#do you ever wonder why this thing got dunked into the ocean twice?

[ratatatastic]

the need to raise and kiss her is but a siren call they must fulfil at all costs

nothing like the smile of a man who just saw his name engraved for the first time

Benny Cup Day | 8.16.24 (x)

[whump-only]

meal time -- Golden (vamp whump)

Part 2 of my mini vampire-whump series. Wherein Pollen tries out this whole feeding a vampire thing. 

tw: captivity, starvation/hunger, light gore (description of prior injury), it/its as pronouns, manhandling, reference to broken bones, suffocation/drowning, knives + cut skin, and who can forget blood

-------

“Come on, vampy. Breakfast,” Pollen called. Or, he guessed, this was technically its dinner. Since, nocturnal, right?

The thing didn’t stir under its blanket. With a little jolt of concern and hope, Pollen wondered if the shock of having its legs broken just straight up killed it. Pollen placed the dog bowl down on the ground, with the cube of cow’s blood sliding around the bottom, already a small pool of it melted. 

With one hand Pollen pinned it down, putting his weight into it. This elicited a moan so at least it wasn’t dead. Yippee. He pulled down the blanket, revealing its thick matted hair and the iron straps that held its muzzle in place. This also meant it was on its stomach, which was good. Its bound hands must be pinned below it. 

Pollen fiddled with the key for what felt like far too long until the lock holding the muzzle shut dropped open. He pocketed the lock but hesitated to pull the muzzle away from its face, what if it tried to bite? But he couldn’t leave it like this… Pollen held its hair with one hand and yanked the muzzle off with the other, then swiftly scrambled up and away. 

His worry was for nothing, because it didn’t react at all, except to groan. The bottom of its face looked all discolored and part of it was torn open and oozing blood or something.

Pollen grimaced. With his foot he shifted the bowl closer so it was right near the vampire’s head. He then bounded up the stairs and slammed the door shut. 

——

When Pollen returned that night, the vampire was curled up away from the bowl, again tucked entirely under the blanket. Pollen checked and the cube had melted, leaving the bowl nearly full of the dark liquid. 

It didn’t drink any? Pollen wondered. He stared at the bowl for a while, then finally decided to dump the old stuff and put in a new cube of frozen cow blood. Again, he pushed the bowl so that it was right near where he assumed the hiding vampire’s head was. 

“Come on. Food. Drink,” he encouraged, tapping its back with his toe. 

It growled from under the blanket.

Pollen left hastily. 

——

The next night Pollen managed a few hours of sleep but still woke and lay awake for hours before getting up to check on the vampire. 

He felt a sense of relief at seeing that creature right where he left it. But the bowl was also exactly where he left it, untouched. 

Was it too sick to eat? That was really possible considering its almost catatonic state. Pollen figured it’d only get even weaker if it didn’t eat soon. It was strange that Hyde hadn’t mentioned this… His skin crawled from the thought of Hyde blaming him for killing his little pet. 

Perhaps the vampire just needed to smell the blood or taste it to be… inspired. 

Pollen pulled its blanket down off its head, careful to draw his hands away quickly. It growled and squeezed its eyes shut angrily. It was still unmuzzled and now under closer observation, Pollen could see its mouth was all blistered and the sides were torn open, half scabbed and still open. 

Pollen gagged. Trying not to look directly at it, he cupped a bit of the cow’s blood in his hands then splashed it onto the vampire’s face. 

The vampire huffed in surprise and opened its eyes ever so slightly. Pollen didn’t think he imagined its nose twitching a bit and it swallowing, though it was hard to tell under the dim yellow light. 

“Come on. Smells good right? Drink, it’s right there,” Pollen encouraged. 

The vampire stared at him for a beat before closing its eyes again. 

“Hey!” Pollen said, and splashed a bit more onto it. 

It scrunched its nose and looked him over with one eye before defiantly closing it again. 

“Fuck,” Pollen sighed, then turned to climb the stairs. “So stubborn…”

Pollen closed the basement door behind himself. Right there, on the counter in front of him, lay the vampire’s muzzle that he’d dropped there after taking it off. 

Pollen tried to walk past it. Twice. Finally after rocking on his heels he snatched it up and flipped it over. 

A silver bit. Designed to pressed into the mouth, burning lips and tongue. 

Pollen chuckled emptily. That would do it. 

——

Pollen trudged down the stairs. Unsurprisingly the vampire was under its blanket. Its bowl was full. 

“Come on, vamp. You’re gonna starve,” he complained. Pollen knew these things were resilient but they still needed food, right? 

Pollen tried to push the still-blanketed vampire onto its back but it resisted, making a low sound, not quite a growl. Pollen put a little more weight into his foot, until he was able to fully pin the creature on its back. 

With his boot Pollen tapped the lump of blanket until he thought he found where its bound hands were, and then by stepping down, pinned its hands into its chest. Pollen held his breath and ripped down the blanket, revealing the vampire’s glowering stare and what looked like a scowl behind its ripped lips. 

“I hate you too,” Pollen informed it, then grabbed its bowl.

Pollen tipped the bowl, aiming the cow’s blood at the creatures mouth. But the vampire kept its mouth firmly shut so the liquid splattered all over its face and chest. 

“God damn it,” Pollen muttered. Was it doing this on purpose? A little protest? 

Pollen stepped away to strategize. He could wait the creature out, eventually it would get hungry enough and drink. Right? But what if it didn’t? Maybe it’d had enough and was trying to kill itself. Could he could force it to open its mouth long enough to poor the liquid down? That would be hard. He didn’t want to touch its face. Did vampires even like cow’s blood? 

Pollen placed the bowl on the ground, by now the cow’s blood was nearly all gone, poured out and wasted. But there was a good inch left.

Pollen got a firm grip on the vampire’s hair. It winced a bit, before he even pulled.

Pollen took a deep breath and lifted the vampire’s head and smashed it into the bowl. The vampire immediately started to thrash and cough and wail. Pollen lifted its head above the blood for two seconds, letting it gasp for air, then pressed its face down into the bowl again. He continued like this four or five more times before releasing it.

Its whole face was covered in the watery blood, but it looked more like it’d gone for a swim than for a meal. It took shuddering breaths for a while, then as if declaring itself finished, pulled the blanket back over its head. 

Pollen checked the bowl. It was pretty much empty but most of the blood had probably been splashed out instead of swallowed. Pollen decided that was enough for the day. 

———

Pollen returned the next morning, ready with a fresh bowl of melted cow’s blood. 

The vampire whimpered as Pollen made his way down the steps, clearly less indifferent than before. 

“Don’t cry at me. Are you gonna eat today? Hm?” Pollen asked it, and set the bowl down by its head. 

The vampire didn’t move to drink so Pollen ripped away its blanket and took it by its hair again. It made a long, sad whine. 

“I know. But I can’t let you turn to dust on my watch,” Pollen explained, then dunked the vampire’s head into the bowl, trying to keep its mouth under and nose above the liquid. 

Like last time the vampire thrashed and growled. Pollen lifted its head and it seemed to cough blood back into the bowl before Pollen pushed it under again. Dunk. Breathe. Dunk. Breathe. 

It didn’t seem like the blood was actually going anywhere except the floor. Pollen dropped the thing’s head to the side of the bowl and sighed. It was hopeless. 

Maybe he could threaten it. Pollen got up and inspected the toolbox that Hyde had left. Many of the tools felt untouchable, too gruesome to consider, and the rest were useless. There was a little pocket knife… Pollen flicked it open. 

The vampire had closed its eyes again. Pollen pointed the knife at it, accusingly. “If you don’t drink everything in that bowl, I’m gonna cut you!” he announced, testing out the words. 

The vampire huffed without opening its eyes. Pollen doubted the vampire would even understand why it was being hurt, if Pollen really started cutting it. How absurd this must all be for a creature like that. To wake up one day in this nightmare. Pollen felt his resolve draining. “Shit.”

Pollen looked at his reflection in the blade of the pocket knife. The thought that entered his mind was so absurd that he laughed out loud. 

And yet… Pollen chewed his lip. He couldn’t be this soft. It was a vampire. Human blood was off limits. Didn’t Hyde say that? Right? Pollen wasn’t sure. 

Maybe a little bit of human blood would make it less… sick. Less depressed too. 

Pollen rolled his eyes at how much of a pushover he was for this. He’d never tell Hyde. 

Pollen crouched over the bowl that still had the cow’s blood. He took a few deep breaths then lightly pressed the blade into the pad of his pinkie finger. He hissed as it sliced open the skin but just as quickly the pain faded to a throb. A bead of blood welled up and slid off his finger, into the bowl, one drop of human’s blood lost in an ocean of cow’s blood. Plink. 

Pollen glanced at the vampire and his heart skipped a beat. It was staring directly at him, eyes alert and wide. Its irises were an undeniably beautiful color. Gold was rare for vampires. 

Pollen grinned in triumph even though his heart thrummed in his chest from its hungry attention. “Yeah, you can smell it right? You want this?”

The vampire’s nose twitched a bit, as if to confirm. 

Two more drops landed in the bowl. Plip. Plip. He’d really captured its attention now. It really was a beastly thing, so hungry for human blood. 

Pollen pressed his thumb just below the cut, pushing out a few more drops of blood. Plip. Plip plip plip. Plip. It seemed the vampire breathed a little faster, imperceptibly strained toward the bowl. But it made no moves, no sound. 

Pollen stuck his hurt pinkie into his mouth and stood up. He nudged the bowl toward the vampire, until the bowl touched the thing’s forehead. 

“Come on. I know you’re tempted,” he whispered. 

The vampire’s nose still twitched but it somehow still didn’t move. 

Pollen took a seat on the bottom stair. They were both out of each other’s reach. 

The vampire glanced at him, sizing him up, then the bowl, and Pollen thought he could see the gears churning in its brain. 

Finally, it shifted. Pollen held his breath as it laboriously got up on its elbows and lifted its head. It gave the blood a sniff and at last, lowered its mouth to the liquid and took free swallows. It even licked the bottom of the bowl. 

Pollen waited until it was finished before getting up. It startled, shooting Pollen a glare. 

But Pollen was just amused. “Good job today, Goldie,” he said, remembering Hyde’s nickname for it. 

[neonthewrite]

Washed Up Winchesters 4

The mission goes on! Jacob is just happy to be included.

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) -4- ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 )

Story Tag

Read Time ~10 minutes

~~~~~

Jacob had spent much of his time walking the fields outside the city since finding the sodden pair. The livestock minded him less and less anymore, and keeping an eye on the herds gave him something to do. The moment Chase and Minnie had dragged the poor guys into the house to get them wrapped up and dry before they caught hypothermia, there was nothing more he could do to help.

When Minnie brought him news of their waking up, he was relieved. He'd thought he might be called back and tasked with carrying them to a hospital or something.

Now, after hearing Minnie's annoyed news that one of them ran off, he wondered if Chase had taken a chance to explain things. Probably not.

He heard Chase's argument by the tree out front. He didn't see the other guy, hiding as he was near the trunk, not until he'd moved closer.

Then, of course, he recognized a gun for what it was. Tiny, perhaps, but it would be just as deadly to the miniature people he'd been surrounded by since he washed up on Lilliput's shore.

"Hey!" he blurted, twitching forward. One hand braced on the ground to avoid falling over, and the other swept down towards Chase. Huge fingers curled around the small Lilliputian, forming a wall between the tiny pair. Chase was safe, barricaded in a small alcove created by Jacob's hand.

Only a short distance from Chase, Dean jerked backwards to avoid the incoming hand. It was not reassuring to have it sweep close to him, and his mind interpreted it as coming right at him.

Before he realized that Jacob was just barricading Chase off, a person that Dean had no intention of being hostile towards, his finger twitched, and he fired his gun.

All it did was sputter, and only then did Dean remember that he, and everything he owned, had been recently dunked in the ocean, rendering the gun totally useless.

In the pause that followed, Jacob stared at Dean with a shocked look. He’d been fully prepared to take a tiny bullet from that gun, and didn’t know how to proceed once that plan failed. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again.

Chase, however, was neither silent nor still for long. He shoved against Jacob’s hand with all the strength he had, and though Jacob wasn’t affected by it, he hesitantly uncoiled his hand partway for Chase to stumble out again. “Dude, seriously? You were gonna shoot him?!”

"I thought he was gonna grab me!" Dean shot back defensively at Chase, fussing with the gun only to find the insides were still flooded. Useless. "And now we don't even have any silver bullets to stop the skinwalkers, since Sam's gear is in the exact same shape!"

Jacob drew his hand back slowly, very aware of the distrustful glances he was getting. As he did, Chase shook his head and sighed. "Guess you'll just have to let us help ya, then," the small Lilliputian announced. "And no more attacking Jacob."

"I don't really blame ya," Jacob muttered. Even crouched down and trying not to loom over the pair, he eclipsed the house behind him. "I promise not to grab, if that helps…"

Dean sent Jacob an annoyed glare as he put his gun back together, resolving to give it a full cleaning the moment they were free. The gun deserved better after the amount of times he’d used it, occasionally saving their lives or the lives of victims.

“Better not,” he griped, remembering how strange it had felt to wake up in giant hands after being tossed overboard. “The last thing I need is the newest giant getting in the way while we work…”

“Actually,” a voice interrupted Dean’s grumblings. “We’re going to need Jacob’s help for this.”

Sam came striding up, Minnie not far behind him. She had to move fast to keep up with Sam’s longer paces, and as they hurried over to join the others, Jacob’s hand twitched slightly, startled by their sudden appearance. He scanned the small crowd of four while Sam went on. “If we want to have a chance at getting to the docks on time, we’re going to need someone with longer legs.”

Dean bristled at the idea. “Help?! From them? They’re just a bunch of kids!”

“And we’re just some hunters that got tossed overboard, remember?” Sam reminded Dean sharply. “Without Jacob, you’d be stuck at the bottom of the ocean, finding out if mermaids exist or not.”

Dean just stubbornly crossed his arms. “Our disguises and paperwork were perfect,” he insisted.

“I was thinking about that, too,” Sam admitted. “It could just be that they… sniffed us out. If there were only skinwalkers on the ship, it didn’t matter how good your paperwork was.” Turning to Jacob, he tilted his head back to meet him in the eyes. “So? Are you in? We need to find out what they want before anyone else gets hurt.”

Jacob’s eyebrows drifted up and he glanced over the others in the group. He had no idea what they might be talking about. The first thing he heard after coming back to the house was an exasperated Minnie explaining that Dean (and, to even more of her annoyance, Chase) took off. Despite being able to outpace everyone in Lilliput without question, he could barely keep up with them sometimes.

He had to hope they’d explain things eventually.

“I mean, yeah,” he answered after his confused pause. He shifted slightly where he knelt, feeling awkward out there on the front lawn. “But I can’t walk through the whole shipyard or anything, there’s some spots I’m not allowed to be.”

“That’s fine,” Sam assured him. “If you can get us there fast, we can take care of the rest.” Turning towards Chase and Minnie, he held out his hands placatingly. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but out there,” Sam waved distantly towards the horizon, “there are monsters.”

“We don’t have time for the whole spiel,” Dean interrupted. “But they’re as happy to kill you as look at you.”

“Me and my brother fight them,” Sam took over, trying not to let Dean’s gruff nature ruin what little camaraderie they had with the Lilliputians. “They’re not like your friend Jacob, or any other giant from the ocean, they’re far more dangerous because they can blend right in with you or me.”

Chase and Minnie exchanged a glance. His was amazed and confused, while hers was exasperated. Ever since Chase brought a giant home, it seemed like weird happenings followed. This was crazy. They couldn't outright deny the idea of monsters, not with a giant looming over the whole group, but the temptation was there.

"You mean, like, not just in Blefuscu?" Minnie finally said, cautious and reluctant to accept it.

Chase was practically enthusiastic about the news. "If there's monsters out there, why would they stick to just Blefuscu? Apparently they just hop on boats to get back and forth!"

Jacob frowned faintly. "And they toss people off boats," he murmured indignantly. It stuck with him that he'd nearly been too late to help Sam and Dean. "You think they're already ... infiltrated, or whatever?"

“We won’t know until we catch up to them,” Sam cautioned before Dean could jump in with his assumptions. “With their ship disembarking so fast, we only had a short time to infiltrate, and we got tossed off before we overheard any of their plans.”

“Anyway,” Dean said testily, “we need to get moving. Time’s wasting!”

Chase grinned. Minnie rolled her eyes at him. “You’re having too much fun with this, there’s actual monsters.” She crossed her arms as if it might deter her brother’s buoyant mood.

It didn’t. Chase tilted his head back and shielded his eyes from the sun. “You heard him, Jake! We gotta get going!”

Jacob wanted to agree with Minnie. If there were actual monsters out there, it seemed like they should be taking things more seriously. From the way Sam and Dean put it, people could already be hurt. Judging by how quick Dean was to pull weapons on him, these things could jump out at anyone at any time.

Still, he smiled faintly and scoffed. “I might just leave you guys waiting here,” he teased, even as he shifted one of his hands and moved it towards the small group, already turning it palm-up before it got to them.

Dean hesitated when the hand was there, larger than life and twice as strong. “I don’t know about this--”

Sam roughly shoved Dean’s shoulder, making him stumble onto Jacob’s hand before he could bring up even more protests. “Yeah, well this is what we’re doing,” he sassed his older brother. “Unless you suddenly have a better idea for how we’re going to catch up to the skinwalkers, just stay put and quit complaining.”

Chase and Minnie were next, though they gave Sam and Dean a few extra seconds to situate themselves. Even with twice the normal amount of people hitching a ride on his palm, Jacob still had plenty of room for them all. He held steady as Chase and Minnie stepped up, noting that they felt even lighter than usual compared to the newcomers.

“Alright, guys, no roughhousing,” Jacob instructed with a hopeful smile. “Won’t be long before we’re at the harbor.”

With the warning out of the way, the surface beneath the four tiny pairs of shoes tensed. Jacob’s fingers curled slightly, an extra precaution, as his hand rose into the air as steadily as he could. Luckily, he’d had some practice. Lifting the miniature crowd towards his chest was a smooth motion followed by his other hand appearing like a guard rail.

And then he stood, sending them all but soaring into the air as the air brushed past.

It was all of about five seconds of Jacob standing at his full height before Dean ended up clinging to Sam.

"Dude, really?" Sam griped, trying to peel the iron grip his older brother had on his arm. "What's the problem now?"

"Problem?" Dean asked, his voice a higher pitch from normal. "There's no problem. We're just a hundred feet in the air, that's all!"

"You fight monsters, Dean, and a little height is what gets you?"

Dean sent a glare at Sam, but it was half-hearted, the heights beyond the edge of Jacob's hand distracting him enough to keep him from sassing back. "Just... don't like heights..." Dean muttered. "It wasn't a problem before!"

“Minnie’s not a fan, either,” Chase chimed in, earning a dark glare from his sister. “But don’t you worry. Jake here has practice!”

Indeed, Minnie stood close to him with her arms crossed and her shoulders tense, and avoided looking at the edge of the giant hand. “He’s … pretty careful,” she muttered. Admitting it was tough, but for the sake of helping their erstwhile guests feel safer, she would avoid arguing with Chase. At least on some things.

“Talking about me?” Rumbled not only overhead, but nearby in Jacob’s chest. He tilted his head down to check on his many passengers. He’d never seen his hand look crowded. “Gonna be alright? The only other secure way I have is my pocket.”

Dean's reply was somewhat along the lines of a strangled grunt, and Sam shook his head, amused.

"This is fine," Sam told them. "No... pockets. I doubt that would do much to help."

Dean nodded faintly in agreement, and gave them a weak thumbs up. He sank down, ending up sitting on Jacob's palm, trying his best not to think about where they were, and that he was sitting on a giant's hand. All of that while said giant took them to their destination.

The other hunters back home would never believe this one, as if they needed more reason to call the Winchesters crazy.

Jacob nodded once, and his sympathetic gaze lingered on Dean’s shaky hunch. It wasn’t the first time one of the little folk had been nervous on his hand, and probably wasn’t the last. Even Chase had been concerned at first, as much as he tried to act like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Once assured everyone was as settled as they could be, though, Jacob turned his attention on the ground far below instead. He didn’t want to dote so much attention on his passengers that he forgot to keep an eye on anyone wandering down there.

As he stepped off the front path of the Lisong’s home, he regretted leaving a very noticeable giant boot print behind. Someone would likely scold him for it later.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Deeper Water

[Tour]

Word count: 2696

Kinda late birthday gift for @the10amongstthese3s

Gosh diddly darn where do I start-- you are one of the most wholesome people in this community okAy? You’re such a saint ya know?! I swear, you’re probably the first of many to genuinely cheer me on with my writing and listen to all my ideas. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. I remember when you first messaged me (or maybe I messaged you? i can’t even remember- we talk every day now!) and how happy I was to be noticed by someone so big and amazing in the fandom. I just felt so honored and lucky. And I sure am right about being lucky. Hell, Duckie you probably don’t notice this but your content and just you in general has helped me through quite a lot of shit. I absolutely love how you constantly try to help others out, put a smile on their faces and watch them grow. Your personality is GOLD. You have made me motivated and inspired me in so many ways, helping me with writers block, stupid anon hate, and my self-esteem in general. You’re such a respectful person and I just want to say over and over again until the end of time: Thank you… I thank you for reaching your hand out to me and my writing and helping me grow, even when I’m being stubborn and childish. Thank you for everything.  I wanted to give you something in return as well. I’m sorry it probably doesn’t seem like much but here you are, you wonderful, amazing, talented person!! Take this as a gift of my gratitude and how you changed my life through everything!

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

  “Teach me how to swim.” Joan grits out from between her teeth. Her icy grey-blue eyes are sparkly with tears, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped tight around the straps of the backpack she insists on using for work for some reason. The nails on both hands have been chewed down to almost the stinging quick. Aragon pauses, swallowing the last swig of her cherry powerade as she considers the girl: She’s trembling, lower lip wobbling, and her knees are nearly knocking together. Aragon wants to fish out a bandage from her pocket that she knows she doesn’t have to wrap up around her nails.

Joan is scared. But why?

It’s a question that even Aragon asks herself. Why was she afraid of water? Why was she so hesitant to swim? Why didn’t she know how to yet?

What happened?

Did she watch a loved one drown? Was her home destroyed by a flood or hurricane? Was she ever dunked underwater again and again and again and again until she couldn’t breathe anymore?

Anxiety surges like the ocean surf and riptides that pull Joan down beneath the surface, closing over like a lattice net of hands in children’s games, forcing her under. Anxiety, fear, terror--and for what? Over what? A liquid? A liquid she should have no reason to be afraid of? She was never traumatized by water, not that she can remember, so why?

  “Okay,” Aragon says with a shrug, and it’s as easy as that.

Joan swallows her shock at the agreement and the tears thick at the back of her throat, and nodded. She smiles thinly, wryly, shakily, and whispers, “Thank you.”

Then, she’s gone, whirling around in a flash of white-blonde hair and waddling off like an ungraceful arctic fox to her dressing room. Aragon doesn’t watch her go. No need. She turns, too, and throws her bottle away in the nearby trash can. Nearby, masters of eavesdropping Anne and Jane stare at her in dumbstruck shock, and Aragon isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or punch them at their stupid expressions.

  “What?” She snaps at them.

They say nothing, too intimidated by her bright, flashing eyes. Aragon snorts and then goes on her way.

She doesn’t speak to Joan until the end of that show day, after two performances, and by then they’re both exhausted. Aragon hides it as she always does, but Joan is slouched in a position that’ll make her back hurt later, rubbing the goosebumps on her forearms like she was cold, despite it being a rather warm early spring day. Her eyes are vacant and far away.

(why? why? why?)

Aragon throws an arm over her shoulders in a friendly way, as if they have known each other for centuries, and she can feel the trembles wracking Joan’s frame. The girl vibrates against her and rattles her rib cage to a rhythm conducted by aquaphobic horror.

  “Let’s do this!” Aragon says, and the words ring oddly hollow in her mouth. Her chest aches in a way that reminds her of when Mary was taken away from her when Joan smiles up at her- tremulous, but trusting, and Aragon thinks that this is the first time she’s been told such a thing, been included in something, been the center of someone’s attention.

And it terrifies Joan.

(why why why oh why why why--)

But Joan sucks it up- Aragon can see her swallow in a thick way that makes her own throat hurt. She smiles again, this time more for herself and says, “Yeah”, but it doesn’t come out right. It’s a squeak, a mewl, a bleat, a pathetic excuse for a reply because her terror has her by the neck with yellowed fangs dug in and she can’t even answer correctly. Aragon glances down at her, eyebrows twitching together, then nods.

There’s no going back. There’s only the here and now- only the salt spray that bludgeons even her dulled sense of smell, mouth dry and tasteless still from hours of singing, that Joan hides her face from by burrowing against Aragon like-

-like a small animal, a baby kitten maybe, one Aragon had plucked off of the streets back before marriage in her past life, nursed back to health with dribbles of milk and lovingly smashed up food, and learned to love again through loving something else. After Henry and Mary, her heart felt like ground beef, or pulpy chuck, maybe- all mashed up and masticated, run through the grinder twice over. It’s still sore, still tender, but it’s been healing. They’ve all been healing.

Was Joan?

(wet too wet too cold why why why--)

And as if on stage cue, her chest twinges, the stab smothered in a rough clear of her throat, and Joan sniffles. Aragon can’t tell if she’s crying. 

They take Aragon’s car. The drive is silent, aside from Joan’s sniffles and gasps and mewls of distress. She spent it rocking back and forth in the passenger seat, looking very anxious and very regretful and very, very ill. But she doesn’t tell Aragon to turn around or stop, even when she had looked like she was going to vomit at one point. Her nose squirted out blood shortly after that, the stress too much for her poor little body, and Aragon wordlessly gave her a napkin with a pitiful frown.

The surface of the lake churns, roiling over with wavelets and riptides. Little dimples and indents are left behind by the rain, like the pattering of unseen children, jumping in puddles with bright red boots and yellow rain slickers. Aragon parks in the grass and she and Joan sluice through evergrowing puddles and mud to get to the shore. They stop. A runner of blood hangs pendulously from one of Joan’s left nostril and she swipes it away swiftly. 

Joan dry swallows. Her eyebrows furrow, knitting together, as she tries to figure out what to do next- paralyzed by indecision by the sandy shores of the water, little wavelets lapping at them, ratty sneakers she bought from a thrift shop squashing down temporary imprints into the wet earth. Aragon thinks that she looks a hell of a lot like an indignant kitten, when she’s got the tip of her tongue barely poking out from between her clenched teeth and face all scrunched up in something close to the cousin of a scowl like that.

  “Gotta screw your courage to the stickin’ place, right?” She asks, trying to break the tension, and to her relief, it does. Joan nods, a sharp little jerky motion, and then kicks off her sneakers and wrangles off her socks with her toes. They’re bright pink with yellow elephants, and the water almost carries them away. Aragon bends down quickly, grabs them by the cuffs and flicks them over her shoulder, back in the vague direction of where their jackets and phones sit, bundled safely away from the surf. Joan startles a little at that, but when Aragon takes off her own shoes and throws them, she does the same, tossing her sneakers casually backwards. That tears a smile from her.

  “Let’s do this,” Joan says, and even if her voice catches in her throat a little when a clump of seaweed is washed up onto the shore like a snarl of a corpse’s hair, she steels herself again. Aragon feels that same twinge in her chest, she thinks it might be right under her sternum- as she mirrors her word choice, and they come as naturally to her as if they were her own. Her shoulders are squared, and for a moment, as the wind whips white-blonde tendrils of her hair into her face Aragon thinks that she can see a girl who could lead herself out of the maw of hell through sheer will and grit alone.

But then thunder grumbles overhead and the lake roils in response, and another line of blood drips down Joan’s face. She lets it fall.

It’s a terrible day to go swimming. At the same time, with the skies overcast gray and sprinkling down, little tepid spatters of rain rather than a steady drizzle, it doesn’t feel like swimming. It’s a far cry from the gorgeous azure summer day that most people would take a dip in, and Aragon wonders if that’s why Joan chose such a day in the first place. Maybe learning how to swim in a tempest would prove something to someone.

(who to who who would be proud who would cheer who who WHY)

Blood splatters against the wet sand and blooms into a glorious red flower. Its petals whorl outwards, swirling and flapping into magnificent crimson waves that dissolve into the ebb and flow of the tide. Plop, plop, plop. Flowers bloom and wilt with every hungry roll of water against the shore until Joan finally wipes the stream away and whispers, “I’m ready now.”

She isn’t, Aragon knows she isn’t because she’s sweating buckets and her eyes are shiny and have more white in them than grey-blue and she looks like she’s about to foam at the mouth like a hog in a slaughtering pen, but she nods anyway.

  “Alright.”

Aragon walks forwards, blindly into the water, and her hands carefully hold Joan’s, leading her deeper. Just until the water settles a little over their hips. She keeps her voice soft and warm and oh so gentle.

  “You okay?”

Joan nods, opens her eyes, which Aragon hadn’t realized she’d had squeezed shut, and utters something that sounds like the noise a lamb with its throat cut would make. Sweat runs down her temple. The water ripples with her body’s violent tremors of terror. She tried again: “Yeah. I’m good.” 

Aragon gives her the time to readjust, her eyes roving over the surface of the water like quicksilver, between the lightning and the gloomily dark bottom of rounded out pebbles and slabs of slate. It’s a little uncomfortable to be standing on them barefoot, the edges of the rocks and the corners of the bigger chunks digging into the soles of their feet, and Joan ends up standing up on her tippy toe to try to alleviate it. Aragon can’t help but be endeared by how even when she’s trying to be tall, Joan is still shorter than she is. When Joan turns back up to look at her, she knows that they’re ready to continue onwards.

Aragon holds Joan up at first. Aragon has never taught anyone how to swim before, so she’s not sure what to do. Joan’s sort of sprawled out on her stomach, splashing messily, cutting jags through the water’s surface. She punches and kicks like a drunk boxer, movements choppy. Aragon’s hands hover underneath her flat stomach (so thin so thin-- “Don’t you ever eat?”) as she follows her awkward crawl forwards, ready to--push her upwards, maybe? 

Joan’s hair’s getting her in the eyes. Locks of white-blonde are like thorny vines pricking against her corneas. Given their height difference, the water isn’t so deep on Aragon, so she reaches over slowly. 

  “Hang on, Joan-” 

Thunder.

Lightning.

Fission. 

The whites of Joan’s eyes are stark. She spasms in an awful way. She whips her head over to stare, floundering, and after a little awkward moving and rearranging of limbs and splashing of lake water, she's a koala bear clinging to Aragon. Her legs are cinched around her waist, arms thrown over her shoulders, and Aragon’s sort of hunched over because she’s supporting both of their weight and Joan hadn’t thought to bring along a swimming suit, so there’s the issue of her t-shirt and shorts billowing out like some Regency era dress and weighing her down too. She’s this close to choking her out with the strength of her grip.

  “Shh, shh,” Aragon rocks Joan back and forth in patient, soothing motions. “I’ve got you, baby girl. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Joan pants and breathes harshly against the crook of her neck. Her nails have hooked into claws on Aragon’s back, but if it hurts, Aragon doesn’t say anything.

  “Your hair,” Aragon explains, voice so soft even after being climbed up like she was a ladder. She moves to take the black hair tie off of her wrist. “It’s in your eyes.” 

Joan doesn’t say anything, only looks at her expectantly, the uh, I knew that, dumbass clearly writ across her face. But with blood rimming her nostrils and her eyes blank with horror and lips chewed to shreds, her gaze was anything but insulting.

  “Let me fix it.” Aragon says, and she’s smoothing back Joan’s hair and tying it up into a little ponytail, and then swirling that around to cobble a messy bun. It’s not the greatest looking hairdo in the world, but Joan seems to appreciate it. Aragon tucks the loose strands of it behind her ears clumsily, fingers a little numb with the cold.

  “You’re all good to go, darling,” Aragon says, and Joan nods. 

The moment’s broken, and they go back to kicking and paddling around. More than once Joan splashes water up her nose and Aragon snarks about brain eating amoebas in warm waters. Zombified. Sticks her arms out and everything, tottering this way and that. Aragon doesn’t roll her eyes and they both are grateful for it.

Joan rolls her eyes in response to her own antics, smacks the top of the water again, and it somehow dissolves, momentarily, into a water fight: sweeping arms and frantic giggling. She’s so caught up in trying to drench Aragon in the bone-chilling water that she’s lost her fear of treading water on her own. Aragon points it out, cheering, one fist punched upwards as if to punctuate the air at it.

The day stretches on. It isn’t perfect, but Joan is eventually passably confident with a front crawl. She’d insisted, because the little print outs crumpled in the bottom of her bag from the internet proclaimed it the fastest. Aragon doesn’t push her on her rationale behind choosing it, only helps her get to the point where she can kick her way over to her across the length of a pool. Eventually, she’s exhausted herself, and she lets Aragon drag her back most of the way without snarking.

Aragon remembers the last time that she held her like this: Joan falling into an uneasy sleep on her chest after a nightmare knocked the wind out of her-- literally. She had wrenched upwards out of her slumped position over her desk, leaned treacherously to the left in her chair, and slammed down hard, hard enough that days after they’d found that she’d cracked a rib on the floor.

By the time that the sun is setting, dying red embers bleeding across the sky in long trails, they’re both chilled to the marrow of their bones. They slog through the last few feet of water, resistance heavier than it seemed earlier on, thoroughly wet. Water runs down in streams from Joan’s outfit, and she snorts when Aragon throws her shoes at her when she’s raced across the sand to grab her own. She hobbles after weakly and Aragon stops messing around when she sees her pallor. She jogs over and wraps a soggy arm around Joan’s shuddering frame.

  “Joan?” She says. She lifts Joan’s chin with a finger and can’t tell if that’s lake water or tears rolling down her cheeks. “Joan? Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?”

Joan shakes her head and bumps it lightly against Aragon’s shoulder. Her eyes flutter shut and she breathes out softly.

  “Thank you,” She whispers. A line of blood creeps slowly from her nose. “For this.”

  “Did someone ever drown?” Aragon then asks suddenly. “In your past life?”

Joan actually laughs. She sluggishly swipes away the stream of blood. 

  “No,” She answers. “No one except me. In my own sorrow.”

Another laugh. Aragon pulls her into a tight hug and kisses the top of her head. Joan hugs back, with nails hooked into needy, grasping claws.

  “It’s okay,” Aragon tells her. “I promise. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  “Now it is,” Joan agrees softly. “Thank you.” She nuzzles her wet head against Aragon’s chest. “Catalina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you teach me how to go underwater next?”

[uas-art]

Stutters kiss in the rain for the promt thing ~=D

Alright, so confession, I read this, and over time while mulling just how I’d go about this request, switched kiss for dance. >>

Either way, you get both in the follow fanfiction. ;D

Title: The Rains Down in Hawaii

Summary: The rain is ruining Stan and Butters’ vacation!

Rating: T

Shipping: Stutters

~~~~~

If Butters glared any harder through the window, he would slice the glass.

Stan sat, picking at a loose string on the palm leaf bedspread. He looked pass the foot of the bed at the muted TV. As if to rub salt in the wound, the weather person waved their arm over a large storm system that covered most of the tropical island of Honolulu. The subtitles read that the heavy rains would cover the area for the rest of the week.

Of course, he and Butters vacation ended in three days.

When they arrived at the airport the day before, not a cloud covered the sky. A warm breeze brought the scent of the sea to them. A perfect start to a vacation, if you asked him.

The best part was just how excited Butters had been. His face beamed as he babbled on and on about all the plans he had and all he would show Stan.

“I’ll show you all the places only we locals know,” he’d proclaimed.

Stan nearly pointed out that Butters had only ever been to Hawaii twice before, once with Kenny when they were kids and once with his parents when he was a freshman, but he didn’t want to rain on his boyfriend’s parade.

In the end, the weather had done the raining for Stan.

Now Butters sat cross-legged near the sliding glass door as he tried to will the rain away.

Stan flopped onto his back. He watched the wicker fan blades spin in lazy circles as the rain pitter-pattered outside. Sleepiness began to take hold. His eyes slipped shut and his breathing went shallow. Just as his brain shut down for a mid-morning nap, Butters let out a shout.

Stan bolted up, looking around.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked around a yawn.

Butters scrambled to his feet, pointing. “The rain!” He shouted. “The rain stopped! Com’on, Stan! We gotta go do something now before it starts again.”

He yanked Stan to his feet. Stan stumbled, nearly hitting the side table with his hip. Butters didn’t seem to notice in his excitement.

“Com’on, com’on! Hurry up!” Butters childishly bounced next to the door as he let Stan put his sandals on. The moment he fastened the final velcro strap, Butters threw open the hotel room door.

Looping his arm around his, he pulled Stan down the hall, nearly trampling over an old couple. Stan shouted their apologies over his shoulder before they turned the corner.

The moment they barreled down the final stair step, Butters made a beeline for the front door with Stan in tow.

He threw it open, took three steps outside, before being hit in the face with a wave of rainwater.

Butters arm fell limply to his side as he stared up at the grey sky. Stan set his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Stan soothed. “Look, why don’t we check out some local malls or shops? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Butters raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah, ok, I guess.” He sighed. “Lemme get my wallet and an umbrella.”

Stan watched as Butters slowly trudged back into the hotel. The rain increased then, already soaking through his button-up shirt. A stroke of thunder roared from above. A lightning bolt tore across the sky.

A shudder ran down Stan’s spine.

Hurrying inside, Stan went up to the front desk.

“Excuse me,” He tapped his knuckles against the wooden desk. The worker turned from organizing some papers with a wide, fake smile.

“Aloha, how may I help you?” he asked.

Stan pointed over his shoulder. “I was wondering when the next bus would be by to take people to town?”

The man frowned then shook his head. “I’m so sorry, sir, but the bus broke down this morning.”

“Oh.” Stan pursed his lips then asked, “is there another way to town?”

The man shook his head again, “I’m sorry, no. Not unless you walk, but—” as if on cue, thunder rumbled threatening outside. “ — I would not advise that.”

Stan took a breath. The man stiffened. Stan knew the man expected him to blow up. Instead, Stan let out the breath then gave him a small smile.

“That’s too bad. Thank you, though. If the bus gets fixed before too late, could you call up to my room? 211?” Stan requested.

The man relaxed. “Yes, I can arrange that.”

Stan left with a thank you before trudging up the steps to his room and his soon to be even more disappointed boyfriend.

~~~~

Butters lay face down on the bed. His blue hibiscus print shirt tossed carelessly onto the woven chair. Stan rubbed Butters’ shoulder with one hand while channel surfing with the other.

When Stan told Butters about the bus, Butters shut down. His face fell and shoulders slumped forward.

“Oh, ok,” he had said, before beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Stan had half expected him to cry or get angry. In fact, he was fully prepared to hold Butters down so he didn’t try to march down the road in the storm.

“Stupid rain…” Butters grumbled. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…ruining everything.”

“Yeah, the weather is the worse,” Stan replied idly, pausing on a NASCAR race before moving on, “but it’s not our fault.

Butters pushed himself up on his elbows. “It still ain’t fair, though! I wanted to share this part of my heritage with you, and now I can’t!” He dropped back down with a half-muffled cry of frustration. “I just wanted to show you all the cool animals and plants and dunk you in the ocean! Is that too much to ask?”

Stan furrowed his brows. “You planned to what me in the ocean?”

Butters shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.” He muttered. “Even all my carefully thought out romantically spontaneous plans are drowned in all this rain.”

A wave of heavy rain slammed against the glass, shaking it. The thunder and lightning had passed an hour ago, leaving just a heavy deluge. Even squinting, Stan couldn’t see the trees just beyond the balcony.

“Romantically spontaneous plans, huh? Like what?” Stan flipped past a local Jerry Springer style show.

Butters rolled to his back. Stan moved his hand to stroke his hair instead.

“Just, you know, fun, sudden stuff! Like walking through the forest with shaved ice in the middle of the night or finding a nude beach and go skinny dipping,” Butters listed off. “I wanted to go to a luau and dance, but…” He groaned. “Stupid rain!”

He tapped his fingers against the remote in thought. Maybe, just maybe, they could do those things, but without leaving the room. Skinny dipping was easy. The tub had more than enough room for that. Shaved ice…

His eyes wandered towards the mini fridge. There was ice in there, and a half-finished bottle of pineapple juice from yesterday. It couldn’t be too difficult to put the ice in a bag and crush it. Add the juice and that would make a pina colada, wouldn’t it?

An insurance commercial with a man spinning around a lamppost in the rain played on the TV.  As a bolt of lightning hit the man, an idea struck Stan.

He jumped up.

“Get up, ” he ordered, unlocking his phone.

Butters raised his head, fixing Stan with a confused look.

Stan threw his shirt at his face.

A few moments later, Butters finished buttoning up his shirt as he stood next to Stan near the sliding glass door.

“What, are you hungry?” He asked. “Are we going to the buffet?”

“No, we’re going to do something romantic and spontaneous.” Stan threw open the sliding glass door then took two big steps into the rain. He pressed play on his phone.

As the first new notes of ‘Uma Thurman’ played, Butters eyebrows raised up.

“Dance in the rain?” He asked, stepping closer, but not outside.

Stan nodded. “Yeah. Doesn’t get more romantic than that, unless you plan to give a sappy speech and propose.” He paused then asked in all seriousness, “you weren’t, were you?”

“Oh, golly! I hadn’t even thought of that. Should I have?” He asked, a few inches away from the door. “Should I go get a ring? Do you want me to? If the bus is fixed, I can find one in town.”

As Butters turned towards the door, Stan put a shaking hand on his forearm. He didn’t plan on leaving this tropical paradise with more than boyfriends. Besides, if either of them were going to propose, Stan long ago decided that he would be the one down on his knee.

“Butters, just get out here and club dance with me on the balcony to the greatest hits of the twenty-teens,” he deadpanned.

Butters looked out at the rain, then to Stan, before he brushed Stan’s hand off him

Stan’s mouth fell into a frown. Had he messed up? Butters didn’t think he was mocking him, did he?

Butters took a breath.

Then he dabbed.

He looked over his arm with a wide grin. Stan returned it.

Maybe their vacation hadn’t gone like they wished it had, but as Stan pulled him out into the rain, he decided he didn’t mind too much that the weather screwed them over, if he got to see Butters smile.

He paused just a moment as the final chorus of ‘Party Rock Anthem’ played, before reaching over and grabbing hold of Butter’s shoulder.

Butters’ eyebrows raised as Stan pulled him close to place a kiss on his lips. Butters melted into the kiss, sliding his arm around Stan’s shoulders and tangling his fingers in his soaking hair.

Just as they pulled apart, the sun shone down on the couple from a break in the clouds.

~~~

AN: Gonna plug my Writing tumblr for the heck of it. @uas-fics

[superleeleehipster]

“Rest and Relaxation” Pt. 3

So here we are, another chapter. I liked the setting of the story so I wanted to expand and play with it a little bit.

And don’t worry, some good loving in this chapter too because Caryl deserves as much loving as possible after all the bullshit they’ve been through... in my opinion at least.

Rated M, for sexytime and language. Enjoy guys!

Carol squealed quietly as she stepped foot in the cool ocean for the first time, trying to take advantage of a beautiful hot day at the beach. She slowly made her way to where it was waist deep before dunking herself in the water. She came back up in a gasp as the cool waters sent shivers through her body, but it felt good with the heat of the day. 

The area in which the house was in seemed to not be affected as much with the tide, for the largest waves she had seen weren’t even above her head. But she didn’t mind, for the calm waters failed to stir up the bottom, and she took her time peering through the clear water as she tried to see any shells or fish. 

She leaned back up and had to chuckle to herself at the thought. Finding seashells? Now that’s something she never thought she’d ever think of doing again. The idea of taking her time to find shells after everything they’ve gone through to this point, and everything she’d done, it almost seemed kind of stupid. 

But this was her vacation dammit, and if she wanted to do stupid trivial things then she was going to do it!

She stretched her arms out and smiled before falling backwards into the water as she reveled in the memories of her time here. These past few weeks have been absolutely amazing to say in the least, to finally be with Daryl like she’d wanted for a long time. Being with him made her feel beautiful and desired, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit prideful that the gruff and intimidating, yet attractive hunter had chosen her to be with. But being at the beach house also made her realize that he was right, she really did need a break from everything. She was just so used to putting her needs on the back burner for others that she didn’t even realize it herself.

It wasn’t just their love life she enjoyed though, it was just finally being able to spend some time with him. He was still her best friend, and it was nice just to take a moment and talk about anything. Sometimes they’d talk about before the turn, random things about childhood. Other times it was on sadder subjects like Sophia or their shared history of abuse. But it was nice to strengthen that friendship they already had together.

She turned towards the house for any signs of Daryl before being disappointed again, missing him already despite only seeing him 4 days ago. He had left in the morning to go on a hunt for them, and he’d warned her that it might take him a couple days to get back, but she couldn’t help the need for him to be close by. It wasn’t like they needed food, for they were stocked to the max with shelf food. But you could only eat so many cans of food before you start to crave anything but the same thing for dinner. 

Still, neither of them liked leaving each other, but it was even worse now that they were finally together. She had assumed it would be like that of course, but it was also different than what she expected. It was like she was missing a piece of her, something that only he could put back once he was around. It sounded cliche and somewhat cheesy, but that was the best way she could describe it to herself.

She squatted under the water and massaged her upper thighs, trying to soothe them as the cool waters helped the remaining soreness from her body. If there was anything good she had to pick out from his absence, it was the fact that her body was given a break from the action. Since their first night together, they had sex pretty much twice a day, morning and evening, and it probably would’ve been more had he not had a body in it’s forties. But what he lacked in recovery time he sure as hell made up in stamina.

One day it was even more than that, for somehow his body had forgotten it’s real age that day, but in hindsight it might’ve been the cup of instant espresso coffee she had given him when he asked what it tasted like. 

She loved being with him, loved having his arms around her as they joined together. But her body was not young either, and part of her thanked the universe that he went on a hunt to give her a break. She knew she couldn’t say no to him, for she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was grateful to have at least a few days off from their now favorite activity.

She waded in the waist deep water, looking down as the small fish swam by her legs and found something shining back at her. She deftly picked it up with her toes and brought it to her hand before washing the sand off the conch shell . It was small enough to fit in one hand, but it was stunning none the less. It was a sandy color on the outer edge with beautiful red strips and the opening of the shell had a smooth texture with a mixture of a coral and white coloration. 

She got out of the water and moved her towel to an open area close to the water, just in case a walker came out of the treeline, before sitting down and looking at the shell dreamily.

She was taken back quite a few years ago to the beach vacation she had with Sophia. She had always told herself growing up that when she had kids, she’d take them to the beach every chance she got, just so that they had the same experience she had with her parents. But of course, things seldom worked out the way she planned them.

But there was one time, when Ed had gone away on a business trip for a week, a rarity even for his job, and she knew it’d be their best shot. She knew it would be risky, for there’d be hell to pay if he found out she went without his permission. But she wanted to give Sophia something to look back on with a smile, and that was worth any beating she would possibly get from her husband. 

So she gathered up her daughter, who was 8 years old at the time, and a cooler of snacks before heading out in the early morning hours to spend the day at the beach. She bought the lawn chairs and the towels once she was there, planning to throw them away after since she didn’t want to worry about Ed finding any sand in the car or in the house somehow. 

Once on the beach, she and Sophia had the best time of their lives. They were only there for part of the day, but it was one of those rare moments in time where they could pretend what was happening at home wasn’t their life. Carol saw her daughter come out of her shell completely and run around laughing as they did whatever they wanted, catching sand fleas, finding seashells, or just playing in the water. 

It was the first time Carol really had a moment of resistance towards Ed, even though he wasn’t there to witness it. For once, she didn’t allow her fear of him to play it safe, and her daughter had a wonderful time because of it. Thankfully, he never did find out, and her and Sophia were able to find some joy at having a wonderful secret kept between the two of them. 

Sophia kept some of the shells they found in a shoebox under her bed and had it very well hidden from her father so he wouldn’t find out. And at one point, Carol had come into her room after Ed passed out in his drunken stupor, making sure her daughter was okay after the ‘fight’ they had downstairs. It was then Sophia told Carol that she took her shells out often when she wanted to forget about the monster they lived with. Carol never felt more of an urge to leave than at that moment. But it was only a few weeks later when they all had to pack up and flee the city...

Carol sniffed and felt a few tears run down her cheeks as she looked at the seashell, thinking about her daughter. If she had the choice, of course she would want Sophia to be there with her and Daryl. The thought of him being her role model as a father figure brought a new wave of sadness, and she couldn’t help but mourn at all the things she dreamed about for her daughter. 

For the longest time she blamed herself for her daughter’s death, naturally. She welcomed the pain from it because she thought she deserved it. But somehow, through healing, she came to understand that it wasn’t on her, and that she accepted what happened to her, as well as the actions she’s done along the way. 

At first, it seemed more difficult to deal with the pain once she accepted herself than when she felt guilty. When she was at fault, her pain was there to punish her for her wrongdoing. But once she forgave herself, she no longer understood why it still hurt so much. She no longer deserved it, so why did she still have it? But soon, she began to move forward from it, thinking back to her daughter’s memories with joy and happiness instead of anguish. 

She allowed herself to have moments like these though, whenever they came, giving herself some time to mourn for her daughter so that she could continue healing. 

“I miss you baby girl,” she whispered to herself, rubbing the conch shell with her thumb. 

She was so focused on her memories that she barely heard the faint whistling from a distance. She turned around to see Daryl waving at her from the house with a small doe slung on his shoulders. She smiled brightly and waved back before hugging her knees to her chest and biting her lip, trying to contain her excitement as her core came to life again.

“Damn traitor,” she said to herself as her core began to heat up in anticipation.

It was true that things seldom happened the way she pictured them, but Daryl Dixon was a good example of that being a good thing. He showed her that you can have a life after so much death, you can find happiness despite the world ripping you to shreds again and again. For a reason she did not know, her daughter wasn’t supposed to be on this earth anymore. But the universe was at least gracious enough to give Carol unconditional love to help her through the bad times, and help her find the good again.

A few hours she realized he was cleaning up the deer, a good decision considering how the smell could attract some unwanted attention. So she decided to head in the water one more time to cool off her body. But after she dunked herself, she heard the whistle again, this time much closer, and she smiled before peering behind her to see him walking down the beach. She could tell he had just showered, most likely cleaning up the aftermath of skinning the deer. But she couldn’t help but groan at the sight of him strutting towards her.

Why did he have to look so good walking towards her? 

When he got to her section of the beach, he shrugged his shoulders. “You gettin’ out? Or am I gonna have to chase ya down?” he yelled to her.

She bit her lip trying to stifle a giggle. “You’re just going to have to get in and get me.”

He narrowed his eyes but smirked before undressing himself down to just his pants. He calmly walked into the water towards her, and she felt a shiver run up her spine, for he was looking at her like she was prey. 

He glanced down at her top and smirked. “Like the bathing suit.”

She looked down and rolled her eyes as she tried to fix her boobs that kept threatening to burst free. She had found her closet stocked with different styles of bathing suits, but the sizes weren’t exactly matching what she needed.

“Whoever was on bathing suit duty failed miserably.”

He snorted, slowly coming closer to her. “I think that was Sherry.”

She sighed. “Well apparently Sherry got every size imaginable for bottoms but was very confident I was a small for a top.” She looked down at her very tight tankini top. “I know I’m short, but that doesn’t mean everything else is small.”

He huffed. “Well, in her defense, it sure as hell surprised me when I saw them.”

She gasped in mock outrage and tried to splash him but he dove under the water towards her, and she squealed when she tried to run away from him. His strong arms wrapped around her waist and he hauled most of her body out of the water. She yelped and laughed as he peppered kisses all over her face before hugging her tightly against him. 

“Missed ya,” he whispered into her neck.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I missed you too.”

He leaned back and pressed his forehead against hers, sighing in content. This was a new habit they’ve developed where they’d rest their foreheads against each other in a sort of intimate ‘greeting’. It reminded her of how cats greet each other, but she didn’t mind it at all. It made her feel safe, it made her feel loved

She leaned back to look at him. “Where’d you put the deer?”

“Freezer. Didn’t take long to get the meet off so I stored it in there. Then chucked everything else a few acres from here.”

“Where did you clean it up?”

“Outside and away from the house. Don’t worry, I covered the area in deer piss.”

Her eyes became wide and had a disgusted look. “You covered it in deer piss? Since when did you have deer piss?”

He laughed. “Found a bottle of it in a hunting store nearby. It’s good to use if ya wanna mask your scent and attract a buck.”

Her face scrunched up in disgust and he laughed. “I didn’t even know you could buy deer pee in the stores.”

“It’s a little hard to find, but you could usually find it in areas where hunting’s popular.”

“Huh... so it will mask the scent of blood but we might wake up to a buck in front of the house tomorrow morning?”

“Hey, makes my job easier,” he quipped, making her laugh. He placed her back on her feet but chuckled lightly when he looked down to her chest. 

She followed his eyes and huffed loudly in aggravation. “Dammit!” She tried to pull her top up again.

“Just take the damn thing off. It’s obvious they want freedom,” he said with a smirk.

She swatted his arm. “No, I am not freeing them in public.”

“What public are ya talkin’ about?” he huffed, looking around them like he was looking for something.

“I know I know,” she sighed. “I’m just not a fan of showing off.”

“I don’t mind,” he purred as he reached for the knot in the strings.

She quickly grabbed his hands. “No, no. They’re only coming out indoors.”

He sighed in mock frustration before giving her a loving kiss. “Nothing but perfection in that body of yours sweetheart. Don’t ever think anything different.”

She smiled and rested her head on his chest, hugging him tightly as he stroked her back. 

But the moment was cut short when she yelped and grabbed his arm in a panic. “Fish!”

He burst out laughing as she tried to climb him like an opossum. “Woman, you’re not afraid of psychopaths but you are with fish?”

“I’m not afraid of fish!” she hissed as she hung from his flexed arm, trying to keep her feet lifted from the sandy bottom. “I just hate the slimy feeling of them.”

He snorted before picking her up bridal style and heading out of the water. 

“My hero,” she said, giggling into his neck.

He huffed out a laugh. “Stop.”

The logs cracked a few times as the fire grew in the fireplace. She and Daryl were lounging on the couch with a blanket draped over them as they let their amazing dinner settle in their stomachs. 

With a working oven, she decided to slow cook the venison and make it similar to pulled pork. It would take longer for it to cook through, but she knew it would be worth it. But due to the beach day, Carol had forgotten to eat any lunch, so she was practically drooling by the time the venison was finished in the early evening hours.

“Best damn meal I’ve ever had,” Daryl quipped, dragging his fingertips over her shoulder. 

“I must admit, I did really good.” 

He huffed. “How’s your back?” 

“Not as bad now,” she replied, her mild sunburn calming down after he applied some aloe on her. 

She was quiet for a while so he turned his head towards her. “What’s on ya mind?” he asked.

She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot today.”

Daryl tensed slightly, for talking about her daughter was still a little touchie for him too, although he was feeling better about it. But he got himself together and tugged her closer to him.

“In what way?” he asked.

She smiled softly. “She and I went on a day trip to the beach when she was younger. It was the first time I ever went against Ed, and even though I could’ve gotten a beating, I don’t regret it. She had that one day where she could be by herself.” 

He nodded and brought the other arm around her, the temptation to get angry at her dead husband still alive and well. 

“It’s just hard sometimes, especially with moments like these where life isn’t all that bad... I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like for her to be alive right now... she would’ve loved having a life without Ed.”

“You’re forgettin’ how much shit we’ve gone through between then and now... even if she did live through all of it, who knows how this life could’ve effected her. She could’ve gotten cold... Carl almost did at one point.”

She nodded. “Yeah I know. I shouldn’t think about the what if’s. But every now and then it gets hard.” She sat up and looked at him. “You would’ve been a great father figure for her.”

He huffed. “Nah, ain’t good with that kinda stuff.”

“Well how do you know, you’ve never tried.” When she saw his insecurities she grabbed his hand. “You’re nothing like him Daryl. Knowing the man you are now, and the way you treat me, she would’ve loved you.”

His face softened and nodded. “Glad you think so.”

She smiled and moved the hair out of his face. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being who you are... for showing me that life is still worth living, that there is still something to live for.”

His expression changed into a conflict between being grateful for what she said and not feeling he deserved it. But he cupped her face and kissed her lovingly, showing her what she meant to him. She positioned herself to straddle him and kissed him back, his arms coming around her in a big bear hug as they made out like teenagers on the couch. Soon, things began to heat up quickly as the pent up desire from not having each other for a few days became too overwhelming to bear.

“Need ya,” he panted between kisses.

She smiled and nodded before getting off him and giving a hand to help him off the couch. But before she could turn for the bedroom he gently picked her up bridal style and carried her to the bedroom himself as she tried her best to keep the nervous giggle from coming out of her body.

They took their time, savoring the moment as they slowly undressed each other. He no longer showed much nervousness when it came to loving her, for he learned that this was a safe place, that he could express himself without humiliation or embarrassment. So even if there’s a slight hick up, like their heads colliding, they simply laugh it off and continue. Even the notorious bra clasp, which wound up being a formidable foe, was no longer a match for him as he nearly perfected the technique of unclipping it. 

When they were fully naked, she tried to get on top of him, for that was his favorite position. They really hadn’t explored that much when it came to different positions to try because she was waiting for him to be ready. But she never complained, for she really enjoyed the angle as well. But he stopped her this time and laid her back down on the bed before kissing his way down her body. 

“Daryl,” she panted as she watched him kiss lower and lower. “What are you-”

“Wanna treat ya right,” he whispered, kissing around her navel before looking back up at her, sensing her tense up. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed shakily. “No one’s ever...”

He nodded, his chin resting on her stomach. “Want to.”

“You sure?” she asked, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

“Only if you’ll let me,” he whispered before kissing below her bellybutton, making her shiver. 

They had definitely explored each other the last few weeks, trying to find each other’s erogenous zones to please their partner. But for the most part, it was their hands roaming each other’s bodies. She was merely waiting for him to be ready for the next step, but now that it was here, she couldn’t help the insecurity of what if he didn’t like it, or what if he became less interested somehow because he didn’t like it.... But God help her, she wanted to try.

She gripped the sheets and nodded. “O-Okay.”

He smiled softly before wasting no time and giving her folds one slow lick, groaning into her heat as she gasped above him. He did that a few more times before exploring her heat, loving the whimpers and moans she was making as he pleased her with his tongue. He wanted to try this due to curiosity more than anything, but he soon became drunk with lust from the smell of her, of the taste of her, and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

Carol raised herself on her elbows and looked down to see him ravishing her like his life depended on it, and she fell back and grabbed his hair as she moaned from the intense pleasure. She couldn’t believe how good this was making her feel, and the familiar fire within her core was escalating quickly. Her body began to shake as her panting became louder, and she kept a firm grip on his hair, making sure he stop what he was doing.

“Daryl,” she pleaded, whimpering as he played with her bundle of nerves.

“Mmm?” he moaned into her heat, making her yelp from the sudden vibrations.

“Please don’t stop.”

Suddenly he rose up and glanced at her with a mischievous grin, an expression she wanted to smack at the moment. “No! Wha... what are you doing?” At the nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, she whined shamelessly. “Why did you stop?!” She knew she was begging but she didn’t care, she was too damn close to care.

He dipped two fingers inside her and she gasped, some of her frustrations mixing into pleasure as he fingered her closer to the edge. But just as she thought she was about to tip over, he removed his fingers from her with that same stupid smirk on his face.

“What the fuck?!” she hissed, her eyes filling up with tears of ultimate frustration. 

But just as she was deciding whether or not to punch him, he dove back down between her legs and she yelped, grabbing his hair instantly as he devoured her. 

“P-Please,” she whimpered, tears running down her face. 

Luckily for his own safety, he didn’t stop this time, and she moaned shamelessly as she finally felt her core ignite, sending waves upon waves of pleasure all over her body. The more pleasure she felt, the louder she got, and she couldn’t give a rat’s ass on the choked scream she let out at one point. Her body convulsed as he lapped up her arousal again and again, moaning into her heat as she twitched from his vibrations. 

After a few minutes she finally calmed down, and he gave her one more lick before kissing his way back up her body. He leaned on his hand that was propped up by his elbow and looked at her with that same old smirk which looked like he owned the earth.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

He snorted, running his hands along her breasts. “Liked hearin’ ya beg.”

She sighed. “That was just mean though.”

“Didn’t think ya minded after a certain point...” he smirked.

The glare she gave him was enough to send a shiver down his spine, and he knew that she was going to make him suffer from this. But for now, she leaned up and kissed him passionately, pulling him down so as he hovered over her. He kissed down her neck as she kissed his shoulders, and she pulled his body down closer to hers.

“Please,” she whispered in his ear. “Please no more teasing... I need you.” 

He couldn’t deny her plea even if he tried, for he needed her as much as she needed him. He trailed his hands up her thighs, signaling her to spread her legs for him before he moved into position. Filled with both nerves and excitement of being at a new angle, he slowly pushed inside of her and groaned at the amazing feeling of being surrounded by her warmth.

When he was completely sheathed inside her, he let out a moan of relief, grateful to finally be with her again. He got on his hands and peered down at her, waiting for her to be ready as she panted heavily below him. After a few minutes, she thrusted her hips up to tell him she was ready before he began to slowly thrust into her. 

He had loved seeing her on top, being the confident woman that he loved. But being the one on top was strangely enticing, where he had an up close look at how he was affecting her. He was controlling the power and the speed, and there was something primally arousing to see those big beautiful eyes of hers peering up at him as she moaned and squirmed below him while he pleasured her. 

Her brow furrowed and leaned back agains the bed as he picked up the pace, her hands gripping his arms next to her as she tried to hold onto something. She looked down between them and raked her hands down his back, unfazed by the ridges as she tried to pull him towards her. 

“Please Daryl,” she cried as he thrusted faster, knowing exactly what she meant. He couldn’t tease her now, this was too good, too intimate of a time to be a tease to her.

He leaned down on his elbows and cupped her head with her hands, pulling his knees in before thrusting harder into her, burying his face into her neck as he struggled to hold on. She held onto his back as he gave her more and more pleasure, loving their union. 

“So close,” she moaned into his neck.

He leaned up just enough to stare daggers into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze taking her breath away. This wasn’t just a good fuck or a scratch to be itched for neither one of them. This was two people giving themselves to one another as they throw all their fears and insecurities out the window. 

And she could see through his eyes, just how he felt about her...

Her eyes filled with tears as he began to grunt with each thrust, signaling he was close. She wrapped her legs around his waist and used him to gain leverage and meet his thrusts. The new angle let him hit her sweet spot, and she became dizzy with pleasure as she felt her walls begin to contract around him. 

“I’m coming,” she whimpered before throwing her head back and holding on for dear life as her body shook with intensity. 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she squeezed him tightly again and again as he continued to thrust inside her, and her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she smiled with the amazing euphoria of her climax. 

“Oh fuck... oh... oh god,” he gasped as he felt himself tip over. 

He buried his face in her neck and pumped into her as fast as he could, making her yelp a few times through her lasting orgasm as he reached his. He held onto her as he growled and moaned through the delicious waves as he released himself inside her core with each thrust again and again. And as he felt the intensity of his orgasm ripple through him, his filter completely shut off...

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear as he thrusted his hips a few more times before stilling his body as he tried to catch his breath. 

If she had hit her peak any later, she would’ve assumed she imagined him saying that. But she didn’t, and he did. Now she can feel him recoil ever so slightly, realizing his possible ‘mistake’. He clung to her tightly, almost like he was afraid she’d move away, and he hid his face in her neck to try and enjoy this moment before whatever happened next. 

“Daryl,” she whispered, raking her hands through his hair. He shuttered at her touch but said nothing. “Daryl, it’s okay... I love you too.” 

It took him a few moments before moving off of her and facing her, relief and doubt mixed in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said as a few lingering tears ran down her face. She grazed her fingers over his cheek. “I love you Daryl... so so much.”

He sighed in relief as he wiped the tears from her face, and if she noticed his lip quivering from him trying to contain his own emotions, she didn’t let on. He leaned his forehead against hers and wrapped his arms around her, trying to keep her as close to him as possible. 

“Love ya,” he whispered again, kissing her cheeks lightly over and over as he repeated the words a few more times, making sure she heard it and felt it. 

“I love you,” she said again before the pull of sleep began to drag her under. And the last thing she could remember was his light kisses across her face as he nuzzled his forehead against hers.