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sonyadance · 5 months

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Travels and Dancing 21

To start the New Year, I had the chance to spend a weekend with a group of beautiful women doing energy work in a chalet in the Laurentians. I needed that reset and what a reset! Wow! I am forever grateful to everybody I’ve met on my energy work journey in the last 12 years, for all the help, the community, and the work towards an upward spiral, fighting entropy and darkness. Then I had the honor of going to teach in a beautiful small community not too far from Montreal called Sherbrooke. I love weekend workshops. The fact that it is one straight line, no running around between judging, workshops, privates, shows, is one of the advantages; but what I really like is that you follow one or two group for an entire weekend. You can see them develop together, there are generally more questions being asked because people get to connect and feel safer, there is a theme for the weekend that is always fun for me to create. I had a beautiful welcome, great workshops and an amazing teacher’s training (which I also loooove to teach) with great teacher’s brains: everybody was asking the right questions, working hard on the art of diagnosing and enjoying themselves. Future Westies of Sherbrooke, you are in good hands!

I was then invited to come teach for the first time in the community of Waterloo, Ontario. A baby community of only 2 years old, which the leader, Mikaela Lewis, managed to grow in a way I haven’t seen before. I have traveled around the world witnessing how wcs develops and, yes, there might be a part we can attribute to timing (wcs being really popular right now, thanks to all our colleagues that are pushing the social media market with IG and TT), but there is just an approach that she has to building that I think she could sell for a lot of money! It was a beautiful weekend, filled with workshops of various levels, privates and dancing… I think 160 people showed up at the Saturday night dance. Have you ever seen that after only two years of wcs existing in a town?

It is now the beginning of February of a really mild winter (secret and guilty thank you to global warming) and I am heading towards Philadelphia to practice with one of my partner. I get there a bit late on Friday, plane delays as usual, and we have a great practice into the night. The next morning, we wake, head towards the studio, start practicing, and… I mess up my neck. Fuck. Let’s say that I haven’t had the best run with health in the last year. Is it the trauma of what happened last March? An addition of all the health things I didn’t take care of until now because I felt young and invincible? Yeah, that sounds about right. We try to find someone to see me asap so my neck doesn’t freeze for longer than it needs to, I end up going to the massage therapist and babying it all weekend, but we couldn’t get much done. I am not really good at dealing with health stuff that doesn’t go my way. It makes me feel powerless and everything I do relies on my body… so I was really disappointed about investing in a plane ticket, time and energy in going to Philadelphia to get as much rehearsal as possible, for my body to say: No. Thank god my partner is one of the chillest person I know, it helps calm me down and not add catastrophizing thoughts on top of the reality and be able to observe the facts a bit clearly. Still shitty.

I got some osteopathic treatment when I got home so I’d be able to teach the next weekend. Québec city it is with the amazing Nelson! I have mentioned it before in one of the Travels and Dancing, but I love Nelson so much. There is just an underlying level of trust that I’ve never had with anybody in dancing before (except Stephen for routines, I would have trusted him with my life), that helps us create... anything and everything! Every time we finish dancing we are like:

- Oh my god! That was so nice what you did!

- I didn’t do anything. What you did was amazing!

- I didn’t do anything either!

Lolll. We know it now and we understand it is thanks to the immense trust we have between us as human beings first and then as dancers. So when people ask me, I always try to have Nelson hired along side me. We taught some workshops together, some individually, did a demo and danced with the beautiful westies there. Thank you Québec for the amazing weekend!

Next weekend was Sacramento for Capitol Swing. My first time at this event. I have heard about the NorCal vs SoCal friendly feud before and I must say, I am definitely NorCal! I found the people to be so nice and welcoming, just a bit more of a relaxed and true atmosphere than events I’ve been at in SoCal. Nothing bad, just a difference in vibes. It’s like if you ask: is Madjam or a chalet type of event better? Neither. What do you like? Do you like big lights, want to be inspired by the best shows in the world and de surrounded by hundreds of people during the social dance or does this overwhelms you and you prefer to have an intimate atmosphere where you can create connections, have the time to dance with most of the attendees and have smaller group workshops? I don’t think there is a better one, just what you prefer, want and need at this moment in time. So I would suggest, before booking an event, you inquire about the general vibes and set up of it, and you take a minute to look inside of yourself and check what is best going to suit your path right now. So Capitol was one of the best ran event I’ve attended, beautiful attention to detail. I really like Ben and Cameo McHenry’s minds, they are always trying to push the envelop with ideas that follows what they value in dance. I particularly liked the Champion’s choice Strictly. The idea was that a Champion asks an All-Star of their choice whom they’d like to dance with, to do Strictly with them. It was fun to see different pairings than the usual Champions Strictly. I had a blast dancing with Keerigan.

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Stephen and I did our routine again for the first time since the Open. We trained, social danced, met new people, it was awesome… until my flight back. Worse epic I’ve been on. Loll It started with an 11pm overnight flight and it ended up with, delay, sitting on the tarmac until 3am, returning to the hotel, sleeping for 3 hours, going back to the airport for a pushed back 2pm flight on which they couldn’t find my seat, trying to fix that at check-in for an hour, getting on the plane, getting deplaned again for a 4p, departure, getting so late at my layover that there was no other flight to Montreal for that day, sleeping at the hotel, a total of 48 hours in airport with a 45$ voucher for food (imagine the feast you get for 6 meals at an airport with ALL of that money), missing a day of work, loosing a bunch of money, getting home to sleep a bit and start working the next day. Loll Not my best run. I am still waiting for compensation for that flight, my case number is currently 64 308 in line.

I was finally home for a weekend, which was my birthday weekend! First birthday in Montreal in 13 years. Yes!!!! I was so happy to be able to spend that time with my friends and family. One of my best friend lend me his apartment so I could invite my friends from school, dance, family members and have a joyous melting pot. I also had my handsome boyfriend with me all weekend and everything felt perfect! Thank you so much again to everybody that took the time to come and spend time with me: it means a lot.

Can you believe I had two weekends at home without working (well, still taught some privates and did online work, cause work never ends…) in March? It felt really good to rest, see my people and finally spend time with my partner. Time is a bit restricted when one of you works a 9 to 5 and the other one, 4 to 10 and is gone on weekends. One of the reason I came back to Montreal is also because it is where there is the highest concentration of people I love, but I am never available at the same time as everybody to hang out, so this is something I am trying to change and establish: make enough money at home that I don’t have to go away 4 weekends a month to eat, 2 would be perfect cause I still love and want to do it!!!

I taught an intermediate competition intensive in Montreal and it went amazingly well! Better than what I could have envisioned. The concept is to have one for each level of WSDC competition, four hours with a really small group of people (maximum 6 leads and 6 follows) who are currently competing at that level and want a better understanding of what the judges are looking at at that level, the difference between a prelim and a final (until now pretty standard), but then receive individual attention to understand what they need to work on in order to get yeses or place. I put my judges hat on to help them see what pieces are missing that could give a judge a reason to give them a no, then I give them drills to practice so when they get to their next competition the judges don’t have a quick justification for a no. Again, it always depends on who’s competing around you, but your job is to make me work so I have trouble leaving you out of the finals. The students were happy, the teacher was happy, it was a great weekend!

Then I was waiting for Aaron to get to Montreal to practice, but… he wrote me to say that they got delayed. My first reaction after the Sacramento debacle was: oh no… hopefully it’s not as bad. It wasn’t. For the traveler, but they got delayed so bad and had to get rebooked. The soonest flight he could get rebooked on was for the Sunday night and he had to leave Monday morning. So that fell through, but! He managed to rebook for the following week so we had a day to practice before heading to BTO Open! It was Aaron’s first Canadian event. I think he enjoyed it. ;-)

BTO was really great this year. A bit smaller than the previous year if I’m not mistaking, maybe due to the fact that Boston Tea Party resuscitated! Ayo! So between Madjam, BTP and BTO, it was a lot in a month for the eastern Canadian westie community. We did have a crew from Calgary come over, cheer and be absolutely awesome for the weekend, alongside the Toronto, Québec, Ottawa, Montréal, London, Waterloo westies, and more! My boyfriend came Friday night and saw me dance live for the first time in the Invitational. I was so excited, but then I couldn’t see him in the crowd when we got on the dancefloor and I thought for some reason he had left! I looked like a kid looking for their parents in the crowd. Loll I did put on a show, and obviously, he was still in the room and loved it! Hihi!! The Inivational with Philippe Berne was fun, the strictly with Nelson was smooth, and the Pro Show with Nelson was probably my favorite performance of my lifetime. I taught an advanced workshop with a new concept about shaping and shifting that was really well received, a novice workshop that had a big impact on their dancing, and a strictly tune-up that was really fun. It was a really filled and fulfilling weekend!

My family was kind enough to postpone Easter dinner for a week so I could join in my “weekend in town” of the month. It felt so good to see everybody and way too short. I also had the chance to meet a side of my boyfriend’s family I hadn’t met before and enjoy a long and delicious day/meal.

Then came the Calgary Dance Stampede. I was supposed to compete in my first country ProPro division, but… life had other plans. In my entire adult life, of teaching and performing dance, I had never cancelled anything related to work. Well, one time in Germany, I was in pain for what I didn’t know is what I am awaiting surgery for, and I had to forgo the social dance. I need gallbladder removal surgery, I am on the wait list, but that can be a really long wait in the Quebec health system, I have been mostly doing fine with just a few crisis here and there. Until the end of March, I started being in pain 100% of the time. Not the worse, but about a 5/10, just enough to slowly sap away your energy. But when I was on the plane to Calgary, I had a horrendous crisis (I was wondering if I should ask them to land the plane) and by the time I landed, I was livid. I had to find a doctor, get pain medication and managed to teach and judge, but I didn’t have the energy to compete or perform. I really hope this can get resolved quickly. Actually, as I am writing this, I have had my first day without pain for a month and I just now realize how much of a difference it makes on my life force. Besides that, the event was purely magical. There is something about the country side that is so relax, just a culture I love, that, mixed with wcs, creates a delicious cocktail. So I had a great time even through all that.

Coming back to Montreal, I cancelled everything non work related so I could conserve energy for that: I can’t stop working now, cause I’ll have to stop working for a month after surgery, so as a self-employed worker, you have to come up with a way to make up for that loss. So I’m working pain or no pain (mostly pain). In 2020, I had booked a holotropic breath work retreat with an ex. As you can imagine, it got cancelled, and I got credited for it. Years went by and I couldn’t find a retreat on a weekend I wasn’t working and that was close enough for me to drive to… until! I saw this Chester, Connecticut retreat. So I booked it. Four years in the making et voilà! One of the agreement of the retreat is one of confidentiality about what happens during the weekend, because it is really intimate and vulnerable for most attendees, so I will keep it brief. It was intense. I don’t think someone could understand it by just having it described to them: you really have to live it to know it. And even then, I feel like I don’t know anything about it, that I just dipped my toe in the world of holotropic breath work. I drove six hours on Thursday to get there in time to check-in and register, we then had an opening circle which was really beautiful and set the tone for a safe, open and vulnerable weekend. A delicious dinner was served, followed by a preparation workshop so we could be ready for what was going to happen during the weekend (we weren’t… or at least, I wasn’t even with all the talk), and we went to bed early. My roommate was a blast, we talked and giggled every night before bed. Friday came with the first three hour session where I was one of the breathers. My god. Yep. That’s it. 30m integration, 1h lunch break, and we were at it again interchanging roles; I was then a sitter for one of the breathers. My god. Yep. 1h integration, 1h dinner, and sharing circle. Everybody went to bed early because we were all absolutely trashed. Saturday came with the same schedule, except that my partner and I exchanged breathing times. The guesthouse lit up a ceremonial fire for earth day and some of us went out with a guitar, a harmonica, our voices and a lot of enthusiasm. It was a great night. We had a closing circle Sunday and a talk about integration. I hugged everybody before hitting the road for an exquisite 6h of silence and personal debriefing. I will have to make another article about this weekend at some point so the readers can understand something of it, but I need more time to integrate and make sure I express things in a way that is respectful to everybody and doesn’t disclose anything that shouldn’t be.

Anyways, thank you for reading until here if you did. I don’t know who you are, but I’m sending you little particles of love and patience towards yourself. See you next time!

#dance #dancers #dancer #westcoastswing #travelsanddancing #modernswing #dance teacher #dance events #holotropic #health #life #Youtube

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thewhumperinwhite · 4 years

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ATTD: A Magician, Not a Healer (3)

ATTD Masterlist

The alternate title of this one is, “Repressioooon... Repression!” to the tune of Tradition from fiddler on the roof

this is the last part of this chapter; i think next time we will meet our... Nominal Antagonists :)

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

TW for: implied past non/dubcon; implied/referenced trauma response/flashback; mild body horror and reference to past Stabbing; Detailed Descriptions Of Food; hints of disordered eating; self-blame and guilt; grief/mentions of death.

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The boy called Will sat in the Healer’s waiting room with his face in his hands, happy enough for now to let the Magician remain in the room with the Healer, negotiating payment. He felt more than guilty—slightly mortified, in fact—at putting the Magician out even more than he already had, but he was also grateful for the moment to sit here, in an empty room, and recover from having embarrassed himself so completely.

The Healer’s hands had been gentle, and her magic had been cool against his skin, and it should have been a relief when it slipped in and touched the burned, itchy edges where the knife tore into his stomach.

Except that he had felt her magic slide under his skin and his mind had gone utterly blank with panic. He had felt it as a violation—an invasion of his person—and had knocked her well-meaning hands away and leapt backward off the bench and had to be coaxed out of the corner like an anxious cat.

And of course the moment there had no longer been hands on him he had remembered where he was and been fully aware that he had embarrassed people who had no intention but to help him. Again.

Thank heaven the Magician had handed him his sword belt back as soon as the Healer had finished with him. He had not removed it voluntarily since leaving his father’s House. Its weight made him feel immediately less exposed, and now he could catch his breath, and be less of an obvious wreck by the time the Magician emerged.

His head was the clearest it had been since he had left his father’s house, as well. He had not realized how completely the fever had clouded his judgement.

The Magician—Jasper—seemed honestly to mean well, and wish to help. And what had he done to repay that kindness, but put the man in increasing danger—more danger, even, than that brought about by his presence alone, or even by Chorus’s—and continually be expensive and inconvenient?

It felt like compounding his guilt to leave when he was, in the most literal sense, in the Magician’s debt. But there was no way to spend a second more with the Magician without bringing more trouble and telling more lies even than he already had, and it wasn’t as though he had any way to repay the Magician, even if he—

Well. That was not quite true.

At home. At home it would have been quite obvious how to pay the Magician back.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to swallow around his suddenly dry throat, and in doing so he waited too long, and the door to the Healer’s room opened and produced the Magician in question, who looked at him with sympathy that turned the boy’s stomach.

----

Will was still there when Jasper emerged from the Healer’s room, several coins lighter. Which was honestly a bit of a surprise.

The boy looked up at him. Will looked—miserably embarrassed, honestly.

Jasper had been debating whether he should—ask, point-blank, what had happened. It seemed—awkward to dance around it, when clearly something had happened, something more than being lightly stabbed in a mugging, or whatever. Watching the boy react to the Healer’s magic had been almost painful.

Jasper was prepared to admit that there was a certain—intimacy to healing magic. A Healer had to know the inside of the human body very well indeed, and did their work by reaching in and tugging at one’s insides with their aura. Which. A lifetime ago, it had felt natural from the very beginning to accept such a thing from Silex, who was soft-voiced and soft-handed and the warmest heart Jasper had ever met (and who was dead, and dead, and dead), but—he could imagine. How one could feel… vulnerable. To be touched in such a way. By a stranger.

That did not mean he could think of any way at all to talk about it.

Will looked at him, and as far as Jasper could tell, he was just as eager not to broach the subject (who are you really, and where did you come from, and were you so ill-used there, that an old woman’s magic should undo you in this way) as Jasper was himself, so Jasper clapped his hands together briskly and said, in a slightly-too-bright sort of voice, “Alright, boy, I don’t know about you, but I could eat an entire cow. Where shall we go for lunch?”

“Oh,” the boy said, and hurried to his feet, and bowed, the way he had for Lia—with one foot pointed in front of him, and his hand over his heart. The gesture tugged at something in Jasper’s brain, but couldn’t quite find whatever memory it wanted to connect to. “Thank you, Magician Jasper.” The boy straightened, and looked at him, very earnestly. His too-blue eyes were even more striking, now that they weren’t glassy with fever. “For all your hospitality. You have given me more than enough, please. I could not possibly accept more.”

“Uh-huh,” Jasper said doubtfully. “What exactly are you planning to do instead?”

The boy smiled, easy and warm; it was very charming, and Jasper was in no way inclined to believe it. “I can make my own way, now that my head is clear. I have kept you from your own business more than long enough, sir.”

“Right.” Jasper looked the boy over. He was standing without swaying, now, and his eyes were clear and clever. There was color in his cheeks, even.

He was still absolutely swimming in Jasper’s borrowed tunic, a few inches of hard-to-look-at ribs and knife-sharp collarbones sticking out above the low collar. And he had no pack, and nothing in his pockets.

“How much money do you have on you?” Jasper asked him, almost amused. “Planning to pawn your sword, maybe, to pay for dinner tonight?”

The boy’s smile twitched, just a little, in either discomfort or dark amusement at the thought.

“Truly, Magician,” the boy said, bowing his head very politely indeed. “I have no appetite at all at the moment.”

“Hm,” Jasper said. “Is that so.” He looked at the boy thoughtfully.

It was time, Jasper thought, to be a little bit cruel.

“Have you had a chance to try the local cuisine?” Jasper said. The Healer’s waiting-room had two large glass windows at the front, and Jasper walked toward one, deliberately turning his back on Will. “There’s an inn two blocks from here that keeps its own chickens, and you’ve never had a bird so tender. I left a Safe-Against-Thieves spell for the owner when last I was in town, so she’ll cook some for free, I imagine, if I ask. Sear the skin crisp and leave the inside juicy. And she mixes spices like a master. You’ve never had a meal like it—sharp and spicy, with dried fruits stirred in for contrast.”

Jasper turned back to survey his handiwork. Will had one hand over his mouth, and the other on his stomach, and a look of deep betrayal on his face. When Jasper looked at him, the boy’s stomach growled very loudly.

“…fine,” Will said, with as much dignity as he could manage. “If you insist. You may. I suppose. Buy me lunch.”

Jasper grinned, and clapped the boy on the shoulder.

The boy was better at hiding his answering wince now that he was no longer swaying with fever, but now Jasper knew to look for it, and Will couldn’t hide it entirely.

A better man than Jasper might have asked, then. Where the boy came from, and was he safe here, and did he need somewhere to stay. Jasper had nowhere to stay himself—would have had to put his years-long quest on hold, to help the boy properly. But he could do it. No one was here to stop him. He could buy the boy a room, stay with him until he was on his feet properly, and no longer flinched that way at a casual touch.

But Jasper—wasn’t that. His heart was old, and all the room in it was used up with longing for the dead.

And there had to be one of the Company left.

“Good man,” Jasper said, hoarsely. He ushered the boy out, and was careful not to touch him again.

#all those that dance #whump #original whump #traumatized whumpee #magical healing #past dubcon #food mention #grief #guilt and self hate #fantasy whump

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master-sass-blast · 4 years

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The Christmas Decorating Fic.

Hello, yes, this is the proper time of year to post a Christmas themed fic.

Summary: You and Piotr decorate your home for Christmas for the very first time.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: G.

Warning(s): A very minor, mild mention of/allusion to childhood trauma.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @leo-writer, @dandyqueen

“Orn-a-ments, lights, and ginger-bread cookies! Tinsel and more lights and… what else rhymes with cookies? Glitter and glitter and glitter some more! Gonna have glitter all over the floor!”

“Pozhaluysta, nyet. We will be vacuuming for thousand years, at least.”

“I make no promises.” You grin impishly at your long-suffering husband, then belt out, “When the dog bites! When the bee stings! When I’m feeling sad… I simply throw glitter up in the air, and then I don’t feel… so bad!”

It’s officially the winter holiday season –meaning snow, seasonal music, red and green everything, and consuming more cookies than you probably should in one sitting.

It’s also midterm season at Xavier’s for all the high school students, meaning your husband has been hard at work prepping exams, holding review sessions, making study guides, and generally doing everything he can to see that his pupils succeed.

Which is nice –but it also means that you were left with the task to purchase all the Christmas and seasonal décor.

You probably went overboard (not that you’re admitting that to anybody).

Piotr stares at the sea of bags and boxes that completely cover the living room floor and spill into the kitchen. He rubs his temples and sighs. “Moya lyubov’… why?”

“I just…” You smile sheepishly and duck your head. “It’s pretty! And colorful! And it’s so white and bland outside, so I thought we could use extra color in here! And, like, we can share whatever we don’t use with the residents so they can decorate their rooms, but…” You let your voice trail off, sheepish smile growing. “I liked all of it. Okay, look –all of the candles smelled amazing! How was I supposed to pick one type?” You pull a random candle out of a bag that holds many, many, many more candles –this one’s peppermint hot chocolate scented—and take off the lid before holding it out to your husband. “Smell this. It’s fucking delicious.”

“Smells very nice,” Piotr agrees after a cursory sniff. “Just… what will we do with all this?”

“Decorate, baby. It’s our first Christmas that we have our own place. We gotta go all out!”

“I do not disagree. Just… how much did all this cost?”

“I used my own money,” you defend yourself. “Which is technically crime money from Wade and dad and my uncle, which I know you don’t like, but it’s also supporting a capitalist death machine, which you also don’t like, so I feel like that should cancel each other out—” You sigh when Piotr crosses arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at you. “I got excited,” you admit. “I’ve never… I’ve never really been able to go all out for Christmas before, especially not in a home of my own. I can… I can take some of it back, if you want.”

“Nyet, nyet,” Piotr says gently. He draws you into his arms and kisses the top of your head. “That will not be necessary.” He kisses the top of your head, then surveys the sea of bags once more. “Well, at least we will never need to buy decorations again.”

“That’s the spirit!” you chirp, patting his chest before skipping away. “I need you to put up the tree, and also help me hang tinsel because…” You pick up one of your sketchpads and show him a few designs you’d made with an impish grin. “I drew up some layouts.”

“Did you now,” Piotr chuckles as he studies your sketches.

“I have a vision.”

He chuckles again, then kisses your cheek. “Then let’s make vision come true.”

***

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire… Jack Frost nipping at your nose…”

The smooth tones of Nat King Cole croon through the speakers. Snow flutters down from the thick, dark gray blanket of clouds high above, batting against the windowpanes before accumulating in drifts over the earth. A fire crackles in the fireplace, hissing and snapping as the flames eat away at the logs your husband had placed in the hearth.

You smile, hovering in the air as you tack up a strand of tinsel.

It’s like the spirit of Christmas has swept through your house. You got Piotr to wrestle the Christmas tree into an upright position –he’s still shaping and fluffing it now—while you focused on draping strands of tinsel and lights over every conceivable surface (within reason on the lights, of course, because Piotr drew a line at blowing the breaker every time one of you flipped a switch). There’s little clusters of figurines throughout the main floor –there’s a trio of wooden snowmen on the table next to the front door, a scene of those porcelain house and figures on a swath of batting on the side table in the dining room, several little penguins in festive hats scattered throughout the kitchen—

It’s almost addictive. Every new addition to your home leaves you giddy, giggling like a child on a sugar high. You dart all over the place, finessing and adjusting which decorations go where until it’s all just right.

Maybe it comes from never decorating for anything during your childhood. Your parents were stridently against any sort of frivolity, citing “hedonism” and “blasphemy” and “not following in the path of Christ” any of the few times you dared to ask.

Woe to thee, Pharisees and Sadducees, you think as you finish hanging a strand of red, holographic tinsel. Your upper lip curls in derision as you float back down to the floor.

Piotr looks over at you when you let out a ragged sigh. “Everything alright, myshka?”

“Yeah.” You sigh again. “Just… thinking about my parents.”

Piotr leaves the tree –which is looking far less bedraggled than it did first coming out of the box. He crosses the room and puts his arms around you once he’s by your side. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

“I know, I know. I just get mad at them sometimes.”

“As you have every right to be.” He kisses the top of your head. “I am so sorry, myshka.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You tip your head back so you can kiss him properly. “You want to light one of the candles I got?”

“Sure. You pick.”

“In that case, I’m lighting all of them.”

Piotr laughs as he ambles back over to the tree. “Please, no.”

You start pulling candles out of a paper bag and line them up on the kitchen counter. “We’ve got ‘Peppermint Hot Chocolate,’ ‘Sugar Cookie,’ ‘Frosted Holly,’ ‘Sugar and Spice,’ ‘Fresh Pine,’ ‘Cranberry Orange Zest,’ ‘Gingerbread Dreams,’ ‘Minty Mocha,--’”

“Bozhe ty moi,” Piotr guffaws, shoulders shaking as he laughs. He presses a hand against his stomach and shakes his head. “How many did you get?”

“As many as I wanted!” You stick your tongue out at him when he continues laughing and keep lining up candles on the counter. “Shut up! I’ve never gotten to have shit like this before.”

Piotr sobers abruptly. He stares at you, forehead creasing with sorrow. “I am sorry, myshka. I did not consider this.”

“No, no, no.” You leave your plethora of candles at the counter and go over to him. “It’s okay, honey,” you assure him as you wrap your arms around his waist. “I was poking fun back at you, sweetheart. I wasn’t offended, I swear.”

“That is good to know.” Piotr strokes your hair with one hand. “But… it hurts me. I remember that you had so little, and were treated so cruelly, and—”

You hold him tighter when his voice breaks. “It’s okay, Piotr. I’m okay. I’ve got you now. And all the candles I could ever want!”

He laughs, even if it’s wet and shaky. “Da, very true.” He wipes a few stray tears off his cheeks. “Pick candle you like best, myshka. Anything is fine with me.”

“So, I can light all of them at once—”

“Nyet. Tochno net.”

“But—”

“Nyet.”

“But it—”

“Nyet.”

“You’re not even letting me explain myself!”

“Correct.” Piotr grins when you scrunch your face up at him, then kisses your forehead. “One candle, myshka. Please.”

You sigh dramatically, heaving your shoulders and rolling your eyes. “Fine. I guess I just have to smell each one until I can decide which one’s the best.”

“You will give yourself headache.”

“No, I won’t! I’m invincible!”

Piotr shakes his head as you skip back over to the counter. “Whatever you say, moya lyubov’.”

***

You don’t give yourself a headache –but you do switch between smelling candles so fast that you lose your sense of smell.

“I’m wounded!” you scream as you inhale into your shirt to try and clear your nose. “Forever disabled! I’m gonna die!”

“I warned you,” Piotr says, smiling all the same. He carefully sniffs a few candles, then takes a lighter and lights ‘Gingerbread Dreams.’ “This one is best.”

“How dare you mock me!”

“My sincerest apologies.” He sets the candle on the center of the counter, then faces you. “Are you ready to decorate tree?”

“Sure. You want to start on lights while I pick which ornaments to use?”

Piotr shoots you a dubious glance. His gaze flicks between you and the sea of plastic bags still covering the floor. “Myshka… why would you need to pick?”

“Well…” You shift from foot to foot as your voice trails off. “I wasn’t sure… what color scheme we’d go with…”

He sighs like the longsuffering saint he is. “How many did you get?”

“Uh…” You rifle through the bags, pulling out box after box of shimmery, shiny baubles. “Enough?”

Piotr’s eyes bug out of his head. “Y/N—”

“We can donate the ones we don’t use.”

“Yes, yes we will.” Piotr runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. He sighs heavily, then grabs a strand of lights and starts weaving it between the tree branches. “Thank goodness for extra spending money.”

***

The two of you settle on a white, gold, and red theme for the tree, since there’s plenty of green in the rest of the house. Between the tree, finishing the other decorations, and the tidying up –at Piotr’s insistence—it’s late evening before the two of you finish up.

You nestle against Piotr’s side. The two of you are on the couch, resting and admiring your handiwork in the light of the fire and the thousands of string lights. “It looks pretty.”

“Da.” Piotr drapes a thick, burly arm around your shoulders. “You chose well.”

You snort. “Hard to go wrong when you buy half the store.”

“You chose well,” he repeats, voice soft and loving. He kisses your temple. “Our home looks wonderful, moya solntse.”

You beam and lay your head against his chest. “Yeah. It does.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #seasonally appropriate fics #fluff #christmas fluff #financial escapism #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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viktorfm · 4 years

Text

(MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL, NONBINARY) - Have you seen VIKTOR SAMUELS? VIKTOR is in HIS/THEIR SENIOR year. The VISUAL ARTS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say HE/THEY are OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT and DEPENDENT. Rumors say they’re a member of KINCAID. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY'RE HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH THEIR THERAPIST. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

dont. look at me. i know. anyways if it wasnt obvs i abandoned cupid (n darrow) in order 2 bring the two ocs tht he ws inspired by n ws a combination of bt. theyre better as different ppl methinks.

DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS TW

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basics.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - january 2nd, 1996

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: preaker, vermont

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

favorite song: disorder, joy division / it’s getting faster, moving faster / now it’s getting out of hand / on the tenth floor, down the back stairs / it’s a no man’s land / lights are flashing, cars are crashing / getting frequent now / i’ve got the spirit, lose the feeling / let it out somehow

background.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in preaker, vermont - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3d art ap course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to yates but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( tw death, grief, overdose / hospitalization beyond this point )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to yates to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

personality & facts.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the ~urban legends~ at yates and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all their money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away hbdsjfngkh

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a twig but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

religious trauma? oh worm ;; three cheers fr <3 guilt <3 anyways uh. just people tht viktor hs known thru the church in some way even tho hes a fkn. freak now. maybe even family friends.

the horror of our love :/ ;; hmm. any romance tht cld b toxic i think this cld fit. just rly a bad fit. viktor doesnt rly know hw to love so nothing rly lasts bt. maybe they try n try n nothing works bt they keep trying. cld also just be anything unrequited.

little fkn gremlins ;; theyre all evil n mean. bt theyre all friends. <3

you are nothing ;; uuh. enemy plots. spicy enemies. rly bad enemies. rivals. they r brutal towards each other bcos nothing viktor does is ever soft.

fuck u dont pity me ;; uh. people who try to get close to viktor n he just. bites at them. he’s like no. bc he assumes ppl who r kind in response 2 his vileness r. theres smth wrong w them. n it might hv to do with pity. n he hates pity.

ugh. locals x ;; ppl who also grew up around preaker, vermont. the samuels r <3 well known folks n the uh. hm. the murder is an ongoing case. so they cld know abt it <3

dont tell anybody x ;; this is for soft plots. i dont know much about soft plots but.

maybe i am part of the problem ;; the problem is chlamydiagate. this is a hook-ups connection. fwbs n one night stands. ppl viktor hs brutally ghosted. he doesnt acknowledge their existence outside of these events, perhaps.

dont u just wna go apeshit ;; this is where viktor becomes a bad influence.

bt uh. anything. pelase

#yatesintro #death tw #grief tw #murder tw #addiction tw #drug abuse tw #hospitalization tw #overdose tw #hypersexuality mention #religion mention #zooweemama

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viktcrr · 4 years

Text

「maxence danet-fauvel & nonbinary」⇾ samuels, viktor, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he/they are a capricorn and 24 years old. he/they are studying visual arts, living in noland and can be observant, ingenious, reticent & dependent. when i see him/them i am reminded of a sculptor’s hands clay-ridden, the insistent hum of tv static, and a crying preacher inside a dusty funeral home. ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hllo !!! i’m james n here’s one of my big idiot muses <3 he’s not actually dumb he’s :/ a bit evil. bt thts okay hes still <3 beloved <3 LKDSFHLSADLKGFSHLKD anyways!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

UPDATE: now that summer’s come n go ... viktor hs been thru <3 a lot <3 recently. switched therapists (his :/ last one got her license revoked) & started new medications, went to a treatment center briefly ‘cos .. he wasn’t doing too well :/ bt now he’s back baybey! trying to be better n trying to be sober but ... :/

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

wanted connections.

a roommate… but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies… because viktor would have a lot of them…

familiar faces… people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances… people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids… just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend… probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances… people who knew him from his youth.

exes… good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft… i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited… either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension… of the … spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends… old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups… current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die… friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence… he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg… he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#ruhqintro #death tw #grief tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #overdose tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention

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txladyj-blog · 5 years

Text

This Time Around - Chapter 21

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

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

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

Chapters 26/?

The noise beyond the infirmary door was Carol, who was deliberately making it known that her and Judith were waiting on the porch and didn’t want to barge in on anything. Jess went outside to greet her and in turn, spent a great deal of time giving her a run down of her version of events and an update on Daryl’s condition. She told her about him needing blood and her stepping up to provide it and also added that for now, she wanted to keep that minor detail from him. Her desire to play everything down and keep the dramatics at a low level was with Daryl in mind. The less there was to take in, the easier his recovery would be. They discussed his recovery and the changes that would need to be made, both of them admitting their reluctance to deal with his stubborn complaining. Eventually, Carol convinced an exhausted Jess to head to Aaron and Eric’s place and get some rest and food. Telling her she would sit with Daryl for a while and that Michonne would also be around when her guard shift finished, Jess agreed in the knowledge that he would have someone with him at all times but still had very little desire to leave his side.

From his bed, Daryl could see Jess through the window as she descended the stairs. He wondered when she would be back, not wanting her to spend her every waking moment by his bedside but being unable to deny that he was missing her being near to him already and it had only been 30 minutes since she left the room. He hated the fact that he seemed to be pining, something he thought only lovesick teenagers did. Since when was he so reliant on the presence of another person, let alone a female?

“Hey, you brought Lil’ asskicker” He announced when Carol finally entered the infirmary with Judith pinned to her hip.

“She misses you. She won’t settle for me or Rick much anymore. The only one she listens to is Carl” She said with an air of frustration. Judith was always more complaint with her Uncle Daryl over everyone else, a fact that he felt quietly smug about.

“That true kiddo? You actin up for ya ol’man and Carol?” He asked Judith who immediately decided she was going to act coy and hide in Carol’s shoulder. The change of scenery meant her shy side was activated and she wasn’t sure how to conduct herself when Uncle Daryl looked so different to usual. When Carol lifted her up and planted her on her lap, the child grabbed at Daryl’s hand and played with his fingers.

“How are you?” Carol asked.

“Gettin’ by.” He shrugged. The painkillers were still working their magic but he had done enough Oxy in his time to know that the feeling of contentment was nothing but a visage and soon, it would wear off.

“Jess said you wanted to come home” She mentioned.

“Damn right. Already hate being stuck in here. I know it's gonna be all ‘Don’t do this, drink this, go to sleep’, ain’t good with being told what to do.” He complained.

It was just how Carol expected him to be. It wasn’t in Daryl’s nature to be cooped up with a set of rules to follow. Nor was it like him to let anyone look after him when he was so used to looking out for himself. Her conversation with Jess made it clear that if she had an intention of playing nurse, Jess would soon quash them with her need to see him through his recovery herself. In a way, she was glad, Daryl could be a troublesome patient.

“I knew you’d be pretty mad about that. I got a run down from Jess. She said you’ll be fine with some time and rehabilitation. Sounds positive."

“Guess so. How you doin’ anyways?” He queried with an outright attempt to steer the topic away from himself. Judith was reciting ‘this little piggy’ as she pointed at Daryl’s fingers one by one, her muffle and badly enunciated speech melting into the background as she sang to herself.

“Fine.” She nodded. “Daryl what happened out there?”

There it was, the question he was waiting for. Carol wanted to hear his version for herself and he could have put money on her walking in and ordering him to relay the story from his perspective.

“Ain’t Rick or Jess told ya?” He asked with an exasperated sigh.

“Jess said you got shot trying to save her. Rick said you got shot trying to save Jess.” She relayed impatiently.

“Then that’s what happened.” He grumbled with a shrug

Carol leaned towards him and curled her fingers around his forearm.

“He could have killed you.” She pointed out.

“He was holdin’ a gun to her head, Carol!” He snapped “He was-he was talkin’ all sorts of shit ‘bout how she was a prize find. She just…she looked so fuckin’ scared. I wasn’t gonna let him hurt her. I had to do somethin’.”

Briefly, they both watched Judith, who had taken it upon herself to climb down from Carol’s lap and begin pulling books from a bookshelf. Carol paid her no mind, as long as she was quiet and safe, that was all that mattered. When she turned back to Daryl, he was regarding her with a wary expression.

“You took a bullet for her.” She stated directly. He could always rely on Carol to tell it like it was, no matter how much he didn’t want to hear it sometimes.

“Yeah n’ I’d do it again tomorrow.” Was his equally as clear response.

Carol slowly sat back and half smiled at him. Such a quick confession had come straight from his heart and it only proved what she’d thought all along and she wasn’t about to let it slide this time.

“Are you going to admit that you have feelings for her now?” She wanted to know.

She heard a low growl in his throat as he turned his head away and thudded it back on the pillow. She watched over him, noting the chewing of his lower lip and his shallow breathing. She knew that if she just waited, he would gift her with some kind of answer eventually.

“I don’t know what I feel.” He muttered as he turned back to her “This ain’t never happened to me before.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Judith once more before dragging her chair closer to him, leveling herself with his shoulder.

“Tell me” She coaxed.

Again, Daryl inflicted upon her a long and uncomfortable pause. Highly anxious about being asked such things, he wanted to get up and leave the room, but it was impossible and there was no escape. Accepting his fate, he resigned himself to his only option; surrender.

“She makes me crazy. When she looks at me I just-I ain’t me. I say stuff I would never say to nobody.”

“Like what?”

He shook his head and grumbled under his breath that he didn’t want to talk about it but Carol was not giving up that easily.

“Daryl, just tell me.” She ordered.

“After the party…” He bit his lower lip and sighed, the conflict raging in his mind. He needed another perspective, but at the same time was mortified and confused by the whole thing and felt it best to keep everything to himself. “…ugh, it don’t matter.”

“It does. Once you get this out and talk about it, you’ll feel better. I promise and I’ll never breathe a word to anybody. After everything we’ve been through, you know you can trust me”

Daryl had grown up not needing anyone for anything. He relied on no one but himself and where affairs of the heart were concerned, such rare occurrences were also dealt with alone or not dealt with at all. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he could have used some advice, or at least a listening ear that would take whatever he told her to the grave. She wouldn’t judge and wouldn’t poke fun at him, she wouldn’t get mad or laugh or make him feel like he should know better. It was Carol, his trusted friend and it was about time, after so much trauma that he afforded her the credit she deserved.

“Flirted with her” He mumbled under his breath.

“Well, this is new” she beamed “What did you say?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you that.” He scoffed. Full disclosure was not on the cards and some details needed to remain under wraps.

“Okay. Alright. That’s…that’s good, Daryl.”

“You’re just lovin’ this ain’t ya?” He mumbled.

“Little bit. Not going to lie.” she chuckled “How did she take it?”

“Good. I think. Dunno what got into me. I just kept thinkin’ ‘bout how she liked me before. Y’know, at the quarry? N’ sometimes, when we’re alone she gets all flustered n’ shit. Thought it was my imagination but I don’t think it is. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Ain’t got a clue what I’m lookin’ for here.”

With a wider knowledge of hunting than women, Daryl was in uncharted territory. Dangerous waters that could spell the end of his friendship with Jess if it all went wrong. Like he was walking a tightrope, he had been struggling to find the exact, right words to say to her in case it all blew up and he lost her once more. His desire to dip a toe into the minefield of flirting was most definitely a risky one and he wasn’t even sure if his effort had paid off or if they would simply move forward with no mention of it ever again.

“A lot can happen in the months you were apart. But if you want my opinion, she didn’t want you to know who she was when we first got here because she still felt the same about you. You know what she put up with at the quarry and you weren’t in a position to acknowledge that you actually felt something for her. You couldn’t make it OK for her. She didn’t want to feel like she was being rejected again.” Carol explained. She always had a way of clearing things up and adding clarity to what would usually be jumbled up and frustrated thoughts in his head. Moreover, she was right, Jess had put up with a lot at the quarry and he wasn’t able to be there for her like he should have been. Her hidden identity was a defense mechanism. But did it really mean that she still felt something for him?

“I never meant to do that to her. I’d never hurt her.” He said. “The mornin’ we left for the run, she uh, she wanted to know why I flirted with her... straight up. I wasn’t expectin’ that. Asked me if I was drunk or, if it was the dress she was wearin’. Had no idea how I was s’posed to answer.”

Carol’s face had softened to a small smile that she was holding back a little. Her heart swelled with excitement and happiness for him. She’d wanted this for him for a long time after seeing how much of himself he’d given to keeping the rest of the group safe.

“Was it the dress?” she smirked

“No.”

“She did look good in it.” She pressed.

“Stop it.” He dismissed. She smirked at him again and nudged his arm

“Fine. Wasn’t just the dress.” He admitted. The dress had some sway, he had to admit that much. But the main push he needed to adopt a more flirtatious tone was her blushing around him, her reaction to his compliments and the same, niggling idea that she still liked him as more than a friend.

“Ha. I knew it.” She grinned. “So, what did you tell her?”

“Just that I was sober n’ it wasn’t the dress.”

“I see. Then I think that’s all you needed to say.” She surmised “This is great, Daryl. You deserve this. You deserve to be happy.”

“Don’t get all excited, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen.”

Judith, having covered the floor in books and deciding that none of them quite matched up to the wonders of the book about the dog that Uncle Daryl read to her, was now hanging around Carol’s legs and trying to climb back up onto her lap. She reached down and scooped up the child, who nestled into the crook of her arm and yawned.

“Are you happy?” Carol asked in a serious tone.

It was nowhere near the linear question that it presented itself as and as far back as he could remember, Daryl wasn’t sure if he could ever pinpoint a time when he was truly happy or if he even knew what happiness was. But Jess stirred something in him and he had a burning desire to be near her. When she smiled, he smiled. Her laugh was addictive and her sense of humor gelled well with his own. He liked how she was her own person and had become independent while still retaining the vulnerability that made him want to protect her. Was he completely happy? He couldn’t say. But there was one thing he was sure of.

“M’happy when I’m with her.”

~ ~ ~

Aaron was talking himself hoarse as Jess darted around his spare room, collecting clothes and ignoring his pleas for her to just stop and get some decent sleep. He promised to wake her, to go and get an update to be relayed upon her waking up and even offered to go to the fairground and get more of her clothes. But all of his kind offers were declined. As soon as Jess stepped foot on the grass verge outside the infirmary, she just wanted to turn back and return to her bedside vigil.

Racing down the stairs, Jess flung her backpack over her shoulder and reached out for the door handle. Aaron positioned himself in between her and her escape route, defiant and bordering on angry. He tugged the bag from her shoulder and dropped it by the door before placing his hands on her weary shoulders and steering her towards the kitchen. Jess didn’t have the energy to put up any kind of a fight and simply let Aaron guide her into another room, where there was spaghetti on the stove and the smell wafted through the room, tempting her stomach into a loud rumble.

Given the information that Eric was on Guard duty and Aaron would be alone for most of the night, Jess halfheartedly sank down onto a dining chair and pushed her food around the plate while re-visiting the events of the past few hours from the beginning in order to answer some of Aaron’s questions. When, on the timeline of events, she reached the real reason why she was so physically drained, she explained that she had been the one to donate blood to replace what Daryl had lost. Aaron expressed that it was a noble and selfless thing to do and that when she did decide to tell Daryl, he was sure he would be eternally grateful. Then. She fell silent and took a sip of her red wine.

“Jess?”

“Mm?” She hummed into her glass before she looked across the table at the kind man she now thought of as her friend.

“You’re supposed to eat that” He remarked with a nudge of his head towards her uneaten food. The steam it emitted when it was first placed on the table was now gone and Aaron was sure Jess was sitting in front of a stone cold plate of pasta.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t stop thinking…what if? Y’know?” She mused.

Aaron thudded his cutlery onto the wooden table and leaned forwards with his arms braced either side of his pasta bowl. From across the table, Jess peered at him sadly.

“Listen to me, ‘what if’ will drive you insane. ‘what if’ does not matter.” He said firmly “What matters is that he’s inside the walls, under the care of a doctor and he’s going to be fine.”

His words made perfect sense but the battle of wills between emotion and logic was a tricky one, especially when she was so tired her bones were weary and her thoughts were jumbled, like a hundred people all talking at once.

“He could have died. Because of me.” She whispered.

“Stop this!” Aaron cried, slamming a hand on the table and making her flinch with the noise. “Please, Jess. I don’t like seeing you like this. You are exhausted.”

“I just want to be with him.” He heard her say under her breath.

Rising to his feet, he rounded the table and dragged out the chair next to her. He settled sideways to enable him to see her face clearly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Okay. Um, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to think about it before you answer me because it’s important.” He warned, noticing her side glance nervously at him.

“Okay.” She croaked.

“Are you in love with him?”

Jess began to reply without thinking, ignoring Aarons request and diving straight into her default response.

“Huh. No” She scoffed “I mean…I care about him. Sure. I think about him a lot so I’m going to care, right? Do I have loving feelings for him...? Yeah. I suppose I do. Do I love him?” She stared at the top of her wine glass where her finger was poised. Aaron could almost see the cogs turning in her head. She took her hand away from the glass and covered her mouth with it. “Oh my god” She breathed from behind it as her eyes lift to Aaron’s face. She gradually lowered her hand and it juddered in the air as she connected the dots.

“I-I’m in love with Daryl.” She uttered.

“I know, Jess. I know.” Aaron sighed.

~ ~ ~

Denise was as firm a doctor as she could be, having worked as a psychiatrist with many varied and difficult clients, she was well versed in the art of saying no and sticking to it. For three hours she had kept up her strong stance and maintained that if Daryl was to remain infection-free and on the mend, he must stay within the walls of the infirmary, where medications and equipment were at hand and she was a knock on a door away should she be needed.

But Daryl was intolerable when he had a bee in his bonnet and argued relentlessly until Denise could take no more and almost told Jess that she would pay her in shampoo and conditioner to take him away so she could get some peace. Finally getting his own way, Daryl accepted that he had to have twice daily check ins from the doctor and start physiotherapy as soon as his wound was properly healed. He was also told that he would need to agree to help from other people and that refraining from putting any pressure on his leg for two weeks would mean he needed constant help to move around.

It was late, the streets were dark and the night guard shift had commenced. Across the still and silent streets, Rick and Jess wheeled Daryl across the road on his infirmary bed and halted on the other side. Jess handed him some crutches and when Denise hovered nearby and asked if he needed a tutorial, he waved her off in annoyance and demanded that he could do it without any help. Jess was glad he’d been re-dosed with pain meds half an hour before, because the thought of the agony that came with him shuffling from the wheeled bed and onto the crutches with only one working leg made her wince.

It took him a while, but with grit and determination, a few choice swear words at everyone present who tried to encourage him and a lucky amount of upper body strength, Daryl successfully managed to get himself into the house and up the stairs. Halfway up the staircase, he tossed the crutches to the top and used his arms to hoist himself the rest of the way up, under the watchful eyes of Rick and Michonne. Jess, who was in the kitchen with Denise, decided she couldn’t watch anymore no matter how much shameless gawking she could do at his arms. Instead, she opted to be the one to go through Daryl’s recovery plan and medications with Denise and Carol.

Jess’s attention was soon caught by Michonne who descended the stairs and sighed loudly, shaking her head and vanishing into the living room. She was closely followed by Rick, who wandered into the kitchen and swapped places with Carol after she announced she was going to take his meds to him and make sure there was nothing in his room that he could trip over. Denise wished everyone luck, knowing they’d need it if the last three hours she’d endured was anything to go by, and abruptly left the house.

Rick perched on a stool at the kitchen island across from Jess while she squinted at the label on a bottle of wine, tempted to neck the entire thing even though she wasn't much of a drinker.

“He should have stayed where Denise could keep an eye on him.” He said wearily. “He’s such a pain in the a-”

“Oh, believe me, I am not expecting an easy time. Denise warned me that all he does is complain.” Jess conveyed, pushing her lips into a thin line. “If it’s OK with you, I was going to stay the night, so I’m here if he needs anything.”

Rick picked up a jug of orange juice from the space between them and poured himself a glass, downing the whole thing as Jess watched on, sliding the wine bottle back onto the counter and pushing it away.

“Of course, you can stay, but you don’t have to. We can handle him between us” He told her.

“I know. I want to.” She stated plainly.

He placed his glass on the counter top and studied her face. He still wore his gun holster at his waist and his brown, curled hair hung loosely over his forehead.

“This wasn’t your fault, Jess.” He assured her.

“It’s not about that” She shook her head before reaching over to the orange juice. Rick suddenly remembered his manners and poured her a glass of her own, pushing it across the marble to her. “I know he’s a miserable bastard right now, but I care about him.”

“Alright. Just don’t expect him to like the idea.” He smiled.

“I can handle Mr. Grumpy.” She chuckled.

“Yeah, you can probably deal with him better than I can,” he remarked, getting up and passing her. He paused to squeeze her shoulder “Are you ok? After what happened?”

“Mmhmm. Was pretty scary but it could have been a lot worse.” She mused.

“You did good, Jess. What you had to do, that was tough. We uh, we won’t talk about how you made the guy suffer first” he mentioned with a light pat on her shoulder.

Jess grinned and giggled slightly, feeling a hint of guilt for finding such a comment to be amusing considering it was referring to the man she’d murdered. “Thanks, sheriff.”

“I’ll get you some blankets and a pillow. Unless you’re um, going to sleep next to Daryl?” He asked tentatively.

“I’ll take some blankets. Thanks” She replied, opting for the less awkward option and telling herself that even though it was quite apparent that Rick had an idea there may be something more to her friendship with Daryl, she wasn’t about to encourage addressing the elephant in the room.

=-=-=-=-=-=

Climbing the stairs of the house which was commonly known across the town as the ‘Grimes Home’ due to it being occupied by the three remaining members of the Grimes family, Jess waddled from side to side, balancing precariously on each, shiny step with her arms full of blankets and pillows. Picture frames adorned the walls depicting a family that were no more, ghosts of a time that once was, before the turn and before the house became a haven for a new family. Jess watched their happy faces fade past her as she climbed the stairs, hoping that one day, someone would replace the photos with happy pictures of Judith and Carl.

Unsurprisingly, Daryl’s room was at the end of the hall, away from everyone else’s and when she reached the closed door she didn’t even bother to knock. It wasn’t like he’d be anywhere else but laid up on the bed with scowl on his face anyway. Bustling through the door and getting blankets caught around the handle, Jess quietly cursed to herself and entered the room, dropping her haul onto the end of the bed as lightly as she could.

It was a typical suburban teenagers’ room. The bookshelf was still stocked and the walls boasted the remnants of band posters. Daryl had done little to make the place his own, his crossbow rested on the dresser and his vest was thrown across the back of a chair. On the top of a chest of drawers was evidence of bolt carving and partially made fishing floats. Feathers, pieces of wood and tools littered the surface. These were the only elements in the room that told her that he lived there now.

“What are ya doin? What’s this?” Daryl’s voice startled her; she had expected him to be sleeping due to the number of painkillers he was on. But there he was, sitting up with the covers drawn up to his waist. He was wearing a black vest and his hair was tousled, as if he’d tried to sleep but had given up. He was scowling at her.

“Ugh, lord.” Jess scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I hoped you’d be asleep so I could avoid all your whining.”

“I don’t sleep much. What’s goin’ on?” He enquired.

Accepting that she may well have a fight on her hands, Jess grabbed a pillow from the top of the pile and clutched it in both hands.

“I brought you an extra pillow and I’m staying with you tonight.” She told him, throwing the pillow at him. He battled it away before it hit him and he collected it from the mattress at his side, tucking it behind his shoulders and settling back against it.

“No. No ya ain’t.” He said firmly while pointing at her.

“You don’t have a say in this so don’t waste your breath.” Jess warned while the unfolded the blankets and began laying them on the floor next to the bed. Daryl’s hands rose before falling back to the bed in frustration.

“I’m fine, Jess!” He exclaimed. Jess whirled around with fire in her eyes.

“Daryl. Shut up!” she commanded “I’ll sleep on the floor in case you need anything”

“Don’t talk shit. Go home. I’ll be fine. Don’t exactly live alone” He continued.

Jess’s temper was beginning to rise but she bit her tongue and tried to remain composed and in control. He was so determined to be as independent as possible, that he would only end up doing himself more harm than good. Jess was aware of Daryl’s need to refrain from asking for or accepting any help, but this was an argument he was not going to win.

“Give it up. I’m staying.” She shrugged before sinking to the floor beside the bed and fluffing her pillow. "If you want me to leave, then you're going to have to kick me out yourself...and you can't do that right now."

It wasn’t that Daryl didn’t want her company. Under normal circumstances, he would have found a reason to be near her, to go on a run with her, to swing by Aaron and Eric’s in case she was there or he would deliberately cross over into her hunting territory. But having her see him incapacitated was not something he liked the idea of. Nevertheless, she had made it crystal clear that she was going nowhere and no matter how many irate sighs that escaped him or how many times she glowered at her, she was staying put.

“Fine. Stubborn ass woman.” He muttered.

She scanned the books on the shelf beside her, most of them teenage romance novels left from the previous occupants. It would do as something to pass the time and harked back to the many romance books she used to read as a teenager herself. In fact, whoever used the room before Daryl didn’t have such terrible taste in literature at all.

She selected a title referring to some kind of predictable and inevitable unity between a bad boy and a plain girl and figured it would make for some easy night-time reading. She didn’t know what time it was, just that it was late. The muffled footsteps of the rest of the house were padding about beyond the door on their way to bed and her body was almost as weary as it had been in the first few days of her setting out alone from the quarry.

Her eyes grazed over the first few words and her mind wandered. She was being watched and she could sense it without even looking up from the page. It was as plain as day that her temporary room mate was studying her from his spot up on the bed. She detected a small sigh, laced with the quietest of conflicted, raspy growls.

“Get up here” She heard him say.

“What?” She queried with both eyebrows raised innocently. Having no plans to move, and no intention of sleeping anywhere near him, confusion swept across her face and she slowly turned her head to see him peering at her with a mildly annoyed expression.

“If ya gonna stay at least sleep on a bed. There’s enough room for the both of us. Get up here” He ordered.

Jess hesitated. This was a new level of boundary pushing and one she wasn’t sure she was comfortable with. It would mean mere inches of space between them and a palpable silence for hours throughout the night during which time she was very likely to just lay there, mulling over the same thought.

I’m sharing a bed with Daryl.

“Are you sure? That’s not weird for you?” She asked.

“No. It ain’t. I’ma change my damn mind if ya keep askin’ questions” he complained.

The more she considered it, the more enticing the idea was. After all, it was a good opportunity to indulge a little in secret and after everything they’d been through, her having murdered someone and offering up her blood to aid Daryl’s recovery, she figured she’d earned it. As long as it wasn’t so strange that her insecurities and naturally awkward nature around a person so attractive forced her to ruin everything.

“OK, OK.” She agreed, attempting to sound as though it was more a chore than anything else. She got to her feet, kicked off her boots and lay back on top of the covers, dragging a blanket from the floor across her legs. Opening her book, she started to read from the first word again but her concentration was nowhere to be found. Her eyes looked over the words but nothing sank in. Before long, she sensed the familiar feeling of being watched, once more.

Daryl hated the idea of her putting herself out for him. Her staying with him was bad enough and if he was going to be forced to endure her seeing him in such a state, he just wanted her to feel restful and secure and as she read by his side, she undoubtedly was not either of those things. He rubbed at his face with one hand, wondering how he should proceed with coaxing her to relax a little more. Then, he noticed the pimpled texture of her skin. Goosepimples, she was cold.

“You’re cold, just get under the covers.” He suggested.

A rush of apprehension and nervousness settled in Jess’s stomach and for a moment, she thought that whatever the story line in her book depicted, her real-life situation was unraveling at an alarmingly more rapid rate.

Pity this doesn’t end like the book does.

“I’m fine, really.” She assured him with a small smile. But he refused to stop glaring at her and she wondered why. She was sure that she would have given just about anything to be able to hear his thoughts at that precise moment.

“Ya know I ain’t gonna touch ya or nothin’, right?” He expressed.

Jess dropped the book in her lap and gawped at him, her expression shocked and saddened. Why would he ever think that such a thing would cross her mind? There were plenty of people she could have expected such behavior from but Daryl was the safest and most protective person she could have been with in that moment and the fact that he’d even pondered something so ridiculous deeply concerned her.

“Why would you even say that?” She questioned at the same time as turning her body and laying on her side, now facing him completely to show that she was not afraid to address the huge issue he’d just brought up.

“Guess I don’t want ya to think I’m like that.” He reasoned. “I aint no asshole. Would never touch ya. Unless ya… wanted me to or somethin’. I dunno. Shit. Just-just forget I said anythin’.”

Good job, jackass. He thought. Stop fuckin’ talkin’.

Jess’s face dropped and her eyebrows knitted together in sympathy. It wasn’t something she could honestly say had ever crossed her mind. Not even once. She didn’t need to be told he wasn’t a creep, or entitled, or disrespectful towards her in the slightest. She just knew. The one thing that stunned her even more than the notion that he would ever touch her in that way, was the mention that he quite possibly would if she wanted him to. She had no idea what to make of such a statement and her hands began to fidget at the tricky subject matter. Was this true? There was the distinct possibility that the painkillers were playing a part in his loose tongue and she dared to hope that it was fueled by anything more than that.

“OK” She started with a deep breath “Listen to me.” As she spoke, she braved holding eye contact with him. The importance of her answer meant he had to know she was sincere. “I would never, ever think that of you. I feel safer with you than I do with anybody else. Of course, I know that you would never do that to me. I’m actually kinda sad that you felt the need to tell me that.”

Daryl was nibbling on his thumb, hiding his true expression behind his hand and searching his brain for a response that wouldn’t make the situation worse. He dropped his hand and looked down into his lap.

“Ain’t much trust associated with bein’ a Dixon.” He mentioned. “I never had a friend like you neither. ‘Specially female. They just tend to assume shit about guys like me.”

“Oh my god.” Jess groaned, sliding onto her back and down the bed until her head was on the pillow and her hands were covering her face. “You are breaking my heart here. Stop it!” She cried. Taking her hands away, she noted his nervous demeanor and wondered where the hell this was all coming from. It was highly unusual for Daryl to talk about something so personal, let alone be the one to bring it up. Sitting up again, she ran a hand through her hair and blew the loose side strands up into the air with an exhalation.

“I trust you. You believe me when I say that, don’t you?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I don’t ever want you to bring this up again.”

“K” he grunted. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She scoffed. Quiet fell around them with neither one knowing how to change the atmosphere to a more tolerable one. Jess thought humor may well have been the only way and so, opened her mouth without thinking.

“At least I know you would if I wanted you to. Lucky me.”

Daryl, who wasn’t expecting to have to deal directly with his revealing and potentially dangerous comment, did something he didn’t normally do. He panicked.

“I didn’t mean that I-well, well I did. I-I just-If ya wanted…Y’know what? Never mind.”

“Yeah, never mind” She echoed stiffly.

“It’s the Oxy. I don’t really know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout here. My head’s fucked.” He lied.

“It’s fine. Let’s just brush that one under the rug.” She offered, much to his relief at the escalating horror rising in his chest. As he quelled the uneasiness and irritation at himself, he noticed Jess wriggle under the top cover, leaving the barrier of a sheet between them. A decent compromise, he concluded.

She lay on her side again, this time with her book on the bed between them. Her fingers pulled up the pages, fanning the edges over and over and creating a light flickering sound.

“There is something I wanted to say to you” She murmured. “While we’re sharing.”

“What’s that?” He inquired, worried that he would be faced with yet another conversation that was going to make him squirm.

Jess’s eyes crept along his bare arm, lit by the flickering glow of two lanterns either side of the bed. He was inches from her face and she resisted the temptation to trace her fingertips along his skin, down over his bicep to his forearm. The thought almost made her drool and she turned her attention back to what she wanted to say.

“I’m glad you saved me and all. Thank you for that. But it’s time someone told you that you need to take care of you.” She said.

Daryl hesitated, taking in her words and trying to remember a time when there was ever anyone that openly cared as much about him as Jess did. He couldn’t think of anything, because there wasn’t one. No one had ever cared like she did and the feeling was unfamiliar and strange.

“I’m fine, Jess.” He mumbled.

She pulled herself further up, forcing him to turn his head and look her in the eye.

“No, you’re not. You have a gunshot wound that could have been a lot worse and furthermore, if you don’t take care of you, think of all the people around here that need you and won’t have you. Like Judith and Carl and…and me.” She explained.

The corner of his mouth curled up and she was surprised to find him smirking at her.

“Did you just say ‘furthermore’?” He questioned in amusement. "The fuck is that?"

“Forget it. Get yourself killed. See if I care.” She bit back. Dismayed by him making a joke of what was supposed to be a genuine plea for him to at least try and place some value on his own life.

“Alright. Sorry. I get it...” He backtracked after sensing her downtrodden reaction. “…I do. But I’d still take another bullet for you tomorrow.”

It was a declaration that Jess never anticipated to get from anyone, let alone the man she had fallen for. The insistence that he would indeed put himself in death's grasp to ensure her safety. Never before had she met someone so selfless and courageous and while she was touched and inwardly emotional at the thought, on the outside she sighed with exasperation and closed her eyes briefly.

“Daryyyyl” She groaned.

She opened her eyes when she felt him touch her hand. He covered her fingers with his own to garner attention and once he had it, he quickly moved away. Peering down at her and holding her gaze, he wanted her to see it from his perspective.

“Look me in the eye n’ tell you wouldn’t do the same.” He challenged.

It was an intense moment, charged with so many unsaid things that Daryl swallowed hard and pondered over what else he could say and blame on the Oxy. But without the knowledge that she would undeniably feel the same way about him, he was not going to risk losing what he deemed to be a rare and precious connection that he never thought he would be lucky enough to have.

“Only for you.” She whispered.

Because I love you.

Then, he knew she understood his motives and reasons for doing what he did. She cared just as much as he did but it didn’t mean he would ever let her take bullets for him or even experience so much as a scratch. To him, she was a person so valuable that the prospect of losing her didn’t bare thinking about.

“Think we have an understandin’.” He concluded.

“No. I don’t like this. I don’t want to not have you around” She argued.

“Good thing you’re hangin’ round here like a bad smell then, aint it?” He commented, trying to lighten the mood by poking fun at her.

Jess could only offer up a forced huff of amusement as she looked over at his nightstand which was now home to a pile of wound dressings. There it was again. The ‘what if’ train of thought that Aaron warned her would drive her crazy. What if he’d been killed? What if she had to carry on without him?

“Jess, I ain’t goin nowhere.” He said seriously. She looked up at him and he realized that her eyes were bloodshot. A single tear raced down her cheek and she sniffed and tried to force it away. He reached out and wiped the dampness away from under her eye with his thumb. Her cheek tingled and she very nearly said it. It was on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be freed. The six little words that would change everything. But her heart on her sleeve would only destroy it all.

I am in love with you.

“You’re tired. Go to sleep.” He cooed at her.

She nodded and snuggled down next to him. It was all she could do to hide her desire to just kiss him and explain it away afterwards. In the light of the lantern on the nightstand, he focused on her hand by his side and licked his lips as he toyed with the idea of holding it. He wondered what her reaction would be and decided to brave it, lacing his fingers with hers. She didn’t pull away and gently gripped onto him instead. After a few minutes, he thought her to be drifting off to sleep, but what he couldn’t see was that she was staring at her hand intertwined with his, a small smile on her face and a feeling of some kind of subtle triumph in her heart.

=-=-=-=-=

It was the birds that woke her. A sound she didn’t hear as much now the world was decaying. She didn’t know if it was food being scarce or migration, but there were fewer birds around than usual and so, their melodic chirping from the roof of the house was a pleasant and relaxing way to wake from what had been a deep slumber. Her eyes were heavy and her limbs felt like they were made from cement as her body slowly woke up. A soft, cushioned surface under her cheek warmed the side of her face and she snuggled against it, emitting a contented sigh.

It was a first for Daryl. He peered down at the sleepy form of Jess, nuzzled against his bare arm with a hand draped over his wrist and thought that he could maybe get used to it. Waking up next to a pretty girl sleeping on him was certainly a nicer way to start the day, if only his leg wasn’t screaming with pain. He inhaled slowly, forcing his mind away from the agony and focusing instead on Jess and her dark eyelashes and the subtle pink of her lips.

Jess wasn’t sure if she’d ever moved as fast in her entire life than she did when she opened her eyes and realized she’d been sleeping nestled onto Daryl’s arm. On the one hand, she was truly horrified and on the other, slightly smug that she’d managed to cop a feel, albeit unintentionally. She sprang up, blinked rapidly and crawled away from him, bringing her legs up and sitting back against the headboard.

“Oh, Uh. I’m sorry. I don't know how I ended up…there.” She stammered upon noticing he was awake.

“S’alright. Mornin’.” He greeted, aware of her discomfort and watching her run her hands through her hair and adjust her T-shirt. She glanced down at his arm where a fading, pink mark had occurred from her using him as a pillow.

“Did I, did I drool?” She asked.

“Nah. Ya snore though.” He said casually, biting his lower lip and stifling a grin.

“I do?! Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I-” She rambled.

“-I’m kidding.” He interrupted with a snort of laughter.

“Oh.” Was her grunted reply while she felt the panic in her chest begin to disappear.

Daryl lifted a hand and gently smoothed a thumb over the damp skin below her bottom lip, seeing her freeze and her eyes widen.

That’s the second time he’s touched me like that.

“Ya did drool. A little” he told her.

“Oh god” She groaned covering her rapidly reddening face with her hands. She could hear his gruff chuckle from beside her and hazarded lowering her hands. She was met with a wide grin, one that she would happily look at for the rest of her days. Something happened to him when he smiled. Maybe it was because it was rare and that it was only really her that he gifted with such a sight, but she thought that in those quick moments he looked genuinely happy and she could only hope that she was even a part of the reason why.

“Stop laughing.” She complained, playfully slapping at his hand. “Jerk.”

=-=-=-=-=

The ten days after Daryl gaining a hole in his leg and the feeling of being imprisoned behind the walls of Alexandria, his relationship with Jess remained the one thing that provided him with some means of escapism. Her kindness and devotion to his recovery only built up his feelings for her to a powerful level and he had become more sure than ever that if he ever got a sign that she saw him the same way, beyond any reasonable doubt, he would take the opportunity to act on his feelings.

But all he could do was hope and admire her while she ignored his requests for her to take some time out and look after herself. She brought him food, administered his meds and helped him to and from the bathroom when Carol and Carl were not around. Jess’s absence during the mornings was noticed by Deanna, who quickly tasked Michonne with security cover and compiled a hunting team from the other residents to ensure that food didn’t become an issue. Rick was determined to find the rest of the group that Daryl’s assailant was from and along with Glenn and a couple of the others, had been away for days, scouring the woods and abandoned buildings for anything that would lead them to discovering how much risk such a group posed.

For four nights Jess slept by Daryl’s side, careful not to end up drooling on his arm again. Her days were spent playing cards with him and discussing a wide range of topics, some of which Daryl wasn’t even aware he had an opinion on. But Jess had a knack for that; revealing things about him that he would never have previously discovered himself. It took some adjusting to let her take care of him, but she brought the best out in him and despite his sometimes low and snappy mood at being trapped in the house, he was never rude or ungrateful to her.

Denise checked in regularly and gave Daryl the all clear for any infections in his gunshot wound. Her next step was to enlist everyone to persuade him that he needed to take it easy and practice some physiotherapy to aid his recovery. Believing that he just needed to be allowed outside to carry on doing what he always did, Daryl did nothing but complain about being useless sitting around all day.

When Jess was sleeping or out of the house for some reason, Carol tried her best to ease him into the idea of doing just a few of the exercises in the book that Denise had left him. Every time, she was met with a gruff dismissal, usually coupled with a cuss laden mumbling about how it wasn’t going to work anyway.

One evening, when Jess had finished up a meal kindly cooked for her by Aaron and Eric, who were consistent in offering her their spare room, use of the shower and many meals since Daryl had been shot, she arrived at the Grimes home to find a grumpy looking Daryl perched on the edge of his bed wearing black sweatpants and a sleeveless, black button down on which he’d neglected to fasten the top two buttons. Jess rolled her eyes. Sometimes, she thought he could hear the thoughts that traveled through her head and liked to play on the fact that she couldn’t look at him without going weak at the knees.

“Carol said you refused to do your physio.” She said, dropping her bag in the corner of the room and sliding a physiotherapy book from the dresser. “Your leg will seize up if you don’t and you’ll be hopping around like a cripple for a hell of a lot longer than you would if you’d just humor us and do as your fucking told.”

It was a new thing he’d discovered about her. She didn’t suffer fools and quickly became stern with him if he dared to argue with her about anything to do with his recovery. He could tell she genuinely cared and as a result, she would shoot him down and put him in his place without so much as a blink. He couldn’t deny that a part of him liked her pushy nature when she was tested and he would have gone as far as to say he’d met his match.

“Fine” He grumbled. “But this ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

She moved closer to him, offering him her arm to help him stand. He accepted it and she eased him to his feet. He was able to apply a certain amount of weight on his injured leg which was a good start and Jess was sure that the more he complied and just listened to Denise’s advice, the quicker he would be back to his normal self.

“It will, that’s what it says in the book.” She countered.

“Fuck the book.” He snapped.

“For god sakes, Daryl! Stop acting like a damn kid and just do it!” She cried, tugging on his arm and guiding him over to the wall. He hobbled along beside her and risked a couple of glances at her face. Her jaw was pulled tight in annoyance and he knew that she was likely to get pretty mad at him if he didn’t give in.

Allowing her to help him balance on his good leg and hold onto the wall, she talked him through quadriceps stretches as per the instructions in the book and stood close by, with her hands hovering around him in case he lost his footing while he put it into practice.

“OK, good. That’s good. A little higher. Great.” She encouraged.

Obviously in pain, he grit his teeth and Jess could see sweat emerging on his forehead. Once he’d completed one exercise, she helped him through the rest, sometimes having to take his weight or help him to the floor and up again. He very reluctantly accepted her aid and tried to ignore the warmth of her body against his and had no idea that she was thinking the exact same thing. She counted him through each movement and when she tried to let go of his hand once he was sitting safely back on the bed. He held onto her and stared at her.

“Ya ain’t gotta do this with me.” He said.

Jess sank down onto the bed beside him, squeezed his hand slightly and let go.

“I knew you’d start this at some point. I’m not going anywhere. I know you, you won’t do your physiotherapy otherwise” She explained.

“Look, just get Carol to rat me out if I don’t. You don’t need to be here everyday” He told her.

Her heart fluttered with a flicker of sadness. She shoved away the notion that he was sick of the sight of her away and told herself that she was assuming the worst without having the facts. She smiled slightly and held his gaze. Despite his injury, she liked seeing him in this environment. In his room, in his sweatpants and not covered in dirt and toting a crossbow for a change. Not many people got to see him like that and she was grateful that he trusted her enough to let her be there for him.

“Do you want me to leave?” She asked.

“Naw. Not at all. Just don’t want ya wastin’ ya time stuck here with me every day” He expressed.

Glad that she’d not reacted too hastily, Jess nodded and brushed a few strands of hair from in front of his eye. She liked his eyes and being able to see them had revealed a lot more about him over the course of the two weeks she’d been spending so much time with him. More than anything, she’d learned that he said so much with his eyes without having to actually say any words at all.

“Time enjoyed is not time wasted.” She smiled.

“Enjoyed? Tryin’ to tell me you enjoy this? I wasn’t born yesterday, Jess.” He protested.

“I enjoy your company, you grouchy bastard” She replied, leaning towards him and nudging his shoulder with hers.

He gave her a thoughtful smile, his eyes scanning her features until she retrieved a small towel from the bed behind him and wiped his sweaty brow for him. He briefly closed his eyes and simply enjoyed having her tend to him, thinking that if someone was to explain to him two years back that he would be so taken in by the pretty nerd he’d met in a quarry at the end of the world and for the first time would have feelings that went way beyond friendship, he would have laughed in their face.

“Thanks” he mumbled quietly.

“I’ll put it on the tab.” She commented.

“Tab?”

“Your ‘reasons I have to be nice to Jess’ tab.”

“C’mon, like I need reasons.” He admitted. He didn’t, being nice to her was as natural as breathing. She didn’t grate on him like most people did, she didn’t make him feel suffocated or cast out or like he just didn’t belong. When he was with her, he did belong and he was sure that she belonged right by his side too. If it was as a friend or anything more, he was going to leave it up to her. “This one of the things about you I didn’t know?”

She felt a spark of excitement when she put two and two together and realized that he was referring to the flirtatious exchange they’d had after the party. The exchange she still hadn’t managed to get any clear answers about. It wasn’t like it wasn’t on her mind. It niggled away every time she saw him. She’d struggled to find the right moment to ask and, in the end, had admitted defeat and opted to leave the whole thing alone.

“What does that mean?” She wanted to know.

“Nurse Jess” he smirked.

“Maybe. But I don’t just do this for anyone.” She conveyed. As a naturally caring person, Jess was known among the few people that made up her small tribe of friends, as the one that would bend over backwards to make sure the people that she loved were okay. Some tried to take advantage of her kindness and that was when her efforts could only be pushed so far before she cut them off altogether. It was true, she didn’t do it for just anyone and in their present situation, Daryl was one of very, very few people that she would happily give up her routine and solitary life for.

“Then I guess that makes me pretty honored” he said.

“C’mon, all you do is complain about ‘Nurse Jess’.” She reminded him, part of her message being in jest and the rest of it being the truth as she saw it.

“Nah, m’complainin’ bout the situation.” He corrected very deliberately.

“Oh, glad you clarified that.”

What preceded a long pause was another big risk from Daryl. He had no idea why he had the urge to toe the line of flirtatious exchanges. Maybe it was the way her cheeks flushed pink or the shy giggle she couldn’t help. Or, maybe it was the temptation to tell her how he felt and the idea that she could possibly feel the same. He had no idea, but he pressed ahead anyway, confident in the fact that he wasn’t being obvious enough that his comments couldn’t be explained in a more platonic way, should he need to.

“Not sure nurses are s’posed to sleep in their patient’s beds” He said out of nowhere.

Jess was busying herself folding the towel in her lap and she paused and stared down at the carpet when she heard his remark.

“Yeah? File a complaint.” She shrugged with one shoulder and the smallest, yet still detectable of smiles.

“Nah” He grunted “That’s one thing I ain’t gonna complain ‘bout.”

She glanced up at him hesitantly, finding the most gorgeous of suggestive smiles waiting for her and she was sure she was melting.

“Right.” she whispered. Then, there it was, that small giggle that he wanted to see. “Okay.”

I ain’t ever gonna get tired of that.

=-=-=-=-=

A coldness on the side of her head was a much more unpleasant way to begin the day than with the singing of the birds beside Daryl in his bed. In her fairground home, she sat up and wiped a hand over the damp mass in her hair. Then, a single drop on her forehead made her jump and she craned her neck upwards, examining the ceiling and noticing a rotting and saturated mass of paintwork right above her. It was raining all night. Dragging herself out of bed, she dressed and checked her reflection in the mirror, something she now did every morning without fail. Her appearance was becoming more important to her since she’d grown a lot closer to Daryl and the odd glance in the mirror gave her the confidence to know that he wasn’t talking to a hot mess every day when she accompanied him on the morning hunt. It was a compromise they’d made with Deanna. Jess would chaperone Daryl on the hunt until his leg was fully healed and Daryl could get outside the walls and stop snapping at everyone like a tiger in a cage. Jess had also started wearing her hair down more often, knowing that Daryl could rarely resist the temptation to tenderly move it from her vision if it blew in the breeze and each time he did, it was like a fix from a drug that she was more than happy to submit to. It was the little things to her. The way he rolled his eyes when she called him ‘stinky’ and the way he huffed bashfully every single time she was feeling bold enough to call him ‘handsome’.

When she arrived in Alexandria, she headed straight for Deanna’s place and asked if she could have some roof tiles to fix the leak in her ceiling. Deanna immediately agreed and refused any kind of payment, telling jess in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t have such issues if she were to just move inside the walls. She was even offered the corner house which was unoccupied and big enough for at least six people to live there comfortably. Jess declined once again, expressing that she’d feel like a fart in an oil drum in that huge house and that the fairground was more comfortable.

Upon collection of her tiles from the garage that housed building materials and tools, Jess set off with a ladder under her arm and headed for the gate. The sky was threatening more rain, its heavy, gray cloud becoming more ominous by the second and the wind gaining momentum. She could detect the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. There was no doubt that she had to get the roof fixed before the whole thing collapsed and she had to move into the oil drum after all.

Daryl was ambling along the street smoking the last of a cigarette when she crossed his path without even noticing him.

“Hey” he called out “That don’t look like huntin’ stuff.”

She stopped walking as he neared her and looked down at her gloved hand and the two tiles she held.

“Oh, No. I have a hole in my roof. I just need to repair it and I’ll come back and we can go.” She explained.

Although he could walk, he was limited to certain distances and still displayed a limp, much to his annoyance. Denise explained that the damage to the muscle and tissue in his leg meant he would need time and patience to get it back to full working order with no pain. He was getting there, Jess knew that much, but the progress was nowhere near as quick as he wanted it to be.

“I’ll give ya a hand. Shouldn’t be goin’ up on the roof out there by yaself.” He decided, taking the tiles from her.

“You can’t go up a ladder.” She mentioned.

“Sure I can, I’ll be fine.”

“No, Daryl.” She said, snatching the tiles back from his grasp. “If you want to help you can hold it still and make sure I don’t break my neck in this wind.”

Not giving him time to quarrel with her about it, she surged on with Daryl in tow, thanking the gate guard and marching through the woods to her home.

=-=-=-=-=

By the time Jess reached the roof of the diner. The wind was howling through the trees and lashing at her, sending drops of rain and leaves flying at her like she was in a wind tunnel. Her hands gripped onto the end of the ladder, turning her knuckles white while she solidified her balance on the top rung. From inside her coat, she tugged out a tile having kept the other one safely on the ground as a spare in case she discovered more holes in the roof.

She wobbled in the wind while leaning over and attempting to slide the tile into place. It was a perfect fit and Jess was glad of it. But the remnants of the previous tile meant the hole needed to be cleared of shards before the new one could be slotted into place. She worked as quickly as she could, throwing bits of broken tile onto the grass below.

“Just switch up with me, won’t take long.” Daryl called up to her.

“No!” She shouted back, over her shoulder.

“Shit, Jess. Were ya always this stubborn?” He asked.

“Pot calling the kettle back, stinky! Now, shut up and let me work!”

“Stinky. Bad books. Right.” He muttered to himself.

Finally able to fit the tile, she wiggled it into the square space, tapping the edge and feeling it secure just as a powerful gust of wind overpowered her at the top of the ladder and caused her to lose her footing. She grappled for the ladders handle and missed as the roof shot up in front of her and a searing pain engulfed the right side of her ribs. Before she could make any kind of noise, she’d accepted her fate. She was falling and was likely to be injured if the burning across her ribs was anything to go by. Towards the end of the ladder, her right leg looped through one of the gaps as Daryl managed to grab a hold of her before she hit the floor.

His strong arms wrapped around her waist, bunching up her jacket and thick, armored vest. It occurred to her that she still hadn’t hit the floor and that Daryl had caught her mid-air. He was humming instructions in her ear but none of them were registering as adrenaline thundered through her body. Her hands shook and her knees were trembling as he hoisted her up with all his might and told her to pull her leg out of the ladder. She didn’t hear him but managed to figure out what she needed to do regardless. Her leg dislodged easily and when her feet hit the floor, she almost buckled and ended up crumpled on the grass. If it wasn’t for Daryl, who had spun her around to face him but was still clinging to her waist while she caught her breath, she would have been face-down in the middle of the fairground.

“Y’alright?! Ya hurt?” He fretted, still keeping his hands where they were, on her bare skin under her top.

“No, just a-just a scrape I think.” She breathed.

“Where? Show me.” He demanded, looking down at her. It wasn’t until he tried to step back that it dawned on Jess that she was gripping his forearms like her life depended on it.

“M-my ribs, where I slipped. The handle, up there. It’s probably just bruised. It’s-it’s fine” she tried to break away from him, but he held on firmly.

“Naw, hold up. Ya tremblin’.” He told her.

For some reason, her mind went straight to his injury and she began to worry about the fact that he’d been standing on it for so long and had also had to endure holding her weight on it after catching her.

“But your-your leg.” She stammered.

“Doesn’t hurt. Can’t even feel it.” He lied “take a breath.” They locked eyes and his hands slowly moved down to her hips. Sensing she would scurry away like a frightened animal if he were to let go, he softened his voice and loosened his grip slightly. “Show me where ya hurt.”

“No. There’s no need.” She quickly answered.

The wind blew about her face and the chill it brought with it was beginning to bite. Her side was stinging, aggravated further by the cold. Daryl, who was wearing a leather biker jacket under his usual vest, had dressed for the weather, but Jess had failed to do so, believing that her regular clothing would suffice and not anticipating a storm to be rolling in.

“There is, coulda cracked a rib. Just let me feel for any breaks. I spent my childhood dealin’ with broken bones n’ I had a hell of a lot of fights in my time. I know what I’m lookin’ for.”

“I know you do. I just… don’t want to.” She confessed.

Then, the penny dropped and so did his hands. It was suddenly very clear why she was so averse to letting him check her for any injuries. She was nervous about showing him anything under her clothing. He watched her vision drop to the floor and nodded to himself. It all made sense now.

“Do you trust me, or not? Because one minute you’re sleepin’ in my bed n’ the next, ya won’t let me check ya to make sure ya aint hurt.” He stated

She looked up at him with big, pleading eyes, full of worry that she’d offended him and also that she’d have to explain what was going on in her head. That her insecurities didn’t just drop off with her weight loss. That she still didn’t like what she saw when she looked in the mirror. That she was deeply in love with him and didn’t want him to think her disgusting or ugly. But she did trust him and knew he cared.

“I do. I do trust you.” She assured him.

“Then let me take a look. It’s just me. S’alright.” he soothed

When the wind blew her hair across her face, he brushed it aside for her, taking a split second to ghost his thumb over her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat and it was then that she accepted that if she was going to trust anyone with this, it should be him.

She gingerly lifted the hem of her vest, drawing it up to just under her bra. He leaned down and she observed his eyes sweep over her skin, squinting slightly which indicated that there was, in fact, something to look at. Her eyes bulged when he went to place his fingers over her ribs and she jolted away. Closing her eyes and sighing.

“I’m sorry. Go ahead. I’m just not used to being touched.” She admitted.

“Yeah, me neither” he mumbled. “It won’t take a sec”

She nodded and felt her entire body tingle with electricity when he began to gently feel over her ribs, pressing at each one and frowning.

“Shit” he hissed, tracing his fingertips over the large red patch on her ribs. She flinched and held her breath. He applied light pressure along the mark “this hurt?”

“A little” she croaked.

“Your chest or back hurt?”

“No”

He placed his whole hand against her skin and her attempt not to react paid off. The warmth of his palm was a welcome relief from the cold that was licking at her skin from the wind. Daryl positioned his other hand on her shoulder

“Twist ya body, towards me. Breathe in” He instructed. She complied with complaint, having faith that he knew what he was looking for and from what she could tell so far, it certainly wasn’t his first brush with potentially broken ribs. The thought was a sad one when she thought about why a person would have such knowledge through experience alone.

“K. Now breathe out. Any pain?”

“Not much”

“It ain’t broken, gonna have a big bruise though.” He warned, dropping his hand from her shoulder but leaving his palm flush with her ribs, only unintentionally dropping it an inch or so. Her eyes nervously found his staring right back at her and he swallowed hard. She was showing him all kinds of firsts without having a clue about any of it. Having never felt anything for a female before, the intensity of the tension between them was stifling to him. Standing there with her, with his hand on her smooth skin and lost in the uneasy beauty of her eyes, for the first time, he wanted to kiss her more than anything. His gaze dropped to her lips and in the back of his mind he wished that his knowledge of how to deal with his feelings for the pretty nerd reached as far as his knowledge of broken ribs did. He wanted to, but he didn’t. He’d already told her he couldn’t lose her again and one kiss could ruin everything.

“Thank you.” She breathed, breaking the atmosphere and moving back. The contact was broken and Jess tugged her top down. “Is your leg OK?”

“Forgot all ‘bout it” he admitted. Her beautiful, soft skin had distracted him away from the discomfort and it wasn’t something he was likely to forget any time soon.

=-=-=-=-=

Two nights had passed since Jess had faced Daryl’s warm and not altogether uninviting touch. He was right about her rib; it wasn’t broken but it was bruised enough to render her as useless as a chocolate teapot for a couple of days, during which she spent time awkwardly trying to avoid having to discuss what had happened at the fairground with Daryl by avoiding him altogether and playing board games with Abraham while he drowned himself in whiskey on Aaron and Eric’s front porch.

Her avoidance of Daryl hadn’t gone unnoticed but far from being angered by it, he understood that whatever had transpired between them both was complicated and he needed time to process it. He couldn’t be sure that Jess felt the same, or if she even felt anything at all, but he’d been pushed to the brink of an act that was so out of character he felt like she was changing every part of him without even trying.

But being away from her wasn’t an option for too long and eventually, he found himself wandering the town in the dark on the way to Aaron and Eric’s, the now mild pain in his leg humming just enough for him to notice, but being more of an irritation than anything else. As he rounded the corner from the main street, Abraham breezed past him in a cloud of alcohol and slapped him on the back, bidding him a good night in a slurred sentence that was barely comprehensible.

Jess was swaying on the porch swing, reading the book she’d started in Daryl’s room the first night she stayed with him. He climbed the stairs and noted the two whiskey glasses and a bottle on the table. The rapid and unusual change in the weather from a storm to humidity and warmth past dark meant that Jess had taken off her camo pants and wore a pair of shorts and a tight tank top. For the first time, Daryl was able to see how much her body had changed and had to make a marked effort to drag his eyes away from her. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders.

Damn, girl. No wonder Abe spent the evening here.

Hearing his footsteps on the decking, she glanced up and closed her book. Daryl wasn’t the only one that had been mulling over the fairground incident at every given opportunity. What he didn’t know, was that she felt it too, only she had no idea what was going on in his head at the time. It was the closest she’d ever come to making a move on him but the physical contact with no barrier made things difficult and brought her insecurities to the surface. Guessing his stance on any of it was nigh on impossible. All she had to go on was that she was in love with her best friend, who, she couldn’t only assume, simply liked to watch her blush every now and then with a flirty comment.

“You two drinkin’ together now?”

Her back prickled at the sound of what could have been seen as yet more jealousy concerning the friendship that had blossomed between her and Abraham. Or, was it simply an observation? She wished he was easier to read.

“Why do you ask?” She tried.

He didn’t know the answer himself. Just that his blood boiled whenever Abraham touched her, or joked with her, or made her laugh so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. He hated the way she sometimes gravitated towards him and refused to ask him to stop making suggestive comments towards her. He hated that she was so comfortable with Abraham, yet with him, she was completely different.

“Curious I guess.” Was all he had to offer.

“Right. To answer your question, he drinks and I scold him for it” She informed him as she slid the book onto the table and patted the swings cushion at her side. Daryl took his cue and sat down beside her, enjoying the rhythmic and soothing rocking of the swing.

“So, you got friends here now?” He questioned. She was different to when she’d first revealed her identity. She was more open to conversation, to teaming up for runs and actually turned up to a party. She was changing and he was seeing more and more of the old Jess peeking through. Her guard was lowering and he wanted to know if it was going to stay down.

“I’m coming around to the idea.” She mentioned breezily “You make it a little difficult to stay so stubborn.”

She shifted and bent one leg, tucking her left foot under her right thigh and draping her arm over her bent knee. She was now facing him with one foot on the floor that was controlling the speed of which the swing swayed.

“Me?” He questioned.

“Yeah, you. You’re my favorite.” She smiled.

He grunted and almost commented that actually, it seemed like Abraham was her favorite.

Jess got up and moved to the edge of the porch, gazing up to the stars and stretching her arms above her head. Through his hair, he allowed himself a peep of the appealing curves of her waist and hips. A conflict raged inside him.

Don’t be an asshole. You shouldn’t be lookin’ at her like this. But hot fuckin’ damn, she cleans up real good.

Jess was busy, wrapped up in her own thoughts for a long time while Daryl watched her every move and bit down on his lower lip.

“I could take you to my boat.” She hummed up to the sky before looking over her shoulder at him. When her eyes met his, he flinched out of his guilty but highly enjoyable daydream.

“Um…Ya boat?” He queried.

She turned and glided back to him, standing over him and gracing him with her shiny lips curved into a playful smile.

“I lived there for a while before I found the fairground. I still go there sometimes, when it’s not too cold. You’d like it. Far away from everyone…. Just you and me. You interested?” She wasn’t intending for it to sound like she was presenting him with an offer laced with sexual tension, it had merely transpired that way and she’d done nothing to rectify it. When his reaction wasn’t one of pure horror, she figured that maybe, just maybe, she could play him at his own game.

Daryl was enthralled and was gawping up at her with his mouth open. He slowly raised one eyebrow.

“Hell yeah, I’m interested.”

----- tagged as requested ----

@lilred254 @woundmetender

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

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altviktcrr · 5 years

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『MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like VIKTOR SAMUELS is here for HIS/THEIR SENIOR year as a VISUAL ARTS student. HE/THEY are 24 years old & known to be OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT & DEPENDENT. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo ,,, again ,,, this is my last child i SWEAR ,,, at least fr now ,,, hes also the most problematic one ,,, the most dramatic ,,, one of my absolute faves ,,, pleathe love him. as always if u wish to plot please like this so i can msg u !!!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like ... sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid ... not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

his only redeemable trait was like ... just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just ... not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was ... viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because ... for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears ... that’s them!

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like ... sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s ... a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

vastly impulsive ... like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe ... yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time ... also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not ... with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like ... partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate... but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies... because viktor would have a lot of them...

familiar faces... people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances... people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids... just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend... probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances... people who knew him from his youth.

exes... good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft... i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited... either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension... of the ... spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends... old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups... current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die... friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence... he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg... he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#radintro #death tw #grief tw #overdose tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #mental illness tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention tw

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