#Maggie is as terrifying as ever

[tvs-coach]

A special request from @thelaststarman ! "Pratt Out Of Hell" from Spitting Image Series 15 Episode 6. A parody of the Meatloaf classic, "Bat Out Of Hell"

[winterrsun]

I’m in charge

Negan x reader SMUT

18+ only, mdni

Warnings: degradation, mentions of torture, dom! Negan, mild exhibitionism, mild knife play, squirting, scary/ mean Negan (basically just his true personality, but no actual violence occurs in story)

Authors note: this is not only my first the walking dead fic but it is hands down the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, it and me are depraved. Hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want a part 2 because it’s low key already half written in my head….

Summary: Negan coerced reader to be his wife at The Sanctuary in exchange for leaving her people at Alexandria alone - but reader founds out they’ve also been holding Daryl prisoner and abusing him . When she goes to confront Negan it doesn’t quite go as planned and he quickly reminds her who’s in charge.

You stormed through The Sanctuary, up the stairs towards Negan’s office. A few people eyed you wearily as you basically pushed past them in the corridor, not even noticing as the conversation you’d had a few hours earlier rang fresh in your mind.

It was only recently that Negan had let you start making visits to Alexandria, even more recently that he’d permitted you to go alone. You’d been living at The Sanctuary as his ‘wife’ for nearly a year now, and you’d built up a surprising level of mutual trust in that time. Especially given you weren’t exactly there willingly. But he’d always taken a liking to you, ever since he first met your group that night outside the camper van.

You were disgusted and terrified of him, but at the same time even then you couldn’t deny a level of chemistry and physical attraction that streamed between you when you first locked eyes. It was what had allowed you to convince him to spare Glenn, you were sure of it.

Then whenever he and his saviours would visit Alexandria to collect their haul, he’d always make a point of seeking you out and starting conversation. Until one day he made his offer; that you go with them back to The Sanctuary and the community at Alexandria will be left alone, never having to split their supplies with The Saviours again. Holding an alliance with them that near ensured no other group would dare try to attack the community. It was an offer far too good to refuse, though Carol and Rick and Daryl had tried to convince you to.

It was hard at first, almost unbearable, missing your family and settling into a cold, strange new home that felt like a twisted cross between a shitty summer camp and a military academy. But you managed, like you always did. Negan’s likeness towards you only grew and it didn’t take long for you to become his wife. In fact, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit it had made life more bearable. Both for the luxurious living quarters and the somewhat weird sisterhood type friendship you’d struck with the other wives. And yeah, the sex was pretty damn good too.

Yes, things were really not as bad as you’d expected they would turn out for you here, especially since you started visiting Alexandria and your family. You’d made the trip this morning, taking the drive filled with the usual joyful high of anticipation you got at the prospect of seeing everyone. Except not everyone was there when you arrived.

You didn’t notice at first; why would the absence of one individual jump out at you immediately? But you did notice the way everyone behaved, it was different. They seemed…sad, and nervous. It didn’t take long for Carol to ask the question that shattered the glass for you.

“Have you seen him? How is he?”

“Who?” You asked, heart beat fast increasing at the unease of the situation. You glanced around and clocked Rick and Carl, Glenn was with Maggie hushing Hershel. You didn’t see Daryl anywhere and knew before Carol’s answer left her lips.

“Daryl, they’ve had him for weeks. He’s being held at The Sanctuary. Nobody even knows if he’s still alive, we haven’t heard anything for at least a week.”

After gathering what more information you could you fast turned on your heels and commenced your mission you were closing in on now; confronting Negan immediately. You’d all but left in a cloud of dust to the cries of “be careful” from your friends and family.

But what did you care about being careful? The Saviours weren’t some terrifying, unknown threat anymore. They were your home now. Negan was technically your ‘husband’ for Christ’s sake. And he had been imprisoning and possibly torturing one of your best friends right under your nose for weeks without telling you a thing. Needless to say, you were beyond pissed.

That feeling of outrage was what fuelled your actions as you flung open the door to Negan’s office, hardly registering the dozen or so saviours sat around the conference style table. Negan was standing when you entered, at the far side of the table from where you stood, and he and every other person in the room immediately turned their heads to look in your direction at your loud entrance.

You didn’t hesitate to march across the room, around the table, up to Negan. “You want to explain to me what the FUCK is going on with Daryl and WHY you didn’t tell me he’s here?” You demanded. You were panting slightly both from the rushed journey you’d made up to the office and from the angry adrenaline currently pumping through your body.

Negan remained silent for a few moments before he answered you in a dangerously low tone. “Sorry doll, did you not notice I’m in the middle of a meeting?”

You stupidly continued “I don’t give a fuck about a fucking meeting, Negan. I want answers now. I get to Alexandria to find my friends and family distraught and they tell me you’re holding Daryl here prisoner. Starving him and beating him, how could you fucking do this? You better start explaining!”

You realised you’d gone too far before you’d actually finished the last word. You felt, more so than heard, Simon scoff somewhere to your left. For the first time since you’d walked in you began to feel self conscious of all the eyes in the room that were now darting between Negan and yourself. He smirked a little, and slowly turned to look at his followers, as if daring them to react to your boldness. His eyes met yours again, as he started to speak in a tone that was downright scary this time.

“You don’t get to fucking demand answers of me. You don’t get to demand anything. Don’t you dare forget your real place here”.

You looked down, at a loss for words finally, and softly bit your lower lip. You’d fucking done it now. Maybe he’d let you leave quietly if you acted apologetic and submissive now. Yeah, right.

He forcefully grabbed your jaw and yanked your head upwards so you’d look up at him again, his finger tips pressing in harder than necessary. “You look at me when I talk to you. You think you can barge in here, act all tough and bratty in front of my soldiers. Fucking think again.” Your eyes glanced sideways and briefly met Dwight’s, and Negan’s gripped on you tightened even further. “Don’t look over there, look at me. Don’t take your fucking eyes off me. You made this choice and now you will have to be on the receiving end of one loud wake up call. Don’t for a second think that my fondness for you means you have ANY authority here, you do NOT!”

You jumped as he yelled the last words, and your legs began to tremble as you looked up at him, neck and jaw beginning to ache.

“Now my men are gonna think that you think you can run circles around me. I can’t fucking have that. So we’re going to have to show them, and remind you, who exactly is in charge here. Get on your fucking knees, now.”

You slowly lowered yourself one leg at a time onto your knees, while he maintained his unrelenting grip on your lower jaw. It hurt your neck even more to look up at him from this angle, but you didn’t dare break eye contact.

“Open your mouth” he commanded. You did so immediately, and he did something he’d never done before. He spat right into your mouth.

You felt shameful and disgusted as the wet deposit landed on your tongue, but also the tell tale sign of heat and excitement began to prickle your body at this lewd act. You didn’t move, knowing better than to act without instruction.

A few second later, he uttered one more word; “swallow”. And you did, feeling the cold liquid run down your throat before blinking up at him.

His eyes softened, just a tiny bit, before they resumed their darkness. “Unzip my fly” he instructed next.

Fighting the urge to glance at your audience, you began to reach your hands towards him. Your heart pounding against your chest and in your eye drums. Your fingers softly brushed the fabric of his pants before he broke, and swatted them away motioning for you to get up.

“We don’t have time for any more of this now, we’ve got real shit to deal with” he said. You felt relief wash through you at the prospect of this almost being over. “Wait for me in your room, go straight there now” he instructed. Maybe not so over just yet.

“Yes, sir” you replied timidly. The first time you’d spoken since the dynamic shift has happened between you, and your tone of voice couldn’t have changed more.

You quickly exited the room with your head down and your cheeks burning red, tears stinging your eyes that you refused to let fall out until you made it back to your room.

It had been over an hour, but you hadn’t done much other than alternate between nervously pace around your room and sit on your bed staring at the door. You hadn’t really seen him like that before with you. It reminded you, shudderingly, of how he first treated your group when you met him. You cast your mind back to Abraham and were overwhelmed with dread. You had forgotten just how dangerous the man you lived with was. You supposed it was a self preservation effort; you knew you had to play the role of his wife regardless, so it was easier to live in denial and try to make the most of it. You felt shameful about that now, it was selfish and dumb.

You wondered if he’d actually hurt you. Maybe he’d throw you in the cell with Daryl. At least then you’d get to see Daryl. God you couldn’t stop thinking about him. On the way back to The Sanctuary your mind had more been preoccupied with being pissed off at Negan concealing this from you than actually worrying about Daryl’s safety. Yeah, Carol said they’d beaten him but you knew Daryl could take a bit of roughing up, and figured no real harm would have been done to him. But now you weren’t sure at all.

You’d become a nervous wreck by the time two sharp knocks were heard on the other side of your door. You hurried over and opened it, to find Negan standing on the other side. Eyebrows raised at you.

“I take it you’ve had some time to mull things over, anything you’d like to fucking to say to me?” He said.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting Negan” you mumbled, eyes on the floor.

He smirked slightly, before saying “yeah, you better be. I’m real fucking disappointed in you, doll. We have something special, I’ll admit, but that doesn’t mean you forget who I am. I’m the boss, you respect and obey me, no questions asked.” You stared at him, frozen, while he went on. “The fact you think you can demand answers of me at all is a problem, but the fact you felt it acceptable to do it in front of my Saviours tells me you need a serious lesson to remind you of your place.”

You gulped, and started to try and plea your case. “I’m sorry Negan, I really am. I know my place here, I was blinded by concern for Daryl; he’s my family!”. You can tell it’s falling on deaf ears as his expression remains unchanged; his mind set. You wondered with terror what you’d been trying to keep out of your mind for the last hour; would he use the iron on you? Surely not on your face, he wouldn’t want to ruin his own viewing pleasure, but what’s to stop him maiming something like your arm?

Tears started to fall down your face, and he finally moved towards you further. “Oh baby doll” you gained an ounce of hope that he’s softening, “don’t start crying already, we haven’t even gotten started”.

The hope vanishes and your insides clenched in fear. “Are you going to hurt me?” You whispered.

“Not badly,” he said, “not in any way I know you can’t take baby girl”.

His tone edged into a territory you were more familiar with, and you raised an eyebrow tentatively. He was teasing you for sure, and now you were less terrified about the possibility of a truly terrible punishment. Well, one that would cause real lasting physical harm anyway. He slowly raised his arm and cupped your face, tilting it up towards his.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say, and show me what a good girl you can be,” he said steadily, and you gave him a small nod. “You gotta earn back my trust, and it isn’t going to be fucking easy.”

His hand slid down your décolletage, around your shoulder and landed on your waist. You couldn’t help but lean into it the tiniest bit, and noticed a small bubble of anticipation forming in your stomach.

That was followed by a twinge of guilt and sadness as you once again remembered Daryl. But you knew you had to face reality, the only way for you to have any hope of helping Daryl is to win back favour with Negan. You had to perform for him now, exactly how he wants. And if there was a small part of you that might enjoy some parts of what’s about to happen, well, that seemed like a small bonus you earned to slightly counter balance from the trauma of your life for the last however many years.

Negan gave your waist a squeeze and stepped back, drinking in your appearance. You were still dressed for this morning’s Alexandria visit; tight black jeans, a grey tank top and black laced up boots. You never left the compound in any shoes other than heavy boots that could kick in a walker skull if needed.

“Strip down to your underwear” he commanded softly, and you tried to make hasty work of your shoelaces, and not look too awkward hoisting them off. Next your hands shot to your pants button.

“No need to rush this part so much” he directed, and you immediately slowed down your efforts as you pulled your jeans down your legs, trying to bend over in attractive an angle as possible.

You made eye contact with him as you lifted your top over your head, and he licked his bottom lip slightly as his eyes glint. You then stand still, feeling a little awkward with him fully clothed and you in your worn out bra and cotton panties, staring at you like a lion sizing up its prey.

You know he likes to be the one to remove your next items of apparel, and sure enough he moved towards you and reached around to the back of your waist. He flicked open your bra with one hand and lets it drop to the floor.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver knife with a smirk. Your heart pounded against your now exposed chest. He ran the cool metal blade along your side and you shivered at its touch on your hot skin.

He moved swiftly and the sound of fabric cutting cleanly was heard before your panties drop to the floor.

“Mmmmmmm” he groaned in appreciation at your now fully naked form. “Well go on, do a little twirl for me” he instructed. You spun around, feeling like a doll in a music box on display. As you returned to face him, he raised his eyebrows indicating you to continue, and as you rotated back around again he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, back now to him.

You should have known he’d want to check out your ass, he loved worshipping it. But this wasn’t about being worshipped. He gently pushed you in the back so you began to move over to the bed with small footsteps, stopping just in front of it.

“Bend over, hands on the mattress” he instructed, and you leaned forward precariously while he added “feet further apart doll”.

You felt a burn of humiliation at the vulnerable position you were in, legs and cheeks spread open, presented in front of him. You flinched slightly at the touch of his fingers on your bum cheeks. He caressed them lightly, before delivering a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Alright, let’s get this part over with” Negan said with a slight sigh, and you heard movement behind you, the sounds of what you were sure was him unbuckling his belt. You knew better than to look around and confirm your theory, so instead looked down at your hands and tried to steady your increasingly rapid breathing.

Further confirmation was given to you at the sound of leather on skin, as he warmed up a practise tap in his palm. Then came a burning flash of pain across your backside, and you couldn’t help but yelp.

“We’ll do ten, count me down doll” he murmured to you, and you whimpered in protest before you could stop yourself.

He tutted sympathetically, “I know baby girl, but you can take it. It’ll push your limits, but I have to teach you a real lesson here.” You nod reluctantly. “I told you to count, didn’t I?” He added in a more menacing tone.

Immediately you stuttered out the word “ten!”

You counted down each painful lash, picturing the sight of your ass covered in red marks, hoping that none of them had broken skin. Shamefully, you noticed each strike delivered an underlying trace of pleasure mingled with the pain. You were sure Negan knew it too.

As you rounded out on “T-two!” With a tear rolling down your face onto the sheets below, Negan paused. You dare a glance behind you and noticed he’s bent down, examining his work. You felt his breath fan over your most private spot, and realised he wasn’t looking at your bruised up ass; he’s staring at your pussy.

You felt the smooth leather of his belt suddenly invade your slit, and retreat just as suddenly. Then it appeared in front of your face as Negan narrated “fucking glistening, you filthy girl” with a chuckle.

Negan then delivered the final blow, directly to your pussy this time, landing square on your clit, and you let out a scream. You weren’t even sure whether it was more a scream of pleasure or pain at this point.

Negan cleared his throat pointedly and you realised you missed the final count. “One” you sighed out, before your trembling arms finally gave way and you slumped your upper body onto the mattress. Your legs started to follow and you bent your knees towards the ground, but Negan’s arm scooped under your waist and held your hips up, letting out a “not so fast doll” as he did.

You were now face down on the bed, with your feet still on the ground spread apart, and your backside more on display in the air than ever. When he was sure your legs are steady again, Negan released your hips and you felt more than heard him sink to his knees behind you.

“You took your punishment well baby girl,” he murmured, “now I’ll help make you feel better” he finished before plunging his face in between your legs.

He motorboated your cheeks before taking his hands and spreading them apart, and you felt his wet tongue land where you needed it the most. You moaned and leant back into him as he lapped at your pussy, eating you like a depraved man. His tongue flicked downwards at your clit, which stung just slightly after the belt slap he’d administered just minutes ago. He suckled at your sensitive nub and you let out a loud moan. You could already feel pleasure building towards climax after the state he’d riled you up into. His tongue lazily dragged back up away from your clit, and didn’t stop until it traveled all the way up past your pussy. He quickly replaced it with his finger sliding in past your slit and you immediately pushed back agreeably against the welcome entrance inside you.

You let out a gasp of surprise as his tongue found its new destination, one that he’d never been before - nor had anyone for that matter. He delicately licked your puckered asshole and you marveled at the new sensation, while two fingers now formed a steady rhythm pumping in and out of your pussy. You’d never felt anything like it, and as his tongue got braver, starting to push itself inside your tight hole, you fell into a continuous flow of moans and pleas while softly rocking into his rhythm.

You thought you were already in an unbeatable state of pleasure when his thumb began to rub circles around your clit, and you grasped helplessly at the sheets beneath you. While you knew your orgasm was still building and approaching, you felt so good it was like you were already coming. Yet you felt the feeling continue to build, and you knew that no matter what you didn’t want it to stop.

“Fuck! Yes, Negan, oh please” you sang out.

His tongue danced around and inside your asshole while his fingers mercilessly fucked you, and his thumb circled your clit faster and faster. Your gut clenched and you cried out, reaching a peak like no other you’d ever experienced. Suddenly, too late to react, you felt a secondary feeling like you were about to pee. And then it all happened, you screamed in overwhelming pleasure while fluid broke out of your body and gushed down Negan’s hand. You swore you actually saw stars for a moment and not once did Negan’s actions pause.

You heard him let out an animalistic growl from behind you as you soaked his fingers and he finally withdrew his face from your ass cheeks. As your high came down he continued to pound into your pussy and your legs started to buckle, your energy fast fading.

“Negan, I can’t, no more” you let out softly, desperation in your voice.

He chuckled, delivering two final harsh thrusts of his fingers before pulling them out.

You bathed in the warm, hazy feeling that tingled throughout your body post orgasm, letting yourself lean into the drunk sensation it gave you for a moment.

“Turn around doll,” he instructed. Shakily you pushed yourself up on your elbows and turned so you were sat up watching him, while he stood up straight before you. He looked you in the eyes and licked every one of his fingers clean, slurping up your juice that had coated his entire hand and soaked his sleeve.

Any embarrassment you were at risk of feeling from having squirted for the first time in your life vanished when you realised how much he evidently loved it. He stopped before he got to his pinky and now brought his hand to your mouth. He pressed his finger to your lips and you opened up to let him in, sucking your own juices off him and noting the tangy taste on your tongue.

“Fuck, you did so good baby girl” he praised, stroking your hair with his other hand.

You were too exhausted to reply at this point, and he seemed to pick up on that. Finally feeling satisfied with his punishment, he smiled at you sympathetically. “Time for you to get some rest I think” he murmured, guiding you into the bed as your eyelids felt heavy already.

You slowly laid your head down onto the pillow as he guided you encouragingly, and let your eyes flutter closed. In that moment, you couldn’t remember anything at all that had happened that day. But it would all come back to you in the morning.

[thestarrynightslover]

Whatever Comes

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,147

Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of blood, life-threatening injuries, hit-and-run, fracture wounds, and miscarriage.

Summary: Doctor (y/n) (y/l/n) and Jay Halstead are secretly dating when there is a terrible accident involving (y/n) and a lot comes to light.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fic in a long while and I don't think it's all that good but I had to restart somewhere, so I hope you like it anyway!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You had just gotten out of your car across the street from the side of Med and, as you were making your way through the bit of road that led to the hospital, a car comes into the driveway — screeching tires, in full speed — and runs you over long before you could even see anything and, there, in the matter of a few seconds, everything goes black and you’re left bleeding out in the street.

Almost an hour later, after you had regained consciousness and had begun dragging yourself, very slowly, towards the hospital, Will and Ethan, about to go inside Med, spot you and run your way eager to help you out — even if they hadn’t known it was you at first.

“Oh man, it’s Dr. (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Ethan exclaimed.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!?” You sort of heard Will ask through your dizziness haze.

“Wow, you’re actually shorter this up close than I had imagined at first.” You attempted a joke with your friend, momentarily gaining some clarity.

Ignoring you, Will just asked no one specifically, “oh Lord, how long has she been bleeding out here?”

Decisive as always, you heard as Dr. Choi commanded, “I don’t know but, come on, Will, let’s carry her to the ED!”

As soon as your friends get inside the hospital with you, everybody stays in shock for a moment until Maggie yells: "get her in treatment 4, now!"

Following her lead, Will and Ethan get started on treating you, who has a few broken ribs, and free fluid in your belly besides from a punctured spleen. Having done their best in the ED, they decide to send your upstairs for surgery with Crocket.

Once you're going to surgery, Miss Goodwin tells Maggie and the doctors to call PD and specifically ask for Intelligence, since you were friends with the unit. As the cops get there, one stands out: Jay Halstead. He's frantic, devastated-looking, just completely lost, and desperate to hear more news about your condition. No one really understands why he is reacting like that, but all of them do share the fear of losing a great friend. Voight's giving out assignments to the team, so Jay knows that that's when he needs to speak up.

"Um, sarge?" All eyes are on him. "If you and the team don't mind running one man short today... I was hoping that I could, um, stay here with- with her?" Hank just stares at him, unlike everyone else — who are shocked — the older man's focus is on his detective's eyes, on the way he was so distraught from the moment they got the call about (y/l/n). That was the behavior, the look, of a terrified man. And, as everyone there knew, Jay Halstead — the freaking war vet — wasn't one to get scared easily. "(y/n) and I-"

"It's fine. No need to explain. You should stay here, Jay. Let us know, in case anything changes. And we'll catch the son of a bitch." He said firmly, making Jay feel as appreciative as ever, and, also, sending an implicit message to all the other members of the unit, one that said: we work this with all we got right now, for (y/n), and for Jay, no questions asked.

After the officers left the hospital, there was still a big commotion from everyone who stayed, because it was one of their own up there in the or. But, surpassing everyone else's, was Will's surprise by how distraught Jay looked, especially considering how his little brother wanted to stay at the hospital, instead of going to find who hurt you. So he comes to confront the detective about it. "So... You and (y/n) are a thing?" Will asked, trying to understand. Since Jay just nodded his head, he decided to push a little further: "And... Were you ever planning to tell me? What the hell, man?"

"Will, I-"

"She's one of my best friends, Jay! Not to mention the fact that I'm the doctor who oversees her work here!"

"Will you put it down?" Jay pleaded with his brother, motioning him to a more reserved corner of the waiting room. "I know, okay? I know. And I'm sorry if it upsets you, man, I really am. But this could've blown her career. That's why we hadn't told you yet." It was clear that Will didn't exactly like his brother's explanation, but he knew it was true.

"Just... How long?"

"Um, about six months?"

"Six months?!" The doctor yelled in shock, then repeated it in a lower tone. "But, six months?"

"Yeah, I know it's a lot of time keeping you in the dark, Will. But, trust me, we weren't thrilled about it. And we were hoping to tell you soon. I swear." Jay said, and his brother could, once again, see it was the truth.

"So, that means that when you started seeing each other she was still finishing med school?"

"Yeah, that's right. Which was, like, the main reason for us to keep it under wraps. An intern dating the attending doctor's little brother? Wouldn't look good."

"That's true..." At that point, Will took another look at his brother. Jay looked so worried and scared, even while trying to hide it. "So, uh, you guys are serious?" That question got a little smile out of the detective.

"Yes, we are. I know that it is new for you... But, I love her, Will. I really do." He took a moment to breathe, not being able to hold back some tears this time. “And, I can’t lose her. I just can’t.”

“Jay…” Will started saying but didn’t quite know how to continue. What could he possibly say to comfort his brother right now? “We just… We just gotta stay hopeful, okay? (y/n) is a really tough person and Dr. Marcel is a great surgeon, you know it. She is gonna pull through.”

A lot of disquieting hours later Crocket finally comes out of the surgery, just to be met by a very worried hospital staff and an on-edge Jay Halstead.

"Where is sh- How is she? Is (y/n) okay? Can I see her?" The detective hovers, not even taking a breath.

"Wow! Uh, you gotta calm down a little, buddy."

"Don't give me that crap! Just- just tell me how she is!" Jay shouts again, not giving a damn about what anyone was thinking. You were the only thing on his mind right now.

"Alright. But try to keep breathing, okay?" To that, the other man didn't even bother to answer. "Okay, um, it was a very complicated surgery, I had to do a lot of cleaning and moving around to get to the worst parts and-"

"Can you please just cut to the part where you tell me if she's okay? No offense, but you can fill me in on the details later." Jay stated nervously. It wasn't just that he wanted to know what was the result of all those hours in the or, but, also, because Jay knew he wouldn't understand half of what Connor was saying, even with the simplified language. You would. But not him.

"Right. Okay. She's, um, she's okay for now. We'll need to monitor her on an hourly basis, though." By that point, the surgeon could already see the relief on both Halsteads' faces, so he went on. "We controlled the bleeding, but, with all the blood loss," he stopped to take another look at the detective, "I'm afraid," another pause, because, sure he had delivered this kind of news before, but this time it was a lot harder, because those people were his friends. And, what they had just lost, he had just lost too, in a way, "we couldn't save the baby."

"The baby?" This time he got an answer from both brothers.

"Uh, uh... You, uh, you didn't know she was pregnant?" Crocket asked, kind of already guessing the answer while sharing a look with Will.

"Oh my God..." It was all the youngest Halstead managed to let out. Seeing how his brother was unable to react any further, Will decided to step up and ask the tough questions.

"So, um,  if everything goes well from now on, you think that (y/n/n) will make a full recovery?"

"Ahhh, yes, actually. She was in great health, so, after making it through, uh, through the night, she shouldn't have any major issues." At that point, Marcel himself was trying to be as objective and as doctorish as possible, in order not to make things worse for the man who had just heard that he lost a child he didn't even have a chance to wait for.

"So, is it, um- is it possible that she didn't know about the pregnancy yet?" But, damn it, Will just kept asking all the impossible questions.

"Uh... It is, actually. Very possible." Hearing that, the detective immediately glued his eyes on him. "We estimate that the fetus was about seven weeks. It's very common that women on birth control haven't found out about it at that point." As neither Halstead said anything, Marcel continued, "well, she's up in the ICU now and in and out of consciousness but, if you want, you can see her for a few minutes."

Hearing that, the detective came out of his haze and said: "Yeah, I wanna see her!"

A few hours later, as Will Halstead gathered his things after finishing his shift, he decided to go check on you but got surprised when he realized that his brother was still there, in the waiting room. "Jay, what are you still doing here?"

"I'm waiting," he said simply.

"Jay." Will called again, "you can't do this, you need to go home, get some sleep, eat…"

"I'm not leaving her alone."

"She's not gonna be alone, Jay." Not getting any response, Will decided to lead with something else. "You know, Voight called Goodwin and said that they're hitting a lot of walls in the (y/l/n) investigation…" Measuring his brother's reaction, Will continued: "Maybe they'd have better luck working with the whole team…"

"Yeah, you're probably right. Tomorrow I'll tell Voight that I want in on the investigation." Jay said, not making any sign of wanting to leave.

"Jay, you can't work tomorrow after staying here the whole night!" Seeing his little brother still not intending to leave, he threatened, "if you don't go home right now, I'll call Voight myself and tell him that you're in no shape to work-"

"Oh, c'mon! You're gonna do that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," Will said, looking as serious as they get. "Look, Jay, you know she's in good hands here. And, whatever happens, you'll be the first to know, I've made sure of it."

"But-"

"But nothing, Jay! It's time to go, come on!" Will pressed so much that Jay resigned himself to do as his brother told him.

For almost a week, you stayed in the ICU. For almost a week, Jay Halstead passed by Med on his way to work and on his way home from work.

Once you were moved to a room, Jay started feeling like he could finally breathe again, even though there was now the baby that someone had still to tell you. And, after chatting with Will and Crockett, Jay had already decided he was gonna be the one to deliver the news to you. So, one day, after Intelligence had already caught the drug dealers that were running away when they hit you, Jay asked Voight for the afternoon off to take you home from the hospital.

When you were at your place, you asked Jay what was going on: "Hey, you didn't say a word on the way here, is anything besides the fact that I just spent almost two weeks in the hospital and that everyone found out about us wrong?"

"Let's sit down for a minute, babe."

The minute he said that, you knew there was something really wrong.

"Okay, you're scaring me…" You said while sitting down on the couch.

"I just- I have something important to tell you," and, like that, Jay proceeded to tell you the worst thing you ever heard. It's not like you'd been planning on becoming a mother or anything like that anytime soon but it was still a possibility that was brutally taken away… You and Jay cried together for the first time and, consoling each other, you felt your relationship growing stronger. 

So much so that after some time you could start talking about the future that both of you foresaw with one another and, even though nothing was completely decided, there was one thing you knew for sure: as long as you were together, you could face anything.

[tonydaddingham]

oh my god but crowley didn't fully believe that whatever he was idly toying with confessing at the ritz was gonna work, did he? he impatiently looked at his watch, flumped into the chair after stress-tidying the shop - not because the metatron had dragged aziraphale away, but because when aziraphale eventually comes back, and crowley manages to ferry him off to the ritz, crowley wasn't yet sure whether he should say the unspoken thing. he was still weighing up the idea, was debating whether or not he should. because here's the thing - crowley hadn't cottoned on.

he hadn't worked out what the dance meant. the lingering touches. the longing glances that he thought he might have caught in the corner of his eye, but couldnt be sure. maggie and nina came to talk to him, and he was nonchalant and dismissive and brushed off what they were saying because crowley doesn't want his vulnerability seen. he wasn't even sure that a confession would actually work - so don't encourage him, because what if aziraphale doesn't feel the same way? what if giving voice to it is still too fast?

but they seem to think that aziraphale feels some kind of way about him... so maybe, actually, he should? he should say something, he should tell aziraphale how he feels, oh god he should take this spark of bravery and fan it into an inferno... because that glimmer of hope, buried within, that aziraphale won't reject him is burning a little brighter.

so he decided to take the leap, to confess then and there, because that little flicker of courage is so delicate, and it has to be coaxed into a flame, and if he doesnt do it now, he won't ever feel he can. "if i don't start talking now, i won't ever start talking". he wasn't set on confessing at the ritz, only considering that if anything was going to be said it should happen there. he went out to the bentley, after handing maggie and nina back to their reality, to put Their Song on the deck - it might help! - and then came back nervous and excited and impatient and terrified. but the girls said that they never say what they're really thinking, and what crowley's thinking is that he ought to say something, but doesn't know if he should.

but crowley took the leap, decided to just do it whilst he's still got a grasp on that conviction and bravery. and is smacked back with the shock and repulsion of being offered restoration, the heartbreak that aziraphale does reciprocate what he does, but only if he's an angel again. only if he goes back. only if only if only if. he doesn't hear what aziraphale actually means, doesnt think about what aziraphale is actually trying to say to him - that aziraphale does want him, does love him, does want to be with him, just as he is, but it can only happen if they're safe, working from the inside to change things so they can be safe - because all he can think is that maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. took the leap, and found out all over again what it is to fall.

[melanatedeuph0ria]

the boy is mine ⋆˙⟡♡

rick grimes x black!fem! reader

since he’d arrived in alexandria, you and rick have gone from complete strangers to close friends. you’d proven to be extremely useful to his team-after all, you were a great shot and had skin tougher than steel. but now, you’ve started seeing rick in a different, more romantic light. will your newly-developed crush on the police officer be reciprocated as you’d dreamed?

summary: you and rick go on a run for supplies. some hidden feelings get uncovered along the way.

NOTE: this fic takes place in alexandria era BEFORE negan (i’m guessing like s6 bc i forgot)

a/n: MY FIRST FIC EVER AAAAA i’m hoping its ok bc i’m literally just going w the flow lmao

also sorry ts took so fucking long i still have school n stuff guys 🙏🏽😞

genre: fluff, angst, hurt, comfort idk

warnings: blood, zombies, cursing, use of n word, near-death experience

“y/n! you ready to head out?”, rick yelled as he leaned against a silver sedan parked in front of Alexandria’s gates.

after finding yourself caught in a conversation with maggie and glenn, you quickly swooped your head around to acknowledge the gruff man, your eyes widening at the sound of his southern drawl lingering on your name.

“yeah, I’m comin’!” you croaked, creasing your lips into a nervous smile. after a moment, you made your way over to his car, backpack slung over your back.

you and rick were headed to a small, nearby grocery store that an old-time alexandrian claimed was hidden away from the frequent commotion of the town. there was a 50/50 chance that it might’ve or might’ve not been looted, but you both weren’t willing to skimp out on this rare opportunity. after all, the community was running short on food and supplies-it started getting obvious that it was once people were given smaller portion sizes than normal.

and it was you who, stupidly enough, agreed to check out the area with none other than your best friend you’ve been harboring a crush on, rick grimes.

you were intrigued with the man from the moment he stepped foot into alexandria-he lowkey terrified you, him AND his group, but that only sparked your urge to get to know them a bit more. you didn’t actively seek interaction with them- it was by really by circumstance when you had the chance to kinda intermingle with them all. you forgot how you and rick even met each other, to be honest. he knew you were a good shot and had skin tough as nails, that’s for sure. you had grown into something of a maternal figure for Carl, his teenage son, although it took a while for him to finally warm up to you. you couldn’t blame him, to be honest. you knew he’d been through some rough shit-he told you about his mom and what he was forced to do to her after she’d been bitten and just delivered judith, his month-old half-sister. nonetheless, you and rick were both each other’s rocks; he cared for you unlike anyone else in alexandria, and you adored certain things about him-his deep, southern voice when he gently called your name. the traces of vanilla and bourbon cologne left on his clothes despite sweating all day-most of the time he didn’t even bother trying to put it on, but the days he did, you subconsciously noticed. him surprising you with 90’s rnb album CDs that he’d snatched on his runs- once he’d surprised you with a whole erykah badu album, and since then, you’ve kept it under lock and key inside your nightstand. his damp, ruffled hair as he stops by your house for a towel to dry it off because he never seemed to have any of his own; you let him in without much question, of course, but for the past few weeks he’s been on your porch steps, your heart’s been pumping at speeds you’ve never experienced before-at least, not in a while-a zombie apocalypse ruins one’s concept of love when the one you’re in love with can slip from your fingers in a heartbeat.

but could it be? could you really be in love with your best friend in a zombie apocalypse? you were sure of it, but horrified to know if he felt the same, which is why you didn’t even realize your leg was was anxiously bouncing up and down on the floor of the car until…

“y/n. you alright?”

“huh? oh y-yeah, i’m good. what’s wrong?”

“nothin’, you’re just..extra quiet.”

“do i need to start talkin’?” you didn’t mean for that to come off as rude as it did. you were just nervous, nervous about what he’d tell you if you told him how you truly felt.

“no, no, it’s fine. you don’t gotta say nothin’ if you don’t feel like it.”

aww shit, now i feel bad, you thought. you tried your hardest not to sink into the car seat in shame so he wouldn’t notice yet another thing off about you today. you tilted your head to the window.

“we made it.” in what seemed like a flash, you and Rick were parked outside the convenience store. did you zone out that hard? not that it mattered anymore. you climbed out of the car and you both took a closer look at the store. it was abandoned all right-at least, it could’ve just looked that way-but it still looked intact. untouched by the world. you hoped that would also apply to whatever awaited inside.

bigger than what i thought it’d be, you thought as you peered at the building.

“bigger than i thought it would be.” rick said aloud.

is this nigga reading my mind..? you thought. “let’s just hope there’s no walkers on the inside.” you said in an attempt to reassure yourself that there were no undead lurking around.

You looked back at Rick for a response or some sort of agreement, but when you did, out of the corner of your eye you saw him damn near snap his neck just to stare back at the store. he cleared his throat loudly. the gesture alone radiated an anxious energy, something you had almost never sensed in the man since knowing him. it was kinda like he was afraid of getting caught…wait…

..was rick staring at you? and how long had you gone without even noticing?

if he was staring, it certainly wasn’t for no reason. you are undoubtedly stunning, so much in fact that some people were envious of your beauty before and during the apocalypse. your rich, brown skin, glistening in the hot, june sun, and your thick, coily hair, pulled into a low puff, were just a few of your most admirable features, both inside and out.

shaking the thought off your mind, you both finally approached the building, carefully peeling open its glass doors and sliding inside. you knew the drill already, but rick felt the need to tell you again, which wasn’t to your surprise at this point. “i’ll take the left side, you take the right. we’ll use our walkies to communicate-if you’re in trouble, i’ll be right there, alright?” you nodded in compliance-you both knew you could handle yourself-but you couldn’t help but bite down a smile when he said that. his low, whispery voice was strangely reassuring, like he cared for you as a lover instead of a friend. you felt your cheeks begin to burn-it’s not really like he could tell anyway, for obvious reasons, but also because it was dark as hell in the store- you assumed the owners didn’t survive long enough to pay the electricity bill.

you were shocked to see that the aisles were just barely looted-you we’re expecting them to show signs of being scavenged at least a bit, but there they were, filled to the brim with food that would just about save Alexandria from starvation.

you clicked on your walkie and held it up to your mouth. “holy shit.” is all that could manage to come out of your mouth right now.

“looks like we hit the jackpot.” rick replied on the on the other line. he already knew what your “holy shit” meant.

with caution, you strolled down the “canned goods” aisle, looking up and down each section in awe. you came to an abrupt stop in front of one of the rows, gazing at everything in stock until your eyes settled on a can of peaches. you knew they were probably expired, you expected everything else in there to be, but you were curious to see what the expiration date read on its back, to see how long it’d been since the world went to hell. you held the can in your left hand, examining the date on its back: 10/18/09; it’d been expired a year before the apocalypse even began…

didn’t think it’d be that expired.., you murmured to yourself as you creased your lips into a disgusted frown. just as you began to set the specimen back on the shelf, a loud thud from underneath the rack sent it bouncing upwards, startling you so badly that the can slipped from your fingers and splattered onto the floor into a mushy mess. somehow, there was a walker under there, reaching its pale, maggot-infested limbs out to grasp at your leg. your eyes immediately traveled to the undead as you quickly thought of how you could quickly end its 2nd life. you frantically tugged your imprisoned foot backwards in an attempt to break free, reaching into your leather sheath and pulling out your dagger halfway, but, soon enough, you were met with an even more terrifying scenario. your back clashed violently with the rack behind you, and a walker on the other side, suddenly aroused by the sound and the smell of your human flesh, reached its spindly hand through a wide, open hole in the decaying rack. its hand curled around your throat with enough pressure to keep you pinned to the shelf while you also tried to free your leg from the walker below you.

“RICK, I NEED HELP!” you yelled out into the aisle. it was a risky move and could probably attract even more walkers than what was already threatening you, but you couldn’t get a good grip on your dagger and that was the only weapon you had. calling for backup was the only option you had left.

the oncoming presence of death pricked at prodded at your skin like thorns. the thought that-in that moment, you could be bitten, and all of your hopes and ambitions for the future could immediately be crushed-left you speechless, stricken with terror.

just as the walker grabbing at your neck prepared to take a bite out of it, rick appeared and stabbed it right in its head. just after you finally freed yourself from its grasp, the man noticed the walker on the ground and stomped on its skull, leaving a bloody, mushy mess on the floor, but you were too panicked to even notice.

an exasperated sigh escaped your mouth. “oh my God, rick, you’re a lifesaver-“

your rushed, panicky words were interrupted when he suddenly crashed his lips onto yours. your eyes immediately widened at the sensation of his coarse lips pressing onto yours, soft and plump, then slowly fluttered shut. your breathing, at first rapid and filled with anxiety, had simmered down into slow and steady breaths as his lips passionately devoured yours. almost subconsciously, he trailed his right hand, roughened with scars and calluses, on the nape of your neck, holding you closer than ever before as he rested his left hand on your hip. his ocean blue eyes drifted shut as he explored you, desperate for your touch, before he slowly pulled away from the kiss to give you some time to breathe. you fluttered your eyes back open and waited for him to look up at you.

“i’m-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that, just so randomly. fuck…” rick babbled rapid apologies before a frustrated, shaky sigh escaped from his mouth. without thinking, you cupped his cheek, burning with the embarrassment of his decision, and leaned into him, rewarding him with a kiss of your own; it only seemed fair after he saved your life and your heart in only a matter of seconds. his eyes fluttered shut at your touch as your other hand tangled into his neatly combed hair. you let the feeling of your lips gently pressed together linger for a few seconds before you slowly pulled away. you felt your heart buzzing with excitement but also with relief, now that you knew that he’d been storing feelings for you this entire time. a confident grin appeared on your face as you looked up at him.

“i like you too, grimes.”

-the end. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[topazy]

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, main character death, violence

Chapter: 7.01

Your eyes sting when tears roll down your cheeks, leaving a horrible salty taste on your dry lips. The sound of Negan’s wooden bat pounding into someone's skull over and over was horrific. Negan pretended to play a game of eenie meenie miney mo while deciding who to kill, but he already had his mind made up.

“Show them no goddamn fear.”

Negan picked Abraham because he showed him no fear. For all you thought he could be an asshole, at times Abraham was brave, and he risked his life multiple times to save others. He was a hero, and he was loved.

“Did you hear that?” Negan chuckles. “He said, Suck my nuts!”

A couple of the men laugh behind him. Negan swings his bat around, causing blood to splatter across Rick’s face. His eyes move along the line up looking for someone else to torment, and when he gets to the end, he smiles.

“Oh shit girly, that wasn’t your daddy, was it?”

You can’t hold back the sob that escapes your mouth. Rosita was a hysterical mess beside you, and you’d never seen Rick look so terrified before. Would anyone get out of this alive? You wished your dad was with you; he always knew how to make you feel better.

Negan crouches down so he’s eye level with you. “Tell me, am I the worst man you’ve ever met?”

You wipe at your nose before letting out a shaky breath. “No, I’ve met a worse man than you.”

Negan smirks at your answer; he enjoys scaring you. You sob when he uses the bloodied bat to stroke the strands of your hair that had fallen in front of your face, leaving small parts of Abraham's blood in your hair. Horrified, you try to brush it out with your fingers, but Negan did the same thing but on the opposite side of your head.

“Leave her alone!” Daryl snaps; he leaps to his feet and punches Negan in the face.

“No!” You are screaming and watching as two men start to beat Daryl. “He’s sorry, just stop it! Please, please don’t hurt him!”

Negan chuckles. “That? Oh my. That is a no, no. The whole thing, not one bit of that shit flies here.”

Dwight steps out of the crowd and points Daryl’s own crossbow at him while he’s pinned to the ground. “Do you want me to do it?”

“No.” Negan had a sadistic smile on his face. “No, you don’t kill them... not until you try a little.”

Dwight looks confused for a moment, but he grabs Daryl and drags him back to his space in the line-up.

“And anyway, that’s not how it works. Now I already told you people the first ones are free, but I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Negan steps closer to your side of the line-up. He was going to kill one of you next. You close your eyes, not wanting to see the bat coming.

“Now, I don’t know what kind of lying asses you’ve been dealing with, but I am a man of my word. First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So… back to it.”

Your eyes flicker open, and you scream, seeing the bat covered in barbed wire and blood coming down towards you, but Negan doesn’t hit you; he hits Glenn, who was right beside you.

Glenn survives two blows to the head, but one of his eyes was popping out of his head. He manages to lift his head; he was in so much pain, grunting and sputtering blood from his mouth.

“Are you still there, buddy?” Negan asks mockingly. “I just don’t know. It seems like you’re trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit. I’ve hit your skull so hard your eyeball just popped out, and it is gross as shit!”

“Maggie, I’ll find you.”

Maggie sobs in response to Glenn’s final words before Negan counts to beat him. He continues to hit him until his skull is completely destroyed.

“You bunch of pussies! I’m just getting started.”

You feel as if you struggle to breathe when parts of Glenn's brain land across your lap. After your father died, you looked to Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, and Abraham for strength; they were the ones who kept your community safe. And now the blood of two of them was quite literally on your hands.

“Lucile is thirsty; she is a vampire.”

Maggie was distraught. First your mom and brother, then your dad, then Beth, and now Glenn were gone. You just pray to God that if you make it out alive, she doesn’t lose her baby.

“Now back to you.” Negan points his bat directly in front of your face, causing you to tremble with fear; seeing the blood drip off it so closely to your face causes you to freeze. “Which one of my men stabbed you?”

You’re unable to speak.

“Come on now, kid, you won’t get in trouble for telling me.”

Your eyes darted around the circle of men who were standing and watching Negan torment you all. You finally spot the man who stabbed, “h—h—him.” You swallow thickly, terrified of what was to come next. “It was him who stabbed me.”

Negan walks over to the man and pats him on the shoulder, then brings him out of the circle. “This man right here attacked you.”

You nod.

Negan swings his bat again and strikes the man across the face, causing him to scream in pain. But unlike Glenn and Abraham, he doesn’t beat them to death. “As you said, he’s a man who took the easiest option by stabbing a little girl. I can’t have that.”

—

Before you know it, the sun is starting to rise again. You do your best to avoid looking to your left. The daylight only meant it was easier to see what was left of Glenn.

Your heart drops when the RV pulls up to where you are all still kneeling, the outside of it covered in blood. Negan had taken Rick somewhere, and you expected him to be the next victim, but to your surprise, the door opens and Negan shoves out of the van.

“Rick, do you even know what that little trip was about?”

Rick doesn’t answer; he’s in complete shock.

Negan sighs, “Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Okay, okay.”

“That trip was about the way you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand, but you’re still looking at me like that. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, but that’s not going to work. So... Do I give you another chance?”

“Yeah, yes. Yes.”

“Okay, alright.” Negan smiles. “The grand prize game. What you decide next will be the difference between everyone’s last crap day or just another crap day.”

Negans men step forward and put guns to the back of everyone’s head. Perhaps death would be the better option than being tortured anymore. He was continuing to torment Rick by mocking him and threatening everyone at the same time.

“Kid…” Negan wags his finger in Carl's direction. “Right here. Kid, now.”

Carl glares at him but does as he says.

Negan pulls what looks like a leather belt from the side of his black biker jacket. “Are you a southpaw?”

“A what?”

“You a lefty?”

With nothing but venom in his voice, he answers, “No.”

Negan’s amused by his attitude, “good.” He ties the belt around Carl’s arm. “That hurt?”

“No.”

“Should. It’s supposed to.” Negan steps back, “Get down on the ground, kid, next to daddy. Spread those wings.”

When Carl goes to lay on his stomach on the ground, Negan pushes on his back, forcing him onto the gravel below. “Simon, you got a pen?”

“Yeah,” Simon tosses him a black marker pen.

Negan puts the pen lid in his mouth and starts drawing on Carl's arm. When he’s done, he laughs, looking directly at Rick. “I ain’t doing shit. Rick, I want you to take your axe... cut your son's left arm off, right on that line.”

Rick looks utterly traumatized.

Negan was giving him a horrific ultimatum. Amputate Carl’s arm or watch Carl and everyone else be murdered.

“You don’t have to do this,” Michonne pleads. “We understand, we understand.”

“You understand? Yeah. I’m not sure Rick does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there in that line. Now I know this is a screwed up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice, nothing messy. Clean. Forty-five degrees; give us something to fold over. We’ve got a great doctor; the kid will be fine. Probably.”

Rick looks completely lost in his own head, a thousand times worse than when he went a bit crazy after Lori died.

“Rick... this needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Or I’ll crush the little fella's skull in myself.”

“It can... it can... It can be me. It can be me. You can do it to me.”

“No, this is the only way. Rick picked up the axe. Not making a decision is a big decision. Oh my god, I will start counting. Three!”

“Please, please, I can be me!” Rick cries hysterically.

“Two!”

“Please, don’t do...”

Negan slaps him then grips his jaw. “This is it. One!”

Rick lets out an agonizing sob, then reaches for the axe. You cover your mouth when Rick raises the axe in the air, but right before he can do it Negan stops him. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Rick nods.

“Speak when spoken to! You belong to me!”

“Yes.”

“That’s the look I wanted to see.” Negan stands with a proud look on his face. “Well, it took a while, but we got there. Even the dead guys are on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award for sure. Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sake, you get it now. That you understand how things work. Dwight load him up.”

You try to reach for Daryl’s hand, but they take him. You completely zone out after that, trying to think of any happy memories buried in the back of your mind so you can block what just happened out.

—

You vaguely hear Maggie say she wants to fight the saviors, but her voice is so far away that it’s hard to register if it’s going on for real or inside your head.

Their blood was still on you.

Looking down, you start scratching at your hands, trying to get the blood that had dried in off your skin.

It’s not until someone’s arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling your hands apart, that you start to snap out of it. “Stop it; you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I need to get it off.”

“And we will,” Michonne says calmly. “I’m bringing you back to Alexandria. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

[noneorother]

The grand unified theory of Good Omens S2 hangs on - you guessed it - a double meaning (and art). *Part 4*

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l The End?

This is major spoilers for season 3 territory. You have been warned. I'm also going to split this into parts because wow, I have so many ✨Clues✨! Friends, we have arrived at the prestige! Metatron come at me bro, catch these hands. Oh wait you can't, you always have your hands in your pockets...

People smarter than me have talked all about Aziraphale's magician outfits on this show, so I won't steal their thunder. Suffice it to say, The Metatron is wearing a weirdly dark coat and tie over his whole outfit. Which gives him a very only a white floating head look, but also keeps in the theme of ✨I am a magician✨. He's here to perform a trick!

I also won't talk a lot about him in the coffee shop because that's been done already. If we have learned anything from part 3, analyzing the coffee to death is what we are supposed to be doing, because He is distracting everyone with a benign object that we can inspect. So while he's waving this coffee around in the shop going "SEE I KNOW HOW EARTH WORKS" he's also doing something fascinating: Checking to see who recognizes him.

Weirdly, even though Aziraphael saw him in season one, and the angels all work with him, no one does right away. EXCEPT for Saraquiel and Crowley, who just saw his face not in person, but in a video tape of sorts up in heaven at Gabriel's trial by farce. And then something funny happens. Saraquiel is scared shitless and pretends to have 'forgotten' like Michael, but Crowley admits loud and proud that he does. Then Uriel gives THE BIGGEST SIDEYE I have ever seen on screen to Michael, as in "You don't recognize our boss? I am very afraid for what that means."

As far as I can understand, this is the reason the Metatron is here : "Are we in the version of events where I lose?" And the answer The Metatron gets after the question is : We are in the version of events where I have severely fucked with Michael, sort of fucked with the other angels, I have fucked with Aziraphale, and Crowley has seen me already in heaven. Now we're missing a lot of information as to WHY this specific answer is good for The Metatron, and how much Saraquiel knows, but it seems like he interprets this as an "I haven't lost yet, and I can still do my trick".

So now here we are, at the most important part of the episode, in my (and Aziraphale's) opinion. THE double meaning.

This line is insane. On the surface we have meaning 1) The Metatron is scolding over-zealous angels for meddling in this affair, and over reaching with their power, especially threatening to use the book of life on people. He's the good guy! But under the surface we have meaning 2) I HAVE THE BOOK OF LIFE and I have been using it on everybody in this room. If I don't get my way this time around, I will edit you guys again, and you will have done the right thing. And with that admission, Aziraphale severely twigs and becomes very afraid. From then on his voice shakes and he babbles, and he has trouble looking the Metatron in the eye. I'm willing to bet that this is the moment Aziraphale realizes what The Metatron just admitted: I am creating a version of reality as we speak where I change you and Crowley (and everyone else) so that you lose to me. A terrified Aziraphael goes off with The Metatron to have a chin wag. Now here's the trick.

We've already established that Maggie and Nina are here as stage assistants to The Metatron, so they need time to work on Crowley alone. If they talk to A/C together, like they would have without The Metatron's appearing in the scene before, better communication might have happened between them. He made Aziraphale disappear from the scene!

This does NOT look like the face of someone getting good news. We never heard what the details were besides inviting Crowley to the job promotion, so who knows what he threatened him with, but

This looks like the face of someone caught in a trap. So we are now seeing the prestige! We don't need that coffee anymore, that cup is GONE BABY. Aziraphale has been removed from the Nina/Maggie confession like a dove, and placed in The Metatron's dark coat pocket. Now he just needs to make our angel reappear in the scene the assistants have prepared for him and let him fail, thus completing the trick (uhg I hate it. So cruel).

I'm going to turn the final 15 into it's own post because this is already very long. Let's skip it for now, but we know our lovebirds get separated by heaven, and Aziraphale leaves. The Metatron breathes a huge sigh of relief in the elevator as he thinks his trick has worked, and he has won.

So it's finished now, and there's seemingly no way out. Aziraphale now knows what The Metatron meant when he communicated "I am creating a version of reality as we speak where I change you and Crowley and everything else so that you lose to me."

BUT! ARE YOU READY FOR THIS SHIT? BECAUSE IT HIT ME LIKE LIQUID JET FUEL. And I think it hits Aziraphale right here, (when he makes the creepy face after being hit with a beam of light i.e. realization)

That means that in the original version of events before all the edits, Crowley & Aziraphale won.

------

If you've gotten this far, thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear what you thought, or even reblog it with your ✨Clues✨! Want to read more about the timey wimey business that we're gonna see in season 3, and why all this changes the final 15? Well I have *part 5* coming in just a bit. Parts 5 and The End are here! Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l The End?

[thebearer]

i LOVED your making the bed series. It's so accurate and realistic to carmens character. the fact that you wrote all three parts in three days just baffles me! what do you think their relationship would be like afterwards? regarding all aspects such as conversations, arguments, sex, etc...

ahh thank you so much!! it was so fun writing it lol I had a blast even tho it was angst.

i don’t think it would be an immediate just “completely back to normal again” type thing. i mean, this was probably the biggest fight they’ll ever have and it was hurtful. he’s apologized but his words will still linger and it’s not something that can just be completely swept under the rug, but it’s also not unforgivable especially since this was carmen’s wake up call to get some help in a way. you leaving was scary but taking teddy and anchovy? terrified him.

i do think that you would forgive carmen before he forgave himself. like a few days go by, things are feeling more normal. he took off work just to be with the two of you. still on his sabbatical and really wanting to make up for it, spend time. i stand by what i said in the previous ask that he’d be just an endless cycle of anxiety, guilt, dread, self loathing.

I don’t think there’d be any arguments so to say. if there was it’s because carmen’s broken down and started talking bad about himself again, and you’re having to stop the spiral.

as far as sex… I think you’d have to initiate it (i know i said teddy was a newborn but maybe i’ll speed it a little forward where she’s at least eight or nine weeks old lol. that’s still newborn right? haha)

carmen wants to but he feels like he shouldn’t, like he doesn’t deserve it. he’s worried that you’ll think he’s just using you but he wants to but he’s not initiating. you’ll have to do that.

first time after the fight is definitely like a true, passionate, make up sex. slow and really intimate and clingy. i feel like you arrange for someone to watch teddy for the night (maybe pete and sugar since mj and maggie will not stop asking to see her and anchovy again) you surprise him when he gets off work early to an empty house and make your move. he’s definitely the one who has to be reassured but once it happens, it’s kinda like the final thing that gets you back to a place of normality. like he still feels like shit, still is trying to make it up even tho he’s been forgiven, still going to therapy, but now it’s like everything is at least back to normal. one of those nights once you start, it doesn’t stop. all night type thing just slow and making it up.

i have also seen the begging for a post fight smut and i promise I will begin working on it soon lol. a full works for all of you. maybe a second more fun smut too bc I was planning on doing a baby making one anyways lol

[fakemichaelsheen]

aziraphale: *smiling*

crowley: what are you looking so pleased about?

aziraphale: oh nothing. love is in the air, that’s all. I’m surprised you can’t feel it *shudders* oh, it’s wonderful.

crowley, suddenly tense: nope, no idea what you’re on about.

aziraphale, pleased with himself: the humans. I…may have given them a little push in the right direction.

crowley, raises an eyebrow: you?

aziraphale, offended: and why not? I’ll have you know, I’m well versed when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m an angel, it’s what we do.

-earlier-

aziraphale, cautious: are you sure that’s wise? You must keep her at a distance!

maggie, chuckling: it’s just coffee, mr. fell.

aziraphale, rolls his eyes: oh yes that’s where it starts! coffee, an apple, and before you know it, you’re facing a terrifying situation where one wrong move means you could lose the one being who means more to you than anything else!

maggie: whoa *grins* who’s the lucky fella?

aziraphale: …

-present-

crowley: pffft. what a load of rubbish.

aziraphale, smug: oh and what would you know of love?

crowley: …

-earlier-

crowley, outraged: are you mad? what would you want to be in love for? love is overrated! those annoying butterflies when he does something stupid. that pathetic staring when he says something ridiculous. the fact you’ll do anything for him, he doesn’t even have to ask. the things you’ve done, the things you’ll do. who wants to feel like that all the time?

nina: um…who are you again?

-present-

crowley: …

crowley: nothing. I’m just saying you’re wasting your time, that’s all.

aziraphale, beaming: how can you say that? look at them!

crowley: *watches nina give maggie a bunch of flowers*

aziraphale: I’m so happy for them, crowley. they’ve been dancing around each other for weeks. oh, it’s a tremendous feeling, having brought two people together.

crowley, sighs: I guess.

aziraphale, glances at him: you don’t think it’s possible? that two people, seemingly from different worlds, could ever make it work? you’re not…the least bit happy for them?

crowley, shrugs: whatever

aziraphale, nods: yes, of course. whatever, indeed.

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale's talk with the Metatron

Another unhinged meta post for the Aziraphale Defense Squad. I will continue to defend him hardcore until fandom starts recognizing him as his own person and not a prop for Crowley's character. Welcome to my opinion on the Final Fifteen!!

Hell came to Earth.

Aziraphale blew up his halo while surrounded by Hell.

Aziraphale declared a war on Hell at the exact moment Crowley was in Heaven uncovering Heaven's secrets.

There was a door to Heaven opened through the bookshop and who knows what in the Discorporated Demon the guy at the other end of that door was getting.

Enough to get The Metatron's attention and for him to witness Aziraphale declare war on Hell while his demon boyfriend breaks into Heaven's top secret files and learns that Heaven is holding their rebellious angels hostage.

He doesn't give Aziraphale a chance to say no to Heaven, and Aziraphale is pissed off about it.

Aziraphale DID NOT SAY YES EITHER. It is so very important that people understand this. The Metatron did not give Aziraphale a choice. Aziraphale had to choose the best way to handle a hopeless situation.

I think Aziraphale is waiting for Crowley to get the hint.

Crowley broke into Heaven. He broke into Heaven. He uncovered secrets. Saraqael showed him the trial. He knows the truth.

Aziraphale almost started a war to protect Gabriel.

The Metatron had to intercept that last transmission because Crowley and Aziraphale are powerful enough to shield Earth from both sides.

Remember that during the Bullet Catch scene, Aziraphale asked a group of soldiers to raise their hands if they had experience using firearms. Crowley is the only one who did not raise his hand because he had never fired a gun before.

Now we get to the present, and The Metatron is basically telling Aziraphale that Crowley is not only a threat but there is evidence of the fact that they have been working together for 6,000 years and that he prevented Crowley's arrest by Hell in 1941.

As far as The Metatron is concerned, Aziraphale just committed an act of treason because it helped Crowley get out of Heaven safely with highly classified information.

He didn't know Crowley was in Heaven. Crowley never came back and it made him fear the worst, but then he's showing up with Heaven right after and that only makes it a bigger problem.

Aziraphale chose to keep the peace instead of allowing one side or the other to arrest Gabriel and Beelzebub. He let the former Supreme Archangel and former Grand Duke of Hell escape from their duties. He gave them a choice. They were never supposed to know those choices existed in the first place.

The way that The Metatron said "so predictable" when Nina told him that no one ever asked for Death. The invisible choice. The name of the coffee shop is used as a threat against Aziraphale.

Aziraphale's choice in this situation involved how he chose to present it to Crowley.

Crowley was asking to get his flat back after Shax made the plan to go back to Hell. He was already planning to take Aziraphale to the Ritz to celebrate by getting really drunk. He was fine.

Nina and Maggie's last minute interception got him all hyped up to finally make a love confession.

But please FOR THE LOVE OF GOD can we please try to remember that AZIRAPHALE NEVER SAID YES EITHER.

He seems to be turning himself in and trying to protect Crowley, and only realizes at the end that the Metatron plans to use him against humanity.

Crowley and Aziraphale were not having the same conversation. They were not having the same conversation. They were not having the same conversation.

Aziraphale is terrified. Look at the nervous smile and the way he is so confused as to why Crowley is mad at him. He's trying to tell Crowley he needs helps because he's in trouble.

He said he didn't want to go back to Heaven. He made this clear when he was speaking to Crowley.

He knows the things he is saying are contradictory to what he's learned, and he's needing Crowley to pick up on that. He's trying to tell Crowley that he can't protect him from Hell this time anymore than Crowley can protect him from Heaven because The Metatron knows they've been working together for 6,000 years and are now in a position to reveal Heaven's institutional problem.

Stop getting mad at Aziraphale for not saying no and start asking yourself why some of you refuse to acknowledge the fact that Aziraphale did not say yes to the Metatron either.

Especially knowing that Crowley did not say "yes" or "no" to Hell's offer in The Arrival either.

This isn't an angel who is happy to go back to Heaven. This is an angel begging his best friend to help him because he doesn't have a choice, and not understanding that Crowley thinks Aziraphale is rejecting him and Aziraphale is telling him he no longer has a choice.

He no longer has a choice and now Crowley is upset with him and he's still trying to figure out what just happened.

Aziraphale is going to get up there and cause some trouble though.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

The stranger the better

A belated fill for Day 6 of @painlandweek. I wanted to write a meet cute for the free day, so I decided to write something set in the same AU as When the bones are good, set about three years before that fic. You can either read the first chapter below or here on AO3.

Prompt: Free Day

Word count: 3K

Rating: M

Warnings: none

Summary: After transferring to the London office of the Ministry of Supernatural Investigations, Charles meets his new partner, the famously brilliant—and infamously difficult—Agent Edwin Payne. Edwin is less excited to find himself with a new partner, especially one who’s so distractingly smiley.

***

“Difficult. Impetuous. Cheerfully disobedient.” Director Asa Nurse of the Ministry of Supernatural Investigations’ London office gazes at Charles from across her desk, reminding him more than a little of the terrifying babysitter his parents used to leave him with when he was a kid. “Director Buchanan over at the Birmingham office had quite a bit to say about you, Agent Rowland.”

“At least I’m cheerful?” Charles flashes what he knows for a fact is a winning smile.

She’s unaffected, as he expected she would be. You don’t get to be in Director Nurse’s position by being easily won over by smiles. “Six months in the MSI and you’ve already wracked up four official reprimands. That’s quite a feat.”

“At least one of those was bull… nonsense.”

“Oh? The Maggie Ramirez case, I assume?” Director Nurse has a way of speaking so every word lands like a slap. He wonders what it would be like to get an official reprimand from her and decides that he doesn’t want to know.

“Wasn’t going to kill a ten year old girl, was I? Not even if she was possessed by a demon. And now she’s alive and home with her parents, the demon’s back in Hell where it belongs, and everyone except Director Buchanan is happy. I’d say I made the right call.”

“Two of your fellow agents were injured in the fight.”

“They survived. She wouldn’t have if I’d followed orders. To me, a dead little kid is a worse result than a few broken bones. Most of my fellow agents would agree.”

He thinks that the lines around her mouth soften a bit. She’s as inscrutable as she was two years ago when she walked into the Tesco where he was working and asked him if he believed in the supernatural. He’s pretty sure she’s even wearing the same brown pantsuit, her red hair in the same twists that almost look like devil’s horns. He’s hoping that the fact that she recruited him herself will endear him to her. Otherwise, there’s a good chance that she’ll show him the door and it’s not like he can go back to Birmingham.

“However.” Director Nurse glances at her computer screen. “Your former partner, Douglas O’Connor, says that you’re bright, quick on your feet, compassionate, and one of the most promising young agents he’s ever worked with. He thinks you have the potential to be a real asset to the MSI.”

“Dougie was a good partner.” And the reason Charles held out at the Birmingham office as long as he did, to be honest. He only applied for the transfer after O’Connor told him he was retiring to go be closer to his daughter and grandkids in Cornwall. Otherwise, he would have at least stuck it out for a year. He's not a quitter.

Director Nurse sits back in her chair, regarding Charles like he’s an interesting lab rat. “Director Buchanan and I worked together for many years until he transferred to Birmingham. We didn’t always see eye to eye.”

Charles bites back a reply. To say he and Buchanan don’t “see eye to eye” would be a wild understatement. His former director is a burly man with a mustache who likes to yell and slam doors. The first time he lost his temper and slammed his fist into Charles’s desk, only inches from his hand, Charles knew Birmingham wasn’t going to work for him. But it’s not like he can tell Nurse that he hates Buchanan because he reminds him too much of his cunt of a father, not without sounding like a petulant teenager.

“Would you say you’re good with people, Agent Rowland?”

Charles blinks, surprised by the change of topic. “Yeah, I’m aces with people. Just not Buchanan.”

She hums, gaze still focused on him. It’s starting to become eerie; he’s not sure if she’s even blinked since he walked into this office. “Agent O’Connor mentioned in his letter of reference that you have a way of putting witnesses, victims, and even suspects at ease.”

Charles nods in agreement.

“He also said that you saved his life twice, once by taking a potentially fatal curse meant for him.”

“Wouldn’t have killed me,” Charles says with more confidence than he feels. If there hadn’t been a witch on hand to immediately administer the countercurse, he’s been told his heart probably would have stopped within a minute. But there hadn’t been time to calculate his own chance of survival versus Dougie’s; he had just acted.

Nurse hums in a way he can’t quite parse. “According to your instructors, you proved to be adequate at spellwork during training. You don’t have the focus required to have true talent. Disappointing, but not everyone has the gift.”

Charles coughs to hide his wince. He honestly can’t tell how this meeting is going.

“Yet, you proved yourself exceptional at hand-to-hand combat.”

“It’s all the cricket,” Charles says, because he can’t think of a single other bloody thing to say. Director Nurse was intimidating when he was a directionless, scared kid barely making ends meet and desperate to find a purpose in life besides scanning groceries. Now, she’s somehow even more so. “Good at… swinging things.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Her eyebrow inches higher, as if to ask “really?” “Based on your work history, however brief, and your letter of recommendation from Agent O’Connor, I do think you’ll have a place here in London. So long as you learn how to adjust your attitude and follow orders .”

He knows that the only words out of his mouth should be, “Yes, thank you, ma’am,” but he’s never been good at biting his tongue. “As long as you don’t order me to kill a little kid, I’ll do my best.”

Her lips purse. “You don’t make things easy for yourself, do you, Agent Rowland?”

Charles tries for another smile. “Have I mentioned how happy I am to be here?”

She blows out a breath. “You know, I think I might have the perfect partner in mind for you.”

***

“In shocking news, the cause of death seems to be the giant fucking crater in his skull,” Dr. Jenny Green says.

Edwin gazes down at the corpse spread out on the autopsy table. Miles Foster, age thirty-two, approximately five foot ten, with chin-length blond hair, a snub nose, and a neatly trimmed beard to hide the faint acne scars on his cheek. He appears to be a specimen of excellent physical health, save for an ingrown toenail on his left foot and the aforementioned crater.

“Do you have any idea what caused it?” he asks.

“Well, it sure wasn’t natural causes,” Dr. Green says. “Too big to be a gunshot. No burns, so not a bomb. No claw marks or broken bones, so probably not a demon tearing its way out of him. Could have been blunt force trauma, but that usually results in the skull caving in, not exploding out.”

Edwin hums, leaning closer to examine the wound that ended Miles Foster’s life, a gaping hole where his forehead used to be. A messy way to die, but at least it was surely quick. Though having had his own skull cracked open on multiple occasions, Edwin cannot recommend it.

“What of his clothes?”

“They weren’t your style.”

Edwin sighs and pointedly stays silent. He finds Dr. Green to be more bearable company than many of his colleagues at the MSI, but he is in no mood for banter today, especially not now that he’s been reminded of what it’s like to look down at his hands and find his own brain matter there. He suppresses the urge to cover his head with his arms, as if that ever did him any good.

She rolls her eyes, but continues. “I’ve sent them to the lab, but mostly they were covered in exactly what you’d expect from clothes worn by someone whose brain exploded out of his face. It was a nice surprise before lunch.”

Before Edwin can point out that she’s been the MSI’s medical examiner for long enough that she should no longer be put off her food by viscera, the doors open and someone calls, “Hello?”

As one, Edwin and Dr. Green turn to stare at the young man standing in the doorway. He’s a few years younger than Edwin, probably in his early twenties, about six feet tall, with curly dark hair, golden brown skin, elfin features, and dark eyes. He must be an MSI agent if he’s strolled into the morgue—unless he’s a walking corpse, Edwin supposes—but nothing about him strikes Edwin as agent-like. Unlike the navy, gray, and black suits most of the ministry favors, his is a vibrant red. He even has an earring dangling from his left ear and a gold chain around his neck, which cannot be regulation. Most bizarrely, he has colorful badges pinned to the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Hi.” He gives a little wave. “Director Nurse sent me down here.”

“Did she,” Dr. Green says flatly. “I hope your skull’s not about to explode too? If it is, stand farther away from my coffee.”

“I don’t think so.” The newcomer smiles, eyes crinkling with mirth. “But I guess that’s not the kind of thing anyone sees coming, yeah?”

“And you are?” Edwin asks.

“Oh, sorry, mate.” The man closes the distance between them, holding out his hand to Dr. Green, only withdrawing it when he sees she’s wearing latex gloves covered in gore. Instead, he waves. “Charles Rowland. I just transferred from Birmingham.”

“Dr. Jenny Green.” She doesn’t return his wave. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

He looks a bit taken aback. “Just got here today.”

“And how long were you in Birmingham?”

“Six months,” he says with a small, barely there grimace.

“New.” She says it like an accusation. “Try not to get your rookie optimism all over my fucking lab.”

Far from being offended, Agent Rowland lets out a delighted peal of laughter. Dr. Green and Edwin exchange sidelong looks. Rookie optimism, indeed.

As Agent Rowland turns away from Dr. Green, Edwin reluctantly takes his hand to shake. He doesn’t care for touching strangers, but it can’t be helped. The man has slim, almost delicate fingers, not when Edwin would expect from a MSI agent. “Agent Edwin Payne. A pleasure.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of you, mate.” Agent Rowland pumps his hand with far too much enthusiasm.

Ah, of course. Edwin tries not to flinch. He knows that his case has a certain amount of notoriety in the MSI. A sixteen year old boy who went missing in 1916 and reappeared in the basement of his old school nearly a century later, unaged and unchanged, except for his story of being subject to decades of torture, is the kind of case that not even the MSI gets often. The fact that no leads were ever found about where he went or what kind of entity took him makes it one of the MSI’s most interesting unsolved cases. Edwin believes they discuss it during training.

“You’re the one who closed the Ripper case, right?”

Edwin blinks. That wasn’t what he was expecting. The case of a vampire with an unfortunate fascination with London’s most notorious serial killer had gone unsolved for decades, with dozens of dead women to show for it. Edwin tracked down the killer after only a few months at the ministry. In retrospect, he wonders if that’s why so many of his fellow agents have disliked him from the start.

“I remember hearing about it in training,” Charles says. “Bloody brilliant, mate.”

Edwin searches his face for any sign of contempt or mockery, but his smile seems genuine, his brown eyes warm. “I got lucky, truly. He was arrogant and it made him careless.”

“Thirty years and no one else got lucky, did they?”

“I suppose not.”

Someone clears their throat pointedly and Edwin jumps. Under Agent Rowland’s warm brown eyes, he quite forgot about Dr. Green’s presence.

“Would you two like to keep chit-chatting?” Dr. Green asks acidly. “I can put the autopsy on hold, if you’d like. Give you two time to make friendship bracelets.”

Edwin feels his face flush with embarrassment. “No, please continue, Dr. Green.”

“Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to interrupt.” Agent Rowland turns his attention to the autopsy table.  “So, what happened to this poor bloke?”

Edwin would like to know what interest Agent Rowland, fresh from Birmingham, has in his case, but he is trying not to alienate his colleagues quite so much. Plus, he would rather make small talk about a dead man instead of polite chit-chat about the weather and how Agent Rowland is finding London so far.

“Miles Foster,” he says. “He was a yoga instructor and online influencer. This morning, he was filming a… live stream when his head exploded on camera, right in front of the tens of thousands of people watching.”

“And who says yoga is calming?” Agent Rowland flashes that beaming smile again and Edwin quite loses his train of thought for an instant.

Edwin clears his throat and tugs on his bow tie. “He was filming from his home, with only his girlfriend at home with him. When she heard him screaming, she went to see what the matter was and found him already dead. She claims no one else was in the house and there are no signs of a break in, nor a struggle.”

Agent Rowland is quiet for a moment, contemplating the corpse. “Once saw a demon rip a bloke’s head off from the inside and crawl out.”

“There are no obvious signs of demonic possession,” Edwin says. “Plus, he was on camera. I imagine one of his viewers would have noticed a demon crawling out of his skull.” He glances at Dr. Green. “It does make me think of the dandelion sprites we encountered two years ago.”

“Dandelion sprites?” Agent Rowland asks.

“Tiny gods that feed on adoration and attention. When they get their fill, they explode out of their victim and find a new host. One of our analysts had a run in with a pair of them. She now keeps them in a jar on her desk.”

Agent Rowland’s eyes go wide. “Alive?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Last time I saw a corpse that was killed by dandelion sprites, the inside of his skull was covered in that colorful goo,” Dr. Green says. “All that’s in this poor sucker’s skull is the scrambled remains of his gray matter.”

“Perhaps something related, then?” Edwin will have to rewatch the tape to see if he can see any small figures leaping out of Miles Foster’s skull at the moment of the explosion.

Agent Rowland must be thinking along similar lines. “Should take another look at those tapes, shouldn’t we? See if we see something besides brains come out of his head.”

“Yes, I will certainly do so,” Edwin says, annoyed. He’s been with the MSI in some capacity or another for a decade; he does not need this bright-eyed rookie telling him how to conduct his case. Even if the bright-eyed rookie does have one of the most magnetic smiles Edwin has ever seen, the kind of smile that makes him want to earn another one. “But I’m sure you have your own case to see to, Agent Rowland. I won’t keep you.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything. This is our case, isn’t it?” At Edwin’s uncomprehending look, Agent Rowland’s smile turns sheepish. “Sorry, mate, I thought Director Nurse would have told you already. I’ve been assigned to be your new partner.”

***

“There has been some sort of mistake.”

“She told me you’d say that.” Charles has to break into a light jog to keep up with Edwin Payne’s long, purposeful strides. They’re about the same height, but his new partner seems to be all legs.

“Director Nurse is a very busy woman. She may have gotten me mixed up with someone else.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” Even if Director Nurse did seem like the absentminded sort, he can’t imagine anyone ever mistaking Edwin for someone else. There’s something a little strange about him, something that Charles can’t quite put his finger on. It intrigues him.

Edwin stops so abruptly that Charles nearly runs into him, turning to face him. “This isn’t personal, Agent Rowland—”

“Call me Charles, mate.”

“—But I simply do not work well with a partner,” Edwin continues, ignoring him entirely. “This is not the first time that Director Nurse has attempted to pair me up with someone, and it always goes poorly, I’m afraid.”

Charles shrugs. He can work well with just about anyone, so he can’t really relate, but he knew some partners who weren’t a good match for each other in Birmingham. It wasn’t a fun situation for anyone. “Sounds like you just haven’t found the right match, then.”

“There is no right match for me. I’m not good with people. I never was, not even before—” He breaks off with a wince. “Suffice to say, it’s best that we get this sorted out as soon as possible. There are plenty of perfectly capable agents in this office who I’m sure will be delighted to be partnered with you. I am not one of them.”

Before Charles can retort, Edwin is barreling ahead again, rounding the corner. “Director Nurse!”

Charles follows him around the corner and finds Edwin hurrying towards Director Nurse, who is coming towards him, flanked by her two assistants. When she sees Edwin, she rolls her eyes at the ceiling.

“For goodness’s sake,” she says. “Not this again, Agent Payne. I am on my way to a meeting and I do not have the time.”

“This will only take a moment, Director.” Edwin stops in front of her, fists pressed tightly together. He’s replaced the latex gloves he wore in the morgue with brown leather ones, like Charles’s grandfather used to wear whenever he went for a drive. Between the gloves and his slightly askew bow tie, he has the peculiar air of someone who stepped out of time. “I believe there has been a mix up.”

“There are no mix ups here,” Director Nurse says severely. “As you well know. Agent Rowland is your new partner.”

“I do not need a partner.”

“That isn’t for you to decide.”

“I am not the only agent without a partner here.” Something like a whine creeps into Edwin’s voice. “Agents Palace and King—”

“Are both more than capable of defending themselves, plus Agent Palace has her psychic abilities and Agent King has his shapeshifting.”

“He turns into a bloody tabby cat!”

She raises one unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you going to start carrying a weapon? Or finally agree to take remedial combat training?”

To Charles’s surprise, Edwin’s cheeks flush. “I don’t need combat training or a weapon. Any deficiency I may have with combat, I make up for with my spellwork.”

“Ah, so Agents Palace, King, Kahn, and Black didn’t have to retrieve you from a Fae court only last month? Saving you from being executed, I might add?”

“That was an isolated incident.”

“One of dozens of isolated incidents, ” she says. “I have sent enough agents to rescue you from towers and train tracks, Agent Payne. No, we are quite finished with that. If you want to continue working in the field, it needs to either be with the basic knowledge of how to defend yourself or a partner who is skilled enough in combat for the both of you.”

 Edwin turns to look at Charles with a raised eyebrow. “And he is?”

“Oi.” Charles is trying not to take any of this personally, because it seems that Edwin would object to any partner, not just him, but it’s hard not to take that personally. “Top of my class, actually. You don’t need to be built like a brick shithouse to know how to throw a punch.”

Edwin’s eyes flick over Charles, so quickly he thinks he might imagine it, before he turns back to Director Nurse. “I do not work well with people.”

“Then it’s about time you learn, isn’t it?” She smiles sweetly, though her eyes are ice cold. “Or I’ll have to reconsider if you even belong in the field.”

Edwin’s already impeccable posture somehow becomes even straighter and stiffer.  “I would be wasted behind a desk.”

“And you’ll be wasted if you end up dead in a ditch because you’re too stubborn to learn to defend yourself!”

“How about this?” Charles steps forward to stand next to Edwin, hoping to diffuse things before Edwin says something that gets him an official reprimand. “One case. We work the Miles Foster case together and if it’s a bloody mess, we go our separate ways. But if it’s aces, and it’s going to be aces, we stick together, yeah? Then no one’s wasted behind a desk or ends up dead in a ditch.”

“I am not going to end up dead in a ditch,” Edwin grumbles.

Director Nurse ignores him, looking between Edwin and Charles thoughtfully. “One case,” she agrees. “But, Agent Payne, know that if this case is a bloody mess, as Agent Rowland puts it, we will have to discuss your future at the MSI. As things stand now, you are a liability in the field, and I do not tolerate liabilities at my ministry. And now, I have a meeting that I’m now quite late to.”

With that, she stalks by them, her assistants on her heels. One of them shoots Charles a sympathetic grimace, which he returns with a smile.

“Well, then,” Charles says once they’ve disappeared from sight. “Looks like we have a case to solve, doesn’t it?”

Edwin is still staring straight ahead, gloved fists pressed tightly together and posture so stiff it looks like he may snap. “This will most likely be a bloody mess, just so you’re aware.”

“Nah, mate.” Charles claps him on the shoulder, withdrawing his hand quickly when Edwin grows even more tense under his hand. Doesn’t like touch, got it. “This is going to be aces.”

*** 

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving comments or kudos on AO3. The next two chapters will be posted over there.

[celestialcrowley]

My mom and I were finally able to watch the final episode of Good Omens season 2.

Before we dive in, my mom is very — how do I say this — anti on certain things. My friend said it perfectly. He said she gave him the homophobic put the fear of God type vibes when he first met her.

I don’t believe anything will ever fully change her opinions or views of us. I’ve not even referred to myself as aromantic / asexual in her presence, and I doubt I ever will. I simply tell her I’m done dating. It’s clearly not in my future, and, after trying it a couple of times, it just isn’t something I’m interested in.

I hope that one day she will open her eyes and realize that it’s all fine. Whatever we are. It’s okay.

My mom enjoyed season one. When I asked her what she thought of Aziraphale and Crowley, here’s what she said. Not her exact words but close enough to what I can remember.

“Aziraphale seems like he’s afraid of getting into trouble with Heaven, but not enough to keep him from going against God’s orders.”

Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

“Crowley isn’t as evil as he paints himself to be.”

Just a little bit a good person.

The only thing, as far as I’m aware, that didn’t quite sit right with my mom is that God is a She.

Wibbly wobbly timey wimey…

I was terrified for her to watch the second season because of Maggie and Nina and That Big Damn Kiss. She’s told me some less than desirable things previously. Here are a handful of them.

“I won’t watch shows that have gay couples in them.”

“I will watch them, but I’ll just turn my head away when they kiss.”

About my friend who is a lesbian —

“Your friend just says that, but she doesn’t actually know what she is.”

Okay, mom. You go ahead and keep telling yourself that.

I am certain, despite my fear, that I wanted her to watch Good Omens so badly because I thought maybe it would be the golden ticket. It’s uniquely different.

We have been gifted with Anthony J’I’m Not Actually Either Crowley and Mister AZ Smitten I Believe Fell, The Almighty God She, Nina I’m Not Your Type and Maggie You Have No Idea.

I was expecting my mom to frown upon Maggie and Nina’s story in season two, but she didn’t. She actually didn’t even have anything negative to say.

Y’all should have seen me when That Big Damn Kiss was coming up. I was fidgeting probably as bad as Aziraphale was when he was gathering up the courage to ask Crowley to dance with him.

I don’t think I’ve ever fidgeted that much in my life.

And then it happened.

That Big Damn Kiss

And she watched all of it. She didn’t look away. She didn’t make a face. She didn’t say anything negative.

I don’t necessarily think her views have changed because she laughed at something my uncle told her about a former coworker of his. This coworker used to go by Craig, but he later came out as trans and asked to be called Cindy. My uncle said, “The best we can do is Crindy.”

Most of my family are homophobic, and I don’t care for it.

I don’t know if it’s the way Neil Gaiman has written Good Omens, but I was surprised that she watched the entire show, had nothing negative to say and even added that she needs to watch all of both seasons again to better understand it.

That’s something, I suppose.

Maybe she’s coming around.

Thank you, Neil Gaiman.

You truly are a legend. 💚

[brokendoor16]

Okay. So I'm aware that we LOVE love of my life for S3 post-angel depression Crowley, but hear me out. What I actually NEED in S3 is a (ridiculously, impossibly, drunk-to-the-extent-that-would-kill-a-mere-mortal) post-angel depression Crowley doing karaoke to Bohemian Rhapsody. JUST IMAGINE THE FUCKING MOOD SWINGS IN THAT SONG-

As a brief demonstration, I will now pick a lyric from each verse (I'm so sorry guys, this is what happens when I don't sleep so now it's all of your problems):

I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy- delivered in the MOST fucking overdramatic way possible, probably throwing his arms around a looking up (to curse Heaven- AKA try and figure out if Aziraphale's about to watch him embarrass himself again)

Mama, just killed a man- standing up from his chair (this scene is taking place at the closed coffee shop, I've just decided this), with an IMPECCABLE Freddie Mercury impression and kinda staring into Nina's soul (she's both amused and terrified)

I don't wanna die // I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all- slurring his words, slumping back into a chair, sounding utterly depressed and also done with life. Maggie is deeply concerned and trying to count up how much wine he's drank.

Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the fandango?- completely manic. At the peak of drunkeness. At some point he has got up on the table and is now pointing at Nina like he's expecting her to actually DO the fucking Fandango (tbh he probably is)

BONUS LINE FROM THE SAME VERSE: Thunderbolts and lightening, very very frightening me- again, peak drunkeness. Slurring his words so hard you can barely tell what he's saying. Stumbling off of the table but still stupidly manic.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?- looking up (let's be honest he's probably fallen over and is hauling himself off of the floor) at Maggie and Nina, hammered out of his mind but oddly endearing (according to Maggie, at least. Nina has plenty of words about the whole display and 'endearing' is most DEFINITELY not one of them)

Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me- practically fucking SCREAMING, barely able to stand up but somehow with an inhuman amount of energy and finding himself the funniest being to ever grace the earth because BEEZLEBUB

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?- suddenly recovering a whole lot of strength. And anger. Standing up, potentially smoking, staring directly upwards and SCREAMING (he's not doing well guys)

Nothing really matters // nothing really matters to me- there's no more energy. He's on the floor and too drunk to get back up. Probably just slumps over clutching a wine bottle (did I mention he's been using it as a mic?) and goes to sleep. Maggie, Nina, and Aziraphale (IF he's watching) and deeply concerned. He wakes up with a banging headache and an intense feeling of embarrassment.

So yes. That was my TED talk on why Crowley should get drunk and sing Bohemian Rhapsody in S3. Thank you for making it to the end of this train wreck, and I sincerely apologise. I'm very sleep deprived.

[gyll-yee-haw]

how do you think donnie or jake would deal with an unplanned pregnancy?? 👀

Honeyy 🤭🤭

I went with Donnie <33

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, mentions of abortion, anxiety, little angst with a happy ending

A/N: Shout out to auntie Elizabeth, I love you Maggie 😭

Like 1.1k words

---

Man, he would be TERRIFIED

Like... he couldn't even take care of himself, how the fuck is he supposed to take care of a child?

Whenever you tried to talk, he was always devastated

And these first weeks would be terrible for you, because you needed support, you were also scared, but he was a mess and it was impossible to get any support from him

But he only realized that on the day you freaked out in front of him, after all those days pretending to be okay

"Donnie, I know this isn't what we wanted, but it happened and now we have to fucking deal with it. I need to do something about it and it would be of great help if my boyfriend who didn't want to use a fucking condom could help me!"

He froze in his place, seeing your tears fall.

You felt terrible for snapping at him, knowing that he wasn't okay... but you had the right to not be okay too

"I spoke to you sister." You spoke again, realizing he wouldn't. "She said she knows a place..."

"What?" He frowned. "You're not thinking about..."

"Of course I am, Donnie... how the fuck am I supposed to do this?" You cried harder

"I... I know, but..." He was invaded by some kind of feeling he hadn't experienced yet. "But it's... it's our baby. It's... ours. You and me."

You looked at him with the most heartbreaking expression he had ever seen

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the way I've been acting... I should have been by your side." He sighed sadly. "I understand if you don't want to keep it. I mean... what if the baby turns out to be a fuck up like me"

In the middle of everything you were going through, you hadn't thought about it. Yeah, what if the baby turned out to be like him

Turned out to be that funny and sweet

With his eyes and that laugh that you loved

With that kind heart and that sense of justice that would always get him in trouble

"I love you, Donnie." You smiled at him, wiping your tears away. "It would be an honor to have a son like you."

"No, it wouldn't." He rolled his eyes. "And what kind of dad would I be? They would be so... unhappy and traumatized, for sure."

Nothing made you sadder than hearing about how much Donnie hated himself. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to bring himself down, to tell you how undeserving of you he was

"Well, I think..." You were about to defend him, then you stopped

You thought about this whole situation for a second and laughed

He had never been that confused in his life... what was so funny in a moment like this?

"I am losing my mind." You told him before throwing yourself in his bed, looking at the ceiling

He sat beside you, waiting for further explanation

"I'm just..." You continued. "I walked through that door ready to communicate that I'm getting an abortion and now I'm daydreaming about this like it was a good idea."

"It's a terrible idea, isn't it?" He allowed his body to fall beside yours on the bed

"Yeah, it is..." You sighed

"Can I be honest with you?" His cheeks turned a little red

"Hmm?"

"I hadn't thought about getting rid of it for a second before you mentioned it... isn't that weird?" He admitted. "You know damn well how much of an overthinker I am, I thought about every fucking thing, from holding a newborn to paying for college, both equally terrifying, but I... never once thought of the possibility of just... not doing any of that."

"That's how I know you'd be a great father." You shrugged, watching him tilt his head like a puppy. "Come on, Donnie... any other guy would just dump me. And you immediately thought about all of this... because you'd actually do this, you'd be involved and work hard so everything would be perfect."

He thought about it for a second

You respected his silence, taking your time to absorb all of this... could it really work? Were you convincing him or yourself?

"Y/N..." his hand went to your face, thumb gently stroking your cheek. "I will understand if you really decide to get the abortion. It's your body and... well, this sure as fuck isn't ideal. We should be worried about whether we are going to college, not if someone else is, but..."

"Donnie." You tried to hold back your laughter. "You're the only one here worried about paying for a bunch of organized cell's college."

He laughed. For the first time since he heard the news, he laughed. Until his cheeks hurt. God, you were in love with him... enough to agree with what he would say next

"I know it's stupid... and I know that our families will kill us..." He smiled. "But if you want to, I... I think we could do this... y'know... think we could be a family. Us and our little... hmm... organized bunch of cells."

Elizabeth was the first to hear the news... I mean, she already knew about the pregnancy, but now she knew you were keeping it

She was proud of his brother and how he was brave enough to do this, but she would never let him know that

She teased the shit out of him

Called him "father of the year" and made remarks like "you should know this, you're a father now"

His mother fainted when she first got the news... but she got used to it pretty quickly

Specially after seeing how much more dedicated to his treatment Donnie was now

He was so focused on being okay... on preparing himself for being the best person he could be

And when your belly started to grow, shit started to get real

And, surprisingly so, that didn't freak Donnie out, it excited him...

He would spend hours ranting about his nerd shit to your belly

He would read all the books he can find about pregnancy and come up with weird and mildly disgusting facts to you

Yeah, I don't know what to say... he is a huge baby, so now you'd have two <3

[zombiigrll]

Okay, okay, okay. This came to me in a dream, and I think you'd perfectly write this: Prison era. Carl just lost Lori. Y/n comforts Carl with a doll they've carried the whole time and have been known to never let it go but they give it to Carl. <3 please, I am begging on my hands and knees.

──────────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

YOUR DOLL? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1.3K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort, spoilers for the walking dead 3x4, blood/gore-y mentions, death mentions, cursing, arguing, then some fluff :3 .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ carl became distant after his mother had died, leaving you, his childhood best-friend, in the dust. but he knew he couldn't get rid of you that easily. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you SO MUCH for the request!! this is such a cute idea<3 hope i portrayed it like how you imagined :3 (also i hope you guys like the tiny twdg reference hehe)

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────────────────────────

walkers had broke into the prison. you were separated from everyone, carl, lori, rick, everyone. you were terrified. sure, you knew how to fight, but you never liked to fight. you always thought too much about it. how the knives felt jabbing through the skulls of walkers who were once humans, how every time you killed another you felt more and more deranged...

but you knew you needed to do it. you didn't want to die, so you had to. the only thing there to comfort you was your doll, clementine. you had her ever since you were born, and you carried her everywhere with you. you were lucky enough to still have her given the current circumstances of the world. you made sure that alongside your knife, you held her tightly in your hand. you backed yourself up into a cell and slammed it shut so the walkers chasing steadily behind you couldn't get in.

you began hyperventilating, looking at the walkers hands grabbing at you from the other side. your eyes began filling up with tears as you squeezed clementine closer to you, leaning your back up against the back wall. you didn't want to die like this, but you stupidly trapped yourself here. you didn't know if those bars could hold that amount of walkers, but you went in there anyways.

tears began flowing out of your eyes as you loudly sobbed, practically screaming to get someone, anyone's, attention. ...and it worked.

"y/n?! oh, shit-" a familiar voice yelled through the prison block, followed by gunshots.

"...glenn?" you sniffled, your eyes widening as you looked around at the sudden openings through the cell bars from the walkers averting their bodies towards the shots.

you quickly bolted up with your knife again to stab the walkers that were still in arms reach in an attempt to help glenn. eventually, he got the rest.

he ran up to the cell and opened it, noticing your bloodied appearance. "are you okay? are you bit?"

"i'm fine, wh..where's carl?" you stuttered, out of breath.

"..i'm not sure. come on." he placed his hand on your shoulder and began walking you out and into the courtyard.

...

as the two of you stepped into the yard, you both noticed carl and maggie walking out, blood on both of their hands. and a baby in maggies.

tears were rolling down both of their faces, except carl had little to no emotion on his.

"carl..?" you called out, stepping closer to him. and all you got in return was a saddened look. "where.. where's lori?"

this caught ricks attention more as he began putting the pieces together. the blood, the baby.. the tears.

your face quickly softened at the realization. you brought a hand up to your face, unsure what to do besides sob.

lori was like a mother figure for you, always helping you while your parents were out working. she's the reason you were still living in the first place.

everyone was crying. glenn was holding maggie, rick was a wreck, no one knew what to do. then rick left. running back to where maggie and carl walked away to find lori.

carl wiped the tears off of his face, which resulted in blood from his hand spreading onto his cheeks. he started walking back to the cell blocks, which caused you to snap back to reality. you put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to stop him, but he shrugged it off. you stayed standing there, looking at your hand he pushed away then back up at him. you frowned, but you understood. you were like this when you processed you'd never see your mom or dad again.

...

weeks passed. things were fixed.. sort of. carl was still a wreck. he hated talking to anyone. he barely took care of himself. he'd sit in his room, reading, sleeping, or just.. breathing.

he wouldn't talk to you, and as much as you knew it wasn't personal, it still hurt. he should know that out of everyone here, you understood.

but today, you had enough. you weren't going to let him suffer in silence any further.

you walked up to his cell and knocked on the side of the wall to get his attention, which caused him to flinch and look up at you.

"..go away." he murmured.

"carl, i don't want you to go through this by yourself. i want to help." you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe, your doll hanging over your pocket.

"i don't need you to help me. i'm not going through anything, i'm fine." he snapped back angrily.

"you're not fine. people who are fine don't sit in their room all day staring blankly at the ceiling." you retort before softening your tone. "..i'm here for you."

this broke him slightly. he sighs and covers his face with his hands before falling back on his bed.

you walk up and sit next to him silently, giving him some time before you speak again. "i know how it feels. well, kind of.. i just want to help you."

"what happened to you that day?" he changes the subject, his hands still covering his face.

"..what?"

"what happened to you when the walkers broke into the prison?" he repeats.

"why are you asking me that?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"just answer me." his tone turns slightly more demanding. "you were covered in blood."

"oh." you sighed. "a ton of the walkers were chasing me. i killed a couple and their blood splattered on me. i had to run into a cell and lock myself in."

"so you almost got bit?" his voice turned more upset and concerned.

"well, yeah. but i didn't."

he shakes his head and sits back up to look at you. "i should've been there to help you. and even when i saw you covered in blood, i didn't care to ask if you were bit."

"that's okay. i don't mind. you... lost your mom. you weren't thinking straight. i didn't take any offense to it." you reassure him with a smile, which he simply just looks away at.

"i don't understand. why would you want to help me after that?" he asks, his voice slightly cracking.

"because.. i love you?" you chuckle, and he quickly turns his head back to face you again.

"...what?"

"when i realized i was never going to see my parents again, i reacted the same way you did. and you were still there for me. i yelled at you, i pushed you away, you didn't care. you were there for me." you smile, looking down at your hands in your lap. "i love you, carl."

he stares at you, mouth agape, dumbfounded by your words. "like.. how?"

you laughed. "in every way possible." a flush of pink covered both of your faces. as carl processed your words, you took your doll out of your pocket and handed it to him. "here."

"huh?" he grabs clementine and looks at her confused. "...your doll?"

you nod with a bright smile. "mhm. she's gotten me through rough times. maybe.. she can help you, too."

his confused look turns more sweet as he chuckles, holding the doll close. ".. thank you."

"of course." you pull him in for a hug, squeezing him tightly, to which he returns.

"...i love you, too, by the way." he mumbles into your neck.

you chuckle in response, kissing the top of his head. he breaks from the hug and looks at you, his eyes wide.

"did you just kiss me?" his eyebrows raise.

"maybe." you reply in a sing-song tone, a smirk on your lips.

his face turns bright red, to the point where he could pass as a tomato. he averts his eyes before putting his hand up to your cheek, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

as he pulls away, he looks at you softly. his facial expression looked as if nothing else mattered. he was happy, although you couldn't fully tell at first glace. he looked at you like you were a goddess, and he was the luckiest boy in the world. and he finally felt at peace in your soft, comforting arms.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Rick sighed heavily as he sank down beside Daryl on the edge of the cement planter. Daryl’s hands were moving anxiously, endlessly over a bit of wood. He was unable to hold still, unable to hold back the surging ocean of fear and worry. Rick stared out over the greenness of the prison yard. His eyes strayed to the garden, bursting with vegetables. 

He sighed again and glanced at his friend, his brother beside him. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

Daryl felt a knife twist in his stomach, burning hot, shooting pain through him. He shook his head. “Not—not good. Carol keeps tellin’ me s’gonna be alrigh’, that we’re gonna get ‘em back. She keeps sayin’ that Y/N is gonna be fine and she’ll be back here with us but I can’t—I can’t see it.” Daryl’s drawl was woven through with despair. “But I just got this feelin’ that all of this, her, was just a bright spot. ‘N s’gonna be over now.” Daryl’s head dropped even lower, his broad shoulders slumping toward the ground. He ground his teeth together. “S’gonna be over and I never even really had her... she’s just gone like—like smoke.” 

Rick felt a pang in his heart. “Hey. It’s not over. We are gonna get them back and they’re all going to be okay, including Y/N,” he said firmly. “I’m workin’ on the plan righ’ now. There’s no way we’d ever leave them behind, especially with this so-called Governor.”

Daryl looked up with desperation on his face. “What if we ain’t there soon enough?”

Rick shook his head, his expression resolute. “We will be. And when she’s back here, her, Glenn, and Maggie, when they’re all safe again, you’re gonna tell her how you feel and not waste anymore time,” Rick said. “We never know how much time we have,” he said finally, his eyes glazing over, and Daryl knew he was thinking of Lori.

At that moment Daryl pushed down his anxiety and became steadfast in the idea that he’d get you home safe, he’d confess everything he felt about you even though it terrified him, and that he’d never let go of you again. 

Prompt: “That was just a bright spot.”