Desperately Need James Or Remus To Make All My Decisions For Me. I Dont Want To Think At ALL

Desperately need James or Remus to make all my decisions for me. I don’t want to think at ALL😭

Remus has your hand in his as he leads you towards the bookstore.

You’d been anticipating a new read for the last couple of weeks and wanted to see if the bookstores finally got it.

“Do you think they’ll have it Remmy? I really don’t want to get it online.”

You swing your interlocked fingers, walking in step with your boyfriend as the October winds whip past you both.

It’s not biting cold, no sting in the wind yet but it’s cold enough to chill you.

“They’ll have it dove.” You don’t know that Remus had called ahead and had made sure they had the book and another you’d been looking forward too as well.

You’re still swinging your hands when Remus stops in the road, your body stilling a second later.

“Why’d we stop?” You ask, face a little red from the cold as you look up at him.

“Light’s red, dovey.” Your eyes follow the finger pointing to the stop sign and you nod.

“Didn’t notice.” You shrug, your hand moving from his palm to his bicep while you wait.

You don’t see it, but Remus beams when you tuck your face into his arm. It was a throwaway comment to you, but to Remus it means that you have full trust in him, in what you’re doing together and he can’t help but feel his heart speed up because of it.

<33

hi lovey <33 i admire your work so much and hope life is treating you well <3

not to bug you but i was wondering if you could write this thought for me? the thought being drunk rafe and he's so touchy and sweet with you. he's like, "i'm gonna marry you one day" all saccharine sweet and you're like, "baby u have to sleep" and he's like, "okay but what flowers should be have at our wedding?" ahhhh it’s just so cute!

╰┈➤ drunk rafe gets a little emotional

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing.

summary: barry delivers y/n a very early birthday present, a very loved up, drunk rafe.

“incoming!” barry called from the front of the house, causing y/n to rush from the kitchen. she wasn’t too surprised, barry had called her not too long ago, warning her he was bringing rafe home, yet failed to mention the state he was in.

pulling the door open in a flash, she ran out hurriedly, expecting some sort of crime scene, as usual. yet was pleasantly surprised to find her boyfriend stumbling up the drive way, an arm slung around barry’s shoulder.

“bare! look! that’s my girlfriend, have you met her? awh man, she’s great!” he gushed, pointing towards her frantically. chuckling, barry shot y/n an apologetic glance, knowing she was in for a long night with this one.

“yes, rafe. i’ve met her plenty of times..” he sighed, pushing his friend through the front door, accidentally sending him crashing onto the floor.

ignoring the drunken mess behind her, she turned to barry, thanking him for bringing rafe home safely, for once.

closing the door behind her, she turned to her boyfriend, humming and harring about what to do with him. “okay, come on” she huffed, ushering him up the stairs. “where are we going?” he beamed excitedly, turning to face her, grinning ear to ear. “we’re going to bed baby”

“bed? no, i want to spend time with you angel..” he cooed, tripping over the last step, distracted by her sheer beauty. “you can, in bed” she stated, attempting to be stern with the intoxicated, six foot two giant now holding onto the wooden railing for dear life.

“fine, fineee…” he slurred, following her into the bedroom like a kicked puppy.

once she’d convinced him to get under the covers, she did the same, kicking her slippers to the side.

after a moments silence, she internally cursed at his sudden need to ramble on.

“you know, i love you so much. like, you are just so amazing, and-and so beautiful it like, honestly? it makes me want to throw up..” he gushed, turning around to face her, pressing a wet kiss to the tip of her nose.

she lay silent as he continued, talking him to herself about her as if she wasn’t there.

“when we get married, can we have a big cake? i love cake..” he sighed, his mind drifting to all types of baked goods.

“yes of course, if..you go to sleep, now” she suggested, awaiting a drunken refusal.

“yes ma’am!” he cheered, saluting her before turning back over, too far gone to go on his usual rant about her hair is always in his face.

taking the win, she rested her head on his back, appreciating the heat radiating from him. just as her mind fogged over, her ears perked up once more.

“we should get a dog…”

Daryl’s feet felt heavy on the stairs and across the porch. You heard his boot steps inside and were immediately up, rushing toward the front door. A heavy sigh escaped the archer as he reached for the doorknob. He was weary. It had been an entirely crappy could of days. They’d barely been able to find any useful supplies on the scavenge trip.

Before his fingers could even touch the brass of the knob, it pulled inward and you were standing there with tousled hair and a grin on your face that seemed brimming with sunlight. His eyes drifted over you. You were wearing your favorite pair of socks, surprisingly soft wool ones that were clearly too big and folded and bunched around your calves. You were wearing one of his sweaters, also far too large. The hem was brushing your bare thighs.

“Hi,” you greeted him, still beaming.

Some of the pain in his shoulders and back seemed to diminish just at the sight of you. “Hey,” he drawled, stepping in toward you across the threshold. He tugged the door gently from your hand and shut it behind him and that’s when you barreled into him, your body flush against his, your arms wrapping around him tightly. You ear came to his chest and you closed your eyes as you listed to the steady whoosh of his heart. Daryl let out a low chuckle, some of the fatigue falling from him now too. His arms hugged you back tightly.

“I missed you so much,” you breathed.

“Missed ya too,” he murmured, tucking a kiss into your hair. “Can’t imagine I smell too good…” he murmured.

“Shut up,” you retorted, pulling back. “I don’t even care.”

Daryl let his pack and his crossbow slip from his shoulder and hardly had any notice before you looped your arms around his neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. You tucked your face in against his neck and breathed in his smell. Musky. Wood smoke. Leather. Autumn air. Grass after a rainstorm.

Daryl had to shift to regain his balance and laughed as he brought his arms up to loop around to support you. “Christ, woman… Can’t even hardly let me get in the damn door,” he said.

“Nope. I can’t.” You pulled back to look into his blue eyes and brushed some of his wavy hair out of his face. “I missed you.”

Daryl smiled. This is what he fought for. This is what he did everything for… He hugged you more tightly and carried you straight toward the bed you shared.

Prompt: “Sometimes you have to go home to remind yourself what you’re fighting for.”

You Know Me

Daryl reassures you that nothing ever happened between him and Leah.

content warning: 18+ for mature themes and suggestive material, insecurity, reader character asking if Daryl cheated (he would never), hurt/comfort, reader and Daryl are married, lots of pet names and domestic bliss, some praise at the end, very anti Leah Shaw.

"Daryl, when you were out there looking for Rick-"

You've had this conversation many times over the past few years, but for a while you had forgotten all about it. You were happy with him, your husband, the man who you knew would give everything to keep you safe. You two had gone through so much together from the very beginning, and after the Whisperers were gone you thought it would be a good time to settle down with Daryl and focus on building a family. Everything was okay- until she showed up.

You knew what Leah had done to him, how she tortured him for information. He wouldn't tell you everything, but when he came back from that place, from the Reapers, he was different. He was hurting.

"It was her," he had told you as soon as you were in his arms again. "It was Leah."

You didn't speak the rest of the night, you just listened.

Now, a few months later, it's on your mind again. You hate that it is, you know your husband is busy with work and he doesn't need to hear about your insecurities. You know you should be focused on settling into your new home, building a new life here in the Commonwealth- yet you can't help but think back on unresolved conversations from the past.

Judith and RJ are with Carol for the night, and you've made dinner with whatever you could afford at one of the little grocery stores in town- it was so surreal having this domestic bliss with Daryl, it would be a shame to ruin it by rehashing old haunts. You can't help it, you've tried for so long to keep your questions to yourself but they keep piling up. You just want peace.

He's exhausted when he comes home, you can tell by the way he groans when he pulls off each piece of that ridiculous suit armor. All you want is to take care of him, to give him a warm meal and take him to bed to relieve his stress, but you have to have that talk first. If you don't do it now, you know you'll just keep putting it off.

"Hey, sunshine." His voice is so soft and full of so much love. You can hear how bad he just wants to love on you, and the way he looks at you makes your heart clench.

"Hey, handsome. How was it today? Mercer go easy on you this time?"

He scoffs and you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face. He doesn't need to say more, you've become a master at reading his nonverbal cues. By the look he gives you, you know he's had a long day.

"Hey, Dar'?"

"Yes, my love?"

He gets up from where he was sitting to unlace his boots, dropping them by the door so he can wrap his arms around your waist. He looks hungry, and not for the lasagna you have cooking in the oven. You want to give into his desires, you want nothing more than to have him take out his frustrations of the day on you, but you'd be thinking of her the entire time.

"I need to ask you something."

"Okay, babygirl, ask me somethin'." His head dips to the curve of your neck and his mouth latches onto your skin, his hands rubbing up and down your sides and your back. You don't want to ruin this moment, he seems so content just standing here with you. "Go ahead, 'fore I throw ya over my shoulder and take ya to bed."

"Daryl, stop." You push him away and all the joy from his face disappears. It makes you feel sick. "It's serious."

He nods, his hands resting on your hips, unmoving. His entire demeanor shifts. "Okay, sweetheart, I've got all night. Do you want to sit?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He takes your hands, noting that they're shaking, and pulls you into the small livingroom so the two of you can do this sitting on the couch. He's incredibly attentive, and you can tell he's running through every possible scenario in his mind. You can tell that he doesn't know what he did wrong and he's scared you're leaving him.

"What's goin' on? Talk to me. I'm right here, you can ask me anythin'." It takes you a moment, and as much as he wants to be patient with you, he can't take the silence. "Sweetheart, I'm real worried right now, please talk to me."

"Daryl, when you were out there looking for Rick," you can't even look at his face, "and you met that woman in the woods. Leah. What happened between you two?"

A deep sigh deflates his lungs, his hands curling around yours. He understands your question, you asked him this many times during the first few years after he came back home. He had been patient with you every time, and he always will be.

"You know me, you know I didn't do anythin' that would hurt ya." He knows you can't bring yourself to look at him, but he needs you to. He reaches up to take your chin in his hand, gently turning your face towards him. "Sweetheart, ya know me."

"Then tell me everything, please? The truth, the full truth."

Your voice sounds so desperate and he hates that he's made you feel this way. He hates that you're scared and it's his fault. He's supposed to protect you from this.

His eyes never leave yours, and you watch as they well with tears. "I missed you, when I was out there. I missed ya so bad, honey," his own voice breaks but he keeps going. "I met her and I thought she would be a good ally to have. Someone to trade with, someone to... talk to."

"Talk to?" You pull your hands from his, turning your face away.

"Talk to," he repeats. "Just talk. Not the way I know you're thinkin' right now, so stop thinkin' it." He ducks his head down, trying so hard to meet your gaze. "Stop thinkin' it."

"I can't. I think about it all the time."

"How often do ya waste your time thinkin' bout that woman? She's not worth all that, she ain't. She was an awful person. She tried to hurt our family." He takes your face in his hands again, needing you to really hear him. "She tried to hurt me."

"You were out there with her for so long," you protest, tears threatening to spill. "I waited for you, I was alone and you were with her."

"Not like that. Nothin' ever happened. I told ya about her as soon as Carol brought you out there to visit me. I never kept her from ya, I've never kept anythin' away from ya unless it was to keep ya alive." He sounds so desperate for you to believe him, to trust him again. "You gotta know that."

"But you always went back to her and you never came home-"

Admitting that out loud is your last straw. You break down, sobbing openly in front of him. He hasn't seen you cry like this for a while, and never because of him. He pulls you against his chest without a second thought, wrapping his strong arms around you tight.

You believe him, but a part of you is still terrified that he's keeping something from you. You can't shake that feeling, even as he takes your face in both of his hands and stares down into your eyes. "The truth, Daryl. Please, baby?"

"It wasn't like that at all, honey. I shared shelter with her, never even slept in the same room. I promise." He feels so guilty even though he knows for a fact he never did anything unfaithful, he never even considered it for a moment. "I wanted to come home to you so bad, I thought about you all the time- every night. I only stayed with her 'cause she was out there where I was lookin' for Rick.

"Sweetheart, 'm real sorry I kept that from ya, but ya gotta know it was never like that for me. I never once thought of her like that, never. I was never attracted to her neither, so don't even ask that." He tilts your chin up, smiling. "You're the only one I got eyes for, and that hasn't changed the entire time I've known ya."

"I left when I realized she had the wrong idea 'bout me. That's the part I never told ya, that I turned tail and ran the moment I realized she had feelin's for me. I didn't want you to ever think, even for a second, that I returned those feelings, 'cause I didn't. The most I ever felt was guilty for leavin' her there on her own, that's why I went back to look for her. I felt responsible, and I wondered what would've happened if I hadn't left like that. I thought somethin' awful happened to her, I thought it was my fault."

It hurts to know he had kept that from you, but you understand why. You understand that he wanted to avoid this exact conversation.

You reach out for him, placing your shaking hands on his chest, and you can feel his taut muscles relax under your palms. You can feel the relief your touch brings him.

"When she took me hostage," he continues, placing one large hand over the two of your small ones, keeping them pressed firmly to his chest. "I played her so I could keep our family safe. That's all that happened."

"Did you-"

"No." He knows what you were going to ask. "Even when I was undercover and tryin' to stay on her good side, I never touched her. Not at all. Never even thought 'bout it, honey."

"Would you have, if you had to? If rejecting her would've blown your cover?"

His hand curls around yours, squeezing reassuringly. "Never. Keepin' our family safe is important to me, but when I married ya-" His voice cracks, tears now freely spilling down his sunkissed face. "I made a vow, an' I don't break my vows. Not when it's you. I'd rather die than betray you, and I'd choose you over everyone else, every time. You know that, right?"

You nod slowly, scrambling to pull yourself onto his lap, needing to be closer.

"Good girl," he sighs into your hair, his voice a low growl as his large hands help position you on his lap. "Good girl. Now, I never want you to think about that woman again, okay? Can ya do that for me? Can ya forget her? She doesn't matter, she never did. I never felt anythin' for her and nothin' ever happened between us. The best thing that ever came of that situation was Dog, you love Dog."

When you don't respond, he runs his fingers through your hair and whispers against your ear, "can ya at least try? Can ya do that for me, sweetheart? Just try."

You press yourself closer to his warm body, hiding your face in his neck so he doesn't see the way he makes you so bashful. "Okay, I'll try to forget. I'll really, really try."

"That's my girl."

"I'm so sorry for this, Daryl," you whisper, shame and guilt starting to set in.

"Don't you dare apologize, sweetheart. I'll have none of that. If it made you feel better, I'm happy we had this talk."

You pull back just enough to look at him, and for the first time in a long time, you feel completely at peace. "Thank you."

He smiles at you, bouncing you in his lap to let you know he wants to get up. "I smelled lasagna when I came home, and I'd really like to feed you while we lay in bed completely naked. That sound like a good night?"

"Hell yeah it does."

He stands with you still wrapped around him, holding your thighs to support your weight as he carries you across the room towards the kitchen.

"You're the only woman I'd ever want to do that with, sunshine."

"I'm flattered, big guy."

of driving and daydreams - s.h

summary - in which steve loves singing his heart out and dreaming of the future with his sweetheart beside him

warnings - mentions of food, kissing and general relationship touching

word count - 0.9k

author's note - This is loosely inspired by a wonderful thought by an anon which you can find here! I just loved the idea of singing in the car with stevie! Used a semi-accurate time period song!

Steve loved driving with you. Whether it was a quick trip dropping you off to a coffee shop on his way to work or a long drive to the beach on a hot summer’s day, Steve loved his time behind the wheel with you at his side.

With one hand on the wheel, the other rests on the bare skin of your thigh, thumb rubbing soft swoops into the warm flesh below the denim of your shorts. The sun is beaming through the window, encasing you both in an amber glow, the chocolate in Steve's eyes turning to honey through the haze. You’re off to have a late afternoon picnic, summer sun still glowing brightly despite the passing hours.

You’d spent the morning in his kitchen, cutting fruit whilst Steve prepared some sandwiches, strawberry stained lips creating sugar-sweet kisses in between tasks. A gingham blanket and a picnic basket sit comfortably in the back-seat, your sandals thrown haphazardly amongst them, knowing you'll want to run barefoot in the grass the moment you get there.

Steve hums along to some song on the radio, sunglasses perched on his nose, freckles kissing the skin in a constellation brought out by time spent lounging in the sun. His hair flaps in the wind, strands swirling in their wake thanks to the rolled down windows. Tanned arm stretched towards the wheel, muscles flexing with each slight shift. Your boyfriend is handsome to begin with, but god does he look pretty in summer, it's like he’s the sun incarnate, glowing with something you wish you could bottle up for when you were apart.

You lean forward, sunglasses slipping from your hair to rest across your eyes, and fiddle with the radio stations, hoping for something summery to come on. Steve eyes you through his peripheral vision, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches your nose scrunch in concentration, the task of finding a perfect song clearly being a serious one. He knows you'll get bored halfway through and want to change it like you always do, eager to hear the next song, but he finds your determination adorable every time.

‘Head Over Heels’, blasts through speakers of the car and he squeezes your thigh softly in protest, announcing, ‘I love this song honey, keep it on,’ another squeeze to emphasise his point. The opening beats begin and he taps his hand atop the steering wheel, head bobbing along, hair flopping with each movement. Your mouth pulls into an amused smile, his actions endearing. He starts singing the lyrics, softly at first, absentmindedly mumbling along. He can feel your gaze upon his face, cheeks warming at the thought of you watching him. He never thought he'd find someone so enamoured with him that his singing would be a spectacle you’d want to witness, and yet here you were, soaking up every word that fell from his lips, just like your skin with the sun's rays through the car's windows.

As the song builds to the chorus he starts to make eye contact with you, head tilted towards yours as he directs the words to you. His voice gets louder, filled with joy and enthusiasm, and whilst some words come off pitchy, you don’t think you've ever heard a more beautiful song, his happiness infectious.

His hand lifts from your thigh to make an imaginary microphone, and he throws his head back in an act of passion as he sings the chorus. ‘Something happens and I’m head over heels,’ flies from his lips, eyes locking with yours, nodding dramatically as he sings much too loud for the small space - you couldn't care less, his voice blanketing you in something you can only describe as glee - at the love you feel for him and his own joy.

As the song continues, and he tries to practice road safety alongside his antics, he puts on a silly voice, trying to mimic the artist and make you laugh. Giggles fall from your lips at his charm, and he thinks they must be the prettiest song he’s ever heard, he nearly turns the song off just to hear them clearer.

As the song nears it’s close, he flings his hand in front of yours, microphone at the ready, and stares you down with the cheesiest grin and you find your own pulling wider. He shakes his hand in prompt, even smushing it softly into the warm skin of your cheek, and through a fit of giggles you join him in bringing the song to a close. You probably look like the dorkiest people in the world, heads tilted towards one another, saccharine smiles on your faces as you belt the lyrics together, but you couldn't care less - the only person who matters most sitting beside you.

When the song ends and fades into another Steve watches you, slightly breathless with a grin still pulling at your lips, fixing the sunglasses atop your head, and he feels like his heart could burst at the sight. He realises that he could spend forever doing this with you, enjoying the simple bliss of shared songs and laughter.

As he continues the drive to the field, the both of you indulging in your karaoke session further, he daydreams of summer days to come. His hand returns to your thigh with a squeeze you know is a silent, ‘I love you,’, you saying your own with a kiss to his bicep. He knows he’s head over heels for you, and he can't wait to fall further.

rafe’s always touching you.

the first time he did it was on your first date—dinner at a fancy restaurant on the beach followed by a walk on the soft sand. he picks you up in his truck and you’re wearing something pretty and short, how you guessed he’d like. rafe keeps a firm, yet gentle grip on your thigh while he drives.

you wonder if it’s a little forward for a first date—because after all, it’s only been a week since you first met him at the beach, when he bought you a lemonade and talked to you like he already knew everything about you, before jj interrupted. 

rafe parks his truck and hops out while you pull down the mirror in his passenger seat so you can apply another layer of lip gloss. you haven’t even undone your seat belt when he swings around, opening the door for you. you smile at him sweetly, thinking about how he’s such a gentleman. another thought floats around your head—how wrong your friends were about him. 

he takes your hand into his to help you get down, and his other hand floats around your hip incase you stumble. holds onto your wrist while the two of you walk into the restaurant, presses his fingers into your shoulder after he finishes pushing in your seat for you. during dinner, you’re sure he’d find some other way to touch you if you weren’t already playing footsie with him under the table.

after dinner he takes you for ice cream and keeps his arm swung around your shoulder while the two of you walk around the beach, watching the sunset. when he kisses you, he puts both hands on your face, holding you between them while your lips are attached to his. 

maybe it is a little forward, but you never think about it again—that’s just how rafe is. warm to the touch, deeply possessive, he likes making sure everyone knows who you belong to. you don’t dwell on it much, in fact, you like it, more than you could have imagined.

he guides you with one hand on your lower back, moves you through the crowd at the country club. everyone gets out of the way when he’s walking by, anyways, but he likes to make sure you’re not getting pushed around by some drunk idiot or star-struck waiter. with him always by your side, you feel safer, protected, at peace. no one tries to bother you anymore, with annoying boys turning around the second they see who the arm around your back belongs to. you think even adults are treating you better, with the way the lady at the shop runs around trying to cater to you, the way the waiter at dinner dashes to get you another lemonade.

you feel bad, since it feels strange. you don’t want to be treated any differently. but with the way rafe spoils you and how nice everything with him is, you wonder if you could get used to this.

you accompany him to house parties, hand rubbing your back soothingly while he’s drinking a beer. you’re half asleep on his shoulder, not used to these types of kook parties where everyone is snorting powder off of glass and mirrors instead of smoking on the beach. one of his friends says something that you can barely understand in your sleepy state, but you see him gesturing at you and hear a laugh. it’s almost automatic—rafe’s touch gets harder by tenfold. he says something low and quiet. “why’re you even looking at her?”

“just a joke, rafe, take it easy-”

“get the fuck outta here before i put your head through the table, asshole.” 

you keep him company when he’s working, or at least doing whatever it is that he calls work with barry. you sit on the couch, legs sprawled across his lap and his hand on your ankle, fingers messing with the little anklet he got you—no R pendant matching the one around your neck but rather a pretty yellow stone, rafe’s birthstone. your nose is buried in your book, flipping through the pages when you hear something that catches your attention.

“you really wanna have this talk in front of your girl, country club?” 

you could try to be inconspicuous, but it wouldn’t work for a second. rafe would see right through you if you lied to him, and as a result, you’ve never even attempted to do so.

you lower your book so your eyes are visible, glancing between your boyfriend and barry. rafe turns to look at you, fingers still on your anklet. you worry he’ll break it with the way he plays with it. then he turns, pulling out headphones from his pocket and offering them to you. you look between the two boys one more time, wondering if you should say something. you ultimately decide against it.

you put them on and blast the music, going back to your book. you only look up one more time, when rafe is gripping your ankle so hard it hurts. you jerk your foot against him, making him loosen his touch. he rubs the skin he’s just bruised the rest of the time you’re there.

when the two of you are walking back to his truck, probably headed back to his place for the night, he brings you in for a hug the way always does, arm around your neck, pulling you close. he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“you were real good in there,” he murmurs against your hair. you’re a little confused, looking up at him for some clarity. 

“hm?”

“nothing, kid. get in the car.”

he drives you home, fingers tapping on your knee the whole drive. when you get to tannyhill, he doesn’t even let your feet hit the ground before scooping you into his arms like a bride, carrying you up to his bedroom. 

he holds your hair when you get on your knees in front of him. he grips your thighs when he eats you out. but you think your favorite touch from rafe is when you’re in his lap, your tits against his chest, his arms wrapped around your back, foreheads touching and lips glued together, when every part of you is touching every part of him. 

when the two of you are done, you collapse on the bed next to him. he moves your head so you’re laying on his chest, hand resting above his heart, legs tangled with his, fingers playing with each other.

yeah, you think in your fucked-out state. i could get use to this.