Towel

Towel

(This came to me in a dream last night and then right after that dream, I dreamt I wrote a drabble for it on tumblr. I didn’t, so here I am 😂 )

You walked back into your cell, cursing under your breath. How did you manage to forget to bring trousers for after your shower? Sure, you could just put on your dirty ones but they were covered in walker fluid and dirt. Instead, you wrapped a towel around your legs and rushed back to your cell.

With your back turned, looking for something clean to wear, you hear the unmistakable noise of someone approaching the door. You turn as Daryl steps into the doorway.

“Daryl!” You gasp. “You scared me.” You stand up straight, one hand on your hip. He was staring at you and smirking slightly. “Do you mind?”

He shook his head. “What?” He smirked.

You dropped the towel from your waist. You had underwear on but Daryl’s face suddenly went rather pink. His eyes went wide and you knew he was trying so hard not to look down. You smirked right back at him.

“Well?” You prompt.

“I was…” He swallowed hard. “I was just looking for you.”

“Why’s that?” There was a breeze around your legs but you didn’t care. His reaction was just too golden. His eyes bore hard into yours, as if the idea of moving them even a fraction would tempt him enough to look down.

“I don’t remember.” He admits. “But since I’m here…” He takes a step toward you, and another.

His arms slip around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your arms fit around his waist. He smells clean, faintly of soap and his clothes a little damp.

“You showered too? When?” You ask against his chest.

“Right before you did. I’m surprised ya didn’t see me.”

“To be honest, I felt so gross, I was just focused on being clean again. So much so that I forgot to bring bottoms with me.”

“Explains the nakedness.” His voice was wobbly, probably remembering the moment you dropped the towel. You laugh.

“I have on underwear, Daryl. I just couldn’t resist making you blush like that.”

“Shut up. That wasn’t fair.”

Living with the Past

Summary: You moved to the small quiet town of Hawkins after transferring from the NYPD and reunite with your old partner, Jim Hopper. However, Hawkins isn't as quiet as it seems, and your past follows you there.

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Language, violence, past abuse

Chapter 1- paperwork, coffee & rotten pumpkins

Transferring from the NYPD to Hawkins PD had been drastic. You went from getting paid as a detective working homicide in the big city to working in a small country town as a Deputy on half the wage.

Your co-workers at Hawkins thought you were crazy for it, but they didn't know why you moved. They didn't know the reason behind the sudden shift across the country and you sure as hell weren't going to tell them.

It wasn't all bad though.

You and Hopper used to be partners back in New York in the homicide unit, until he moved away after his daughter died. It sucked when he left town, but you understood why he left, especially after him and his wife got divorced.

However, that understanding didn't make it any easier without him, especially when the boss introduced you to your new work partner a week later and he was a total dick.

"Have I ever told you guys about how much I hate paperwork?" Callahan asked, looking over at you and Powell across the room.

"I think you've said it nearly every day since I started working here." You answered, rubbing your face with your hands trying to wake yourself up as you stared down at the stack of files on your desk.

He was right though, paperwork did suck.

"Try every day for the last three years. It gets annoying, trust me." Powell mumbled, his head down busy working.

Callahan rolled his eyes, and you covered up your laugh with a cough while looking between the two men in amusement.

It had been a couple of weeks since you first stepped foot in Hawkins after leaving the busy city streets of New York behind. You had expected to feel like an outcast at the station. The other officers had all grown up together in this small town. Some had even been in the same courses at the Police Academy. They all had chemistry and strong connections to one another, and they were all men.

From experience, male Police Officers tended to dislike female colleagues, however, your new fellow Deputies had welcomed you with open arms. They were all friendly and treated you like an equal which was more than what any of your old work colleagues had done back in New York.

It shouldn't have been a surprise though because Jim Hopper wouldn't let any discrimination or hate slide when it came to you.

He had your back in New York and stood up for you when no one else would. Even after all these years, nothing had changed.

The Chief had put you on the same shift rotation as Powell and Callahan since your first day. The two Deputies had taken you under their wing without hesitation.

Calvin Powell was an older yet brilliant deputy. He was stern and tough when it came to the law, and was serious about his job, but was always up for a good laugh. He had taught you a lot in your short time with Hawkins PD and was always happy to answer any questions you had.

Phil Callahan was the exact opposite.

He was the jokester of the station and although he was always cracking jokes and acting some would say, childish, he was a damn good deputy. He was constantly the first one out the door whenever a job came up and was always ready to help with anything.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Jim. This is serious."

You looked up from your paperwork at the unfamiliar voice to find Hopper walking into the station followed by a balding guy with a beard who you had never seen before.

Hopper groaned dramatically at the stranger's words and hung his coat up on the rack by the front door.

Well, whoever that guy was, the Chief did not like him.

"I really got something here. I'm telling you." The guy insisted.

"Morning, Chief." Powell greeted, actually looking up from his desk as he spoke before he spotted the other guy and grinned, "morning, Murray."

"Got any proof on your butt probin' aliens yet, Murray?" Callahan asked causing your head to snap towards him.

"What? Who the hell is this guy?" You asked.

"Murray Bauman. Used to be an Investigative Journalist in Hawkins, now he's some kind of Private Investigator, but he believes all these weird conspiracy theories and stuff." Callahan whispered, leaning over your joined desks towards you as he spoke.

"That sounds... interesting." You answered, choosing your words carefully.

You looked back over at Murray just as Hopper grabbed one of the donuts from the bench, but Flo was hot on his tail and snatched the glazed donut from his hand and replaced it with an apple.

Hopper glared at her, and you tried not to laugh at the annoyed look on his face, but he accepted the fruit anyway and took a bite out of it.

"I believe there was, and may still be, a Russian spy presence in Hawkins." Murray continued to say.

"Russian spies?" Hopper asked, amusement clear in his voice as he began pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Are the spies in cahoots with the aliens? Or how do they fit in here? I'm confused." Callahan commented causing you to snort softly.

Hopper just smirked and filled up another mug of coffee before grabbing both and walking over to your desk, placing the second mug down in front of you.

You smiled, "thank you. I needed this."

"I could tell. You look tired."

"Just what every girl wants to hear." You mumbled into the coffee cup as you took a sip and sighed at the warm taste of caffeine.

"I'm talking multiple reports now." Murray continued to say, his voice raised a little louder. "Multiple reports, okay? Of a Russian child in Hawkins."

"A child? What are you talking about?" Hopper questioned, now suddenly interested in what this man had to say.

"A girl who may have psionic abilities."

"'Psionic'?" Powell asked in confusion.

"Psychic." Murray corrected.

"Hey Chief. What about that girl that made that kid pee himself?" Callahan asked and okay, what? Now you had questions.

"It was just a prank." Hopper answered, dismissing his Deputy quickly before turning to Murray. "You got five minutes. Not a second more."

You watched as Hopper led Murray across the room into his own private office, closing the door behind him. You glanced over at Callahan and Powell who both shrugged their shoulders and went back to work, like it was normal for a man to walk in and start talking about Russian spies and kids with powers. Maybe it was normal for Hawkins.

Within 60 seconds, the Chief's door opened and a rather pissed off looking Murray stepped out. He spared one glance at the rest of you before he turned and walked out the station before Hopper emerged from his office.

"Who wants to get out the office for a bit? We got a job."

"Me!" You and Callahan both quickly said at the same time.

Hopper looked between the two of you, "Y/N, let's go."

"Oh, come on!" Callahan whined. "You always choose her."

"Maybe I like her better than you. Ya ever think about that?" Hopper asked, grabbing his jacket from the rack, and slipping it on.

"We all know why you like her." Callahan mumbled under his breath causing Powell to kick his feet under the desk.

You looked between the two of them suspiciously, Hopper just bluntly ignoring them before you chugged the last of your coffee and followed the Chief out the station.

You jumped into the passenger seat of his Chevy Blazer, instantly reaching for the dial of the heater and cranking it up as Hopper reversed out the parking lot.

"So, what's the job?"

"Pumpkins that have been contaminated by a vengeful neighbour." He answered causing you to look over at him in disbelief.

"You're shitting me, right? Pumpkins?"

He chuckled softly, "I shit you not."

"How'd I go from investigating murders to investigating pumpkins?" You asked aloud causing him to laugh.

"You're the one who put in your transfer to Hawkins. This is on you." He reminded.

Yeah, that was true.

You nodded, knowing he was right, and you glanced out the window as Hopper drove, the faint music from the radio filling the silence.

"Why did you transfer here? Not that I'm complaining, I just... I thought you loved it in New York."

This wasn't the first time he had asked. Hell, it wasn't even the second, but you kept dodging the question.

"Just needed a fresh start. A change of scenery I guess." You answered, which wasn't a total lie.

You could feel Hopper staring at you out the corner of your eye, but you kept your head forward, knowing if you looked at him, he would be able to see straight through you. After all those years working together, you had gotten to know each other really well, to the point where you knew when the other was lying.

Hopper just hummed in response, despite knowing there was more to the story, but to your relief, he didn't try to pry, and you were grateful for that.

It didn't take long to reach the small pumpkin farm on the outskirts of Hawkins. If you were being honest, you forgot these kinds of farms existed. But of course, they did, you just never really thought about it until now.

The farmer was adamant that his neighbour had poisoned his crops. Stating that the pumpkins were perfectly fine yesterday, but when he woke up this morning, they were rotten.

After inspecting the large fields of pumpkins, every single vegetable was in fact rotten and Hopper told him that he was going to look into it before you both climbed back into the car.

"There is no way these pumpkins turned rotten like that overnight." You said, the second your car door was shut. "What do you think happened?"

"I honestly have no idea. It's been cold, maybe frost got to them."

"Good theory. Try telling that to him though." You said, nodding at the farmer who was still standing by his ruined crop.

Hopper grunted, "he can accept whatever I tell him."

He turned the key in the ignition, bringing the old Chevy to life with a roar before tapping it into gear and driving back down the dirt road to Hawkins.

Instead of going back to the station like you assumed he would have, Hopper instead pulled up to the diner on main street and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting inside and eating breakfast.

"I missed this." You found yourself saying before thinking better of it.

Hopper looked up at you from across the booth, his fork halfway to his mouth, "missed pancakes?" he asked in confusion.

"No." You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, I missed this. Us. Working together. It feels like old times."

Back in New York, you were the first woman to join the homicide unit. All the guys hated it. They didn't believe a girl could do the job as well as men and they despised you for it. They all treated you like garbage despite the fact that you were better than half the team, but they still hated you, except for Hopper.

He was the only one who treated you like a normal person. At first, he was a little apprehensive, but that was because he had been used to working solo and wasn't expecting the Superintendent to suddenly give him a partner, especially not some random chick he had never met before.

The two of you had hit it off straight away though. You didn't take any of his crap and he respected that, and you made quite a team.

"Ah, yes. Because we used to deal with crime scenes of rotten pumpkins and eat in diners all the time back in New York." He said sarcastically, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Well, if you replace pumpkins with dead bodies. The farmer with a serial killer and these pancakes in this diner for a packet of candy in the stakeout van, then yes."

Hopper snorted, taking another bite of his pancakes as he shook his head with a smile.

"I missed working with you too." He admitted once he finished his mouthful. "I still can't believe you transferred here though."

"I'm starting to regret it after that thrilling morning on the farm." You joked, but Hopper shook his head.

"Nah, you don't. You'd miss me too much if you left Hawkins."

Yeah, you would.

"In your dreams." You said instead because like hell you were going to admit that.

You liked Hopper. You even had a crush on him back in New York when you first joined, but after finding out that he was married with a kid, you quickly pushed your feelings aside and the two of you became best friends.

"You seeing anyone?" He randomly asked causing you to nearly choke on your coffee.

"What?" You asked, covering your mouth as you coughed.

"Are you seeing anyone? You got a boyfriend or anything?" He clarified.

"Oh, no, no. I'm single." You answered, shrugging your shoulders hoping it looked casual. "What about you? Have you found someone in this town to settle down with?"

Hopper opened his mouth to answer before his eyes widened like he just realised something, and he quickly rolled up his sleeve to look at his watch.

"Shit. Shit. I was meant to meet Joyce at the lab ten minutes ago."

Joyce? Who was Joyce?

"I need to go. I'll drop you off on my way." He said, throwing down some money on the table and eating his last pancake before the two of you left the diner and climbed back into the car.

"Hawkins lab?" You asked, looking over at him as he pulled out the parking lot and sped in the direction of the station. "What's at Hawkins lab that's so important?"

"Nothing. It's nothing important. Just promised Joyce I'd help her out with something." He dismissed, not going into any detail.

You wanted to push for an answer but decided against it. He would tell you if he wanted to and frankly, it wasn't any of your business, but you couldn't help but feel a little sad hearing about Joyce.

Was she his girlfriend? He never did answer your question earlier.

Hopper dropped you off back at the station and the rest of your shift was mainly just sitting behind the desk doing paperwork, until an old lady called about a noise complained, so you went out with Powell and Callahan to deal with that.

The day went by surprisingly quickly and before you knew it, you were standing back in that pumpkin crop the following day with Hopper because now it wasn't just one person's crop that had turned rotten. It was several.

"Now, you try telling me with a straight face that cold did this." The farmer said, pointing at his destroyed crop.

Yeah, he had a point.

Frost might have gotten some of the pumpkins, but not this many and this quickly. Plus, for October, it hadn't been super cold yet, so it didn't make any sense.

"How far does it go?" You asked curiously, wondering if whatever was destroying the pumpkins was hurting other plant life in the area.

The farmer just motioned for the two of you to follow him as he walked towards the woods by the boundary line of his crop and your jaw dropped when you realised that the trees and bushes on the edge of the woods had turned rotten too.

Okay, this was definitely not the cold. What the hell did all this?

"What the fuck?" You whispered to yourself, lifting your hand, and touching the rotten tree trunk to find this gooey slimy substance all over it.

Hopper appeared beside you and quickly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from the slime.

"Hey, Chief, you copy?" Powell's voice called over the radio.

Hopper grabbed his radio from his belt and held it to his mouth. "How's it looking over there?"

"Like a giant pissed all over Jack's bean field. Smells, too. It smell over there?"

"Where doesn't it smell?" You questioned, grimacing at the gross rotten stench that covered the entire farm.

You'd nearly rather the stench from old dead bodies than this... okay, no, that's a lie. There was nothing that smelt worse than that, but this was a close second.

"Yeah, little bit. Listen. I want you guys to track the rot, see how far it goes. Just, uh, mark anything that's dead." Hopper instructed through the radio.

"That's gonna take some time." Powell pointed out.

"So take it. And look, we don't know what caused this. Could be poison. So don't touch anything without gloves." He ordered, pointily staring at you with the last sentence and you gave him a guilty look.

"Copy that, Chief."

He slipped the radio back into the pouch on his belt before turning towards you with a questioning look, "you good to work some overtime?"

"I got no plans tonight. Let's get started." You said and Hopper nodded his appreciation before the two of you got to work.

The farmer had supplied marker flags, so you and Hopper spent the next few hours walking through the woods and placing a flag by everything rotten while Powell and Callahan did the same at the other farm.

By nightfall, it was finally finished, and Hopper gave you all permission to start late tomorrow morning so you could actually get a decent night's sleep.

"I have to basically drive past your house to get home, want a lift?" He asked, climbing into the Chevy.

"My truck is at the station. I won't be able to-"

"I can pick you up in the morning."

You nodded, "that would work. Thank you."

You climbed into the passenger side of his car before Hopper started the Chevy and began to drive away. He barely got a few metres down the dirt driveway before he suddenly slammed on the brakes and put the car into reverse.

"What are you doing?" You asked, figuring he must have forgotten something.

He didn't answer though, instead he rolled down his window and stuck his head out and called out to the little kid walking towards the farmhouse, his Halloween outfit on and bucket full of candy in his hand.

"Hey, kid. Give me some of that candy, would you?"

"No way." The boy answered and you saw that coming from a mile away.

Kids cherished their Halloween candy. But why did Hopper want some?

"Alright, how about now?" He asked, pulling out a couple dollar bills from his wallet.

The kid hesitated a little before nodding in agreement and jogging up to the car, taking the money and handing over his bucket of candy. You just watched, assuming Hopper would explain why he needed the candy, but he didn't say a single word before he tapped the car into gear and continued to drive.

"Umm, is there a reason you bribed the kid for his candy?" You asked curiously.

"Forgot it was Halloween, I don't have any at home. Wanted to be prepared in case any kids came trick or treating to my front door."

You glanced over at the clock on the dash which indicated that it was nearly midnight, and you raised your eyebrows, "how many kids do you think will be trick or treating at this time of night?"

Hopper glanced over at the clock and seemed surprised by how late it was but shrugged his shoulders.

"Can never be too prepared."

Guess he had a fair point. But you didn't plan on getting any candy. You planned on going straight to bed and if anyone knocked on your door for trick or treating at this time of night, you were not answering it.

"What's your address?" Hopper asked a few seconds later, turning out onto the main road.

"Thought you said my house was on the way to yours. Don't you know it?"

Hopper didn't say anything for a moment, "I lied. I have no idea where you live."

"Why?"

"Because you haven't told me your address."

"No, I meant why did you lie? I could have driven home myself, you know?"

He sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand, "maybe I wanted to spend more time with you."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling.

"Aww, you really did miss me all these years, didn't you? That's sweet." You responded in a teasing tone as you leant over and nudged his arm with your elbow.

"I hate you." He muttered, but the small smile on his face told you how untrue those words really were.

"You love me."

"Love is a real strong word. More like tolerate."

"Ouch." You said, resting your hand over your heart dramatically causing Hopper to stifle a laugh as he shook his head at you.

"But, seriously, where do you live because I have no idea where I'm driving."

"Oh, take the next two lefts and I'm number 32." You answered.

Within a couple of minutes, he was pulling up in front of your house and you climbed out the car, pausing as you held the door open.

"What time will you pick me up in the morning? Just so I'm awake and ready."

"I'll swing by around nine." He answered and you nodded, about to close the door before he continued talking. "Oh, and Y/N? Stay out of the woods, okay?"

You frowned a little but nodded, "wasn't planning on going for a stroll through the woods, but alright."

He nodded and you gave him a friendly wave before closing the door and watching him drive off.

You made your way inside the house kicking off your muddy boots by the door and making a mental note to clean them in the morning. You dumped your duty belt on the back of the couch before noticing there was a little red light flashing on your answering machine.

Who had tried to call you?

You didn't keep in touch with anyone from New York and the only people you knew in Hawkins were the ones you were with today. So, who was it?

Pressing the play button, you made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water but froze in the doorway when the voice spoke through the machine.

A sickening wave of terror welled in your stomach. Your body grew tense to the point of shaking as you grabbed hold of the wall listening to the voice you had hoped to never hear again.

"You think moving to Hawkins will save you? It won't. I'll be seeing you again real soon, sugar."

Blood drained from your skin and breath caught in your throat as you slowly slid down against the wall and sat on the carpet. You buried your face into your hands trying to remember how to breathe as you thought back to the last time you heard that voice... the voice who was the reason for your transfer to Hawkins.

-

Next Chapter

A/N: Why did I write this? Well, I wanted to read a Hopper x Reader fanfic that consisted of more than 1 chapter and wasn't just pure smut with no plot… however, upon scrolling through AO3 I discovered that is hard to find. So, I wrote my own.

I know this chapter was a little heavy in dialogue which I'm not happy with but bear with me for the first few chapters because I promise it gets better. 

Thank you for those that are reading this new story. I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below! The next chapter will be posted within the next few days but until then, stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

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Daryl X Reader Request from @zombie-in-a-ball-gag: I was wondering if you could to a little thing of daryl and a female mute reader? If you can, maybe selective mutism, so there can be some trust building themes and things! Just fluff, and two idiots in love Plot: Daryl and Reader are on a three day run to a city just over 8 hours away. Someone told Rick about a huge orchard and with food running dangerously low, he couldn't risk passing up the opportunity. He sent You and Daryl because you're both fast, sneaky, smart, and great fighters. He also couldn't afford to leave for that long with trying to keep all the communities at peace and above water. A storm blew in an the rain got too heavy to keep driving, so he pulls over at the first old cabin he see's and you two stay there for the night. Era: post-negan, Rick trying to keep open trade between all the communities and build the bridge and all that jazz. Right before he blows himself up. Themes: Trust building, fluff, friendly Daryl Warnings: You have a sad backstory, without giving any spoilers. Also, probably cussing. As always. Word count:3,265 Note: There's a ton of Daryl dialogue and reader just nodding or shaking her head. Not sure how I feel about this one. I think I could have made it more interesting and fluffy? I might write a different one if I decide I don't like this one. Anyways, lmk what you think please!

        Daryl lit the fire in the old fireplace, rubbing his hands together and holding them out to soak up the heat. It was dark and rather chilly with the roaring storm outside. It had blown in fast, and the torrential downpour was too much to drive in. With slow squeaky windshield wipers and dim headlights that desperately needed replacing, there was no other option. Daryl pulled over to the first cabin he saw and rushed you inside, leaving the two of you to spend the night in an old dusty cabin that smelled like mildew and aged wood.

        "Should start warmin' up in a bit." He told you, standing up and looking around. He didn't bother waiting for a response, you wouldn't have anything to say. Nobody had ever heard you talk. I mean, sure, people did when yo were younger, before the turn. You weren't deaf like Connie. You thought it was probably just a trauma response. The day you came home to find your fiancé hunched over your two year old daughter, blood pooling on the ground... You could just never bring yourself to speak after that. When you heard your voice, you heard goofy laughs with your baby, sweet talks in bed with your man, phone calls with family and friends. Nowadays there was never anything worth talking about. Every time you tried to speak you were flooded with sweet memories and clouded by the terrible image of your undead lover eating your baby, your world. It was like this large painful lump in your throat had made a home there and prevented any sound from coming out.

        Nobody actually even knew your name. You never told them. They usually just called you Jane, as in Jane Doe. Daryl didn't mind you at all, though. In fact, he was quite fond of you. You were pretty, you could hold your own, and you were also... pretty. So pretty. He couldn't keep his eyes off you some days. He was never sure if you noticed, and you really didn't. That was really only because you tried your best not to look at him. You were helplessly attracted to him, so anything to avoid giving that away, you did.

        "Still got them bars in your bag?" He asked you, referring to the protein bars Carol sent you with. You opened your bag and tossed him one, opening another one for yourself.

        The two of you ate in silence. He tossed you a water bottle from his own bag, and you drank.

        Then, it was just the two of you, left to occupy yourselves. He spent an hour or so sharpening arrows and tweaking bits and pieces on his bow. You mostly just laid on the couch and picked at your nails, or scabs, or stared up at the ceiling, watching the spiders in their webs. 

        His mind was plagued with questions. Every time he was alone with you he found himself wondering the same things. Where were you from? What was your story? Why didn't you speak? What was your name?

        He got frustrated with he lack of answers or anything else to stimulate his mind and distract him. He sighed and pushed himself back and forth in the old dingy rocking chair.

        "Need to find you a notepad or somethin' like Connie has." He spoke.

        You looked over at him.

        "Just sayin', silence is deafening, y'know?"

        You just looked back up at the ceiling.

        "What about.. Okay." He sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. You looked back at him. "What if I asked you... yes or no questions. You can just nod or shake your head." He sounded hopeful and bored. You almost wanted to laugh at his eagerness, like a little kid trying to get his grandpa to tell him stories from the war. In reality, he just refused to sit there in silence all night.

        You didn't answer, because, of course not, but you just watched him curiously, not giving any indication of refusal.

        "Alright. Do you like fishing?"

        You furrowed your eyebrows. 

        "Right. You don't fish." He nodded. "Stupid question. What about.. Okay. Have you ever talked?"

        You gave a single nod after a moment of deciding if you wanted to tell him that or not.

        "Do you know why you stopped?"

        The question was like a dagger in your chest. You decided you didn't wanna play anymore. You just sighed and turned your attention back to the ceiling. 

        He didn't press further. He just stood up and started to wander, checking all the cabinets in the kitchen for anything useful. He found one thing, a can of Spam. 

        "You like Spam?" He asked, walking back into the living room. You glanced over at him and shook your head. You weren't hungry. He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He said as he dug into the canned meat.

        "Y'know, I had a friend. Her name was Beth. She died, and uh, I didn't talk much after that. It was hard to. Like my throat got all tight every time I tried." He said. "It took a while, but I got through it."

        You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to relate, hoping you'd open up some. You wished it was that easy, you really did. It was miserable having all these thoughts, needs, desires, and no way to express them.

        You knew you could speak, if you really wanted to. The problem was that you had never wanted to work hard enough to get past the lump.

        "You, uh, you're really no fun at sleepovers. Y'know that?"

        Silence. He waited a while. He wondered if he could make you laugh. He couldn't recall ever seeing you give more than a smile. He remembered the story he told Andrea all those years ago, and how it made her laugh.

        "Y'know, this one time when I was a kid. I got lost in the woods. I'm talkin' days, right. So, I gotta use the bathroom at some point. I wiped with leaves, cause I didn't have toilet paper or nothin', and turned out, it was poison ivy. I made it home eventually. Ass itched somethin' serious. I'm talkin' pullin' my underwear 'til the wedgie was so bad it gave me rug burn. Tried everything. Even took a fork outta the kitchen  and tried that. Nothin' helped."

        You were watching him now, grinning. A fork? Really? You wanted to ask if he threw it away or left it to get washed and used. He admired your smile for some time, before it faded. At least he got that.

        "My brother was in juvie back then. Dad wasn't around neither. Did I ever tell ya about the time Merle got crabs?"

        You shook your head,

        "Well, he came home one night from the bar. Passed out. Next day he couldn't stop itchin'. Come to find out, there were little bugs crawlin' around in his pubes."

        You frowned in disgust.

        "Anyways, tried to tell the dumb son of a bitch to just shave 'em off, but he didn't wanna so I had to ride with him to the free clinic to get some kinda dick shampoo. Turns out he slept with the same girl like three more times. Kept goin' back to her 'til the shampoo ran out. Guess he figured it didn't matter if he could keep washin' 'em out."

        You looked mortified.

        "Yeah, guess that wasn't funny." He agreed. "He was a nasty son of a bitch."

        You raised your eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

        "I see you hang around Connie a lot. She ever teach you any sign language?"

        You shook your head.

        "I got a book back home if ya want it."

        You shrugged. Could be nice to communicate again.

        "Looks like ya need new shoes." He commented, nodding to your feet propped up on the arm of the couch. The rubber soles were starting to detach from the shoe itself. You nodded. "Wanna stop somewhere and look?"

        You thought for a moment, nodding and shrugging at the same time, as if to say, 'Why not?'

        He sat back down in the rocking chair and rested his head back. He wasn't tired really. It wasn't even that late. The rain just made it seem darker than it was. He listened to the crackling fire and the windy storm outside, the occasional thunder booming around.

        He looked down at you. You seemed just as restless.

        "Wish I knew more about ya." He admitted.

        Usually he wouldn't be so forward with a pretty girl, but your constant silence made him feel like he was just talking to himself. He didn't have to worry about your reaction, though he often wondered what you thought of him.

        You looked at him again, curiously.

        You glanced around the room for anything you could use to tell him something about you. It could be like a game of charades.

        You noticed a map on the wall and walked over to it, pulling the large frame off the nail and walking over to him. You placed your finger on your home state to show him.

        "That's where you're from?"

        You nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips.

        "I'm from Georgia." He said. You gave an acknowledging nod.

        "Ever been to any other states?"

        You dragged your finger from your home state to  Virginia, showing him you had only been through the states that led you to wind up as one of the Saviors. Of course, you weren't one of Negan's fighters, you were just a maid on the cleanup crew. He had actually seen you a few times during his captivity at The Sanctuary. You almost looked as miserable as him.

        "Mm." He nodded with understanding.

        You set the map on the coffee table and walked around the room, looking for anything else to use as a clue. Your eye caught on a little pink bow, the kind with an elastic band that would go around a baby's head. You picked it up, eyes watering as you ran your fingers over it. You turned back to him and walked back to where he sat, holding it out to show him.

        "Ya like pink?" He asked, not quite understanding. You shook your head, trying to think of a better way to explain. Then you remembered the horizontal scar over your lower abdomen. You had your daughter via C-section.

        You lifted your shirt and pulled the waist of your jeans down slightly to expose the scar. You held the bow up again, then pointed at the scar.

        "Oh." He said lowly. "You had a daughter?"

        You nodded, still teary eyed. You took the bow to your bag, concealing it in one of the zipper pockets. You had run out of the house horrified on that awful day. You had no time to grab a memento for her, so that bow would have to serve as one.

        "I'm sorry." He told you. You just nodded in place of a thanks, wiping the tears away. You continued your search around the little cabin for clues. It was kind of fun, albeit painful. It was like a game.

        You took a little longer this time on your search, until you found a phone book. You took it and flipped open a page and walked back to him. This time he was standing up. 

        You held the book open so that he could see it, and pointed to two individual digits.

        "That's how old you are?"

        You nodded.

        "Is your name in there?"

        You shrugged and set the book down, reasoning that it'd be too much work to find it in all those pages.

        "So, you're (age), you had a daughter, and you're from (state)?"

        You nodded and smiled. This was the most you had communicated with anyone in years. It was nice.

        "Cool." He nodded with a small half smile. "You hungry?"

        You shook your head no.

        "Thirsty?"

        You waved your hand to say kind of.

        "I found some tequila in the kitchen."

        You raised your eyebrows. Now that was temptation if you ever saw it. Tequila was a luxury you hadn't come across in, well, you didn't even know how long. You nodded giddily and he huffed a silent chuckle, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of clear, liquid joy. You rushed over and grabbed it from him, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. You made a dramatic face as you shook your head. God, you didn't remember the burn being that bad.

        "Easy, tiger." He teased as he took the bottle and had some for himself.

        You smiled at him as he handed it back, the two of you taking turns until you felt that alcoholic heat in your ears and cheeks.

        "You like tequila?"

        You shurgged.

        "Just like drinkin'?"

        You nodded.

        "Good to know. If we don't finish this off we can bring it back for ya."

        You nodded and grinned. It was cute how happy you got over a simple drink, but he guessed with so little means of communication, anything was nice to take the edge off. He wondered if you felt lonely, like he often did. His was from a place of feeling misunderstood, though. Maybe it wasn't so different than being mute.

        "Is it hard?" He asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair as you sat on the coffee table just a foot away.

        You tilted your head inquisitively.

        "I mean, not bein' able to talk to nobody." He clarified.

        You nodded truthfully, looking down at the floor as you grabbed the bottle from him. 

        "Do ya remember what your voice sounds like?"

        You thought for a moment. Of course you did, that was what made it so hard. Your voice was linked to memories that you couldn't bare.

        You nodded.

        "Maybe I'll hear it one day."

        You smiled sweetly before you took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding. Maybe he would.

        "Something on the bottle caught your eye, a little sticker stuck to the bottom. You reached over and peeled it off as he tipped it back to take a drink. It was a simple yellow smiley face. You smirked and waited for him to put the bottle down before you reached over and stuck it to his nose.

        "The hell?" He grumbled, peeling it off and looking down at it. You couldn't help the silent giggle, your shoulders rising and falling as you scrunched your nose. The little sticker just contrasted his dark, serious exterior too well.

        He noticed your silent laugh and stuck it back to his nose, smiling a little at your amusement. You reached for the bottle and had some more before you passed it back.

        "Y'think that's funny, huh?"

        You nodded, still grinning. He swished the drink around in his hand, staring at it thoughtfully. He had learned more about you in a couple of hours than anyone probably had in the years you'd been around. Still, it wasn't enough. He was greedy and he wanted more.

        He glanced around the room, the fire growing smaller making it fairly dim. He noticed a little banjo off in the corner near the couch.

        "Ya like music?"

        You nodded.

        "Rick, too. Always playin' the worst CDs he can find. Makes my ears bleed." He complained. "What about like.. drawin' or anything. Got any hobbies?"

        You shrugged. Before, you mostly just liked being a mom and watching your favorite shows. Now, you really only worked to survive, so what hobbies were there really?

        "What about church? You like that kinda thing?"

        You shook your head.

        "Yeah me neither. Never believed in it much."

        You nodded in agreement.

        "My mom did, though. Liked to read the bible. She died. When I was a kid."

        You placed a hand on his knee, letting him know you empathized.

        "Yeah. Dad was a real ass, too. Merle was all I had and he wasn't around all that much."

        You gave a sad, thin smile.

        "What about you? You had both parents?"

        You nodded.

        "Brothers? Sisters?"

        You shook your head. You were an only child.

        "Consider yourself lucky." He joked. You nodded. "Pets? Did ya have any?"

        You nodded.

        "Cat?" 

        You shook your head.

        "Dog?"

        You held up the number two with your fingers.

        "Always wanted a dog."

        You smiled. You loved your dogs.

        "Ya miss 'em? The dogs."

        You nodded.

        He yawned.

        "Ya tired yet or ya wanna keep goin'?"

        You shrugged.

        He passed you the bottle and stood up, ruffling your hair a little. You swatted his hand playfully and took a drink.

        "Gon' make sure the doors are sealed up tight." He announced, walking off to find the back door and reinforce it.

        You stood off the coffee table, the hard surface making your butt sore. You stretched and walked back to the couch. When he came back he asked, "You sleepin' there?"

        You nodded. You would offer it to him, but last time you guys had to share a sleep space he hogged the bed and snored as loud as humanly possible, so this time you were doing him no favors. He laid out some blankets he found, making a nice palette on the floor to lay on. You set the bottle on the coffee table, feeling pretty tipsy by now, and relaxed on the couch the way you had before. He laid down on his back, propping his bag under his head for comfort.

        It was silent for a while, just the two of you enjoying the sounds of rain and the flames that were slowly dying down.

        "Thanks." He spoke up. You peeked down at him from the couch. He was mostly obscured by the coffee table but you could see half of his face.  "For tellin' me all that."

        You just smiled to yourself as you turned on your side, facing away from him and curling up into the ball you usually slept in. A few minutes went by. Just  as his eyes got heavy, he heard it.

        "(Y/N)." You said. "That's my name."

Every now and again I think of this Sarah tweet and just stare into the middle distance.

Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Summary: Daryl meets his match when traveling through the woods with Beth.

TW: Flirting, guns, fluff.

Daryl and Beth made their way through the woods in the direction of a small town. The group had been running low on supplies and sent Daryl up the road to see what he could find. Daryl was sure that it would be a waste of a few hours, the shops had likely been cleared out a long time ago. The only thing that kept him moving was the possibility of an auto shop.

His bike was getting old and would likely need replacement parts sooner rather than later.

"Daryl, look," Beth chirped suddenly.

Daryl looked up from the uneven terrain, following her gaze to a motorcycle parked at the base of a tree.

Maybe it was his lucky day after all.

"Looks like it still runs. You could probably get some good parts," Beth said.

Daryl nodded with a grunt, his eyes scanning the area warily as he made his way over.

Daryl reached out towards the bike, freezing in place when he heard a gun cock.

"Hands off the bike, sugar," Someone said.

Daryl stepped back and looked around, crossbow aimed at the trees around them. Beth pulled out her gun, staying close to Daryl's side.

"Up here, big guy," The voice called again.

Daryl and Beth looked up, squinting in the bright afternoon sunlight.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered when he spotted her.

The woman was up in a tree with a rifle pointed down at them.

"Sorry, thought it was up for grabs," Daryl said, eyes dropping to the bike before returning to the person in the tree.

"Well, it's not," She stated.

"It's a nice bike," Daryl said.

"I take good care of my things," She replied.

Daryl nodded, "Let's get out of here," He muttered before taking a step away from the motorcycle.

"We were just wonderin' if-" "Don't," Daryl said sternly.

"If she wanted to kill us we'd be dead already," Beth pointed out, tucking her gun away.

"She's right," The woman stated.

"Do you know if there's anywhere closeby where we can find parts for a bike like that?" Beth questioned, tilting her head towards the bike.

The woman lowered her gun, "There's an auto parts store about three miles East of here. Found it when I blew one of my shocks a while back," She said.

"Thanks," Beth smiled before lookig over at Daryl, "Now we can go," She said.

"Be careful, there was a herd of almost forty dead headed that way a few days ago. It would be a damn shame to see something happen to a handsome man like you over something as trivial as a bike part," The woman said, eyes running over him appreciatively.

"No way," Beth grinned.

"Shut up," Daryl muttered, his cheeks flushing at the compliment.

"I'm Beth and he's Daryl," Beth said.

"Let's go. Now," Daryl grumbled, walking in the direction of the town.

"I'm Y/N. It was nice meeting you, Daryl," Y/N called.

"It was nice meetin' you too, Y/N," Beth said, turning around and running after Daryl.

...

Daryl managed to cross paths with Y/N a few more times over the next few weeks. She moved around the area frequently and spent an alarming amount of time up in the trees. Y/N told him that it was safer than being on the ground and he was inclined to agree with her.

Rick and Daryl had decided to go out on a run to the nearest town in one of the cars. They were looking to stock up on cans and non-perishables for the upcoming months.

Rick parked in front of the shop before the pair slowly made their way up to the door. The small bell above the door jingled as they pushed it open. The men hesitated for a second, silently listening for movement before stepping into the store.

They moved across the room, scanning the area with weapons. Rick and Daryl shared a look before silently parting ways and searching the rest of the store.

Rick caught Daryl's gaze over the shelves before tilting his head towards the back room. Daryl nodded, continuing his search of the aisles.

Daryl froze when he heard a noise, a soft rustling sound from down one of the aisles. He stepped around the corner quickly, crossbow raised and ready to shoot.

"Long time no see, stranger," Y/N stated casually, staring down at the dented can in her hand.

"Jesus, Y/N. I coulda killed your ass," Daryl huffed, lowering his crossbow as he made his way over to her.

"Cute and funny," She mused with a smile. Y/N grabbed two more cans from the metal shelf and tucked them into her backpack.

"You can call your friend back in here, honey. I already swept the place," Y/N stated, zipping up her backpack.

She lifted the backpack strap up onto her shoulder before grabbing her gun from the floor beside her.

Y/N stood up, slipping her arm into the other strap of her bag.

"You leavin'?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, but I left plenty of supplies for you," Y/N assured, Daryl nodded.

"See you around, Daryl," Y/N said, making her way over to the door.

"You know, it's startin' to get colder out," Daryl called after her.

"That tends to happen in the winter," She stated, pushing open the door.

"You should come back with us... There's food, warm water and some actual beds if you're lookin' for somethin' more comfortable than a tree branch," Daryl said.

He wasn't quite sure why he found himself pushing for her to come to the prison with them. Daryl barely knew the woman, but he did worry about how she would survive out in the woods during the winter.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't do groups," Y/N stated.

"You could set up camp in the area then... Good huntin' and we have supplies if you run out," Daryl suggested, fidgeting with his crossbow nervously.

"I just might take you up on that... As long as you come visit me," Y/N said, hand slipping from the door handle as she made her way back over to him.

"I can do that," Daryl nodded.

"Good... Because I'm starting to like you, Daryl," Y/N smiled.

helloo whenever youre free can you write something about reader being daryls girlfriend and negan takes an interest towards her (like with olivia) and takes her with him maybe she becomes one of negans wife and he kisses her infront of daryl but both of them know they cant do anything shortly after they escape together… just curious about your thoughts!! <3

Word count: 2,373

Warnings: Reader is forced to be with Negan so.. there's that. (Not SA, just in general.) Also violence and profanity, of course.

Note: I haven't written for Negan before so I hope this feels genuine to his character!

        Every time he touched you, you cringed. He'd go to plant a kiss on you, you turned away. His hands were inescapable, as were his words. 

        "You're mine now, sweetheart." He'd say in your ear. Your chest would feel hot and tight, as if at any moment you'd simply explode. But you couldn't fight back, you couldn't swear or cry. No, that would only hurt the other man, the one you truly loved. The one you wanted to be with. The one who was being held in a cell probably descending into insanity with that god awful song playing on repeat. Sometimes at night, when The Sanctuary was quiet enough, you could hear it playing ever so faintly. That was when you'd cry. When you were around no one else and it was safe.

        You'd often think back to those sweet, tender moments you had with him.

        "Quit lookin' at me like that." He'd say.

        "Like what?" You'd giggle.

        "That."

        The other wives would tell you all the time that it wasn't worth it to think anymore, not about the past. You were his now, and his alone. There was no escape, no hope for return, only him, only Negan. They told you to just enjoy it, that you had it better than anyone else in The Sanctuary, or anyone in the communities they exploited.

        That wasn't an option for you, though. You needed that hope, those sparking glimpses of what you had, or everything would just be dark.

        "Hey there." Negan grinned from behind you, where you had been leaning your forearms on the counter, head hanging low. Your hair cascaded around you, a messy curtain shielding you from the room around you. "What do ya say we.. Go out?"

        You turned your head a little, not turning to face him but enough to acknowledge him.

        "Yeah, like, a date!" He chuckled enthusiastically. 

        "A date." You scoffed.

        "Well, that's what husbands and wives do, right?"

        "Yeah." You said lowly, voice laced with sorrow and defeat.

        It irked him the way he could give you the best life out of anyone you or he knew, aside from his other wives, but somehow you still managed to take it for granted. He had a plan, though, that he was sure would scare you into obedience. He wanted to treat you well, as he did all the wives, but his sympathy only went so far. What he wanted above all else was submission. He could never love you or anyone the way he loved Lucille, and since he could never get her back, he'd simply collect the pretty girls he came across like trophies.

        "Well, what the fuck are we waitin' for, my beloved?" He chuckled, sarcasm oozing from his tongue. "Let's get movin'! Got somethin' real special planned for you."

        Your heart sank a little. He was a charismatic man, but he only showed this much excitement when he expected to bring misery on someone else.

        "We're on easy street         And it feels so sweet"

        "Now this, darlin', I think you'll really like." Negan said with that shit eating grin that dug under your skin and made your stomach churn.

        "'Cause the world is 'bout a treat         When you're on easy street"

He never took his eyes off of you as he gleefully reached for the thick metal door and pulled it open. Darkness leaked out. It felt like the shadows were slithering across the floor and reaching for your feat, ready to wrap around your ankles and tug you in.

        "And we're breaking out the good champagne         We're sitting pretty on the gravy train"

        "Well, go on. After you." He urged you, holding his hand out and stepping to the side like the doorman at a fancy hotel. You swallowed a dry gulp and sucked in a breath of bravery. Had you not been good enough? Was it your turn to be in a cell?

        "And when we sing every sweet refrain repeats         Right here on easy street"

  You stepped slowly, one foot after the other, closing your fists and digging your nails into your palms in hopes the pain would wake you from this nightmare. When you walked in, Negan stepped in behind you. Your eyes didn't adjust well.

        "Well, come on tough guy. Don't be shy." He said into the darkness. It took a while but a shadowy mass seemed to rise in the corner. As it drew closer to you and the light trickled in over its face you gasped.

        "Daryl." You covered your mouth. Your eyes watered at the sight of him. His skin was caked in sweat and dirt but not enough to cover the bruises and cuts that littered his face and circled around his eyes.

        He looked so miserable. Your chest ached more than it had the entire time you had been there.

        You went to step forward and embrace him but Negan wrapped an arm over your chest and pulled your back into him. 

        "Aht-aht-aht... Don't forget. You're mine now." He whispered in your ear, just loud enough for Daryl to hear. Daryl stepped forward but Negan held his bat out against his chest. "I wouldn't do that." He taunted. "Anyways, I didn't bring her all the way over here just to check out your studio suite. Come on, let's all go for a little walk, shall we?"

        Negan walked with his hand around your arm, keeping you close to him and distant from Daryl who trailed behind the two of you. He took you out to an empty courtyard where a small table was set with some wine and a meal on each side. Two chairs were pulled out for you and Negan and his men stood against the surrounding walls to intervene if Daryl acted up.

        "Have a seat." He told you as he set you in one of the chairs. "You," he looked to Daryl, pointing at him with Lucille. "Stand right there."

        Negan took the seat across from you and admired the setup before him. 

        "My, my. Isn't this nice, darlin'?" He asked you. You were at a loss for words. You just sat across from him uncomfortably. "Don't be rude." He snapped.

        You nodded. "It's nice." You croaked. All you wanted to do was cry.

        "Good. Now, dig in. Don't let my hard work go to waste." He ordered. You glanced over at Daryl. "Don't look at him."

        You pulled in a breath and it came back out shakily. You slowly reached for the silverware and began picking at the food, taking tiny bites. You felt nauseated.

        "Now, is this a date, or is this a date?" Negan chuckled, a mouth full of food. Food that was taken from your people, food that they starved to give him.

        You didn't respond. You couldn't. His silverware clanked as he dropped it on his plate. A frustrated sigh escaped him -- or rather -- he pushed a sigh out to be sure you'd hear his frustration. 

        "(Y/N), dear, why don't ya come over here and sit on my lap?" He asked. You froze. Absolutely the fuck not. But, did you have a choice? "Don't keep me waiting. You don't want to keep me waiting."

        You'd never met someone who could be so happy yet so menacing. 

        You stood slowly, reluctantly approaching him at the speed of a snail, savoring every moment where he wasn't touching you.

        He pushed his chair back to make room for you and welcomed you onto his lap. You felt your body shrivel up as he ran a hand over your back and brushed your hair with his fingers. With your back turned to him you were able to sneak a glance toward Daryl. Your heart just shattered more. He looked so pained seeing you touched by another man, especially against your will. Maybe he could handle it if you decided to want someone else, maybe he could stomach that. But watching you endure psychological torture was too much to bare.

        "Turn this way." Negan coaxed, pulling your thighs to the side to spin you. Now your body faced Daryl, but your face didn't because Negan had a gentle yet firm hold of your jaw and he was turning your face to him.

        He leaned in slowly and connected his lips with yours. You went rigid, frozen solid. You couldn't escape his kiss this time. Any resistance would have been a greenlight to his soldiers to hurt Daryl even worse.

        Daryl couldn't take anymore though. He'd be beaten to death if it meant he didn't have to see that anymore.

        "You bastard." He growled as he went to lunge forward. His reaction was expected, though. Negan's men were on him in the blink of an eye, dragging him away as he tugged and yanked, trying to free himself from their grasp.

        Negan scooted you off him and stood up. You couldn't take your eyes off of your man, your best friend, your rock. Daryl.

        "That is a tragedy." Negan shook his head, feigning disappointment, as if that wasn't exactly what he expected to happen. "Teach him." Was all he had to say for his men to initiate a brutal attack. Daryl got a few good punches in. He always put up a good fight, part of the reason Negan wanted him to surrender so bad. If he could break such a wild beast, he'd have the best addition to his army he'd ever seen.

        "No!" You shrieked. You tried to run for him but Negan grabbed you around the waist. You collapsed to the ground, desperately reaching for Daryl as the surrounding attackers got the better of him. When they had him on the ground they started kicking and didn't stop. You cringed at each painful grunt Daryl uttered as Negan dragged your sobbing frame away from the scene.

        Negan was gone for the day, most likely out terrorizing someone you loved back at Alexandria. Sherry, another one of Negan's stolen wives, walked up and placed a hand on your shoulder. You hadn't eaten in days, barely drank water, rarely spoke. You were torn to pieces, replaying every strike his men struck on Daryl, every sound he made, wondering if he was alive.

        Part of you hoped they'd just put him out of his misery. If there really was no hope, at least you could believe he wasn't suffering anymore.

        "Hey." She said softly. Of all the wives, you related to her the most. Dwight was her real husband, before Negan took her from him. She knew what you were feeling, at least to some extent.

        "Hey." You managed.

        "It's time." She told you. You gave her a questioning look. "Come."

        You followed her out of the home and through the Sanctuary to the building where they kept their prisoners. She brought you to his door. His door. You were sure she brought you to say goodbye, that he wouldn't be around much longer.

        "You can go now. Don't let anyone see." She said quickly before she turned and ran away.

        "Wh -- Sherry! Wait!" You called after her.

        "Just go! The door's unlocked!" She turned to you one last time before she disappeared. She needed not say more. You did wonder if it was a test, but if it was, it was a test you'd gladly fail for even a glimpse of hope.

        You tugged his door open and called his name. "Daryl?"

        He stood quickly, looking behind you for Negan or other Saviors. 

        "Just me. Come on. We have to go now." You urged. You took his hand and pulled him out of the cell, looking around for a way out.

        "C'mon." He told you, tugging you in another direction as if he knew where he was going. The sounds of Saviors echoed from somewhere. He tugged you into a room and shut the door behind him, frantically searching around. 

        "There." You whispered, pointing at a pile of clothes with his vest on top.

        He swiftly changed into his old clothes and out of the grimy white sweat suit they had made him wear before. You grabbed a jar of peanut butter and held it out to him. He dug his fingers in and ate the entire contents in just a few bites. When he finished he wiped his hands clean on his old sweats before peaked out of the door. The coast was clear, and it was time.  He tugged you along, wasting no time at all. He beat a single Savior to death with a pipe in fear he'd ruin your escape. 

        As if God was on your side that day, you two stumbled across his bike. There it was, it was either sign this was an elaborate setup or that you were really escaping together. He threw a leg over the seat and you quickly climbed on behind him. He cranked it and revved the engine. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly, resting your face against his back as he sped away.

        You two rode for an hour before he pulled off to the side of the road. The two of you stepped off the bike.

        "What are you doing? We have to go! They'll catch us--"

        He cut you off with his hands, gripping either side of your face and slapping his lips into yours. You let go of any anxiety you had felt and just melted into his lips.