#if i run out of rum i have just enough whiskey woo

[chloelouygo]

self care is cancelled we're drinking rum and reading looking for alaska

[harryandmolly]

desperado

A/N: a continuation of “she got the moon in her eyes” -- recommend you read that first!

summary: Shawn and Catalina deal with the aftermath of their night together

warnings: Language, NSFW in a big way holy cow (unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it), dom!Shawn comes out to play

WC: 4.4k

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The morning is dark and cold when he leaves her bed, her tangled navy hair, her chapped rosy lips. It’s like the day itself is telling him to turn around and get back under her sheets, nicotine stained and perfume scented. The idea of it sets something off in his gut, a sharp tugging leading in the opposite direction of his heavy stride toward his bike.

He slings a leg across and settles in, pulling his helmet on, careful to avoid his still tender black eye. When he checked in her mirror in the early blue light of dawn, it was starting to go a sickly green-ish around the edges. He’s lucky, he guesses, that Catalina took him home last night before this started. He looks a little gross.

He revs the engine, takes one mournful look back at the little craftsman house and sighs, taking off down Greenfield toward his place.

+

You can’t hear the tinkling bell over the door at Plucky’s Pub, the one meant to signal the arrival of more customers. Catalina doesn’t know why it’s there. But as she’s learned, Plucky’s regulars don’t like change. If the bell was gone, they’d surely notice somehow, the way they notice when Bonnie changes anything -- the price of two fingers of whiskey, the ratty-ass curtains over the south window, even the fucking bar polish they use to clean the damn place.

Catalina doesn’t need the bell, anyway. She can feel it when people walk in, even when the line for the bar is five deep and she can’t see the door. She’s been doing this a long time. Plus, when certain people walk in, you can feel it.

Shawn is the last of his crew through the door. He’s the one they turn to look at. Not even just the straight women -- everyone. He’s just eye-catching. Catalina knows. She understands. He caught her eye, too.

She turns on the block heel of her slingbacks. She doesn’t even want to be tempted to look up at him. It’s been three weeks since she took him home and he left without a word. Things like that just… don’t happen to her.

This one stung. For one thing, she’s not usually the one hosting. She prefers it that way. She can control her exit without the fuss of having to kick someone out. It also means she’s never in the position of having someone leave her to wake up alone.

She didn’t have, like, plans or anything. She wasn’t going to wake up and put on his t-shirt and make him pancakes, for fuck’s sake. That’s so not her style.

It’s the principle of it. He left. He left her. Nobody does that.

Why the fuck did he do that?

She knows it was good. Fuck, she knows it was great. It’s never been like that the first time, not with anyone. She thinks of the way his body stuttered, the groan that sounded like it was coming out of his gut when he came inside her. Her toes tingle thinking about it. She grits her teeth and rocks the cocktail shaker harder in her warm hands.

She does finally turn around because she has to to hand off the drink. It’s admittedly not the best martini she’s ever made. She abused the ice in the shaker for too long, which chips it, which makes it melt faster, which makes it watery, which makes her tip smaller. She grits her teeth, accepting the small bills, tucking them into her bra.

The loud glassy clinking of beer bottles being delivered to a table has her looking up before she can remember to stop. Shawn and his friends are starting with Molsons tonight. Shawn isn’t looking at his bottle as he positions the edge of the cap over the end of the table, slapping the heel of his palm down without flinching.

He’s looking straight at her.

It takes all her self control not to sneer before she turns her gaze down to the next customer. She has to blink a few times not to see his face. She also has to have the poor girl repeat her order three times before her fingers know where to reach to make a gin and tonic.

+

She used to be good at ignoring his eyes on her all night.

Well, that’s not strictly true. She just used to enjoy them a lot more.

She’s not sure why they’re on her now. The curiosity has been well and thoroughly satisfied. He had her, he left. Yes, that makes him a fucking moron of catastrophic proportions, Catalina knows. But why is he still looking?

Every time she glances up, he’s already watching her expectantly. What exactly is he anticipating? Does he expect to see her bursting into tears at the sight of him, or panting over the idea of fucking him again until he comes over and takes her?

If that’s what he’s waiting for, it’ll be a while.

She’s busy, anyway. She has a cling-on tonight.

A cling-on is a term Bonnie uses for guys that latch onto a hot female bartender and attempt to woo her. Catalina’s very familiar with them. She got a lot more when she started at Plucky’s, when her take-no-prisoners reputation wasn’t yet known. But every so often, some poor sap will stumble in and think if he’s persistent enough, he’ll get in her pants. She has half a mind to let him if it’ll run Shawn out of her rattled brain.

But this particular guy is aggressive. She stopped serving him fifteen minutes ago after he knocked over the drink of a biker chick Catalina once took home, but he’s still here, trying to talk to her every time she delivers a drink down to his end of the bar.

She drops a rum and coke onto a coaster for the woman next to him, who looks sweetly concerned. Catalina winks at her assuringly and turns to head for a group of college guys that have just made their way to the bar after a wait.

Before she can move, she feels a tug on the thin strap of her dress. She whirls around, eyes skimming past the horrified look on the woman’s face before she settles on the bleary-eyed fuckwit who just laid a hand on her without her permission.

Then something weird happens.

Catalina’s history of chucking assholes out of Plucky’s for different varieties of bad behavior is long and storied. She’s hardly ever needed help to do it. When she has, it’s been because the losers have had back up, so Shawn and his friends, the de facto security team, stepped in to even the count.

Catalina knows the situation calls for her angriest face, for her to bark “OUT!” loud enough to embarrass the fucker and get him stumbling out the door. She can do it. She doesn’t need help.

But she looks up. Shawn is watching her carefully, beer bottle halfway to his perfect, pillowy lips. She swallows and blinks at him, and it’s enough for him to come running.

In a few strides, he’s there, hustling around the crowd to get behind the bar. His eyes are dark and solid, his jaw is tight. He’s squaring up, looking ready to scream in this guy’s face, but it’s not what Catalina wants.

Instead, she grabs him by the wrist, pins herself to the wall and drags him in.

Shawn doesn’t take long to respond. He sinks one hand into the soft, sweaty hair clinging to the back of her neck and wraps the other around her hip, nipping hard at her lower lip to get a moan vibrating his whole body.

Some patrons cheer. Bonnie casts them a confused sidelong glance from the other end of the bar as she dumps bourbon into a lowball glass. Shawn’s friends exchange amused looks.

Shawn and Catalina don’t see any of it.

Shawn tips his head, pressing his tongue between her lips with a deep sigh that makes his shoulders drop for the first time in weeks. The hand on her hip works his thumb into her hipbone, pulling the loose skirt of her little dress up with every purposeful stroke. Catalina holds him close, massaging her long fingers against his scalp to make his eyes flutter.

She’s the one that breaks away to breathe first. Her lips are wet, parted with the heaving effort of her breath. She looks up at Shawn, eyes wide, expression unreadable. While he stares down at her, she angles her head to look over his shoulder. Her cling-on looks vaguely disgusted, pitching himself off the counter to amble heavily toward the door.

He watches her mask slide back on when she looks back up at him, clearing her throat.

“Thanks.”

The muscle in Shawn’s jaw pulses. He eases off to let her slide out from around his hulking form. She doesn’t bother looking back at him again.

+

Catalina’s not the least bit surprised to see him refuse his friends’ invitation to leave with them after closing time while Catalina is refilling bottles and twirling on her toes to “I Wanna Be Your Lover” by Prince -- one of Bonnie’s favorite post closing time clean up jams.

Catalina is dawdling. Bonnie and Shawn have both clocked it. She’s singing along under her breath, rinsing the funnel leisurely as Bonnie locks doors and gathers cash into a bag for the bank.

Wizened Bonnie with her spiky red pixie cut and her toned, tattooed arms shoots Shawn a look before announcing she’s out for the night. Shawn answers it with a nod. Bonnie hits the stereo on the way out.

It’s quiet. The only sounds left in the dark, empty bar are the splashing of booze as Catalina refills handles and the squeaking of her heels on the sticky floor.

Shawn takes a deep, shaky breath. He runs a hand through his hair and drops the last gulp of Johnnie Walker down his throat before standing, shucking off the Dolly Parton leather jacket. He takes his glass and heads for the bar to return it to Catalina.

She looks up briefly from her careful pour of Jim Beam.

“What’re you still doing here?” she murmurs. It’s gentle, not accusatory. It makes Shawn’s lips curl into a smirk.

“Figured I’d stick around in case that creepy fucker comes back.”

Catalina wets her lips and stands, shaking her hair out over her shoulders. She doesn’t look up from her bottle.

“You know I don’t have a problem handling those losers,” she says breezily. Shawn sees right through it.

“Oh, I know. That’s why it was so cute that you used it as a way to get your tongue in my mouth earlier.”

That gets her attention. Her gaze snaps to his. She tilts her chin up defiantly.

“Some guys don’t respond to my pushback unless they think I “belong” to somebody,” she explains unnecessarily, quirking her fingers in air quotes around “belong.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully, twirling his glass in his fingers before he sets it down on the bar and steps around it to hunch beside her.

“But you don’t belong to anybody, baby,” he purrs in her ear, watching with a rush of heat in his veins as goosebumps pour over her sweet, fragrant neck.

“That’s right,” she snarks back, twisting the cap of a bottle. She turns to put the bottle back. On her way to grab another, Shawn hooks an arm around her waist and lifts her to perch on the edge of the bar counter.

He takes his time looking her over as he makes his way between her thighs. With heavy lids, he watches her breathing quicken. He strokes his broad, rough palms down the outsides of her legs. He pauses. Catalina holds her breath, sure she’s getting another bruising kiss. Instead, he steps back and skillfully hooks his fingers under the ankle strap of her slingbacks, slipping them off and dropping them with a clatter.

“Dunno why you wear those to work,” he comments, gently lowering one leg to focus on the other. He plants her foot at the center of his chest and draws his fingertips teasingly up and down the length and breadth of her moonpale leg.

Catalina grips the edge of the bar and stares at him unblinking. He admires the dips and curves and swells and valleys of her well-used leg, slipping his fingers under the sole of her foot to pluck it off his chest and press his thumbs into the sore tendons.

Catalina’s eyes slam shut. The moan that leaves her throat is beyond obscene. It makes Shawn chuckle. He takes his time, working his fingers with varying pressure around the ball of her foot to the arch to her heel and back again. When he’s satisfied, he lifts her other foot and repeats the massage, intricate and detailed and so tender it makes Catalina’s mind swirl.

“I… they make my ass look amazing,” she answers finally, his question almost forgotten.

Shawn looks up from her eggplant-lacquered toes. “Your ass already looks amazing, Leens. You might as well be comfortable while you look so damn good.”

He lowers her foot and stares up at her. Without removing his gaze, he lifts her claw-like hand off the bar and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss over her knuckles.

“You know, you’re allowed to want to be a damsel in distress sometimes. I won’t think any less of you.”

Catalina balks, her insides twisting. “I don’t need you to save me, Shawn.”

Shawn steps closer, dropping her little hand onto his shoulder.

“I know. But it’s ok if you want me to.”

His lips are soft, plump and whiskey-wet. She gasps into them, her knees falling automatically open to welcome him closer. He takes the invitation happily, pulling her hips tight against his torso as he loses himself in the taste of her sweet mouth. She’s immediately needy, dropping her pretense to take as much of him in her hands as she can. She squeezes the bulk of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps, the soft skin of his neck, the curls behind his ears that have him growling into her lips.

She pulls back. He grunts and chases her down, lunging in for another searing kiss. She lets him take it, the wrinkle between her eyes softening as she rocks her hips against his abdomen and gathers him ever closer. Soon, before she can entirely lose her train of thought, she pulls away again, this time to suck on his jaw to pacify him.

Through wet, biting kisses, she pants, “Want to show you… want to thank you…”

Shawn’s intrigued. His stomach flips. He pulls back and holds her face in his hands.

“How are you going to do that?” he coos, cocky and curious.

Catalina inhales and nudges him back enough to slip down to her feet. She turns him, props him up against the bar and lowers to her knees. His head tosses back. He breathes harder in anticipation.

“Remember how hot and tight my throat was for you?” she breathes, her voice already fucked as she unbuckles his belt and skillfully works his jeans open to free his hard cock, “Remember how good and wet I felt when I was sucking you?”

“Jesus, baby,” Shawn hisses. His cock gives a twitch at her words. She smiles and takes it in her soft hand, stroking it firmly. His eyes flutter.

“Want you to fuck my mouth, Shawn,” she tells him, planting a sweet kiss on his tip. His hips shift forward, searching for her.

“Open up then, princess,” he sighs, shooting her a crooked grin that has her squirming.

Catalina, for once in her life, obeys. She lifts her hair over one shoulder and parts her flushed lips, staring up at him. Shawn groans, easing his cock into her willing mouth slowly. He wants her to enjoy this as much as he knows he will, so he doesn’t go shoving in all at once. He rolls his hips gently, letting her adjust, slick him down with her soft tongue. When she gives a short nod, he rocks harder, a little deeper, until he feels her throat restrict around his shaft.

She’s looking up at him like she doesn’t want to miss a second. Her small hands cling to his hips like she’s afraid he’ll bolt if she doesn’t hold on. Fat fucking chance.

Her mouth really is almost as good as her pussy. Or maybe his stupid horny brain just thinks that right now because he hasn’t had her pussy in weeks, even though it’s all he’s been thinking about when he’s alone, his tight fist failing to bring him the same ecstatic feeling. She’s not afraid of what he’s giving her, even when he reaches down to curl his hand around her thick sheet of hair to control the angle of her wet mouth. She seems hungry for him. It makes his toes curl in his boots.

“Your fucking mouth, Jesus fucking Christ,” Shawn pants, shaking his head with a short, overwhelmed burst of laughter. Catalina groans, scooting closer on her knees. The whine that whistles from Shawn’s nose would embarrass him if he weren’t half gone.

“You like this, don’t you, baby? Like the way I fuck your pretty mouth,” he whispers, awed.

She manages to nod, still looking up at him reverently.

Shawn’s fingers curl into his free fist. The hand in her hair eases her back gently until his cock bobs against her bottom lip.

“Don’t wanna come in your mouth,” he grunts, “Need to feel you come on my face first.”

He watches in delight as her thighs tighten under her pretty skirt. He takes her hands, helping her back to her feet.

“How do you want me?” she asks, glancing around like she’s looking for ideas.

Shawn thinks fast on his feet. He grabs a step stool out from under the bar and positions it beside the counter, helping her to stand on top, facing away from him. She looks back over her shoulder when Shawn’s hands lift the skirt of her dress, his thumbs pressing greedily into the smooth skin of her ass.

Catalina’s eyes drift shut. She’s soaked straight through her lacy baby blue thong. Shawn tugs at it teasingly, letting it snap against her lower back.

“C’mon, Shawn,” she hisses impatiently.

Shawn hums from the back of his throat, amused. “Think you’re gonna get what you need by being a brat?”

He pulls at her panties for real now, watching as they hug her close, clinging to her wetness until they drop around her ankles. He steadies her as she steps out of them, kicking them off the stool.

“Maybe if you ask me nicely,” he suggests, lifting one of her legs so her knee rests on the edge of the bar, spreading her open for him, “I’ll give you what you need.”

Catalina’s vision is blurry. Now that he’s got her where he wants her, ready to give it up if she says the words, even her swollen pride can’t stop her.

She keens loud and looks over her shoulder, watching him drop to his knees so he’s level with her slick wetness.

“Please, Shawn. Fuck. Please. Need your tongue.”

Shawn grins wolfishly and lurches forward, using his gigantic hands to anchor her against the bar and press the flat of his tongue to her dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so wet already,” he laughs after his first taste, “Soaked from sucking on my cock.”

She mewls in agreement, wriggling her hips. He lifts a hand to bring it down against the white flesh of her ass, watching her arch, hearing her squeal.

“So pretty,” he groans before nuzzling his lips back where they belong. His tongue plucks at her clit, wanting her as wet as he can get her. She rocks her hips gently against the bar, stretching her arms out to hold tight to the other side of the counter as he starts fucking her in earnest.

Shawn’s tongue is unforgiving. He flicks it hot and fast against her swollen button, his thumbs sweeping in toward her center, flirting with the idea of filling her with his fingers. He concentrates on suckling at her until she’s bucking so hard against the bar that he can’t hold her still.

“Didn’t take long,” he pants, licking his lips, “Gonna come for me already, princess?”

“Please, please, please,” she chants, “Need to fucking come for you.”

Shawn is smug, landing another harsh smack on her ass, a second red handprint to match the first. “Yeah, baby. Come on my tongue.”

He thrusts his stiff tongue in between her pulsing walls, adjusting his hand so his finger can rock tightly against her clit. She can tell by the pressure mounting against his mouth that she’s almost there. He moans in anticipation and it’s the thing that drives her home.

Shawn holds his mouth fast against her, pressing his tongue in and out as she shakes and screams. He lifts his hands up around her hips, letting his palms be the cushion between her hipbones and the bar counter. He revels in it, in just how long it takes for her to even out and bring her crying whimpers down to ragged gasps.

Shawn hesitates, but pulls back when he feels her shivering at his touch. He straightens up behind her, helps her ease her leg down off the bar and climb off the stool to slump in his arms.

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are unfocused, and Shawn has never felt so accomplished. He cradles her against his chest, smiling as she presses open-mouthed kisses through his t-shirt.

“Want more, honey?” he rasps, nosing at her fragrant hair. She nods eagerly.

Shawn reaches down to scoop her up, her legs lifting to twist around his waist. Her body is weak and soft against his as he carries her around the corner, pressing her back into the walk-in fridge door. She hisses at the cool steel before the sound disappears between his lips.

Catalina lifts her limp hands into his hair, squeezing when she feels his hips pin hers into the door and cant, driving his still hard cock against her pussy. She tastes herself, warm and heady on his lips. She writhes, desperately trying to angle herself in a way that will get him nestled up against her entrance for when the next rock of his hips comes.

“Shhh, I know,” he chuckles brusquely, holding her up with one arm so he can maneuver them together, spanking her clit with the head of his cock while he’s at it. She squirms, whimpering and tossing her head.

“Tell me,” he pants, telling himself he’s not begging, “Tell me you want to feel me.”

“Oh god, Shawn,” she moans, “Yes. Please. You make me feel so good.”

The tips of his ears go hot. With a grunt, he thrusts up into her, feeling a ghost of the memory of last time shrug around him. He’s never felt anything like her before. He thought it would’ve worn off after the first time, after he came so hard inside her he truly saw stars. But it’s here again and it has him by the throat.

His breathing is ragged as his chest presses against hers. She’s not mocking him this time, though. She’s brushing her nose over his, wetting her lips to speak, quiet and sweet.

“Nobody fills me like you do.”

Shawn’s instincts return and any remaining sense goes out the window. He growls again, vibrating her around his dick as he starts to set a rhythm that has her bouncing between his hips and the door. She gasps, eyes flying open as her head slams back into the steel. In the quiet bar, the sounds their bodies make together are viscerally filthy. Shawn squeezes his eyes shut to try to ignore it for fear of ending it all too soon. She feels too good. He’s had her once and now, as he has her again, he knows he’s addicted.

Her hips roll with his in perfect time, giving and receiving. Her hot breath on his face makes him feel like he’s buried in a cloud with her. Maybe they won’t have to come out this time. He doesn’t want to.

He shifts his hips to pulse the head of his cock against her g-spot. As badly as he wants to hold her here against him forever, he’s desperate to feel her come again. He knows how good she can do it.

“Lina,” he hears himself murmur, his lips so close to hers that they brush when he speaks, “I know you’re close. I can feel you.”

She’s sure he can. Her whole body is throbbing for him. She’s been holding on by her fingertips, unwilling to end it. She knows when she comes, he’ll follow. And then what?

She groans and shakes her head. “I… I--”

“I know,” he pants, “It’s ok. Just come for me. Want you to come so hard.”

He plunges his face into the crook of her neck, licking and sucking at the spot that got her so crazy for him last time. She cries his name, thrusting her hips harder just before the dam breaks. She soaks him, her body sputtering and stumbling through a fierce orgasm. She chokes on breath and grips his hair so hard she pulls some strands free in her fingers. The pleasure-pain she gives him sends him off the cliff behind her, pulsing hot and fast into her welcoming cunt until he’s spent and barely able to hold them both up.

Shawn eases back, tucking himself into his jeans. Catalina adjusts her skirt and clears her throat, sore from crying out for him.

She drops her head, unable to look at him. Her chest feels tight. The shame of it is seeping in through every pore.

She was so willing to spread her legs for him again after he left her naked and alone in her own bed. She put her desire for a good fuck over her pride. She let him know she needs him.

She can’t think of anything worse.

With a jolt, she heaves off the door and grabs at her panties and the purse she left on the counter, leaving the shoes behind -- they’d only slow her down. Without another look back, she hurries out the door, taking off at a run, barefoot and crying.

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Part 3 coming very soon! Please support my smutty ass and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte

[dazeyrains-blog]

No more rum.

#Caryl fic. "No more rum"

They'd been jumped. Not by a whole herd but enough of them, 15...maybe 20, the whole lot of them had come out of nowhere during what was to be a simple store raid. Carol and Daryl had been out since noon and it had been getting dark before they had come across an old food outlet, barely touched. They thought they had hit the jackpot and celebrated by taking their time, loading up the truck, catching each other's eyes with smiles across fat shelves.

They'd found a whole stack of bottles too, rum, vodka, whiskey, gin. Daryl had cracked the rum and they had been sharing a small toast when it had happened.

All of them. Like silent snakes, descended upon them, splitting Carol and Daryl up, forcing them to opposite ends of the store. They had a fight on their hands.

Daryl shot his arrows faster than lighting and Carol poked her knife in and out, socket to socket "The warehouse!" Daryl called, fearing the worst as he watched her struggle. She followed his eyes as she battled three walkers at once "Out the back, we'll lead them through then make a run back around for the truck!"

She nodded, mapping the distance to the door and the time she'd have to get there as Daryl managed to skillfully climb a babymilk display stand. He knew he only had a few seconds before the dead would knock it and him back down but he clambered fast, shooting two arrows across the way, ridding Carol of some of her biters, giving her the chance to run. She did but she got to the door and stopped, just in time to watch Daryl go crashing down

"Run, woman!!"

She ignored his orders and instead, made her way towards him, picking the walkers off one by one from the back whilst their sights were set on Daryl.

Between them, Carol and Daryl managed to dwindle the group down to about 6 or so then made a dash to the warehouse, out the back delivery hatch and back round to the front of the store to the truck. Leading the dead through the back had given them amble time to throw a few more supplies in the back before shutting up the hatch and driving away full pelt.

"Woo!" Daryl sung, high on adrenalin and a little off rum "Damnit! That was close! Woo!"

He side grinned towards Carol in the passenger seat who unfortunately wasn't sharing his enthusiasm.

"Hey" he said softer, patting her leg "we made it. We're alive"

But she just shook her head quietly, staring out to the road ahead.

"I need you to pull over" she said, pointing to a lay by in the road. "Just here. Just for a minute"

She was as pale as a ghost, green almost. Daryl figured the rum had hit her harder than she'd expected and it was about to repeat itself all over her...all over the dash board too.

He pulled over and she got out, making her way to the back and opened the loading hatch.

Not that Carol had much hair for him to hold back, he followed her anyway, but was confused as she climbed into the back of the truck and just...stood there...staring blankly around.

"I need you to come in here" she said He hesitated, unsure of her intentions. She rolled her eyes "In case any walkers come by will you just get in here" she asked again. Her voice was stern so he complied immediately, pulling the hatch half closed again behind him and clicking his flash light on, keeping it low.

He placed his bow down onto a box of twinkies and eyed her up and down. "What's goin' on?"

Carol stared at her feet. He didn't want to pressure her but the moon was up and he didn't feel comfortable sitting on an open road with a fully stocked truck. Her shoulders shook a little and in the glint of his torch light he saw a tiny splash of a tear hit her boot. Daryl moved towards her but she stepped back.

"Don't..." she sniffed, wiping her hands across her face

"What the fuck is goin' on with you Carol...you're scaring me"

"I've let you down" she admitted, trying her best to stop her tears from falling. Daryl shook his head, baffled by her words.

"You did great back there" he argued "Saved my god damned life...what are you talkin' bout?"

She was silent. Maybe it had shook her up a little too much today. It had been hot out too, so that wouldn't have helped. But now, they didn't have time for sentimental, hormonal shit like this and this wasn't like Carol at all. He nipped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and smiled softly.. .

"C'mon 'C'" he beckoned, using the pet name he had given her that usually always made her smile. "No more rum for you"

He'd started towards the hatch as she spoke out...

"I've been bit" He stopped in his tracks. He'd misheard, surely...

"I've been bit Daryl" she said it again and this time he heard every word "it's all over"

He turned back to face her, his heart beating fast in his chest. It couldn't possibly be true...not her, not Carol. His legs and hands fidget as he tried to make sense of the words that had spilled from her mouth. He tried to speak but found he couldn't so she answered his in asked questions.

"It happened... its done" she said calmer than before. It was as if she had already prepared herself for it and she was ready . "I felt it before I saw it..."

"You saw..."

"I was struggling with two walkers when I felt a pain and I turned and there was a third behind me and..."

"Show me" he said, taking a deep breath "I need to see"

Carol nodded once and started to unbutton her shirt, turning around slowly. Daryls hand moved to his mouth when he saw the circular blood stain at her back. He tried hard to hold back his tears, she was shaking and it wasn't fair to lose it in front of her so he kept breathing and he waited until she had peeled away her sodden shirt and threw it to the floor. She stood there, exposed and terrified as Daryl raised his flash light to take a closer look. He got to his knees and edged closer, close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin and for a second it made her forget about the pain, about the bite and the dead and about this world.

For a second she thought only of her and him, alone, here, in the darkness, his breath on her skin, her exposed breasts... She felt his rough hand grip her side as the fingers of his other traced a delicate circular pattern around the wound, making her close her eyes and wish they were in another place, another time. But her time was over. She'd let her guard down and had been too worried about Daryls fate to worry about her own and it had happened. She opened her eyes knowing that if it was to happen again, she'd sacrifice herself a thousand times over to save him. Only him.

She felt him press his forehead against the base of her spine and breath out heavily. Was he crying? It felt and sounded that way, meaning it was true. All was lost for her.

She wanted him to do it quickly. Away from all the others. His sentimental shit would have to wait also til she was dead and buried in the ground. She tried to move away but he held her like a vice and suddenly he was... laughing?

Whole heartily belly laughing behind her, with his rough beard scratching against her back. She spun around, pushing him off to find her shirt and cover her exposed chest as he laughed on.

She felt hurt, exposed. He got to his feet and wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands, all the while still laughing away at himself or at her...She wasn't sure anymore. Had he gone mad?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he tried, waving his hands at her as he tried to catch breath. It took him a second but when he did he stood and looked at her for a second, only making her feel even more exposed.

He had indeed gone mad. She was somewhat flattered that her imminent death would cause a man to go over the edge, I mean, at least he cared. But right now it wasn't about him.

She felt for her knife but he stuck a hand out and placed it on her shoulder to stop her.

"We won't be needing that" he said but she shrugged him off and took it out anyway.

"I want you to do it to me now. Quickly" she ordered "I don't want the others to know, tell them I went down in the fight, tell them I-"

"You're not bit" Daryl said, folding his arms across his chest Blinking, It took a second to register his words.

"What..." she asked

"You're not bit" he said again, this time with a huge grin spreading across his face

"Wait...What do you mean? I felt it...I felt-" Carol looked behind her but the wound was too far around to see

"Well unless one of those walkers has a set of teeth that forms the perfect thin line of a circle, I'm guessing all that is is one of those god damned poles that were sticking out of the shelf in the hardware isle you were scrambling around in..."

Carol blinked "A perfect what..."

"Circle" he whistled, drawing the shape in the air with his finger. "As perfect as a full moon, shame it wasn't stamped a little lower, I'd be throwing some ink at your ass and stamping you for life, dumb woman" he laughed again

She thought back to the incident, she had spotted the poles before the walkers had ascended upon them, the fight was a little hazy in her mind but when she thought really hard, she does remember being pushed into a couple of shelves before the walker had come up behind her...maybe Daryl was right...

"No teeth marks? Nothing?"

Daryl shook his head "No teeth, no torn flesh, no infection..." he replied "Must have backed into the end of that pole pretty hard though cuz it's deep, you'll need stitches...but you're good"

He saw the confusion in her eyes and soon the humiliation dawned "C'mere" he said, wrapping his arms around her. He shouldn't have teased her, it would be good to laugh about it some day but he realised that now wasn't the time. He buried his nose into her neck and his hands rubbed the bare of her back slowly, wanting to stop her shivering but he knew he might be crossing the line a little, not that she seemed to mind as he felt her hug him back tighter. He placed a kiss upon her forehead and let her go. "Get yourself dressed" he winked "Maggie will take a look at you when we get back, ok?"

Carol nodded, hugging her shirt to her chest as he hopped out of the truck She dressed, took 5 to calm down, slid her knife away and locked the hatch back up, re-joining Daryl in the front cab.

"If you're lying to keep me calm" she said, fastening her seatbelt "I'm coming back to bite you first"

Daryl laughed and started the truck up "No more rum for you ever, never again"

[sweetvengeancee]

Scotch (Justin Foley x Reader)

Warnings : Alcohol, swearing, making-out, Bryce being kinda a dick, and my English still sucks.  Word count: 2500.

A/N: Here’s my third imagine, woo! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I’m gonna start working on a Jeff one and another Monty one; so let me know if you want me to post it! xx

You can also read my first Monty imagine here, and my Zach imagine here. 

Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t the kind of person to host parties very often, but when she did – they were legendary.  Her parents were both businesspeople and were rarely home, which allowed her to do whatever she pleased whenever she wanted to. That’s why her boyfriend, Justin, practically lived with her by now – considering his situation at home. Most of the time the couple would spend time alone at Y/N’s place, invite friends over and sometimes, like today, organize parties.

The party was in full swing, sweaty bodies grinding against one another on the makeshift dancefloor in the living room, teenagers getting drunk in the voluminous kitchen the Y/L/N family owned, couples getting at it in the various guest rooms upstairs.

Y/N, however, was standing in the corner of her living room, a simple bottle of coke in her hand as she kept an eye on everyone from afar. Y/N never got drunk at her own parties – her parents would never forgive her if something valuable went missing, or was broken. She knew her friends wouldn’t cause her trouble, but she wasn’t so sure about the other fifty or so guests.

Her lips curved into a smile as she caught sight of her boyfriend who was making his way over to her, a half empty bottle of beer in his hand and a smirk plastered to his gorgeous face. Biting down on his lower lip, Justin slid his free arm around her waist once he reached her, bringing her to his side and placing a sweet kiss to her temple.

“Hi there, beautiful.” He purred in her ear, giving it a small bite as his grip on her tightened. Y/N giggled, pushing him away playfully. She could smell the alcohol on his breath but she didn’t mind. It was a party after all, and she was probably the only sober person there – as crazy as it sounds.

Justin swiftly drank the rest of his beer before putting the empty green bottle on a table nearby, his now free hand travelling up to cup Y/N’s cheek. His thumb softly grazed her cheekbone as his blue orbs stared into her E/C ones. He pressed his soft lips to hers in a loving kiss, which she reciprocated – her arms moving around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair.

Justin groaned, pressing his body to hers as his hands moved to rest on her hips, squeezing gently. He started nibbling on her lower lip, his leg making its way between her parted ones and his hands now running up and down her body. Y/N tugged at the little hairs at the base of his neck as the kiss turned rougher, making him groan loudly which in turn caused her to smile into the kiss. Justin was always very needy, but when drunk he needed even more attention than usual. Y/N didn’t mind though; she actually loved it. The couple seemed to have forgotten about the dozens of sweaty teenagers surrounding them until a loud crash interrupted their make-out session.

Y/N broke the kiss, leaving her boyfriend flustered and confused for a few seconds. Panic filled her eyes as she searched for the origin of the sound, soon spotting a couple of people picking up pieces of broken glass. The girl sighed in relief as she noticed that it was just a glass, nothing valuable.

“I have to go clean this up, go find the boys.” She gave him an apologetic smile and his hand a gentle squeeze as he nodded, pulling her into him to kiss her once more before letting her go.

Defeated, Justin made his way back to the kitchen – where he knew his friends would be. And that’s exactly where he found them. Zach, Montgomery and Marcus were chatting with a few girls, trying and miserably failing to impress them; while Bryce was going through the kitchen’s cupboards, a permanent frown visible on his face.

“What are you doing?” Justin asked, his voice filled with annoyance, making Bryce stop and turn around quickly, the frown replaced by a smirk.

“Looking for more booze.” The older boy explained calmly, as if rummaging through his friend’s girlfriend kitchen was an acceptable thing to do. He closed a cupboard and opened another one, groaning as he found nothing interesting inside.

“It’s all on the table, man.” Justin said, gesturing to the multiple bottles of alcohol standing on the table while giving his friend a stern look, not even trying to hide how irritated he was by his behaviour.

“Come on, brother. That’s shit, not booze.” Bryce scoffed, his eyes scanning the almost empty bottles. “Y/N must have something better hidden somewhere.” He continued, closing the last cupboard before joining the younger boy at the table. He nudged his friend gently with his elbow, a knowing look on his face. He was fully aware that Y/N’s father had a fine collection of liquor somewhere in the house, he just didn’t know where.  Justin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He had promised Y/N that he wouldn’t let anyone near her father’s liquor cabinet, especially not Bryce.

“Come on, just one bottle and just for us.” Bryce pleaded, determined to make Justin cave in.

“I don’t know, man… Y/N would kill me.” The blue-eyed boy said, looking back at his others friends to make sure that they weren’t listening. To his relief, they were too engulfed in their conversations with the girls to pay attention to what was happening right next to them.

“She won’t even notice.” Bryce reassured, his arm hanging lazily on Justin’s shoulders. A wide smile appeared on his face as his eyes met his friend’s – he knew he had convinced him.  

“Fuck, alright. But just one bottle.” The smile on the baseball player’s face widened, if it was even possible. He nodded, his hand resting on his friend’s back, pushing him gently towards the kitchen’s door.

Walking into the living room, Justin let out a long shaky breath as his girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. Guilt was eating at him from inside but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to his best friend. But Bryce’s confident demeanour and the bold look he had in his eyes kind of reassured him. After all, Y/N will never find out and neither will her father, right? He owned way too many bottles to notice that one of them disappeared.  

The brown-haired boy led his older friend up the stairs, and into Mr.Y/L/N’s office. The average-sized room was dimly lit – the only source of light coming from the window that overlooked the garden, which was illuminated by small colourful paper lanterns. Justin glanced once more into the corridor to make sure that nobody has followed them before quietly closing the door behind them.

Bryce’s eyes immediately scanned the room in search of alcohol and soon enough, they landed on an old wooden cabinet standing in a corner. A wicked smile decorated his face as he quickly moved towards it, frantically trying to open it – to no avail. He groaned loudly as he pulled on the handle once more, but it didn’t budge. Frustrated, he went for a kick but Justin’s enraged voice held him back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He whispered-shouted, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched tightly.

“Trying to open that god damned thing!” Bryce chuckled looking back at his frantic friend standing near the door, clearly less stressed by the situation than Justin was.

“Just let me fucking do it.” The younger boy sighed, his face softening as he approached him. His hand searched behind the liquor cabinet, where he knew the key was. Y/N had showed him weeks ago, when they decided to spend a nice evening together. She thought that a glass of wine would perfectly pair with the diner she had prepared. But she made it clear that it was an exception, as her father would surely notice if more than one bottle went missing.

Bryce’s eyes lit up as the cabinet’s doors opened, revealing dozens of bottles from gin to tequila, from whiskey to rum. A few bottles of vodka lingered in the back, but what tempted him the most was the expensive-looking bottle of scotch. He grabbed the dark bottle and another one before quickly moving away with one bottle in each hand.

“What the fuck, Bryce. We said one bottle.” Justin hissed, his hand reaching to take a bottle from his friend. But the older boy was quicker, opening both bottles and taking a big sip from one of them. He chuckled at Justin’s petrified expression.

“Chill, dude. It’s just scotch and vodka. None will notice.” He said calmly, bringing the bottle of scotch to his lips once again and offering the vodka to his friend. Sighing, the boy accepted the beverage. The alcohol burned his throat as he swallowed big gulps, but it just felt so right.

“Let’s get out of here.” Justin said after a few seconds, afraid of getting caught in Mr.Y/L/N’s office. He locked the cabinet quickly, putting the key back in its place before leaving the room, Bryce hot on his heels.

The boys sat at the top of the stairs, deciding that it would be safer up there than downstairs, where Y/N could catch them. Sip after sip, Justin’s head felt lighter and lighter. He couldn’t even tell what the conversation he was having with Bryce was about. His head was spinning from the alcohol and his stomach was hurting from laughing. Everything the older boy said or did seemed to be the funniest thing on earth to an intoxicated Justin.

Suddenly, Bryce’s eyes widened but he quickly tried to cover it with a smirk – which once again caused Justin to burst in laughs. A loud gasp could be heard, his head shooting to where it came from. And there, at the bottom of the staircase, stood Y/N. She was fuming – her eyes wide with anger, her lips pursed in a tight line, her fists clenched. She was looking up at the boys, her breaths short and rapid as she walked up the stairs.

“Are you fucking serious?” She snapped, snatching the bottle of vodka from her boyfriend’s hand forcefully and examining it. She quickly recognized the bottle as one of her father’s.

“Hi babe!” Justin slurred, his eyes twinkling with joy as he watched his girlfriend lovingly.

“Don’t ‘hi, babe’ me, Jus!” She yelled, taking the other bottle from her boyfriend’s best friend. “Do you idiots even realise what you did?” She groaned, gaining the attention of a few guests – including some of her friends.

“Come on Pau, chill. It’s just two bottles of booze.” Bryce laughed it off, earning a glare from the girl, to what he raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head a little.

“Just two bottles of booze.” Y/N scoffed, her hands falling to her sides in defeat. “These bottles are worth six hundred dollars each, you morons.” She said, her voice low and threatening. The words that left Y/N’s mouth made Justin sober up instantly. His eyes doubled in size and his mouth fell open. He could see the disappointment and the hurt in her E/C eyes, and it broke his heart.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m so-” He started, but she interrupted him with a wave of her hand. She looked around, noticing a circle forming around them. All eyes were on them, and she hated it.

“Get out.” She mumbled, her head hanging low, hair falling into her eyes. She could heard them all chat around, whispering things she couldn’t even make out but knew were about them. “Get out!” She repeated, this time louder to make sure that everybody heard her. “All of you, out. Now.” She gestured to the front door.

She was enraged and disappointed. She couldn’t believe her boyfriend did the one thing she had begged him not to. But she was also afraid – afraid of how her father would react. Her father was a big fan and connoisseur of scotch, so she was more than certain that he would notice that one of his bottles is gone.

The house emptied itself slowly, her friends kicking drunk and moody teenagers out as she stood on the stairs immobile, her boyfriend right next to her. Her eyes were focused on a wall as she patiently waited for everyone to leave.

“What the fuck, Jus?” Y/N faced him once the front door was shut and they were the only ones left in the house. Justin’s gaze avoided hers, falling to the floor in shame. “I asked you not to go in there, especially with Bryce!” She continued, making vivid movements with her hands to express how annoyed she was. “You know how much my father loves his little liquor cabinet! For fuck’s sake, Justin. What were you thinking?” Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” The boy whispered as Y/N sat on a step, brushing away the few stray tears that had now escaped. “I wasn’t thinking, I just… Bryce wanted more booze, and…” He trailed off, realising that he had no idea how to justify what he did. He sat on the step next to her, leaving a good amount of space between them as he didn’t know if she wanted him close, or gone.

Justin played with his fingers while waiting for Y/N to do something, to say something. He knew he fucked up, and he hated himself for it. He regretted letting Bryce into the office, he regretted opening the liquor cabinet to him. But he couldn’t do anything to change what has been done.

After a few minutes of sitting in complete silence, Y/N moved closer to her boyfriend, taking him by surprise. Justin tensed as she rested her head on his shoulder, making her giggle softly. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he tentatively brought an arm around her shoulders, expecting her to shrug it off, but she didn’t. Instead, she snuggled closer to him, wrapping her arms around his stomach.

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbled into his neck, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He whispered back, nuzzling his nose into her soft hair and taking in her scent. He smiled, leaving a tender kiss at the top of her head. Y/N sighed, pulling away from him and looking into his eyes.

“You’re lucky that I love you.” Justin smiled slightly at her words, his arm bringing her closer to him.

“I am.” He breathed, his nose bumping into hers as he leaned in. “I love you too.”

“And you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him, causing his smile to widen. The boy laughed, his hand cupping her cheek once more that night before crashing his lips into hers.

“I will.” He promised, pulling away from the kiss to take a breath before diving back in.

Well, that was embarrassingly cringy. The end was, once again, terrible. I’m gonna hide somewhere now, byeee.

@miles-heizer-in-ur-panties