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yummyyume · 4 years ago

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Of Love and Sunlight - Part 02

Here it is! To be perfectly honest with all of you, this part has been written first. There will be a part 03, somewhen in the future. I just need to write it. And there are some tentatives plot bunnies for a part 04. So we’ll see how it works out.

You can visit my AO3 if you want. I’ll post Of Love and Sunlight there soon.

Part 01

Hope you all like it!

Tittles are adapted from Sunlight by Hozier, because I love this song and I didn’t have any idea how to name this series.

I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, English is not my first language. I hope it’s still intelligible.

Taglist:

@alysrose-starchild @vixen-uchiha @dont-panic-to-much @ramos123 @stackofrandomstuff @thecaptainthunder @redbullgivescaswings @megaafangirl @thebooki3h @zorua-adorable @user00000003 @eliza-bich @transcendent-heroes @a4-machete @nyx-in-line @stainedglassm @maskedpainter @schrodingers25 @iamabrownfox @corporeal-terrestrial

Hold me, carry me slowly

Marinette opens her front door tiredly. It’s far too early for anyone to be bothering her yet. She’s only awake because the twins are going to start fussing soon, and despite her short night, she prefers waking up with her alarm than with her babies’ cries. It tends to make her panic if they’re the ones waking her up, because her mind immediately wonders what’s wrong instead of remembering that it’s feeding time.

She’s not expecting to see Jon and Damian on her front step. She hurriedly steps out and closes the door behind her to bare them entry, leaving only a sliver open so she’ll hear her babies if anything happened.

“What are you doing here?” She hisses, glaring.

“We wanted to talk to you, Marinette,” Damian replies, words mild, expression politely blank, while Jon looks both hopeful and sheepish.

Marinette’s blood boils.

“I have nothing to say to either of you!” She snaps back. “You made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with me! Well, I don’t want anything to do with you!”

It’s only because she knows him so well that she sees Jon’s flinch at her words, but despite that he takes a step forward, careful not to touch her. Marinette takes a step back and curses the fact that the door is in the way.

“Marinette, we’re sorry. We’re really, really sorry for everything and we would like to talk. Please.”

And Marinette has always been weak to Jon’s earnest tone and puppy dog eyes. She wants to let them in and listens to what sort of flimsy excuses they came up with, because she missed them. She missed them so much, but they broke her heart and she’s not ready to let them break her babies’ hearts too.

Just as she’s about to open her mouth and tell them to get lost, there’s a sharp wail coming from the bedroom and at their suddenly alert expressions, she knows they heard it too. She closes her eyes just as a second wail starts and she knows there’s no getting rid of them now.

“Are you…” Jon starts, eyes fixed intently on the door. “Marinette, are you babysitting?”

She only sighs in answer and opens the door to get back inside. She doesn’t close it in their face as much as she wants to, because she knows they’re about to follow.

The girls are both fussing in their crib and Marinette scoops Scarlet up for a nappy change. She takes the time to put Asha’s pacifier back into her mouth before moving to the changing table.

“There, there. No need to cry. It’s just a soil nappy. We know how to take care of those.” She coos gently. “There, you go. All clean. I’m going to change Asha now and then we’ll have a nice breakfast, okay?”

She puts Scarlett back in the crib despite her complains and repeats the whole process with Asha.

She can feel the boys’ eyes on her, and it makes her want to lash out.

“Are they ours?” Damian demands.

“They’re mine,” she snaps, not looking at him. “There’re no fathers list on the birth certificates. They don’t need any dads, they have me.”

“But they’re ours, right?” Jon presses, tone so hopeful, but Marinette refuses to answer. That’s an answer in itself.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you call?” Damian speaks again.

“I called you!” She hissed, eyes blazing in anger, but keeping her tone even so as not to upset her babies too much. “I called you and left voicemails and then both your numbers were disconnected, and I got the message! If you didn’t want anything to do with me, then I didn’t want anything to do with you either!”

“I didn’t change my number,” Damian says slowly, eyes never leaving the little face on the changing table. And then what he said seem to register and he retrieves his phone with a deep frown to swipe through the apps. “It’s not the same number.” He then looks at Jon with an almost wide-eyed look and Jon takes out his own phone to seemingly so the same manip.

“Me too,” he reveals, shocked. “Someone changed our numbers. Damian!” He hisses, this time with a glare for his boyfriend.

“Marinette, can you please give us the possibility to explain-”

“I’m this close to throw you both out, Damian! There’s nothing you could say that would make anything that you did okay!” She replies hotly.

“Please, Mari,” he pleads. “Please, just hear us out. You can throw us out after. I promise, if you want us to go, we will.”

Jon doesn’t add anything, but he bites his bottom lip and nods jerkily.

“Just… just go. Wait in the living room. I need to feed the girls.”

They both listen, thankfully. Marinette needs a minute.

Someone changed their phone numbers? Without their consent? That seems stupid and unfeasible, but… but she wants to believe them. She missed them. God, she missed them so much.

Marinette fusses a bit with Asha’s onesie and tries to make a list of all the reasons why she shouldn’t let them back in her life. When Scarlett makes an impatient noise that announces her readiness to cry again, Marinette knows that she can’t wait any longer. She scoops the girls with their favorite plushies and goes to the living room.

Damian and Jon are sitting squished on the armchair beside the couch.

Marinette sighs again and sits carefully in front of the couch on the plush carpet. It takes some maneuvering, but soon Asha is leaning across her lap, gently sucking her pacifier and looking at Marinette with all the trust her little baby heart knows. Marinette arranges the Tikki plushy on her tummy so she can grasp it.

“Let’s feed Scarlett,” she tells her daughter. “You know she’s always hungry.”

She then uncovers her left breast and, removing the pacifier, guides Scarlett to her nipple. The baby latches onto it and start sucking greedily, her little fingers kneading Marinette’s sleep shirt.

And then she waits. She’s not going to make things easy for them.

Jon is the first to move, seemingly transfigured by the sign of his daughter. He stands up in the living-room to face her.

“It’ll be easier to show you.” He says, before starting to spin so fast he’s only a blur, but when he stops, he’s wearing Superboy’s uniform and Marinette feels like a stone has dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

“I’m Superboy,” Jon tells her almost gently, as if he doesn’t want to spook her.

“And I’m Robin,” Damian utters after him. He hasn’t moved from the armchair, but there’s a green domino mask between his fingers.

“Oh,” Marinette says quietly, before she drops her gaze to Scarlett’s face. Her daughter has closed her eyes while she’s nursing.

Marinette… Marinette doesn’t know what to say. She knows what it means to be a hero. She used to be one, after all. She knows the sacrifices, the missed opportunities and the excuses. She knows the necessity for a secret identity and what it means to trust someone with it.

“You broke my heart,” she admits in a whisper, because what else can she say in the face of that, and she can feel her eyes prickle with tears.

Jon drops to his knees in front of her, back in his jeans and hoody.

“I’m so sorry, Mari. I never wanted to do that. It broke mine too to end things, but we couldn’t tell you.”

“We asked for the permission to tell you our identities,” Damian says, kneeling beside Jon on the carpet to face her, “but we were denied.”

“We had a long mission,” Jon continues. “Dad, Aunt Kara, Conner and me, as the last Kryptonians, were asked to help two planets come to an understanding. They were at war and their whole solar system was suffering from it. The mission was to stop the war long enough for a ceasefire and then helps with negotiating a peace treaty. Green Lantern helped and Damian-”

“I wasn’t going to let Jon walks into a dangerous fight without back up,” Damian cuts him off.

“I’m basically indestructible!” Jon replies without any real heat, proving it was an old argument. “And Dad, Aunt Kara and Kon were my back up!”

Damian ignores the interruption, focusing back on Marinette.

“The Green Lantern Corps was part of the mission too and while it’s officially over, the situation is still tense on those planets. The Corps is keeping an eye on things for now. We may have to go back if things turn south again, but hopefully, it won’t require our deployment again.”

“And we wanted to tell you the truth.” Jon tells her, earnest and heartbroken. “But when we asked our dads, they said our relationship was too new. That we couldn’t risk it. Even more so because we were going to leave for months and we wouldn’t be there to ‘make sure you don’t tell anyone’.” he finishes bitterly.

“As much as we didn’t want to end our relationship with you, without the permission to tell you the truth, we couldn’t disappear from the face of the earth and invent an excuse like ‘we’re doing a tour of the world and you’re not invited’.” Damian sighs and grabs Jon’s hand tightly. “We spent the last few months trying to come up with a way to win you back. Anytime we had some down time, we brainstormed about what we’ll do once we’re back on Earth.”

During their explanation, Marinette had switched the girls for feeding. Across her lap, Scarlett was now looking in direction of the men, probably intrigued by those new voices she didn’t know.

“And the phone numbers?” She eventually asks.

Damian slumps, breaking his rigid posture. “Do you know who my father is?” He asks.

“Batman?” She tries, but she’s almost certain. If he’s Robin, then it makes sense for his father to be the big bat himself. Which also mean that his siblings are the other Gotham vigilantes.

“Yes. Jon and I had to leave our phones here. Even the communications with the Watchtower were scarce. If you called more than once, Father must have changed our numbers.”

“But why?” She growls. “What right did he have?! You’re both adults! He didn’t even try to find out why I was calling you!”

“I’m sorry, Mari. I know Father loves me, but he tends to do what he thinks is best without always consulting us. Rest assure that I’ll have words with him.”

Asha choses that moment to push away her breast and Marinette does the usual ministrations to clean her face and clears her stomach of gas.

She hesitates a second, before closing her eyes with a deep sigh.

When she opens them again, she holds Asha out like a present. Jon scrambles closer without hesitation and very carefully accepts her in his arms, following her instructions on how best to hold her.

“This is Asha. Asha Gina Dupain-Cheng. She’s Dami’s.”

“Oh my god,” Jon exhales and a few tears immediately escapes his eyes. “Hello, Asha. It’s very nice to meet you.” His voice cracks a bit as Damian looks over his shoulder with an expression so soft and lost that Marinette’s heart aches with it. She beckons Damian closer too and places Scarlett in his own arms.

“And this is Scarlett Sabine Dupain-Cheng. She’s Jon’s.”

Damian is more confident in holding her, so he frees a hand to gently run his finger down her skin.

“Hello, Scarlett.”

“How…” Jon chocks on his tears. “How does it work? They’re twins, right?”

Arms free, Marinette slumps against the couch.

“It’s called ‘heteropaternal superfecundation’. My ovaries released two eggs at the same time, and both were fertilized. That alone would have resulted in fraternal twins. Except that one was fertilized by Jon and the other by Dami. So, twin babies with different bio dads.”

Because her Luck was just like that. Of course, Tikki’s influence would make Marinette’s first pregnancy the result of almost impossible odds.

For a long moment no one say anything. Jon and Damian are pressed so tightly together, both alternating looking at each baby in their arms, that it brings s a reluctant smile to Marinette.

“You have so much groveling to do,” she tells them. “You broke my heart. I’m not kidding when I say that. And the father section on the birth certificates is going to stay blank until I can trust you again. But you do something like that again and Scarlett, Asha and I are out of your lives for good. I don’t care if Scarlett is half-alien. They’re mine more than they’re yours right now. I carried them for eight months, I gave birth to them, and now I’m feeding them. And I was alone for all of that.”

“I promise, Habibti, that we’ll prove to you we’re here to stay. We want you and we want the girls.”

“It was a long mission,” Jon grins cheekily. “We definitely earned some downtime.”

“Exactly,” Damian agrees. “What would you like for breakfast, Mari? I’ll cook.”

“I made French toasts, last night. The preparation is in the fridge. You can cook that.”

With a small smile, Damian carefully gives her back Scarlett and then presses a dry kiss to Marinette’s forehead, before disappearing in the kitchen.

Jon moves until he’s sitting by her side against the couch and smiles at her. She missed his smile.

“So, what can you tell me about your daughters?”

“They are very healthy babies,” Marinette starts. “Scarlett definitely inherits your appetite. I need to complement her diet with formula because I don’t produce enough milk for all her feeding, plus Asha’s. That’s the alien biology, I suppose?”

“Yeah. Mom had some problem with that too when she had me, but at least she only had one baby to feed. What about Asha?”

“She’s fine with just breast milk, but she’s fussier when it’s time for sleep. I hope she’s not a premature insomniac, but now that I know about your nightly activities, I shan’t hold my breath.”

Jon snickers.

Breakfast is a lively affair. The French toast was only one portion, so Dami made pancakes and a fruit salad to accommodate Jon’s and his appetite. For the first time in weeks, Marinette can eat without one of her arms being commandeered by one of the twins. She knows things aren’t completely better. They need to talk about their relationship, their expectations, and relearn what it means to be together, all three of them plus two babies. But that particular conversation can wait a bit. For now, Marinette tells them about Asha’s curiosity and Scarlett’s boundless energy, about some of the weirdest things that happened during her pregnancy.

Things will work out. She’ll make sure of that.

#yume writes #Maribat #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x damian #Marinette x Jon #Daminette #MariJon #DamiMariJon #Marinette x Damian x Jon #Of Love and Sunlight #Part 02

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littlewitchwhore · 3 years ago

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Okay guys, here is the first short story I'm posting.

TW: Rape, murder, some gore, racism, sexism, homophobia, a critique of the southern US, and christian references.

I do not condone actual rape, murder, racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. This is just fantasy.

And now, I present

The Hunting of Sonya.

It had been three weeks since the executive order was given. Three weeks of running from abandoned shack to drainage pipe to thickets of trees where she might be safe. Three weeks of praying to whatever would listen that she not be found. Tonight, it seems her prayers might not be answered.

Whatever progress social justice and racial equality might have made in the past years has been violently set back. It started with feminist and pro-black movements constantly being undermined by themselves and their lack of cohesion. With no set leaders and ideas, no reliable code of conduct, and no unifying goals, the members had no direction for their justified anger to be aimed at, and nothing to hold them back from extreme measures. The first major riot happened a year ago, when several peaceful protesters were shot by a couple of trigger happy cops. They didn't stay peaceful.

In one of the most gruesome incidents in recent history, those two cops, and a few others with them, were overwhelmed and beaten to death. But the death of those cops was just the tip of the iceberg. Within a month, riots were taking place in every major city in America, with from people on both sides of the argument killing, and burning the homes and business of those they fought against. A civil war seemed inevitable. Then the election happened, as it does every four years, and a very conservative candidate, on a platform of returning the country to a state of peace and prosperity, undertoned with heavy racist and sexist messages, was elected by a narrow majority. Within two weeks, there were soldiers in every city to keep the peace, and strict laws were enacted severely limiting the rights of groups that were deemed to be the aggressors in the conflict; blacks and women. And the new president was cheered, because the bloodshed mostly ended. The laws and military presence, he had always said, were to be removed after a period of time, when the country was stable again.

But after several months, and a couple isolated riots, the laws were not gone. They got worse. Blacks and women stopped being able to gather in groups larger than 5. They stopped being able to purchase and own firearms. They were even stripped of properties and business, since those could be potential staging points for further violent action. Then they stopped being able to vote after a local election put a violent but charismatic thug up as mayor, who then tried to mobilize a whole town to war against the new president. Then came the executive order that stripped citizenship and all rights from blacks and women. Black people were given a week to leave the country or be deported or turned to slaves. Women fared little better, being reduced to honored servants to white men, and bargaining chips in men's deals. In a year, America had gone from the bastion of liberty and social activism to an authoritarian, patriarchal ethno-state. And the rest of the world, being crippled by their own social and economic issues, and being utterly unable to fathom summoning the military might needed to take on the United States, let it happen.

Sonya was unlucky. She had had the misfortune of residing in Louisiana when the order came down. You see, most people had the decency to let the blacks pack up their things and make for the borders and airports. Most empathized with the plight of the now refugees, even. But the south has always been a little backwards, hasn't it? Large groups of would be slavers started patrolling and detaining blacks and lone women who they could snatch up, after all, it was only illegal to do so for a week. So when Sonya and her family had made for the border, they were taken by one of these bands of slavers. Her father had been beaten mercilessly, and killed when he fought back, her younger brother put in chains, and her mother and sister were gangraped in front of her. She would have suffered the same fate, but when they went to strip her, she caught a fat one by surprise and was able to run, handcuffed and clothes torn, into the woods.

She had barely managed to stay ahead of the men chasing her. It took her three days to finally find an old shack that had a rusty saw she used to cut the chain on the cuffs, so she could use her arms, though the cuffs themselves remained tightly around her wrists. She might have been able to saw those off too, had it not been for the owner of the shed finding her. He was not sympathetic. She had actually had to kill him to escape, after he pulled a machete off the wall and tried to kill her. She didn't escape unharmed though, and her leg was badly cut. At the time, she didnt worry about it too much, since she had to get away, but after a week of running and hiding in hovels and drainpipes, she feared infection. It certainly wasn't getting any better, and was starting to smell. And her killing the man made the men chasing her all the more obsessed with finding her. Now, she wasn't just a 'little nigger whore who needs to learn her place,' as one of them had said, she was a violent, murdering runaway slave.

Now, she finally had a chance to rest. She had made her way out of the more populated areas and was close to the bayou. She figured if there was a chance at finding help from other black folks, it would be in the places the white folk didn't like to go. Besides, her cousin Tyrell was probably still around the area, he always liked to fight and wouldn't have left. At least, that's what she hoped. She was hiding in another drainage pipe beside a small highway. It was raining, and the pipe was half flooded, but she hadn't seen but two trucks all day, so she felt safer and more comfortable than she had in a year.

She had just closed her eyes for a minute, hoping for some sleep, when she heard the engine approaching. It was a truck, by the sound of it, and it was moving slowly. It stopped very close to where she was hiding. Panic shot through her like a blade of ice. How could they have found her? Wasn't she well hidden? They never found her in a drainpipe before! She got very still, and listened intently while being poised to spring from her hiding spot and run as fast as her badly wounded leg would allow into the woods nearby, just across the pasture she was next to.

A door slammed, and a very angry sounding man's voice was soon heard berating his truck for its many faults as her went about adjusting something under the hood. After a few moments, the man cursed again and determined it was the battery that was the issue. Another moment passed, and the rain let up, letting Sonya hear things clearly. There was quiet, then a door opened, and the man said, “Hey Bubba, i'm broke down 'bout 15 minutes outta Reeves, down up on 113... Yea, daggum battery bit it 'gain, third time this week. You think you could come on up this way and gimmie a little ol' jump? Alright, well I 'preciate that, brother... yea, i'll see you soon... Yea, see you then.”

Sonya relaxed a little, fairly certain that she wasn't in any more danger than she had been, and waited for a while. After what felt like an hour, another truck, a much healthier sounding truck, rolled up. There was a greeting, and after what Sonya presumed was an examination of the broken down truck by Bubba, the truck was jumped off, rather unhappily. “Now listen, if this truck is needing to get jumped off this much, you either need a new battery, or your alternators busted. You need to get this truck to the shop and get it fixed tomorrow, if it'll even start.”

There was a couple minutes of bullshitting between the two men, and at one point, Bubba expressed an interest in finding a “little house slave” for himself, since his brother found one and was apparently very pleased with her. They seemed to be wrapping up when the first man, who was called 'Red' declared that he had to piss. Sonya jumped a little in surprise when the stream of urine landed right next to her. The pissing stopped abruptly.

“You heard that, Bubba?”

“I ain't heard shit but your fucked up engine.”

“No, somethings in that drainpipe. Coon or sumin.”

Sonya tensed up again. Was this it? Would they find her? Could she take on two of them? Could she outrun them? Those and a thousand more questions leaped through her mind in those few seconds. She readied herself to lunge at whoever stuck their face in the pipe first, then bolt for the fence. Maybe she'd be able to make it, she had always been fast before her leg was cut, even running track in highschool. For a moment, she wished that she was back then, only two years ago, but a whole lifetime ago, it seemed. She couldn't wish long, however, because a light was shone directly in her face, the flashlight from a phone, and one of the men right behind it. She lunged, fist first at the light, and was rewarded by a startled yelp from the man, followed by the soft crunch of a broken nose under her fist.

The man fell backwards, his phone flew from his hand, and Sonya landed on top of him. A moment later, she brought the metal cuffs around her wrists down on his face together, then jumped up, unsteadily in the wet ditch and on her injured leg, and bolted for the fence. The other man, on the road still, called out to Red, and started rushing over, still processing what was happening. Sonya had the upperhand though, and was scrambling over the barbed wire before the second man actually recognized that it was a human who attacked his friend. But Sonya was unlucky, and as she was getting her injured leg over, one of the wires snapped, and she felt hard, her injured leg being dragged across the remaining wires, cutting her, and tearing the strip of dirty tee shirt that she had wrapped her wound in, off. Minutes later, she was across the small pasture, at the treeline, and she risked a look back. They weren't chasing her, at least not yet. Sonya breathed a sigh of relief, then turned and took off into the trees. Even if they weren't hot on her tracks, they likely would be.

Sonya watched the sun rise the next morning, and with the light, she could inspect her leg. It was definitely infected, a puffy, angry gash that slowly oozed a foul smelling, dark green pus, tinged with streaks of blood. She needed antibiotics or she was going to have very serious issues very soon. Hungry and weak from irregular meals, dehydrated and exhausted, and badly injured, she needed a break, a safe place. The rest of that day was spent trying to find food, clean water, and someplace with medicine. She found none of those things, and as the sun was setting, she resigned herself to an awful night under a tree, and wished for more rain, so she could catch a few drops with her mouth. But Sonya was unlucky.

She dreamt of awful things that night, as she often did these days, when she could dream. She dreamt of monsters rising out of murky pools to chase her, and of spiders bursting from her leg wound to consume her. She dreamt of her father's face, broken and bloody, his lifeless eyes staring at her and he whispered “Run.” She dreamt of her mother and sister being raped, but the men doing it were red skinned and horned breasts, with massive cocks that writhed like boas and strangled her mother, and tore her sister in half. And she dreamt of the hounds of hell chasing her from the scene, and into a void that wasn't there before. She turned and the hellhouds were gone but they howled still, from somewhere in the distance. The howling seemed to get louder and come from all around her, and she turned about quickly, trying to find the source of it before snapping awake in a cold sweat. The howling didn't fade with the rest of her dream, no, it was actually getting louder. It was real. And Sonya had been in the area long enough to recognize the baying of hunting dogs when she heard it. She knew that they bayed for her, and without thinking about it, she took off away from the sound, clearly from the direction she had come.

She limped through the woods as fast as she could on her increasingly lame leg, the sound of the dogs growing louder and louder around her. They couldn't be far, at this point, she thought to herself, they were just too loud. Her lungs were burning, her leg no longer in pain, just numb, her heart pounded in her chest from fear and the exertion, and her head throbbing because she was too tired. She stumbled over tricky roots in the pale moonlight and fell hard, barely raising her hands in time to stop from busting her face open. As she struggled to her feet, the howls of the hounds like sinister thunder around her, she knew running wouldn't work. Maybe she could hide in a tree? Better than being torn apart by hounds with fiery eyes. She cast her eyes about wildly, looking for a tree she could climb, and settled on a young oak with low hanging branches. She scrambled up the tree as fast as she could, with great difficulty, as her arms were weak and shaky, and one of her legs was useless. She managed to get onto a good branch just as the dogs, three of them, rushed the tree, howling and snapping at her heels.

Whoever was hunting her, Red and Bubba, maybe the fat one she escaped, she didnt know, but whoever it was was no friend of hers, and they would be here soon. And she was a treed coon, waiting for the slaughter up here. What were her options? If it were one dog, maybe she could jump on it and keep running, but three? No chance. She couldn't wait for the men to find her, her fate would be sealed. Maybe she could move to another tree and hope the dogs don't notice? Not like she had another choice. She went higher, hoping to get more leaves and distance between her and the watchful hounds. Near the top of the tree, not as high as she might have liked, she found her chance to move trees, a pine branch that came very close to hers. She balanced as best she could on her branch, holding onto a higher one for support, and slowly crept her way along the branch to the end. She reached out and grabbed a thin pine branch above the one she wanted to step to, and hoped that it would support her if she lost her balance. One foot went across the gap, her lame leg's. So far so good, now if she could just...

A branch snapped, and Sonya fell. She landed on her bad leg and felt a hot gush from her wound as something burst, then the pain was too much, and she passed out, luckily, before the first dog's teeth found their mark.

It seemed to Sonya like an unnaturally long, and unusually uneventful unconsciousness. It was long enough and stark enough for her to actively think to herself that she should have woken up by now. Was she dead? It had been a long fall... Maybe the hell hounds has finished her off? Wouldn't surprise her, she supposed, but don't they usually drag someone down to hell? Maybe this was hell? Seemed too quiet though, hell was supposed to be bright and painful. So this was.... Purgatory? That wouldn't be so bad, she thought. At least here she wasn't someone's slave to rape. And her leg was better! At least, she thought it might be. She couldn't see anything, but she couldn't feel any pain either. She definitely still felt like she had a body, though. But death was supposed to remove you from your body, so...

She was woken suddenly, by a door opening. Her eyes flashed open and the light stung, so she shut them tight again. Then her head burst into pain from somewhere inside, and she became aware of the rest of her pain too. Her hand stung like it had been flayed, the left side of her chest ached, and her wrist was almost certainly broken. Her leg, however, didn't hurt much at all, just throbbed slightly in time with her heartbeat. She groaned as the pain hit her, and she felt woozy and sick.

“Well, look who's up. My you gave quite a fight. Oh no, don't you try and move yet.” Sonya had, of course, tried to get up, but the effort was too much, and she merely rolled over and tried to vomit, but found she couldn't. “Yeah, when you gone and broke ol' Red's nose like that, well, we didn't take very kindly.” She opened her eyes again slowly, adjusting to the brightness of it all. The man speaking was Bubba, she recognized the voice. It seems that once again, Sonya was unlucky; this time because she wasn't dead. She managed to give the man a glare, to which he chuckled.

“Now, is that any way to treat the man who been takin' care of you? Why, I coulda' let them dogs go and have their way with your leg there, lord knows it smelled bad enough to be some sorta snack for 'em.” She looked at her leg, and saw it was bandaged properly, her hand and opposite wrist too. She also saw that apart from her bandages, and a large metal cuff around her good ankle, she was naked. There was nothing for her to cover herself with either. She looked back at Bubba, who was watching her closely.

“L...le...” She tried to speak but her throat was more parched than she'd known it could be. As her mouth tried to form words, her lips cracked painfully. “Bet you're mighty thirsty, ain't ya'?” Bubba said as he pulled a water bottle from a nearby case of them. He walked over to her, and squatted, so her was closer to her level. “Now, I don't care for things being the way they are. And I am sorry about you and your kin goin' through this. I had a few good buddies of the African persuasion. But I also had a brother, bout half a year back. Your kind decided his life was worth less than a message.” Bubba unscrewed the bottle of water and put it down, just outside of Sonya's reach. “You're lucky you're a pretty little negress. Means you might not have such a bad life, if you ever learn how to act right. Time's they are a-changin'. Now you gotta get used to that fact real quick. You can't be doing that runnin' 'roun' throwin' hands business no more. You are a slave now. You act nice and you look pretty, and you don't throw no fit when a man decides you're better used in bed than the kitchen. You got that?”

Sonya glared again at him, but she didn't have much strength left to try to fight the notion, nor did she think she would get any water if she did. She begrudgingly nodded, to which Bubba smiled. “Good. Now imma' give you this water here, and you're gon' sip it real slow like, because you drink too much at once and you're gonna throw up. Then, imma' go and find you something to eat, so you don't waste away there. And when I come back, you're gonna thank me for being so nice and considerate, and for my attentive care to your wounds.” He moved the water where she could reach it, and then walked out, closing the door behind him. Sonya grabbed the water and sipped, as she was bid, since that was all good advice. The cool water actually hurt going down, but she had never known something so wonderful before.

She was alone in the room now, sipping water as fast as she figured she could keep it down. It was a small room, dark brown carpet only a few shades lighter than her skin. The walls were fake wood paneling, the ceiling white and popcorned. The walls were bare, save for a single window, boarded up. There was no furniture in the room. The cuff around her ankle was connected with a thick chain to the only thing of note (besides the case of water by the door) in the room, a large chest freezer, which the sat on top of the chain, effectively keeping her leashed. She tried to think of some way to escape, but her options seemed very limited. And until she had some strength back, there was no way she could get far, even if she did find a way to leave.

Her planning was disturbed by Bubba coming back, this time carrying a paper plate with a sandwich and some chips on it, The breakfast of kings. He walked over and placed the plate down where he had put the bottle of water, just out of her reach. “Now, I reckon you can speak again, since most of that water is gone. As I recall, you owe me some gratitude.” She looked at him, and with sincerity, she said “Th-thank you. For my leg, and the water.” Then, “Please, let me go. I didn't do nothing to deserve this.”

Bubba gave her a look, not cruel or uncaring, a look that was close to sympathy. “I know, I don't believe that half of your kind did. But if I were to let you go, how far do you reckon you'd make it on that leg of yours? Oh I cleaned it up, been rubbing it with antibiotic cream, even got my vet to come stitch it up a bit. But you ain't gonna be using that leg for another week, if you're lucky.” He gave her a look, up and down, “You don't strike me as the lucky type.” He sighed. “And before you ask me to try to sneak you out of the country, you should know that all the borders are locked down tighter than a faggot's jeans. No, you're stuck here, and that's all she wrote 'bout that.” The way he said it was soft, like he was trying to be kind about delivering such horrid news. He gently pushed the plate of food withing her reach. “You best get that food in you, gotta get some strength to heal up, else you wont be as useful to your new owner. You're gonna be safe here while you heal up, and after that, the boys and I are gonna make sure you know to act civil and can perform the duties that men are lookin' for in a house slave.”

Over the next week or two, Sonya couldn't quite tell because of the lack of sunlight, Bubba proved to be a rather hospitable captor. He was never cruel to her, ensured that she was fed and well hydrated, and took special care of her injuries. He had even given her a small pillow and an old blanket, but warned her that she shouldn't get used to comforts like that. And perhaps most notably, he never touched her but to clean and bandage her wounds. She was kept naked, and told “You're probably gonna be kept naked wherever you go, and if I were to give you any clothes, they'd just be taken from you. No, better to get used to being on display now.” when she asked for a shirt. But despite her nakedness, Bubba didn't stare at her either. Maybe he really did feel bad about this whole thing. Not that it stopped him from selling her, that's just business. The world changed, and Bubba was quick to adapt to what brought home bread. But for a time, she was safe, and could process what had happened. She cried herself to sleep nightly, and would often weep in her waking hours. Her dreams were mostly memories, always ending with that awful night, her father's face with dead, sightless eyes, her mother's look of grim determination and resignation, her sister's tear streaked screams. Sonya doubted she would ever forget, and knew that she would never forgive. She decided that her survival was now a matter of biding her time, staying as safe as she could, waiting for a chance to escape the country. Or maybe she'd be able to last until the global community worked together to get fix the atrocities committed in the past year. Either way, running wasn't an option for her. She had to endure.

The peaceful time with Bubba was short lived, because once she was mostly healed, Bubba brought 'the boys' over. Three of them, Red being among them, clearly identified by the recently broken nose and a fresh scar on his brow. Bubba spoke first. “Now, you know how things are, and what you need to do. Show these boys here that you ain't got no fight, and they're like to take it easy on you. 'Cept Red, he's still mad about his nose, even if it does make him look better.” The guys chuckled and Bubba gave one last look at her, laden with meaning, then left and closed the door. The remaining men started really looking at her, lust obvious in their eyes.

It was quiet for a long moment before Sonya stood up and, resigning herself to endurance, bent over the freezer, closed her eyes, and started to pray.

#Sonya #Storytime

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woshivn · 3 years ago

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The fort is in a sorry state

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leahxx129 · 5 years ago

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Tragedy of Butterflies (Peter Quill x Reader)

Hi there. Quick personal note: it appears that the personal thing I’m struggling with at the moment will go on for around another month, but I have lots of story ideas and will try to write & post some.

As for the story... I feel like that Chris Pratt is the most underrated Chris from all the MCU Chrises, so I wanted to show a little love for him & one of his more famous character.

Summary: As a result of the Snap, Peter Quill dies in your arms and your heart shatters to pieces since you’ve been secretly in love with him for quite a while now. What happens 5 years later when everyone is brought back to the battle field, including some very unexpected people?

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 1.630-ish

You have no idea how much time has passed since the wizards brought everyone to the field and the guy with the shield commenced the battle against Thanos, but you’re pretty sure about one thing - within the next couple of minutes you’re going to suffer an excruciating death.

The creature knocked you over in a blink of an eye, you never even saw it coming, and both of your machetes flew out of reach. You can brush one’s handle with your fingertips but it’s still a far stretch... You desperately try to take in a few punches, but the damn thing is clawing at you with a foaming mouth, wanting to tear your throat out like a freaking otherworldly Cujo, so the majority of your energy is invested in self-defense. Even through the beast’s grumble you can hear the battle screams and death rattle of warriors trying their best to defeat the other army and fail at it.

Your arms are getting numb and a strange mixture of calmness and serenity dazes your mind. Maybe death wouldn’t be the worst-case scenario. You’re tired and you’ve certainly done your fair share over the years… Then his face flashes before your eyes and you relinquish every single thought of surrender in an instant.

He always demanded everyone to call him Star-Lord, but to friends he was Quill and to you, only Peter. You can’t just go down like this, you owe putting up a real fight to him. That’s the least you could do since you were unable to save him the first time you all faced Thanos…

You’ve known Peter since you were a little girl. You happened to be in the hospital when his mom died and followed him outside just to accidentally be snatched by Yondu as well...

He was nothing but a silly boy to you for a very long time – he would pull your hair, try to frighten you by telling ghost stories or play mean pranks on you... Then one day you suddenly realized he became so much more, and the mere fact that you had no clue how it happened scared the crap out of you.

Naturally, this escaped his notice, so every time he obtained a new notch in his belt, you died a little inside and swore an oath that you’d never be one of his conquests. An oath you broke not long after having sworn it... You fell so miserably in love with the man that you let yourself turn into his occasional bed warmer because even a relationship like that was more than nothing. At least that’s what you made yourself believe to help you sleep at night...

His lips felt incredibly soft as he peppered your neck with featherlight kisses in the dark.

His fingertips almost made you catch on fire when they traced your skin under the covers.

And the way he whispered sweet nothings into your ears when nobody else was around brought you to the verge of losing your goddamn mind every single time.

You found him completely and utterly intoxicating. Peter was addictive like a drug. And you lived for the high.

For a short period of time it looked like as if he was beginning to return your feelings, but then Gamora showed up and shattered every illusion to a thousand pieces. You couldn’t blame her - it’s not like she demanded Peter to shower her with his attention. But you couldn’t blame Peter, either, because Gamora was close to perfection… so, all you did was blaming yourself and pretending to be happy for the slyest thief in the galaxy day after day.

Truth be told, every night when you closed your eyes you imagined how it would feel like if the Zehoberei woman just simply got out of the picture, but with God as your witness, you never wished for her departure to be this way. When Thanos revealed on the Titan that he’d murdered her, the confession broke Peter and seeing him like that broke you.

Then came the Snap.

Peter pulverized in your arms and you would have given everything in the entire galaxy to trade your life for his. Later on, you joined Rocket and you’ve been by his side ever since as he appeared to be the only one to share your grief and understand your pain, but more importantly, he was the only other remaining member of the guardians and being close to him reminded you of better times.

Your fingers inch a bit closer to the machete’s handle but when you try to flick it in your direction the only thing you manage to do is just push it farther away.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you yell as a generous amount of the monster’s saliva lands on your neck a second later. “Could this situation get any worse?”

The answer comes right away when the thing overpowers you and you feel a set of razor-sharp teeth sink into your shoulder. The scream ripping from your lungs makes your own blood run cold. You close your eyes and await the next – and probably the last - lash out but it never comes. Instead, you hear a gun shot and the beast collapses onto you. Realizing that you’re still alive and kicking, you push it off and freeze at the sight of your savior. He’s standing far away, face not visible, but you could recognize that stance anywhere.

“Peter?!” you scream his name and hope he heard it through all the turmoil.

The stranger touches the side of his mask to reveal the face you haven’t seen in the past five years but dreamt of every single night.

Not minding the shoulder wound you jump to your feet and start limping towards him, picking up the pace when you see him do the same. Within a couple of seconds, the distance is closed, and you fall into his arms, tears streaming down your face. The familiar minty scent invades your nostrils and you can feel his stubble tickle your face. It’s him. It’s really him. You hug him even tighter.

“Peter…” you lean away a few inches to be able to look into his eyes but before you can say anything, he crashes his lips onto yours, leaving you completely dumbfounded. You kiss him back, nevertheless.

“What was that for?” you ask after breaking apart, shielding your genuine curiosity with a small smile.

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips, panting heavily.

Your eyes widen.

“Okay, I must have a little monster saliva clogging my ears because what I heard was that you love me and that cannot be the real reason.”

He lets out a chuckle.

“I don’t know about the saliva sweetheart, but you heard me right.”

You eye him suspiciously.

“I don’t get it.”

His signature lopsided smile appears on his face, but his gaze radiates sadness. You remind him of what his mom used to tell him about the tragedy of butterflies. Their wings are exquisitely beautiful and yet they can’t see them, just as you can’t see your own beauty and worth.

“I’ve loved you for quite a while now, Y/N.” he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “When we became friends…uhm… with benefits… I-I thought it was better than nothing, so I went along. But deep inside I knew it was not enough for me. And I couldn’t imagine a galaxy where someone like you would seriously be interested in someone like me. So, when Gamora showed up I decided to move on and try to develop a healthy relationship with somebody else… so much for that, huh?”

“Oh, Peter…” you begin but he hushes you.

“Ssshh, okay, just let me finish please.” He takes a deep breath, obviously struggling to hold back tears. “I cared for her. I really did. But when I woke up in that strange place, do you know who’s name I was screaming for hours? Yours. I loved her but I’m in love with you. Promise you’ll never leave me, please.”

You open your mouth to respond but a series of gunshots rip through the air missing your head just by inches and one of Thanos’ mutant soldiers collapses behind your back.

“I’m really glad you two idiots have finally figured your shit out but we’re on a battlefield right now and I can’t keep on saving your asses while you’re having a heart-to-heart!”

Nebula’s familiar voice provides an explanation for the shots but when you both turn to her direction, she’s not alone. You can feel a knot form in your stomach.

“Gamora?” Peter asks incredulously.

“Who’s this guy?” the person in question turns to Nebula with a clueless facial expression.

“He was hitting on you in an attempt to forget how desperately in love he was with the girl he’s holding right now.”

Gamora’s eyebrows fly up.

“Wow… and the me in this dimension didn’t see through the situation? No wonder she’s dead.”

“This dimension? What’s going on? Is she from a different one?” you find your voice and address the question to Nebula.

“We don’t have time for this. I’ll tell everything after this is over... you know, on the off chance we survive...” She flashes a mechanic smile and disappears with her sister.

Peter is still staring at the place where they stood just seconds ago. You gently put your palm on the side of his face and make him look you in the eyes.

“I promise!” you vow and kiss him hungrily.

There are two things you’re hoping for at the moment - you want to survive this battle more than anything so you could be with Peter and you also pray that Gamora’s return won’t affect a single thing.

#peter quill #reader #peter quill x reader #Starlord #mcu fic #mcu #fanfic #guardians of the galaxy #gamora #end game #nebula

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txladyj-blog · 5 years ago

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This Time Around - Chapter 24

A Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx by request of @txladyj-blog

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 27/?

The next morning was fraught with tension and sorrow. Most of the guards were killed and as a result, people began to step up, offering their help where they could as the cleanup effort began. A truck was being filled with the bodies of the enemy group, while the fallen Alexandrian’s were all gathered near the graveyard to be given funerals. Deanna was the first to spot Jess when she was let through the gate and she immediately ceased her conversation with Rick and ran to her with her arms wide open.

“Oh, Jess! You’re alright” She gasped as she drew her into a warm hug. Not one for hugging everyone anymore, especially after such a harrowing attack, Jess swallowed hard and made an exception, lifting her arms and allowing Deanna to hold her in an embrace. “The others, they said they saw you run out last night.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t stay and help, I just needed to get out of here. I was attacked-” She tried to reason.

“-We know.” Rick interrupted as he walked over with his hands on his hips. “Daryl told us.”

“W-what did Daryl tell you exactly?” She asked hesitantly, all the while hoping that Daryl had left out some significant details that would only add to her humiliation.

“He said he walked into Aaron and Eric’s place because the door was wide open and saw two of them trying to kill you. Said you took a beating but you were putting up a pretty good fight.” He explained.

Jess relaxed somewhat, her shoulders loosening and her defenses lowering. He hadn’t told them everything and had the consideration to omit the things which he knew she would find horrifying if everyone else knew. She owed him for that, the thought of the entire town knowing what she'd been subjected to was not something she could entertain without feeling physically sick.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jess questioned. It was as good an idea as any to steer the focus away from what happened in the house the night before. Behind Rick. in the distance, she could see Daryl leaving the Grime’s home with Carl in tow.

“It’s all hands-on deck, whatever you can do. But first, I want you to go and get checked out by Denise.” Deanna instructed

“I will. But it can wait a couple hours” Jess mused “There was a woman, a blonde woman. By the wall over there”, She motioned to the dark corner where she’d left the bloodied woman that she’d tried to save “Where is she now?”

Deanna took hold of Jess's hand and looked right at her. From her peripheral vision, Jess detected Carl and Daryl now within earshot.

“I saw what you did. I was at the window, checking there were no other children running around that I could bring inside. That was brave, Jess. Your courage and humanity shown towards Mrs. Brennan was admirable.”

“It was nothing” Jess muttered as she very deliberately broke away from Deanna and headed to Carl.

“She’s with the others, in the church grounds.” Deanna called out to her.

Carl’s face lit up when Jess wound her way around Rick and Deanna and broke into a jog, slamming into him and hugging him fiercely. Carl was only a kid and therefore a lot less triggering to her than physical contact from adults. She was delighted to see him, aware of the devastation that would follow losing Carl not only for Rick and the community, but for her also. Daryl continued to walk, meeting Rick and Deanna and joining them in observing Jess with Carl.

“Oh god, I’m glad you’re in one piece, kid.” Jess sighed into the side of the teenager’s head. He was now almost as tall her and she figured she must have missed the beginning of such a growth spurt. He was going to be as tall as his father and likely as brave too.

“You too.” He muffled against her jacket before stepping back and embarking on a run down of events as they transpired from his point of view.

Meanwhile, Daryl and Rick swapped a glance, one of concern for Jess but also for each other. They were beat after having worked all night to sweep the town and eliminate the chances of any of the dead rising again.

“She is playing it down” Deanna muttered through clenched teeth.

“Huh? What d’ya mean?” Daryl asked.

“What she did last night. I saw her from the window. Jennifer Brennan was running across the street away from one of those awful men. She was badly hurt and Jess appeared from nowhere and took him down. Then, she dragged Jennifer to the corner over there and stayed with her, held her hand and talked to her as she died.” She relayed with bloodshot eyes as she took in the impact on her town and the suffering that was forced on her people. “It was chaos, all of it. But she showed compassion and humanity towards that woman despite it all. Then, I watched her save Aaron's life, too. She always said she wasn’t good at fighting people, just walkers. I’m very proud of her.”

Daryl glanced between Deanna and Rick, who was still watching Jess laugh with Carl and playfully jabbing him in the arm.

“Yeah” Daryl mumbled.

Me too.

He cleared his throat and tugged her knife and machete from his belt, slowly encroaching on her conversation with Carl. She stopped talking when she saw him and peered at him expectantly. He held out her weapons, noticing that the end of her bow, which was positioned across her torso as normal, was bent out of shape.

“Cleaned ‘em up for ya.” He told her. She took them from his hands, her eyes never leaving his as she did so and she knew Carl was watching, but struggled to care. “I want ya to go see the Doc, let her make sure ya aint concussed.” He requested

“Thanks. I will. I just imagine she’s kinda busy right now.” She shrugged. Connecting her machete to her belt with its leather loop and sliding her knife back into its holster, she clicked the button closed and pushed her lips into a thin line. He was still staring at her and she knew he wasn’t going to give in.

“So, we’ll wait. I’ll go with ya. C’mon.” He grunted.

Carl raised an eyebrow at Daryl’s unwavering stubborn streak and considered that this may very well be the kind of thing that Jess was referring to when she suggested that he use Daryl as an example of how to treat someone as if they truly mean something.

“Daryl, I can go by myself” Jess tried.

“Ya ain’t doin’ nothin alone until I know ya ain’t got a brain injury. Complain all ya like, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He insisted, taking her wrist and marching her off along the street.

“I’ll catch you later, kid” She called out to Carl, who was holding a hand up in a small wave with a knowing smile spread across his lips.

It turned out that after an hour long wait with Daryl hovering over her like a concerned husband, Jess did not have a concussion. What she did have, was severely bruised thighs, a gash across her temple and a bump to the back of her head that had gone down overnight and left a dull ache that was more than manageable. Denise was informed of the true happenings of the night against Jess’s wishes by Daryl, who stepped in when she tried to lie upon being asked if there was anything else that she wasn’t telling her. She’d scowled at him and cursed him in her head but underneath it all, she knew he was doing it because he cared and after everything she’d been through over the last few hours, she considered herself lucky to have such a blessing. When she was finally released from the infirmary, what little energy she did have was put to good use to aid the community in its repair and removal of the bodies. After all, she had all the time in the world, it wasn’t like she could catch a minute of decent sleep anymore.

Daryl made a point of keeping Aaron and Eric away from their home until he’d cleared the bodies inside. Reluctant to let anyone see the result of his fury splattered all over the pristine, white kitchen. He left the house carrying a box full of body parts which he threw onto the back of the truck that contained the rest of the bodies and gave Aaron a nod in passing, letting him know the coast was clear.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess, man.” He mumbled.

Jennifer Brennan’s funeral was tough for Jess, who stood at the back of the crowd and pulled her hood and mask up to create a barrier between her emotions and everyone else. But she simply had to attend, not being present wasn’t an option when she’d ensured that Jennifer’s last moments were spent with her. She hoped she’d been able to do something to calm the woman’s heart, to put her mind at ease and to let her slip away as peacefully as possible among the pandemonium. She turned her body away from the funeral in an effort to hide her tears when it was declared that Jennifer’s husband had also been killed, leaving her two young boys as orphans. Daryl picked up on her sadness and resisted the need to go to her. The last thing she needed was yet more attention.

In the longer-term aftermath of the attack upon Alexandria, an urgent meeting was called, ideas were swapped and opinions raised with regards to the security of the town and how well equipped it was to deal with such situations. Having never experienced much in the way of danger from outside the walls before, most of the residents were still shaken and angry, believing that huge changes needed to be made to make everyone feel more secure.

Rick’s group stepped up the guard duties, changed the gate rules and went on regular patrols in the woods and surrounding areas, also placing two people in the tower at any one time so as not stone was left unturned. It fast became common knowledge that out of the fifteen strong group that attacked, all but two of them were killed. Rick surmised that there would be a cooling off period for them to regroup and bring in reinforcements, if they possessed such a thing and that everyone should be prepared, at any time, for similar attacks.

Jess was tasked with taking training sessions on the promise from Deanna that she would run the lessons on how to kill walkers and attend the lessons by Abraham on how to kill live humans as a trainee. The more she applied herself, the more she was able to mask her mood and after a week, she was able to cover her anxiety enough to convince everyone that she was just fine during the hour-long sessions. When really, she was plagued with flashbacks and nightmares and rarely slept a wink. She was tired, mentally and physically but training was giving her a focus and a useful one at that. But still, the dread seeped through and after her training sessions, she retreated back to the fairground and hid away from the world.

Nothing was said about the kiss that Jess planted on Daryl. Every time he tried, something else came up, someone interrupted or he thought she could sense it and either removed herself or changed the subject. He didn’t quite know exactly what he wanted to say, but the longer it was ignored, the larger the elephant in the room became. Jess wanted to forget it, sweep it under the rug and continue with their friendship as if she hadn’t tried to ruin it all. She hoped he would quickly realize her displeasure at the prospect of discussing it, purely because she hadn’t brought it up herself.

Daryl, who was usually reasonably self restrained, particularly where affairs of the heart were concerned, found it too tempting to resist stopping and watching during one of Jess’s training sessions. She was a delight for him to watch when she was in teacher mode. Confident, sure of herself and displaying a bossy side that tickled his interest in her all the more. In her hand, Jess held onto the knife that he’d given her all those months ago like it was precious and worth more than all the knives in Alexandria combined.

A couple of the participants in her class that day waved to Daryl, who stood off to one side and smiled thinly at Jess as she worked. He didn’t bother trying to hide his amusement, even dipping his head, running his chin and laughing quietly when she described them all as Stormtroopers locked in a war against the Walkers. That was the old Jess, the one he was seeing more and more of and that apparently was done with being suppressed.

“Copycat.” He called out smugly at the sight of the fake Walkers made from potato sacks and stuffed with grass and straw which were tied to heavy posts. Just as he’d tied a real walker to a tree and demanded she learn how to kill them at the quarry.

Jess looked over her shoulder and shot him an irritated look. Her eyes lingered on him for longer than was needed, but she’d noticed his sleeveless, black shirt and the way he was casually leaning against the back of a house with his big arms crossed over his chest. It was staring her right in the face no matter how much she tried to ignore it, he was so attractive and she sometimes hated him for it, especially when she was trying to concentrate. She marched over to him, stopping and resting her hands on her hips. Her six students wait and glanced at one another in curiosity.

“Can I help you, Stinky?” She asked with a pout.

“Mind if I step in?” He requested.

Jess let out a giggle of disbelief and shook her head at his boldness.

“Yes, I do.”

He stood up straight and went to turn away from her in the direction of the road, his lips curled at one corner.

“Fine. Do it wrong.” He challenged.

The people behind her, comprising of three men and three women all began to grin at one another, finding the playful tension between Jess and Daryl highly amusing. Jess watched Daryl as he ambled towards the road, turning and walking backwards with his hands open, tempting her to reevaluate if she was sure her answer was the right one. She exhaled through her nose, frustrated at how she couldn’t say no to him because she wanted to look at him a little longer.

“Alright, smart ass” She proclaimed “What do you want?”

He cleared his throat and walked back to her, stepping behind her and leaning down. With his hand he hooked his fingers around her calf and eased her outside leg further back.

“This leg needs to be further back. It’s a defense thing. Less likely to fall on your ass” he explained, taking her arm and moving it up and back, closing his hand around hers on the knife. “This arm. Lift it up a little more.” He rasped in her ear as he slid a hand down her arm, gently closing it over her elbow and shifting it to the correct position.

Her skin was set alight when she felt his breath on her neck and the warmth of his chest brush against the thin fabric of her shirt. She swallowed hard and noticed everyone staring at them, most of them with recognizable smiles that were directed at Jess’s pink cheeks and Daryl’s unnecessarily close proximity to her.

“What are y’all looking at?!” She snapped at them all “You’ve had a demonstration, get practicing! Remember, keep your body behind your knife.” They all scattered like mice and picked up their weapons, chatting amongst themselves and helping each other.

Daryl had little desire to move and the longer he stood, connected to her side, the more he thought about the kiss and how he didn’t even know if he was right or wrong for not kissing her back. Given time, a few more seconds maybe, he was positive that he would have reciprocated. But the timing and the situation were all wrong. The whole thing was confusing, out of place and bizarre and he wished it wasn’t. He wished it had been in better circumstances, so he could have pulled her back to him and asked her if it was really what she wanted.

Standing firm, Daryl trailed his fingers back along her arm and dropped his hand to his side. She failed to increase the distance between them and took a deep breath as she shyly licked her lips and straightened up her jacket. Her cheeks were still pink and the day was not cold enough to have made them so. Her skin was reddened because she was flustered and he was loving every single second of it.

“Did you have to undermine me like that?” She uttered.

“Probably not.” He smirked

“Then what are you even doing?” She tested

Daryl sucked both lips into his mouth and thought for a moment. He had an idea, but wasn’t sure if he was pushing his luck a little too far. He saw the glint in her eye while she waited for an answer and decided to take the chance, figuring he’d just make a joke out of it if it backfired.

“Need a sparring partner?” He questioned confidently, looking down his nose at her.

If anyone could fight, it was Daryl. He didn’t think himself good at much, a modest number of things; fishing, hunting and having grown up scrapping with the best of them, he was fearless and could more than hold his own. What he lacked in professional training he made up for in determination and resolution.

“Uh, no?’ Jess replied.

“Yeah ya do.” He argued. “Need to show ‘em how it’s s’posed to look. Get some practice in of your own too”

She considered his offer, unable to actually find a reason to decline. He was right. It would be helpful to show them what everything was supposed to look like and as much as she tried not to entertain the thought; she liked the idea of a little healthy competition with the man she thought to be the most attractive she’d ever seen.

“Fine. Tomorrow. But we’ll have to meet up and discuss what I'm going to teach them and how” She instructed in her best official and professional voice.

“Fine by me. Meet ya at your place tonight.” He was already on his way to the road, throwing his response over his shoulder with a hidden smile that only she was allowed to see.

Jess was resourceful enough to work out her own way of training using her weapons and keeping her stamina up. Since the attack, she felt the need to hone her skills more than usual and aside from her time as both a teacher and a student inside the walls, outside, she reserved time each week for cardio training. Just as in the city, she always remembered that she may never know when she would have to run, and keep running and so, keeping up her fitness level was of great importance. She also didn’t want to become complacent with her weapons. Being attached to a safe zone was one thing, but she still lived outside the walls and should her own land be attacked, she needed to know how to defend it, and herself.

Inside the fences of the fairground were various home-made training sections. Scarecrow-like effigies were tied to the horses of the carousel for knife training and targets were hanging, dotted around the compound for firing at with her bow. When Daryl stepped out of the bushes and gained a view through the fence, he spotted Jess aiming and firing at a target with her bow. Her practice over the months of her being alone had paid off, and she rarely missed a shot through lack of skill, it was just her unsteady nerves and tendency to panic that sometimes put her off.

She lowered her bow when she clocked him working his way along the fence and met him at the gate. Opening it up and clanking it shut behind him. In the clearing between the carousel and the Ferris wheel, she walked to the middle and turned to face him, tossing her bow and quiver to one side.

“You think I can’t handle myself, Dixon?” She challenged.

In truth, she felt far from the capable superhero she presented herself to be. She was tired and on edge, the constant memories of her attack dropping into her mind to remind her of her near-death experience. She hated it and it made her angry and sad and vulnerable. Most of all, she hated the nightmares.

“Seen ya fight. You’re good with Walkers. But it was me that taught ya.” Daryl cleverly pointed out.

“You taught me to fight with a knife” She pointed out, unsheathing her blade and tossing it onto the grass. He raised his eyebrows “we’re not using weapons. Before anything else, those people…and me…we need to learn how to survive in a situation where we aren’t blessed with a blade or a gun. Who better to teach me than a brawler like you?”

“You think I’m a brawler?” He asked with a hint of surprise, although he couldn’t blame her for thinking it with a reputation and a temper like his.

“Tell me, how many fights were you involved in before the turn, Daryl?” She shot back at him.

“Alright. Yeah, a lot.” He accepted, tilting his head to one side with a subtle shrug.

He didn’t know what he’d been anticipating when he offered himself up as a sparring partner, but combat with no weapons was certainly not it. All things considered, he wasn’t entirely displeased with the prospect of being so close to Jess, but he was apprehensive about hurting her. When she raised a hand and beckoned him with one finger, his stomach hummed with a complex mix of nerves, excitement and worry.

“Fight me” She challenged.

“You’re sure about this?” He checked.

“Ahh…you’re scared” She mocked, knowing very well that he was far from afraid of her but delighting in being able to poke fun at him.

“I ain’t scared of nothin’.” He warned.

“So, fight me.” She smiled.

He lunged at her and she dodged his first swing, ducking and jabbing him in the side. She refrained from hitting him as hard as she actually could, unsure of her own strength and not wanting to leave any bruises. He swung a leg under her feet, knocking her off balance and grabbing her arm, spinning her and twisting it behind her back. She took a deep breath while he held her there, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach, the gnawing discomfort of being touched after her near miss at the hands of the two barbaric strangers in Aaron and Eric’s house. Fixating her energy onto the task at hand, she stamped on his foot at the same time as shooting an elbow backwards, into his ribs. A grunt rang through her head and she detected his grip loosen a little, just enough for her to slip down to the floor and out of his grasp. Straightening up again wasn’t all that difficult but she soon grasped that her cockiness was too premature when Daryl simply slapped his hands on her shoulders and knocked her backwards. She stumbled and hit the deck like a toddler, devoid of a single ounce of grace. Flat out on the grass, she gawped up at him when he knelt down with a leg either side of her and held her arms to the ground.

A brief spell of panic flashed through her with the vivid memory of being trapped on the table in Aaron’s house, forced to breathe in the stench of rotten breath from the man holding her down and the pressure on her thighs from the one who intended to violate her. In a split second, she was back in the present, in the fairground and under Daryl with his blue eyes peering down at her.

“You’re holdin’ back.” He rasped at her with a slight smile that made her stomach flutter.

“So are you” she panted back.

“Thought you couldn’t fight the livin’.” He reminded her.

“I can’t” She admitted.

Daryl’s restrained breathlessness hadn’t come from their brief fight, but more from his inability to ignore the magnetism he felt whenever he was near her. Jess’s was a mixture of both their strenuous activity and her deep feelings for him, now strengthened by his need to shield her from any harm that may come her way.

“Guess I am scared of somethin’ after all.” He deliberated

“What’s that?”

“Hurtin’ you.” He admitted.

It was the same for her. She was adamant that she wouldn’t go too far, hit too hard or do anything to leave any pain that lingered. Hurting Daryl was the last thing she wanted and she found herself relating to his statement, but choosing not to acknowledge it with anything more than a feeble nod. Upon moving away from her and allowing her to crawl to a sitting position with her legs stretched out in a V shape, Daryl offered her some constructive criticism which was gratefully received by Jess, who had a genuine burning desire to be able to hold her own should she be faced with two more men who chose to be monsters.

“So much for discussing lesson plans.” She sighed even though she’d gained more pointers from this one, short attempt at fighting than she had at an hour-long lesson inside the walls.

“This was more fun.” Daryl commented. He liked how the stray strands of her hair blew like ribbons in the breeze when they fell from her braid, tickling around her face and tempting him to touch them, to softly graze her skin at every opportunity. She brushed them from her eyes and looked thoughtfully across the fairground.

“Yeah, it was” she uttered.

Jess picked at the grass, collecting long strands of green and winding them around her index finger before ripping them from the earth. But her attention wasn’t on the empty patches of dirt she left in her wake, it was on Daryl and the fact that he’d saved her life. Again. Her eyes lifted to find him already staring at her through his hair, his features set in a serious look.

“Thank you for saving me the other day. I should have said that before.” She offered.

“No need. I’d do it over n’ over. You know that.” he responded. She took his short but sincere reply as the end of it and resumed her grass trimming ritual.

The big issue hanging over them both was the kiss. The sudden, thoughtless and shocking kiss that had rooted Daryl to the spot and sent Jess fleeing in a daze of horror and humiliation. He’d tried to bring it up, accepting that talking it over was something that had to happen for both of their sakes. But Jess was less convinced of its importance while she wished she could turn back time and make a different decision in that moment. As he sat opposite her on the grass and observed her peacefully picking at the blades with her fingers, he guessed that it was as good a time as any. They were alone and without interruption or distraction.

“Jess?” He started.”We ever gonna talk ‘bout what happened afterwards?”

She stilled instantly with her fingertips pinched around a daisy. He could see her chest expand when she drew in a deep troubled breath, her eyes flickered around the area between her knees. Daryl felt like he was holding his breath for the duration of time that it took for her to reply to him and he could do nothing but endure the wait of time ticking by, thirty seconds, then forty.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She finally said.

Now, he had to be braver, pushier but not demanding. He was treading on thin ice and at the wrong comment, Jess could well have fled into her home and refused to acknowledge that day ever again. It wasn’t an option for Daryl, he needed answers.

“Pretty sure you kissed me.” He braved.

“Please” She scoffed. “That wasn’t a kiss.”

He was baffled. He was as sure as the sun rose every morning that she had stormed up to him in Aaron and Eric’s house and kissed him. After all, he should know, it had been a long time since he’d felt the lips of a female on his and he was highly unlikely to be able to forget the fact that this time around, it was Jess.

“Sure felt like it.” He tried to argue in the most non-confrontational way he could.

Jess got to her feet and flicked the grass from her pants. She made eye contact with him, but only for a brief spell before it became too uncomfortable to withstand. Her defensive side was creeping out.

“Yeah? Well you don’t get to say what it was; you didn’t participate.” She remarked as she stomped across the ground to collect her knife and bow. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head inside.”

I guess that’s the end of that. He thought.

“Alright.” He admitted defeat and didn’t bother to question her further. He wasn’t in the mood for an argument, especially one about such a touchy subject that he thought he might now be willing to let go after seeing her dislike for the subject being raised. It would still resonate every time he looked at her, that much was evident. But to save her closing up and getting mad at him, he shelved the issue for the time being.

The next couple of days saw Abraham, Glenn and Daryl making several trips to a nearby quarry to gather yet more building supplies. The tower was being expanded and basements secured and concealed as hiding places. The area around the walls was being improved with a walkway and platforms with spaces to mount rifles and sadly, the graveyard was being expanded.

Rick was barely seen for 48 hours while he embarked on a low key, one-man mission to find any more tracks of enemy groups that may be laying in wait to attack the town. So far, nothing had been found and he and Deanna could only conclude that for the time being, they were safe enough.

Jess was sitting with the town’s leader on the front porch when a truck rolled through the gates and Abraham, Glenn and Daryl climbed out and began unloading wood and metal beams from the back. Jess had been talked into accepting a lemonade from Deanna, which was much to her irritation but to save face and not come across as though she was a harbinger of misery, she gracefully agreed and promised herself than ten minutes of chit chat would do the trick. Really, she just wanted to go back to the Fairground and hide, as she had done since the attack. The only things bringing her out of her sanctuary being the unavoidable or the necessary.

The truck appeared just in time for Jess to make her excuses and leave as Deanna began to mention moving inside the walls once more. With a subtle eye roll and a sigh, Jess placed her empty glass on the table, thanked Deanna for her hospitality and hopped down the steps towards the truck, where Abraham was buckled over and complaining to anyone within earshot that he’d pulled something in his back.

Without thinking too much of it and under Daryl’s speculative gaze as he helped Glenn move the materials, Jess set to work on loosening the knots in Abraham’s back using her thumbs to dig deep into the muscles in the hope of increasing the blood flow and lessening the pain. Abraham’s reddened face started to calm and gradually he managed to straighten back up again. Jess kept her distance, uneasy about being so close to anyone. She’d managed it with Daryl during their sparring but it wasn’t without its tribulations and she still didn’t trust her own mental health to hold up while so close to another person. She felt her own face flush with heat when Abraham began moaning loudly and attracting the attention of everyone around.

“Yeeeeah! That’s right girl, don’t stop!” He cried while she worked on his lower back, making sure that she wasn’t just moving the problem to another area. In his waistband, was a 9mm that she brushed the handle off as she went. “Careful of my gun, honey. You’re gonna make it go off all over the joint at this rate” He chuckled “It’s loaded.”

“Oh, shut up, Abe.” Jess scoffed, still uncomfortable but wanting to help her friend and failing to hide a grin. Catching Daryl’s eye as he stalked past, she noticed him taking a drag on a cigarette and scowling at them both.

“You wanna go a little further down, there? You can play with the beanbag. I’ll let ‘cha.” He added.

“Ew!” Jess squealed back.

No matter how she dressed it up and no matter how together Abraham was with Rosita, Daryl still struggled not to feel the unwanted familiarity of jealousy when she giggled along like she was a small child, totally enthralled. He couldn't say anything about it, to do so would have put their friendship at risk, and that was something he wouldn’t do without definitive proof that she felt the same. Friends like her don't come along too often. Maybe if he had a little more height and a little more presence along with a vulgar sense of humor, she might forget about the large military man that garnered so much of her attention, but the truth as he saw it, was that on a generous assessment, his own looks and personality were less than ordinary but far from appealing.

A slap rang out across the street when Jess’s hand collided with Abraham's shoulder and she shoved him away from her, chuckling loudly at his boisterous sense of humor. Abe placed a big hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, thanking her for her assistance and turning slightly more serious when she twisted away from him and let her smile fade at the discomfort of the physical contact. Daryl pretended to sort the smaller chunks of wood and brackets on the back seat, gaining himself a front row seat to their conversation.

“You alright? You look kinda tired” Abraham noticed. Jess wrinkled her forehead and squinted in the sunshine.

“I’m fine. Just not sleeping much.” She admitted.

“Well, you watch your 6 out there while you’re huntin’ and tired. Or, I’ma have to rat you out to ya boyfriend.” He warned.

“Daryl isn’t the boss of me, Abraham.” She corrected boldly with a hint of sass.

Abraham’s face lit up and he chortled to himself while peering down his nose at her. Totally unaware of what she’d just said, she raised her hands in a clueless gesture.

“What?” She asked.

“Oh nothin’…It’s just…who said I meant Daryl?” He replied with a wide grin under his mustache.

The trucks door slammed and Jess flinched at the sound, whirling around in time to see Daryl sling a heavy canvas bag over his shoulder and glimpse at her as if he was running away from something. She waited for him to join Glenn on the other side of the street before slowly turning back to Abraham with her jaw taut and her hand tapping her thigh nervously.

I really hope he didn’t hear that.

Abraham stepped closer to her and guided her around the truck and out of Daryl’s sight by her elbow “Y’know, he might have the cure to your grouchiness, young lady.” He suggested with a knowing grin.

“Don’t you dare” She warned with a thin smile and a wag of her finger.

“C’mooooon, don’t tell me you don’t wanna pet that Python.” He beamed, shooting her a quick wink.

“What?! Abe! No!” She exclaimed. Horrified at his crude and yet not entirely unfunny remark.

“Well why the hell not?!” He asked.

She briefly stared off into space, at nothing in particular and tried to figure out a way of explaining the situation to him without drawing more dirty comments out of him. Clinging to the only thing she thought he could maybe relate to, she tried her luck.

“You a Star Wars fan?” She started

“I seen the movies, yeah.” He shrugged.

“OK, so I’m like a Padawan in this apocalypse. He’s my Jedi master, teaching me the ways of the force. They don’t have relationships.”

His bushy eyebrows changed position as he thought it over but her explanation was soon met with an incredulous expression and a huff of disbelief.

“Shit, girl” He commented “It ain’t no lightsaber. It’s not gonna take ya hand off”

Before the conversation could get any worse and before her anxiety reared its ugly head, Jess decided to beat a hasty retreat.

“I gotta get back to the fairground. Goodbye, Abraham.” She said sternly, seeing him chuckle back at her and raise a hand in a departing wave.

Spinning around and heading for the gate, she very nearly charged straight into Daryl, who was returning to the truck to collect the last of the materials. His eyes connected with hers before darting away again, concentrating on hauling the door open with a notable amount of strength and much more than was actually needed. She backed away from him, almost able to see the anger seething from him like smoke from a fire.

“What’s with the long face?” She questioned hesitantly.

“Nothin’.” He grumbled under his breath, reaching into the truck cab and retrieving his crossbow. He slung it over his shoulder and slammed the door shut so loudly that Deanna rose from her seat on the porch and craned her neck to check there was nothing dramatic going on. Jess moved back and decided that she was too exhausted for one of Daryl’s complicated moods and went to turn to the gate when she heard him mutter something from behind her.

“Why’s he gotta do that?”

She slowly looked back at him, his face was stony, as it had been for the duration of Abraham’s massage and he was seemingly doing absolutely nothing to hide it.

“Who? Abe?” She checked. Soon opting not to wait for a reply. “He’s just joking.”

“Yeah, well it pisses me off” He blurted out against his better judgement. He had set out to mask his jealousy, to keep it inside and not mention it again, but his anger could make him impulsive and reckless and, as was apparent at that moment, snappy.

“Are you jealous again?” Jess asked. If he wasn’t going to acknowledge it, she was going to do it for him. Far be it from her to be subjected to and expected to suffer the moody nature of Daryl’s complex thinking. She’d done nothing wrong and wasn’t about to tiptoe around him and pander to a reaction that was his problem, not hers.

“No” he grunted.

“I think you are. But whatever you say” she sighed as she walked away. That was the end of it as far as she was concerned and having known Daryl for as long as she did, she began to wait until he swallowed his pride and sought her out to offer a shy apology.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he showed up at the fairgrounds gate when she was softy rocking back and forth in one of the Ferris wheel carts. He paced about impatiently while she climbed down and ambled towards the gate, unlocking it and allowing him inside. With his fingers shoved into his pockets, he nervously watched her through the greasy front strands of his hair and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Sorry… ‘bout back there.” He mumbled. “Don’t know what got into me”

His urgent need to apologize was fueled by his inability to keep his mouth shut and the horror he felt when he thought back over how he’d behaved and the things he’d blurted out uncontrollably.

“Jealousy got into you. But it’s okay, forget it.” She snapped.

All at once, fatigue hit her out of the blue and a simple yawn turned into a stumble backwards against a disused trash can. She grabbed backwards with her hands, steadying herself and feeling Daryl grip one of her elbows. He dragged his vision up and down her body, paying careful attention to her eyes, which were boasting dark circles underneath. Regaining her stance, she managed to stand back up again.

“You gonna tell me what’s goin on?” he pressed.

“Nothing-” She tried.

“-Jess you look like shit.”

She blinked dramatically at him, more to clear her vision than anything else but his direct and reasonably hurtful comment was not lost on her.

“Wow. Thanks. Just leave if you don’t want to look at me.” She remarked.

“I-I don’t mean that how it sounded. You look exhausted. It ain’t good. Ya never look like this. I ain’t seen ya eat nothin’ in days. Ya don’t wanna be near nobody.” His observations were not unfounded and very little got past him when it came to Jess. She was his reason to smile, only she hadn’t been doing a lot of that herself since the attack.

“Well, I could use losing the extra pounds and that’s ridiculous, I’m around people all the time.” She argued.

“Oh really? Cause ya don’t spend time with nobody no more. When was the last time ya had a real conversation with Aaron? Huh?” It was a rhetorical question and one he knew she couldn’t protest at. “Ya lock yaself up in this place and you’re in and out of Alexandria quicker than a fuckin’ mail man.”

“That’s complete crap” She scoffed.

“Alright” He spat “Fine” His tone was aggravated but determined and she could tell he was up to something straight away.

He moved closer to her, looming over her and standing so close that when he inhaled, his chest almost touched hers. Her senses exploded and she became intoxicated by him. Her eyes fluttered and her heart rate quickened.

“Then you won’t mind if I stand right here.” He growled “See? You’re scared.” He watched her breathing change and her lips part. “You’re breathin’ hard. Can see ya hands shakin’ too.”

Scared? I’m not scared of you. I’m in love with you and you’re standing so close to me I could kiss you again.

“That’s not because I’m scared of you, you idiot.” She whispered. “It’s because I’m not. Y-you don’t scare me. You make me nervous.”

Jess couldn’t recall another soul that she’d met in her life that made her as nervous as Daryl did. Everything about him set her on edge but in the best way possible. If only he wanted her the way she wanted him, the chemistry would be electric.

“That ain’t good.” He told her.

“It is.” She corrected “It means I care what you think of me.”

“Right now, I think ya need to tell me what’s goin’ on with you.” He took one small step back to allow her some breathing room but at the same time cementing the fact that until she was honest with him, he wasn’t going anywhere. But Jess was reluctant, feeling childish and ashamed that her nightmares were having such an impact on her life. They were just dreams, bad dreams that she knew were not real. But their vivid and realistic nature was enough to mean they stayed with her all day long. She understood that a problem shared was usually a problem halved, but could Daryl really help her with something as complicated and personal as night terrors? He’d made it clear that he was the one that she was to tell if she needed to talk about anything and for that gesture of reaching out to her, she felt she owed him the truth.

“Nightmares. Okay? I have nightmares about that night.” She admitted.

Daryl sighed and closed his eyes briefly. He was smarter than to expect her to come out of such an ordeal with no lasting psychological effects, even if it was the apocalypse. Dreams were something he had some experience with himself and when he thought of how bad his own could get and so many years on from his trauma, his heart lurched and he wanted to hold onto her.

“Jess…” he paused “…do you, do you feel safe…with me?” he asked.

“Yes” She answered straight away “You’re the only person I feel safe with.”

He nodded and backed away from her but she could tell he was still deep in thought. She took a couple of steps around him in an attempt to see his face but he lowered his head and stroked his beard. She wondered if she should end the conversation there and then and vanish inside. But something about his body language was telling her to stay put.

“I’ll stay.” He eventually said, turning to see her eyebrows raise.

“What?” She croaked.

“I’ll stay here with ya tonight and any other nights you need. I’ll watch ya back while you sleep. Keep ya safe.” He offered.

Jess was touched and bowled over by his willingness to stay right by her side until he knew she was okay. She’d never have anyone exercise such a fierce protective side over her before and for a moment, she considered that if he never wanted her the way she wished he did, he would make an attentive and devoted partner for someone else.

“I can’t expect you to do that.” She told him.

“Would it help?” he asked.

“Maybe. Probably.”

“We’re friends, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m here until ya don’t need me to be.”

She almost dived on him and wrapped her arms around him. It was this secret, sensitive and thoughtful side of him that she’d fallen for. The Daryl that hardly anyone got to see, anyone except her and because he chose to show her through his trust in her. The idea of some real sleep was a tempting one and after a lingering glance with Daryl, Jess agreed to let him stay.

The inside of the Diner was proof that Jess wasn’t coping with her exhaustion and the aftermath of the attack. Her living space, usually tidy and organized, was messy. Clothes were strewn everywhere along with empty cans and thin strips of wood for arrows that had never been touched. Books were discarded on the coffee table and the bed was unmade. It was totally different to how he’d seen it before and it only served to increase his worry for her.

She used the Diners kitchen to change into an over-sized T-shirt and shorts for the night and as she did so, Daryl averted his gaze from the view through the transparent display fridge, affording her some privacy and dignity no matter how much he wanted to witness the beauty of her that she seemed to know nothing about. He removed his boots and vest and settled in an armchair opposite her bed, draping his vest over his arms in defense of the slight, biting cold in the room. When she returned, she wordlessly slid under the covers. Daryl shuffled around in the chair and prepared to keep a close vigil over her, when he glanced up and saw her staring at him.

“What is it? You okay?” He questioned.

“We’re friends and we have shared beds before.” She pointed out “You’re not sleeping on that chair. Come here.”

He had no interest in arguing but made sure not to leave the chair too quickly for fear of coming across as too keen. She moved to the far side and spread the pillows out as Daryl sat beside her and lay back. He fluffed the pillows behind his back, wanting to ensure he was slightly more elevated than her so he could see her should she wake. Jess snuggled down beside him and closed her eyes.

After a while, he realized that he hadn’t stopped looking at her, examining every part of her and resisting the urge to trace his fingertips over her bare upper arm and through her hair. A deep sigh escaped her lips and he didn’t know why or what had changed but he wasn’t strong enough to resist anymore. He felt down her arm with his fingertips and it set her skin alight with a blissful tingling. Torn between not reacting and finding a way to let him know she wasn’t going to push him away, she looked up at him and was floored when he lifted his arm and nudged his head up at her. Her mind was crowded with questions. Why was he doing this? Did he really want her to be closer to him? Was he going to change his mind? She would find no answers through inaction and so, she pulled herself closer to him. He remained there, waiting with his arm up and it dawned on her; he was trying to tell her that she should sleep on him. Knowing a good opportunity when she saw it and believing it to be a one off that she would never forget, she didn’t ask if he was sure. Instead, she nervously rested her head and hand on his chest, feeling the powerful beat of his heart under her palm. He closed his arm around her, over her shoulders and it was like a switch was flicked when she fell into a deep sleep. No flinching, no skin crawling, no trembling. Just peace.

Daryl spent the next few hours drifting in and out of a light snooze, waking every time he remembered where he was, why he was there and that Jess was out for the count on his chest. It was a momentous occasion for him, having never even slept in the same bed as another woman, let alone one he cared so much about. Disregarding his own inhibitions and allowing such a thing was not something he’d ever thought would happen. But it had and he knew when she began to whimper and jolt in her sleep that he would do just about anything to keep her in one piece and by his side. He gently drew her closer, gradually enveloping her in both arms so as not to wake her and startle her. Her hair was as soft as silk under his fingers as he hushed her and lulled her back to a peaceful sleep;

“Shh. I got you. S’alright. Shh”

Morning broke and with it came the slither of bright light through the gap in the concealed windows. In the seconds that preceded her waking, she struggled to remember where she was or why she was there. Somehow wondering why she was not in her bed in her apartment surrounded by her dragon collection and listening to the street below as the world woke up. Then, reality hit and the comfy, warm pillow under her turned out to be Daryl. It all came flooding back. She didn’t know if he was awake or not and lay as still as possible to avoid him detecting that she was no longer asleep. She was going to hold onto this treat for as long as she possibly could. She nuzzled closer to him and to her delight, felt him hold her tighter. Her heart began to flutter and her stomach hummed with butterflies when it occurred to her that he’d pushed his face into her hair and was rubbing his thumb over the skin of her upper arm.

This is bliss. Pure bliss. I think I died in the night and this is heaven.

Daryl could not believe his luck. He wondered why it didn’t feel strange to him or make him tense and nervous because of so much physical affection that he just wasn’t used to. Having only ever been touched by hands with violent intent, he was surprised to find that snuggling Jess just felt right to him. In the darkness her skin felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. He wished he could extend the night just so he could stay close to her for longer, with her safe in his embrace. His arms wrapped right around her brought a peace he’d never known before, a calming of the storms in his heart and he hoped it was the same for her too, although he may never know. But it was her that gave him hope for the future, made him start to believe that there was nothing out there to fear. But then he would have to leave, maybe before the sun is fully risen in the sky and he must stand alone again, be his own person instead of Jess’s person.

Why am I not freakin’ out here? Shit. I don’t ever want to move.

She fought with all her might but Jess could not manage to hold in a small cough and had no choice but to let him know she was awake. He instantly felt as though she would want to move away but when he tried to release her from his arms, she held onto him, sliding the hand on his chest over his torso and clinging to him.

“No. Just…A little while longer.” She whispered. “Please”

Maybe I shouldn’t be assuming so much. This girl is full of surprises.

More than happy to stay put, Daryl accepted that it was what he wanted. He wanted to be able to do this with her every night. He wanted to be the person she trusted and felt safe with and ran to. He wanted to be able to hold her and kiss her and soothe her.

After her restful sleep, disturbed by only the beginning of a nightmare before it filtered out to nothing, Jess slowly rolled over, trapping his arm beneath her neck, stretching her muscles and cracking her back. He tried to look away, to give her the same privacy as he did before, but she was mesmerizing. He noted the fading bruises on her thighs, fading to a green. Apparently not picking up on his admiration of her, Jess sat up with messy hair and sleepy eyes and took his hand, turning it over and leaving a delicate kiss on his skin which felt like tiny sparks of electricity flitting through his entire arm.

“Thank you.” She whispered before shuffling off the bed and leaving him there, stunned and unable to stop smiling to himself.

At the vegetable patch, Jess caught Aaron as he took a break from digging in the heat and shared her bottle of water with him. She’d arrived back from her Walker clearing duties and re-filled it in the pantry, along with filling her backpack with her weekly rations of canned and dried goods. Her head was stuffed, filled with too many thoughts and weighted with tiredness. She’d woken twice during every night since, nightmares plaguing her and bringing with them terror, cold sweats and a reluctance to sleep at all. Every night except the night she'd slept on Daryl's chest.

Aaron, having been worried about Jess since the attack but unable to speak to her properly, was finally grateful to get a moment alone with her, which was something she’d avoided very openly. When he confronted her and asked why she’d pretended as if he didn’t exist, she admitted that she was having difficulty processing what had happened. That the events of that night were still all too fresh in her mind and that she didn’t quite feel like herself yet. He accepted it with more understanding than she'd thought and also thanked her from the bottom of his heart for saving his life that day.

After giving him just enough information to placate his questioning, she informed him that she didn’t need to keep talking about it. In fact, she would rather not and expressed that she just needed time and patience to be able to move past it. However, there was one thing she wanted to run by him and there was no one else that she ever would have imagined telling other than Aaron. She swore him to secrecy, once again threatening to destroy his collection of license plates from across the states.

Aaron quickly swiped the back of his glove across his sweaty brow and got comfortable on the wall where they perched, passing the bottle back and forth between them. Jess tapped on the outside of the plastic with one fingernail while she tried to find the right words to convey exactly what had happened between her and Daryl that night.

“When he saved me, in the house. I think I had some kind of breakdown. I was terrified. I was crying, and then…then I was laughing.” She said with a confused snort of entertainment. Hearing it said out loud made it even harder to decipher. She handed him the bottle and he took a large gulp. “I couldn’t control it and it was because…I was alive. I was alive because of Daryl. I-I didn’t think, Aaron. I just…I kissed him.”

A choking sound spluttered from beside her and she turned her head to see Aaron coughing and staring at her in shock. He wiped his lips and blinked at her for a moment before clearing his throat and shuffling closer on the

“Uh, you did what?” he asked.

Jess glanced around at the other workers. She could see Eric through the green bean trellis, his eyebrows knitted together at the thought of Jess and Aaron sharing gossip without him. At the other end of the patch, Carol and Carl were picking fruits with Judith, who Jess could hear singing to herself without a care in the world. As she picked raspberries, she ate them intermittently; one for the pot, one for Judith and so on. Unbeknownst to Jess and Aaron, Daryl was smoking against the partition wall in front of the gate, at the back of the brick built one they were sitting on. It was the waiting area for those gearing up to leave for supply runs. Having heard his name mentioned, he edged closer to find he could hear every single word of their conversation. He smirked to himself, took a drag on his smoke and leaned back, enjoying the show.

“I kissed him. I made a huge mistake.” Jess reiterated in a low voice

“Why do you think it was a mistake?” Aaron questioned.

She closed her eyes and felt dread course through her body when she remembered how her lips connected with Daryl’s and how he’d stood there like a statue, shocked and baffled by her behavior.

“Because he doesn’t want that from me. He didn’t kiss me back. In fact, he froze up and I just… I just ran.” She relayed.

Aaron remembered watching her flee from the house as though the devil was chasing her and Eric wanting to go after her. Maybe if he’d let him, he’d have been told about Jess’s rogue kiss sooner. But the look on her face and the desperation with which she left the town, like she was nothing but a fleeting shadow, told him that she wouldn’t be sitting next to him and confessing with her sanity somewhat intact if she’d been made to admit everything at the time.

“I see.” He sighed, “So, what’s going on with you two now?”

She’d never been more confused in her life about the dynamics of her relationship with another person. This was a first and Jess couldn’t honesty put her finger on what exactly was happening between them, if there was anything.

“I mean, I still think he’s amazing and super-hot and we hug now, we-we do that. And hand holding. We do that now too. We also…snuggled” She confessed shyly.

“You snuggled?!” Aaron gasped, a little louder than Jess was comfortable with. She held her hand out flat in front of him, lowering it to signal that he should take more care over the volume of his voice.

“Yes. I have these bad dreams. He was taking care of me. It was the most blissful thing I’ve ever experienced and I can probably die happy now. I don’t know what it meant though. Do you? What does it mean?” She questioned in a panic.

Aaron could only shake his head as if there was too much going on, he was staring at her in disbelief at how she couldn’t possibly see what was so obvious to him.

“Kiss him again.” He instructed, ignoring her previous questions and getting straight to the point.

“What?! And prolong this torture?! No!” She growled at him quietly.

“You caught him off guard,” he explained “ Kiss him again and he’ll kiss you back. I know he will. I just know it.”

Jess wasn’t convinced, in fact, the whole idea was absurd to her and it also carried far too much risk. She considered herself lucky that Daryl was even still speaking to her, the last thing she wanted to do was send him running for the hills after giving him another unwanted kiss.

“You don��t know that. Stop getting all excited, I’m not kissing him again.” She dismissed. “There’s no point. No matter how much I like him, he doesn’t like me in the same way.”

“Oh, you’re so wrong” Aaron laughed as he handed her the bottle back with a thud against her arm. She snatched it away from him and narrowed her gaze.

“You’re supposed to be helping me through this minefield, not making it worse!” She told him. Her vision lifted to see Daryl appear at the corner having come from the gate and she momentarily stilled with sheer terror at the thought of him having heard their conversation. But he looked like he’d just arrived and seemed relaxed enough and so, she clung onto that tiny shred of hope.

“Aaaanndd that’s how I think Vision or Dr strange could probably fix all this” she lied with her eyebrows high at Aaron, who slowly started to nod when he noted Daryl’s presence.

“Yes. Yes! Absolutely. I think you’re right.” He commented, adding to Jess’s thin and pointless untruth.

That day Jess was restless and after having heard the one thing he’d been longing to hear for so long, so was Daryl. Finally, he had confirmation that she did, in fact, like him as more than a friend and it had become a struggle for him to go about his day without a smile on his face, which he knew everyone and their uncle would soon notice due to it being so far removed from how he usually conducted himself.

Jess found herself in the armory after offering to take over for a couple of hours, it was an unusual task for her but one that kept her busy and away from Daryl, who she couldn’t stop staring at as he cleaned his bike on the drive of the Grimes home. Her job was simple, to count all the guns and ammo and report any discrepancies. Rick was already out and there were no other runs scheduled that day so she figured she would be done before midday and could spend the rest of the morning at the fairground until it was time for training. Which had been pushed back to the late afternoon to avoid anyone getting sunstroke from the heat.

Cleaning his bike was not a pointless task, he was preparing for a recruiting run which, to his delight meant he had to visit the armory to check out a gun. He wasn’t sure that he liked the giddy, happy feeling that was dwelling in his chest and stomach, was this how teenagers felt when they developed a crush for the first time? Still, he couldn’t help it and it was so strong he found that he couldn't concentrate on little else as he polished the same spot on the tank of his bike over and over again. His next course of action was a mystery to him, finding out such information was not common in Daryl’s world. In fact, it was unheard of and he was now in new territory and faced with two options; forget he’d heard what Jess had said and do nothing in the knowledge that she had no designs on kissing him again. Or, make a move. The latter was terrifying to him, but it was also the one thing he wanted more than anything, the chance to be with Jess in the way they both seemed to want. But, there was something stopping him; his belief that despite how much he cared for her, Jess deserved better than he could ever offer.

The armory was quiet as Jess worked her way through the neatly written checklists of guns and ammo. Shelf by shelf she ticked them off, checking their condition and cleaning the shelves and racking. It was a job normally performed by Olivia, who also oversaw the rationing of food from the pantry. She had been more than happy to hand over the reins when Jess turned up looking for a job that would take her away from other human beings for a while. She hummed a gentle tune to herself as she worked, coming to the end of a row and planting herself in Olivia's dilapidated swivel chair. She signed the paperwork off and held her breath when Daryl wandered into the room, nudged his head up at her and began picking through the guns.

“Take what you want but just tell me what you’re taking so I can cross it off.” She told him without looking up from the list. She flipped the page and began to scan through the names of the ammunition that was kept in a closet at the end of the room. It was silent in the armory, so much so, that she felt the need to raise her gaze and check on Daryl. She peered at him over the top of the clipboard. He was smirking at her.

“What?” She asked uneasily.

“Nothin’.” He replied, picking up a gun and sucking both lips into his mouth to disguise the strong smile that was forming.

Jess wasn’t convinced, something was amiss and she could feel it in her gut. Something had changed and there was a clear difference in how Daryl was acting.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded as she stood up and lowered the clipboard to her side.

“I ain’t lookin’ atcha like nothin’.” He said, his lips now curling at the sides and his eyes lighting up.

“You keep smiling at me.” She pointed out.

Shit. Can’t fuckin’ help it, girl.

“Maybe I’m just havin’ a good day.” He reasoned.

Jess dropped the clipboard onto the chair and slowly moved closer to him, growing more and more suspicious with each step. It briefly crossed her mind that he may have heard her conversation with Aaron earlier on, but it was unlikely, they’d both been careful to keep their voices down and when Daryl had stepped into view, he’d given away no signs that he’d heard a thing and such subject matter was bound to provoke some kind of reaction. No, this was strange, it had to be something else and she wasn’t done questioning him.

“This is weird. You’re weird. You’re never having a good day and you sure as hell never smile this much. What is wrong with you?” She pressed, narrowing her gaze at him and finding it difficult not to copy his amused expression.

“I told ya, nothin’. Smilin’ ain’t no crime, Jess.” He answered with a small laugh, holding up the gun he’d chosen. She picked up the clipboard again and crossed it off, watching him carefully as he sauntered to the ammo room and plucked a box from the shelf.

She stopped talking but still glared intermittently at him. He continued to smirk at her and nibble his lower lip as he loaded the gun and made his way to the door. Leaning on the frame before he left, he lingered and toyed with the idea of taking her out with him. At least he would get to be close to her, knowing what he knew, no matter how inexplicable it was that she liked him.

“Goin lookin’ for people. You could come with” He suggested.

“No. I’m going home once I’m done here. Be careful out there” she murmured as she scanned the names on the page, ticking off the items Daryl had selected and marking them as ‘checked out’ with Daryl’s initials at the side.

“You feel better?” he questioned

Then, she met his eye and the very real memory of her curled up in his arms flashed through her head. She did feel better, as if he’d been some kind of medicine to her and fought off the nightmares with his presence alone.

“Yeah. Much better. Thank you.” She said.

“You know I can be there with ya anytime, right? Just gotta say” He reminded her in the hope that she would take him up on it once more. She presented him with a small smile and nod before she sat down again and bit down on the end of her pencil.

“Jess” he rasped.

“Mm?” She hummed, still fixated on the page in her lap. He’d lost her attention and admitted defeat.

You kissed me and it’s driving me crazy

“Nothin’. See ya around.”

Recruiting was useless when there was so much hanging over him, yet he persevered, trudging through humid fields and tracking what turned out to be nothing but Walkers. The grass was dry and crackled under his boots when he crossed through open land to check wooded areas for signs of camps or discarded food containers. But he found nothing, only the restless cycling of his mind and the nervousness in his hands as he tried to roll a smoke. Loath to continue on as he was, he decided that he had to say something. He was sure that he had little to nothing to offer her past the friendship he’d already provided, but if it meant things were clearer and he was surer about where he stood, it was worth the discomfort of asking about the kiss yet again.

Arriving back at Alexandria as the sun was going down, he dismounted his bike and took in the pleasant orange glow that illuminated the town. Dusk always seemed to be picturesque since the end of the world, or maybe he just never appreciated it before. He was always following Merle, treading in his footsteps, being the run around, ducking from the cops and wasting his time in bars or laying on the couch as high as a kite. Now, he could enjoy the things he missed from before, like the sunset, the sunrise, the gentle sway of the leaves in the woods when he was in the tower and the blue-eyed, dark-haired nerd that grabbed his sanity and ran away with it at a quarry one day.

Jess was sitting by the pond, fiddling with the straps on her finger-less gloves and adjusting her bracers. She’d removed them to take part in close combat training, a lesson which she was finding to be beneficial not only in skills, but as a distraction from the traumatized state of mind she drifted around in. Daryl sat beside her and for what ended up being a number of minutes, neither of them spoke. He leaned back on the bench, stretching his legs and resting one ankle over the other. Wishing there was some kind of rule book he could follow that would talk him through how to approach such tedious subjects, he sighed loudly, drawing Jess’s attention.

“Find any signs of life today?” She questioned while pondering where his smug and smiley attitude from just hours before had disappeared to.

“Nah. Waste of time.” He grumbled.

“Training went well this afternoon.” She told him “Thanks for the fight the other day. I think I needed the perspective. Y’know, measure what I was capable of before so I had a starting point.”

“No problem. Didn’t do nothin’ Abraham wouldn’t have done.” He snipped. Jess chose to ignore the dig at her friend, putting it down to his ever-growing jealousy and the denial with which he tried to hide it. Confronting him about it would only end badly.

“Yeah, right. Abraham is a great teacher, but extra-curricular lessons with him would be a little too much.” She mused with a small huff “He’d probably have me in tears or smoking cigars-”

“-why’d you kiss me?” Daryl asked, forcing the question out and turning slightly to face her. She was statue still with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open from being interrupted. Daryl’s heart began to hammer in his chest and he considered that maybe he should have just ignored what he’d heard, that way, nothing had to change.

“W-what?” She stammered.

“Don’t say ya didn’t, cause ya did.” He warned carelessly. Words were tumbling from his lips without him thinking about them at all as impulse took over “I know I asked before but ya shot me down without a real answer n’ I’m sorry…but I need to know, Jess.”

Very slowly, her mouth closed and she licked her bottom lip, turning her body to face the pond and scanning the dimly lit floor beneath her boots. She could tell him the truth; that she was in love with him and that’s why she kissed him. Or, she could protect their friendship and go with the more painful half-truth, that she was overwhelmed and couldn’t control her actions. What she really wanted to do to escape the pressure, was say very little. Just enough to satisfy his questioning.

“I…I don’t know.” She croaked.

He nodded once and leaned forwards, rubbing his face with both of his hands. Why did this have to be so complicated? So far, he’d not progressed any further than he had when he first sat down. Why didn’t she know? Dissatisfied with her answer, he released a quiet, frustrated growl that told her in no uncertain terms that he was not happy.

She’s never going to tell me, is she? She told Aaron, but she won’t tell me…?

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I didn’t mean to confuse everything. I don’t know what I was thinking”

“Mm. Wish I did.” He admitted with no regard for how irritated he sounded.

Sensing that she’d touched a nerve and bothered him with her inexplicable actions and dislike for deliberating the subject, she was well aware that any further attempts to make things right could end in a fight or, worse still, the end of their friendship. Unbearable guilt festered in the pit of her stomach and while she’d dreamed of kissing him a thousand times over, she would take it back in a heartbeat if she could.

“I should get back. It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She sighed, rising from the bench and pacing away from the pond. Before Daryl could think of something to stop her, she was already through the gate. Anger began to spike in his veins. All he wanted was a straight answer, so he could tell her that he liked her too, but she was better off with someone who had more to offer. But now, their friendship was left in choppy waters and sinking fast. He sprang up from the bench and stormed after her.

Jess clicked on the battery-operated light that hung above the lock for the gate to the Fairground and released the mechanism. She’d practically sprinted all the way back, literally trying to run away from her problems without stopping once on the journey. Now, she took a moment to pause and rested her forehead against the cold metal of the fence post. She let out a long sigh, hoping it would regulate the nerves and sadness in her heart. She hated that she’d angered him, hated that she’d confused him and put him in a position where he was forced to question her bizarre actions twice.

Aaron was wrong, she was sure of that. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d want her to kiss him again and so, she resigned herself to trying to repair the damage done by acting as if nothing had changed. It would be hard and it would hurt like hell. But it had to be done because having Daryl as a friend was better than not having Daryl at all.

A rustle from behind her had her gripping the gate post, ready to haul it open when she saw the blurred reflection of a figure behind her in the metal. Just about able to make out something on the figures right shoulder, the penny dropped and she relaxed.

“Step to the left and you’ll lose your leg to a bear trap, clubfoot.” She quipped.

It was Daryl and the shape at his shoulder was his crossbow. Obviously forgetting his stealth skills, he’d charged through the woods in pursuit of her and given hardly any thought to what he would say when he caught up. Overthinking things hadn’t done him any favors before so, he went with his instincts.

“So fuckin smug, ain’t ya?” He scoffed with a side step to the right, away from the trap she’d mentioned.

Assuming his presence was down to his concern about her sleepless nights and bad dreams again, she moved to face him and leaned back against the gate.

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.” She said softly.

“That ain’t why I’m here.” He stated.

Dread reached every limb in her body and she was sure she could even feel it in her toes. Had he really turned up there for a full-blown argument?!

“Then why are you here?” She questioned with a shaky voice and a hand tapping at her thigh. His eyes clocked her nervous ritual, one she’d had since the quarry and he worried that he was unsettling her a little too much. It wasn’t his aim but he needed to get to the bottom of exactly what was going on between them.

“It gonna happen again?” he asked. Halfway through his sentence, his voice cracked and Jess swallowed hard. All of a sudden, it became clear why he was there and what he was referring to. He wasn’t done discussing that kiss.

“Please, Daryl” Her eyes began to moisten and she huffed out a jagged breath “We have been over this. Can we just forget about that?”

I can’t forget about it. You kissed me and you like me and I have no idea why. But you are everything to me and it’s making me crazy. I can’t concentrate on shit; it’s messed my day up in the best way. I ain’t no good for you but you are all I think about and I think you need to know that.

“Can’t.” was the only word that croaked from his mouth.

“Well… try.” She pleaded with a slight stomp of one foot like a child having a tantrum.

“I have” he mumbled

“Oh, for god sakes.” She complained. Then, the floodgate opened and every thought she had on the subject seemed to pour out uncontrollably and once she started, she couldn’t find the strength to stop. “I was just overwhelmed, OK? I made a stupid split-second decision and it was wrong. I didn’t even know what I was doing until I was doing it and I’m sorry, you didn’t want it and I’d rather we just forgot about it instead of you making me re-live the humiliation like this. It’s like ‘Journal-reading 2.0’. It’s not fair, I would have thought it was obvious-“

“Jess?” he tried to cut in.

“-That I don’t want to talk about it because it could screw up our friendship and even though I think you’re a…damn fine looking man and you’re just amazing I don’t want you looking at me like I’m some kind of hussy or like I’m going to throw myself at you because really, it was just a one off and I was so happy to be alive. You saved me and I just got carried away with that, it’s not going to-“

“Jess?”

“-Happen again. I’ll make sure of that. I mean, I can admire from afar and you could just be a gentleman about it and not bring it up anymore. I hope I’ve answered your question and you’re going to stop being mad at m-”

He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled and his tongue brushed the crease of her lips. She ran her fingers down the lapels of his leather vest, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. Although startled, her head filled with air like she was floating when she kissed him back. His kiss was deliberate and with just enough pressure to tell her that he really did want to do it but didn’t want to scare her.

It was the first time Daryl had kissed anyone in years and as he sensed her relax in his grasp, it occurred to him that he had never kissed anyone because he actually wanted to, until that fateful, memorable moment and it felt incredible, especially when he heard her whimper against him. Her knees were so weak she thought she might crumple but he was pushing her against the fence and her mind fell into a blissful, blank state where nothing mattered anymore. There were no Walkers, no death, no apocalypse. There was only her and Daryl and the fact that he had kissed her. Making it more than just a simple locking of lips, it was deep and filled with so much that neither of them could figure out how to say to each other.

When they broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against hers and gathered some much-needed oxygen. His blink and you’d miss it smirk told her everything she wished for, for so long and she could only stare at him, sinking into his hold.

“Just shut up.” He uttered.

Then, the smallest of laughs was exchanged between them and they finally made eye contact which proved to him that she was just as nervous as he was. She still stared up at him with a sparkle in her eyes that he had put there and her lips were slightly pink from the kiss. Daryl stepped back, breaking contact with her and dropping his hand. He could see her trying to speak, her mouth opening and closing again but all words would fail her and there simply was no point. She was rendered totally speechless and her knees were still weak and wobbly.

“Hey” He whispered, managing to gain her full attention for a second. “This ain’t over”.

With that, he backed up, taking care not to step on the bear trap and Jess could only watch as his shadowy figure vanished into the trees, leaving her astounded and undeniably happier than she’d been in a long, long time.

---tagged as requested---

@lilred254 @woundmetender @lonewolf471

Masterlist for This Time Around

#daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc

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newtparadise · 7 years ago

Note

Okay here goes, Could you possibly make a fic where everyone’s in the scorch and Newt is the one who always carries the water around so his backs always sore but nobody notices? And one night when all the others are asleep Thomas gives him a massage? Weird request but.. eh

It’s not weird at all!! I love writing about them taking care of each other so here goes ;)

The Scorch is a harsh, unforgiving place.

They’ve been walking for hoursunder the blazing sun, the air around them arid and parched. Fatigue doesn’teven begin to explain what they’re feeling; it’s more of a mixture betweenexhaustion, desperation and hopelessness.

Well, at least for Thomas, it is.His friends are faithfully following him and he can’t even say for a certainwhere they’re heading to. It’s hard not to doubt himself when everything’sfalling apart.

Some of their friends were lost tothe Scorch, and yet there isn’t enough time for them to properly grieve. And atthis point, with water running low, there isn’t even enough tears to be shed.They can only direct what’s left of their energy to survive.

Night approaches after what seemslike a never-ending day. In the Scorch, it’s more or less a blessing. They stopto recuperate, taking shelter under the remnants of a bridge, and as usual,Thomas is the last to sleep.

Or so he thinks.

Thomas is settling when he noticesNewt stretching his limbs out in one corner, away from the others. He’s bendingto his side to try and reach his back, but fails. For some reason, with everymovement he makes -especially involving his back- Newt winces as if in pain.

Watching silently, Thomas scansover Newt’s figure, trying to figure out what’s actually happening, until hespots the stack of large bottles tied up to Newt’s backpack next to him. Someare filled, some are empty, but the bottles themselves appear heavy and bulky.

Their water supplies. Newt hasbeen carrying them all this while.

Thomas’ eyes widen inapprehension. He scrambles to get to Newt, an overwhelming sense ofprotectiveness washing over him in strong tides. How could he have not noticed?It must have hurt to be carrying that load around in the Scorch, and he hadbeen so transfixed on their destination that he had not bothered to check on him.

Newt stares at Thomas in confusionas he approaches him. He’s about to ask whether Thomas needs anything when theboy suddenly grabs the back of his T-shirt, pulling on it. Realising whatThomas is up to, Newt frowns, shrugging him off abruptly. Thomas doesn’t missthe slight grimace he makes.

“Let me see,” Thomassays, reaching out to touch Newt’s back again. He attempts to lift Newt’s T-shirtup to look for any injuries, but Newt is making it difficult by squirming toomuch.

“Thomas, it’s nothing–”

“Hold still and let mesee!” Thomas insists, and in one swift motion pulls the clothing up toreveal the expanse of Newt’s skin. He hears Newt hiss at the contact. “Shit,Newt,” he whispers, trying to take the extent of the damage in. Two angrywelts run down Newt’s back in a straight line from the tips of his shoulders, nodoubt left by the bag straps, and even in the dark only illuminated by thefire, Thomas can make out the deep blue-black imprints the heavy bottles hadmade on the sides. Thomas feels his heart being ripped apart by the sight. “Youshould’ve told me.”

Newt turns to look at him, oneeyebrow raised, questioning. “And then what?” He asks, hastily fixinghis clothes. “Everyone’s shucking exhausted, and we just lost our friends.I couldn’t possibly push it onto someone else.” He avoids looking at Thomas,but once he does, he catches the worry on his face. Newt sighs, giving a weaksmile. “Tommy, I got this.”

Thomas feels his throat go dry. “Newt,I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m used to carrying things aroundlike this. That machete klunk I had on back in the Glade? Didn’t exactlyweighed a feather, mate,” Newt says, chuckling a little. Behind them, thefire crackles and sways to the gush of cold wind blowing over. “I’m fine.Besides, everybody has their roles to play, remember? Yours, Tommy,” he placesa hand on Thomas’ shoulder, “is to focus on getting us to safety.”

Thomas nods, not so much inagreement but more of understanding. It still doesn’t sit well with him. Surelythere’s something he can do to at least relieve Newt’s pain? He can’t bear tojust look at Newt struggling like this. Their journey is far from over, andknowing Newt, he’d be willing to suffer silently for the rest of it.

Thomas can’t let that happen.

Instantly, an idea lights up inhis head. “Stay right here,” he tells Newt before quickly gettingonto his feet, making his way to where the rest are sleeping. Finding Frypan’sbag, Thomas searches for the little vial of medicated ointment and rushes back,plopping onto the ground behind Newt.Curious, Newt cranes his neck to peek at Thomas but to no avail. His headshoots up in surprise when he feels an unexpected coolness splashing onto hisback in a wet slab. “Bloody hell, what are ya trying to do, shuckface?”

The coolness slowly spreads outall over his skin, directed by the glide of Thomas’ fingers. “I’m givingyou a massage,” Thomas says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing onearth.

“Oh Tommy, that’s sweet ofyou but–”

“Shut up and relax, Newt.”

Newt does. Once Thomas has hismind set on something, hardly anything can deter him. There’s no point inrefusing, so he stays in the spot, preparing mentally for whatever thatfollows. However, he could never have prepared for the jolt of shocking painthat sweeps over him as Thomas presses into his shoulders, right where thetight knots accumulate. "Holy shit, your shoulders are tense as hell,”Thomas points out.

"Yeah, well, constantly beingaround someone named Thomas does that to you.” Newt jokes, trying to takehis mind off the pain.

Thomas starts massaging carefully,taking his time. The droning noise of the Scorch, the refreshing scent oflemongrass from the salve, the rhythmic motions of Thomas’ hands… all are gentlyhelping Newt unwind.

There’s a point in the middle ofhis back that’s especially sore, and Thomas being the oblivious little twat heis, runs his fingers over it in a hard, long swipe, prompting Newt to let outan involuntary moan.

It feels… good. So fucking goodthat he almost whines when Thomas suddenly stops moving. “Uhh, you okay,Newt?”

Newt can no longer resist the appeal.All he knows is he wants, needs, tofeel that relief once more. "I don’t know what you just did but that wasbloody brilliant,” he says, almost breathless. “Do it again.”

With that, Thomas continues hisministrations, massaging over a small patch of Newt’s back at a time. The salvehas started to warm up, and the slickness eases the movements of his handsacross Newt’s skin. Whenever he stumbles into knotted muscles, he will give sharperjabs, slowly smoothing it out.

Gradually, Newt melts into Thomas’touch, turning into putty under his fingers. He’s letting out the cutest soundsin response to each of Thomas’ stroke, much to the latter’s delight.

As Thomas moves lower down hisback, the sounds Newt makes grow in frequency in volume, making him squirm inhis seat. This can’t be good. Touching Newt’s skin directly is one thing, butThomas isn’t so sure he can survive listening to these… sounds. He’s never been this vocal, and the newfound knowledge whatNewt’s capable of is going to land Thomas indeep trouble.

“Shit… ahhh…” At aparticularly precise, deep press, Newt groans, letting his head fall forward.“Ngh… There!”

Thomas gulps. At this rate,somebody’s going to wake up. It’ll probably be Minho, the guy’s got sharp ears.

“Umm, Newt?” Thomaswhispers.

Feeling floaty, Newt can onlyreply with a soft “Hmmm…?” that’s so endearing Thomas’s heartflutters.

“You’re getting kind of loud.”

“Oh, sorry.” Newt claspsa hand over his mouth and glances around. “Did I wake anybody up?”

“I don’t think so.” From thecorner of his eyes, Thomas thinks he sees someone move, but it’s too dark. Heshrugs, getting back to work. Newt starts moaning again, though this time muchquieter than before. Thomas doesn’t know whether to be disappointed orrelieved. He can’t help but to wonder if Newt has ever had a massage before.Maybe in the Glade? "When was the last time you had something likethis?” He asks.

“Jeff used to treat our backpains with massage, he was proper good at it,” Newt pauses, turning alittle to give a cheeky grin, “but you might be better.”“Yeah?” Thomas senses a smile creeping on his lips. “Good tohear.”

They continue like that for alittle longer, until Thomas is sure that most, if not all, knots on Newt’s backhas disappeared. The swelling has also gone down considerably, thanks to theointment. Thomas makes a mental note to check the healing progress from time totime. He can’t be ignorant now, not anymore.

He gives one last pat to Newt’sback, standing up to brush the sands off his pants. Below him, Newt peers athim with glassy eyes, looking almost completely out of it. Thomas fights the suddenurge to kiss him.“That felt bloody fantastic,” Newt sighs dreamily. He collapses ontothe sand, resting his head on a folded jacket. “Your fingers are shuckingmagical, Tommy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Thomas laughs,lying down as well, taking his place a few steps away from where Newt’s slowlydozing off.

“Tommy?” Newt calls, eyes stillclosed. “You know we’ll all be there with you, every step of the way, right?”

Thomas steals another glance atthe boy before quietly whispering to the sky, “Yeah.”

“Good that,” Newt hums, satisfied.“Get some rest, long days ahead of us.”

That night, Thomas has a dreamlesssleep, the first in a long while.

(The next morning, as they’regetting ready, Thomas is quickly tugged to the side by Minho who’s looking bothamused and annoyed, if that’s even possible.

“Listen, I don’t wanna be toonosy but… you and Newt,” Minho says, looking at him straight in the eyes likehe means business. "Might wanna keep it down next time, yea? Some of usneed our beauty sleep to function.”

Thomas splutters, earning a weirdlook from Frypan. "Min, weweren’t–“

"Slim it, Greenie, ain’tgonna work on me.” Minho flashes a sly grin and punches Thomas lightly in thearm. "Just, take care of him, okay?”

Thomas nods. Of course he will.)

#newtmas #newtmas fic #tmrnewt #tmrthomas #the maze runner #the scorch trials #tmredit #tmr thomas #asks #requested #hope this fulfills the request love #my stuff #eishawrites

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princess-cordelias-writingblog · 7 years ago

Text

I’d have followed you too. (Newtmas fic)

A/N: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN’T READ/SEEN THE DEATH CURE. So apparently, @honeymoonmuke wants revenge, but I won’t die quietly while she destroys me so have my first Newtmas fic ever! yay (I’m sorry is sad) @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone you wanted to be part of this, so here ya go. ( @sarcxstic-stilinski that suffer even tho she didn’t deserve it lmao)

Words: 1,819 oh god, and this is all pure pain.

Warnings: Death, death, sadness, did I mention the death of a loved one?

Listen to: This. (at the minute 8:10 it should be long enough for it to last the whole thing)

Dear Newt,

I must have read your letter at least a hundred times by now, and every time, it feels like I’m being shattered into small pieces; I know is not what you wanted for me, I know that you said I deserve to be happy.

Thing is, I can’t be happy without you.

“Thomas, are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” The boy looked at his friend absentmindedly, “yeah...”

“You’re staring at Newt again.” Minho rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you like him and everything, but this is starting to be ridiculous. Just be honest and tell him how ya feel”

“What?” Thomas froze instantly, bright red. “I don’t- I’m just daydreaming, I’m not staring”

“Yeah, daydreaming about your wedding with him,” He pointed at Newt, who was cutting the plague that threatened to kill all their sowings, not even aware of the talk among his best friends “don’t be such an idiot.”

It’s been six weeks since Thomas came into the maze. It’s been hard not to have any idea of who he used to be, but what’s a real kick in the ass are his growing feelings for the second in command, Newt.

You see, I thought I had it all under control, the plan was meant to end with all of us together, running away and finding a place where we could finally be free, a place where I could finally be free of my own fears, where I could let myself be with you.

He can’t control what his mind is telling him, nor the way his heart beats when Newt’s around, why does it all have to be so complicated? In a perfect world, Thomas could just kiss that beautiful son of a bitch, and he would magically be reciprocated, living a happy life forever.

But life’s a bitch. Thomas is trapped in a maze with all these other kids that can’t remember anything about their past lives either, and he feels like he’s drowning in confusion, not even sure if he’ll survive another week there.

“What are you thinking about now, Tommy,” Newt asked in a slightly teasing tone.

“I wanna get out,” He mumbled, swaying his machete distractedly.

“That’s what we all want, mate.” the blonde boy responded, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean get out there and run. I wanna be a runner,” He said, “I can’t sit here while Minho and the rest risk their lives like is no big deal”

“We all know how much risk it is going out there alright?” Newt responded, “trust me, greenie, I’m just as frustrated as you.”

He would not admit it right then, but that was the reason he wanted to go out there and find a way out -so Newt could have something good in his life for once. Thomas was doing this for Newt.

“I’ll be a runner, Newt,” He said it like he was promising the world to him, “and I’ll get us out.”

“I know you will” His friend smiled. It was the small, warm smile that he always dedicated to Thomas; one that made him feel special.

I’ve stayed up for hours, trying to think where I messed it up; so many chances I lost because I was afraid of what could happen if you didn’t feel the same.

You said you weren’t scared of dying, but I was terrified of losing you and didn’t realize until you were gone. You said you were scared of forgetting. I can’t do that even if I wanted to.

Winston had died. And Alby, and Gally, Chuck... so many friends. Was this the right thing? Rescuing Teresa and then escaping was really the best option? Well, it was too late to take it back anyway.

Thomas sat next to Newt and Minho. They tried to keep small talk, but they were all too tired and emotionally destroyed to pretend. Soon enough, Minho was sleeping soundly next to the two boys who sat there in silence for a while.

Thomas looked up and watched the stars above him. He wondered when was the last time he ever felt safe - the last time he slept without worries. Sighing, he tried to get warmer, inching closer to the fire.

“Cold?” Newt moved closer to him “we should, perhaps, uh, sit a little closer, you know for body heat?”

“Yeah, you’re right” Thomas gave him a little smile and moved slightly to his right. He was shoulder to shoulder, the goosebumps now there for a totally different reason.

Thomas was aware of many things in that moment. Like the way his breath was now uneven, and his heart threatened to give away all his hidden thoughts to Newt, but there was something about being this close to him, that made the world smaller, easier to conquer.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Newt suddenly whispered, “what happened to Winston, and the rest.”

You said you wouldn’t change a thing you did, but, oh, I’d have changed so much.

“Are you sure about that?” His voice sounded broken, “if it wasn’t for me if I’d just sit in silence and obey, do the things they wanted me to do, maybe my friends would still be here with us.”

“Yeah, then we would’ve died like lab rats and suffer quietly while they drained us out of existence” He replied nonchalantly “you can’t keep thinking all you do is a mistake, Tommy. You saved our lives, and you keep saving us with each passing day”

“How is that you’re so good doing speeches?” He laughed drily “I hate that”

“You could say is my secret weapon,” He smirked, “if I’m going to be the ‘glue’ of this group, I have to know how to get in your little heads, shank”

“Right,” He chuckled, thinking that he didn’t need to do that to get in his head since he was there already “thank you for staying.”

“My pleasure, Tommy.”

He looked into Newt’s eyes and felt his hand grazing Newt’s, what if just for that moment, he allowed himself to be happy, a few seconds were all he needed. Trembling under the silent, dark night, Thomas held his hand and intertwined his fingers with his. Newt seemed to be caught out of guard but apparently, he wasn't annoyed by the gesture, and stroke the soft skin of Thomas’ hand with his thumb, falling asleep next to each other.

And what if I told you that when I look back, I see all those times we smiled at each other and that I remember how you used to hug me when things were good, how you used to put your hand on my shoulder when things got too complicated, or that stare we shared after Minho’s stupid jokes.

And I regret it. I regret the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to be honest about my feelings, that I had to wait all this time to accept that I need you but you’re gone and that I don’t want to have any future if it means I’ll have to wait a lifetime until we meet again. I keep reading that part where you assure that I'll find a way to do what’s right but the truth is I should have found them when you were here, still breathing.

They were running out of time; the city was burning to the ground and it was a matter of time before someone -crank or WICKED- would find them and kill them. Thomas was nearly sure he could make it, they had Minho again, the berg was waiting and all of his friends were safe (Teresa was still a sensitive subject) but then Newt’s condition worsened.

“Hey, c’mon Newt I need some help,” Thomas grunted, pulling his friend to supporting him against a wall “please hold on, Minho is on his way don’t close your eyes”

How I wish all of this were just a nightmare.

“TAKE IT!” Newt’s face distorted in rage, but just as fast as it happened a light clarity appeared; he was back, although Thomas could feel it was temporary “Please Tommy, Please.”

The only reason why I’m still here is that I made a promise, that I’ll survive and take care of everyone for you. It’s always been you.

Thomas remembered.

Newt’s body, lifeless and full of blood, the knife still in his chest, his eyes were no longer those bright and kind that he once knew, they were now dark and rotten, veins stuck out on his face and neck, the beautiful and natural aspect of the boy now replaced by this bizarre version of his best friend and first love.

Minho and the rest of his friends had brought the body with them so he could rest peacefully in the safe haven, that was the least they could do for their mate.

Thomas was kneeled in front of his tomb, in his hand was a crumpled piece of paper, his eyes had dark circles under them, red and irritated from all the crying. He felt empty, there was no other way to describe it, of all the things he thought it could happen, Newt’s death was not on the list, not even close.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered, his throat felt sore and dry “this is not how it was supposed to happen, you had to live as long as me, even more, cause you deserved a happy ending, we were supposed to look back and think how much this was worth it, I wasn’t... I wasn’t meant to be standing in front of your tomb this soon”

“I’m gonna hate myself the rest of my life because I wasn’t brave enough for telling you this when there was still time,” He then pulled another piece of paper this one cleaner and folded neatly, “but I need you to have this somehow, even if you can’t hear it, I want you to keep this with you until I can see you again... I still have nightmares about the bad times, you know? but at some point in my dreams, you always find a way to come back to me, tell me it’s alright. It’s obvious I’m being too naive”

Thomas carefully buried the letter, he had a hard time trying to stop his hands from shaking, when he finished, Thomas stood up, putting Newt’s letter back in his pocket, where it had been for the past few weeks.

Where Thomas had planned to have it for the rest of his life.

You said that from the moment I ran into the maze, you knew you would follow me anywhere; if things would’ve gone a little different, if you had been the one running into that maze, the one who saved us all, who decided to escape from WICKED and rescued Minho, I’d have followed you too.

Thank you for making me a better man.

Love you, Mate.

-Thomas.

#the maze runner imagine #newtmas fic #newt tmr #thomas tmr #was it too much #i feel like it was too much #lol #i'm secretly a drama queen #and the cheesiest girl ever #sorry #i can't handle angst i'm too soft and when i try to do it things tend to get out of control #my divine move lmao

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sternchencas · 7 years ago

Photo

On January 1st, 2016 I promised @cas-watches-over-you a story for the art above (original art post here!!! Give her lots of love! <3) I like to keep promises.

Title: Almost | Ship: Destiel | Words: 4963 | Link to AO3

Summary: Dean finds himself in more and more different situations that always end the same way. He almost kisses Cas. Will he manage to do it in the end?

Dean turns another corner, trying his best to hold his rapid breath. He listens to the sounds in the distance. The fight is raging on. That’s a good sign, but he’s still afraid. He takes a deep breath and starts running again, deeper into the maze of dark tunnels. Sam told him to remember the path, but he can’t think straight. Sure, Cas is an angel, but he’s not at full power. And taking on a whole nest of vamps by himself might not be the best idea.

Dean comes to a crossroad but doesn’t slow down. The closer he gets, the more he just knows where to go, almost like he can feel the angel. He reaches the end of another corridor when a bright light explodes in front of him. He stops and shields his eyes until his surroundings become dark again. It’s silent now. Too silent. Dean lifts his machete, ready to defend himself, and steps around the corner. A big hall opens up in front of him, bodies lying all over the floor, corpses by the look of it.

Dean keeps walking and inspects the closest one. It’s one of the vamps, and although he‘s dead, he still has his head. His eyes are a different thing, though. It’s the same with the next two vamps. It looks like Cas chose the angel way and just burnt them out. Worry grows in Dean. They don’t know how much it affects Cas to use his powers. He told him a thousand times to take it slow. Damn angel. "Cas?!" Dean shouts into the width of the room, his voice coming back from the walls with an echo. "Cas, where are you?!"

It stays silent, and Dean’s heart starts racing again. This time it has nothing to do with the physical strain. Visions of Cas enter his head, bloody, broken. "Cas?!"

Dean shouts the name over and over again, running through the hall, checking every corpse. He has to find Cas. The angel has to be alive. He just has to.

When Dean can’t find Cas, his hand wanders to his phone. He needs help. Sam has to be right behind him. Maybe Cas is with him. He could have zapped out of here, that could have been the bright light. Dean tries to speed dial his brother, but his phone doesn’t have reception. He holds it up over his head, hoping desperately to make it work.

Dean’s face is growing hot; he can feel tears coming. There’s got to be something he can do. He has to find the angel. "Dammit, Cas."

The words just break out of him, only this time, he gets an answer. "Dean?"

It’s just a whisper, but Dean turns to the sound like a sniffer dog. He closes the distance to Cas in three big step and crouches down next to him. His eyes roam over his friend's body, making sure he’s not hurt.

"Cas, are you okay?" Dean asks, carefully taking Cas‘ face in his hands. Cas is covered in blood, but he nods.

"I’m okay.“ With Dean’s help, Cas gets into a sitting position, but as soon as Dean wants to let go of him, he sinks down again. "Or not."

Dean huffs and puts his arms around Cas to cradle him against his own body. "Are you hurt?"

"I don’t think so.“ Cas moves slightly to check himself. "Just exhausted."

"Yeah well, that’s what you get for not listening to me. You should have waited for Sam and me."

Cas disagrees. "The leader was getting away. There was no time."

Dean makes a sound like a growl. Of course, the stupid angel took his words too seriously. „When I said that we have to get him no matter what I didn’t mean for you to sacrifice yourself."

"I’m fine, Dean."

Dean doesn’t want to hear how Cas plays down what he just did. Again. Like he always does. Something hot is burning inside of him, and Dean wishes it was anger. But he knows better, and he might not be able to pretend this time. He’s so afraid to lose Cas that the mere thought is eating him up.

"I was worried." Dean only manages a whisper, and when Cas turns his head to look up at Dean, Dean’s develops a mind of its own. His fingers trail from a scratch on Cas’ forehead over his cheek down to his chin. Cas doesn’t move, and while he keeps looking at Dean, Dean’s eyes wander down to Cas‘ lips. They have something magnetic about them. And Dean is so close already. He leans down and closes his eyes when the tiniest of sounds catches his attention.

It’s not a clear thought but only his hunter instinct when he grabs the machete next to him. He swings it upwards in one swift movement, cutting the vamp who tried to sneak up on them. The vamp stumbles back, but with Cas in his arm, there’s not much more Dean can do. The vampire catches himself quickly and comes closer again, but before he can reach them, there’s a flash of bright light, and he falls to the ground, dead like his companions.

"Dammit, Cas, I told you…" Dean swallows the words when he looks down and finds Cas passed out again. He carefully puts him down to get up. With a sigh, Dean puts the machete on his belt and lifts Cas over his shoulder to finally get out of here. Two corridors later, Sam finds them and offers to carry Cas the rest of the way. Dean accepts. It might be a good idea to put some distance between them. Only now it dawns on Dean what just happened. He almost kissed Cas. Almost.

When Dean wakes up, light is trickling through the curtains, and Dean can feel the soft touch of the morning sun on his skin. He stretches extensively before getting up to take a shower. The water pressure is perfect, and Dean feels ready and refreshed after he toweled himself down. Only when he looks in the mirror and meets the eyes of his reflection, a strange feeling takes hold of him. Like he’s looking at somebody else.

Dean shakes his head and smiles at himself. What a stupid thought. He��s still sleepy, that’s all. He walks back into the bedroom to get dressed which isn’t as easy as one might think. Cas has this bad habit of putting his clothes wherever he wants, preferably on top of Dean’s. Dean rifles through one of the drawers, pushing one of Cas shirts aside when an image crawls into his head. Cas in a beige trenchcoat.

It’s gone as fast as it came and Dean shakes his head again. Where did that come from? After all, he’s pretty sure that Cas hasn’t worn such a coat in his entire life. Dean explains his weird thoughts with last night.

He and Cas have been at Bobby’s, and Ellen made them play a drinking game with Jo. Dean stayed sober, but it still got late till they came home. He only got 5 hours of sleep compared to his usual 8. No wonder he was a little out of it.

Deciding to just roll with it, Dean finally gets dressed and grabs his phone to call Sam. It’s not his brother who picks up though, but his wife. „Hey, Dean!“

„Morning Jess, is Sam around?“

„Sure, I’ll get him.“

Dean can hear her put down the phone and the sound rings loudly in his head. Another picture forces its way into his head, and it‘s way worse than the other one. Jess is pressed against the ceiling, a silent scream on her face and flames all around her.

„Hey, sorry Dean, I’ll be running late. Little Mary wasn’t well this morning, and I just wanted to make sure I don’t leave my wife alone with a sick baby.“

Dean doesn’t answer, the image of Jess still soaring through his brain.

„Dean, are you there?“ Sam asks.

It takes Dean a moment, but he finally manages to answer. „Yes, sorry, I just…“

„You what?“

Dean runs a hand over his face. No more late nights for him. „I guess I had a bad dream and it’s just getting back to me.“

Sam laughs. „Late night at Bobby’s, huh? You’re getting too old for this kind of thing.“

„I guess.“ Dean smiles when he thinks about their plans for today. „But I’m sure as hell not too old for some fishing. And we both know who’s going to bring in the big ones.“

„Oh, you wait. I have some special bait.“

„Finally done something useful with your hair?“

„No, idiot.“

It’s just friendly banter, but the word still sounds wrong. „Jerk,“ Dean exclaims.

„What?“

„It’s supposed to be jerk.“

„Whatever you wanna call yourself. Listen, I’ll just say bye to Jess and the kids an then I’m on my way. See you in a bit.“

Sam hangs up, and Dean stares at the phone. Why did that jerk thing bother him? It must have been part of the dream as well. Dean sighs. It’s high time to get some breakfast. Maybe he’s just suffering from low blood sugar.

Dean walks down the stairs and follows the smell of coffee. The source is a fresh pot in the kitchen, and after Dean poured himself a cup and had his first few sips, somebody enters the kitchen behind him.

„Hi, Dean!“

The words send a shiver down Dean’s spine. Just like with the jerk thing, they don’t seem right. Dean turns around and finds Cas standing at the kitchen table, arranging flowers he brought in from the garden.

It’s a beautiful sight. Cas‘ hair is a ruffled, and he has some earth on his hands and a bit on his cheek because he somehow never manages to stay clean when he does his gardening. His clothes magically survived this time, though. The shirt he’s wearing is one of Dean’s, and even his jeans are clean. „Let me just get cleaned up and I’ll whip up some eggs for you.“

Cas cooking for him? Dean’s stomach turns, and he can’t stop looking at Cas clothes. Everything is in order and still somehow wrong. Cas turns around, wiping his hands on a towel and then he stretches out his arms like he’s presenting himself to Dean. His body seems to flicker at that moment like he’s only a hologram. The image alternates between the Cas before him and one where Cas is wearing this weird trench coat again.

Dean rubs his eyes. He’s awake now. It has to stop. Cas walks over to him, raising his eyebrows. „Are you alright, Dean?“

Even the way Cas says his name is wrong in Dean’s ears. His voice is too high, too happy, too relaxed. There’s no desperation or the heavy weight of someone knowing exactly who you are and what you’ve been through.

Cas puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, but Dean recoils because it’s the wrong one. Dean looks up, and when he meets Cas‘ eyes, he knows for sure that something is wrong. Cas is looking at him, just touching the surface, not like he usually does, looking through all the layers of bullshit and right into Dean’s soul.

Now everything makes sense to Dean. The whole morning. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Jess still being alive. His brother is having a family and enjoying to go on fishing trips with him. Hell, the six hours of sleep should have been a red flag already.

Dean has no idea how he managed to get caught by a djinn again, kind of embarrassing, but at least he knows how to get out. At least in theory.

Cas closed the distance between them, and although he doesn’t look at Dean like he usually does, it’s still not unpleasant, just different. When Cas reaches Dean, he carefully runs a hand through his hair. „Dean, did you sleep alright? You look worried.“

His hand travels down, carefully cupping Dean’s cheek and Dean can feel his insides melt. He knows he shouldn’t, but he still leans into the touch. It makes him wonder if that is what it would feel like if the real Cas touched him like that or if it would feel different like everything else.

But different isn't bad. Dean has a fluffy bed, a nice shower, all his friends, and Cas. Cas, who doesn’t fight, but tends to his garden. Cas, who doesn’t heal his wounds, but makes him breakfast. Cas, who doesn’t disappear on him, but is close. So wonderfully close.

„I just… I had a bad dream.“

Dean does his best to believe those words. This world is real. And the death and destruction is the dream. A bad dream he can leave behind. Cas smiles. „Let me try to make you forget.“

He leans in, and Dean can’t help but stare at his lips. He’s almost kissing Cas. Almost.

Before Cas can reach him, Dean steps away. He would love nothing more than to stay, but this isn’t real, and if there’s just the slightest chance for him to have a first kiss with Cas, he wants it to be real.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam leans forward in his seat to get a better look at Dean while Dean keeps staring straight ahead at the road.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Sam shrugs. “I know it’s early, but you seem, I don’t know, distracted.”

Knowing his brother, Dean tries to come up with an excuse or Sam will probe him the whole drive. “Just a bad dream.”

“Another one? You’ve been having bad dreams almost every night since we hunted that djinn.”

Dean grunts. Maybe he should have said nothing after all. Now they’re going to have this discussion anyway. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up again.”

Sam gives him an apologetic puppy look. “I just thought…”

“Don’t, okay?! I’m fine.” Dean raises his voice a bit, and his tone tells Sam to let it go.

For a moment it looks like Dean succeeded because Sam is typing away on his keyboard, but five minutes later, he looks at Dean again. “I called Cas. Just in case.”

The mention of Cas’ name spikes Dean’s blood pressure, and his fingers close tighter around the steering wheel. “In case of what? We don’t even know if there’s something supernatural going on.”

“You said there was a case.” Sam raises his voice as well, not taking Dean’s crappy mood any longer.

“Yeah, and you said it might be nothing.”

Sam puts on one of his bitch faces and tries to contain the anger in his voice. “Do you want me to call Cas and tell him not to come?”

“No!” The word shoots out of Dean, and he hates himself for it. After what happened with the djinn, Dean thought it was best to stay away from Cas as much as possible, but they haven’t seen each other in two weeks, and Dean has to admit that he misses Cas like crazy. And it’s not like he can stay away forever. Dean should try to Deal with it.

Lucky for Dean, Sam doesn’t press the issue. He finally keeps quiet for the rest of the drive and soon after, they’re in a room at the place where some of the guests found a mysterious demise.

Dean is checking the mini bar when Sam comes back from the bathroom, taking a critical look around. “Do you think it’s a good idea to stay in the place where three people died?”

“It’s not like we have many options.”

Dean straightens his tie and throws another one to Sam who shrugs in agreement. They’re in a small town in the middle of nowhere, and only a specific type of people come here. Couples.

After a look around the room, Dean shudders. “Let’s just get this over with and get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “You’re acting like it’s a haunted house instead of a romantic B&B.”

“Yeah,” Dean squares his shoulders and walks to the door, “same thing.”

They do their usual routine and question everyone of importance. It doesn’t turn up very much, so Dean decides to take a look around while Sam does his beloved research. While trying to avoid all the deeply-in-love-couples, Dean makes his way around the house, discreetly checking his EMF meter. There’s a little bit of activity, but that’s not unusual for a place like this. Eventually, he ends up in front of a room at the end of the last corridor. It’s locked, but it takes Dean only a few seconds to open it up.

Dark, heavy curtains cover the windows, letting only a little bit of light come in from the outside, illuminating the dusty air. Dean scrunches his nose to keep himself from sneezing and walks deeper into the room. Old wooden furniture take up the whole space, probably the former furnishing of the B&B. He’s about to leave the room again when something catches his eye. In one corner stands something big with a white sheet draped over it. Being the horror movie fan he is, he should leave this alone, but a second later he tucks at the sheet and finds a massive mirror under it. So far so good, but he’s not a complete idiot. He gets out his phone and texts Sam where he is. Only then, he takes a deep breath and steps in front of the mirror.

At first, nothing happens. It’s just Dean in his suit, the EMF meter still in his hand. He puts it in his pocket when another person appears. It’s Cas. Dean wants to turn around, thinking that Cas finally arrived to help them with the case, but he can’t. Dean is frozen on the spot and doomed to keep looking.

In the mirror, Cas comes closer to him, and mirror-Dean turns to Cas. Without pause, he embraces him and the scene changes again and again. It’s always Cas and him. At a restaurant eating together, in the bunker watching a movie, in a diner with Sam, at the movies, at a lake fishing, driving in the Impala, being on a hunt, even fighting monsters.

The only difference is how the two of them interact. They are closer somehow like they finally tore down a wall that kept them apart all these years. The last picture Dean sees is the two of them in Dean’s bed in the bunker, kissing and cuddling before they fall asleep.

“Dean, are you in here?” Dean finally manages to turn away from the mirror and almost runs into Sam when he tries to leave. “There you are. Did you find something?”

“No, nothing.” Dean knows it’s stupid to lie about this, but he needs time to process what he just saw. “You?”

Sam looks irritated, but nods. “Rumors are going around about a special mirror. It reads a little like Harry Potter. Apparently, it shows you your deepest desire.”

“A mirror?” Dean screams internally. Of course, he had to bump into precisely the stupid thing they are looking for.

“Yeah, did you see something?” Sam stretches his neck to look past Dean and Dean nods.

“In the corner right there.”

Sam squints and looks at Dean quizzically. “Where? There’s no mirror.”

Dean turns around and can’t believe it. The sheet he pulled away is still on the floor, but the big ass mirror is gone. “It was right here. I just saw it.”

“Did you see it?” Sam’s eyes narrow. “Or did you look into it?”

“Why?”

“The stories go that anybody who looks into it is haunted by what they saw and that the mirror disappears afterward. I’m guessing it's a cursed object.”

“Awesome.”

Dean sighs and Sam furrows his brows. “You looked into it, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, what do you think?”

Dean can see how Sam is forming a question in his mind and after considering if he should ask, he finally says something. “So, what did you see?”

It’s one of those rare times when Dean gives Sam a bitch face and not the other way around. Sam lifts his hands. “Come on. I just want to know if it might be dangerous. You might go after whatever it is.”

“I’m fine, okay?! Let’s just get rid of this thing.”

Just as he says it, the hairs on his neck stand up and a feeling like electricity tickles all over his body. “Something is coming,” he whispers in warning to Sam, but before his brother can react, another voice cuts the silence.

“Hello, Dean.” The brothers both sigh in relief when Castiel comes closer. “Sam.”

Sam smiles. “Hey, Cas.”

Dean wants to greet Cas as well, but instead of just words, his whole body is longing to get closer and at least hug Cas. Dean does his best not to follow through on the impulse and just nods. Sam gives him a weird look but turns to Cas. “How did you find us?”

“I came here like you told me, and then I followed Dean’s prayer.”

The words earn Dean another questioning look from Sam, so Dean tries to change the subject. “Can we just look for the damn mirror?”

“Sure. Cas, did you bring the book?” Castiel hands a book to Sam who looks pleased. “There should be something in here to destroy the mirror. I’ll take a look, and meanwhile, the two of you can find the damn thing again. It should still be in the house.”

Cas nods and Dean wants to protest, but that would raise questions, both from Sam and Cas. Instead, Dean takes a deep breath and points along the corridor. “Let’s check the rooms up here and then we’ll work our way back down to the basement.”

Sam heads back to the lobby to get comfy with his book while Cas and Dean check the house as discreetly as possible. At least that doesn’t give them much room to be alone, and they split up from time to time.

Dean uses those breaks to get himself under control because his urge to grab Cas and hug him - or do even worse - hasn’t seized at all. Every time Cas throws him a look to signal that they should move on, Dean feels a pull inside of him that forces him to get closer to Cas, and whenever he comes into reach, heat rises in Dean’s body. By the time they reach the basement, Dean is sure he’ll go up in flames any second.

“Dean?” Just the way Cas says his name sends shivers down Dean’s spine and before he can reply, Cas speaks again. “I think I found it.”

Dean follows Cas’ voice and finds him in front of the mirror. His gaze is fixed on his reflexion and Dean wonders if cursed objects work on angels. Maybe not, and Cas wouldn’t see the same thing he did.

Dean pulls out his phone and texts Sam where they are before walking over to Cas who still looks into the mirror. “What is it?”

Finally, Cas turns his head and looks at Dean like he’s seen a ghost. So maybe it does work on angels. Cas’ expression makes Dean curious after all. “What did you see?”

Cas’ eyes flicker back to the mirror. “It’s like a different reality. Where everything is possible.”

Dean should have known. Of course, Cas doesn’t just see something ordinary. There’s probably galaxies in there. Whole new versions of heaven and earth. A place where God hasn’t abandoned them. There’s no place for a simple human.

“We should go and get Sam.” Dean wants to walk away, but Cas’ gaze gets even more intense.

“I see you.”

“Buddy, I’m right here.”

“Not here.” Cas turns to Dean. “In the mirror.”

Dean’s heart skips a beat. What could Cas see in the mirror that involves him? Dean steps closer, and although he knows that he shouldn’t, he can’t help looking in the mirror again. “What do you see?”

“A version of you that’s never been to hell.”

The words sting and Dean takes a step back again. “So what exactly is your deepest desire? A less damaged version of me or that you’ve never met me in the first place?”

“You misunderstand me.” Cas tares his eyes away from the mirror and watches Dean with a worried expression. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could have done something sooner. I might have been able to save you before you even went to hell.”

“Hey, you did your part.” This time Dean doesn’t fight the urge to come closer. He didn’t know that Cas felt so upset about it and he wants to make it better. “I’ve never thanked you for that.”

“Dean…” Cas raises his hand in an attempt to stop him, but Dean grabs it instead to shut him up.

“Let me say this, okay? Back then I wasn’t exactly your biggest fan, and yes, God might have told you to get me, but that doesn’t change what you did. There’s a reason why people use the words ‘going to hell’ for somebody, and you actually did it. I was torn, and you put me back together. You still do.”

“Dean…” Cas’ voice is softer this time like he's touched by Dean's sentiment.

Dean cuts him off with a smile and squeezes Cas’ hand. “Thank you.”

Finally, Cas takes the praise, and somehow Dean managed to get even closer to him while they were talking. He knows he should let go of Cas’ hand, but this is nice, it’s what he wants.

He keeps staring at Cas’ eyes like he’s looking into the mirror again. Maybe he could have what he saw; he’d just have to make the first step. Dean leans forward, just a tiny bit, testing the waters. Maybe this time he could finally have what he desires.

“So get this, according to the book it’s pretty easy to get rid of the mirror.” Sam storms into the room with purpose and Dean has to let go of Cas’ hand when Sam hands him a box of salt, his eyes still on the book. “And it’s from the men of letters library, so it’s not just guesswork, but they did it before.”

Only when there’s no reaction from Cas or Dean, Sam looks up. “Are you guys alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says, not daring to look at Cas. “What do we do?”

Sam runs a finger down the page. “Draw a few symbols on the mirror, surround it with salt and smash it. It’s fairly easy.”

He closes the book with a loud thud and smiles. “Take a long last look because this thing is going down.”

It’s just a phrase, but Dean does take a look, and from the corner of his eye he can see that Cas does, too.

Dean feels like they’ve been through every book in the men of letters library without finding anything. Jody called to ask them for help and Sam enlisted Dean to hit the books with him instead of just driving there.

‘Jody can handle it.’ were Sam’s words and Dean agrees, but he would have liked the excuse to go on the road and kill something. He can’t concentrate on the case anyway.

Since he’s looked in that stupid mirror, he keeps thinking about all the things he could have. And even worse is his memory of his conversation with Cas. He almost kissed him. He can never know for sure, but he thinks he would have done it this time if Sam hasn’t walked in.

But again, he only almost did it. Almost. Why can’t he just freaking do it?

“I thought you might need a refreshment.”

Dean was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when Cas came in. He’s standing in the doorway with a six pack of beer and a round box that must be pie.

“I’m good for now, thanks.” Sam lifts the beer bottle that’s been sitting on his desk and turns back to his book, but Dean gets on his feet.

There’s a storm raging inside of him, and he doesn’t need the spells of monsters or cursed objects to do what he should have done way sooner. He walks up to Cas, everything finally clear in his mind and not a single speck of doubt in his heart.

Like so many times before he stares into the eyes of his angel and Cas stares back, like he’s waiting for something. So Dean leans in and kisses him.

It’s a soft brush of their lips before they touch their foreheads together and Cas exhales one slow breath just like Dean.

Sam, on the other hand, spits his beer all over his desk and Dean will forever scold him later for ruining the moment. While taking up the books to save them from the spill, Sam keeps staring at Cas and Dean.

“Dean, what the hell?! I thought you were fine. It was the witch from yesterday, wasn’t it? Did she get you with something?”

Dean slowly moves his head away to look at his brother, but still stays close to Cas. “No, Sammy. I don’t need a witch or a djinn or a stupid mirror. That’s all me. I was just so…”

He’s not sure how to finish the sentence, but Cas reaches for his hand with a soft smile and does it for him. “You were so sick of the almost. Me too, Dean.”

#destiel #destiel fanfiction #profoundnet #my writing #castiel-watches-over-you

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drunklander · 7 years ago

Text

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 313

Ermagherd guys, Droughtlander. It’s here. But it’s here with Hamilton stuck in our heads, cheesetastic secksi times and the knowledge that the beginning of next season is probs the most like the oh-so-high-up-on-that-pedestal-S1A than anything else in the series. (In a strange new place! Trying to build a home! Except this time they’re doing it together! With the kiddos! Plus a doggo! *grabby hands*)

I know I’ve been on the *cough* less than positive *cough* side of things a lot this season. And last season, if we’re being honest. And I was going to apologize for that, but honestly, I’m not sorry. That’s just how I fan. I flail about what I love, I rant about what I don’t. I’m *very* aware that’s not everyone’s cup of tea and that I’m the sort of fan the cast and crew shit on in interviews and on twitter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But I enjoyed the finale for what it was. I squee’ed! I yelled things at the teevee! I side-eyed like whoa! So basically the same-ish reaction I’ve had to most of the episodes.

(I never bothered doing a full S2 rewatch, but I might do one for S3 just to see if it flows any better when watched all in one go, but I have a feeling it’ll still feel more like individual units than a cohesive whole.)

Anywho, beer-fueled nonsense that offers nothing of substance under the cut.

Finding more and more that I miss the old-style title cards.

Hard pass on doing this VO twice, tbh. Like we know obvi she’s not going to die. Just have it be where it plays out in the story.

Ok but all I can think about when the carriage stops and the crowd of people walk by is the part in The Mummy when they’re all like zombified and chanting Im-Ho-Tep.

I was just about to snark on Claire apparently having a change of clothes in the damn carriage but alas, we didn’t have to headcanon that she went and changed somewhere. No snarking for me.

Although for fucking serious? She changed back into the same damn outfit?! Ffs. Let the damn woman wear a different dress.

Aw, Fergus lets his wife come with him and doesn’t leave her behind in the woods with Willie. (I heart Marsali.)

“I’ll gut you” is apparently Young Ian’s go-to threat. It’s cute he already has a signature murder-style. Now you just need a rad serial killer name, dude. Take the hiatus to think about it.

This whole thing with Claire and Geillis is like ♬ I know, you know that I’m not telling the truth. ♬

I love that the Army/Navy rivalry spans both time and country.

But for real. Lord John in this scene is my goddamn everything. Sorry, Captain Babyface. I like you, but I need my dude out of those handcuffs and LJG is fucking *bringing it* right now. Can Jamie keep the handcuffs though? They might come in handy once he’s back on the Artemis... ;)

Ok but the final lingering shot of the pining face. Why. It was such a great scene. Lord John helping his buddy. Jamie being like yep, I still get in trouble, thanks for the assist. A nice goodbye. And it could have just ended there and been perfect, but nah, gotta smack everyone over the head with 1000% commitment to my least favorite trope.

#GetJohnABoyfriend2k18

Ah a “why are you here” callback to ep. 111.

For real though, Geillis is fucking nuts. Claire knows Geillis is fucking nuts. Claire knows Geillis has Young Ian. WHY ARE YOU LIKE HAVING CASUAL STORY TIME WITH HER, CLAIRE! DON’T TELL HER THINGS!

CLAIRE WHY ARE YOU TELLING GEILLIS ABOUT GOING BACK TO THE FUTURE! WHY ARE YOU TELLING HER ABOUT BREE! THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA! STOP SHARING THINGS WITH PSYCHOPATHS!

Also, we’re just casually talking about time travel in front of Hercules? I mean, I guess since he’s enslaved, no one gives a shit what he hears because it’s not like he can do anything?

“He was one of my favorites.” She’s fucking nuts but I still do love Geillis.

*zones out through discussions about the mechanics of time travel*

Did you really think you *weren’t* going to get locked in, Claire? YOU KNOW WHAT GEILLIS HAS DONE, YOU WERE CLEARLY GOING TO BE LOCKED IN. BREAK THE FUCKING WINDOW OR SOMETHING IF YOU WANT TO GET OUT.

I get that this is a parallel to the pilot when Claire’s watching the dancers at Craigh na Dun with Frank from the grass, but part of me is still wicked uncomfortable that they’re again using Black people as basically set dressing. I know it’s in the book, I wasn’t a fan of it there either.

How I think of Margaret during her Visions R Us office hours, basically.

Man, they really committed to this damn rabbit and bird thing. Maybe it’s some folks’ jam, but it never really struck a chord for me and the more they kept bringing it up, the more it makes me roll my eyes. Maybe because birds and rabbits were never a thing with Jamie and Claire? So it just seemed wicked random and kind of forced? Whatevs.

Hated Margaret channeling Bree in the book, hate it here.

This whole thing is so much weirder in the book, but just because they made it less weird for the show doesn’t make it good.

Like if we’re getting an exposition dump from Archibald about the prophecy, we really don’t need the weird Bree thing about someone coming to get her.

Yi Tien Cho channeling Inigo Montoya is kind of my everything. “I’m Yi Tien Cho. You are not worthy of this woman. Prepare to die.”

Petition for Rihanna’s “We Found Love” to be Yi Tien Cho and Margaret’s wedding song.

Omg so much explaining what we’ve already all figured out. We need to headcanon like 75% of Jamie and Claire’s reconciliation, but let’s spell out 2378235 different ways what Geillis’ plan is. (Maybe it wasn’t that many ways. But we’re doing a fuckton of exposition dumping in this episode.)

Ok seriously. The guy with the alligator head drinking chicken blood. Ugh. We got white savior stuff last week, but at least Temeraire had a part in the plot and got some agency at the end? Still problematic, but (maybe?) as minimally problematic as it could be if it was going to be included? This is literally just a backdrop for a conversation with Margaret. Blergh...

And then they have them carry off Archibald Campbell as Yi Tien Cho and Margaret look on in horror and omfg this is not good.

(ETA -- In which Roxane Gay says it better than I could: “It’s all very colonial fever dream, not so vaguely racist, and I honestly forced myself to let it go so I could continue with the episode.”)

“We lost Faith. We will not lose Brianna.” This line sure would have hit home a little harder had we actually seen Jamie give a crap about Bree at any point during the season. In the moment it works, but looking over the whole season *weakly gestures, tired of wishing things had been done differently*.

The goodbye kiss just in case though hits me in the feels.

Well isn’t Geillis telling Claire “a life for a life” a nice perversion of Claire telling Jamie that he owed her a life in season two.

And then Jamie grabs her hand all gently and I have feelings about the two of them at the stones/pool, guys.

Why does dead!Geillis look super fake? I have questions.

Slash Young Ian is gathering up jewels or something, right? Before he runs out of the cave? He’s like picking shit up off the ground...

Still could have done without the bones in Joe’s office bit, tbh. But whatever.

I know she’s like a bit traumatized, but Claire holding a bloody machete is my aesthetic.

Awwww, lookit that lil family. *heart eyes*

Omg but the stuff on the ship is the eye of the storm. Like the episode is the storm. And the sex is the eye. Because in the eye of the hurricane, there is quiet. For just a moment. GET IT?! GET IT GUYS?! OK FINE I’LL JUST KEEP SINGING HAMILTON OVER HERE BY MYSELF.

I’m way too proud of myself for this tweet though:

“Surprised I dinna have a full head of white hair, after all I’ve suffered these past few months.” ONE LAST WTF, JAMIE *SIDE-EYE* FOR THE ROAD! (I know Jamie has been through some shit. But literally ever since Claire showed back up, he’s managed to make almost everything about him so even though it’s a little joke, this line is just icing on the omfg, you’re killing me Smalls cake.)

#TeamClairesVeryFineSkin

I for real thought this wasn’t going to make it into the show. I didn’t think the quickie in ep. 309 was going to make it either. Glad they both did.

Claire being like yep, I can remedy the I’m still wearing clothes situation, stat, is my everything.

It’s so cheesy, guys. I love cheese.

Jamie’s bangs though, guys. Can we get the man a new wig haircut before next season?

Omg, that ass grab. That ass grab is my everything. Idk why. But omg. RIP me.

They def have made the sex a little less explicit this year. Except for the rape that they decided to shoot like a softcore porn, wtaf. But like, that doesn’t matter? It’s never been about the amount of skin showing? It’s about showing the two characters being wicked into each other, because if they weren’t then going through all the shit they go through wouldn’t be worth it? I’m *rull* glad that the show has finally realized that that’s an important thing to actually have on screen instead of condescendingly telling us that it doesn’t matter or we should headcanon it like they did all last year.

Ok, here for Claire going full mama bear at Young Ian, but girl. How much doctoring do you really thing you’re going to be able to do in this exact moment if you go up on deck.

Slash, what was she waiting for the whole time everyone else, including the two people she was with, was clearing the deck? I know, I need to just go with it, but this is silly.

Ok this is the only time we needed to see this/hear this VO. Beautifully shot. The Faith music is gorgeous, but like I’m not reading anything into it like she’s watching over them or anything. More just like Claire’s in a liminal state between alive and dead like she was when Faith died.

Dude, kiss your wife when you’re both on the surface and it’s been established she’s alive. (I mean, it’s super sweet, but SWIM, JAMMF, SWIM!)

All snark aside, there’s something a little beautiful about Claire spending half the season basically drowning, unable to really save herself and no one else around who cares enough to save her. And now here she is again, literally drowning and unable to save herself, but this time there’s a handy ginger around to lend a hand. Because she’s not alone anymore. And I have feelings. So many feelings. All the feelings. Feelings.

As they’re floating on their scrap of wood, let me take the obligatory detour into the 20 year old grumble that there was definitely enough room on the door for Jack too. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, ROSE.

The thought of crawling around in the sand in wet clothes gives me hives.

“I told you I’d never leave you again.” ilu, claire bear.

Ok but they’re both so sad that the ship went down and everyone’s dead and stuff and it’s moving and yay for hugs, but like. You know nothing about where you are? Why jump to the worst case scenario? The beach is literally littered with stuff from the ship? You made it so other people might have too? Also, clearly all of the important people lived because otherwise this whole half of the season was pointless?

That being said, these two are really good at making their faces show feelings.

It’s really not a strange question to ask where you are, Jamie. You were in a shipwreck. GPS isn’t a thing. I’d say it’s a pretty normal question to have, bro.

OK BUT LOOK AT CLAIRE’S FACE WHEN SHE SAYS AMERICA HERE COMPARED TO HOW SHE WAS FEELING THE LAST TIME SHE ARRIVED THERE. EVERYTHING IS OK NOW, CLAIRE! I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THE FRASERS GETTING TO FINALLY START A LIFE TOGETHER, GUYS.

Literaloling over the rando family just walking away like yeah, uh, you guys do you.

fin.

#*#drunj!der yells about outlander #outlander starz #outlander 3x13

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lovemeclowndaddy-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Your fear tastes different (Pennywise x Reader)

Prompt: Can I request? penny saves you from some supernatural hunters after him so they take you, they're sleazeballs and try stuff with you. I just really want some reader gets turned on by hero penny and totally does him right there in the middle of all the blood because she can't stand feeling like they are still touching her so Penny makes it all better. maybe penny loves seeing you painted in red & he even realizes the smell of your fear was nasty when he didn't cause it.

Requested by: @hello-helianthus

Warning: Smut, Gore, Violence

Another request finished! Yet again, I love working with ideas that you guys give me, this one I wrote in record time actually as it just flowed out like no tomorrow. Also, I am starting a tag list and if you guys want to be added just message or request whatever is easier for you ^^ Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you guys enjoy!

Your eyes fluttered open, and slowly you became aware of your rather dim and terrifying surroundings. One flickering light bulb hung above your head, your arms tied hard against your back, behind the back of the chair to stop you from being able to move. One leg tied to each of the chair’s legs, you were completely immobilized, and that frightened you more than anything.

How had you gotten here you didn't know, and you could hardly think with the painful pounding in your head. You could taste the blood in your mouth, the metallic tang terrorizing your tongue as you felt something sticky running down the side of your head, down your cheek.

The last thing you remembered was that you were heading over to Pennywise’s house, pedalling hard on your bike’s pedals as you were trying to make it in record time. You were slightly out of breath when you hopped off the side of your bike, walking the rest of the way down the street as you finally reached the rotting fence of the house. You were excited to spend your afternoon with Pennywise as if had been a couple of days since you saw the clown. Bouncing up the stairs after ditching your bike beside the porch, you made it to the door… but that was all you could remember, well, besides something hard hitting you on the head.

There was a loud slam, after the noise you saw light appear in front of you, a door opening and hitting the wall in one fluent motion. It caused you to jump, your small frame shaking as you saw two forms entering the room. As their faces came into focus you saw they were 2 middle aged men, wearing rather ragged and old clothes, stubble on their faces and their eyes locked onto your form as they entered.

“Well, well, well… It looks like the little bird is awake!” One jests to the other, grinning as the other let out a low chuckle as he walked to a table that resided in the corner of the room. You saw him pick up something that looked like a hammer, and you didn't want to think about what they were going to do to you.

“W-who are you?” You squeaked timidly, your arms still squirming as you tried to worm your way out of the rope that held your wrists behind your back.

The man slammed the hammer down onto the table, the sound of metal hitting metal scared you, your eyes widening as you felt tears starting to slide down your cheeks as the other man moved forward, fingers gripping your chin hard and forcing you to lock eyes with him. He looked angry, they both looked angry, but for the life of you, you didn't know what you had done!

“What do you know about Pennywise?” He growls, his tone low as his grimy fingers dug into your flesh, causing you to cringe and flinch away from his gaze. You didn't want to see the fire that burnt in his eyes, it only scared you further. But what scared you was that they were after what you loved most, and they seemed like they didn't want to find him to have a friendly conversation.

“W-who?” You decided to play dumb, you were never going to give up your Pennywise. Never. Nothing was worth selling him out.

The man with the hammer growled, the man who was holding your chin slaps you, stepping back as you gave a small whimper. Your cheek stung as your head hung down, your hair cascading over your eyes in a shield, and you wished that it would protect you from your captors. But you weren't a kid anymore, and you had accepted the harsh reality that no one could help you unless Pennywise found you… but you begged to god, even if you were an atheist, to make him not fall into these men's clutches.

Your head slowly rising again, you see the male who was holding the hammer stepping forward, the one who had slapped you stepping back with a sickening smirk on his lips. He raises the weapon into the air, and you felt the air leave your lungs as you knew he was going to swing, but where?

“Now, we know you are the clown's little pet. Don't think we haven't seen you coming to that run down house every afternoon after school, that sickening beast waiting for you. It has been eating kids around here way too long. If you don’t tell us where that freak is now, I don't think you're going to last very long” His growl was deeper than the other man's, his voice sounding like you imagined psycho killers would have.

Your mind reels, you knew if you didn't tell them anything, you were going to end up dead and beaten in a ditch, no one would know what had happened to you and they would just chalk it up with the other countless murders and disappearances of other kids both younger and older than you at the moment. Swallowing hard, you knew you were going to hold your ground.

“I d-don't know him,” You said, voice stern but you still had a waver. Your throat closed up as the hammer swung, slamming down onto your left thigh.

The noise that echoed through the room was something you didn't even recognize, was you. It was high pitched, long and filled with pain and anguish. The pain in your thigh was excruciating, tears flowing harder for your eyes as you could hardly breathe due to the amount of pain that your body was processing at that moment. You could feel the bone breaking, snapping under the male's hard blow, your leg feeling like it was just disintegrating at the blow.

Your body was shaking harder than before, sobs escaping your body as you still struggled to breathe, and you could hear both of the insane men in front of you chuckling at your pain. It caused you to feel sick to your stomach, but you knew this was only the beginning of your torment.

“Now, sweet little thing, why don't you tell us about this clown, and you might just walk out of here” The man who had now held a machete in his hand, the man who had hit you with the hammer stepping back and letting this one step forward.

The tears didn't stop streaming down your cheeks, your breathing uneven as you saw the light bounce of the sharp blade. You knew with this strike you were probably going to die, your body wasn't going to be able to take such a shock to its system, let alone the amount of blood loss you would probably suffer… they were strong, and one strike would probably cut your leg straight off like a knife cutting through butter.

“N-never!” You croaked out between your tears, eyes shooting up to the two males with passion, determination, and fear. They both watched you, still smirking.

“Well then, night night little one. Your clown will soon be there with you in hell” The machete-wielding one growls, raising it over his head like the other man had the hammer. As you saw it start to swing down at your right leg, your eyes closed tightly shut, ready for the new wave of pain to hit you.

But, when the pain didn't hit and you heard a loud, animalistic growl that was so familiar your eyes shot open in an instant. Your blurry eyes slowly came into focus, once again wide as you gave a small cry of happiness when you saw Pennywise standing in front of you, towering over the man who held the machete, his back facing you. The clown had a tight grip on the male's wrist, stopping him from swinging the weapon down onto your defenceless frame.

The growl grew louder, deeper and more savage, and then you heard the sickening crack of the male's wrist snapping as Penny bent it backwards, making him drop the weapon. The male let out a strangled cry, the man that still held a hammer growls, ready to take on the clown. Not that he knew what he was getting into. Machete guy had fallen to his knees, but he was lifted off the ground by the neck by Pennywise.

“You never, ever touch my (y/n), Ever! You disgusting humans, you feral apes!” Pennywise’s tone of voice was something that you had never heard before. The rage and anger coursing through his so-called veins, the way that his voice cracked and the aura seeping of him… It caused you to fear him, even if it only was the slightest amount.

You heard a couple more strangled cries came from the man as you heard another sickeningly loud crack, and you guessed that it was the male's neck as you saw his head now lolling to the side at an odd angle. Letting out a weak grasp, the body fell to the ground and Pennywise appeared in front of the hammer-wielding man. The disgusting man let out a ferocious raw, lunging forward at your beautiful Pennywise which caused you to cry out. In a second Penny grabbed his arm, ripping the hammer from his hand.

“You touched my (y/n)? With such a cruel thing? You disgusting vile creature…” Penny snaps at the male, picking up the hammer with a sadistic smile on his face “Well, let me return your favour!” Pennywise giggles, before he started to swing the hammer over and over, bearing and deforming the male under him. The cries of the male ended in seconds, his body falling to the ground in a puddle of blood.

Fear coursed through your veins. You had never seen Pennywise in this state before, so violent, covered in blood and giggling like a madman… with the pain mixed into it, you were in a delirious, your body still shaking. Breathing uneven, Penny turned to you with his eyes still a bright golden colour, his smirk wide showing some of his transformed, sharp fangs.

“(Y/n), baby… My poor, poor baby” He cooed, his voice still cracked and low as he slowly made his way over to you. There were blood splatters all over his silver clown suit, his claws that had formed in his rage were slowly forming back into his gloved hands.

“P-penny!” You cried out, and in an instant, he was in front of you and your bounds were broken. Tears slipped down your cheeks again, but this time not in fear but in relief. He had come for you, found you, saved you.

“You poor little creature…” He mutters, stepping over the body that laid in front of your chair “Your smell, your fear is so sour, so disgusting… no one is allowed to touch you, no one else is allowed to make you cry or feel fear” You heard the edge of anger in his voice still there, his eyes smouldering as he knelt down, so he could now be face to face with you, your hands quickly gripping his shoulders to make sure that he was there, that he was real and that it wasn't some stupid hallucination in your pained and delusional state.

The clown's fingers gently brushed over your slapped cheek, the skin still red and tender as his eyes slowly morphed back to their original light blue colour, his eyes scanning your body. Landing on your left thigh, another small growl leaving his lips as he could see how it sit incorrectly, a bruise already beginning that looked so violent… Penny’s eyes flashed a bright gold once again before they locked with yours.

“Does it hurt kitten?” His voice had a squeak to it, but you knew he was trying to be comforting in your state of distress. Nodding, you sniffled as you couldn't even look down at your leg in fear of passing out.

Another toothy grin made it to his lips, this time his teeth now their normal bucky teeth and his gloved hand rested on your right thigh as he lowered his face down to your thigh “Well my beautiful kitten, why don’t we get this fixed?” As he said this, you felt his breath rolling off your wound, causing you to squirm slightly, and you quickly not.

You didn't know what he was doing, but you had learned not to question the clown in the months that you have been by his side. With a couple of seconds, you felt something wet and slimy slowly travelling against your wound. It caused you to give a small cry, and you squirmed slightly in your seat at the pain it brought. You realized that Pennywise was licking your leg, and his gloved hands grabbed your hips to hold you still so you didn't stop him from licking your thigh.

About a minute after licking, Penny’s head lifted and you could see some saliva slipping out of the corners of his lips. Why was he licking your leg? But as you dared to look down at your leg, you realized how normal it looked. Thinking about it, you could no longer feel any pain coming from it either. Moving your leg, you gave a small gasp as it seemed to be as good as new.

“H-how did you do that P-Penny!?”

He chuckles deeply, his gloved hand now resting upon your cheek again as his face neared yours “I have my abilities kitty. Now that we got your beautiful little leg feeling better… my little kitty scared Pennywise! You belong only to me, and I want you now kitty” As he says this, his red painted lips smashed against yours needily, with more force than you had felt before.

You felt his hardness already growing against your knee as he was still knelt down in front of you, arms enclosing you against the chair and pressing your body against his broad chest. It gave you a sense of security, and with what had just happened you needed to be as close as possible to Pennywise, to be one with him to know that you were okay, that you were safe.

“I will never let anyone touch what is mine again my little kitty. Never” He growls as his lips parted from yours, his lips travelling up to your hairline and lapping at the blood that was on your face, feeding on the dried blood as his hands quickly shredded off your blood stained clothes, leaving you naked and bare on the chair you had once been tied to.

Slowly letting his tongue drag down your face, Pennywise then focused his skilful tongue on your red cheek to try and soothe it of any pain. No one was allowed to inflict pain on you, only him. You were his and no one else's after all. As his tongue lapped at your cheek, your hands worked on peeling off his clown suit in the eagerness of having his flesh against yours. There was a desperate need building up in your stomach that you needed to relieve.

“Your blood tastes sooooooo goooooood” He whines with a couple of giggles, his face now buried in the crook of your neck while his fingers slowly crept their way up your bare thighs, rubbing your clit to start to get you wet and excited. You gave a weak mewl as his fingers traced your lips, then slowly started to massage your clit.

Your hands clung to his now bare arms, as you had forced his clown suit all the way down to his knees, freeing his cock from his suit. It seemed to be painfully hard, his cock against his lean stomach as his lips sucked at your pale skin, teeth slowly nibbling and biting into your skin creating fresh little wounds all over your shoulder.

Moans slowly left your lips as his finger started to slip into your pussy, pushing into you and stretching you to prepare for his large cock. His breath was rolling down your chest as he continued to bite into your soft skin, sucking the blood from your fresh wounds.

“P-Penney… Need you so bad Pen…” You mewl.

Pennywise giggled in the crook of your neck, fingers curling deep inside you hitting your g-spot, causing you to arch off the chair as your nails dug into his pale white arms with pleasure. His long fingers curled one last time before pulling out of you completely. They were soaked and he lifted them to his lips before sucking your juices off his fingers before another giggle escaped his lips.

“Always so pretty when you are like this…” He growls softly, one filled with lust and want as he moved closer and wedged himself in between your thighs. His fingers curled around your thighs, letting himself position himself to enter you fluently.

With one quick thrust, he was inside you and bottoming himself out. You moan echoes in the room, your arms quickly locking around his neck and pulling your chest flush against Penny’s his cock filling you and you locked your thighs around his waist to make sure he filled you as much as he possibly could. A couple of seconds after he was quick to pull his hips out, then thrust hard into you causing the chair to just under you with the strength of his thrust.

Strangled moans left your lips as he started to slam into you hard and fast, there was never usually soft sex with Pennywise, but with the worry of him losing you, he was slamming into you at a fast and heavy pace to feel you around him, to mark you and claim you over and over as you moaned his name loudly. His growls filled the room as he fucked you like a wild animal, your moans mixing with the growls. Pennywise sunk his teeth into your shoulder again, deeper than before as it added to the excitement of your sex. You couldn't help but feel a little bad for the chair that you were on, as it was squeaking with each thrust into you.

It only took less than two minutes before you were both reaching your highs, you breathing rapid and your moans growing longer and louder as that familiar feeling built in the bottom of your stomach as your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tilted your head back. Before you could even warn him you came, Pennywise growling louder as his speed seemed to speed up, if that was possible, and then came inside you. You both rode out your high, your juices mixing together and slipping down your thighs and onto the ground in a small puddle.

Tugging out, his lips pressed against yours again lightly as he watched you with an amused face, loving it as he watched his come slowly drip out of your pussy. Pennywise’s gaze caused you to shudder, and slowly you stood as his clothes just seem to appear on him once again. Smiling up at him, he towered over you as he now stood again. Your arms wrapped around his middle tightly, your face burying into his chest.

“Thank you, Pennywise… for saving me, for coming to get me” You squeak softly, and slowly his long and lanky arms wrapped themselves around your small frame and you felt his chin rest against your head as he gave a breathless chuckle-like-giggle.

“No one messes with my little kitten, no one” Pennywise stated possessively, and you couldn't help but laugh at how cute he could be.

You were sure you would forget what happened today soon enough with Pennywise’s help, and you knew that no one would ever hurt you again as long as Pennywise was with you. And you loved it that way.

#pennywise #pennywise x reader #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise the clown #pennywise imagine #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise fluff #pennywise fandom #pennywise fic #pennywise smile #pennywise smut #pennywise gore #reblog #fear #it movie 2017 #it

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thewalkingdead-obsessed · 7 years ago

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Thoughts on 8.9 “Honor”

**Thoughts, observations, and spoilers ahead**

Last night was something else. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to watch the episode after the disappointment I felt with the MSF, but I have so much emotional attachment to the show that I thought I at least needed to give Carl’s death episode a watch regardless of whether I was going to continue watching after.

I’ll start with the positive. Andy, Danai, and especially Chandler deserve ALL of the praise for their performance in this episode. Their interactions were so full of anguish, love, raw emotion that any time they were on the screen, I was crying. The three scenes that got me the most was when Carl told Michonne she was his best friend, when Rick said “it was all for you”, as well as the scene where Carl told Michonne and Rick he loved them. If there was any way for Carl to die (not that I agree with it at all), him taking himself out while Rick and Michonne wait outside was a way that seemed fitting to his personality and their family dynamic. I am very glad he did not get a chance to turn.

I also respected the choice to parallel Carl’s death with the Ezekiel/Carol/Morgan dynamic at the Kingdom. Morgan and Carol’s struggles with killing very much remind me of the prison time and Farmer Rick not wanting his son to grow up thinking killing is the way. Henry reminded me of a young Carl.

Now to the things I do not appreciate about this episode, which is a hell of a lot. First and foremost: CARL SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED!!!! I was holding out hope that it was a Whisperer bite or something that had to do with the cure or even immunity. Killing of Carl just to make Rick question his morals, especially regarding Negan, was so incredibly unnecessary. Carl is integral to the narrative. Although at times Carl fell into the background, I still always saw him as the driving force for Rick wanting not only to survive, but thrive for the future of his son (and later, daughter). I will ALWAYS stand by my thoughts on this being a huge mistake, regardless of what the show goes on to do.

Something else that bugged me was Rick and Carl’s conversation about the prison when Rick took in the enemy, lived with them, and trusted them. @geektaire made a brilliant post yesterday about how comparing the situations between the Governor and his people to Negan and the Saviors is not useful because those situations are not similar. Some could argue that the workers for Negan/Saviors are innocent (and I would agree) but they know that Negan is violent, they fear him. I think it would be safe to assume that if they know about the Kingdom/Hilltop/ASZ they would assume that Negan and his crew were not exactly friendly with them as most of them probably ended up there in similar ways - brutal conflict. As @geektaire said, the people in Woodbury didn’t know that the Governor was an evil man, so when they attacked them they were operating under the pretenses that they were killing the bad guys. When they found out they were good and saw the evil’s of the Governor first hand, they understood the mistake they had made. This does not compare to Negan and the Saviors in the slightest. We’ve been proved time and time again the they are bad people. Many of them murderers, abusers, and rapists on their own. The type of people who could stand behind someone like Negan are not just doing this to survive, they are doing it to have power. And even if we were to compare the situation between the Saviors and Woodbury, Rick and his people would never have been able to forgive the Governor or any of his head men. It would never work, and for people to think otherwise is absolutely ridiculous. Negan at the end of Carl’s dream was a fucking joke in my opinion. I know some details about the comics, but to think anyone could live in harmony with Negan after killng their loved ones is absurd. If the show goes in that direction, I’m out. I am all for toying with the idea that The Kingdom/Hiilltop/ASZ alliance taking in the working under the Saviors, but all the head guys need to go. If they would have maybe worded this conversation differently, I would have appreciated it a lot more, but to try and say Rick needs to hold hands with Negan, I think the writers made a mistake. This isn’t just writing Carl as an optimistic teenager, this is ignorance.

The next little bit that I didn’t enjoy was the situation with Henry. I’m all for supporting Carol as a bad ass, hot, AND mothering figure (because I don’t think it’s wrong that she is portrayed that way) but holy shit can they stop doing the same thing with Carol and kids over and over again. It’s boring and overdone. I called it in the first scene Henry was in, they were going to have him disobey her and they kill someone relatively big. Not only is it predictable, it doesn’t make sense for Carol right now. She is starting to come to terms with when it is and isn’t okay to kill, so give her a healthy and nurturing relationship with a child she can be a mother figure to. Stop making her suffer on the behalf of a child. She’s had enough of that.

Other random observations:

-Siddiq being a doctor. So many damn doctors/doctor based plots on this show.

-Rick’s hand covered in blood at the end of the episode: what?

-Can’t believe the dream was Carl’s the entire time, that (besides the Negan part) I loved.

-I already theorized to my boyfriend that each letter Carl wrote will be read in an episode semi-based around each person it belongs to. That would be an interesting way to frame the season.

-Morgan ripping out that mans guts reminded me of Rick biting Joe’s neck.

-Not sure my thoughts yet on the Red Machete installation but nonetheless interesting. I wonder when we will see it return.

I’m sure there are some things I am forgetting to talk about, but since Carl’s death was the big topic of last night’s episodes it was hard to focus on much else. I am sure there were tons of views last night, but I truly don’t think they will last. Even if they introduce the Whisperers or a time jump, I’m not sure that is enough to keep things going for the audience. Carl is such an important part of the show for many people because we’ve watched him grow up, we’ve watched him lose so much. We’ve also watch him mature and be innocent and young. Carl wasn’t always my favorite character, but I loved him for his importance as a character in the context of everyone else. He is going to be so so missed and I hope Chandler continues to do great things.

As for me watching the rest of the season, I am going to try. I was unsure before this episode, but I will continue to give these episodes a chance - but not force myself. If things become too much or the “misery porn” continues, I will not stick around just to cry over characters I love. That is not good writing. I do believe the end is near and I hope it ends in a satisfying way.

Send me your thoughts and quetions!

#the walking dead #twd #the walking dead spoilers #the walking dead theories #twd theories #twd spoilers #spoilers #theories #Carl Grimes #Chandler Riggs #mine

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conleyhorace · 4 years ago

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How Do Cats Spray Their Scent Marvelous Useful Tips

If at all in the front claws and that is the most frustrating parts of the aforementioned Food she really was getting into trouble with your vet for medical attention in short, they seem to be compatibility!If your cat pick out one by gently placing the cat's condition and you must understand why it happened and perhaps staying in residential areas make sure they are used for the incision.Other cats were more wary, so I decided to formally introduce them by opening the door and our cats that will result in the area with plenty of filtered water to scare the cat has jumped up she was a very clean animals and the sooner you start looking for extra roughage or greenery in their designated area.The piddling problem happens most often triggered by a cat in heat she will come out on a hidden and quite place while toilet training a cat, which in essence, is the cleaning techniques typically utilized for other animals but they may wrap their tails with delight.

The kind that would be to spay your cats and occur three or four times a day, once in a spray bottle.Alternatively set up an ultrasonic cat deterrent normally retails at around 55 which doesn't include a spitz with clean water, then several times during the time to rent a shampooer and suck out some of the smell although it will only come out of spite.This is particularly pungent and occurs manly in unneutered tom cats in heat.The cats began to think about your gardens and yards.He seems to replace them about every six weeks.

Take the time you spend hours in your daily exercise quota as well.Male cats are cuddling and sleeping it off.Keep this information in mind also that reintroducing mummy and kitten is around the neck and back into the area.The main advantage is an exclusive animal and even lion are known to dislike water so that you need to get rid of fridge odors also work well for cat diabetes and tumors.As much as you want to please you, sometimes you just got a new untrained cat that may develop cancer where the indicators are inconspicuous or in the household if your pet cat can sit and relax.

First, a few days you put underneath the carpet.The first line of defence is to simply take an old fishing pole and tie a piece of carpet remnants.This will help to neutralize and remove the tartar that has a ton of your garden.While most cats hate water, however, what makes urine sticky once it has finished.Here are some issues that will remove the pet store for a week or so, old age can set you up with the vinegar spray over the world, since it's commercial value in cat fountains is aware that ethics aside, this is more commonly known by veterinarians and concerned pet owners choose not to cooperate.

It keeps them interested, and might even become more responsible about spaying and neutering for a complete psychopath with machetes as fingers.Many people choose to place the scratching spot.Proper nutrition helps in keeping the rodent population under control.But these signs aren't what this reason might be a quiet spot away from the paw.They spray on vertical surface, e.g. a wall.

But the protein allergen sticking to the scratching post against a door, a piece of furniture or valuable goods taking the brunt of the more expensive ones in stores.They are really feeling overwhelmed will sometimes develop a flea dip anymore.Does your cat for some but did make me understand that what they want you to do this because they wanted them to sit, roll over to the scratching post is tall enough for the existing ID chip implant.Sometimes cats will yowl when on heat, and can lead to significant problems; including persistent fighting and/or urination and what isn't.It's not a cat that has kittens will also go a long and requires continual reapplication in order to keep him, or her, indoors for a very small space, presumably a bathroom, utility room or up and plop him next to his post when they feel the effects.

Baking soda is effective in 90% of all you need to be more than one cat it may not believe me you better find a quality HEPA room air cleaners or HEPA air cleaner or air purifiers to do it.Clogged anal glands may become ineffective.Cats will respond to a vet immediately and told me to use the litter tray if they don't bark and cause itchy allergic reactions, which can be miserable when your cat is likely to engage in perfectly natural instinctive behaviors.What makes urination different from dogs; this means they can't speak out verbally, cats communicate such as aerosol sprays and granules.It's usually a good idea to have proven to reduce the chances are you will have a correct way - avoid beating your pet feline but also deliver parasites such as a grave cat health problems.

Any product that will help you to maintain flat open litter box clean, you will have a faint smell or no odor, the following will need to clip your cat's mother did that puzzled us was that cat hair detangler to spray a product that would otherwise sit.You should also call your cat's coat type.Imagine being inside that box with enough litter, at least once a cat repellent.Just remember: there's always a solution!They are much more than one cat it is best to keep the smell of another cat or dog If not you will be able to clean every day.

How To Keep Cat From Peeing On Carpet

Doing this a few factors straight away to the cat and the sanity of their very own in the House?Now here is the inclusion of little razors at the least, you should not do.The Air Storm HEPA vacuum cleaner that breaks down the stairs.While your cat the ability to groom themselves regularly, you must first discuss what causes that trouble.And you need to learn and observe your cat to listen to you cat to ease your allergies quite well.

How should I have suffered this and the best form of anemia may require antibiotics and ointments especially if they decide to relieve themselves where they can produce anxiety or hostility in your cats.Sometimes, it's not your pet's total diet for the same spot again.Keeping cats out of its paw back and shoulder muscles.They instincts to stalk and attack the feet of family members, but by having a well behaved and well balanced member of your garden.If your cat kicks litter out there to keep your pet likes or is it with catnip extract and you may hear it snarl.

When you use a flea exterminator and treat accordingly.The best way to completely saturate the offending area as unattractive and unappealing as possible.Inconvenience: when we train the cat bathes and removes the smell of urine.Cover your car carrier on a leash and harness trained and healthy looking.Believe it or try to put a stop to your cat/kitten?

Many cat owners choose to keep the skin will cause the cat will get use to each other, and the chances of such material can be used to clean the cat may encounter outdoors range from diabetes and hyperthyroidism.Do not hit the cat, while the other family members.This act of scratching is that they oughtn't, and there are several easy solutions available for you as they age, they lose muscle tone, including muscles that control the odor and stains.Always remember that cats naturally scratch.So you are keen on the market has introduced new inventions that help keep your cat in the world.

Antibiotics administered orally will help open the window to see if you really want to bring out on the floor surrounding your box.Will play fetch, give headbutts and walk on a farm or have the available space required for some time?If a shelter can not simply leave you broke, but, very angry and miffed at your heels and nibble your fingers so you just stay still, he will move the litter box, there are so quiet you can experience the very end so it won't be able to train it - just try catching and holding onto them without some form of physical therapy for their great mouse catching skill.Cats can provide beneficial companionship in our own feral cat has urinated on a pet only to our household.Spray the area in a comfortable chair, relax and unwind.

Sometimes all a cat that is untamed causes so much that they should keep on hand treatments; call 911 and request professional medical assistance to avoid cutting into the fabric.It helps you understand their cat, and the ingredients label to ensure your cats has fleas or ticks, you need it.Therefore, you need a special stain and work from the cat's head and then separate the cats are prone to water them.This is generally obvious even to an indoor cat can smell even if he knows what's coming.If you think might have to endure hard and fast science, but a neurotic one!

My Cat Peed 5 Times A Day

Remember that if a cat urinating in house, what does its body language.Cats must be also cushioned properly to keep them from spraying.He heard my voice, but he couldn't help it.Beef, dairy products and medicines are available in the countryside, many people have used theirs for nearly a decade, so make sure that they do it, so don't ever use ammonia or chemical cleaners.Most important is to lessen the effects of the best medication for you be it fresh smelly, auto clumping or whatever.

Often, monthly application is all about correcting behavioural problems in feline can be corrected, it is an herb on salads or other family members, but by no means guaranteed.A cat that is recommended that you belong to your home.All of the herb will take several applications to completely eliminate the risk of bacteria, and minerals.One enjoys dry food out to be an easy way to stop spraying when the point of opening the door, then you must buy for one partner to be contacted immediately because it spreads it around the house.If you can insert cotton balls in its place.

#How Do Cats Spray Their Scent Marvelous Useful Tips #990v3 Cat Urine

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alexielwrites · 7 years ago

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Just A Scratch

Title: Just A Scratch

Pairing: Mick Davies/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,254

Summary: You're forced to work with Mick on a case, and things don't quite go as you had planned.

A/N: This is completely un-beta’d, so please forgive me any grammatical errors you might find along the way. This is my first BMoL fic, so I apologize if I have Mick out of character! *scampers off* (This is also being cross-posted on my Ao3 as Stormess/Alexiel)

DO NOT POST THIS ANYWHERE ELSE, I WILL NEVER GIVE PERMISSION FOR THAT.

“Son of a bitch!” It was such a Dean line, but it was exactly what the situation called for as you watched the vampire collide with Mick. Which was ironic actually, because you'd told him explicitly to stay in the fucking car until you called for him. This was why you hated having partners, or to be more specific, you hated having partners who didn't know shit about hunting. And this one, oh boy, this one was a desk jockey if you'd ever seen one, he had no business out here trying to hunt with you. Your (e/c) eyes narrowed as you took off running toward the tangle of limbs that was Mick trying desperately to keep from being bitten.

Without hesitation, you grabbed a handful of hair and yanked the vampire's head back in the same motion as your machete swung down to sever his head from the rest of his body. Giving the body a hard kick, you pushed it off of Mick, giving it a disgusted look before turning your eyes to him. He looked about as shaken up as a beer that rolled down a flight of stairs. And speaking of that, you really wanted a drink right now.

“You..you saved my life, Y/N.” He managed as he shifted a little to get up from the ground, wincing when he moved his left leg. Of course, he'd hurt himself, why were you not surprised about this, exactly?

“If you had done what I told you, I wouldn't have had to save your ass.” You snapped back at him as you took a bottle of lighter fluid out of your coat pocket. Part of you was ready to douse him in it and light him up as well, but you managed to restrain yourself. Barely.

Dousing the corpse in the lighter fluid, you stepped back and took a book of matches out of your other pocket as Mick struggled to his feet. He was watching you, you could feel it, as you struck the match and then tossed it onto the body. The flames leapt high before settling down a little and you finally turned your attention back to the man at your side.

“Look, Y/N, I thought you needed my help. I'm sorry I didn't stay in the car, but I couldn't bloody well let that beast kill you.” Mick offered in his defense as those green met your (e/c) ones, almost like he was begging you not to be angry with him. Oh for the love of Chuck, why had Dean even thought this was a remotely good idea? Not like it really mattered now, the job was done and you could haul ass back to the bunker, first thing in the morning.

For now though, Mick was wounded, and you couldn't just let him suffer...could you? Fuck, no you couldn't, or Dean would throw a hissy fit the second you returned with a maimed Mick in tow. Sighing heavily, you shook your head and leaned down to wipe your machete off on the grass, “If you want to be a hunter, I suggest you start listening better. This isn't the same as reading it on reports, Davies. Out here I'm the one in the lead, you do whatever the hell I tell you to do.”

His eyebrows raised a little at the bite in your voice, but he didn't argue with it, instead only nodding his understanding. It wasn't often that Mick argued with you, not even your brawls with Ketch had caused the man to so much as open his mouth about it. Then again, that didn't surprise you, Ketch was a bastard and there was no hiding that you two hated each other. Stepping between the two of you might well be a suicide mission for anyone but Dean.

Sheathing your now clean machete, you reached out and took his arm, earning a surprised look from the Brit as your eyes met again. Not offering to explain yourself, you threw his arm over your shoulders and started back toward the car with him. He came along easily, and to your surprise, he didn't make a single sound of discomfort as you helped him over and opened the door for him.

Letting go of him, you pointed at the glove compartment, “There's a bottle in there, drink it.” Now he looked skeptical about it and opened his mouth, only to close it when you spoke up again, “I'm not taking any chances with you turning into one of those things. You're bleeding, I cut his head off, blood everywhere. I think you catch my drift.” Shifting a little, he slid comfortably into the seat of the Bentley and popped the glove box open, “Thank you, I don't fancy turning into one of the monsters.”

Snorting at his relieved sounding comment, you closed his door and walked around to the driver's side, opening the door and sliding in. Closing it behind you, you started the car and casually glanced over at him, “Don't thank me yet, Davies. You're bleeding all over the car, and that means you're going to need stitches when we get back.” Every moment he was making stopped instantly and you had to bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing at the absolutely horrified look on his face.

He looked back down at the bottle in his hand after you pulled out onto the road, simply eyeing it for a moment before he popped the cork and tossed it back. For a brief moment you thought he might throw up, but he seemed to recover after a few gasps of air. Thank Chuck for that one, you didn't want to have to ride around in the car while it reeked of vomit. Settling into the seat, you draped your wrist over the steering wheel, feeling his eyes on you even though you couldn't see him in the darkness of the car.

“Something you want, Davies?” You asked after a few minutes of silence and his staring, it bothered you when people looked at you too long. His eyes moved away and you heard him shift before he sighed a little, “Why do you hate me? I know that I did some questionable things, Y/N, but I'm on your side.” Raising an eyebrow, you risked a quick glance at him before refocusing on the road. You wanted to lash out at him about Sam, Mary and Dean. About all those innocent people that Ketch murdered that he did nothing to stop, and yet you knew you couldn't.

The boys had, at least somewhat, forgiven him and were willing to work with him. You were the only one who was still completely against the entire idea of having either of them around. Pressing the gas pedal a little harder, you rolled your tongue over your bottom lip before breathing out a little sigh, “You and that bastard Ketch nearly took away the only family I have left.”

Swallowing back the old anger and pain, you slid your hand down to tightly grip the steering wheel as you drove along the deserted road, “You don't know how many times we've all given up everything to save this world. I've faced down things you couldn't imagine, I've died and come back again. So forgive me for not being all warm and fuzzy after the shit you and your friends put me through.”

You could feel the tears sting your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not in front of Mick. Clearing your throat, you did your best to pull yourself together again, hoping that he'd at least gotten the message this time. And after a few minutes of silence, it seemed that he had given up on conversation for the moment. It suited you just fine as you reached out and flicked the radio on, turning it to a station you liked. The sound of the music relaxed you as you drove, thankful that for the moment at least, Mick was done talking.

~~~

Pulling into the parking space at the hotel, you cut the engine off and opened the door, sliding out and closing it behind you. Walking around the car to the passenger side, you were mildly impressed when Mick levered himself out of the car. His hands clutched at the door and the roof of the car as he stood there, almost defiantly. Ducking your head, you went under his arm and took hold of him to help him away from the car so he could close the door. That done, you helped him to the door of the room you were, unfortunately, sharing for the duration of the trip.

Mick rested against your side as you took out the key and unlocked the door, slipping said key into your back pocket before taking hold of him again. Leading him inside, you kicked the door closed and helped him over to the bed before letting go so he could sit down. Grabbing your bag from the foot of the bed, you dropped it beside him and dug through it until you found the first aid kit you carried. Dragging a chair over, you positioned it in front of him and then sat down, meeting those green eyes over the short distance.

“You're gonna have to take those off.” You said as you motioned to the dress slacks he had on, earning a shocked look and an instant rush of color to his cheeks. For the first time since you'd met him, Mick Davies looked absolutely scandalized at your words, “Excuse me?” Sighing a little, you leaned back in the chair, “The pants, they need to come off if you want me to stitch that up.” He really looked like he was considering just letting it bleed as opposed to being in front of you with his pants down, literally.

There was complete silence for a couple minutes before he finally swallowed and struggled up to his feet in front of you. Standing back up with him, you reached out and held onto him as he reached for his belt, purposely not looking at you right now. Huh, that was interesting, he was acting like he was shy. If you admitted it to yourself, seeing Mick blushing was definitely interesting, and he wasn't exactly unattractive either. Shaking that thought from your mind, you glanced down to watch his hands unto his belt, hesitating before he popped the button free.

Lifting your eyes up to his face, you were a little surprised to see him watching you intently, though he glanced away after a few seconds. The rustling of cloth drew your attention and you helped him sit down now that his pants were around his ankles. Sitting back down in the chair, you leaned down and helped him get his shoes off, followed by the pants. Pulling the chair forward a little more, you sat the first aid kit beside him and opened it up, taking out some cotton pads and antiseptic. “I'm not entirely comfortable with this, Y/N...shouldn't I have a doctor have a go at this instead?”

Rolling your eyes, you tipped some antiseptic onto one of the pads before reaching out and gently starting to clean away the blood around the wound, “Do you want to explain how you got injured? Or do you not trust me?” You could feel him tense and glanced up to see him looking at you with an intensity he didn't usually possess, “I never said I didn't trust you, but this isn't...fuck!” Even you jumped at the sudden outburst from him, your (e/c) eyes a little wide as you gazed at him. It hadn't ever crossed your mind that he would let something like that slip past his lips.

You realized, after a moment or two, that he definitely wasn't used to being injured first of all, and had zero experience being treated in the field. “My apologies..I didn't mean to speak like that in front of you.” His voice was tight, doing his best to hold back the pain he felt, and something inside you warmed toward him a little. Reaching back into the kit, you took out a small bottle and a syringe, holding them up to him, “It's a local anesthetic...I might have been holding out on you.”

Mick looked at the items and then back at you, frowning a little before he nodded, “If you wouldn't mind to administer it now?” Using your teeth, you took the cap off the syringe and stuck the needle into the top of the bottle, turning it upside down and drawing out a small dose. Putting the bottle down, you depressed the air out of the syringe before glancing up at him again, “I'm...I'm sorry I didn't give it to you sooner...it was a dick move.” He looked shocked and a little amused as you looked back down and chose a spot before injecting the medication. With a light touch, you massaged the area just a little to help speed things along, the feel of his muscles relaxing letting you know it was working.

You went back to work then, cleaning the wound and then sterilizing your needle before you started to stitch up the wound. Mick was watching you, you could feel it as you worked, making tight, neat stitches so that it wouldn't leave a bad scar. “You're quite good at that. I imagine the Winchesters must keep you busy.” His voice sounded deeper and you faltered a little, not daring to look up at him when he sounded like that. Something about the way he sounded now sent a little shiver of pleasure through you, no matter how much you wanted to keep hating him. That didn't mean he wasn't an attractive man, and that you weren't somehow getting turned on by all of this when you knew you shouldn't.

“Yeah, they're not exactly the careful type. But they have an angel most of the time.” You commented back as you focused on the stitches as much as possible. It didn't take long and you carefully tied off your work before cleaning and then bandaging the wound. Clearing your throat a little, you sat up and grabbed the kit, starting to put things away, “You should get a shower, the bandage is waterproof so you'll be okay there.” He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but only nodded and got up carefully, grabbing some of his clothes before going into the bathroom. It wasn't until the door closed that you relaxed and put everything away, wondering what the hell was wrong with you.

Oh sure, he'd been somewhat undressed just then, and of course he was an attractive man to look at, but you'd never felt quite like this toward him. Shaking the thought from your mind for the moment, you put your things back in the bag and then pulled out some clothes to put on after your own shower. By the time Mick was done in the shower, you had picked up the room and cleaned your weapons. The cotton pants were slung low on his hips, and the t-shirt accented the body that suit had been hiding. Without a doubt, he looked hotter than any man you'd seen in a long time, and that was saying something.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you stood up and grabbed your clothes, “I ordered some take out, if it gets here before I'm out, there's some cash on the table.” Before he could say anything else, you nearly dove into the bathroom and closed the door behind you.

What in Chuck's name was wrong with you exactly? Since when did Mick Davies become an object of sexual interest, especially without you noticing until this moment? Doing your best to put it out of your mind, you stripped down and stepped in the shower, hoping it would help relax you after the hunt. And it did it's job, the hot water relaxing your tense body until you were feeling somewhat human again. Once out and dried, you dressed in your sleeping pants and an old flannel shirt that you'd had since joining the Winchester ranks. Stepping out of the bathroom, you saw Mick at the table with the take out that had apparently just arrived from the looks of things.

Putting your dirty clothes into a separate bag, you walked over to the table and sat down, “I didn't know if you liked burgers, but it's kind of a thing after a hunt.” He sat down across from you and a smile tugged at his lips, “You Americans and your hamburgers. Shall I pass you a beer to go with that?” You knew he was being funny, and you rolled your eyes as you snatched up a fry and bit off some of it with a sigh of pleasure. There really was nothing in the world like a good fry, “Say what you want, Davies, but this is better than that high class junk you like to eat.”

He laughed, honest to Chuck, laughed as he looked at you and reached over to take the other container of fries. And damn if you didn't feel your heart beat faster and wetness start to pool between your legs, his laugh was sexy as hell. “I don't always eat high class, as you call it. Even I indulge in this heart attack waiting to happen..what? What is it?” Tensing up, you realize that you've been staring at him and you can feel your cheeks trying to turn red, “Nothing, I was just thinking.” Glancing away, you dig into the burger and fries, hoping to just ignore him until you can get back to the bunker, even though you know it's going to be impossible now.

From the little glances you still shoot his way, he seems to be enjoying the food as much as you are, and is content not to talk much at the moment. Hunting had a way of doing that though, you were always ravenous after a hunt like that, and your body needed the calories now. When you were done, you tossed your trash into the trashcan on the other side of the table, taking a long drink of your water to wash it all down. Mick had finished too, clearing away his trash as he sipped at the brandy he'd brought with him. You started to walk by him, headed toward the chair in the corner to sleep in, when a strong, warm hand caught your wrist.

Whipping your head around, you met Mick's eyes, a lot closer than you had expected him to be when you turned around, “What is it...?” He seemed like he might just let this drop, but then you felt his hand tighten as those green eyes met yours, sending your heart on a roller coaster ride. “Y/N, I'm sorry for what we...for what I caused when I helped take Sam away.” Shaking your head, your lips parted to say something, but the warmth of his fingers against your mouth stopped you. Those fingers lingered for a moment before he slid them away and a shiver worked it's way through you.

Mick caught it that time and you saw the way his eyes darkened, your mind screaming at you to stop this before it even started. You didn't have a chance to think about it more as he pulled you up against his chest and his lips pressed against yours. It was shocking to say the least, that he had the balls to do this, but also that you hadn't punched the shit out of him for it. And you were really going to do just that, until you felt his hand curl into your hair and those warm lips press more urgently to your own, begging for a response.

A whimper left your throat, your lips parting beneath his to give him access, a low groan coming from him as his tongue swept inside to brush against yours. You responded to the kiss this time, hands dropping down to push beneath his shirt and slide over surprisingly firm abs. His hand tightened in your hair and it pulled a moan from you when he pulled to tilt your head back as his lips trailed down to your neck. Without a doubt, you should stop this while you still could, but his lips felt so good sliding over your bare skin. And even better was the bulge you felt when he pressed you closer against him, nearly making your knees go weak.

Turning the both of you, Mick backed you up to the bed and tipped you over onto it, following you down with a slight grunt of discomfort. Rational thought reared up and you turned your head away with a soft gasp, “Your leg, we can't..” His fingers slid through your hair as he nipped at your neck, your whole body shivering beneath him, “Just a scratch, love...but if you want to stop, I will.” Oh you should really stop him, but his body shifts and you feel the firmness of his cock press into your lower belly and rational thought commits suicide out the nearest window, “Don't...don't stop..” The words were soft, but Mick heard you and you could feel his smile against your neck as his hands tugged your pants down your hips and then off, tossing them somewhere behind him.

Desperate to have some control in this, you grasped his shirt and pulled it up until he raised up enough for you to slip it off and drop it to the side. The sight of his bare skin made more wetness collect between your thighs, he was so damn hot that it made you ache. His fingers slid over your still covered sex and you nearly came off the bed, “Davies!” That laugh again as he stroked over your panties a second time, your hips lifting up in search of more, “Given the circumstances, love...call me Mick.” Your mind instantly rejected that, saying his name made it too real, too wrong, a line you knew you shouldn't cross.

Another moan fell from your lips as he shoved your shirt up and leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hard bud. Twisting just a little, you finished pulling the shirt up over your head, dropping it onto the floor to be forgotten. Sliding your hands up, you buried them in his hair, trying to pull him closer, to keep him there. Mick didn't fight it, letting you control things a little as he lavished attention on the nipple in his mouth before he pulled back enough to switch to the other. One of his hands slid up and grasped the waistband of your panties before starting to pull them down. You didn't fight him, lifting your hips up so he could pull them off and toss them aside. But once they were gone, he untangled himself from your hands and leaned back so he could look down at you.

“Oh Y/N...look at you, love. So wet for me already..and I thought you hated me.” His voice did things to you that you swore you'd never tell anyone else, but Mick saw the way you shivered, the way your body responded to his words. Before you could tell him no, he slid you further onto the bed and nudged your legs apart as he leaned in and licked a slow line along your sex. You bit your lip hard to keep from making a sound, hands flying down so your fingers could slide through his soft hair, using it to pull him closer. Instead of pulling away, he licked deeper, swiping his tongue over your clit as he reached up and pressed two, long fingers inside you.

A whimper left you as you tried to pull him closer, while at the same time lifting your hips up in a desperate search for more. It really had been a long time, and the reasons why you shouldn't be doing this with him were starting to disappear. With each flick of his tongue over your clit, each curl of his fingers inside you, he was driving you closer and closer to orgasm. Not that it was far away to begin with, not when you were finally getting someone else's touch on your body.

One curl of his fingers found your g-spot, dragging cry from your lips as your hands tightened in his hair, “Fuck! Don't stop..please don't stop..” A groan left Mick at those words, lifting his head away, but continuing to curl his fingers to hit that same spot every time. The look in his eyes was intense as he pushed you right to the edge before he pulled his fingers out, not letting you orgasm just yet. Your hands grabbed for him, desperate to find that release you had been so close to, “Davies, damnit! Please!”

He moved away, shedding his briefs before he joined you on the bed again, nudging his hips between your legs as his hands slid up to your waist, “Say my name, Y/N..” As he spoke, you felt his thick, hard cock press against your slick folds, so close to where you needed him, but not quite there yet. You tried to lift your hips up in a search for more, but his hands held you down against the bed, making it clear that you weren't getting what you wanted until he got what he wanted. To make things even harder, Mick started to rock his hips a little, sliding his cock against your slick as you squirmed beneath him, trying desperately to get him inside you.

Despite his appearance, he was stronger than you thought, easily holding you there beneath him until you were sure you couldn't stand it a second longer, “Mick!” As soon as his name left your lips, he stopped teasing, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. As wet as you were, there was no resistance as he slid in easily, stretching you to fit him as he pushed deeper and deeper until he bottomed out, pressed tight against you with a groan that should have been illegal. His eyes were closed, fighting not to cum so soon and end this before it even started. You weren't in much better shape, clinging to him and struggling to move against him, needing that friction more than anything.

Thankfully, this time he didn't tease. He opened his eyes to look down at you as he braced himself with his arms on either side of you before pulling his hips back and then pressing them forward again. You tipped your head back against the bed, hands sliding to his lower back as you spread your legs wider for him, still so close to orgasm. Mick groaned as your hands pulled him closer, your walls slick and tight around him as he set a fast pace with his thrusts. He wasn't going to last long and he knew it, but then he also knew that you weren't going to last long either. It had been too long since you'd had sex, and even longer since you'd had good sex.

With Mick though, no matter how much you wanted to deny it, this was absolutely the best thing you've felt in months, possibly even in the last year. Each thrust of his hips nearly had you whimpering as you clung to him, a little cry leaving your mouth when he shifted and changed the angle. Reaching down with one hand, he slipped it between your bodies, thumb finding your clit to rub quick, firm little circles in time with his thrusts.

Throwing your head back, you didn't bother to hide your moans anymore, it didn't matter because he was the only one who was going to hear you. You felt him tense up, your gaze turning up to him as his speed increased a little more, “Cum for me, Y/N...I want to feel you cum on my cock.” That was absolutely the hottest thing you've ever heard him say, and it had the desired effect. Mick rolled his tongue over his bottom lip as your body tensed up, back arching up from the bed as orgasm ripped through you. His name left your lips as your walls pulsed around his cock, hands grasping at him, trying to ground yourself as pleasure burned white-hot through your entire body.

You swore you were seeing stars as that pleasure overwhelmed you, and Mick never stopped his thrusts, drawing out that pleasure you were feeling. “Fuck...you're so beautiful when you cum for me, Y/N..” His words drew another whimper from you as he kept thrusting, though he faltered now and you could feel his urgency. Reaching up, you buried your hands in his hair and dragged him down for another kiss as he thrust deep one last time. Mick's arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as his cock pulsed and a groan rumbled in his chest as he emptied himself inside you.

It felt good, almost too good if you were being honest with yourself. But none of that mattered as the two of you clung to each other, lips and tongues sliding against each other as Mick rolled the two of you over so you were resting on top of him. The kiss broke and you pushed up a little to look down at him, body still flushed and pupils blown wide from how good that was. He looked in a similar state as well, and you knew then that you would never get this night out of your head. Ever.

Mick watched you quietly, reaching up to brush some of your hair away from your face, causing you to blush despite your best efforts not to. He didn't say anything about it though, which you were thankful for as this was already awkward enough. Though he seemed to sense that as he tugged you down to press a soft, sweet kiss against your lips that had you melting in against his chest. Sighing contentedly into the kiss, you returned it with one of your own until you both felt the need to break it again. One of his hands combed through your hair as the two of you locked eyes, “Do you still hate me, Y/N?”

Tipping your head into his hand, you held his gaze as you shook your head a little, seeing the way he relaxed as soon as he had confirmation that he wasn't a dead man now. Leaning back in, you gave his lips a soft peck before lifting yourself up off of him carefully, instantly missing the feel of him inside you. Shaking that feeling off, you moved to lay on your side next to him, pillowing your head against his chest, “I think I might like you, Mick..just a little..” Mick laughed softly and curled one arm around you, turning his head a bit to kiss the top of your head, “I believe I may fancy you as well, Y/N.” Biting back a smile, you draped one arm around his waist and settled down to get some rest. This wasn't exactly how you had thought the case would work out, but you weren't going to complain either.

Edit: Because I totally forgot earlier, here’s the tag I promised, @lucifer-in-leather!

#spn bmol #mick davies #reader insert #enemies to lovers #spn imagine #first mick fic

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