#and sitting on rick's bed watching him while he gets into his pajamas

[dudeshusband]

sorry i had to map out their apartment so i can imagine being in it

[grimesthinker]

Stepdad!rick having a bunch of friends over for a poker night or something and you come downstairs to get some water and popcorn, wearing the tiniest, tightest pyjamas he’s ever seen. And ur unaware of the several wandering eyes cause you’re way too busy with your nose in a book, standing by the microwave. And Rick has to excuse himself for a moment to tell you to get back upstairs before he loses it and fucks you in front of his friends…

the stepdad!rick spam is EVERYTHING. i audibly squealed. i am in love with you.

you come down the stairs into the kitchen, a cherry lollipop stuck in your mouth and a book in hand. you take the candy from your mouth and smile sweetly to the group of men sitting around the kitchen table, stacks of cards and half empty beer bottles littering the scene.

"hi, daddy!" you greet rick with a kiss to his cheek. you think nothing of it. you're just being polite, after all. you skip to the cabinet and stand on your toes to reach the box of popcorn tucked inside. rick works his jaw as both your thin tank top and tiny pajama shorts ride up, exposing much of your skin. he tenses, gripping the beer bottle in his hand a bit too hard.

he loudly clears his throat when his friends' eyes linger on you for too long. your pretty bare skin, the way you suck on the lollipop as you put the bag of popcorn in the microwave. the men quickly go back to their card game, not wanting to displease rick anymore. you don't notice it. you bend over the counter and put your nose back into the book, reading while you wait for the popcorn to finish popping.

as rick watches you bend over the counter like that, lips sucking on the lollipop and eyes moving along the pages, he can't take it anymore. he gruffly excuses himself from the card game and treads to you, back to his friends so he can block their view as he admonishes you.

"what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, voice in a scolding whisper. you place the book on the counter and look up at him, head cocking to the side in confusion.

your voice is sweet. innocent. what a little actress, he thinks. "i don't know what you-"

"upstairs, now."

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your bottom lip becomes wobbly. "but i-"

"now."

you know he means it. you do as he says, pouting and stomping up the stairs to your room. he excuses himself again and follows you, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

minutes later, your pajama shorts and panties are thrown to the ground, thighs pushed to your chest. you weep as his cock thrusts into your slick cunt, deeper and deeper. "m'sorry! was jus' being nice!" you cry, eyes teary and swollen lips pouty.

what a sight it was. you, the picture perfect embodiment of innocence, taking your step father's cock on your pretty pink bed while his friends wait downstairs. you whine and cling to him, moaning when his cock brushes against your g spot.

"open." he ignores your apologies and holds your jaw with his big hand, spitting on your tongue when you stick it out like the good girl you are.

he gives a slight nod so you can swallow, eyelashes fluttering up at him. your eyes are glossy, hands grabbing for him. he knows what you want. he always knows. he dips his head down to connect your lips. you mewl as he messily kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. "fuckin' brat."

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Sometimes a family is a girl, her pet rat, a traumatized soldier, and his feral girlfriend

Got a prompt over on AO3 that was basically just Sebastian being Rick's lil buddy and it turned into Rick and Harley accidentally adopting Cleo and Sebastian.

Rick jolts awake at the sound of a soft knock on the front door. He can just make it out over the sound of the torrential downpour that’s going on outside. The knock gets louder. Harley stirs beside him but doesn’t wake.

As a precaution, he grabs her baseball bat from the corner of their room and goes to answer the door. He cracks it open, bat hidden behind the door, and is shocked at what he sees.

Ratcatcher Two is standing out in the hallway, soaked to the bone and shivering. She’s got Sebastian the rat cradled in her hands.

Before he can say anything, Harley comes up and wraps her arms around him from behind. “Who’s at the door, baby?” she asks sleepily.

“Uh… It’s Cleo and Sebastian.”

“Hmm?” It takes a second for her brain to catch up but suddenly she’s wide awake and shoving him aside. “Oh my god! Get inside, hun, you must be freezing!”

Cleo sniffs and tells them, “I had to leave my living situation—it was becoming dangerous. We didn’t know where else to go. Sebastian figured out where you lived a while ago, Colonel Flag, since you saved him from Peacemaker.”

Sebastian waves from his spot in Cleo’s hands and Rick awkwardly waves back. It’s true that they’d saved each other back in Corto Maltese but it still feels weird to be waving at a rat.

He can hear water running and then Harley’s back. “C’mon, sweetie, let’s get ya into the shower so you can warm up. Towels are on top of the toilet and I got dry clothes for ya when ya get out.”

Once Cleo silently slips into the bathroom, she turns to Rick and says, “Baby, I love you but you’re absolutely useless right now.”

“Right, sorry. Lemme get the couch set up for her.”

Harley helps him wrangle a fitted sheet over the couch and stack several blankets and a pillow on top of it. Once that’s done he goes into the kitchen to make some quick breakfast sandwiches—his specialty. He even makes a tiny one for Sebastian.

He brings them out to the living room and he sees Cleo sitting on the couch with Harley. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms. He can hear her saying, “I had to get out of there. We were fine until it started raining and we couldn’t find anywhere dry to sleep.”

“Well you’re stayin’ here as long as ya need to.”

He sets the sandwiches on the coffee table and Sebastian immediately starts eating his but Cleo looks wary. “C’mon, eat up. You must be starving.”

She reaches for the sandwich and takes a small bite. “Thank you, Colonel Flag.”

“Please call me Rick.”

He goes to the bathroom to clean up the wet towels and hang up Cleo’s soaked clothes, figuring that she doesn’t want an audience while she eats.

Harley’s tucking her into bed on the couch when he gets back, Sebastian fast asleep on the pillow next to her head.

She creeps back over to him, flicking the lamp off and bathing the apartment in darkness. They stand there and watch the pair for a second. She leans against his side and sighs, “Can we keep her?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, we can keep her. C’mon, let’s go to bed, Harls.”

----------------

Cleo awakens slowly from the best sleep she’s ever experienced. It takes her a second to recognize her surroundings but then she remembers last night. She stumbles towards the sound of voices and the smell of bacon.

“Sometimes I wish I had two of ya,” she hears Harley say.

As she walks into the kitchen she vaguely registers the couple wrapped up in each other’s arms as Harley sips from a coffee mug. “Why do you want two Colonel Flags?” she asks sleepily.

Harley promptly spits her coffee all over Colonel Flag, which immediately wakes Cleo up. Had she said something wrong? He’s now blushing furiously, which just confuses her more.

“I’ll tell ya when you’re older,” Harley manages to wheeze out once she’s done coughing.

Oh. Oh! That explains a lot.

Colonel Flag excuses himself so he can change his shirt and Harley busies herself with getting a plate down from the cupboard and loading it up with scrambled eggs and bacon. She sets it on the table and says, “Dig in!”

Colonel Flag comes back with a dry shirt on and says, “Okay, so we’re all just gonna forget the last two minutes and focus on finding Ratcatcher Two here a place to live.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay, Sebastian and I will be okay on the streets again.” It’s really all she’s ever known besides the four walls of a prison cell.

“Fuck that!” Harley says. “Sweetie, we can’t in good conscience just let ya be homeless again.”

“Why?”

“You… you literally told me you got threatened with a knife yesterday, hun.”

“Oh well we’re not gonna go back there obviously.”

She’d been squatting at the old orphanage with a group of homeless teenagers and that had been working out fine for the last month. That is, until things turned violent when one of them got too high and had a bad trip.

She doesn’t argue this time when Harley insists that she needs to be off the streets and that she thinks there’s a few units available in their building.

-------------

Cleo trails behind the couple as they make their way down to the leasing office. Her heart is pounding and she’s trying to keep her breakfast down. She already knows she can’t afford a place in this building—she doesn’t even have a job. She’s been resorting to petty theft to stay afloat but hasn’t tried anything big like a bank robbery again. The last thing she wants is to get thrown in jail again.

The property manager—a balding man in an ill-fitting suit—eyes the three of them as they approach. Cleo hangs back in the corner while Colonel Flag and Harley stand there imposingly.

“So, here’s the deal,” Harley begins. “Our friend Cleo here is lookin’ for a place to live. Got any openings?”

He snorts. “Sure, but I highly doubt she can afford them.”

She can feel her face heating. He’s certainly not wrong. She clutches Sebastian tighter, who squeaks at her soothingly.

“How much?”

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Nah, that ain’t gonna work. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna rent a place to her for three hundred a month, no more than that.”

“Do you know how much money I’d lose if I did that? I’m already renting to you two assholes practically for free!”

“Ya say that like I’m supposed to give a shit. Listen, we’re the reason you don’t have more supervillains crawlin’ all over this place but if that won’t persuade you, I got a baseball bat with your name on it.”

The property manager pales and manages to stammer out, “Ah, I think I do actually have a unit. But, uh, it won’t be available ‘til next month.”

“Perfect!” Harley chirps. She turns to Cleo and throws her arm around her shoulders. “Looks like you’re stayin’ with us for a couple weeks!”

As they’re leaving the property manager’s office, Harley remarks, “Ya know, I think that License to Kill shirt I got ya for your birthday really helped our case.”

Colonel Flag sighs and says, “Harls, we really need to do laundry.”

“Not it!”

The couple continues to bicker about whose turn it is to do laundry as they make their way back to the apartment.

“I could do it,” Cleo pipes up from behind them. It’s the least she can do to thank them.

They immediately stop arguing and turn to look back at her. In unison, they say, “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Harley elaborates, “You’re our guest, hun. We’re not gonna make ya do chores. Especially because it’s his turn to do laundry!”

Colonel Flag pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Harls, we’ve been over this. I gave you a break last week because you were hungover. It’s your turn!”

“Most of it is your laundry anyway!” Harley whines.

“Because you keep stealing my shirts!”

“… Okay, ya got me there.”

------------------

Cleo wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when she knocked on Colonel Flag’s door. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see him living with Harley Quinn, after their epic love confession in the ruins of Jotunheim. What she was surprised to see was just how domestic the couple’s life had become.

Over the next few weeks she listens to them bicker like an old married couple about some of the stupidest things but she also sees the way Harley comes up behind Colonel Flag for a hug every night while he cooks dinner, and how she’s always making sure he’s taken his meds at bedtime, and the way he carries Harley to the couch when she’s complaining of cramps and just wants to lay on the couch and eat raw cookie dough all day.

He’s even carried Cleo to the couch once when she embarrassingly fell asleep at the breakfast table—she really doesn’t function well early in the morning.

She’d woken up with her head on Harley’s lap and the TV volume on low.

“Mornin’, sweetie! Sleep well?” she’d chirped, just as Colonel Flag was carrying her abandoned breakfast plate over to the coffee table.

Having been homeless or in prison her whole life, she essentially needs a crash course in being a functioning adult in society. She’s never opened up a bank account, learned how to cook, or had a job.

The first order of business is opening up a bank account, which Harley helps her do. Ten thousand dollars magically appear in said bank account the next day and Cleo doesn’t question it. It’ll give her a nest egg to live off of until she figures out the whole job situation—if she even wants one, Harley comments. Being a criminal is a perfectly respectable career, in her opinion. Cleo needs to think on it.

While Harley is dragging her all over Gotham to various stores so she can buy things for her new apartment and clothes and other necessities, Sebastian is having the time of his life with Colonel Flag. It warms her heart to see them interact. Sebastian helps with the cooking and every Friday they watch football together.

“Baby, we’re gonna borrow the d-bag truck. Where’re the keys?”

“Stop calling it that,” Colonel Flag deadpans, without even taking his eyes off the TV. He rummages around in his pocket and tosses the keys over his shoulder, Harley catching them easily.

“Why do you call it a d-bag truck?” Cleo asks as they make their way to the building’s parking garage.

The car they stop in front of is a massive black pickup truck, and suddenly the moniker makes sense.

They come home from furniture shopping three hours later to find the boys sulking.

“Did your sportsball team win?” Harley asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sebastian squeaks indignantly in agreement.

It’s with a mixture of sadness and hope that she receives the keys to her new apartment on the first of the next month. This place has become home for her. She’s never felt safer or more cared for than she has in the last few weeks. She’ll miss watching movies on the couch with Harley and watching Colonel Flag and Sebastian cooking together. She’ll even miss the couple’s constant bickering about who’s responsible for doing laundry (somehow the answer always seems to be neither of them).

The sadness doesn’t last long though. She’s been moved in for two days when the couple shows up on her front doorstep, inviting her over for family dinner, as Harley puts it.

She ends up at their place every Tuesday and Saturday night for dinner going forward.

[sofiiel]

I've got so many headcanons about what Eddie Munson was like a kid. So just going to drop them here.

Little Eddie sleeps with a night light. His dad doesn't approve, and his mother while she's still in the picture doesn't care one way or the other. His Uncle Wayne gives him a lava lamp to use instead, that way his dad can stop giving him the blues.

When he was five, his dad tried to teach him to ride a bike. He skipped over the tricycle most kids start out with and tried to teach him on a bike handed down from a work friend's child. The kid was older than Eddie, so the bike was too big. His dad pushed him around the trailer park for hours. Little Eddie is enjoying the time with his dad that isn't strained and keeps telling him his not ready for his dad to let go, so he can ride on his own.

His dad made him get buzz cuts because his hair reminded him too much of Eddie's mom, who left them both behind wanting a career for herself and having a child young was not ready for the responsibility.

Little Eddie's musical taste comes from both his parents, but he doesn't like to admit that his dad got him started on a love for metal.

Eddie's mom inspired him to learn guitar, she had an acoustic and used to play for him to help him sleep. He remembers those days well.

Little Eddie liked to catch frogs, slugs, and bugs. Keeping them jars because he wasn't allowed to have a pet. The Pet rock just didn't cut it. In his pursuit of having a pet, he also offered to watch or play with the neighbors dogs.

He gets letters and gifts from his mother for every holiday and his birthday. She comes to town to visit sometimes. She's out traveling the world, or that's what the letters say.

Little Eddie tried to find a shortcut around learning to tie his shoes and used the twist ties from bread bags to twist the laces together.

He and Jeff go way back and used to play pretend out in the woods, LARPing pretty much in the same way they would at a DnD table. Pretending to fight off trolls and go on grand adventures.

Eddie's dad, Wayne and Reefer Rick, were friends in high school and in the summer they take Eddie out fishing near Rick's house.

Little Eddie helped his dad get dates by being adorable with the 'single dad' routine at the park and at the store. It worked pretty well, but Eddie was never really keen on any other woman being around, as he still had hopes that his mom would come back one day.

Uncle Wayne used to give Eddie's dad money to put under Eddie's pillow from the tooth fairy. His dad didn't believe it in at first, but the two men got a laugh when Little Eddie started putting his friend's teeth under the pillow for extra money. He'd talk them into saving their teeth and giving them to him. He's always had a hustle.

Eddie's first guitar was the acoustic his mother left him. It was far too big, but he grew into it eventually.

He was the kind of kid that always came home filthy and found some kind of mischief.

Eddie was protective of his friends, and would try to be the big bad around bullies, but in reality he wasn't very tough at all, and it usually ended with all of them getting swirlies or wedgies from the bigger kids.

His dad taught him how to even the playing ground in a fight. Using ab object to protect himself.

His dad worked as a mechanic for a while as a side job, and Little Eddie used to help him work on cars on the weekends out in front of the trailer. Handing him tools and sitting in the cars while his dad showed him various things.

Before his mother left, she tried to be a good mom. She's pack him lunches for the day, cut him heart shaped sandwiches and leave him notes. She'd make him pancakes on Sundays and read to him before bed. Not only that, but she's the one who got him into fantasy.

Wayne would pick up Little Eddie early in the morning when he got home from the plant. Still in his footie pajamas to take him to the local dinner to eat breakfast together.

When he was 10 he took his dad car out on a joyride with his friends and almost made it completely out of Hawkins before getting it stuck in a ditch.

Little Eddie used to get in trouble at school for having too many doodles on his homework and not enough actual work.

Little Eddie was a fire alarm puller.

A/N: well that went on forever and that's not even all of them lol

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Screw It, I Love You

Title: Screw It, I Love You

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: G 

Tags: Just a lot of fluff! 

Summary: This is based of this post I saw the other day, find it HERE. It’s about Cas being newly human and Dean leaving him reminder notes all over the bunker.

Also, thanks as always to @thebridgekid for reading this <3<3<3

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Cas woke up around noon, still tired as hell and still not completely healed, but definitely better then the previous day's. Being human always took a beating on him, especially right after losing his grace, but he knew eventually he would adjust and be able to hunt with Sam and Dean again. 

     The brother’s had left early that morning to take down a vamp nest in a nearby town. He knew they wouldn't be back till late, and there was the possibility they wouldn't even come home until tomorrow, so Cas had taken the opportunity to sleep in. But now he decided it was time to get up and not waste the entire day. So he forced his still exhausted body to get out of bed and venture out into the bunker. 

     He was just about to open his door when a little yellow piece of paper caught his attention. He took the sticky note off the door and read it aloud, "Cas, you're human now, so don't forget to eat. Dean."

     His stomach took that moment to growl furiously, "I guess I am a little hungry. I don't know how humans maintain their bodies if they are this hungry all the time."

     He tucked the little note into his pajama pants pocket and made his way into the kitchen. As he walked the hall’s of the bunker he noticed more and more how hungry he actually was, but in the same instant hoped that there was something in the kitchen that he was actually able to make. He was certainly no chef, he could barely make eggs without nearly burning the kitchen down, so hopefully Sam had some cereal left in the cupboard or something easy. Otherwise he wasn't too sure what he was going to eat. 

     He made the last turn into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. On the counter there was a small pile of clothes and another yellow note. He walked over and read the note, "Hey, Cas, don't forget that humans get cold. I grabbed you a sweater and some socks, stay warm, Dean."

     Cas couldn't help but smile to himself, Dean was right again. Now that he was out of the warmth of his bed, his arms and toes were getting cold. So he put on the socks and sweater and walked over to the fridge. 

     "Another note," he smiled and took it off the fridge door, "I sort of figured you'd sleep past breakfast, and I know how much you suck at using the stove, so I made you some lunch. It's in the fridge. Just some PB&J sandwiches, I know how much you like them and I know it's simple, but it's definitely better than scorched eggs and bacon. I also made you some pasta and garlic bread for dinner if I'm not back. Just put it in the microwave for two minutes. Dean."

     Cas tucked that note into his pocket with the others and grabbed one of the wrapped up sandwiches from the fridge then sat down. With the first bite he moaned, he loved PB&J sandwiches so much, and he was so glad that Dean had been so kind as to prepare him food for the day. He would not have been happy with any of the burnt food he would have ended up with had he cooked himself. 

     He spent a little bit extra time eating the sandwich, savouring it as much as he could, before he was finally finished and now found himself with nothing to do. He tossed his wrapper in the garbage, stood there for a minute, then sighed and slowly wandered through the bunker. 

     He had been in this situation before, him staying behind while the brothers went on a hunt without him, and every time he hated it. He hated being alone in the bunker with nothing to do, and to top it off both Dean and Sam had taken their laptop’s with him to prevent him from attempting to do anything other than relaxing. As he recalled, Dean's exact words on the matter had been, "No work, no searching for cases, nothing related to hunting, period, while we're gone. You just sit back, relax, and focus on getting your strength back." And so now here he was, bored, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. 

     He considered for a brief moment calling Dean to see how the hunt was going, but quickly decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally distract Dean mid hunt and have him end up injured or even possibly worse, especially now considering he couldn't heal him if something happened. So instead he kept wandering. 

     He eventually wandered through the map room, ended up in the library, considered for a moment reading a book but decided he wasn't in the mood to focus that hard right now, and was about to head back to his room with the thought of going back to bed when he saw another yellow note on the wall. 

     He walked over to it and grabbed it from the wall and all this one said was, "Cas," with an arrow pointing to the right. He followed it, finding yet another note with the same message, and another, and another, until he found himself in front of Dean's hidden little man cave at the back of the bunker. The note on the door this time said, "Come on in, Cas, and look on the tv."

     "If you say so, Dean," and he walked in. There was another note on the tv right where the last note had said it would be, so he read that one, "I knew you would end up wandering around, bored with nothing to do. So I cued up a new Netflix series for you to watch, there's also beer in the mini fridge, and snacks for you in the cupboard above it. When I get back, maybe we could have a movie night? Haven't had one in a while. Dean."

     "I would love that, Dean, now you just need to hurry home." He added that note to his collection and walked over to the cupboard. Inside there was a bowl with all of Cas's favourite snacks, he then grabbed a couple beers, and walked over to the couch. He placed the snacks and beer on the table, grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. 

     "The Walking Dead," he read the title and the description of the show, "why are all the shows about monsters? We deal with this everyday and now it's all over tv. But if Dean likes it, then it must be good."

     He hit play on the first episode and then started digging through the bags of snacks in the bowl, trying to decide which one to open first, when he found another note. "Enjoy the snacks, Cas, but don't eat them all at once or you won't wanna eat dinner later, and you have to eat dinner. Humans need more than just candy and sweets all day, so make sure you save some room for that pasta. Also, don't forget at some point to shower, humans have to shower. Dean."

     Cas stared at the note for a second before he added it to his pocket. He then grabbed the bag of mini Twix bars and tossed one into his mouth. The man on the tv who had been shot in the beginning of the episode, Officer Rick if he remembered correctly, was just waking up from his coma, so he decided he'd watch another episode or two after this then he would shower as Dean had reminded him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Six episode’s, one shower, a bowl of pasta, and three bags of candy later and Cas was starting to feel tired again. He tried to wait up a little bit in hopes that Sam and Dean might come back tonight, but it was nearing midnight now and he assumed that they had decided to find a motel for the night. He would call them in the morning to make sure. 

     The episode he was watching was almost over, so he decided to wait for it to finish before he turned the tv off, but his newly human body had other plans. He felt himself slowly tipping to the side, falling, his eyes closing, and he ended up landing his head on the throw pillow. But a little crinkle on the side of his face woke him up enough to sit up and grab the sticky note that was now stuck to his face. 

     "Hey, Cas, I knew you would try waiting up for us and falling asleep halfway through your Netflix binge. But since we're not home yet go to bed, Cas, don't sleep on the couch all night, alright. See you when I get home, Dean."

     He chuckled lightly, still almost half asleep, but the thoughtfulness of Dean, leaving all those notes for him all day to make sure he was ok on his own, reminding him to eat and drink and rest, Cas couldn't help but blush. Not to mention he suddenly felt much warmer then he had all day. 

     He tucked that note into his pocket as he stretched on the couch, then forced himself to get up and shuffled to his room. 

     Even though he had been in there this morning and already found the note on the door, he couldn't help but find himself looking for one last note from Dean. Maybe there had been one he didn't see before he went to the kitchen for food, or a hidden note for him to find before he went to bed for the night. But after spending ten minutes searching the room, he was disappointed that he didn't find any more notes. But he pushed the disappointment aside, shucked everything but his boxers, and crawled into bed. 

     Where he was exhausted not too long ago he now found himself tossing and turning. He was wide awake and could not see sleep in his near future whatsoever. And after a few more minutes of restlessly trying to relax enough to sleep, he realized exactly why he was suddenly so unsettled. It was Dean. 

     As an angel, Cas didn't need to sleep, but now that he was human apparently it was necessary. And since he first became human a few days ago, this had been his first time without Dean, his first night going to bed without having spoken to the hunter, or even just as much as passing him by in the bunker. And his smell… it was comforting to Cas, Dean's scent always calmed him, even as an angel. But here in his own room, in his own bed, he had nothing of Dean to bring him that calm. 

     He grunted in frustration as he was still not able to relax, violently tossed the blankets off of him, and stormed towards the door, "As Dean would say, 'screw this!'"

     He threw his bedroom door open and marched down the hallway in nothing but his boxers, then barged his way into Dean's room. Dean's scent instantly hit his nose and he could already feel himself relaxing. And without even so much as a second thought he walked over and got into Dean's bed. 

     He pulled the blankets over him and snuggled into the pillow. Dean, it was all Dean, it all smelled like Dean, it was comfort and home. God, he missed Dean. 

     He laid there for a while, eyes closed just taking deep breaths, though he had no intention of sleeping there. He couldn't imagine Dean would be too happy when he came home from the hunt tomorrow morning and found Cas passed out in his bed. But he figured he could stay there for a little bit longer before he went back to his own bed. So he rolled over onto his stomach and stretched out on the bed, his arm finding its way under the pillows, and his fingers hit something. He grabbed it and pulled it out, finding a full sized piece of paper. He was about to put it back, sure that it was something personal to Dean if he had hidden it there, but in the dim glow of Dean's digital clock on the bedside table, he saw his name at the top. 

     He quickly turned on Dean's lamp and sat up to read the new note, and it would be an understatement to say he was only a little excited about it. "Cas, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here or not, I was hoping you would. And I know you'll probably think you have to go back to your own room, but you don't, you can stay if you want, you don't have to leave. So just lay back, relax, and go to sleep, okay. I'll come wake you up in the morning when I get back from the hunt. Good night, Cas, I…"

     Cas squinted at the bottom of the paper, Dean had written something but scribbled it out completely. Then it looked like Dean tried again, "I… Cas…" Then more scribbles, and more, until he was at the bottom of the page. 

     Cas wanted to know what he had written, what he had wanted to say that he was too scared to. Maybe he could tell if he turned it over…

     "There's more," he whispered to himself then read the rest.

     "Screw it. I love you, Cas. I hope you see this side of the note before you go to sleep, and I can't wait to get home so I can tell you that in person. Sweet dreams, Cas."

     He was stunned, speechless, his brain had even turned off. Dean loved him, and now that was going to be all Cas could think about. His heart was fluttering, he was anxious with anticipation, and all he wanted was for Dean to be home already so he could say it back. How was Cas supposed to sleep now?!

     But eventually he did sleep, with thoughts of Dean's confession on his mind and clutching the note close to his chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Man, I don't know why we couldn't have just grabbed a room at one of the many motels we passed on the way here," Sam complained as they grabbed their bags from the back of the car, "I'm exhausted."

     Well, that was a lie, Sam did know why. He also knew why Dean was practically running through the garage and down the stairs, "Dude, where’s the fire. Slow down."

     "I'm just tired too, wanna head right to bed."

     "You don't want to stay up for a beer?" He asked, though he knew the answer, he just wanted to see what Dean would say, "Celebrate taking down that nest?"

     "Nah, I'm just gunna go to bed, I'm beat, see ya in the morning."

     "Yeah, see ya," Sam waved him off and watched with a smirk as Dean practically ran through the bunker towards the rooms. He knew Dean wasn't as tired as he was trying to make it out to be, he had seen Dean running around the morning before, placing notes around the bunker and setting things up for Cas all day. He also knew about the little confession note that Dean had left in his bedroom in hopes that Cas would find. 

     He had caught Dean writing it just before they left, and was able to catch a sneak peek over his shoulder without Dean noticing he was there. Sam also knew that Cas had most definitely already found that note, where he knew Dean wasn't sure if he would. But it was no news to Sam that if Cas was in fact in Dean's room, it would not have been the first time he caught Cas sneaking in there to grab a sweater or blanket of Dean's to take to his own room. He was just glad that these two were finally going to get over themselves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean was just standing, frozen, outside his bedroom door. He was nervous, to say the least. There was no guarantee that Cas would be in there, or that he had seen the note he hid. He was just running off of hope that he had been right in thinking that his missing clothes and blankets had been taken by the ex angel, that maybe he had been taking them for a reason, and that his confession would be taken the way he was hoping it would. 

     He looked down the hallway towards Cas's room, but the door was closed. All he could do was hope that his little hunches were right, and that when he opened this door he would find Cas on the other side. 

     Slowly, he reached his hand out and turned the handle. He was holding his breath, his whole body felt numb, and when he peeked his head in his heart went into overdrive. Cas was in fact there, asleep in his bed, the blankets resting low on his hips showing off his toned back. 

     Dean tried to pull himself together a little bit, to calm down so he didn't wake Cas. He was still recovering from losing his grace and needed as much rest as he could get. So he quietly slipped inside and closed the door as softly as he could. 

     He placed his bag at the bottom of the bed, all the while keeping his eyes on Cas, worried that if he woke him he'd spook and leave in a panic. But thankfully he was still sound asleep. So he removed his shirts and pants and almost in slow motion, he crawled into the other side of the bed beside Cas. 

     He didn't touch him or get too close once he was under the covers with him. Dean was thrilled that everything he had thought and hoped for, was currently laying right across from him in his bed. So he decided to just soak it in for a few minutes, to just lay there and adore Cas, just stare at him for as long as he could before he could feel sleep starting to take over. 

     Just before he closed his eyes, he ran the back of his hand over Cas's slightly stubbled cheek, then he laid back against his pillow. Then suddenly Cas shifted beside him and moved until he was practically right on top of Dean. He tucked his head under Dean's chin, tangled their legs together, and snuggled as close as he could get. 

     Dean just smiled, as happy as he had ever been in that moment, and wrapped his arms around Cas. They laid like that for a minute before Cas moved his hand from where it was rested on Dean's chest, and a second later, he brought it back up and stuck the entire pile of sticky notes he had collected all day to Dean's forehead. Dean chuckled, shaking Cas on his chest who also laughed. Then he brought his hand up again and placed the confession note over Dean’s heart where his hand had just been resting. 

     Dean grabbed all the notes and placed them on the bedside table, then opened the drawer to reach in and grab the pad of sticky notes and wrote out another one. He laughed as he peeled the note off the pad and moved his hand between them to stick it over Cas’s heart. Cas tucked his chin down to read the note upside down and smiled from ear to ear, “Property of Dean Winchester.”

     “At least I hope,” he said, laying his hand over Cas's where it still rested over his heart.

     "I love you too, Dean," Cas spoke into Dean's neck, drawing mindless circles over Dean's heart. 

     Dean moved his hand over to Cas's chin and lifted his face up to his. "I'm glad you found my note, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here."

     "I missed you," Cas admitted, "the pillows and blankets smell like you."

     "I missed you too, Cas, a lot. I did everything I could so that I could make it back here tonight so we could be together." He rubbed his thumb over Cas's bottom lip, then asked in an almost whisper, "Can I…"

     Cas nodded, his nose rubbing against Dean's as he did, and Dean leaned in closing the gap. He touched his lips to Cas's and kissed him softly, sucking lightly on his bottom lip. It was slow, and gentle, and perfect, filled with years of love between them and Dean couldn't think of anything better than this. He had never been happier. 

     When they finally pulled apart, Dean pulled Cas against his chest again, tucking him perfectly against his body as he was before, running his fingers up and down his back. Then he started thinking, as he was staring up at the ceiling, with Cas finally in his arms, and as usual his brain started running wild. He suddenly became nervous and began shifting under Cas. 

     Cas felt it, knew Dean well enough by now to know exactly what was going on, so he just rubbed his hand over his bare chest. It might have been easy enough to write it down on paper, but Cas knew Dean would struggle with actually saying it out loud. But eventually, with the soothing motion of Cas's hand on his chest, he managed to get it out. 

     "I… I love you, Cas, I really love you, so much."

     Dean leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cas's forehead and he smiled, tucked himself tighter under Dean's chin, "I love you too, Dean, and I'm glad you came back tonight."

     "Me too," he kissed him again, then wiggled to settle back into the bed and closed his eyes, "good night, Cas."

     "Good night, Dean."

End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope y’all liked that cute little fluff fest XD 

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Natural” - Chapter 7 - Embry Call x Reader

Graduation Party

I roll over in bed, waking up once again to an empty pillow to the side of me. 

I was getting used to Embry falling asleep with me, though I don’t think I would ever get used to him not being there when I woke up, the lonely feeling it left behind was quite intense. 

 I sit up, rubbing my eyes. I walk over to my desk to find the usual good morning note from Embry. 

I take the note and put it in a little box, with the others I’ve saved from him. 

I look over at the time, seeing it to be only a little before 8:00. I decided that I should probably join my dad downstairs for some cereal and chatting before he heads off to work on this fine Friday morning. 

“Hey dad.” I walk down the stairs and greet him in the kitchen. 

“Hey kid. Leah was here last night?” He asks, taking a bite of his frosted flakes. 

“Yeah, we watched some movies and talked, caught up a bit.” I grab a bowl to pour my own. 

I sit down at the table across from him, taking a bite of my cereal. 

“So what’s going on tonight, any big plans for the weekend?” He asks me. 

“Yeah, I’m actually going to Bella’s graduation party tonight.” I smile at him. 

“That sounds like fun, Billy mentioned that to me. The guys are going, too, right?” He asks me with a slight face of concern.

“Yes, dad. They’ll be there. What’re you worried about?” I laugh. 

“I worry about everything, I’m a dad.” He chuckles. 

“Alright there, dad. There’s nothing to worry about. Jacob, Quil, and Embry are going. I’m the tag along. Nothing usually gets past them.” I laugh. 

“No, not usually. They all really shot up since we left.” His eyes widen, soft laughter escaping his lips. 

“I know, it’s crazy. I can’t believe it.” 

“How tall is Jacob now? Him and Embry are really up there.” 

“Jake is 6’7 and Embry is 6’4.” I take another bite. 

“Wow. When’re you gonna grow?” He laughs. 

“Hey, relax there. Not all of us hit insane growth spurts.” I defend. 

“I know. Just messing with you.” 

“Yeah, I get it. Bully your daughter. Ha ha.” I smirk.

“Oh stop. You know I love you more than anything.” He gets up to put his bowl in the sink, nudging my shoulder on his way over. 

“I know, I love you, too.” 

“So how’s the Embry thing going on?” He asks. 

“Pretty good.” I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks. 

“I’m really glad it was Embry, honestly. He’s a good kid.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. 

“He is.” My cheeks still held that red tint. 

“Well, I should get going now. I’ll see you later, if not-- enjoy the party and keep in touch.” He kisses the top of my head before leaving. 

I finish my cereal and clean it up. 

Heading up the stairs I feel a little tired still from the night before. I lay back in bed to relax, maybe play on my phone for a bit. 

I unlock my phone and see some messages from the guys. 

“We’re gonna pick you up at 7. Be ready.” - Jake

“Good morning, bean. I love you and I can’t wait to see you today. Can I come over before the party?” - Embry

“(Y/N) important question. Do you think that snails are animals? Are slugs just homeless snails? I saw one on my porch last night and it’s keeping me up. Lmk what you think.” - Quil 

I shake my head, wondering why I even have a phone in the first place. I decide to text them all back. 

“You got it, chief.” 

“Good morning, Em. I love you, too. Come over whenever you can :)” 

“According to google, snails are basically octopuses. I don’t know about the slugs, though, bud. Do some research and keep me posted.” 

I laugh as I put my phone on my nightstand, walking over to my mirror. 

I look myself up and down, in my pajama shorts and a band t-shirt from a concert Embry and I went to three years ago in Port Angeles. I remember it like it was just yesterday. 

Embry and I walked around the venue after the show, passing by the merch table to take a peak. 

“Oh wow, that shirt’s pretty cool, look.” I point to him. 

“It is, why don’t you get it?” He asks. 

“I don’t know, I really shouldn’t buy it. My dad would get annoyed at me for buying another band tee.” I shrug my shoulders in disappointment, as I usually get a shirt at every show we went to. 

“Ah, that’s fair. Sorry, bean.” He pats me on the back. 

“It’s alright, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” I let him know and he walks me over to the bathroom before entering the men’s room himself. 

I walk out a few moments later to see a smiling Embry, holding onto his backpack straps. 

“You ready to catch the train back?” I ask.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He smiles.

We make our way back to the train station and sit down, beginning our hour and a half journey. 

“Hey, (Y/N)? Can I tell you something?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” I look up into his sweet brown eyes, filled with excitement. 

“So I got that shirt. I really liked it and I kinda wanted to add it to my collection. I just don’t want you to be upset with me.” He looks at me, pursing his lips. 

“No I’m not mad, Em. Why would I be mad at you? You’ll look great in it. You always get a shirt, we have our concert shirt collection going on.” I smile up at him, kinda kicking myself for not buying one to keep the tradition-- though not wanting to be lectured by my dad for it being a “waste of money.” 

“Great, I didn’t think you’d be mad. Especially because I got you one, too.” He smiles, reaching into his bag. 

“Embry! Why would you do that? Don’t spend your money on me.” I scold, trying to hide the blushing and insane smiling from appearing on my face. 

“Oh, shut up. You wanted the shirt, I wanted to get you the shirt. We both got what we wanted.” He smiles. 

“But, Emb-” 

“No, shh. Just say thank you and wear it.” He smiles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. 

“Thank you, Em.” I look up into his eyes, not even attempting to hide my severe blushing. 

“Anything for you, bean.” He smiles. 

I hold the shirt in my hands, clutching it excitedly. A yawn escapes my lips but I try to fight it back.

“You can lay on my shoulder, take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” He smiles. 

I nod, placing my head on his shoulder and falling asleep.

I observe how long it is for me, as he bought it in his size because “it’s just cuter that way” as he would say. 

Sitting down on my bed, I unlock my phone to see the responses from Embry and Quil, Jake only gave my message a thumbs up. 

“I’m on my way, should be there in a few minutes :)” - Embry 

“I’m on it.” - Quil 

I smirk before I make my bed and try to tidy up my room, just what I teased Embry about yesterday. 

A few minutes into me cleaning, I hear my phone going off. It was Embry texting me that he was here and to let him in. 

I jog down the stairs and open the door to see an excited Embry. 

“Good morning.” He picks me up in his arms and spins me around. 

“Hey there, Embry.” I giggle into his neck.

He places me back on the floor and I lead him upstairs. 

We get into my room and I notice his staring. 

“Is something wrong?” I ask him, eyes widening in nervousness. 

“No, no. God no. I just-- you look cute like that. I just, I like your outfit.” He stumbles upon his words. 

“Thank you, Em.” I blush. 

“I’m glad I got you it in my size. Maybe you should just switch over to my clothes completely. I think that would work.” He flirts, smiling like the goof that he is. 

“Hmm, maybe. I’ll steal some more of your hoodies soon.” I smirk.

“I can’t even complain.” He leans down kissing me softly. 

The kiss once again, as all the rest, felt like electricity shot through my entire body. I felt my knees going weak.

Emby’s hand on my hips felt like absolute heaven, making out with him was a rush, it felt like heaven on earth. 

He pulls away, placing his forehead on my own.

“Hi.” He breathes. 

“Hey.” I smile. 

“Wanna watch some Rick & Morty?” He asks.

“Sure.” I laugh. 

We always talked about Rick & Morty while I was gone, trying to watch it together. 

We situated ourselves in my bed, my head on his chest and my legs sprawled amongst his. 

The next few hours consisted of laughter as both he and I took turns falling in and out of sleep. 

At 5:30 I decided it was time I got up to begin getting ready to go. I put some mascara on, a little lip tint, style my hair and head over to my closet. 

“Whatcha doing, bean?” Embry asks, a yawn escaping his soft lips. 

“I’m trying to figure out what to wear to this party. Are you guys dressing up?” I turn around, and eye him up.

“T-shirt and jeans, all of us. Except maybe you. I’m sure the others will be dressed up but don’t feel pressured.” He smirks. 

“I see. I should have known.” I smirk. 

I search through my closet, feeling Embry’s hands find my waist behind me, pressing a kiss to the back of my head.

“You’ll look great in anything you wear.” He whispers.

“Thank you.” Thankfully he couldn’t see my blushing from behind my head. 

“Ya know, I’d say wear that. But I’d have a hard time controlling myself… And keeping you to myself.” He chuckles.

“Embry!” I laugh.

“I’m just saying, you look really cute.” He says, walking back over to my bed. 

It took me a while, but I decided on a black dressy-ish sweater, a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of black chelsea boots. 

I turn around to begin changing and I notice Embry covering his eyes, 

I giggle to myself as I change, thankful of his eye shielding-- I wasn’t ready for that just yet. 

“Thank you, Em.” I say as I finish pulling the jeans up my leg. 

“Of course.” He says, blush appearing across his cheeks. 

“You can open your eyes now.” I say when I finish, walking over to sit on his lap. 

“Hey, welcome.” He kisses my cheek.

“Look at you, the king of respecting women.” I laugh. 

“You know it, baby. Forever and always.” He laughs. 

It was true, though. Embry has always been one of the most respectful people I had ever met, especially with women-- including myself. 

“How long until Jake and Quil get here?” I ask, leaning my head into his chest. 

“Any minute now, time moves fast when I’m with you.” He presses a kiss onto my shoulder. 

“That it does, you’re my favorite way to spend my time.” I giggle. 

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He smiles into my neck, leaving a soft kiss at the nape. 

“How do you do that?” I ask. 

“Do what?” 

“Always have that effect on me? Everything you do… it just feels intense.” I admit. 

“I think that’s just because we’ve waited so long for this. You’re also my imprint, now.” He laughs softly. 

His phone begins vibrating, causing him to pull away and answer. 

“It’s Jake, they’re here.” He says hanging up the phone.

I nod and we get up, going downstairs. 

“Have fun! Be safe.” My dad smiles from the couch. 

“Thank you!” We call out in unison. 

“I’ll text you, dad. I love you.” I smile before we walk out the door and get into Jacob’s rabbit. 

“Let’s have some fun tonight.” I smile. 

“Too many leeches, but there might be pretty girls. So this could be good.” Quil chuckles from the front seat. 

“Ooh, Jacob. Pretty girls.” I say in a sing-song manner. 

“(Y/N), you know it doesn’t matter to me.” He laughs. 

“I know, but just try to have a good time. It’s my first party with you guys in like forever!” I grab the back of Quil and Jacob’s seats, bringing myself forward. 

“You’re right.” Quil agrees.

“Oh Quil, what’s the news?” I ask, referring to our conversation from this morning. 

“Oh. They’re cousins, not brothers.” He turns around to me, nodding.

“Oh damn, no way.” I smirk.

“Who?” Embry asks. 

“Snails and slugs. Ya know, the octopus things.” He shrugs. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Embry asks. 

“We’re here, please stop… whatever this is.” Jacob smirks getting out of the car. 

“I can explain later.” I grab onto Embry’s hand, following Jacob into the giant house that belonged to the Cullens. 

“Holy shit.” I mutter, walking through the enormous front door. 

“Right?” Quil agrees.

We walk up the stairs, finding the main area of the party. 

Embry stayed behind me, his hand on my lower back, guiding me up the stairs. 

“I’m not made out of glass, you know. I’ve done stairs before.” I turn around giggling. 

“Can’t risk an accident with you, bean. Especially in a house of leeches.” He reminds me. 

“Embry, stop it. I’m not that accident prone.” I defend. 

“Says the girl with five bruises just on her left leg.” He chuckles.

“Hey, don’t do this.” I laugh. 

Jacob soon finds Bella, greeting her.

“Hey, why are you here?” She asks. 

I felt strange, were we not invited?

“You invited me, remember?” Jacob responds. 

“I thought our argument and me calling you a dick was me uninviting you.” “Bella, I’m sorry. Look, I brought you a gift. I made you it.” He holds up the wolf charm bracelet that he spent hours carving. 

“You made this? It’s beautiful.” Her demeanor softened. 

“Of course.” He smiles, pulling her into a small hug. 

“Hey Bella. Congratulations.” I smile at her. 

“Oh, hey (Y/N). Thank you. I’m glad you came. Hopefully you can keep them under control.” She jokes. 

“Eh, maybe. Usually only Embry will listen to me, though. Fair warning.” I laugh. 

We sit around, listening to music for a little bit. Eating some snacks before we found our way to Bella again. As I was chatting with her and Jacob, Bella’s eyes frantically peered over to a very tiny woman on the stairs. 

“Alice. What did you see?” She asks, walking over.

“The decision has been made.” She answers, wide eyed. 

“What decision?” Jacob asks. 

We are all led into Carlisle’s office, me basically velcroed to Embry’s side, especially in such close proximity to the Cullens. 

“So they’re coming here?” Bella asks. 

“Yeah, in four days.” Alice responds. 

“We don’t have much time.” Carlisle says in a worried tone. 

“Who’s coming?” Jacob asks. 

“Newborn army. They’re coming for Bella.” Jasper says. 

We then got the whole rundown of what that actually entails, how scary of a situation this truly was.

“Wait, they’re after Bella?” Jacob asks. 

I look over at Embry, worried eyes. 

“Well, then the pack will fight.” Jacob agrees. 

Embry and Quil nod, my eyes wide with fear. 

“You think Sam would be willing to come to an understanding?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We’re going to have to train, this is a very dangerous fight. Lives could be lost. Jasper has the experience and knowledge we will need.” Carlisle explains. 

“We get to kick some ass.” The large one, Emmett, grins. 

“When do we start training?” Jacob asks. 

“Tomorrow.” Carlisle answers. 

“Okay, I’ll tell Sam tonight.” 

“Jacob, please.” Bella begs. 

“This is what you wanted, remember? We’re working together.” He really rubbed her face in it. 

“Newborns won’t even know they exist, they’ll be a great help to us. Plus we need the numbers, Bella.” Jasper reasons. 

I looked up at Embry with a worried face, feeling my heart begin to beat faster. I needed him to be okay, I needed all my friends to be okay. 

“Don’t worry, bean. Nothing is gonna happen, okay?” He whispers in my ear, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. 

Quil looks at me, nodding in confirmation. 

“This is what we were made to do. At least we get to kill some vampires.” Jacob grins. 

Going back to the party wasn’t the same after that. I felt like I was in a constant state of nausea, like my heart was about to fly out of my chest. 

When it was time to leave, we went out and drove back to my house in complete silence. I bid Jacob and Quil a goodnight and Embry walked me to my door. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked. 

“Well I was, earlier in the night.” I admit. 

“I know, bean. But please don’t worry. Everything will be okay, this is our job. It’s in our blood, this is what we do.” He smiles, trying to comfort me as he pushes my hair behind my ear. 

“I know, I’m just scared.” I admit. 

“Don’t be, bean. I would never let anything happen to you.” His eyes stare deep into mine, seriousness completely taking over his face.

“No, I’m scared for you.” 

“Oh, don’t be. I never got hurt before, and now I have just another thing to fight for.” He softly smiles. 

“I want to come to practice.” I tell him. 

“Uh, I don’t know.” His voice trails off. 

“Embry, please. I need to know.” I plead.

“Okay, but you have to stay where it’s safe. Stay by me.” 

I nod and he pulls me into a tight hug. 

“Thank you.” I whisper. 

“I’d do anything for you.” He smiles. 

His arms find my waist before he gives me a sweet kiss goodnight. 

I manage to find the strength to go inside my house and separate from the warmth that Embry was.

Sleeping was something that seemed to be out of the question as I stared at my ceiling in complete silence for hours, mind racing with anxious thoughts. I don’t even know when I even fell asleep. 

__________________________________

Word Count: 3087

 I  II  III  IV  V  VI  VII  VIII  VIIII  X  XIR XIE  XII  XIII  XIV  XV XVI  XVII  XVIII  XIIII

[sif-the-tsunami]

Sometime the best present is presence.

Hey y’all. Happy holidays guys, this is my participation in @toomanystoriessolittletime​ Christmas story challenge. I am not a super happy happy joy joy kind of a holiday person, so I hope maybe some of my fellow “I can’t handle forced holiday cheer” people can relate to this a little bit. 

The prompt is with Henry Cavill and last Christmas by Wham.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC Ellie

Word count: 2600

Content warning, language, adult situation, the least smutty smut I could manage, talks of infertility treatment, pregnancy, depression, I’m sorry if I missed anything.

Picture found on google

There were two things that Henry knew for certain to expect from his lover once the Holiday season rolled around, the first was that he knew that their shared kitchen would almost always smell like sage and cinnamon, and that her depression would take a nose dive. This was going to be their fourth Christmas together and he was prepared. Every year since she moved over to the UK to be with him,  Christmas Eve, they would go out and grab a pizza, come back to the house, and spend the evening watching Christmas movies in new pajamas. Henry would keep the hot cocoa flowing and the snacks supplied. Christmas morning, Ellie would make the most amazing breakfast, things from his childhood and hers, the three of them (including Kal) would open presents and the afternoon would be spent in Middle Earth with take out for dinner. Boxing Day was spent with his mom and dad. The break would be carefully planned for as few social obligations as possible.

Life was running full tilt in its normal chaos, Henry was filming for the next few weeks and Ellie went back to working on her novel. One of the techs on set told him about a game that he and his friends were planning on playing this holiday season. Henry looked up from his phone and asked about the rules. It seems simple enough. The game will be just enough of a distraction to keep her mind off the doctor’s appointment pending that he knew she was concerned about. And maybe his mum would come up for a couple of days to help keep her occupied. The matriarch was nothing, if not considerate of his partners mental health.

When he came home that night, the smell of her cooking hits him like a ton of bricks. The warm earthy scents of caramelizing onions, roasting garlic and he knows some kind of bird… it wouldn’t be duck. Is it Cornish game hens? But there are definitely potatoes involved as well. He swears that he can get some kind of hint of apple pie.

“Baby, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He asks as he comes into the warm kitchen. Out from the oven, she pulls out Brussel sprouts with thick batons of pork belly, seasoned with roasted garlic, and another serving dish of crispy potatoes was sitting on the counter. On the stove top, was a concoction of apples and onions, browning together in butter and fennel. On the table, making Kal ignore Henry all together, was a beautifully roasted chicken, spatchcocked on her favorite wooden cutting board, the skin was a deep golden brown. Had anyone else made that array of of food, he would have thought they were crazy, however he had thought that Ellie had the Force or something like it when it came to cooking. She could pull a bizarre array of foodstuffs together and create a hero’s feast. She had managed to turn instant noodles into a meal fit for a king before his eyes in their early dating months. Amazing meals were her super power.

Her face lit up as he walked into the kitchen. “Well, it was a good brain day.”

“I’m glad, my darling,” Dinner was set a few minutes later. Sitting together at the table, they dug into their feast.

“I will never understand how you can get the skin so crisp, but this meat is so juicy. What kind of witchcraft is this?” He asks after half the chicken has been picked clean by him alone. “And you have absolutely ruined me for other peoples sprouts, you know that right?”

Ellie leaned back in her chair, smiling like the cat who caught the canary. “I’m glad you like that, it was the last of my smoked pork belly though. Some time in January, I want to make some more again. Maybe cure my own bacon again.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Knowing that if she was planning on smoking other meats that he could probably talk her into smoking some ribs for him. “So speaking of good ideas. I want to challenge you to a game.”

“A game, you say? What kind of game?” She raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

“A survival game, the best kind of survival game in fact, because we can challenge our friends to it and this will go on in perpetuity.”

“Go on.” Looking at him like he’s going mad, but loving watching him get animated like this.

“It is called, wait for it… Whamagedon.” He says with the biggest smile.

“Whamagedon?”

“Yes, Whamagedon. Do you remember Rick Rolling? It is like that, but with the song “Last Christmas,” by Wham.”

“What are the rules?”

“I want to set a group text up, me, you, my brothers, fuck it we can even add Ben to it. Maybe even your sister. When we go out and about, the idea is if we hear the song we are out of the game. And the best part is after you are out of the game it is called Whamhalla and we can try to sabotage the others. And it can only be the Wham version.”

“It would get us in and out of the stores faster, probably.”

“I view that as a bonus.” He said leaning back, satiated by dinner and the idea he had been brewing all evening. “What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me, but we can not sabotage each other.”

“Absolutely not. Although I might make an Instagram post if I’m out of the game before Christmas Eve.”

“You are a chaotic goblin, you know that right?”

He just nods, his face is lit up like a child in on a secret. “Now what do you say if we go run ourselves a nice hot bath before bed. I feel like this cold is seeping into my old man bones.”

***

It was the beginning of December when Henry came home from the grocery store that afternoon, he heard the sobbing as soon as he dropped off the bags in kitchen. He rushed through the house to find her in the bathtub, Ellie was cradling her head in her hands. Kal whined, nudging her with his cold wet nose and slowly wagged his tail as she whispered, “I know bud, I love you too. Mommy is just sad today baby, it’s okay.”

Kal looked at his daddy in the doorway, he looked like he was trying to say ‘Dad, fix her.’ Ellie soon looked up too. The face he adored more than any others was puffy from crying. “I’m sorry hun, I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Elle, what happened?” he asked, sitting down on the floor next to her. Henry smiled a little at her, he planted kisses on the back of the hand that he held.

Ellie tilted her head down, and the tears started again. She said it so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. “Miranda just found out she’s pregnant.”

“Your friend from back home?” Without looking at him, she nodded once. “Do you know how long they were trying?”

“They weren’t. She called me this morning and told me the news. She’s so happy, its all she’s ever wanted. And I really am so happy for her.” Her voice cracked again. Henry rubbed her back as she struggled to take a deep breath. “About two minutes after she hung up I started cramping like I’m about to start my period. I… I feel like I’m failing you. My body is failing you. I even do the fucking thing that I was made to be able to do.”

She started to sob, curling herself into a ball, and wrapped her arms around her knees. His heart ached for the woman he loved.

“My darling, my sweetling, you have not failed me. Your body has not failed me.” He lifted himself up off the floor, “I’m going to go put the things that need to stay cold away, and I will be right back.”

Moments later he was back and stripping off his clothes from the day. Elle gazed upon him in love and awe. “Get that water nice and hot again, I’m coming in.”

She started draining the currently tepid bathwater right away. Henry handed her cold bottle of her favorite beer, and had one for himself. She then stayed in the middle of the tub as he climbed in behind her. He dropped a lavender, chamomile and vanilla scented bath bomb between her legs as he settled in.  She leaned back against his body, as her ran his fingers against her soft skin.

“What if I can’t give you a baby, Hen?”

“We could steal one. We will find a mummy with more kids than she can keep track of, and I’ll drive the car by really slow and we will lure one of them in with the promise of sweeties and puppies.” He teased her. The resulting giggle was worth the dark humor occasionally.

“I’m being serious, ya dick.” Her laugh was always magical to him. She took a long swing of her beer.

“Who said I wasn’t being serious. Would I love to have a mess of children, yes. However, I love you more than whatever hypothetical situation I’ve had before we met. You make me so incredibly happy.”

“Even on the bad days like this...”

“Yes, even on the bad days. Are you worried about going back to the clinic?” He kissed the back of her head. This would be the fourth round of IUI treatments. The shuddering breath she let out let Henry know he was correct. “We don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to.”

“If we are not successful this next time, I think I want to take a break from trying. At least for a while. I need to do something to help myself. I don’t think I can handle it on my own.”

“Okay, my love. We will get you the help you need.”

“I hope so. But in the mean time, I want to just spend the night being bummed out. Is that okay?”

Henry lathered up her wash cloth with her favorite smelling soap, getting the silk smooth suds down her back, tracing her shoulders and down her chest. “Does that mean we are having Chinese for dinner?”

“You know me so well.” She sighed, resting her head on him as he ran his hands up and down her body. She had stopped shaking but the tears still ran down her face. She nuzzled her face into his neck so he decided to rest his cheek on her head.  He lovingly washed her body and while the water was still steaming she rolled over to face him. Straddled on his hips, she ran her hands over his body, leaning into giving him hungry kisses.

The love he poured into her was always returned to him. His body asked hers to show him how much she needed him, the tears on her cheeks this time were from pleasure as she came. He followed her into bliss shortly after.

“I need more of you,” he whispered between kisses. They drained the tub, and dried each other off with soft fluffy towels. He picked her up from her hips and carried her to the bed, placing her down on their bed. If the first session was strengthening their connection, this time was carnal pleasure. Throaty I love yous whispered to one another, sealed with passionate kisses.

Afterwards, still a tangle of legs and sheets, they placed an order for their favorite take out. The two cocooned themselves from the world until their dinner arrived. Ellie, although absentmindedly pushed her food around with her chopsticks, seemed alright for now.

My love, please don’t go where I can’t follow. He thought.  Please, don’t push us all away while you suffer by yourself again.

***

Since the beginning of December, his plan worked. She would tease him about close calls. They would go in and out of stores as quickly as they could. The group chat they had going would go off sporadically and half the family was out within the first week. When he wasn’t working, he noticed that Ellie was sleeping more than normal, but he didn’t want to say anything to her. She sometimes wouldn’t text him back for hours if she took a nap in the middle of the day. Her publisher however seemed happy with the revisions they were making towards the high fantasy novel. Her second book would be published that coming spring. His mom had come up and visited, helping Ellie get some of the house ready for them to go back to Jersey until after the new year. They ran errands together, she helped Ellie with her annual purge for donations around the house, and generally just tried to keep her busy.  

Their last day in London was also their appointment with the fertility doctor. Getting all set up in the exam room, Henry held her hand. A nurse came in to take a blood sample and made small talk. Very faintly in the back they could here Christmas music coming from the reception area. Henry could already tell that the next half an hour was going to drag, and Ellie’s hands were starting to shake harder from the anticipation. It was maybe ten minutes in when suddenly his lover groans in disgust.

“Well fuck...” She mutters. And then the lyrics of some of the music starts registering to him.

With a note saying, "I love you, " I meant it Now, I know what a fool I've been But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart But the very next day you gave it away This year, to save me from tears I'll give it to someone special

“oh, of fucking course it plays now.” He chuckles at her. Henry starts to giggle a little bit. Seeing him lose composure, Ellie starts to as well. The giggle morphs into laugh then into hysterics. The two of them were cackling like hyenas when the nurse popped by in, wiping tears from their eyes and he knows one of them snorted.

“The doctor is running a little late, she wants you to get into this paper gown, she’s going to have to do a pelvic exam.” The nurse tells them quickly, dropping the items off, clearly not impressed by the two of them.

“I don’t I have had an exam for one of these before.” Ellie thinks out loud still laughing. She undressed quickly, throws on the gown and sits on the exam table. “We needed that laugh, though. I feel a little better.”

“Oh yeah, this has been stressful.” he nodded.

The doctor came in and did her formal greetings. “So I have a sinking suspicion but I want to take a look at you first.”

Henry politely averts his eyes while the doctor performs the exam, until she started talking again. “Well it looks like we aren’t going to be giving you the injection to stimulate your ovaries today, Ellie. The blood test showed that you are pregnant, I want to feel your uterus and yeah, you have a fetus in there. You are about three weeks pregnant. Congrats guys, you beat the odds.”

Ellie and Henry sat in the exam room in shocked silence until the doctor left.

[tinydooms]

Rick and Evie for 3, 8, 49 for the Christmas prompts please. And it sounds like a lovely idea - might actually get me in the Christmas spirit :)

Bet you thought #8: Hot Chocolate would get you a nice, cozy prompt. Here, have some angsty but loving brothers-in-law, instead! 

Cairo, December 1923

Jonathan Carnahan is not certain where he is. He knows that he is curled up on the floor, and that he is cold, and that rain is pouring down. But he cannot be certain whether he is in his bedroom in Cairo during a rare Egyptian downpour or if he is back in the trenches on the Front. 

He had been sleeping when a crash sent him diving for cover. The rainy tumult is as fierce as it was unexpected. One of the shutters has got loose and is flapping about in the wind. Bang. The big guns going off, earth and men and horses exploding under its rain. Bang. A rainstorm in Cairo. Bang. Over the top; let’s go, men! Bang. Cold tiles under his body, blankets twisted around his limbs. Bang. Someone wailing: a wounded soldier? Or Jonathan, lying on the floor in Cairo?

“Jonathan!” 

Bang.

“Get down, damn it! They’ll kill you!”

Rick had not been in Flanders, but he is here now, dropping down beside Jonathan and hunkering down. 

“I’m okay; I’m fine. How’re you doing, Sergeant?”

“I’ve been better.” Bang. Jonathan flinches and covers his ears. “I can’t hear a damn thing over these guns!” 

“Fucking awful night,” O’Connell agrees. “At least it’s friendly fire.”

“Friendly?” hisses Jonathan. Bang. “They’re mining us--we have to stop it--can’t you hear them?” Bang. 

“I hear them,” O’Connell says. “It’s just our sappers at work, laying down the lines. No worries.”

“Our sappers?” Bang. 

“Yeah,” O’Connell shifts to his knees. “Though now you mention it, there’s a sniper...wait…” 

He crawls along the floor, miraculously mud free in this muddy, filthy night. Bang. Jonathan watches with bated breath. Bang. O’Connell leaps up, seizes the loose shutter, slams it closed. Latches it. He drops back down again. 

“Got ‘em,” he says. “Sappers brought the tower down. It’ll be okay now.”

Something loosens in Jonathan’s chest. “You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Positive,” O’Connell says, quite cheerful. He reaches for Jonathan’s blanket and shakes it out. “Here, you might as well get some rest while you can. I’ll keep watch.”

Jonathan takes the blanket, wraps it around himself. The guns have fallen silent; O’Connell has worked his magic. The rain pours down, but it is outside now. Still, he hesitates to relax. 

“You’re quite sure it’s safe?”

“Quait sure,” O’Connell says in a terrible cod English accent. “Tell you what, some of the guys have made hot drinks. You want one? Hot chocolate.”

Jonathan, huddled in his blanket, is shaking all over. He nods. O’Connell leaves his side, crawls along the trench--or is it the bedroom?--and takes something from someone Jonathan cannot see. 

“Thanks, recruit,” he says to the person. “You’re dismissed. Here,” he adds, putting the mug into Jonathan’s hands. “Drink up, sergeant.”

Jonathan drinks. The hot chocolate is thick and spiced, fragrant with cinnamon and nutmeg. His mum’s recipe. Beside him, O’Connell has his own mug. They sit in silence, side by side, the rain outside falling less frantically now. Yes, it is outside. The rain is outside, and they are inside, in his own room at home, not out in the trenches, half-drowned in Flanders mud. They are both wearing pajamas, too, not uniforms. Safe. They are safe. The screams and crashes of the trenches fade, though they don’t vanish entirely, and Jonathan is huddled on his bedroom floor beside Rick, his brother, drinking hot chocolate as the rain falls. 

Rick is watching him closely. 

“Where are we, sergeant?”

“In my room,” Jonathan mumbles. “At home in Zamalek.”

“Good.” Rick squeezes his arm. “That’s good, Jon.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan whispers. 

“Don’t be. It happens to us all. There’s no shame in it.”

Rick settles down beside him, drinking his hot chocolate, and Jonathan is suddenly so grateful for him that he almost breaks down into tears. To hide it, he takes a deep draft of his drink. 

For a long while they sit in silence. Both finish their hot chocolate, and then Rick takes the mugs and stands, putting them on the bedside table. He tugs Jonathan upright. 

“Come on, sarge, let’s get you to bed. Here, take this.” 

Improbably, Rick produces a teaspoon and a bottle of bromide. Jonathan sinks down onto the edge of the bed and tries to summon enough bravado to give him a baleful look. He fails, only managing to look ashamed.

“Come on, it’ll help,” Rick says. “Just a bit.”

“I suppose I should ask who made you boss,” Jonathan says, meekly submitting to the sedative. He sags against his pillows. 

“I outrank you,” Rick replies, shaking out and arranging the blankets. “My last promotion was to captain.”

Jonathan wants to reply, but the bromide is taking effect. Instead he reaches for his brother’s hand and grips it. Rick returns the squeeze, accepting Jonathan’s gratitude. He sits beside him on the mattress until Jonathan is asleep, his breath deep and even. Then Rick eases himself up and goes to Evie, waiting at the door. 

“He’ll be alright,” he says. “It was the shutter that set him off, I think. I’ll fix it properly in the morning.”

“I always worry when he gets like this,” Evie whispers. “You’re sure he’ll be alright?”

“As any of us can ever be,” Rick says, but he is optimistic. None of them are alone anymore. 

[mercyprevaild-a]

“Sammy...” he sniffs behind a palm. Exhaustion brings out every line in his face, eyes rimmed red between tears and severe deprivation of sleep. His head pulses where it rests in his hands, but he struggles to close his eyes, “This is freakin’ me out, now, alright?”

It’s some time around the twenty hour mark and Sam is finally stable, but he’s unconscious with no sign of coming out of it. At least Rick thinks he’s stable. It’s a damn good thing they have matching blood types. They’re lucky like that. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them donated a pint for the other, but it is the first time Rick’s ever done this kind of shit on his own. He knows when he’s out of his depth, but it’s sink or swim at that point. A blood transfusion, surgical staples, IVs... he’s been in enough sketchy-cash up front-backdoor only clinics to have a clue, but it doesn’t give him much faith. 

But Sam’s still alive and that’s gotta mean he did something right. He can’t let go of faith now or he thinks he might just go mad watching his best friend lie pale against the red stained sheets, unresponsive for hours now, loitering outside Death’s door like an asshole. He’s already halfway there. Losing his mind sitting here. His thoughts are starting to go in circles now. He needs to find food, rehydrate, and sleep. Food, sleep. Just in case Sam needs more blood. Sam will need more blood. Food, sleep, blood. He needs sleep. Or does he need blood? Eventually, he finds sleep.  

Thirty three hours and Rick begins the search for antibiotics. It’s a fucking hospital. There has to be something left behind. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Sam will make it through this without them and he ain’t about to watch him die of a goddamn infection. 

He finds them, not a whole lot of them, but enough for now. He considers scavenging the nearby town, see what he can scrounge up from a veterinarian hospital or some other places that might have been overlooked by looters in the beginning.

“I guess I could check the old folk’s wing...” he’s talking to Sam when he returns from his semi-successful hunt for medicine. He kicks the door shut with one foot, arms full with a box of supplies, “I mean, technically s’still part of the hospital...” as he approaches, he dumps the box in the armchair that’s practically touching Sam’s bedside and starts rifling through it for the antibiotics. “I dunno how I feel ‘bout puttin’ down senior citizens in their pajamas, though. Ya know? You’d hesitate, too. I know I’m not jus’ being sensitive...”

Something doesn’t feel right. It hits him, like a sudden pull on his heart. His head lifts, blue eyes jump to Sam’s prone body, first the wound, then his relaxed face, then his chest. A moment passes. But there’s no sign of Sam breathing, not even the subtlest expansion of his diaphragm. 

“Sam... shit.” The chair is shoved out of the way. Two fingers press against the pulse point beneath Sam’s jaw. Nothing.  Head to his chest. Not beating. His heart’s not fucking beating. “N-no-no. Sam, babe, don’t do this. N-not now, y’can’t-- fuck.” 

Rick can’t remember the last time he had to perform CPR but in every case it was to keep someone stable until help arrived. Only there is no help coming for them. Paramedics walk the street below, as rotting corpses. There’s nurses trapped in the elevator and a doctor clawing at the door of the room opposite of theirs. There is no one living to help. It’s only him and his two hands and Sam doing his damnedest to die despite all his effort.

“Don’t --- you fuckin’ --- do this --- to me --- Silas.” He doesn’t stop, not even for a moment, he’ll break Sam’s ribs before he gives up. Panting, his cheeks wet with tears rolling freely, throat so tight that his voice cracks. “Baby... please.”

Ten minutes. Rick maintains a steady set of compressions for ten minutes before Sam jerks beneath his palms. 

“Th-that’s it, Sam. C’mon.” His face twitches, blue eyes roll open only briefly and he starts to struggle for air. He breaks his pattern to sweep his fingers through Sam’s hair, a gentle hold on his forehead and fingers at his chin. Rick gives him his every breath and loses count of the minutes. He just focuses on alternating between compression and filling Sam’s lungs until he’s breathing on his own, his heart properly pumping the oxygen like it’s meant to. It feels like a life time. It’s only another fifteen minutes.

Rick doesn’t leave again. He doesn’t sleep more than an hour at a time because panic strikes when his eyes shut for too long. Sam is behind his lids every time, dying, or dead. Rick can’t stand it. The idea of Sam dying because he couldn’t save him. The thought of him... turning. Of being left alone here. After everything, after fighting so hard not just to stay alive but together. He thinks if he has to face this new, horrific world alone that he might as well put a bullet in his brain. He shouldn’t think like that, not while Sam still alive, but he can’t help it when he has nothing to do but wait.

Another whole day passes and the most he does is change Sam’s bandage. Occasionally gets up to pace the room, but otherwise he’s at Sam’s side, just to make sure he doesn’t pull that stunt again. The sun rising once more when he tells Sam that the antibiotics will last for another two days and then he’ll have a choice to make. A very serious, heartbreaking choice. 

“It’d be a hell of an easier choice if ya’d just... wake up.” His chin resting in one palm, he swallows and searches Sam’s face for any sign that he might. Silence follows, his crestfallen gaze slowly drifts to Sam’s hand resting atop the cotton sheets. As he reaches for him, those fingers which have been otherwise still for days suddenly twitch, then curl loosely against the bed. 

Blue eyes dart back up to Sam’s face and though his eyes aren’t open, Rick can see them shifting beneath their lids. 

“You dreamin’, babe?” He sighs as he takes Sam’s hand in his. His fingers are warm; a good sign. Those eyes are still fluttering, his expression even changes, a little furrow of his brow, scrunch of his nose. Lips crack into a weak smile for the first time in days, some small spark of hope bursting gently in Rick’s chest. He brings Sam’s hand to his lips, presses a soft kiss to his knuckles, “Y’better be dreamin’ of me.”

@mettleborn​

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 30)

“It’s gonna be a great day.” 

Daryl turns his head from the robin, sitting on the ridge of a roof, further away and that he’s been fixing his gaze on for the past half an hour and observes Rick. His friend lets down his shoulders and relaxes his spine, takes a deep breath and lets himself take in the silent calmness of the morning surrounding them. He’s right. It’s gonna be a beautiful day. 

The breeze hasn’t even bothered to wake up today. It’s the two of them, the robin, who sings his morning song, to announce that a new day has begun, and the walkers. 

“Yeah.” 

“Gotta continue working on the wall.” Rick proclaims, as if to create a to-do list in his head of today’s chores. “Check blueprints, find materials. Gotta go on a run.”

“Great.” Daryl replies and nods at Rick. He’ll get to go, he knows it, and he doesn’t mind. As if he were a tame fox, who no matter how domestic it may seem, constantly needs a certain degree of freedom and nature. But he doesn’t mind returning back here either. Not anymore. “I’ll go.” He continues. “Just tell me whatcha’ need.”

“Yep.” Rick takes another deep breath. “What a day.” 

His sudden discovery of nature, the surroundings and an overbearing serenity hasn’t sprung from nothing. He watched by Carl’s side for days. Didn’t sleep, didn’t eat properly, not until Carl sat up in bed and ate himself. The eye was completely destroyed and had to be removed. Thanks to Denise, Rosita, Tara and Mila, who, thanks to her previous profession as a dental nurse, knew how to sterilize scalpels and tools, as well as use sedatives and anesthetics. Thanks to their care, Carl got better, as did Rick. 

“What time is it?” Rick says. “Seven, or eight?”

“Prolly.” Daryl looks at the sun. He watched it rise, heard the birds wake up. Rick joined him shortly after. “Early.” 

“Ya’ wanna go back to the house?” Rick asks. “Get some rest?” 

“Nah.” 

Rick fixates him with his gaze, very ‘nice cop’-like, yet friendly and somewhat cheeky. 

“When I first met Lori-” Rick says, then smiles faintly, chuckles. “Boy, I was- Couldn’t eat properly. Couldn’t sleep. Like I went around in a haze and just thought ‘bout her.”

Daryl nods a little, smiles very faintly, but inside of his chest, his heart takes a skip. 

Has it been two days, forty-eight hours ago he went downstairs holding hands with Jersey when everyone was eating breakfast at the big table? 

After their escapade in the shower, resulting in soaking clothes that had to sundry at the porch roof, they stayed in the bedroom for the entire day. Juri wasn’t in bed when they came out from the bathroom, holding their soaking wet clothes. The smell of breakfast toasts was enough for Mila to understand that Juri was downstairs. Daryl left late in the afternoon, to join a group that has started to create a temporary barricade at the broken wall. Carol brought a late dinner to the working group. 

“How strange, I think I saw these particular clothes sunbathing on the porch roof earlier.” She said cheekily and bumped his hip, while he took a bite of a sandwich.

“Shut up.” Daryl scoffed softly. 

“Pookie.” Carol grinned and shook her head.

He returned late and when he entered the bedroom again, both Mila and Juri were asleep, spooning each other on the bed surrounded by books, soft toys and cassette tapes. He sat down in the comfortable chair, didn’t feel like waking ‘em up by laying down next to them, where he fell asleep. 

Their presence downstairs the morning after that was a silent, visual proclamation that yeah, it was the two of ‘em now’. Or the three of them, including the kid wedged at Mila’s hip in his pajamas, barely awake, but determined to not skip breakfast. Daryl’s heart pounded harder than ever in his chest as they settled on the ground floor, next to each other in front of the entire Atlanta group at the table. Harder than when he stood in the yard as a child and saw the house, his home, burn down to the ground with his mother in it. But it was different. As if his chest was flooded with a warm, deep sense of pride, a sense of belonging. The group hadn’t, thankfully, made a big scene of the silent announcement, which was as big of a deal to him as if he’d announced he’d become the president of the whole damn united states of whatever. It was clear to him, when they sat down at the table, set with pancakes and toast, that the others had already put two and two together. Was it Carol who blabbed, or was it by any chance Rick? Anyway they took it without any fuss. Thankfully. He’d never pull through such a questioning. 

But Rick’s right, to some extent. He’s been in a constant haze for awhile now. He can’t put his finger on when the haze was inevitable, must’ve been during their walk to the gas station, but might just as well be earlier. She had a special impact on him from the start. Those blue, piercing eyes looking at him over the barrel of the gun after they’d saved him and Aaron. He can’t get enough of ‘em. 

“Guess ya’ right.” He therefore says. Why would he lie? Apparently they’re the talk of the town now anyway. Jeez. As if the townies don’t have else to talk about? 

“That hurricane of- I dunno, feelings. They’re good. Validation that everything’s just- perfect.” Rick says and by doing so, puts his finger on something Daryl have felt some kind of guilt for, not always, fuck no. 

But it’s a feeling he struggles with from time to time, if just for a second or a minute. He’s not good for her, or more correctly; not good enough. But that feeling’s swept away as soon as he notices her looking at him. The blue eyes smiling at him, as a lagoon of homeliness and deep affection. 

“Never done this before.” Daryl says husky. 

“No one has.” Rick replies while looking at the robin. “There’s a first for everyone. Ya’ just- gets a hang of your own mind. The rest goes by itself.” He makes a movement, and gets up from the boards. “I’ll go get some water.” He announces. 

Rick climbs down the ladder and Daryl looks after him as he strides over to the store. He smiles faintly to himself, lets his experienced gaze wander slow and steady over the closest surroundings at the other side of the makeshift wall. A few walkers have miraculously managed to remain on the site since they made a raid and eliminated most, after the great battle. One of them seems to have ended up in a loop; over and over again it crashes into the hood of an abandoned pickup, whose tires have almost grown stuck in the asphalt, which has been taken over, slow and steady, by mother nature. 

A soft tapping on wood gets his attention. He turns his head, and happens to see something at the lower end of the ladder.  

“Mornin’.” He greets Juri, who’s small, soft hands squeezes the second step of the hard, wooden ladder. “Wanna come up, kiddo?”

Without hesitating, Juri climbs the tall ladder, with the walkman in his pocket and the headphones around his neck. The big blue eyes are determined, curious. Almost at the top of the ladder, Daryl grabs the boy by his armpits and lifts him up to the platform. The three and a half year old is an early riser and has managed to dress himself this morning too, except the shoes that Juri wiggles in front of Daryl, to tie for him.

“Ya’ gotta learn to do this on ye’re own someday, kiddo.” Daryl says and ties the tiny Chuck Taylors.

A small index finger is pointed right at him. Juri looks at him with a clever grin, as to say: ‘Well, until then, you’re doing it for me’. Yeah, that’s probably true. Daryl lets out a faint chuckle. Being bossed around by a kid is something new. 

“Ya’ mom’s asleep?”

Juri nods. Daryl smiles. Before he left the night before to join Abraham at the watchtower he checked in on Mila and Juri. Juri was tucked in for bed and Mila had curled up next to him, supported by at least four pillows, with two books about bunnies in her lap; The Velveteen Rabbit and The Naughty Bunny. 

“See ya’ in the mornin’.” Daryl said, stroking Mila’s hair. “Night, kiddo.”

The smile he received from Juri, all wrapped up under the covers with his soft toys was priceless and also followed by a thrown, open-palm kiss.  

Juri settles down next to him on the platform. He’s dressed in a pair of rust colored dungarees with a black jumper underneath. On top he wears a flannel to shield himself from the still awakening sunlight, looking very proper. The blonde hair looks half combed, as if he got tired with trying and decided to leave it be. He fiddles on the walkman, while peering out over the wall with squinting eyes.  

“Ya’ had breakfast?” Daryl asks. 

Juri doesn’t answer, obviously, but he puts his hand in the front chest pocket of the dungarees and pulls something from it. A pack of two Reese’s cups. Daryl grins. 

“Ya’ mom won’t like that.” He says, but gets an authoritarian index finger in front of the mouth, followed by a ‘shhh’ from the boy; ‘I won’t tell if you don’t tell’. “Go ahead, kiddo.” Daryl therefore says.

He watches as Juri peels the packaging open and takes out a peanut butter cup and hands it to him. They eat the chocolate-peanutty-goodies under silence. He’s amazed at the little boy, who seems to have the intellect and the ability to think like a child who is twice as old. Mila hasn’t coddled him, except smothered him with infinite amounts of motherly love, no doubt ‘bout that, but he can dress himself, make decisions on his own. He’s curious rather than scared and calculating rather than impulsive. He likes to collect stones, feathers and sticks, picks flowers, investigates bugs and likes to draw and listen to music while jumping on the bed or running around in the streets. And Daryl adores him. He’s a great kid. 

“Whatcha’ listen to?” Daryl nods at the walkman between the small hands. 

Juri removes the headphones from around his neck. He holds them up in his right hand as he pushes the ‘play’-button and turns the small ‘plus’-volume button on the side of the device, increasing the volume, leaking an old rock song. 

“Sounds great.” 

Juri gesticulates with his hands. It makes him feel both dumb and sad over the fact that he actually can’t understand the kid. Not that it stops Juri from trying, but he can’t understand no matter how many times he repeats his gestures.

“Sorry kiddo.”

The kiddo ain’t let down that easily. He opens the walkman, takes out the tape and shows him. Daryl reads ‘Boston - Boston, 1979’, written in black marker at the thin line on the orange paper label at the black plastic tape. 

“Okay, here we go-” Rick appears at the edge of the platform, but pauses and bursts into a wide grin at the sight of Juri. “Hey, little guy.”

Juri waves at Rick as he climbs up and sits down at his left side. 

“Here-” Rick hands Daryl the bottled water and then looks at Juri. “You’re up early.”

The blonde boy nods proudly, as to say ‘yup, before my mom’. Daryl unscrews the cap from the plastic bottle and offers it to Juri. He takes it and takes two small sips, before handing it back and continuing to look out over the wall. But soon the little nose begins to search in the air. Daryl and Rick can smell it too; breakfast. Toasts and waffles.

“Ya hungry?” Rick asks Juri. Juri turns and peers up at Daryl, as if he had an answer for it. He then turns back to Rick, and shakes his head. “We’ll be replaced soon. Then we’ll eat.” Rick says, very dad-like. Authoritarian but still nice. 

Juri nods and returns to his walkman, puts the headphones over his blonde hair and disappears into his own world of Boston, 1979. Daryl looks down at the toddler sitting between him and Rick, nodding his head to the beat of the music, so carefree and at ease. He looks so much like Mila, except the blonde hair. But his constant cool is something else, a hybrid between Mila and whoever the man who biologically is his father. Mila’s a hothead by blood, with impressive self-control. Like the calmest water which in an instant can blow up into a raging storm. Juri, on the other hand, is calmness personified whatever the situation. Maybe because he relies on Mila entirely. He never has to be scared or worried.  

“Now, that’s a sight for sore eyes.” 

Daryl’s interrupted in his thoughts. He turns and looks over his left shoulder. Carol is standing on the ground, shielding her eyes from the sun, smiling up at the three of them. Juri waves happily down at her with a proud smile on his lips. He’s with the big boys now.  

“Hi, darling.” Carol waves at him before turning her eyes to Daryl. “Ya’ boys hungry?” Juri sniffs in the air and nods. “There’s honey and waffles for you, darling.” Carol smiles at the blonde boy. “What about you two?” 

“Sounds great.” Rick says. “We’ll be replaced soon.”

“Great.” Carol replies. “You’ve been up there all night.” She continues. “We’re planning a barbeque tonight. Why don’t you get some venison later?” 

I’ll be damn Carol, Daryl thinks to himself with a faint, but thankful smile. More things to do today, except collecting materials for the wall. 

“Sure.” He calls back at her. 

“I’ll thank you later, when you’re back with some meat.” She replies in a cheeky smile. “I’ll bring you three something to eat before you leave if you’d like?”

“Set up three more plates.” Rick says. “We’re done here soon.”

Carol nods smilingly, turns and starts walking back towards the houses. Daryl and Rick look at each other. Huh, a barbecue.  

“Could be fun.” Rick says. “Gotta chop some wood then. You wanna help?” He looks at Juri, who nods eagerly with the headphones around his neck again, excited to help out with grown-up stuff. “Great. We’ll start right away, after we’d had something to eat.”

Juri nods and looks at the two men on each side of him, rubbing his tummy, showing them that now he’s hungry. Especially when there’s waffles. He then gets up on his knees and, without warning, climbs into Daryl’s lap. The small hands start to fiddle with his vest, then with the cord of the headphones. Daryl doesn’t tense, but he becomes instantly aware of his body, as if a baby deer had climbed into his lap; he can’t scare him away. But Juri’s calm and relaxed. In the corner of his eye, Daryl sees Rick smile. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’.” Rick says and blinks. “Just, everything’s kinda fine, right?”

Daryl turns his gaze from Rick and looks down at Juri, who meets his gaze and smiles sunny, then out over the area on the other side of the safe-zone, contemplating his friend’s words. Yeah, he thinks. Things are actually kinda perfect. Fuckin’ hell, he feels great. Everything’s calm. No breaches and no herd of walkers approaching. There’s a three and a half-year old in his lap that looks at him like- yeah Daryl can’t figure that one out. But he seems happy. And there’s Mila, probably half awake by now, back at the house. Holy shit, he’s got his shit together at last. 

“Guess ya’ right.” Daryl replies.

“Yep.” Rick says, also turning his head out over the surroundings. “I’m happy for ya’.” He sighs. “It’ll be fun. Barbecue. Bonfire. The only thing’s missing is a harmonica, or a guitar.” Rick turns his head to look at him. “Ya’ play?”

“What? Guitar?” Daryl shakes his head. “Nah.”

But a faint smile spreads upon Daryl’s lips as an idea forms inside his head, accompanied by the muffled sound from Juri’s headphones, which leaks a guitar solo. Nah, he ain’t playing. But he knows someone who might. Inside his head, he adds another task to his mental to do-list.

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

[alienoresimagines]

I'll Make This Feel Like Home | Floyd Talbert x Female! Reader

A/N : This is for the birthday of the amazing, wonderful, beautiful Vered (@floydtab ). She is one of my closest friend on here, my American sister from across the ocean. If you don't follow her go do that right now! She is a true blessing, she is kind, sweet, friendly and I'm so glad to have met her. Also, please go wish her a happy birthday, we might not be Rick Gomez or Ross McCall (as far as I'm aware of at least), but still💞

Happy birthday Vered!❤😘

Taglist: @wexhappyxfew @glxssysam @floydtab @inglourious-imagines @ray--person @punkgeekchic @luz-lovebot​

Posted : 15/05/2020

Masterlist Taglist Prompts

~

A breath of air caressing the exposed skin of your shoulder was what woke you up. Shivering slightly, you smiled nevertheless, burying your head in pillow that was most probably not yours judging by the smell and kept your eyes closed, simply enjoying the peace and serenity of this rare moment of calm. The sunlight illuminated the room, somewhat muffled by the beige curtains, the cool air of May slipping into the room like a gentle murmur, bringing with it the rustling of the leaves against the breeze, the smell of freshly cut flowers and grass, and the birdsong sounding a sweet melody to your ears. You felt strangely relaxed, as if a weight you didn't know existed had been removed from your shoulders. Nuzzling your face further into your husband's pillow, you let a content sigh escape your parted lips before you rolled onto your back, the duvet now only covering half of your legs and part of your belly. As the cool air tickled your feet, you allowed yourself to yawn gracelessly before sitting down and finally opening your eyes. Folding your eyes to the light, you glanced quickly at the right side of your king-sized bed. Confirming your suspicions at a glance, you were actually alone. The smell of coffee reached your nose and you let out a sound very close to a moan at that. However, you couldn't bring yourself to care about who could hear you, not when it was only you, your lovely husband and your dog, who heard much worse and louder coming from you. Passing a lazy hand through your air, you yawned again as you stretched your arms above your head and arched your back pleasantly. You liked mornings like that, without the rush of the work week. Where you could stay in bed, and enjoy the warmth and comfort of your home without having to keep a constant eye on the clock. You sighed softly, styling yourself with the comb of the 5 fingers, preparing you slowly but surely to get up. Your dog, Trigger, kept you from getting up to choose clothes when he jumped onto your bed and rested his own head on you thigh. Laughing softly, you gently scratched his head and ears, knowing it was some of his favorite places to be pet along with his belly.

"How are you today, Trig'? You slept well? I bet you kept Daddy from burning the kitchen down." You cooed as the german shepherd just looked at you with big brown eyes.

"Oh, you're awake!" A new voice was heard, a voice that you would instantly recognize everywhere. You knew that voice as well as the first aid gestures. Which was something given that you were a medic during World War Two. You have seen the snow being tinged with scarlet, the stars being hidden by shells and life swerving between your bloody fingers as the water would escape from a vase that has just been broken. However, you refused to dwell on these memories. The war was over, the Earth was still spinning, and you always had your husband, your anchor and rock, the one who stood by you even in your darkest moments when you doubted, ignoring his own sorrows. Raising your head, you smile softly when you see your husband leaning on the door, with a light wooden tray in his hands. The light that filtered through the curtains gave his hair a slightly lighter hue and brought out his eyes nicely. Still in his pajamas, with his bedhead, and a sweet smile on his lips, the crinkles by his eyes appearing, he never looked so beautiful.

"Morning Sunshine!" Floyd beamed happily, approaching the bed. The dog on your lap didn't seem to mind the noise. In fact, you were pretty sure Trigger was asleep.

"Hey Beautiful." You laughed softly to yourself. "You should stop calling me this, it suits better."

"Now, princess, have you watched a mirror lately?" The teasing in his tone was evident but the look of pure adoration in his dark green eyes couldn't be missed, even by a blind person. Tab bent down to lay a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips, a hand coming to rest at the base of your neck, his thumb drawing circles under your jaw. The kiss was sweet, a "I love you" with every slide of your lips. Two souls, two hearts pouring out their love for each other in the simplest and most sincere way they knew. Floyd was the first to break the kiss, his eyes standing on your lips for a moment before coming up to meet your eyes. You swore you could have cried right there and then at how much fondness Tab's gaze held. You hadn't even noticed that he had put the tray on your nightstand until he took it and put it on your thigh - at least what wasn't occupied by your dog.

"Happy birthday, princess." You laughed breathlessly as you saw what was on the tray while your husband sat to your right, throwing an arm around your shoulder. On the tray was a beautifully decorated plate, with only one pancake in it. However, a candle stood warm and... almost completely burnt. How you didn't notice the smell was yet another story for another day. You quickly blew out the only candle, petting Trigger's head with one hand to calm him. If you didn't smell the candle burning, he surely did. Looking to your right, you couldn't contain the giggle that was building inside of you at the adorable pout on Floyd's face.

"I wanted to do something nice..." He sighed sadly while you giggled. Pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, you smiled widely.

"Thank you, honey, you know I'd appreciate anything as long as I'm with you." He smiled a bit to your words but he kept on pouting, knowing you couldn't resist it. Rolling your eyes playfully, you layed a chaste kiss to his lips. It seemed to be enough for him though, a playful smile taking over the pout as he looked at you with shining eyes. Cutting the pancakes, you took a bite and you closed your eyes in pleasure. No matter how much you teased him, Tab's pancakes were the definition of gastronomic. However, you knew that his ego was twice as big as his heart which meant that you couldn't let him know that.

"How does it taste?" Oh, even with your eyes closed, you could perfectly see the smirk on his lip, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"See yourself." You grinned back as you pushed the plate to your right. Trigger must have decided you were moving to much because he stood up and got out of your bed to go to his own, next to Tab's side of the bed. He was aging. A buzz from Floyd brought your attention back to him, your left leg feeling a little numb.

"It's alright." He kissed your shoulder, making you shiver. God, it was there, the devilish look in his eyes that even George Luz learned to fear when it appears. "But you taste better." You blushed furiously as you almost choked on the orange juice that was placed next to the plate. Your attempt to glare at him mustn't have been successful if the smile on his lips was any indications.

"Please, just tell me you're not going to sing." Floyd made an indignant sound.

"Honey, I love you, but you can't carry a tune." You said softly as if you didn't want to hurt his feelings even if you knew perfectly well that he was aware of his singing skills- or his lack of for that matters. He huffed but the corner of his mouth twitched as he settled against the headboard.

-----

The pancake was eaten, the tray rested on your nightstand and you were perfectly settled, head against Tab's broad chest. One of his arms was around your shoulder, thumb tracing circles on your arm while his other arm was petting Trigger who decided to come back and was now resting with his head on Floyd's belly. It felt like home. You, Tab and Trigger. A feeling of warmth spread through your chest. Loved. You were feeling loved, by the man who meant the world to you. You were home.

Floyd smiled softly at the feeling of your hair tickling his chin before he frowned slightly. You were humming a song quietly, hot breath on his skin. He wasn't even sure you realized what you were doing, but he would never miss an opportunity to tease you. Especially when he recognized the song. A smile split his face in two before he whispered, as if he did not want to break the peace of the moment

"This song is overrated, you know."

Floyd was pretty sure he heard your neck cracked with how fast you turned around to glare at him half-heartedly. Wriggling in his grip until your chin was on his chest, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Excuse you and consider yourself unfriended, blocked, deleted. You are no longer my husband. I want a new one" You deadpanned, but you could feel your lips stretching in the slightest smile. Floyd must have seen it given his own smug smile.

"All I said was that the song you were humming was overrated."

"Don't care." He couldn't help to chuckle then.

"So you don't want your present?" The speed at which your face changed was hilarious to him. You huffed before resting your head above his heart.

"You're insufferable."

"You love me." Silence took over the words, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. A thousand words were spoken, carried by the wind, floating in the air, clinging to the hearts.

Floyd blinked once, and when he opened his eyes again, you were right in front of him, golden light haloing an angel.

"That I do." The words hung in the space between your lips, before you closed it, pressing softly your lips together. Your tongues met in a slow dance, knowing each other perfectly by now. Your eyes remained closed as you broke the kiss to press your own forehead to Floyd's.

"So?" He opened his eyes, fondness written on his face.

"So what?" You buried your cheek a bit deeper into the warm hand that just cupped it as you smile playfully.

"What's my present?" Floyd laughed, loud and beautiful, at that. He turned his head to the left, acting as if he was in deep thought.

"Well, I thought we could go to the pet store down the street and give Trigger a new buddy." You hummed thoughtfully, a smile playing across your face as you looked down at said dog. Oh, how beautiful would it be.

"Hmm... But then it would be a present for Trigger. And since we all know how much you love dogs so..."

"You love them as much as I do." It was your turn to laugh, throwing your head backwards. Floyd was sure that if he were to go blind, your laugh would be enough to bring colors to his world. You kissed his lips one last time before you jumped out of bed, almost bouncing in excitement making Trigger whine in irritation as he was forced to move as you grabbed Tab's wrist and almost dragged him out of bed. He laughed once again, and it felt nice to laugh like this again. No bullets splitting the air, no screaming piercing the ears.

"Where are we going?"

"Pet store! Now hurry and listen to the birthday girl!" Your laughs echoed in the house, a barking here and there, birds singing outside, painting the world with joy.

"Yes ma'am!" The playful answer came through all the laughs, as he followed in the hall, Trigger at his feet.

Two arms open to hug you tight, one heart beating to heal yours, kisses to hold you together, laughs to make your eyes shine like diamonds in a starry night. Home.

[rickssugarplum]

Monthly Pains

This is for everyone who has to deal with their unwanted visitor every month. It ain’t fun. Thank you to the anon who requested and I hope you’re feeling much better! ❤

(Rick C-137 x Reader) SFW, Slight Swearing, Period, Cramps, In pain, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

You’re on your period and dealing with the pain that goes with it. Rick takes care of you.

                    ___________________________________________

You were in your bedroom, groaning in agony. Still in your pajamas, you were suffering from your monthly visitor. Yes, menstruation was a natural process. But it’s also considered natural for a male mantis to be decapitated after mating. So, nature wasn’t always a friend. It could be a cruel bitch. And it was to you today. Your lower stomach was in so much pain, you couldn’t move. You were sweating profusely in normal temperature and your whole body was sore. Clutching your pillow, you wished it would all go away. You didn’t even have the strength to get medicine. Luckily, you had pads on you so you didn’t have to worry about leaking out.

A ping sound erupts from your phone and you grab it from your bedside. Looking at the last message, it was Rick.

Hey. You home? 

You didn’t know what he wanted. But whatever it was, you couldn’t move. With all the strength left in your body, you text him your response.

I am but I’m sick.

You hoped that would be enough and he would leave you alone. Yet, two minutes later, another text comes up.

Really? You’re sick? Are you 5? I’m coming over

Now annoyed, you leave him another message before he could think of coming to your house.

I’m on my period, you dick

Within ten seconds after sending that text, the green portal flashes in front of your bed. You just sighed into your blankets. “Ugh...Rick please...”

Rick saw you whining in pain and realized it wasn’t just the slight cramps most tend to get.

“Oof. Y-you got it really bad, huh?” 

A muffled yes came out of you. It was too painful to move. Suddenly, you feel the bed shift by your side and a cold hand rests on your forehead.

“What can I do for you, babe?” he asked quietly.

Without a second thought, you answered, “Can you get my ibuprofen? To help with the pain? I-I actually need my heating pad too....”

Rick scoffed. It made you wince a little, thinking you might have sounded like a drama queen. But, the pain was unbearable.

“I can get you better pills that would be waaay more effective. I-I’ll go get it.” he shot a portal once more before entering back in.

Well, you hadn’t expected him to go out of his way for you like that, but you were pleasantly surprised. It kept on going when he came back with not only the medicine, but a heating pad, packs of chocolate, and...a bottle of lotion?

“Here, baby. I got you some other things in case you needed to take-take care of some other symptoms.”

Making a lame attempt to sit up, your eyes widen at Rick’s thoughtfulness. You absolutely needed chocolate for cravings, while you also experienced muscle soreness.

Coming toward you, he grabbed the bottle of medicine.” L-let me give you this.” Giving you a capsule of his painkiller, Rick put a bottle of water by your lips to let you wash it down. You laid back into your pillows, with Rick sitting close, his tall stature towering over you.

He took the heating pad and plugged it in the nearest outlet. Putting the setting on a comfortable warm temperature, he placed it on your lower stomach under your sheets. You could already feel your cramps subsiding. Then, Rick crawled in bed with you to sit behind you.

“Let me- let me rub your back, baby...”

Adjusting yourself to get comfortable, you watch Rick grab the bottle of lotion and pumping a bit on his hands. He rubs them together before massaging your shoulders. Your eyes closed at the feeling of his hands. They were being very careful in loosening your stress knots.

“Mmmm.,.That feels nice...” you mumbled appreciating him helping you. In response, you felt a light kiss by your ear, making you shiver.

“Feeling any better?” he asked softly. 

“Mhmm...” you affirmed. Out of nowhere, your stomach started growling. Embarrassed, you told him you were feeling hungry.

“Waaaayyyy ahead of you, baby.” he handed you a chocolate bar to num on while he was massaging your sore muscles. You giggled as you opened the wrapper and begun eating the candy. Your tastebuds were satisfied and stomach nourished.

“Thank you, Rick...This is all so nice.”

A light chuckle is let out of him. “It’s nothing. Must suck to deal with this every month, huh?” 

“Yeah...But..this-” you motion to him and the things he brought for you “-makes it less painful.” you admit to him.

Rick’s hands stroked up and down your back as he finished performing your massage. When he was done, he wrapped you in his arms from behind you; letting you rest in his lap.

“I’ll be here for whatever you need today, beautiful. J-just say the word..”

Your head rests in his neck as you start to feel really tired again. With your body working overtime to get rid of what was no longer needed, it left you with major fatigue.

You yawn quietly. “I...think I just wanna sleep again. Y-you can stay with me, right?”

He didn’t speak, only laid you down to rest on your fluffy pillows and held you close to him, while his lips caressed your cheek. With that, you knew his answer.

Laying your head on his chest, you start to drift with his warm body close to yours. 

This was always a horrible time of the month, but Rick could make it a little bit better.

❤

[appalachianwiine]

Swim - Chapter 2 - Be Scared With Me

Be scared with me, honey Be scared, I am too Let's share in the running We'll fare best as two Be scared 'til it's funny Be scared through and through Be scared 'til it's sunny We'll stare down into the unknown And anything this world can do to you and me

-"Be Scared With Me" by Canyon City

The next half hour is a blur, he’s throwing things in a suitcase for Lydia and then throwing them in the car, pulling out of the driveway as Rick pulls in. Rick waves at them but Daryl doesn’t even register the movement until he’s already out of the driveway and turning off their street.

“Daddy where are we going?!” Lydia’s high pitched panicked voice breaks through the colored fog in his head and he has to pull to the side of the side of the road. He turns back in his seat and looks back at her. Tears are running down her cheeks, making his heart twist when he sees them.

“Lydia I-” He takes a deep breath. “Sorry kid I - um we’re - I talked to Dr. Lori on the phone.”

“M-More needles?” Lydia whimpers.

“I don’t know.” He says. “But we have to go to the hospital okay? They’re going to - to make sure you’re okay.”

“Wh-why do we have to go now?” Lydia whines.

“Because - Because something might be wrong with your blood.” He grapples for a child friendly way to explain what's running through his head.

“Wrong with my blood?” Lydia sounds confused now. “What's wrong with my blood?”

“We - we don’t know.” Daryl says, a half truth but he’ll think of a better explanation later. “But we have to go to the hospital to find out okay?”

“So… we’re not going to Carl’s?” Lydia pouts, her lower lip sticking out. “We’re going to the hospital to see Dr. Lori?”

“We’re going to the hospital, but we’re not going to see Dr. Lori.” He says quietly. “We’re going to see a different doctor. A special doctor.”

“A special doctor?” Lydia’s voice is shaky. Wariness of doctors was nothing new, she’d been picked over by a dozen of them taking photos and records for evidence against her mother.  “Like - like the one who took the pictures?”

“No.” Daryl says heavily. “Not like that. This is a doctor for your blood.”

“A doctor for my blood.” She mutters.

“Yeah. We’re gonna go check your blood.” He nods.

“And then we can go home?”

“And then we can go home.” He hopes to hell it isn’t a lie. Lydia turns her face away from him to look out the window, the evening sun catching the tears on her cheeks and making them shimmer. She doesn’t say anything so Daryl turns back around, puts the car in drive and starts off towards the hospital.

Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta is only 20 minutes from where they live, he’d driven by thousands of times - even been in a few times when a case warranted it - but he’d never really seen it. It’s a big building with a large swooping glass overhang leading up to the emergency room entrance and brightly colored stick figured logo printed on one of the outer walls. Daryl finds himself staring at one of the parking spaces labeled “emergency room parking”. Did he go there? Or all the way to long term parking? Did it matter? He could move the car later he decides, pulling into the spot and unbuckling his seat belt.

“Ready kiddo?” Daryl says, turning to Lydia.

Lydia shakes her head, her wide brown eyes watching him in terror. “I don’t want to Daddy.”

“I know, kid.” He says, stepping out of the car and opening her door. “Want me to carry you?” Lydia nods and unbuckles her seatbelt, holding her arms out for him to lift her from the seat. He picks up the duffle bag, sliding it over one arm and then picks up Lydia, closing the car door he hears the automatic click as he turns and starts for the hospital.

The ER is fairly unbusy, a couple of coughing kids and their worried parents, and a single receptionist sitting behind the desk.

“Hello Sir how can I help you?” He can’t help but feel that the woman's voice is far too chipper and enthusiastic for the ER of a children’s hospital.

“I - I um - I was told to bring my daughter here.” Daryl’s mouth is suddenly very dry and his throat tight.

“Okay, what’s your daughter’s name?” The woman's bright smile just won’t fade will it?

“Uh, Lydia. Lydia Dixon, we were told they were waiting for us here.” He mutters, was he in the right place? There were three of these hospitals spread throughout the city after all. Had he come to the wrong one?

She clicks on the computer a few times and recognition sparks in her eyes, and then ever so slightly, her smile falters. “Oh, yes Dr. Rhee informed us you’d be coming. If you’d just go over to bed 4, the nurse will come take vitals and I'll tell Dr. Rhee you’re here. Fill out this paperwork while you wait okay?” She holds out a clipboard.

“Lyd, you take that?” Daryl’s out of hands to take the clipboard with. Lydia lifts her head off his shoulder and removes one arm from around his neck to take the clipboard with.

“Is Dr. Rhee nice?” Lydia asks as she takes the clipboard from the receptionist.

“Dr. Rhee is very nice.” The receptionist assures. “You’ll love her.”

“Good.” Lydia mutters, putting her head back down on Daryl’s shoulder as they walk over to bed 4. He sets her down on the bed, drops the duffle bag in one of the chairs and pulls the curtains closed around the bed for privacy. Lydia sits limply in the middle of the bed and he looks at her, properly, for the first time since he got that phone call.

How could he not see it before? She was pale, circles rimming her eyes, and she kept yawning in spite of her long nap this afternoon. Had she looked like this for a long time? Or was he only thinking she did because of what Lori had said?

Daryl picks up the clipboard from where Lydia had dropped it on the bed and sits down to look at the questions. Some of it was easy, name, date of birth, blood type, vaccine history. But some of it was harder;

Does your child have a family history of medical or psychiatric issues? If yes, what relation and what diagnosis?

He didn’t know. Evil her mother may have been, but as far as a medical history went? He had no idea.  He didn’t know anything about her before age four, when he’d been called to the ER to get the evidence. He licks his lips and scrawls ‘ unknown’ in the space following the question and moving on to the rest of the form. He doesn’t really have anyone to put as an emergency contact but he scrawls Rick and Michonne’s numbers in the provided spacing, he’ll clear it with them later. He skips the questions about menstruation - she was too young for that - and stops at the question;

Why have you brought your child to the ER today?

His mouth is very dry again, and he looks over to the bed where Lydia is sat. She was halfway in between pajamas and dinner clothes - jeans underneath her nightgown - and her hair was still a mess. She’s staring quietly at the blue curtain, her eyes glazed over, not making a peep or complaining about being bored, a large bruise peeking out underneath the strap of the nightgown.

The question taunts him on the page, and with shaky handwriting he writes ‘ Leukemia’ The word is bolder and darker then the rest of the words on the page.

“Knock knock!” A voice calls from outside the curtain, making Lydia jump.

“Come - come in.” Daryl says, reaching for Lydia’s hand and giving it a squeeze. A nurse in bright pink scrubs with white hearts on them slips past the curtain.

“Hi Miss Lydia.” The nurse smiles. “I’m Nurse Andrea.”

“Hi.” Lydia mutters.

“Can you hold out your arm for me?” The nurse asks, reaching for the equally brightly colored blood pressure cuff. Lydia eyes it warily, but extends her arm. The nurse, Andrea, puts it around her arm. “And stick out your tongue?” She goes for a thermometer, which Lydia lets be slid into her mouth. “And point your finger?” And on the pulse oximeter slides. “Thank you Lydia.” To Daryl she turns and says “I can take those forms for you.”

“Thanks.” He mutters, handing her the clipboard. The monitors beep and off comes the pulse oximeter and blood pressure cuff, and out comes the thermometer.

“Okay Miss Lydia you’re running just a little bit of a temperature but we’re going to let Dr. Rhee take a look at you before giving anything. Dad do you have any questions?” She turns to Daryl, looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah uh, when uh - when will Dr. Rhee be down? And - what uh - what do we do from -from here?” He rubs his chin with one hand.

“Well,” The nurse says carefully. “From here Dr. Rhee will run more tests to confirm the diagnosis, and then you’ll be admitted to the Oncology floor. Is Mom coming? Should we wait a bit?”

Daryl shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s just me. I jus’ - i jus’ wan’ her t’ be okay.”

“You’re in very good hands. I’ll go run these forms and Dr. Rhee will be right in.” Nurse Andrea says with a smile, turning from them and slipping back out of the curtained area.

They wait almost an hour for Dr. Rhee, and Daryl finds himself growing more and more antsy. Lydia doesn’t seem to mind, she sits quietly and watches videos on the Ipad. Daryl meanwhile half heartedly answers texts from Lori, Shane, Rick, and Michonne. He even hears from his boss, telling him not to worry and focus on Lydia - which is good, because he hasn’t thought about work a single moment since that phone call from Lori.

“Hello?” a voice calls from beyond the curtain. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah um - sorry yeah.” Daryl says quickly, standing up.

Daryl isn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he thought of Dr. Rhee but it definitely wasn’t the person standing in front of him. Dr. Rhee had shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, and looked to be about six months pregnant. She was smiling at him and Lydia and holding her hand out. She wasn’t the cool clinical figure he imagined a pediatric oncologist to be, she was warm and welcoming. He shakes her hand.

“I’m Daryl, this is Lydia.” He says, watching Dr. Rhee shake Lydia’s hand.

“Well it’s nice t’ meet ya both.” Dr. Rhee isn’t from Atlanta, he can tell that much from her accent, she’s from somewhere rural, somewhere like he was from. “I’m Maggie Rhee, Lori told you you’d be coming. Now Miss Lydia,” She pulls up a stool, taking a squirt of the hand sanitizer from the wall as she does. “What brings you here today?”

“I’m sick with bad blood.” Lydia says, watching Dr. Rhee warily as she feels the lymph nodes on Lydia’s neck.

“Well you’re lucky then.” Dr. Rhee smiles. “I happen to be the best at treating bad blood. Now can I borrow your daddy for a moment?”

“Uh-huh.” Lydia nods. “But I want bunny first.”

“Alright kiddo.” Daryl opens the duffle bag and pulls the worn, stuffed rabbit from inside. “There ya go, there’s bunny.” She takes it and lays back down on the bed, letting Daryl step outside the curtain without so much as a murmur.

Dr. Rhee leads him a few feet away to a row of empty chairs. “I took a look at Lydia’s bloodwork and I believe Dr. Grimes was right, she has Leukemia.”

“Okay.” He nods. “What- what does that mean?”

“Well, tonight we’re going to go ahead and admit her to Oncology, and in the morning we’re going to do a Bone Marrow Biopsy, this will tell us what kind of Leukemia lydia has and allow us to make a good treatment plan she’ll als-”

“Type of Leukemia?” Daryl interrupts. “There’s types of Leukemia?”

“Yes.” Dr. Rhee says. “There’s several types. Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, Acute Myeloid Leukemia, Chronic Lymphoblastic Leukemia, Chronic Myeloid Leukemia, and Juvenile Myelomonocytic Leukemia. We know Lydia has one of the Acute types, most likely Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, it accounts for 75% of all childhood leukemiads. There’s also subtypes of that, but those are more complicated, I can tell you about them but I do think it would be better to wait until after the bone marrow biopsy so we have a better idea what we’re dealing with.”

“There’s - what?” Daryl manages. “And  and what’s a bone marrow biopsy what - what are you going to do to my daughter?”

“There are subtypes. But I don’t want you to worry about that right now.” Dr. Rhee says, her voice calm but strong. “A Bone Marrow Biopsy is where we drill a hole into her pelvic bone and take a sample of the bone marrow, that way we can test it for leukemia cells and find out which subtype we’re dealing with.”

“You’re going to drill a hole in her pelvis?” His head is spinning. “She - she’s eight.”

“She’s going to be anesthetized, because at the same time we’re going to do a lumbar puncture with chemo and put in a PICC line.” She explains.

“A - a what? You don’t even know what kind of Leukemia she has and you’re going to give her chemo during surgery?” He asks, trying to process what was said to him.

“A lumbar puncture with chemo, we’re going to sample her spinal fluid and inject chemotherapy drugs into her spinal fluid. We do this with all leukemia patients regardless of type. We’re also placing a PICC line. That’s a line that runs from the upper arm into the heart. We can change this to a Port-a-cath at a later date but for the time being a PICC line will be easiest.” She explains.

Daryl can’t even think straight anymore, all he sees are the words, Chemo, Bone Marrow, Leukemia, PICC, Cancer. Cancer. Cancer, running across his brain. Finally he swallows. “Okay - okay and - and you’ll - you do all of this?”

“No.” She says. “Well, I do some of it. I’ll do the biopsy and the lumbar puncture. But the general surgeon will place the PICC line. He’s my husband actually and he’s very good at what he does. I promise.”

“Okay.” He swallows. “Okay. This - this is a lot.”

“I know.” Dr. Rhee offers a supportive smile and reaches out to squeeze his hands. “Is your wife coming?”

“I uh - I don’t have a wife.” He says. “‘S jus’ me. Lydia’s mom - she’s - well I adopted her. ‘S just us.”

“Okay.” Dr. Rhee nods slowly. “The hospital has a support group for parents of children with cancer. It’s run by a woman who was a single mom during her daughter's cancer treatment. Is it alright if I give her a call?”

“Sure.” The robotic reply comes, but now along with the word Cancer and Leukemia is another thought. There are enough kids with this for a support group - and enough single parents that Dr. Rhee knew one off the top of her head.

“Alright.” Dr. Rhee says. “Her name is Carol Peletier, I’ll give her a call and then put you in touch with the group. Does that work?”

“Yeah.” He breathes.

“Then how about you go sit with Lydia, a nurse will be down soon to take you up to your room.” Dr. Rhee stands and offers a supportive smile. “Your daughter is in good hands Mr. Dixon. And you obviously care a lot. That’s good, Lydia’s gonna need that.”

The room they end up in, room 324, has a large window looking over the city, it’s dark now and the street lights have lit up the city like a million fireflies. Lydia scowls as the nurse hands her a hospital gown.

“Do i have to put this on?” Lydia frowns.

“Probably baby girl.” Daryl sighs, “come on, get yer stuff off an’ put it on. Then ya can get int’ bed.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” Lydia pouts. “I’m hungry daddy.”

Daryl checks his watch, it was almost 10pm and they hadn’t eaten yet. Christ where had the hours gone. “Let me ask the nurse if we can get somethin’ t’ eat okay?”

“Okay.” Lydia sighs, climbing up into the bed.

Daryl opens the door to find a nurse standing right in front of him. “Oh uh - sorry.” eh mutters. “I was um - we wanted to know if I can get her something to eat.”

“Well Dr. Rhee wants her started on antibiotics for the fever, but we can get you a wheelchair for her and you can take her to the cafeteria.” the nurse says.

“The - oh right.” he frowns, she had had a fever. “Why antibiotics?”

“Just incase it’s an infection, it’s a high risk with Leukemia patients. We’ll start them via IV.” The nurse explains.

“IV.” That would go over like a lead balloon. She hated needles.

“It’s the fastest way to get them.” The nurse explains. “But then you can take her for food or have it brought here.”

“Okay.” Daryl nods, turning back into the room. Lydia is watching him suspiciously from the bed. “Lyd, we gotta give you some medicine.”

“What kind of medicine?” Lydia frowns.

“Medicine for your fever.” Daryl says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “They gotta use a needle but it won’t hurt, you can sit on my lap the whole time.”

“Th-the whole time?” Lydia mutters, licking her lips nervously.

“The whole time.” He agrees.

Lydia climbs into his lap and watches the nurse - who introduces herself as Sasha - prepare the IV line. “Daddy I don’t want to.”

“I know baby girl.” Daryl sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.

“You know what helps sometimes?” Sasha says, wiping Lydia’s arm with an alcohol wipe. “Singing. Do you know any songs?”

“Row your boat.” Lydia mutters.

“Okay.” Sasha says. “Then how about you close your eyes and you sing me the whole thing, and by the time you’re done, the IV will be in and the needle will be gone okay?”

“Okay.” Lydia muttered, closing her eyes. “Row, row, row your boat…”

Daryl can’t watch, so he looks instead outside the window that leads to the corridor. He can see the nurses station for the floor from here. There’s a little bald boy in a hospital gown, clutching an IV pole and smirking devilishly as he peers around the station corner. As he does a black man with long dreadlocks comes around the corner, scooping him up and tickling him. Daryl can’t hear it from here but he can see the little boy erupt into giggles as he’s swept off his feet and tickled.

They look out of place the man and the boy, laughing and tickling on a cancer ward, but Daryl is mesmerized. He watched the man put the boy on his shoulder, grab the rolling IV pole and start down the hall, still laughing. How can they both be laughing so hard? The little boy especially seems consumed by laughter, clinging to the man’s dreadlocks as they walk past the window, he can hear the giggles as they pass, the little boys voice cutting through the air;

“You found me daddy! You found me!”

[demigodsanswer]

Once Upon a Pointe - Chapter 6

Story Summery:

“Annabeth, you’re with Percy,’ Chiron said. Annabeth. She looked like the figurine in a little girl’s music box had come to life to dance in City Ballet. Percy felt like every opportunity to dance with her was a privilege. Just don’t forget the choreography, Percy thought as he got into the right starting spot for the wedding pas de deux. Don’t forget the choreography, and don’t drop her.”

Percy is soloist with the ballet company, and he is offered one chance to dance with Annabeth, one of their star principals. If he nails the choreography, he might just earn a chance to dance with her. And, if he’s really lucky, he might get a date out of it as well.

Chapter Title: Vision

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning

Notes: I am in no way finished bringing attention to issues of race, religion, and cultural appropriation in Rick Riordan’s books & in the fandom. Do not misinterpret me posting an update as a desire to move forward. 

Katheryn Morgan (soloist with the Miami City Ballet) has recently uploaded an interview with the dancer and author of "A Final Bow for Yellowface" Phil Chan, where they discuss race in ballet. Please consider checking it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYw2pLn9CAg

Percy woke up to the soft February sun beaming in his face through Annabeth’s large bedroom window. When he opened his eyes, squinting in the sunlight, he saw that she had already gotten up. He rolled over to check his phone – 8:30 a.m.

They both had today and the next day off before the show as other casts ran their dress rehearsals. Usually he spent his days off wandering the city, catching up on TV, or hanging out with Grover once his boring and normal nine-to-five job at a nonprofit ended. But those days off didn’t usually start in Annabeth Chase’s bed – in face, none of them ever had. He hoped that maybe they’d end up spending the day together.

Or maybe she’d ask him to leave as soon as he left the bed.

He stayed there for another moment, trying to think of the perfect “spend the day with me” line, but he came up blank. He’d just have to wing it.

He opened the door and stepped into the living room. Annabeth was standing in the kitchen over a frying pan, still in her pajamas (now rumpled from a night of sleep), and her blonde hair was up in a high ponytail, the ends tangled together.

She looked up and smiled at him. Percy’s heart raced, fuck, he thought, she’s gorgeous. Before he could say anything to her, though, she told him: “You drool when you sleep.”

Percy flushed, a hand going up to his mouth to wipe away any trace of drool that might still be there. She laughed at him, and he smiled.

She turned back to the frying pan. “I’m making eggs. I hope that’s okay.”

“Eggs are great,” he said. “I thought you didn’t cook.”

She shrugged. “I told you, I’m not completely incompetent. I can scramble an egg reasonably well.” She said, dishing out the servings onto two plates.

Percy took a seat at the table. “Have you been up long?” He asked.

“No, ‘bout half an hour.” She said. “Coffee?” She offered.

He nodded, and she put a mug down in front of him, and then his plate of eggs and avocado toast.

She sat down at the other end of the table.

“Thanks,” Percy said, about to dig in.

He piled some eggs on top of his toast and took a bite. They were good, although he would struggle to find an adult who couldn’t make a decent scrambled egg. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Better,” she said. “A lot better. Thanks for listening to me and for staying the night.”

Percy smiled. “Of course, any time.” He realized what he said and felt his ears get hot. “Anyway …” he tried to think of literally anything else to say, but nothing came to mind. Annabeth saved him, though.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Annabeth asked.

It took a moment for Percy to register what she had said. He was preoccupied by the casual way she sat at the other edge of the table, sunlight bouncing off her curls, as if they sat together like this every day.

Finally, though, he remembered she’d asked him a question. “No, not really.” He told her.

“Do you want to hang out downtown for a little while?” She asked.

Percy smiled. “Sure, that’d be great.”

Percy stood in front of Annabeth bathroom mirror, which had fogged up with steam from his shower. She had showered before him and was getting ready in her bedroom.

He leaned forward and drew a smiley face on her mirror for her to discover the next time she showered.

He dressed quickly, only having the same sweatpants and tee shirt from the night before, but it would have to do.

Annabeth was waiting on her couch for him to get ready. She was dressed in a light pink sweater and light jeans with her hair braided over her shoulder.

“Ready to go?” She asked.

Percy nodded. They grabbed their jackets and headed out the door.

~*~*~

They walked down the avenue to Washington Square Park, stopping on the way to indulge in some hot chocolates. It was just starting to get a little warmer – they daily temperature tended to hang out in the forties during the day, rather than what Percy called ‘face hurting temperatures.’

Still, he wished it was a little warmer so they could sit on a bench or the grass for a while and just relax in the Spring sun. But the cold sun of the end of February would have to do.

It did come with its perks, Percy realized, when a cold wind blew, prompting Annabeth to instinctively move closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest for a moment as the breeze blew by. When it was over, they parted, neither blushing or uncomfortable.

Sure, he was usually physically close to her, but stage intimacy was far less erotic than many people assumed. On stage or during rehearsal, both were sweaty, trying not to breath too hard, and mostly worrying about their own steps and safety and the safety of their partner.

A gentle closeness so far removed from the studio, though, felt deeply intimate. He almost reached down to hold her hand, but she had it in her jacket pocket. He left his hand by his side in case she had the same thought, but she never reached for it.

When they reached the arch, Annabeth paused in front of it. “You know, if I hadn’t joined the company, I would have gone to school for architecture.”

“Really?” Percy asked, looking at her.

She nodded. “I guess I kind of am or was at least.” She said. “I was part time at NYU for a few years, but between being a principal, and planning a wedding, then calling off the wedding, and everything that came after that, I haven’t taken a class in almost …” she paused, “almost two years, I guess.”

“Why architecture?” Percy asked.

She shrugged. “Aesthetics, partly. I really enjoy aesthetic, design, and flow. Obviously, I do, or I wouldn’t be a dancer. But buildings can have all of those things too, just not in the same way.” She sipped her hot chocolate. “It’s also the opposite of dance. Buildings are static, and they’re so permanent.”

Percy nodded. The fleeting nature of ballet loomed over all of them. Most men could go until thirty-five at least, and a lot of women made it to forty, if not longer. But one bad injury could end a career in an instant.

“Do you want to be an architect when you retire?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s a hard career to start at forty. Knowing myself I’ll end up teaching or choreographing. I don’t think I could ever really leave it behind, you know?”

“You could design theaters.” He suggested.

She smiled at him like she had had the thought before. “Yeah, I could.” Her hand dropped out of her pocket and rested near his, but he didn’t feel courageous enough to take it. “What about you?” She asked.

“Oh, I have no idea.” Percy said. “I barely graduate high school.” He admitted. “College is not my speed, so I’ll probably linger in the ballet world as long as they’ll have me.”

She bumped him with her shoulder. “Come on, you have no ideas?” He shook his head. “Wildest dream? If a genie showed up right now and told you he’d give you your dream career, what would it be?”

“Well,” Percy said, “if I’m wishing for stuff, I’d just wish to be able to dance forever.”

“Alright that’s on me,” Annabeth said, laughing, “I set the bar too low.” She took his hand, and his breath caught. “Seriously, I won’t judge you.”

It was a hard question to answer. Percy had spent a lot of time in his training thinking about what he’d do if he didn’t get a company contract when his training ended. Teaching was one option, but he didn’t know if he’d like doing that if his own dreams had fallen through. With his poor grades, he always figured he’d just get a retail or restaurant job and try and work his way through management and dance on the weekends.

But if today were the day that he had to stop dancing …

“I guess I’d teach,” he admitted, “but I don’t know if I’d want to teach at the academy.”

“Why not?” She asked. They started walking out of the park and towards the street, wandering aimlessly through the West Village.

He had never really wanted to teach at the academy, he realized. Sure, the prospect of training a new group of kids who would go on to join City Ballet, Miami, Royal Ballet, Ballet West, and all the other big companies was exciting, but he was lucky to have had that education at all. So many things had to go right in his life to even make it into their ranks – a good ballet teacher off the bat, scholarship money, his mom marrying a man who had a savings account and cared about her son. Without any of those things, Percy wouldn’t have a career.

“I was on my own at the academy,” he said, “one of the only kids who started late and didn’t have great training before that. Most other kids were,” like you, he though, but he didn’t say it, “born lucky. They had exposure to ballet young, good training, and they never had to worry about how they were going to pay for things. I had to worry about that all the time. And I was still luckier than most.” He said. “Just think about how many talented kids there are just on my block alone that will never get my chance.” He looked ahead towards the street. The West Village had once a bohemian shithole, but (thanks in no small part to NYU), it had been gentrified into one of the most expensive areas in the city. “I guess if I could do anything I’d just try and help those kids. Don’t know how I’d do it, but that’s what I’d really like to do.” He told her. “I know it’s crazy.”

She stopped walking and pulled him to the side of the path, getting out of every one’s way.

“It’s not crazy.” She said.

For a moment on the edge of the sidewalk, hugging the wall of some coffee shop, neither of them moved. She looked at him, tilting her head up just slightly to look him in the eye. When she licked her lips slightly, Percy’s heart almost exploded, sure that she was going to lean in. But instead she broke the tension, turning back to the middle of the sidewalk to keep forward, dropping his hand.

“At least,” she said, not looking at him, “not as crazy as wanting to pivot to architecture.”

He jogged to catch up with her. “That’s not crazy either. Besides, if I know you at all, I know nothing will stop you from getting what you want.”

She smiled, looking down at the sidewalk as she walked forward. “Nothing stops you either as far as I can tell.”

“I am notoriously scrappy.” He said, pulling a laugh out her, which dissolved any remain uncomfortable tension while taking away any remaining hope of a kiss.

~*~*~

When they finally got too cold to stand walking around any longer, they ducked into a dimly lit pub.

“Do you ever just wish you had a job where you didn’t have to worry so much about what you ate and drank?” Annabeth asked him. They did eat a lot, of course. They both probably ate more than the average person, they just also had to eat way healthier than the average person.

“Pretty much every day.” Percy said. “Every time a season ends, I just crush a cheeseburger, first thing.”

Annabeth had been to the pub before, and guided Percy through some good options on the menu.

Their conversation stayed light – childhood stories, embarrassing moments, favorite TV shows. When Annabeth started to ramble about architecture being a universal language for people, and how The Hunchback of Notre Dame is actually all about the building, and how the novel saved the church, Percy couldn’t stop smiling. Her gaze was distant, but her eyes were bright. Percy was delighted to see her so happy.

When the check came, Annabeth grabbed it off the table before Percy could even reach for it.

“Absolutely not,” Annabeth said when Percy reached across the table. “You’ve done so much for me the last few days, buying you lunch is the least I can do.”

Percy didn’t protest anymore, instead just choosing to thank her for the meal. He hoped it wasn’t the last one they got to share together.

~*~*~

As the afternoon went on and the sun started to set, Percy realized he needed to go home. He didn’t want to leave Annabeth, but he also didn’t want to be wearing the same clothes for twenty-four hours.

“I can come back if you need anything, or if Luke comes around,” he said as they headed towards the subway.

Annabeth shook her head. “I should be fine. I think I’m going to call Piper or Silena and talk some things out with them.” You can talk to me, Percy wanted to insist. But he knew she was closer with them than with him, no matter what he wanted to be true.

“Call me if you need anything,” he told her. She nodded and promised she would.

They stood at the top of the subway stairs, doing their best to stay out of everyone else’s way, but that was almost impossible to do when you were standing still on New York City sidewalk.

“Percy,” she said looking up at him, “thank you. Seriously, thank you for everything.” She pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to hold her even closer. Her hair smelled like lemons.

“Anytime,” he told her. He pressed a gentle kiss into the top of her head; if she noticed or minded, she didn’t show any sign of it.

Annabeth pulled away after a little too long (not that Percy minded) and smiled at him. “Get home safe,” she said, before turning to head towards her apartment.

~*~*~

Percy rested his head back against the subway window, grateful for a seat on his way back up town, trying to remember the way Annabeth’s hair smelled, and the ways her eyes lit up when she was excited.

He hoped that they stayed close when they weren’t dancing together anymore. The have to, he figured. They were friends now, not just coworkers or dance partners.

He knew from experience that performances come and go too quickly – a month of rehearsal just for four shows? It was almost unfair. Lee’s husband, a Broadway actor, had once complained about his eight shows a week schedule at a company party. Eight Sleeping Beauty’s a week was probably physically impossible, but Percy did sometimes miss doing six or eight ballets a week as an apprentice or corps member. He certainly wouldn’t pass up one or two extra performances of Sleeping Beauty if he had the chance. He wanted to hold onto it for just a little bit longer.  

~*~*~

The next morning, Percy woke up feeling like he was an astronaut on the moon, hearing the air leave his spacesuit, but he could not find the leak. He didn’t remember his dream, but his heart was beating hard and fast. He performed tomorrow, he remembered. He took a deep breath, but it didn’t do anything to calm his anxiety. Throughout his morning routine, of breakfast, palates, and stretching, he felt like he was the vice president of anxiety, and the president was nowhere to be found.

He had fleeting moments of confidence as a dancer – moments where he was sure he was good, that he was going to succeed, moments where, if he closed his eyes, he could swear that he was flying not just jumping. But mostly he would bag on himself for things he couldn’t do or didn’t do well. Those fleeing moments of confidence could be diminished by any small error.

He had to succeed. Part of it was vindictive – people had always underestimated him. But most of it felt like debt. His mother had sacrificed so much just to get him to dance practice and to keep him enrolled at the school. If he never made principal …

When he was eleven and his YMCA teacher told Sally that he should be in more advanced classes, Sally asked him if he wanted to continue ballet. Just say no, he had told himself, knowing that there was no way his mom could pay for all the lessons he’d need. It would hurt less to stop dancing at eleven than to make it all the way to fourteen or fifteen only to give it up then.

He had spent as much time in dance classes dancing as he spent worrying that at some point the rug would be pulled out from under him, and he’d lose it all. That there would be a point where he just couldn’t continue. He already spent most of his training playing catch-up with people who had been dancing since they could stand, and he always feared his career being stunted on the other side.

But when he was eleven, and he told his mom he wanted to stop dancing, he had called him on his lie. “If you want to do it, we will do what we have to do,” she told him. That meant he had to switch to public school and work jobs to pay for summer intensives and after-school classes. Even with all that, and his scholarships, it was Paul that made any of it possible. He’d gotten lucky; finally, some of that luck that seemed to grace some of the worst people finally trickled down to him and his mom. She had married a man with a savings account and love of the arts. He had no problem helping them pay for his summer intensives or his academy tuition.

He thought his meeting with Chiron at the end of his last year in the school. The year before, he had been encouraged to try out for other companies but told that an apprenticeship wasn’t out of the picture. When he got back to his apartment, he tried not to tell his mom, to keep it a secret and to work as hard as he could the next year to earn his spot.

He’d cried as soon as he saw her though; guilt and disappointment cut through his stomach and chest like a knife. Sally had tried to assure him that he wasn’t a failure, but that didn’t change any of his thinking on the issue.

When Nutcracker season came, and Percy wasn’t offered an apprenticeship, he figured that it truly was over. He had almost gotten to a point where he thought his entire dance career was over, until Lupa Lopez had called him back about his audition, and offered him a spot at Miami. His mom had let him have a glass of Champaign to celebrate.  

Chiron was less enthusiastic than his mother had been. When Percy told him the good news, he kept a straight face and asked, “Have you signed anything yet?”

“No.”

“Good, don’t.”

He was called into the office two days later. “Lupa and I have the same eye for dancers,” he said. “She’s taken some of my best away from me. So, it wasn’t surprising to hear that she was interested in you joining her company. She must see the same things in you that I see.”

Percy’s eyes went wide.

“You’re talented, Percy,” Chiron continued, “and disciplined,” that was the first time a teacher had said that about him, he realized. Chiron handed Percy a stack of a few papers. “And you should stay with City Ballet.”

It took Percy a moment to realize what he was looking at. His dyslexia only acted up when he got stressed. Finally, he deciphered it. “Wait … is this for real?” He was holding an apprentice contract with his name on it.

“Sorry for making you go on all of those auditions,” Chiron said.

Percy hadn’t even waited to get home to tell his mom. Instead, he found a quiet stairwell where he could tell her and cry with her. He thought she was going to break his ribs with how tightly she hugged him when he got home. “I’m just so happy,” she said, “that you don’t have to move to Miami.”

He was tired of barely succeeding – barely making it into the academy, barely getting an apprenticeship, barely getting leading roles. He wondered for a moment if she had these fleeing moments of confidence met quickly by self-doubt, before he remembered their last Diamonds rehearsal. Percy was terrified when she had stopped dancing, and he became more worried when he saw the frantic look in her eyes. She had broken, he realized; she had hit a level of doubt and pain that you can’t easily pull yourself out of.

He didn’t, Percy realized, have the luxury of breaking, though. If he left, there was no guarantee that his spot would be there when he came back. He could only bend.

Annabeth couldn’t break either. Percy could end up stagnant if the shows didn’t go well. If Annabeth broke again, though, her career could be over.

They both had to bend and bend far. Four shows, Percy realized, four shows to get it right. Just don’t forget the choreography, and don’t drop her. He told himself. And if you forget the choreography, just make it up.    

Luke had left a principal male spot open that Chiron still hadn’t filled. In a fleeting moment of confidence, Percy told himself You’re the perfect fit.

He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, but he couldn’t see what was at the bottom. He was safe as long as he stayed on land. If he jumped, he could die, or he could land safely in the water. There wasn’t another way forward.

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

You Think They Are Falling For Someone Else (Part 2)

MASTERLIST

If you haven’t read Part 1, read it HERE

A/N: For some reason I started writing these LONG like full-fledged imagines so I tried to cut back as I went along. 

Request: I was wondering if you could make a part 2 of you think they are fallong for someone else thank you if you can i love it - @cherry-blossom-queen-blog ~~I know this was requested forever ago, but I took a pretty long unexpected break from this blog. Now that I’m back, here you go!~~

Rick Grimes

It had been weeks of agony for you. Every “meeting” Rick went to made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Sometimes, you did. 

Carl had caught on to what was happening, confronting you one day.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” He asked, concerned. He looked up to you as a mother figure, especially since his own mother had passed and now you were with his father. You couldn’t bet on the last one remaining a reason though.

“Nothing,” you said, trying to brush it off.

“I’m not a little kid anymore Y/N. That won’t work on me anymore.”

You sighed.

“It’s just that your father is spending a lot more time away from us. At first I understood, but now he is gone almost every night. I can’t help but think that these ‘meetings with Michonne’ might be more.” You took a deep breath after your words and Carl let out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I’ve thought that too.”

Your heart sank. If you both realized, it must be true. You decided to confront him that night about it, so long as he was actually home.

Thankfully he was; it was one of the few nights that he had nothing going on. Dinner was tense, and afterwards you put Judith to bed before heading back to your room.

When you entered, Rick was standing in the master bathroom in just his pajama pants, brushing his teeth. It may have been a small moment, but it was something that used to fill you with pure joy. Now it only made you long for how things used to be.

“Hey Rick?” You said quietly

“Yea?” He responded, rinsing his mouth.

“Can we talk?”

His expression turned to one of worry. He agreed, and he sat beside you on the edge of the bed.

“I understand if you want to leave me.” You said, blurting it out from the get-go. You knew you had to start off strong, otherwise you never would have said it.

“What?” He near-yelled, baffled. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

You began to tear up but tried to hold them back. You didn’t want to seem weak in top of everything else.

“You’ve been spending a lot more nights out, nights with Michonne. I tried to ignore it, I really did, and tried to remind myself that it was just business. But there are so many nights when I fall asleep waiting for you because you get home so late. I know that you have been going to see her, and not on Deanna’s wishes.” You paused, taking a second to bite back a sob. Rick tried to speak but you interrupted him, continuing with everything that you had planned to tell him. “Carl has noticed it too, how you have been spending so much more time with her lately. I don’t blame you, she’s a beautiful woman with a bad-ass spirit. Of course you want her.”

There was a long pause before Rick spoke.

“Please say something,” you whispered on the verge of breaking. You finally looked up to meet Rick’s eyes, seeing them full of tears.

“Y/n,” he whispered, “I love you.”

He reached out to you and you fell into his arms. You longed for the comfort of his embrace.

“That’s not true. I don’t want her. I really have been swamped with meetings and debates, I swear.” He pulled away to look at you, showing you he was telling the truth. “You can’t tell anybody, but we think there is a rival group nearby trying to sneak in. That’s what we have been so worried about to talk so much about.”

The tears were at this point falling freely from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. “I was so stupid.”

Rick pulled you tightly to him, caressing your hair. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered, ”this is all my fault. I should have told you. It did seem like I was going behind your back. I should be the one who is sorry.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, burying your face into his chest. He was yours.

Negan

Hours later you walked back to speak to Negan. You figured it had been enough time for him to have blown off some steam and sent the girl back to her room. Unluckily for you, you hadn’t waited quite long enough and you passed her in the hallway,her hair tousled and clothes disheveled. You wanted to glare at her, yell at her; but you knew that it wasn’t her fault. She sent you a sad smile, and you continued to Negan’s door. 

You didn’t bother to knock. He had nothing to hide.

He had already put a pair of sweatpants on, but his chest was bare. On any other occasion you would have ogled, but this time you were here for a different reason.

“Hey Babygirl, great timing. That broad just left.”

“I know,” you responded bitterly. “I passed her in the hallway.”

You usually tried to restrain yourself from seeming so bitter, but you saw no point now.

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Replied Negan with a cocky smile. “But shit, you just got here! You’re already heading back to your room?” You rolled your eyes, but also sent Negan a sad smile.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Realizing the gravity of your words, Negan walked over to you so that he was within a foot of you. He smelled intoxicating but you pushed that aside. 

“What?” He sputtered, yelling in confusion and rage. “You’re just going to walk the fuck out?” You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your cool.

“Yes,” you said, defiantly standing your ground.

“Why?” He raged.

“Because I love you, damn it!”

That isn’t how you meant for it to come out, but now he knew. He ran a hand over his face in thought, and you had to ignore how sexy you found it. He sat on the edge of his bed, motioning for you to come and sit beside him.

“Why had you never told me before?” He said quietly.

“It never seemed like it mattered. I was always just your friend. Besides, you already had your wives.” You stopped yourself from saying more, afraid that your voice would crack and give you away.

“So what?”

“So what?” You blurted in disbelief. “What the hell do you mean, ‘so what’? How am I supposed to tell you that I love you when all you care about is fucking some bitch with two brain cells who only pretends to care about you so she can have a nicer room?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your insult towards his wives, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed off.

“You just fucking tell me! It’s just three words.”

“You had already chosen a harem, Negan.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What would you have said anyway?” You puffed up your chest and plastered a smirk on your face, doing your best impression of the man. “Oh, you fucking love me? Join my damn fucking wives! I’ll give you a little black fucking dress and now I’ll only talk to you when I’m fucking pissed and horny!”

“I’ve got to say Baby, you’ve got the cursing part of that down.”

You huffed. Is that all he had to say? But then he sighed and continued in an uncommon quiet tone.

“I would have told you that I loved you too.”

You couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips. You looked over to Negan, expecting him to laugh and say that he was kidding. Instead you looked upon sincere eyes and a small smile.

“I don’t mean like one of your wives, Negan.” 

“I know,” he replied. “I don’t mean like one of my wives either. You spark something inside of me that I thought I could never feel again after my wife, my real wife, passed away. I love you, truly fucking love you.”

“We could never work out though,” you replied sadly.

“And why the hell not?” He countered, becoming a bit defensive.

“I hate to beat a dead horse, but your wives, Negan. I can’t sit idly by as you fuck other women for fun.”

“They’re gone.”

“What?” You stammered.

“Then they’re gone. Y/N, Babygirl, you’re all I need.”

You were enough.

Daryl Dixon

You looked out over the prison from your spot on the guard tower, watching everybody working below. You didn’t mind being the lookout, it gave you a chance to see what everybody was up to while also giving you time to think on your own. The problem is that today, almost all you could think of was Daryl.

Speak, or rather think, of the devil. You hadn’t heard him coming; as a hunter he actually had rather quiet footsteps. However, as he stood in the doorway he called out to you.

“Y/N?” He called.

“Yes, Daryl?” You replied, turning to face him. He walked towards you, but you stayed planted firmly in place. You were done chasing him, you had decided. 

“You’ve been avoidin’ me,” he stated gruffly. He didn’t meet your eyes.

“So?” You retorted. “Why does it matter to you?”

“I like talkin’ to ya,” he said, “being around you.” If you weren’t mistaken, he had a light flush to his cheeks that was spreading to his ears. Despite this, you couldn’t help but still feel bitter.

“Well you sure seem to like talking to Carol too,” you replied hotly. Daryl just chuckled in response.

“She just likes giving me a hard time,” he says.

“What, because she likes you?”

“What?” Daryl sputtered, finally looking at your eyes, his own squinted in confusion. “Carol don’t like me! She just knows I like someone else,” he said, trailing of and getting quieter at the end. Now it was your turn to be confused.

“You do?” You asked, watching him as he took a couple of steps towards you.

“Yeah,” he nearly whispered in a gruff voice as he stood close to you. You were close enough to feel his hot breath fanning on your face. “Carol keeps tellin’ me I need to grow a pair and ask her out, but I had been too nervous.”

Daryl moved his hand up to your face, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear and causing you to blush.

“But now I’m thinking that she saw Carol teasing me about my crush and got the wrong idea.”

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to Daryl’s lips. 

“I would love to be your girlfriend, Daryl,” you told him softly. He beamed at you in response, pulling you into a tight hug.

Glenn Rhee

There he was with her again.

You had been living on the farm for a while now, and what you had thought when you first arrived was finally coming true. You saw Maggie and Glenn sitting close together, leaning in and laughing at what the other was saying. They looked like the perfect couple.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel angry, sad, and guilty.

You were angry at yourself for not telling him how you felt sooner. You had loved him for what felt like forever to you, but you kept it a secret and watched as another woman whisked him away.

You were sad that it was her with him, and not you. You wanted to be the one spending all that time with him, not just some old friend pushed to the wayside. You would remember the times you spent together before the dead stopped dying. Whenever you were upset before, Glenn would take you into his arms and do all that he could to comfort you. You would have movie nights almost every week with snacks and everything. Now those memories of joy only brought you sadness. Moments that meant everything to you seemed as if they meant nothing to him.

But most of all you felt guilty. You had never told him how you felt, and he wasn’t yours. Even if you had told him, there was no guarantee that he felt the same. Now he was happy, and you felt ashamed of yourself for not letting him just be happy.

You couldn’t live with this burden any longer though, or you were going to go crazy. Your friendship was already on the rocks, seeming to dwindle as you spent more time on the farm. You decided to just tell Glenn how you felt. It didn’t matter if he didn’t feel the same way, or if he loved Maggie. You just had to tell him.

Maggie got up to leave, excusing herself to go help her father with some chores. You took the opportunity, rushing over to Glenn.

“Can I just say something crazy?” You asked him, trying not to lose your nerve.

“Y/N, everything you say is crazy.” He teased with a smile, but you didn’t return the smile this time.

“Glenn, I’m serious.” His face softened and he looked at you with worry.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.” You took a deep breath before letting it all out.

“From the first time I saw you at that party and my friend introduced us, I thought you were the most handsome man in the world. It was like love at first sight, scratch that, it was love at first sight. For me, anyway. I loved being your friend but I always wanted there to be more between us even though I never told you. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship; I decided that having you in my life as a friend was better than not having you in my life at all. But now seeing you with Maggie, I can’t help but regret that. I know that you like her, and I want you to be happy; I really do. But I had to tell you how I felt about you or I was going to go insane. I’m so sorry for-”

You were cut off from your rambling by a soft pair of lips on your own. Glenn was kissing you. His arms wrapped around your waist as you kissed him back, placing your hands on his chest.

“But what about Maggie?” You asked as the two of you pulled away, still holding each other close.

“Screw her,” he said as he placed another kiss on your lips. “You’re the one I want. The one I’ve always wanted. I thought you wouldn’t ever see anything in a guy like me.”

“I see everything in you. Now shut up and kiss me again, you dork.”

Abraham Ford

You had tried to avoid Abraham for as long as you could after you caught Rosita getting ready at his house, but he wouldn’t let stay away. he would come try to talk to you on your shifts when you couldn’t just walk away with him, or he would come over to your house just to check in on you. Every time you saw him a pang of hurt rung through your heart.

Finally after weeks you began feeling a bit better. You started the long road of getting over your feelings, despite how hard you knew it would be. It may be difficult, but you knew that it would not be worth it to keep pining over a man who loves another woman.

You began seeing him more often again. You would take shifts together, and you even agreed to go on a run with him. Abraham insisted on driving, so you slid into the passenger seat and the two of you took off to look for some supplies.

“So, how’s Rosita?” You asked to kill the silence, trying to hide the bitterness in your tone.

“She’s doing alright, I guess.” He replied, sounding a bit puzzled which made you confused in turn.

“What do you mean you guess?”

“I’m just confused about why you are asking me about Eugene’s girlfriend.”

Your stomach dropped along with your jaw. So that’s why she was over at his house. Eugene and Abraham were housemates. 

“Are you okay Y/N? You’re going to catch flies if you don’t close that pretty mouth.” You blushed and snapped your mouth shut. Then you spun quickly to face him.

“What the hell did you just say?” You sputtered. He chuckled.

“I said you should close that pretty mouth of yours,” he said as he turned to you with affection. “I talked to Eugene about what happened and he realized why you were upset. I just didn’t know how to bring it up to you.”

You were shocked, to say the least.

“Oh.”

“That’s all I get?” He laughed.

“Well what would you like from me then?” You shot back.

“A kiss?” 

And you obliged.

Carl Grimes

After seeing Carl with Enid again, you rushed off back to the house you shared with Carol, the woman who had basically become your adopted mother. You ran up to your room, lying down on your bed as the tears flowed freely.

Carl may not have been your boyfriend, but for months you had what you felt was an unspoken relationship. Everybody else knew it too, but on closer examination you realized it might have just been because you were his only option.

You heard a knock on the door, startling you and making you sit up.

“Mom?” You called out, your voice giving away that you were crying.

“Not quite,” replied the voice. “It’s me.”

You were immediately embarrassed. Surely he would know from your voice that you had been crying. You wiped the tears from your face best you could and ran your fingers through your hair to try and tame it before opening the door. As soon as the door opened, Carl’s face dropped.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, grabbing your face in his hand and caressing your cheek with his thumb. A stray tear fell from your eye and Carl moved to wipe it away. You normally would have blushed, but you felt too bad in the moment to register what he had done.

“I’m alright, Carl,” you tried to tell him. However, your voice cracked and gave you away even more.

“Please Y/N, tell me what’s wrong.”

You took a deep breath. Carl didn’t give up easily, and he always knew when you were lying. You had to tell him.

“It’s just that the guy I like has feelings for someone else.”

Carl felt his chest tighten, guilt forming in his torso. You had tried not to give everything away, but Carl was smart. He knew.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he said. You felt the tears begin to stream again so you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about that Carl, I just want you to be happy. It’s okay now that II’m not your last resort.”

“That’s not true!” He yelled. “Please, let me finish,” he begged. you nodded. “I am so sorry that I made you think that. Me and Enid are just friends. You, Y/N,” he said as he caressed your face again, “are the only one I love.”

King Ezekiel

You wished you could hate Carol. Blame her for taking Ezekiel away from you. You just couldn’t bring yourself to it.

Ezekiel was right, she really was something. She was kind but also a bad-ass, and despite her age she was gorgeous. Of course he had fallen for her, what was there not to like?

You were making one of your usual walks with Ezekiel one morning, but you noticed something off about him.

“Are you okay Zeke?” You asked, using your nickname for him. “You’re awfully quiet. You aren’t ever this quiet around me.” He paused before he answered you.

“Do you think I need a queen?”

You froze dead in your tracks at his words. You knew that he had liked her, but you didn’t know it had already progressed to that extent. You tried to respond but you couldn’t form a coherent response.

“It’s just that sometimes it gets lonely. Besides, I need somebody to bounce ideas off of.”

“You already bounce ideas off of me,” you reply. Not only was she taking your man, but also your spot as an unofficial adviser.

“I know, that’s why I want you to be my queen.”

You could have sworn that your heart stopped.

“Well, that and your charm and beautiful looks.”

Yep, it definitely stopped.

“Are you serious?” You asked him, tears forming in your eyes.

“I would never joke about this,” he replied as he gazed into your eyes. “I love you too much to be kidding. I don’t think we should get married yet, per se, but I would like to be able to call you mine.”

You flung yourself into his arms as he instinctively wrapped them around you.

“Of course!” You yelled as he held you tight.

Paul “Jesus” Rovia

It may have been days since his date, but you still felt the pain. It still hurt that Jesus had found somebody, and that that somebody wasn’t you.

The two of you were sitting on the stairs of your small home at the Hilltop, enjoying the warm sunlight and a cool breeze.

You glanced around Hilltop, seeing none other than Marina. You felt a pang of jealousy and hurt flow through you.

“Marina looks pretty great today, doesn’t she?” You asked Jesus bitterly, though hiding your tone.

“Meh,” he said.

“What do you mean, ‘meh’? Shouldn’t you be kinder to your dinner partner?”

Jesus chuckled.

“I don’t know if I would call her my ‘dinner partner’, we’ve only eaten together once and it went rather terribly. It made it hard to concentrate on the meal when I was thinking about someone else,” he said with a glance into your eyes. You heart seemed to skip a beat. “Someone who I’d just gotten back from a run with,” he nearly whispered.

Dwight

You hurried outside, trying to escape the shame and embarrassment. Why had you kissed him like that?

To your surprise, Dwight followed right after you.

“You’re right, Y/N. I miss my ex-wife.”

You felt a twinge of sadness building and growing stronger in your chest.

“But that doesn’t mean I still love her.”

You spun to face hi, confused. He had his hands in his pockets, staring at you sheepishly but also with admiration.

“We were together for years, and I’ll always have those memories. But after what she did, I don’t love her anymore. I can’t. Maybe I just happened to fall in love with the woman who was always there for me, making sure I was okay both physically and mentally after everything went down. The woman who has the most beautiful eyes, who still looks flawless even in the morning when her hair is a mess and she’s wearing an over-sized t-shirt.” He laughed, looking at the ground. “Hell, especially when you’re wearing one of my t-shirts and it swallows you up like that.”

You ran to him, pressing your lips to his again. His hands made their way to your hair and yours snaked around his back. You parted your lips for him, allowing your tongues to dance in your mouth as he made out with you. 

You were so glad that you had kissed him.

Simon

Simon slid into bed behind you, moving to curl up with you. Ever since that night days ago you had been distant.

You felt betrayed. When Simon and the other saviors had first found you, you had been helpless. Hearing him in awe of another woman, who could handle herself with ease, made you feel worthless. You had thought that he loved you for you.

Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t give a damn about this woman. He had no idea how much his words would affect you. Both of you had suffered for days, with you too hurt to talk about it and him to proud to do the same. Finally he’d had enough.

“Pumpkin?” He asked, trying to hold you close. You just shook him off and scooted further away. “Please look at me.”

You wanted to stay stubborn and face away from him, but you couldn’t. Despite your current trouble, you still loved him. You could never say no to a request from him.

“Yes, Simon?”

You were a vision. Looking at Simon with sleepy eyes, he knew he was looking upon the most beautiful girl in the world. In his bed, no less.

“I have something to tell you.”

‘This is it,’ you thought. ‘He has finally decided to choose her over me.’

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I turned Kathy away as soon as she started trying to flirt with me. I maybe said two words to her, and she barely said three sentences to me. I just wanted to make you jealous. I didn’t know it would make you this upset, and I’ve been too proud to admit it to you.”

You looked up at Simon as he confessed to you, offering him a sad smile.

“So you don’t like that she can handle herself?”

“Pumpkin, you don’t need to worry about that at all. You can protect yourself incredibly well, and even then you know I like to be the one protecting you.”

Even though Simon was trying to be sweet, you gave him a playful swat on the chest.

“You jerk!” You yelled at him with a smile. You couldn’t stay mad at him. “Why did you need to make me jealous? I already love you, you fucking idiot!”

Simon just laughed in response, pulling you into his arms.

Merle Dixon

“Y/N,” you heard a gruff voice yell as he knocked on your door. “Let me in! I know you’ve been avoiding me!”

He may have been right, but that doesn’t mean that you wanted to see him. After he started spending more time with Andrea you distanced yourself from him. It was just too painful to see him run off with her at night.

“Merle, just leave me alone!” You yelled back. You heard the doorknob jiggle, thinking nothing of it as he was probably just trying it again in case you had unlocked it. Surprising you, the door flung open to reveal Merle as he stepped inside.

“Don’t forget Sugar, I spent a good portion of my childhood learning some dangerous skills. I can pick locks like nobody’s business.”

You sighed. 

“So you decided to use your ‘dangerous skills’ to break into my house?” You ask him, standing from your spot on the couch to go upstairs, away from Merle.

“I didn’t see another way,” he replied as he looked at you.

“you could have just left me alone,” you muttered.

“That’s just the thing,” he admitted, “I can’t.”

“What?” You question.

“I can’t leave you alone. I’m going crazy not seeing you.”

You felt a wave of hope at his words but quickly pushed it down, the bitterness and jealousy returning.

“Then just go visit Andrea, I’m sure she can help fill your time.” You spat out angrily.

Merle smirked, realizing why you had been so upset and distant. He moseyed over to you, running his thumb over your lips. You may have been pissed at him, but after not seeing him for so long you couldn’t help but melt under his touch.

“I’m using her.” He revealed to you. “She knows where my brother is. I know if I can smooth talk her, she could lead me back to him. I would never dream of doing anything with her though.” He paused to give you a sweet yet passionate kiss on the lips. “I’ve already got the most beautiful, charming, and intelligent woman right here.”

You melted into his arms, allowing yourself to forgive him and love him again. You knew how much his brother meant to him. Besides, now that this was over it was no longer just an assumption that you held, but a fact that Merle liked you back.

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[shhh-no-ones-home]

fever dream (4/4) chris motionless x reader

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(i dont add the pictures here but) Nick kills me

Song: promise me by badflower

Tag list: @thisplace-ishaunted @ryansitkowskiswifey

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I stomped down off the bus after Chris and saw Ricky leaning against it smoking, just like I had found him this morning.

"So I take it you two are done?"

I looked up at Chris as he snaked his arm around my waist.

"Yep."

"Well I wanted my lighter but that ship has sailed."

I reached to my side and grabbed Chris's hand.

"Sorry Rick, I hope you didn't miss Beartooth."

He looked to the ground.

"Nope, but now I'm gonna miss anberlin."

He dropped his cigarette.

"You could join us for Attila."

He looked at me like he didn't know why I was trying to be nice.

"That's okay y/n, if you two really are done I think I'm just gonna go sit in my bunk for a while till dinner."

He clicked the door handle and stepped in without another word. I looked at Chris.

"Come on, we don't wanna Miss it."

°°°°°°°°°

I sat on the hill with Chris by my side and watched him pick at the grass, dropping a few blades here and there on my leg.

"Do you have to go so soon? I mean you have a pass you could stay for dinner."

He looked up at me and pulled the grass between his fingers.

"I think I should probably get some sleep before I have to get back to highschool you. You have a big art test tomorrow after all."

I nudged him with my elbow and smiled at him.

"Of course I do."

He just kept looking down, playing with the grass.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

He looked at me and offered a small smile.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just glad I got to see you like this again."

I leaned forward a bit and kissed his forehead.

"I'll miss you like this. At least until I'm old enough to cross this time line for real."

"You mean I won't see you like this again?"

I looked down and started fiddling with the grass he had put on my leg.

"I can't Chris, it was already dangerous coming here to see you like this now. I was just praying I wouldn't be here already with you as an adult."

He dropped the grass and stood up, offering me a hand.

"I'm glad you did though."

I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet, wrapping me in a tight hug and shoving his face into my neck.

"I am too."

When we pulled away he took my hand and led me back down the hill.

"Guess we better get you home then, art test me is probably waiting on you."

I laughed as we walked across the lot to the bus.

"I'm sure he is, ready to give me that A he said he would get for not studying."

He turned to me and winked.

"Of course he is, he knows art."

"No, he knows me."

He stopped in front of the bus door.

"Same thing."

I blushed and looked down at our intertwined fingers.

"Give future me a hug will ya?"

He nodded.

"Of course, I'll see you tomorrow after all."

He leaned down and pecked me lightly on the lips.

"Yes you will."

He let go of my hand and I watched him walk into the bus, waving by at me before he closed the door. I stood there for a second before making my way back to my car. As much as I wanted to stay I had a different Chris to get to. One that I missed. One that would make me happier after the pain of having to leave him like this. I yawned as I punched in his time, the same time I had left him yesterday.

°°°°°°°°°

I knocked on the door and when it opened I was met with Nick, Chris's brother.

"Didn't you just leave?"

I looked past him and saw Chris walk out of the kitchen shirtless and in pajama pants.

"Yeah but I needed to come back."

"Why?"

Chris walked over and pushed his brother out if the doorway.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

He pulled me into a hug and looked at Nick like he was defending me from evil. Nick just rolled his eyes and walked away.

"Mom she's back."

Was all I heard as he passed the living room. Chris looked down at me.

"Why are you back so soon?"

"My apartment doesn't have any heat and I was wondering if I could stay the night. I know you have school tomorrow but i promise I won't keep you up tonight."

He pulled away and his mom came into view.

"Or course you can stay y/n."

Then she smacked him in the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

He rubbed the back of his head and I tried to stifle a laugh.

"What, are you just gonna leave her on our door step or are you gonna let your friend in? She needs hospitality after all."

He motioned for me to walk past him and his mom welcomed me with open arms.

"Thanks mamma."

She kissed the top of my head before giving Chris a death glare.

"Of course baby."

She let go of me and walked back to her chair in the living room.

"Come on, I guess I better show some hospitality and make you up a bed or something."

I followed him down the hall.

"Or something?"

He looked at me and I laughed.

"We both know you're just gonna weasel your way into bed with me but I gotta at least make it look like I tried."

He closed his bedroom door behind me and I sat on his bed, watching him pull blankets and pillows out from under it.

"So, why are you back really? It's only been three hours."

I bounced my leg up and down.

"I missed you."

"Yeah right."

I picked my legs up and crossed them under me.

"Okay, I just got done seeing future you and it made me sad so I figured I'd come get comforted by this you."

He sent me a look as he started making a little nest on the floor.

"Really?"

He asked in disbelief. I nodded.

"Yes, now stop putting that mound of blankets in the shape of a bed and come hug me."

He laughed and stood up off the floor.

"Fine."

He knelt up on the bed and wrapped me in a tight hug, me pushing my face into his chest and just breathing in his scent. He kind of smelled like one of his mother's pine candles that she burns this time of year but it was mixed with something else. He started petting my hair slowly.

"You really okay?"

I pulled away a bit and looked up at him.

"I'm great. Now that I'm back in the right timeline."

He half laughed and shook his head at me.

"Of course you are."

He kissed my nose lightly.

"The right timeline will always be with you."

I watched his Monroe push out a bit as he smiled widely at me.

"I think so too."