#drunk tank

[nostalgia-eh52]

[sinsandsweetness]

drunk tank- part 2

cw- vulgar language, drug and alcohol use, slight angst and pining for the reader, references to sexual acts. about 2.6k words that aren’t proofread:/ sorry loves.

notes- i started writing and i don’t know what happened. hopefully you guys don’t hate it? way more plot than i intended but… much smutty goodness to come, i promise (no pun intended)

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i live for your feedback and love hearing your opinions <3

Fuck.

You don’t even want to look around the house. You already know it’s gonna be a fucking mess. You can hear it. Feel it. Hell, you can smell it. Booze and weed and sex. Sweaty bodies packed into a 3 bedroom trailer on the wrong side of town. Coke on the bathroom counter that’ll have you wishing you’d never let Merle move in in the first place.

You stop at the end of the driveway, wondering whether you should even go in. Or if you should get back in the taxi and tell him to take you away and never come back. Go work at some diner in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Leave everyone else behind.

But Daryl’s face flashes through your mind. You can’t do that to him. Not after all he’s been through.

Growing up with the Dixons was a bit of a challenge. Merle being well… Merle. You and Daryl always ending up in some kind of dangerous and even disturbing situation. Creeps who smelled of Jack Daniel’s, with wandering hands and no sense of personal space. Having to put on a smile for Merle who desperately needed to finish the deal before you could even think about sneaking off to the truck. You were leverage. Sometimes even Daryl. Though you knew he hated it. Fried hair, rotting teeth, meth head bitches who thought he was trash enough to stoop that low. He wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t want to be.

You should go inside and find him. Get him to drive you to Shane’s to spend the night. It’s not like you’ll get any sleep tonight with this ruckus going on. Not after the shift you just had. And you’ve learned to really love Shane’s middle class, suburban townhouse with a California king and a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It was… different. Unfamiliar. A perfect little escape from the chaos of your typical day to day life. Of your piece of shit trailer that’s already falling apart and definitely wouldn’t pass a health inspection no matter what kind of construction worker you were to hook up with.

Besides, Shane was a good fuck. Not that that’s all that matters in a relationship. It’s not. Merle was a good fuck too. You’re not that hard to please. But Shane is sexy. Charismatic. He treats you like a Princess. And honestly… as much as Daryl makes fun of you for it… you’re starting to really like him. He pays for meals. Takes you out. Isn’t afraid to show you off or introduce you to his friends. And, the biggest part; he’s safe. Steady. A fucking cop for Christ sake. So much different than the guys you’ve been with before. You weren’t at risk of any stray needles or guns when you stayed at his place. The only gun he kept at home stayed locked up in his office and is used strictly for emergencies.

And his sheets are clean and his fridge is full and his best friend is a hunk who happens to be going through some minor marital issues that you can’t say you’re not excited about. For once in your life, things are starting to look up.

Well… not from where you’re standing. Dreading the pounding bass and music that you can already hear pouring out of the windows. Praying that Merle had the decency to lock your bedroom door, but it was unlikely. You pulled a blanket over his passed out body on the couch before you left for work, so the likelihood of him remembering what you gently whispered in his ear was extremely slim.

Be safe. Lock my door. Don’t do anything stupid.

He clearly hadn’t heard you. Or if he did, he didn’t listen. Because the sounds and smells coming from the house as you walk barefoot on the gravel with your heels in your hand are proving to be the latter.

The door is open. Coats and purses thrown about. Stares from the girl and the guy flirting away in the front entrance. Red solo cups in their hands presumably filled with whatever the cheapest keg that your ex could find at the value liquor across the diner. At least that’s what you have to assume. Cheap beer. Sticky and sweaty and- holy shit.

It’s Daryl. On the couch, with a girl.

It’s no surprise that he’s over. It’s not like he has any other place to stay.

It’s the girl on his lap that has you stopping in your tracks. Bright blonde hair and fishnets straddling his thigh. Blowing smoke onto his, thankfully, annoyed and unimpressed expression. She’s almost naked. That’s why you’re so shocked. It’s not like Daryl has ever had an issue getting with girls. But the fact that her skirt looks like a belt and there aren’t even any panties under her tights… well It’s just… a bit of an eye sore if you were honest.

He catches your gaze. The sight of you rolling your eyes at the pathetic little show in front of you. Turning down the hallway and knowing he’s probably already shoving her off and jogging to catch up right behind you. Down the hall and to your room where you’re unsurprisingly forced to kick a couple of sleeping stoners out of your bed. At least they still have their clothes on. Most of them anyway.

“Who was that?” You ask, not turning around but hearing the door latch and lock behind you. Daryl’s smokey, leather scent coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He knows better.

“No one,” he mumbles into your neck, his breath smelling of the rum and coke he chugged and threw to the side before chasing you down the hall.

You can’t help the way you shake him off. He’s drunk for Christ’s sake. Not like he didn’t have a warm and willing body out there on the sofa. Probably desperate to get any of her slutty holes filled and fucked by your childhood best friend.

You slump down onto the bed. Unmade and definitely not from you. The thought makes you wince.

You run a hand over your face and think about the clean smell of pine sol and laundry detergent that now reminds you of the handsome, dark haired officer you’ve recently gotten to know.

Daryl sits down beside you. A nervous tic in his hands as he picks at his cuticle. Unsure of what to say or what to do. It’s not like he should feel bad. He was right, she is no one to him. He won’t even remember her name in the morning. But he still feels a twang of guilt. Wishing you hadn’t seen her string covered cunt grinding on his thigh in the middle of the living room.

“Where are the keys to the Chevy?” You ask, ending the awkward silence brewing between the two of you.

“No way.”

“I’m sober, Dare. There’s no way I can sleep here. Plus I work a double in the morning. Just hand em over.” You turn to face him. He sees the bags under your eyes and knows he should just hand them over. Let you get some beauty rest in officer Walshes big and beautiful bed. Where he’ll be sure to fuck you right tonight and make you a delicious breakfast in the morning before sending you off with a kiss and tap on your perky little ass. But that’s also exactly the reason why he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be the one sharing your bed tonight. He wants to make you some scrambled eggs in the morning and drop you off at the diner. Him. Not some asshole cop that fucked you right in front of him at the station a month ago. Hard and fast and really fucking good. By the sounds you were making and the twisted look of pleasure written on your face, it was good. And even Daryl could see that.

“Stay here. Please.” Daryl's hand makes Its way to your thigh.

“Daryl-”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin- don’t leave.” He’s pleading with you. Can’t stand the thought of you moaning and writhing underneath his burly competition.

“Please.” His voice cracks but you pretend not to hear.

You shake your head. You need a shot. And an Advil.

“I’ll just call Shane.” You reach for your bag, ready to wake the poor guy up to come grab you from the trailer you refuse to let him enter, let alone see. Guess you gotta deal with it tonight.

“Fine- hey-“ he reached for your bag. Stopping you from grabbing the phone you’re rummaging for. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I had one drink. Seriously. Look at me.” You do it. Maintaining the heavy eye contact that’s burning into your irises. He’s telling the truth. You can see it. The way he’s holding your leg and the expression on his face. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Okay. Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, hushed and you know you sound like a bitch. But you’re just really fucking tired.

He pulls you by the hand the whole way out to the door. Dodging the blondie from the couch and pushing your ex out of the way when he sees you, wide eyed and calling your name. Pupils blown and clearly coked out. Part of the reason he’s your ex. Among a plethora of other reasons you’d rather not get in to.

Merle’s truck sounds like shit. Stuttering a few times before it roars to life. A weird clicking from the glove box that you’re just too tired to check out. Smokes and a used condom thrown about the passenger side floor. Unsurprising but still disgusting.

You grab your phone and send Shane a text. Making sure it’s actually ok that you do crash for the night. Not that he’d ever say no. But you want to be polite.

Mind if I swing by? A bit crowded at mine.

It only takes him a few stoplights to answer.

Of course, Princess. You need a ride?

You answer immediately. Thumbs tapping fast on the tiny little buttons of your blackberry.

Nope:) 5 mins away.

Perfect. See you soon gorgeous

You can’t help the smile creeping up on your expression. Curling on your glossy lips and catching the attention of your best friend in the drivers seat.

“Pfft-” he rolls his eyes, turning the corner a little sharper than you’d like.

“Oh, shut it.” You snap back. Daryl has never liked any of your boyfriends. You don’t blame him. Most of them were real pieces of shit. Using you for your body. Your money. Not that you had much to spare.

Merle and you never dated. Just a couple drunk hookups that you didn’t enjoy.

Daryl never liked that either. Knowing his brother had seen the most sacred parts of you. Touched you and held you and watched your eyes screw shut as you came all over his cock.

Daryl wishes he could be the only one who’s ever seen that. The only one who knows the sounds you make when you’re close and the way you’re breath hitches when he kisses that spot on your stomach. It fucking kills him. Thinking about you gripping Shane’s dark hair while he discovers that same exact same spot. Going lower and lower until you’re squirming and writhing and-

“Dare?” You repeat. Grabbing the attention of the scowling young man who’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s about to fly away from him.

“Huh?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Shit, sorry.”

He circles around and shifts into park. Right across the street. The tree in Shane’s yard blocking the light from the front porch.

“Thanks,” you say dryly while reaching for the door handle. Ready to crawl into a warm bed. One where the only sound that enters your ears is the crickets in the backyard and the soft inevitable snoring from the handsome deputy holding you nice and close.

“Wait, just-” Daryl’s hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you pack. Snaking His hand around the back of your neck and crashing his lips against yours. Leaned right over the middle console to pull you in even closer. Tongue tracing your lips and deepening the kiss. The faint taste of tobacco and the familiar warmth of his mouth clouds your judgment. Kissing him back despite your relatively steady and semi-serious fling waiting for you on the other side of the red door across the street.

You pull away, eyes still closed and resting your forehead against his.

“Dare…”

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Nose nudging your own as he connects your lips for one last kiss that lingers just a couple seconds too long. A pained, broken look in his ocean eyes passes through when you finally pull away and scowl.

“Don’t. You can’t- you don’t get to do that.”

His jaw clenches and you’re sure he wants to spit some petty ass insult at you. Years of daddy issues and unresolved anger issues catching up to him with every little argument that crosses his path. But he finds it in himself to bite it back. Well not entirely. Just… a little less vulgar.

“Wear a condom,” he sneers, pulling away and falling back against the headrest. A deep sigh leaving his lungs as he chews on the inside of his lip. Already regretting his comment both due to the sheer cruelty of it but also because of the subtle admission of jealousy that he would fucking kill to have flown right above your head. It doesn’t. But the crimson painting his cheeks tells you he really fucking wishes it would. So for his sake, you ignore it and mutter a goodbye as you hop out and shut the car door. Heels clacking on the cement while you make your way to the front porch. Duffel bag in hand and a flutter of butterflies starting to swarm around in your belly.

You don’t even have to knock before the door opens and you’re met with the scent of a musky cologne and those beautiful brown eyes looking you up and down. Plaid pajama pants and a clean black tee shirt pulling you in for a quick embrace as he eyes the old Chevy still idling across the street, Daryl inside, ensuring you actually made it into the house.

“Hey, beautiful,” Shane kisses your cheek. Eyes still fixed on the man gazing over from the tinted truck window.

With a strong, guiding palm on the small of your back, you brush past the officer and head on in. Giving him a moment to set the alarm and lock the door behind you. Oblivious of the way Shane decides to wave at Daryl. Sending him a silent thank you for dropping you off all safe and sound. And maybe a very slight reminder of what he’s about to do to you as soon as that door closes.

And though he doesn’t see it, whether it’s from the tint of the truck or the clouds blocking the moon in the middle of the night, Daryl waves back. A pained, stomach dropping, shaky little wave that he didn’t even really want to return.

Daryl drives home as it starts to rain. Windshield wipers scraping on the cracked glass in front of him as his mind wanders, thinking about how nice it would be to stay in one of the nice, picket fence, suburban homes you’ve always wanted. Thinking about you in a big backyard, sipping on some white wine with a chunky little toddler on your hip. Your husband flipping some burgers and talking to the neighbors about football or the weather or the preschool you’ve been scouting.

It hurts his heart that in his little daydream, it’s not him who’s standing there barbecuing on that deck. It’s not him making small talk with your coworkers or reaching for the babbling little kid in your arms, asking for his daddy.

It’s Shane.

And for a split second, even though it physically hurts his heart. He knows that Shane can give that to you. And that, that simple little revelation is the whole reason he knows why he needed to wave back.

-

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taglist form is in my pinned post- let me know if I’m missing you<3

[one-real-wrimonkey]

Corrie Guard Shenanigans when the GAR higher ups get plopped into the drunk tank after a rare night at 79s?

Ahhhhh I love the premise.

For now this is notes. It may well become a fic:

———

For starters they are entirely 100% professional and never ever even consider getting revenge for the way the CG are treated and referred to by the rest of the GAR.

For second, the above statement is a total lie.

If there are three things the Corrie Guard have skill with, it’s paperwork and patience and dealing with verbal abuse and that pays off.

That means processing and later discharging can take hooooooours depending on the person, or like 2 minutes if the Guard like you. General Skywalkers processing took two days once (he may be a Jedi but he’s too close to Palpatine and too fond of Palpatine to ever be on their side surely and not afraid to use that or his Jedi position to throw his weight about. Plus he’d traumatised some shinies who caught him and Senator Amidala together) Commander Cody’s took 7 hours (on Fox’s orders) as did Wolffes and Bly’s (serves them right for drinking without him). Ponds has never been thrown in the Dunk Tank, (but he’s been in the Jedi Temples one once, none of his vode know about that).

Rex’s took 10 minutes. Fox will deny having a soft spot for his little brother.

Tarkin’s release forms were mysteriously lost and not processed. Three times. (Not three separate occasions, three times on one occasion, but he definitely deserved it).

Monnk ended up there along with General Fisto and three other troopers from their squad. Their release wasn’t delayed for any malicious or opinionated reason, simply that a drunk Kit Fisto is one of the most entertaining things they’d seen in weeks and not only did they need a holo but it was free entertainment. Especially having the drunk vode with him either joining in or trying to stop them embarrassing themselves.

All funny footage gets shared but nothing private or personal. Vode are careful about things like that.

General Koon never made it to the drunk tank. Even if he went out and got drunk, he’d never make it to the tank. No matter how drunk he is (it only happened twice through the war) he’s always guided back to the Temple and taken care of. He’s just always so kind and compassionate and once he bought them chocolates and sweets and he uses the correct pronouns and asks for them. He loves the vode and he’s helping fight for their legal rights and only ever gets drunk after a mission with huge losses so it wouldn’t be fair. Wolffe was right about him being a Buir. (He gives the best hugs too).

Vos sometimes ends up in the tank despite none of the vode being able to remember putting him in there or arresting him. He comments on it being cheaper than a hotel and they decide to ignore it because it’s not going to be worth asking. Besides he may be a menace sometimes but he is usually investigating corruption or gangs and works with them sometimes. He’s also fun for an off the books anti senate bitching session.

Padawans never get logged in. They get blankets and help with the hangover but they’re cadets or shinies and that means they’re worth protecting. All Jedi are, especially when they’re in such a similar boat to the clones, but the knights and masters are old enough to suffer the consequences of their actions.

Well, almost all the Jedi have their records kept blank so the Senate can’t go after them any further after the first time the vode in the Guard realised the records were being used to punish the Jedi by limiting their access to things like food and medical supplies in the Temple.

There’s a list of Senators only the Guard have access to about which ones are treated well and which can be left for the night.

There’s also a short list of Jedi who can be mistreated because they mistreat clones. It’s a very short list though.

The Jedi who are most well known as part of the Clones Rights project all also get a free pass including Koon, Kenobi, Windu, Billaba, Luminara and Erin. They all end up back in the Temple instead of the Drunk Tank.

Hound has a group session set up for vode who have shifts with awful verbal abuse and the occasional physical attack because it’s not fair. The other vode in the GAR can be spiteful when drunk towards the CG because of the misconception that they are never at risk and never do anything being on Coruscant rather than the front lines. It’s good to have someone to talk to after an evening of people who are supposed to be your family yell hate at you and call you names.

That got kinda serious towards the end but I’ll leave you with one final fun fact.

No-one wants the shift when the 501st is docked because the tank always ends up full but the worst is actually the 21st Nova Corps.

———

Thanks for the ask this was really fun.

(The whole AU should be in the tag ‘my Corrie guard au’ if anyone wants to read more) and my inbox is open for asks. (-:

[shiver-storm]

“Oh dear,” a voice spoke above the drunken shark-bot, “Got a bit too sloshed, didn’t you?”

Hands curled around Thresh’s torso, carefully lifting him up with one supporting the back of his head as he was adjusted into a seated position against a wall. The owner of the voice stepped back, kneeling before the other with a somewhat amused look on his face.

“You don’t drink too often, do you sweetheart?”

Thresh’s vision may have been blurry and unsteady, but the face before him likely looked familiar…

The weight of the drinks he's had too much for his systems, even as he closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning. Having not bothered to move at all after falling coupled with the fatigue he was feeling, Thresh would have dozed off right there and then but what stopped him was the voice.

Then the movement.

When he felt himself sturdy, supported by a wall, he hazard a peek. His visuals unfocused and hazy, unable to sit still enough to get a clear picture of who was in front of him but he could make out enough detail.

And what a detail he picked up. That bright red armor, even in his drunk haze, is instantly recognizable and if he was in a better state, he would question why it's here.

However...

"Zzero?" the word tumbled out of his mouth, feeling foreign and out of place. He blinked, the movement slow and slightly uneven, at the hunter. Taking a moment too long to processes that he had even spoke, much less take in the question.

"Nao, butIs fun."

"didja wan some?" There's a sloppy gesture to a bottle on the counter, open and about a quarter or so empty.

[artistsoftheunknown]

thrush

steady rattle off subtle distinctions between forms of life, oppressed in tune to keys synonymous with  assumptions of placement, a dignity for who came first, as if order meant anything other than containment of what’s inherent in all things.

[harvestheart]

The Pogues Featuring Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale Of New York

MERRY CHRISTMAS, TUMBLRS

[sinsandsweetness]

Shane. Shane’s stuck in my head. I wonder if he and Rick got up to any shenanigans late at night in the police station with a cute girl…. I know Rick probably just watched but dang. Just thinking about it 👀 and if Merle and Daryl were in the drunk tank next to the cell…..

Shane is forever stuck in my head <3 I usually don't go for the pre-apocalypse au's but damn. this one got me dreamin' and drooling....

pairing- (Shane x fem!reader)

cw- dub con? just a power imbalance more than anything, mentions of drunk driving, very suggestive but no actual smut. 1.4k wc

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” You walk past the two officers, both a little shocked by your vulgar language. Reaching the bars and seeing Merle grinning like a madman. Drunk. Clearly. Smelling of bourbon and poor decisions. 

“Aw, sugar-tits! I knew you’d come. Daryl says you wouldn’t n’ I says oh yesss she will,” he slurs his words. “And here you are! Our saving grace.”

You immediately turn to face Daryl. Bags under his eyes, elbows leaning on his knees while he sits on the bench. Clearly just as tired and irritated as you are. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You smack him on the shoulder with your bag. “I could barely pay rent this month. There's an eviction notice on my damn door and you think I can afford to bail your lousy, drunk of a brother out of- "

His eyes go wide at your confession, shooting up to grab your hand. 

“You don’t have to keep living with that loser, you know you can come stay with me-“

You shake him off. Blood starting to boil with irritation. “That’s not the point, Dare! I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep saving his ass whenever you two need it.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Attempting to contain the flood of emotions that the week's events are summoning. 

“How much is it?” you brace yourself for the worst. Subconsciously knowing that whatever disgusting number you were picturing, would still be better than whatever Daryl was about to say.

“… 500.” 

“Fuckin' hell, Dare.” He gives you a look that reflects exactly how you feel. Apologetic. Angry. And so fucking tired.

With a deep breath, you tell him you’re going to try and talk to the cops that brought Merle in. To see if there's any way you can work something out. 

Pulling your skirt down slightly, in an attempt to be more modest for the police than you are for the men you wait on, you make your way over to the men. The tall one, dark hair and handsome in an almost intimidating way, is standing at the counter, chewing on a toothpick. The other is just as handsome, though in a softer way. Pretty blue eyes and an unsurprising wedding band adorning his left hand. He sits behind the desk as he fills something out on the computer. The satisfying click and clack of the keyboard, times almost perfectly with that of your heels on the grey linoleum. 

You approach the two with your sweetest smile, full of remorse. Your pretty eyes scream 'pity me' and you pray that the officers are kind enough to listen.

Immediately, you notice the way that the dark haired one stares down your blouse as you come to a stop. Taking a little breath for courage before starting your little spiel. 

“Hi.” You can't help but blush a little at the look that Officer Handsome is giving you. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What can we help you with?” He licks his lips and can't seem to contain the way they curl into a cheeky grin.

“My friend there, the uh, dumbass behind the bars…. well, you see he’s just, um…” pull yourself together, baby. “He fucked up. And I know that. He knows that. Even if it doesn't really seem like it. He really fucked up and if this were any other week, me and his brother over there, we would have more than enough money for his bail. We just.. Um, don't have it right now. So, I was wondering if there's any way we could work something out, like a payment plan or…”

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks, obviously uninterested in your proposal. 

Mouth agape at the bold interruption, you respond hesitantly, glancing back at Daryl for a second.

“Uh, no but…” 

“Really? Pretty boy over there… he’s what? Just a friend?” he nods towards Daryl, who can't quite hear but is obviously intrigued, and trying to assess how the conversation is going.

“Yeah, we're just friends… why?” 

He ignores your question again, hand coming up to touch the cross pendant on your chest, “Cute necklace.” He smirks again, this time at the way your breath hitches at his touch. Fingers moving over to play with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger. 

“Shane.” The officer at the desk scolds his partner. Unimpressed but seemingly unphased by his behaviour, not even glancing up from the document he's reading.

“Ricky, c'mon. Look at her. Ain’t she gorgeous? What the hell are you doin' hanging out with these idiots?”

Apparently Daryl could hear that remark because you hear a faint, unimpressed, “Hey!” come from the bench behind you. 

“Dare, sit down.” You tell him, with a scowl on your face as he sighs and sits back down and leaned into his hands once again. Praying for the night to just be over already.

“His brother is the idiot, he’s just… too loyal for his own good.”

The officer, Shane, nods his head, continuing to inspect you. Black mini skirt and button up blouse, curly hair cascading over your shoulders. Smelling like vanilla and vodka and whatever body oil is making your long legs shimmer so beautifully in the fluorescent lights.

“What are you doin’ up this late, anyway?” he asks. Apparently intrigued by your attire.

“I'm a waitress. I was just walking home from the bar as I got their call.” The constant dreaded call to come bail Merles drunk driving ass out of jail. 2:00 am on a friday, and you should have known they'd get themselves into trouble.

“You know, this is his third time. We've already taken his license. Impounded his car. If you don't have the money then…there's really not much I can do.” Shane tells you, that wicked grin still splayed on his face.

“You can leave him 'til morning, come back when you have the money.” Rick offers, finally putting the papers down and leaning back in his chair. One boot crossed over his knee as he relaxed into the leather cushion.

“And how the hell do you propose I come up with 500 dollars overnight?” You try not to sound so rude, but you’re tired and cold and Merles drunk babbling from the cell is really starting to piss you off.

The two men share a look and you feel goosebumps raise on your bare legs.

“Pretty girl like you… shouldn't be too hard.” Shane says, flicking his toothpick into the bin.

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, “I'm not some kind of whore, you know.” You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling a little exposed in the excessively cold air conditioning.

“Of course not. That’s not what I meant, sweetheart.”

“Then what'd you mean, huh?” 

“Yeah, Shane, what did you mean?” Rick crosses his own arms, entertained by his friend getting himself stuck in such an awkward predicament. 

“Yeah, Shane. Why don't you expand on that for us.” You lean against the counter and he shakes his head with an annoyingly attractive laugh, which you can't help but smile at. Forcing you to forgive his crude suggestion almost immediately.

“You gonna give me your number or what?” he says, leaning up beside you.

“I’ll give you a whole lot more than my number if you can get his bail waved.” You bite your lip and nod towards Merle in the holding cell.

“Thought you said you weren't a whore.” 

“Shane-” Rick hisses, warning his friend to tone it down. They're supposed to be officers of the law after all. Though you aren't really offended. You would fuck the man for free if he asked.

“You got an office here or something?” Your left hand starts to play with the keys on his belt, slowly making their way to the buckle, where you tap your french tips a few times, looking up at him with a look so sickeningly sweet, his cock actually twitches. 

He thinks for a moment, letting you pull at the leather band until he’s flush with your core.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, realizing you’re actually serious. Deciding to give in to your downright sinful suggestion. “Rick. Turn off the cameras in the interrogation room.” He turns to his partner. Blue eyes, all wide and dumbstruck.

“Shane, that’s illegal-”

Shane grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the room, talking over his shoulder, “Rick. Cut the fuckin’ cameras." His lips brush your ear as turns to whisper, nudging you forward, "I’d ask him to join, but I already know he won't." You smirk at his confession, looking back at Rick and silently wish the ring on his finger wasn't there.

Shane directs his attention at Rick once more, "You can watch from the glass if you’re feelin’ left out.” 

You can't help but giggle as you enter the room. Empty, aside from a metal chair and table. Shane pauses at the doorway, catching the attention of Daryl from down the hall.

“You too, pretty boy. This is for your brother's sake after all.”

-continued here

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @eternalrose81 @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @grimesthinker @cl0wnb0yyy @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee

(what the hell do I name this fic??)

also I don’t know shit about jail so… don’t come for me lol

[sinsandsweetness]

⭐️ drunk tank moodboard??

I was hoping I’d be able to do this one 🥰 reader gives me kind of fiona gallagher vibes? And I feel like her and Daryl are definitely not just friends like she says. But anyway…

-> DRUNK TANK