#Ezekiel really tries his best

[veiwryn]

spill the radioactive waste (tea) on the ezekiel plotline!

While I'm still plotting and rewriting the early changes (Aka Egypt and Japan), I would love to share some of the early Ezekiel plot.

Here's some passages I wrote in my notes.

Heather makes sure the stick would never go to Ezekiel. Out of everyone, she knows him the least, and there was no way she'd trust him with anything. Whether she keeps it or not���where it would go to Leshawna instead—the stick won't be lost. They won't lose a member.

The queen b might make a comment or two about Ezekiel's capability, mentioning he was the first to be voted off and how Zeke wasn't liked. It'd be out loud, either when the team first gets the stick or by the river. Regardless, it feeds into Ezekiel's insecurities—despite Lindsay coming to his defense—and Alejandro takes this opportunity to plot. If Ezekiel was vulnerable, he could have a man inside the enemy's line, find a way to take his largest threats down.

Ezekiel, from what we can infer before his departure in s3, is someone who craves support from his peers. And while he may have Lindsay (and Beth, had she participated and was on his team), it isn't enough. Almost everyone else couldn't care less about him and he hasn't been able to prove himself as someone capable. He wants to contribute to the team, and he's desperate. That's what catches Alejandro's attention. An outlier in a strong group, someone whom he could easily manipulate due to his eagerness to please.

Although Lindsay is still around, she needs to be taken care of. And with Tyler not being on his team, it makes the task easier to do.

Ezekiel unintentionally becomes Alejandro's pawn, believing the charmer wants to genuinely help him build a reputation. Although I'll explore that as I continue to rewrite the rest of the season.

This is also Alejandro's way of messing around with other teams without doing something directly. It helps him remain undercover for now as no one would think twice about Ezekiel's actions, and he's less likely to be caught red-handed by his team.

Will Ezekiel be the downfall for Team Victory, or will he break free from manipulation? Only time will tell!

[formylovetodaryldixon]

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.  

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.  

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

[eideticspider]

|| @spiderbyhalf ||

With Hanukkah and Christmas steadily approaching, Cindy was unsurprised to see the halls at HQ almost empty. What was surprising was that it was more relaxed than eerie. Clutching the two cups of coffee in her hands, she nods at the odd passersby, even smiles though her mask hides it.

Christmas used to be one of her favorite times of year before the bunker. Ezekiel didn't really do anything to celebrate for her, maybe brought her the odd book to add to her tiny collection--but nothing to the same effect that her family had. And though she and her mother had had a strained relationship since she was freed, the holidays are a little easier. The house is full of warmth and laughter, the smell of good food and simmer pots swirls around the air.

It reminds her of better times and it's a time she's come to cherish.

She'd been putting in a lot of thought into her gifts, working into the night on some occasions to make sure they were just right. For her mother, a hand knit sweater in her favorite color. For her father, she'd gone out searching for the perfect watch after he'd casually mentioned he'd broken his original. For Al, a new set of knives for his new position as sous chef at his restaurant and a new apron. Peter and MJ would be recipients of tickets to the show MJ had suggested months ago and for Mayday? Of course she had to buy her the biggest, messiest art kit that she could get her hands on.

Miguel's gift had been another one that she'd worked tirelessly on--since the day after Thanksgiving. There were constant nights where she'd collapse on her bed, smudged with lead and smeared with paint. Anxiety constantly ebbed and flowed and she worried that he would hate it. Since she finished the piece, Cindy went back and forth with just going to the store and buying him something.

It was getting to the point where she didn't have time to keep alternating between ideas.

She hadn't done the piece with any kind of intention--just a reflection of a time they shared that she looked on with fondness. He was, with the strongest definition of the term, her best friend. She valued having him in her life, regardless of the connotations.

Even if she found herself thinking about a deeper connection more and more since Thanksgiving.

And even more so after her date with Derek.

He was a nice enough guy, and they had a decent time. He hadn't tried to kiss more than her cheek and they had good conversation.

But he wasn't the one. It had occurred to her that she couldn't be with someone she had to lie to, at least not in the long-term. And she liked Derek. Not enough to share her life with, but enough to not want to have to constantly lie about who she was. As much as she'd like to take credit for declining a second date, it had been more of a mutual decision.

(And, she'd never admit this to Miguel but the meat eating had been a problem.)

Not to mention, her mind had been all over the place since Thanksgiving. Overanalyzing his kiss to her cheek had come and gone, determined to be just friendly by her forced recognition. But still, she couldn't fight off the lingering feeling that there was something more there.

Not to mention, she'd been noticing just how...beautiful he was in recent days. The lines and creases of his face, his steady posture, the rare smile that she felt privileged to see, the way joy will glimmer in his eyes at a stupid joke...If she had been an artist of old, he'd be her muse.

But she was born in the modern age and it was considered a faux pas to send two texts in a row to a guy. Jesus.

Dr. Sinclair had her work cut out for her that week.

Using her shoulder to slip into Miguel's office, she sits and nudges his cup closer to him on his desk. Neat fingers tug down her mask so she can take a long sip of her own.

"How grateful are you that it's so damn quiet right now?" She teases, leaning her hip against the side of his desk.

[cultofdixon]

You’ll always be important to me

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • When you and Daryl started your own little family, Judith thought that meant everything was changing. But she will always be a part of their family • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy & Birth Mentioned / Anxiety / Sleep Deprivation / Minor Injuries • Commonwealth canon re-written

Requested by: Anon

“Run that back?”

“I’m pregnant, D…”

Daryl looks at his wife a bit taken back by what she said. The silence ate Y/N alive when he didn’t say anything in response after she stated supposedly good news a second time.

Then she was suddenly brought into his embrace feeling the archer tighten his grasp on her carefully.

“We’re gonna be parents…holy shit. We’re havin’ a baby” Daryl lets out a chuckle as he held her close feeling her latch onto him.

“Our family is getting bigger…”

~

“She’s having a baby?” Judith questions once more to Daryl watching the man nod as she gave him a blank stare followed by silence.

Before he could even question what could be going on in that mind of hers, the young Grimes went in for a hug that he happily returned.

“You and Y/N are going to be great parents”

They kind of…already were because the two took in the Grimes kids when Michonne left on this unknown journey that only Judith knew was to find Rick. Daryl was always Rick and Michonne’s first option when it came to taking their kids in any way. Judith has always been the archer’s adoptive daughter in a way that everyone knew, and Y/N has told him every time they just thought about having kids of their own that he will be great because Judith was his first kid.

She always will be

Even when she has her doubts

The first two months into pregnancy were a bit stressful because Alexandria had just suffered a herd going through it and the news of this new community surfaced. Which lead to a possible ally ship that Eugene, Ezekiel, and Yumiko were being the voices for Alexandria to acquire such. Of course Carol will help in her own way to make sure this community wasn’t going to stab them in the back in any way, but for now their promise of helping Alexandria rebuild itself sounded promising. They even offered housing in their community for those who wanted it until their community is rebuilt. As long as they did their part.

Which is only fair. But it wasn’t going to be easy to try and convince an already anxious person to move into unknown territory.

“No”

“But Y/N—-“

“I’m pregnant! It’s an unknown community! My brother is here, my family is here, why would you—-“

“Jude and RJ are comin’ with us. And Aaron will visit but he’s takin’ lead from the Alexandria’s side on the rebuild”

“Why can’t we help—-“

“Because you’re pregnant and Commonwealth has the resources”

“Resources?! We have—-“

“NOT IF SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS TO YEA!” Daryl yells, which was met with instant regret given the flinch that he drew out of his wife. “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry for snappin’. I just. I can’t lose you…I can’t. Lose. You.” He tried his best to contain his anxiety that was picking at him to get him to sob as Y/N brought herself close bringing her arms around his middle.

“Daryl…Nothin’ bad is gonna happen to me. Or our baby. Or our kids…we’ll be safe…”

“Please Y/N…we don’t have to live there forever. Just until Alexandria is rebuilt…Aaron will come and get us when it’s done.”

Y/N held her husband while all his anxiety continued to radiate off him as she rests her chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Okay”

“Okay?”

“Yes…but I’m not raising our baby in the Commonwealth. Once we are both fit, and Alexandria is back in working order…we come home”

“I promise, sunshine” Daryl presses a kiss to her forehead before her cheek ending with one on her lips. But he wasn’t letting go of her anytime soon. “Yea think they’d try anythin’?”

“I trust our people who found the community when they say to put some trust in this place. But I’m just. If something were to happen, Carol won’t leave us in the dark. None of them would”

“I’ll burn the place down if anythin’ happens to my family”

His wife laughs to such even if it were true that the archer would do such if it came to that. But thankfully, the entrance into this new community wasn’t too bad and that they would be updated occasionally on the rebuild by Y/N’s brother Aaron.

Their temp apartment was a bit small, but once Daryl finished training they put the family of five (including Dog) into a bigger place. One where Judith and RJ shared the other room and the adults obviously got their own.

“I look ridiculous”

“I think…as long as it protects my strong handsome husband from walkers…I think you’ll look fine” Y/N smiles waiting for Daryl to step out of the bathroom in his armor while she waited, Judith came in in the new dress she picked out when getting clothing for school. “Oh my god. You look beautiful! Come here look in the mirror!” She got up from the bed directing Judith into the full body mirror smiling even more when the young child started to smile.

“You think I’ll make friends?”

“Of course I do! You are a wonderful, smart, creative young woman that who wouldn’t be your friend?” Y/N smiles holding Judith close as she held her arms until she felt safe to let go or at least until Daryl stepped out in his armor.

“I really feel ridiculous” Daryl states joining the two in the mirror watching them both look at him. “What? You agree?”

“You look like a stormtrooper”

“What’s a stormtrooper?” Judith questions making Y/N laugh to herself forgetting she was born in the apocalypse.

“It’s what Uncle Daryl is. But Uncle Daryl is on the good side while stormtroopers were bad guys”

“Yknow. There’s a rental video place. I bet yea they’ve got Star Wars…Aunt Carol has a TV”

“I swear. This is a rare sighting, Daryl actually offering to watch Star Wars” Y/N elbows the man while letting go of Judith a moment.

“Never said I’m watchin’. Y’all can watch it with Carol”

“Sounds good. Carol is a better cuddle partner anyway” Y/N playfully jokes resulting in a glare and a scoff from the archer.

“Nah. You and I only cuddle”

“Jealous aren’t we Uncle Daryl?” Judith giggles a bit before leaving the two to make sure her brother was ready to go. Daryl felt the embarrassment upon admitting such bring the heat to the tips of his ears.

The woman laughs herself before bringing her husband in the mirror with her holding him from the side. He wrapped his arm around her bringing his lips to her temple.

“Wanna see something amazing before you take the kids to school?”

Daryl felt her pull away he always hated that feeling and watched her pull her sweater back enough to show that she popped.

“Now how the fuck am I supposed to go to work and focus when that’s gonna be on my mind all day” Daryl instantly brought Y/N close listening to her giggle as he gently rests his hand on her bump.

“You make it look like nothing”

“It’s somethin’, sunshine” Daryl smiles bringing her back into his embrace as she kept her face away from the armor not liking the new plastic smell.

This was nice. Experiencing the good domestic life…something people since the outbreak happened have longed for. The kids were enjoying school, Daryl was slowly rising in his job resulting in his family moving at least two more times in the new place, and given all the medical resources Y/N was healthy and so was their baby girl. Carol did more research and learned that the community did have an intense leader type before they joined and she was taken down by her own assistant who now helps run more of a council system like what they had at Alexandria. So the overwhelming anxiety about their safety lessened but it was still there.

“You’ve been put on bedrest for a reason”

“Did Daryl tell you to come here and just to tell me that?” Y/N scoffs letting Carol into their place.

“I don’t think you should be questioning when you’re not listening to doctor’s orders”

“Daryl left early and forgot to make lunches for the kids…so I had to. All I remember him telling me was you were going to take the kids…now you’re back”

“Cuz well he told me to keep an eye on yea and make sure you were in bed”

Y/N started to ignore her as she tiredly sits on the couch resting her hands on her belly. Carol brought herself in the kitchen to grab Y/N a glass of water before noticing the letters on the counter from Aaron. They weren’t anything bad, just what was promised of him to update her on Alexandria. And updates on Gracie, Maggie and Hershel adjusting,…their family back home. She was getting homesick and didn’t tell Daryl about it because of how great this place is and how he at least wants the baby to be delivered in a place built for it because Commonwealth did have a hospital. She’s just been keeping a lot of her feelings to herself which led to her stressing and the OB telling her to stay in bed.

“You know once the baby is here we get to go home” Carol assures her as she hands the glass while sitting beside her friend. “Once you two are strong enough, we’ll pack up and head home. I know Aaron will be excited to meet his niece”

The silence was killer and Carol couldn’t help but sense there was much more to it.

“Y/N…I won’t tell Daryl anythin’ you don’t want me to” and that prompted Y/N to finally make eye contact with her before quickly looking away. “Hun…”

“I don’t…I don’t want our kids feeling like, we don’t care about them when she comes. I…I know she’s going to be a priority but I’m just worried…”

“Y/N…Judith and RJ are so loved by you and Daryl. It would take killing the both of you to stop such. Even then I doubt you’ll ever stop. You’re bringing a baby into the world. They know it’ll take time to go back to the old routine. But even then, you love so much and I mean so fucking much. They’ll never forget it”

When the baby finally came, Carol brought the kids to meet her once it was okay to do so. And of course Daryl was hogging their baby because when the three entered the room also being greeted by Ezekiel, they noticed Daryl protectively holding his baby.

“I swear D. Has your wife, aka the baby’s mother, even got a chance to hold her?”

“Yeah” Daryl scoffs. “When she came out” he adds and that led to a bit of laughter to fill the room as he brought himself over to Judith and RJ kneeling before them to show the little girl sleeping peacefully in his embrace.

“She’s tiny” RJ comments as he looks at the child shocked on how the fuck this little human came into the world.

“What’s her name?”

“Robin” Y/N tiredly replies from the bed as Carol approaches her side smiling and brushing the loose hairs out of her face.

“You did good, mama” Carol smiles sitting with Y/N on her bed watching the display of Daryl with all three kids. “They’re going to be inseparable”

Robin Dixon was SWARMED when they finally returned to Alexandria. For Daryl’s anxiety, they waited for her to be a month old before moving back. Maggie and Aaron instantly went toward the child, as Aaron took said child from Daryl and before he could even try and get his daughter back Maggie cut between them.

“It’s our time with the newest addition”

“But—-“

“No buts! You took my sister away for almost a year and now I’m making up for that time with my niece”

“You’re gonna take my kid for almost a year?!”

“No! An hour at most” Aaron scoffs followed by a smirk as he knelt down to show his kid her cousin while Maggie showed Hershel their new family member.

Y/N felt overwhelmed with joy, fear, anxiety…all kinds of things. But she was happy to be home…even if some part of her fear was triggered by worry. Especially when she noticed Judith try and get Daryl’s attention when it’s so focused on this little baby. His baby.

Hours passed…the Dixons and Grimes were back in their house putting everything away and Y/N was thankful for the nursery being finished when they arrived. By help of Maggie. As Daryl started to get Robin to calm down to sleep, Y/N went to check on the Grimes kids. Finding RJ already passed out in his own bed, leaving her to check on Judith who sat on her bed looking at Carl’s hat in her hands.

“You happy to be in your old room again?” Y/N smiles leaning against the door when she noticed a few tears in the young girl’s eyes. “Hey…” her smile faded as she brought herself in closing the door not all the way before sitting beside Judith. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“I miss my mom…my dad…Carl…” Judith sniffled as she carefully hugged the hat while Y/N wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “I know change is normal and all…but I just. It’s been a month already and I feel like I’m just going to be forgotten about”

New baby. New environment. Y/N was still in that weird haze of unwelcome emotions do to hormones as she brought Judith close resting her head on top of hers.

“No one is going to forget you. You are very important to a lot of us. You are so loved and you are a huge part of why a lot of us got together. You are a big piece in our family, Jude”

“Then…wh…”

“Hm? What is it?”

“I know she’s bright and shiny, and his blood…but I just. Don’t think I’m that important to Uncle Daryl anymore”

Right before Y/N can assure her of anything, the door pushed open finding a semi tired RJ that was eavesdropping but also the archer standing behind him. The display made both girls think that RJ heard Judith was in distress in some way that she needed an adult. Which was the truth but he was looking for Y/N first, and found Daryl.

Now they’re here and Daryl felt awful hearing such as he enters with RJ who instantly sprinted to Y/N when he started making his way in.

“You are very important to me, Jude.” Daryl brought himself to sit on the opposite side of her as all of them were on the bed now. “Yeah, I’ve got a baby now…but in a sense, she’s not my first kid. I helped raise yea. Took care of yea. Made sure you had some sense of a childhood in this hell of a world…and did my best not to let you feel an ounce of abandonment when Michonne left. Same for RJ. Yeah…your mom will come back after she finds whatever she went out there for. But you’ll always be my kid”

Judith couldn’t contain the tears anymore as she sobbed into Daryl when he brought her into his embrace. He held her protectively…the same feeling…

Like when he first held her

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

The Rhythm of this Trembling Heart

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France)

Warnings: None

Summary: There isn’t anything Daryl wouldn’t do for you.

A/N: Happy (late) Halloween. Sorry it’s late. Regardless, the song attached is what I imagined toward the end. You’ll know it when you read it.

*gif is not mine

Halloween was in full swing! The community was alive with music and activities and best of all: costumes! Some were brought back from supply runs while others were handmade. Kids were out engaging in the age old tradition of trick-or-treat. It was surreal. 

It was just past dark, the activities for the younger ones winding down while celebrations for adults were just beginning. Several smaller parties were happening in individual residences but the masquerade ball— Ezekiel’s idea, of course— was where most were attending. 

But not Daryl. 

He was out making sure everything was safe while the adults of the community were otherwise occupied. There were guards on duty but he had special people here that he just couldn’t leave their safety to anyone other than himself. Jude and RJ were at their individual friends’ homes. Carol was at the ball. He didn’t know if you were going. While everyone else had been planning their attire, you had volunteered to help sew costumes for the kids. 

He had never been much for Halloween. No costumes or candy, just bruises and shouting matches. When he was older, it was pizza, beer, and maybe a movie. He could see the appeal if he really thought about it. One night to be anyone or anything else. He could definitely get behind that. 

“Yo, Dixon!”

He paused mid-step, hoping to god that the voice he’d heard was in his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Princess. She was a good person with a good heart. She was just… a lot. 

“I know you hear me, man!”

With a sigh, he finally stopped and turned, giving her a nod in greeting while she bounced up to him with her usual attempt at a hug, stopping with her hands up when he stepped back. 

“Still not a hugger. Respected.”  She was dressed in a black gown, frilly and lacy, but with her own Princess touch of pink rhinestones pressed into the waist and collar. Her hair was pinned up with a pink ribbon weaving throughout. “You’re not really dressed for the party. I mean, I guess you could wear that as long as you have a mask but it wouldn’t take much to guess who you are and that’s kinda the point of—”

Daryl raised his palms as well as his eyebrows, already exasperated. “Ain’t goin’ but hope ya have a good time.” With a squeeze to her shoulder and a curt nod, he turned to take his leave. 

“Y/N’s gonna be there.” 

He found himself stopping again, looking back over his shoulder. Princess was leaning out like she had expected his reaction, a huge grin on her pretty face. 

“So?” He tried to act like he didn’t care when he really wanted to know everything. Daryl cared deeply for you, having been close to you since the quarry. You had been the only person other than Carol to refuse letting him isolate himself, the only difference being Carol encouraged him to be a part of the group whereas you plopped yourself right down in his space and refused to leave. 

His feelings toward you had only intensified over the years. It used to make him uncomfortable because he didn’t understand it. He feared it. So, he had pushed you away, but you never strayed far. You had always been waiting for him with open arms, ready to forgive and forget. 

He was still scared, truth be told. It was the only reason he hadn’t had a very important conversation with you and asked you to be his. 

“So.” Princess mocked in a deep voice before laughing at herself and waving a dismissive hand. “I’m just playin’, man. Anyone with eyes can see you got it bad, dude!”

“I don’t got—”

“Don’t even try.” She shook her head with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. “Go change. Come to the party. She’ll appreciate the hell out of that.”

“Don’t do costumes. Even if I did, I ain’t got none.” He shrugged. Daryl and social events were not allies. He wouldn’t even know where to start for something like this. 

“Oh, I gotcha, man.” She held her Venetian stick mask up over her eyes with a daunting smile. “Just leave it all to me.”

How had he let Princess, of all people, talk him into this? 

She had all but dragged him back to her apartment, telling him to shower while she went through the rejected items she had picked for Mercer. He had never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. 

Well, that is, until he was standing in front of the mirror while she adjusted the white mask, hiding the bands expertly within his hair, which she had combed and slicked back. 

“This is a masterpiece.” She was staring, wide-eyed and big-grinned, rubbing her hands together like she had just successfully animated Frankenstein’s monster. 

Daryl’s eyebrows shot up, though he could only see one. The mask covered the right side of his face. She had him in a white button-up and black slacks. The black boots were shiny and he hated that the black gloves actually covered his fingers. Almost everything was at least one size too big but manageable. Still, nothing made his lip curl more than the cape she had secured beneath the collar of the shirt. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere in this shit.”

“Oh, come on, man. It’s very Phantom of the Opera!” Princess beamed. 

Daryl scowled even harder. “I definitely ain’t goin’ nowhere in this shit.” 

“Dude, I’m telling you, she’s gonna swoon when she sees you. And you’ll match her!” She argued, absently plucking at the edge of the cape. 

“Ya seen her?” The archer met her eyes in the mirror. 

“Oh yeah. She looked—” Princess kissed her fingertips and thrust them outward in a chef’s kiss. 

Daryl’s eyes moved back to his own reflection and he sighed. He was about to make an absolute fool of himself, but at least he was doing it for you. 

He was on his third cigarette. Princess had wished him luck and already disappeared through the door to find Mercer, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts and anxiety. What if you were there with someone? Princess didn’t seem to think so but the last thing he wanted to do was fuck up your evening. 

He tapped his gloved fingertips against the wall behind him, the other hand plucking the smoke from between his lips to flick it away. It was time to find his balls and go inside. If he didn’t, he looked like an idiot and he was a pussy. 

With a deep breath, he ascended the stairs to the door, nodding back at the guy who opened it for him. 

“Hey, Dixon. Have fun in there!”

“Fun. Right.” Daryl saved his confused expression for once the door had closed behind him. The guy had worked with him under Mercer. He couldn’t understand why there hadn’t been immediate laughter and punchlines at his expense. 

“Daryl?”

He raised his eyes to find Carol lowering her stick mask. She looked beautiful, her blue gown simple but elegant. Her hair had been styled delicately, the short curls even more defined than usual. 

“Uhh, yeah. S’me.” He scratched a nonexistent itch on the back of his neck. “Ya look pretty.”

“Thank you but let’s talk about you. Who did this cause I know it wasn’t you.”

The archer tried to wrinkle his nose in a sneer but it was difficult with the mask pressed to one side of his face. “Ya don’t think I could do this myself?” Carol put her hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “Was Princess.” He admitted rather quickly, his nerves wearing a hole through his chest. 

The silver haired woman gave him a gentle smile, reaching out to squeeze his bicep. “She did good.” Her name was called from somewhere in the crowd, her head turning so she could search. “Try to have some fun.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before heading into the main room where people were all standing around talking, aside from those dancing in the very middle. 

He watched as Carol made her way around the outside of the crowd, pausing to lean into a tight circle. He recognized Gabriel immediately. Even at a masquerade party, he wore that god awful hat. Daryl could barely see who Carol was speaking with, but she was leaned in close and, to his horror, was looking directly at him as she spoke. She winked and held her mask up, walking away just as you leaned out and locked gazes with him. The way your face lit up made his heart stutter and his stomach do cartwheels. 

You turned to apparently excuse yourself and then you were heading to him. Princess had been right. 

You were a fucking vision. 

Your dress was black, with a bouffant style skirt and corset top. The thin straps could be seen under lace that covered your arms and dipped into a v at your neck. Your hair was piled atop your head with elegant curls hanging down in places, accenting the black lace Venetian mask attached to your face with a ribbon that disappeared into your hair. 

“Daryl?” You beamed, your heels click-clacking on the shiny floor. “Daryl, you look amazing!” You laughed, the smile brighter than he’d ever seen it. The archer had utterly forgotten how to form words, completely lost in the ethereal beauty standing in front of him. You laughed again and touched his forearm. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah!” He answered suddenly before clearing his throat. “Yeah, m’good. You, uh—ya look—” He trailed off when suddenly words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘gorgeous’ didn’t seem good enough to describe you. “Wow.”

“Pfft.” You chuckled, closing in to give him a hug. “I can’t believe you came. This is the best Halloween ever!” Daryl didn’t waste any time returning the embrace. He could smell your shampoo and whatever product you had used to style your hair. Vanilla. “Come on, let’s go hang out with everyone! They’ve gotta see this!”

You took his hand in yours and pulled but he didn’t move. When you looked back, he was staring at the crowd behind you with a painful look of uncertainty. Your eyes softened, understanding that just standing where he was had to be ridiculously outside of his comfort zone. You weren’t sure why he had come but you were damn sure not going to let it be a bad experience for him. Biting your lip, you glanced at the door leading to the upper level. 

“Do you trust me?” You asked him, squeezing his hand. 

“More than anyone.” He replied quickly but quietly. 

“Good!” You pulled him toward the door and away from the crowd, leaning out to make sure the security guards weren’t watching. Finding them agonizing over what hors d’oeuvres they might want from the tray, you opened the door and ushered Daryl in first before following and quietly closing it. You couldn’t suppress your hushed giggles as the two of you ascended the stairs, even finding yourself shushing him when he hadn’t made a single sound. “How’s this? Better?”

The upper level balcony overlooked the ballroom below, the acoustics allowing the music to be heard clearly but not the chatter of the crowd. Daryl leaned over to look over the people below, but quickly stepped back so as not to be noticed. 

“Much better.”

“Good.” You said, plopping down on an expensive looking chaise sofa to remove your heels. “My feet are killing me.” When the archer simply nodded, you pursed your lips over a barely contained smile. “Come here.” You said, actually moving toward him before he could comply. “I know you are hating this thing, so since I took off my shoes…” you trailed off, pulling the string that secured the cape. It pooled on the ground behind his feet. 

“Feel at least like I may deserve my balls back now.” He gave you a small half smile when you laughed and smacked his chest. When silence fell again, you found yourself just watching him and him, you. 

“Dance with me?”

His eyes widened, the side of his face that you could see turning a pale pink. “I don’t dance.”

“Can’t?”

“Don’t.”

“You do now.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him a little closer to the middle of the balcony, encircling your arms around his neck. He gave you a look that lasted only a moment before his hands landed on your waist. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple slow rocking like you see teenagers do at prom. Still, it had your heart fluttering. “I’m glad you came.” 

“Me too.”

“What made you decide to, anyway?” You tilted your head, looking up at him while your fingers toyed with his hair. He didn’t answer. He just stared at you. 

Oh. 

“You did all this for me?” 

He didn’t trust his voice so he simply nodded. 

“Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Your eyes flitted down to his lips and back up to his eyes. He didn’t give you the chance. He closed the distance between you and pressed his mouth to yours. It was gentle, almost seeming shy, but it was perfect. All too soon, you separated, your wet eyes sparkling as you watched him for any signs of regret. 

You found none. 

Throughout, you had never stopped dancing. It was maybe the most perfect first kiss you could have ever imagined.

“I lied. Now, it’s the best Halloween ever.” You sniffled with a smile, laying your head against his shoulder. 

“Yeah. It sure is.” He agreed. You felt his cheek rest on the top of your head. “Tell anyone an’ I’ll still hafta kill ya.”

“What? That you kissed me?”

“Nah, that I was dancin’.”

You laughed and kissed him again. 

[twoelectrichearts]

My mom and I are currently watching a show together called Miracle Workers. We checked it out because Daniel Radcliffe is a part of the cast. It’s a pretty unique show, each season is set in an entirely different environment and the actors are the same, but they play different characters. I don’t think I’ve ever watched a show like it. Anyways, we’re on season 3 and boy oh boy, I wanna scream because I just got done watching episode 3. So there’s this character named Ezekiel who’s in love with his best friend Prudence. Prudence is married to this guy named Todd. Their relationship is absolutely horrendous. I literally don’t understand how they even became a couple in the first place. Maybe they’ll explain how later, but wow it’s toxic with a capital T. Todd even asks Ezekiel if he should stop fighting for something that will never work and if he should let her go. You know what Ezekiel says? That he shouldn’t give up. That he should try and make it work. That he should tell her how he feels. And you know what Todd says? That he’s not good with words like Ezekiel is. So you know what Ezekiel does? He says he can write something for him to read to her.

Ugghh… sweet, selfless, dumb dumb Ezekiel writes exactly how he feels about Prudence, how she’s his best friend, how she’s the most amazing woman he’s ever met, how he promises to always be by her side, and that he loves her. He assumes that Todd must feel that way as well. I mean, they’re in a relationship. They’re freaking married so he must feel that way, right? Yeah, no, he doesn’t. It literally doesn’t matter that they’re together and married. Their relationship is garbage. They’d be broken up if Ezekiel wasn’t selfless to a fault. He saved their relationship with that letter. He saved their relationship with his feelings that he disguised as Todd’s. Sound familiar? But did he really save their relationship? I can guarantee you that their relationship isn’t going to last. There’s no way in hell that we’re supposed to be rooting for Todd and Prudence. That was clear from the beginning of the season, but even more so now that Ezekiel’s love was added to the equation. Why make Todd and Prudence an unbearable couple and have Ezekiel in love with Prudence then? Oh yeah, because we’re supposed to be rooting for Ezekiel and Prudence to end up together. Anyone who watches this show would be able to see that. I swear, the only reason why some people don’t see that with Byler is because they’re both boys. If Byler was a straight relationship everyone would be eating it up. I can just look up to see if Ezekiel and Prudence end up together, but since I’ve agreed to watch it with my mom, I won’t spoil myself. I know that they’re getting a good ending anyways. Daniel Radcliffe’s characters are always in love with Geraldine Viswanathan’s characters. It’s always a good ending for them. There’s no reason why this season would end differently. But yeah anyways if Byler doesn’t end up together, it’d make ZERO sense. I cannot make sense of them not ending up together. I’ve tried and I can’t. It’d be beyond horrible writing. They made Mike and El’s relationship so bad, they made Will in love with Mike, and they made Will “fix” their relationship with the painting and monologue where he disguised his feelings as El’s. Again, if Byler was a straight ship, everyone would be rooting for them to end up together.

[ananke-xiii]

(I forgot about this one, my drafts are as messy as I am, help)

"Lucifer Rising", insane episode.

(posts about "Lazarus Rising" and "The Rising Son" are all related to my series about resurrections but I'm making a total mess out of my drafts and notes so there is no real structure for my ramblings to be honest, I will have to give them some sort of order... at one point... one day.... yeah, in the future I'll do... that)

Okay first of all, let's go off topic: one day I'll have to talk about convents and nuns and demons and how they all had a big hand into the downfall of the Winchester's and Campbell's families. St Mary's Convent, St Bonaventure Convent really seem to be where the party's at. Also, huge missed opportunity for my babygirl femme fatale Abaddon cause they could have made her lurking among nuns trying to discover in what convent Lucifer was in jail or something... I don't know, I'm just saying that the dots were thematically connecting.

Second off topic: one day I'll have to talk about the fact that Zachariah really said:

Zachariah: Our grunts on the ground -- we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands. I mean, think about it. Would we really let 65 seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?

I don't know about you but I really wanted to see low-level angels rebelling againt senior management. This also reinforces my idea that, deep down, all angels are really just like Lucifer and it was precisely Lucifer's rebellion that set into motion the brainwashing and the Naomis and the bible camps etc.

And since we're here, third and last off-topic: one day I'll also have to talk about the difference between paradise and heaven and destiny and doom, cause heaven in Supernatural is literally not paradise but it's more like a jail or something so it totally tracks that angels wanted paradise on earth, while destiny always has this negative meaning related to "doom" and thus to "apocalypse", like destiny and apocalypse are so intertwined in Supernatural I'll have to think about that.

Back to resurrection now: Lucifer is rising, guys. Following Chuck's warped passion for symmetry for a rising character that comes... a rising character must go. This means, therefore, that Castiel must die. The Lazarus in"Lazarus Rising" is, then, totally Castiel but no worries! Being a Lazarus is a good thing cause, you know, it means he will resurrect, good for him. Maybe.

I also want to point out how Dean's "You're dead to me" in s14 echoes what he tells Castiel in this episode:

Dean: …soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying? You're already dead. We're done.

For some reason both times Castiel is very shocked by these words, clearly he's not scared of dying but he doesn't like the idea to be dead to Dean. I find it very interesting because it's precisely that, being dead to Dean, that will start Cas' most important (to me) resurrection in the show. Cas' resurrection in s13 didn't happen because of God or Ezekiel, it happened because of Dean.

Moving on. Castiel out, Lucifer in (momentarily) already tells us a lot. If we had any doubts Lucifer dispels them in "Abandon All Hope..."

Lucifer: Castiel. I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels. I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?

Lucifer sees himself in Castiel and he knows what's next for Cas and his affiliation with Heaven: nothing good.

But Lucifer interestingly also tries to appeal to Sam in the same way and in the same exact episode:

Lucifer: I know what you must think of me, Sam. But I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand. I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. And one day I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael—Michael turned on me. Called me a freak. A monster. And then he beat me down. All because I was different. Because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam. Any of this sound familiar?

Lucifer is drawing parallels between him and Cas and Sam (you of all angels, you of all people) and, in so doing, he's also drawing a parallel between Cas and Sam.

It's no coincidence, then, that in later seasons Jack will be so central to Sam and Cas' stories and why, in my humble opinion, the show should have focused on these two relationships to resolve Lucifer's storyline.

The thing that really separates Sam and Cas from Lucifer is that... they both don't idolize their Father as much as Lucifer idolizes God (and Michael). To be honest with you, I personally don't see Cas as an angel who loves his father That Much (he has that in common with Raphael, too bad that they don't see eye to eye). He wanted love for sure, Cas is a heart character through and through, but not necessarily his father's love. He's not happy about him being absent and never replying to any of his calls but I love that he's like: "fuck them kids and fuck you too God, I'll just have to become God myself", lol. Angels like Metatron and Lucifer idolized God way more than he did. Not for nothing one of Castiel's fatal flaw is his hubris. A hubris that's, perhaps, way worse than Lucifer's. Of course, the difficult relationship between Sam and John is one of the pillars of the whole series and the Problems with the Post-mortem Idolization of John Winchester are basically what keep the series going.

What sets Sam and Cas apart is, on the other hand, that, even though Sam acts like a softened version of his father with Jack he's still archetypically a son, just like Lucifer will always be ("I was a son"). This is what I gathered from "The Rising Son", an episode that's precisely about the fact that Jack, Sam and Lucifer are, again archetypically speaking, still Sons. Cas, on the other hand, not so much. Just like Dean, he never was a son, he never served the function of the Son in the story. He leaned more on the archetype of the Companion and/or the Father.

Nevermind the archetypes, it's still interesting to notice how the two characters defined by the adjective "rising" find their meeting point in Jack, the rising son himself and how both Lucifer and Castiel are intrinsically connected to the people they resurrect and the people who (willingly or not) resurrect them. All things considered, Cas had to say "yes" to Lucifer just like Sam did. When Sam and Cas play volleyball about who's responsible for letting Lucifer out from the cage in s11... that, that was interesting. They really should have explored that. Plus, the Crowley of it all, of course.

[totaldrama-showdowns]

Unused Submissions for the Favorite Rivalry Showdown!

justin and trent

please im so tired of seeing fluffy ship art of them THEY DO NOT LIKE EACH OTHER

justin literally got him eliminated i cant imagine they had a good relationship after action

"one time justin threw a tambourine at me and that kinda hurt >:|"

THE GUITAR SNATCH AND GLARE IN CELEBRITY MANHUNT

you know they had the nastiest most jawdropping arguments in the recording room during drama brothers recording sessions

uhh yeah they hate each other they should get to fight to the death as a treat

Alejandro and duncan

they're perfect

Scax

is this a rivalry? idk

Dave vs Leonard

IT'S ME! I DON'T BELIEVE IN YOU! NOW PICK UP THE PIG!

Lindsay vs Courtney

it was brief but it was enjoyable

Izzy and Justin

They're sooo funny, especially cause they're exes

Julia vs Priya

I don’t actually think this is the best one I’m just putting it here because we need more reboot characters in this bracket

Whatever Lindsay and Beth had with Heather after Island

you go girls

Geoff and Trent

hockey bros vs birds

why do they get beat up by birds so frequently

Dawn and Scott

Ok sure they lasted for two scenes but THEY COULD'VE BEEN SUCH GOOD RIVALS MAN

Julia vs Every Other TD '23 Blonde

Nominating this because I think it's funny

Julia and Caleb

I don’t actually gaf about them but i like when julia hit him with a frying pan or something

the roti writers and gen 2 female characters

they did them so dirty :(

bowie vs straight people

he's seen enough

chris vs blaineley

divorced enemies sweep

lightning vs cameron

it was ooc but it kinda slayed

Chris and Sierra

The New York episode. Please Chris should've been a hater the whole season and Sierra wouldn't notice it would be funny. See my vision

Ezekiel Vs Death

I just know Death keeps snapping those bony fingers any time Ezekiel escapes death

Emma and Julia

white on white violence

Terry and Chref

We saw that tweet

Mal and Julia

Mal plays the game really well and Julia's getting insecure. But I have faith Julia will triumph

Marmaduke and Garfield

I love tti

Me vs Blaineley

We are currently fighting over who gets 2 date Kelly (I'm winning)

larry v chef

chef’s gotta defend his man what can I say

Everyone (- Priya) Vs Caleb

He literally has no friends.

priya's personality versus the writers

season 2. need I say more?

Heather Vs Blaineley

I cannot tell you how funny it is that Blaineley turned up to the TD jumbo jet and chose violence against a girl half her age

Ezekiel and Chris

demolish that monster zeke

Sky vs Dave

He tried to kill her I think this counts as a rivalry at least a little bit

Damien vs Millie

Yeah! The finish line!

Duncney

toxic yaoi

Noah anf Harold

autism on autism violence and we love that

do alejandro and noah count,,, if not im voting leshawna and heather

brainrot says so

jasmine and shawn

just being a hater here, they were much more tolerable (but still crappy) when she hated him over them being a couple

dramarama ella and dramarama max

why couldnt this be their dynamic in the canon show

Damien & Julia

WE WERE ROBBED OF THEM!!!!

MK vs the bear

They literally fought in a duel together

Geoff/Bridgette and blaineley

Ma'am that's a child. Leave him by

Mal Vs Duncan

They suck I hope they get in so they're elimination fodder so someone else can go forward easily.

alejandro puppet and heather

1984

Wayne and me

I hate you little white boy! Get a job

[lizzybeth1986]

Too Little, (But Perhaps Not) Too Late

Book: The Royal Romance

Rating: PG

Pairing: Kiara & Penelope (platonic). Hints of Hana x Kiara.

Word Count: 3, 085 words.

Summary: At King Liam and Duchess Esther's bachelorette party, Penelope has something to say to her best friend Kiara.

A/N: This is supposed to take place during the events of TRR3 Ch 16 (the MC's bachelorette), but with significant changes that will be a part of my series Petals and Thornes. Penelope's surname is Drammir, the bachelorette is not in Vegas but at Côte d'Or in Cordonia, and by this point in the story Kiara and Hana are secretly a couple.

Tagging @kiaratheronappreciationweek for KTAW Day 5: Friendships, @choicesficwriterscreations for FotW, @choicesjunechallenge2024 for Ending/Beginning, @choicescommunityevents for Best Friend Day.

"Un Soixante Quinze, s'il vous plait."

Kiara has been to Côte d'Or - and this nightclub - enough times that every bartender there knows without even looking at her that her favourite is a slightly tart French 75; Deirdre smiles, her eyes trained on a violet-coloured bottle somewhere.

"I'll do you one better, Lady Kiara. How about some Empress Gin and a dash of lime?"

Kiara's laughter is a silent gurgle in her throat rather than the court-appropriate tinkle or a loud cackle (that for some reason, Hana seems to love so much), the amusement making her eyes light up. "That'll be fun."

Far more fun at least than watching half the court pair up for dancing from the sidelines, knowing she can't do the same. Yet.

She tries to make her sideways glance towards the other side of the bar look casual, but damn if Hana doesn't make it hard. In a black velvet minidress studded with diamanté, like stars in the night sky, she looks good enough to eat. There is a faraway, dreamlike feel to the way she stares, unseeing, at the opposite wall; Kiara shudders. The same dreams haunt her too, night and day.

Olivia seems to be sashaying her way to the spot where Hana stands, and Kiara turns away, swallowing. That woman has a knack for noticing everything and using that skill against everyone around her in the worst ways. Neither she nor Hana need the additional humiliation of being caught by Olivia Nevrakis of all people, before they're truly ready.

She jumps as she hears a jaunty hello right behind her. It's Penelope - practically prancing her way to Kiara from her spot on the dance floor, flushed and ridiculously happy, several tendrils of hair out of place, lips and cheeks rosier than usual. Kiara instinctively searches the crowd for her brother Ezekiel, and finds him talking to a minor noble some distance away, the dishevelment of his hair barely noticeable.

Kiara smiles back at Penelope. Clearly this night isn't going to be just a celebration of King Liam and Queen Esther's very obviously romantic union, but also a chance, for the many couples that have cropped up in the past few months, to be open about their love in the wake of that passionate love story. Cordonia seems to be changing, Kiara thinks, with a brief pang (she tries...really hard this time...not to look over at Hana again), right in front of her very eyes.

Penelope's attention has already shifted to the way Deirdre masterfully mixes Kiara's drink. The gin and the simple syrup had already been mixed and shaken before Penelope made her appearance; Deirdre's now getting to what Kiara knows Penelope would consider the fun part. She squeezes out a wedge of lime, quietly stealing a glance at her audience of two as the drink's hue changes from clear to a rather vibrant shade of purple.

"Ohhhh," Penelope's gasp comes out in a burst of pleasure.

"Empress 1908 Gin," Kiara whispers to her, "they infuse the concoction with butterfly pea blossoms. They change colour if you add anything acidic to it."

Penelope handwaves the information away with the carelessness she gives most pretty things - it only matters that they look pretty; she couldn't care less for the process that gave her that incredible sight.

Much as Kiara doesn't like to admit it...the word "careless" does seem to be the apt word to define how Penelope goes through her life.

Carelessness in court. Carelessness in her everyday life. Carelessness with belongings, with tasks, with people. Even the ones she genuinely believes (and she does. Truly) she loves.

Part of it - Kiara is aware - has to do with how overwhelming court life, on its own, can be for her. Penelope may have exaggerated some of the hardships she seems to face, but this she has never once lied about.

Navigating court is hard enough, even for Kiara herself, but too often Penelope exudes the appearance of a doe entering a den of lions. For every one thing she manages to get right, Penelope has to fear the hundred things she'll do wrong. At some point you just get resigned to the possibility that a good day might be one where you made fifteen mistakes rather than fifty.

But anyone who stays around Penelope long enough knows that there is a inherent lack of urgency about her, a certain reluctance to think things through, a certain comfort with being tended to, getting pampered, being let off out of sympathy even as her choices wreak havoc. A tendency to consider only her comforts and no one else's.

It isn't meant maliciously. These things just don't occur to her.

Kiara meets Penelope's eyes once, then nods and turns to Deirdre with an order for a strawberry daiquiri. Penelope passes her a grateful glance, relieved at having that decision taken out of her hands.

Kiara sighs. There are a great many things you learn to get used to as Penelope Drammir's best friend - her indecision and passivity being one of them. She shakes her head as she absently twirls her stirrer over her drink. The days Kiara allows herself to think of how annoyed she used to feel (way back during the engagement tour) around Penelope are few and far between, and she does feel guilty of doing her friend a disservice whenever she does. Of being ungenerous, judgemental.

Of abandoning empathy. Even if empathy is a gift she hardly expects to get herself from...well, from anyone.

Kiara steals another glance towards the other end of the bar. Hana and Olivia are standing side by side, their backs facing the bar, their eyes never leaving the dancing couples. From time to time Olivia seems to say something (and Kiara almost bites down her cheek to stop herself from going there and rising to Hana's defense, in case it's something nasty). If Hana is affected, you couldn't tell - so nonchalant is her stance against the bar.

Hana's words from a week ago - warm and soothing and smelling of melted chocolate - still ring in Kiara's ears. You deserve to have people you can lean on, Kiara. As much as anyone else. You need to be able to depend on your friends sometimes too.

Her hand barely ghosts over her side, but Kiara doesn't allow it to linger there. She allows the words to wash over her, like balm. Like some sort of elixir that she hopes will heal her, slowly, spreading its warmth and sweetness in small trickles, taking away the hurt and resentment and self-derision bit by bit.

When she's calm enough to turn to Penelope's side again, she catches her friend staring.

Her eyes no longer on her dairiquiri; she stirs it absently, very much the way Kiara just did a few minutes ago. Those very eyes are suddenly a deeper blue, a darker shade, her gaze more intent and more serious than anything she has ever seen from Penelope in all the years they've known each other.

Kiara takes a nervous sip of her drink (sweet. tart. refreshing), her laughter betraying a slight discomfort. "You're staring at me like I've grown an extra head."

Penelope's gaze doesn't shift back to her usual - the unfocused flitting of the eyes from corner to corner. The intensity of it makes Kiara shift a little in her seat. For all her faults, seeing Penelope be her usual thoughtless, fickle-minded self - always distracted by the newest shiny object or the antics of the nearest dog - has always been reassuring.

"I...I haven't been a very good friend to you, Kiki, have I," Penelope says, quietly.

She says it as if it isn't a question but a statement, as if she has thought enough about it that it has become an already-unquestionable fact in her mind - that for a few moments Kiara finds it hard to say anything in response.

"What makes you say that, Nena?" She says, using that old affectionate nickname that Penelope only allows family and close friends to use with her.

Penelope fiddles with the shell bracelet she usually wears with the dress she's wearing, a sumptuous affair in her house colours - completely inappropriate for Esther's bachelorette (they're all supposed to wear dark or muted colours so the bride could shine in her sparkly gold outfit). But because it's Esther - who honestly couldn't care less - Penelope managed to get away with it.

Much like she has managed to get away with a great deal of things, Kiara realises with an unfortunate twist in her gut. A terrible court performance. Being involved in smearing another courtier's name (learning about that last engagement tour, realising Penelope was comfortable expecting friendship from the woman she did that to and never even bothered to let Kiara know almost ended their friendship for good). Wanting Esther and her friends to pamper her within an inch of her life if they wanted her to accompany them for their tour, even though her past conduct demanded - ethically - that she at least offer unconditional support.

(And never, ever once asking about how Kiara was healing after she was released from hospital. But that was something, perhaps, that she couldn't lay blame on Penelope alone for. For the longest time, her injury really seemed to matter that little to most).

And whether or not Penelope seems to realize how good she has had it without making enough effort from her end, yet...she certainly seems to have made a good enough start right now.

Penelope's voice goes a little softer, her eyes suddenly unable to meet Kiara's. "I think it's all the time Zeke and I have been spending together," she says, one fingernail tracing the seam of a fake shell. "He's been feeling a bit guilty himself, you know. He always tells me he's the older one, he's the one who should be taking care of you...but it's you always playing that role instead."

Kiara winces. "Well... he's never asked that of me, has he?"

Has it been like that, really? Has it? All she knows of her relationship with Zeke is how often she loses patience with him when his reluctance to move out of his safe zone creates problems, either for himself or their family. It's the one thing she has always felt a little guilty about - as much as she has felt whenever she got frustrated with Penelope.

"That's the worst part, he says. That he let you adopt that role, and never give you the same level of support. That of course you find him a little hard to understand, but that never stopped you from trying to help. And of course you never ask for any help in return, but there were so many times you should have gotten it from him anyway," Penelope's sigh comes out in a shuddering breath, and Kiara notices a redness creeping up to her cheeks from her neck. "I never realised until he said that, that I've treated you that way too."

When Penelope looks at Kiara this time, her lashes are spiky with tears. Kiara tries to swallow the lump in her own throat, suddenly overwhelmed.

For a while now, these were thoughts Kiara did have. Thoughts she'd tried to quash in the many, many hours she spent struggling to move in that hospital bed without feeling that pain on her side, thoughts she fought off after being reminded - again and again and again - how she got hurt there. Thoughts that terrified her so much she suppressed them, experiencing a mixture of relief and disappointment when no one, not even her close friends, seemed to find what happened to her important enough to remember.

These were thoughts she could only allow herself to have for no more than a few minutes. They would damn near destroy her if she thought about them any longer than that.

These were the thoughts that made her want to kick herself for being so ungenerous and petty and judgemental. To hear those same words, the words she only allowed herself to think in her darkest, most bitter moments, from Penelope's mouth - without blame, without censure - and to know that Zeke has felt it too...there is a burn in Kiara's throat that she knows won't leave for a long, long time.

Oh, no, Nena, a part of Kiara still wants to say, you're a wonderful friend. Those words, constantly at the tip of her tongue whenever Penelope gets into one of her melancholy, self-pitying moods, seem to haunt Kiara again, urging her to keep their friendship the way it is. Unequal. Unbalanced. Practically one-sided. Kiara forever as protector, Penelope forever as protected. It must be better that way.

Hana's words come back to her - a balm to her bruised spirit.

You need to depend on your friends too.

"I may not have been the friend you needed all this time, Kiki," Penelope whispers, "but from today, I promise you I'll really try."

As Kiara does in the rare occasions she finds herself overcome with emotion, she lets out a wavering, watery laugh.

Will Penelope truly change that? She doesn't know yet. But damn does it feel good that she cares enough to try.

All this time, all this guilt and self-blame...for not being the kind of friend most people would insist Penelope needed. All this resentment, because people would certainly think long and hard about what it meant to be literally anyone else's friend and catering to their needs. Olivia's. Penelope's. Even (ugh) Madeleine's.

But not Kiara's. Never Kiara's.

"I don't know how to respond to this yet, Nena. But I need you to know that I appreciate this. Truly."

Putting her daiquiri down, Penelope crushes her in an impulsive hug that almost sends tiny purple droplets of Kiara's drink flying onto her outfit. Neither of them notice.

They part, reluctantly, and spend the rest of their time together drinking in companiable silence as the vibrations from the nightclub's loud music thumps on the floor beneath them. When the tune changes to a slower, more romantic tune, Kiara can't stop herself from taking a peek at the other side of the bar.

Penelope follows her gaze, and smiles when it lands on Hana. "You should go there."

"Hmm?" Kiara murmurs, barely hearing Penelope. Hana and Olivia are still talking, but the vibes feel far more chilly than they seemed to be a few minutes ago. Now Hana is the one slightly smiling, like the cat who got the cream, and Olivia looks surprisingly...pale? Perhaps a little ill?

Definitely not as smug as she seemed when she sauntered her way to Hana's side.

She isn't sure how that came about, but the possibility that Hana may have had something to do with it does fill her with an odd sort of pride. The kind of pride that makes her want to point to Hana in front of a crowd of twenty-plus nobles and announce, as loud as she can, "that's my girlfriend!!"

Penelope giggles so hard she almost snorts her drink out of her nose. "Go get your girl, Kiki."

Kiara stares at Penelope for a minute, then self-consciously runs her palms over her own outfit. "Am I that obvious?"

Penelope is still giggling. "Only right now, and only because I'm literally standing next to you."

Kiara laughs, relieved. This love she shares with Hana will still be her - their - secret. She wants it to stay that way, just a little bit longer.

The strains of the love song currently playing feel a little out of place for this nightclub, but Kiara's feet are almost itching for a slow dance in someone's arms. Head over heels when toe to toe. This is the sound of my soul. By the way Hana is looking at her now - alone at the bar again - Kiara can tell she wants it too.

Penelope places a hand on Kiara's shoulder, taking her leave with a grin and a conspiratorial wink. "Zeke must be looking for me. Have fun, Kiki!" Clearly in a mood for generosity, she kisses Kiara on the cheek before she leaves.

(For a woman who has never slept with, well, anyone before, Hana seems to be quite adept in the art of seduction already. Kiara has to bite the inside of her cheek just to fight the urge to whisk her to her hotel room for the rest of the night)

When she reaches Hana's side, the other woman's gaze moves over her in the most leisurely pace known to man. Slow, sensual, soaked in knowing, promising more than just one dance.

The soles of Kiara's feet tingle just from imagining the possibilities. She knows what they're going to be doing at least an hour (Kiara's being generous - she probably might not even last that long) from now.

"Lady Hana," Kiara says, holding out her hand and inwardly laughing at her own playful formality, "I believe I owe you a dance."

Hana breaks character, laughing delightedly. "A dance would be a good start."

Hana rests her head on Kiara's shoulder, her face nestled close to her collarbone. Her face is nestled close enough to Kiara's collarbone that she could breathe in her perfume if she wanted; she can feel Hana's long, deep inhale reverberate through her own body as she does. As Kiara runs a hand down Hana's back, she begins to sigh in tandem to the music too, drunk on her love for this woman. Ah ah ah haa haa. I know this much is true.

Even with her eyes closed, Kiara can feel the lights - deep purple and sea green - dancing behind her eyelids. The feel of Hana's palm against hers. A whiff of Gucci Bloom that comes and goes - that Kiara registers, instinctively, as the presence of her best friend stealing another dance with her brother. Kiara sighs happily.

Tomorrow might be as hard to live through as yesterday was, as this morning was, as every morning has been since this tour began. But every once in a while, she's gifted with tiny miracles.

This evening - every bit of it - has been a tiny miracle. And if this tour has taught her anything, it's that the tiny miracles are often the most memorable ones.

Almost as if they can both sense a desire to come closer, Hana and Kiara tighten their arms around each other almost imperceptibly.

Kiara smiles, again. Tomorrow may be different. But today...today has been beautiful. Today has been perfect.

This night of miracles does seem to be in any hurry to leave, and she's going to embrace it with both hands.

--

References:

French 75 - a cocktail made from gin, champagne, lemon juice, and sugar. It is also called a 75 Cocktail, or in French simply a Soixante Quinze.

Learn more about Empress Gin gin French 75 here.

The song Hana and Kiara are dancing to at the end is "True" by Spandau Ballet.

A/N1: I hint at a scene that is not part of canon but that will eventually show up at this point of the story when I write it in Petals and Thornes (basically Hana and Olivia talking. I won't be talking about it here, but it will be a major scene from Hana's PoV at this point in the story).

A/N2: Often, when the fandom speaks about the Kiara and Penelope friendship, there tends to be a lot of sympathy for Penelope and criticism for Kiara. But when you take a closer look at canon, the opposite applies. The narrative tends to center this friendship on Penelope alone, with Kiara needing to constantly worry and protect her, and Penelope rarely ever showing the same regard or concern for Kiara. It's a grossly imbalanced friendship, and I did want some acknowledgement of that.

A big thank you to @thecapturedafrique for suggesting this title 😁😁

[marginofthought]

Your last post about S8-9 preggo Sam 😩😩😩😩I NEED to know what happens next

Okay, my favorite headcanon here is that they actually figure out that something isn’t right with “Ezekiel” quicker and they manage to evict him early. I’m not the best at drawn out angst (i love my happy endings too much) so be warned:

Sam came back to himself, not slowly but all at once and he bent over in the chair to get his breathing under control until he stopped when he couldn't bend as far as he should be able to.

He opened his eyes just to see his shirt extended, stretched tight over the huge sphere his stomach had become.

His breathing picked up further but he just couldn’t get any oxygen into his lungs. He must have been wheezing by now but he couldn’tt hear himself, the rushing in his ears too loud for anything else.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him, why did he look like that? And why couldn’t he remember how he got here or even where he was?

Sam couldn’t even remember where he thought he should have been, he just knew that this was wrong.

A hand rubbing between his shoulder blades finally let Sam tune back into his surroundings and soon Dean’s low murmur registered in his ears.

By the time Sam finally was able to get his breath under control and looked up, there was no one but Dean in the room.

“I wanna go home,” he mumbled out.

“We can do that,” Dean replied, a little startled. “We can definitely do that.”

His older brother helped him up and kept a hand on him until Sam was sitting down in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean rounded the car and slid in next to him, turning to him immediately.

“You okay to drive?” Dean asked him, his hand twitching as if it wanted to reach out.

Sam nodded before turning and letting his head rest against the window. He wanted to curl up like he had done when he was ten and twenty but at thirty his stomach was in the way.

He stared out of the window, his eyes losing focus as the landscape rushed by them, just like it had happened a thousand times but nothing like it at the same time.

Sam didn’t say anything on their way back. There was nothing he could think of to say.

–

The mirror was fogging up again, no matter how many times Sam wiped at it.

He didn’t want to see himself. Yet at the same time he knew he had to.

It was more of an inspection really.

He still had ten fingers and ten toes, any sallowness he’d had from the trials was gone. He objectively looked fine.

Except for the fact he hadn’t just gained back the lost weight, he had added to it.

There were red marks on the side of his belly, where he had pushed and pulled the flesh. He could feel the huge solid bump, knowing it was not fat, he could feel it and see it but couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be.

Sam was lean, had grown out of his chubbiness by age thirteen, had been a lanky teen and had always kept himself on the leaner side after that.

He wasn’t supposed to be like this, had always been careful with his eating and his birth control, had always made sure that his partners were wrapping it, hadn’t he?

Obviously not. Obviously he had let Dean in without it.

He couldn’t remember, didn’t know.

The mirror in front of him turned blurry as he tried to think back to when he last felt like himself. He remembered Dean coming back, the heartbreak and guilt when talking about Amelia and Purgatory, the shame but also the love for his brother, the elation everytime he looked over and saw green eyes looking back.

He remembered the relief at gutting that hellhound in Idaho, knowing he could spare Dean the pain and suffering that was sure to come, knowing he might be able to atone for some of his latest sins.

Things got blurry after that, he vividly remembered purgatory and hell, Bobby’s soul, but the rest was clouded by a heavy layer of misery. He guessed it must have happened then, seeking solace and comfort from Dean without his usual hypervigilance.

And once was enough right?

Sam startled when sharp knocks rattled the door.

“Sammy?” Dean’s tone was worried.

Sam would have liked to assuage his brother but he couldn’t face him now. Maybe never. No, not never.

Dean knocked again and even rattled the door knob.

Of course he wouldn’t leave.

“I’m fine.” Sam rasped out, loud enough to be heard. Satisfied when no more knocks follow.

The cool air hit, damp skin pebbled up. The worst was his stomach, the hair standing up and drawing his attention back to the problem at hand.

He framed it with his hands, the mirror showing the illusion of something he might have wanted ten years ago. Round with Dean’s child. A naive dream back then. Maybe a nightmare now.

Sam ripped his hands away, pulling another towel around himself to hide his image from the mirror.

He strode out of the shower room, the hallway surprisingly empty, though he guessed Dean was just around the corner, listening in.

As long as he stayed around the corner.

..

Sam was blissfully left alone the rest of the night. The bliss ended with the start of the day.

Hunger had driven him to the kitchen. He would have normally ignored the feeling. It wasn’t just him anymore, he knew. He had a new, even if unwilling, obligation. Had to take care of what was growing inside him.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed as he entered the kitchen.

Sam looked up from his bowl of healthy cereal. It didn’t taste right. It didn’t matter.

“Shit, fuck, Sammy.” Dean repeated and sat down heavily across from Sam.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let him-” His brother said when Sam didn’t reply. “I didn’t know.”

And well, that could just mean a hundred things, couldn’t it. There were too many things Dean could apologize for. Too many things Sam should apologize for.

“No you shouldn’t have.” Sam replied.

There was a choking noise from across the table but Sam couldn’t look at Dean. He couldn’t even see the table in front of him, could only see Gadreel’s smug face, could feel his presence taking over his life. He had been inside him, been inside the most vulnerable parts. He had taken over because of Dean.

Sam shoved away from the table, his spoon clattering to the floor.

“I gotta-” he mumbled out, fleeing down the hallway and back towards his room. He needed to be alone, safe.

..

There was a tray with lunch and a protein bar in front of his room when he tried to sneak to the bathroom. The food was still steaming. Sam hated Dean just a little for being so caring.

Gadreel’s solid schedule had Sam’s body used to regular meals now and Sam wasn’t used to it anymore. But apparently Dean was.

But then again, Dean could solidly remember the last year.

Sam couldn't.

He wanted every bite to taste like ash, to find a reason to not finish it, but he couldn’t do that either.

…

Sam had felt like his bump was haunting him. Like it was a ghost.

If he didn't see it, he didn’t have to believe it was there. Whenever he caught sight of it, he got spooked.

Dean had left an oversized shirt on his bed that morning while Sam had been showering. It had made affection for his brother swell in his chest for the first time since he had been alone in his head again.

Sam had pulled it over his head, glad to see it cover his abdomend a little better. Though nothing could truly hide the deformity.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” Sam said in greeting when Dean spotted him wearing the shirt.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little brother.” Dean replied casually but Sam could see the tightness in his eyes.

…

It emboldened Dean anyway and his brother ran a hand across Sam’s shoulder after their silent lunch and even squeezed Sam’s hand before he left for his bedroom that night.

Sam didn’t like to admit it but he was missing Dean, even though he knew that it was his own fault for hiding away.

But Sam was still trying to put together the last few months and he couldn’t take Dean’s guilt yet. His own feelings and thought were too jumbled to regard someone else's.

…

Sam was sitting in his bed, his book distraction fallen next to him, a weird feeling in his belly. He rested a hand against the swell, shocked by the press against it.

No.

That wasn't.

No.

As if summoned, Dean knocked on Sam’s door. Sam was quicker in speaking

“How far along am I?”

Dean’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open a little. Sam knew that it was the first time he had acknowledged the pregnancy since they had come back to the bunker and Dean had obviously not expected it.

“Uh-” Dean stuttered for a moment. “We think around eight and a bit months or somewhere there.”

Sam nodded absentmindedly. “I think I felt it m-”

“It’s mine, right?” Dean interrupted Sam, though he looked deservedly chastised when Sam shot him a cutting glare.

“Yes, Dean. I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” Sam ground out.

Dean looked guilty and unsure.

“Leave, Dean.”

…

“I’m genuinely sorry, Sammy. I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again to save you, but I still am sorry.” Dean burst out the next time Sam finally left his room.

Sam didn’t want to talk, not to Dean, not to anyone. Not true, actually. He had been talking, had been talking to the fetus, unwillingly, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He was feelings things and he didn't know why.

He was trying his hardest to wrap his head around what had happened. He needed to understand it in order to break it down and put it away, needed to shove it in his neatly made drawers in his mind.

He was pregnant.

It was Dean’s.

The last few months were jumbled and missing pieces.

Dean had shoved an angel inside him.

He wasn’t dead because of Dean.

Dean had saved him.

He would have saved Dean too.

“Sammy?” Dean’s words shook Sam out of him thoughts.

“Hmh?”

“I’m-”

He’s sorry. Sam knew it, even without the words.

Lips pressed against lips in order to shut the older brother up.

“Not forgiven.” Sam mumbled but kept close, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Got it.”

…

Sam had questions.

So many questions.

He needed to fill gaps, both in time and in knowledge.

Dean was dutiful in his responses, filling Sam in.

His brother had questions too. Sam couldn’t always answer but he tried at least.

“Feel,” Sam said, pulling Dean’s hand against his. There was a flutter under his skin again and the horror of it had lessened. He didn’t know why. But it was Dean’s and maybe that was enough for now.

“Fuck,” his brother exclaimed, falling to his knees. Kisses were pressed into Sam’s flesh, the closest contact they've had in weeks and for some reason Sam didn’t want to stop him.

His brother seemed to notice too as he sat back on his heels, wide eyes staring at Sam.

Neither pulled away.

“It won’t be linear.”

“I know and I don’t care.”

“Can we do this?”

Terrified. Sam felt terrified when he thought about it.

This was real. This was him and Dean and something they had created.

“Yes.”

[leaping-toadstool-caps]

detailed character description

Name: Oscar Rookwood

Age:

Age in game: 16

Age of death: 236

Gender/Pronouns:

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: unlabeled

Appearance:

Hair: black and fluffy

Eyes: golden brown

Skin Tone: tan

Height: 6'3

Build: broad shoulders, slim waist

Other Notable Features: very clear skin, soft skin tone

Clothing Style: usually cozy sweaters and jumpers

House:

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Reason for House Selection: kind and caring, bubbly and sweet. but also very very strong sense of loyalty.

Blood Status:

Pure-Blood

Wand:

Wand Core: Phoenix feather

Wand Wood: Ash

Wand Length: 10 1/2''

Wand Characteristics: ancient magic use

Background/History:

Early Life: Seperated from his brother at birth and raised as a muggle. When his hogwarts letter arrived, Rookwood showed up and murdered his adoptive parents, making it look like they'd died in an accident.

Family Members: Rookwood is his father, Ezekiel is his twin brother

Notable Relationships: he tries so hard to be friends with everyone but he's just a lil weird

Event Leading to Hogwarts: Rookwood trained him alongside Ezekiel until fifth year. When Ezekiel was sent to infiltrate, Oscar begged his brother to take him with him. His brother reluctantly agreed, despite his father's protests. so he went to hogwarts as Oscar Ashton.

Personality Traits:

Positive Traits: kind and softhearted

Negative Traits: easily influenced and very naive, strong belief in vengeance (like his brother)

Core Values: honesty and loyalty

Fears: losing people

Hobbies/Interests: painting, music making

Skills and Talents: ancient magic throws are really good, he and his twin both have ancient magic abilities

Quirks: doodles all over his jeans and skin constantly, classic art nerd kid

Character Arc:

Main Goal: well, he's actually his father's favourite, some say it's because of his very strong ability to manipulate through sweet talk, though he doesn't do it often because he's too kind

Challenges: being connected to people around him with such passion that he'd burn the world down for them

Growth: uhhhh, non? he basically becomes the best villain ever actually (until he dies)

Magical Abilities:

Special Ability: ability to harness ancient magic

Strength in Magic: charms

Weaknesses in Magic: potions

Relationship with Magic: he thinks he is magical 🙄

Key Relationships:

Friends and Allies: everyone that doesn't hate him :)

Enemies or Rivals: too many of them because he's weird. though to be fair his brother kills pretty much anyone who talks bad about him

Romantic Interests: none as of yet 👀

Important Events in the Story:

Initial Conflict:

Main Story Summary: So initially Oscar was intent on like basically sealing up the repository and shutting it down for good. Then he looked more into the ancient magic and what it could do and saw that it could basically take away pain, and that extended to protecting people. He saw how Ezekiel, before he gave up his powers, basically healed Anne, slowly but surely (over the course of a year almost, and even then she was told to take it easy) and decided that this would extend to ensuring that his family and friends would never be harmed the same way that Anne was. And this is why he decided to open the repository up. He absorbed as much of the ancient magic as he could before his brother essentially forced him to shut the repository down, and he went into hiding for a few years until he felt that he could face his old friends again after what he did.

Final Goal/Achievement: the power to keep everyone he loves safe and happy

Miscellaneous:

Favorite Magical Creatures: unicorns

Favorite Spell: wingardium leviosa. he likes the sound of the words on his tongue

Favorite Potion/Herb: wiggenweld. this man is constantly injured

Special Abilities or Artifacts: a golden necklace his brother gave him

[lemmetreatya]

Rent-A-Boyfriend — Zeke Jaeger x fem!Reader

synopsis: You need — a boyfriend who can trick your friends into thinking your love life isn’t inept. You receive — Zeke Jaeger, a man who’d do pretty much anything for a bit of cash and a night out

warnings: none

“Heeeey, baby.”

With a saccharine smile, Zeke waltz into the small VIP section where you and your friends were currently sat.

Instantly you get up to greet him, the smile on your face wide, but the blonde didn’t give you a chance to greet him back.

“Ahh! Zeke, He—”

Unexpectedly, Zeke wields his arm behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You let out a squeak in retaliation as he uses the momentum to pull you closer so that he could land a hot kiss to your lips — as if the action just couldn’t wait until you were both within more private confinements.

In reaction, your girlfriends make various noises behind you; some of surprise and some of neutral judgment.

Once you pull away with a breathless sigh and wide open eyes, your hands automatically find their way to the plane of his chest.

“Well, hello to you too.” You finally cheese.

But alas, your smile matches his own, and you’re more than enamoured that’d he’d be this affectionate with you in public — just as you both planned.

From behind, you hear one of your friends speak up.

”So this be him, huh? Your ‘Zachary’ man?”

Both you and the blonde share a look.

Seeing as your back was to your friends you mouth a quick ‘sorry’ to him, but before you could retaliate, Zekes poking his head pass the side of you so that he could give your friend a pearly white practiced smile.

“Uh, well. Funnily enough, it’s actually short for Ezekiel?”

His tone wasn’t (that) condescending. If anything you think he was a tad bit too nice. But concerning how there was a dead stare from the other girls and not a lick of response, Zeke thought to back track his words.

“Buuuut I’ll take Zachary. Sure.”

The mood is still slightly stale, and you can hear some of the girls upwardly clear their throats. Internally you start to panic because God, were things really going wrong already?! However, being the perceptive man he was, Zeke notices your uneasy attitude and therefore tries his best to alleviate it.

"Hey. How about I get us some drinks, huh? Liven you girls up a bit. We all a fan of fun stuff?!"

A preppy chorus of 'yeah's, 'sures' and 'why nots' echo around the table, but it's you that Zeke looks down at for confirmation. With a thankful expression you nod in permit of his suggestion.

"Yeah, that sounds great, Zeke. Thank you."

Zeke buggers off towards the bar in order to get the shots whilst you easily welcome yourself back down at the table. But as soon as you sit, your friends hunch inwards with giddy expressions.

”You know, I’ve got to give it to you. I really thought you were lying out your ass when you said you had a man.”

A few of the other girls hum in agreeal but you can’t help but feel a twang taut at your heart. If only they really knew.

“Right! Now look at you, pulling all Mister Zack and shit!” Says another.

“It’s Zeke.” You find yourself saying.

The girl dismisses your comment as she rolls her eyes. You can only let out an awkward laugh before shuffling backwards into your booth seat.

Once Zeke comes back with several shots between his fingers balanced under two plates of limes, the table erupts with whoops.

“Alright!” He encourages.

The blonde places the drinks onto the table and your friends all take at one. Zeke takes two from the lot and hands you one of them.

“For you, mi lady.”

The limes are passed round and the tables buzzing at the sudden kindness of your newly met boyfriend. Seeing their happy faces made you pleased and so you easily leaned back to thank Zeke, your words sounding like a whisper over the pumping music.

“You didn’t have to get them the drinks.”

Rather than turning in your direction, Zeke’s eyes keep track of the lime plate that’s coming his way. His hand closest to you easily finds your thigh as he squeezes it in solidarity.

“It’s no problem. They looked like they needed to loosen up so I thought ‘why not?’”

An easy smile danced over your lips as you bumped your arm next to his.

“But still, thank you for buying them.”

“Oh. No, you needn’t thank me.” Zeke picks up a lime before passing you the last one. “It’s not like I brought the drinks with my own money, I just used your card that I slipped out your back pocket.”

A shock passes over you, so much so that you accidentally drop your lime into your lap.

“I—Wh, what?!”

“Bottoms up, ladies!” He suddenly shouts.

Zeke is quick to clink his shotglass against those of your friends. The other woman, unbeknownst to the information you just got landed with, cheer in accordance with the blonde man as they all take their shots. You back your drink with a delay, your mind still processing Zeke’s audacity.

The familiar fuzzy burn down your throat wasn’t comforting but it was enough to distract you from everything that’d been difficult so far.

Zeke makes a squeezed face at the sizzle of the lime before turning his head towards you, his lips only about ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“You should really mind what you put in your back pockets. Any sick fuck who’d happen to get their hands on this could really drain your account.” The blonde waves your bank card in your face before placing it on the table in front of you.

Whether he was being serious or not, you couldn’t tell but something about his words rubbed you the wrong way.

Your friends looked on with googly eyes, seemingly thinking that Zeke was saying something risqué in your ear. Not wanting to possibly give yourself away, you distract yourself by trying to smudge lime juice out of your jeans.

“And you should really mind who’s money you spend because who knows if they’ll end up plotting your demise?” You mumble.

Zeke only smirks reservedly. Despite being a heavyweight, it seems like the affects of the singular shot was already doing it’s work. You wonder if he pregamed?

“You wiiiiish.” He says teasingly with a low voice as his mouth finally latches onto the shell of your ear with a soft bite.

It didn’t hurt, but not expecting the action, you jumped away.

“What the hell?!” You screech below your breath.

Your girls jump along with you — clear confirmation that their eyes were on you both — but the pull away was too suspicious to explain. Not knowing what to say or do to try and lighten the situation, your hand tugs onto the sleeve of Zeke’s top.

“Uhh. Let’s…let’s dance. Let’s go dance.”

Giving you a credulous yet giddy look, the blonde’s eyes wash all over your body. Even whilst getting up his eyes are still on you, and part of you wonders how much of him being your date for tonight he was taking for granted.

“If you say so.” He snorts.

As you pull him by his arm, Zeke makes a damselly ‘oh!’ sound before he’s wiggling his eyebrows over at your friends and causing the lot of them to childishly woo. It only makes you scoff more as you pull him away from the group.

Squeezing between a few bodies, you plugged the both of you in a nice enough spot that meant you were still in view of your friends but not too squashed up against others.

The music pumps much louder over on this side of the venue and so you have to wince for awhile in order to adjust to the volume. However, once you do, you wrap your arms up around Zeke’s neck in gruff gesture.

Automatically, Zeke’s hands are on your waist and that sleazy smile of his is back on his face.

”Never took you for the dancing type?” He says into one of your ears and you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes.

“I’m not.”

At your words, Zeke’s hands start to rub against the small of your back. You subconsciously have to remember everything that could possibly be in your back pockets — not wanting to be a victim of theft a second time — but once you realise it’s just a lip balm, you relax a bit.

As he leans in closer, you could smell the light scent of alcohol that still clung to his tongue.

“Then why’d you pull me out here? Tryna get away from your girlypops?”

You lightly tread atop of the man’s toe. It was an accident but you definitely weren’t sorry.

“Shut up, Zeke.” You hiss. “This isn’t about them, this is about your behaviour.”

Zeke briefly pulls back to give you a credulous look, his hand briefly flying to his chest. If being a fake boyfriend wasn’t enough, he should definitely go into acting, you think.

“My behaviour? Oh no. Is my performance poor?”

“Poor? Not so much. Agitating? Entirely.” You mumble.

The both of you continue to dance tightly against each other. You’re sure anyone looking from the outside would think there was a passion between you both but you definitely know that wasn’t the case on your side of things.

With your mouth close to his ears, you bend him in forwards by the nape of his neck.

“In all truthfulness, Zeke, you’re pissing me off. I know you’re doing this as a favour, a help-out for one of your brother’s ‘little friends’, but you’ve got to take this seriously.”

Zeke sighs but simultaneously brings his hands down to hook over your ass.

“How much more serious about this do you want me to be? Because according to your girls, I’m doing a stellar job.”

With a comedic twist, Zeke turns round so that he could wave back to the table where your friend’s sat. All of them whooped and hollered in retaliation which only pissed you off even more.

Kneeing him brought his attention back to you.

“Ow!”

“Zeke, I’m being for real!” You seethe.

A scoff leaves the man’s throat but his hands are back on your ass and his cheek flat against your temple.

“And I don’t doubt that you aren’t, my love. But I think that’s the issue — you’re taking this too seriously.”

You know this relationship was supposed to be fake but you really believe this man was trying to fuck you over by being as overbearing as he could. You wriggle within his grasp, attempting to alleviate some space between you both but the blonde only squishes you against him more.

A loud groan leaves your mouth but Zeke playfully taps your ass to make sure you understood his heed.

“Come on, don’t be like this. If you continue being this anal your friends are gonna know somethings up so I suggest you keep your cool and act the part.”

Another groan left your mouth but because you had somewhat accepted that the man was speaking facts.

After all, you hired Zeke on the basis that you’d be able to convince your friends your love life wasn’t as bad as they made it out to be. The last thing you wanted was them pairing you up on blind dates again with the many incompatible options they thought would suit you.

With resignation, your body intensity relaxed into Zeke’s embrace. The man was able to feel you give in before you said it.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.”

You could feel the vibrate of the hum Zeke made through his chest so you knew he was appeased with his slight win over you. But you couldn’t let him have that — you needed him to know he still wasn’t doing everything right.

“Also, you don’t have to use petnames when it’s just the two of us.”

“I know.” He smugly chirps.

And you sigh because even though you can’t see his face, you could only guess the one he had on.

Surprisingly to you, Zeke does fix up for the rest of the night. Well, sort of.

He doesn’t spend anymore of your money or steals your card. He does at one stage brazenly ask if you could buy him a bowl of peanuts but you give him a look that ceases his ask.

He steals your lip balm. Which, actually, you weren’t too annoyed about because he only did so once you’d told him his lips were unbelievably dry after he tried to kiss your neck.

Apart from those various things, Zeke was fine. The night had gone reasonably smooth and best of all — your friends had brought the schtick!

“Alright, boo. Make sure you get home safe, okay?”

Your friend kisses both of your cheeks with excessive mwahs. She wordlessly pats Zeke on the shoulder before getting into the uber that had just arrived. You make a small finger-to-palm gestures to her in order to bid her farewell. Zeke only nods.

Your other friends wave as they pile into the uber, a chorus of ‘byes’ singing throughout the night.

“I’ll text you when we get in.” Another friend gives you a side hug before blowing a kiss as walks to the passenger side of the uber seat. Whilst in transit, she waves to Zeke.

“It was nice meeting you, Zake!” She shouts before getting into the car.

Both you and Zeke play the part as you wave at the uber. Smiles wide as you watch the car pull off and around the corner. Once it’s out of sight, your acts are dropped and you both turn to each other in seriousness.

As you dig into your purse, Zeke’s already got a cigarette in his mouth as he brings the lighter to his face.

“A hundred, right?”

Zeke nods.

You count the money to the side, although you already know you had the right amount since you checked it before you left home. Once you counted it thrice, you reluctantly hand the money in Zeke’s direction.

Before you could even think about reconsidering the amount, the blonde snags the wad from you without thanks. He gingerly counts the amount in front of you, cigarette lodged between his lips as he focuses on the value of the money.

With a sigh, you defensively shrug your shoulders.

“What, you don’t trust my counting?”

Zeke makes a weird noise before ticking his head to the side and sucking in a sharp breath.

“Can’t lie, for what I had to put up with tonight? You’re gonna have to add in an extra forty.”

“An extra forty?!” You almost screech. “For what?!”

Zeke glances at you before looking upwards towards the night sky. A small hum leaves his throat in contemplation before he removes the cigarette from his mouth and looks back down at you again.

“I’ve been called everything but my actual name tonight. You know that kinda stuff can cause identity dysmorphia, right?”

It was so obvious he was pulling that out of his ass. And considering how he’d been spending your money tonight, you’re surprised at the sheer audacity of his ask.

“But how is that my fault? It’s them who couldn’t get it right, not me.”

Shaking his head, Zeke folds his arms over his chest. He takes a puff of his cigarette through the side of his mouth, all without the use of his hands.

“Pretty sure you wouldn’t wanna see me wound up dead on national TV with your name written all over my confessional journals and have forensics blame you for the cause of my death, would you?”

You’re too stunned to reply and so Zeke continues talking, his attitude lazily nonchalant as the cigarette dangled from his lips.

“Don’t think that’d look too good on you concerning you just introduced me to your friends—”

With a frantic gesture, you’re dipping your hands into your purse.

“Okay, okay! Fuck!”

Slapping the crumpled notes onto his chest, you huff before turning your back to him. You don’t walk far but you circle the small space of the pavement outside of the club. You wanted anything but to be in his presence right now.

“Who knew you were such a fucking cheap sket?” You mumble, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m literally a Jaeger, what more did you expect?” He replies as he stuffs the notes into his back pocket.

And in all honesty, you find yourself not being able to disagree with him because he had a point.

Seeing you were unresponsive, Zeke shrugs. At the end of the day, he’s done his job and gotten his pay — his work here was done. Patting himself down and dropping his cigarette to the floor, Zeke clicks his teeth at you.

“Alright. Well, it was good doing business with you, my love. We should toats do this again sometime.”

You turn back to him with one last look although your stubbornness prohibits you from entertaining him for long. But Zeke knows you’re only being prissy.

With a roll of his eyes, the man opens one of his arms for you to beckon to. He however doesn’t move from his spot.

“Don’t gimme that face, C’mere.” He says softly and you realise it’s the nicest he’s been all night.

You pout, still wanting to be stubborn, but it’s the way Zeke’s glasses glow underneath the streetlamps glow and the way his arm looks so inviting that pushes you to move back to him.

Your arms are folded but slowly you lean yourself into Zeke’s embrace.

As you lay your head onto his shoulder the blonde wraps his arm around your frame, before he bends down to plant a dry kiss to your temple. It’s the most platonic gesture he’s made all night but surprisingly it doesn’t make you think he’s all that bad. He smells heavy of ash smoke.

“I’ll see you around?” He says after awhile. You don’t miss how his hand squeezes your arm.

“Mm.”

You pull back from his embrace but you’re unable to look him in the eye as he unlocks his car to then get in. You stand on the pavement, watching him buckle himself in and start up the engine. And you think that’s the last he has to say to you — that is, until he rolls down his window and hangs his arm out it.

“Oh! Before I forget.”

There in his hands, Zeke waves at you a small lip balm tube. Your lip balm.

Instantly your hands fly to your back pocket and unsurprisingly, it’s empty. You give Zeke a crooked look but the man’s already throwing it for you to catch.

“I told ya! Mind what you put in your back pockets!”

Just as you catch the lip balm with several juggles, Zekes already speeding off down the road, leaving you alone on the roadside.

[real-total-drama-takes]

out of all the cast, i think alejandro, cody, trent and ezekiel have led the worst lives.

i mean…

alejandro:

> does his absolute best at everything because he’s expected to be perfect by his family

> gets harrassed and bullied by his older brother

> lost a million dollars due to a stupid decision he made to make fun of his opponent (he fucking made out with that wooden heather)

> was severely burnt and nearly died from lava

> was stuck in a robot suit for an ENTIRE YEAR which caused him to lose the ability to walk

trent:

> was force fed everyday when he was a child by his parents

> had a psychotic episode(?) aired on international tv

> said episode made everyone on the cast think he was insane and ruined both his relationships and his chance at the million

> was manipulated into kissing heather which ruined his relationship with gwen

> the relative he cared for the most died when he was still young which led to him developing a serious mental disorder

> was hurt so badly in some episodes that he just wouldn’t be allowed to compete

> had some very weird fans which did things that made him uncomfortable and TIED HIM TO A BUS (which later exploded)

cody:

> was neglected by his parents for his entire life

> was mauled by a bear (which he didn’t get medically evacuated for, his teammates just had to vote him off)

> was repeatedly harrassed/assaulted by someone for an entire season and nothing was done about it

> was emotionally manipulated and used by people he trusted on multiple occasions

> honestly he was just. really disrespected by a lot of the cast, not taken really seriously (despite proving to be a good player able to win challenges by himself and also being one of the morally better people in the cast)

> if we can count dramarama, people went out of their way to hurt him sometimes, and revealed that his parents would leave him in the daycare for long periods of time (in double oh beth he was supposed to stay in the daycare for the entirety of spring break and was given three lunches so he wouldn’t die), consistently forget about his existence and didn’t clean him right (fucking hose him down in the yard???)

ezekiel:

> raised into believing some really bigoted things which he would say out loud (which led to the whole cast hating him)

> turned into a feral beast after being forced to live in a plane’s cargo hold

> FELL INTO AN ACTIVE VOLCANO (somehow he survived?????)

> was treated so badly that he actually tried to kill everyone in all stars. what the fuck

these guys should’ve been taken by child services a while back or put into therapy or whatever. getting accepted onto total drama didn’t help their mental health at all

.

[intxication]

Swing Set

It was a pleasant warm day with a slight breeze. Mathias could hear waves crashing on a shore and seagulls squawking above him. The swing set he was on faced the ocean as the sun dappled blinding light on the blue water's surface. It was an image right out of his memories. His family would take them to the beach when they were young, but never to swim. There was a tiny park that he and his brother would run around in while his parents watched.

It was one of the few good memories he had from back then.

Living in New York denied him of views like this. On the other side of the country, fall didn't feel too different than summer and the beach was still an option. It was so peaceful that Mathias couldn't think about anything else. He dug his bare feet into the warm sand beneath him as he swayed on the swings. In the first time in a long time, everything inside him was quite. It was a long lost feeling, one he felt before everything went wrong for him.

There was a creaking noise beside him, and when he turned he came face to face with a younger version of himself. He couldn't have been no more than eight. But on closer inspection, he realized it wasn't him. The Cain twins were indistinguishable unless you got really close and noticed the smaller details. Like how Ezekiel had slight freckles on his nose, or how Mathias' smile would pull to the left side of his face. It was even more noticeable now that their ages were different.

You're all grown up. Mathias couldn't see his brother's mouth moving, but he could hear his voice and he could see his eyes on him. Is this what I would have looked like? Mathias nodded his head, "I think so. I think people would have really liked you". The two twins swayed on the swings together as the ocean breeze blow through their hair in silence.

Memories Mathias pushed down came back. The night he had killed his twin didn't go down the way Mathias had believed it did. He thought it was done out of love but his brain made him forget the fear he saw in his brother's eyes. The instant feeling of regret when it was over. How he tried his best to make his brother breathe again to no avail. The way his mind forced him to justify what he did. Zeke wanted to die. He wanted to be free from the pain. Or maybe it was Mathias who wanted that. The act alone broke his mind to what it was today, and all he could ever do was sit back and watch it happen. Violence became the only thing he could do, and his poor parents suffered from it as well. There was a reason why no one would ever be able to know why he did it. The truth had been lost to everyone, including Mathias. He did it simply because he could.

The pain he felt made him double over on the swing and sob. He was a monster and there was nothing that would ever convince him otherwise. All the fighting he did to be something more was for waste and now he was set to serve eternity knowing that he was what everyone believed he was. It was hell.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his sorrow. You shouldn't cry Matty. There was nothing either of us could do. Forgiveness was something Mathias had learned from Jude. How some people can experience the worst treatment from others and still forgive them for it. But why? "It should have been me. You deserved to grow up and grow old. I deserved this...I've always deserved this". Now that he remembered things he understood why he was always marching towards death. It was because this life wasn't his to live. He wanted to be free of it all and end up on this swing set.

But you're living for the both of us. The words rang in his ears. You need to continue living for the both of us. Mathias whimpered as his brother spoke to him. I forgave you long ago, so now it's time for you to forgive yourself and live. Yeah, I'm waiting for you here, but there are so many more waiting for you out there.

Thoughts of the people in his life came back to him. They'd miss him, Zeke was right. He could see Lee's face in his mind, how sad and hurt he'd be. How even though they weren't related, it would still feel like someone took his son from him. How he promised his father that he'd always be at his side. He thought about Alex and Ric, and the others Mathias called friends. Would they feel empty like he did? Would they blame themselves for his end? Then he thought of Jude.

Jude.

He had only ever seen light in Mathias, and had only ever wanted to love him. They met at the right time, so there was no way they were only allotted such a brief moment in each other's lives. They need you as much as you need them. You have to let me go now, Matty. You have to let me go.

Mathias' hand in death was great. He had killed so many without any regard, moving them to the afterlife like a ferryman. He embodied it to the point where he stopped knowing who he was before. The deal he made was to continue raining death and in return when it was his time, he'd go without a fight. But here that fight was, bubbling inside him and begging to live. He had to live, if not for himself then for the people in his life. For his brother.

He gave one last look at Zeke, and suddenly they were both eight year olds on the swings. They were the inseparable brothers like they once were. Mathias smiled and reached for his brother's hand. He'd live. They both jumped off the swings and ran around for once last time. Playing like siblings did, enjoying their last moments together the way they should have long ago. Mathias laughed with his brother until his image faded away and the sounds of the beach morphed into a steady mechanical beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

When he opened his eyes there wasn't a beach and instead the ceiling of a hospital. He seized forward as if he was rocketed back into his body. His neck hurt and he still felt light headed as he took in panting wheezing breaths. He lived.

[tdvotes]

Ranking the Votes, s1a

Welcome to... Total! Drama! Ranking... the Votes! This series is a spinoff of Counting the Votes. I will rank each episode in season 1a (pre-merge Island) based on how confusing it was. There were 12 votes this season, so 12 will be the most straightforward elimination and 1 will be the most confusing.

For reference, here are the episodes:

Not So Happy Campers, Part 2 (Ezekiel)

The Big Sleep (Eva)

Dodgebrawl (Noah)

Not Quite Famous (Justin)

The Sucky (or Not So Great) Outdoors (Katie)

Phobia Factor (Tyler)

Up the Creek (Izzy)

Paintball Deer Hunter (Cody)

If You Can't Take the Heat... (Beth)

Who Can You Trust? (Sadie)

Basic Straining (Courtney)

X-Treme Torture (Harold)

Now, let's get a few technicalities out of the way first. Yes, Heather's math was off when she had Justin eliminated. No, we don't know whether Izzy or Lindsay was scheduled to be voted out that night. Yes, Harold rigged the votes against Courtney. And in the course of writing this post, I realized that some of my takes here are slightly different than they were in the original posts. I'm not changing that.

All that said, let's get to it!

12. The Big Sleep. No reason for the Bass to vote off anyone other than Eva, so this was pretty easy. 9 votes for Eva, 1 for Harold

11. Dodgebrawl. Gwen could have received votes for napping during the games, but a) she at least tried to play and b) she had just won the Awake-a-thon, so I think her teammates forgave her. Lindsay probably received votes for running off during the game, most likely from Heather and Noah. But Heather needed Lindsay in her alliance at this point, and she agreed with Gwen that Noah should "cram it". And Noah received votes for not even pretending to care about the games and instead focusing on his book. I'm going with 10 votes for Noah, 1 for Lindsay

10. Basic Straining. Harold may have rigged the votes, but we can be fairly certain that all of the others voted for him. The only other Bass I would believe didn't vote for Harold is Bridgette, who probably voted for Duncan because he kept making Chef mad. 6 votes for Courtney, 4 for Harold, 1 for Duncan

9. X-Treme Torture. Geoff, Duncan and DJ definitely voted Harold. Harold definitely voted Duncan. The only wild card is Bridgette, who I'm guessing liked Harold more than Duncan due to her comments in Hide and Be Sneaky. Still, it wasn't enough to save him. 3 votes for Harold, 2 for Duncan

8. If You Can't Take the Heat... Heather and Owen voted onscreen for Beth. Beth and Leshawna obviously voted for Heather. Being superstitious means that Trent probably voted for Beth for cursing the team. That leaves Gwen and Lindsay. I'm thinking Gwen voted for Heather. So by process of elimination, Lindsay had to have voted for Beth. 4 votes for Beth, 3 for Heather

7. Not Quite Famous. Yes, Heather's math didn't add up. But really, only one vote is unknown here. If anyone outside Heather's alliance voted for anyone other than Heather, that would save her butt. Gwen definitely voted for Heather. Leshawna probably voted with her best friend Gwen. Trent and Cody probably voted Heather as well because they're both friends with Gwen. That leaves only Justin. While he probably understood that what Heather did was way out of line, his morals are not all that straight either, as he showed in season 2. Perhaps he voted Gwen for skipping out on the challenge, or maybe Cody for following Gwen. Or maybe Cody voted for Trent because he was a love rival. I think most likely is that Justin voted for Gwen, putting the vote at 5 votes for Justin, 4 for Heather, 1 for Gwen

6. Not So Happy Campers, Part 2. Zeke got all 5 female votes for sure. And I'm guessing he voted off Courtney for being a chicken. Duncan could have also voted off Courtney -- by his logic, she and DJ were "the only ones wearing chicken hats, and if we ever have to lift a truck, I like our chances with the big guy." Plus, I get the feeling that at this point Duncan isn't quite the ladies' man he became later on. And Tyler's tone in telling Lindsay that he could kill a cockroach too, makes me think he also understands that men are generally physically superior to women. We can assume Geoff, DJ and Harold voted for Zeke as well, since they all have a slightly better attitude towards women than they thought Zeke did. So I'm going with 8 votes for Zeke, 3 for Courtney

5. Paintball Deer Hunter. Owen and Leshawna voted for Cody onscreen. Beth and Cody probably voted for Heather. Given Heather's reaction to seeing Beth get her marshmallow, I think Heather (and by extension her puppet Lindsay) voted for Beth. That means Gwen and Trent had to break a 3-way tie. I want to give Gwen's vote to Heather but that would mess up the count, so I'm going to say that they both voted for Cody as a mercy vote. 4 votes for Cody, 2 for Heather, 2 for Beth

4. Phobia Factor. Harold and Geoff didn't receive a point for completing their challenges, but they didn't not do them because they were scared either. That's why Bridgette, Courtney and Tyler were on the chopping block. Guessing Tyler and Courtney voted for each other. Also guessing Bridgette voted for Tyler since she was friends with Courtney. And looking at who was making fun of Tyler after he was eliminated, it was probably Duncan and Geoff who joined them. That leaves DJ, Harold and Sadie. I can't give them all to Courtney because that would force a tie. I also can't imagine DJ voting for Bridgette, so I'll give his vote to Tyler since he was already good friends with Duncan and Geoff. That means Harold and Sadie could both vote for Courtney and it wouldn't matter. 5 votes for Tyler, 3 for Courtney

3. Who Can You Trust? Courtney made it clear that she was voting for Sadie. Sadie, knowing that Courtney was voting her off, probably returned the favor. But beyond that, it's not exactly clear who voted for who. The bottom two made it seem like the Bass were just voting off their weakest link. So I could definitely see Duncan and Geoff voting for Harold. By the process of elimination, Sadie has to have at least two more votes from Harold, DJ and Bridgette. I'd say Bridgette was one of them because she was friends with Courtney. And Harold obviously didn't vote for himself, so I'm giving his vote to Sadie as well. And DJ? Who knows. My first guess would have been Harold but that would cause a tie. So I'm going with Sadie as well. 4 votes for Sadie, 2 for Harold, 1 for Courtney

2. Up the Creek. I mean, Izzy did give the other team advice on how to win, and Leshawna seemed pretty ticked off at her. So Leshawna and Izzy probably voted for each other. As for everyone else? They spent a lot more time bonding with each other than turning against each other, particularly between Trent, Gwen and Cody and between DJ, Geoff and Bridgette. Gwen probably voted with Leshawna because they're best friends at this point. Maybe Trent and Cody voted with them too. I guess if the Gophers heard Izzy when she told the Bass how to get back, she would have earned their votes. But perhaps Lindsay and/or Trent earned a few votes too for falling into the quicksand. I think Izzy would've been eliminated anyway though, just because she made a much bigger mistake. But it depends on who is voting. Heather's priorities seem to be #1 helping her team win and #2 crushing Leshawna and Gwen. Plus Izzy was informally a member of Heather's alliance, so it's possible she convinced Heather, Lindsay and Beth to vote Leshawna. And Owen probably didn't vote for Izzy. But he could have voted for pretty much anyone else except Cody because he had that bet going with him. Maybe, given that Lindsay was in the bottom two, Owen voted for Lindsay. I'm going to say 4 votes for Izzy, 4 for Leshawna, 1 probably for Lindsay

1. The Sucky (Not So Great) Outdoors. (The word Sucky in the original Canadian Teletoon version was edited for the US Cartoon Network version.) This was the hardest to rank because it's easy to tell that there were 7 votes for Katie and Sadie, but impossible to tell who voted for which one. I'm also going to say that Katie and Sadie both voted for Courtney because she berated them when they returned to the campfire pit. So I'm going with 4 votes for Katie, 3 for Sadie, 2 for Courtney

I found as I was Counting the Votes that a lot of people's votes are easy to narrow down, but not so easy to pinpoint. The next installment of Ranking the Votes is coming at the conclusion of season 1.

But what do you think? Which eliminations are the easiest to tell who voted for who, and which are the hardest? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumpuary Day 11-12

Prompt: Exhaustion

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore

“Daryl, we need to stop. Everyone needs a break.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your jacket tighter to your body. It was cold. Late autumn, early winter. You were searching for a group that had robbed and killed some of the Commonwealth’s best scouts. Ezekiel and Mercer had assigned you and Daryl to head up the mission. Daryl was still on edge about declining Maggie’s request to venture out. It wasn’t really his decision. You played a huge part in his declination. 

“Take a break then. M’goin’ on ahead.” He was standing on a downed tree, looking through Carol’s binoculars. You knew he was yearning for the old crew. They all had their jobs now and you couldn’t tear them away from that. So, Mercer had assigned troopers to assist. Daryl looked down at you, handing you the binoculars so he could jump down. 

“Come on, Daryl. Let’s stop for the evening. I know you haven’t been sleeping. I’m alone when I go to sleep. I’m alone when I wake up.”

His jaw twisted, a sure sign he was gnawing on the inside of his lip. “Maybe I just get to bed late an’ get up early.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Daryl Dixon, are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?” He gave a quiet nah while watching his boot kick at some loose rocks. “We barely get four or five hours and with all the walking and tracking, we’re exhausted.” You had already taken in his haggard appearance and he knew you had. “And you’re not sleeping at all? It’s not just unhealthy, it’s dangerous.”

Daryl sighed, his thumb tracing over his bottom lip. He looked as if he might concede, but with a glance over your shoulder, he dropped his hand and squared his shoulders. “M’goin’. Catch up.” 

You watched him walk away until he was out of sight. Turning, you saw a trio of troopers watching with smirks and hushed laughter. Had they been amused by you being able to rein in Daryl’s stubbornness? That would explain his hasty departure. 

“You think this is funny?” You snapped, their expressions falling straight. They stood at attention with a series of no ma’am. “Ugh, set up the tents. I’m going after our fearless leader.” You stayed for a moment to make sure they followed orders. You might have placed yourself under your boyfriend’s leadership, but in his absence, they were to heed your command. 

You checked your weapons before heading out alone. Daryl couldn’t have gone far but he tended to have the ability to surprise you. You really needed to talk to him about everything. It was you who begged him to stay when Maggie asked him to go. It was you that told him you’d follow him if he tried to leave without you. You didn’t leave him a choice and maybe that wasn’t fair. You had spent so much time separating from him in fights that could have seen one or both of you dead. Now, with a chance of relative peace and safety, you couldn’t let him just willingly walk away from that. 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. A few steps further and you could hear the crunch of leaves and snapping twigs. You knew it wasn’t Daryl. The man could move across the forest floor without a sound. When the first growl filtered through the air, you inwardly groaned. Just what you needed. Your handgun was at your hip but you pulled your knife. You were alone and didn’t need to attract any unnecessary attention. 

Lowering into a crouch, you tread the way Daryl had shown you, finding the lone walker with ease. Your eyes narrowed. It was moving with purpose, arms reaching as though something was in its sights. And it wasn’t you. 

Then you could hear him. The grunts and strained noises of Daryl engaged in a fight. Shit. You sprang to your feet, stabbing the walker in the eye as you passed. A nearby incline overlooked a small ravine, where Daryl was absolutely outnumbered by the dead. His crossbow had been discarded or dropped while he used his knives to fight off the dozen or so hands reaching for him. 

But he was flagging. 

Goddamnit, Daryl! 

You tore down the hill, kicking the feet out from under the walkers you passed so you could quickly and efficiently dispatch them. When you reached the bottom, everything seemed to go into slow motion. 

The walker had managed to get too close, grabbing Daryl’s arm as he reared back to stab the one in front of him. He used his other hand to take that one down but his arm was inches from the snapping jaws of the other. Just as it’s rotten teeth made contact with his exposed skin, a shot rang out. 

The walker dropped. 

You fired shot after shot until only three remained. Running past the archer, you took down two and turned to find him pulling his knife from the temple of the last one. 

Panting, you dropped your weapons and ran to him. He didn’t fight when you grabbed his arm. “Please please please. Are you bit? Are you hurt?” There was a light red irritation but no broken skin. You thought your legs would give out then and there, the relief surged so strongly. He still said nothing when you pulled him against you, holding him so tightly that it was a wonder he could breathe. “Don’t ever do that again! God, please, don’t!” You cried against his shoulder. His hands were on your back, rubbing gentle circles. 

“M’sorry.” Daryl finally whispered into your hair. You sniffled against him for a moment more, relishing in the feel of his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest. When you pulled back, he wasn’t looking at you. 

“It’s okay. I’m just,” your voice cracked hard enough to force a pause, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He nodded wordlessly. “Let’s go. The shots will attract others.” You grabbed your weapons and his crossbow, handing it to him. 

The walk back was silent, your hand in his. You couldn’t give up the contact, not while your heart still raced with how close you’d come to losing him or even a part of him. When the camp came into view, you stopped, glad that he also stilled beside you.

“They’re gonna be pissed but we can’t stay here.” You sighed giving his hand a squeeze. He nodded again. When you opened your mouth again, your name was called from somewhere behind you. 

“We heard the shots.” Two troopers, Jones and Pierce, had their weapons out, lowering them as they approached. 

“We’re good.” You answered with a tight smile. “Ran into some walkers. Gonna have to move the camp.” Much to your relief, they simply nodded and moved on, relaying the order. 

“You’re right.” 

You looked away from the tents and back to your archer. His head was down, his shoulders slumped. “What?” When he lifted his head, your expression softened. He looked beat down, resigned. 

“M’exhausted. Was stupid, what I did.” His thumb was drawing nervous circles on the the back of your hand. “‘Bout got me killed.” He dropped his head again, shame eating away at him. You knew that look well. 

“Hey.” You hooked a finger beneath his chin and guided him to look at you again. “I won’t say it’s okay because it isn’t. It was stupid.” The flinch would have been imperceptible to anyone else but you knew Daryl, knew what to look for when he was upset. “But you’re here. You’re safe and whole. That’s what matters.” Another silent nod. “I know there are things we need to talk about and we will. You need to rest first.”

A little of the tension bled from his face. “Okay.”

“Let’s go help gather everything. Get moved and get you to bed.” When you started walking, he fell in step automatically.

“Might need a bedtime story.” He was still looking down but he wore the smallest of smiles. You didn’t let go of his hand when you nudged him in the ribs with your elbow. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make certain you’re tired enough to sleep.”