#football#world cup#world cup 2026#england nt#jude bellingham#soccer
seen from Malaysia
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i miss my family
y/n: when you said you'd do "magic in bed", this wasn't exactly what I was expecting.
glenn, holding up 8 of hearts: is this your card?
y/n, softly: holy shit.
Accidental Cuddling: Glenn Rhee Edition
The group had finally stumbled on it just before sundown, a weather-beaten cabin hidden deep in the woods, shrouded in tangled bush and towering pines that it felt like it had appeared out of nowhere. The cold Georgia winter was finally showing its head and everyone in the group was feeling its effects. There were no walkers in sight, no rot, and no smell of death. Just dry wood, thick wall, and a roof that didn’t leak and windows still in one piece. Inside, the air was stale carrying the faint musk of dust and long-settled age. A sagging couch slumped in the corner, cushions warped but intact. Dusty throw blankets hung across the back, smelling faintly of cedar and time rather than mildew. A stone fireplace crouched against one wall, and after a little coaxing and swearing from Daryl, a small fire was finally started within it.
𝐓𝐖𝐃: 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
Thanks for the request
18+
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ
"Does the idea of dying scare you? Is that why you are being so...out of it tonight?" Your voice cuts through the tension filling the kitchen.
Your lover had come hurt again. Their eyes drain of their spark of life. All evening, their replies had been short, blunt, and cold. When you try to comfort them, they shrug you away with sheer indifference.
"What?" They answer while refusing to look up from the wound on their forearm.
How long have they been tending that cut now? An hour? Two hours? The both of you had lost track. The snacks you made early have surely gone cold by now.
But you two should eat, right? That will help, right?
"Did you come close to dying today?" You try to keep your voice to steady. From experience, you know any temble in your voice will worry them. But oh, the clacking of the dishes in the snack tray displays your trembling hands for all.
"Let me help." They stand up and rush to your side. With a whisk of their hands, the tray is traded. They carry it to the kitchen table and set it down.
Then, a deep inhale cuts through every single whisper within your head.
"No, but we lost others." They keep their back turned to you. Their eyes glued to the sandwiches and cookies you made just for them.
"I was powerless. They looked like-" Before they could finish the sentence, you rush over to hug them from behind. You burry your face into their back, praying tears do not fall.
"I am right here. I am alive." Your voice cracks out.
And like that, they spin you aroubd to hold you tightly. With the energy they had left now gone, the two of you fall to the ground, tangled together. Neither of you are willing to let go of each other anytime soon.
"I am alive. You are alive. We are safe and sound, right here, right now." You repeat over and over again as their eyes fill with tears.
♡ Sanemi, Giyu, Geto, Shoko, Glenn, Daryl, Hizashi, toshinori, Tao, Riza, Roy, Allura, Lotor, Prussia, S.Italy, Hubert, Ingrid
i’ve been on tumblr for a couple years now. I have had the best time ever finding escape by reading stories written by talented and passionate writers, i am just so grateful always.
But why did no one tell me how fun it is to try and write something of your own 😋 i have a whole note in my notes app dedicated to scenarios and daydreams about so many fandoms.
I finally gave in and opened my google docs. I’m giggling as I type out my little story, maybe i’ll keep it for myself but this is so much fun 🙂↕️🤯
oi Gui, amo suas fanfics, pode fazer mais uma do glenn de twd?☹️ só alguns headcanons ta bom!!
Glenn as your bf...
Glenn Rhee x GN! Reader
Cw- Gender neutral reader, You/Yours pronouns, Fluff, Knives, Zombies, Glenn being the best boyfriend. Maybe it’s a bit ooc.
Synopsis- Just some headcannons of what it would be like to date Glenn! (he's a sweetheart!)
Word count- +1200
The Day That Never Comes
Glenn Rhee x Reader
The Walking Dead
A/N: I'm missing my Glennjamin
#Prison Era
Tunes : Every Breath You Take
Warning : Kinda rushed
Glenn is so green coded
#Oop, has my Glennjamin obsession returned? Glenn onwards from the bleep!
Glenn Rhee is was a man who led with his heart.
In a world that punished softness, that mistook kindness for weakness and patience for delay, he should have been the first to go. The kind who sacrificed himself so others could run. The one people remembered fondly, briefly, before moving on.
But Glenn Rhee had a way of surviving that wasn’t loud or ferocious.
He listened. He stayed. He loved carefully, fiercely, as if love itself were an act of rebellion.
Glenn Rhee was Good.
And still—there were moments he wished he could rewrite.
This was one of them. Looking back now, he wished he could do it differently.
She remembered how she stood in the bathroom doorway, how the air felt too thick to breathe through. The world had gone quiet in that way it did before something irreversible. The small white box was clenched in her hand like a confession she wasn’t ready to make.
"What if I am?"
Glenn glances up at the sound of her voice, he wasn't angry, far from it, Glenn Rhee didn't do anger, not towards her, and very rarely towards anything else. But today, he wished she could see what he did.
The dangers of bringing such an innocent thing into this world. Obviously, it wasn't something you could take lightly or go back and change, but he wished she could see how serious this was.
He had always seen the dangers clearly. Too clearly. The world outside their walls had taught him that innocence didn’t survive on hope alone. That life was fragile. That bringing something small and helpless into a place like this felt almost cruel.
Some days, he worried he couldn’t even keep her safe.
He ran a hand through his hair—longer than it used to be, longer than he ever noticed, she never seemed to mind, he blinked—and said the only thing he could.
"Then... we work it out."
The silence that followed had been unbearable. Not sharp, not loud. Just long. Heavy. The kind that pressed against the ribs.
"What if I can't?"
Glenn's heart broke just a little more from the sound her voice, of course there was the possibility she couldn't, after what happened in the early months of the apocalypse, the early days of their relationship, that day where Glenn Rhee thought he'd lost the love of his life. When he thought he'd lost her at the farm. When she was on the receiving end of a hunters rifle.
On the other hand, there was still the possibility he couldn't. His mom and dad never struggled to conceive, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to.
He stood then, crossed the room in two steps, and held onto her like letting go might undo them both; fingers brushing over her arms and venturing down to her wrists, he didn't let her go, he needed to know she was okay.
"Then, we'll work it out," She didn't look at him, that's what made it worse. It was like she'd completely shut it all out. She just, stared at the box like it would solve her problems, like it was slowly causing more and more pain in her chest. "Okay?"
Her hands shook uncontrollably, anxious, jittery from nerves and unanswered questions.
"Hey," he took the box from her hands, placed it on the bedside table. He gently brushed her jaw, raised her chin to meet his gaze. "It'll be okay, no matter what it says."
But it didn't reassure her whatsoever.
So, she took the test.
Rather than waiting and watching, she left it on the counter. She didn't want to know the answer. If there's one line, she'd feel like a failure, an idiot for thinking otherwise, if there's two, she wouldn't know what to do. She wouldn't know the answers. She wouldn't be safe. One cry and it could send an entire swarm their way, put everybody in danger--
Glenn's head shoots up at the feeling of her presence, she always had a presence, that's how he knew. Every. Single. Time.
"What's it say?"
"It takes ten minutes."
He nodded, silent, looked to his hands. He knew that. Of course he did. He just wished to not have to wait and stray into his thoughts.
"Would it be so bad if I am?" Her voice was so subtle, so soft and broken, he'd nearly missed it. But his heart dropped, not in terror, not in anger, just worry.
He frowns, looks to her from where she leans against the doorway, fingers twisting at the hem of her shirt. His voice wasn't angry, wasn't frustrated, Glenn Rhee was confused.
He didn't know the first thing about childbirth, he didn't know how to treat complications, or even if you could treat them. He didn't know the complications could happen, he only knew there were complications because of Lori. Lori. What happens if he loses her like Rick did with Lori. He couldn't be a single father, one kid, no mother. He didn't want to lose her. He couldn't lose her.
During his frantic thoughts, she'd ventured from the doorway and in front of him, where he sat on the end of of the bed, knees spread, hands clasped. His hands dash over her waist and down her hips, tugging her closer. He needed her closer. What if she was? "How can you say that after everything we've seen today? Everything we've been through?"
He hadn’t meant for his words to sound sharp.
But fear had a way of sneaking into his voice, twisting it into something unfamiliar. The moment the question left him, he saw it—how her shoulders tensed, how her eyes dropped, how she folded inward like she was already bracing for loss.
“I didn’t mean—” He stopped himself. There was no fixing it. Not with apologies. Not with softened tone. This wasn’t about hurt feelings. This was about survival.
She swallowed, fingers curling at her sides. “I know what we’ve seen,” she said quietly. “I know what this world does to people like us. To women. To women having babies.” Her voice wavered at the end, just barely. “That doesn’t make me want it any less.”
That was the part he hadn’t been ready for.
Want.
Not fear. Not denial. Want.
He dragged a hand down his face, paced once, twice, the narrow space between the bed and the wall suddenly too small to hold everything he felt. He imagined tiny footsteps echoing too loudly. Cries carrying too far. A body he couldn’t shield fast enough.
“I can’t lose you,” he said finally, the words tearing out of him raw. “I won’t survive that. I can’t—” His voice broke, and he hated himself for it. “I don’t get to be reckless about this. Not with you.”
She stepped closer, slow, careful, like he might shatter. “And what do I lose if I don’t try?”
That stopped him cold.
They stood there, suspended in the dim, both breathing like they’d run miles. Outside, something scraped against concrete, far from them, but just beside the fence, and then it moved on. They both know what it is. The world reminding them it didn’t care.
The timer went off. An old egg timer they'd found on a trip, something special, something hand painted by an old woman with love.
It was a small sound. Almost polite. And somehow it felt louder than gunfire.
She didn’t move, but she flinched. Too long in a world like this does things to you. Irreparable things.
Glenn crossed the room first. He picked up the test like it might burn him, like looking at it would change everything. For a moment, he just stared at the plastic, at the shape of it, at how something so ordinary could carry so much weight.
Two lines.
Clear. Unmistakable.
The room tilted.
He sat down hard on the edge of the bed, breath leaving him in a rush. His hands trembled. He hadn’t even realized he was holding them so tight.
“It's—” His voice failed. He tried again. “You’re…”
She nodded once. No smile. No tears. Just the truth settling in between them.
Pregnant.
A life, fragile and unasked-for, blooming in the ruins.
She waited for him to say something. Anything. For rejection. For panic. For him to tell her they couldn’t do this.
Instead, he reached for her.
His forehead pressed to her stomach, his hands braced on her hips like it was the only thing keeping him upright. He stayed there, breathing, grounding himself in the proof that she was still here.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words muffled. “I’ve never been this scared.”
“I know,” she whispered, fingers threading through his hair, spreading over his jaw. Grounding. “So am I.”
They stayed like that for a long time. No decisions made. No promises spoken. Just two people holding onto each other while the world waited patiently to take more.
That night, neither of them slept.
And when morning came, it came quietly, a fractured mirage of something good in a place of Evil.
The next morning was covered in shadows, but for a change, it was comforting. The curtains were drawn shut over the cell door, wisps of light were making an appearance through the cotton drawn over the wannabe window (just a piece of bulletproof glass shoved into a hole in the wall) but it wasn't the warmth or the sun that woke him.
Morning came without ceremony.
No birdsong. No warmth. Just a thin, ashen light seeping through the fabric tacked over the narrow window, bleeding into the cell in quiet stripes. The prison remained still, as if even it was holding its breath.
Glenn woke before her.
He always did.
For a moment, he forgot. That was the cruelest part. The brief, blissful second where his mind was empty, where the weight hadn’t settled back onto his chest yet. His arm was slung protectively around her waist, her back warm against him, her breathing slow and even.
Then it all rushed back.
The test. The lines. The word he hadn’t said out loud yet.
Pregnant.
He didn’t move. He was afraid that if he did, the world would shift too sharply and break something that couldn’t be fixed. He studied her face instead—the crease between her brows softened in sleep, lashes resting against her cheeks, mouth parted just slightly.
She looked peaceful.
That terrified him more than anything.
He brushed his thumb along her arm, gentle, reverent, as if she were already made of glass. Outside, somewhere far beyond the walls, something groaned. Another sound followed. Then silence again.
He counted her breaths. One. Two. Three.
Still here.
Still alive.
She stirred eventually, nose pressing into his chest like muscle memory, like she belonged there. A small sound escaped her—half sigh, half hum.
“Morning,” she murmured.
The word felt wrong in his mouth. Morning implied normalcy. Continuation. A future that didn’t come with an expiration date.
“Hey,” he replied softly.
She didn’t open her eyes right away. Just shifted closer, her leg tangling with his, her hand resting over his ribs. She was warm. Real. He held onto that.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t empty—it was crowded with everything they hadn’t said the night before.
He wondered if she’d slept at all. Wondered if she’d stared at the ceiling like he had, counting cracks, imagining scenarios he hated himself for imagining. Wondered if she was already thinking about names, about what this meant, about how much there was to lose.
“Glenn,” she said quietly, finally opening her eyes.
“Yeah?”
“You’re thinking too loud.”
He huffed a weak breath. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
She shifted so she could look at him properly now, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the seam of his shirt. Her gaze searched his face—not for answers, but for honesty.
“We don’t have to decide anything today,” she said. “I know your brain’s already trying to run ten miles ahead.”
“I can’t help it,” he admitted. “Every time I close my eyes, I just—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “I keep seeing things go wrong.”
His hand kept rubbing her arm, back and forth, gentle, ever so gentle. Her expression softened, but there was something resolute there too. Something unmovable.
“I see things going wrong either way,” she said. “At least this way… there’s something to fight for.”
That struck deeper than she knew.
He rolled onto his side so they were facing each other, foreheads nearly touching. “You really want this,” he said. Not a question.
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t shake this time. “I’m scared. I’m not stupid. But I don’t want this world to be the thing that takes everything from us.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can protect—”
“You already do,” she cut in gently, hand reaching for his jaw. “Every day. Just by being you.”
He closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to hers, arm reaches around her waist, hand on her lower back. “I don’t want to be another man who promises something he can’t keep.”
“Then don’t promise,” she whispered. “Just stay.”
That was the thing, wasn’t it?
Stay.
Stay.
Stay.
He exhaled slowly, his hand sliding—hesitant, almost unsure—until it rested low on her stomach, thumb brushing her waist band. The contact made his breath hitch. It felt impossibly intimate, impossibly fragile.
“There’s really someone there,” he murmured.
She nodded, eyes shining, breathy and air she replies, “Yeah.”
A life neither of them had planned. A future that didn’t care about rations or walls or how quiet you had to be at night.
He stayed there like that for a long time, hand unmoving, like he was afraid to startle something unseen. Afraid that acknowledging it too loudly would draw the world’s attention.
Eventually, the day crept in further. Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Voices murmured. The prison woke.
Reality waited.
He kissed her hair, lingering, his hand brushing through her hair. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, quieter than before. Less certainty. More truth.
She smiled faintly, smiling against his chest. “You said that last night.”
“I know.” He rested his cheek against her head. “I just need to keep saying it.”
Because saying it made it feel possible.
It made it feel...
Real.
And years later, when she told the story, when she spoke of Glenn Rhee like a memory carved into her bones, her soul, and from a deep place where she never believed she'd have to venture, this is how she remembered, how he kept the memory. That was the morning she always came back to. The morning everything, changed.
The quiet one.
"That's, how I met your dad."
"Did he really set that car alarm off?"
She smiled, brushing the remaining wisps of the little girl's hair, the little girl that shared all of her father's features. "He sure did."
"And did he actually fall down a well?" A boy, just a tad older than the toddler, spoke up from the other bed.
"He most definitely did."
"But why?"
She smiled, tired, drained, but ever so loving. She thought of ehr answer. She never got to find out why.
Before she could answer, a voice from the doorway did so for her. "Because I love your mom."
And once again, Glenn Rhee was there to reassure.
