#chattering lory

[errantsquam]

chattering lory (gumi chan)

original reference: Hideaki Utsumi https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QY5eqgf3qeI

[alonglistofbirds]

[2184/11079] Chattering lory - Lorius garrulus

Order: Psittaciformes (parrots) Superfamily: Psittacoidea (true parrots) Family: Psittaculidae Subfamily: Loriinae

Photo credit: Frank Rietkert via Macaulay Library

[fastman27]

Aptrill Day 24: Chattering Lory.

[birds-in-posts]

Canada goose (Branta canadensis)

Chattering lory (Lorius garrulus)

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Missing Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: Smut, degradation, minor alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, NO use of (Y/N)

Summary: You and Daryl distract each other from missing Merle.

Notes: Wanted to try the idea of Daryl thinking he wants super rough sex, but he finds out he doesn't really like it that much when you indulge in it. GIF found from Pinterest from user vallie

Taking a hot shower was something you used to take for granted. But after arriving at the CDC and having the chance to not only clean, but sanitize yourself, you made every second count. You even fucking shaved. 

When you heard Jenner would also be serving dinner, you could've thrown up in excitement.

“C'mon, quit actin’ like a pussy and drink.” 

You rolled your eyes at the redneck's words, but shrugged and waved him forward anyway. He grinned in success and filled a cup with red wine, nearly spilling it on your chest with the way he shoved it towards you.

The shift in the atmosphere the last few hours had been remarkable. Not too long ago you were in the first stages of accepting your possible demise, standing behind Shane and Daryl as they fought to get Rick away from the doors. Now here you sat between Carol and Daryl, drinking some of the best wine you'd ever tasted, enough food on your plate to fill your stomach the way it was meant to be. 

You barely heard Daryl whisper beside you over the happy chatter of your group. “Watch, he's gonna turn all red, Koreans all got an allergy to alcohol.” 

You couldn't help but break into a grin at that, shaking your head in amusement. He looked too excited for you to correct him so you just chuckled, and tried not to fall from your chair when he playfully elbowed you in your side. 

The sight of Lori and Shane in the little library foiled your plans to read before bed. You only watched for a second, it looked like they were arguing, trying to keep their voices down despite their frustration. 

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels, annoyed you'd have to settle on something in the rec room. 

As soon as you turned the corner to walk down the hall, you bumped into a chest so hard you lost your balance. Their hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, and when you heard that teasing southern accent you immediately felt your mood lifting. 

“That wine make you blind? You Korean too?” He snickered as he helped you right yourself. 

It was incredibly refreshing to see Daryl in that light. He was in a great mood, not drunk but buzzed enough to keep a grin on his face. 

“Fucking Shane and Lori's in there.” You grumbled playfully, crossing your arms in exaggerated annoyance. 

“Huh, what're they doin’?” His voice lowered to a nosey whisper and he nudged you back to peek around the corner. He immediately pulled back, bumping into you again, a look of disgust on his face. “Fuckin’ white trash. Actin’ like Rick ain't right down the hall.” 

That had you turning into a nosey busybody and you went to see what he was talking about, but he had already nudged your shoulder in the other direction to the bedroom halls. 

“C'mon, let's go do somethin’.” He didn't wait for an answer as he continued using his body to guide you down the hallway, reminding you of a sheepdog, which amused you to no end. 

“Like what?” You smirked as he shouldered you into one of the rec rooms. There were a few loveseats, bean bag chairs, a long couch and endless shelves of things. Board games, card games, sketch books and those really expensive high quality colored pencils, markers, you name it. You could spend the rest of your life in this room and die happy. 

“Hell, I don't know.” He shrugged and went to look through the shelves. You watched him in the doorway, your lip tightening at the side when you realized he was desperate to take his mind off Merle. Shit, you were too. You missed the fuck out of Merle Dixon. You'd grown extremely close to him, he wordlessly accepted your vulnerability of being the black sheep and Daryl related to it. They treated you like some weird adopted family member that one playfully flirted with and the other jerked off to. 

“Wanna play uno? I'm suspiciously good at it.” You finally shut the door and walked over to him with crossed arms, aware of the way he tensed when you got closer. 

“Uno? The fuck? Hell no.” He scoffed and aggressively flipped through the games on the shelf. “This is like some fucked up retirement center.”

“What'd you expect? An Xbox full of two player games?” You watched as he pretended to read the back of a card game box. 

“Psh. I don't know. Let's go fuck with Glenn -”

You grabbed his wrist before he could rush past you and laughed. “Leave the poor kid alone. He's gonna be so fucking sick tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Threw up on my couch.” He muttered, remembering the way he'd had to drag Glenn to the couch in his temporary bedroom. 

“Course he did. You kept pouring wine down the kids' throat.”

You had a few minutes of friendly banter, suggested uno again, he suggested strip poker, you suggested skipping the poker, and soon you were grinding against his knee behind some of the book shelves.

“I want it dirty. Want it raw.” He huffed as he feverishly unbuckled his belt. “F-fuck, you're so hot.”

You grinned and leaned in to bite his bottom lip, earning a delicious whimper from him. You dug your teeth down harder and pulled back, feeling his dick twitch obscenely against your hip. 

“Want it dirty, yeah?” You drawled and kissed down his neck, switching between biting and biting hard. 

“Yeah.” He breathed and fucked his hand, clutching onto your hair with his other. “You think,” he faltered as you bit down on his nipple, his words spilling into various curses and slang you couldn't understand. “Shhh-fuck” His voice cracked in a way that was absolutely fucking adorable to you. “Y’think, you could, on top-”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You made your way back up to his neck, reaching to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but he stopped you. You didn't question it, you just sat him down on one of the loveseats and climbed in his lap. 

You looked over your shoulder at the door, even though it was shut anyone could just walk in, but Daryl grabbed your chin and forced you back against his mouth. 

You fucking loved the way he kissed. It was so hot and sloppy, his tongue diving everywhere in your mouth, licking every spot he could reach. When you pulled back to breathe, the skin around your lips felt wet, just another thing to make your pussy wetter. Daryl Dixon being so messy and dirty drove you insane. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you slurred, your hands sliding up your pajama shirt to grope your own breasts. “Who would've thought you were such a needy whore.”

“Can you blame me, woman? Shit.” He thrusted up against you as he admired your form over him, your lips parted and your hair in your face, you looked hotter than every single pornstar he'd ever seen. He came harder to you than Sasha Grey. 

You maneuvered out of your pajama pants and slipped back in his lap, sliding your pussy against his throbbing cock. 

“Fuckin’ goddamnit.” He sputtered and grabbed hold of your hips for dear life. He rolled up in sync with you, nearly cumming when he saw the way his head would push through your folds each time your hips slid back. 

It was easier to get him inside you with you on top, you didn't need to worry about him slamming into you like last time. You took your time, enjoying the way he curled his upper lip in frustration, his eyes locked on the way his dick disappeared up inside you. 

“Fuck.” You drew your word out as you finally sat down on him, his dick sticking you like a skewer. 

You opened your eyes when you felt him grabbing your right wrist. He brought it up to his throat with no hesitation, a new boldness filling him that you didn't expect. 

You scoffed and laughed, the sound making his hips jerk roughly up into you. You obliged though, grabbing hold of his thick throat and squeezing. 

The situation you found yourself in was something you could easily get used to. You leaned back, keeping yourself upright with your grip on his neck. You rolled your hips in a way that served you, using Daryl's dick to get off. The way you fucked him was completely foreign to him, he'd never seen anything like this in the tapes he'd steal from Merle. 

You moaned when he bucked into you, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. You released his neck and grabbed his chin, your thumb slipping between his teeth, holding him like a hooked fish. He looked up at you through his lashes and bit down gently, his hips rolling slower now. 

“You're a fucking mess.” You hissed with a smirk, looking down at your work proudly. Now he was the one who needed to be in a filthy magazine. His cheeks and lips red, his eyes half lidded and dark, his teeth bared and biting on your thumb. He was sweating like crazy and you were impressed he hadn't come yet, must've been the wine. “God I missed your dick.”

You weren't sure how it happened but soon you were pressed against the wall, your thighs wrapped around his back and his dick rearranging your insides. You couldn't moan even if you wanted, he was so rough and fast that all you could do was gasp in each breath, your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

His thrusts slowed and he pulled back from biting your neck to nip the side of your jaw, making your eyes roll back to focus. 

“Slap me.”

Your words didn't register to him for a second. He lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion, although his rough thrusts didn't even budge. 

“C'mon, you wanted it dirty, didn't you?” You sneered, and a book fell from the shelf next to you when your head thudded back against the wall after a deep thrust.

He went to speak, but he only let out a long breath, and that's when his thrusts started to slow. “The hell you want that for?” 

You were caught off guard by the look on his face. He looked equally confused and almost… insulted? Hurt? 

“Cause it feels really fucking good. Hey, you don't have to, alright?” Your breathing came back under your control when his thrusts stopped altogether. 

You could tell you upset him. You slid your legs from his waist until your toes touched the floor, and his dick slipped out of you. 

“Hey, it's okay, alright?” You reached to touch his chin but he tilted his head away, no longer looking confused, moreso disappointed. 

You bit your bottom lip and thought. He was in no state to make any further moves so you made it for him. You pulled your clothes back on and took him to his bedroom, making sure to close and lock the door. You turned the lights off and laid him down on the bed before climbing on top of him. 

“I just wanna make you feel good, can I do that?” You murmured softly, sitting on his lap and stroking his cheek. 

That seemed to get to him and he gave in, nodding once without meeting your gaze.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” You promised and kissed down his cheek, deciding against being rough with him the way you were before. 

“Never gonna hear me say that.” He snorted and intertwined his fingers in your hair, gentle, something you hadn't experienced with him. It was like a switch was flipped and he was a completely different man. 

Daryl melted under you as you worked him over with soft touches and kisses. You took your bottoms back off and took his dick back out, giving him a few strokes to get him hard again. You wasted no time in slipping him inside you, thankful there was little resistance with how wet you had become. 

You settled down on him, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself, your fingers pinching the buttons on his shirt as a way to ground yourself. His dick sent you to other places. 

You fucked him slow, taking the time to feel and appreciate each time his tip rubbed against your sweet spot. He breathed noisily under you, giving the occasional grunt or quiet whine, his hands resting on your hips. 

Flipping your hair to one side over your shoulder, you leaned down and kissed him. You led this time, just moving your lips against his, slow and deep and without the use of your teeth, no matter how badly you wished to hear him whimper. 

He sat up and wrapped his arms around your back to turn you over, somehow managing to keep his lips on yours the entire time. 

You felt your muscles sigh in relief when he laid you on your back in the soft bed. You let out a soft happy breath when he slid his hands up your sides, content in just stroking your skin. He wasn't fucking you then, it was something different. If you were stupid you'd call it making love. He thrusted deep and slow, his hips moving on their own accord. Each time he plunged back in he'd exhale deeply through his nose, tickling the skin of your upper lip. 

Daryl was the one to break the kiss, he leaned back on his heels to look down at you.

“So damn pretty.” He mumbled, his eyelids struggling to stay open. If he wasn't drunk on the wine he was drunk on you and this new way of having you, a way he never even considered. This was it, he thought, this is how he wanted to have sex for the rest of his life. Swallowing each other whole, touching and caressing every inch of skin. 

His eyelids didn't feel so heavy when he saw you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes closed and you grabbed at your hair and breast, your head lolling to the side, your mouth hanging open, your face all twisted up-

You came hard around him, shuddering and gasping and whimpering as you enjoyed your sweet orgasm. It was so different, so drastically different from the last one he gave you. You didn't feel like you were on fire, clawing at your skin with your throat raw, you felt like you were being slipped into the warm black lake that was Daryl Dixon. 

“Daryl, oh my god Daryl.” Your words slurred in your mouth and he leaned down to kiss you. He wanted to swallow every little noise you made. Wanted to swallow your breaths, wanted to swallow you. 

“Ss-shh-fuck.” He bubbled against your lips as he came, forgetting to pull out again. He didn't give a shit anymore. He moaned then, such a beautiful noise that it nearly shattered your heart. So shameless, he didn't hold back at all, letting you hear all of it, all that you earned from him. 

He ground his hips into you well after you both finished, making sure every last drop of his cum filled you up. He buried his face in your neck and rolled his hips, his rough pubes grinding against your throbbing clit. You'd never come that way before, not without at least a little outside stimulation, the fact he made you cum from penetration alone changed your life for good. 

It was hard to bite back any further words. You moaned softly at the feeling of his dick still dragging against your walls, nudging against you each time in a way that was nearly too much to bear. 

You looked at him with admiration. He looked beautiful. You reached up and ran your hand over his short hair, wiping the sweat from his brows. He looked at you, something he needed great courage to do, and sighed. 

He couldn't think of anything to say. He felt ashamed, embarrassed, he'd been so deeply vulnerable that it physically hurt him. He swore he'd blow his goddamn brains out if you laughed or made fun of him. 

But you didn't, you just smiled up at him with that dangerous look on your face that had his heart racing. It should've relaxed him, but it didn't, it made the muscles in his shoulders tense. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You whispered as you stroked his cheek, fully prepared for him to go back to the same old Daryl Dixon you knew and tolerated. 

“Do whatcha want.” He breathed, finally pulling his soft dick from you. 

“Good. Then I'll stay.” You leaned up on your elbows and kissed his jaw before slipping into the bathroom. 

When you climbed back in bed he was pretending to be asleep. You scoffed quietly in amusement and pulled a thin sheet over the two of you, curling up behind him. You decided that wouldn't suit you so you turned over and wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face in the back of his neck. 

You kissed the skin there once before pressing your forehead against the same spot, closing your eyes when you felt comfortable. 

Daryl stared at the wall in front of him as he felt your fingers softly fidget with the buttons of his shirt. They soon stilled and your breathing slowed to a point where he could barely hear it anymore. Only then did he close his eyes, and secretly enjoy the way you held him. 

The next morning was awkward when you woke up and saw Glenn still passed out on the couch.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Gotch-yer Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Violence, Walker death, other TWD character death (Amy), Daryl being a bit of a jerk and then fixing it, let me know if there's anything else! Basically what seems to be regular TWD fanfic warnings. Also I believe this is only Fem!Reader because he calls Reader "girl."

Summary: A retelling of the night walkers attack at the quarry and how you and Daryl help each other deal with the aftermath.

You tried to remember the last time you’d eaten fish. It had been a while, a few weeks maybe? A few long weeks forcing yourself to eat squirrel or a rabbit if you were lucky. Or if you were unlucky, even snake. You’d eat whatever was caught if you were hungry enough, or simply to stay alive another day.

Fish was a delicacy these days. The girls- Amy and Andrea had caught a load of them in the quarry. It was white fish which had always been your favorite. It was easy to cook and fell apart in yummy flakes. Hell, you didn’t even need a fork.

It was hot in your mouth and the heat of the meal radiated in your belly. The group chewed and chattered while you were lost in your own thoughts. Your mother used to make a great dish when you lived with her. Cod with a breading on top that was made with Ritz crackers. You missed her. You missed her cooking. You wondered where she was now-

Everyone laughed suddenly and the sound made you jump.

“William Faukner,” Dale said, smiling.

Lori reached over Carl and rested a comforting hand on your arm. Understanding glowed in her eyes in the firelight. Loud noises always made you nervous these days.

By the time you saw the pan of fish that had been passed around, the last filet was being pulled out of it by a stabbing fork.

“Shouldn’t we save some?” you asked Lori. “The guys’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll catch some more tomorrow,” Andrea said to you, catching your attention from a few seats down.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “We’re pros.” 

Despite the light conversation, Lori looked grim. You and her seemed to be the only people worried about the men who’d gone off to find Merle and the bag of guns that was left in the street in Atlanta. She had her arm around Carl as he munched and grinned at Dale. You couldn’t imagine how she was feeling about her husband’s return, nevermind his volunteering to lead the charge back into one of the most dangerous places in this new age. He’d just gotten back. It was written all over her face as she gazed into the flames of the fire.

You weren’t a fan of Merle. In fact, you disliked him thoroughly. The pit in your gut surrounding his abandonment had nothing to do with his safety, or his life, but with Daryl’s. You weren’t even sure if you liked the younger Dixon either. He seemed to follow too closely in his brother’s footsteps to be safe or dependable. Or even nice. But you did respect him. After all, he’d helped to keep you safe and almost single handedly kept the group fed with his hunting and tracking skills. 

Still, no. He wasn’t very nice.

You had a feeling, however, that you had his respect in return. It only took a few crude remarks from Merle for you to fire back at him with enough force to keep him off your back for a few days. Daryl apparently hadn’t been too far away that day and had heard your reply to Merle’s degrading comments. 

“Impressive,” he’d said. “For a quiet girl.”

The next time Merle got colorful with his words towards you, Daryl was the one to take the heat for you. Told his brother to quit it. Since then, your relationship with the older Dixon was extremely minimal and even when it was forced, he left you alone.

Though you wouldn’t have missed Merle one bit, you watched Daryl take the news of his desertion when the cop- Rick- told him what had happened on the supply run. While you of course expected fury from Daryl, you hadn’t expected such emotion to fly out of him. He was a wrecking ball of threats and fists with tears running down his dirty cheeks. It was sad.

He must have seen the pity in your face then. When you called to him, tried to calm him down and move him away from Shane, he’d shoved you. “Get lost, girl.”

Needless to say, the men in this group were difficult. But at least the others were in the group. Daryl was on the outskirts of it and without his brother, it would be too easy for him to get thrust out. While you didn’t want that, you knew it was also vital for the survival of the group for him to stay. You had a feeling he wasn’t as impenetrable as the armor he wore.

You were worried about Daryl. You were also worried about Glenn and T-Dog, and Rick- Lori and Carl included. And as you sat there before the fire, you wondered what the hell would happen if Merle returned.

That was when you heard Amy scream. You didn’t recognize the sound at first, it was so sudden and so loud. It was a cry of anguish and fear. One that begged for help.

After that, it was chaos.

You turned over your shoulder, watching Amy and her assailant, even pondering for a split second who had snuck into the camp. What stranger would go after a girl just trying to go to the bathroom. But of course, it wasn’t a who. It was a what.

“Get behind me!” Shane roared. 

You knew there wasn’t time. Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed the unfamiliar hunting knife you had with you and unsheathed it. You stepped over the log you’d been sitting on, away from the fire, but also further away from Shane and the safety of his gun, towards one of the geeks. It wasn’t just ugly and rank and dead, it was terrifying. The look of it, the smell of it made your stomach sink so far, it felt like it’d fell out of your body.

It snarled and gnashed its mouth at you while its thin, wiry fingers reached for you, but all the while, you focused on its hair. It was the same in death as it was in life- long locks of protein that couldn’t hurt you. Harmless. So you aimed your knife there.

In the brain, in the brain, it has to be in the brain, don’t you know anything-

The thing stopped once your knife sunk into its skull. Its arms dropped to its hollow sides and its lifeless eyes looked at you, long enough to send a shudder through you before it dropped to the ground, taking your one and only weapon with it. 

“Get up here! Come to the RV!” you heard.

There were more screams, the thunk of childhood baseball bats slamming into hard skulls, the echoing sound of gunshots. Closer to you, though, and more urgently, there was deep guttural snarling, groaning and gurgling- the sound of the dead coming for you.

Shane had brought the children to the RV, safe, their backs leaning against the cold metal. Lori and Carol were there, Jim was at the treeline with his bat, Andrea on the ground with- with Amy. Amy’s body. You were alone. In the middle of the chaos, too far from any other living humans to take any aid.

“(Y/N)! Get up here! Jim!” Shane’s voice was hoarse.

You dove for your knife, yanking it out of the walker’s head with a squelch. You could only manage three or four steps up the hill before another undead was upon you. It was too close, its long nails a hair’s breadth away from your bare skin and its decaying teeth lunging closer with every stride. Again, you had to gather all your strength, grip your knife tight and focus- be calm enough to aim for the enemy’s brain. You had one chance, or you’d turn into one of them.

Carl would have to see it, Sophia, Lori. Daryl.

You grunted with the effort and the tip of the knife hit home and sunk into the geek’s head. This time you were able to free your knife before the thing fell to the ground. You scanned the land in front of you, looking for more threats. There were so many bodies on the ground. Bodies of people from your group, people that you’d gotten to know. They were lying still now. Leaking onto the dirt.

Then an arm wrapped around your middle and dragged you uphill. You screamed and thrashed, but whatever had you was strong.

“It’s me,” his voice rasped in your ear. 

It immediately calmed you. You held onto Daryl’s arm as if it were a buoy saving you from drowning in gray, storming waves of a murderous ocean. He led you to the others near the van and deposited you there before letting go of you.

He was back. You saw Rick, T-Dog and Glenn, all in various states of emotional disrepair, but Daryl just looked around, calmly taking in the carnage. 

“Daryl,” you said to him, “you okay?”

“Whaddah you think?” he snarled. “Ya see mah brother anywhere? Huh?”

So the moment was short lived. You ignored whatever he said next, running your hand along the outside of the RV, using it as a crutch as you moved to check on Carol and Sophia, then on Lori. You didn’t have it in you to survey much more than that. You trembled from the inside out and watched Rick hug his little boy as tears streamed down his face. 

At least they were back. 

It was somewhat painstakingly decided that you would all save the cleanup for tomorrow morning. The survivors had vans or tents to escape into. To leave the dead outside. Except for Andrea. One look at her- that was all you could handle- and you knew she wasn’t going to leave her sister any time soon.

You fell to your knees, jeans sinking into the soft dirt and stared into the flames of the campfire that was still burning strong. It was only then you found the hunting knife still in your tight grip, crusted over with brown, lumpy goo. At that point in the night, you couldn’t understand exactly what the remains were and for that, you were grateful. The bit of blade still showing reflected in the light coming from the pit, shades of orange and red glowing between your fingers. 

Shane crouched beside you and though his landing was silent and agile, you jumped.

“S’alright,” he said, taking the weapon out of your scrunched hand. “Lemme clean it.”

“I can clean it,” Daryl grumbled from above, snatching the knife from Shane. “S’mine anyway.”

Shane let it happen, concentrating on you. He carefully set a hand on your shoulder. “Ya did good,” he said.

“You too,” you answered, like a little league pitcher on the losing team. 

He stood and put his hands on his hips. “Try ta get some rest,” he said from the air.

You nodded.

Only when Shane was gone, did Daryl move closer to you. He sat on the ground and leaned back against the log the group had been using as dinner seats less than an hour ago. He sat back for a while, leaving you to watch the flames die down as he worked one of his rags into the crevices of the hunting knife. Slowly, you heard the others of the group- those living- say goodnight to each other and slide into their respective dwellings for what was left of the evening.

Distantly, though he sat just beside you, you heard Daryl speak. “S’right bout one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Ya did good. I saw ya when we were runnin’ up the hill. Doin’ what I told ya to do.”

You turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. Your feet stung under you, asleep after kneeling on them for so long, as you moved to sit on your bottom next to Daryl. He turned the cleaned knife in his hand before passing it you, handle out.

You shook your head. “It’s yours.”

He plopped it on your lap. “S’yours now. I gave it to ya. You’ll need it.”

You didn’t want to need it. He knew that too. All the same, it was a good thing he’d left it with you when he went to Atlanta. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting next to him right now. Speaking to him. Feeling the heat that didn’t just emit from the fire, but from him by your side as well. 

“Thank you,” you said, sliding the knife back into its sheath and into your pocket, where you hoped it would stay, unneeded for a long time. Or at least for the rest of the night.

You turned to him, but again, he wasn’t looking at you. He rarely did. But you knew he was still there, still with you by the way his head tilted towards you. Like he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. As if you were a deer in the forest, ready to bolt away from him at any moment.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find Merle.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah right. You hate Merle.”

“Hate is a strong word,” you said.

He chuckled- a grim, gruff sound deep in his chest. 

You watched him, feeling free to do so since he so rarely looked you in the eye. He was biting the inside of his lip over and over and picking at his fingernails. 

You waited.

He peeked at you, inhaling deep. “Didn’ mean ta snap atcha. Earlier.”

When he yelled, you thought. By the RV, after he’d pulled you to safety. 

You nodded. “S’alright. It’s been a tough day all around.”

Humming in agreement, he turned back to the fire. You two were square now. But you also hoped he knew that if he snapped at you like that again, you wouldn’t be so quick to forgive. 

There was a flapping from above that shook the leaves in the trees. It was a soft, peaceful sound of nature, but after this night, in this new world, it startled you to your core.

“Just a bird,” Daryl said.

You sucked in a breath that made your lungs quake in your chest. “I’m sick of being so scared all the damn time,” you mumbled, tipping your head forward, holding your face in your hands. Things had only been like this for two months? Three? And you were already exhausted, tired of it all. How much longer could you take? Or, how much longer would it take for you to just-

Daryl stood. “Come on,” he said. He waved toward his tent. “Gotta getcha away from this damn bloodbath ‘er you’ll never calm down.”

You violently shook your head. “I can’t- I don’t wanna be alone-”

He was already walking toward the tent he shared with Merle. “Yer stayin’ with me. So I know where ya are.”

Your system went from fight or flight to frozen. He- Daryl- wanted you- where? After every shove and snap and swear towards you, now he wanted you to come with him? To be in his space? Overnight?

You stared at him. He tossed his crossbow into his tent, lifting the flap and heading inside when he turned back and saw you still on the ground in front of the fire.

“Or do ya wanna stay out here alone?”

“No.”

“Then get off yer ass.”

You scrambled to your feet and scurried to the tent’s flap. You felt like a scolded child, like your dignity had been left in the dirt, but you didn’t care. After the walker attack, you couldn’t be alone and you had been trusting Daryl with your life for weeks now, not that you’d ever tell anyone that. You felt the safest when you were with him. Tonight you needed that. Especially tonight. 

“Ya can take that side,” Daryl mumbled, pointing. 

The tent was small. Big enough to stand up in, but not very wide. There were two sleeping bags strewn out close to each other with a lumpy pillow on each. He tossed an extra blanket onto the side he told you to take. It was the one with the crossbow at its foot. And you recognized his cut off flannel shoved into the duffle beside it.

“I can’t take your bed.”

“Ain’t a bed,” he said, spreading the other sleeping bag open flat and sitting on it.

“Well, I can’t take your bag.”

“Would you rather stick your face in Merle’s pillow all night?”

You grimaced, thinking of the monster of a man and what he’d probably done to that innocent pillow.

“Thought not,” Daryl said. He grumbled it, but you heard the smirk in his voice.

“The definition of ‘pick your poison’,” you said, crouching to sit on the soft sleeping bag. 

“Girl-” Daryl said, swatting at you as he rolled over, putting his back to you.

You swung back, smacking his shoulder. “I was kidding.”

In answer, he gave another blind swat, making you giggle. 

You laid back into the double layer of sleeping bag, enjoying the way it was cool to the touch underneath you. The pillow, though thin, felt nice when you situated it under your head the way you liked it. Everything around you smelled like him- gas, grease, cigarettes- yes, but something else too. It wasn’t a bad smell, just a natural one. Just Daryl.

You were laying on your side, facing him. You watched him sink into the darkness as you spun the dial on the lantern until it turned off. Dark, though it was, you could still see his form clearly. Not sleeping yet. 

“Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

He grunted, flopping to lay on his back and folding one of his arms under his head. “Get some sleep.”

It was then you realized how small the tent really was. When he laid on his back, his leg could almost touch your knee as you curled up on your side. He was an enigma, alright, you thought. Couldn’t bear to look you in the eye, saved your life, snapped at you in front of everyone and now slept beside you like it was nothing.

You sighed, following suit and laying on your back too. “Don’t think I’m gonna be able to catch much of that,” you said.

His pillow rustled as he looked toward you. “What the hell happened there?” He took your hand from where it rested over your forehead and studied the angry red scrapes and purple bruising on your knuckles. “This happen tonight?”

“No,” you said, taking your hand from his grasp and tucking it under you, embarrassed. “Happened earlier.”

“How’d you bust it up like that?”

“I, um… I just hurt it. Against Ed’s face.”

Daryl gave a laughing hiss. “I saw his face. You did that?”

“Some of it. Shane did the rest.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“He had it comin’,” you said, barely finishing the last word and regretting saying anything at all. Ed may have deserved a few punches, hell, he deserved jail time. But what happened to him tonight- eaten alive, alone- you weren’t sure anyone deserved that. It made your stomach roll in your gut and you stung with shame.

“Fucking badass, girl,” Daryl said.

It was quiet in the dark for a long moment. 

“M’not, Daryl. I’m just fucking scared.”

There was more rustling beside you as Daryl shimmied around on his sleeping bag. 

“Turn over. That way,” he said.

You did as he told you, laying on your side with your back to him. His body moved up against yours, his heat blooming on your shoulders, bum, and the backs of your legs. A little too forcefully, he lifted your head to slide his arm underneath and cradle you close.

“Ain’t nothin’ gettin’ in this tent tonight. I gotch’yer back. You can handle your front.”

You nodded, feeling tears gather in your eyes. Your cheeks were hot, as though they were on fire as you cried, finally letting out the emotion of the evening. The death, the kills, the fear, and the relief all ran down your face and into your shirt or onto Daryl’s pillow or his arm supporting your head. As your breath caught, he reached around you with his free arm, hugging you close and rubbing his thumb on the skin of your injured hand. You grasped him hard. You needed to.

Before this night, you weren’t sure what you thought of the younger Dixon brother. He was rough and nasty and you wondered just how much he took after Merle. Before this moment, you thought he’d run for the hills if you ever touched him with one single finger, nevermind your whole body- your whole being like you were now. But he was there, still with you and unbothered. Safe.

“Sleep,” he mumbled.

You nodded, squeezing his hand again before letting it go and allowing your body to relax against his. And eventually, in his arms, listening to his steady breath, you slept.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Another Ending - 4 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance, comedy.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 ,-

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Inside the cozy café, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the soft hum of chatter, Jill Krege sat at her usual spot near the window. The café was a revolving door of people, each bringing their unique quirks and stories, making it the perfect place to find inspiration for new characters. For a bestselling author like Jill, places like this were gold mines—at least, they usually were.

Today, however, was different. Despite the stream of customers, none sparked the creative flame she was hoping for. She sighed, disappointed, and began packing her belongings into her bag. Her latest novel, The Red Swan, had catapulted her to fame, and with that fame came the pressure to produce something just as captivating. Her agent was already pushing her for a new book, but inspiration was proving elusive.

Just as she was about to leave, a new group entered the café—a family, by the looks of it. A mother, a father, and their teenage daughter. Jill's eyes were immediately drawn to them. The mother had a cool, confident demeanor, and the father… something about him struck a chord. He reminded her of the male protagonist in The Red Swan. And the daughter? She seemed like an ordinary teenager, though her eyes were sharp, and observant.

As the daughter scanned the drinks menu, she glanced over at Jill, and their eyes met, her eyes lightened up like she recognized someone.

She must be a fan, Jill thought, instinctively straightening her posture and smoothing her hair. She reached into her bag, readying a pen for an autograph.

Lori turned to you both and whispered. “Why don’t you guys get drinks? I’ll give you the signal.”

Watching her stride confidently towards Jill, both you and Bucky felt a flicker of unease. “Did a 13-year-old just give us an order?” Bucky murmured.

“She’s perfect,” you replied with a smirk, clearly impressed by Lori’s nerve.

Bucky chuckled, squeezing your hand as you both walked toward the cashier. “So, what will it be, dear? I’ll take the usual—an iced Americano.”

You shot him a look, surprised by the sudden intimacy. Bucky leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “We have to play the roles of mom and dad, right?” he whispered, a playful wink following his words.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to the cashier. “Two iced Americanos and one matcha latte, please,” you said. Then, glancing at him, you added, “A real married couple would stop acting so lovey-dovey.”

While waiting for the drinks, you both stood in silence. “I noticed you never mentioned Lori's father,” Bucky remarked, remembering that Lori had mentioned her father, but you had never brought him up.

“He died,” you answered, your voice subdued. Lori's father had passed away several years ago from stomach cancer. Your sister had become obsessed with creating healthy food in hopes of helping him. Though he managed to maintain his weight and appearance, the cancer cells never stopped, and eventually, they took his life.

In the wake of his death, your sister became even more fervent about spreading healthy eating habits. Lori, on the other hand, had been very quiet after her father's death. To cope with her grief, she had turned to reading books, finding solace in them. You knew that was her way of escaping.

She used to be a quiet girl like you, but after her father died, she began to change. She became more like him—cheerful, funny, and with a love for singing.

Bucky was taken aback. With Lori’s cheerful demeanor, he had never imagined she had experienced such pain. Now, he felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Meanwhile, Lori approached Jill cautiously, her steps deliberate. She paused before speaking, her voice small and nervous. “Hello, Miss Jill?”

Jill’s smile widened as she turned to face the young fan. “Hello to you too.”

Any pretense of Lori’s role melted away as her inner fangirl took over. “I’m your biggest fan! I really love this book!” She held up a copy of The Red Swan with gleaming eyes. “Can I get your autograph and maybe a picture with you? But only if it’s okay.”

Jill’s heart warmed at the polite request. Fans like Lori were the reason she loved what she did. “Of course!” she said, signing the book and preparing for a photo.

Lori suddenly looked around, feigning surprise. “Oh no, my phone’s with my dad!” She waved you and Bucky over. “Mom, Dad! Come here!”

That’s the signal, you thought as you and Bucky made your way to Lori. The two of you snapped a few photos, with Lori grinning from ear to ear.

“Mom, let’s take a picture together!” Lori suggested, her voice dropping to a whisper as she turned to Jill. “My mom won’t admit it, but she loves your book too.”

Jill nodded, finding the idea charming, and invited you to join in. You played along, acting bashful as you handed the phone to Bucky.

Now, it was you, Lori, and Jill posing together.

“One, two, three, say Tchaikovsky!” Bucky announced with a grin.

You and Lori smiled brightly, both saying “Tchaikovsky!” in unison.

But Jill didn’t. The color drained from her face as she heard the name. Tchaikovsky. No one ever mentioned that name, not in her circles, not even in passing.

It wasn’t a name associated with classical music for her—it was tied to something far more sinister, something only she and a select few knew about. It was the name of a mission, a report she had read, and a man she never wanted to cross paths with again.

Jill froze, her mind racing. How do they know?

Your eyes narrowed as you saw her reaction. It was all the confirmation you needed. The name was a gamble—a code word that only someone with knowledge of the mission would recognize. And Jill’s reaction was telling.

You leaned in close, your voice a whisper that barely reached her ears. “If you want to live, follow us.”

Jill nodded, her hands trembling as she hurriedly gathered her belongings and followed you out of the café.

As you made your way to the car, you and Bucky exchanged a glance. Both of you noticed the black sedans idling near the café, their drivers watching you intently. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You weren’t safe yet.

“Get in, quick,” Bucky urged as the four of you piled into the car. He floored the gas, pulling away from the curb just as the sedans roared to life, tires screeching as they gave chase.

Jill clutched her bag tightly, her eyes wide with fear as she glanced back at the cars gaining on you. “Who are they?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“Not the kind of people you want to meet,” you replied, your tone grim as you kept your eyes on the road ahead.

The chase intensified, with Bucky weaving through traffic, narrowly avoiding collisions as he tried to lose the tail. You kept a close watch on the side mirrors, searching for any sign of an opportunity to shake them off.

Finally, as you approached a busy intersection, Bucky made a sharp turn, diving into a narrow alleyway just as the traffic light turned red. The sedans were forced to a stop, unable to follow.

Bucky didn’t slow down until you were several blocks away, the sound of sirens fading into the distance. Only then did he exhale, glancing at you with a look of relief. “We lost them. For now.”

Jill was still in shock, her mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. You turned to her, your expression serious. “We need to talk. And you’re going to tell us everything.”

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

In a secluded, dimly lit room, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Jill Krege sat tied to a wooden chair, her hands bound behind her back. The only sound was the faint creak of the old floorboards beneath her feet. Her eyes darted around nervously, landing on the door where you and Bucky stood, your expressions unreadable.

Lori was safely out of sight, back in the car, just as you insisted. This could go bad quickly, and you couldn’t risk her being involved.

“Now, Miss Jill,” Bucky began, his voice low and controlled, “tell us. How do you know about the Red Swan mission? Are you with the agency?”

Jill’s head snapped up, panic flashing in her eyes. “No,” she stammered, shaking her head vigorously. She glanced between you and Bucky, her gaze dropping to the floor as she mumbled, “I’m sorry. Did he send you here for royalties? I’ll prepare the payment as soon as I can.”

Both you and Bucky exchanged a look of surprise. “He?” you questioned, your tone sharp.

Jill hesitated, too terrified to continue. Her hands trembled, the ropes binding her wrists biting into her skin.

“Please, believe me,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I had no idea the story would blow up like this. I’m just a failed writer who took another job as a nurse at a nursing home. I changed all the names to make sure they didn’t match the reports.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Make changes? The mission details, the routes, the street names, the hotel numbers, even the seats at the opera—they’re all the same. You’re a lazy author.”

Jill winced, guilt washing over her. She hadn’t had the money to pay for a fact-checker, and the publisher assured her it was fine. Nobody had ever complained—until today.

But then, a realization struck her, and she lifted her head, her eyes widening. “Wait a minute! Are you Agent Cipher?”

Her gaze shifted to you. “And you’re Agent Nightingale?”

A spark of excitement lit up her face, reminiscent of Lori’s fangirl energy. “Oh my God! Both of you are real! I can’t believe it!” She looked you and Bucky over, from head to toe, nodding as if something had clicked. “I can see why.”

Bucky sighed inwardly, feeling more exhausted than before. Another one, he thought. “For the last time, Miss Krege, who gave you the details of this mission?”

Jill’s excitement dimmed slightly as she answered, “It was Mr. Henry Tucci.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Is he bald, with scars on the back of his head, and only three fingers on his left hand?”

Jill’s eyes widened further. “Yes! There are scars on the back of his head, but he’s not bald anymore.”

That was all you needed to hear. The physical description matched perfectly. You knew who Henry Tucci really was—your former handler, Mr. Herb.

The one who still had access to those classified reports. Jill wasn’t a threat; she was just a nurse who had stumbled upon a treasure trove of secrets and turned them into a novel. But something still didn’t add up.

Why would Henry be so careless as to let someone like Jill get her hands on those reports?

“That’s all we need,” you said, your tone firm but not unkind. You pulled up a chair and began cutting the rope that bound her hands. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Bucky leaned in close to Jill, his voice low and dangerous. “If a word about us gets out, you know what will happen, right?”

Jill nodded quickly, too frightened to speak.

“Where is this nursing home?” you asked, your eyes narrowing.

Jill scratched her head, hesitant. “At Legacy Residence Nursing Home. It’s not exactly a nursing home…”

“Explain,” you demanded.

“It’s a nursing home,” Jill began cautiously, “but it’s also like a prison for elders. Most of them are too old to be in a regular jail.”

You massaged your forehead, frustration mounting. This just got a whole lot more complicated.

“Let’s go,” you said to Bucky, turning on your heel and heading for the door.

“Wait, wait… I have questions!” Jill called after you, desperation creeping into her voice. “Can I interview you for my next book?”

“No,” you and Bucky replied in unison, not breaking stride.

“Please! Maybe I could give the characters a good ending,” Jill insisted.

Your footsteps faltered. “What happened to the ending?” you asked, a dangerous edge in your voice.

Jill hesitated, her excitement faltering under your glare. “Well… it’s a sad ending. The male character gets shot and falls off a cliff.”

You shot Bucky a look, both of you visibly tensing.

“But it could be an open ending,” Jill added quickly. “Look at you both now—you’re alive!”

“No,” you repeated, this time more forcefully.

Jill tried to follow you to the car, still pleading her case, but you and Bucky ignored her. Lori, however, couldn’t bear to see her idol so dejected. She rolled down the window as you approached.

“Miss Krege, I’m sorry,” Lori said, her voice small but sincere.

Jill spotted her and asked. “Are you their daughter?”

“Lori, don’t answer that,” you warned.

Jill reached into her bag and pulled out a card. “If you have any stories, please contact me. This is my private number.”

Lori’s eyes widened in disbelief. She had just gotten her idol’s number. “Yes, you can count on me!”

“Bye!” she called out as the car started to move.

Jill waved back, a mix of disappointment and excitement swirling within her. Today was her lucky day. Despite the danger, she had everything she needed for her next bestseller.

Seeing Jill’s figure shrink and eventually disappear from view, Lori adjusted her sitting position and asked, “So where are we going next?”

“To a nursing home. This time we need your acting skills again,” you replied.

Lori gave a salute gesture. “At your service, Sergeant!” Then she turned to Bucky. “Did I do a great job?”

Bucky glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Reaching back, he patted her head. “You did. I’m proud of you.”

When Lori heard that, she felt a lump in her throat. It had been a while since she’d heard those words or had someone pat her head. Bucky’s large hand reminded her of her father. She lowered her head, cleared her throat, and asked, “What do I need to do next?”

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

At Legacy Residence Nursing Home, the atmosphere was far from the peaceful retirement community it might appear to be at first glance. This was no ordinary place where elders spent their twilight years in comfort. Instead, it was a luxurious prison, a haven for former criminals who were too powerful and wealthy to serve time in a regular jail.

The residents here were dangerous individuals, their pasts shrouded in secrecy, and though it was technically a prison, the price of admission ensured that their surroundings were lavish. Guards patrolled the grounds, and the security was tight, but family visits were almost unheard of.

Most of the criminals housed here had long since alienated any relatives, and their only visitors were usually lawyers managing their affairs.

So when you and Lori walked through the front doors, your presence caused quite a stir. The guards exchanged puzzled glances, and the receptionist at the front desk looked up in surprise as you approached.

“Hello,” you greeted her politely, keeping your voice calm and composed.

“Yes, ma'am. How can I help you?” the receptionist replied, her tone professional but tinged with curiosity.

You cleared your throat, mentally preparing yourself for the act you were about to put on. “Yes, uhm, I’d like to visit my father, Mr. Henry Tucci.”

The receptionist’s fingers flew over the keyboard, searching the system. “Uhm, Mr. Tucci doesn’t have any listed family.”

A wave of relief washed over you. He was here, and he was alive. You quickly composed yourself, shifting your expression to one of sadness and regret. “I’m sorry. Yes, it’s been a long time since I last saw my father. We… cut ties because of his job.”

The receptionist’s gaze softened, understanding flashing in her eyes. She was well aware of the type of people housed here, and it wasn’t hard to imagine a child distancing themselves from a criminal parent.

“And my daughter,” you continued, pulling Lori closer to your side, “she wants to meet her grandfather.”

Lori played her part flawlessly. She looked up at the receptionist with wide, innocent eyes, her lower lip quivering slightly as she clutched a piece of paper tightly in her hands.

The paper, folded neatly, had “Nice to meet you, Grandpa” scrawled on it in Lori’s careful handwriting. She glanced at the receptionist, her expression a perfect mix of hope and nervousness.

The sight of Lori’s apparent longing to meet her grandfather was enough to tug at anyone’s heartstrings. The receptionist’s resolve visibly softened, and she gave you both a sympathetic look. “No matter what, he’s still family, right?”

You nodded, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears, as you reached up to wipe them away with the tip of your finger. “Yes, exactly. Thank you so much for understanding.”

Moved by the emotion in the air, the receptionist handed you two guest necklaces. “I’ll let your father know about the surprise. He’ll be delighted to have his daughter and granddaughter visiting him.”

You accepted the necklaces with a grateful nod, giving her a tearful smile. “Thank you,” you murmured, holding onto Lori’s hand as you prepared to face what came next.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

You and Lori waited in the garden, a beautifully landscaped area that seemed more fitting for a high-end resort than a prison. The sun was shining, birds chirped in the distance, and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the meticulously maintained trees.

If it weren't for the discreetly placed guards and the subtle sense of tension in the air, it would be easy to forget that this was a place where some of the world's most dangerous criminals were confined.

Lori, ever the curious and bold teenager, was taking everything in with wide eyes. She wasn’t scared at all; in fact, you almost wished she were, if only to make her a bit more cautious.

Instead, she leaned closer to you, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, "Aunt, that guard over there is handsome. I could see his muscles from here. I wouldn’t mind staying in a place like this."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her casual remark. "You’d have to be a criminal first. A threatening and powerful one at that."

Lori pondered this for a moment, her brow furrowing in mock seriousness. "Hmm… what should I do to qualify?"

Before you could reply, you heard a voice behind you, gravelly yet carrying a tone of amused resignation. “They thought I had dementia when I told them I don’t have a daughter or granddaughter.”

You turned to see Henry Tucci approaching. He was an older man in his seventies, his hair a silvery gray that matched the fine lines etched into his weathered face. He wore a pair of glasses that gave him a scholarly look, more like a retired professor than the feared handler he once was.

The years had softened his once intimidating presence, but there was still a sharpness in his eyes that hinted at the formidable man he used to be.

“I guess so. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have let your nurse read the ‘Red Swan’ project,” you replied, keeping your tone even, though the irritation was evident. “Did you forget to secure it properly?”

Henry raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips. “So that’s why you’re here,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. “I remember that young nurse. She had quick hands. If the agency still existed, I would’ve hired her.”

As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Lori, who had been watching him with open curiosity. “You have a daughter?” he asked, a touch of surprise in his voice.

“My niece,” you clarified.

Lori, ever polite despite the strange circumstances, waved her hand. “Hello.”

Henry returned the gesture with a warm smile. “Hello, young lady.”

“Why did you bring your niece here?” he asked you.

“It was because of her that I found out about this,” you replied, pulling out a copy of The Red Swan from your bag. You held it up for Henry to see, the cover prominently displaying the book that had unintentionally exposed so many secrets.

Henry lit his cigar, letting the smoke curl lazily around him before he spoke again. “Ah, yes, that book.” His tone was dismissive but carried an undercurrent of grudging respect. "It’s quite the little troublemaker, isn’t it? Also, the most interesting mission the agency got."

You rolled your eyes and decided to keep the conversation light for now. “How many years did you get?”

Henry’s eyes twinkled with a dark amusement. “For life.”

“I can’t exactly feel sorry for you,” you said, glancing around the picturesque garden. “This place is like heaven.”

Henry lit a cigar, taking a deep inhale before speaking. “Try living here with killers, mafias, and corrupt officials for a few days. My hands itch to strangle their necks—”

You cleared your throat sharply, a pointed reminder of Lori’s presence. Henry caught himself, glancing at Lori before exhaling the smoke and growing more serious. “Where is he?”

“Who?” you asked, though you already knew.

“Your flame, your lover, the traitor,” Henry replied, his tone a mix of disdain and curiosity. Despite Bucky’s potential, Henry had always resented him. Bucky’s betrayal of the agency had been a personal slight.

You avoided his question, focusing on the pressing matter. “First, tell me why you let a civilian read the mission report,” you demanded. “And why was a writer chosen to care for you?”

Henry chuckled softly, tapping his fingers on the table as he considered his answer. “You’ve always had a sharp mind,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “Yes, I chose her because of her background. And yes, I let her take the report.”

“Why?” you pressed, trying to make sense of his reckless actions.

“Because I’m bored,” Henry replied, his casual tone catching you off guard.

You leaned forward, anger simmering. “Because of you, everyone knows about the mission. And now, they’re chasing me and him.”

Henry’s expression remained unchanged, though a flicker of amusement or regret passed through his eyes. “Oh,” he responded, almost dismissively.

“I could make them stop,” Henry offered as if it were a trivial matter. His eyes glinted with a mix of challenge and opportunity. “As long as you can get me out of here.”

You crossed your arms, your eyes narrowing. “You planned this, didn’t you? You wanted us to come here, to get you out. You want to escape.”

Henry’s smile widened, confirming your suspicions. Jill’s success with the book had not been a mere coincidence; it was a carefully orchestrated plan by Henry himself. He had been pulling the strings from within his gilded cage, manipulating events from the confines of the nursing home.

The real motive behind his actions was far less straightforward than mere boredom. For Henry, it was akin to a twisted game of treasure hunting. He was driven by an intense curiosity, a desire to see which of his old connections would notice the hidden clues buried in the pages of The Red Swan.

What would happen next? Who would come looking? It was a way to inject a bit of excitement into his otherwise monotonous existence.

Over the year since the book’s release, he had watched with a mix of disappointment and impatience. There had been no significant fallout, no grand revelations—until today. But to be honest, he hadn’t anticipated that you, one of his top agents, would be the one to unravel his little game.

And even more surprising was the role of your niece in the discovery. The unexpected involvement of a teenager had added a layer of complexity he hadn’t counted on.

Henry leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between you and Lori. “You see, it was never just about the book or the chaos it created. It was about the challenge—testing the waters, seeing if anyone was sharp enough to pick up on the clues I’d planted.”

He chuckled softly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to come here. I didn’t expect a teenager to be the key to solving my little puzzle. But here you are, proving that even in a place like this, things can still get interesting.”

You stared at him, grappling with the realization that his manipulation had been far more intricate than you’d initially thought. His aim had been to create a ripple effect, to see who would react and how.

“I taught you well,” Henry admitted a hint of pride in his voice. “Now, where’s Bucky?”

You remained silent, giving him nothing.

Unfazed, Henry took another slow puff of his cigar. “I’m the agents’ handler. I know everyone’s real name.”

You stayed quiet, but he continued, undeterred. “He’s already preparing to get you out of here.”

Henry clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. “I knew I could count on you two.”

Lori, who had been listening intently, suddenly spoke up. “Wow… really mind-blowing!” She looked at Henry with wide-eyed admiration. “Sir, you’re a genius.”

Henry chuckled, clearly enjoying the compliment. “Hahaha… thank you, little girl.”

“Are you satisfied with what you’ve done?” you asked, your voice tight with frustration. You clenched your fist, the knuckles whitening as you tried to keep your anger in check.

"You're not exactly blameless yourself," Henry said, his voice carrying a hint of mockery. "You also betrayed the agency."

That was why you and Bucky had been chased—because the previous agency you worked for had also turned against you both.

You shot him a cold look. "It’s what we do."

Henry smirked. “Touché.”

Just then, a guard and the receptionist who had helped you and Lori enter the nursing home appeared. The guard announced, “Mr. Tucci, your visiting time is over.”

Henry rose from his seat and spread his arms, a crooked smile on his face. He looked at you and Lori expectantly, as if waiting for a family embrace. As you moved closer, he leaned in and whispered, "I’ll be expecting my ride. And don’t forget, you owe me."

“What do you mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Henry’s grin widened. “Without this book, you and Bucky wouldn’t have ended up together.”

Lori, her face lit up with a bright smile, chimed in, “He’s right!” She and Henry shared a laugh, the camaraderie between them almost palpable. Meanwhile, you managed only a tight strained smile.

To the guard and receptionist, it looked like a touching family reunion. In reality, you were itching to punch this old man in the face. You forced a smile, though the tension in your shoulders betrayed your true feelings.

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[sillyteecup]

The Wrong Way

Roman Reigns x black!o.c,

Jey Uso x black!o.c

Chapter 1

Warnings:

18+

Taglist: @nbanenefrmdao @wrestlingprincess80 @lensilver

A.N: This is more of a Roman fic but because Lori has a number of interactions with Jey as a "couple" it felt right to add them as a pairing. Anyway, this is the first chapter of The Wrong Way, and I hope you like it. Please let me know if you wanna be a part of the taglist. Enjoy❤️

Power. One of the most sought after things in history. Countless of wars have been fought to obtain and maintain it, leaving pools of blood in their wake. Those on the outside have dreams of claiming it as their own, while those born into it cling to it for dear life.

Most of those born into it anyway. Loreal on the other hand loathed it. Loathed what it had done to her family and the hand it had in her upbringing. Her father's obsession with growing their family's power and influence had resulted in their household being a cold one, devoid of love and compassion, yet never teetering into hateful and abusive territory. Her family spoke to each other only out of necessity, and Lori preferred it that way.

Until of course, it was her that they needed to speak to.

That morning she had woken up to Minerva and Claudia standing at her bedside holding an extravagant looking black and silver silk gown, and a diamond headpiece, while Willow and Indiana waited by the windows, ready to open the curtains. Another marriage arrangement to likely, yet another deviant from across the seas was afoot. Unfortunately at the ripe age of 27, this was an expected and recurring event.

Maybe if I just died-

Usually before the meetings, Lori bathed and dressed in silence despite the ever looming company of her maidens. The chatter usually began after the other family had left, but this morning the young ladies assisting her were feeling particularly jovial much earlier than usual. Almost as if they were the ones being auctioned off to yet another power mongering clan. Another change was that they were actually putting more effort into her look than usual. A strange occurrence since they knew how much she hated these meetings and preferred the silence when they came around.

"I'm inclined to assume that this one is attractive or particularly wealthy," Lori said, piercing through the particularly light silence. Willow's grin spread even wider as she decorated her madam's hair with pearls.

"One hell of a looker, that's for sure," commented Claudia with a sly smirk while she applied Lori's makeup.

A curious frown painted Lori's face. A handsome suitor was nothing new in the last 3 years. In fact they were the more common breed, and yet her maidens had never expressed even the slightest positive reaction at them. Something must be different. This one must be famous.

"Tell me," she gently demanded. If there's one thing Lori knew, it's how her maidens loved a good gossip.

The young ladies began to giggle uncontrollably in excitement. Each of them sharing knowing looks before focusing back on Lori's expectant expression staring at them through the mirror of her vanity.

"Well ma'am, we aren't exactly sure who it is, but we are inclined to believe that he hails from the Bloodline," Minerva shared excitedly. At the revelation Lori flew into a state of contemplation.

A member of Bloodline? And they aren't sure which one?

Lori was pulled back from her thoughts by the speculative chatter happening around her. "My money is on Jimmy," Indiana guessed confidently. But Jimmy is already married...

"Wrong and loud is what you would be Indi because tribal prince Jimmy is already married to the lady-well, now princess Naomi," Minerva corrected, agreeing with Lori's silent reasoning.

Willow was next to bring forth her own guess. "Oh but what about tribal prince Solo? I believe him and ma'am would be perfect together, after all they are both quite standoffish," she said earning a playfully offended glare from Lori and boisterous laughs from the other ladies.

"I am not standoffish. I prefer strong and silent," said Lori, defending her character. Her maidens all chuckled at her reply, knowing all about her character.

"Okay, I know this might be far out but, what about The Tribal Chief himself?" Minerva guessed, earning weary looks from everyone in the room.

"Is he not married?" Willow asked. Not much was known about the Tribal Chief apart from whispers across the shores.

The only reason that Lori even shared the same curiosity as Willow is because her maidens were quite up to date with the latest gossip. As means of staying ahead of her father and his rather devious options for husbands, she encouraged the ladies to share the gossip with her. Something that had been working in her favour for 3 years now.

Minerva smirked mischievously before sharing what she had recenty heard. "Well, word across the shore is that The Tribal Chief and his wife are actually in the middle of a fallout of sorts. They're saying it might be a divorce," she said in a hushed tone, as somethings just couldn't be said out loud.

The rest of the maidens remained unconvinced however. Still keeping their speculations on the other members. Even Lori knew that her father's connections, although powerful, could never secure her a marriage with the Tribal Chief himself. And if she was being honest, she was grateful. The man had a reputation of ruling with an immovable iron fist, and dealing with insubordination in manners so ruthless that no one dared to speak of them in public.

He was also notoriously unapproachable and cold towards those outside of his family. Hell, no one even knew his real name. Perhaps that's why his marriage is falling apart...

"Perhaps it's-" Claudia's guess was interrupted by Lori's door opening abruptly. Lori turned to see who it was while her maidens bowed their heads in case it was a member of her family.

And they were right. Her mother stood in the doorway, wearing her own diamond headdress and dressed in a silk gown similar to Lori's, except hers was a deep violet. Her posture was straighter than a steel ruler as she waltzed into Lori's bedroom, likely to inspect her daughter's appearance and determine if she was presentable enough.

The maidens made way for Lady Azaelea to pass through while Lori stood up to face her mother. Her mother grinned, a sign that she was pleased at the work Lori's maidens had put in. "Magnificent indeed," was all Azalea said before holding her hand out for Lori to take.

The pair made their way out of Lori's bedroom, across the halls and downstairs to the foyer where 6 unfamiliar men stood with her father and some of the house staff. Lori observed the men discreetly, careful not to stare for too long.

The first to fall into her line of sight was an older and rather plump, tanned but white (likely Italian) man with a hairline that had receded far back to the nape of his neck. He wore a navy blue suit as opposed to the others who were adorned in black.

The second one was another white man, this one much paler. Are those girls sure that they heard right about this being the bloodline? The lower half his face was covered by a large, yet well groomed beard that matched the color of his slicked back red hair. He was taller than the first man and had a rather fearful yet excited gleam in his eye.

The next two were a set of twins. Both of their heads shaven on the sides to leave long curly hair out in the middle. One had half of silky curly hair dyed red, while the other one's hair was fully black. These men looked Samoan and confirmed the maiden's statement. They both stood tall with perfect posture, faces covered by salt and pepper beards. How old are they? Both of them with congruently shaped brown eyes, and identical facial structures. Literally the only difference she could spot at the time was their hair.

Next to them stood another Samoan man also with bone straight posture. This one was slightly bigger than the other too, both in height and in muscle. While he looked relatively different from the twins, Lori could see the resemblance in his eyes. There wasn't much time to look for more. His hair was shorter than that of the twins and blonde. His beard was plain black, meaning he was younger than the twins. He looked like he could crush a man's head with his bare hands without breaking a single sweat. They all looked scary but this one? This must be Tribal Prince Solo.

And then finally her eyes landed on the 6th man, the one standing at the forefront of the group with an Ula Fala around his neck. The Tribal Chief.  Suddenly the air had become thicker, so much so that Lori almost choked. The Tribal Chief was tall, for starters, with a broad chest and shoulders that filled his black suit to perfection. His facial features were set in a neutral expression. Cold brown eyes digging into her her curious ones, almost as if daring her to challenge him or his authority. Must be an automatic thing. His long jet black hair was tied into a bun at the nape of his neck, sides shaved like the twins. His beard, also salt and pepper colored.

They were all handsome (apart from the man in navy), but the Tribal Chief? His appearance was godly. Beautiful but ever intimidating.

And Lori was hardly ever intimidated

"Loreal," her father, Byron's voice called, cutting into her thoughts. She turned towards the older man, head briefly bowing in respect. "This is the Tribal Chief. He has come here with the Tribal Princes and his Wiseman with an exciting proposition," Byron said, stating everything Lori already knew.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and prayed that they, like the rest, would do or say something to displease her mother and just end this meeting already. She didn't think she could spend another hour in the same room as the Tribal Chief.

"My Tribal Chief, this is my wife, Lady Azalea and my daughter Loreal, the one that Tribal Prince Rikishi has requested for his son," Byron said, introducing Lori and her mother to the stone faced man before them.

Tribal Prince Rikishi? They never mentioned him or his son?

Lori and her mother bowed their heads, unsure what to expect of the leader. Lori had never been so nervous for a marital discussion.

"A pleasure," the Tribal Chief said curtly, before turning to the man Lori assumed was his Wiseman.

"Lord Byron, it is our utmost pleasure to introduce you to your daughter's fiancé-" Wait, what do they mean fiancé? Has this already been finalized? Without me getting to at least know the man's name? "The Tribal Prince, Jey," the Wiseman concluded.

As Lori wondered which one was Jey, one of the twins, the one with the fully black hair stepped forward with his hand held out for Lori to take it. He bowed gracefully before her, leaning in to kiss the back of her knuckles. As their eyes locked, Lori was met with a sight she knew all too well. Arrogance.

"It's an honor to meet you, Princess Loreal," he said huskily, sending a shiver down Lori's spine. Unlike The Tribal Chief, who made Lori nervous, Tribal Prince Jey elicited a feeling of uncertainty. She was unnerved and to her, that was far worse than being afraid.

Yet still, Lori's head floated in a space of disbelief. There was no way that her father had sealed the deal for them to marry. Surely they were speaking out of turn and there was still some deliberation to be-

"Loreal, this is your fiancé. You are to be married in a month," her father stated proudly. His words made her ears ring and her vision blur. She grew light headed as the reality set in.

Loreal was getting married.

[yevmarie]

Light My Fire | Chapter 2

Masterlist

< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 >

Plot: having lost everything you are drowned in depression, which had happened to you a year ago. Now you need to struggle with the apocalypse as well with no sparkle in your heart. But there is one man who can light your fire to live.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Pronouns: you, she/her

Warnings:

angst;

mentions of depression;

implied suicidal thoughts;

abuse;

swearing;

smoking (by main character as well);

differences from the main plot may occur;

bad English (not my first language).

If I miss something, please let me know. I hope you enjoy :).

You approached Shane while he was checking his gun, Lori standing in front of him, silently saying something. When she noticed you out of the corner of her eye, her facial expression changed, as if you had caught her in something.

Your relationship with her was an enigma to you. Once your friend distanced herself from you without any explanation. You attributed this to her mental condition; after all, her husband was in a coma, leaving her alone with their little son.

Following your primal belief, you sought to avoid conflict and not come across as a bad person.

“Are you okay with having invested a pile of dough to change yourself but still going down the beaten path? Huh, Y/N?” you asked yourself.

Shane interrupted your thoughts. "I’ll go for Rick. Thank God we haven’t gone too far. Lori and I have settled it."

You stood rooted to the ground. Carl was everything you had, and despite that, you still had feelings for Shane. You weren't prepared to lose him too. But who were you to oppose?

Shane brought you back to reality. "Whatever happens, don’t split up. Lori, Y/N, are your phones still charged?"

You both nodded.

"Good. If anything happens, just run. I’ll call you and find you," he assured, stepping up to Lori and kissing her forehead. Your heart sank. Yes, they were friends, but this move...

"Take care," you told Shane. He looked at you and silently nodded. You turned and went to your car. As you closed the door, the surrounding chatter suddenly became distant. Placing your hands on the steering wheel, you laid your forehead down, feeling your shoulders shake as tears fell.

Footsteps neared your car. Raising your head, you saw Daryl turning back to his car. Perhaps, he wanted to return your cup. You opened the door. Daryl approached.

"Here ya are," he handed you the cup, noticing your tear-streaked face. "Brewed this yourself?" You nodded with a sad smile. "Um, take this too," he handed you a silver Zippo. You thanked him with a smile. Daryl felt his cheeks started blushing. He nodded and hurried back to his car. You closed the door, leaned back, and watched him leave, feeling your body relax as you fell asleep.

---

A dull explosion made you awake, the car slightly shaking from the blast. People were screaming and running. You turned and saw Lori rushing toward you.

"Y/N, please look after Carl."

"What's happening?"

But she had already distanced herself.

"Don’t split up, yeah?" you thought.

Military airplanes flew overhead, causing your ears to clog. "Y/N," Carl's voice barely reached you from inside the car. Opening the door, you sat next to him.

"What's going on?" the boy's voice trembled. Another explosion shook the car. You held Carl close. The drum-like rhythm of explosions echoed in the city. You closed your eyes, trying to hold back tears, but they escaped, grieving for your friend buried in your mind.

---

“Inhale…” the woman’s voice was talking to you calmly. You inhale and hold your breath. “Exhale…” you exhale and hold your breath again. “Well, there you are. This technique is quite simple, isn’t it? And let’s repeat it. Inhale…”

---

Returning to reality, Carl still held you in a hug, soothingly stroking your shoulder. "Y/N, it’s okay, it’s okay" he reassured. He was an intelligent and empathetic child. When Rick told Carl about your mental health issues, he promised to do all but impossible to support and comfort his aunt. And that’s what he did. Nothing extraordinary, just simple hugs, words of support, and a pinch of unconditional child love.

"Thank you, Carl, you've helped me a lot," you said through tears. The car door suddenly opened. “Shane?” you exclaimed.

"We all need to talk," his face filled with concern. Lori was sobbing. You stepped out. Carl followed you glancing between Shane and his mother, puzzled.

“I’m sorry…” the man said.

Everything around you felt like in slow motion.

“Damn it!” you screamed in your thoughts but the face was showing no emotions, they had been sobbed out in the car before. Sitting on the asphalt and leaning on the car, your body shook, breath trembling, and the noise deafening.

“This can't be happening to me. No, not me. I’ll wake up in my cozy bed now, then brew some coffee, go outside to the park, call my mom, and chat with my dad. I’ll go to work. And after the work day, Shane will pick me up. We’ll call Rick. He’ll be glad to invite us over. We’ll buy some expensive and nice wine for Rick and Lori, and a toy for Carl. And after that Shane and I get back home and we’ll get drowned into each other's embraces till the morning. Yes, it will be this way, only this way…”

Your thoughts were interrupted by a silver-haired man in safari clothing talking to Shane.

“We’d like to settle a camp nearby. I know that place well, used to fishing there. Would you like to join us? I think we all need to rest and then come up with a plan. Please don’t take me wrong, there are a lot of children, and some of the families fled without any armor or food. We need to stick together. And I won’t be lying your help would be valuable.”

Shane glanced at Lori, who nodded in agreement. "Good," said the old man.

---

"What’s happening there, Merle?" Daryl inquired, observing an old man conversing with Shane through the rearview mirror.

“Some old fart gatherin’ the group.”

“Got it.”

"Really? Then pack your bag.”

“Why do we need to join ‘em? We’ll tough it out alone.”

“You silly arse. We can clean ‘em up while they sleep and go west then.”

“I see ya got one solution for everything.”

“And I see ya learned nothin’ in your useless life. Want to save our hides, you dork? Go on and talk; your innocent face works better.”

Daryl gasped and headed toward the man.

"Hey, we'd like to join too."

The old man glanced concerningly at Daryl, then at Merle. "I think..."

"We’ve got food and armor," Daryl interrupted, nervously biting his lower lip.

"Okay," the man nodded after a few seconds.

"Thanks," Daryl glanced in your direction, relieved that your eyes hadn’t met. You were occupied with packing your belongings. Daryl awkwardly shuffled away.

---

Several hours passed as your group settled at the camp. You all agreed on the plan for the following day. Some would venture into the city to assess the situation, while others would hunt, understanding the impossibility of entering the city on the first try. A round-the-clock watch was set up, with Shane volunteering to start.

You sat near the campfire with Lori and Carl while they ate. Unable to eat due to food sticking in your throat, you idly played with the zippo Daryl had given you, gazing into emptiness.

Shane approached and settled on a nearby log.

"Carl, please rest. I’ll join soon," Lori said, ensuring Carl had gone into the tent. Shane started telling in great detail. “I’m sorry, I’m not ready for this yet,” Lori interrupted sobbing and then followed her son.

"Go ahead," you rasped dryly, wanting water but almost vomiting the last time you tried to drink it.

"I’m sorry," Shane whispered after finishing his story.

"It’s not your fault," you replied emptily, clicking the lighter in your hand. "I’ll take a walk."

"It's not safe, Y/N," Shane's voice lowered, growing aggressive.

"You know I can stand up for myself," you stepped away.

"You are a pain," he growled, a chill running down your spine.

"Need a painkiller?" you replied sarcastically.

Before you realized, he was already standing next to you, gripping your forearm.

"It hurts," your voice devoid of emotion.

"I'm tired of constantly rescuing you."

"Ironic that you never did it for me. But good for you, Rick is dead. Now you can enjoy a new role."

"Piece of garbage!" Shane said through gritted teeth, pushing you away. Off-balance, you made two steps and walked toward the quarry.

---

“Your shitty plan went tits up, Merle.” Daryl told his brother while he was savoring whiskey from the flask.

“Ya could’ve thought of something better.” Merle sipped and whizzed nastily.

Daryl screwed up his face, took a crossbow, and headed outside.

“Where are ya goin’?”

“Check up the territory”

“Should I hand to?”

“Fuck off, Merle!”

---

Keep holding on

When my brain's ticking like a bomb

Guess the black thoughts

Have come again to get me

You sat on the hill's edge, observing the moon's reflection shimmering on the water's surface while absentmindedly toying with a butterfly knife. Checking its sharpness, you noted that it wasn't the most reliable tool for self-defense.

Suddenly, the silence shattered by rustling plants nearby. You cautiously stood up and headed towards the sound on bended knees. “Here we go,” you thought gulping nervously. A bead of sweat traced its path down your spine. Your breathing grew irregular, louder, prompting you to hold it in. Each passing second seemed to amplify the sound of your racing pulse. Out of the darkness, a crossbow glinted, followed by the silhouette of a well-built man. Realizing escape wouldn't be easy, your blood pressure skyrocketed, and a persistent ringing filled your ears.

That's right

Trigger between my eyes

Please strike

Make it quick now

The man stepped forward. It was Daryl. He lowered the crossbow as he recognized you.

“You fucking idiot!” you yelled, bending over trying to catch your breath. Daryl stepped up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that seriously. You’ve scared the shit out of me,” you said, wiping sweat from your forehead. Your legs felt weak, and you collapsed back onto the ground where you were sitting earlier. Retrieving a cigarette, you lit it.

“What are you doing here?” Daryl grumbled.

“Just catching my breath, resting early. And you?”

“Nothing much,” Daryl replied, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Hmm,” you hummed with the cigarette between your lips.

Click! “Nice lighter,” you paused. “But a regular one would be handy too.” You offered Daryl the shimmering silver zippo you had.

“There you go. Take it, it's yours,” he said.

You thanked exhaling the burning smoke.

“Wanna keep me company?”

Daryl hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you.

Both of you sat in silence, unsure of what to talk about. You decided to start a conversation somehow.

“What's your brother's name?”

“Made a pass at him?”

You laughed coughing a bit. Daryl grinned subtly in response.

"Merle,” he replied.

“A charming man,” you put on an act pretending to be impressed.

Daryl chuckled softly. “Nobody's ever called him tha’ before.” His voice softened and became more cheerful.

“Pleased to be the first,” you continued, still putting on an act.

Daryl couldn't recognize himself, covering his face with his arms and almost crying from laughter. “Stop it, womaaan!” he said.

You laughed, took another drag of the cigarette, and realized you had momentarily distracted yourself from troubling thoughts.

< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 >

[beaumars]

ain't no sunshine - j.seresin

Hi Everyone! Lori here! As I stated in this post, I once attempted to write an OC insert for TGM but I never got around to posting it because life got in the way -- and also because i deleted the tumblr app because i had gotten bored with it. i've had other accounts since then dedicated to other fandoms and when I got bored i would delete the app, a truly vicious never ending cycle. however, my tiny little lizard brain always came back to the Top Gun: Maverick fandom and so I once again redownloaded the app to check out the new content. Over the course of my tumblr career i have used a plethora of emails, i couldnt remember the last one I used for my last account so i tried the ol' reliable that I always used (i use another email now for work and professional purposes) and alas! i find my way back to beaumars, an account i forgot i had.

Back to the post I had linked above, though. When i opened my drafts i saw this fic, my proto-fic if you will, just sitting there and i realized i had no fucking idea where this was going, so for the past couple of days i fiddled with my brain and used a good section of a journal to plot out and world build the new and revamped version of this fic. So without further ado, i present Aint No Sunshine.

Special thanks to @credince--writes for assuring me that an OCs backstory can never be too tragic, @j-hauke for solidifying that dr. pepper is a funny call sign, and @thespillingvoid for encouraging me to post this two year old fic as I work on the newer version.

A multiple-part fic with an OC.

What would have been a multiple part fic with an OC.

***

SOMEWHERE, STATESIDE

"Sanchez! Seresin! Stop flirtin' up there, goddammit!"

Major General Thomas Avery wasn't usually known for sugarcoating shit. His tone of voice and way of flight was powerful and commanding, earning him the call sign 'Zeus', it left no space to play games, especially in the skies he seemed to reign on. Avery may be a patient and understanding man on the ground, but when it came to his domain, no one could escape his wrath. Not even the two aviators currently in the air. Without context, one would think the two were trading coy remarks with one another. They're far from right.

"Seresin, you smug ass! Cover me!"

Their objective: drop the dud on target while avoiding the 'enemy'. For every ten minutes they failed to get tone on one of their fellow aviators, another came into the sky to play. The final boss would be Major General Avery, who preferred hands-on methods when it came to flying with the aviators that passed through his base. So far, no one had even come close to even getting their sights on the older man before being 'shot' down. Seresin and Sanchez were the last pair.

Ego's, bragging rights, and a pink slip to the Major General's 1960 El Camino were on the line.

"You got it twisted if you think you're getting that damn car, Sanchez."

Christina Sanchez would roll her eyes if she wasn't focused on trying to complete their exercise, "I could give two shits about the car, Jake. I'm trying to do my job!"

"Keyword. Trying. You're not doing a very good job at it, Chris." He sassed.

"Keep up the chatter and I'll come up earlier than you want me to," Avery threatened. Promised. Stated. It didn't matter, they were screwed either way.

The sun had begun to set ten minutes ago after the longest-running pair had put up a good fight. Some Air Force pilot whose last name was Torres, and her very own wingman: Olen Reeves, callsign 'Icarus'. Jake and Christina were relentless in the heavens, taking their 'shot' no more than ten seconds after Falcon and Icarus entered their air space. In theory and on paper, Sanchez and Seresin are a great team, but their manners towards each other at the current moment were proving otherwise.

On the ground, he could only pray she didn't physically tear Seresin a new one when they landed.

"C'mon, Chris. Get him out of your head," he whispered.

The last rays of light were escaping the flying duo, both of them cursing their terrible luck, knowing what was to come.

Jake got tone on their last aviator, "Jesus, Chris, we would've been done by now if you'd stop leaning on me."

"You keep leaving me out to dry, shithead!" She retorted, "Maybe if you actually stuck closer and acted like a wingman, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"You need to stop relying on others, sweetheart. What are you gonna do when you're all alone up here with no one to watch your back? What're you gonna do then?"

"Shut up," she chastised.

"Suddenly, I spit some truth and you want me to be quiet?-" Jake was in disbelief, he knew the girl was prideful, but he didn't think he went that far in his critique.

"I said shut up, moron," she said, her breathing getting heavier.

"The hypocrisy is deadly, San-"

"Jake! Shut up!" She panicked, "it's gone quiet."

"Fuck."

"Strike three," was the only warning Zeus gave.

Both let out a string of curses as they barreled to avoid being targeted.

Using the last gleam of light in the evergrowing dark sky, Chris commanded, "Alright, Jake, take a hard left when I say," but as she turned her head to get a look at him, she saw that he had left her side in pursuit of Zeus, "you little shit, did you just leave me hanging!?"

"The only one hanging on is you, Sanchez. Get with the program or get shot."

Thomas Avery hated to admit it, but the Seresin kid was putting up a hell of a fight, and Sanchez was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, it would be his downfall, as the sky went dark, Zeus taunted Jake, "Mistake number one: you left your wingman hanging, Seresin."

"My wingman is currently on the ground. Ain't that right, Falcon?"

On base, Falcon laughed, out of concern and amusement, "Zeus is gonna hand him his ass on a silver platter."

A chorus of 'mhm' and 'damn straight' could be heard in the vicinity.

Nearby, Olen Reeves could only look out the window and try and make out where the three of them were, once again praying, this time for her safety and that of her impromptu wingman.

Seresin was wearing a shit-eating grin until the next words fell from the Major General's mouth, "Mistake number two: you're up here with me now."

Jake went silent, he knew he fucked up, and now he was hoping Chris would come out of radio silence and tell him that she was on her way.

Nothing.

She wasn't even showing up on his radar.

"Why the sudden silence, kid?" Zeus was just playing with Jake's mind at this point, with the younger aviator already in his sights, ready to take the shot.

"Sanchez, I could really use your help right about now!"

Once again, nothing.

"Sanchez! Don't leave me hanging!" Jake could only maneuver so much in a dark sky he wasn't used to. He could hear beeping, letting him know that the experienced man was closing in on his plane. Jake mentally prepared for the call, but it never came.

"Sometimes a chef's gotta try what he's cooking, Seresin," Chris came out into the radar at the last minute and used her flares to temporarily blind Zeus and distract him, giving Jake an escape.

She barrelled and went right under her commanding officer's plane, hiding for a good second before hitting the brakes, using the hard stop; Zeus flew right past her. She sped back up and tailgated the man, being careful as to not end up in his jet wash, it only lasted so long before she and Zeus were engaged in a minor dogfight.

"Seresin, where are you?"

"Trying out the daily special, send my compliments to the chef," he said as he pursued Zeus on his own.

"Damnit, Seresin! Can you be a team player for once?" it seemed that in his presence all she could do was complain and vice versa. So bad together, yet so good, if only they could throw their egos out of the cockpit.

"You're hanging on well, Seresin. Unfortunately, it won't be enough," the beeping was loud, it was a lock, "that's a shot."

"Fucking shit!-"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Zeus toyed, "Fly back to base, kid. It was a good run."

Was.

It was a word that would haunt him for years to come.

"Now, Sanchez. Where could you be hiding?" Thomas asked himself out loud.

It was silent for a good thirty seconds when he felt a force push him towards the right, "There you are."

Zeus went to follow the plane when suddenly, the force came from the right this time, rattling his plane and giving him difficulty locking on her. He didn't know how she was doing that or how fast she was coming at him or even where she was coming at him, but it was starting to unsettle him, dare he say, she was scaring him.

The older man leveled his breathing, taking a minute to recompose himself. Mistake number one.

The beeping came too fast, followed by the lock, and three words, "That's a shot."

Down below, everyone, from crew to pilots alike had their mouths hanging open.

"Holy shit, she did it," Olen breathed.

Another pilot by the name of Carol then shouted, "She got the fucking car!"

The silence then turned into groans of defeat.

Jake sat in his cockpit, having landed minutes beforehand, ripping his helmet off in anger as he heard Chris' announcement.

"Get back to base, kid. That was one hell of a fight you put on."

"Thank you, sir," she acknowledged breathlessly. Chris was riding a high as she landed, the first person to greet her on the tarmac was none other than Olen.

He crushed her in an embrace for a few seconds before pulling back and reprimanding her, "what the hell were you thinking?"

"I- well- I wasn't exactly-"

"Thinking." Finished the Major General, he came up from behind the embracing pilots, "she was doing. Those are the makings of a great pilot, ladies, and gentlemen. You all could learn a little something from that."

Sanchez turned to see that all the other pilots and WSOs had congregated, Jake hanging in the back.

"Seresin," Zeus called out to the man, "You had me on the ropes there for a bit too, young man."

"Let me guess, gotta stop leaving my wingman hanging?" his tone with little to no emotion.

It was late, and Zeus just wanted to go home, so he just stayed silent for a moment before reaching into his flight suit pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, "As promised... Nyx."

Confused, Chris asked, "Sir?"

Zeus just smiled and walked away, "I want everyone back on this tarmac by o six hundred hours, not a minute later," he called over his shoulder.

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season two, part six

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetz1919 @moonmark98 @sarahbaker2010 @ririi-3 @ryoujoking @hayley1998 @crazyunsexycool @gabriella-aesthetic @dixons-sunshine @strqwbrina @beardedstudentsuit

Masterlist

While Rick, Shane and Hershel brought Daryl inside for stitches, you returned to your tent to check on Hunter.

“I’m coming in.” You spoke, slowly unzipping the tent.

Hunter appeared to relax as soon as he saw your face. “The monsters?”

“No monsters. It’s safe to come out.”

Hunter nodded, climbing out of the tent as Lori approached.

“I went through some of Carl’s stuff. He’s already grown out of these.” She trailed off.

“Thank you.” You took the clothes from Lori with a smile before turning to Hunter. “Why don’t we go ask Hershel if you can wash up in the house?”

You brought Hunter inside the farmhouse, heading towards an upstairs bedroom where you heard Rick, Shane, Daryl and Hershel talking. When you entered the room, the chatter stopped.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you mind if Hunter washes up?” You asked.

Hershel looked to Rick. “She found him alone out there when she was looking for Sophia.”

Hunter poked his head in the room and Hershel’s momentary annoyance faded away. “Of course.”

Before you left, your eyes landed on Daryl. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot in the head.” He mumbled.

You noticed a bandage around his waist, a wound you’d missed in the chaos earlier. Not wanting to press him for answers he’d likely given Rick already, you smiled and ushered Hunter towards the bathroom.

“I’ll be here waiting for you.” You smiled, handing him the clothes.

Hunter smiled back. “Thank you.”

As you waited for Hunter, Lori made her way inside and sat on the floor across from you. It wasn’t long before Rick and Shane exited the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Rick looked between you and Lori. “He’ll be alright.”

“I hate to say it, but I’m with Hershel on this one.” Shane spoke. “We can’t keep going out there, not after this.”

Rick stopped, turning to face Shane. “You’d quit now? Daryl just risked his life to bring back the first solid evidence we’ve had.”

“That is one way to look at it.” Shane shrugged. “The way I see it, Daryl almost died today for a doll.”

“Yeah, I know how you see it.” Rick responded, his words dripping with venom. “What about the kid's parents?”

You shrugged, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Honestly, from what he told me, it sounds like they’re gone. I just hoped we’d find them out there and I’d be wrong.”

Rick gave Shane one last glare before kissing Lori and storming off.

“I’m not trying to be a hard case, just being realistic.” Shane spoke up. “He’s gotta start making the tough calls. You two know I’m right.”

“I may not agree with all of his choices, but I respect him.” Lori responded. “Your way isn’t harder. It’s the easiest thing in the world to cut our losses and to not help. You keep telling yourself you’re making the tough calls. You’re really just trying-”

The bathroom door swung open and Hunter stepped out. 

“I’m all done.” He smiled.

You smiled back. “Good job, kiddo.”

The two of you left the hallway, the mumbled chatter of Shane and Lori slowly fading out.

…

Evening had arrived as you’d spent most of the afternoon getting Hunter settled. Maggie was kind enough to offer a pillow and some blankets for him, since you didn’t have an extra sleeping bag. 

He hadn’t talked much, still unsure of his new surroundings. When you gave him one of Carl’s comics to borrow, his face had lit up for a moment. He spent a while quietly reading while you helped finish dinner.

You were now all sat in the dining room, multiple tables filling out the room. Most of the meal was quiet, spent in awkward silence. After the events of today, everyone could feel that Hershel was more on edge than usual.

Glenn cleared his throat. “Does anybody know how to play guitar? Dale found a cool one.”

Hershel and Patricia shared uneasy glances.

“Somebody’s got to know how to play.”

“Otis did.” Patricia spoke.

Heshel nodded. “He was very good too.”

Silence fell over the group once more so it didn’t take much for most people to notice the crinkled sound of paper and Glenn and Maggie passed notes back and forth. You couldn’t help but smile watching them. 

After dinner, you decided to check in on Daryl. He was still resting in one of the bedrooms.

You softly knocked on the door, not wanting to disturb him if he’d fallen asleep. As you cracked it open, Daryl had turned his head to look at you.

“Feeling any less like you’ve been shot in the head today?” You asked.

Daryl scoffed, rolling back over. “Not really.”

You walked over to the other side of the bed. “What even happened out there?”

“Stupid horse knocked me off a ledge.” Daryl grumbled. “Found Sophia’s doll in the water.”

“Shane wants us to stop looking for her.” You whispered, sitting down on the bed.

Daryl looked up at you, confused. “Why?”

“He doesn’t think it’s worth it anymore. I guess he thinks she’s dead and we’re chasing a ghost.” You shrugged. “After today, what do you think?”

“I think that little girl is still out there.”

You nodded, standing up and finally noticing the food on his nightstand. It was completely untouched and you knew Carol brought it up a while ago.

“Eat something.” You spoke, heading out of the room.

…

The next morning, Daryl was back in his tent and Carl was mostly recovered. You and Lori had taken him and Hunter to the chicken coop earlier, letting them feed and play with the chicks. Hunter was already much happier with someone his age to play with.

After finding out that Carl had stolen a gun from the RV, Lori had reluctantly agreed to allow Carl to join the others for gun training. You all wanted Carl to remain a child but you also knew he needed to learn how to be safe. Things weren’t going back to normal anytime soon, if ever. 

It made you think about Hunter. If you were being entirely honest, you’d never given much thought to having a child. With how demanding your job had been, having to care for another small human was out of the question for you. In this new world, it was even more terrifying. You weren’t his mother but you knew you were responsible for him and his safety now. Hunter was still timid, so you knew teaching him about guns right now wasn’t the best idea. You also knew you’d have to soon and that was hard for you to accept.

The rest of the day had been spent cleaning up around camp, as almost everyone else was off doing their own things elsewhere. You’d quietly checked on Daryl a few times, who had been sleeping off his injuries in his tent. With such a peaceful day, you had not expected the news you’d receive the following morning.

Your group was gathered around eating breakfast, eggs in which Maggie had delivered to you earlier, when Glenn cleared his throat.

“The barn is full of walkers.”

The sound of cutlery dinging against plates stopped abruptly, everyone focusing their gazes on him.

“Excuse me?” You asked, hoping you’d heard him wrong.

Glenn glanced over at the farmhouse porch, Maggie watching him from a distance. “I said the barn is full of walkers.”

Shane stood up in a rush, heading straight for the barn as you all followed close behind. Hunter ran to you, grabbing your hand tight. The barn doors had a small hole between them, Shane peeking inside. Suddenly, the hand of a walker shot out, making him jump backwards.

“You cannot tell me you’re alright with this.” Shane grumbled, walking towards Rick.

“No I’m not, but we are guests here. This isn’t our land.”

“This is our lives, man!”

“Lower your voice.” Glenn spoke nervously.

“We can’t just sweep this under the rug.” Andrea spoke up.

“This isn’t right.” You mumbled. “What happens if they break out? We sleep out here. We don’t have a big fancy house to shield us.”

“Okay, we’ve either got to go in there, we’ve gotta make things right or we’ve just got to go.” Shane said. “We’ve been talking about Fort Benning for a long time-”

“We can’t go.” Rick cut him off.

“Why, Rick? Why?”

“Because my daughter’s still out there.” Carol chimed in.

“Okay.” Shane huffed, covering his mouth for a moment. “I think it’s time that we all start to just consider the other possibility.”

“We’re not leaving Sophia behind.” Rick argued.

“We’re close to finding this girl!” Daryl spoke. “I just found her damn doll two days ago.”

“You found her doll, Daryl.” Shane replied. “That’s what you did. You found a doll.” 

Daryl’s face turned red. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Shane, you’ve been eager to stop looking for her for the last few days.” You hissed. “There’s always a new excuse for you to try and cut and run, but you’re really just heartless.”

Everyone glanced at you in shock, and you could see the hurt on Shane’s face for a moment. Then, it turned right back to anger.

“Look, I’m just saying what needs to be said here.” Shane snapped. “If you get a good lead, it’s in the first forty-eight hours.”

“Shane stop!” Rick yelled.

“Let me tell you something else, man.” Shane continued. “If she was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and your geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction.”

Daryl had had enough, launching forward and swinging at Shane. Rick jumped between the men as Shane moved towards Daryl, the two continuing to yell back and forth.

“Back off!” Rick yelled, pushing Shane back.

Shane pointed a finger at Rick. “Keep your hands off me.”

“Let me talk to Hershel.” Rick pleaded. “Let me figure this out.”

“What are you gonna figure out, man?” Shane snarled back.

“If we’re gonna stay, if we’re gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land.”

“Hershel sees those things in there as people. Sick people, his wife and his stepson.” Dale spoke up.

“You knew about this?” You asked.

Dale nodded. “Yesterday I talked to Hershel.”

“And you waited the night to tell us?” Shane asked.

“I thought we could survive one more night. We did.” Dale replied. “I was waiting ‘till this morning to say something but Glenn wanted to be the one.”

“The man is crazy, Rick, if Hershel thinks those things are alive.”

The barn doors began to rattle because of all of the commotion from your group. Everyone stepped back, preparing for the worst.

“Please, just let me talk to him.” Rick spoke.

“You better convince him fast.” You responded. “I don’t think any of us can sleep easy now knowing there’s a ticking time bomb next to us.”

-------

AN: Here we are with another chapter! I'm sorry this one took so long (again), I got some bad writers block halfway through. I decided to make a portion of this one filling in the gaps before we got to the big part leading into the plot for next chapter. I hope you all are continuing to enjoy this series as much as I am! Please remember to like and/or reblog and share your thoughts <3

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

ᴅᴀʏ ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴ: Cold w/ Rick Grimes

a/n: for me not writing about rick a lot, i sure enjoyed doing so. it was like i knew exactly what i wanted to do and was able to capture it all in one fic! everyday my writing skills surprise me, lmfao!

masterlist | comfortember masterlist | AO3

One thing you hated about the prison was the fact that during the winter time, it felt like you were being given an ice bath. There was no way to escape the harsh weather, with the outside compromised, and the walls concrete, you would have to make due with the piles of blankets and thin mattresses, but what would make warming up easier, was cuddling up next to someone else.

The someone else you wanted to cuddle up with just so happened to be the main man, the one and only sheriff and leader, Rick Grimes.

He looked like a hard ass on the surface, his face as hard as stone as he looked like a crazy man with a gun, but since the death of his wife Lori and the birthing of his daughter Judith, he had taken the more passive approach, settling down as a farmer and merciful man. You appreciated the change, especially after the cold months you had faced out on the road after the farm was overrun, as well as Woodbury's fall. Your family was constantly taking in new people, so they needed someone stable and level headed.

You knew Lori before she passed, and it felt like a disservice to her honor if you were to cuddle up to her husband, but there was an inkling part inside of you that felt as though she would welcome the change, allow you to be with him, just so she could see him happy.

That's why you were sat in your cell, your jaw chattering as you desperately attempted to warm your body up, the thin and hole littered blanket not doing your immune system much justice as you began to fully rely on your body maintaining homeostasis. You were shivering when you saw your curtain being moved away from your door, Rick looking at you in concern as you tried to give him a shaky smile.

"You alright? Sasha said you didn't show up for first watch this morning." Rick asked, his eyes scanning your hunched over body. "Yeah, it's just— really fucking cold, and I gave— I gave my last jacket to Beth, so." You stuttered, your breath coming out of your mouth as a white cloud. You could hear Rick sigh before walking over to you, his cowboy boots clunking before he sat down beside you. He stripped off his brown jacket, the man slinging it over your shoulders.

"Rick? What about you, I couldn't possibly —" Your refusal getting cut off as Rick wrapped his arm around you, pulling your body into his side. "See, now both of us aren't cold." You could hear the smile on his face as you couldn't prevent yourself from nuzzling further into his neck, breathing in his scent selfishly as your hot air hit the column of his throat, goosebumps prickling the skin of it.

"You're quite the charmer, Grimes." You murmured. He laughed, the sound reverberating, "Nah, I'm just warming you up." He denied, even though you both knew that this was a flirtatious move on his end.

If this what would come out of not getting out of bed in the morning because it was too cold, you might've wished the winter would have stayed, just for a little bit longer.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

[c00kieguy]

Honkai Birb Rail: the Parrot Express

a/n: They are all so parrot coded to me [you can click on the link to learn more about the birds!]

Himeko: chattering lory

I love these ones!! The primarily red color really fits her and the green and yellow just adds to how regal she looks!! I think it just overall fits her really well!

She is very adventurous with food. (Since birds can't feel capsaicin) she likes to add a few bird's eye chili in any of her drinks for the extra crunch

Also a professional shrimp lover. especially fried. More into the crunchy exterior than the flesh tbh

Bird Himeko still drinks coffee because she lives on the edge and no one can tell her what to do oh my god someone get a doctor -

Welt: timney african grey

African grey was an obvious choice for him but i went with timney specifically because of the beak coloration.

It gives him that 'white streak in hair' look without the hair lol (ik it's sometimes red/pick we don't talk about that).

His go to phrase when deescalating a situation is asking "Wanna earn a pistash?" and usually whatever commotion was happening immediately stops

Everyone loves a good pistash (pistachio)

(Yes he makes them do tricks before giving it to them. Makes it taste more yummy)

Trailblazer: green cheek conure

When you think garbage you think green cheek conure, weather it be the color or just because they love causing mischief

These are all the silliest little goofballs so very fitting, the og gcc color really fits the TB too, but if I had to choose another conure color i'd probably go with dusky.

Loves bath and jumping into trash cans. Hanging upside down and licking random things are also included.

Do not leave them with any object that has removeable parts, you'll never be able to put it back again

March 7th: lovebird

With a bit more pink!!

Very round, very soft, super cute, so very March 7th.

They're also really outgoing and the way they collect nesting material is, well, so very March 7th.

Loves bath as well, and collecting pretty strings and other shiny things she finds in her tail and brings it to the express.

Her room is a mess, but a beautiful mess. Don't go in there tho you'll never find your way out

Dan Heng: Indian ring neck

In turquoise, naturally.

They're intelligent and a bit on the lanky side? when they're happy. So it looks like they're on high alert all the time

I just like the idea of a tall tired Dan Heng among the other two short outgoing birds (TB and M7).

He carries around a mini spray bottle just to spritz the other two when they get in trouble and they immediately go into bath mode.

He too enjoys baths a lot. but prefers a steady stream over his head instead of mist

a/n: i'll probably do a part 2 with the cosmic characters (+ Boothill) and a part 3 with the stellaron hunters

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 4

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group heads out on a search for answers or maybe even a cure. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; descriptions of gore, violence, zombies, death, mourning, injury, infection, abandonment (consensual)

Chapter 4 - The CDC

“Everybody listen up.” Shane called. “Those of you with C.B.s, we’re gonna be on channel forty. Let’s keep the chatter down, okay? Now you got a problem, don’t have a C.B., can’t get a signal or anything at all, you’re gonna hit your horn one time. That’ll stop the caravan. Any questions?”

“We’re, ah… we’re not going.” Morales stated, glancing at his family before he turned back to Shane. The rest of the group had packed their things, the line of cars trailing out of the camp in preparation for the journey. Iris stood with her arms crossed, watching the group. 

“We have family in Birmingham.” Morales’ wife explained, hugging her daughter close to her chest. “We want to be with our people.” Iris wouldn’t say it out loud, but two less children to care for is a significant advantage for survival. These people weren’t exactly prepared for this kind of life. Hell, was anyone?

“You go on your own, you won’t have anyone to watch your back.” Shane warned.

“We’ll take our chances. I gotta do what’s best for my family.” Morales said with a nod.

“You sure?” Rick asked.

“We talked about it.” He confirmed. “We’re sure.”

“Alright.” Rick nodded. “Shane?” He asked, glancing down at the bag of guns.

"Yeah, alright.” Shane agreed. Rick fished through the bag, handing Morales and his wife a gun and a box of ammo. “Box is half full.” Daryl looked none too pleased about the exchange. He scoffed, turning away to prepare his things before he exploded again.

Morales and his wife exchanged goodbyes and hugs with the people in the group they’d become close with, and little Carl even shed a few tears for his friends. Iris nodded to Morales, shaking his hand despite never really speaking. They walked to their own car, and as the group filed into the available cars, they said goodbye to the camp. 

Dale and Glenn led the caravan in the RV, Rick, Lori with the kids in the second car. Jacqui and Jim were in the back of the RV, treating the symptoms of the infection while they drove. Carol, T-Dog and Andrea followed in an old van, then Iris and Shane in Shane’s jeep. Daryl brought up the end in an old pickup truck, his motorcycle carefully strapped into the bed.

“So, what’s your deal?” Shane asked, one hand on the window frame of the door and the other on the wheel.

“My deal?” Iris asked, raising an eyebrow at him. She’d tied her hair back with the bandana, her knives strapped tight to her hips and legs. She’d agreed to ride with Shane with the expectation he would interrogate her about her life, and because she was comfortable holding her own if the caravan was overrun.

“Yeah. Conveniently show up and join the camp, right when we need you, huh?” He asked, eyeing her from the side. The corner of Iris’ mouth pulled upward and she rolled her eyes.

“Rick made me a deal.” She explained. “I helped get Glenn, I back you up, and a good portion of the guns in that bag are mine.” She gestured vaguely to the duffel in the backseat, and Shane tensed. In complete honestly, Iris didn’t know where her loyalties lay, and Shane was very aware of that. These people didn’t know her, and she didn’t know them. If it came down to it, would she really stay?

They rode for another hour in silence, every so often the radio crackling as Shane checked everyone was good. Dale’s voice came up soon after, explaining that he was pulling the RV over. Iris hopped out of the jeep quickly, coming up to see steam rising from the RV’s grill.

“I told you we’d never get far on that hose.” Dale muttered, putting his hands on his hips as he sat back and examined the damage. Rick sighed, adjusting his hat in the hot sun. “I said I needed the one from the cube van.”

“Can you jury-rig it?” Rick asked.

“That’s all it’s been so far. It’s more duct-tape than hose. And I’m out of duct-tape.” Dale replied, making a face.

“I see something up ahead.” Shane called, peering through a pair of binoculars. “A gas station if we’re lucky.”

“Y’all, Jim— it’s bad. I don’t think he can take anymore.” Jacqui warned as she ran out of the RV. Iris frowned at the gravity of the situation. No one had decided what to do with him should he not make it to the CDC.

“Hey, Rick, you want to hold down the fort? I’ll drive ahead, see what I can bring back?” Shane offered.

“I’ll come. I know what to look for.” Iris added.

“You know what the RV engine needs?” Shane asked suspiciously. Iris rolled her eyes. Her entire life, men never accepted she knew anything about cars.

“I was a mechanic, once.” She stated. To reassure herself, she peered through the grate of the RV, nodding. “I’ll see if I can find some other replacements. There’s a hell of a lot of duct-tape in here.”

“Gotta keep it running somehow.” Dale shrugged, chuckling. Iris nodded, offering a small smile.

“I’ll come along too, back you up.” T-Dog offered. Shane nodded.

“Y’all keep your eyes open, now. We’ll be right back.” Shane called. Rick nodded, taking off his hat as he followed Jacqui into the RV. They loaded into the jeep, driving up ahead to the gas station. 

It was old and abandoned, that was for sure. An old clock that looked like a bottle cap ticked loudly through the place. It’d been looted, but there were a few water bottles and packages of jerky that T-Dog filled his backpack with. Iris found a patch for the radiator hose. Not one that was made for an RV, but it would work if she could fashion it properly. She also grabbed another few rolls of duct-tape while Shane waited outside, guarding the door with his gun.

When they returned, Rick was sitting on the steps of the RV with his head in his hands.

“It’s what he says he wants.” Rick explained as they stood around outside the RV. Jim told him he wanted them to leave him here. With his family. How long they’d been gone, Iris wasn’t sure, but they really should limit their liability risks.

“And he’s lucid?” Carol asked, incredulous.

“He seems to be.” Rick confirmed. “I would say yes.”

“Back in the camp, when I said Daryl might be right, and you shut me down,” Dale said quietly, “you misunderstood. I would never go along with… callously killing a man. I was just gonna suggest that we ask Jim what he wants. Iris said the same.” He gestured to her and she nodded. “I think we have an answer.”

“We just leave him here? Take off?” Shane asked, rubbing a hand over his face as he turned to Rick. “Man, I’m not sure I could live with that.”

“It’s not your call.” Lori stated. “Either one of you.” Iris let a small smile play across her lips. She liked Lori. She didn’t put up with the alpha male pissing contest bullshit they liked to play at.

With that, Shane and Rick hauled Jim out of the RV, carefully trudging up the hill at the side of the road and placing him at the base of a thick oak tree. It cast a good amount of shade over the area, and Jim sighed as he practically sunk into the earth. Iris stayed back at the RV while Daryl patrolled the area and the rest of the group said their goodbyes.

None of them were particularly comfortable with the situation, but if it was what Jim wanted, it was for the best. And deep down, Iris knew they knew it was best for their group. It was emotional for all of them, that was evident. Even Daryl went to apologize quietly before they all went back to their separate vehicles. Iris watched Jim stare up into the sky, and he seemed to sigh in relief as the caravan pulled away.

When they arrived at the CDC they were overwhelmed by the smell of the bodies. Iris fashioned her bandana over her face once more as they armed themselves in preparation. Most of them seemed completely dead, but you could never be too careful. Swarms of flies surrounded the place, maggots festering. The roads had been blocked off in a perimeter around the building, barricades of sand bags providing protection to the National Guard whose bodies they now stepped over.

Rick led the way as they passed the bodies, tanks, military trucks. Everyone moved in a large group, keeping quiet apart from coughing as they walked to the building. Carol and Lori continuously whispered encouragements to their kids, who had hands over their noses, mouths and eyes. The doors to the building were covered with metal grates, all of which seemed bolted into the ground.

“Nothing?” Shane asked as Rick rattled the grate. Iris took note of the security cameras around the place, searching for any indication of activity. Shane pounded angrily on the door.

“There’s nobody here.” T-Dog muttered.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick asked argumentatively. Iris tilted her head. He had a point. But whoever had been inside could be long dead.

“Walkers!” Daryl called out in warning. Sophia, Carol’s daughter, began whimpering in fear as they all turned toward the dead.

“Watch the noise.” Iris warned as they cocked their guns. Daryl stepped forward with his crossbow, taking care of the closest one, a man in an army uniform.

“You led us into a graveyard!” Daryl snapped, scowling at Rick.

“Shh!” Dale warned.

“He made a call.” Shane snapped back, grabbing a shotgun.

“It was the wrong damn call!”

“Just shut up. You hear me? Shut up. Shut up!” Shane growled, shoving Daryl backward and pointing a finger to his face. He whipped around. “Rick, this is a dead end.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Carol asked, clutching her daughter to her closely.

“Do you hear me? No blame.” Shane continued.

“She’s right. We can’t be here, this close to the city after dark.” Lori agreed with Carol.

“This place will be crawling soon. We’re making too much noise. Even the sound of the cars.” Iris said quietly, surveying their surroundings. They had their backs up against a wall here.

“Fort Benning, Rick. Still an option.” Shane stated.

“On what?” Andrea asked. “No food, no fuel. That’s a hundred miles.” 

“125. I checked the map.” Glenn corrected. Iris raised an eyebrow.

“Forget Fort Banning. We need answers tonight. Now.” Lori snapped, trying to console her sobbing son.

“We’ll think of something.” Rick insisted as they all began shouting, pleading with him. Iris kept quiet, watching him. She glanced back at the shutters, freezing.

“Alright, everyone back to the cars.” Shane called.

“Rick. The camera. The camera moved. It’s recording, but it moved.” Iris said loudly, pointing to the camera.

“You imagined it.” Dale stated quickly, shaking his head.

“No way.” She pulled down her bandana, stepping closer. “Someone’s inside.”

“Look, it’s dead, alright? An automated device. Gears, okay?” Shane said, shaking his head. Rick walked up to the camera, looking straight into it. “Look around this place. You hear me? It’s dead. You need to let it go, Rick!” Rick shoved past him, slamming his hands against the metal shutters again.

“Rick, there’s nobody here!” Lori screamed.

“I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me.” Rick yelled into the camera. Shane was yelling at the others to run back to the cars. The dreaded groaning of walkers got louder with them. “Please, we’re desperate! Please help us. We have women, children. No food, hardly any gas left.”

“Rick. Rick!” Lori pleaded.

“We have nowhere else to go!”

“There’s nobody here.” Lori insisted. “Rick, please!”

“You don’t let us in, you’re killing us!”

“Come on, buddy, let’s go.” Shane pulled at him, the others already halfway to the cars with Daryl leading the charge. Iris stood, staring straight into the camera as they wrestled with Rick. Shane started pulling him as he screamed.

“You’re killing us! You’re killing us! You’re killing us—“ They all stopped as the singular shutter screeched loudly, sliding open. They all whipped around as it thudded, pressurized air moving around, hissing.

They kept their guard up, Daryl covering their backs as they hesitantly walked inside.

“Hello?” Rick called. The building was enormous, an architect’s baby, columns spiralling up to a pointed roof and huge walls of windows trailing upward. The lobby was the majority of spaces, with what looked like offices above. But somewhere, there had to be more. “Hello?”

“Close those doors. Watch for walkers.” Dale warned, Daryl shutting the pedestrian doors behind them. They all stopped, looking around the space, waiting.

“Hello!” A voice called from the opposite end of the lobby. He stood in the mouth of the hallway. The man had scruffy hair and was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, but the grip he had on the military-grade rifle in his hands was confident. “Anybody infected?”

“One of our group was. He didn’t make it.” Rick replied. They all kept their weapons up.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” The man asked.

“A chance.” Rick replied simply. Optimistically. Obnoxiously.

“That’s asking an awful lot these days.” The man replied.

“I know.” Rick agreed. The man’s gaze flicked across each of them, taking in the sight of their group.

“You all submit to a blood test. That’s the price of admission.” The man said lowly.

“We can do that.” The man put his gun down.

“You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed.” He said firmly, gesturing outside.

Iris, Shane, Rick, Glenn and Daryl all ran outside, gathering bags and doing runs from the vehicles. They each took one, finding it easier to be agile when they separated. T-Dog and Dale manned the doors, closing them tight and opening them wide each time they ran in and out. In a few minutes, everything was in a pile in the lobby. Rick gave him the go-ahead, and the man scanned a keycard.

“Vi, seal the main entrance.” He spoke into it. “Kill the power up here.” The grate slid shut over the doors as the key panel beeped and blinked red. 

“Rick Grimes.” Rick introduced, offering his hand to shake. The doctor looked at him warily, making no move to shake his hand.

“Dr. Edwin Jenner.” He replied.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Love In Trouble [Part Six]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler, Red West, Sonny West, Jerry Schilling Colonel Tom Parker, Minnie Presley, Vernon Presley, Dee Presley, Joanie Esposito, Joe Esposito, Pat West

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4628

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Lori hadn’t slept. She hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t done anything except walk around the house aimlessly hoping to get her mind to engage with something other than worry, but it hadn’t worked. She’d heard her staff, her friends, her family, around her chattering away about what had happened. She’d been there as each phone call had come in informing her that another person had been hauled to the station at the crack of dawn just like her husband. She had been there every time Charlie had phoned for an update only to be told there wasn’t anything they could tell him and that Elvis was still being interviewed. She had been there when the front door had swung open, an eerie silence following those that entered. Though it wasn’t his house the colonel led the way, his cane thudding against the soft carpet as he headed into the living room. Behind him was a weary looking Vernon and then Jerry and Sonny looking just as fatigued. And pulling up the rear was Elvis. He was dressed as he had been this morning but the long stay at the station had left him looking bedraggled. His hair was out of place and his shirt had been unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He looked tired and more importantly severely irritated; she could tell from the way his jaw was set. No doubt he would want nothing more than to head upstairs and ignore everyone but from the way the Colonel herded him into the living room that didn’t appear to be an option.

‘Are you okay?’ Charlie said, the first one to speak amongst the weary and the worried walking with Elvis as he moved to sit in an armchair by the fireplace, ‘we called the station but they wouldn’t tell us anything.’

‘M’fine,’ Elvis said as he sank down into seat.’

‘Yes, yes, he’s fine now get everyone in here,’ the Colonel said as he took a stand by the fireplace.

‘Boss?’ Charlie questioned, looking to Elvis for guidance. The room was already half full, those that had just come in taking seats amongst those who had been waiting for them to arrive, Lori, Charlie, Grandma, Billy and his wife jo.  Anyone else would be staff.

‘Everyone,’ Elvis confirmed. As Charlie scuttled off to collect the remaining stragglers Elvis looked to Lori who was sitting on one end of the couch looking nervous. She offered him a weak smile but he barely acknowledged it, turning to look at the Colonel who was now ready to speak since everyone was now in situ, staff loitering nervously by the doorway as if unsure of whether they were supposed to be there.

‘Now,’ the colonel said, taking his hat off his head and depositing it on the coffee table in front of him, ‘here's the situation. There has been an incident involving one of our employees at Kings and unfortunately he is no longer with us.’

‘That Bowen kid?’ Billy asked. Lori kept her eyes on the Colonel but she felt Elvis’ glance at her all the same.

‘Precisely,’ the Colonel confirmed, ‘now for whatever insane reason the local sheriff's department believes it to be related to us at Kings.’

‘Not Kings,’ Elvis said grimly, ‘me.’

‘But they’re wrong,’ Sonny said angrily, ‘ain't nothing to do with any of us.’

‘Even so as you know he’s been charged,’ the Colonel said.

‘Oh good Lord,’ Grandma Presley sighed, earning the first reassuring smile Elvis had offered, seemingly willing to make at least one woman in his family feel comforted.

‘So he’s going to need all the support we can give him,’ the Colonel said, ignoring the old woman as he continued to make whatever speech he had planned, ‘hopefully they’ll drop it but if they don’t we need to present a united front. Both here and at the club. So no speaking to the press or police without a lawyer present. If you’re asked for a comment, decline. Do not trust anyone who wishes to speak about it and refrain from speaking about it outside of these walls. Do you hear me?’

There was an unenthusiastic round of replies but the Colonel seemed content that he had gotten his message across and simply grabbed his hat, gesturing for Elvis to follow him upstairs to the office. Elvis rose slowly from his chair, ignoring the obvious urges of people wishing to speak to him before he silently slipped from the room and up the stairs.

‘You think he’s right?’ Jerry whispered, looking at Lori. He had sat down next to her but she hadn't even realised, her eyes never leaving the Colonel the whole time he’d been in the room. She looked taken aback at being spoken to, the words taking a second to register before she asked, ‘what?’

‘About it blowing over?’ Jerry questioned.

‘We have to hope it does,’ Vernon said, interrupting their conversation.

‘Vernon’s right,’ Charlie weighed in, ‘I mean what would we do without him?’

✵✵✵

Lori didn’t know how long Elvis had been in the office. Not that it mattered; an hour and ten minutes had felt the same all day like they spanned a lifetime. It was probably because she hadn't bothered to busy herself with raking over everything, instead she’d left them all chatting and speculating whilst she headed upstairs to their bedroom figuring that would be the next place he headed. She didn’t particularly want to hear the ins and outs of it, what they'd spoken about or told him. But what wife wouldn’t want to know what had happened? One that didn’t care? One that no longer loved their husband? Even if that were true she couldn’t be known as that. Elvis needed her and she couldn’t be seen to be distancing herself now could she.

She was sitting in bed when he entered, the door bouncing gently off the wall as it always did before closing roughly behind him. She watched as he stripped off, heading to the bathroom to clean up, the sound of the shower echoing into the room a moment later. When he appeared his hair was damp and pushed back, something he hated, and he was dressed in just underwear, again out of character for him. But he seemed too tired to do anything else, climbing under the covers beside her and sinking down with a weary sigh.

Lori sat up, placing her hand on his chest as she looked down at him sympathetically and asked, ‘how are you doing?’

‘How do ya think?’ Elvis grunted.

‘Well I know but I don’t understand. I mean how have they even charged you? You said you had nothing to do with it-’

‘I didn’t,’ Elvis said firmly, blue eyes glaring up at her. Lori swallowed thickly, wondering how to approach whatever she wanted to ask.

‘But how can they charge you? I mean what evidence can they possibly have-’ she started though Elvis cut her off clasping his own large hand around her small one as he said, ‘look let's get one thing straight. I’m not going anywhere. They're not going to pin this on me because they ain’t got shit to pin it on me with. Whatever bullshit charges they throw at me first.’

Lori nodded as he continued, ‘and until then I don’t want to be questioned and challenged in my home. Got it?’

‘Yeah,’ Lori said quietly.

‘I said do you understand me?’ Elvis repeated, azure eyes burning into her own. Lori smiled weakly and said, ‘yeah, of course I do.’

✵✵✵

‘Sorry it took a couple of days to get back to you,’ Austin said, clearing his throat. It was dry but that was what happened when you spent most of the last two days doing nothing more than working, barely remembering to eat and drink, ‘they er they said you rang.’

‘I did,’ Lori said, pausing to listen for the sound of anyone on the line. There was no one in the house other than the normal myriad of lodgers. The staff had gone for the day and Elvis and his entourage were out at the club. Save for his grandma sleeping at the other end of the house she was free to talk but still not one hundred percent easy about the idea. When the only thing she heard was Austin's breathing she continued, ‘just wanted an update about what's going on?’

‘He hasn’t said?’ Austin said sceptically.

‘He hasn’t said much of anything since he got home. He’s been spending his time at the club, everyone thinks it's better to be seen doing everything as normal,’ she explained though she neglected to mention how she had not left the house at all since Elvis had arrived home. His decree about not questioning him had meant she was completely in the dark and given that he would no doubt find out if she started asking people in or out of the house she figured her best source of news would be Austin and so had spent the last two days waiting by the phone for him to finally pick up.

‘Well he has been charged and bailed so the next thing is going to be setting a date for a prelim. It’s a lot of formalities at this stage,’ Austin explained.

‘At the courthouse?’ Lori asked, already able to hear the flashes of cameras going off, her cheeks already aching from the serious yet approachable expression she'd have to don as she accompanied him as the withstanding wife.

‘Yeah, all of it’s in the courts hands now I'm afraid we just keep on adding whatever evidence we can if we can that way when he gets to the prelim the judge will have no choice but to take it to trial,’ Austin said.

‘But you’ve charged him surely that means there's enough to go on right?’ she questioned.

‘Yeah but given the situation more evidence is probably better than relying on what we’ve already got,’ he said. They'd been working tirelessly to put a good case together, one that shed doubt on not only his alibi but his entire reputation and the reliability of those trying to defend him. Unfortunately they had come to a sticking point. Looking from the outside in on such a tight knit group was never going to be easy but he'd never anticipated it being this hard. Truthfully it was why he'd chosen to ring her back, hoping she might be able to help further. That and the words of the DA ringing in his ears about using her for all she was worth.

‘Actually I was wondering if you could help. Face to face would be best,’ he said casually as if it didn’t matter either way though he heard her tense all the same.

‘I thought you just needed me to testify,’ she said. When it was just that she could put it out of her mind. That was miles away and she could focus on acting, playing her part right up until she no longer had to.

‘We need to get there first,’ Austin reasoned, adding a caveat of, ‘it's just a bit of background information.

His entourage is like a den of snakes, hard to know who anyone is and hard to ask without getting bit.’

She deliberated on it. He could see her point but if they were a pit of snakes what was she? A rat, that surely seemed appropriate but if she was going to get through this she needed to make sure she had all the information available, to know how to play it and well maybe she could do some questioning of her own.

‘’Fine,’ she said after a beat, ‘where?’

‘Well I can meet you anywhere,’ he offered, figuring it was best to let her hold the reins for this one.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, moving to peek out of the window. The front lawn was expansive but she could still see all the way down to the gate where dozens of people were parked out chatting amongst themselves, their cameras slung over their shoulders as they waited for a sniff of gossip, ‘it's not exactly easy to go places these days.’

‘I understand but er, I dare say it's probably not wise for me to come to you,’ Austin reasoned. Lori frowned, irked that he had a point.

‘Okay fine,’ she sighed, an idea popping into her head not a moment later, ‘how would you like to go to church?’

✵✵✵

­­­The church car park was bustling with people when Austin got there, granted not as full as a normal Sunday service but a decent enough amount to fill the pews. He’d been loitering outside looking amongst the people streaming in to see if he could see Lori but her bouffant hairdo was not visible amongst the throng of people. And the problem was that she hadn't really given him an objective or instruction and instead had just told him to arrive in plenty of time before the seven o’clock service. Checking his watch he found he had fifteen minutes to kill so maybe it wasn’t too much of an issue that he hadn't spotted her yet. What he hadn't anticipated however was being spotted himself.

‘Detective!’ a jovial drawl said, the woman he remembered from the bake sale appearing into view as she left the side of her friend to greet him.

‘Mrs Bouchard,’ he greeted with a smile but no further conversation.

‘Oh it’s Miss,’ she said with a twinkling smile, ‘have you decided to join our church?’

‘I was thinking about it,’ he lied.

‘Oh that is wonderful. It’s always nice to have such respectable members of the community be part of our congregation,’ she beamed, ‘come now, I’ll show you around and get you acquainted.’

And with that she tried to take his elbow and steer him into the brick building but he rooted himself on the sidewalk and said, ‘oh it’s alright. I’ll be in in a minute.’

‘Why are you waiting for someone?’ she asked, watching him closely, loading up all the questions she would follow up with the moment he refused her. Austin scanned the parking lot once more and not seeing Lori’s car he forced a smile and said, ‘no, I was just enjoying the breeze. It’s awfully hot.’

‘Oh I know! But not to worry, the church sprung for some new fans this spring! State of the art! C’mon’ she said, pulling on him again and finally forcing his feet to move.

Austin gritted his teeth but allowed himself to be steered into the church though he made a firm decision to duck down a pew a few from the front and to an end where he wouldn’t be too noticeable. Blanche was talking his ear off but fortunately gave his company up in order to brag to her friends about securing the newest recruit. Austin kept glancing around trying to see if he could spot Lori coming through the door. As he checked his watch again, seeing that there was now only eight minutes to go he started to get antsy only when he looked up he spotted her by a door to the side of the altar, watching him and the crowd quietly. They only locked eyes but she nodded, jutting her head towards another open door to the side of him which hinted at a corridor and just beyond he could see a sign for a bathroom.

‘Excuse me,’ Austin said, capturing the attention of the elderly couple in front of him who both turned and offered him a kind smile.

‘Yes dear,’ the woman replied.

‘Does the church have a bathroom,’ he said flashing her his most bashful smile, ‘I’m new here, haven’t gotten used to everything yet.’

‘Oh sure does,’ she said.

‘Just through there,’ the man said, pointing to the direction he’d been hoping to go.

‘Much appreciated,’ Austin said as he rose from his pew and shimmied out of the row, heading through the door but making sure to push it to as he went through.

The corridor was long, running to the back of the building where the attached community centre was along with various offices and other rooms. He wandered down the corridor not daring to say her name in case anyone else was listening. At least he could still pretend he had gone the wrong way if he was caught. Just as he neared a corner to another corridor she appeared practically walking into him and looking startled even though she would’ve known he was coming.

‘This way,’ she whispered, glancing behind him to make sure there was no one else around before she led him down to a room, practically pushing him through the door before she swiftly closed it behind her, clicking the small lock into place. It was a small room and it looked like an office of some sort with various books lined up on several shelves. A desk was at the centre of it and two chairs set out in front of the desk. If he had to guess it was probably the pastor's office which made sense why she had opted for it, it was bound to be out of use for a good hour.

As always he observed her, and just like every other time he’d met her she was dressed the part. This time she was dressed in a demure baby blue dress that grazed along her knees, an appropriate length for the inside of a church, and her hair was half up pulling the curls back from her face in a way that made her appear more youthful. A pillar of respectability and no doubt a show for the number of reporters he knew to be sitting at her front gate as well as the club. And she even acted the naïve youth, moving forward quickly as she pulled a chair out for him to sit in, the curated, cold front he’d previously had thawed some which was probably why he found himself trying to ease her nerves joking, ‘you know I'm not sure Jesus would approve of us sneaking around in his home.’

‘Yeah well there's a lot of things I'll need to ask him forgiveness for,’ she snarked, taking a seat and gesturing for him to sit down. He followed her instructions, slightly soothed by willingness to be snippy with him.

‘As long as us using this office isn’t on the list,’ he replied. Lori shook her head, ‘the service is on so no one will know we’re in here. You can leave with everyone else at the end if you go down to the end of the corridor you’ll merge right into the congregation.’

‘The pastor won't mind?’ he probed.

‘He kind of gives me free reign,’ she admitted as though that would be hard to believe. Even without the known influence the Presleys played when it came to church donations Austin didn’t believe even a pastor would be able to say no to her when asked.

‘So what did you need?’ she asked, watching him closely. He was dressed formally yet again but not the normal suits she'd become accustomed to seeing. Instead he was wearing a pair of high waisted trousers and a tight collared shirt which clung to his frame as he moved to remove his jacket before pulling a file from the inside pocket. It was a decent size but he’d practically rolled it up to conceal it from view. 

‘Well the thing is the DA is worried,’ he started.

‘About the trial?’ she asked.

‘Yeah I mean we have evidence, enough to charge him but we need to build a backstory. A narrative and considering you're our secret weapon the absence of a motive is kind of damning us,’ Austin admitted, watching as she gnawed on the inside of her lip, ‘now don’t worry we’re not going to use you, not yet but we need to form some kind of picture, an angle to use about him.’

‘What does that mean?’ she questioned.

‘Whatever you can tell us about how they work, their dynamics, what they're like. All information helps,’ he said.

‘Like on record?’ she hesitated. Austin cleared his throat.

‘Not necessarily. Whatever you say we can look into, no one needs to know why we started to look there just what we find,’ he promised, ‘but picking away at the image they present will help us in the long run. We know what they’re like, we just have to prove it. Okay?’

Lori hesitated. She had always known that this would involve things she didn’t want to do but her reasonings had been sound. She was making Elvis pay for what he had done, the crime fit the punishment and in turn punished her for her indiscretions but this felt like snitching.

She’d be spilling company secrets, telling him things about her friends, her family. She'd be selling them all down the river. But what choice did she have? Once this was all done there was no way she'd get through it. Once Elvis was in prison she’d hardly be revered amongst those he surrounded himself with. Who knew maybe if she helped Austin he would deal with the problem for her. The less associates she had hanging around after the easier it would be to try and cobble her life into some kind of order again.

‘Okay,’ she said hesitantly, ‘what do you want to know?’

‘How long has your husband owned Kings?’ he asked.

‘About fifteen years,’ she said.

‘But he wasn’t always a club owner right?’ Austin said.

‘No he used to be a singer,’ Lori said, she was still sitting stiffly in her chair, their conversation feeling awkward and unyielding.

‘Until he was drafted?’ Austin asked.

‘Yeah when he came back the opportunities had dried up and he didn’t have the same traction so he and his manager put their money into Kings,’ she explained, watching as his head looked up from where he’d been jotting notes before he asked, ‘manager?’

‘Yeah the Colonel,’ she said, watching as he flicked through a couple of pages.

‘He owns part of Kings?’ he asked as if this wasn’t something he’d found before. At that Lori settled into her chair feeling more relaxed now the conversation was steering away from Elvis, away from her and Elvis. He knew she’d had an affair, that was more than enough and she didn’t exactly want to dissect the rest of their marriage anyway.

‘Yeah he’s in the background, he makes the business decisions and manages the money. Elvis is the face of things,’ she explained.

‘But he doesn’t manage the club day to day, that’s,’ Austin paused looking at his notes, ‘Joe Esposito right?’

‘Yeah, came back with Elvis after the army and kind of never left. He arranges all the acts, makes sure things are booked and on time. He’s more like a personal assistant though,’ she said, ‘though most people are.’

‘I thought they were bodyguards,’ Austin said raising an eyebrow.

‘Oh they can fight no doubt and they’re all armed but they’re more like errand boys. He keeps them close to do whatever he needs,’ she said.

‘Who?’ Austin asked.

‘Red is his go to, or Sonny,’ she said, ‘but Jerry’s part of the rotation well when they are speaking.’

‘What do they argue about?’ Austin asked curiously.

‘Elvis…likes to buy people,’ she said sighing as he raised an eyebrow, ‘now don’t get me wrong the boys love him they do. They've all been friends forever and it's not a position you can get in without being friends with him first but sometimes favour is bought.’

‘What do you mean?’ Austin asked though he was sure he had an inkling. Lori sighed.

‘Elvis has friends but all of his friends are on his payroll. So why they do want to be there they also kinda have to be and when they differ about something it means they can’t get away,’ she said, trying not to think about how her words related to her too. If she thought about that she’d get stuck. It was easier to look at them as separate to her. The conversation was flowing easier now, the information falling out of her mouth without much prompting. She wondered if it was because this was the first time she’d ever been able to openly comment on them without judgment or whether it was just because Austin seemed to actually be listening to her, seeing her properly rather than as an extension of him, ‘now for Jerry he’d rather stand on his own two feet than go against what he thinks is right. But some of the others aren’t like that. They keep it in because if they don’t they’ll lose everything.’

‘Right,’ Austin muttered.

‘It does well to keep him on side,’ she said quietly.

Austin noted the sadness in her voice but didn’t comment on it, instead steering the conversation to another member of the entourage before weaving through the family, household and staff. It gave him some good ideas about things that they might lend a hand to, targets to hone in on but it wasn’t exactly tangible information. And so as he started to hear the sounds of the congregation coming to the end of the service he said, ‘you know it'd probably do well for us to keep in touch going forward.’

‘Why?’ she asked. She’d heard the pastor start to dismiss people and had informed him they needed to leave, standing up and grabbing her bag she’d placed on the back of her chair when she'd assessed the room.

‘Well you're only going to know how the investigation is going from your lawyer if not,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t want you to be blindsided by the prosecution's strategy but it’ll no doubt change based on whatever other evidence we manage to find.’

‘I don’t know. I mean with the amount of scrutiny on our life at the minute I doubt regular rendezvous with a cop are going to go unnoticed,’ she said unsurely as she headed for the door.

‘How about this,’ Austin bargained, moving to stop her before she got her hand on the knob. Lori looked up at him in surprise, ‘I’ll come to the service every week. I’m new in the area, I live in the parish, there's no reason we can't both go here.’

‘And what, we talk between verses of kumbaya?’ she challenged.

‘No,’ he said resisting the urge to smile, ‘if you want to talk I'll be here if not don’t come.’

‘Every week?’ she asked.

‘Every week,’ he nodded.

✵✵✵

Austin didn’t sleep much once he got back from the church, his brain was whirring about everything they had discussed and the new avenues he now had to explore. So much so he practically bounced into the DA's office the following morning to update him on the case, growing excited as the man's eyes lit up with excitement before he stifled himself and said, ‘it's good but we need to look deep before we start arresting all of ‘em for whatever.’

‘Right,’ Austin agreed.

‘But you’re right. The Wests look like our first safe bet or at least like they are more malleable. Might even be able to get them to admit he was there that night,’ Robert said.

‘With what?’ Austin asked.

‘Well their freedom is a good bargaining chip to start with,’ Robert said, ‘good job Butler. Now let's hope we can get her to give you more.’

‘Yeah,’ Austin said feeling a twinge of guilt as he said, ‘let’s hope.’

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[ambathy-arts]

24. chattering lory