party. He was there for her with a perfectly good shoulder to cry on when half the girls in her dorm started teasing her for it.

He tells her that she doesn’t have time to get distracted with parties or friends who won’t help her succeed.

He’s sitting at a table in the library, ready for one of their Friday evening study dates. She’s late but soon hurries in, pulling off the thick red scarf she has wrapped around her neck and shrugging off her denim jacket.

He has the textbook open at the right page and places a Crunchie in front of her when she sits down.

“Did you know there was a college Christmas party tonight?” Michael asks as she takes down her notes. “We’re NFI, apparently. Not fucking invited.” He’d checked his pigeonhole, and Oliver’s for good measure.

In the corner of his eye, he sees her look up from her notebook.

“As if we’d actually want to hang out with those vapid cunts,” he says, laughing to himself. He turns his head to check if she’s laughing too.

She doesn’t look very amused. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me,” she says.

He pauses, hovering his pencil over his worksheet. “You got an invitation?” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” she says, “I was chatting with some of the literature guys the other day, you know Farleigh Start–”

“What the fuck were you talking to him for?” He asks in a voice like ice.

She stares at him with wide, almost accusing eyes. “What, am I not allowed to talk to anyone besides you?”

“They’re not worth your time so stop acting like a fucking bootlicker” he hisses. “They’re all self-obsessed and cruel, and I don’t know why you’re so desperate for their approval.”

“Desperate,” she echoes.

The silence of the library is screaming at him. He has an awful feeling in his stomach, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s pushed a little too far.

It’s Halloween all over again. He can feel her slipping away, and he can’t reach out for her, can’t hold onto her and make her stay where he wants her. He curls his fists as he feels his body start to tremble.

“I guess I won’t waste any more of your precious time then,” she says sharply as she starts to pack up her things.

“No,” Michael utters. He reaches his hand up as if to stop her but she stands up, out of his reach. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She throws on her jacket, wraps her scarf around her neck and turns around, glaring down at him with sad, glassy eyes. “I need to get ready,” she says. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” Then she sweeps out of the hall with a cold rush of air and a slam of the doors.

Michael groans and lets his head fall into his hands. How had he managed to fuck up that badly?

He can’t think about the problems on the sheet in front of him, or think about the reading from the textbook. All he can picture is her in some skimpy dress, letting some sick trust fund baby put his hands all over her. It makes him want to tear his hair out.

He stays there until the evening has turned to night, until any other stragglers have left the library, to attend this stupid Christmas party or to make their own fun.

He can’t understand why she keeps trying to befriend the people who would abandon her the moment they got bored of her, the very same people who shamed her for her scholarship.

He’d never leave her, never let her feel anything less than worshipped.

When he finally packs up his bag he finds himself walking to her dorm. A few girls are leaving as he arrives at the building and he easily slips in while they’re busy chatting. He knows which floor she’s on, and then all he has to do is find her name on one of the doors… and there it is, under the number 205. Perfect.

He glances up and down the hall. It’s deathly quiet. He wonders how many students have already cleared out of their rooms, how many will be at this party, at the pub with their friends.

He can hear music on the other side of the door, a voice singing softly to a song he doesn’t know.

He brings his knuckles up and taps four times against the wood.

She seems happy when she opens the door, but her face falls when she realises it’s him.

He buries his hands in his pockets, keeps his chin down as he looks up at her. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

She sighs and purses her lips, but steps aside enough for him to come into her room.

It’s not as neat as he imagined, but it’s cosy. There are photos and posters all over the walls, clothes strewn everywhere, an opened makeup bag on the floor by the mirror, pieces of paper and used mugs on the desk. His eyes are drawn to her bed, to the colourful comforter tossed carelessly over the duvet and the pile of mismatched pillows. It smells like her perfume, and something else that is distinctly her.

A red dress hangs on the front of her wardrobe, her outfit for the party, he guesses. For now she’s dressed in her favourite pair of baggy jeans and a tank top, her hair slightly damp and her skin dewy.

She sits on the edge of her bed with her legs crossed. She doesn’t prompt him, but he knows what she wants to hear.

He stands in front of her, his knees almost touching the bed. He tries not to look at the cut of her tank top, the way it clings to her torso and teases the swell of her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “You were right, I was being unfair.”

She looks up at him, furrowing her brows and catching her lip between her teeth, like she always does when she’s thinking. It makes his stomach drop.

“You can be cruel too, you know that?” she says, “and so full of yourself, but you hold it against everyone else you meet.”

“But I’d never lie to you,” he says, “and I’ve never pretended to be someone I’m not.”

She keeps frowning. “Neither have I.”

He hums a laugh. He can’t help but reach for her, taking her chin between his fingers. She doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t question it when he gently strokes his index finger over her cheek. “Silly girl,” he says, “you care too much about what people think of you. You’re smarter than that, but you’re happy to hide it.”

Her breath hitches as tilts her head further back and lets his thumb drag over her lower lip.

“Michael,” she utters, pressing her palms against his chest, but not enough to push him away. Her hands grip at the collar of his jumper and she nudges her nose against his.

He doesn’t know where the sudden recklessness comes from. Perhaps it’s in the way she said his name, the way her eyes are gazing up at him, but every part of him feels hollow.

He leans in closer. “Why bother? Why do you want to dumb yourself down when I could just fuck you stupid?”

She leans in to kiss him and he indulges her, letting his hand settle against her cheek as they clash together in a mess of lips and tongues. It’s more frantic than the night of the Halloween party, wetter, clumsier.

She comes up onto her knees, snaking one of her hands down to the hem of his jumper.

“Have you fucked a girl before, Gavey?” she says between their kisses. He can feel her smiling.

“No,” he says, practically tearing his jumper and his shirt off, “but I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Anyone in particular?” she says, palming over the bulge in his jeans.

“Who do you fucking think?”

His hands are on the buttons of her jeans, ripping them open, dragging them down her legs before she’s on her knees again. He slips his hand between her legs, against her clothed centre and she ruts against him like a bitch in heat.

With his other hand he grabs at her waist, impatiently pulling her tank top over her head to reveal a lacy black bra underneath. He can’t stop himself, planting firm, desperate kisses over the flesh of her chest as he undoes the clasp.

He tosses her bra aside and takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over the sensitive bud. He loves how she whines for him, how she runs her fingers through his hair and pulls when it feels good.

And then her phone rings.

She sighs in frustration before she shoves Michael away and crawls over to the table by her bed.

Michael groans at the loss, wanting nothing more than to grab her and pull her back across the bed. “Who is it?” he asks, adjusting his glasses.

“Could be Farleigh, or one of the girls, I said I’d meet them before the party–”

That’s all he needs to hear. In an instant he’s on top of her, pinning her wrist to the mattress so she can’t reach her phone, legs on either side of her body as he presses her down.

She writhes underneath him, unintentionally grinding her rear into his crotch. She tries to turn her head over her shoulder, but it’s hard when she’s caged in underneath him. “Michael! What the fuck are you–”

“When are you going to get it into that pretty little head that you don’t need them?” he says, letting his lips brush against the shell of her ear. He feels her shudder, feels her heartbeat racing against his chest.

“I know I don’t need them,” she says.

“Hmm,” he says, leaning back to undo his jeans enough to free his hard and eager cock. I’m not convinced.”

He takes his time pulling her panties down her legs, kneads at her thighs and her ass, pulls her hips up and parts her legs so he can get a look at her slick, glistening cunt. He’s almost fascinated by it, drawing his thumb through her folds, noticing how she reacts to his touch, the sounds she makes, the way she fists the bedsheets when he gets close to her clit, but just enough to keep her on edge.

“I could be so good to you,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder, “so fucking good, so why do you act like you don’t need me?”

“I do,” she breathes, interrupting herself with a light moan when he presses firmly against her clit. “I do need you.”

“There you go, you’re starting to get it,” he coos, circling over her most sensitive spot with the pads of his fingers. He may not have the practice but he has the knowledge, and he needs this to feel good for her.

She responds beautifully, sighing and rocking her hips against him, and she just melts when he presses the tip of his cock against her entrance.

He has to push harder than he expects, pausing when she gives a little yelp of what sounds like pain, but she assures him she’s fine.

He grabs her hip for leverage, hissing through his teeth as he pushes in deeper. She’s so tight, so wet, so warm.

“You can move,” she says, letting her head fall against her arm. “Please, I need it.”

He starts slowly, focuses on the drag of his cock through her, the way she stretches around him, but he can’t hold back for long. Once he finds a rhythm he gets a little more reckless, snapping his hips against her rear, keeping his harsh grasp on her flesh as he fucks her into the mattress.

Her moans are heavenly and obscene. She’s given up struggling but she’s trying to look at him, trying to touch him but she can’t. She calls his name and it sounds so pathetic but so endearing.

He chuckles lowly to himself. “Silly little slut, didn’t know what she was missing, did she?”

“No,” she whines. He can feel her clenching around him and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to last. “Fuck, Michael, it feels so good…”

He pulls out of her, only to turn her back and slam back in. Suddenly she’s all over him, running her hands down his torso, wrapping her arms around his neck. She has her face buried into the crook of his neck, grazing her lips, tongue and teeth over his skin.

It feels good to have her close, but he’s still not entirely satisfied.

He pulls away to hold her down again, one hand on her throat, the other on her stomach. “Mine.” he huffs as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “All mine. Fucking say it.”

She places her hands over his, urging him to hold her tighter, press harder. “Yours,” she utters, “all yours.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, and feels her respond to his voice, cunt fluttering, back arching, another whine sounding in her throat— maybe she likes that. “My clever little girl.”

He feels her come undone around him, back arching as he lets out a breathless moan, practically squeezing him to his own release.

He pulls out and with a few strokes of his hand, paints her belly and her thighs with his spend.

She’s trembling, smiling, reaching out to touch him again, grabbing at his wrists and pulling herself up. She guides him to lay back in the bed and straddles him, tracing her finger over his lips, his jaw, along his nose to push his glasses up for him. He can hardly see through them, the lenses fogged up and smeared with sweat.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” she says.

“Yeah,” he breathes, pawing at her hips, watching his cum as it drips down her body. He can feel a sense of pride swelling in his chest, the arousal in his gut starting to tighten again.

He gasps when she drags her wet cunt over his already hardening cock. “You.. want to go again?”

She tilts her head, looking down at him with that familiar excited look in her eyes as her mouth spreads into an eager grin. “You’re adorable,” she says, tracing her fingertips over his chest, down the lines of his abs, to the trail of thin hair on his navel.

She leans down, reaching between them to take his cock in her hand, moving with agonisingly slow strokes. When he tries to protest she silences him with little more than a peck on his lips, before she trails down to his throat. “I stand by what I said, Gavey, and you’re not leaving this bed until we’ve taken that ego of yours down a notch.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

#michael gavey #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey x ofc #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #my fics

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fooortyseven · 9 days

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I'm cooking up something but I need some help...

Also, of COURSE Taylor is Rich that's just obvious dude... Taylor Swift set a fire and it burned down the house dude...

#dungeons and daddies #dndads #dndaddies #be more chill #bmc #AU #somewhat niche AU but I feel like bmc and dndads fans kinda overlap

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elenavr13 · 9 months

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Darkiplier/Damien Playlist (Updated)

172 songs

Evermore- Dan Stevens

Everybody Wants To Tule the World- Lorde

Control- Halsey

Gasoline- Halsey

Dynasty- MIIA

Judas- Lady Gaga

Take Me To Church- Hozier

Castle- Halsey

Sing To Me- MISSIO

Kamikazee- MISSIO

Panic Room- Au/Ra

Isolate- Sub Urban

Elastic Heart (Rock Cover)- Written by Wolves

Crossfire- Stephen

Dead!- My Chemical Romance

Stressed Out- Twenty One Pilots

Look What You Made Me Do- Taylor Swift

Smooth Criminal- Michael Jackson

The Voice of Darkiplier- Markiplier

I’ll Be Good- Jaymes Young

I Wanna Be Yours- Arctic Monkeys

Do I Wanna Know- Arctic Monkeys

In His Eyes- Jekyll & Hyde (musical)

Can You Feel My Heart- Bring Me to the Horizon

Feeling Good- Michael Buble

Can You Feel My Heart x Favorite Dress (slowed)- Miro remix

My Demons- Starset

Achilles Come Down- Gang of Youth

Monster- Skillet

What’s the Use of Feeling Blue- Caleb Hyles

Where I Want to Be- Chess in Concert

Can’t Help Falling In Love- Ice Nine Kills

The American Nightmare- Ice Nine Kills

A Grave Mistake- Ice Nine Kills

Left Behind- DAGames

Farewell II Flesh- Ice Nine Kills

Below the Surface- Griffinilla

The Wrecked and the Worried- NateWantsToBattle

You Can’t Take Me Anywhere- NateWantsToBattle

Goner- Twenty One Pilots

You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid- The Offspring

Fake You Out- Twenty One Pilots

Miss You- Corpse

Epoch- The Living Tombstone

In the End- Linkin Park

Me, Myself & Hyde- Ice Nine Kills

The World In My Hands- Ice Nine Kills

Popular Monster- Falling In Reverse

Monster- Imagine Dragons

What I Could Have Been- Sting

Hushh- AViVA

Phantom of the Opera

Darkside- NEONI

Broken- DNMO & Sub Urban

Killer In the Mirror- Set It Off

Doubt- Twenty One Pilots

I’m Not Okay- My Chemical Romance

Friends on the Other Side- Princess and the Frog

Poison- WE ARE THE FURY

Apologize- One Republic

My Lullaby (metal cover)- Jonathan Young

I See Red (slowed)- Everybody Loves an Outlaw

Tear In My Heart- Twenty One Pilots

I Hate Everything About You- Three Days Grace

F.L.Y- Ice Nine Kills

Migraine- Twenty One Pilots

Car Radio- Twenty One Pilots

Demons- MISSIO

Snakes- PVRIS & MIYAVI

Villain- KDA

Royalty- Egzod & Maestro Chives ft. Neoni

The Red Means I Love You- Madds Buckley

Loser- Neoni

Not Ready To Die- Avenged Sevenfold

I Want You- Mitski

Poltergeist- Corpse

Life Waster- Corpse

All Of Me (slowed)- John Legend

Young And Beautiful- Lana Del Rey

Dark Paradise (slowed)- Lana Del Rey

How Villains Are Made- Madalen Duke

Love and War- Fluerie

Dark Things- Adona

Wicked Game- Ursine Vulpine

Neptune- Sleeping At Last

Enemy- Tommee Profitt

Far From Home (The Raven)- Sam Tinnesz

City Of The Dead- Eurielle

Throne- Saint Mesa

Paint it, Black- Ciara cover

Man Or A Monster- Sam Tinnesz

Dark On Me- Starset

Hell’s Comin’ With Me- Poor Mans Poison

Wires- The Neighbourhood

Liquid Smooth- Mitski

Little Dark Age- MGMT

Devil In Disguise- Elvis (LLusion)

Toxic- 2WEI

Dark Room- Foreign Figures & EJ Michels

Heathens- Twenty One Pilots

Dance With The Devil- Breaking Benjamin

Black Out Days- Phantogram

Somewhere Only We Know- Keane

Monsters- Ruelle

Whispers In The Dark- Skillet

Salvaged- NateWantsToBattle

Saint Bernard- Lincoln

F*ck You- Silent Child

I Know Those Eyes/This Man Is Dead- Thomas Borchert, Brandi Burkhardt

Broken Inside- Broken Iris

Sweet Dreams- Besomorph

EVIL- AViVA

Saints- Echos

Screaming Bloody Murder- Sum 41

Dandelions (slowed)- Ruth B

Master Mirror- Ashley Serena

Everyday A Little Death- The Count of Monte Cristo

FREAK- Jordan Friction

Broken (slowed)- lovelytheband

Michelle- Sir Chloe

Like A Villain- BAD OMENS

If It’s Vengeance You Want- Unlike Pluto

Monster- Fight The Fade

Listen Before I Go- Billie Eilish

Mary On a Cross (slowed)- Ghost

R.I.F.P.- MOTHICA

Nervous- Lola Blanc

Unravel- Johnathan Young

Lost In Paradise- Evanescence

Lies- Evanescence

Haunted- Laura Les

Dread- Unlike Pluto

Monsters- Shinedown

Black Soul- Shinedown

Sorrow- Sleeping At Last

Seeing Red- Saint Chaos

Villain- Bella Poarch

Lithium- Nirvana

Smells Like Teen Spirit- Nirvana

Down With The Sickness- Disturbed

Animal I Have Become- Three Day Grace

Greed- Godsmack

One of Us is the Killer- The Dillinger Escape Plan

All The King’s Horses- Karmina

Gilded Lily- Cults

Haunted & Unwanted- NateWantsToBattle

Symbol of My Regret- NateWantsToBattle

In My Head- NateWantsToBattle

Vendetta- Unsecret & Krigare

Nothing To Me- NateWantsToBattle

Chasing Cars- Sleeping At Last

Villain- MISSIO

Used to the Darkness- Des Rocs

Unforgiven- Ghost Nation

Monster- Starset

Eight- Sleeping At Last

Already Gone- Sleeping At Last

Devilish- The Phantoms

Motherland- Reach

Falling Away From Me- Korn

Just a Man- Jorge Rivera-Herrans & EPIC Ensemble

Something Wicked- Starset

Darkness in Me- Fight The Fade

I Would Die for You- In This Moment

Eye For An Eye- Rina Sawayama

Psycho in my Head- Skillet

Done With Everything- Line So Thin

Monster- Besomorph

Twisted Games- Night Panda, Krigarè

Killer Inside of Me- Willyecho

King For A Day- Pierce The Veil ft. Kellin Quinn

someone i’m not- Layto

#markiplier #youtuber ego #darkiplier #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #ahwm darkiplier #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier x da #markiplier damien #damien x da #damien the mayor #who killed markiplier #wkm #wkm darkiplier #wkm damien #character playlist

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princessthatcantfuckingsleep · 8 months

Text

Michael Scofield dating hcs🩷

Inspired by @the-fo0l I love there Michael Scofield hcs so much ISTG🩷

THIS BOY ING GWS SO FUCKUNG PRETTY ISTG

He is SOOO respectful like he would never dream of crossing any of your bondries

He's such a fucking gentleman like he doesn't even have a OUNCE of toxic masculinity

Because he makes so much money he'd buy you such beautiful gifts hes so observant he watched you constantly to think of gift ideas,

even if you don't like him spending so much money on you hell always do it he just wants you to know he loves you 😭

I feel like he'd be really fascinated with makeup, if you wear any he'll sit and watch you.

same with skincare every night while you do all your serums and moisturisers like sitting on y'all's bed looking into the bathroom amazed by you thinking you look so pretty with your glowing face

I agree with @the-fo0l when they said he wouldn't really use words like "hot" like you can't tell me you wouldn't die if he called you stunning with that sultry silky smooth voice..ughhhh🩷😭

Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, irresistible, c'mon I can imagine him saying it

Call you sweetheart it rolls off his tongue so effortlessly

Feminist asf

He spends alot of time working so he looooves when he finally gets to come home to you.

Let's be fr he live the domestic life just that soft fluffy feeling feels so much better to what he's used to

If you have curly/coily/textured hair he'd 100% learn how to do it the perfect way to get your hair looking gorgeous

He's such a sweetheart. Broo

Yk that thing where one person wakes up and just stared at the other...HIM he just thinks you're so beautiful

#prison break oneshot #prison break #prison break imagines #prison break x reader #michael scofield #michael scofield x reader #michael scofield imagine #michael scofield drabble #michael scofield headcanons #lincoln burrows imagine #lincoln burrows x reader

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 2 years

Text

Broken Trust

Summary: Y/N Walsh meets Daryl Dixon while working as an undercover Police Officer. But, when Daryl finds out the truth about you, you’re forced to move back to King County.

While on duty, a bullet puts you and Rick Grimes in hospital and when you wake up, the whole world has changed.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language, violence

Previous chapter

Chapter 32-

A few hours later, the group returned and Rick ushered everyone into the cellblock so he could explain what happened.

"So, I met this Governor. Sat with him for quite a while. He wants the prison. He wants us gone. Dead. He wants us dead for what we did to Woodbury. We're going to war." Rick informed and well honestly, that was the best piece of news you had heard all day, but something wasn't quite right.

You could read Rick Grimes like a book. Ever since you were teenagers, you leant how to read his speech and body language. So, you could tell when he was lying or not telling you the entire truth.

"We're going to war? That's it?" Carol questioned.

Rick simply nodded before he walked off, leaving the group of you standing there with that information.

"Anythin' happen when we were gone?" Daryl asked, glancing down at you from where you were leaning against him.

You looked over at Merle across the room who was already looking at the two of you and you shook your head.

"No. But, Rick isn't telling us something. Do you know what is it?" You questioned, but Daryl shook his head and you sighed.

Great, Rick was keeping a secret from the whole group now, that was bound to be a problem.

"What makes ya think he ain't tellin' us something?" Daryl asked and you just shrugged your shoulders.

"I've known him all my life, I can tell when he's lying." You answered, glancing around at the others as they started to get ready for bed and you sighed. "C'mon, it doesn't matter. Let's just get some sleep."

You woke up the following morning to an empty bed causing you to frown because you knew it wasn't Daryl's turn on watch until later this afternoon. Why would he be up so early?

Slowly you climbed out bed, putting on your belt and boots before you walked out the cellblock wanting to get some fresh air, but the second you opened the door that lead to the courtyard, you heard Daryl's voice.

"What did ya want to tell me?" He asked, his voice coming from around the corner, but before you had a chance to announce your presence Rick's voice filled the air.

"It's about Y/N." He said, catching your attention real quick.

About you?

You frowned in confusion and quietly closed the door to the prison before silently walking beside the wall. You stuck your head around the corner to find Rick, Daryl and Hershel all standing by the gate and talking quietly.

"The Governor gave me another option, he said if we gave him Michonne and Y/N, then there won't be a war. They're all he wants. We give them up, nobody else will die." Rick explained.

You knew Rick wasn't telling the group the full story. Of course that was what the Governor wanted. He hated you and Michonne. He'd kill you both the second you stepped foot in that town.

"Ya ain't considering it though, right?" Daryl questioned defensively and Rick quickly shook his head.

"Of course not. Not Y/N, but Michonne... maybe if we give her up that'll be enough. We do that, no else dies. We have to do it today. It has to be quiet." Rick explained, shocking you that he was actually willing to give Michonne up like that, but at the same time, it was a smart move. One life verses the rest of the group, it was simple. But, you knew what the Governor would do to her and you couldn't let that happen.

"Ya got a plan?" Daryl asked, still seeming hesitant about it.

"We tell her we need to talk, away from the others-" Rick began to explain before Daryl cut him off.

"Just ain't us, man."

"No. No, it isn't." Hershel agreed before he started to walk off and you quickly ducked back behind the wall so he wouldn't see you while continuing to listen to Rick and Daryl.

"We do this, we avoid a fight. No one else dies. But, don't tell Y/N, I know her, if she finds out the Governor wants her and Michonne... she'll want to go with Michonne and try kill that prick herself, we can't let her do that." Rick continued to say and well, that actually wasn't a bad idea.

If you and Michonne pretended to be bait, you could get close to kill him and end it once and for all.

"Can't just be us, we need help." Daryl replied.

"I'm going to talk to your brother, he's the only other person who'd be wiling to do this, the others wouldn't want to go through with it." Rick explained and with that the two of them began to make their way back towards the prison. Towards you. Shit.

You quickly ducked back inside and sat down at the nearest table just as the door opened. The two of them walked in and they froze for a split second when they saw you before they continued to walk and you rolled your eyes. Yep, they were about as subtle as each other.

As you suspected, Daryl didn't tell you anything Rick had just told him, he acted like he didn't know anything and you sure as hell weren't about to tell him that you knew about it, so, you just played along with it and spent most the morning setting up road spikes and barbed wire blockades around the field and out the front of the prison in case the Governor decided to attack.

You helped Glenn secure doors to the side of the prison. If you could block all entries into the prison then there was only one way the Governor could get through and that was the front.

"You guys seen Merle around?" Daryl's voice suddenly called out.

You glanced over your shoulder to find him walking towards the two of you and you shook your head as you struggled to hold up the metal frame while Glenn screwed in the bolts.

Daryl quickly jogged over to the two of you, placing his crossbow on a table before helping you hold it for Glenn. "He say he was sorry yet?"

Glenn shook his head, but didn't say anything.

"'Cause he is. He's gonna make it right. M'gonna make him. There's gotta be way." Daryl insisted as Glenn finished the screw before he began to walk off, but stopped and turned back towards Daryl.

"He tied me to a chair, beat me and threw a walker in the room. Maybe I could call it even, but he... he took Maggie to a man who terrorized her, humiliated her. I care more about her than I care about me."

Glenn walked off and Daryl sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

You knew how much Merle meant to him and how much he wanted this whole thing to work with Merle living in the prison with everyone, but with Glenn still hating him, that was not going to happen any time soon.

"He'll come around eventually. Let's go find Merle, where did you last see him?" You asked, holding your hand out towards him as Daryl took your hand with his.

"He was in the cellblock. He ain't there no more though, he's probably looking for drugs." Daryl muttered in annoyance and you rolled your eyes.

Of course he would be, you should have thought that. This was a prison, inmates always had drugs hidden around the place and if anyone knew where to look for them, it was Merle.

"We can't let him find any drugs. You know what he's like when he's high." You responded and Daryl nodded in agreement. "Let's split up, the sooner we find him the better."

The two of you went in opposite directions in order to find his dumbass brother before he did something he would regret.

You spent the next 20 minutes walking aimlessly around the prison in search of Merle. Eventually, you bumped into Daryl down one of the hallways who said that he found Merle in the boiler room, but that he was acting weird. He didn't really go into much detail about it, but you had a feeling you knew why Merle was acting weird. He was going to try and deliver Michonne to the Governor without the others.

Once Daryl walked off, you made your way straight to the boiler room, but the back door wide open.

Shit, you were too late.

"Merle?" You shouted, rushing out the door and squinting at the bright light, but he was nowhere to be seen.

You glanced back into the boiler room and mentally debated what to do before you shook your head. You couldn't let Merle just deliver her to the Governor. The Governor would probably want him dead as much as Michonne and you couldn't let Daryl lose his brother.

Without further thought, you ran out the door and through the hole in the fence before you disappeared into the woods. You knew the meeting spot Rick had planned with the Governor, the same one where they had their first meeting, so that was obviously where Merle was taking her.

"Merle!" You shouted, spotting two figures in the distance walking along the main road.

To your relief they both stopped and turned around towards you and you sighed with relief. It was them.

"The hell ya doing here?" Merle questioned once you finally caught up with them and you took mental note of the cords wrapped around Michonne's wrists and that Merle was carrying her sword.

"Stopping you from doing something stupid." You responded, but he just shook his head in disbelief. "Let Michonne go and take me instead. I killed the Governors daughter, he wants me more than her. So, take me. Use me as bait and we take him out."

"Daryl and Rick don't know you're here, do they?" He asked in amusement.

"You seriously think they'd let me do this? Now, let Michonne go, you know my plan is good." You insisted and to your shock Merle actually nodded in agreement before cutting Michonne's restraints.

"Why don't you both just come back with me. There's gotta be a better plan." Michonne tried to say before Merle cut her off.

"I can't go back. Don't you understand that? I can't. Go back to the prison. Y/N and I got something we gotta do." Merle responded, glancing over at you and you nodded in agreement before he handed the katana back to her and with that, you and Merle began to walk off down the road.

"You got a plan or were you just going to stroll in there and hand Michonne over and hope he didn't kill you?" You asked a few minutes later, glancing over at the older Dixon who shrugged his shoulders. "You seriously didn't have a plan? Why even take Michonne in the first place?"

"Had to do something. If I take out the Governor then your group might actually take me back, I know how much that means to my brother. He likes them. Sometimes I think he likes them more than me."

"Yes, Daryl likes them. They have all been through a lot together, they're like family. But, you're his actual family. You're his blood, nothing could change that which is why I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself killed." You explained causing Merle to look at you in confusion. "I already lost my brother, I won't let Daryl lose his. Now, let's hotwire this car and go kill that son of a bitch."

"A cop telling me to hotwire a car... never thought I'd live to see the day." Merle commented causing you to roll your eyes.

You opened the door to one of the cars on the side of the road before stepping to the side and letting Merle do his thing.

It wasn't the first time you've caught him hotwiring a car, hell, you may have helped Daryl do it once before all of this too back when you were still undercover.

You didn't say anything as you watched Merle pull the wires out from under the steering wheel. It only took a few minutes before the car started up and you sighed with relief before walking over to the passenger side and climbing in.

"Since we discovered I don't have a plan, do you have one?" He questioned, looking over at you and you just shrugged your shoulders because, yes you did have a plan, but it was a really fucking stupid one.

"Use me as bait, give me to the Governor and shoot him from a distance, he wouldn't even see it coming."

"Not happening. My brother would kill me himself if I got ya killed, ain't risking that." He responded and you rolled your eyes.

Now he wanted to be the sensible one? Typical.

"What's your great plan then? We only have one shot at this, if we screw up, it's war." You stated and Merle nodded, before he reached for CD player, turning it and a loud song started blasting through the speakers, but he didn't make any move to lower the volume. "Are you crazy? Turn it down."

"We need it. We get a herd of walkers together and we lead them to the meeting point. While they are all distracted taking down the walkers, we shoot them. Mission accomplished."

To your shock that was actually a good idea. It was a stupid idea, but still a good idea and you didn't have any other ideas, so why not?

"Fuck it, let's do it. There's a town just up ahead, there's gotta be walkers there." You informed and with that Merle put the car into gear and followed the road towards the small town.

It didn't take long before you reached the town. Merle parked the car in the middle of the street with the windows down a fraction to let make the music louder and in a matter of minutes you had walkers surrounding the car from all angles.

You were so focused on the walkers and making sure that none of the windows were going to break, you didn't even realise Merle had pulled out a bottle of whiskey from God knows where and started to drink it.

"Seriously?" You questioned.

"You gonna arrest me for drink driving, Officer?"

He grinned and turned up the music louder causing you to roll your eyes before snatching the bottle and pointing towards the front of the car trying to tell him to start driving and he must have gotten the hint because a moment later the car was moving, ever so slowly while the walkers quickly followed.

It took nearly an hour to reach the meeting point with the how slow Merle had to drive to make sure the walkers kept up. The meeting point was just a small cluster of old farmers sheds and barns off the side of the road, so it was hard not to miss.

"You know the plan, right? We jump out the car, you go into the sheds to the left, I'll go into the sheds to the right and we shoot from a distance. We take them out without them even realising and then we go home."

"I know. You ready to jump?" He asked and you nodded, quickly checking that your gun was securely strapped in your holster before you glanced over at Merle who grabbed his assault rifle.

The two of you opened your car doors and jumped out. The car was barely moving at speed and you hit the grass and tumbled a few metres and although it wasn't a hard fall, your entire body ached in pain from the hit, your wounds still very fresh and still healing. But, a second later, you quickly got your feet, sparing a glance towards the car that was still rolling towards the main shed which you knew was where the Governor and his men were while the walkers trailed behind.

You barely got in the shed to your right before gunfire erupted. The Governor and his men had found the walkers.Time to end this.

You quickly closed the sliding door to the shed behind you before you rushed towards the back door and opened it slightly to find the Governors men firing at the walkers and you quickly pulled your own gun out and began to take down his men, one by one.

At first they didn't even realise that their own men were getting shot, they were too focused on the walkers. You could see some of the men that Merle was shooting, dropping like flies from his assault rifle before your attention was quickly drawn to the Governor who walked out the main shed and started firing at the walkers too.

He now had a white bandage wrapped around his face, covering his eye and if you had to guess, Michonne probably had something to do with it, which just made it even better.

"Hey, over there." You heard one of the men shout.

You quickly looked over at him, realising that he was pointing towards the shed that Merle was in.

Shit.

No, they couldn't get to Merle. Daryl couldn't lose his brother too.

"Hey, Governor!" You yelled, stepping out your shed with your arms out to the side.

All the men suddenly turned towards you, their guns instantly aimed in your direction. Merle was watching from the window of his shed and you hoped like hell that he would stay hidden.

"You wanted me, right? So, come and get me, motherfuckers." You shouted, quickly ducking back inside the shed just as bullets rained down on the tin walls and you grinned.

Well, that got their attention.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #twd #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #rick grimes #shane walsh #merle dixon #Norman Reedus #Jon Bernthal #Andrew Lincoln #Michael Rooker

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