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Save It: Mikey Berzatto x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cleacc @cutebookdragon1 @bungurus @nogoodbee

Sequel to:

Mess - Mikey tries to prove to you both he made the right decision by leaving.

The Diagnosis - Mikey recieves an explaination regarding his behaviour and addiction issues.

Being with you is akin to a religious experience, that’s what Mikey thinks as his mouth chases all over your skin, his calloused hands stroking over every part of your body. Your hands thread through his hair as he nuzzles your inner thigh, the stubble on his cheeks sending a rush of heat searing through your nerve endings.

He loves going down on you, he loves the way you arch against him, your grip tightening on his hair when he thrusts his tongue inside of you, his thumb tracing light circles over your clit. You taste like fucking sunshine and he just can’t get enough of you.

He devours you like man whose starving, like he’s trying to make up for every little shitty thing he’s ever done because in reality he is. He knows eating you out isn’t nearly enough but it’s a start he thinks, a way to remind you just how dedicated he is to you, just how much he loves you.

You’re breathing hitches and already Mikey can feel the fall coming. He hears it in those cute little whimpers, the breathy way you say his name as he uses his palms to hold you open as he fucks you with his mouth. Your grip tightens on his hair, your hips arching and suddenly your flooding his mouth with that sweet nectar of yours and Mikey’s just lapping it up because he needs to consume every single drop of your pleasure.

His hands grasp your waist as he begins to kiss his way back up your body, his heated lips dragging across your flushed skin as he caresses you. You need to stay connected in the aftermath and he gets that. You need to feel the weight of his, body, the press of him because it grounds you in the moment, it reminds you that he’s here to stay, that this isn’t a one night thing like all the other times he’s loved and left you.

“Mikey…” You whisper as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. He knows those three little words are on the tip of your tongue and Mikey, he just can’t bear to hear them because he’s not worthy of you, not yet.

“Save it for me.” He murmurs, his thumb trailing along the line of your jaw as he looks into your eyes. “Save it until I’m the man that I’m supposed to be.”

Love Mikey? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

I just loveeeee the sincerity of conversations after sex or during the sex

like after sex you are lying there trying to breathe properly and he comes out of the bathroom with a towel in hand and casually goes just as he wipes the cum off your ass

"did ya see the video?"

"what video?"

"two muppets got caught sneaking up a phone in base. price got 'em real good. smashed their head into each otha when they were broadcasting. i don't know-it's instagram or somthin'."

you nod enthusiastically and snort "soap sent to me. was too violent for me to watch. he thinks it was funny though."

he chuckles just as he strokes the redness on your ass. "you handle violent just fine"

or like you are in the middle of it, bouncing on him with all you've got and he says

"i don't like it when you don't call."

and you just freeze because what the hell he could have had this conversation around the time when he decided to watch football. so you ask, trying to comprehend.

"what?"

he simply shrugs and tightens his arms around you.

"makes me sad when you don't call."

"i-i don't know what to say."

"can't say hi?"

and it makes you wonder what happened to the man you fucked in the early days of your not-a-relationship-just-fucking thing because ghost didn't even moan let alone talking.

this one is simon you suppose.

sorry, wish my english was better and i knew anything about english accent. 😭

raw. absolutely raw. next question.

hi I love your writing!! let the days pass has gotten me through a lot. If you’re still taking requests, would you think about doing something for a reader with functional depression? Like can make it through a full day of work/school, seems fine when out and about… but then once she’s home she can’t get herself to eat, or clean, or reply to her friends’ texts or get out of bed on the weekend. And Frank just kind of soothing/supporting her through it and getting her out of bed and finding fun things to do together so she can’t just stay stuck in her little depression apartment and her terrible thoughts. No worries of this doesn’t spark anything for you; thank you so much!!!!

BREATHE ME BACK TO LIFE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’ve got a bad case of depression, and Frank does everything he can to help you through the difficult days.

Warnings: High-functioning depression, just a small nod towards suicide ideation, fluff, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Thank you for the support!! I completely understand this struggle and it often makes me feel like a fraud and like my depression isn’t ”serious enough” and so many other people have it worse than me, but the reality is, everyone’s struggles are valid and no less important than someone else’s. Anon, I promise it can get better, don’t give up!! I know it can feel like an endless uphill for a long time, but hang onto the good days and know that you’ve got what it takes to get through the bad ones <3

When you first got to know Frank, you were careful about letting him in, simply because the effort of maintaining a relationship terrified you and you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not to mention, you were kind of embarrassed — revealing your struggle to keep up with chores and to take care of yourself hardly seemed like the way to sweep someone off of their feet. Then there was the fact that Frank seemed so put-together and diligent himself. He didn’t strike you as the type to judge other people, but you knew you couldn’t meet his military level of routine and tidiness, and it made you nervous to open up to him.

Little did you know, he knew depression all too well from personal experience. After losing his wife and kids, he had been shoved into a dark place and it had taken him a long time to dig himself out of there. He understood the lack of motivation to look after yourself or your home, and he, too, struggled with getting out of bed and staying in contact with people.

And that was exactly what he told you when you allowed him to get a glimpse of your reality.

”Hey, I feel ya, sweetheart. I’ve been there. It ain’t easy, that’s for fuckin’ sure, but you’re doin’ amazing”, he praised you, finding your perseverance admirable. ”It can be a real pain in the ass. I struggled for a long time, I won’t lie. Still do, some days. But it’s gotten better, even after I didn’t think it would”, he opened up, trying his very best to instill hope in you. It sort of worked, but it also made you feel guilty — if a man who had lost his entirely family could pull through, why were you having such a hard time? In fact, while you felt glad Frank hadn’t judged you for sharing with him, you felt even more embarrassed and like you were a burden, one he would regret getting involved with.

But he didn’t give up on you. He kept showing up for you, participating in your day as often as he could, whether that meant pushing you to watch a movie he heard so much about and thought you might like, or surprising you during work to take you out to lunch.

By weaving himself into your everyday life, he quickly realized your troubles with depression were more complex than he had initially realized. Whereas he had been completely devoid of energy and hope throughout the day and it had been obvious to everyone around him, you could mask it. He found it sort of impressive, actually, the way you managed to be efficient at work and the way you socialized, smiled and laughed on a night out. To an outsider, it wasn’t obvious that you were struggling, and while he felt fortunate to be in your inner circle, he also grew worried. He couldn’t imagine the toll it must have taken on you, to always put up a brave front and go about your day like nothing was going on.

So, he started visiting your apartment more.

”Have you eaten yet, sweetheart?” he probed gently while collecting various garbage from around the place, shoving it into a trash bag. You were grateful, but you were also entirely drained, the effort of the day catching up to you and leaving you paralyzed on the couch, buried under the heavy blanket.

”No. Didn’t feel like it”, you shrugged, much too casual about it for Frank’s liking. He finished filling up the bag and left it by your front door, making a mental note to take it with him before he stepped into the living room where you were. He crouched down in front of you, gingerly swiping your hair away from your face and eyeing you up with a mix of sympathy and worry. He knew it could be hard to accept help — he certainly had done a good job of pushing Curtis away, but he was determined to give you a hand, whether you liked it or not.

”I make a mean pasta. Would ya eat a lil bit f’me if I made you some?” he asked softly, his voice so patient and calm with you, and if you only had the energy for it, you probably would have teared up. You felt bad just watching Frank do all these things for you, but you suspected, correctly, that even if you told him to stop, he wouldn’t have.

”Sure”, you gave him a weak attempt at a smile. He mirrored it back at you, and leaned in to kiss your forehead before standing up and striding into the kitchen.

He rummaged through your cabinets and fridge, finding what he needed but not exactly pleased with the lack of food. ”I’mma take you grocery shoppin’ tomorrow, aight? We’ll get whatever you need, on me”, he called out from the kitchen, not really offering it as an option but a simple fact. He did that a lot, made promises that to him seemed obvious and like the bare minimum but that meant the world to you.

He made a habit of stopping by on weekends, especially. He knew those were the hardest for you — during weekdays, you had work to keep you busy and distracted, but during the weekend, you sank deep into your dark thoughts. He tried his best to be a lifeline, to keep you afloat, just because he knew what it was like to get stuck in that vicious cycle of hateful, ruminating thoughts and that gloomy mood that didn’t seem to loosen its grip. And he certainly didn’t want that for you.

”Hey, darlin’. How you feelin’ today?” he asked as he made his way into your bedroom on another Saturday, his gaze gentle and caring even when you felt like you looked horrible. You had meant to change your sheets and your PJs for the longest time, and your hair was unkempt in a way that made you feel insecure. But Frank was not bothered, at least not in the manner you expected him to. It unsettled him because he wanted to see you happy and thriving, but he wasn’t scared of a little mess.

You gave him a shrug from the midst of the covers where you had been mindlessly scrolling your phone, only for the damn device to make you feel horrible guilt about all the unanswered texts that seemed to keep piling on. Frank nodded in understanding and sat on the edge of the bed, next to your legs, and he thought about the right way to get you out of that hole. He knew he could be pushy sometimes, but it originated from a place of love, and most times, you responded well. Coddling wasn’t going to help, he knew that, so sometimes he took a firmer approach, but the affection never left his tone or eyes.

”C’mere, sweetheart. Thought I’d take you out for a walk. That okay?” he suggested, and as much as you wanted to agree to his idea, you didn’t think you had it in you.

”I dunno, Frankie…”, you trailed off, and reaching for your hand to squeeze it tightly, he gave you a look that in its simplicity had the power of convincing you.

”I know, sweet girl. But I really want you to get some fresh air with me, yeah? Just around the block, don’t gotta be out for long”, he pleaded, ”I know what you’re thinkin’ in here and I don’t want to lose ya to it.”

You couldn’t argue on that. You knew you weren’t doing yourself any favors, and your thoughts tended to tip over to self-deprecating and hopeless, surrounding you in darkness that only Frank could bring light into. So, you nodded at him, and he gave you an attagirl before winding an arm around you and helping you out of the bed, well-aware that even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t always get your body on board.

He brushed your hair with as much care as possible, enjoying the process more than he wanted to admit, and after that he dug out the hoodie he had left behind a few weeks ago and zipped you up in it. He tied your shoes and made sure you had your keys with you, and after he had taken care of almost everything for you, you were finally ready to go.

The sun was already going down when you stepped outside, and the sight got a faint smile from you, which in turn made Frank grin. ”Pretty, huh?” he noted while taking your hand and interlocking your fingers. He acted so much like a boyfriend even if you had never actually labelled your relationship in any way. It made you wonder, because he took such good care of you and he didn’t really even get anything out of it. It was an equation you simply didn’t understand.

You walked for a while, but finally, you had to ask. ”Why do you keep showing up?” you questioned, not meaning it to come out so accusatory, but Frank was immediately alerted to the thought of crossing a boundary. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, he just wanted to help.

”You want me to stop? All you gotta do is say the word”, he promised, and you hastily shook your head to reassure that that wasn’t what you wanted.

”No, I like it. I just… don’t really get why you do it. I can’t repay the favor. I’m not getting any better. So, it just seems like you’re running a fool’s errand, I guess”, you explained, and licking his lips, he gave it some thought. But really, there was no doubt about why he did it.

”You’re important to me, sweetheart. And like I’ve told you, I’ve been there. I know it gets lonely and brutal and I just don’t want ya doing it by yourself”, he answered, and quickly continued, ”and the part about you not bein’ able to repay the favor, bullshit. You do it every time you give me a smile or give me a call or agree to my stupid ass ideas to get you outta the house. I know it may be hard to see, but you got a lotta good moments and I feel damn privileged to get to see them.”

You were speechless, looking at Frank with wide eyes as you kept walking. His stare was focused on your surroundings, hyper-aware of every car that passed you by and every pedestrian with their hood pulled over their eyes too suspiciously. Whether you were in your apartment or out and about, he just wanted to look after you.

”Aren’t I kind of a burden?” you stated what felt like the obvious, and your words got him to instantly face you, a frown etched onto his forehead.

”Never. I ain’t ever gettin’ sick of you”, he swore, stopping you just so he could look into your eyes with solemnity and determination. ”I know you think you’re not gettin’ better, but you will. I’m not lettin’ you give up. Some day, you won’t need my help anymore, but until then, I ain’t goin’ nowhere”, Frank emphasized, dedicated to showing you his loyalty and confidence in you. He had so much hope for you, way more than you had yourself, but he didn’t mind carrying you.

”Thank you”, you whispered, hugging him with a tight grip, and he responded with his own arms curling around your figure. He shielded you from the dark cloud over your head, hoping that his embrace would offer the comfort he so badly tried to be for you.

”Just so you know, when that day comes when I won’t need your help… I’ll still want you around”, you pointed out, and chuckling, Frank kissed the top of your head.

”Well, I didn’t wanna be a selfish asshole, but I was hopin’ you’d feel that way”, he admitted. He may not have been very good at speaking up about it, but you had completely stolen his heart, and he wasn’t sure he was ever getting it back. ”You mean a lot to me, sweetheart”, he added quietly, and holding onto him a bit tighter, you sighed.

”You mean a lot to me too, Frank.”

x p!link 𐚁 ⊹ . 𖥔 ˚ [ cw: use of “daddy” once in blurb ]

older!bf!beau has warned you before. “sweetheart, you can’t just prance around in your short skirts and tight shirts at my work. you’ll get my guys distracted and they won’t be able to do their jobs. and you know i don’t like them lookin’ at ya either, babydoll. lookin’ at ya like you’re all available.”

but do you listen to him? mmm, no. of course not.

so as you’re thrown over beau’s knee with your skirt pulled up over your bum, you finally realise he wasn’t joking with his warnings.

“you don’t listen. and girls who don’t listen get their discipline smacked into them until they learn. i’m done being nice, little lady, i warned you.”

beau is quick with his practiced spanks. the sharp sting of his hits inflames your delicate flesh, staining it red with growing welts in the shape of his large handprint.

“told you, angel. i gave you plenty of warnings not to drop by my office like that… especially unannounced like today.”

his voice is low and steady, dripping with that southern twang that makes your cunt drool as he keeps abusing your poor reddened globes.

you whimper and whine, your legs thrashing around as you tell him it hurts… and that you didn’t do anything :(

but beau’s over it, and he’s no pushover. he slings his leg over yours, keeping you still in his lap. his hand meets your skin again and again and again, until tears prick at your eyes.

“mmph– please, m’sorry!” you finally break.

beau lands one final smack to your ass before rubbing over the swollen skin with his warm palm, soothing away the sting. “yeah, you sure as hell better be, darlin’. you’re gonna listen to me from now on, aren’t you?”

“yes, daddy,” you mutter pitifully.

“that’s my girl.”

fire fighter! simon riley x single mom! reader

simon being completely enamoured by the pretty single mom that volunteered at the fire station with free lunch every friday.

pure fluff, mentions of burns and scars - might do a part 2 and not proof read teehee

he was a man of discipline - of routine, and hard work and yet he was currently staring at you moving around swiftly as she handed out cookies like a love sick boy. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, how you seamlessly interacted with his coworkers and even the other parents and children.

of course, his interest didn’t go unnoticed by his captain, price who gave him a sly smile before nudging him slightly.

“she’s single for if you want to make a move and stop ogling her.”

if looks could kill price would be six feet underground.

he couldn’t make a move, not when you were the complete opposite of him. you were the like sun, beaming no matter what as you platted each meal, you were always so positive, so selfless no matter what.

simon was convinced that someone as dark and troubled as him would dim your light, scars and burns on his body that were so ugly and gruesome it almost felt blasphemous to touch you.

“si? want some lunch?” your soft melodic voice breaking him out of his trance, you always had a way of making him spell bound, like a siren.

he shook his head with a small attempted smile. “‘m not that hungry.”

but he was really fucking hungry. though he was convinced that if he ate your food he would be addicted, begging for more.

“but fire fighters need energy!” a small high pitch voice spoke up, your daughter. “mama makes good food, try it pretty please?” her eyes wide and pleading, her small lips jutted out in a determined pout.

simon cleared his throat, “i guess a little bit won’t hurt.”

oh it wasn’t just a little bit. he came back for seconds, thirds, fourth.

simon ate like a man starved, his fork scraping against the plate as he finished it again. “told you mama’s food is the best!” your daughter beamed as she perched herself up on the step next to him, her feet swinging in the air whilst simon’s were extended out. the size difference was comical.

her gaze drifted over his uniform, her eyes wide and curious. “what’s this?” her small chubby finger pointing to his scarred hand. instinctively, he pulled his sleeves over them, shielding something so dark and ugly from her innocent eyes. “‘s nothing, kid.”

“does it hurt?” she asked, completely oblivious to simon’s insecurity. he shook his head “doesn’t hurt anymore

white lie. god, it hurts so bad not physically but emotionally. sometimes he couldn’t even stand staring at his hands, purposely trying to cover them up with gloves but it irritated the uneven skin which made it even worse.

“hey, you shouldn’t be asking questions like that missy,” you playfully narrowing your eyes at your daughter who smiled sheepishly. “thought i’d taught you better than to pry into peoples personal lives.” you raised a brow at the smaller girl whose eyes were crinkling due to her cheesy smile. “gotta go get food!” she giggled as she ran, well stumbled away.

“sorry about that, she’s a curious little thing,” your eyes glued to her as she asked another volunteer for more food. simon chuckled lowly, “‘s alright, got good intentions.”

simon’s heart felt like it was going to explode, it was never heated this fast, not even during the missions where he thought he was going to die. he felt so aware of everything, secretly hoping you didn’t notice how he was hiding his scars.

you cleared your throat, pulling something out of your pockets. “i got you something,” your tone soft and shy, completely different to what simon was used to.

gloves.

“i heard cotton is good for sensitive skin, so i thought it would be appropriate for you.”

god, what did he do to deserve you?

“if you don’t want it it’s fine, i don’t want to cross any boundaries-“

but before you could even finish he took them from your hands, putting them on. “they’re amazing,” his hands flexing under the material as he tried them on. he felt like a school boy who was talking to a girl the first time, his mind completely blank.

“do yer wanna grab sum coffee with me?”

tag list:

@happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969 @doubledizzy22 @lucienofthelakes @arabellatreaty @tessakate @kayden666 @ghostsd8s @ama-eve @webmvie @your-internet-tenshi @novthewolf @1ilo @simpingreader @angeldoll1e @avgdestitute @anonymouse1807 @chaieanne @i-live-in-spite

MDNI 18+

slow intimate domestic things with simon riley!

mentions of: pure fluff, simon riley is a devoted husband, worships the ground she walks on, brief smut at the end, vaginal sex

having a slow and peaceful life with simon riley in the country side ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

simon stood in front of the grill shirtless flipping the meat with ease, the tattoos that adorned his arms on display, his silver dog tag around his neck. his muscles softening up after coming back from his mission, a soft layer of fat around his stomach from lounging around and having lazy moments with you. his sweatpants hung loosely around his hips displaying the happy trail and v line that went down to his cock.

you laid on the day bed as simon grilled, he was determined to be the one that made your stomach full, to be the one to look after you. he loaded your plate with food, simon didn’t follow the traditional norms of the wife cooking, no. his whole life he promised to himself that he would work hard to provide for his wife, and now he had you, he. was determined to have you lounge around having the easiest life.

when simon took care of everything, he meant everything.

he would wake up bright and early to cook breakfast for you, the sound of bacon sizzling filling up the kitchen as he plated your food with the utmost care. simon was never one for presentation when it came to food, as long as it tasted good he didn’t care. but he cared when it came to you, which was why he meticulously placed the food in an arrangement you would like, his thick fingers readjusting the small fruits scattered on the plate. the sight was almost comical, a man made from pure muscle fussing with the presentation of a simple breakfast, scowling whenever his large hands knocked a berry off.

he would walk to your room, his steps slow and gentle making sure that the wooden floorboard underneath him wouldn’t creak. he would wake you up gently, kissing your forehead before readjusting your pillow when you sat up, draping a blanket over your lap for extra warmth.

“made yer favourite luvie.”

simon wasn’t the best with his words, slightly awkward at times so he expressed it through his actions. whenever something in the house broke down he would be the first to fix it, crouched down with tools in his hands as he focused on the task, determined to fix it to ease your stress. he didn’t see repairing things as labour, but instead removing your burdens just to make your day a little stress free.

after a long stressful day he made sure the house was clean before you got home, dishes washed, clothes folded away, and your favourite chamomile tea hot and ready on the kitchen counter. simon basically memorised your whole routine, ensuring the blankets were draped over the couch with the cushions fluffed and positioned to your liking so you could read after your bath. the moment you returned home and ate his dinner he would start the bath. ensuring that the water was up to your preferred temperature, with your favourite essential oils and candles that dimly lit the room up. he would pick the softest and fluffiest towel just for you, and hang it on the hook near the door.

he wanted to show he cared, remembering every detail so you could relax, knowing everything was taken care of.

sex was an act of worship for him, gently taking his time to kiss every single part of your body. “i love you,” he muttered as he kissed your neck, then your shoulder, then right under your breast. “‘m always yours,” his voice filled with love as he stared into your eyes. before you simon was never one to do missionary, preferring no eye contact so he can fuck and leave. with you however, he took his time, moving slowly as he peppered you with kisses, coaxing multiple organs out of you as he talked you through it.

“i know swee’heart, it’s a lot yeah? but ‘m here, jus’ let it go.”

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @prettyinpink-bimbo @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy

𝜗𝜚 c!w. dirty talk, sexual themes, aftercare, shy!reader, soft!rafe.

heavy pants filled the air of rafe cameron's bedroom. the breaths bounced from wall to wall as he laid his back against the mattress, chest slightly heaving.

his eyes were busy, darting across each of your features and trying to gauge any emotion.

"c'mere, baby." you felt his hand grab at your upper arm, his own large bicep curling around you, holding you close so you could feel the warmth of his body radiate off of your own.

you were trying to regain your breath, softly breathing through parted lips as your head laid against the boy's chest, legs already beginning to dangle between his own.

it was hard to ignore the sudden heat to your face, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

you'd had sex with rafe quite often and you didn't think he was keen on slowing down anytime soon. though neither were you. however, it was only in your shy nature to feel suddenly flushed against him.

he felt you nuzzle against him. it was almost as if you were trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

his words plagued your memory.

"that feel good, sweetheart, huh?" "fuck, baby, your pussy's so fuckin' warm." "there you go, good girl." "love bein' fucked by this dick, i'nt that right, angel?" "like bein' my good girl, huh? all mine, that's it, baby.".

rafe's lips often spilled words that were awfully crude when he fucked you.

"y'okay, sweetheart?" he felt you nod in the crook of his neck. rafe was typically soft after moments like these, especially like tonight, when he knew he pushed you a little further than normal. "you're quiet. not upset, yeah?"

once again, he felt you nod.

he gently moved you, nudging your face with his nose. "gonna answer me, princess?" you sort of blinked at him. "with words."

he felt you squirm against him. "'m okay." you muttered, though your voice was so quiet it hardly reached his ears. while the tips of your own were turning red.

the stare he was using seemed a little dangerous. "yeah?"

a hum was on the tip of your tongue but it was awfully hard to concentrate when he was looking at you like that. his head slightly tilted, eyes piercing into your own, pretty lips bent into a slight smirk. all you could think about were the filthy things he was whispering in your ears not five minutes ago.

shrinking in on yourself, you had to shy away from him.

finally, he got it.

his lips quirked up into a smirk. "getting shy on me now, huh?" rafe liked to tease. "all shy like you weren't jus' gushin' around my dick, baby?"

"rafe!" you shot your hands up to cover your bashful face with a blush spread across it.

"what?" a half laugh fell from his lips, hands pulling your own from your face so he could look at you. "you liked me talking earlier." you uttered something, rafe didn't hear it. "speak up, angel." nudging your face with his nose for the second time. something about the act seemed soft, gentle.

once again, you squirmed. "'said stop bein' mean."

his brows raised. "how am i being mean, sweetheart?" a laugh on the edge of his tongue but he held it back, not wanting to make you feel more embarrassed than you already did.

"'cause." your fingers were absentmindedly trailing up his arm, eyes too focused on trying to escape having to look at his face. god, you couldn't look at his face.

while rafe was merely staring at yours. "you're cute." the grin sitting on his lips and the cocked brow was enough for you to hide your face in his chest. he heard you mumble something about him having to be quiet. "'m serious, baby." he pulled your face up with his fingers hooked around your chin. "my shy girl, 's so cute."

the way he spoke to you had your head feeling sort of blurry, a floaty feeling that you couldn't quite understand.

"head feelin' fuzzy, princess?" you nodded at his words, confused on how he always knew what was going on inside your head. it seemed he knew better than you did sometimes. "'s okay, pretty girl, c'mere."

for the second time that night, he pulled you in closer, this time you were practically on top of him, bodies wrapping together like gloves. as rafe said, you "fit so perfectly, like 't was made for it."

"that's right, princess, 'm gonna take care of you." with a kiss to the crown of your head which he watched you hide instantly. "gonna take care of my shy girl, yeah?"

all that you could muster was a nod.

safe with me | R.G.

feat. Rick Grimes x sunshine!reader cw: MDNI 18+, established relationship, mentions of traumatic incident with family annihilation & suicide (you are responsible for the content you consume), mentions of child death, hurt/comfort masterlist

“Carol!” Rick called, jogging across the lawn to catch her after the town meeting. The sun blazed down, ruthless and disorienting after hours of being indoors. “How'd it go?” He asked, referring to the run she led this morning.

They both knew he was asking how it went for you specifically.

Rick didn't care about much else besides you and his kids these days. Alexandria ran just fine without him worrying himself sick; you’d shown him that.

Carol grimaced. “She hasn't come to find you?”

Rick's jaw clenched, his heart beating a bit faster. “Would I be askin’ if she did?”

“She, ah—she’s fine,” Carol clarified, sensing his mounting alarm. “But there was a—an incident.”

“What kind of incident?” He growled.

“We were clearing a property, and she went into the house first—”

His anger flared. “Why would you let her—”

“Because everyone matters, Rick,” she snapped. “I can't treat her special because she's yours.”

He grit his teeth. He knew Carol already paid you extra mind, so there was no sense arguing it.

“She volunteered anyhow, so I sent her. There were no Biters, but…” Carol took a shaking breath. “She found the family in the dining room, parents and two little boys. Practically nothin’ left of the bodies, half-eaten dinners in front of ‘em, rotten through. Mom’s brains all over the wall—”

“Alright, alright,” Rick cut her off, scrubbing a hand over his face. Fucking brutal. Rick had seen plenty gruesome scenes like it, but you—somehow you'd held onto your heart through the end of the world.

“I don't think she took it well, didn't speak the rest of the run. Passed her ration off to Rosita. Had that stare, y’know?”

Rick nodded. Had that stare himself on countless occasions. “She went home?”

“Far as I know,” Carol affirmed. Rick went to head that way when Carol grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. “Don't push her, she'll talk when she's ready.”

“I know, I know," he assuaged. “I’ll go easy.”

Carol nodded and released him, and he started down the road, breaking into a jog when he was sure no one was looking.

When he reached your shared house, sun-bleached siding and half-roasted grass, he slipped through the front door, finding Carl reading by the lone fan in the living room. The house was eerily quiet, save the cordant hum of the whirling blades, it's cedar bones heavy on its foundation.

“Hey,” Rick hissed, getting Carl's attention. “How is she?”

Carl shrugged. “Makin’ lunch. Not singing’ like usual,” was all the boy offered before turning back to his comic.

“Alright, take your sister and go on to Michonne's for a bit,” he said, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

Carl huffed his displeasure, but did as he was told, trudging upstairs to fetch Judith while Rick moved towards the kitchen. He waited to hear the scampering of Judith's footsteps and the click of the door shutting behind them before pushing through the small door into the kitchen.

You were staring down at the blue flames of the gas stove, an open can of soup in your hand. Completely frozen, besides your yellow sundress fluttering around your bare legs.

Normally, the sound of Rick's boots up the steps was enough to have you bounding out the front door and throwing yourself into his arms, even if he'd only been to the neighbors and back. And you always sang while you cooked, some scratched-to-shit record backing you up.

His heart cracked.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, careful not to startle you.

You blinked, bleary eyes focusing on the can of soup, then flicking back up to the empty pot. Trying to connect the dots of what you'd been doing. “I'm making lunch,” you said, barely above a whisper, and he wasn't sure if you were talking to him or yourself.

“I see, can I help you?” He asked, moving a little further into the room. Turning down the knob on the stove to reduce the lapis flame.

You shook yourself, straightening with a too-wide smile. “I've got it!” You chirped, pouring the can into the pot. It spat and sputtered, entirely too hot. Rick snatched it off the burner, putting his body between you and the wrathful soup so you didn't get burned. “Shit! Let me get some towels.” You hurried away, frenetic energy wafting from you, spooked like a hare.

He knew that with one wrong move, it could tip into full-blown panic. “Honey, easy,” he soothed, catching you by the arms when your turned back towards him. “No harm, no foul.” He gently took the stack of towels from you, six for a few splatters of broth, and set them in the counter.

“I need to—” Your eyes were glazing again, hazy as the memory creeped back in.

“Don't worry about lunch, darlin’. I sent ‘em off to Michonne's for a little while.” He took your arms again, rubbing up and down your biceps to try and keep you with him.

“Oh,” you mumbled, glassy eyes drifting just past him at the wallpaper. “Why?” Your eyes refocused on him, brow furrowing slightly.

He leaned down to kiss the wrinkle away. “Too nice a’day for kids to stay inside. And thought you and I could spend some time together.”

“Oh,” you repeated. You fell quiet for a moment, and he could practically see the gears turning in your head, like you were trying to dredge something up you'd forgotten.

He waited patiently, sliding his hands down to hold yours.

“How was the meeting?” You finally asked, though your voice retained that same listless quality.

“Went fine. Same shit, different folks,” he said, shifting both your hands to his right one so he could bring the left up to cradle your face. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” You leaned into his palm, a rough, calloused thing against your supple skin, and your lashes lowered a bit, fluttery like moth wings. Something warm unfurled in his chest.

“C’mon, let me fix you somethin’ to eat,” he said, kissing your forehead again to hide the frown pulling at his mouth. He guided you back over to the stove, patting on the counter beside it. Your favorite spot whenever he got a wild hair to cook.

You hopped up, obedient little thing, and smoothed your skirt, crossing your dangling ankles.

He felt your eyes following him while he put on one of your favorite albums and resumed lunch preparations. He tried to keep his movements slow, fluid, easily trackable in your addled mind. After a few minutes though, you drifted off again, staring at a cracked tile on the floor.

Once the soup was simmering, he stepped towards you, moving to stand between your knees. “Pretty girl,” he hummed, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Why don't you tell me what's goin' on?”

You shook your head, tugging your chin from his fingers and turning your head away from him.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips along your hairline, balmy and salt-tinged from the heat. “You know I'll never let anythin’ happen to you,” he murmured. “Nothin’ out there can hurt you, or them, here.” He smoothed his hands over your ribs, the swell of your hips. “Not while I'm around.”

Tears welled in your eyes. That's a start, he thought. Out here, that numbness will eat you alive. Feeling is the only way to keep going.

“I’d rather die than let anything happen to them,” you whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.” He pulled you in for a proper hug, your face buried into the meat of his shoulder. “You take such good care of us, and I'm so grateful,” he said into your hair, kissing your crown. “You're a dream come true, darlin’.”

You cracked, a whimper eeking through your teeth, then another, until you were sobbing into his chest, fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt.

He sighed in relief, petting your hair while you purged the pent up emotions. “That's a good girl, there ya’ go. Let it all go,” he encouraged, your tears seeping through his shirt and cooling his sun-warmed skin. “You're alright now, I've gotcha.”

“She poisoned them,” you sobbed, thumping his chest with your fist. Barely hard enough for him to register. “She must have been so desperate—”

“This world makes people do monstrous things,” he said, flattening your fist out against his chest, willing his heart to beat slow and steady under your palm. “We can't try to understand it.”

“Do you think they knew?” You looked up at him, lashes dark and spiked with tears, eyes almost feverishly bright. Pleading.

He shook his head, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, deeply sorry that he couldn't give you the answers you needed. “We can't know, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

“We should have buried them,” you whispered, looking towards the window. “It wasn't right, leaving them like that.”

Rick never loved you more than he did in that moment, his heart leaping up his throat, choking him with affection. “I'll take care of it, baby. Don't you worry.” He couldn't resist pressing a kiss to your temple, your forehead, your nose, adoring you so much it ached.

“You will?” You turned back to him, fingers tightening on his shirt.

“Daryl and I will go as soon as I know you're alright,” he promised.

“But—”

“No buts.” He placed a thumb over your lips, quieting your protest. Another sign that you were feeling a little more like your usual, stubborn self. “Now, think you can eat a little f’me?”

You eyed the soup warily as he clicked off the eye and fetched a spoon, returning quickly back between your legs.

He dipped the spoon into the broth, lifting a small amount to your lips. “Just a few bites?”

You folded your lips together and shook your head.

“Baby,” he sighed. “You need to eat somethin’. I won't go until you do.”

But instead of indignation flashing in your eyes, he saw a prickle of fear as you stared at the spoon. Guilt curdled in his gut.

“Here.” He put the spoon in his mouth, eating the bite instead, then scooped a second bite, offering it to you again. “We'll eat it together.”

You didn't look convinced, but you parted your lips anyways, and he fed you a small sip.

“Good girl,” he said, taking the rest of the bite himself. “You trust me, don't you? Would I ever give you something that was going to hurt you? Hurt Carl or Judith?”

“No,” you mumbled, accepting a second, larger bite. “You wouldn't.”

“I'll share every bite with you if that's what you need, whatever I gotta do to make you feel safe,” he promised.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. He set the spoon down to hold your waist again, tugging you to the edge of the counter to feel your body press fully against his, his arms braced across you back.

“Promise me that if I ever start to lose it, if I ever pose a danger to those kids—” your voice splintered, brittle with emotion. “That you'll do whatever you need to keep them safe.”

He couldn't even think about it, the fleeting idea enough to make his chest constrict painfully, his stomach roil. “I'll do what I need to do to keep all three of you safe,” he promised instead.

“Deal,” you sighed, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

He shifted that final inch forward, catching your lips in a tender, top-lip kiss. You softened, nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drew you closer, languishing in the honeyed taste of you. Finally relaxing now that he was sure you'd be alright.

After a moment, you broke the kiss to breathe, your nose congested from crying. He grazed his thumb over your bitten lip, smiling softly at your slightly dazed expression.

“You're safe with me, darlin’,” he assured. “Always.”

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

”I never see you in the club” I never see you having violent meltdowns alone in your room and hitting yourself but ok