#so glad i dyed my hair back to red i feel so much more myself honestly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eddiemunsons80sbaby · 5 months

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Gobble You Up

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: Visiting your parents for Thanksgiving and you show Eddie your old room. He takes the opportunity for more.

18+ only

You gave Eddie a reassuring smile as the two of you approached your childhood home. You had been dating for a few months now and he agreed to come home with you for Thanksgiving and meet your parents. You could tell he was nervous, he'd told you parents didn't tend to like him on sight, but you had no doubt he would win your mom and dad over. Your parents were not hard to impress.

Your mom threw open the door, beaming from ear to ear at seeing you back home, standing on her porch. She pulled you into a big hug and then immediately pulled Eddie into one too. He looked a bit surprised, eyes going wide. But then he smiled, his arms coming around the small woman, touched at her affection that she gave so freely. You knew his mom hadn't been around since he was a kid and it was probably a bit shocking to experience a mother's warmth when you'd only just met but that was your mom.

"I am so glad you two could make it!" she exclaimed. "You must be Eddie. We've been dying to meet you. Y/n talks about you non-stop on the phone."

"Oh, hopefully all good things," he said, his neck flushing from the compliment and he pulled at his collar slightly. He was just waiting for the ax to fall, for her to give a reason why he wasn't right for her daughter.

"You should hear her gushing about how wonderful you are," your mom laughed, pinching his cheek gently. "Sorry, just had to prove to myself that you're real. The way she makes it out, you're just about perfect."

Eddie laughed, his cheeks blazing red at the compliment. "I promise you I'm as real as they come. Thank you so much for inviting me."

"Of course! Anyone who makes our daughter so happy is always welcome. Come in!"

The two of you entered your childhood home, the home that hadn't changed since you were a kid. Eddie paused at the pictures of you through the years that lined the buffet in the entryway. He grabbed one of you as a child and held it out, smiling.

"You were adorable," he commented, clutching it to his chest, those lush lips pouting.

You rolled your eyes, "Shut up. That was when my mom cut my hair herself."

"Well, I think you're cute as a button," he said, his finger pressing gently against your nose. "Still are."

The same floral pattern couches sat in the living room that your mom bought when you were ten. And there was your dad's recliner with your dad in it, as usual. He rose up as soon as he caught sight of you two and pulled you close before offering his hand to Eddie.

"Good to meet you, son," he boomed, patting Eddie on the back.

"You too sir," Eddie responded nervously.

"Oh, no need for that," your dad laughed, "just call me Keith. You're practically family now the way our girl talks about you."

Eddie's eyes widened. "Wow. You guys are really welcoming. I have to admit, I was a bit nervous."

"No need to be nervous," your dad assured him. "You make our little girl happy and that's all we care about. You're more than welcome."

Eddie reached over and squeezed your hand, that dimple you loved so much appearing on his cheek. A warmth spread through you at how quickly he was made to feel at home because you knew this was where he belonged forever. It may have only been a few months, but you knew this was it for you. He was your everything.

"Y/n, why don't you show Eddie your room? You guys can relax for a bit after your long drive," your mom offered. "Your dad and I have to run to the store real quick to get a few things for dinner tomorrow and I want to make it there before they close."

"Oh, are you sure you don't want me to run with you mom?" you ask.

"No," your mom laughed, "you guys just got here. It was a long day for you. Just go on up and rest. I am sure you need it. We'll only be gone for about an hour or so."

Your parents headed out and Eddie glanced over at you. You could tell what he was thinking without him even having to say it. His eyes had darkened, a little smirk playing along his lips as he grabbed your hip, pulling you close against him.

"We have a whole hour to ourselves, whatever will we do to fill the time?" he teased.

You could already feel his excitement pressing against your lower belly and it flared white-hot desire in you. You slid your hands along his arms and up his shoulders, looping them behind his neck.

"Well, my mom did say I should show you my childhood room," you replied.

"I would very much like to see where your bed is."

You grabbed his hand, dashing up the stairs and pulling him behind you. Your bedroom was the second one on the left and you threw open the door, intending to shove him on the bed and rip off all his clothes but he stopped in the doorway, his hand tugging against yours.

He was gazing around your room, soaking in every detail. You looked around, trying to see it through his eyes. The blue comforter covered in daisies, the stuffed animals propped on a beanbag chair in the corner, the desk with the typewriter where you did all your homework in high school, the posters that covered your walls. Your mom hadn't changed anything since you'd left. Your train of thought was broken when you heard Eddie chuckling.

"Bon Jovi," he snorted, pointing.

"Shut up!" you snapped, glancing at your life-size poster of Jon that still hung on your wall. "Maybe Bon Jovi isn't metal enough for you but Jon is sexy as fuck."

"Ohh, is he now?" Eddie purred, slowly walking toward you. Grabbing your arm, he spun your body so you were facing the poster, your back pressed against him. His hands slid around to your breasts, massaging them through your top as his lips pressed gentle kisses along your neck. "And is Mr. Bon Jovi hotter than me?"

"No," you breathed, struggling to focus as his hands moved down along your abdomen, brushing the bare skin above your jeans. "No one is hotter than you."

"Good girl," he growled, nipping at the tender flesh on your neck and you cried out. His fingers nimbly undid your jeans, his hand sliding underneath your panties. "Did you used to lay in here and touch yourself while you looked at Jon?" His index finger found your clit, making slow, torturous circles. "Oh, you're so wet already princess. Is that for me or Jon?"

"You..." you struggled to say through the waves of pleasure that were sweeping you under. It was always the same with Eddie. You lost all sense of the world around you when he was touching you.

His finger slid along your folds, gently pushing inside of you and you gasped, bucking your hips against his hand. His other hand gripped your jaw, pulling your head to the side so he could have full access to your neck. A second finger joined the first, the rhythm of his movement picking up speed. A litany of curses and sounds no human should be able to create erupted from you.

"Mmm...is this just how you sounded when you lay in that bed touching yourself?"

"No," you whispered, "because I could never make myself feel as good as you do."

"That's right. No one can make you feel as good as I do," he responded, his fingers sliding out of you.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of him but then he grabbed your jeans, pulling them down your thighs and away from your feet, tossing them across the room. He placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you until your back hit the wall.

"I know what I want for Thanksgiving dessert," he said, a wicked smile on his face as he dropped to his knees, hiking your thigh over his shoulder. "Mmm...gobble, gobble baby."

It was so ridiculous you wanted to laugh but then his tongue was on you, teasing along your clit, sliding along your folds, dipping into you and back out and you for anything else but the feel of him. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you lost all focus but you had to focus on keeping your one leg steady. It was the only thing keeping you from falling over. Your palms spread wide as they held the wall behind you, desperate for any support you could find.

"Jesus Christ Eddie..." you groaned.

His tongue swirled lazy circles around your clit before flicking at it rapidly. The sudden change in sensation was overwhelming. He continued this torturous pattern as his hands slid along your thighs and then his fingers were back inside of you, relentless in their pulsing.

"Fuck Thanksgiving dinner," he growled, sucking your clit in between his lips. "I just want to feast here all goddamn weekend."

One of your hands left the wall, the other remaining to hold yourself up. You buried your fingers in his hair, grinding yourself against his face, keeping him right where you needed him. He moaned against your pussy and the vibrations sent more waves of pleasure rocketing through you.

"Oh baby, I'm so close..." you moaned.

His tongue swept over your clit quickly, back and forth and then up and down. His fingers curved, rubbing against your walls in the exact perfect place to send you barreling over the edge. You screamed his name, shaking from head to foot, your leg giving out from under you.

Eddie caught you, sliding you into his lap and you sighed, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He pressed kisses along your cheek, nibbling on your ear, moving along your jaw, following a path to your shoulder. You could already feel yourself stirring again just at the feel of his lips along your flesh.

You grabbed his face, smashing your lips against his, gently pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth. He moaned against your mouth, gripping your ass in his hands. You stood up, him following suit, and feverishly worked on his jeans to get them off of him, quickly followed by his shirt.

Pressing your hands against his chest, you gave a sharp shove, sending him backwards onto the bed before crawling slowly over top of him, straddling his hips.

"Goddamn baby," he murmured, his eyes hooded with desire, his hands digging into your hips. "I like when you get feisty."

Smiling, you gripped his cock in your hand, sliding yourself along it but not letting it enter you. He cursed, his head falling back against the pillow, those beautiful mahogany waves splayed out like a mane. You slid the length of him all along your folds before allowing just the tip to slide past your entrance before pulling back.

"Jesus Christ..." he moaned, those fingers on your hips digging in so hard you were sure you'd have marks tomorrow. You didn't mind. Eddie had never truly hurt you, but you liked a little rough play. It gave you pleasure to wake up and see a little mark from his teeth or imprints from his fingers, reminding you that he was completely yours and you were his.

You slid the tip of him around your clit, using his cock for your own pleasure. Gripping him, your ran your hand up and down his length, allowing just the tip of him to enter you again before denying him once more.

"Shit baby, stop teasing me," he pleaded. "I need to be inside you now."

You slowly lowered yourself, taking all of him in. You moaned softly at how he completely filled you. Your hands gripped his shoulders as you began to ride him, propped on your knees as you lifted and lowered yourself on his cock.

"Fuck, you feel like heaven," he groaned, his fingers splayed wide over your hips, gripping them as he moved with you, bringing his own up as you brought yours down.

Your fingernails dug into his flesh and he hissed softly through his teeth. His hands slid from your hips, along your stomach, cupping your breasts. His thumbs began to brush over your nipples and you bit your lip, moving your hips in circles. This motion caused Eddie's cock to hit the most delicious places within you.

"Jesus Christ," you breathed.

Eddie gripped your hips again as he began to thrust up faster and harder. You gasped, gripping his chest for dear life as your body bounced vigorously with his thrusting.

"God, I love watching your tits when you ride me," he growled. "You look like a fucking goddess."

His thumb found your clit, stroking it as he continued to thrust. You arched your back, your hands moving to his thighs, whimpering as you moved closer and closer to the edge of sweet oblivion.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" you screamed, gripping his thighs for dear life as you rode out your orgasm, your whole body convulsing.

Eddie hand left your clit and grabbed onto your waist, steadying you as he drove into you even faster. His thrusts were causing you to feel like you might bounce right off of him. He screamed out your name as you felt his release.

"Jesus Christ..." he moaned, grabbing you and pulling you down on top of him. "Fuck, you are amazing."

"Mmm...you're pretty amazing yourself," you murmured, pleasantly numb from your head to your toes.

Eddie's hands grabbed your face, placing a gentle kiss against your lips.

"Well, I know what I'm thankful for," he said with a grin.

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #thanksgiving fic #eddie x reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine

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malebodyexhibit · 1 year

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A Trinity Minus One (a free commission tale)

My best friend was the one who showed me the Grindr profile that day. He was single and stilled used that garbage app. Looking at him still doing hook up culture, made me glad I found my boyfriend of five years. I was so lucky to find a hunky Latino guy. I might be a gringo, but I loved that we were so diverse. Then my friend with trepidation showed me on his phone a profile that showed my boyfriend locking lips with his coworker.

They both worked as mechanics and I thought they were just good friends. I never had a suspicion that José was gay or that he and my boyfriend Germán were hooking up. Much less hooking up as a couple on Grindr. But reading their shared profile, I felt the past decade hollowing into a tangle of lies and deceit.

"Latino couple looking for a bull. NSA. Make me watch you satisfy my boyfriend. No gringos, gracias."

My friend tried to console me but I left and spent the day crying in my apartment. My boyfriend and I shared the place, but he always worked late. Through my tears I saw the red flags: he never came back by dinner, preferring to eat dinner at work; he left early to get extra hours; and always made sure he looked good when he left. I wondered why he would put up with me then.

I thought I was attractive. I was blond with muscle tone, but... no gringos. I guess I was just an apartment and a meal ticket.

I wanted to hate him. To hate them, but they looked so good together. After leaving my friend's place, I downloaded Grindr and stared at their profile. I had thought of messaging them, but... no gringos. I wondered who wrote that. My boyfriend or his? It didn't matter. I was nothing to them. And I actually wanted to be with them. I thought of José and he was hot and funny and charming. I could see why Germán would fall in love with him.

I just wished I could be someone they wanted.

I must have been dreaming because I felt the world around me shift and change. It seemed like the walls separated and fell away, the colors of nature lifted like watercolor and melted, and I felt myself lose the pain of the past hours. Then as swiftly as the world distorted, it returned to normal, except me.

I wished I could be someone they wanted. The loose definition of my body started to collect. It was a tightening of new and old memories. New smells and tastes of a childhood I never had. It was the new sounds of a language I only heard Germán speak. I wished... I stared at myself forming anew in the reflection of the mirror.

My natural blond hair became a shocking platinum dyed crew cut. My white skin became a glowing bronze. Tattoos snaked down my arm, displaying a history on my skin that my old body lacked. My eyes turned sharper, more mature, more determined. The soft upbringing of my white childhood morphed into a struggle in an English-dominated culture. I looked at the naked landscape of my muscular body and felt a rush of hormones, but I wouldn't jack off yet.

Like stars in the sky, I still remembered my old life and could pick out outlines of what happened, though the glow of my Hispanic life was like the sun. I remembered Germán and José. I grabbed my phone and reopened the Grinder app.

While I was still nude with the sweat from the transformation, I took photos and made a profile. My name was Gabriel, like the angel. A second after my profile was made, I got a message from Germán.

"Holy smokes, bro, you're so fucking hot! You dtf?" He texted along with photos of his shirtless body and another of his cock that I had sucked the past five years in my old body.

I didn't feel like talking. I took a picture of my massive, dark cock and sent it to him. "Beg for it, puta."

"Please, please, papí."

I laughed and wanted to torture him some more. Show him more of this body, and tease him, but I remembered the love I felt for him, and simple wrote, "okay, mi amor, don't let me down."

#male body exhibit #male body transformation #male tf #male transform #male transformation #race change #tf

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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heart has his heart | part 4.

Summary: (Y/N) Heart is chosen alongside her friends to attend Auradon Prep. Of course her friend Mal’s mom, Maleficent, has a much more sinister plan than the kids just attending Auradon. Will they be able to pull of stealing the wand or will (Y/N) find herself liking Auradon a bit too much?

Pairing: Ben x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You turned over on your bed so you were laying on your back, your head hanging off the edge. Moetini walked in.

“What up with you?”

“Am I crazy?”

“What?”

“If I just cut my hair and dyed it white? Would I be crazy?”

“Aren’t you the same one with a mom that screams about painting white roses red?”

You sat up. “Why does everyone only remember the crazy bits?”

You got up and grabbed the pair of scissors on your desk. Moetini looked on in shock.

“Oh, okay. We were serious about this?”

“I just, I want a new look. I’ve always done my hair like this on the Isle. I just want something different.” What you wanted to say was something not so Isle.

“Isn’t your hair already dyed and styled, just wear it naturally. That’d be different.”

Moetini wasn’t wrong. Your hair was naturally red but you always had it dyed by Dizzy.

“Nope, I’m doing this.”

“Are we sure… annnd we’re sure.”

You had already taken the scissors to your head and made a cut. It was too late to turn back now. You were getting a pixie cut and when it was done, you’d go across the way so Mal could make it white. After you came back from Mal’s room you looked in the mirror.

“Holy shit, Moetini. What did I do? Why’d you let me do that?!”

“Hey, girl, I tried to reason with you. I think it looks hot.”

“Yeah I am kinda hot aren’t I?”

Moetini rolled her eyes. “And there is the obnoxiously confident (Y/N) Heart. Glad to see you back, how did that five second vacation feel? You know, in Insecureland with the rest of us mortals.”

“Mmm, not great. Don’t think I’ll be taking another trip back.”

“You are insufferable sometimes, you know that right?”

~~~~~~~~~

Belle’s greenhouse was absolutely stunning. It was the first time you’d been out since cutting your hair. You kind of welcomed the coolness that a lack of long hair provided. Belle was already out into the main garden, one of the palace staff informed you.

“Hello?” you called out. You didn’t want to scare Belle by just appearing on her.

“Hey, (Y/N). Mom! (Y/N)’s here… woah.”

Ben was walking up from deep in the garden when he stopped. You subconsciously reached for a strand of air that was no longer there. Right. No one but Mal, Evie, and Moetini had seen the new hair.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Wow, new hair?”

“Yeah. Did it myself, with Mal’s help for the color.”

“It’s cool. Really works for you.”

“Thanks…” You ran a hand through your hair and then reached for the thorn strippers in your back pocket. “I brought my own tools.”

“Right, gardening. The roses are this way.”

You followed Ben towards the center of the garden where Belle was at work. She got up and wiped the dirt off of her hands before giving you a hug.

“You must be (Y/N).”

“Yes I am, Queen Belle.”

“Oh, just Belle is fine.”

“Trust me mom, titles are important to her.”

You rolled your eyes at Ben. “It’s how I was raised loser. I mean, Prince Loser. Can’t forget my titles.”

“Sure can’t Princess Rotten.”

“To the core.”

Ben laughed before grabbing his own tools and tending to the garden. Belle came back a while later with some refreshments.

“So your last name is Heart?”

You went on to explain your name to Belle the same way you did to Ben the first day you met. As well as other stuff about Wonderland.

“You sure know a lot about the place.”

“Mom and Dad had me read every book about Wonderland we could get our hands on. I think they hoped we could go back one day. I could probably walk through the whole place blindfolded and know exactly where to go to get to the Valley of Hearts.”

Ben and Belle got quiet. You felt it grow awkward all of a sudden. “So, is it cool if I could take a few of the roses back. I’m thinking of a bouquet for me and Moetini’s room.”

“Of course, dear. Take as many as you like.”

“Careful mom, she might take you seriously on that.”

“I’m not the one with the diamond credit card, that was your fault. Are you gonna help me with the roses or not?”

“Are you going to be okay with some white ones?” Ben joked.

“I swear you guys are asking for that beheading myth to come true.”

Ben helped you fill two baskets with roses. He carried one while you carried the other. You hugged Belle, thanking her once again for letting you tend to roses, before you and Ben headed back to campus. One of the roses fell out your basket. Ben picked it up and placed it behind your ear.

“You could’ve just put it in the basket… why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know…” you could see the evil smile forming on his face as his next words came out. “Most girls look pretty with flowers behind their ears… I just don’t see it.”

He laughed as you hit him with a rose repeatedly. You tucked the same rose you beat him with behind his ear. “Now we can be ugly stepsisters together.”

“I’m clearly the better looking ugly stepsister.”

“In your dreams. We both know I’m the better looking one of this pair. I even rock this haircut better than you.”

The bell rang as you two stepped up onto campus. “Shit, we’re about to be late. Come on Beastie Boy, let’s go.”

“The roses?”

“We’re taking them with us.”

“To class?”

“Yep. We don’t have time.”

The two of you strolled into class, quietly, but the teacher was nowhere to be seen. Ben slid into his seat next to Audrey, who didn’t look too happy to see you two walk in together. And you sat in between Evie and Mal, who both looked at you questioningly. Ben turned around and smiled at you, neither of you were caught.

“Prince Benjamin? Miss (Y/N)? Would you care to tell us why you were both late.”

You watched Ben’s mouth tight-line. Busted anyway. You took your rose basket and brought it to the front of the room.

“We were working on an Auradon Prep project and got a bit sidetracked. We thought all the faculty could use some reminders that the students here appreciate them. Here is a rose for you, white or red?”

“Oh, um. Red. That is very thoughtful of you two. Let’s just not make a habit of being late.”

“Yes, sir.” Ben spoke up from his seat.

You whacked Ben with a rose as you made your way back, now you had to give roses to the whole faculty. When the teacher turned around, he threw a rose from his basket at your face.

“I brought us flowers.” You set down your pitiful basket of only three white roses and four red roses on Moetini’s desk. “There were more.”

“So I heard. Nice lie. We’ll just use these two. That’s not enough for a nice bouquet.”

Moetini took two of the white roses. She put each in a small separate vase and set them on your windowsill, one near her side and one near yours.

“You might as well hand out the others.”

You went across the way and gave your gang a red rose each, threatening them that if they let the roses die before at least three days you would kill them. No one took your threat seriously but Mal assured you they would try their best to not kill the flowers. That just left one white rose.

You knocked on Ben’s door and waited for him to open.

“The bouquet was gonna look stupid.”

“I could’ve told you that. You were the one that came up with the lie and gave all the flowers away.”

“Well, you could’ve helped me.”

“You seemed like you had it covered.”

You gave Ben the most deadpan serious face you could. “Well, this one is for you. We had one left and since I guess you contributed to getting me roses…”

“You guess I contributed?” Ben leaned against the door frame. “I believe it is my garden.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Belle’s garden.”

“My mother.”

“You want the stupid rose or not?”

Ben took it and placed it behind his ear. “Are you gonna admit that I’m the hotter stepsister, now?”

“Goodbye, Benjamin. I will see you tomorrow,” you said as you pushed him into his room a little.

“Admit it!” he yelled as you walked off.

“You wish.” You laughed as you walked off and headed back to your floor.

(Part 5)...

#ben florian x reader #ben descendants #descendants fic

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boygiwrites · 8 months

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Harley D. Dixon 16

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. This is the longest chapter yet! Just shy of 10,000 words!

For the first time in forever, we're blessed with a slow day.

The sun crests over the clouds in the early afternoon, glazing the Greene house and its golden paddocks in a soft, buttery glow. Slow once meant boring, but now it means peace. My Dad's awake now, albeit bed-bound, but he's more or less as healthy as a horse. I don't need to keep glancing at his pale form anymore, watching for disaster. Not having that threat of death lurking around the farm makes the air feel so much clearer. I can finally relax a little. I think everyone feels the same relief. There's one less problem ready to strike at us.

Maggie lets me use the guest bathroom to take a hot shower in the afternoon.

After helping me tape a scrap of plastic over my stitches to ensure they stay dry, she lends me some fruit-scented shampoo and body lotion, assuring me she'll be right downstairs if I need anything else. I luxuriate under the warm water for some time, suds-ing up my dirty blonde hair and scrubbing the dirt form underneath my fingernails. I feel my muscles let go of all my tension in real time. It's the best feelin' ever.

I tweak the water off and step out onto the green bath-mat, face to face with my reflection in the mirror.

Last time I got a proper look at myself, I was dying in the back of the RV. I look at myself again; at my healthy, clean complexion.

"Hey," A girly voice calls out gently from behind the door — Beth, I think. "I got you a spare shirt, if you want. Is white your color?"

I look down at myself. "I'm more of a beige color."

She laughs. "No, silly. I meant... never mind. I'll leave it here for you."

After her footsteps recede down the corridor, I fetch the shirt, close the door, and hold it up in front of me. It's a tight, white blouse with frills down the front of it, and two, tiny puff-ball sleeves that each look a little like a lily-of-the-valley flower. I peel the plastic off my side and pull the shirt on — almost a perfect fit, but a little loose — combined with my blue jean-shorts, socks, and yellow rain boots.

I clomp back downstairs and into Dad's room, where he's trying to read a book he found in the bedside drawer, but failing.

It must be a romance. He hates that sort of thing.

I ask him if he wants to do my hair instead, and he agrees to the distraction right away.

With the window wide open to the smells of sweet pollen and farm life, I sit between his legs as he brushes my hair. I'm just so glad he's alright. He gives me two neat braids, ties them off with my hair lackeys, and then I ask Maggie for a pair of scissors so Dad can trim my bangs up a little. She's hesitant at first, but I tell her that my Dad's been cuttin' my hair since, well, I had any hair to cut, and that he's actually not half-bad.

She lends me some kitchen scissors, and I happily thank her.

I make myself comfortable on the bed, on top of a towel to catch the clippings, and I snack on a red apple as Dad cleans up my out-grown, wonky bangs. He tells me he's rusty, but he does a good job. They'd gotten long in our weeks on the road, but they look much better now.

After my hair's done, I kiss his cheek goodbye and head outside.

I find Carl over by the shed. He's playing on the swing that hangs from the burly tree growing beside it in a ray of sunlight.

"Hey, Harley." He greets me, digging his heel in the dirt to slow down. "Want me to push you?"

I smile, "Yeah, okay."

We exchange places, and he gives me a gentle push.

I can see Rick over by the tents, talking to everyone. He's probably sharing the disappointing news that it really was Shane that shot my Dad, so that everyone's on the same page. We're not supposed to tell the Greenes about this discovery. We need to make a good impression, and having a trigger-happy murderer in our group ain't the best way to achieve that. It's better if they continue believing it was Otis that caused all this, otherwise we're gonna get booted to the streets again. I never wanna go back to living that way. We need this place, for Sophia.

I don't wanna talk about Shane, so I won't bring him up.

Nobody's told Carl about any of it, anyway.

"I didn't even know this swing was here." I say as I enjoy the breeze on my freshly washed skin. "This is just like the one I used to have."

"I never had a swing." He muses as he pushes me again. "I miss playgrounds."

"Betcha don't miss school, though."

"Eugh. No." He exclaims. "My Mom still makes me do homework sometimes. It sucks."

I remember doing all those spelling quizzes and math problems back at the quarry. I don't miss it one bit.

I ask him, "What grade was you in, before?"

What grade 'were' you in, Lori would correct me, not 'was'. It always annoyed me when she did that.

"Sixth." He answers. "What grade were you in?"

"I was in second grade."

"Second grade?!"

"Yeah. What grade did you think I was in?"

"I dunno. Five, maybe?"

"I'm eight." I giggle. "You're twelve. We can't be in the same grade."

"But we're friends." He counters. "I've never been friends with someone outside of my grade before."

"Well," I sing-song, "Now you have."

"Even my cousins were the same age as me."

"Mine were all older."

I haven't thought about my cousins in forever. They're all on my Momma's side, from her two brothers. There was Vicky and Tobias, the twins. They were super old. Like, fifteen. Then there was Hunter, and Lillian, and Georgia. I miss them the most. They always treated me nice.

I've never had friends or family younger than me before. I've always been the baby. Even here, that still hasn't changed.

As I'm gazing out onto the distant cornfields, swinging back and forth relaxingly, Maggie approaches us with a friendly wave.

"Hey, y'all." She smiles. "Havin' fun out here?"

We both notice her, and answer, yeah, at the same time.

"Who built this swing?" Carl asks her. "It's awesome."

"My Daddy built it, a long time ago," Maggie fondly says. "When I was just a little girl. Nice to see it gettin' some use, again."

"I reckon I could touch the sun." I hum to myself, looking at the sky.

She chuckles. "Don't go testing that theory. Your Dad would kill us all."

"You wanna play with us?"

"I actually wanted to ask you guys somethin'. I heard from Daryl just now that you found a walker in one'a our wells today?"

Oh, yeah. That ugly thing.

Carl corrects, "Technically, I found it."

I roll my eyes. "Don't be a smart-ass."

"Hey. That's a swear word."

"It's fine. My Daddy don't care 'bout swears."

"I was just wondering which well it was." Maggie interjects. "We've got quite a few around here, and I don't wanna search them all."

"Oh, it was the one near the barn." Carl says, pointing in that direction.

I ask her, "What are you gonna do with it?"

"I talked to Rick about it, and we reckon we're gonna try using a winch to pull it out. Can't have it dirtying up the water."

"What's a winch?"

"It's like a really long, metal rope you can attach to a car." She explains. "We've had ours for years, and luckily for us, it hasn't rusted."

I bring myself to a stop, widening my eyes. "Can we come watch?"

"Yeah!" Carl enthuses. "Can we?"

"Sure ya can. I don't see why not."

With a small cheer, we abandon the swing and follow Maggie across the field, rambling about all the gross stuff we think is gonna happen.

Everyone pitches in to help clear the well, except for Shane. He's off somewhere, brooding.

At first, we try dangling a chunk of canned ham over its head to see if that'll get its attention, but since canned ham don't bleed, kick, or scream when you bite into it, the walker doesn't want anything to do with it. We realize we'll need live bait, and for some reason, everyone's eyes fall onto Glenn. He thinks that's super unfair, but he is all better now, and he does have the fastest reflexes out of all of us.

"Have I mentioned that I really like your new haircut?" He smiles lopsidedly at me, thinking I'll save him. "Really suits your face."

"Don't worry about it." Rick reassures him. "You'll have four of us on the rope. We're gonna get you outta there in one piece."

"One living piece." He emphasizes. "The living part's important."

Dale drives over the car they're gonna use for the process, while Andrea retrieves a thick coil of rope, making Glenn go pale at the sight of it.

Rick and Jacqui start wrapping it around his body.

"We'll give you the winch." Rick says. "Just try wrappin' it around its neck."

He sighs in defeat, "Let's get this over with."

As soon as he's in the well, he's screaming bloody murder.

If not for the suspenseful atmosphere, it would be super funny. Me and Carl watch from the sidelines as Rick, Maggie, Andrea, and T-Dog work together to lower Glenn into the well with nothing more than a rope looped around his midriff to keep him from falling to his death. Dale sits in the driver's seat of Maggie's Subaru, waiting for the signal to start reversing. There's a mechanical lookin' thing attached to the bumper. It looks like a garden hose, but it's made of metal. It must be the winch. The end of it leads into the well.

"You people are crazy!" His disembodied, terrified voice shouts from below. "This is crazy!"

"We got you!" Andrea calls out.

Rick grunts, "Give us an eye, Maggie."

At the front of the line, Maggie peers in. "Doin' okay?"

"Can't believe I'm saying this," His wimpy voice echoes, "But I need to be lower."

"Lower." Maggie parrots.

They all shuffle forward a couple steps — a couple too many steps, apparently.

"Higher!" He shrieks. "Higher!"

The rope strains against the cobble as it's tugged again, backwards this time.

I chew my fingernail nervously.

"Can you get it around that thing?" T-Dog asks, sweating. "Sometime today, please?"

"Fuck you!"

Me and Carl exchange glances, biting down shocked giggles. This is the first time I've ever heard Glenn say, Fuck.

"How's that now, Glenn?"

He takes some time to answer, grunting, "Living the dream, thanks."

"Just get the winch around its neck." Rick coaches calmly, "Easy as pie. Then clip it onto itself, and it should secure."

We wait with bated breath as he wrangles the walker.

After about a minute, he calls out again.

"That's it! It's on! Pull me up! Pull me up!"

"Get him up!"

"Pull! Pull!"

"Come on!"

They wrestle with gravity to lift him back out the well, struggling in unison as Dale reverses. The winch immediately pulls taut. It creaks loudly, mixing with the sound of the engine and Glenn's panicked screaming to create the worst, most cacophonic song I ever head, and I've had to listen to my Dad's favorite music all my life. We cheer them on anxiously, watching closely in anticipation. The grass begins to split under their boots from the force. Just as the rope is about to give way, T-Dog gives one last powerful tug.

"That's it!" He says, "Come on, grab him!"

Glenn scrambles over the lip of the well, panicked, as me and Carl rush forward to help everyone pull him out.

"You okay?!" I ask him.

"God, get me out." He cringes. "Get me out."

As he lands on his ass, soaking wet from being splashed, the walker is next in line to be pulled from the depths.

It gets caught on the edge of the wall like a thousand-pound pinata.

"More force!" Rick orders.

Dale stomps on the gas, making the tyres squeal.

"Come on, you ugly thing." He goads. "Come on."

As the winch begins to cut into the walker's neck, the growling is hitched suddenly, replaced by choking.

Its eyeballs bulge under the pressure.

The engine revs once more, and Rick ushers us out the way. "Get back! Get back!"

All of a sudden, the well cracks and breaks apart around the walker's fat body as it's dragged out onto the grass. Rick's on it before I can even blink. He unsheathes his knife and sinks it into the mushy, water-logged skull with a satisfying squish. At last, the darn thing goes limp.

We all catch our breaths as he stands.

Dale turns off the engine.

"It's uglier in the sunlight." Carl muses, revolted.

No doubt about that. It's disgusting.

Eventually, Glenn deadpans a celebratory, "Anybody thirsty?"

There's a weak chorus of laughter amongst us.

I stand next to Dale and Glenn, watching as Rick and T-Dog drag the walker off the property.

"You know," Dale ponders aloud, "Did they ever mention how that thing fell down there in the first place?"

Mmm... Nope.

No, they didn't.

"This whole farm is fenced off." He continues, thoughtful. "How could a big thing like that just wonder in?"

"Maybe it's been there since before the fences." Glenn guesses. "They might've put them up after everything."

"No," Dale hums. "I was talking to Herschel about it yesterday... He said it was all built in the seventies and they do maintenance every month."

The walker is silently dumped on the ground.

All Dale muses is, "...Strange."

"And then it exploded!!"

My Dad's eyes widen.

"Just kiddin'," I giggle. "Rick stabbed it in the brain."

"I was gonna say." He scoffs. "Explodin' walkers? That'll be the day."

Dad missed out on the action of the well today, so I decided to recount the whole thing to him after. I left out the part about Glenn screaming like a baby goat, though, 'cause I think he'd appreciate that. He's already got enough humiliation for a lifetime with the whole jerky fiasco.

"You really believed me?" I grin, shaking my head. "Actually, I ain't surprised. If you believe in chupacabras, you'll believe anythin'."

He smirks, "Watch yer mouth, girl."

"Whatever." I keep giggling. "I gotta go now, Dad."

"See ya later, baby. Stay where people can see ya."

Carl uses the situation to convince Rick to let him carry a gun. I don't know why he wants one so bad, but he sure is stubborn.

"What if another walker gets in?" He needles. "I need to be able to protect myself."

"Under different circumstances, I'd consider it." Rick explains. "But for starters, I promised Herschel no firearms on his property."

"But—"

"I've also been reassured that this was a one-time thing, Carl. Nothing else is getting onto this farm anytime soon. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worrying." He argues. "I'm just tryna be smart, like you guys."

"You are smart. I know you are. That's why you're gonna let this go."

With a great big groan, Carl rolls his eyes.

From over by the campfire where he's polishing his pistol, Shane throws in his two cents. "Might not be a bad idea, Rick."

He looks over at him. "What?"

"You know we're both certified instructors. Plenty of land 'round here that ain't Herschel's. We could set up a shooting range, see how it goes."

I scoff hearing that, anger rising up inside me.

"Yeah, you'd know all about shooting things, wouldn't you, Shane?" I snarl sassily.

There's a very stiff, very awkward pause between us all. It's lucky it's just us around, and not any of the Greenes. I guess I wasn't thinking, but when my temper flares up, I never think before I speak. That's how you know I'm my Dad's daughter, I suppose. Shane stares at me like I've just slapped him sideways across the face. I glower at him; a seething, hurt look I've never directed at him before, one I know will pain him. He knows he's broken whatever it was he'd built between us with this stunt. He's damn right I don't wanna be his friend anymore.

It's so frustrating that we all know what he did, but none of us can do anything about it. He gets away with everything.

At least I can hurt him with words.

Rick sees that I'm getting angrier by the second and puts a comforting hand on my back.

"Huh?" Carl asks, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Carl." Rick warns.

"No, I wanna know. What did you mean?"

"He shot my Dad, is what I mean." I exclaim, heated. "He was gonna leave him out in the woods to bleed to death. Ain't nothin' more than a murderer."

Carl's gaze snaps onto Shane, a look of betrayal skirting over his features.

"It was you?"

"Carl, it's already been discussed." Rick tries calming him down. "What's done is done. It's over."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Listen, buddy," Shane placates, for some reason looking at me when he does. "Sometimes things just happen. Heat of the moment."

"Weren't no 'heat of the moment'." I shout. "You followed him through the woods for hours!"

"I didn't—"

Carl taunts, "You gonna shoot my Dad next?"

"This is gettin' outta hand." Rick intervenes, standing up from the picnic table. "Come on. Let's go cool off. Both of you."

"I hate you." I call out to Shane as I'm pulled off the bench. "I fucking hate you!"

He doesn't even have anything to say. There's nothing he can say. He ducks his head, unable to look my way, and once Rick gets himself in my line of sight, I can't see his guilty expression anymore and I don't care to. I shove Rick off. He respects that I don't want him crowding me so much and opts for just holding my hand, instead, telling me everything's alright. My eyes well up, lip wobbling. I hate people seeing me cry, but Rick's probably seen Carl cry a whole bunch of times. I don't need to be too embarrassed. He would never judge.

He guides us both toward the side of the house.

"Here." He gently says as we approach a trough of clean water. "Wash your face off a bit. It'll feel good."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." Carl frowns. "Were you ever gonna?"

I splash some water onto my already wet cheeks, catching my breath.

"Shane's been with us for a very long time." Rick confesses, "I didn't know how to break somethin' like that to you, but yes, we were going to."

"What does Mom think?" He pouts.

Rick nods. "She's disappointed."

I dry my face off with my shirt, mumbling pettily, "Murderers go to prison, y'know. They don't just sit around, cleanin' guns."

"What are you gonna do, Dad? Is he just gonna stay here?"

"Do you want him to?"

Carl seems torn on how to answer. "W—Well, yeah, but you don't usually get to choose, right?"

"We do now." Rick tells us both. "Lots of people make mistakes. Shane's definitely made a mistake by doin' this. I recognise that. But things are different. We need each other to survive out here. We need this place to survive. Putting that at risk will be hurting us, too."

"He's sorry, right?"

Rick doesn't know how to answer that one.

"I hate him." I sniff, miserable. "I can't look at him no more."

He gives me sympathetic look, rubbing my back.

"We can't kick him out." Carl worries. "He's our family."

Everybody is someone's family. My Dad's a murderer, and he's my family. That's why I forgive him. I guess that's why Rick, Lori, and Carl forgive Shane, too, even though they're angry like I am. I wish I could have that gene for moving on, but I just don't. Shane ain't my blood.

"Things are weird right now." Rick admits. "I know. But we just have to stick through it for a while."

"Until when?" I demand. "When's it gonna be okay that he tried to kill my Dad?"

"Never." He appeases. "You have every right to be upset with him. I just want to secure our place here, first."

"How you gonna do that?"

"I'm going to talk to Herschel tonight."

"And then what?" I spit sarcasm. "My Dad can have at him?"

"It's tricky, Harley. I can't kick Shane out. I can't kick you an' your Dad out. I can't have you around each other. There's no good option, here."

"When my Dad's all better, he's gonna kill him." I grind out. "That's a good option."

"No, Harley, it's not." He sighs patiently. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Why the Hell not?"

"Because I will not allow murder within the camp. That's a line we do not cross. Ever."

"Then kick Shane out!" I scream in his face, as if that'll make him listen better, turning on my heel and storming away.

With anger coursing through my veins, I search the farm for Shane.

He made himself scarce after Rick forced us to give him some space, but I'll find him. I don't know what I'm gonna do once that happens, but the first step is to find him. Maybe I'll shout at him. Maybe I'll punch him in the face. Yeah, that's good. I'll do that. I'll break his nose, just like my Daddy did. I ask Jacqui if she's seen Shane anywhere, and then I ask Andrea, and Beth, and even Jimmy. They all give vague, unsure answers, but they all mention the direction of the back gate, so that's where I go. I'm an arrow, soaring toward its target.

Sure as shit, I find him on the outskirts of the farm. He's sitting in the neglected, tall grass, staring out onto the distant sunset.

When I see him rub the heel of his palm over his eye, I realize he's crying.

I approach him from behind, not caring how loud my raging footsteps are.

When I'm within ten feet of him, he starts to turn around, sighing, "Rick, listen—"

"It's me!" I shove him harshly, surprising him. "And yer lucky it is, 'cause if I was him, I'd kick you out right now!"

Shocked, he faces me with wide, wet eyes.

"Scratch that, I'd kill ya!" I seethe. "Just 'cause my Dad survived, don't make you any less of a murderer! That's what you are!"

"Harley—"

"I don't wanna hear nothin' you have to say, no more." We're nowhere near the main part of the farm. From here, the house looks like a miniature. The sky is open wide. I can scream all I want, and nobody will be the wiser. "I don't care. You can't say sorry for somethin' like this! Everybody knows what you did, Shane! Rick knows, Carl knows, Lori knows, I know!" My voice cracks. "I gotta live with it! With you!"

I don't care that he's been crying. He could cry an ocean of tears, and I still wouldn't care.

"When my Daddy comes for you," I shout, "I won't stop him. Ya hear me? I won't!"

As soon as my Dad's better, this place will become a hunting ground. As long as one of 'em is alive, the other won't stop 'till they're dead.

A flash of violence glints over his eyes when I say this. This was never his plan. If he had things his way, not only would that bullet have gone straight into my Dad's head, but I'd also probably be mourning in his arms right now, letting him replace what he'd made sure I'd lost.

"I did what I did for you." He snarls, offended. "I did it to protect you. You think this is what I want, Harley?"

"I know it's what you want. You're a fucking murderer."

"Yeah? I want my best friend lookin' at me like he doesn't even know who I am, anymore? I want you tellin' me that you hate me?" His lip curls around his biting words. "That's what I want? I'll let'chu in on a little secret, here, Harley. I don't. This is Hell for me, too!"

I shove him again, but he doesn't retaliate. He takes it; deserves it, even.

"You can't protect nobody!"

I smack him again.

"Nobody!"

"Harley—"

"I was your friend!"

"Fuck!"

I punch him square in his stupid face.

He grunts under the sheer impact, his hand going to his nose. He pants, dumbfounded. His fingers come away wet, red; bloody. I stand there, huffing and puffing, my knuckles sore, as he looks up at me like he doesn't recognise me. His eyes are wide pools of incomprehension. I-I just punched him. I have never in my life punched an adult, before. It feels good. It feels really, really good. It feels better than just washing my face off, that's for sure. Sometimes, two wrongs do make a right. I know, 'cause I'm starting to grin, now. Rage, to me, feels like a medicine.

He gulps, blood trickling down into his gaping mouth. He frowns lightly at me.

"That make you feel better?" He asks without venom, as if he's genuinely curious; as if he's got an idea.

"It did." I breathe. "Made me feel a whole lot better."

He pauses.

Then, he mutters, "Do it again."

"What?"

"Hit me again." He shuffles onto his haunches, presenting his bloody face to me like a prize. "Hit me again, Harley. Do it."

I hesitate at first, not believing this is really happening, but then I see that he's serious. He cups his hands around both his knees, ready to be my punching bag. He raises his chin; takes a deep breath. For once, this isn't a trick. This is plain, raw indulgence. The slithering delight of violence is all mine to take. I feel it building up inside of me again, fighting to be let out. I slowly curl my fist again, rearing it back into the air.

I bring it down onto his face again with a dull, painful thud.

He straightens again.

I lay into him for a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. I think of Dad's unconscious body, the sound of the gunshot, and the way he was tip-toeing alongside death for three whole days. I think about how Shane almost took my Dad away from me forever, and I make him hurt.

By the time I'm done with him, his cheek is already turning an ugly green-brown color, bright blood smeared across his chin.

That's the best thing I've done all week.

He sits back down in the grass, adjusting his jaw, groaning, "Where'd you learn to hit like that?"

"My Dad." I pointedly spit. "Taught me to punch people who are mean to me."

He chuckles weakly, accepting my punishing words instead of arguing. "Well, you got me."

"This don't change nothin'."

"I know it doesn't." He pants. "No matter how many times you hit me, you're Dad's still a fuckin—"

"I told you I don't wanna hear it."

"A fucking asshole." He finishes. "Hell, he's no better'un Ed was. You— You wanna know the difference between him an' me?"

I refuse to answer, glaring at him.

"I have never hit you." He says, knowing I can't argue with a fact. He's infuriating, that way. "Hate me all ya want, but... I've never hit you."

We stay like that for a strangely painful and gaping moment, face to face with each other's honest presence.

In the distance, we hear people calling for me.

He sniffs wetly, bringing his shirt up to clean his face. "Best you get back, now."

"Harley, where'd you go?"

"Harley!"

As a parting goodbye, right before I walk away, I mumble, "You can't protect nobody."

He doesn't come back to the farm until after dinner.

Rick's a little angry when I return to the farm, but he hears me out.

"I just went on a walk," I fib, hiding my bloody knuckles. "To calm down."

"Are you alright?" Lori fusses.

I smile. "Yeah, I'm... I'm really good."

They glance at each other, but it looks like the matter is already settled.

"Come on, then." He sighs. "Dinner's almost ready."

Lori grabs my clean hand and leads me toward the house.

"You need to reconsider." Rick comes out and says that night, helping the Greenes clear the dining table.

Herschel frowns, "I beg your pardon?"

"Asking us to leave." He sets the dirty dishes down in the sink, and then turns to face him, his arms crossed. "You need to reconsider."

At least he wasn't lying, I think to myself as I finish off the last of my peas. This is him following through on what he promised me he'd do.

"If you saw what it's like out there," Rick continues, "You wouldn't ask. You're a man of belief. If you believe anything, believe that."

"You're putting me on the spot, here, Rick."

He doesn't back down.

"Well, I mean to. Those people out there look to me for answers. I wish they didn't, but they do. That includes Harley."

Herschel glances at me, a soft look in his eyes.

"After everything that's happened," Rick doubles down, "The least you can do is reconsider."

"You're a plain-spoken man."

"I'm just doing what's best for my people." He humbly says. "We've been to Hell and back these past few months. This whole journey started for us when Harley got scratched by one of the dead, right in the beginning. We honestly believed that we were going to have a child's blood on our hands. You don't forget somethin' like that. I know I won't. I know her father won't, either. Now I fear the same thing might happen with Sophia. I know you're a man of good morals, a man of faith. You got two girls of your own. If you kick us out when Daryl's better — before we can have a good chance at finding Sophia — Then this time, I'd say the blood will be on your hands. Not ours."

Herschel is confronted by his words, glancing over at Beth and Maggie, the apples of his eye, as they clean dishes together.

"Will you consider my request?"

"There are... aspects to this." Herschel says. "Things I can't and will not discuss. But if you and your people respect my rules... I will reconsider."

I try not to let my excitement show on my face.

Rick smiles. "We will. You have my word."

Herschel nods. "And you have mine."

Dad's still reading the book when I go into his room that night and change into my pyjamas.

"Dad, guess what?"

He hums.

"Rick got Herschel to think about lettin' us stay longer." I smile, stepping into my sleep shorts. "We might not have to leave."

He lowers the book at that, a sceptical look on his face. "He did?"

"Yeah." I pull on my shirt and hop on the bed, taking out my braids. "You know what that means?"

"What?"

"Shane can get punished, and the Greenes won't care."

As I move onto the second braid, content with this development, I don't notice my Dad looking over me, a dark look in his eyes.

"Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"What's that?"

He grunts as he sits up slightly, reaching out to grab my wrist. I look down at it, only now noticing a tiny speckle of Shane's blood on one of my knuckles. Damn it. I thought I got it all off when I washed my hands this evening, but I must've missed a spot. I lick my thumb and wipe it away.

My gaze averted, I confess, "I punched Shane today."

"You what?" He scolds harshly.

"I punched him a whole heap of times, actually." I say somewhat proudly. "He let me. He said it would make me feel better."

He looks like he wants to strangle something.

He demands, "Who else was there?"

I realize I might actually be in trouble for this, and I mumble, "Uh... No-one."

"Fuckin' Hell, Harley." He groans, rubbing a hand down his face. He drops it, revealing a deep frown. "You stay away from him, okay?"

"But, you said—"

"Don't back-talk me, girl. You know what he's capable of, and ya still went and talked to him."

"I wasn't nice to him, Daddy. I promise. I was real mad."

"A guy like that, it don't matter." He insists. "He gets in ya fuckin' head, Harley. He already has. Do not do that shit again. Ya hearin' me?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Creepy piece'a shit." He grumbles to himself as he sits back, taking a deep breath. "You remember what I did to Ronnie?"

Chewing my lip, I murmur, "Yeah."

"And how you weren't scared of me, after?"

"Uh-huh."

He nods. "Well, keep that in mind."

"Why?"

"'Cause I told you to. Now, c'mon. Time for bed." He lifts up the covers for me, and after blowing out the candle, I wiggle myself in beside him. This will be our last sleep in the house. Herschel reckons Dad will be able to walk tomorrow, and after that, we're gonna get kicked outside with everyone else. I don't mind. I can't wait to sleep under the stars again. Once I'm comfortable, he offers, "You want me to sing you to sleep?"

I nod, closing my eyes.

His soft words begin to fill the quiet room, a pretty echo of an old life.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word... Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

"He-lloooo, farmer's daughter."

The next morning, I send Glenn an unimpressed look from my seat on the porch.

"Gross, Glenn."

He continues peering through his binoculars at Maggie as she rides up the road.

I roll my eyes and go back to eating my small breakfast of peach jam on toast.

They're going on a run today. Between me, T-Dog, and my Dad's injuries, the painkillers and antibiotics have run out pretty quickly. He's gonna try walking today, so he'll definitely need them more than usual. They're going to check out a nearby pharmacy for more. I asked if I could go with them, but Rick, Dad, and Lori all answered me with a synchronized scolding of, No, so that idea's out the window.

As Lori comes up the porch steps, Glenn startles, trying to hide his obvious spying.

"Oh, h-hey, Lori. Nice morning, huh?"

She raises a brow. "I'm not even gonna ask."

"You got the list?"

"Yeah. Here it is." She hands him a crumpled slip of paper, glancing around, lowering her voice. "And there's one other item on there."

He unfolds it, reading down the scrawled words.

"I wrote it down separately. It's personal. If we could be real discreet about that, okay?"

When he makes it to the bottom, his eyes go wide.

"Uh, s-sure." He promises. "I just need to know where to find it."

"Try the feminine hygiene section."

His cheeks go a little pink, but he nods, "Consider it done."

"What is it?" I nosey.

"Just some lady products." She brushes it off, taking a seat beside me. "Don't worry about it."

Glenn mutters, "Can I ask... Whose—?

"No." She chides.

He nervously gives up on his question. "O-Okay."

Maggie makes it to the front of the house, leading another horse alongside hers for Glenn. He quickly snatches up his backpack and rifle, heading down the steps. We watch as he clumsily mounts the saddle with some coaching from Maggie, which makes us both giggle.

He gets it, eventually.

As they trot down the path together, Lori gives me an amused look. "He's totally sweet on her."

I scrunch up my nose. "Don't put me off my food."

"Sorry," She laughs.

Later in the morning, I join Andrea on the roof of the RV as she stands watch.

Looking through her binoculars, she mutters to herself, "What is he doing?"

I frown. "What is it?"

She hands them to me, and I peer through the lenses in the direction she was facing, met with the peculiar sight of Dale on the border of the farm, kicking a fence post. He continues along the line, giving the next one a firm shake. I lower the binoculars, mildly entertained.

"I think he's investigating." I snicker to myself.

"Investigating?" Andrea looks at me, confused. "Investigating what?"

"He thinks something's up with the fences." I tell her, watching his distant figure move onto the next one. "I guess he means to find out what."

She laughs. "He's gonna break a toe if he's not careful."

I've never known anyone nosier than Dale Horvath.

In the afternoon, Glenn and Maggie return with everything on the list.

Dad insists that he don't even need the painkillers, but he gets forced by Maggie to take 'em, anyway. We wait half an hour for the pills to kick in, and then after some more arguing from Dad's end about how he can do it on his own, he yanks the IV needle out his arm and scoots onto the edge of the bed. With some effort and a few heavy grunts, he manages to get onto his feet, wobbling only slightly.

I cheer him on, making him smile a little.

We trail him out onto the back porch, hovering nearby in case he falters, but he stands strong the whole way.

He breathes in the fresh air. "Almost forgot what real life smelt like."

I pace around the house with him as Maggie and Glenn clear out all evidence of him ever existing in the guest room.

Herschel checks him over one last time and gives him the official green-light to return to life as usual.

We all spend about half an hour pitching a tent and driving over all our chairs, rucksacks, and other belongings to a nice spot on the far reaches of the property, under a patch of healthy, green trees, per Dad's request. It'll make the walk to camp that much longer, but he's willing to deal with it. He makes it very clear that he doesn't wanna be within a hundred fuckin' feet of Shane. Maggie and Glenn express vehement understanding.

"He's like a bomb waitin' to go off, that man." She scoffs, setting the last item, a crate, down in the dirt. "Don't know why you keep him around."

Dad mutters sardonically, "He's popular in the Grimes department."

"Well, if he was in my group," She drawls, "He would've been gone days ago."

"Trust me, I share the fuckin' sentiment." He takes the last bag from Glenn. "I got it."

"You sure, man?"

He grunts uncomfortably as he tosses it into the tent. "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't need no babysitters. I'm fine."

"Well, that's everything." Maggie sighs. "Come back to the house for dinner tonight. We're havin' veggie soup and grilled cheese."

"I think I've had more than enough of that house for a lifetime."

"Half an hour won't kill ya." She rolls her eyes. "Do it for Carol. She made it happen, after all. We'll see ya then, okay? Bye, Harley."

"See ya later." I smile, giggling as Glenn flicks my ear as they both walk off.

Dad settles down in his camping chair, hissing.

I ask him, "Ya feelin' alright?"

"Yeah, baby. Just sore. Start a fire, will ya?"

"Sure thing," I say, turning away into the treeline to search for twigs.