#next time she'll be the size of a truck

[tcustodisart]

Boop the snoot

[ginsengkitten]

༺Beautiful Dangerous༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Ten: To The Museum

The band lay strung throughout the backstage of the Roxy. The stage manager trotting over "on in 5 guys, you ready? I heard there's some ritzy label heads out there tonight!" He announced. Axl his his excitement behind a cool stone cold look, the others trying to also keep their cool at the news. The opportunity of being noticed by a label. Intensity flowed in echoes around the venue between Roxy employees, band members, stage crew skipping back and forth. Smoke hung around in its usual thickness. Excited chatter bellowed from all corners of the building inside and out. But between the layers of excitement, lay a deeply anxious Slash, pacing back and forth.

"Dude she'll show, maybe she's just stuck in traffic." Izzy said.

Slash muttered on to himself almost at no awareness to anyone's comments of consolation.

"I called her usual line like 3 times, nothing." Slash muttered in clear concern for your absence.

Consolation from anyone was futile. Slash grew more and more concerned of your missing in action. You never missed his shows and you were never late without at least calling. His anxiety bordering a festering anger. He had gone through about a pack of cigarettes today alone. This wasn't like you to be missing like this.

The backstage door cracked open with its loud casual clank that brought the attention of anyone nearby. Slash snapping his head only to find disappointment every time it wasn't you. Another loud clank rung out. "I'm looking here for a young man named Slash?" A gravelly old voice called out. Security blocks the man from further approaching Slash. "Can't be on this stage sir-"

Dave almost laughs at the young scrawny security bouncer trying to size up to one of LA's best hidden secrets. "Son I built this fuckin' stage." He chuckles and pushes past the bouncer with no contest. Slash pauses at the scruffy old man wandering back. "That would be me." Slash approaches him curiously. Dave sizes him up. "Thought so." He said. "I got this here..this damn uh-" Dave shuffled through his pockets in old man delirium. Slash watching him fiddle like a vulture looking for a corpse. Dave finally locates a small folded up piece of stationary from his shirt pocket and hands it to Slash. "For you man, I reckon you know Y/N?"

Slash swipes the letter from Dave and leaves no time to blink. Unfolding the small fragrant lined notebook paper.

"I don't have a lot of time to write this, but my parents have come early to take me back home. I don't know when I will see you next and I'm sorry. Please Please write me. We can coordinate phone calls soon and I'll explain everything.

I'm really sorry and I love you."

(Your home PO Box scribbled in at the bottom.)

Scribbled out in your nervous handwriting was a note you had managed to sneak to Dave before being whisked away. You begged Dave to deliver it as soon as possible, and like the pal Dave had always been, and the young lover he used to be himself, brought it down to the Roxy immediately where you had told him Slash would be tonight. Dave hung his head lowly as well. A fountain of confusion, hurt, anger and sadness blew through Slash like a bullet, shattering his entire body into millions of separate pieces.

"On in 2!" The stage coordinator called out once more.

"Come on man get your shit let's get going!" Axl called to Slash in annoyance. Slash stay frozen for a moment, clutching your note in his hands before stuffing it into his jacket pocket and running straight out the back door. "Slash!?" The band called out. "What the fuck man?!" But slash didn't stick around to give answer to their calls.

No Slash booked it outside and Dave- the good pal he is- didn't budge when he watched Slash steal his truck and peel out of the parking lot almost striking every pedestrian in sight. Slash drove like a bat out of hell all the way up to Daisy's house. Running red lights, over curbs, and ignoring angry bystanders almost killed by his reckless pursuit. But his movie like chase reaped no reward or happy ending. Parking very blatantly on the curb before jumping out and running to the window of what was your room. The many times he had thrown rocks at it, knocked in the middle of the night and stole you away like Peter Pan. But his knocks went unanswered to a now vacant guest bedroom. He tried to peer inside through slits in the curtains. Your usual artifacts nowhere to be seen. His attempts to retrieve your ghost, meanwhile, you had been long gone by now.

-

Uncle Rob had bought you flights from LA to South Bend Airport in Indiana. You assumed it was just cheaper than to the closer airport in Kentland considering you lived in closer to Kent land but the trip and experience had you exhausted and nauseated to no end. You leaned your head against the window in the back of the rental car. The entire trip had been silence. A thick tension stuck in the air. Your mother glanced back to you front the passenger seat.

“Cheer up baby sweet. You know we did this because we love you.”

You say nothing.

“You know- maybe one day- you can go back.”

You lift your head in confusion.

“Really?”

“Well of course. I mean, family is important. We just need you home for a little while is all..”

“How soon? Like fall? Christmas?” You grasp at these small strings of hope.

“Well we’ll have to discuss that more later. Right now all we want is for you to get better sweetie. We only want what’s best for you.” She continues on her typical empty ramble. It’s between this particular empty ramble and you’re now realizing your father has been driving in the opposite direction since the airport.

“Daddy, is this a new way home?” You sit up confused at the surroundings blurring past the car. He glances at your mother but says nothing.

“We have, well we have just a couple detour stops since we’re already traveling. We thought we might just take the long route- as a family!” She nervously proceeds.

You are unconvinced by the statement but you’re not sure why they would lie about something like that. The nausea, the exhaustion, the now confusion, by the time you had even a semblance of a constructed thought on any of this, the car had slowed to a stop into a parking lot of a large building.

“A museum?” You ask bewildered.

“Yes, that’s right, a museum!” You mother agrees stepping out of the car.

“Dads going to go find a better parking spot. Let’s go on inside and start looking around.” She ushers you out of the car. You reluctantly follow her as your dad pulls away.

This was literally the last thing on earth you wanted to do right now. A fucking museum? This is so typical of your parents to just drag you along with their boring bullshit. You’re quite literally hours in the opposite direction from home. And if you can’t be in LA, then you only want to just go home and wait for Slash to write. No where else in the world mattered. Especially not this weird shitty roadside museum up in the mountains.

As you approach the front doors an older woman in a strange get up greets you on the lawn. She’s tall and lanky and weathered. She’s- a nun? What the hell?

You turn to your mom confused, expecting her to be equally confused but she approaches the woman warmly with a handshake. “You must be Sister Agatha!” She greets. You look at them both confused. “You know eachother…?” Now everything is fucking confusing. You’re tired, hungry, depressed and now this random bullshit. “Y/N, this is Sister Agatha.” She says in her sweet fake voice that she did. Your dad finally catches up to you guys, your suitcase in his tow. Okay what the fuck?

“Mom..? Dad…?” You look at them both for the ‘haha it’s a prank!’ Gesture but nothing comes of that. Instead it’s a carefully calculated coup that you’ve now found yourself to be the target of. Everything starts making sense. This isn’t a museum, this is a monastery.

“I think I’m ready to leave now.” You say. You start backing away but your mother snatches your hand into hers and continues her polite conversation with an ironed grip on you to the point you cry out in pain. “MOM! What the fuck?!”

“ENOUGH.” She snaps at you and says nothing more than that alone. You knew she was serious. Dead fucking serious. “You guys can’t do this, I’m 18! I’m an adult!” You exclaim in a panic. Nobody answers you, it’s like you’re invisible here. Your dad handing your bag to the Sister. “Daddy..?” You plead but he hardly looks at you and returns to the car. The earth is crumbling underneath you. You feel frozen in shock and betrayal once more. Another obstructing blow to your heart. All feeling drains from you. Feeling like a ghost. How could they do this?

“You’re right- you are 18, and in the eyes of the Indiana government, children up to the age of 21 can be committed by their parents if they are deemed a harm to themselves.” Sister Agatha breaks your ears with that grueling fact and takes your arm gently passing you from your mothers grasp to hers. “I’m not a harm to myself! You fuckers are the harm!!” You scream, growing faint. It’s at this point that you realize you are - in fact experiencing withdrawals. The nausea, the exhaustion, the dizzying confusion. Your palms are sweating and you feel worse by the second. If only you had the strength or energy, you’d run, you’d run right now. But the grip that the smack had taken of you wasn’t totally apparent until it had been a full 48 hours without it. The empty goodbyes faded away in a blur as you allowed yourself to become reliant on Sister Agatha to help you to your room.

You lie over the covers, shivering violently, sweat beaded on your brow. You felt too weak to crawl under the covers. Staring at the ceiling. Alone. Trapped. All your remaining consciousness, drifted in and out of a haze, and all you could think of was Slash.

Slash. Please don’t forget me.

[scratchandplaster]

Tales of Arcadia - A new beginning

CW: insects, Sam bullying Ben with invasive questions, amnesia

Previous | [Masterlist] | Next

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ben held on like a vice. It wasn't fair of Dad to leave this early in the morning, especially not without any prior warning.

"I'll be back in two days tops, so I need someone to keep the team in order," Shepard laughed and tried to pull away from the avid embrace, "Otherwise I come back and everything is upside-down."

His son was neither used to nor keen on being the man of the house, clinging to his waist without mercy. It just wasn't fair!

"Send someone else to pick the new tools up then."

"We need to get this done before another storm blows us away. And when you want something done right, you have to do it-"

"-yourself. I know, Dad!" Ben huffed sadly and hugged his dad extra tight before untangling himself, a queasy pull beneath his heart didn't like to be separated so promptly. If asked, Ben would certainly deny how he tried to squirm away from his old life just a few days ago. Especially now, when everything just felt like it belonged exactly where it stood.

"And who else is capable enough to show Sam around, hmm? They have been dying for a tour." Shepard ruffled Ben's hair one last time: "I'll be back in a heartbeat."

He promptly waved goodbye to anyone who was up and busy on the campground already. As everyone returned the gesture, Shepard smiled contently and slipped into the driver's side of Otis' battered pickup truck. He lowered his voice when beckoning Reuben closer through the open window.

"Sam might ask you plenty of questions and that's fine. I'm counting on it. They think we are a bit odd, so if you could make them familiar with our daily routine, I would be very pleased by that."

Ben didn't care to hide his annoyed scowl: "Okay, I guess."

"If they do act up or say anything you don't like, send them to Birdie. Worst case: she'll kick them out."

Without any further hurdles, Shepard once again excused himself under the promise to return swiftly. He didn't worry about whether Ben stayed in place - this tic had been thoroughly dealt with. His son waved after him for a while as the truck drove down the gravel path and up to the familiar country roads. 

The queasiness only grew.

--------

"Hi, Ben!"

His hike downhill came to a surprised halt as Ben's focus was caught on a familiar shape: Sam, copper hair just as radiant as the morning sunlight, leaned against the cabin.

This would certainly be interesting. To examine the prodigal son far away from any watchful eyes could be the breach they searched for; the quick chat with his father had turned out virtually worthless: "So, what do you want to show me?"

They were in a good mood, Ben noticed, like they didn't casually play him for a fool the other day. The resentment oozing from his every pore felt pathetically childish: it had been right that he came back to his family, so there was no real reason for his upset. Still, he kept a tasteful distance. 

"Well, what do you want to see?" Ben asked, curt and reserved, his stiff attitude not staying unnoticed. 

Sam sized him up, starting at the navy-blue sweater with a manta ray on the chest. God, this was way more atrocious than his clubbing outfit - no wonder they were able to spot him so quickly in a metropolis. Not planning on wasting any more thought on the yokel's new clothes, they instead forced a smile: "Let's start with everything."

Everything turned out to be a meadow, primarily, grass on grass corralled by mixed woodland and a small stream at the far end of it. A cluster of tepees occupied the largest chunk of the area: six of them forming a circle with one in the middle, safely guarded from all sides and the community tent at the northern fringe of it. For all Sam cared, this looked like any regular camping site.

Bullshit! There had to be more to this hippie utopia: the shrine of an ancient harvest god behind the washrooms, screams of occult choirs choked out by peaceful chirping. 

Ben led them further across the pasture towards the barn and a patch of short grass enclosed by wire fence where chickens, rabbits, and sheep happily grazed together. Picturesque scenery impressed Sam only on rare occasions.

"Why rabbits of all things?" they wondered instead, squinting into the distant fields to catch of any other possible livestock.

"Easy to breed, easy to - uhm...process, sadly."

"You eat these?!" They gawked in disbelief. Jeez, as long as they didn't plan on doing it to them...

"Sometimes, but mainly, they are our eager fluffy lawnmowers," Ben clarified and let his gaze wander across the landscape, "Otherwise, the tics would be all over us by now."

Animal cruelty as a lead story always brought in new listeners, but in the context of this alternative milieu, Sam doubted anybody's genuine outrage. No, they should rather uncover something solid.

The early birds that were already outside gave them friendly smiles and scurried across the lawn as being led by an invisible hand. Everyone had their place, helping wherever it was needed inside this manageable ecosystem: chatting, preparing food or folding laundry. 

Past the rustic warehouse and workshop located far away from the rest of the settlement and locked shut, a strange exception Sam noticed quickly, Ben described the most important workstations curtly before hurrying over to the next. At this pace, Sam was better off turning this interview into a speed date to keep their not at all enthusiastic guide alert. 

As they passed the gurgling stream per stone bridge to the other side, conifers stole nearly all the sunlight away. Standing proud above the dark grass that no rabbit had ever touched, only strings of dewdrops surrounded the pair now. 

Ben's first chore of the day approached. Sam could hear a sudden uproar in the air: the all-embracing buzz of a bee farm. Six white boxes were stacked randomly along the brookside, frantically dancing and working bees surrounded them, only interested in offering their lot.

The buzzing turned louder and louder with every step until Sam decided to stay comfortably distanced from them: "Don't you need like a suit? Or smoke, at least?" 

"No, they still remember me." Yearning settled deep in Ben's voice. So careful in handling the single wooden frames and their golden-brown honeycomb, the hive greeted him by crawling over his face and hands. None of them were ready to sacrifice their lives in the face of the new guests, the light hum remained peaceful.

It didn't surprise Sam that Shepard wanted him back: he acted like the perfect poster child for this whole charade. Yet, his circumstances were much more interesting than honeybees.

"Where's your mother? She doesn't seem to live here."

"That doesn't concern you," Ben murmured instantly. 

"Fair enough. Is Shepard Cohen your real father or is it like a spiritual commitment?" A Ben Cohen didn't exist in any register they searched in, neither did a Benjamin, Benson, Bennet or Benedict Cohen under the age of thirty. Whoever the man in front of them claimed to be, he definitely wasn't pleased by this question. 

If Sam didn't know him better, they'd nearly expect to earn a handful of bees to the face. Ben was furious: "You are so rude! I can't believe I wanted to sleep with somebody like you."

Sam snorted with laughter: "Okay, that was blunt. You didn't give me a satisfying answer, though."

He let his silence speak for itself, carefully taking the different frames out of the hive and inspecting them. No parasites were visible and out to disturb the little critters' home life; only a big one to his left.

Ben didn't know many journalists or whatever Sam tried to sell themself as, just how badly he wanted to end this conversation. Dad wouldn't mind him sharing, right? Ben did, though, too bad then that his opinion rarely mattered.

"-I would be very pleased with that." Fine, every trick to get them off his back.

"He didn't make me, if you have to know," he finally admitted and let his face scrunch up in painful acceptance, "But he is my dad. That's what matters."

Wow, that was one way to make them feel like a piece of shit. To upset the son of a man they wanted to win a favor from may turn out to be their worst gambit yet. Did Sam really want to risk their invite to dig out strangers' family drama, especially if they otherwise failed to expose anything noteworthy? Not today, at least.

"And all the honey goes to you guys?"

"Yeah, or we sell it with the comb. Very popular on the market this season," Ben started to calm down in the face of their sudden interest, "Oh look, here's the queen!"

Being less than a fan of insects, Sam took another step back: "So you're the bee guy, I figure."

"Not really. Ann used to organize the hives before she went back to Dallas to study environmental science. We all try our best to keep the colonies healthy, though I'm more charged with watching the kids. Play with them, keep them away from the workshop and river...the usual, y'know?"

A gust of wind soughed through the woods. 

"What's in the workshop?" Sam breathed, thinking of the remote shed at the end of the world.

With empty eyes, Ben slowly turned towards them, his voice low and dark: "That's where we keep the virgin sacrifices."

What the-

For nearly a whole second, he managed to hold a stern face only to immediately break out into laughter. Sam just rolled their eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at the corners of their mouth: You little bastard...

It was a true shame, virgin sacrifices would make one hell of a headline though - that shit would sell like hot cakes.

"Take a wild guess," Ben scoffed and closed the hive shut, "Jigsaws, circular saws, carving tools, lacquer. Anything that should be kept far way from a set of five-year-olds. I mean, Shawn is twice their age and still needs supervision sometimes, it can get pretty hectic keeping them all in place."

At the prospect of juicy details, Sam found it impossible to resist digging deeper: "And still Lukas didn't like it here, huh. Why did he leave?"

"Who knows." Dad may be sound with him talking openly, but he would never backstab his brother like this. If Sam had a question for him, they had to ask on their own, thank you very much!

"I would've hoped you do," they teased further, to which Ben simply shrugged and continued with the check-up.

"It doesn't happen that people just walk out one day, so no one is sure about it."

"Ann did, though. Leave, I mean." 

"That's not the same, she still visits between semesters. Lukas, he...well, he has different necessities." Gradually, a strange pressure at the back of Ben's neck made itself notable - more than just the threat of a headache and these stupid questions certainly didn't help with it.

Nobody was allowed to know where Luke stayed, it was his wish and Ben had to respect this decision, no matter how abstruse it seemed. He could never forgive himself if he broke a promise he gave. And he didn't. He never would. 

The pressure crept behind his eyes now, pricking and prodding to stir something awake that was long gone. Something important… Or did he know? No way, Dad was just picking up new tools, it’s fine. Everything is fine.

"It looks like you do enjoy being home again." Sam casually pulled him back to the present, still nervous about the army of prickly animals all over his body.

"Of course!"

"Despite Shepard having to literally drag you out of a parking lot."

"You could've just asked me nicely to come along in the first place," Ben griped. The more he spoke, the clearer it became to Sam why he was acting so pissy, "It's better now, he knows what's best for me."

"And that being?" 

"Not staying out there."

Sam would be slightly more shocked by how content he was despite being ripped from the streets, if they didn't invest hours into research about the mindset of cult members. For them, it felt rather embarrassing how some people just let themselves be toyed with for a bit of fake love. 

"I thought you enjoyed the big-city life."

"Of course I did, it was great and loud and new and terrifying." Ben slowly placed the last honeycomb back into place. "It's good that I took a peek, but this place is where I belong."

"Yeah, sure." Someone drank a big gulp of the Kool-Aid, huh?

Sam pondered how guilty they had to feel for making it possible, though it didn't last long. Perhaps, in this special case, it was better this way. Maybe Ben just didn't know any better and as he was now, lost and found, he- Hold on.

"Lost and found" would make a sick title for the first episode, Sam had to jot it down immediately!

Finally ready to let the hives return to their work, Ben headed back to the shameless tourist: "I know that you think I'm stupid."

"Ben, come on-" There it was, the fishing for sympathy. Thank god Sam only had a short annual supply of comfort to give, and they certainly wouldn't waste on that guy.

"Luke's roommates thought so too," he explained blankly, "Because I never went to high school, or have a degree, or read Shakespeare, or know what a Kardashian is."

"Believe me, I'd be a lot happier if I didn't have to worry about half of that."

"You seem to prefer it to my home anyway. If you already have your mind made up, why waste your time? I'm not interested in changing your opinions." 

Dad was, even though he never thought twice about other people's impressions in the past. What about Sam was so special then?

"Hey, I'm just asking questions," Sam countered, "I think it's charming here. Different, sure, but that doesn't mean I think badly of your home. Or you guys' lifestyle for that matter; that's the reason I came here in the first place: to witness. May I write about what we talked about?" 

They already did, but it's the thought that counts.

"Write? Okay, why not." For all he cared, they could create a haiku of their dispute; as long as Dad gave the green light, it was fine. Suddenly, Ben's eyes opened wide, his face bright and rosy with embarrassment: "But not what I said about you, please! That I wanted…with you."

"Got it. So you don't want…with me anymore?" They impishly raised their eyebrow as if to mock his bygone flirting attempt.

Ben's tone was clear and sharp: "No, I don't." 

Ouch, wrong time for a tease. The atmosphere between them was tense enough and Ben didn't plan to become friends any time soon, that was for sure. In the end, Sam was here to investigate - not to hold hands.

The walk back to the office was silent and just as uneventful as before. Overseeing the settlement from the hilltop, now that the morning fog had cleared up, made Sam take a deep breath in defeat. This had to be the most boring cult ever documented, they hadn't even been offered any mind-altering drugs yet. How were they supposed to thrill an audience this way?

"Well then, we could visit the fields too if you like," Ben offered as he caught their frustrated mood, "but I'm afraid that's all there is to our home. Voilà, I guess."

Though it was all he had to offer, it didn't mean there weren't more secrets to reveal: "I think I'll see that for myself and stay a while longer. There's so much more to learn about."

"We have a tent for guests. Or volunteers, if you like to have company."

"I have my own place, thanks," Sam huffed and stepped closer towards him, hoping he would still grant them the honesty he promised before, "Ben, are there any - how should I word this - events that I can help with?"

"Events? Do you mean parties?" Excess similar to the way they had met each other was absolutely not the kind of get-together Birdie liked to arrange, especially when drugs were involved - no matter how legal or not. All members were responsible for supporting William and his friends from the streets, and that meant helping them to not endanger themselves. Any evening campfires were kept perfectly sober and peaceful.

"Yeah, or prayers. A mass, if you will." Sam was desperate for a spicy narrative: ritually sacrificed rabbits for fertile earth or a midwest Walpurgis Night. A single orgy at least!

Ben was lost in thought: "Uhm...sometimes, very early in the morning, we do yoga before breakfast."

"Naked?"

"What-"

"Naked yoga, right?"

"No, just yoga," Ben stretched both arms above his head and balanced his weight on one foot, "Like this. Gets you warmed up for the day."

Sam was officially done, there really was nothing to get out of this idiot. No listener in their right mind wanted to click on a podcast about hillbilly workouts.

"Thanks, I'd rather not sing Kumbaya with you guys. Not everyone can afford to frolic in a meadow the whole day," they sighed and wiped their hands on their jacket, "Who has time for an interview now?"

"Hmm," Ben let his gaze wander once again, "try Birdie. She's prepping lunch at this time of day. You need to work, though."

"Please, I'm working right now." And what did all this work get them? A semi-relevant report about ethical, organic slaughter was the most controversial topic they could eviscerate this circus for.

"Is that so?" he eyed them from the side, "Make it a bit more obvious, maybe someone will buy it then."

"Alright, got the message," Sam assuaged him, "I'll leave you alone. Thanks for the tour anyway."

With a firm bite on his tongue, Ben gave a nod and nothing more - staying kind could be an effort every so often. 

The frustrated visitor continued to stumble down the hill before shouting one last tip towards him: "You still owe me for the drinks, by the way!"

The quicker they got what they wanted, the faster they were able to let him and his family be at peace again. Another impression Ben shared with his father.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

[sociallyawkwardsailor]

I check out the hotel tomorrow, and will officially have a home again! I got the keys yesterday, and thankfully all paperwork was able to be done online via DocuSign, as I was in Florida/busy af getting ready for my upcoming underway this week. It sucks I won't be actually living there for another month, and I wish I'd had more time between reporting and shipping to establish my household, but it is what it is; things are going smoothly. My Chief said she'll route a chit for me to take house hunting leave when we get back, which will give me 10 free leave days to establish my household.

Got my non-temp storage release form sent in to have my household goods delivered, internet/cable scheduled to be installed upon return next month (fuck Cox we ball with Verizon FiOS), bills set up for autopay, queen size air mattress for myself and bae, and found an excellent place to store my truck while at sea.

[dahliarose2]

KINDRED SPIRITS - PART 14

summary: daryl returns from the mission to storm the sanctuary and you resolve your intense argument from before. what happens when this conversation leads to a certain confession from the archer regarding his feelings. a surprise attack from negan, the mourning of a member of your group and diversions; will you make it out of alexandria in the midst of the attack?

daryl dixon x reader

A/N: this chapter is ANGST, ANGST, ANGST. with also, plenty of fluff in between between you and daryl <33

link to previous part (part 13)

link to masterlist (part 1-13)

Daryl walked towards Michonne, watching as she gently kissed Judith on the forehead where she sat on the grass playing with her toys. Michonne and Rosita had went along with Daryl and Tara to storm the Sanctuary and cause the walkers to flood in, which would force the Saviors to surrender. Eventually, after disagreements, Rosita and Michonne headed back to Alexandria, refusing to help them with their plan. Daryl eyed Michonne nervously, unsure of what the tension would be like now that he was back from completing the mission, he and Tara ramming the garbage truck through The Sanctuary walls, watching as the walkers rushed the building, sending Negan and the Saviors into a flurry as they attempted to defend the compound with the lack of soldiers they had compared to the size of the horde,

Daryl's stomach twisted in a knot at the thought of going to see you after being complicit in drugging you when you attempted to kill Dwight. He wanted Dwight dead just as much as you did; just not now, the group needed his intel, as slimy as the man was. Daryl couldn't get your shocked expression and your tears streaming down your face out of his head. The sooner he settled things with Michonne, the sooner he could go see you. He knew he had to go see you, he had to apologize, he had to make it right. Upon his arrival, seeing Daryl out the corner of her eye, Michonne stood from where she crouched next to Judith, rubbing her hand on her hair once more before strolling towards him awkwardly. "Hey," Daryl muttered, as Michonne smiled at him lightly. "Hi. I'm glad you came back," she said gratefully, as Daryl nodded back at her, "it's better we go out there together,"

"It worked," Daryl said with a small smile, "we'll storm in. Tell 'em to surrender. And they will." Michonne tried to smile back, but still looked a bit upset. "I'm sorry, I couldn't," she apologized lightly, for abandoning him and Tara on the mission. Daryl shook his head gently. "Don't be, it worked," Daryl assured, placing a hand on her shoulder before moving to walk away. "Daryl," Michonne whispered, grabbing his arm softly before he could walk away. Daryl tensed at her tone, turning his head slightly. "I heard about what happened with Y/N. That she tried to kill Dwight. You should go talk to her," Michonne advised. "Yeah I uh. I'm goin' right now," Daryl mumbled under his breath as Michonne nodded. "I don't like to see you both fighting," she confessed, often joining in with Rick to tease you both for looking at each other with googly eyes all the time. "We ain't fightin'. I tried to kill Dwight the first time I saw him. I don't blame her for that. I only blame myself for not tellin' her," Daryl confessed as he looked down, slightly embarassed,

Michonne squeezed his arm slightly. "She'll understand," she whispered compassionately, easing worries that he hadn't even said out loud yet. He tried to send a small smile as he walked away. He wondered if you'd forgive him; for being so secretive, for not telling you about Dwight being the secret informant, for putting you in the cell until he got back. Before he had even realized, Daryl stood in front of the door that led into the cell. He thought for a moment before gently opening the door, Carl coming into view. Carl stood up, tucking the letters he had been writing for reasons unbeknownst to Daryl into the back pocket of his jeans quickly. Daryl had been too tormented by his worries to notice them, thankfully for Carl. "I'll uh leave you two alone," Carl muttered with an encouraging smile towards Daryl as he walked out, the door shutting behind him. Daryl took a step forward, looking into through the cell door to see your eyes already on him from where you sat on the floor, back against the wall in a comfortable position,

After a few moments of silence, Daryl's eyes looked away from yours to dart around the floor. "Hi," he muttered quietly in his usual gruff voice. "Hi," you replied, just as quiet as you still watched him from where you sat. Awkward silence drifted over both of you as Daryl shook his head, reaching for the door. "Sorry," he apologized roughly, forgetting he still hadn't unlocked the door as he turned the key, exuding a loud click as he opened it. You stood up and walked towards him, not daring to look at him, unsure of what to even say. Without a word, Daryl locked the cell again behind you as you both walked out of the prison and mindlessly strolling towards your shared house now. Daryl tried to look at you, hoping you wouldn't notice as he tried to read your face for how you were feeling; though he had never been too good at that. You felt his eyes on you as you tugged on the sleeve of your shirt awkwardly. Once you reached the house, Daryl walked a bit faster, overtaking to open the front door for you,

You stopped for a moment, before he gave you a small smile, so small you almost didn't see it, as he motioned with his head to walk in ahead of him. You smiled lightly as you walked in, placing your hands in the pockets of your frayed jeans as he shut the door behind you both, setting his crossbow next to the door in its usual spot. More silence commenced as you looked around the house, struggling on what to do as Daryl stood behind you still, as he ghosted you mimicking your awkward stance. "Should we-" "Do you wanna-" you both spoke at the same time, as you turned to look at him. "Sorry," you mumbled, laughing a bit. Daryl's heart beamed at your laughter, he wasn't sure he'd ever hear anything like that again after what he did. "Living room?" he asked kindly as you nodded, both of you walking to sit on the couch, a bit away from each other but still close. He moved his hand in one another nervously as he leaned his arms against his thighs as he tried to find the courage to meet your longing gaze,

You didn't know whether to say something or let Daryl speak as you watched him closely. "'M sorry," Daryl muttered sadly, still not looking at you, "for all of it. I shoulda told ya about Dwight as soon as you got back from..." His voice trailed off, unable to say the words without thinking of the place that you both had been trapped in; The Sanctuary. "It's okay-," you started softly. "Nah. It ain't," he said firmly, not wanting you to forgive him so quickly, "I lied to ya. I pulled away from you. Because-." Daryl's voice trailed off once again, as your heart began to beat faster at his words. You had been angry in the beginning, even more so when you had woken up in the cell. You'd have to apologize to Carl later for the obscene language you hurled around when he wouldn't let you out, but you knew he didn't mind, struggling to keep in his laugh at your fit. You were letting off steam. As the time settled however, so did your anger. In hindsight now, you knew killing Dwight would've been a bad idea,

"Why?" you urged Daryl, your voice soft, as you stared at him as he still looked down at the floor. "I don' know. It's hard to say it," Daryl mumbled quietly, finally looking up at you to see your attentive stare as you looked at him softly. "Just try. I'm not going anywhere," you muttered, but you didn't mean that you weren't leaving in this moment, you meant you weren't leaving him alone; not now, not ever. Daryl fiddled with his hands for a moment, nodding at your words. You let him take his time, nodding at him gently. After a few moments of silence, Daryl pushed himself, trying to break away ever mental barrier that stopped him from sharing how he truly felt, to be vulnerable. You knew this was hard for him, and despite his secret-keeping and pettiness hours earlier with Rick when they fought about the weapons and whether to attack the Sanctuary or not, you couldn't help but to gaze at him kindly. "I ain't ever felt like this before," he admitted ashamedly as he looked up at you, your gentle gaze and your face alone, making him feel more at ease, just like it always did,

"I-I ain't ever felt like this until I met you. And I've felt it ever since I first saw you. I care about you. A lot," he started, a bit more confident, as your frustration from earlier had completely melted now, listening to him speak and finally open up to you, finally being vulnerable with you; this is all you had wanted since you had shared your first kiss, your first intimate encounter weeks prior, when you had held each other close in your bed, feeling like nothing else in the world mattered before Negan had rudely taken it away from you both. "I always wanna be there for you. To protect you. When Negan took you, I failed. I didn't protect ya like I was supposed to," he mumbled, as he looked down again embarassed. You placed your hand on his immediately, fireworks sparking from the touch, as he flinched a little, feeling your soft fingertips begin to rub at his rough skin. "Daryl-" you started sympathetically, ready to tell him he didn't need to be sorry about that, but he interrupted you,

"Nah. I haven't said nothin' to ya til now. You deserve to hear it," he spoke gently, as his expression was filled with sadness, determined to say the things he's wanted to speak for so long, but he made no move to pull his hand away from yours, relishing in your soft touch. "I've been pullin' away because I thought you didn't want this, that you made a mistake. And if that's true, I don't hold nothin' against you," he confessed, as you smiled at his words, still taken aback from his feelings all being released, struggling to keep up, struggling to sit there and listen and not assure all of the insecurities that he had. "I push people away because it's what I do. And that ain't what you need. It ain't what you deserve," he whispered smoothly, his regret seeping in his tone, as he wouldn't catch your gaze once again now, unsure of how you were taking all of this,

"I don't deserve you, I know that. But I-I do love you," he spoke, the last words coming out as a whisper, as if he was scared to even utter the words. He felt the shame rise in him, he knew he shouldn't love you, he tried not to; really, he did. It wasn't fair on you. "Look 'm sorry I-" he began to apologize upon hearing your silence, taking it as a rejection, but he was stopped by you moving towards him from your spot a few feet away, as you quickly placed your lips on his. After a moment of shock, Daryl let himself relax, kissing you back in relief. Your hand that was holding his moments ago tangled gently in his hair as he hummed in approval into your mouth as one of his hands went to rest on your hip softly, the other cradling your cheek, both of his hands pulling you towards him, needing you closer. Your upset from earlier had seemingly disappeared as you forgot about everything around you; Negan and the Saviors, the weapons and failed mission earlier, all of it,

After a few moments, you both pulled away slowly, panting slightly breathless, still tangled in one another's embrace. You gazed at one another as a few tears had fallen upon his confession, as he smiled at you slightly. "I love you too," you whispered through a teary smile, as you took one of his big hands in yours. "I want you Daryl Dixon. I want all of you. I don't want you to ever keep anything from me. I can handle it. All of it," you assured, as he nodded trying to turn his face to hide the few tears that had welled in his eyes at your words, but you reached your other hand to turn his cheek to gaze at you; and he did. His solemn, sentimental-filled eyes staring back at you. You moved forward, placing a small kiss to his forehead, as his hand moved up and down on your waist. "I love you," he whispered, the phrase coming off his tongue easier now as he smiled at you slightly. You couldn't help the snicker that came passed your lips. "You said that already," you giggled, hoping the laugh would hide the blush that rose on your cheeks, but he spotted it. "I'm sayin' it again," Daryl said assuredly as he stared at you,

You both smiled at one another now. Suddenly, a loud high-pitch crackling sound caught you both off guard as you both covered your ears. Daryl jumped up from the couch instinctively, running to the window to look out at the dark evening, searching for the source of the noise. He didn't have to wait long to find that out. "You might be wondering why your lookouts didn't sound the alarm," the voice boomed over the radio; Negan. Your mouth went dry at the sound of his voice bellowing through the night. "See, we are reasonable people. I'm not sure when they'll wake up from a shock like that, but they should wake up," Negan taunted cheerily. Daryl turned from the window to look at you worriedly, one of the few times you have seen him worried. Daryl ran to you, as you got up from the couch, taking your hand as you both sprinted to the front door. He picked up his crossbow as you ran out the door, as you let go of his hand once you saw Michonne and Carl come into view down the street,

You both ran towards them, as they both looked just as fearful and confused. "So let's cut the shit," Negan yelled, his voice darkening slightly, as you all looked at one another. "You're all gonna line up in front of your little houses, one by one. You're gonna work up some good apologies. And the person with the lamest one is going to get killed," Negan started dramatically, "oh and Y/N? I know you're in there too. You pack a bag. You're comin' back home with me. As for the rest of you, I'm gonna kill Rick in front of you and then we move on." At the mention of your name, your heart pounded in your chest so fast you were sure it would explode. You thought of Negan, The Sanctuary, all over again. Daryl grabbed your hand protectively as you gasped, turning to look at him with tear-filled eyes. "I-I can't go back ther-" you started rambling, but Daryl interrupted you. "Hey," he said firmly, but gentle as he took the hand from yours to bring it to your cheek. "Ya ain't goin' anywhere with him. I'll protect you. I promise," Daryl assured roughly and assertively, as you were forced to listen to him. You took a breath, looking into his eyes, as you nodded. "He's not taking you, Y/N," Carl swore to you determinedly, "he's not taking any of us,"

"You have three minutes. Three. To open this gate," Negan yelled merrily, "or we start bombing the shit out of you." Daryl and Michonne looked at one another in utter confusion. "They got out," she whispered in disbelief at the scene in front of her. "C'mon," he whispered, as he took your hand softly, all of you running toward the rest of the group who were gathered beside a pickup truck. Carl quickly sprung into action, grabbing the smoke cannisters that sat in a box in the back of the truck. "You need to make it look like we're escaping out back," he explained, "get to the woods, halfway to the quarry, cut the lights." Everyone listened, nodding as they heard Negan's whistling echoing through the wind. "Get enough of a lead on them, hit 'em and get away on foot," he continued hurriedly, shoving a bunch of the smoke grenades into a bag. "Just have to get the guns, get everyone else here and we'll meet you there," Carl assured, as Rosita nodded adamantly, heeding every word,

"Two minutes people. Dig deep. These apologies better be memorable. Bonus points for creativity. Write a poem, sing a song. I love that shit," Negan spoke cheerily, clearly getting a kick out of this. Daryl's hand squeezed yours tighter at his words, knowing you were getting nervous. You looked up at him nervously, thinking of your worst nightmare coming true; going back there. "Get going. There's gonna be people in the infirmary," Carl said purposefully, as some of the men began running to get to work. "Look we got guns, we can fight them," Tara urged, but Rosita shook her head. "We will, but not now," she rejected Tara's idea. "Carl, we can't just let them have this place," Michonne said sadly. "We have to. All we can do tonight is survive," Carl stated, all of us knowing we had no choice. "I'm with Carl," you said firmly and decisively, always standing by Carl just as he did you. He sent you an appreciative smirk. "This is his plan. We're doing it," you spoke thickly, smiling at him. You trusted him to get you all through this,

"Let's go," Carl shouted as you all scattered, Rosita and Tara in one direction and you, Daryl and Michonne in another as Carl grabbed the bag to move to the front gate to speak with Negan. You grabbed one of the guns that Tara had spare as you nodded at Daryl, running with him alonside Michonne. You all piled into the cars, you with Daryl, acting as diversions and pretending that you were all making an exit through the vehicles, as bait to divert them from your real plan. Once you reached the clearing zone where you would expect the Saviors to follow you all in the fake getaway cars, you, Daryl, Rosita, Michonne and Tara headed to the treeline, hiding amongst the foliage to be able to shoot them down and take them by surprise. Daryl set off one of the smoke grenades in front of the vehicles as you all waited for the Saviors from behind the trees, cocking your guns in the direction of the road. "They didn't get out because of what we did with the truck," Tara assured rushedly as she looked at Daryl, who just looked away guiltily, convinced that it was,

"Even if it was, it doesn't matter. You made a mistake. I made a mistake trying to kill Negan. Y/N made a mistake trying to kill Dwight. It's not important," Rosita reasoned, trying to soothe Daryl's guilt, as he kept his eye on the road. You were knelt beside him, as you took your hand, placing it on his shoulder gently. "Hey," you said tenderly as he hummed in response, turning slightly to see what you needed. "It wasn't your fault," you whispered, as he looked at you closer, admiring the way your eyes twinkled in the moonlight, wondering how you could be so compassionate still after everything that had happened. He smiled back at you as you were both pulled from your moment as you heard the sounds of vehicles approaching, all of you instinctively raising your guns towards the road once again. You waited as it got closer and closer. "Now," Daryl yelled and you all obliged, beginning to shoot furiously at the Saviors who scrambled to get out of the trucks and away from the trap,

They began shooting back as you ducked slightly, watching a bullet shoot the tree trunk that had been where your head was moments ago. Michonne shot calculated shots, watching as they began to flop to the floor consecutively, one after the other. After a few minutes, silence fell over the area, as you all stood cautiously, observing the dozen or so Saviors dead on the floor, having took out all of them. You walked, guns raised around the vehicles, ensuring you had gotten everyone. You strolled slightly ahead, whipping to turn a corner cocking your gun at the area in front of you, your breath hitching as you saw Dwight on the floor, back leant against one of the truck tires, as he stared up at you fearfully, clutching his arm that had clearly suffered a bullet wound as it dripped blood through his hand. You glared at him viciously, before taking a deep breath, lowering your gun, but keeping your eyes deadset on him. "He's here," you announced as the others rushed to stand beside you, looking at Dwight in a heap on the floor,

Daryl's eyes looked to you, then Dwight. "I made sure you guys could get out the back," Dwight defended himself, as Daryl aimed his crossbow at him, Rosita taking the gun from Dwight and tossing it aside. "I drove the convoy right up to the roadblock, I knew what it was," he argued his innocence and his helpfulness. Daryl kept his weapon on him for a moment longer, before letting out a rough huff, bringing it to let it swing by his side. "How'd they get out? Was it because of what I did?" Daryl asked roughly as you stood next to him. "It was Eugene," he answered, making Daryl feel a little relieved. "I can still help. I know how they think, how Negan thinks," he says breathlessly, still nursing his wound with one hand. "I want Negan to die. Let me help. And we can settle up after," Dwight urges, clearly accepting his fate. Daryl glared at him angrily as his hand holding his crossbow shook with his rage. "Yeah we will," you promised through gritted teeth. Daryl leaned forward, without warning, aggressively ripping the angel wings-clad vest that once belonged to him off of Dwight's back, making him growl out in pain at his wound,

Daryl stormed away as you followed him, sparing Dwight a final hateful glare. Rosita stared at him for few moments, before letting out a rough sigh, leaning down to pull one of Dwight's arms over her shoulder, hauling him up to help him walk. "We need to get back, now," Michonne stated firmly, as you all walked back towards Alexandria. After a brisk walk, you ran over, spotting the sewer lid that Carl had directed you to. Daryl kneeled down, pulling the metal lid off with a grunt. You kneeled down next to him, taking a rock from beside it, dropping it into the sewer, both of you looking at one another as you finally heard it splash into the water. You all watched on as walkers began to walk through the gates into Alexandria as you watched in sadness. "C'mon," Daryl whispered gently, as you snapped out of your dazed trance, looking down the drain to see Daryl standing at the end, nodding at him with a small smile. You climbed down the ladder, Daryl's hands grabbing your waist softly, helping to ease you down onto the floor,

Everyone came down as Rosita looked up expectantly. "Michonne," Rosita warned with worry, as she waited for her to climb down. "Michonne!" she yelled a bit louder, as the metal grate closed shut loudly, Michonne headed towards Alexandria. You looked at Daryl, who only shook his head annoyedly, angry at her not sticking to the plan. You looked around to see the rest of the group huddled and sat in the sewer. Your heart welled with relief as you saw everyone was safe, though a few of them shared a certain look that made a chill run down your spine. You and Daryl walked through the lines of people, smiling at a few of them, while dodging stepping on people's feet. You eventually reached one of the tunnels, seeing a man you didn't recognize. You and Daryl, as if connected in yours minds, simultaneously lifted your guns, pointing them at the intruder who sat on the floor, raising his hands innocently,

"Who are you?" you asked accusingly, before a voice next to you called out. "I let him in," the voice spoke, and you immediately recognized it, whipping your head around to reveal Carl sitting in one of the tunnels. You put your gun down on the floor, practically bounding towards him, Daryl following you. "Carl," you beamed, crouching down to hug him tightly as he placed a gentle hand on your back, "thank God you're okay." You pulled away with a smile, before noticing his blank-faced expression and his gray coloring. "C-carl... what?" you began to ask worriedly, eyes trailing down his frail frame that you only now noticed, your relief disappearing now. Before you could finish your question, your blood ran cold at the sight of the blood seeping through his shirt. You reached a shaky hand to pull it up, but he grabbed your wrist, not wanting you to see it. "W-what happened? Do we have anyone with medical experience in here?" you started hurriedly, voice shaking, as you stook your head up, shouting the next part, "hey! do we have anyone with medical experience?"

But you were stopped, by Carl's voice. "Y/N," he whispered solemnly, as you turned back to him, tears welling in your eyes at his tone, as you shook your head in refusal. "It was a walker," he confessed sadly and quietly, through his weakened state. "No," you whispered out through your tears that now fell freely. "N-no, there has to be something w-we can. W-we could," you trailed off as Carl only shook his head gently at you. Daryl's eyes began to fill with tears behind you as he watched the scene. You let out a gut-wrenching sob as your heart broke. Carl had acted as your big brother for so long, and you his sister. You protected one another. "Y-you're gonna be fine," Carl whispered assuringly, as you cried. "How can I be? N-not if you're not here," you said through your cries, holding his hand in yours, it getting colder by the second, feeling the life drain from him. "Y-you're made of tough stuff, Y/N/N," Carl smiled, as you let out whimper at his use of his nickname for you,

"T-thank you for being my sister. For looking after me, for always making my favorite cookies for me, f-for reading comics with me and f-for playing chess with me even though I always won," he laughed out the last part, making you nudge him playfully through your tears. "That's because you always cheated with your made-up rules because you knew I didn't know how to play, you little shit," you joked through your cries as he smiled at you. He grabbed your hand shakily, as you stared at him sorrowfully, tears continuing to spill. "What about Judith?" you asked heartbreakingly, unsure of how any of you were going to explain that to her, as you put your head down as you sobbed. "J-Judith doesn't need me anymore. She has you. And you'll be the best sister ever, just like you were to me," Carl choked out, as tears welled in his eyes too though he tried to put on a brave front. A sob wracked your whole body at his words. "I-I promise I'll look after her," you swore to him eagerly, as he nodded, already knowing you would, because you already had up until now,

"I know you will," he beamed as he gazed up at Daryl now, who looked on dismally. "A-and you promise you'll look after h-her?" Carl asked, pointing at you now. "Always," Daryl whispered out, giving him an appreciative nod. Suddenly, you heard steps coming towards you as you saw Michonne and Rick. Your tear-stained cheeks told them enough; that whatever they were about to see, it wasn't good. Daryl extended a hand to you, and you took it shakily, as he pulled you up gently, bringing you into his embrace as you sobbed, Rick and Michonne going in to have their final moments with Carl. Daryl held you close, placing a kiss at the top of your head every once in a while, as his hand rubbed comfortingly up and down your back, his heart breaking at the sound of your cries. "It's alright," he comforted, through his own few tears. Usually, Daryl wasn't one for affection, nevermind PDA. But everything was different with you. Suddenly, you were brought out of your crying, as you heard steps running towards you,

You turned and looked down to see Judith staring up at you innocently. You wiped your tears away, leaning down to pick her up. "H-hey Judy," you said trying to sound happy, as you held her tight to your upperbody. She gazed worriedly at your face, despite being a child, she wasn't stupid. She reached out a finger touching your cheek where it was wet from your tears. "I-I'm okay," you smiled widely, trying to hide your pain. You pulled her against your body gently, as she rested her head on your shoulder wrapping her arms around you as you held her, as she began to doze off. You had forgotten how late it was. Your tears continued and you struggled to muffle a sob as you clung to her tightly, finding comfort in her hugs. Daryl stepped forward, subconsciously wrapping his arms around both of you as you placed your face in his shoulder, crying softly and quietly, trying not to wake Judith. After a few minutes of standing there, Tara came over. "Do you uh want me to take her?" she asked softly as you nodded with a weak smile,

"S-sure," you whispered as you handed her over as carefully as possible. Once she was out of your embrace, Daryl placed an arm around you. "Let's sit down, yeah?" Daryl said gently as you nodded, letting him lead you over to a free spot, sitting down next to you. You rested your head against his shoulder as your hand intertwined in this. You tried not to look over towards the direction of Carl, for fear you'd begin to cry again. You nuzzled Daryl's soft shirt with your cheek as his finger traced figure 8's on your hand. Suddenly, the sounds of explosions got expeditiously louder as you jolted at the noises, watching as dust fell from the ceiling at the continuous bombs. For every bomb that was set off, your heart beat faster and faster, as your mind began running away from itself. Daryl noticed your flustered expression. "Hey, look at me," he cooed, but you couldn't hear him, only the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and a high pitched ringing noise,

Your hands shook as you continued to flinch at the noises. After a particularly loud one, you sat up straight bringing your knees to your chest, placing your hands on your ears as you instinctively rocked back and forth, closing your eyes shut, your senses overwhelming you. You could still hear the muffled sounds of bombs going off, feeling the vibrations from the floor you sat on, unable to block the sound or the feeling out, not when it was coming from all directions. You felt as though the walls would start closing in. Negan was all you could think of. 'He's getting closer. He's going to find you. He's going to find your family. He's going to take you back to The Sanctuary,' you thought to yourself. You began to hyperventilate at your thoughts and the noises of the crashes from above you. "No, no, no," you whispered out, unbeknownst to yourself. Daryl continued to call your name, trying to get your attention to calm you down,

"What's wrong with her?" Rosita asked worriedly watching your state. "She's panickin'. It's happened before. Just give me a second. Alright?" Daryl growled out, not aiming his eagerness at Rosita as she and the others began to back away, heeding his order. He moved from his position beside you to sit in front of you now, moving carefully to grab your hands gently as you flinched, he knew you would. Daryl being the one you lived with, often had to deal with moments like this with you. And while he still felt somewhat helpless to do anything, he had learned how to deal with it just for you. "Y/N, Y/N," he said continuously, eventually getting you to open your eyes when you finally heard his voice, looking up startled. "Hey sunshine," he whispered with a light smile at your opened eyes. "Need ya to breathe with me, alright'?" he asked slowly, as he tapped your hand lightly, trying to bring you back slowly out of your state,

Eventually, after he repeated you became more aware; Daryl. Your chest relaxed slightly from it's tightened, tense state though your hands and breath still shook. He took both your hands in his own, holding them tightly to stop the shaking, placing one of your hands atop his chest where his heart was. "We're gonna follow that," he said gently, as you nodded feverishly. He guided you through your breaths, whispering sweet assurances as he did. "Good job angel," he praised quietly, still mindful of your attackers just above you. Eventually, your breathing was normal as you gazed at him tiredly now, worn out. "C'mere sweetheart," he offered, bringing you into his warm embrace as you obliged. "I need to be closer," you whispered calmly now, as he hummed in approval, lifting you with ease until you both were practically lying down in the tunnel, situating your body between his legs. Your upper body now lay against his, as you sniffled slightly, nestling your face into his chest as he was able to wrap his arms fully around you now,

Daryl kissed the top of your heade as he traced his fingers up and down your arm, as your eyes closed accidentally, as you tried to fight off the urge to fall asleep, but failed, all the adrenaline from moments ago draining from your body. Daryl turned to look at Rosita, Tara, Michonne and Dwight who stood a few metres away, glancing down at you, hoping you were alright. "What'd I tell ya about lookin' at her?" Daryl growled out, glaring at Dwight, who averted his gaze remembering Daryl's threat from earlier. "She's okay?" Tara asked, as Daryl nodded, still rubbing your arm. "She's okay," he confirmed gently, trying not to wake you from your light slumber. Another bomb sounded making people flinch. "We have guns. We can leave now. Head to Hilltop where it's safe," Tara argued in a hushed whisper. as she rocked Judith in her arms. "No. We wait it out. Then we leave," Dwight retorts, as everyone debated the options. "They saw us go West, so we won't go West," Tara reasoned, but people were still unsure,

"We wait it out," Rosita announces as everybody nods, knowing it was the only way. "You really think all of you, together in Hilltop, is a good idea?" Dwight asks in disbelief. "We'll be their goddamn worst nightmare," Daryl grunts out from where he lay with you as Tara nodded in agreement, Michonne heading back to be with Carl. Eventually, after a few minutes, the bombing stopped and everyone looked at one another in assurance; now was the time. You stirred in Daryl's arms, before you finally came to your senses. "I'm sorry," you apologized, remembering your panic before you had fallen asleep. "You don' got nothin' to be sorry for," Daryl assures firmly, as you nod, as you both moved to stand up. "We're goin' to Hilltop," Daryl explains to you, as you nodded, your eyes slightly puffy from crying. "And Carl?" you asked hopefully, as Daryl shook his head, looking down sadly. "No he uh, he won't make the trip," Daryl confessed in a whisper as you held back your tears, reaching out to grab his pinky in your own tightly as you moved towards the rest of the group,

Carl was saying his goodbyes to Judith as you walked over with Daryl as Carl smiled at you. "I need you to take Judith. Get her out of here," Rick begged Michonne, who insisted on staying with him and Carl. "I'll take her. Me and Daryl will make sure she gets there safely," you said assuringly with a sweet smile as you looked at Rick who stared back at you gratefully. "You deserve to be with him," you whispered, touching Michonne's arm gently as she cried harder at your words, as she pulled you in to hug you gently. You pulled away softly, with a few tears in your eyes, as you leaned down to pick up Judith. "C'mere baby," you whispered softly as you held her close, as she cried softly. "Bye Carl," you spoke softly, sending him a teary smile. "Bye Y/N/N," he replied with a smirk. You turned around before you could cry more, walking towards the ladder to make your way out, Daryl ghosting you, as he took Judith so that you could step up the ladder, taking her off him when you were at the top,

Daryl turned around to look at Carl sadly. "You saved all of us. That's all on you, man," Daryl said gratefully as he and Carl shared a respectful nod and smile before Daryl climbed up the ladder to stand beside you, closing the metal grate, you three being the last ones to get out. You looked at Daryl with a saddened, teary-eyed smile holding Judith. Daryl looked at you for a moment, before leaning over to cradle your cheek with his hand, pulling you close to kiss you softly as you reciprocated it. After a few moments, you pulled away gently staring at him lovingly. Both of you and Daryl knew at that moment, you would both keep your promises; you would look after Judith, and he would look after you. You both walked towards the group, ready to start your journey to the Hilltop

PART 15 COMING SOON ;) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 hope you enjoyed!!!

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[captawesomesauce]

Thoughts at 230pm

Where do I begin....

I have a lot on my mind and little of it is good

I don't like dentists.

And let me tell you why....

When I was young... maybe 6 or 7, my father punched me hard in the mouth. Hard enough that my lower jaw moved in a way the upper jaw didn't. Hard enough that an abscess formed over an upper tooth. Hard enough that my lower teeth deformed pushing one front tooth behind the other at an angle.

My father was a big man who did construction his whole life, and was a raging alcoholic. I was a very frail, sickly little kid... his fist was about the size of my entire head.

Days later when I went to visit my mother, she saw that I couldn't speak, eat, and barely drink.

I don't think she called the police this time, other times she and teachers did... but this was the early 80s and well... even when I had bruises up and down my body, they wouldn't do anything about it.

So mom took me to a dentist.... not my usual one but one that could see me right now.

I sat in the chair... he grabbed my jaw and wiggled it and kept yelling at me to open my mouth more. I tried to explain that I couldn't, that it was locked, that the tendons and muscles were so swollen I couldn't move it....

He just berated me some more and then roughly grabbed my lower jaw and forced it open and to the left with a sickening POP!

I woke up minutes later.

I just remember the sound and then bright lights as he yelled at me more to wake up.

The pain was insane... to this day i'm not sure i've felt anything that hurt that bad. Not when I got run over by the truck, not when I fell into a burning building, not when I first got hit in the jaw.

He then shoved some stuff for xrays into my mouth that were sharp as hell... so sharp that the next round of yelling began because I started gushing blood from where they cut deep into my upper lip and the roof of my mouth.

It was pouring out so bad and I was crying, and they had to use the suction hose to stop me from choking on it.

Eventually mom came back to find out what the noise was, saw me covered in blood and took me home.

The next day I was still spitting up blood and couldn't even drink so my regular dentist saw me who ushered me into the next room where his partner the oral surgeon was.

I ended up getting a root canal, the abscess drained, and a ton of shots in my jaw. I was on pain pills and muscle relaxers and so much more for weeks after.

I never saw the dentist again.

----

Until now.

That tooth with the root canal cracked in half ... the front is just gone... the back is fine... but the front is gone.

I can't leave it like that so I'm going to see a dentist.

Not only do I have to deal with the overwhelming prior trauma... but you know... covid is still a thing.

Most of the dentists I called who accept my insurance all have open seating ... it's like going to a barber shop. Everyone's in the same room with just small partitions between you.

That's about as COVID safe as kissing everyone on a cruise ship after they dock.

So that's a no.

I did find one small place with good ratings who is nearby.... so ... wed I go in and will pay full price.

It'll be awful, it'll be expensive... and then I will come home and isolate from W. She'll take the front room, I'll take the back... no shared spaces or air. No shared bathrooms, or kitchens, or hallways... all self contained, with open windows and fans blowing and everything so we're not breathing the same air at all.

After 48-72hrs if no symptoms, I'll take a covid test and then 12 hrs later a 2nd one to see if anything pops. I don't want to do this... I don't want to risk this... I don't want to pay this.... I don't want ANY OF THIS.... We've gone this long without getting COVID... of taking almost no risks at all... now this! Sometimes you get over trauma... sometimes trauma follows you your entire life.

[littlewalken]

Jun 16

Did get some tidying done, yay me, and some writing, more yay me.

If you need the TV on to stim while doing a long task then storm chasers are a good option, unless it upsets you. If you need something calmer Nautilus Live (damn ocean you scary) when they're live but there's some long pauses at times. If you want general silence then virtual rail or even cab views from trains or trucks.

In a situation with the depression over "why" to do some tasks.

I also came to the realization that starting with the blue carpet house I've had my back turned to the general space that is my room. In the house before my desk was by a window and facing the TV which was next to the dollhouse.

In the blue carpet house the TV had to be right by the door because that's where the cable wire was and it didn't get anything via an antenna.

Here my TV again is right by the door but it doesn't have to be. I'm limited to basically the one wall because that's where the power outlet is and I've tried it in different places but as this room is basically half the size of my last it feels like there's nowhere else to put it.

So, if I'm not looking at my stuff that much I'm not thinking about it or trying to organize it as much as I might be. But the dollhouse would be where I could look at it more if that particular wall didn't get lots of sun.

This place was a blessing when we needed it two years ago, it's still a blessing, but even it knows we're not in the long haul. We're on waiting lists for places, like literally waiting for them to finish building it lists, and we want to see them before fully applying because we've seen 1000 feet places with 700 of it in the bathroom too.

Not going in to how the smothering unit fucking up her phone goes in to it, which in eldest daughter terms of course is my fault because it started with giving her my old phone, but she's pissed things aren't going on her time line and soon we'll be back in I have too much stuff territory.

More writing is ahead of me. It's a story with 20 plus pages of notes that has ben fully drafted out a few times but just needed some tidying up and a different tone of how it's being told.

*As I told her, just pay for your damn phone. And I also predict that when she sees the bill, it's on auto pay, she'll be pissed again.

[rviner]

How can the cabin feel fuller and emptier at once? The question trudges through the sleepy murk of his brain. There's an extra coat on a hook by the door now. There's an extra set of boots next to the others. Before, while the spaces waited for them to sit there, he would feel his heart pause. His breath hesitate. It was easy to believe at the time. When the spaces are no longer bare, the cabin will feel full. They're not bare now yet the cabin isn't full. As Benji comes and goes from his shifts, he's all too aware of his father's and Isla's room. Happiness that she's safe, happiness that she's with him. A gutting sensation for his little sister. Because behind where the new coat hangs, there should be a peep of a smaller jacket. Next to the pairs of boots should be ones half their size.

Isla's voice startles Benji as he moves through the cabin in a respectful silence. Not wanting to awake anybody sooner than they need to be. Granola bars scatter to the kitchen counter and he lets out a meek chuckle, head bouncing to the bars and then back to Isla. He has to blink at her, a disbelieving awe that the cabin really is fuller. And, the more full it feels, the emptier it does too. "No, no I got it." Benji answers in placation but the pack is already gone from his grasp. Instead, his free hands scoop up the granola bars with want to be useful and tucking them back to the cupboard they fell from. He attempts to smirk away Isla's insistence but as he looks at her from over his outstretched arm, he can see the magnified colors in her eyes. "I haven't, not yet. Was just gonna take one of these with me." he admits, waving the one bar he keeps to place into his pack. Benji knows that it's always been an Isla thing. To take care of those around her. She wants to do this, she doesn't feel like she has to. "Eggs would be great." Benji gives in with the faintest of smiles. He wants to say it should be them taking care of her but he knows it'll be a moot point. She'll laugh it off or wave her hand and tsk. "I can get a truck ready, whenever you and dad are." he gestures to their bedroom. He's not sure what they've talked about or planned, but he doubts either of them are going to simply sit or wait. "Any time, too."

location: cross cabin

starter for: isla alvarez and benji cross

;

Days stopped feeling real. Hours could interlock and never budge, or the Wednesday she kept muttering under her breath suddenly was a Saturday. Time became dizzying and uncertain. Despite the forefront of her mind struggling to keep up, her heart has known every passing second, minute, day. It's felt every moment. One thousand, two hundred and seventy seven days since March 12th, 2020. Even the few days that passed since her arrival in Hollow Cove, she's uncertain of the actual day and yet is certain of all the days leading up to it. One thousand, two hundred and seventy seven days. It's why she pauses in the doorway to the kitchen, a hesitant second as she watches Benji prepare supplies for his day. It's so close to looking like a morning in Atlanta. The edges of her vision blur as if she can blink and be taken back there. "Let me help." she makes herself known as his back is facing her and moves next to him, gently plucking the pack in his hands. "Did you eat? I can make something, let me-" she doesn't mean to rush the words but she hopes if she says them fast enough, she can stop her vision blurring into tears. "Let me make some eggs." she looks at him with a smile, eyes wide because she still can't believe she's here. They're here. Cece isn't. One thousand, two hundred and seventy seven days. "Please." @rviner

[unholyhelbig]

Bechloe Prompt- Chloe's life has been slowly been falling apart, so she decides to take a month off to get her life together. Renting a cabin in the middle of the woods for a get a way from it all, she's surprised to hear that she'll have a roommate due to a mistake in the paperwork. While its only for the month and meeting someone new is great, her roommate, Beca, also has her own personal reasons and secrets to be there too.

Read on AO3 

Title: A Hallmark Ending 

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale 

By the time the sky faded to lilac, Chloe Beale felt drunk on her own confidence. Her suitcase plowing along on the gravel path towards a quaint little cabin on the edge of a lake. A lake her father used to bring her to when it was just the two of them- before he got remarried and they would just sit in a small fishing boat in the utter silence. Splitting a peanut butter sandwich and sharing in the quiet until a fish sunk its lips around a metal hook.

Those were simpler times. Times when the world didn’t get a chance to dig its steel-toed boot right under her ribs and flex its sickly bones in her side. Like when her publisher could pull out of a book deal last minute, leaving the manuscript untouched and dusty on top of her bookcase. When she had to cave and take her old job back at a department store in the perfume department.  When her car sputtered to a final stop seven blocks from her driveway.

Chloe decided that coming here was a good idea.

Getting back to her roots on the lake in a cabin that was tiny and secluded. It was only a short trip, a month away from work that her pension could cover if she timed it exactly right (and it was Chloe, so she had). A place where she could breathe in the fresh mountain air and clear her mind of everything that made it so hard to write in the city.

The cabin was tiny, a one-bedroom with a large deck around the back and a string of fairy lights that radiated once the sun ducked down behind the horizon completely. A canopy of stars and a cup of hot cocoa made her pick up her pace. There was an old beat-up truck out front, probably the landlord doing one more sweep of the place before leaving for the next thirty days.

Chloe Beale was confident because she had done this all by herself. Had decided to pull herself away from work, and hand rented a cabin similar to her childhood one- all on her own. All without the help of some greasy mechanic who overcharged her, or a terrible boss who would walk her through how to ring up every purchase.

She heard it then; the rhythmic splitting of wood, and a couple of soft grunts coming from the side of the cabin. The one facing a large row of pine trees that gave way to an extensive forest filled with creatures and plants of all shapes and sizes.

A woman- shorter by about two inches from where Chloe was standing lifted a large shining ax above her defined shoulders. Chloe stopped at the edge of the grass. She brought the sharpened edge into the center of the log, splitting it into three even pieces. It sounded like a bowling ball hitting the just the right pins before a long sweeper came and knocked down the rest.

Her brunette hair was tied into a messy bun and sweat coated strands fell into midnight eyes, completely focused on the task at hand. She had headphones in and a focused look on her face. She had sweat through her white t-shirt, dirtied with mud.

“Excuse me,” Chloe waved meekly, trying to get the woman’s attention. She tried once more “Excuse me!”

The stranger drew in a bout of air and stopped, the axe in mid-air. It glinted off the orange sun. Chloe couldn’t tell if she had worked her features into annoyance or if she generally looked like that on a normal basis. Her earbuds hung around her shoulders now, eyes sweeping over Chloe’s figure.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here.” She panted.

Chloe nodded solemnly “Are you the handyman around here?”

The stranger laughed then, light and airy and done with her entire body. She let the ax drop to her side, taking in the appearance of Chloe all together. Her fingers were neatly painted, and she wore a nice blouse. She had barely even broken a sweat.

“No, kitten, I’m renting out the place.”

“I- that’s impossible.” Chloe huffed out, the back of her neck burned. “I paid the landlord for the rest of the month. Cabin 7A.”

“Yeah, me too, and I got here first, so it looks like you’ll have to find other arrangements.”

Chloe tried to keep her composure, tried to swallow that anger down but that stupid smirking face of this… this heathen was biting back at her like a mosquito just looking to tap a vein. She reached down and piled a few pieces of chopped wood into her grasp, walking towards the front of the cabin.

“It took an entire day to get up here and I refuse to go back!” Chloe followed her, pulling that suitcase after her like a shadow.

“You’re more than welcome to stay outside if you’d like. I won’t call the sheriff on you Kitten, promise.”

She kicked open the screen door with her booted foot and set the wood next to the large stone fireplace. Everything was just like the brochure- the nice leather couches and gorgeous wood finish. There was a large set of stairs leading up to a loft and the one-bedroom the place had to offer. A moose head that Chloe could do without was situated right near the second landing, staring blankly at her.

The stranger wiped her hands down her jeans, leaving streaky marks as she let out a sigh and faced Chloe, quirking a brow at the woman who rested in the doorway. Waiting for an invitation in, one that she wasn’t going to get.

“Look, Red, I’ll call the landlord right now. We’ll get it situated.”

Chloe seemed to be happy enough with that answer as she took the last dastardly step into the place and set her suitcase by the door. She ran her fingers against the furniture, feeling the cool leather and the grooved wood as the woman called. She could hear the muffled conversation from the kitchen but not well enough.

She didn’t know where the sudden change of heart came from- but she didn’t question it. Maybe it was the deep-rooted need for both of them to not share a cabin for the next month. Especially one that only came equipped with one bedroom and not a very big bathroom. Chloe should have booked a trip to Cabo, but instead, she traded the luxury for childhood memories.

“Well, bad news and good news.” She exited the kitchen, shutting the phone off with a muted beep. “We are double-booked for the month.”

Chloe took a steady breath “And the good news?”

“You’re not the one who fucked it all up- they are.” She crossed her arms over her chest and moved that terribly cold stare from Chloe’s feet all the way to her own eyes. “But… I’ll take the couch for the first week.”

“You think I’m staying here with you?” She asked.

“Well Kitten I don’t see much of another choice. Unless you want to brave the road back to town, and I don’t see much sense in trying. There’s a big storm coming. Don’t you watch the news?”

No, she hadn’t. But she could feel the electricity sparking in the air the second she stepped off the bus at the base of the long drive. Large oak trees were swaying in the hot slight breeze, their leaves overturned to display the meek belly of green. A sign that the tides were turning and that it was best to stock up on bread, milk, and evidently firewood, that would be too soaked to ignite if she had waited any longer.

Chloe conceded and let the screen door slide shut behind her before she flopped down on the nearest leather couch. How was she supposed to get any writing done now?

“Dinner’s ready, Red.” The stranger spoke from the doorway, and Chloe’s stomach clenched. The sun had pulled behind the base of the water hours ago and the wind had picked up speed as it yowled like a wounded animal. Chloe had pooled herself at the end of the sofa, a fire warming the side of her face as she watched the flames dance across the pages of the nearest book she had pilfered.

She didn’t want to eat the stranger’s food- didn’t’ want to admit that the stew she had been cooking for the last five hours actually smelled good. It’s broth salty and contrasting to large chunks of sautéed meat and potato. But her stomach growled and tightened and she couldn’t focus on Rudyard Kipling’s words anymore.

“I promise I didn’t slip any arsenic in here.” The stranger continued “Though, I would love to have this place all to myself.”

Chloe scoffed but peeled back the blanket draped over her legs and made her way to the kitchen. It was smaller than she remembered, or maybe she was just the small one and it was always a one-lane room that forced the two of them closer together than she ever wanted to be. The woman ladled a good helping into two bowls and slid one across the island, passing Chloe a spoon.

She waited until the first bite was taken, steamy broth warming her cheeks as she watched the woman chew triumphantly. Refusing to break eye contact. “See, no poison Kitten.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of coming by it.”

The woman glared “Chloe.”

She shoved the spoon in her mouth then, taking in the sudden burst of flavor that washed over her taste buds. Chloe let the moan escape her throat without even thinking, chewing thoughtfully before getting a good look at the cocky smile that the stranger had to offer. Degrading.

“Good right? It was my mother’s recipe- but I’ve tweaked it a little.”

Chloe nodded slowly and dipped the spoon back into the bowl for another taste. “You haven’t told me your name.”

“Beca Mitchell.”

Beca Mitchell- seemed familiar in a way of passing that Chloe couldn’t quite pinpoint yet. Something she could recognize in passing. Skimming the magazines at checkout, recalling that one random fact about how fast a jellyfish could swim, or the size of an average elephant foot. She would smile at the cashier and replace the small pad of paper instead of putting it on the black belt, just like the one in front of her did, and the one behind her as well.

“I used to come up here with my father.” Chloe said after the silence “That’s the only reason I’m here. To clear my head, get some clarity for my new book- and trust me this is less than ideal for all of us.”

“Mm, you’re a writer?”

Beca didn’t’ offer up her own reason for isolating herself in a cabin for upwards of a month, though Chloe could admit that she had some questions herself. Figured that if she put her reason out on the clothesline to dangle in the wind- then maybe the stranger would follow suit. Preferably before she had to fall asleep in the same house as her.

Chloe took another bite of the stew and chewed slowly “I’d like to call myself one, yes. This year has been a little rough, the business side of things. But I’ve had my fair share of New York Times Best Sellers.”

Beca lifted her eyebrows and set her mostly empty bowl in the metal sink. “That sounds like more than a hobby, Chloe. Impressive.”

“What about you, then?” Chloe leaned forward, running her fingers over the spoon. “What brings you up to the beautiful seclusion of the forest?”

She chuckled at that, leaning both of her palms against the edge of the sink. She watched Chloe with accuracy, who watched her right back. Waiting for an answer- one that was better than a simple ‘to escape’. That she was used to giving people.

“I’m a chef. I was a chef until the restaurant I worked at burned down. They’re trying to rebuild, offered me another contract and everything.” She worked out slowly “I have it with me and I don’t know if I’m ready to sign it yet. Hence the isolation. I needed to figure things out.”

“If your stew is telling of the rest of your food, then I think you should. What’s stopping you?”

Beca’s cheeks heated from the compliment, usually something written in the newspaper or given through tight-lipped smiles of those around her. Those who cared too much about the parties and the diamonds that were around their necks and bound to their wrists.

“The luxury of a life like that,” She started, frowning down at the intricate patterns on the granite countertop. “Is overwhelming to every sense you can possibly possess. You have the people who are rich enough to act the way that they do, and those who are trying hard to get to the level that everyone else around them is at.”

“And you’re neither?”

“I’m neither.” Beca let out a small sigh “I just think that life like that- life that needs to be bathed in luxury, and fancy cuisine… I started out making cheesesteaks in a small restaurant by the beach. And I was content.”

Chloe nodded thoughtfully “I was too. Writing for the local paper, you know? Covering little stories about local businesses and bake sales. All of it was simple and beautiful.”

“What’s stopping you from going back?”

“Recognition, mostly. After I wrote that first book- I don’t know. It gained me a lot of attention, a contract that was broken because I have writer’s block. The worst type of writer’s block that isn’t spurred by a lack of inspiration. It’s the kind that has everything to do with pressure. With a lack of enjoyment.”

Beca didn’t say anything, then. She turned to face away from Chloe and started to rummage through the cabinets, not caring much for order. She produced a bottle of half-finished white wine and two mismatched mugs that had different states printed on the side.

“What are you doing?” Chloe chuckled.

“Sounds like both of us are fucked. And the only thing people who are this lost in life can do is drink.”

“That sounds like the start of a lot of my problems, not the end of them.”

Beca unscrewed the metal top, pouring a generous amount into both glasses before she shoved one across the counter to the young writer. “Yeah, well, we might as well make some use of the time we have up here. Work out what we’re going to do. Who knows, maybe you’ll find some weird type of inspiration in the… near solitude.”

Chloe grasped the baby blue mug and took even sips of the wine. It was sour and tasted flat but made her stomach feel fuzzy all the same. She watched as the chef gathered up the dishes and went to wash them in the sink. Hair falling into dark eyes and a tune hummed on her lips. Chloe thought, for just a moment, that maybe she had found inspiration somewhere.

[witness-protection-official]

Warning! Lots more cussing this time, mention of doing drugs, and god tier acting from both parties

Also very long this time I spent a sold three hours writing this

Witness Protection - An Eyeless Jack x Female Reader Fanfiction

Chapter 3

You felt as though you were going insane. The man hadn't said a single word to you since the weird field area. Only lord knew if the ancient vehicle you sat in had a working radio. Asking was out of the question, you still had tape over your mouth. Couldn't check, you had tape gloves that went all the way up your arms, rendering them useless. With half lidded eyes, you stare at your disheveled figure in the side mirror. Dear god, you looked like shit. The blood on the side of your face had caked into a gross brown and was beginning to flake off, leaving you looking like you were a burn victim. You wince internally. You had mangled hair, with strands sticking every which way. Bags under the eyes displayed your lack of sleep and slowly depleting sanity. With a nearly inaudible groan, you tap your head against the glass. 'Can't he just kill me and get this over with? I don't know how much sitting in dead silence I'm going to be able to handle.' You slouch heavily, slowly sinking to the floor of the truck.

"You'll hurt your back sitting like that," his monotone voice stated off handedly. You huff and remain there. He sighs and grabs the back of your shirt, tugging you up to sit properly. You groan. Apparently sitting weirdly isn't even an option. He remains facing foward, not even glancing in your direction. Unable to spit insults at him, you level a heated glare at instead. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Maybe a good mix of both. It wasn't easy to tell how long you sat there, giving a dirty look to a man that probably couldn't even see you past the hood he had been wearing this entire time, but you assumed it had been about ten minutes or so. The truck suddenly stopped. You break out of your hate filled trance and look around. Why did he park in an actual parking lot? Was he going to let you go? The thought filled your heart with hope. He popped open the center console and pulled out a large bottle of what sounded like pills. Christ, was he about do just pop a few pills to deal with your bullshit? He pulled his mask off, placing it in the back seat. The cap popped off and he dumped a few out, throwing them into his mouth and closing the bottle. He pulled the hood down, giving you a clear view of the side of his head. You voice your distress at his appearance in muffled screams. He sighs heavily, leaning his head back against his seat, not seeming bothered. The screaming grew louder as his features shifted.

He opened his eyes and glanced at you, letting you get a clear view of his eyes. The screaming ceased in shock. How had you not seen them under his mask? With how bright the blue of his iris was, one would think they would glow in the dark. He pulled the visor down to examine his face in the small mirror embedded inside. He licked his teeth, turned his face from side to side. It finally clicked why he sounded familiar. He was the weird guy that had been staring at you when you changed out shifts with a coworker. You sigh internally. No point in thinking about it now, you guessed. He had murdered someone and kidnapped you, you had bigger things to worry about. His buckle clicked and you snapped out of your thoughts.

"I'll be back," he said simply, clicking something on the side of the door and closing it. Did- did that fucker just turn the child lock on?! Where the fuck were you gonna go in blood soaked clothes and taped up arms?! You send a hateful glare at his retreating form. He went into a store. A very large store. The fuck was he doing?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He bit the inside of his cheek as he entered the store. Did she really have to scream like that? Probably, not everyday you see a man with grey skin. And it's also not everyday you see him suddenly become a shape shifter after popping some pills. Either way, it really wasn't a boost of confidence for his already weak self esteem. Whatever. He had a reputation to uphold, and that meant keeping his cool, constantly. He'd already almost lost it on her while she was being annoying the night before. No point in risking it now. Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. He began his journey towards the clothes section of the store before he paused. He forgot to ask what her sizes were. He facepalmed. And she had been wearing heels too. He grumbled, figuring it'd be easier to deal with that later. Right now he had to focus on getting her clothes that weren't stained with blood. He debated on heading to the woman's section, guess her size. No, bad idea. Someone is bound to try to talk to him. He was a tall man, he had no reason to be in the woman's section, and people were bound to wonder. Both his pride and crippling social anxiety told him to not risk it. Avoid talking with people was a priority. With a deep breath, he swiveled on his heel, headed towards the mens. He'd just grab some smaller sized jeans or something. There was a time where baggy jeans were popular right? He furrowed his brows as he thought, as he did a lot. His mind continued to wander until he reached the clothes. He eyed the jeans and opted to grab a pair of skinny jeans, in a random size that looked like they would fit her. He wasn't exactly staring at her legs, so he hoped that brief mental image he had in his mind was enough. He turned to the shirts. Any of them would work, they just couldn't be too big. He really wasn't in the mood to listen to her bitch and whine about him being a 'pervert' because it dipped too low and showed her bra.

He grabbed a basic black tee, looking to be maybe a size smaller than he got his own shirts. That'll do. He got a second pair of pants and a second shirt, just for good measure. He bit his tongue. He knew a little bit about the hygenic needs of a woman, but he hadn't smelled any blood or hormonal spike on her, so he figured she'd be fine for now. As he made his way to a different part of the store, he passed a shelf of hoodies. He backed up. Should he get her a hoodie? That would be awfully nice of him. She had done nothing to deserve any form of kindness from Jack. Letting her live was the extent of his mercy for her. 'But if she isn't cold that's less things she'll have to bitch about…' he mulled it over in his head before deciding. He'd get another hoodie for himself and let her wear it passively. 'What a fucking genius you are, Jack, absolute genius' he congratulated himself, grabbing a dark colored hoodie that was in his size. He nodded, satisfied and went to get a few more items.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You had been pretty confident he up and died in that store, he took so long. But alas, he had to return. You watched his form make it's way to your side of the truck and reflexively shifted away. He swung it open, placing the bags he held ontot he ground while he stood onto the step to reach your seatbelt clip. He tore off the tape, unclipping the restraint. The tape on your mouth went next.

"Spit an insult at me and I'll cut off your tongue," he quipped. You closed your mouth. "Good girl," he himself seemed to cringe at what he just said, judging by the sigh he released. You scrutinized his face as he worked on the tape on your arms with intense concentration. He had tiny freckles all over his face. They were so small it was impossible to see them from a distance, but they were everywhere. His nose, his cheeks, even the top of his neck and between his eyes. You would've found him attractive if you didnt know it wasn't what he actually looked like. Tanned skin and soft looking auburn hair helped him sell the whole 'fucking gorgeous' thing.

"What's with the whole 'pretty boy' get up?" you murmur. He pauses and looks up at you, confused. "why did you choose this look to be normal?" He searched her face for any underlying intentions. When he found none, he shrugged.

"Didn't get a choice," He finally managed to get the tape off of your hands and arms.

"You got damn lucky with it then, you coulda been ugly," you shrugged. He took a deep breath and didn't respond, instead reaching into the bag and pulling out a package of what appeared to be baby wipes. "I'm not a baby,"

"I noticed," he opened the package and pulled out a wipe. He gripped your jaw and turned your head to the side.

"I can do this myself,"

"Don't trust you," as usual, his response was simple. He wiped the dried blood off of your face rather harshly.

"Hey, hey! Be gentler! I'm not dead yet!" He growled lowly and held your face tighter in his hand, wiping the rest of the blood off of any currently visible skin. He took another wipe and used it to wipe off any tape or dirt residue off of you. "What gives with the mini bath?"

"You'll see," He pushed your head down, bending you so that your chest was pressed tightly against your thighs. He threw what you assumed to be the wipes into the back before letting you sit up again. He picked up the bag from off of the pavement and handed it to you. "Change," he closed the truck door. He must've gotten you clothes so you wouldnt be covered in blood constantly. You pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt, followed by an extremely oversized hoodie. You quirk a brow but peek out the window. The man was scrolling on his phone, back pressed against the car door. You deemed it safe to change and stripped down, pulling the new, clean clothes on. You rummaged through the bag some more and came across a hair brush, dry shampoo, and deodorant. Questionable items, but you put them to use. You felt like a human again. A soft knock on the window startled you. There he was. You blink dumbly at him. He points down. You look down. You had locked the door. With a sigh, you unlocked the door and he opened it.

"You didn't stare at me while I was changing, did you?" you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

"I've got no reason to," he took the hoodie out of the bag and threw it at you. "Wear it if you want," he threw the bag in the backseat. You huff and pull the sweater over your head. He closed the door and moved to the drivers side. He strapped in and started the truck.

"Why'd you make me freshen up and stuff?"

"You need food. I don't know what you want," He made the short drive to a gas station that was only about five minutes up the road. He unstrapped and went to your side, opening the door. "Out," You unstrapped and slipped out of the truck, a little wobbly from not standing for so long. The heels didn't help.

"You're coming in with me?"

"I'm the one with money,"

"There's another reason, isn't there,"

"That one is obvious. Now listen. You go in there, grab anything you need, and if anyone asks, I'm your boyfriend," he briefed.

"Why do I have to say you're my boyfriend?"

"You won't have to if you don't act suspicious, now lets go, I've spoken to much,"

"You got a word limit or something?"

"Mentally," he ushered you inside.

"You gonna act all boyfriendy?"

"Boyfriendy?"

"Are you gonna act like my boyfriend?"

"Yes, and you'll have to deal,"

"Ew, but why,"

"There won't be any kissing," he rolled his eyes.

"What if you need to?"

"I won't" he guided you to the hot foods area. "Now get your food," He stayed close as you grabbed two slices of pizza and a hot dog, putting them in mini bags. "Its a long drive, go get yourself some snacks," you nod and sort of hand him your hot food, which he holds with no complaint. His eyes hold a glimmer of warning, telling you not to do anything stupid.

You're examining the chips on the different shelves when some girl about your age comes up to you.

"Did you hear?" She leans in close.

"Hear what?" you tilt your head.

"About the murder at that hotel. Apparently the murderer took a hostage with them, one of the staff," you pretend to be shocked and that the hostage was 100% not you.

"Really?" top tier lying this was. You just hoped it was believable. She nodded.

"By the way that guy has kind of been staring you down this entire time," she whispered. "Hey, creep! Why don't you go bother some other chick-!"

"Wait! It's ok," you subtly gulp and turn to your kidnapper, acting as natural as possible. "Babe, are you gonna keep standing there like a stalker?" He shook his head.

"S-sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, moving to stand next to you. He somehow managed to look bashful, blush and all. His posture was slouched to look more weak and not as standoffish. He probably took an acting class at some point.

"Oh, you're dating," she seemed relieved. You nod. "Can I have proof?"

"Why- why do you need proof that we're dating?"

"With the whole hostage thing I just wanna make sure he isn't the murderer, or you aren't, you never know,"

"It does make a bit of sense," your abductor agreed, somehow flying through this whole interaction look weak and pathetic, and making it look like he was completely off the list of possible suspects. She raised her eyebrows, waiting. He looks down at you and you look up at him, seeming to have the same idea. He lean down and you meet him halfway in a short kiss. The taste of iron and blood you expected never showed up. When you two pulled away from each other, the woman visibly relaxed.

"Alright, sorry for being weird. Have a nice day!" she waved. You waved along with the man. He grabs your hand.

"She made a scene, we gotta keep up the appearance," he whispered as he leaned down, followed by a kiss on the cheek to cover it up. You notice some people were definitely staring.

"Got it," you whisper back. Pulling your hand away from his you grab a bag of chips. "Do we wanna get chips or something else for the trip?"

"You'll be eating them more than me,"

"Yeah but I don't want you to think I'm greedy for eating them all,"

"I won't think you're greedy,"

"Yes you will," you put the chips back.

"You can get the chips, babe," You whine.

"But-!"

"You're fine," he took the chips off of the shelf and placed them in your hands. He mouthed something to you. 'Jack'. You assumed that was his name.

"You sure, Jackie? You're 100% sure?"

"Yes," You shrug and grab the collar of his hoodie and yank him down, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," you coo. He hums and pecks your lips. The line is fairly short as you two go to pay. Jack pays and before you leave the guy manning the register bids you farewell.

"Be safe, you two lovebirds,"

"We will, have a nice day!" The moment you're both in the car you place the bag down and go to fetch the wet wipes to wipe your mouth off. They wer to far back and you sighed. "You're a really good actor," you comment. "Your affection felt real," he hums.

"Likewise," he seemed greatly uncomfortable, and it made you wonder what he meant by metal word limit. Either that or he just really did not like pretending to be dating his hostage. You shrug. Best to ask once you've eaten. You unwrap your hotdog and take a bite.

[queen-syko]

Stay Part 3

Author: Francesca Roman

Warnings: Car Accident, Angst, Injury

Word Count: 2,000+

. . . .

Normally the shifts I take would go at a slower pace giving me time to relax in between tables. This one seems to have taken up all of my energy. My eyes shifted to the clock as I handed one of the last tables their check and collected their dirty dishes once they had paid and left their table.

I finished off their table with my tip going in my pocket and putting their dishes into the wash bin in the back. I still had two tables to take care of when Amy, one of my coworkers, came up to me behind the counter. "Gen said you can leave early. She knows that really tall guy is waiting for you." I looked at her and she winked at me.

I pushed her and laughed a little. "Oh shh, tell Gen I said goodnight and thank you. Do you have a ride home? Is your dad coming to get you?" Amy was only seventeen. She doesn't drive yet. "No Gen said she'll drive me." I looked at her then swiped my card, it beeped. It was telling me that I clocked out. "If anything changes text me. I'll be here in a heartbeat sweetheart."

She smiled and I patted her on her back. She nodded and smiled back. I grabbed my bag and walked towards Sam. Who of which stood by the end of the counter, waiting patiently. "Dean went to the bar down the road. He left me the keys to his car but we should check on him and see if he wants a ride. I hope you don't mind, he hasn't texted me or anything and it's nearly one am." Sam said as he took my bag from my hands and held the door open for me as we left Cosmo's.

"Oh I don't mind. I drove here though. So I don't know what you want to do? I could just leave my car here and come get it tomorrow or whenever. I wasn't really expecting to get a ride home tonight." I hadn't noticed but I did park right next to the shinny black Impala. Am I really that out of it today? "I don't wanna inconvenience you or anything. We can take your car and just go give Dean the keys to the Impala."

I smiled at the thought of taking my car but how was Sam supposed to get back to where he was staying? "Then how will you get back to where your staying?" He looked at me then back to the two cars. "I could spend the night? If not I could just walk." My cheeks blushed lightly. "Do you wanna stay the night Sam?" Our eyes connected and my heart melted. "If only you want me to. It's your place, your decision. I mean, I really wouldn't mind if I could but It's okay if I can't."

He stated walking a little bit closer, the space closing drastically quick. "Yeah, I guess you could spend the night. What's the harm in one night?" I said cautiously stepping closer and closer until I felt his hands snake onto my hips, our eyes never leaving each others. "Just one night?" He asked leaning down to catch my lips to match his own. "Don't push your luck Winchester."

He smirked and our lips connected like butter melting on hot toast. My arms wrapped around his shoulders as his arms connected around my lower torso, bringing me closer with each stroke my lips would allow. "Sam? Sorry to interrupt this little make out session but, can I have the keys to Baby? Candy and I have somewhere to be."

The moment was soon broken due to our lips disconnecting and Sam digging in his front left jean pocket for the keys to the Impala. I watched as Sam unlock the car and grab his green bag off the back seat. Which I presume had clothes and other stuff inside. He threw the keys to Dean and the woman with red hair and a mini skirt on got into 'Baby' and reeved down the road.

"Let's get going." I said as I opened the drivers side door but was stopped by Sam's hand. "What are you doing?" He took my keys from my hand and backed me up into the door which lead it to close. "I'll drive, you relax in the passenger seat." His body pressed up against mine and he towered over me like the Eiffel Tower would stand over the French.

"Is that right? Whatever, do whatever you want Sam." I pushed him off me lightly and walked over to my passengers door. I opened the door and got in swiftly. I saw Sam have some trouble due to his size though. I stifled a laugh as he bumped his on the car roof. Once he got adjusted he started the car and looked at me. "What?"

He said with a dead serious face. "You have a really small car Y/n." I let out a small laugh and put the radio on. I saw him shake his head and back out of my regular parking space. He put the car in drive and pulled onto the vacant road. As he focused on the road I started to point my focus onto his luscious brown locks.

Then to his satisfying lips that strayed into a straight line due to his focus on the road. Those eyes bring me back to that one night where I was the biggest cunt in the world. "You don't have to stay. Like your brother said, well be better off without you." What is wrong with me? My cheeks flushed and I looked out the window. I felt his hand connect with my own and I looked at him.

As soon as I did, everything went black.

Sam's POV

I could feel the blood rushing to my head. I couldn't hear anything. Everything was silent. My seatbelt held me in place as I looked to my left. I saw a reddish orange box truck laying on it's side. Blood painted the windshield. In front of the truck laid a mangled body. I looked to my right and saw her laying there. She was also held in place but she had blood pouring out of ears and nose. She had a gash on her forehead, which was also gushing blood. "Sam?"

She spoke hoarsely. Her arms were pinned against her and she wasn't able to move. She started to panic. "It's okay Y/n. Calm down, I'm right here." She slowly turned her head to look at me. "Sam I can't move." She started crying and looking around more. "Stop moving your head. You could hurt yourself further. I'm going to unbuckle my seatbelt and try to find my cell."

She mumbled a small okay and just tried to control her breathing. I reached down and unbuckle my seatbelt. Once I was out of the car, I tried to stand up. At first I wasn't able to because my ankle was most likely broken. The second time I tried but it hurt like a bitch. Once I regained my balance I searched my pockets for my cell phone. I felt it in my back pocket so I took it out and dialed 911.

"911. What's your emergency?" A woman's voice asked calmly. "We need help. There was an accident on-" I looked around for a sign or something. I couldn't fins one so I looked for a mile marker. "We're at mile marker 303 west. There are three injured. My- my girlfriend is pinned and she is bleeding from her head. There's someone laying on the road. I think they're dead. I have no idea. I broke my ankle and can barely stand up."

"Okay sir, please stay calm. What's your girlfriend's name?" She asked as I hobbled around the car to be by Y/n's side to make sure she's okay. "Her name is Y/n." I slide down onto my stomach to try to get a view at Y/n. "That's a beautiful name. What's your name?" The 911 operator asked. "My name is Sam." I looked at Y/n and her eyes were closed. "Y/n? Look at me baby." Nothing, not even a flinch. "She's not responding to me calling her name. When is someone going to be here?"

"Sam calm down, everything is going to be okay. I need you to stay calm. Someone will be there in two minutes. Sam can you tell if she is breathing?" I held out my arm and put it by her open mouth. She was breathing. "Yes she's breathing." I heard sirens in the distance. "That's good Sam. Someone should be there any second now just hang in there." She said as the sirens became louder with every second passing.

I stood up and leaned on the car. I saw six people rush out of the two ambulances as they pulled to a stop. "Hey over here." I said waving my free hand. "They're here now. I'm going to hang up." She said okay and I hung up and put my cell phone back in my pocket. "Sir just please sit on the ground you're clearly injured."

A man came over to me and helped me down. "Please help my girlfriend. She's passed out in the front seat. Her head is bleeding." I shoved him off of me and he looked towards the car. "Okay sir, what's your name?" "My name is Sam. Her name is Y/n. Just help her, she needs it more than I do." He nodded and rushed over to her.

*Time skip - Three days*

Your POV

My eyes were blinded by the sunlight shinning through the window of the white room I was currently in. "Mommy?" I felt pressure on my left hand. I squeezed the tiny hand that was in my own. My eyes connected with my seven year old son's. "Jackson? Where's Lucy?" My eyes were still adjusting to the brightness.

"Mommy Lucy went to change Livy. She said she'll be right back. Oh mommy, I'm happy you're okay. Should I get the doctor or Sam?" Jackson asked getting up from the hospital bed. "Yes baby, go get Sam." I saw him let go of my hand and rush out of the room. My head started pounding. I sat up and immediately regretted that decision.

I grabbed a bag from my left and threw up whatever contents was left in my stomach. Soon enough I pressed the red button that sat on my remote control for the TV. I was hoping it was a panic button for the doctors assistance. I was right apparently. A doctor came in and looked at me weirdly. "Good to have you back, Ms. Y/l/n. Let's take a look at you."

He checked my eyes, ears, nose and throat. Everything seemed to be clear. "You're looking pretty healthy for someone who just came out of three day coma." I looked at him in shock. Was I really out for all those days? "Other than your broken ribs and leg, you're doing fantastically well." He said just as Lucy came in while carrying Olivia. "I'll leave you alone. Just holler if you need anything else."

He left the room and I just starred at the door then at Lucy. Olivia was sleeping in her arms and Lucy had the biggest smile on her face. "How're you feeling? Are you in any pain?" She asked as she stood by my bed. I shook my head no, I wasn't lying. Sure I had a headache but I was fine everywhere else. "Can I have my baby?" I asked holding out my arms.

She softly handed over Olivia to me. The sleeping one and a half year old snuggled into my chest. "How has everything been? How's Jackson? Is he behaving? How's Sam?" I asked Lucy while adjusting how I was sitting. "Everything has been okay, Y/n. I'm just confused on why Sam is here in the first place. He hasn't told me anything. He's been-" She was cut off by the door opening then closing.

Jackson came around with his hand in Sam's. "There's my boy." I said as Jackson got right back onto the bed and held my free hand. I looked up at Sam. He was okay. He wasn't broken, just bruised. "Hey Luce maybe you can take Jackson down to the café and get him something to eat so Sam and I can talk." Jackson smiled and I kissed his forehead. "Do you want me to take Liv to?" She asked taking Jackson's hand.

"No that's fine. She needs her sleep. Go ahead." She smiled and nodded then left the room with Jackson. When the door closed, I looked at Sam. His eyes were set on mine then he looked at Liv. "Sam? Are you okay? Come sit down." I patted the spot next to me. He hesitated for a second but quickly sat down and looked out the window. "Do you wanna hold her?" I asked while placing my hand on his.

His eyes instantly shot to mine. "Can I?" He asked with a shakey voice. "Of course Sam. She is your daughter." I leaned forward and placed her in his grasp. He held her to his body like he had been around children all his life. "She's beautiful." He mumbled while looking down at her with such grace. I starred at the pair. It was like a dream. Liv started stirring in his arms and he looked at me with panic.

"It's okay Sam, she's just waking up." He breathed slowly and handed her back to me. He continued to stare at me as I looked down at out daughter. His hand moved up to my face to move a single stand of hair that lurked to put it behind my ear. His hand seemed to have been stuck there as I looked into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

He asked putting his hand down and onto my thigh. I got goosebumps from his touch. "Well, the doctor said I'm perfectly healthy other than my broken ribs and leg. Other than that, I feel okay. I'm not fully here right now but I understand what's going on. I just wanna go home. Can you tell me what happened though? Is the other driver okay?" I asked rocking Liv back to sleep.

He looked away and said, "Well after we got off the highway to get to your place, we came to a four way intersection and when we were crossing we were hit by a box truck. You were awake for about three minutes before you passed out. You had a gash on your head. You were bleeding from you ears, nose and mouth. You couldn't move.

I thought I had lost you. I did break my ankle but our friend Castiel healed me. Once we had gotten to the hospital the doctor said you went into a coma. He didn't know how long it would last. The other driver is awake but they seem to be in a much more worse condition with injuries."

Sam's eyes connected with my own seconds later. "Did Dean say anything?" I asked looking at him. "He said that he hopes you wake up and that you feel better. He caught another case three towns over. He didn't need my help and he suggested I stay here with you. So, here I am." I smiled looking down at Liv. The feeling of guilt washing over me. "I'm really sorry Sam. I wish I told you I was pregnant." His hand squeezed my thigh.

"Stop Y/n. Everything is working itself out for the better. Olivia is safe and healthy and so is Jackson and your little sister. I'm just happy you're awake and not laying down in the morgue. I think I would go absolutely bonkers if you died." I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "Hey look at me. Everything is okay." I looked into his eyes and he leaned in. My hand came up to caress his cheek.

The kiss was soft and slow, but was interrupted by the door opening. "Mommy I got jello!" Jackson came running up to the bed. He climbed onto Sam's lap and sat down. "Shh. your baby sister is sleeping Jacky." Lucy soon entered the room and sat down in the chair. "I'm sorry for being loud mommy." I smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Mommy? Can Sam stay with us?" Jackson asked looking in between him and I. I looked at Sam then Lucy. Lucy nodded approving the situation. I looked at Sam again and smiled. "I don't see why not Jacky." Jackson smiled and hugged Sam. Sam returned the hug and looked at me. "Let's see if we can get you home." He kissed my cheek and left the room to get information on my leave.