Author note: I don’t have any one to beta read my content. As stated I've tried to make everything I’ve wrote gender neutral but If I have slipped up somewhere please just let me know and I’ll fix it asap. <3
Triple Frontier Boys :
Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales
Do you want to know a secret? (Gender Neutral)
Oh My love.. My darling (Gender Neutral)
Will Miller
Hello Nurse (Gender Neutral)
Benny Miller
You are my sunshine (Gender Neutral)
Waking up in Vegas (Gender Neutral)
Santiage ‘Pope’ Garcia
Hey Brother (Platonic x Triple Frontier boys)
Yelena Belova:
To make her smile: (Ace!Yelena Belova x Gender Neutral Reader)
Wait I’m thinking about something (late in life lesbian Baran Al hashimi that reads Yuri smut like crazy to try and know what to do when she sleeps with a woman for the first time, bc lesbian porn is so often fake or made for men)
On one street, hundreds of masked men carrying bottles and bricks set bins on fire and shouted "foreigners out", our reporter says.
i really don't have the words for how things have escalated to outright race riots in the last few weeks. just to collect a few of the stories the bbc is reporting in their live thread:
Families led to safety through flames (Dan Johnson)
Homes were targeted and burned. Families had to be led to safety through the flames - rescued by emergency services risking their lives in the most dangerous situation.
It’s what the authorities feared all day. What they warned against and pleaded not to see. The condemnation came quickly and was widespread.
It wasn’t just homes, cars were also torched by young masked man in these predominantly unionist streets but the target here was immigrants and the message to entirely innocent families was: "You’re not welcome". In the north of the city, more people were forced to flee including an African family who’ve lived here for 20 years.
People being put out 'because they're black' - pastor
A pastor who has been helping those in houses targeted in tonight's violence says people were being put out of their homes "because they're black". Pastor Jack McKee was at the scene where multiple houses were on fire around the Crumlin Road in north Belfast - he says some members of his church "who have been with us for 20 years" were "getting put out of their home, had their house attacked, windows smashed, houses beside them burned".
"They're good Christian people and they're getting put out just because they're black," he says. "I'm doing my best to help them, it's as simple as that." [...]
Masked men shouting 'foreigners out' (Kelly Bonner)
Last night on the Lower Newtownards Road in Belfast hundreds of masked men walked down the street carrying bottles, bricks and masonry. They set bins on fire and shouted "foreigners out".
As they walked street to street, they were banging on doors, kicking doors down and breaking windows. Masked man set cars alight and at one point I witnessed them trying to burn a car until a woman came out of her home and told them it belonged to a "local and not a foreigner" and they stopped.
A young family had to be moved from their home by police. The scenes of this young family fleeing their home were really quite shocking.
We're seeing a 'race-based pogrom' in Belfast, MP tells BBC
Claire Hanna, Belfast MP and leader of the Social Democratic & Labour Party, has spoken to Newsnight about the "nightmarish" attack on Monday, which she says has "understandably revulsed and shocked" people in Belfast.
However, she condemned the scenes that erupted on Tuesday afternoon, suggesting that "negative actors online and politicians locally who don't really care what communities in north Belfast have been through" have used the knife attack to incite violence and seed division.
"What you're seeing is a race-based pogrom. We are seeing men going door to door asking to get the foreigners out based exclusively on the colour of their skin," she has said. "It's not based on what they're contributing to society, what their status here is and it's terrifying for people in Belfast who want this sort of politics to be far beyond them."
Hi may I request AYW with Luke and Ryan trying their best to help comfort Pregnant!Reader when she's feeling tired or uncomfortable while Eddie is at work or had to run errands. The boys are going all out like super extra but Reader loves it
Well, hello strangers. It's been a minute! But here we have another installment of the Munson boys just being the absolute best. A huge thank you to my beloved @munson-blurbs for helping me so much with this. I hope you all enjoy 💜
Words: 1.8k
[As You Wish masterlist]
Dealing with a heavily pregnant stepmother isn’t something that two young boys would be particularly interested in. Dealing with her on one of the first Saturdays since the school year has started again makes it even less ideal. While Ryan and Luke would prefer to be out in the backyard, taking in the last bit of summer heat before fall comes blowing in, they take their dad’s words about keeping an eye on you while he’s out running errands very seriously. You told them that you’d be happy to sit outside and watch them play and have fun, but Ryan pointed out how the hot weather is not your friend in your third trimester. It was pointless to argue when the brothers had a plethora of examples in their back pockets to back it up.
Instead, the boys decide to create a nest for you on the couch, with everything to keep you comfortable right within reach. There are four blankets piled up, two beneath you to make the couch even cushier, and two next to you in case you become cold. Luke’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunchbox sits one cushion over, its ice pack keeping a bottle of water and an orange Gatorade cold and ready for consumption. Ryan, the taller of the two, wasn’t able to reach the top shelf in the pantry and grab the cookies (which is exactly why the treats are kept so high up), so the boys brought in every type of chip they could scavenge together. They had hoped for more than just three different kinds, but one of Eddie’s errands for the day is to go to the grocery store for a reason. So, Luke set a can of Pringles between a bag of nacho cheese Doritos and a bag of salt and vinegar Lays.
The boys also provide you with the book you’re currently reading, but your sore neck only lets you read for ten minutes before you have to put it down. Luke then scoops the remote off the coffee table and quickly scrolls through the television guide. You have to look away because the speed he’s clicking away with starts to make you feel nauseous. He briefly stops on an episode of Scooby Doo, unable to resist the temptation. Ryan elbows him in the side, though, and that breaks the spell. Unfortunately, there’s nothing on that interests you at the moment. Ryan is about to suggest one of the many movies in the household collection when Luke gets an idea.
“Wait,” the ten-year-old says, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Come with me.”
Ryan isn’t given a chance to answer before Luke drags him up the stairs.
“Okay,” you say into the empty room. With one hand on your bump, you reach over and grab the can of Pringles.
Ryan and Luke disappear long enough for you to finish the rest of the can, which wasn’t completely full, you tell yourself.
There’s some scuffling from their rooms, the usual back-and-forth bickering that luckily doesn’t escalate. You’re far too exhausted to even consider breaking up a Munson brother fight.
“Okay, you remember the words, right?” Luke whispers loudly.
“Yeah, obviously.” You can practically hear Ryan’s eyeroll. “I’m the one who wrote them down.”
“I’m the one who wrote them—ow!” Luke’s nasal mocking is cut short with a thud. “Push me again and I’ll kick your—”
“BOYS.”
The arguing stops the moment you raise your voice. Probably to avoid another one of your pregnancy hormone-induced crying spells, which may have happened the last time they fought.
Whatever works.
“Are you ready?” Luke calls from somewhere near the top of the stairs.
“For what?” you call back.
“You’ll see!”
“Then how do I know if I’m ready for it?” you tease.
“Just…” Luke sputters. “You’re ready!”
A chuckle rumbles out of you, and you settle a hand on your bump. You truly don’t know if you’re ready for whatever the boys have cooked up, but you also know that you don’t have a choice.
The thuds that pound down the stairwell sound like a stampede of wildebeasts instead of two boys.
You had hoped that when you saw them, you’d get some clue as to what they’re planning. You couldn’t be more wrong.
Both boys are wearing their black slacks and suit jackets that they had worn to your and Eddie’s wedding. The waistband of the red cotton shorts Luke is wearing peeks out from the top of the slacks, and he and Ryan are both wearing the t-shirts they had on all day beneath the jackets. Your wedding was only seven months ago, but you still notice that the slacks are shorter on the two boys than they were back in February. A surge of pregnancy hormones rushes forward, making you emotional at how big Luke and Ryan are getting, and how they’re growing so fast. But you manage to swallow it down as you take in the rest of the boys’ ensembles.
Each of them is wearing their sunglasses, and Luke has his black baseball hat on, while Ryan has Eddie’s black beanie on his head. The beanie is too big since Ryan’s head isn’t as large as his father’s, so the top of it flops down to the right, despite it being pulled down to just above his sunglasses.
In bold green magic marker (at least, you hope it’s washable), each boy has written their name on their knuckles.
“What on earth—”
You abruptly end your sentence as Luke lunges forward to grab the remote control for the television and the one for the DVD player. The younger brother tosses the smaller DVD remote to Ryan and keeps the bigger one for himself.
The two of them look at one another, Ryan gives a nod, and they take their positions. They stand next to one another, their chins dipped, and their eyes on the floor.
“Dun, dun.” At Ryan’s imitation of the opening notes of a song, both boys sway to the left, then right at each beat.
The warden threw a party in the county jail
The prison band was there, and they began to wail
Luke has his remote lifted to his mouth like a microphone as he begins to sing. Ryan holds his remote up to his mouth as well, and it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s holding it horizontally to his lips, as if it were a harmonica.
The band was jumping, and the joint began to swing
You should've heard them knocked out jailbirds sing
A peal of laughter bursts out of you as you realize you’re watching a Blues Brothers performance.
Let's rock
Everybody, let's rock
Everybody in the whole cell block
Was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock
The brothers step side to side, mimicking the choreography of Jake and Elwood in the film. The whole spectacle of it: the improvised costumes, the remotes as a microphone and a harmonica, the dance steps from the movie, Luke’s buoyant child voice singing the Elvis lyrics; it tickles you pink. You break into a fit of giggles as you watch your sons perform.
It also strikes you, seeing them in this element, how much like Eddie they each are in their own way. Luke obviously looks like a miniature version of his father, but seeing the way he hams it up as a natural performer he channels his father so completely that the resemblance goes far beyond looks. Though Ryan’s physical likeness to Eddie might not be as pronounced as his brother, watching him pretend to rock out on his fake harmonica he becomes his father incarnate, every movement and expression echoing him perfectly.
Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone
Little Joe was blowing on the slide trombone
The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang
The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang
Between Luke’s boisterous singing and the way you’re laughing in unabashed enjoyment, none of you hear the front door open. The swish of plastic grocery bags is what first alerts you to Eddie’s presence as he steps into the room.
You look over your shoulder and see your husband looking at his sons, his eyebrows raised and his expression beyond amused.
They each look up at him in return, Ryan’s sunglasses slipping down his nose as he does, but the true performers they are, they know the show must go on.
Let's rock
Everybody, let's rock
Everybody in the whole cell block
Was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock
Without a word, Eddie walks into the kitchen. He obviously needs to set the bags down, but the noise you hear coming from that part of the house goes beyond the simple chore.
Number forty-seven said to number three
"You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see"
I sure would be delighted with your company
Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me"
As Luke finishes the verse, Eddie steps back into the room, his guitar strapped around him, a pick in his hand. He comes in with the music exactly at the point the boys are at in the song. The ease with which their father joins in amazes the boys. They halt in their performances to stare up at their dad.
“You can play this song?” Luke asks, dumbfounded.
“Yeah,” Eddie says with a laugh, finding his youngest son’s confusion amusing. “You think I grew up in the same house as Grandpa and didn’t learn how to play some Elvis songs on the guitar?”
“Oh, your grandfather and his love for Elvis,” you chime in fondly.
“Is that why he rewinds this scene over and over again in the movie so much?” Ryan asks.
“That, and The Blues Brothers is a damn good movie,” Eddie responds.
“Do you know the trombone song?” Luke asks. “The one that goes wah wah wahhhh wah wah wah wah…”
Eddie stifles a laugh. “Maybe we save Minnie the Moocher for when you’re older.”
“Alright, alright, alright,” Luke says, waving his free hand in the air. “We gotta start from the top.”
You look up at your husband, amusement dancing in your eyes.
“You’re not even going to ask how this all started?”
Eddie shakes his head.
“Nope,” he says.
“We are providing entertainment,” Ryan answers anyway.
“Yeah, so she’s less miserable,” Luke tells his dad.
“You think she’ll be less miserable with you singing?” Eddie teases with a smirk.
Luke’s little jaw pops open as his face scrunches.
“Your voice is lovely!” you assure Luke.
The ten-year-old turns to you and bows his head.
“Thank you,” he says pointedly. “Now,” he says, facing his father again, “from the top!”
Eddie gives him a salute as Ryan retakes his opening position.
Dun dun the guitar wails.
The warden threw a party in the county jail
The prison band was there, and they began to wail
The band was jumping, and the joint began to swing
You should've heard them knocked out jailbirds sing
Summary: One bottle of whiskey, one night trapped in an abandoned bar, and one very unfortunate confession changed everything between you and Daryl.
The herd had appeared out of nowhere.
One moment you and Daryl had been making your way back towards Alexandria with bags of supplies slung over your shoulders, and the next you had found yourselves staring at dozens upon dozens of walkers slowly spilling across the road ahead, forcing both of you to abandon your route entirely and disappear into the nearest building before you were spotted.
The nearest building turned out to be an old bar. The place had clearly been abandoned for years, with dust coating every surface thickly enough to leave footprints wherever you stepped and broken glass scattered across sections of the floor, but it was secure enough for the night, and after checking every room and barricading the doors as best you could, there was little left to do except wait for the herd to pass.
The sun had already begun to set outside by the time the two of you finally settled down.
You sat on top of the bar counter while Daryl occupied a stool nearby, occasionally glancing through the boarded windows to keep track of the walkers still wandering past outside.
“Think they’ll move on by mornin’,” he muttered eventually.
“I hope so.”
The idea of spending the entire night trapped inside a dusty bar with limited supplies wasn’t exactly appealing.
Although…
You glanced around the room. It could have been worse. At least you weren’t trapped somewhere boring. A few moments later, Daryl opened one of the cabinets behind the counter before pausing.
“Huh.”
You looked up.
“What?”
Instead of answering immediately, he reached inside and pulled something out, your eyes widened.
“No way.”
Daryl held up a bottle of whiskey.
A full bottle.
Somehow.
“Well,” you said slowly, “that’s impressive.”
Daryl examined the label before shrugging.
“Looks alright.”
“It survived over a decade and a half of the apocalypse.”
“Still sealed.”
You laughed.
“Fair point.”
For a moment he seemed uncertain. Then he shrugged again.
“Reckon one drink won’t kill us.”
Half an hour later, you had discovered that one drink had very quickly become several.
Or at least several for you, Daryl barely seemed affected. You, on the other hand, were becoming increasingly aware that standing up sounded like an impossible task.
“You know somethin’?” you asked suddenly.
Daryl glanced over.
“What?”
You pointed vaguely in his direction.
“You’ve got unfair genes.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“My what?”
“Genes.”
“The hell are you talkin’ about?”
You waved the bottle dramatically.
“I’ve had like…” You paused. “A lot.”
“A lot ain’t a number.”
“It is tonight.”
Daryl snorted.Meanwhile you continued pointing accusingly.
“You’ve had almost the same amount and you’re completely fine.”
“Ain’t completely fine.”
“You are.”
“A little buzzed.”
“You are not.”
His mouth twitched. The traitor was trying not to laugh.
“You got no idea what you’re sayin’.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
“No ya don’t.”
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, then immediately forgot what you were suspicious about. Daryl shook his head.
“Jesus.”
“You know what your problem is?”
That finally earned a laugh.
“My problem?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned back slightly.
“Go on then.”
“You don’t know things.”
Daryl blinked.
“What things?”
You pointed dramatically again.
“Things about yourself.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“See? Exactly.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I am.”
At least you could admit that much, the confession seemed to amuse him.
Unfortunately, being drunk also meant your brain had apparently stopped filtering your thoughts. Which became very obvious when your eyes drifted towards him again, and stayed there. Daryl noticed immediately.
“Why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?”
You smiled.
Because honestly?
Looking at Daryl had always been one of your favourite activities.
Even before Alexandria.
Even before you knew him properly.
Even before he knew your name.
“You had shorter hair when I first met you.”
Daryl looked caught off guard by the sudden change in subject.
“What?”
“Your hair.”
“My hair.”
“Much shorter.” You nodded enthusiastically.
His hand automatically lifted to touch the back of his neck.
“Yeah.”
You sighed. A deep, dramatic sigh. Daryl immediately looked concerned.
“What?”
“Nothin’.”
“That wasn’t a nothin’ sigh.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t.”
You pointed at him again.
“D’you know how unfair that was?”
“What was?”
“The hair.”
Daryl stared.
You stared back, then you groaned and dropped your head into your hands.
“God.”
“The hair?” he asked slowly.
“The hair.”
His expression had become deeply confused.
“You liked my hair?”
“Liked?”
“Liked?”
“Yeah?”
“Daryl.”
“What?”
“I nearly died.” For the first time all evening, Daryl genuinely looked speechless. You continued before he could recover. “I mean, there I was trying to survive the apocalypse and then suddenly there you were looking all…”
You waved your hands uselessly.
“Looking all what?”
“Like that.”
“Like what?”
“Seriously?”
“Doin’ my best here.”
You laughed, then laughed harder because somehow that answer was incredibly funny. Daryl rubbed a hand over his face.
“Oh, Lord.”
“No, but seriously.”
“That’s usually when people stop bein’ serious.”
“You’re beautiful.”
The words slipped out so casually that neither of you reacted immediately.
Then silence.
Daryl froze.
You didn’t, because unfortunately your mouth was still working.
“Always have been.”
“Pretty sure men don’t usually like bein’ called beautiful.”
“Well that’s stupid.”
Daryl looked like he had completely forgotten how conversations worked.
You continued.
“Because you are.”
His ears had started turning red.
Very red.
The sight delighted you.
“Aww.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
“Seriously.”
You grinned.
“No.”
Daryl looked away. You were fairly certain nobody had ever seen Daryl Dixon blush before, the discovery felt monumental.
“You know,” you continued, resting your chin in your hand, “I’ve wanted you for years.”
Daryl nearly choked.
“What?”
“Oh, years.”
Daryl stared. You kept talking, because apparently your drunk brain had no interest whatsoever in self-preservation.
“Since before Alexandria.”
His face somehow became even redder.
“Before Alexandria?”
“Way before.”
“Damn.”
“Yep.”
The next hour passed with you happily rambling through years worth of secret feelings while Daryl sat across from you listening with a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and growing affection that became harder and harder to hide.
You told him everything.
Every stupid crush.
Every moment.
Every embarrassing thought.
By the time exhaustion finally dragged you to sleep on one of the old booths, Daryl was fairly certain he’d just experienced the most surreal night of his life. And despite everything he’d heard. Despite how badly he wanted those words to be true.
He never once took advantage of them, instead he draped his jacket over you and waited for morning.
The next day was horrible.
Not because of the herd.
The herd had moved on.
Not because of the journey home.
That part went smoothly.
No.
The horrible part happened roughly halfway through the walk back to Alexandria when every single memory from the previous night returned.
All at once.
You nearly walked directly into a tree.
“Oh God.”
Daryl glanced over.
“What?”
You stopped moving.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“You remembered.”
You considered throwing yourself into the nearest river.
“Everythin’?”
“Please stop talking.” You groaned.
Daryl looked suspiciously amused.
The rest of the walk home was unbearable, then somehow things became worse.
Because later that evening, after both of you had unpacked supplies and gone your separate ways, Daryl found you near the gardens.
And asked the question.
The one question. The question you had desperately hoped he would never ask.
“Did ya mean it?”
You froze. Your soul left your body.
“All that stuff ya said.”
You immediately turned around.
“Nope.”
Then walked away.
Quickly.
Very quickly.
The next five days became a disaster.
Every time you saw Daryl approaching, you found somewhere else to be.
If he entered a room, you left.
If he joined a conversation, you discovered an urgent task elsewhere.
At one point you literally hid behind a shed.
Unfortunately Daryl noticed.
Which only made things worse.
Because while you spent the week dying of embarrassment, Daryl spent it reaching a very different conclusion.
He thought you regretted everything.
Thought maybe hearing those feelings spoken aloud had frightened you.
Thought perhaps you’d realised afterwards that you didn’t actually want him.
By the sixth day he had almost convinced himself to give up entirely.
Which was precisely when Carol intervened. Because of course she did. You should have known.
The woman had the patience of a saint until romance became involved, then she transformed into a menace. You had been helping organise supplies when Carol appeared.
“Come with me.”
You immediately became suspicious.
“No.”
“Wasn’t a request.”
Five minutes later she marched you into one of Alexandria’s empty houses.
And Daryl was already inside. Your heart nearly stopped.
“Carol.”
“No.”
“Carol.”
“No.”
“This feels illegal.”
She pointed at both of you.
“Talk.”
Then she left. Actually left.
The door shut.
You considered climbing out a window. Daryl looked equally uncomfortable. For several long moments neither of you spoke.
“Thought ya hated me.” Daryl broke the silence finally.
“What?”
Daryl shrugged awkwardly.
“You’ve been avoidin’ me all week.”
The genuine pain in his voice immediately crushed your embarrassment under a wave of guilt.
“Daryl.”
“S’alright.”
“No, it isn’t. I don’t hate you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’ve been hidin’ behind buildings.”
“Yeah.”
“I know.”
Daryl’s mouth twitched slightly.
Heat flooded your face.
“Oh my God.”
Suddenly you understood how ridiculous you’d been. All week you’d been running away because you were embarrassed. Meanwhile Daryl had been sitting there thinking you hated him.
“Daryl.”
“What?”
You took a deep breath, then finally forced yourself to say it.
“I wasn’t avoiding you because I regretted confessing to you.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
You covered your face.
“Because I wanted to die.”
That finally earned a laugh. A real laugh. You pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
“Sorry.”
“You are not sorry.”
„No, I’m really not.”
You groaned dramatically, then finally lowered your hands.
“Daryl.”
“Yeah?”
You swallowed.
And this time, there was no alcohol to blame.
No whiskey.
No drunken confidence.
No excuses.
Just honesty.
“Everything I said that night was true.”
The smile disappeared from his face. Not because he was upset. Because suddenly the moment became real.
“You mean that?”
“Every word.”
For a second Daryl simply looked at you, then he stepped closer. Close enough that your heart immediately started racing.
“You liked the short hair that much, huh?”
“That is what you took from this?”
His grin appeared.
Small.
Warm.
Beautiful.
“Maybe.”
You shook your head. Completely unbelievable. And somehow still your favourite person in the world.
“I love you, idiot.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them and this time you didn’t run.
Daryl’s eyes widened slightly.
Then softened and before you could become embarrassed all over again, his hand rested against your cheek.
“Love you too.”
The kiss that followed felt long overdue, worth every second of embarrassment that had come before it.
And somewhere across Alexandria, Carol was undoubtedly feeling very pleased with herself.
