#i think there's going to be friction between him and rick; they might end up doing their own seperate things now and then | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

txladyj-blog · 5 years ago

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This Time Around - Chapter 27

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 29/?

Three weeks was a long time for Jess when her movement was severely restricted and everything that she did had to be managed with one arm while she became almost fanatical about doing physio exercises to coax her shoulder back to its original strength. Daryl had become her shadow, only leaving her for a couple of hours at a time and it was becoming very evident to her that his continual presence was beginning to grate on her nerves as well as convincing her that she was a huge burden on his life. She knew he was doing it because he cared, because he didn’t want to see her injure herself further and also because she’d heard him mutter to himself that it was all his fault in the first place. At any other time, Jess would have been ecstatic to be able to spend so much time with him but guilt was playing a huge part in Daryl’s actions and she couldn’t stand the thought of him blaming himself for what was essentially, an accident. She had tried and failed to get him to at least go back to Alexandria during the daytime, but he wouldn’t hear of it, telling her that he didn’t trust her not to push herself too far. She didn’t argue. He had a point.

During the evenings spent at the diner, they often went about their own business without the need to fill the silence with chatter. She would journal, spending her time doodling over writing the long paragraphs that harked back to her past. Daryl would carve arrows or make fishing weights while she witnessed how good he was with his hands from the other side of the room. Occasionally, they would indulge in fiercely competitive card games or would simply sit back and play ‘never have I ever’ with the short supply of orange juice that was rationed from Alexandria. It was a game that set Jess’s teeth on edge for fear of being asked something so personal that she may feel the need to lie. But it never happened and for that, she was grateful.

The nights were as peaceful as they could be, with only the twinges of discomfort in her arm that made her flinch awake. As long as Daryl was there, her nightmares stayed locked behind the barrier he’d created between her reality and that of her trauma. He slept beside her, keeping a small distance between them unless she worked her way into it and ended up flush against his body with her face buried in his arm. He didn’t stop her or dare try to move her, such a small and seemingly common situation for anyone else meaning so much more to him that it calmed his inner chaos as much as it did hers.

She wouldn’t have called it arguing as much, but being in such close proximity all the time meant that it was inevitable that they would discover things about one another that caused friction. But their frayed tempers never crossed the line into full-on conflict and Daryl had to admit that he sometimes liked digging at her and watching her irritation towards him. He would deliberately poke fun at her or use her need to be a stickler for organisation against her by putting her books back in the wrong order, reveling in watching her jut her lower lip out and giving him daggers for even touching them. She was easy to wind up because he knew, after so long, exactly what buttons to push. Although it was highly amusing, it wasn’t a patch on seeing her blush.

Jess wasn’t one to let deliberate teasing slide though and her retaliation to Daryl’s incessant mockery was to hit him with the one thing he couldn’t stand; someone telling him how to do something. Her need to continue training, albeit gently gave her the perfect opportunity to throw pointless comments at him.

“A bird could swoop down and rip that thing right off if you don’t put your tongue away when you aim.” She would quip from the side lines of her training ground. His jaw tightened and his face turned stony but still, she persisted.

“Keep your fingers still on that knife handle. Dang. It’s not a frickin’ accordion.”

Quite clearly, he was discovering that he wasn’t the only one to get enjoyment out of merciless tomfoolery and maybe, just maybe, he’d met his match.

Yes, three weeks was a long time for Jess. Especially when Daryl made no further attempts to kiss her and as a result, lured her into a head-space in which she’d convinced herself that the whole thing had been a lapse of judgement. That he really did just want to be her friend and nothing more. The worst part was the voice in the back of her mind that prodded at her self-esteem, goading her into believing that it was because he’d seen her with hardly any clothes on and so, the sight of her curvaceous shape and awkward conduct had turned him off completely. But she still caught him staring at her. An act that she was not completely innocent of herself and she wished and wished that it meant he was building up to making a move that, to her sadness, never happened.

At the end of the third week they trudged through the searing hot woods towards Alexandria. Everywhere she looked, Jess could almost see the heat rising in blurry waves all around them, as though they were walking through a mirage that the canopy of trees overhead did little to stifle. She talked mindlessly, paying little attention to the words that came from her mouth, her focus mainly being on her destination and how she would get there without boiling to death in the heat.

“You don’t have to stay with me anymore y’know. I’m fine. It’s been three weeks. If my arm was going to fall off, I’m pretty sure it would have happened by now.”

The crackling of twigs under boots and the swishing of fabric was all of a sudden a lot quieter than before and she smoothed a palm across her forehead and glanced to her side to find Daryl’s eyes firmly locked on hers.

“What is it?” She asked.

He said nothing and to her surprise, stopped walking, sighing deeply and regarding her as if she were some kind of troublesome issue in his life that he didn’t quite know how to handle. His eyes drifted away briefly, only to fall back to her and his hand clutched the strap of his crossbow at his shoulder. His fingers toyed with the frayed fabric and Jess started to feel uncomfortable when he stepped towards her, only to rethink it and step back again.

“Are you okay? What is it?” She pressed, knowing that if Daryl stopped in his tracks in the middle of the woods on a terribly hot day and said nothing, it meant that something was bothering him.

“Nothin’. It’s nothin’.” He grumbled before pushing past her and resuming his path along the dusty woodland floor. Jess flapped her hands by her sides in frustration and broke into a jog. Nearing him, she flung a hand out and slapped it across the left wing of his leather vest. He halted and before he could worm his way out, she skirted around him and defiantly blocked his path.

“Tell me.” She demanded.

She saw his throat ripple from a hard swallow and his eyes narrow in annoyance at being forced to speak when he’d opted not to.

“Told ya. S’nothin’.” He rasped. A response was not needed from Jess, she merely raised one eyebrow in disapproval and rested her hands on her hips. He evaluated the look in her eyes; stubbornness combined with concern.

“Fine” He conceded.

Just say it. Tell her you like staying with her and you don’t want to go back to Alexandria.

“I like…bein’ ‘round you.”

She flinched slightly at his comment, her eyes fluttering as she tried to decipher what he was getting at. Was it as simple as he said, or was there more to it?

“I like being around you too.” She replied.

The truth was, he’d been practically living with her for three weeks but he missed her desperately. He missed her kisses and the way she nuzzled at him and closed her eyes. He missed hearing her breathing change when his lips met hers and the way she held onto him like he might disappear. But hurting her was not an option and if he got too close, closer than he was at that point, the risk was too great. He would only have to step away to protect her from his perceived lack of anything to offer in a romantic capacity.

“I’ll tell Rick I’m comin’ back tonight.” He mumbled, lunging out to the side and storming past her.

“No, Daryl-Daryl, I didn’t mean that you had to go right away, or that you have to go at all. I just thought you might be real tired of me by now.”

He stopped and whirled around, striding up to her and stopping inches from her face. To the outside observer, it appeared like the start of a fight because of the shallow breaths from his nose and the angry vibe that surrounded him. Jess blinked in surprise but didn’t back off, holding her ground and bracing herself for an argument. His mind was jumbled, loud and busy and all he was able to do at that point was act on his impulses.

“I ain't never gonna get tired of you.” He growled at her.

Her mouth opened slowly and she blinked again as she tried to muster the courage to question if there was any truth to his statement if he never kissed her anymore but before she could even think straight, he’d spun back around and had vanished into the trees. All that remained was the faint odor of leather that lingered in her nose and made her wish that she could have the chance to smell the leathery, smoky fragrance of Daryl around her all the time, permanently and without having to question if she was good enough to ever feel the same love that she had for him.

When he arrived at Alexandria, Jess had followed on around five minutes behind him. Careful to allow him his space to simmer down from whatever had triggered his unpredictable mood. The streets were busy with people filtering out of their homes and setting off to their various jobs and Daryl sauntered along the sidewalk, aiming for the Grimes house when he was forced to stop by Glenn and Maggie, wrapped in an embrace in the middle of the sidewalk.

Glenn, who was playfully peppering Maggie’s cheek with kisses, held her close to his armor-clad body. Going on supply runs meant that he made sure to say a proper goodbye to Maggie. No one could ever be sure they would return from outside the walls but it was preferable not to mention such an unwanted outcome. Instead, enthusiastic farewells were the preferable option and Glenn and Maggie were unashamedly proficient at it.

“Wanna pour some Bisquick when I get back?” Glenn hushed at her.

Someone’s been talkin’ to Abe. Daryl thought.

Maggie shot him a confused look and placed a finger over his lips, silencing him from repeating any more of Abraham's crude sexual references. Daryl squirmed with anxiety and lowered his gaze as he approached the very public display of affection.

“You two ever put each other down?” He remarked, digging around in his vest pocket for his cigarettes.

Glenn turned to him with a wide grin on his face and Maggie stepped back in a haze, linking her fingers with his and holding onto his hand with both of hers.

“Happy wife, happy life.” She chuckled

“Maybe you should try it one day.” Glenn suggested with a slight squint against the sun.

Maggie giggled and gently slapped him on the forearm when she saw Daryl scoff and awkwardly shake his head. He didn’t know anything about romance, and realized that by making a careless, throwaway comment, he had somehow entered himself into the second conversation of the morning that he would rather not have.

“Don’t think so” Daryl mumbled, feeling his face turn warm as Jess wandered past on the other side of the street. He saw her do a small double take in the direction of the laughter from Maggie and Glenn and he deliberately averted his gaze, wary that she could be upset with him after his out of the blue admission in the woods. He hoped that they wouldn’t have to concern themselves with the discomfort of a discussion on the topic, but Daryl was learning that while he was just fine with burying his head in the sand, Jess sought answers and so far, he’d managed to avoid the elephant in the room. But now the elephant's days were numbered.

Glenn turned back to Maggie, tenderly kissing her goodbye and whispering that he loved her. When she left him to cross the street, he sighed happily as he and Daryl watched her join Jess in the pantry doorway. The click of a lighter and the scent of smoke snapped Glenn from his blissful vigil and he glanced to his side at Daryl, who’s vision was planted firmly on Jess as she explained in dramatic detail about how she’d injured her shoulder.

“Not seen you in a while, man.” Glenn pointed out. He’d spotted the top of a crossbow swaying against the light of the horizon from the tower and seen Rick exchange a few words with Daryl at the gate but they were the only two occasions in over two weeks that he could recall seeing Daryl inside the walls.

“Mm?” Daryl grunted, still keeping an eye on Jess. She was circling a hand over her weakened shoulder and motioning to the joint, a gesture which told Daryl that she was relaying the re-setting of the bones.

“Where have you been, Daryl?”

“Oh. Uh. Stayin’ with her.” Was his short response, coupled with a head nudged up in her direction as he exhaled smoke through his nose. “Dislocated her damn shoulder.”

“That’s rough. She alright?” He inquired.

“She’s too stubborn not to be.” He muttered to himself, shifting his weight and sensing that Glenn’s questioning was not quite finished.

“You guys seem… close.” He commented in a deliberately nonchalant tone. It was no secret to anyone that Jess and Daryl had grown close. Conversations were had behind closed doors and speculation was starting to increase among the group. Only a few had been brave enough to broach the subject with Daryl, who was notoriously a lone wolf with a short temper and all but Carol had been firmly ignored. Now, it was Glenn’s turn after he picked up on the strange atmosphere and ramblings of Jess in the room of Records during their residential supply run.

“Not you too. Don’t start with this shit, Glenn” Daryl sighed “You and Abe been sittin’ on the front porch gossipin’ like a couple old biddies drinkin’ tea after church?”

“What? No. Of course not.” Glenn quickly dismissed, covering up the fact that he had indeed spoken to Abraham about Daryl and Jess on more than one occasion before realizing that lying to Daryl was not a wise move. “I mean, we might have mentioned you guys once or twice.”

“Ain't nothin’ to talk about.” Daryl confirmed.

“C’mon, I noticed the weird atmosphere in that record room when we went on that run. You seriously telling me there’s nothing going on between you guys?”

Daryl took a long drag of his smoke and caught eye contact with Jess when Maggie left her to walk into the pantry. She gingerly held up a hand in acknowledgement to him. He mirrored her motion, seeing Glenn wave back eagerly from his peripheral vision. Guilt stung his heart for the untoward way he’d spoken to her in the woods. He was becoming more and more aware that his actions when he was around her were growing more erratic as his feelings for her spiraled into something strong and something that he was facing for the first time in his life.

“She’s fuckin’ awesome. We’re friends.” He finally answered. “Drop it.”

“Okay, man. That’s cool.” Glenn agreed, accepting Daryl’s veiled warning to leave the subject alone. “But y’know, If the walkers have taught me anything, it’s that life is short. There really shouldn’t be anything holding people back from relationships at this point. I mean, if someone had told me when I was still delivering pizzas and playing video games that I’d end up with someone as amazing as Maggie, I’d have laughed in their face. I guess this new life has a way of changing people and how they see you.”

Daryl flicked his cigarette end into the street and looked at Glenn with a baffled expression. Glenn wasn’t the only person to drop hints about his relationship with Jess. He’d faced it from Carol, Carl, Abraham and Rick and was beginning to question why everyone else seemed to be able to understand what he wanted more than he did. If he had his way, he and Jess would be together, outside the walls and away from the chatter and gossip. If he had his way, he would be the man she deserved and would be able to give her the kind of relationship she wanted. But he did not have his way, all he had was the memories of his past, the mistakes he’d made and the constant reminder that he wanted so much more for her. He couldn’t deny that Glenn had a point, people had changed and he’d witnessed it with his own eyes. But to him, he’d remained the same. Unworthy, clueless and not able to make her as happy as he wanted her to be. Such a topic was not favorable to Daryl and especially not out in the open. He huffed incredulously and refused to mimic Glenn’s small and genuine smile.

“What are you, Oprah now or somethin?” He questioned.

“You said you’re friends. You didn’t say you weren’t anything else.” Glenn shrugged as he took a quick glance at Jess.

“Get outta here n’ mind ya damn business” Daryl grumbled with burning cheeks and the urge to move and place himself somewhere he wouldn’t be forced to face the reality of his situation. He stepped off the sidewalk and into the road, picking back up on the path towards The Grimes house and leaving Glenn smirking behind him.

Inside the house, Carol was reclined on the couch thumbing through a book she’d picked up from the thrown-together library inside the church. It was a romance novel, typical of her taste and laden with enough cliches and dramatics to transport her into the pages and the realm of escapism that she needed from the harsh and ruthless world.

She sipped on a cold glass of water, grateful for the use of a working tap and never again planning on taking it for granted. On the coffee table, her knife rested, glinting in the sunlight from the window and rarely further than an arms length away from her grasp. She knew they couldn’t be too careful, especially after the town had been compromised in such a bad way. Always being prepared was key for Carol and she had no intentions to be caught off guard any more.

Hearing the front door open, she sighed and resigned herself to the idea that her reading time would be short lived unless she either locked the door or retreated to her bedroom. Footsteps clunked across the wooden flooring and stopped in the doorway. Carol sat up, craning her neck to see behind the couch and finding Daryl leaned against the door frame and fiddling with the leather holster of his knife which hung from his belt. His fingers plucked at the metal popper around the handle, snapping it closed and then open again, over and over. Carol raised her eyebrows at him as she climbed up from the couch and dropped her book on the arm.

“He lives!” she proclaimed. “I take it you’ve been staying with your girl.”

“She ain’t my girl.” He corrected quickly. In one way, she was his girl. His best friend. The only person he truly trusted with anything. But in another way, she was far from his girl and he wished, deep down in his heart that it wasn’t the case.

“Maybe not yet.” Carol muttered time herself as she picked up her glass of water and padded past him. She crossed the hall and entered the kitchen, her boots scuffing along the floor as she lazily dragged her feet.

“Give me a damn break, Carol.” Daryl complained while following after her. “ What the hell is wrong with everybody, anyways? I just had all this from Glenn. Can’t walk through the damn gate without somebody firing questions at me.”

She held her hands up in surrender and selected a mug from the cupboard. From the coffee pot, the poured the dark, steaming liquid into the mug and handed it to him. He watched her as she shuffled past him and settled on a stool at the kitchen island. He sipped the drink, almost able to feel the caffeine enter his veins, lighting up his body with energy. He turned, leaving the island and stalked over to the window, moving the drapes and keeping his eyes on Jess as she talked animatedly to Abraham and laughed happily.

Carol reached across the counter top and dragged a small, wicker box and a jacket towards her. She opened up the box and took out a sewing needle and black thread, effortlessly threading the needle and setting to work sewing up a hole in the seam of Ricks, fur-collared jacket. Her eyes moved up to Daryl intermittently and it became obvious what had garnered his attention through the window. Daryl was a quiet soul by all accounts, never one for rambling or mindless chit chat, but he did speak to Carol more than most and on that particular morning, he was quieter than ever. As the seconds ticked by and the hole in the jackets seam shrunk as a result of Carol’s sewing skill, he lingered by the window, slowly sipping his coffee with a blank expression.

“You okay? You’re normally quiet but this is unsettling.” Carol mentioned.

He briefly looked at her. A fleeting, split second glance over his shoulder.

“M’fine.”

He wasn’t fine, Carol could sense it. Call it woman’s intuition or just a vast knowledge of the complexities of Daryl’s character, but she knew that he was far from okay. He was preoccupied, pensive and somewhat deflated.

“You can tell me.” She reminded him in a blasé tone and turned her attention back to her sewing. She knotted the thread and tugged on the fabric either side of the stitches. It would hold fast and Rick would not have to lose the collar of his jacket. Satisfied with her efforts, she tidied away the needle and thread back into the box and folded the garment..

“I know.” Daryl responded softy. He knew Carol would always be there for him as someone to lean on and someone that understood him. Aside from Jess, she was the closest person to him and had shown him the importance of acknowledging his emotions.

“How is her shoulder?” She asked.

“Almost healed.” He grunted, lifting a hand and pushing the blind apart with his fingers to create a hole in which he could get a better view of Jess.

“So, why are you watching her as if she will shatter into a million pieces?” Carol questioned, now staring right at him with a stern expression. Daryl did a small double-take at her and suddenly felt exposed and caught out.

“I ain’t” He mumbled, moving away from the window and sitting down opposite her.

She waited patiently for him to speak, knowing it would happen sooner or later. She could almost see the load on his mind weighing him down. He fidgeted in his seat and sipped his coffee again before biting his lip.

“I dunno what the hell I’m doin’.” He admitted. They locked eyes and he could tell that she was full of sympathy and concern at his sad and overwhelmed voice. He was opening up and she adopted a calm and still presence so as not to scare him back into his silence.

“Can fight, can hunt, can tell good folks from bad ones.” He started. He was looking right at her, a desperate hope that she could follow what he was saying. “Can’t fuckin’ figure out what the hell is goin’ on in my own damn head.”

Carol pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, lightly patting his hand which rested on the countertop.

“You have to ask yourself what it is that you really want.” She advised.

Daryl shifted and cleared his throat before rubbing at his eyes and growling low in his throat with frustration.

“Y’know what? Just forget I said anythin’.”

His walls were going back up and Carol felt momentarily powerless to stop them for fear of angering him, but she couldn’t abandon hope altogether and decided to shove aside her reservations and continue trying to extract the truth.

“What do you want, Daryl?” She asked directly.

Finding himself backed into a corner and unable to figure out a way to escape such a straight question, his eyes locked with hers. He knew better than to think she would announce anything he told her from the rooftops. His trust in her was unwavering, but discussing such a topic had never been on his radar before and confessing such a personal and real truth made his palms sweat and his chest hum with nerves. He knew exactly what he wanted and it had taken a fight in his own head to come to that conclusion. Admitting it out loud was a new battle altogether.

“Her.” He whispered “I want her.”

Once again, Carol reached out and touched his hand, covering it with her fingers and smiling warmly at him. In his life, Daryl had never experienced the comforting assurance of a good friend, let alone a female and he felt as though he’d reached a turning point by answering her question at all, let alone with something so private. He never remembered enough about his own mother to know if she was as caring and invested in his happiness as Carol was. But Merle had given him the impression that delivering bottles of wine to her bed was the about the extent of their relationship. He wondered if this was what he’d been missing out on for so many years, if he would have found his teenage years and time following his brother like a sheep any easier if he’d been encouraged to express himself in ways other than violence and mischief.

“You need to tell her” She urged, keeping her hand where it was and giving it a slight squeeze. He looked down at where their hands connected and closed his eyes for a moment. A myriad of flashbacks flickered through his memory. Drinking, drugs, robberies, fights, arrests. The abuse. The tormenting, harrowing, haunting abuse. The scars. It was out of the question; he could never tell her.

“I can’t.” He croaked.

“Why not?” She pressed with a short disbelieving huff.

“It’s complicated.” He told her. He took his hand away and let out a long exhalation.

“You think she doesn’t like you that way?”

He caught her eye again, unsure whether to proceed in telling her that he was well aware of Jess’s interest in him and that no matter how much she liked him, he was unwavering sure that he would only end up hurting her. He didn’t know how to be with someone in that way, didn’t know how to be one half of a whole and above all else, when he faced his deepest thoughts, he couldn’t even say that he believed in love at all. But Carol was staring at him with pleading eyes, desperate for him to just say what he was thinking and he’d got that far, it didn’t make sense for him to give up now.

“She likes me.” He disclosed “I uh… I know she likes me”

“She told you that?” She queried quickly and trying not to sound too surprised. It wasn’t a secret to Carol that Jess’s affection for Daryl far surpassed that of a friendship, but to hear him say it filled her heart with joy at the prospect of some actual potential.

“Overheard her talkin’ to Aaron.” He said.

Carol grinned unashamedly. There it was, finally. “I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s obvious you’re her favorite thing.” She beamed.

“Nah, she’s lost her mind. She shouldn’t like me.” He dismissed.

“Daryl, the only thing that matters is that you’re both happy when you’re together. She’s changed you. Brought you out of your shell. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if she hadn’t managed to knock down a couple of those walls you put up to stop anybody getting close to you.” She explained with a strong confidence that what she was telling him was right and that he needed to hear it.

He nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “I can't do this stuff, Carol. Women. This ‘feelings’ bullshit.”

“Just be honest with her. That’s all you need to do.” She reiterated.

“I want…” he rasped before pausing to stand up, signalling that he was more or less done with the conversation. “...I just want better for her.”

“Better? What do you mean, better?” She challenged.

His chin quivered as he chewed his bottom lip and tapped a finger on the counter a few times, pondering over how difficult it felt to express something so personal.

“Better than me.” He uttered.

Carol also stood up, placing her hand flat on the counter top in front of her and leaning closer to him. She’d had enough, she certainly didn’t see him as not good enough for anyone and he was going to listen to her if he liked what she had to say or not.

“Listen to me. You’re a good man. You’re just as good as Rick and Glenn and Abraham and anybody else. Just as good. You’re not who you were.” She affirmed with a reasonably loud thud of her hand every time the word ‘good’ left her lips.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her frustration to stay below the surface and drew in a deep breath.

“We all bleed the same color, Daryl. You have her blood in your veins, pumping through your heart. She is a part of you.” She continued. She opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she noticed Daryl’s confused expression.

“What?” He questioned, baffled by her comments. “What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“When she gave you blood to save your life. After that bastard shot you.” She reminded him.

He blinked in surprise and his eyes searched her face for any hint that it might be a twisted joke or her information was incorrect. But she stood firm and not a single thing about her demeanor told him that what he’d just heard was untrue.

“When she did what?” He asked.

Carol recoiled, taking a step back and bringing a hand to her mouth as if to stop herself from disclosing anything else that he didn’t know.

“I thought you knew. I thought she told you. I thought everybody knew. How did you not know?” she rambled.

“She ain’t told me nothin’. What the fuck?” he demanded, his face now fixed into a look of pure shock and bewilderment.

“Ah. Okay. Um.” She stuttered before shaking her head quickly and trying to gather her thoughts. She could only guess that there was a reason Jess had not mentioned it to him and began to fret that she’d opened a can of worms that Jess was trying to keep closed. “You almost bled to death. Denise and Rick…they didn’t know your blood type. Jess said she was O negative, compatible with most blood types. So, she donated blood to you until she almost passed out. She saved your life.”

Daryl’s mouth dropped open and he slowly moved back, away from the counter until his back thudded against the wall behind him. He smoothed a hand down his face and searched the floor with his eyes while his mind cast back to the days after he’d been shot, to all the opportunities she had to tell him, but didn’t. It was something he’d wanted to know, something he needed to know and he just couldn’t fathom why she would want to keep such an important thing to herself. He began to regret being so dismissive of Denise too, ruling out any opportunities for her to disclose what had transpired while he was unconscious. His body filled with dread; why did Jess keep it from him?

“She never told me” He sighed.

Carol rounded the Kitchen island and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. She gave it a slight squeeze and caught his eye, forcing him to lift his dipped head and witness her broad smile.

“Now you know how important you are to her.”

The fairground grass was getting long enough to obscure Jess’s feet and knees when she waded through it while checking her fences. The calming sway of the green blades in the breeze and the soft rustling as she meandered through the open spaces was one of the more favored parts of her day. The chance to take stock of the little things. If it wasn’t for the pestering of the odd Walker pressing itself into the diamond shaped fencing and dropping coagulated blood onto the metal barrier, she would have thought it wasn’t far from a normal, perfect, summer's day. She clunked her knife along the metal as she walked, sending a loud, abrasive sound travelling along the chain link and alerting the attention of two Walkers ahead. They paused their swaying and wheezing for a moment, like dogs caught by a high-pitched noise and soon, they were trundling towards her and reaching out at their unfazed and well, equipped prey. Jess positioned herself close to the fence, wincing in disgust when the two undead threw themselves at her. Skin ripped and rotting, a putrid odor and a deep, bubbling of mucus and blood in their chests. With her knife, she used the diamond gaps to eliminate the threats. One through the eye and the other through an already pre-existing hole in the side of its skull. They dropped to the ground, one slumping over the other and Jess backed away, sheathing her knife and making her way to the Ferris wheel.

The twinges in her shoulder were less persistent and the dull ache that had initially made her nauseous was now a thing of the past. Thanks to Daryl’s much loathed physio book and his watchful eye, she had made a decent enough recovery to be able to look after her own property again. But she was yet to be faced with a situation that meant her muscles and tendons were put under strain and she hoped that until she could build her strength back up, she wouldn’t have to be.

She flicked through her book with her legs outstretched and her back popped up against the control box to the Ferris wheel. The sun beat down on her head, warming her scalp and threatening to burn her nose, but she enjoyed it, basking in the warm glow of the sun and locating the folded, bookmarked page in her novel. She was disturbed when the bell rang at the gate and swung her legs from the platform. She trudged through the grass and to the path, raising a hand and waving at Daryl on the other side of the gate.

The hinges creaked loudly with the movement as she tugged the gate open and let Daryl inside. He appeared nervous and uncomfortable, with his hands firmly clamped around the strap of his crossbow at his shoulder. She clanked the gate shut and secured the lock, noticing immediately that he didn’t seem to be quite himself.

“You got a minute?” He requested.

“For you?”

“Mmhmm”

“I always have several minutes for you.” She chirped with a shrug of one shoulder. She paced over to the Ferris Wheel and he followed along behind her until she halted and turned back to him. He noted her casual attire; a T-shirt, jeans and a hoodie. She wasn’t planning on leaving her compound and that, Daryl considered, meant he’d chosen a good time to address a tricky subject. A long and heavy pause meant that her eyes widened in expectation and she pushed her lips into a thin line. His boot tapped on the gravel and his vision scanned the ground. He hoped she couldn’t see him summoning the courage to talk but he felt more exposed and readable than he’d ever felt before.

“Think we should talk.” He rasped.

She almost missed it. A rare, hushed and surprising comment that she’d not heard from Daryl before and as the words echoed in her head, her heart started to race and her body was suddenly awash with nerves.

“Oh… You-you do?” She asked without thinking.

For as long as she’d known him, he’d never been the one to request to talk to her in such a way and it was telling. Jumping to the first conclusion she created, she assumed something was very, very wrong.

“Sure. Are you okay?” She questioned. Her tone was upbeat but even she could her the slight tremor in her voice.

“Mmhm. Just… confused.”

“Why?”

“Things have been kinda weird between us.” He admitted, finally making eye contact and hoping that he could deliver his point without actually having to say the words. Words that he wasn’t even sure he could choose wisely anyway due to being so out of his depth, he was quite literally just winging it. Far from wanting to overwhelm the both of them with the disclosure that he now knew she’d sacrificed her own blood to save his life, he decided that one precarious topic was enough for one day and he would need time to think over the monumental and selfless act that she had committed to make sure that he still existed. “Think ya know what I’m getting’ at here.”

“I do?” She squeaked.

“The uh, the record room. In that house. What we did.” He dropped his hands and a whoosh of breath left his lungs and for the first time ever, Jess saw a flicker of fear on his face. “and the times before that.”

Am I dreaming this? He’s actually bringing this up?! I thought I was going to have to take this uncertainty to the damn grave.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” She agreed as casually as possible but when her voice replayed back in her memory, she sounded more like she wanted to run away and hide from the reality of it all. She’d gone from desperately needing to know where she stood, to being terrified of how real discussing things made it feel.

“I guess we should try n’ figure this out.” Daryl suggested.

All at once, Jess remembered the past three weeks in which he had attended to her every need and practically wrapped her in an impenetrable, invisible safety blanket. But also, how he’d kept his distance. He’d held her hand and slept close to her, even let her snuggle against him every now and then but he had not made one, single attempt to kiss her again. She remembered waking next to him one morning, he was facing her with his cheek illuminated by the thin ray of light through the gap in the blacked-out window. He was sleeping peacefully with her hand enveloped in his and curled against the bare skin of his chest where the top of his shirt was unbuttoned. She fought with all her might not to lean down and kiss him awake. The fear of his rejection was too great for her to act on her desire.

“But you haven’t kissed me in three weeks. I thought that was done.” She expressed.

I am far from done with you, girl. I wish I never had to be.

“Was ‘cause of me that ya fucked up ya shoulder.” He replied “Thought I should leave ya be.”

“Oh.” She heaved in a jagged and nervous breath “I don’t blame you for my shoulder. Was my own stupid fault. I thought...” she stopped herself, reluctant to tell him the real reason she’d pinned on his inaction.

“You thought what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She whispered, trying to brush it aside to avoid telling him the embarrassing truth. His expression changed and before she knew it, he was looking right at her face with pleading eyes, urging her to give him a break and work with him.

“C’mon, Jess. I’m tryin’ here. It does matter.” He pleaded.

“You’re right” She agreed with a nod. “I thought you stopped kissing me because you… because you didn’t like what you saw that evening. The shoulder thing. The clean-up. You, cleaning me up.”

Ugh. She thought. This is embarrassing.

He closed his eyes and sighed, horrified that she would believe such a thing. He wanted to tell her that his priority that day was her recovery, that he wasn’t using it as a chance to ogle her or treat her like she was an object and that if anything, despite his valiant attempt to remain detached from any kind of sexual feelings towards her, he would be lying if he said he didn’t think she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“That ain’t true.” He replied quietly but sincerely. “Hell, I wouldn’t- I don’t… uh…that ain’t true, at all. Alright? I don’t want ya to think that. M’sorry ‘bout this mornin’ too. How I was… in the woods. You were talkin’ bout me not havin’ to stay with ya no more n’ I guess I just- I just didn’t like the sound of that. It’s been good, bein’ so… close… to you.”

Well, I’ll be a bitch. He doesn’t find me repulsive? He likes being close…to me? No, the guy has definitely hit his head or eaten some questionable mushrooms.

Jess was floored and had evidently lost control of her facial features and her expression. She thought she probably looked a little like a startled rabbit but cared little for such a triviality when she’d been given the precious gift of Daryl’s rare and weighty honesty.

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave. I don’t. I don’t want that.” She assured him. The last thing she’d wanted was for him to leave and her comments had been born mainly from worrying that he was getting tired of her and needed his own space.

“Ahh fuck.” He cursed to himself. “I’m not good at this shit.”

“Makes two of us” She smiled.

He risked moving closer to her. Close enough to graze her fingers at her side with his. His touch didn’t linger but the sensation did and her skin sparkled with the want for more. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, took a deep breath and released it.

“Kinda miss ya” he confessed.

Jess’s eyebrows pinched together and she narrowed her eyes. He’d been with her for a large proportion of the time for three weeks. How on earth could he possibly miss her?

“I’m right here.” She chuckled nervously “You’ve been living with me for three weeks, dummy. I don’t understand.”

Moving closer still and with the echo of her shy laugh in his head he brushed her hair back from her shoulder before gently feeling over her cheek with his fingertips.

Daryl knew he had to amp up his bravery and so far, the conversation had gone far better than he could have hoped. She had been receptive, non-judgemental and hadn’t flinched in annoyance at his difficulty with expressing himself. He trusted her beyond measure and in that moment, he was certain that he always would.

“Don’t mean like that” He told her, stopping short of spelling it out to her.

She didn’t need to question his statement; it was now obvious to her what he really meant and she felt herself melt at how gentle and forthright he’d been. He was treating her like a fragile, precious piece of glass that could crack at any moment but was his prized possession.

“It ain’t done. Whatever it is. Not unless ya want it to be.” He confirmed.

“You scare me a little” She blurted out of nowhere. She couldn’t even pinpoint when the idea had entered her head.

“Why?”

Because you’re everything to me. Because you’re smart and courageous and selfless. Because you’re a total fucking dreamboat. Because you’re gentle and caring. Because you know I’m a little weird and hang out with me anyway. Because you literally make me weak when you kiss me. Because I know you want to touch me and I really want to let you. Because I am so in love with you, Daryl.

“You make me feel something I haven’t felt before. You make me feel like it’s a good thing to be me.” She replied.

“It is, Jess.” He said with a small smile and a sparkle in his eye.

There she had it, he wasn’t horrified by what he saw the day she dislocated her shoulder, he didn’t find her annoying or a burden and he hadn’t changed his mind. He was telling her, in the only roundabout way he knew how, that he wanted to keep kissing her, if she would let him.

“I-I miss you too” She disclosed with a shaky voice.

He smiled briefly and his eyes fluttered as he leaned down to her, brushing his hand over the side of her face and bringing her lips to his. It was like the first sprinkling of rain during a drought, long awaited and needed. She heard him gasp when his lips left hers transiently and came back for more, with more pressure the second time around, more craving and a sense of built up anticipation that she could feel dispelling form his very being as he kept one hand on her face and slid the other under the elastic hem of her hoodie, spreading his hand out over her hip.

Branches and leaves whipped against Carl’s face as he sprinted through the woods, desperately hoping he was on the right path and telling himself that if he just kept running, he would eventually find what he was looking for. His chest was burning and his feet were pounding so hard on the uneven ground that they felt like they were made from cement. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pressed on, running as fast as he could.

In the distance, he could see fencing and finally, his mind surged with relief and an involuntary whimper emerged from his lips. Finally, he’d reached his destination with his veins pumping with adrenaline and his nerves alight with panic. He surged forwards, racing towards the gate and catching his foot on a fallen branch. He stumbled but regained his footing and carried on until his body was slammed against the gate, creating a shockwave that rattled along the entirety of the fencing.

Inside the fence, he could see the dirty angel wings of Daryl’s back through the brightly coloured, chipping paint of the Ferris Wheel. In front of him, he could just about make out that Jess was standing in front of him. Close to him and neither of them were speaking. Carl squinted and laced his fingers into the metal grid of the fence.

“Guys?!” He called out “Jess? Daryl?”

Daryl pulled away from Jess’s lips, listening intently to what he thought was a voice on the wind but he’d been so wrapped up in what was becoming a moderately amorous tryst that he’d almost ignored the sound altogether.

“You hear that?” He asked Jess who was blinking up at him with reddened lips and in a complete daze.

“Hear what?” She croaked.

Daryl listened again, turning his head to the side and scanning the area. Although he saw nothing, his gut was telling him he was missing something and so, he waited a few more seconds.

“Guys! Help!” Carl yelled at the top of his voice, now slapping his hands on the fence. “She’s gone!”

Daryl turned to the gate, seeing Carl rattling the barrier and yelling at them. It was an automatic reaction that was without thought, but he grabbed Jess’s hand and yanked her along with him as he ran to the path and towards the panicked teenager.

“Carl? Who’s gone?” He called to him from a few feet away. Jess stumbled over her boots both from the surprise of Carl's arrive and potentially being caught kissing Daryl and from her hand being clamped in his as he dragged her to the gate.

“Enid! They took her! They took her! I tried, I tried to follow them. They-they were too fast and there were too many. I-I couldn’t!” He babbled

“What?! Who?!” Jess demanded, now standing beside Daryl and still absent-mindedly holding his hand. Neither of them seemed to be aware that their hands were still entwined and it wasn’t until Jess’s palm grew warm that she glanced down and quickly tore her fingers from his grasp. A flash of worry crossed his features at his thoughtlessness and they both focused their attention on Carl.

“The men that attacked Alexandria. They-they looked like part of the same group. They took her. They just came out of nowhere. From the trees and took her. I-I couldn’t stop them” He explained.

“Oh my god.” Jess muttered worriedly under her breath. Noticing a red mark that was rapidly becoming darker on Carl's cheekbone, signalling that he’d been hit. Her temper rapidly raged from the pit of her stomach and she grit her teeth and inhaled through her nose.

“Go tell Deanna.” Daryl told her before stepping closer to the gate and opening it up for Carl. “What way did they go?” He asked him.

“North, up to the highway, I’m not sure from there. I couldn’t keep up. I lost them. I tried, Daryl.”

His eyes filled with tears but Jess could tell he was managing to hold them back enough to stop them from spilling down his cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to cry, now was the time for action and Carl knew that more than any of the other teenagers back at Alexandria. He’d been through more than them, endured things that such a young soul should never have to shoulder. Carl was resilient and brave and she knew then that her and Daryl had their work cut out in trying to convince him to stay behind while they went out to look for Enid.

“I know, man. I know you did everything you could. You did the right thing comin’ to get us.” Daryl cooed, resting a hand on his shoulder and shaking it slightly “Were they on foot?”

“At first” he nodded quickly “Then they got in a truck. They left tire marks.”

“Alright. Jess, go tell Deanna.” He repeated, much to her annoyance.

“Uh…no?” She challenged “I’m going with you.”

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” He stepped closer to her and turned her around with a hand on her arm to block Carl hearing him. “You forgotten what they are? What they did to you? What they do to women?”

Her dreams hadn’t let her forget. The persistent nightmares only kept at bay by the safety and comfort of Daryl’s presence. The sight of Aaron and Eric’s kitchen was a constant reminder, as was the scar on the back of her head which was still tender to the touch even then. She most definitely hadn’t forgotten and it was for that reason that she had to do everything in her power to rescue the troubled girl that wandered the woods from a fate worse than death.

“Not for a single second. But I've been looking out for that girl since I got here and I’m not about to abandon her now. So, I’m going with her if you say so or not.”

Daryl quickly took a glimpse at Carl who was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other but still managing to appear fascinated by the closeness of the two people in front of him.

“Jess…what they tried to do to you last time… I can’t let that happen to ya. I won’t.” He pressed. The thought of her being anywhere near the group that hurt her so badly and had intentions to subject her to worse filled his heart with a fraught sense of discomfort and he swore to himself on that day that if anyone was to try to hurt her again he would not hesitate to destroy them.

“So, don’t.” She shrugged, terrified at her own determination and sheer grit.

Jess volunteered to take Carl to Alexandria while Daryl began tracking the mass of scuffed footprints through the woods and up to the highway until Jess managed to spot him emerging from the trees between deep and obvious skidded tracks that led onto the road. She stopped the car and he climbed in, shooting her an unimpressed look at her determination to tag along. Jess hadn’t disclosed what had happened to anyone inside the walls, mainly due to lack of time and focusing on running through the gate, telling Carl to go home and sprinting to Deanna’s house in order to pick up some keys. She found the house to be empty and so, helped herself before racing across the street to the armory to collect two guns, jumping back into the truck and speeding away from the town.

With the windows wound down and her head full of horrendous possible outcomes, Jess struggled to listen to Daryl as he lay out his opinion on what route they should take while smoothing a map over the dash. After asking him to repeat himself twice, he simply told her to stay on the same road until he told her to change direction.

Hours seemed to pass but the light never dwindled and Jess could only conclude that it only felt like so much time had passed when really, they’d been on the road for no more than an hour. She tried to focus, tried to push aside her fretting over what could possibly befall Enid if they didn’t find her. Daryl was eagerly watching the road and the trees on either side for signs of a possible ambush, but as they pressed on, he noticed nothing untoward.

A noise from the back of the vehicle soon stirred Jess from her anxious train of thought and she looked over at Daryl, who had evidently heard it too. He checked the backseat and the footwells and gave her a confused look. She shrugged and expressed that it was probably something rolling around in the trunk that she hadn’t bothered to check on their way out. She’d been in such a rush that all she could think about was obtaining a vehicle and weapons.

But then, it happened again. Clunk. Clunk. Bump. They both looked at each other again and Jess eased her foot off the accelerator.

“That ain't nothin’ rollin around. That’s somethin’ movin’.” Daryl rasped as he leaned through the gap in the seats and turned his ear to the sound.

Without a warning, the rear seat hatch sprang open and smacked on the leather seat surface.

“WHAT THE?!” Daryl shouted as he flung himself backwards in shock, hitting the vehicle’s radio and filling the cab with loud country music. Jess, also startled by the out of the blue occurrence, gripped the steering wheel and used all her focus to bring the truck back under control after it was sent swerving from one side of the road to the other. Her hands scattered frantically over the small levers either side of the steering wheel and in her terror, she began to flick them up and down. The indicators flashed and the windscreen wipers screeched across the dry glass. Johnny Cash blared from the speakers and if Jess wasn’t too busy trying to keep the vehicle under control at the same time and pushing her ear to her shoulder to muffle the music she would have been concerned with how many Walkers they were now attracting.

“Holy fuckin’ mackerel what is going on?! What is that?! Turn that shit down! Oh my god, my fucking ears! I’m going deaf!” Jess yelled.

Daryl scrambled about, hitting the radio over and over until the music finally stopped and he was able to turn back around to investigate the reason the hatch had slammed open and almost caused a crash. His eyes widened and his lips parted when he saw Carl hanging through the hatch, covered in sweat and gasping for air.

“You gotta be kidding me right now” He growled.

In the rear-view mirror, Jess stared in astonishment at the sight of Carl struggling to pull himself through the backseat.

“Is that-is that Carl?! Tell me that is not Carl! Daryl?!” Jess screeched.

“It’s Carl.”

“It’s Carl?! What the fuck is Carl doing in the trunk?”

“How the hell do I know?!”

“The kid is in the fucking trunk, Daryl!”

“I know”

“The kid is in the trunk, it’s like a thousand degrees outside and the kid is in the trunk!”

“I know.”

“This cannot be happening! He’s in the fucking trunk! He could have died!”

“I FUCKING KNOW, JESS!” He bellowed at her, rendering her silent but still reeling from the idea that Rick’s son had most probably stowed away while she wasn’t looking, meaning they would all have some serious explaining to do once Rick found out.

“C’mon” Daryl urged as he took hold of Carl's gangly arms and hoisted him through the hatch. His sheriffs hat caught on the plastic clip of the hole and once he was upright on the seat, he reached inside to retrieve it, placing it on his head to cover his sweat soaked hair. His once white T-shirt was now a light shade of grey from the perspiration and his cheeks were burning red. His breathing was settling and he wound down the window beside him, saying nothing and appearing highly disturbed.

“Hooooooh buddy are you in a whole lotta trouble right now.” Jess chuckled in a sinister tone. She guided the car to the side of the road and hit the brakes. Jumping out from the drivers side , she slammed the door and sent a careless crash of a noise filtering through the trees. Daryl followed suit but didn’t bother to shut the door on his side, he figured Jess had just made enough noise for the both of them.

“Rick is gonna lose his marbles when he finds out you’re gone, Carl.” Daryl told him as he opened the backseat door. Carl swung his legs out but stayed where he was, the thought of standing in the sun being a lot less appealing that it normally would have been.

“Shit in my mouth and call it a sundae!” Jess raged, stamping her boot on the road's surface. “You are dumber than a box of rocks!”

“I’m sorry” Carl croaked.

“Hey, Jess-” Daryl tried to cut in in order to calm her down.

“-NO!” She shot back at him with a point of her finger before turning back to Carl “Can you not feel how hot it is today?! You almost roasted your damn self to death in there! You scared the shit out of both of us!”

“I wasn’t scared.” Daryl mumbled as he lit a smoke and wandered into the middle of the road.

Jess whirled around and glared at him with fury.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but you were the one that started the Johnny Cash show in there and damn near burst my eardrums!” She cried.

“Was just surprised…s’all.” He shrugged “You’re the one that done turned it into the fuckin’ disco car”

The irate look on her face was hard to ignore and Daryl did little to hide the fact that he found it incredibly amusing when she lost her temper in this way. She bit her tongue and opted to back off, it wasn’t Daryl she was mad at, after all.

Carl sighed and wiped at his face, his eyes stung with the salty sweat and he wanted nothing more than a cold shower or a swimming pool and a popsicle at that moment in time. Jess leaned against the side of the car next to him and tried to get her temper under control.

“I can help. I want to help.” Carl said, sounding exhausted.

“Carl, since you arrived at Alexandria you’ve been given one task; stay inside the house when there’s trouble. To this day, you have not managed that and you were just re-born though the back seat of a car because you were stupid enough to lock yourself in there, not only on a real hot day but on a rescue mission you are not supposed to be a part of. You do not get a say, okay?!” She explained.

Daryl walked back from the center of the road and rested a hand on his hip while he took a drag of his cigarette and studied Carl.

“We ain’t got time to take him back.” He stated with a glance at Jess.

“Then let’s just leave him here and claim ignorance.” She replied casually.

As much as he wanted to laugh, he simply raised one eyebrow and held back a smile. Her amusing take on anger and her way of wording things was unique and he hoped she never lost it.

“Jess.” He warned.

“I’m kidding.” She scoffed. “Sorta. We’ll have to take him with us.”

Daryl leaned on the open door of the vehicle and dipped his head, catching Carl's eye and encouraging him to lift his head so he could see his face. His cheeks were regaining their usual color and he was seemingly recovering from his time in the tin box of heat.

“You stay in the car n’ do as we say or you’ll get us all killed, you hearin’ me?” He questioned firmly.

“Yeah, OK.” Carl nodded. Even if he wanted to protest, he didn’t have the energy at that point. Hearing a low growl in Daryl’s throat, he gathered quite rapidly that the archer, his father’s best friend and one of the people his entire group looked to for protection, was quite unimpressed by his actions.

“I could tan your hide for this, man. She’s hysterical…” He motioned to Jess with the wave of a hand in her direction “…but she’s right. This was stupid and dangerous”

Carl’s face changed and a certain boldness crept across his features. He took a quick peep at Jess before blinking up at Daryl.

“You’d do it.” He said clearly.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“If it was Jess that got taken. You’d do the same. You really like her.” He declared.

Daryl felt his chest constrict and his breath catch in his throat. He almost didn’t want to check Jess’s reaction because of the heavy awkwardness of it all. In a split second, Carl had managed to switch the atmosphere with just one simple sentence. But Jess had heard every word and quickly decided to remove herself from the situation. It was all she could do to stop the raging embarrassment that was threatening to expose itself across her cheeks.

“I’m just going to take a walk. Check out the…scenery” She said nervously as she pointed to the line of darkened trees opposite. For miles, both sides of the road were the exact same and there really wasn’t much to look at but Jess was determined to put distance in between herself and Daryl and Carl. She pretended she couldn’t hear them as she walked away. Unbeknownst to them, she could decipher most of their conversation.

“You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that.” Daryl told Carl as he checked on Jess to find her pacing about and tapping her thigh with her fingers.

“I know you got shot trying to save her.” He mentioned.

“We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me, we’re talkin’ ‘bout you. Focus.” He told him, tapping his own temple to ram the point home.

“But it’s the same thing.” Carl countered, set in his decision to make Daryl see that there was very little difference in Jess being kidnapped or Enid being kidnapped. The result would be the same. “You’d want to go and find Jess if she was kidnapped.”

He couldn’t lie. Daryl was never one for lies and especially not to an impressionable teenager. With Carl waiting for a response, Jess hovering nearby and the clock ticking away the chances of rescuing Enid, he took a deep breath.

“Yeah, alright. I would.” He admitted. “I get it, okay? You like her and ya can’t stand the thought of her gettin’ hurt. You’re gonna have to come with us but you're stayin' in this car. You good with that?”

“Yeah. I’m good with that.” Carl agreed.

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tagging as requested: @lilred254 @woundmetender @lonewolf471

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MasterList

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

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belphegor1982 · 5 years ago

Text

Last chapter before the epilogue next week. WOW. I - yeah, it kinda blows my mind.

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22)

Chapter 23: Jurisdiction Friction (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

The fleeting moment before Evelyn truly woke up was pure bliss. Her whole family was alive and safe, and she was lying in Rick’s arms, practically on top of him despite the bunk being quite large enough for two, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his thumb softly caress her shoulder.

There was a knock on the door, a murmur, and the moment was over. Evelyn heard Rick’s sharp whisper of “What d’you mean, ‘an army’?” and woke up for good.

The day only got weirder from there.

Rick went off to investigate this new development while Evelyn went in search of Alex, who seemed to have disappeared along with his mattress and blanket. She found all three on the floor of Jonathan’s cabin, uncle and nephew fast asleep and snoring softly. Jonathan’s right arm was dangling from his bunk; Alex had grabbed hold of two of his fingers and still held them tightly. Evelyn decided against waking them up, and closed the door with a fond smile.

Outside the dirigible, it was chaos, or something approaching. Soldiers in British Army uniforms alighted from cars and lorries and stood awkwardly between the rows of tents, while Medjai grabbed their weapons, most half-dressed and some still swathed in bandages.

The air was growing thick with tension when a stout man sporting the crossed swords and crown of a Lieutenant-General and in possession of a truly impressive moustache stopped in front of Evelyn and said in a booming voice, “You there, madam – could you tell all these people to stand down? We do come in peace, you know.”

Evelyn stared at him, unsure why he had singled her out, before realising she was the only white person around.

Oh, for God’s sake.

“I’m not in charge here, Lieutenant-General,” she said coolly. Spotting Ardeth making his way through the onlookers, she pointed at him and said, “He is.”

Somewhat to her surprise, the officer saluted, and smartly at that.

“Lieutenant-General Douglas Wilkins,” he said, “in charge of the British garrison at Fort Brydon.”

Ardeth stared at him with narrowed eyes. Despite the early hour and the accumulated fatigue, he stood tall, back and shoulders straight, every inch the Commander.

“Ardeth Bay, High Commander of the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai,” he said gravely. “What are you and your men doing here?”

Lieutenant-General Wilkins plopped a hand behind his back and curled the tip of his moustache.

“Well, it’s rather a long story –”

He was interrupted by a tall, thin man who came running in, glasses balancing precariously on the tip of his long nose.

“Lieutenant-General,” he panted, “please stand your men down and make it clear that you’re not in fact an invading army.”

“You don’t say!” said Evelyn, biting sarcasm bubbling up. The newcomer looked at her, adjusted his glasses, and looked at her again.

“Dr Evelyn O’Connell, I presume? Samuel Lyall-Hughes, First Secretary to the British Ambassador in Cairo.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.

“Would that be the actual British Ambassador in Cairo, or a front for something more… disreputable? We have dealt with imposters claiming they were from official British organisations before.”

Lyall-Hughes shook his head. “I assure you, my claim is quite genuine. When we are in Cairo again I can show you my credentials with the Prime Minister’s signature. Baldwin’s, I mean, not Chamberlain’s, but I’m sure it will do. Commander Bay?” he added, turning to Ardeth and extending his hand. “It’s an honour. I’m sorry to barge in like this uninvited.”

Ardeth looked at the proffered hand as if it was an unknown species of snake, but shook it, still wary. Around them, people lowered their weapons, and the tension went down a notch.

“What are you doing here?” Ardeth asked, looking at Wilkins and Lyall-Hughes in turns.

Wilkins huffed, clearly miffed about being so badly snubbed.

“I was starting to ask myself the same question, actually.”

“It came to our attention,” Lyall-Hughes said smoothly, “that citizens of the British Crown were enmeshed in, um, a little bit of a situation here.”

Evelyn crossed her arms.

“You might call it that. Or you might also call it theft, kidnapping, attempted murder, and tampering with forces beyond our understanding.” Then, as Lyall-Hughes opened wide eyes, “The question is, what made you come here? Did someone finally realise what Charles Hamilton intended to do?”

“Ah, no. Well, not as such.” Lyall-Hughes somewhat nervously adjusted his glasses. “You see, the British Consulate��”

“I told them,” said a woman’s voice in soft, cultured tones – the sort of careful Received Pronunciation that spoke of upper-middle-class. Evelyn whirled round.

The woman looked a little older than she was; her frizzy dark red hair had probably been deftly done and her clothes been prim and neatly pressed at some point, but now her entire person appeared worn, frazzled, and dirty. The way she held herself made it obvious she was tired but determined to stand her ground. She was holding on to Tom Ferguson, who in turn clung to her like she was a buoy and he on the brink of foundering. He had the strangest look on his face as he stared at her, awe and wonder mingled.

This answered a few questions and raised others at the same time.

Evelyn left Ardeth, Lyall-Hughes, and Wilkins to their discussion, and walked up to the couple.

“Mrs Ferguson?” she asked softly. “I’m Evelyn O’Connell.”

Mrs Ferguson smiled.

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs O’Connell, although the circumstances leave a lot to be desired.”

“They do, don’t they?” said Evelyn with an impish grin she couldn’t hold back. “Likewise. And please, call me Evelyn.”

“Only on condition that you call me Elizabeth.” Mrs Ferguson – Elizabeth – stopped and looked at her with a soft smile. “I apologise for staring, it’s just – your brother talked about you so much, I feel I know you already.”

Evelyn thought about the merciless teasing she and Jonathan had thrown at each other over the years and fought back the urge to roll her eyes.

“I’m sure he had a lot to say,” she muttered. “So do I, when it comes to—”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You misunderstand me. I mostly remember him being exceedingly proud of his little sister.”

“…Oh.”

Evelyn felt heat rise in her cheeks. She opened her mouth, and, since words just didn’t seem to be forthcoming, closed it. Instinctively, her eyes sought Tom for confirmation.

Tom still looked as though he had smacked right into a lamppost, but he nodded.

“Absolutely. Of course, on occasion he also said you liked to boss him around a little too much for your own good, but –”

Elizabeth elbowed him in the ribs, her eyes shining with laughter. “Tom!”

“Well, it’s true! But yes, Jon bragged about you a lot more than he complained.”

“He did complain, though, didn’t he?”

They were both smiling the same smile, tinged with the same amused fondness. It didn’t escape Evelyn’s notice that Tom – for all that he still appeared awe-struck by the unexpected presence of his wife – looked a lot more at peace. There was a softness to his features that hadn’t been there before.

And by the way…

“How on Earth did you get here?” Evelyn asked Elizabeth, who smiled wryly.

“Well, I was, er… kidnapped, I think the word should be – right off the street, in England – and brought here. I mean, in Cairo. I was held in a basement, and –” The hand that wasn’t around Tom flew to her mouth. “Oh, goodness gracious – your husband! Is he all right?”

Before Evelyn could answer, a baritone came up from behind her. “Hon? Ardeth’s calling in a big meeting in an hour, and he – um, hello. Who are you again?”

Rick stood beside her, looking at Tom and Elizabeth, frowning, as though trying to place her face. Elizabeth stared at him. Then a smile lit up her face.

“Good morning, Mr O’Connell. You’re taller than I thought you would be.”

Rick stared back for all of five seconds, then his trademark toothy grin lit up his face.

“Oh hey, Mrs Ferguson. Uh, right back at you, actually. What happened to you?”

“Well, as I was telling Evelyn here, I was kidnapped in England and put in a basement in Cairo – where we had that lovely conversation through the vent. You gave me a lot to think about, you know. I spent a couple of days trying to make sense of everything, and then, when one of those… agents, I suppose, came in to check in on me, I, um… grabbed his gun and turned it on him.”

She said that quickly, blushing like a shy schoolgirl who had got away with a particularly intrepid dare. Her freckles stood out across her nose.

Rick nodded appreciatively.

“That must have taken guts.”

“Guts I don’t have, but that young man didn’t know that. I marched him out of the basement and into the building proper – that’s where I found out we were actually in the British Consulate. I made him knock on the first door I could find with a rank that looked official and we ended up in Mr Lyall-Hughes’ office. The man – Mr Stephens, he said his name was – confessed everything he knew.”

“What did he know?” Evelyn asked.

“Almost everything, as it turned out. Mr Lyall-Hughes and his superiors were not happy about Charles Hamilton and his plan, as you can imagine. They gathered all the information they could find about the intended destination and called up troops from Fort Brydon, and… Well, here we are.”

“So it was you who called in the cavalry, huh.” Rick nodded. “Good timing. The Medjai were starting to wonder what they were supposed to do with their prisoners.”

Evelyn agreed on that, although she couldn’t help thinking that the British Army’s presence might complicate matters more than it would simplify them. She looked at the little crowd of soldiers slowly trickling away to gather elsewhere, and in the flow of khaki spotted a familiar figure coming in from the opposite direction.

“I say, Evy – where the hell did all these soldiers come from? Please tell me they’re human, at least.”

Jonathan was obviously not fully awake yet but making a commendable effort. Rick looked at him then at Elizabeth with a curious twinkle in his eyes, and to Evelyn’s surprise leant to whisper in her ear, “This should be good.”

“What do you –” began Evelyn, but her voice trailed off when Jonathan stopped in his tracks and just stared. His jaw dropped open and he went scarlet up to the hairline.

Elizabeth and Tom shared a smile. Then Elizabeth took one step forwards, and, quite graciously, extended a hand.

“Mr Carnahan,” she said courteously. “Lovely to see you again.”

Jonathan stared at her hand, then gazed down at his rumpled, dirty clothes. He made an awkward, half-hearted attempt at brushing off the dust and straightening his ruined jacket, then – probably recognising a losing battle when he saw one – just stood ramrod-straight with his chin up.

Evelyn, who had always seen her brother slouch and drape himself over the furniture like an overgrown cat since he had got out of grammar school, consciously or not, had to bite down a fit of laughter.

Jonathan took Elizabeth’s hand and – to Evelyn’s amused surprise – gave a quite correct bow. Then the unusual formality went out the window as he grinned what he probably thought was a roguish grin. The effect was marred by the fact that his face was still very pink.

“Lizzie, old girl! Fancy seeing you here.”

“It was ‘Miss McAllister’ before, and it’s ‘Mrs Ferguson’ now,” Elizabeth corrected with mock severity. Jonathan squinted at her.

“Well, it’s still ‘Jonathan’.”

There was a beat, then Tom snorted, then chuckled. So did Elizabeth and Jonathan, who closed the few steps between him and the couple and said, halfway between a delighted laugh and a whine, “I can’t believe you two didn’t invite me to your wedding! Honestly, was I so hard to track down?”

“You were in Egypt, Jon”, Tom pointed out, “in the middle of the ruddy desert!”

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

“You could have bothered to send a telegram. Or a letter.”

“Well, we would have if you’d bothered to tell me your address!”

“Goodness me, Jonathan, your jacket – what—?”

“Bah, that’s nothing. Remember the time me and Tom sneaked into St Hilda’s?”

“You mean when you two went missing for almost a week because you got locked in a basement and savaged by a sheep?”

“It was a ram! I mean, really –”

“C’mon,” said Rick with a laugh in his voice, pulling gently on Evelyn’s elbow.

“But –” Evelyn was highly intrigued by the conversation. She had been a young girl when Jonathan had gone off to Oxford, and he had always been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about whatever he had been up to whenever he got back home. Now, though, it was as if a window had opened on a wholly different world she knew precious little about, along with a side of her brother she had never been allowed to see, and both made her very curious.

Rick grinned.

“If it’s blackmail material you’re after, I’m thinking you already have enough on your brother to last a long, long time, am I right? Besides,” he added with a smile and a jerk of his chin, “they obviously have some catching up to do.”

“Oh, all right.”

Evelyn reluctantly followed Rick; the trio, lost in memories, laughter, and updates on recent events and each other’s lives, didn’t even seem to notice she was gone.

.⅋.

The meeting Ardeth had called was to take place in the same tent Evelyn had witnessed the Council of Elders, two nights ago. At the entrance, she and Rick met Imeni, who was hopping along with the aid of a cane, her right leg bandaged from knee to ankle.

“It’s nothing,” she said when she saw their stricken expressions. “Just a little souvenir from the Warriors of Anubis.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing to me,” said Evelyn, noting the little lines of pain around her mouth that hadn’t been there the last time they had seen each other.

“Thanks for taking care of Alex yesterday,” Rick said. “And sorry we had to impose on you. If I’d known…”

Imeni shook her head with a smile. “Nonsense. He’s a sweet boy, and he was heartbroken. You didn’t impose in any way.” She stopped, and asked, a little hesitantly, “Is it true, what Ardeth told me? That Alexander found the Book of the Dead and brought back Jonathan with it?”

“He did,” answered Evelyn, unable to keep the pride from her voice. Imeni nodded, looking pensive.

Rick’s eyebrows went up a notch.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not too happy about that?”

“No, I am – I really am. Jonathan is a good friend and I’m glad he is still with us. But the Book…” Her long black eyes came to rest on the tent, their expression sad. “We lost many people to Anubis’ Army two nights ago. Family, friends. It would be so easy to bring them back, but – we can’t. It would be a… a soapy slope?”

“A slippery slope,” murmured Evelyn.

“Yes, thank you. Last night Ardeth and I agreed to keep it a secret from everyone but the Elders and the Chieftains. How could we decide who lives and who dies? Who can be brought back, and who can’t?” Imeni had to stop, her eyes very bright. “No-one should have that kind of responsibility. Even if…” She inhaled sharply, with just the hint of a sniff, and let out a shaky breath. “Anyway. Um. Not a word about the Book during the meeting, please. We don’t want outsiders to know. Things are complicated enough.”

“Of course,” said Rick in a low voice, while Evelyn nodded, her throat tight. She held the tent flap for Imeni and entered after her, Rick following behind without a word.

Inside the tent, there were half as many people as there had been during the previous council. Ardeth, Imeni, Atifa, Lyall-Hughes, and Lieutenant-General Wilkins sat on the same colourful cushions, the last two looking slightly ill-at-ease. Presently they were joined by Tom, Elizabeth, and Jonathan; when they were all settled, Ardeth stood up to introduce everyone, then said, “Before we begin, I will state that this meeting is purely off the record. This is not the Council of Elders or the Gathering of Chieftains, only different parties coming together for the sake of diplomacy.”

“Absolutely,” said Lyall-Hughes smoothly. “This is not Geneva and we are not the League of Nations, either. May I have the floor, please?”

Ardeth gestured wordlessly. Lyall-Hughes sat as dignified as he could on his cushions and cleared his throat.

“First of all, I’d like to thank Commander Bay here for welcoming us into his camp and allocating this space for negotiations –”

Evelyn, feeling that this had the potential to go on for a long time, interrupted him. “Yes, Mr Lyall-Hughes, we’re all very grateful here, but as you said, this is not Geneva. The point, if you please.”

Lyall-Hughes gave her a calculating look. Then his gaze went back to Ardeth.

“Quite. Well, then, I would like to ask Commander Bay when he intends to release the prisoners. They are citizens of the Crown and we would like to repatriate them.”

Ardeth evenly returned him his look.

“We did not intend to keep them forever. The Medjai are guardians, not jailers. But,” he added severely, “directly or not, they are responsible for the death of over a thousand of our people and would have caused the end of the world if not for the O’Connell family. Will they face justice once they are in England?”

Lyall-Hughes looked uncomfortable, and this time the unorthodox seating arrangements seemed to have nothing to do with it.

“Oh, well,” he said, “this is of course very unfortunate, but what kind of court would judge them? And what would the charges be?”

“How about treason and violation of the Pact of Paris1?” Tom said hotly. “Charles Hamilton himself told me he’d used his rank and experience in the Chamber of Horus to secure contacts in the government of Nazi Germany. He intended to use a supernatural army as private mercenaries against an entire nation, for Christ’s sake!”

Lyall-Hughes made a dismissive gesture.

“Charles Hamilton is currently in a state of… shock, for want of a better term, and as such cannot be held responsible for his past actions.”

“Bollocks!” cried Tom, now rather red in the face. “He started the whole thing! Without him, none of this would have happened! And now you’re tellin’ me he’s going to get away with everything?”

“Let’s say Hamilton’s brains did get scrambled and he really can’t stand in court,” Rick cut in. “He had Baine, his right hand man – if he’s still alive – and dozens of flunkies. Ferguson here wasn’t the only one who said ‘the hell with it, he’s nuts’, but he’s the only one I know who actually helped us take him down.”

Lieutenant-General Wilkins shook his head with what he probably thought was a genial expression.

“Come now, they were only following orders. Can’t fault them for that, can you?”

Atifa raised her hand. “The men we captured at the foot of the pyramid fought by our side,” she said dryly. “They went against their orders and decided to stand with us. They could have just let the Army of Anubis kill them while we died trying to protect them, or tried to escape and be killed anyway, but they didn’t.”

Rick made a ‘see?’ gesture in her direction, and continued, “Also, those guys are civilians, not soldiers. Right?” he asked Tom, a few seats over, who nodded. “Right. So the whole ‘following orders’ thing doesn’t carry the same weight. And second, remind me whose orders Hamilton was supposed to follow again? The guy had to have someone above him, am I wrong?”

Lyall-Hughes suddenly became very interested in the creases in his tie.

“You see, the Chamber of Horus as an organisation is… not exactly what you would call ‘in the limelight’. Rather the opposite, you see, ‘off the books’ as one might say. Charles Hamilton’s province was the treasures of North Africa; others like him oversee other areas. There is a hierarchy above them, of course, but I am not at liberty to name –”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “The Chamber have their offices inside the British Consulate in Cairo, officially or not. Isn’t that right, Mr Ferguson?”

Tom was still glaring at Lyall-Hughes and Wilkins in turn, but nodded.

“We were supposed to be from the British Antique Research Department,” he said, “so as such the Consulate was a front in case outsiders needed to see offices. A lot of the work in Egypt was done from Giza, though, even if the premises were, er… less suitable.”

“Did the Consulate know about this?” Evelyn asked, pointedly looking at Lyall-Hughes.

The man didn’t squirm, but came close.

“What you must understand is –”

“Did they?”

“Yes,” Lyall-Hughes all but snapped. “The senior attachés did, anyway. Hamilton had the deplorable habit of treating the Consulate as his own personal retreat whenever he was in Egypt.”

Rick crossed his arms.

“There you go. So even if his direct superior couldn’t see what he was up to, you could. So either Hamilton went rogue, and that makes you incompetent, or he didn’t – and that makes you responsible.”

There was a pregnant pause. Wilkins looked at Rick, flabbergasted.

“Are you threatening a British citizen on British soil, sir?”

“This is not British soil,” Ardeth pointed out in a low voice. “Borders don’t mean anything in the desert, but we are a day’s walk south of Sudan. This is Abyssinia.”

“And Great Britain hasn’t recognised Italian authority over the Ethiopian Empire,” Evelyn said sharply. “So if you want to discuss Hamilton’s intended acts of war on foreign soil, I suggest you take it up with Emperor Selassie. I think he lives in Bath now.”

Lyall-Hughes took off his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “This is a diplomatic nightmare.”

Evelyn was unmoved.

“Look,” she said, using her most reasonable voice, “it doesn’t have to be. All we ask is accountability. The people who gave orders need to recognise they were bad orders, and the people who followed them need to realise they shouldn’t have.”

“Hear, hear,” piped up Jonathan. “Considering those orders included larceny, assault, kidnapping, and murder, I should say there’s something rotten in the state of Denmark. How do you even recruit agents for that Chamber of yours? No offence, Tom,” he added with a quick look at Tom sitting next to him, “but most of the fellows I heard talking didn’t seem to find anything wrong with using Lizzie’s life as leverage! How on Earth did it come to this!?”

“I should like to point out that if you want to discuss objectionable actions committed on British soil, I might as well speak up.” Elizabeth’s voice was low and somewhat hesitant, but it got stronger as she talked, her hand in her husband’s. “I live in Dorset. I was taken right off the street one morning on my way to work, drugged, and shipped off to Egypt where I was imprisoned for a week in the very basement of the British Consulate. I shall be very lucky if I still have a job when I get back home. So I’m seconding what Evelyn said about accountability. And I shall follow your career with great interest, Mr Lyall-Hughes.”

Lyall-Hughes stared at her with the look of a man who’d just been attacked by a mouse and found that it could, in fact, do some damage. Wilkins glanced at him, then at the company, a puzzled expression behind his moustache.

“Frightfully sorry to change the subject,” he said, “but I must have misheard something. There was a battle fought here, yes? We saw the signs, they were quite clear, and the commander mentioned losing a thousand men. Whom did you fight, exactly?”

“We fought the undead army Hamilton unleashed from the pyramid,” said Ardeth. “The Army of Anubis. Jackal-headed soldiers, seven feet tall, who can only be killed if you cut off their heads.”

Wilkins blinked.

“Sounds quite. Um. Quite fantastic, doesn’t it? Seven feet tall, you say? My word,” he said with a weak chuckle. “How imaginative. Are you sure you’re not having me on? Because that –”

Imeni, who had been silent so far and watched the proceedings, looking rather unimpressed, turned a scathing gaze on him.

“Foolish men released the jackal warriors two years ago,” she said in the hardest voice Evelyn had heard her use, “and we fought them. They cut my brother down and I held him as he died. Do you know how many brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, and children we lost this time? One thousand two hundred and eighty-nine, and that’s if the wounded all live. All because one fool thought Anubis’ Army would obey his orders. Doubt us if you want, but if you laugh, ��uqsim biallah2 –”

Evelyn froze. The few words she’d had with Imeni just before the meeting replayed in her mind, along with the repressed anguish in her voice. Agonising about the impossible responsibility something like the Book of the Dead brought was bad enough; but knowing that the difference between losing and keeping a loved one was, in essence, a question of timing was nothing short of wretched.

She had held her brother’s hand as he died, too. Even with Jonathan sitting in front of her now, tense and subdued but miraculously alive, this kind of memory left a mark she suspected would be indelible. Hence why she couldn’t bring herself to regret the reappearance of the Book. It was selfish, she knew, but she just couldn’t. Of course it heaped problems on an already difficult situation, and maybe it should have stayed lost, buried within Ahm Shere. But it had given her brother back to her, and for that she would be forever grateful.

Imeni broke off, and Ardeth looked at her. A lot passed between them through that look. Then his eyes came back to the assembly.

“What happened is this,” he said, staring at Lyall-Hughes and Wilkins in particular. “Charles Hamilton released Anubis’ Army and channelled its soldiers into the world. We held them back so they would not spread death and blood everywhere until Rick O’Connell and Jonathan Carnahan knocked out Hamilton and broke the connection. That is the truth; whether you believe it or not is moot. What matters is what you intend to do with Hamilton and the men who followed him.”

“Keeping in mind,” Evelyn pointed out, “that while the Medjai’s obligations keep them in Egypt, the rest of us will keep a careful eye on future developments.”

Lyall-Hughes’s eyes went from Evelyn and Rick to Elizabeth, Tom, and Jonathan, all of whom were watching him with stern expressions. He coughed in his hand.

“Yes, you’ve made that, er. Quite clear.”

“As long as we understand each other,” said Evelyn with the sort of smile she knew could cut glass.

From the looks of it, Lyall-Hughes was smart enough to not underestimate that sort of smile.

“As God is my witness,” he said solemnly, “I will go back to Cairo with the prisoners, then England, where there will be trials. And I personally pledge to make sure the Chamber of Horus goes through a serious overhaul.”

“Good. Then we’ll be witnesses, as well.”

Evelyn met Lyall-Hughes’ gaze like her sword might cross an opponent’s. The man was a diplomat; his job was to smooth ruffles, cut corners, and leave a meeting with more than what he had brought. But he needed to understand just how serious they were. And whether or not he believed the admittedly unlikely notion of an entire army springing from the sands and sinking back into them at the drop of a hat, he had to guarantee that nobody else would try to play around with dark forces.

They would need to gather evidence themselves, she knew. Collect testimonies, mostly, since nearly all of the concrete proof – like the Diamond, like the Pyramid itself – had collapsed and disappeared beneath the sand. Evelyn doubted it would take something as simple as shovels this time to uncover it. The Scorpion King had had his chance, mortals had had theirs, and now since New Year’s Day Anubis had reclaimed everything.

The meeting was over; Lyall-Hughes left, followed by Lieutenant-General Wilkins, who saluted Ardeth uncertainly. Atifa, Tom, and Elizabeth waited a little before stepping out as well.

“Well,” said Rick beside Evelyn, slipping an arm around her waist, “I don’t think these guys will forget you in a hurry.”

“Good. I don’t want them to. Quite the opposite, in fact.” She glanced at Imeni, who was talking with Ardeth and Jonathan. “Did you know? About her brother.”

“Yeah, I did.” She turned to her husband, slightly surprised. “Last time we saw them, last winter? We were talking about this and that, me and Ardeth, and the subject came up at some point.”

Evelyn frowned. “Where was I?”

“You had your nose in a book. I think you were working on a translation of whatever you’d found that day, a tablet or a bas-relief or something.” Rick grinned, and Evelyn was seized by a mad urge to hold on to him and not let go. She had missed this so much – the low-pitched tone in his voice that came out for no-one else, the affectionate teasing, the smile with the special sparkle in his blue eyes…

She leaned into him and laid her head on the inside of his shoulder, relishing his warmth, his scent, the beat of his heart, everything she had been deprived of for the past week or so.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes, it’s just…” Evelyn watched Ardeth, Imeni, and Jonathan across the tent, speaking in hushed tones. To her surprise, there was something conspiratorial about their conversation, and all three were smiling. “She lost her brother,” she said finally, her throat tight. “Only she didn’t get a second chance. But I did. It’s not… Well, it’s not fair, is it.”

“No, it’s not.” Rick laid his head on top of hers. “But you know what? I wake up every day happy I got my second chance with you. Life isn’t fair; sometimes we get lucky, and sometimes we don’t. Best we can do is enjoy the good while we can.”

Rick always was a carpe diem kind of man, she reflected idly. While she usually was a little too focused on either the distant past or the near future to follow this line of reasoning, right now he made a very convincing point. She smiled into his chest.

“My husband, the philosopher.”

Rick snorted.

“Right. Like that was deep. C’mon,” he said, lowering his head to look into her eyes, “up you get. If I know you at all, you’re gonna want to question every single one of Hamilton’s men who survived before we go back to Cairo, and we can’t do it from here.”

Evelyn laughed softly. Then something crossed her mind, and she leaned back to look at him intently.

“You said ‘we’, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, of course. Did you think I was gonna let you do all the work? Lyall-Hughes is a politician, he’ll probably want to sweep the whole thing under the carpet. I don’t trust him any farther than I can throw him. So we’ll have to make sure everything’s done right.”

Something as round, as warm, and as bright as a miniature sun rose inside Evelyn’s chest. She bit her lip, and said with a smile she had to fight to keep steady, “Have I told you that I love you today?”

Rick was still grinning when she kissed him.

.⅋.

It took them a couple of days to get all the information they needed, and even some they didn’t. Rick could very well have done without the kind of oversharing some of the agents did; he suspected that a few of them laid it on a bit thick to try and make him forget they had been complicit in things like kidnapping and attempted murder. It almost felt like dealing with Alex when he’d done something especially stupid and tried desperately to hide it. The best way to handle them, as he figured out after a few ‘discussions’, was to let them talk, looking as deadpan as possible, and then say, “Okay, run that by me again, without the whining this time.” It took time, but it was worth it.

The last of Hamilton’s cronies he saw was Baine – a conscious choice on Rick’s part. The urge to eviscerate the guy had considerably calmed down since Jonathan’s resurrection, but he still itched to at least sock him in the mouth.

Only it looked like somebody had already beaten him to it, and in a big way.

“What happened to you?” Rick asked, eyeing the red and purple bruises decorating the guy’s face.

Baine shot him a baleful look.

“Like that matters.”

“You’re right, but I’m curious. I know the Medjai didn’t do this, because they don’t beat up their prisoners, and they wouldn’t even let me beat you up, either.”

“Oh, poor you. I’m sure that must have been terribly vexing.”

Rick didn’t take the bait. In hindsight he was grateful that Baine hadn’t fallen into his hands after Jonathan’s death; much as the guy looked like a modern art painting now, he had a feeling he would have been a lot worse off had Rick been allowed to rearrange his face. The odd thing was that Baine didn’t even seem to realise that one of his – or his men’s – bullets had hit the mark and done the job. If he had, he would have gloated, Rick was sure of it. He had been insufferably smug during the whole trip with much less reason for it.

They had agreed the keep the Book of the Dead a secret, which meant Rick couldn’t bring up the true reason he had wanted to beat him up for. Oh, well. Maybe he could have his revenge in other, smaller ways.

“Not really,” Rick said as he sat down. “I had enough on my plate lately without wasting time thinking about you. Didn’t even know you got all –” he made a vague gesture “– tenderised. How’d that happen?”

Baine huffed.

“I… miscalculated.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Ferguson took me by surprise. The man is such a… Well, frankly, I didn’t think he would react this way.”

Rick squinted at him, thinking hard. “When was that?”

“Honestly,” said Baine, rolling his eyes, “it’s not that important –”

“It kinda is. When did Ferguson hit you, and what’d you say to him?”

“Oh, for – yesterday morning, around dawn. He came in for a chat, and I got sick of his moralising, so I told him about his wife to shut him up.”

“What about his wife?”

Baine crossed his arms, looking irritated.

“Hamilton had a… contingency plan, if you will. To cover his tracks. Whether or not his project succeeded, Elizabeth Ferguson was – like you and your brother-in-law, incidentally – to be eliminated Thursday at dawn at the latest. She’s most likely dead by now. Granted, it was foolish of me, but I really didn’t think… Well.”

Rick nodded. Getting told that his wife was dead, after everything that happened? No wonder the poor guy had snapped. He shook his head.

“You really didn’t think, huh. Well, good news: she’s not dead. And she came here and brought in the British Army and a whole load of trucks, which means you won’t have to trek back to Cairo on a camel. Doesn’t that sound great? Now,” he said before Baine – who was gaping at him – could interrupt, taking out the notebook he’d been writing in for almost two days, “I didn’t actually come here to shoot the breeze. Why don’t you tell me everything you know about Hamilton’s plan, what happened, and so on?”

“And why should I do that?” Baine asked scathingly.

“Because the way I see it, authorities might want to forget the whole thing ever happened – and what do you think will happen to you if they decide to ‘cover their tracks’? Except we don’t want that. But we need leverage, and for that we need information. So,” he said, putting pen to paper and looking at Baine expectantly, “where do you want to begin?”

The way the guy glared at him made it clear that he loathed not just him, but also the fact that he was probably right. Rick allowed himself a couple of seconds to feel smug, feeling he had more than earned it.

Baine gave him a dark, suspicious glance.

“This might take some time.”

Rick shrugged. “There’s no hurry.”

It did take some time. Part of the reason Rick had kept him for last was that he had seen first-hand how much the smug bastard liked to hear himself talk. Given half a chance, he might start monologuing like there was no tomorrow – which was exactly what he did.

When they were done, Rick closed his notebook, got up, and walked out without looking back.

Baine, Hamilton, and their crazy plans belonged in the past. It was time he left them there.

The last night they spent in the Medjai camp Rick mostly spent drowsing and sleepily gazing at his wife in his arms, his eyes half-closed, his fingers ghosting along her bare arms. Insomnia struck every now and then since Ahm Shere, and he had found the best remedy was simply to make sure Evy was still there, warm and alive, with him. So he watched her, her soft curves, her lean muscles, and the small shadows her eyelashes cast on her cheeks. Every once in a while her brows furrowed into a frown and she made a small whimpering sound, and he stopped brushing against her skin and slowly caressed her arms and her back until her face relaxed. She’d had more nightmares than usual this past couple of nights. Understandable, considering everything that had happened.

Sometimes he wondered if she still dreamed of Ancient Egypt.

Like he was pretty sure he did.

It didn’t happen often. Sometimes he would wake up in the morning with something on the edge of his mind, like the echo of a song he had vaguely heard before. Sometimes his dreams would be filled with rage and grief and the memory of Evy falling to her knees, a knife in her stomach – but it was a man who stabbed her, not Anck-su-namun. And sometimes he would hear the clash of blades, see a flash of laughing dark eyes, and feel the sense of steady companionship he usually associated with Ardeth.

That… was weird. He had never crossed swords with Ardeth. The one time they had actually fought, the first time they’d come face to face, Ardeth had his scimitar and he had a gun – and then a stick of dynamite when Ardeth knocked the gun from his hands.

Rick tended to ignore these dreams, and they were rare enough that they didn’t bother him. After all, Evy’s own past life memories had plagued her until they had to go to that temple, had to find the Bracelet of Anubis, and everything went downhill from there. No way in hell he would let something like that happen again because of some half-forgotten dreams.

Still, the next morning, while Izzy prepared the dirigible for the journey back and everyone was saying their goodbyes, he sidled up to Ardeth and cleared his throat.

“Hey, Ardeth – can I talk to you a minute?”

“Of course,” said Ardeth, looking slightly surprised. Rick rubbed the back of his neck and looked over to Evy, who was in lively conversation with Imeni, Tom, Elizabeth, and Jonathan. Alex was a few feet away, talking to Maira, who was looking unusually surly.

“Listen, uh… You know how Evy had dreams that were actually memories?”

Ardeth nodded solemnly.

“If I told you I had… Well, not exactly visions, but, y’know… things that don’t really make sense. As such.” He paused. “Would that be coincidence, or – aw, who am I kidding. It probably means the end of the world is gonna happen again soon, huh.”

Ardeth kept looking at him intently, as though trying to decipher something.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing?” At Ardeth’s insistent look he amended, “I mean, nothing clear. Like… Evy’s death, right? Only it’s a guy who stabs her, and I have no idea who he is. And… This is going to sound weird, but did we ever spar? You know, with swords, or scimitars?”

To his surprise, a smile dawned on Ardeth’s usually stern face. A real smile, with a flash of white teeth and the accompanying sparkle in his eyes.

“Not in this life, anyway.”

The sentence took some sinking in. Then Rick blinked and a faint smile pulled at one corner of his mouth.

“Huh. Well, how about that. So it’s not just me, then?”

“No, it’s not just you.”

“I have a… a previous life?”

“It certainly seems so,” said Ardeth, still smiling.

To be honest, Rick wasn’t so sure what to do with this information. Especially since Ardeth hadn’t said anything about a possible apocalyptic outcome.

Rick squinted at him and crossed his arms.

“Okay, spill.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where’s the catch? What’s going to happen if I dig into this? How do I know it won’t bring about the end of the world in the next decade?”

Ardeth shook his head. “You don’t,” he said. “But do you remember what I told you, two years ago? About embracing the missing piece of your past?”

Rick remembered, even if in the midst of everything – Imhotep’s return, Alex’s kidnapping, Evy’s almost-tumble from the dirigible and the ensuing conversation – he hadn’t really given Ardeth’s words much attention. Mostly because the concept of everything being already written or preordained thousands of years ago was foreign not just to his experience – as a soldier, then as a father, he had very intimate knowledge of just how unpredictable life could be – but also to his very nature.

Of course, things like that little business with the tattoo on his arm and the life-size ‘how to kill the Scorpion King’ instruction book did, like Evy said, tend to convert one.

“Whether you like it or not, whether you admit it or not, it’s a part of yourself. And you’ll have to make peace with that someday, my friend.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rick’s gaze was drawn, as always, to Evy, whose eyes found his and who smiled her wonderful crooked smile. “Just tell me something,” he added in a low voice. “I knew Evy, right?”

Ardeth stared at him. Then – unexpectedly – he grinned.

“Yes. You definitely knew Evelyn.”

Something about the way he said it sent blood rushing to Rick’s ears. He couldn’t help a grin that he knew from experience must look goofy as hell.

“It’s like that, huh? Wow.” Something cold hit the pit of his stomach, and his grin fell abruptly. “Hang on, she died – Nefertiri, she died… It didn’t end well, did it?”

“No,” said Ardeth, his voice heavy. “It didn’t. Do you want to know what happened?”

Rick was tempted to reply “Later.” Goodbyes were almost said, his family was waiting for him. But curiosity won.

“If you can make it short,” he said wryly. “I like a good story as much as the next guy and I know you like telling ‘em, but we don’t have time.”

The corner of Ardeth’s lips twitched. “All right. Well, a man called Narmer tried to steal the Bracelet of Anubis. Evelyn – Nefertiri – gave chase and retrieved it, but he murdered her, so you avenged her death with his.”

“And I was a Medjai?”

“We both were.”

Rick nodded slowly. Well, it certainly explained a lot. It raised a lot of questions, too.

“Next time,” he said, with feeling, “I’ll want more on that story.”

Ardeth’s grin lit up his face.

“Until next time, then, brother.”

“ʾIlā l-liqāʾ3,” said Rick, extending a hand for Ardeth to shake.

A lot passed in that handshake: trust, thanks, and the certainty that they would see each other again. It all settled into the back of Rick’s mind like a pillar of stone, the kind you knew you could lean on in times of need.

If this was the worst having a previous life could throw at him, he could live with it.

The dirigible was taking off. Rick climbed aboard, leaned over the rail, and called to Ardeth, “If you and your family want to come do some sightseeing in London one day, you know you’re always welcome, right?”

“Only don’t forget to call beforehand,” Jonathan cheerfully piped up beside him, “so as not to give us a collective heart attack.”

Alex snorted, and Evy swatted her brother on the arm. They were still low enough in the air to see Imeni laugh and Ardeth shake his head with a smile.

The Medjai camp fell away underneath them; the sky, already a deep, vibrant shade of blue, folded around them in a warm embrace. Evy kissed Rick as she passed and crossed the deck to go sit next to Jonathan, who was talking animatedly with Tom and Elizabeth; they made room for her on the bench and in the conversation, and soon all four were chattering away, the discussion punctuated by deadpan remarks and laughter.

Then his son plopped down on the seat next to him and gave him a would-be casual look from underneath his blond fringe.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Alex.”

Alex looked at his father, then in front of him, face puckered in a frown, chewing a little on his lower lip. Rick watched him, waiting for him to say what was on his mind. The boy was growing so fast, every day. His hair was lighter, as usual when he spent time in Egypt, but had he really been this tall last time they had seen each other in Cairo?

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you be mad at someone who’s mad at you for a good reason?”

Wow.

Rick had figured out quickly enough – before Alex even started stringing actual sentences together, in fact – that being a dad was a package deal, and as such included the occasional hard question. As usual, he gave it some thought before answering.

“I guess that depends on the reason. Why?”

“Maira’s kinda mad at me. I think she’s mostly sad, though, ‘cause the Army of Anubis killed her uncle Tamer two years ago, and… Well. She didn’t get him back.”

The unspoken ‘like I did’ hung heavily in the warm air. Rick heard his son sigh, then felt his head bump against his arm. Alex didn’t protest when he pulled him against his side.

“She has a right to be sad,” he said softly. “Even angry. Sometimes it’s easier than being sad. Why were you angry at her, though?”

“Because… Because she said that people die, and that’s it, and it’s dangerous to think you can bring them back. Like I brought back Mum and Uncle Jon. But they weren’t meant to die! So… I just fixed things.” He looked up, a mixture of defiance and uncertainty on his face. “Didn’t I?”

Rick didn’t have experience with other children. His Alex must be one of a kind; he was clever, kind-hearted, cheeky, an everyday challenge and an everyday reward. Rick had never, ever wished for a different kid, no matter how wrong-footed he had found himself on occasion, no matter how much he wished he’d been given all the answers beforehand.

Sometimes, though, he wondered what kind of hard questions other kids – kids who couldn’t read hieroglyphs and hadn’t raised people from the dead – asked their parents.

Rick drew his son closer and racked his brain for the right answer.

“People are never ‘meant’ to live or die,” he said in a low voice. “Sometimes they die and you don’t know why, sometimes they pull through and you don’t know why either. You were very lucky to have the Book of the Dead, and we’re all very lucky to have you. But Maira’s… she’s not exactly wrong.”

Alex broke off from the hug and threw him a look somewhere between hurt and outrage.

“No, hear me out. You can’t fix every death. You just can’t. It’s just… Life comes in different parts, right? Some good, some bad. The good can’t last forever, but then the bad can’t either, so it all adds up in the end.”

Alex’s glare faded to a pensive expression.

“That’s what Mum said the other day.”

“There you go.”

Alex went quiet, and silence fell, snug, comfortable. The dirigible glided along quietly in the strange floating space between earth and sky. They were well over the desert now, the Blue Nile snaking up northward. Behind them, in the distance, lay the stretch of green that was the tropical forests of Ethiopia.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

A glance down confirmed Rick’s impression: Alex was smiling, and not just any smile, either – the small crooked smile he’d gotten from his mother, which said the kid was feeling mischievous.

“I didn’t tell you how I stole Izzy’s dirigible, did I?”

Rick couldn’t help a chuckle. “Nope. So, how’d you do it?”

As Alex embarked into a lively tale, full of enthusiastic gestures and a couple of colourful words his father chose to let slide, something clicked in Rick’s head, like the last piece of a puzzle started a long time ago finally falling into place.

For the first time since the theft of the diamond – maybe even since they had left England – he realised he felt truly at ease.

.⅋.

Notes/translations:

1The Kellogg-Briand Pact, signed in 1928 by (originally) 15 countries, including the US, the UK, France, Germany, and Japan, officially renouncing the use of war to settle disputes and conflicts. Spoiler: it didn’t really work – partly because the states then just waged war without declaring it.

2(اقسم بالله), “I swear to/before God”

3(إِلَى اللِّقَاء‎), literally “to the encounter”, “Goodbye” / “See you later”.

For some reason, with the exception of Tom, Lieutenant-General Wilkins is the only other character I have a face claim for, and that’s Stephen Fry playing General Melchett in Blackadder Goes Fourth, moustache and all. (Tom is basically a blond, brown-eyed Sean Astin with a bit of James Corden.)

Benito Mussolini, wanting a colonial empire, invaded the Ethiopian Empire (which bordered Italian Somalia and Eritrea) in 1935; in 1936 the country was annexed to form the Italian province of East Africa, and Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie had to flee. FTaH is set in July 1937; at this point Great Britain, like Evy says, hasn’t recognised Italian authority over the Ethiopian Empire, but it will the following year (1938).

The little story about how Jonathan and Tommy somehow got themselves locked up in the basement of St Hilda’s College and “savaged by a ram” (and a ram it was, not a sheep!) pops up in chapters 5 (at the bazaar) and 15 (during the “road trip”).

As for what happened between them and Elizabeth, well. I have my early 2000s version, which evolved a little bit with time and is rather different from the one I have now. One thing that hasn’t changed is that they all loved each other very much.

So, dear reader of FTaH, I leave it entirely up to you: you can see 18 to 21 years old Jon and Tommy as having run around Oxford having little adventures and being idiots (and Elizabeth being quite fond of her disaster boys) – or you can see 18 to 21 years old Jon and Tommy as having run around Oxford kissing each other (VERY secretly, as men could and were arrested for less at the time) and being idiots (that’s never changed, they were always idiots) and Elizabeth falling in love with her disaster boys, who reciprocated. So you can have 18-21 years old Jon/Tommy/Elizabeth as friends or as friends and lovers both. The main thing is that they all loved each other very much ♥

#Fairy Tales and Hokum #fanfiction #my stuff #the mummy films

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youreonlylow · 6 years ago

Note

Hey ! Can you do a continuation of the story w Lucas borrowing Elliot’s jacket and Elliot is acting a bit odd ! Idk if you’ve already done it so I’m sorry if that’s the case ! ❣️

Hey! I haven’t done one yet but even if I had it’s no reason to apologize! I would have just linked it to you💕

It gets a little r rated in the end I hope you dont mind! It will be after the cut so you dont have to read it if you dont want to!

I’m planning on writing a third part to this later. Sorry if there are stupid mistakes I wrote this on my phone because I had a lot of time on public transport lol.

Part 1

When Lucas returned home after a long day, he found Eliott’s apartment empty. Well, it was theirs now. Technically. They had moved in together a few months after getting together. Which was fast and stupid but after Manon permanently moved into the coloc he had offered her his room, he would move in with Eliott.

Normally Lucas wouldn’t think too much of it. Eliott often went to cafes or the library to work on assignments or meet up with his old friends he had reunited with.

Even the atelier was frequented when he had big art projects that took up a lot of space and time.

But Eliott had seemed a little off when Lucas had left him this morning. He quickly texted Eliott about where he was and if he would be home for dinner.

Lucas situated himself on the couch to relax before starting his homework or dinner. He hadn’t decided yet.

A few episodes of Rick and Morty later, Eliott still hadn’t responded. He decided to call him. The dial tone continued for a while and Lucas grew more and more worried. Finally, Eliott picked up.

“Hey, babe! Sorry I didn’t hear the phone I have music playing,” Eliott said the second he picked up, “Why are you calling me? I miss you!”

“I just wanted to know where you were… If you were going to be back for dinner?” Lucas replied cautiously.

“Yeah! What’s the time? I haven’t look at my phone since I got here, I am at the atelier!”

“It’s almost seven. When will you be finished for today?”

“I am almost done! Wait till you see this! The sketch I did this morning was nothing compared to how this painting will be!”

“Okay… Let me know when you leave, then I will cook something. Love you,” Lucas said.

“Yeah, definitely! I will! I love you, so much! Bye!” Eliott hung up.

Lucas looked at his phone as if it held the answers. He had gone through a manic episode with Eliott only once before since he found out about his bipolar disorder. He didn’t feel comfortable assuming that was what was happening since Eliott could just be in a good mood just like anyone else could. He wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place, not really.

He waited an hour without any information from Eliott. He wanted to call him again but he also didn't want to smother Eliott. He knew where Eliott was and he was safe.

Twenty minutes later a text from Eliott came through.

I lost track of time and now I am so far I might as well finish it. Can’t wait for you to see it!

Lucas looked at the message and replied. He got up and made some easy dinner for himself and got started on his homework.

It got late and Lucas was really tired from school and a bunch of homework. The final year was draining him more than he liked to admit. He decided to go to bed and wait for Eliott there. A little nap was fine.

When he woke again the other side of the bed remained empty. He checked his phone. 00:36 it read. He was worried about Eliott. Sure, Eliott had a portfolio assignment but he wouldn’t stay that late would he? Lucas sent a text to Eliott but he got no reply. He decided to just go back to sleep since he had school in the morning.

He was woken up a few hours later by Eliott’s arms wrapping around him. Eliott kissed the nape of his neck. Lucas hummed but he was barely awake.

“Why are you back so late?” He mumbled out.

“I was working but I’m here now. With you.” Eliott whispered, his hands wandering, one down to the edge of Lucas’s boxers the other up under his t-shirt to his chest.

“Eliott… It’s late… I am tired,” Lucas said halfheartedly.

Lucas couldn’t help but react to Eliott’s touch. He knew he should just sleep since he had school tomorrow. But he had missed Eliott and he couldn’t deny that he wanted Eliott as well.

“But we haven’t seen each other all day… And seeing you in my jacket left me all excited…”

Eliott’s fingers danced around the edge oh Lucas’s boxers right were the leg meets the hip, knowing it’s a soft spot for Lucas.

Silently asking for permission. A small gasp left Lucas’s lips. Fuck it. He will just be tired tomorrow it’s fine.

“Okay.”

As soon as Lucas gave Eliott the green light his hand dived down.

“You know how many times I have had to get off today because of this morning? I can’t get it out of my head.”

Lucas moaned and let out a little laugh along with, “What? Do you want me to wear it next time?”

Eliott moaned loudly and bucked his hips against Lucas searching for some friction.

Lucas giggled at the reaction and Eliott let out a little chuckle as well.

Eliott’s hand disappeared and Lucas let out what was going to be a whine but it was smushed as Eliott reached over Lucas, pushing his body into the mattress, trying to grab the bottle of lube.

“Eliott. I am too tired for that. I don’t think my body can take it. Literally.”

“That is fine, that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Lucas turned his head around to look at Eliott now that he had returned behind him. A question on his face. He could barely make out Eliott’s face but he was grinning. Probably.

To answer Lucas’s question Eliott simply slid a flat hand in between Lucas’s thighs. Looking Lucas in his eyes to get permission.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine.” Lucas smiled at Eliott who sent that sun-like smile back at him. It was gonna be messy and gross because Lucas knew he’d be too tired to shower after. He would just deal with it in the morning.

Eliott dragged down their boxers and started rubbing some lube between Lucas’s thighs. When he was done he put a bit more on his hand and wrapped it around Lucas. A steady pace building.

Eliott moaned as he slipped in between Lucas’s thighs. He matched the pace he had on Lucas.

Eliott was loud and Lucas not much better. It had been a while due to school work and their uneven schedules.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Eliott muttered out.

Lucas chuckled, “Yeah, I think I do if that thing between my thighs is anything to go off of.”

Eliott laughed a little, “I’m close,” he picked up the speed.

“Me too.”

The room filled with their moans and soon Eliott picked up the pace again.

A loud moan and the warmth that pooled between Lucas’s thighs let him know that Eliott had finished. Eliott then turned his attention fully to Lucas urging him on and Lucas soon followed.

After they finished, Lucas was exhausted. He could feel how sticky it was between his thighs and on the sheets in front of him, but he was too tired to do anything.

But Eliott got up and went into the bathroom. He returned with a hot damp towel and a fresh pair of underwear.

“Let me clean you up. It can’t be nice sleeping like that.”

Lucas opened his eyes and turned on his back. Eliott lifted off the covers and bent Lucas knees so he could get better access. The hot towel felt nice and once he was somewhat cleaned off, Eliott pushed a pair of boxers onto him.

“You okay?” Lucas asked, looking at the boy in front of him. Eliott crossed his arms and put them on Lucas’s knee, resting his head on them. A curious look on his face.

“I am great. Now sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

Lucas accepted the answer for now. If this continued he’d talk to Eliott. For now, he’d just let him be happy. He didn’t seem like he would do something irrational and potentially dangerous. At least not yet.

“You get some sleep too, it’s late.”

Eliott flipped the sheets, they would be washed in the morning.

He lied down next to Lucas, turning on his side to look at him. Lucas was already falling asleep. What a beautiful boy.

#skam france #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #lucas x eliott #smut #fic #request #mine

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disappearinginq · 6 years ago

Text

Jinx

For @blazeofobscurity, who helps more than she knows with plotting out things for Magnum-verse. I am a solid 99.9% positive this isn’t how first meetings went down between Rick and TC, but it’s totally my head canon and you can pry it from my cold, dead fingers (even if they cover it in the show). Oh, and @chrisii-the-random-whump-writer - this might count as whump, so I don’t know if you want to be tagged in this or not, but lemme know if you don’t, and I’ll fix it!

Three gunners in six months. That had to be a new kind of record.

“I think I have just the guy for you,” Greico said, a slow, Cheshire like smile forming. “Yeah. I know I got just the guy.”

“He good with guns?” TC asked. “And heights?”

Greico shrugged. “Who fucking knows? He’s a scout sniper. Lost his spotter to a case of nerves, or so he says. Personally, I think he’s the one who scared the guy shitless.”

TC raised an eyebrow. “And you’re gonna give him to me? It’s not even the same MOS.”

Greico waved his hand. “It’s the Sandbox. It’s like Kansas. Nobody cares about us here. But he’s the best shot I’ve seen in…shit, years. And he’s good under pressure. Last place he and his spotter were dropped was shy of the Korengal and nary a scratch on them.”

TC whistled appreciatively. The Korengal was a nightmare to fly. High mountains, trees obscuring the ground, radio interference, no place to pick up or set down and crawling with Taliban looking to take pot shots at low flying hueys with everything from rocks and slingshots to RPGs. Visibility was crap in the air. He didn’t want to imagine what it was like from the ground.

“Who is he?”

“Orville Wright,” Greico said, and TC accidentally inhaled his water instead of sipping, coughing and spluttering as he tried not to die.

“Are you fucking serious? That’s his name? His actual name? Not just some weird ass nickname I don’t even want to guess the origin for?” he wheezed in between breaths.

Greico edged another glass towards him, curling his lip slightly at the spit all over his desk. “God given, apparently.”

“Christ,” TC gasped. “No wonder he likes shooting people.”

“I didn’t say he liked it, I said he was good at it,” Greico amended, then looked thoughtful. “Though to be fair, he has been known to whistle on his way to work, so…who knows. He might be a psychopath. We don’t screen for that type of thing anymore.”

TC frowned. “Budgets?”

Greico snorted. “I wish. Nah, now it’s considered discriminatory to ask about someone’s mental health before we hand them a rifle and ask him to kill on behalf of Uncle Sam and the Sons of Liberty.”

“So your plan is to give me a sniper who may or may not be a serial killer in uniform who doesn’t even have the right MOS for the job? Is it because you hate me?”

Greico snorted into his coffee cup. “No, that’s because of budgets.”

TC sighed. Perfect. Just what he needed. Another ulcer.

“You want to meet him?”

“No.”

“Good,” Greico said, slapping his hand on the desk as he put his feet on the ground. “Come with me.”

*&**&*&

“Besides being a possible sociopath, anything else you can tell me about him?” TC asked, easily keeping stride with the senior officer as they made their way across base.

They were considered a combat zone, despite being on base, so fortunately no one saluted. It was one of the things TC hated about being an officer, but if it meant he got to fly, it was a small price to pay.

“You mean besides his parents clearly hated him?” the colonel asked, snorting. “Yeah. His enlistment papers are bogus. But he’s good enough at his job no one cared enough to look into them. No drug history, so that’s a solid. A little temperamental.”

TC pulled up short. “Hold up. How ‘temperamental’ are we talking here? I ain’t flying with a moody itchy trigger finger.”

Greico didn’t even break stride, forcing TC to jog a few steps to catch up. “Nothing too extreme. Can’t be too twitchy if you’re gonna hit a target at 2000 meters.”

TC blinked. “2000 meters? Was that a freak shot, or what?” That was over a mile.

“Don’t know. Kid’s been in closer quarters ever since, but I betcha if money was on the line, he could make it at 2100. Or further.”

Well, shit. No wonder the Marines didn’t go poking to heavily at his history. The longest sniper shot on record currently was just shy of 2500 meters, a little over a mile and a half.

“He’s not a bad kid,” Greico said. “Got a hell of a chip on his shoulder for reasons unknown. The ladies seem to like him well enough. Hasn’t stabbed anybody, on purpose or otherwise, so that’s a plus. Got an attitude problem though. Thinks he’s the toughest guy around, and so far, he’s been right. Naturally, it’s caused a little…friction with some of the other men.”

“Wow, sir. Way to upsell this kid. Sounds like I’ve struck gold.”

Greico snorted at that. “Ha! Like you’re one to talk. You’ve lost three gunners, Major. And no, it doesn’t matter that only one of them died it was just a lucky shot by some haji with a rifle. No one wants to ride an unlucky bird.”

They were getting towards the enlisted quarters now, which were just row upon row of numbered Quonset huts. The air conditioning units by the doors shook and rattled and sounded like they were on their last breath – which they probably were.

“Here we are,” Greico announced proudly. “Lucky number 13, Major. Looks like it’s fate.”

TC fought the urge to roll his eyes as he followed the colonel through the door.

&^&&^

It sounded like Fight Club.

It looked like Fight Club.

Over a dozen enlisted in various stages of dress – some in their full BDU’s, some still in their tees and boxers, and everything in between gathered around the far end of the Quonset, shouting at the top of their lungs. They stood on tip toes and braced against their friends’ shoulders to see over heads, stood on top of bunks and whatever available piece of furniture there was to see whatever the hell was in the middle of the circle they’d formed.

“What the hell is this?” TC shouted to be heard over the cheering.

There was a crash, and a roar erupted from the crowd. TC could just see someone being lifted and slammed like a linebacker onto something that broke with a crunch.

Greico offered a shrug and tapped the shoulder of the closest Marine. “Hey, who’s winning?”

The younger Marine whipped around, clearly about to rip the colonel a new one for interrupting when his eyes caught the eagle on Greico’s collar.

“Officer on deck!” he shouted, elbowing his buddy hard in the ribs as he jumped back a step to the foot of a cot, snapping to attention. As Marines noticed what was going on, and who was suddenly in their midst, they scrambled for their position in front of any rack available.

As they jumped to either side clearing a path, TC could finally see what they’d been cheering on. Two Marines, still oblivious along with the edge of the circle who were only now realizing what was happening, were in the middle of a fight.

Both of them looked like they were giving as good as they got – the one still standing was tall, broad shouldered and the poster child for the term jarhead: tattoos up and down both arms that were as big around as TC’s neck, boot camp styled high and tight haircut and wearing his BDU’s. His nose looked soundly broken, or at the very least, sufficiently bloodied, one eye darkening with an impressive shiner.

The one on the ground was only slightly smaller and a lot younger, built less like a brick shithouse and more athletic and considerably shorter, dirty blonde hair just shy of being too long to be in regs and the beginnings of an unauthorized five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw – though that might be more bruise than beard. He only had his BDU pants on, though they were comparably faded from what they should be. Like other guy, one eye was starting to swell shut and his teeth were stained red from a sliced inner cheek and he was lying amongst the wreckage of what was presumably once a table he’d just been slammed into by the Hulk towering over him.

Neither one seemed to notice the officers, until one of their buddies shouted, this time much louder without the added jeering of the crowd to cover it, “Officer on Deck!”

The tall brute of a Marine snapped to, hands obediently and expertly snapping to his sides as his heels audibly clacked together.

The one on the ground stayed there, breathing hard and not impressed enough by a colonel and a major to pick himself up off the ground.

“I present to you sergeant Orville Wright, Major,” Greico said proudly, stepping to one side as he gave a Vanna White impression. “Your new door gunner.”

TC eyed the muscle bound Marine dubiously. He looked like a serial killer. Or a flunkie bad guy from a Rocky sequel. He would be surprised if the man could even fit in a ghillie suit, but Greico seemed impressed enough with him, so TC figured he at least owed the guy a shot.

“Nice to meet you,” TC said, about to extend his hand in greeting.

The Marine on the ground took that exact moment to rear his knee back and slam his foot into the other guy’s groin.

The jarhead made a noise that wasn’t quite a scream, and not quite a squeak as he curled in on himself, doubling over and collapsing to the deck in the fetal position as he turned a violent shade of red and purple as every other man in the room hissed and winced in sympathy as one entity.

“Nice to meet you too, Major,” the kid on the floor huffed. He turned his head to the side and spat out a wad of red before turning back to TC, looking at him upside down from the ground as he held out his hand, knuckles torn and bruised. “You can call me Rick.”

#magnum pi 2018 #magnum pi reboot #magnum pi #rick wright #tc calvin #first meetings #fanfic #magnum fanfic #beginning of a beautiful friendship #maybe

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diloph · 5 years ago

Note

I have seen the film Diloph, so if you want, could you please tell me more spoilery bits?

Oh! Well, good, hopeyou enjoyed it.

Spoilers under the cut!Big ones!

So, starting off,Madison is given a TRUCKLOAD more to do, more lines, more relevanceetc. She’s great, easily my favourite part of the novelisation. Sheacts like a smart, compassionate kid who’s been conned by her motherinto joining the ecoterrorists and is appropriately horrified andresistant when she needs to be. She takes action like she does in thefilm, but there’s a bigger obstacle (and possibly in-joke for thefans of Mr Danse’s host show) which she deals with, again, in a wayI’d have liked to see in the film. Madison has lots of great parts toread about, not just the ORCA distraction. This kid has guts.

God, I hope she comesback.

I think that this sortof expanded role (POV seems to be split between her and herfather/mother, leaning more towards her father) was either cut fromthe film for time, assuming people would want to see more of Sad MadDad or hastily added into the book when they realised that she wasn’tjust a familiar face from a popular TV show when Stranger Things hitits second season and tried to do damage control, hoping not torepeat the Bryan Cranston backlash. Maybe a combination of the two. Iknow that some people were hyped when they first saw her, thendisappointed when she wasn’t the character of focus, but what she gotin both the book and the novel made me very happy with the characterherself, though I too longed for more of the girl who saved the worldand screamed defiance in King Ghidorah’s faces.

The same goes for therest of the characters. Jonah and Emma’s villainy is a lot morefleshed out; their motives are explained in greater detail, not tomention their attitudes towards those goals when Ghidorah rears hisugly heads. The friction between them goes a lot further than justJonah mocking Emma’s reluctance to commit a horrible atrocity infront of her child like he was a schoolyard bully. He’s still a dick,but we know why he’s a dick and why he’s doing this. Like a certainpurple bugger also still on our screens at the time of writing, hethinks he knows better and doesn’t care if he’s wrong. He’s going tobe fine. Emma’s doubts are focused on, she regrets releasingGhidorah’s Motley Menagerie and her part in “killing” Godzillaas, despite Mark blaming him for their son’s death, she believes thesame as Serizawa in that Godzilla serves a greater purpose and isfairly noble about it.

Speaking of, Serizawais given a greater focus and actually mourns for Vivienne (which isin my opinion, horribly glossed over in favour of Rick “Wubba LubbaDub Dub” Stanton andVerizon-Guy-Who-I-Don’t-Know-Because-I-Live-In-The-Desolate-Wastes-Of-Glasgow-Scotland),with even Mark expressing regret. Even she gets some perspective,some lines, some warm thoughts before her untimely death. VivienneGraham might not survive the film, but she’s well-remembered here atleast. Again, this makes me think of what I thought for Madison,because the Shape Of Water turned out to be a hit and given that shedidn’t survive, lead me to believe the whole finalised script thingwas rolled out and filmed before the two pieces of media hit andsuddenly their popularity skyrocketed.

Or maybe all that wascut for the monsters, I dunno.

So, yeah, Serizawa isgiven just as much gravitas in the book as in the film, but thistime, we actually get to hear thoughts and feelings and so on. Itmakes his character a lot more fleshed out and realistic, realisingthat while Emma had followed this dangerous path, he had not been ascareful as he had wished to be. His sacrifice and devotion to the bigguy is pretty touching, even if the “an innocent and well meaningman sacrifices himself to use a nuke to revive Godzilla and save theworld” thing is a little more… pro-nuke than the “an innocentand well-meaning man damaged by war must sacrifice himself to end thelife of a sentient creature equally damaged by war and mankind’snuclear abuse in order to save the world, while still causing a massdeath/pollution of the environment” that we got in 1954, but hey,he didn’t write the script and I think most audiences focus only onthe Bomb as a big booming explosive, not a corrupter and polluter.It’s a “problem solver” rather than a last resort/weapon ofterrible consequence. Sort of how the Oxygen Destroyer is alsoglossed over and not given nearly enough impact, considering what itis and what the consequences might be.

War is bad.

Dr Chen also gets more,which is good, because she’s certainly my favourite of the “new”Monarch crew (excluding Huston Brooks because of hisblink-and-you’ll-miss-it role and his presence in Skull Island). Howshe and her family ties into Mothra and how she and Vivenne were notonly good friends, but practically aunts to Madison and her deceasedbrother; this kid was brought up in Monarch long before the MUTOsmade their presence known. Chen’s the perfect bridging point betweenSerizawa’s knowhow and reverence, Vivienne’s enthusiasm and awe andthe other morons’ humour (again, better jokes and lines by far. Icould swap the three characters that died on screen with three othersor just write them out and assimilate their lines and knowledge intothe good ones and the film would lose nothing. NOTHING.)

Even Mark has hischaracter expanded upon. He’s still the man we get in the film, butat least we know him a little better. Same with Rick and Sam. Eventhe soldiers get lines that better reflect them as people, ratherthan props.

Of other things, theTitans get an introductory paragraph each (well, a lot of them).Mokele-Mbembe is given sort of its own contained mini story (andcontrary to popular belief, it’s not a Sauropod, if I’m correct it’smore akin to a Deinotherium), and how much damage Jonah’s group hasdone via infiltration.

Did we ever get a namefor Jonah’s group? It’d be easy to remember them as the ANTI-MONARCHor something. I could call them S.C.A.L.E but that’s been taken.

Additionally, the newTitans get some words put to them, but of the familiar faces, onlyGodzilla loses out. King Ghidorah and Rodan go up against themilitary in Washington DC for a bit longer, Mothra’s benevolence isechoed by everybody who speaks about her, another familiar face getsa few words in during the big monster breakout and the final sceneduring moments closer to the end of the film, which I described inthe earlier ask, I won’t spoil. It’s a big character moment andactually made me punch the air for said character’s involvement.Because of course they’d do that. That’s who they are.

All in all, a prettywell-made adaptation of a big film. Improvement on the first two wegot (older scripts), certainly better than the graphic novels (somany problems and all of them were easily preventable) and fairlybrisk to read through.

#Godzilla #Godzilla: King of the Monsters #Godzilla: King of the Monsters Spoilers

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hoodoo12 · 7 years ago

Note

Also, I forgot to include this in my previous ask... What do you think about a massage therapist Rick? If it's not your thing, that's totally fine. But if you think you can do something with that, I'd LOVE to read it. haha

And I loved to write it! Thanks for the idea! (NSFW)

Rub Down

You’re overdue for amassage. Your entire body aches, you feel stiff and knotted up. You imagineyou’re stooped over and looking arthritic.

Arriving at your regularmassage parlor, you greet the receptionist who rings back to the therapist. Youhead to the quieter, secondary waiting area and have a seat.

An old, tall, skinny manwalks into the waiting area.

“You’re-you’re the seveno’clock? Come on.”

It takes you a second torealize he’s talking to you.

“Me? Uh, yeah …” yousay, reluctantly standing up. “Where’s Danielle?”

He shrugs, disinterested.“She’s not here. Come on.”

You weren’t informed youweren’t getting a session with your regular masseuse. You’re not sure you’recomfortable with a masseur … but your creaky, achy body needs it. Youfollow him.

He leads you to a privateroom, tells you to take off your clothes—allyour clothes, specifically, even though you know the policy here is that you asthe client decide how much nudity you’re comfortable with—tells you to lay onthe table face up, then exits to give you a moment to get out of all yourclothing.

All your clothing echoes in your head.

You pull off everythingand pile it in a chair. Typically you leave your panties on, but whatever.

The table is heated andcovered in a fuzzy blanket. You slip between it and the cooler top sheet andlet the heat start working into your muscles. It plus the dim light alreadystarts relaxing you.

The masseur enters again,dimming the lights even more.

Without a word—his name,where your problem areas are, what you don’t want—he starts at your head.

His fingers are long andcool. The card through your hair, tugging it to stimulate your scalp. It’srougher than what you’re used to with your regular masseuse, but it works:tension starts leaving you. You keep your eyes closed as he moves to your neckand shoulders.

He’s strong; his fingerssupport the weight of your skull to allow gravity to work the stiffness out. Heslips his hands under your shoulders and repeats that technique on the knots hefinds in the muscles there. At first the tips of his thumbs send pain in thetight areas, but after a few minutes, everything loosens and it’s much, muchbetter.

Moving to your front, hemassages under your collarbone. His hands work further down on your breaststhan you’ve typically had before, but that’s okay, whatever he’s doing, it’sworking.

His attention goes toyour limbs, with special concentration on your hands and feet.

By the time he’s donewith your front, you’re mostly melted into the table.

You’re left alone amoment as he raises the table’s face rest. In a gravelly voice, he asks you toturn over. He lifts the sheet—not quite as high as you’re used to—and you flipand settle back in. He takes a foam roll and slips it under your ankles, andtucks the sheet around you, leaving your back exposed.

You hear him rubbing hishands together. The sound is dry, then it smooths out as he pumps lotion ontothem. He runs two fingers down your spine so you don’t jump as he lays hispalms on you.

It wasn’t lotion he usedon his hands; it was oil. Slicker and warmer than what you’re used to, it feelslike liquid heat soaking into your skin with the long, sweeping motions of hishands. He dips down to the swell of your ass, then back up, using a combinationof pressure from the heels of his palm and just the hint of fingernails on theway back down.

Again, differenttechnique, but it sets your nerves on fire.

Finished with your back,he moves to your legs. He does not re-drape your top with the sheet. That’sfine; you’re too warm now anyway.

He pulls the top sheetoff your legs, leaving only your ass mostly covered. He applies more oil to hishands, and starts on your legs with the same long motions, from hip to toe.

His hands are warm.They’re large too, wrapping easily around your ankles and even covering most ofyour calves and thighs.

Speaking of which …

The prolonged contact hasrelaxed you, but turned you on as well. This masseur’s touch is sinful; the oilhas made your skin smooth and you’re warmed to your core. You wiggle a bit onthe table, wanting to close your legs for a hint of friction. You hope hedoesn’t think you’re suddenly ticklish.

He doesn’t say a wordabout your movement, but does take his hands off you. You barely stifle agroan.

The foam roll is tuggedout from under your ankles. Your hour is up already?

He’s back at your side.

“Lift your hips,” hetells you.

Once again, like so manyother things this session, you do as he says even if it’s not typical orexpected.

You scoot up a little,using your elbows and knees to raise yourself. The sheet slides haphazardly,its bunched weight pulling most of it to the ground. He positions the foam rollunder your pelvis and you ease back down.

This is an odd butsurprisingly comfortable position, with your ass slightly elevated. You stillwant to close your thighs, but as if reading your mind he places a hand on one,slipping his fingers between them, keeping them parted.

“This sheet is in theway,” he says. “Okay to remove it?”

It’s the first questionfor your permission he’s asked.

“Yes,” you agree, hopingit’s not too muffled with your face still in the rest.

The sheet is pulled awayfrom you.

Fully exposed, with hishand still between your legs, you feel a rush of heat flood you.

Gently, he works his oiledfingers over your gluts. The muscles there are large and he uses force to getthe tension out. It works, and although you’re still aroused, you relax more.Despite your arousal, your legs drift further apart.

In this position, asrelaxed as you are, you can feel the air on your pussy.

Once his attention toyour ass is complete, his fingers ghost your inner thighs.

Your first reaction is tosnap your legs shut. It’s a vulnerable position to be in, but that warmth inyour gut hasn’t dissipated. Instead of going with your initial, startledresponse, you moan a little.

There’s a sound from him,a kind of pleased rumble.

He takes his hand off youand you almost moan in a disappointed way, this time, but he only takes anotherhandful of oil before running his fingers between your upper thighs again.

Slowly, smoothly, he moveshis fingers on the delicate skin there. You can’t help but strain upward just ateensy bit more when his hand moves closer to the junction at your groin.

Then his fingertips slip upagainst your pussy.

You’re already wet,primed by your earlier arousal. His fingers, coated in oil, glide easily on yoursmooth, shaved lips. One, his middle finger from the feel of it, dips furtherin, making you gasp a little.

His hand is warm from thework he’s done, but still cooler than where he’s stroking, making for anincredible contrast in temperature. He pauses for a moment—to give you a chanceto be outraged, or kick him, or something, you imagine—and when you don’t doany of those things he takes it as approval and caresses you with a little moredeliberation.

He slips his hand furtherunderneath you and finds your clit. The immediate, intense pleasure that spikedthrough you made you jerk and cry out.

His free hand found yourass and gave it a moderate slap. You understood he meant you to be quiet.

You turn your head to theside, towards him, and made an effort to quell your sounds.

When he sees that you’retrying, he ran his hand over the slightly painful mark he’d made. His otherhand continues, creating tiny circles on your clit. You lift your hips up alittle, and bite your lips to keep from making too much noise.

He draws his hand awayfrom your clit, sliding his long fingers back and forth along your pussy in aparody of the lengthy strokes he’d done down your legs. You tremble andcontinue to strain towards him, towards those pleasure-inducing miracleworkers. He pauses once again, and you worry that you’ve seemed too eager, toodesperate—

No. He’d only paused todetermine exactly where he needed to be, and two fingers slip up your cunt.

Try as you might, yougasp.

You get another slap,harder than the last one.

In response, you bite atthe blanket below you, gathering enough in your mouth to muffle yourself.

That seems to satisfyhim, and he begins a steady pace of finger-fucking you. You push against him,wanting more: wanting faster, wanting deeper, wanting harder. He intuits your desires,bringing you more quickly to the edge of climax than people you’d been inrelationships with had done with months of practice.

But just as you’re almostthere, shamelessly rutting against him, tears leaking from the corners of youreyes in the effort to keep quiet, he stops.

His fingers leave you.You’re left empty and needy and a thin, sad moan worms out around the blanketbetween your teeth.

You twist a little tolook at him. He squeezes your ass, and through blurry vision you see a smirklift one side of his mouth.

Then, without warning, herepositions his hand and shoves three digits inside you. The remaining two bumpup and apply heavy pressure to your clit.

How?—Which?—before youcan even begin to work the logistics of what he’s done the white heat of blissoverrides any higher brain function. That orgasm you were so close to comescrashing back, lighting up your nerve endings, your pussy spasming tightlyaround his fingers. The free hand he used to slap and squeeze your ass pushesyour face into the blanket and table to help deaden the howl you make.

You don’t know how muchtime passes; he keeps his fingers in your pussy and weight on your clit untilyou the waves of ecstasy crest to this side of painful.

When he lets you comedown, it’s easy and slow, removing his hand from your in increments. Ablessing, that.

The blanket under yourface is damp with drool and tears. It’ll be the same under your groin; you werealways a wet lay.

He bends and finds thesheet again, paying no heed to the dazed state you’re in. He drapes you andonce you’re covered, puts a hand on your hip, ignores the fact that yourautomatic reaction to his hand is to push into it, and asks you to lift yourpelvis again.

You obey. As you do, hetugs the foam roll out from under you.

He tells you your time isup, and he’ll be waiting for you out in the hallway. Then he leaves.

Once the door is shutbehind him, you take your time getting off the table. Sometimes a massage makesyou unsteady on your feet, but you know for a fact your weak knees have nothingto do with the relaxed state of your muscles.

You put on your clothesand make your way into the hall too. You’re sure you look a mess, but can’teven find the energy to care. You’re completely relaxed, and nothing hurts.

The masseur is waitinglike he said, leaning against the wall. He offers you a cup of water.

“Better?” he asks. “You-youhad a lot of tension stored up. I hope I worked out some of those kinks.”

It’s on the tip of yourtongue to tell him you may have discovered a new kink, but from the smirk onhis face, you’re pretty sure he already knows it.

“Here’s my card,” hesays, handing it over.

It reads, ‘Rick Sanchez,professional masseur. Deep tissue treatments a specialty.’

You smile back and handhim several folded bills as a tip. “Thank you.”

He nods. “Reception canschedule any future appointments you may need, or-or want. But I-I’m booked outpretty far.”

“I’ll stop on my wayout.”

He nods again, gives youa grin that isn’t a smirk, and heads off back down the hallway.

You make sure you put hiscard in a safe place in your purse. Danielle just lost a client.

fin.

#rick reader #massage

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such-a-common-girl · 8 years ago

Text

“What If Someone Sees?” (Rick Grimes x Reader)

This was written for Jessie’s (@grimes-slut) 1k follower writing challenge! Congratulations on 1,000. You’re insanely talented and deserve it, plus many more :)

Word Count: 1,767

Rick Grimes x Reader

Prompt: “What if someone sees?”

Warnings: Language, fluff, smut (dirty talk, slight dom. Rick, hair pulling)

“Rick,” You giggle as Rick’s hands travel up your bare sides, his fingertips leaving you with the slightest of chills. “Stop it. You know I’m ticklish.”

“I wanna take ‘ya somewhere.” His voice comes out low and gruff as his grip on the small of your waist tightens, the white sheets of your shared bed barely covering both of your bodies. “And nah, I like ticklin’ you. You’re cute when you giggle. Don’t hear enough of that these days.”

“Babe,” You sigh out. “It’s around three in the morning and we’ve got a run beginning at dawn, which we’re already going to be exhausted for since we chose to spend our night in… other ways rather than actually getting our sleep.”

“Worth the exhaustion, if ‘ya ask me…” Rick’s teeth nibble on your ear lightly, making you moan softly. “We ain’t get much alone time ‘round here. Prison’s always so full of people walkin’ around, now that the Woodbury residents are here. The cells aint got no real doors, got Judith to take care of… You best believe I’m gonna take the time I can get with you.”

“Yeah, nothing can keep you away from your farming anymore.” You tease.

“Make fun of the farm all you want, but it’s what’s keepin’ us alive here. So quit your teasing.” Rick fake scolds, his lips pressing to your jawline.

“Make me.” You wrap your leg around Rick, allowing you access to pull him in closer to you. “You know, since we’re already gonna be exhausted tomorrow morning…”

“Aw, fuck, baby girl.” Rick growls into your ear. “Get dressed. I’m takin’ you somewhere.”

“Where we goin’?” You giggle again, throwing the sheet off of your bodies and crawling out of bed to put your clothes back on. “I think we’ve been everywhere this prison has to offer. If you’re wanting to clear out another cell block, now is not the time, Rick.”

“Trust me, that aint what we’re doin’.” Rick smirks, pulling his boxers over his muscled legs. “Now, let’s go.”

You’ve barely got enough time to finish throwing your shirt on over your head before Rick is picking you up bridal style, literally sweeping you off your feet. You laugh quietly as he places a kiss to your collarbone, his scruff making the skin surrounding turn a pink color. He sucks lightly on the skin, surely leaving a mark tomorrow.

“You’re gettin’ me all riled up again.” Rick pulls away, using his right hand to open up the cell door. “We’re gonna have to wait until we get where I’m takin’ you. Then we can do whatever we want.”

“What if someone sees?” Your eyebrows furrow, looking up at him in confusion. He’s never been one to have sex anywhere besides your shared cell, not wanting to risk anyone (Carl, in particular) walking in on your private moments together.

“Trust me, baby girl, aint no one gonna see.” He smiles, making your heart flutter. “The east cell tower is empty. I set somethin’ up for us. Was gonna leave it for tomorrow night, for after the run, but I can’t wait any longer.”

“Whatever you say, Grimes.” You grin, allowing yourself to be held tightly by him while he carries you outdoors.

No words are spoken between you two as he quickly walks over to the tower, both of your hearts beating fast. You’ve barely touched him and you can feel his hardening length underneath you, making you only feel more turned on as the seconds pass by, needing to get to that cell tower right now.

As soon as Rick’s feet get to the top of the tower stairs and the door is closed shut behind you, his lips are instantly attached to yours. They move against yours with a rough and fast passion, full of lust and hunger. He lays you down on the ground, a pre-placed blanket being the only thing between you and the concrete.

“What’s all this?” You pull away from Rick, noticing your surroundings. There was a bottle of wine sitting in the corner and about two oil lamps on each side. A few flowers are placed in front of each, and your heart wants to explode out of its chest.

“This was supposed to be romantic,” Rick’s lips find their way to your neck again, making you moan out. “But the romance can wait until after. I need you, right now.”

“Oh!” You squeak out as your jeans and panties are ripped off your legs, thrown into the corner without a second thought. “Someone is eager.”

“Don’t tease me.” Rick growls. He lifts his shirt over his head as you do the same, leaving you completely nude. He brings his mouth down to your breasts, swirling his tongue around one of your nipples as he brings his hand around to twist the other one. You moan loudly as he sucks on your nipple, your hands traveling to his hair and tugging on it lightly.

“Fuck, Rick,” You breathe out. “More.”

He places kisses down your body as he makes his way to where you really want him. His hands grip the inside of your thighs as he spreads your legs, his eyes becoming even more lust filled.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Y/N.” He mumbles, bringing his right hand up to begin to rub small circles on your clit. “You want me to taste you? You want me to make you scream my name, baby girl?”

“Yes, please,” You moan out, moving your hips against his fingers for more friction. Rick licks a long strip up your clit, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you down as you moan his name. He sucks on your clit as he indulges himself in your juices, making you squirm in his grasp. He sets a faster pace with his tongue, seeing as how much you’re enjoying yourself. The pleasure is indescribable. He knows exactly what to do with his tongue.

The second he starts humming vibrations, you know you’re a goner. The familiar feelings of your orgasm ripple throughout you, Rick not ceasing as you ride it out.

He removes himself from between his thighs to look up at you, your wetness coating his beard and a smirk plastered on his face. That cocky son of a bitch. “Turn around.”

You do as he says, turning your body around. Your palms are flat against the ground as your ass is lifted up in the air, Rick’s strong hands holding your hips in place as he aligns himself with your entrance.

“You want me to fuck you, baby girl?” Rick whispers in your ear, only his tip inside of you. “Fuck you hard until you can’t walk tomorrow?”

“You know I want nothing else.” You move your hips into him, his full length sliding into you. Rick hisses, using his grip on your hips to help you move on his stiff cock.

“Just like that,” He groans. “Fuck, Y/N.” He loses his control, slamming his hips into you roughly. You moan out in pleasure, loving how he is when he gets like this. There’s no mercy, only rough sex. And you love it. It rarely happens anymore, but when it does… It does.

He brings his left hand up into your hair, pulling it into a ponytail with his hand and pulling on it ever so slightly while he mercilessly pounds into you. “Dammit, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“Fuck, me neither. Don’t stop.” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He lets out a series of curse words, too incoherent to understand. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, indicating he’s close.

Your second orgasm hits you suddenly, and you scream out Rick’s name in pleasure, grinding your hips against his. He pulls out suddenly, and not long after, you feel warm ropes of cum coating your lower back.

Both of your breaths are hot and heavy as you collapse onto the blanket underneath you. He uses his underwear to clean the both of you off before throwing it across the room, holding you close to him in a spooning position.

“That was not how that was supposed to go,” Rick admits. “I was plannin’ on makin’ love to you, being a romantic and all. But you just get me goin’, huh?”

“I like it like that.” You smile, laughing softly. “You know that’s how I like it. Not that I don’t like romance, too- I’m sucker for that.”

“Good.” Rick places a kiss on your shoulder. “Because I’ve got something for you.”

He releases you from his grasp, sitting up in the bed and reaching over to where the lamps were. “We can save the wine for another night, don’t wanna get drunk before the run tomorrow. Just don’t tell the others we got it, alright?”

“Alright.” You respond.

“I found this the other day. Thought you might want it.” Rick turns his body back over to you, handing you a small bracelet. It’s nothing fancy, but to you, it’s priceless. Rick’s never given you anything so meaningful before and now that he has, you know your relationship is becoming more serious.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You smile, and he puts it around your wrist, giving your forehead a kiss before laying back down with you on the bed. “You know, I don’t understand how you can go from ruthlessly fucking me to being the sweetest man on this earth.”

“You bring out two different sides of me, what can I say?” He grins. “I love you, Y/N, you know that?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but smile. “I love you too.”

“We should probably get back.” Rick sighs. “I got to wake up Carl in the morning to take care of the pigs and get shit ready for the run. Thank you for tonight, though. We ain’t get enough alone time together. We need to do this more.”

“Yeah, we do.” You turn your body around and kiss him softly, not wanting the night to end just yet. He kisses you back immediately, his arms traveling to the small of your back as he rolls on top of you.

“On second thought,” Rick breathes out. “I’m sure we have time for a round three…”

EVERYTHING TWD TAGLIST: @dead-boy-12 @nicolesyneah25 @mentallyfangirltrash @benjerry707

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such-a-common-girl · 8 years ago

Text

“Innocence” Rick Grimes x Reader

Word Count: 2,860

Rick Grimes x Reader

Request: Can you do a Rick x reader smut? Like you’re one of Carl's friends but you're a few years older than him, maybe 18 or 19. You're waiting for Carl to get home from Enid's so you're just chilling at his house. But you're like super frustrated because you're a virgin and Rick asks what's wrong and you won't tell him but he convinces you bc he cares about you and it leads to smut

Warnings: Language, suuuper slight angst, smut, hair pulling (hardly)

Growing up a teenager during the apocalypse was not the easiest of things. You had to experience everything differently than all the adults in your group, and you didn’t get to do normal “teenager” things that most people had the opprounity to do while they were teenagers before.

Which how you ended up in this situation- you’re nineteen, and you’re a virgin. It’s not that you want to be a virgin, no. You would love more than anything to have sex. You have wants and needs just as much as anyone else. But most of the people in Alexandria were either about double your age, or it’d just be weird to sleep with them. One of those people would be Carl, your best friend. He’s cute, you’ll admit, but you two have been friends since Hershel’s farm (you’re Maggie’s sister) and it would just be weird to go there with him. Especially since you’re pretty sure that he’s dating Enid, although he won’t admit it to anyone.

Nobody knows about your current predicament, not even Carl. Especially not Carl- he’s sleeping with Enid and doesn’t even understand your frustration. Plus, it’d just be weird to talk to him about sex. You’re close, but not that close. There were boundaries. You haven’t told anyone else because you’re embarrassed to admit that it actually bothers you. You always think that people are going to think it’s dumb for you to think that since you’re still a “kid.”

That was another problem around here- everyone still thinks of you as a kid. They all met you when you were thirteen, and even though you are most definitely an adult now, most of them still view you as a child. You’re determined to show everyone that you are just as much of an adult as they all are. This, though, Carl knows about, and understands how you feel.

Frustrated, you get up out of your bed and tear yourself from your thoughts. Thinking about how unfair it is for you isn’t going to change the situation and it’s only going to make you get more riled up.

You slide your shoes on, looking out the window. It’s dark outside, and most everybody is probably going to sleep already. You take this opportunity to walk over to Carl’s house, hoping that he’d be home. Maggie and Glenn had already turned in for the night, so you didn’t even bother telling them where you were going. You and Maggie weren’t the closest of sisters, anyways.

You walk down the street to their house, seeing through the windows that there were lights turned on in the house. With a sigh of relief, you knew that meant Carl was home. As far as you knew, Rick was still out on a run with Daryl, so nobody else could have been inside except for Carl.

You didn’t even bother to knock as you open the front door, scanning the inside of the house. It was empty. Frowning, you walk upstairs, thinking that Carl must be in his room somewhere.

You are only about half way up the stairs when you quite literally run into Rick, who seemingly just got out of the shower. His hair was wet, and he had on no clothing except for a towel around his waist. Rick grabbed onto his towel to keep it from falling, your body crashing into him since you weren’t looking to see where you were going.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You turn your face away from him, blush creeping into your cheeks. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Y/N, it’s fine.” Rick laughs. “You lookin’ for Carl?”

“Yeah, I just kinda assumed he’d be here, I guess.” You still weren’t looking at him. Truth was, ever since you were seventeen, you had developed major feelings for Rick. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s saved your life more times than you can even think of, he’s nice (to you, at least), he’s attractive, and he’s the only person who treats you like an adult around here. He lets you make your own decisions and doesn’t try and baby you from the world like everyone else, mostly Maggie and Glenn.

“You’re free to stay and wait for him, but it might be a while. He’s with Enid.”

“Meaning he probably won’t be back until tomorrow. That’s wonderful.” You groan in exasperation, turning over to Rick. You immediately regret your decision when you see how good he looks standing there, only a towel covering his bottom half. You can’t help the blush that returns to your cheeks, or how dry your mouth gets. “Whatever. I’ll just talk to him next time I see him, it can wait.”

“Is somethin’ wrong?” Rick frowns. “I can go get him if it’s important.”

“Well…” You trail off, debating whether or not to tell him. Deciding it would probably be best to not talk about that with the man you’re lusting over, you figure you shouldn’t. “No, its fine. It can wait, like I said.”

“Y/N, you know you can talk to me. I ain’t Carl but I still care about you.” Rick sighs.

“Are you sure? It’s kinda… Well, it’s kinda weird.” You admit.

“Yeah, just let me get dressed first, alright?” Rick laughs. “You can come to my room, if you want. I’ll be there in a minute, my clothes are still in the bathroom.”

“Uh, sure.” He shows you into his room. He walks into his bathroom and closes the door, and you take a seat on his bed. You’ve never been into Rick’s room before, but you’ve always thought about it. God, the fantasies you have with this man are like none other. You’ve had so many thoughts about him… Sneaking into his room while Carl was asleep and him having his way with you. Him bending you over the bed-

“Y/N?” Rick breaks you from your thoughts, standing in the doorway. He’s in sweatpants and his tight white t-shirt, the one you love so much.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you told Maggie where you were, she’s gonna worry if she wakes up and you aint in your bed.” Rick has an amused look on his face, presumably because you were so lost in thought.

“I’m an adult. I don’t have to tell her anything.” You snap, coming off as way ruder than you wanted. “Sorry. That’s a sensitive issue.”

“It’s alright. I get it. Carl goes through the same shit. Is that what you needed to talk about?” He sits on the bed next to you, sitting so closely next to you that your bodies were touching. A single touch of this man was enough to make your panties wet, goddamn.

“Well, yeah, that was half of it. I’m just tired of people treating me like a child. I don’t get sent on runs, because Maggie won’t allow it, I can’t do anything on my own, and Maggie basically keeps me under her watch at all times. It’s just frustrating. I’ll twenty years old in a month.” You rant, and Rick puts his arm around your shoulders in attempt to calm you down.

“I think you have a right to feel like this. It’s why I make it a point to treat you like every other adult here. You’re a grown, beautiful, strong woman, Y/N. You aint a child.” Rick says the last few parts a bit quieter, and your heart starts racing. He thinks you’re beautiful?

Suddenly, there’s a tension in the room that wasn’t there before. The both of you can feel it. His hold around your arm becomes tighter, and the space between you two becomes smaller. You’ll be lying if you said you didn’t like it, though.

“And the other part you said was bothering you?” Rick clears his throat, tries turns his body to where he’s facing you, but it basically ended up forcing you to be straddling him. Your heart begins to race, not actually believing that this is happening.

You take a deep breath, not wanting to admit to him what the other thing was.

“I want sex.” You say quickly, hoping he wouldn’t be able to comprehend it, but he has. You can tell by the way his face changed and his heartbeat went up. “I’m tired of being a virgin. I have needs just like everyone else, but unlike everyone else, I can’t. I don’t have anyone to have sex with, which sucks because I’m horny all the time it feels like.”

“Did you… did you come here to have sex with Carl?” Ricks face dropped, much to your surprise. He almost looked disappointed?

“What? Oh god no.” You rush out, and a look of relief washed over his face. “We’re just friends. You know that, Rick.”

“Yeah, of course, I knew that.” His voice gets lower.

“So…” You bite your lip, looking down to where he can’t see your face. Rick uses his hand to lift your chin up to where you were looking at him in the eyes. You can see him glance down at your lips, and you freeze. Is this really going to happen?

“Why’d you look disappointed when you thought I was coming to have sex with Carl?” You breathe out. You’re all the way on his lap now, your legs wrapped around his waist. “You looked like…”

“I looked like I wanted to have sex with you?” Rick finished your sentence, your lips almost touching. “Maybe that’s because I do. Maybe I’ve secretly been wanting to fuck you for a few years now. You’re not the only one with needs, Y/N.”

You’re suddenly aware that he’s not been with a woman since Lori. That means he hasn’t been with anyone in almost six years… And the fact that he just admitted to you that he’s wanted you for a few years turns you on. It flips a switch inside of you, and you crash your lips against his.

The kiss wasn’t passionate, or romantic. No, it was full of hunger and lust. Rick slides his hands underneath your shirt, pulling it over your head. You do the same to him, and you’re both left shirtless. His hands roam around your bare back, pulling you in closer to him as you grind yourself against his hardness. He moans, the friction of you rubbing yourself against him making him get even harder.

You start to begin to unbuckle his belt, but Rick stops you, breaking away from the kiss.

“I just wanna make sure you really wanna do this…” He breathes out. “Once we start, I’m gonna have a hard time stopping.”

“I want this so bad, Rick.” You successfully remove his belt, sliding them down his leg. “Let me show you how much I want this.” You wrap your hands around his hard cock, getting down to your knees, pumping it a few times with your hand.

“Baby girl, as much as I want you to do that, fuck I want you to do that, but this time should be all about you. That… That can happen another time.” Rick breathes out shakily, obviously having a hard time saying no to you giving him a blowjob.

“Okay.” You say, and Rick picks you up, positioning himself above you on the bed. He starts to kiss down your body, starting from your neck to your lower stomach, no doubt leaving marks along the way. When he reaches your jeans, he takes them off of you, only leaving you in your panties.

“Were you plannin’ this?” Rick smirks, wrapping his finger around the top of your lace underwear.

“No, but I’m glad I wore them.” You smile, and Rick pulls them down your legs. You’re not sure what to expect, not sure what it will feel like- you’ve only heard about it from what other people have told you.

Rick licks up your clit, and you moan in pleasure. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced- you can’t even describe it. Rick starts to go faster, his tongue working in ways you didn’t know possible. He enters one finger inside of you, and you moan even louder.

“This feel better than when you touch yourself?” Rick looks up from between your thighs, his fingers moving at a fast pace.

“Unbelievably better, fuck, Rick,” You say loudly, and he starts to work on you again. “I’m gonna cum,” You say, and Rick enters a second finger. Your walls clench up around him, and your orgasm overcomes you. A slur of curse words and moans come out of your mouth, unable to contain them.

“Enjoy it?” Rick gets up, the bulge in his boxers so prominent it’s got to be uncomfortable for him.

“That was indescribable.” You admit, and you place your hands on the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs. You bite your lip, noticing how big he was. It wasn’t so big that it was intimidating, but enough to make you wonder how the hell it’s going to fit.

“It might be a little painful at first,” Rick says, seemingly reading your mind. “But after a few moments it should feel better.”

“I’ll be okay.” You say, and Rick opens up the top dresser of his nightstand, pulling out a condom, sliding it over his length. He brings his body over yours, positioning himself with your entrance.

“Tell me if it begins to be too much, I’ll slow down.” Rick says, and with that, he starts to slowly push himself into you. Much to your surprise, it isn’t that painful, not like everyone told you it was. It’s slightly uncomfortable, but nothing you can’t handle.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N, you’re so tight,” Rick moans, and begins to move slowly inside of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. “You’re so beautiful, fuck.”

“Go faster.” You breathe out, and he starts to buck his hips in and out of you at a faster rate. The original uncomfortableness is gone and all you feel is pleasure.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Rick moans out, unable to keep a slow pace anymore.

“Oh, Rick!” You yell out, digging your nails into his back. You’re thanking god right now that no one is home, since not only are the two of you being insanely loud, but Rick’s mattress is squeaky and s headboard is banging up into the wall behind it.

“I’m close,” Rick grabs the pillows, holding the material tightly in his fists, slamming himself into you.

“Me too, don’t stop.” You wrap your fingers in his hair, pulling at it lightly. This seems to bring him over his edge, and he fills up the condom. This brings you to your own orgasm, it hitting you like a train. It’s incredible.

Rick slows down, collapsing into your chest.

“Oh, god, Y/N.” Rick breathes heavily. “That was great. How are you doin’? You okay?”

“I’m perfect. That was perfect.” You smile, your own breath heavy. He pulls out of you, kissing you lightly as he does.

You pull away, a smile plastered on your face. You get up out of bed, your legs a little shaky as you attempt to put your clothing back on.

“Are you leavin’ me?” Rick frowns.

“You want me to stay?” Your voice gets a little higher. “I thought-“

“This wasn’t a one-time thing for me, Y/N. Believe it or not, I actually have feelings for ya.” He smiles, and you drop your clothes from your hands, climbing back into bed with him.

“What are we going to tell people? Oh God, what are we going to tell Carl?” You groan, snuggling into Rick’s chest.

“We can worry about that later. Tonight, I just wanna enjoy this.” He kisses your forehead. “I’ve waited a hell of a long time for this to happen.”

“You have, huh?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “How long?”

“Ever since you turned eighteen, it’s like there was this switch go off in my mind… Started seeing ya like a woman, not a kid anymore. I never thought you’d want me back. Always thought you’d get with Carl.” Rick admits.

“Mmm… Well I’m glad this happened. With you. I’ve wanted you for a long time, too.” You kiss him, and he wraps your legs around his waist, bringing you to where you were on top of him making out.

“I need a shower. You’re welcome to join me.” You whisper seductively in his ear.

Rick gets up, carrying you to the shower himself.

“I love you, Y/N. I hope you know that.” Rick turns on the shower, adjusting the water to make it warm.

“Yeah.” You smile. “I love you, too.”

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such-a-common-girl · 8 years ago

Text

“Home” Carl Grimes x Reader

Word Count: 2,300ish

Carl Grimes x Reader

Summary: In a world where Carl was the victim of Negan’s killings, reader recalls her relationship with Carl throughout the years with a series of flashbacks, leading up to her current day predicament.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, implied smut, death

In honor of TWD new episode premiering in an hour!!

Flashbacks are in italics.

It was Carl’s eyes that attracted you first.

You two had met a long time ago, back at the farm. You were sitting inside your house, playing with your sister Beth when his dad carried him in. You remember the first time you had seen him for real was after your dad, Hershel, had performed surgery on him and everyone was sure he was going to be ok. You were so excited to have another person there around your age. When you looked at him, you thought he was so cute. His eyes were the most beautiful blue you’d ever seen. Of course, you never told him that.

“Daddy, who is that little boy?” You remember asking your dad after he finished the operation. “Is he going to be ok? Who are all these people?”

“His name is Carl. He was shot on accident, but he will live. He might like to meet you after all of this dies down. I don’t think their group had another little kid in it.”

“Boys are gross.” You had crinkled your nose.

A few days later, you happened to be walking into the kitchen when you caught a glimpse of him. He was still in pain from getting shot but he was doing better.

“I’m Carl.” He had told you. He had eyes just like his fathers did, only his were prettier. Freckles were covering his face, and he was wearing a sheriff hat.

“Y/N.”

The two of you were just little kids back then, and an instant friendship hit off. The two of you were inseparable, doing everything and anything together. You were there for the death of his mom, being the only one to comfort him since Rick had gone off the deep end.

You watched as Rick started crying once Maggie and Carl told him the news. The baby was born, but Lori died. You couldn’t help but shed a few tears yourself hearing of her death. She was such a nice woman to you and had always treated you like a daughter of her own.

Rick left, and by doing that he had left Carl completely by himself.

“Carl?” I had gone up to him in his cell one day.

“What do you want,” He had asked you dryly, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

“I want absolutely nothing from you.” You had sat down next to him. He had looked up at you with tears in his eyes, but nothing ever fell. You pulled him into a hug, and the two of you stayed like that for hours, embracing each other.

The two of you had kept it strictly friendly until you arrived in Alexandria. Between being separated for months, to Terminus, there had been too many bad events after the governor blew up the prison for the two of you to explore anything different. But as soon as you got to Alexandria, and things calmed down, everything changed. When Carl saw you all dressed up at the welcoming party, he couldn’t deny his feelings for you any longer.

You pulled the dress over your head, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked nice. Someone had lent you a dress to wear, which felt odd wearing since you hadn’t worn a dress since you were twelve. The fabric was comfortable but still beautiful, and it felt like a luxury. You had on makeup for the first time in your life, and your hair was down for what felt like the first time in ages. You always kept it up in a ponytail.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Maggie had told you. “You’re going to be the star of the show.”

“Doubtful.” You had laughed. “I’m still not sure how I feel about being here.”

“Me neither.”

“I wish Beth and Dad were here.” You had said quietly.

The party was awkward for you at first. Everyone seemed to know each other very well already, and you being a shy, quiet person did not help your socialization skills. Carl had seen you by yourself in the corner when he came up to you, linking his arm with yours. He looked really nice, and you couldn’t deny it. He was an attractive guy.

“Don’t be a loner,” He had said. “I met some people here around our age. You should give them a chance.”

“I’m never a loner, Grimes.” You smiled at him. He loved your smile, it made his heart weak every time he saw it.

“You look really good.” He gulped, sounding nervous.

“You don’t look too bad yourself. We clean up nice.”

He introduced you to everyone, and they all seemed nice enough. But you weren’t interested in spending time with any of them, not really. You just wanted to be with your best friend.

At some point during the night, you pulled him away to get away from the stuffiness of the room.

“Too many people,” You had said after the two of you got outside. You were walking around the streets, something that you hadn’t got to do for a long time with a sense of safety.

The two of you were holding hands as you walked, something that you always did. Both of you always said it was just a friendly thing, to other people and each other, but the both of you had felt inside that it was more.

“This is nice. I kinda like it here.” You told him. “I’m not exactly comfortable with it yet, but for now, I decided I’m going to enjoy it.”

“Y/N, I like you.” He had blurted in response, something completely off topic, but you hadn’t cared.

“What?” You wanted to hear him say it again.

“I like you.” He said it more quietly that time. You looked into his eyes, bringing your faces together.

“Well it’s a good thing I like you, too, Grimes.” You whispered, and brought him into a kiss.

Things had gone well for a long time. The two of you were officially together, at least as together as you could be during the state of the world. The only problem had occurred when Ron decided that he liked you, too. It was a big deal- Carl was very protective boyfriend, and seeing Ron try to break you too up did not go down well.

“I’m going to kill him.” Carl growled, pacing back and forth inside of your room.

You had just told him about how Ron had come up to you earlier during the day and attempted to make a move on you. At first, he was just telling you how beautiful you were. This wasn’t a big deal to you- it was just a compliment, nothing to make a big deal about. But then he mentioned something about how Carl couldn’t make you happy like he could. And then he tried to kiss you. He almost got close to touching your lips before you realized what was going on and you kneed him in his weak spot.

You had debated whether or not to tell Carl. You knew that there was a lot of friction between the two of them, and this would just make it worse. But you also knew that if someone had made a move on him like that, you would want to know.

“I already put him in his place, please don’t.” You had begged.

“Too fucking bad. He doesn’t get to touch my girl.”

You watched him as he stomped out the door. You were going to follow him out the door, but decided that you would rather not see Carl beat someone up.

Turns out, you didn’t get that choice, because Ron happened to be walking by your house when Carl got outside. You could see it all from your window.

Carl didn’t even say anything as he went up to Ron and punched him in the face. You gasped as Ron stumbled slightly, but before he could hit back, Carl clocked him again.

This went on for what felt like forever, although you’re sure it was only a few seconds, before Rick came and broke it up. You thought he was going to yell at Carl, but surprisingly, he just gave Ron a stern look and told him to go home.

When Carl came back into your house, he had started kissing you with more hunger than you had experienced from him before. Sure, you’ve made out before, but it was usually quite innocent as the both of you were very inexperienced.

“You are mine.” He had told you, picking you up and setting you on the bed.

“I’m yours, Carl. Only yours.” You moaned as he started kissing your neck.

Things picked up after that. Ron never messed with the two of you again. The two of you were undoubtedly in love with each other- everyone could see it. Besides the sneaking around to have sex, the two of you were well accepted by the group and no one protested like you two had thought they might- especially Maggie. Being her only living relative left, she was quite protective of you.

“So, we need to talk.” Maggie had come up to you one day while you were washing clothes.

“Okay.” You set down the shirt to give her your full attention.

“You and Carl are getting serious, right?”

“I guess, yeah.” You had shrugged.

“I’ve heard some… Rumors about the two of you guys. I just wanted to make sure you’re being safe.” Maggie looked uncomfortable. She loved you with all her heart, but she also knew that she couldn’t stop you from doing anything.

“Where exactly are you hearing this from?” You had questioned her, starting to panic. You thought that the two of you were being sneaky and no one had known that you took your relationship a step further.

“Daryl might have seen you two hooking up while he was on night watch. And I might have heard you guys before when you thought you were alone.”

“Oh my god.” You had blushed, embarrassed.

“We didn’t want to make you guys feel embarrassed. We just all want you to be safe, Rick included.”

“Rick knows?!” You had basically yelled. You wanted to die right then and there.

“He might have also heard you guys a few times when you thought you were alone.” Maggie looked like she was going to start laughing at any moment.

“Please kill me. I can never face anybody again.” You had groaned.

Besides the relentless teasing you experienced after that, you two were happy as you could possibly be. You two would be with each other at every given moment of the day, except for at nights when you were forced to go home. But half the time you would just sneak out to see each other, anyways.

When Alexandria came under attack, you thought you were going to die. Carl was the one who kept you calm and collected as you walked through the walkers. He kept squeezing your hand in reassurance the entire time. But then the plan went to shit when Sam started freaking out. Sam got bit, which made Jessie get bit. Which lead to Carl getting shot in the eye.

For a while after that, Carl refused to talk to you. He wouldn’t let you see him, no matter how much you told him that his eye being gone would not change your opinion of him.

“Don’t come in here.” He had warned you from his room, you standing in the hallway.

“Carl, you can’t avoid me forever.” You sighed, leaning against the doorway.

“I’m ugly. You’re not going to want me anymore. I’m hideous.” He sounded choked up.

You had enough. You walked into his room, and touched his shoulder, him still standing with his back to you.

“Let me see.” You whispered. Carl turned around slowly, showing you a bandage wrapped around his face, his eye socket covered.

When you didn’t say anything, he turned around quickly and pushed you away.

“Get out of here.” He whispered, tears forming in his eye.

“Carl,” you turned him around. “You’re the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life, regardless if you are missing an eye or not. I still want you. You are not, and never will be, ugly.” You poured you heart out to him.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled. You pulled him into a kiss, making sure to be gentle as you didn’t know his pain level.

“I love you.” You finally said. You had been wanting to say that for a long time, but were waiting until the right moment.

“I love you, too.”

Things were finally going smoothly after that. The walls of Alexandria were rebuilt, Carl’s eye socket healed (he looked the governor, but you would never tell him that- he was already insecure), and your group was doing well after everything that had happened.

Carl was coming to terms with the fact that he lost his eye, but it was still hard for him. He acted like he didn’t care, like he was this big, strong man, but you knew better. He was insecure. But things were getting better.

That was until you met Negan.

You can remember that night like it was yesterday, all the events of what happened. They’re fresh in your memory, leaving you with nightmares every night of what happened.

You were all forced to sit on your knees in a line as you met the leader of the Saviors.

You were scared, although you wouldn’t admit it. You kept glancing down over to Carl, waiting in anticipation for the man to show up. You knew something bad was going to happen. Rick had killed a bunch of his men, and now he has your entire group in his lineup- it wouldn’t end nicely.

The era of power surrounding him was like none you had ever experienced before. He was immediately directed towards Rick.

The way he spoke to him, it was so condescending and power filled. It terrified you.

Then he started taunting everyone as he chose who he was going to kill. He turned a child’s game song into something entirely different, very sadistic.

It landed on Abraham.

Nobody dared to say anything. Especially not you, once you heard Negan’s threat to cut out Carl’s other eye. You cried, the tears blinding your vision, but you could still hear the whack of his bat bashing in Abraham’s skull.

You thought it was over. He said one person.

But then he dragged Carl out.

And started bashing in his head.

You couldn’t control yourself this time. You started screaming and reaching out for him, but one of Negan’s men stopped you. You sobbed and screamed as Carl’s head eventually turned into nothing, just smashed brain and blood.

Negan was laughing at this, at all of this. You tried your hardest to escape from their grips, but you couldn’t.

“You, what’s your name?” Negan came up to you.

“Y/N.” You spat. The group watched you, looks of terror filling their faces. Maggie started crying, thinking she was going to lose you.

“I thought I said not to fucking get up, what the fuck happened to that?”

“You just-“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, you were crying too hard.

“Oh, were the two of you together? My apologies.” He laughs. “Not.”

“If you weren’t so fucking disrespectful and you knew how to listen, I’d make you one of my wives. Goddamn shame.” Negan continued.

You thought he was going to kill you, but instead, he just moved on to keep talking to the group. Taunting them, tearing them down.

You still missed him to this day. He was the love of your life, and he would always be in your mind. You would never forget about him.

“What’s up, Y/N? You look like you’re about to cry like a little baby.” Negan showed up. He snapped you out of your thoughts, your memories of what you and Carl were.

“I’m good.” You smile weakly, hoping to fool him. You don’t show weakness around him. You can’t, not if you don’t want to be punished.

“Great, ‘cause I need my good girl right now.” He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

That night, he didn’t let you free. He took you in as prisoner, but his lust for you outgrew his anger. He was never going to let you leave, he let you know that every single day. He refused to make you one of his wives, and although he still claims that he doesn’t fuck anyone outside of them, he makes some pretty bold moves on you.

The only thing that gets you through the day is reminiscing about Carl, remembering the good times you had with him.

You tell yourself every day that you will get out of here. You will go home, you will see your sister again. But the longer you’re there, the longer you give up hope that you’re ever get to leave. You’re watched every moment of the day, whether it’s by Negan’s minions or by Negan himself.

Negan takes you to the bedroom, but doesn’t stay in there with you. He just slaps your ass and walks away, locking the door behind him. You walk over to the desk, grabbing a pen and writing out a couple simple sentences, letting a tear fall onto the page as you slammed the journal shut afterward. The person it was directe to wasn’t ever going to see it, and Negan would kill you if he saw it, but it gave you hope. Hope that everything would be ok.

‘Rise up, Rick. Save us. Bring me home.’

#twd #twdfamily #carl grimes #carl x reader #carl grimes imagine #rick grimes #rick x reader #maggie greene #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #riseup #negan #negan x reader #imagine

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