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callsigndragon · 2 years

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Duck duck Goose | Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw

Pairing: Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw x Naval Aviator!reader (call sign: Hummingbird)

Wordcount: 1485

Warnings: boys being idiots towards reader, FLUFF, ANGST, mentions of Goose's accident. FIX IT FIC BC I CAN.

A/N: I'm not tagging the usual people bc this is not... Top Gun Maverick. If anyone wants to be in my forever tag list, hit me up.

Special thanks to my darling @purplevortexx, always ready to help when i get stuck.

"Well, I hear a lot of things you gotta be a bit more specific here, buddy"

"Did you hear it?" Mav asks Goose, waiting for the waiter to give him another beer.

"There's a female pilot in the program"

That wasn't exactly what he had expected to hear. He knew there were female backseaters, but female pilots?

That girl is either crazy or the biggest badass to ever walk the Earth.

He can't wait to meet you.

"Hey, sweetcheeks, I'm hungry, can you make me a sandwich or something?" Hollywood teases you, for the hundredth time.

You stopped paying attention to him after the first week, but it's getting annoying.

"I don't know, Rick, why don't you ask your boyfriend over there?" you point in Wolfe's direction. "Maybe he can give you something to eat"

Goose's laugh is so loud that you can hear it from the other side of the hallway. It makes you smile. Honestly, he and Maverick are the only reasons you haven't left the academy.

Other than your RIO, Lucky, they were the only two men here that were supportive of you. Iceman sometimes said that you were better to fly with than Maverick.

Not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"Hummingbird, you need to stop it. Poor Hollywood here doesn't even know how to spell his name properly, you can't expect him to know how to address young ladies like you" Goose mocks, putting his arm around your shoulder.

You have to bite your lip to suppress the laugh. Nick has been very touchy with you, always checking to see if you're okay, if you need anything. When Maverick, Goose, you, and Lucky had been partnered on an exercise, he insisted on listening to your opinion before letting Mav do anything on his own.

Falling for someone who gives you that much attention and who respects your job, is the easiest thing you've ever done.

He is married and has a child, though, according to what you've heard. A kid! How can you even think of a married man that way?

“Birdie, we’re going out for some drinks. Wanna come with us?” He whispers in your ear, his breath making you shiver.

“Sure, let me go get changed”

“So, how’s baby Goose?” you finally ask after finishing your second beer. The golden liquid gives you the courage you lacked.

“My sweet Bradley! Let me show you a picture,” he smiles, pulling out a picture of his jacket. You see a little version of him in Goose’s arms, next to a beautiful woman. “There he is”

“Oh, is that Mrs. Bradshaw?”

“She was. Now she’s just my friend. And the mother of my son”

You look at him, expecting to see a sad look on his face. He seems happy, however. As if the two of them were better friends than they ever were as spouses.

“People don’t usually talk about their ex with a happy smile, you know?”

“Well, we’re not a normal case. We met young, fell in love, I became an aviator and when she got pregnant she asked me to be more careful but…”

"You can never be too careful when flying with Maverick," you finish, and he nods. “But it’s good that you’re friends. That will make things so much easier for Bradley”

“Yeah, it’s our main priority. He was a bit confused on Christmas when he went from Carole’s house to mine, but he got more gifts and that’s all he could care about” you can’t help but laugh. He leans over the bar top, his head resting on his hand, and looks at you, with the sweetest smile. “He would like you”

“Me?” you ask, getting a bit closer to him.

“He loves hummingbirds.” His free hand slowly moves from his beer to your cheek as he caresses it. His cold fingers contrast deliciously with your hot skin. “And I’m beginning to like them too”

You move slowly towards each other, attracted like magnets. You close your eyes, wetting your lips, and getting ready to kiss him, when Mav’s voice interrupts you. "COME HERE, GOOSE! There’s this girl I want you to- Oh. Did I interrupt something?”

You chuckle and pat Mav’s back before you leave.

“Did I really interrupt something?”

“I’m gonna choke you” Goose groans while he watches your figure leaving the bar.

The next few weeks go by, with both of you being incredibly obvious about your feelings but neither of you making a move. Small smiles whenever you two made eye contact. Finger-brushing whenever you two stood together. Sweet and loving little notes kept appearing on your locker, and the most special one had a little doodle of a hummingbird. You found a special place for it in your cockpit.

And yet, neither of you dared to say what was evident to everybody else.

Today’s exercise should have been easier. That was until Maverick and Goose’s aircraft got caught in Iceman’s jet wash. You’re on the base, you’ve been waiting for them to complete their exercise and come back, making you, Hollywood, and Woflman the next ones to perform the exercise.

You hear everything on the radio. Maverick trying to reach the ejection handles, but the spinning force of the F-14 made it impossible for him to do it. Goose is trying too, and succeeds, but something goes wrong.

The rescue team leaves immediately; the exercise is long forgotten. You and Lucky go inside, waiting to hear any news. Viper informs all of you that Goose got hit, but they don’t know the severity of his injuries.

Is this it? Are you going to lose someone as marvelous as he is? Did you waste the last few weeks flirting like idiots when the two of you could have been together?

Will you ever hear his loud laugh again? Will you ever hold his hand properly? Will you ever hear him call you ‘birdie’ again?

It’s been an hour, and you don’t have more news. Maverick is in the hospital, too, but you know he won’t leave Goose’s side until the RIO is either safe or dead.

At this point, you’re beginning to believe it’s the latest.

You’re sitting on the floor of the locker room, Goose’s sweet notes in your hands. You hold them tightly, praying to God to give him enough strength to survive. You just found someone you can imagine spending your life with.

Don’t take him away from me now.

“I’ve been looking for you, birdie”

You raise your head slowly, afraid that your brain is deceiving you. That the voice, and the owner, are just figments of your imagination.

But they're not. He's there.

Bloody and covered in bandages.

But alive.

And smiling.

"I thought you were dead" you whisper, watching as he silently sits in front of you.

"I was for a second. Cause I thought that I would never see you again. And that killed me inside for a moment, but... I'm here. And I don't want to waste one more second of my life not being with you"

“Goose, I-”

He presses one finger over his lips, making you stop talking and look at him. He leans over, his lips quickly replacing his finger. One of you is crying, you can feel the salty tears on your lips, the bittersweet aftertaste remaining on your tongue while you pull away.

“Goose, where the fuck are-. Why am I always interrupting you two?” Maverick laughs, watching you two sitting on the floor.

“You’re late this time, Mav” Goose says, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re late”

“And she’s good with you leaving the hospital when you weren’t supposed to?” Mav leans on the door when he sees the confusion in your face. “You didn’t tell her”

“Nicholas Bradshaw, you did not leave the hospital without authorization”

“Honey, I knew you would be so scared I had to tell you I was okay” he tries to convince you that him leaving the ER was justified, but you’re not having it.

“There’s this thing called the telephone. Ever heard of it? It allows you to call people and tell them: ‘Hey birdie, I’m not dead. Can you come here? I have to tell you something’”

“Oh, feisty, I like her” Mav comments, enjoying every second of the situation.

“But I had to see you. I couldn’t stop bleeding without seeing your face”

“Goose, you’re making it worse” you warn him.

He sighs, pecks your lips and gets up. “Are you coming with me to the hospital, at least?” he pouts.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “You’re a big baby, you know?”

“Your big baby. And Mav’s. You have shared custody”

You snort, looking at the two aviators. “You better start walking before I kick your asses”

“Goose, your wife scares me”

“She’s not my wife!”

“Like hell you’re not marrying this one”

#nick bradshaw #goose bradshaw #goose x reader #nick goose bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun fandom

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d1xonss · 6 months

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Desert Rose

Chapter 9 ~ Sophia?

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 5k

In this chapter ~ After processing the panic and loss the group members had faced, they found themselves held up on a highway as one of their vehicles unfortunately broke down on their way to find sanctuary somewhere else. Though in the midst of searching through the other abandoned cars that lied there, a sudden herd of walkers began to tear through the space. But that's not the only thing that goes wrong as someone suddenly disappears.

It had been a whole week, seven painfully long days, and we were still on the road, trying to find some place to stay since the CDC quite literally went up in flames. I found myself feeling better now that I processed everything the past couple days, assuming it was just the initial shock that made me so reserved. I began to keep my head up in hopes that it would bring us some kind of luck when finding a place. Though the last week hasn't felt very lucky.

And the whole Daryl situation, I pushed it out of my mind completely. I'm a big girl, I wasn't going to mope around about how a man hurt my feelings, hell no. Especially since he hadn't really been that much of an asshole since then so that was a plus. I didn't dwell on it.

All of a sudden I looked back up when hearing two honks coming from the RV, causing all of us to slowly pull over to a stop right behind the giant vehicle. The group made their way out of their parked cars to crowd around where Dale was standing as he opened up the gas tank.

"I'm almost out of gas." he informed, "There doesn't seem to be anywhere we can fill up for a couple hundred miles"

Shane sighed heavily before looking around to the many vehicles we still had, lined up perfectly on the side of the road, "Well, what if we siphon the gas from a few of these cars and narrow it down a bit?"

Everyone seemed to quickly agree with that idea, mostly because we had pulled over in the middle of nowhere and the quietness that lingered made people grow uneasy. We all decided on keeping the RV, Carol's car, and Daryl's pickup for the time being, cramming into as few cars as we could. Everyone began to venture back to move our things and get situated in the new vehicles, when I noticed Daryl in the bed of the truck taking his brother's motorcycle out of the back.

My brows furrowed, "What are you doing?" I asked him.

He stopped to glance up at me, "M' gonna use the gas in the truck for the motorcycle, it don't run out as fast."

"Oh, okay." I replied before swinging the passenger door open.

I could hear Daryl start to pick up the bike again to move it slowly and carefully down to the ground, while I gathered all my things from the floor of the car. The door closed with a slam behind me as I made my way to the RV, going to ride with Glenn and the others.

"Where do ya think yer goin?" I heard Daryl call from behind me.

I turned around to face him again, "The RV." I stated, "You're not taking the truck anymore."

He smirked at me, "Well, there's two seats on a motorcycle, don't know if you realized that." he said smugly.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm aware."

"Then why you goin to the RV?" he asked.

I stayed completely silent as I shrugged, not wanting to give him the real answer. I knew he would probably poke fun at me if he knew the real answer. But also my silence was the only answer he needed as his smirk only grew, the wheels turning faster in his big head.

"Yer not scared? Are ya?" he asked as he tilted his head.

I scoffed, "No."

He then gave me a pointed look. I caved. "Okay, fine, maybe a little." I admitted.

Then he started to quietly chuckle to himself, ducking his head to the ground to try and silence them, "I've never ridden on one before, alright?"

"It's simple...all ya gotta do is hang on. That's it." he said while starting to siphon the gas into the bike.

My mind pondered over it as I watched him. I did trust him, but I never really liked the idea of riding on a motorcycle, no matter who was driving it. It made me uneasy, seeing the thing was nowhere near safe in my eyes.

But after debating with myself for a few painfully long seconds, I finally muttered. "Fine."

I saw him look up and smile at me in victory before I turned around headed into the RV to put my bag and the rest of my shit in there. Though a few short minutes of everyone siphoning gas and getting adjusted into the different cars, it was time to hit the road again to try and find a safe place to stay for a while.

I dreadfully made my way back over to Daryl, where he was already sitting there waiting to go. He sensed immediately how nervous I was, only giving me a subtle nod in reassurance as he waited for me to get on. I sighed deeply to myself in regret, before slowly getting on right behind him, placing my arms hesitantly around his waist, trying to ignore how fast my heart was beating. I couldn't tell if it was because I was getting on a death machine or because of how close I was to him...or both.

He tensed a little when I wrapped my arms around him without warning, but I felt him slowly begin to relax after a moment. Once he saw the RV moving, he started the bike up and revved the engine loudly a few times before we started moving to catch up with it.

I felt him then subtly glance back at me, almost as if to make sure I was okay before doing something that would make my stomach flip.

Suddenly, we started going much faster and he began to smile before bringing the bike up quickly to do a fucking wheelie. I yelped and tightened my arms around his waist, tightly shutting my eyes and all I could feel was his laughter vibrating through his body at my reaction. I hit him on the chest, and I could practically feel the cockiness radiating off of him. Asshole.

We drove quickly down the long roads, the wind whipping me in the face for what felt like days as I clung to Daryl the entire time. I hadn't really opened my eyes the entire time he drove, only wanting to get it over with faster before I never trusted him again. The small wheelie he did almost made my heart fly out of my ass.

But my face scrunched in confusion as I felt the man slow down drastically, taking a chance to open my eyes the smallest bit to see what was going on. Though my eyes widened at the sight, seeing we had come across a highway with a shit ton of cars scattered all over the place. Everyone else seemed to notice at the same time what we were dealing with, slowing down drastically once we saw how many there were.

Daryl realized quickly that the RV was too big to get through, and he picked up his pace again to drive around and align himself with the window to talk to Dale.

"See a way through?" the old man asked.

Daryl nodded briefly before we got in front of the vehicle to lead the way. He swerved through the narrow path gracefully, gliding past them carefully as he tried to lead them as best as he could. It was all going fine, until we heard a loud pop and two honks come from the RV, the rest of us pulling over to see what was wrong. Daryl and I got off the bike once it came to a stop and he shut it off, turning back to see Dale came out of the RV looking pissed, popping the hood of the RV.

"I said it didn't I? A thousand times I said it, dead in the water." he ranted out loud.

"Problem Dale?" Shane asked.

"Oh, just a matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no hope of-" he cut himself off suddenly once he glanced over to see I was looking through one of the abandoned cars. "-okay that was dumb." he finished.

"Can't find a radiator hose here." Shane said.

Daryl came over to where I was and glanced through the window, "But there's a whole bunch of stuff we can find." he said.

"We can siphon more fuel if anything." I said.

"Maybe some water." Carol suggested.

"Or food." Glenn piped in.

"This is a graveyard." Lori stated nervously, glancing around at all the cars and noticing the bodies that lied in some of them, "I don't like this." she concluded.

I just stared at her, glancing towards everyone else who seemed to be thinking the same thing, before we all collectively dispersed to see what supplies we could find despite her subtle protests.

"Yeah alright, spread out see what you can find." Shane said awkwardly as he watched most of us walk away.

I headed towards as many cars as I could, looking through every place to make sure they were completely cleaned out before moving to the next. I ended up finding some water bottles, a few canned vegetables, some shirts, and a larger sharp knife that looked almost brand new. Maybe this highway is what we needed as we already seemed to be running low on supplies. I'd say it wasn't a total setback.

After making a few trips back and forth to the RV and back out towards the highway to drop off the things I found, I settled on searching another green car for anything new. My eyes stayed down as I searched, though feeling someone walk up to me as I picked through the backseat.

It was Rick who made his way over, leaning up against side of the car, "Hey, how you doing?" he asked.

"I'm good," I smiled. "Why do you ask?" I questioned as I dug through some older boxes.

"Well, I know you were a little shaken up from the CDC...just wanted to check up on you." he replied.

A smile broke out onto my face. Well, that's adorable. "I mean we all were shaken up about it." I said, and he nodded in agreement, "But I'm fine, just trying to get past it. How are you doing after all of that?"

"As good as I can be. It was a lot but...I'm thinking we'll be alright, hopefully find a place sooner than later." he shrugged.

I could tell there was something else on his mind, something more than what happened at the CDC, but I wasn't going to ask. I figured if he wanted to tell me about it, then he would eventually, but not now. Not when we were currently stuck here for however long Dale took to fix the RV.

But I nodded at what he said and watched as he walked over to another nearby car to look through it, just as I slowly went back to mine. I was slightly disappointed to find there was nothing worth taking so I stepped back with a sigh, my eyes searching around absentmindedly to find a different car.

But I didn't make it very far before a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, while their hand went over my mouth knowing I would scream. I turned back in panic, only to find Rick was the one holding me, with a frantic look on his face. My hand rose to push him away from me, but he quickly put his finger up to his lips. That caught my attention as he slowly removed his hand from my face, and ushered me under the car right next to us.

I grew very confused as we both slipped under the car, until I heard the walkers, a lot of them, slowly making their way down the highway and through the cars, seeing the amount passing us just through the small opening visible under the vehicle. My hand instinctively grabbed Rick's in shock as I covered my mouth so I wouldn't attract any of them towards our hiding place, and prayed that a group this big wouldn't find any of us. Rick looked over at me and slowly placed his other hand on top of mine, to try and calm his nerves a bit as his breathing picked up drastically from the shock.

All I could think about at that moment was all the others that were scattered around the large space. I knew all of them were smart enough to hide, to get out of sight, but still anything could happen. Especially when it came to something as big as this.

It felt like ages before the last few walkers made their way past us, both Rick and I letting out a sigh of relief once they slowly seemed to continue to move along down the endless highway.

But all the tension seemed to rebuild in a second when we heard a scream. An ear-piercing scream. I whipped my head in the direction of the sound to see Sophia being chased by two walkers off of the highway, towards the tree line and into the woods just to the right. Rick didn't hesitate. He let go of my hand quickly and scooted out from under the car as fast as he could, booking it towards the woods to save her as he pulled out his gun.

"Rick, wait!" I whisper yelled, but he was already too far away to hear me.

Letting out another breath, I got out from under the car to see if everyone else was okay. The walk was long and almost painful as I made my way back to the RV where I assumed they would meet up, the anticipation was beginning to kill me. But finally, it began to come into view, as I seemed to be the last one to make it back as all eyes immediately went to me once they sensed movement coming towards them.

Carl was the first one to rush over to me the second he saw me, his feet slapping loudly on the ground as he ran forward to tackle me in a hug. I couldn't help but smile as I bent down to hold him tightly, making sure he was alright before moving down the line. Glenn didn't hesitate to wordlessly pull me into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief as he seemed to still process the shit show that just went down.

My eyes then opened and found Daryl over Glenns shoulder, and he slowly made his way up to me. I managed to slip out of Glenn's hold as the man approached me slowly, hesitantly placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it a little.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah, you?"

He nodded as he slightly chewed his lip, and then did something I didn't expect him to do. He gave me a side hug and rested his chin on top of my head for a second or two, before ducking his head and moving back to grab something from his bike.

My eyes softened as I watched him for a moment as he walked away, my heart fluttering the smallest bit at the action I never would've guessed he would dare to do. I found myself smiling knowingly to myself. Maybe, just maybe, he cared a bit more than I realized.

But my smile seemed to vanish in a split second when I caught sight of Carol who was sobbing in Lori's arms for her daughter. Her head continued to lift up from time to time to watch the woods ahead of her in anticipation, but there was nothing. Nobody else said a word as we all silently waited with her, watching to see Rick coming up over the small hill with Sophia safe in his hold.

It felt like hours had passed before everyone seemed to perk up the smallest bit of something rustling in the trees. Rick emerged from the woods looking absolutely exhausted, but when I saw he didn't have Sophia, my heart broke even more for Carol.

"Where is she?" I asked him almost immediately.

"She didn't make it back up here?" he asked with concern in his voice.

We all shook our heads.

A crushed look passed over his face, but didn't linger for long as he racked his brain for what to do next. He quickly ushered me, Daryl, Shane, and Glenn to help go back and look for her to have more eyes on our surroundings. We didn't seem to make it very far into the woods before Rick stopped walking and pointed to a small tree trunk where he had told her to hide.

He stated that this was where he left her and the last place he saw her before he left to take care of the walkers. But upon looking around the area, she was absolutely nowhere in sight.

"Sure this is where ya left her?" Daryl asked first, looking around the hiding spot for any sign of her.

"I left her right here. I drew the walkers way off in that direction," he pointed east, "Right up the creek."

"Without a paddle...seems where we've landed" Daryl spoke.

Rick then sighed stressfully, "She was gone by the time I got back here, I figured she just took off and ran back to the group. I told her to go that way and keep the sun on her left shoulder."

My eyes stayed pinned to the ground as he talked, trying to see if I could find any of her tracks when I noticed Glenn was conveniently standing in the way. I opened my mouth to say something, but Daryl quickly beat me to the punch as he noticed too.

"Hey short round, why don't ya step off to one side. Yer mucking up the trail." he snapped.

Glenn looked down as soon as it was drawn to his attention, awkwardly moving to the right side to be out of the way as he muttered an apology. I continued to move around him, trying to make out which way she went with all the other tracks surrounding her trail which only made it more difficult.

"Assuming she knows her right from her left." Shane suddenly muttered.

My eyes snapped up to fix him with a glare, "Are you fucking serious?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm dead fucking serious." he snapped.

"Hey, hey, enough, she understood me just fine." Rick stepped in before I could say anything else.

Shane huffed and continued, "Kid's tired and scared man. She had a close call with two walkers. Got to wonder how much of what you said stuck."

"Well, I got clear prints right here." I announced as I pointed to the ground, "She did like you said, headed back to the highway."

When I was only met with silence, I looked over my shoulder to see they all had their eyes on me with a somewhat shocked expression. Daryl then came up behind me to see if what I found was actually true, his eyes glancing back to me slightly impressed.

"You can track?" he asked me.

I nodded as if it was obvious, "Yeah, my dad used to take me and my sister hunting all the time. How else do you think I survived that long on my own? Luck?" I asked.

He only shrugged, "Guess I learn somethin new about ya every day." he said as he nudged my shoulder.

I smiled with my eyebrows raised before we headed off to follow her trail. From what I could see they weren't as fresh, which meant she was further away than I originally thought, causing the disappointment to resurface. It fell silent between all of us as the rest of the men followed behind Daryl and I. But I noticed that she started going a completely different direction towards the left after only a few minutes of following the path she left behind.

"She was doing just fine till right here, all she had to do was keep going. She veered off that way." Daryl said.

"Why would she do that?" Glenn asked.

Shane shrugged, "Maybe she saw something that spooked her, made her run off."

"A walker?" Glenn questioned.

"There's no other footprints but hers." I replied.

Rick piped in, "How about you and Glenn go back up to the highway," he said to Shane, "People are going to start panicking. Let them know we're on her trail doing everything we can. But most of all keep everyone calm."

"I'll keep them busy scavenging cars. Keep them occupied." Shane nodded.

After the two of them quickly went off, it was silent between us once again. I knew we all had the same exact question on our minds, but no one dared to say it out loud as if putting it out into the universe would change everything. I could tell Rick felt extremely guilty for leaving her in the first place, but how could he have known? It was just an accident and something that he couldn't control.

"Tracks are gone." Rick suddenly stated, looking towards the ground with furrowed brows.

I shook my head, "No, they're just faint. She came right through here." I said, pointing through the small bushes she pushed through.

"How can you tell? All I see is dirt and grass." he replied.

I just blinked at him while Daryl spoke up, "Ya want a lesson on trackin, or you wanna find that girl and get our asses off that interstate?"

Rick seemed to sallow his words as he nodded, keeping quiet as we both followed Daryl deeper into the woods. We walked for a little bit longer, staying low to the ground, before we heard the familiar moans from a lone walker approaching.

I stepped up immediately, getting my knife ready as I spotted it through a few scattered trees. My arm raised as I threw it straight at its head as soon as it started to take notice to us. A sigh left my lips as I walked over to it and pulled the knife out, wiping the blood off on its shirt before putting it back into my belt.

"This walker fed recently." Rick stated as he got low to the ground to examine it.

I tilted my head as I looked down at it, "How can you tell?" I asked.

"Skin under the fingernails." Rick listed, "And in its teeth."

"Only one way to know for sure it's not her." Daryl hinted as he then glanced towards me, "Can I use one of yer knives?" he asked.

I began to reach from my smaller one, but then remembered what I found earlier in one of the cars. The knife was very sharp and bigger than my throwing knives, having a few little divots in it towards the handle that reminded me of a key. In my mind it would work better than the duller ones that I had that desperately needed to be sharpened.

I reached behind my belt, "Here." I muttered before pulling it out and handing it over.

He took it from my hand and did a double take when he saw it, "This is new," he stated to my surprise, "When'd ya get it?"

"In one of the cars. I thought it was a good find." I replied with a shrug.

He nodded and didn't waste any more time before he raised the weapon in the air, bringing it down harshly and beginning to cut the walker open. The smell was always the worst part about these things and it's something I'll probably never get used to. I stood off to the side as I watched the scene in slight disgust, scrunching my face up at the sounds.

They looked inside the walker for a few long moments, fishing around through its dark guts before finding out that it wasn't Sophia and just a random animal. How they could tell the difference, I had no fucking idea. But at least it wasn't her.

Relief seemed to fill us once we knew for sure she was still alive out here. But we needed to start heading back, knowing it would be nearly dark by the time we made it back up to the highway.

The last thing any of us wanted to do was leave her out here for the night, but we didn't really have another choice. We wouldn't be able to track her down in the dark and would only be going around in circles hopelessly until the sun rose again. So, we made the tough decision after debating for a few minutes, to head back and give the news to the others.

As we trucked through the woods, Daryl started asking me when I started to learn how to track suddenly out of the blue. I actually saw him get a little excited that someone shared the same interest as him, even if he tried to not show that he was, I knew. It was almost amusing seeing him talk about the things he liked to do most, and I answered every question he threw at me.

We seemed to get lost in the conversation until Rick announced we were almost there, barely being able to see the road through the trees. I was a little disappointed that our talk seemed to get cut short and by the looks of it, so was he. Now the guilty feeling was just washing right back over me the second I saw Carol's disappointed and fearful face.

Her face dropped the second she saw us appear from the woods, "You didn't find her?" she asked almost instantly.

"Her trail went cold. We'll pick it up again at first light." Rick said.

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own, to spend a night alone in the woods." she continued, her voice breaking towards the end.

"Out in the dark's no good." Daryl advised, "We'd just be trippin over ourselves. More people get lost."

"I know it's hard but I'm asking you not to panic. We know she was out there. We have to make this an organized effort, Daryl and Rose know the woods better than anybody. I've asked them to oversee this." Rick said as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Carol's eyes then trailed down to the blood splattered lightly on Daryl's clothes, "Is that blood?" she asked frantically.

"We took down a walker, but we know it wasn't near Sophia." I spoke.

"How?" she asked me.

"We cut that son of a bitch open, made sure." Daryl said.

Carol's sadness then slowly started to turn into anger right before our very eyes as she looked at Rick, asking him how he could just leave her alone like that. I knew he was trying to stay calm with her, but I could also clearly see he looked stressed enough, not needing a guilt trip from the sobbing mother. I just stayed completely silent as I looked down at my feet, while they only seemed to go back and forth with each other.

But the conversation ended with her voice still saddened and broken, "My little girl got left alone in the woods." she said in disbelief before turning away from the man, not daring to say another word.

That's when I started to feel even more terrible, feeling like I didn't do enough to help her. Maybe I should've gone with Rick, or maybe I should be out there right now continuing to look for her.

Not knowing what to do at that moment, I just walked off, away from everyone. I heard my name being called by Glenn, but I ignored him, I just wanted to be alone for a little while. I knew he would understand when I explained everything to him in the morning, but for now I just wanted to be left by myself as I processed one blow after another.

I made my way to sit down on the hood of one of the abandoned, rusted cars I looked through earlier that day and just tried to decompress after everything. How it all seemed to happen so fast; just like that she was gone. How easy it was for her to just get lost in hardly any time at all while Rick turned his back for only seconds. It only made me worry more that we didn't find anything other than the trail she left behind, and even that went cold.

I then found myself rolling my eyes at the heavy footsteps that slapped loudly on the concrete, making their way over to me.

"Just leave it alone Glenn, we'll talk tomorrow." I muttered, not turning to face him.

"It's me."

I glanced over my shoulder to see Daryl standing there looking a little worried, while I still said nothing. He took my silence as somewhat of an invitation as he hesitantly made his way to the hood of the car and sat down by me, looking above him at the night sky. I silently appreciated these moments I had with him, simply because he understood when I didn't want to talk. He would just sit there and not speak unless I started to first. He had only done it a few times, but each time I seemed to appreciate it more and more.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I joked, referring to one of the last times we sat like this.

He huffed a small laugh before turning to face me, "Nah, just wanted to make sure yer okay."

I smiled at him and scooted a little closer before I let my head fall onto his shoulder for some type of comfort. He tensed a little bit but not even a second later he began to relax. We didn't say anything else, just sat there listening to our surroundings and staring at the hundreds of cars still scattered in front of us.

That was until I heard a small "oh." come out of his mouth like he forgot something. I looked over to see he had pulled out the new knife I gave him earlier, dangling it in front of my face trying to give it back. I lifted my head slightly and shook it, leaving him looking at me in confusion.

"Keep it." I said simply.

His brows pulled together, "Ya sure?" he asked.

"Trust me I've got plenty." I assured.

He smiled at me in appreciation before putting it back wordlessly while my head fell back on his shoulder, only this time, he didn't tense.

~ Thanks for reading!

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callsignthirsty · 4 months

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Chapter 2: On the Roof

Shit weather can only stop me for so long! Here's chapter 2

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: The boys receive their commendations, and you keep your legs crossed. Should be easy, right? Wrong. Word Count: 3680 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) Chapter: 2/4 Minors DNI Previous Chapter

“Sooo,” Maria Cortell leans as far forward as her bump will allow, drawing out the word with a smile on her lips. It’s become apparent that you’ll be waiting a while for your stolen tablemates to walk onto the stage and receive their commendations. “Are wedding bells ringing?”

Your poor heart, which had only just slowed, skips an unsteady beat. Maria’s question, for as simple as it is, packs one helluva wallop.

The thought hasn’t crossed your mind. You haven’t even said I love you—not for a lack of love, but because you’ve lost many of the ones you love over your life. Admitting the depth of your feelings—whether for family, friends, or beaus—always seems to precede an abrupt departure of said person from your life. But now that Maria has mentioned it, what are you supposed to do?

Distracted, you twist your cloth napkin between clammy hands. It’s not like you can marry Ice and Slider, but you can’t date Ice forever, either. especially not if he’s trying to climb the ladder. He’s expected to marry. To have kids. The white picket fence experience. A wife to come home to.

“They must be,” Merlin’s wife jumps in.

Maria nods with the enthusiasm you wish you felt. “Bill and I were looking at houses after three months. I’m sure you’ve at least talked about it.”

Goose throws back a full glass of wine.

They think they’re being supportive, and it would be nice if it weren’t so terrifying. “I–”

“And now’s the perfect time,” Maria doesn’t even realize she’s cut you off. “Who knows how long he’ll be stationed at Miramar?”

“Ooh! You could get married on the beach.”

Cougar catches your lack of participation. “Don’t scare her off, now,” Cougar says, placing his hand on top of his wife’s to get her attention.

“Oh please,” Laura brushes Cougar aside, “they’ve been practically wrapped around each other all night. Ron said they’ve been inseparable.”

Maria sighs. “Poor Ron.” Carole chokes, but the only one who pays her any mind is Goose, who smacks her between her shoulder blades and refills her water. “I remember how close he and Tom were at Pensacola, must be hard for him to watch his friend settle down–“ something must flit across your face because she hesitates mid-sentence, her eyes widen a little as she realizes the insinuation, and she all but lunges for the distraction of her sentry of a water glass, “–but, um, I’m sure you have a friend you could set him up with?”

“Oh,” Goose interjects loud enough to turn a couple of heads and incite a stern look from Jester, “I think this is them.”

It isn’t.

“That would be fun,” Laura coos back to Maria without skipping a beat. “Think of the double dates.”

“Come on,” Goose tries again, “you don’t want to set someone up with Kerner, do you?” And didn’t Goose know it. He squawks when Carole catches him in the ribs with her elbow, but Maria and Laura are off to the races, passing the idea back and forth and painting a picture of your future while you struggle to keep up.

“You’ll always have someone to keep you company when they end up on a carrier halfway around the world.” Maria.

A sly look from Laura. “You know, if you time it right, your kids can grow up together.”

“Community is so important,” Maria agrees, ducking around a waiter’s arm as dinner plates are settled.

“Sam and I were lucky enough to be stationed near my family when we had the girls.”

“I don’t know what I’d have done without the wives’ group while I was pregnant with Robbie.” Maria gives her husband a tender smile and smoothes a hand over her belly. Whatever she says next is drowned out by applause.

This time—as Goose breathes an “Oh, thank god”—a familiar group of flyboys are led onto the stage. The commander keeps it brief; says some words about the Layton mission and the courageous efforts of the aviators who defended the boat from enemy MiGs. Everyone gets a pin on their lapel before they’re all ushered off the stage. Your legs are crossed by the time they make it back to the table.

The rest of the dinner passes without issue. Plates are cleared. The program comes to a close with the cutting of a cake. A cacophony of music and conversation erupts as the masses are released from their seats and the event finally catches its second wind. More immediately around you, the flyboys spill into the space between their tables and continue catching up.

Hollywood and Sundown introduce their dates—fiancée and wife, respectively—to the larger group. Jester and his wife sneak off, presumably to find Viper but definitely different company. It’s a relief to gain more social padding between yourself, Maria, and Laura, well-meaning though they may be.

It’s while you’re reacquainting yourself with the rest of the group when Hollywood asks Slider if he’s flying solo these days.

“What’s it look like?” Slider grumbles.

Wolfman slings an arm around his fellow RIO’s shoulders to pull him close. “Aw, man. What happened?”

Slider gives him a half-shrug, looking otherwise unaffected. “You know how it is. Couldn’t handle the job.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Chipper chimes in. “You’re still at Miramar.”

“So she dumped you?” Wolf’s winces as he looks up at Slider, taking his silence for confirmation. “Yikes.”

“Hey, it wasn’t like that–”

“Don’t mind them,” Sundown says, an arm wrapped around his wife. She beams at him when he assures Slider,“The right one will stick around.”

And the conversation could’ve ended there. Wolf, Chip, and Sli could’ve spent the rest of the night wingmanning each other until it was time to turn in and Slider would slip into your quarters.

Maria Cortell had other plans. “Don’t be ridiculous! We were just talking about how the future missus must have a friend she can set you up with.” Cheeks flaming, you tuck into Ice’s side in an attempt to escape his gaze. “Future missus?” His tone gives nothing away, but the stiffening of his arm beneath your hand speaks volumes.

Beside Ice, Slider raises a brow. “Were you, now?” This is a conversation you were hoping to avoid.

“Please,” Pete scoffs. “I wouldn’t wish Kerner on anyone.”

Slider sneers, but it doesn’t have any real heat behind it. “Bite me, Mitchell.”

And bless Carole Bradshaw because she sees Pete opening his mouth to say, “Which one?” from a mile away and deploys a very loud countermeasure: “I wanna dance!”

Goose grabs his wife’s hand and pulls her to sit across his lap. “Great idea, honey!” he crows, earning a kiss on the cheek.

For as long as you’ve known him, Goose has always been a darling. Everyone knows it, too. The sun is hot. Water is wet. Everyone loves Goose. His close call on Hop 31 only cemented that last truth. Nick Bradshaw is magnetic in a way few others are, and he could pull a crowd just as easily at the piano as he could, apparently, at his wife’s beck-and-call.

The display of eager, honeyed affection drawing the eyes and smiles of the group.

“C’mon, Mav, give us a push!” Goose loops his arms around Carole as she makes herself comfortable in his lap for the taxi to the dancefloor. “Should be a—what did you call it?—a target-rich environment.”

“Wait. You not seeing Blackwood anymore?” Hollywood asks, receiving ‘oohs’ from the rest of the men. Pete’s shoulder’s bunch, but otherwise, he ignores his friends. Though she was a civilian contractor, Charlie did work for the DoD, and after her relocation to D.C., Pete was technically on her turf tonight.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Ice deflects.

Pete grabs hold of Goose’s wheelchair, finding it more difficult to maneuver with two passengers. “I wonder if Penny’s here.”

Carole throws her head back with a guffaw. “After your little joyride? I’d be surprised if her daddy lets her within a thousand feet of you!”

The group doesn’t stick together much longer, inevitably breaking up as they go their separate ways.

“What do you say?” Ice asks, nodding after the group headed to the dancefloor. Eventually, Ice needs to go back to rubbing shoulders with the brass, but there’s no harm in a quick dance or two to break up the monotony.

“That’s okay, Ice,” Slider butts in, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. You repress a shiver when the same hand that had been between your legs squeezes your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the velvet near your collarbone. “You go keep Mav out of trouble. We’ll grab dessert and meet you there.”

The twitch at the corner of his lips gives away how hard Slider is fighting to keep the wolfish grin off his lips. Your ears burn, but Ice’s only reaction is an unenthused, dismissive sound. Both of you know what Slider is playing. That doesn’t stop the pinpricks of arousal from returning as you imagine Slider’s hands—both of them this time—working to finish what he’d started under the table.

“How long have we known each other?” Ice asks Slider.

“Going on ten years.”

“And I can count the number of times I’ve seen you eat cake on one hand,” Ice muses.

Undeterred, Slider offers you a lopsided, wolfish grin, his fingers tracing down your arm and raising goosebumps in their wake. “Who said anything about cake?”

“There it is.” Ice flicks Slider’s fingers from their path and threads his fingers through your own. The same Iceman mask he wears around the tarmac is firmly in place when he levels Slider with a look. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re pissy because I had this in the bag before I was interrupted.”

“And how were you planning on getting away with it?” Ice hisses with a glance to make sure the three of you are well enough alone. “Sitting at a table full of people.”

“I had a plan,” Slider scoffs.

“A plan to get caught with your hand up her skirt.”

“You’re just upset you walked right into it.” Ice clenches his teeth. He doesn’t have a responding quip, and Slider knows it. Ice had been too excited by the sudden appearance of Cougar to realize Slider was gunning for a quick win. “All it takes is one mistake,” Slider needles.

Wearing down the competition with technical precision is a page straight out of Ice’s book and his fingers twitch ever so slightly in your grasp, Slider rubbing it in his face that he’s fallen prey to his own game. It’s a mistake he won’t make twice.

Ice takes a deep breath and looks to the barrel-vaulted ceiling as if he’ll find the answers he’s looking for among the gold leafing. “We’re leaving now.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Slider taunts, but Ice is back on his game. He serves Slider a smug look as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Goodbye, Kerner.”

In the dance hall, you’re a single drop in a rolling sea. The band is louder here, the floor tacky with spilled beverages, but you find a pocket of space as the music slows. Pete hangs onto the edge of the crowd with Goose and Carole, his face pressed between Goose’s shoulder blades as he helps his best friend stand to dance with his wife—Carole, you’re sure, is crying.

Gentle hands bring your focus back to your partner as he encourages you to step with him to the rhythm. When you look up at him through your lashes, you almost forget the rest of the room. Taken by the flint of his eyes in the low light. A smile bubbles to life on your rouged lips is an inevitability.

You spin beneath his arm and let Ice reel you in until his breath tickles your ear. “You’re stunning.” You glow under the praise, fingers playing with the short hairs at his nape. High praise.

It makes you wonder: does Ice even know what he looks like?

The ever-present tan of his skin highlighted by the contrasting white of his uniform. The smarts. The confidence. A beauty mark on his jaw. High cheekbones. The way he moves.

He has to know. Not for vanity, but for fact.

“How’re you holding up?” He must pick up on the restless twitch of your muscles or maybe the flutter of your heart in your palm.

You paint on a smile. ”I’m fine.”

You can’t suppress the shudder that wracks you or the sharp intake of breath when he lifts your chin with a finger, lashes brushing your cheeks as a kiss is pressed to your forehead. When he tugs you closer, you go easily, but you’re unable to fully relax into the embrace.

“Did you know you only say you’re fine when you aren’t?” He shifts his hold so it feels more like a hug, a soft quirk to his lips. It’s easier for him to hold you like this when you fade into the crowd. There’s less pressure. Fewer eyes on him when his hand shifts lower, dexterous fingers tracing over the knobs of your spine and raising goosebumps beneath the luxurious drape of your gown.

The band does wonders to mute your gasp, but Ice doesn’t miss the way you jerk in his grasp. Sensitive.

“Was it…?” He doesn’t finish in an overabundance of caution for who may or may not be eavesdropping. The hand you’d let linger near his nape comes to fidget against his chest as you lay your head against his shoulder and nod while focusing on the ba-dum of his heart. “Do you need to leave?”

“No.” Sure, you tingle with each brush of skin on skin. Yes, you’re eager to soak up each touch. But, as you meet his eyes, you mean it. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by all of this,” you fib.

Slider may be pushing the boundaries of decency—may have definitely blown past them during the dinner— and you may be wound tight after so many days without either of their company, but you can do this. Tonight is about Ice, and you intend to see it through.

“But I don’t want to leave.”

Ice keeps you close as the song fades out and the band counts in a fast-paced number. “Look,” Ice concedes when you break free of the dancing. Playtime is over, you can practically see the cogs turning in the metal of his eyes as Ice comes up with a revised plan. “There are still some people I need to talk to, but after, I’ll get us out of–”

“Just the man I was looking for.” Ice stops so abruptly that you stumble into him. “Admiral John Benjamin,” Penny’s father introduces himself, taking Ice’s hand in a firm shake. “Really good stuff on the Enterprise.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The praise, though sparing, is well-deserved. But the obsequious nature of his comment is revealed in the way the admiral’s eyes scan the nearby crowd. Ice isn’t his target.

“Say,” the admiral drawls as he drops all pretenses, “you wouldn’t happen to know where your wingman is? I want to congratulate him on a job well done.”

You very much doubt that, but as you glance over to where Pete had been with Goose and Carole earlier, he’s long gone—Carole helping her husband back into his wheelchair, the only evidence Pete had been there at all. And Ice knows enough through retellings of Pete’s past run-ins with Admiral Benjamin that you trust him not to sell your brother out. At least, not if he doesn’t have to.

“I haven’t seen him since we received our commendation.”

“Of course. Congratulations again on those,” Benjamin clips. “But you must have some sort of idea of his whereabouts.”

“I–”

“Ice. Admiral, sir.” It never ceases to amaze you how someone as large as Slider can so easily fly under the radar when he wants to. “I need to borrow her for a minute,” he says before Ice can say anything, and because he can’t do anything when Admiral Benjamin continues to squeeze for information on Pete, Slider steers you out of the dance hall.

It had been a crisp 66 degrees in DC, the setting of the sun taking what remained of the day’s warmth with it. The cold creeps beneath your skin as Slider beckons you up the roof access, shimming the door with a wad of folded cocktail napkins so you can slip back to the party later.

Though shrouded in darkness on the flat of the rooftop, the bright lights of the capital might as well be a hair’s breadth away. Too close for comfort. Before you can protest, Slider engulfs your hand in his and looks for a more suitable, more private corner. It won’t do to be caught, though Slider doubts anyone will come looking. But it pays to be cautious.

“You have any idea how good you look in this?” Slider rumbles, voice resonating from deep within his chest in a way that makes your insides quake. He lets you know with a demanding kiss, his lips lightly stained with your rouge when he pulls back so you can suck in a breath.

“Sli.” The wind carries your whine toward the street, where it’s drowned by the brassy horns of street traffic. When goosebumps erupt along your arms, your fingers scrabble for his shoulder boards in a bid to keep him close.

It takes next to nothing to convince Slider to give in to your plea. Crowding close as he smears kisses and color down your neck. “It’s been so hard to keep my hands off you.” Said hands grab fistfuls of you over the velvet of your gown; the smooth rasp of the fabric over tender skin makes you gasp.

“You didn’t,” you point out.

“No,” he agrees, fingers reacquainting themselves with the gusset of your panties. “But can you blame me?”

“Who else would I blame?”

Dizzy with desire, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep a heady whine locked away when fingers slip between your pussy lips to tease around your entrance. “Do you want me to stop?” Slider asks with a lopsided, teasing grin.

“Don’t you dare.”

Instead of giving you what you want—two fingers to fill you where you feel hopelessly empty—Slider’s hand withdraws from your panties. You’re a second from demanding he put his hand right back where he had it when Slider lowers himself to the ground. “Wait–!” you exclaim as his first knee touches down on the unkempt rooftop floor “–your pants.”

“Don’t worry,” he says as both of his hands slip under your dress, eager fingers drawing the lacy elastic of your panties down your legs. “That’s what drycleaning’s for.” But his other knee stays decidedly off the ground.

Slider scoots himself closer, impatient hands rucking up your tight-fitting dress until he can take advantage of the slit in your skirt. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, soft skin exposed to the night, but you’re far from cold as he chases the fabric with scorching kisses up the inside of your thigh. Deliberately leaving marks where no one else at this stuffy party will see them.

His hair is just long enough that the tips begin to curl. You spear your fingers through the short waves and fist what you can. Normally, you’d hold him close as he litters your hip with hungry kisses and sharp, rosey blooms, but with the way he’d worked you up earlier, you pull his head toward the apex of your thighs. You can go back to being Ice’s pretty trophy girlfriend after you cum on Slider’s tongue.

Slider lets out a gruff rumble of a chuckle as if he’s read your mind. A nip makes your leg jump in his grasp, your heel knocking against his back, but he’s as eager to get this show on the road as you are.

Face half-obscured by black velvet, Slider’s tongue laps over your clit. Eyes slamming shut, whole body pulsing in time with your heart, head thunking back against the wall. Slack-jawed, you encourage him to do it again with a shuttered but wanton noise in the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” Slider encourages, his other hand reaching up to massage your ass and drag your hips forward in a slick grind against his mouth. You tremble in his grasp as he continues to roll your hips against his face before he opts for a new angle of attack.

A quick reposition of the leg over Slider’s shoulder grants him better access for a more thorough assault on your cunt, and your back arches when his tongue prods at your entrance. Blood roars in your ears while your walls clench around nothing at the promise of his tongue, but it only teases at your lips.

You try to drag him closer with your one leg, letting go of Slider’s hair with one hand to steady yourself against the wall. Sli takes that moment to dive in, tongue finally fucking into you and his nose bumping into your clit in a way that has your heart stuttering and limbs shaky. Your hips jolt at the touch, back arching off the wall.

It’s messy, the pinpricks of Slider’s stubble eased by the mix of arousal and spit coating the apex of your thighs. The barely muffled slurp as he parts your lips and delves his tongue inside before engulfing your clit in the wet heat of his mouth and giving it a suck.

Slider’s eyes are half-lidded when he meets your gaze. “You’re close,” he breathes, calloused fingers petting up your leg directly to your clit and drinking in the shiver it knocks loose, your lips red as you bite back a moan. “Don’t worry,” he says, two fingers dipping the slightest bit into your cunt before drawing back to rub at the opening, “we’ll get you there this time.”

Against your back, the wall rattles as the roof access bangs open.

Next Chapter

#thirsty's fics #fic: stuck in the middle #fic: stuck at the navy ball #chapter 2: on the roof #tom iceman kazansky x f!reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader #ron slider kerner x f!reader #ron slider kerner x reader #female reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader x ron slider kerner #top gun smut #tom iceman kazansky smut #ron slider kerner smut #nick goose bradshaw #afab reader #carole bradshaw #the '86 flyboys #because is fucking your rival-turned-friend's sister even fun if you don't have to be over-the-top sneaky about it?

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twigg96 · 1 year

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Daryl X Pregnant! Reader

In the Nick of Time

Time frame: Season 6ish Alexandria

Warnings: Cannon Divergent, Possible Spoilers, pregnancy, labor, birth, character death, POV changes, descriptions of violence

Pronoun: She/her, You

(A/N: hi so I just want to say I’m watching TWD for the first time recently and am only on Season 6. So if I get any of the characterizations wrong I’m so sorry but this has been in my head the last few days. I hope you enjoy!)

Your POV ~~~~~

A low groan escaped your lips as you paced the floor of the shared Alexandrian home. Rubbing your swollen tummy you hissed as another contraction ripped through you causing the tiny baby inside you to kick at your ribs as if having the audacity to tell you to knock it off. Counting slowly you tried to keep up with the seconds the contraction lasted before giving up. “Fuck.” You hissed sitting down on the window sill to catch your breath. “They’re getting closer together…” Rick commented, worry thick in his voice. You were lucky to have him and Michonne around to help while Daryl was out on runs. You never blamed him for being chosen and you knew he hated being out while you were so far along. But duty called and this run was taking extra long. “I ain’t having this baby til he gets back.” You muttered stubbornly, pulling yourself back up into a standing position to continue pacing. Rick shook his head but the smile was clear on his face. “Your just as stubborn as your husband.” He murmured. “Kinda why I married him.” You said rubbing the spot in your back where your child decided to kick you most.

The door opening sent sparks of hope and excitement through your body. But they were quickly extinguished and replaced with something akin to joy once Michonne walked in hand in hand with your daughter Phoenix. “Momma! Aunt Michonne let me feed a duck!” Phoenix giggled giddily running up to hug you gently. “That’s great baby!” You said proudly, combing through her unruly hair with your fingers. “Are they any closer together?” Michonne asked Rick. The greying man simply nodded his head. “Slightly. We still got time though. She’s 12 minutes apart and they’re only lasting about 30 seconds.” You wanted to scream. You were right there thank you. But the glare you sent their way must have been hot enough to burn as Rick sent you an apologetic smile. “Michonne and I are going for a walk around to do patrol. We’ll head to the gate… see if we see him.” Rick muttered softly. “We’ll be back soon don’t worry.” Michonne said with a kind smile that reassured you. “Ok… if you see him, give him a swift kick in the pants and send him home please.” You teased chuckling. Rick nodded turning his gaze to your daughter. “Phoenix, you know what to do if your mommy needs help?” He asked, pointing at her as he and Michonne opened the door to leave. Your little ass kicker nodded smiling brightly. “Come get you, Auntie Michonne, or Aunt Carol.” She said proudly giggling as Rick ruffled her hair. “That’s right. Now, watch your momma while we’re gone.” He ordered closing the door with a soft click behind him.

One agonizing hour passed before there was a soft knock at the door. You knew instantly it wasn’t your husband on the other side of the door just by the timidness of the knocking itself. You had assumed it was a woman from Alexandria coming to “offer support” when Phoenix opened the door with your permission. However when you were greeted by the two faced priest you simply scowled. “What do you want?” You hissed. You assumed the venom in your voice either didn’t reach his ears or was simply ignored by the man as he smiled and stepped forward. If looks could kill he’d be dust. The last thing you wanted to hear was a sermon from a man you never trusted one bit. But the bald man glanced passed you as if surveying the house then looked to your face giving you a look that sent shivers down your spine. “May I come in?” He asked, his tone dripping in that fake kindness that people of small town suburbia just ate up. “Absolutely fucking not.” You growled, wincing as another contraction ripped through you. “Now if you excuse me I’m busy.” You muttered bluntly. But your attempts at closing the door were stopped as Father Gabriel stuck his foot through the threshold and pushed the door open. “But I really need to speak with you.” He muttered his voice shifting into something… different and shaky. It was as if you could feel the desperation in every syllable he spoke. His face morphed into pure crazed mania, his eyes flitting between your face and your stomach and suddenly you never felt more vulnerable in your life. Father Gabriel let himself into the house taking you by the elbow. “You should sit…” he said darkly, walking you over to the windowsill. You could see the terrified stare Phoenix gave the two of you from her hiding place behind the kitchen’s island and it was only then that you noticed the knife in the man’s belt and the gun the man had pointed at you. The world spun around your head at a thousand miles an hour. You felt as if you were going to be sick. Glancing over the priest’s shoulder you felt tears sting your eyes. “Please.” You whispered desperately. “Don’t hurt my daughter. What do you want? We’ll give it to you.” But Father Gabriel simply laughed. “Hurt her? No. No. No. no. I would never harm an innocent child. No. I’m here. To stop. The antichrist.” He said it so nonchalantly… pointing the barrel of the gun directly at your tummy. The little life inside you kicked at you as if desperate to get away. But you just blinked up at him in utter disbelief. What? The fuck. How… how did it end up this way. Sure. Father Gabriel never really believed this baby was Daryl’s. You had gotten pregnant at the prison right before the take over. As a matter of fact you didn’t even know until after the Governor attacked and you had gotten out with Rick, Carl, Judith and Phoenix. So you had just started to show at the church. He assumed you were Rick’s wife which set you both off but even after Daryl’s return he still seemed to refuse to believe the baby was Daryl’s. He’d call you the odd name once in a while. Made you feel like you were wearing a scarlet letter when you first came to Alexandria and told the community that Daryl and Carol were an item. But you never put stock into it. Just Christian BS. But now. As you stared into the barrel of the pistol he most definitely stole you knew it was so much more.

Nodding to Phoenix to get out you tried to keep his eyes on you and distract him. “What do you mean? Antichrist?” You asked slowly, keeping your eyes firmly on your brave little girl silently creeping behind your captor. “You poor broken soul. So tainted… it’s no wonder the devil chose you.” Father Gabriel muttered shaking his head as if he knew the answers all along. “The devil has seduced you sweet little sheep.” He whispered using his free hand to brush hair from your sweaty face making you cringe away. “He seduced you into the sin of lust out of marriage… into adultery. Now you will bare the child that brings ruination and damnation to the whole world.” His voice shuttered as if terrified by the simple thought. “Im so sorry but… I’ll have to make sure the bride of the devil dies… with the Antichrist still inside her.” He whispered caressing your face with the barrel of his gun. You couldn’t help the pained laugh that escaped your throat as tears pricked the sides of your eyes making the man of faith raise his brows at you. “News flash ass fuck. The end of the world shit already happened. If I’m really havin’ the Antichrist… this must be his cousin or some shit.” You laughed hearing the soft click of the front door shutting only made you smiled wider. Phoenix was safe. Now came the hard part. Surviving.

Phoenix’s POV~~~

Phoenix ran as hard and as fast as her little legs could carry her. Sprinting over to where she had last seen her Aunt Carol she was horrifically disappointed to find a lack of any of her family near the duck pond. Turning in circles Phoenix searched for anyone she could trust before bolting down a familiar street. Or at least it seemed familiar at first. But now the houses all looked the same and Phoenix wasn’t sure which was was which. She hated this suburban lifestyle. She could get around the mountains and forest with no issues. But this was impossible! Turning and running toward where she believed the gate might possibly be, Phoenix heard the faint roar of her father’s motorcycle. Tears bristled her eyes and she fought sobs as she rounded the corner to see him sitting on his idling bike talking to Uncle Rick and Aunt Michonne. Finding the energy in herself to sprint the block to the gate Phoenix couldn’t help but cry out not bothering to hide the fear evident in her voice. “Daddy!” The look in her father’s blue eyes said it all. The relaxed expression he once held melted away as soon as she came into view. “Phoenix? What’s wrong?” He asked scooping her up easily. He smelled like blood, dirt, cigarette smoke, and sweat. But Phoenix didn’t care. She sobbed openly into his chest. She tried desperately to get out what she needed to. But nothing but strangled sobs would come out. “M-momma… hurt… gun.” She wailed. But that was all that needed to be said as Daryl pulled her tight to his body and sped down the roads of Alexandria on his bike to get to his wife.

Father Gabriel’s POV~~~~

The click of the door was just audible enough to hear over that insane woman’s crazed laughter. Fuck! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! This was supposed to be easy! It was supposed to be fast. No strings attached. Just dispose the woman. Just dispose the baby. But now the child that damned child was getting in the way of it. All of it. “Where did she go?” He asked hastily. Glancing out the window he tried to catch a glimpse of the girl. Maybe if the brat was close he could get a shot off. But the woman moved to stand in his view and shrugged. “Dunno.” She muttered annoyingly. Smiling. Damn that smile. Gabriel growled shifting in his spot anxiously. He’d wipe it off her face soon enough. “You’re weak.” The words stilled him. Her serpent like eyes gleamed with something akin to glee. She was toying with father Gabriel. He refused to have that. “You always were…” Gabriel felt his ears ring as she continued to speak slowly raising his hand he struck down hard. It felt uncomfortable. Unnatural. But Father Gabriel knew it needed to be done. Another raise of the hand. Another strike down and suddenly the woman was down on her knees holding her bloody mouth. That would teach her to open her mouth. Now… looking to the pristine marble of the kitchen Father Gabriel smiled he needed an alter to preform his sacrament.

Daryl’s POV~~~~

The gavel bellow his bike had been such a relief when he first rolled through the rusted metal gates. Home. He was home. Rick jogged up to him with a smile, Michonne close to his side. “How is she?” Daryl called out parking his bike to chat a moment. “You should see for yourself!” Michonne yelled over the roar of the motor. “She’s in labor… no baby yet but she’s about ready to pop.” Rick teased making Daryl roll his blue eyes. “Shut up.” He growled endearingly. He knew Rick was just teasing but the thought of his wife giving birth without him there made him anxious. He was about to start his bike back up and roll it back to the garage when a whimper caught his attention. Looking down the road Daryl watched his daughter sprint down the road, tripping to catch herself as she ran to him. At first the sight warmed his heart. Maybe his wife sent her to fetch him? But as she looked up and Phoenix’s terror resonated through her face. Her desperate screams calling his name. A 20 ton rock dropped in the pit of his stomach. With one motion he scooped the girl up with one arm. She was shivering like a leaf in the wind and bawling. He tried soothing her. Tried easing her fears by whispering “Daddy’s here. I’m home now.” But she only seemed to cry harder as if not hearing him. “Phoenix? What’s wrong?” He asked as calmly as possible despite the lack of control he felt. “M-momma… hurt…” Phoenix started shakily, trying to make words come out but only more sobs came loose. “Gun”. Was the only other word Daryl could make out clearly enough to make sense. Guns and Alexandria went together like oil and water. Revving his engine Daryl pulled Phoenix close to his chest, Rick’s pleas to think rationally flew in one ear and out the other as he drove ahead of the others.

Daryl drove as fast as he possibly could with a six year old clutched tightly to his chest. He knew Rick and Michonne were coming as fast as they could. He has heard Ricks little order to wait until they got there to help. But Daryl would be damned if he let anything happen to you. Not when he had a fucking say about it. Not when he already lost so god damned much. Putting his bike in idle he rolled as silently as he could to the front of the house. A small crowd had gathered outside and despite the raging urge Daryl had to simply shoot them all in the temple to make them all just disappear, he moved swiftly and silently. Placing Phoenix down he covered her mouth pointing in the direction of Carol who was waiting by the bushes with his free hand. Daryl watched Phoenix nod dutifully before running over to her aunt’s side. Before Daryl could even process it… a gunshot rang out from inside the house. The sound sent ice through the archer’s veins that froze him completely. Another second another gunshot another round of screams from the crowd gathered. “No.” The word fell from his lips before he had a chance to stop it. Grabbing his crossbow Daryl rushed into the house ignoring Carol’s plea to just wait for Rick to catch up. There wasn’t time. There simply wasn’t.

The first thing Daryl noticed when he busted the door down was the blood. It was everywhere. He felt sick to his stomach and wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. But he kept it all swallowed down stepping through the living room carefully. “Y/N.” He called out praying to God that the bastard would remember his name and you’d answer. But there was silence. Nothing. And it killed him. “Y/N. Sweetheart. Where are ya?” He cried out a little louder. A little more desperate. Then came the whining groan. No. No! NO NO! Daryl paced from the entrance to the kitchen. That priest. That fucking god damned priest lay growling dead on the floor blood oozing from his broken and bleeding legs. But his blood wasn’t the only splattered across the tiled floor. A long streak of dark colored blood led into the bathroom. Low groaning came from behind the door as tears stained Daryl’s dirt covered face. No. No way it was her. He refused to believe you were one of them. Taking his anger out on the living corpse of the priest Daryl shoved his knife deep into the skull of the fallen holy man. Silence once again overshadowed the house followed by the rattling of the closed bathroom door. Trying to steel himself as he turned his attention back to the door Daryl tried to force his mind to be clear. To focus on only the happiest of thoughts and memories he held of you. But he couldn’t help his breath from hitching as he heard your soft whines coming from behind the door nor could he keep his mind from wandering to the deepest darkness and what he and Phoenix would do if he lost you and your unborn child.

Your POV~~~~

The priest was quick to notice the absence of your daughter. But you knew he was far too late. Panic set upon his face as he pressed the barrel of his pistol to your temple. “Where did she go?!” He growled glaring angrily at you as you simply shrugged your shoulders. “Dunno.” You replied easily a sly smile on your face. You loved the heated glare Father Gabriel sent you. You knew you were getting to him as he started to shuffle his feet anxiously. “You’re weak.” You bit out catching his eye. “You always were. So let me go. And maybe Rick won’t gut you.” You had started to laugh again foolishly believing you’d get out of this unscathed. The first blow from the heel of his palm made stars glow across your vision making you stumble to catch yourself. The second filled your mouth with hot blood that poured from your lips onto your chest and the floor as you doubled over. The kicking of the child inside you reminded you to mind your place even if it were a little bit. It wasn’t just you that you were trying to protect.

A strong grip on the back of your hair made you whine and cry out as the priest drug you onto the tiled flooring of the kitchen. “You’ll make a mess of the carpet.” He said it so calmly as if scolding a child who spilled communion wine. Feeling the strong hand let go of your hair you caught yourself with your elbow staring up at the father. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, your adrenaline running high your heart pounding in your chest. You watched as the priest pulled a cloth from around his neck and laid it on the stone counter of island. Next he pulled a small hand carved cross from one pocket kissing it gently before he placed it on the cloth. Then the man pulled a white tea candle from the other lighting it with a match you hadn’t seen until it was glowing in your peripheral. He placed them ritually on the cloth before pulling a photo of the mother Mary holding baby Jesus from the same pocket. Making the motions of the cross across his body with his gun he kissed the barrel before laying it gently on the cloth with the photo and the other items. Father Gabriel folded his hands, bowing his head in prayer. “Dear Lord in heaven. Forgive me for what I must do-“ you heard him whispering and suddenly you knew. It was now or never. Standing as quickly as you could you shoved the man against the counter with your whole weight grabbing the knife from the priest’s waistband. You barely registered the small yelp Father Gabriel emitted before feeling his elbow dig deep into your chest and stomach. Falling flat on your back you felt the rush of blood between your legs before you had even seen it. Terror ceased you for merely a second before you seemed to remember where you were. Father Gabriel screamed turning to take aim but you were faster. Slicing at his heel and cutting his Achilles he dropped to the ground. The gun went off as he hit the ground shaking you to your core but you didn’t hesitate to stick the knife deep in his artery watching red hot blood shoot out in unstoppable bursts that coated every surface around the priest including you. The rage still shone in Father Gabriel’s eyes as he tried to aim the pistol at you once more. With a single finger you held his wrist down as he fired another shot his breaths ragged and weary. “I was wrong…” he wheezed. “You were the devil the whole time…”

Crawling into the bathroom you whined and groaned as your contractions grew ever closer lasting longer than they had the entire day. Where the fuck was Rick? Michonne? Where was your husband?! Where was Daryl?! Propping yourself against the counter of the sink you closed the door with your foot and held it there. You knew you fucked up by not skewering that fucker but part of you wanted him to suffer a little longer. To come back and be killed again by one of your loved ones. Every moment was agony. Pain wracked your entire body and your vision blurred. And suddenly you wondered if you’d suffer the same fate. The thought of Daryl coming home to see you covered in blood and having to drive a knife through your head made you physically sick. Closing your eyes to keep your lunch down you focused on anything other than the taste of blood and pain tearing through you. Y/N. God you were hallucinating now. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you fought back sobs with a palm pressed tightly to your mouth. Y/N. Sweetheart. Where are ya? She wanted to cry out in response but she kept as quiet as she could. Taking deep breaths to help sooth the pain she pulled her knees up and reached down just to check, she had to know. What she didn’t expect to feel was the top of her baby’s head just about ready to crown. “Fuck me.” She whispered.

A strangled cry escaped her throat as the door flew open suddenly. Holding her bloody hands up in defense she sobbed loudly as a crossbow pointed straight to her chest. “Y/N?… Sweetheart…” Daryl dropped the bow to the ground rushing to his wife’s side pulling her as tight to his chest as he could. “You’re here! You came!” You cried burying your face deep in his neck as she clung to him desperately. “Wha-what happened? Are ya alright… you’re not bit are ya?” Daryl asked worriedly flittering over your bruised and battered body. Opening your mouth to answer him all that came free was a pained groan as you clawed at his strong chest for support. “N-not bit.” You got out whimpering slightly as Daryl lovingly rubbed your back. “Baby… Now.” You managed cracking an eye to peak at Daryl’s. “Oh… fuck. Ok. Let’s get you to the-“ he started, trying to pull you up to your feet but you simply couldn’t stand. Despite everything you two had laid out. Despite all the planning and preparation. Your baby was being born in a bathroom. Go figure. Shaking your head you pointed wordlessly to the bathtub. “H-Hot water.” You ordered. If you weren’t actively about to push a baby out, you would have giggled at the speed at which your husband moved, tripping over the bathroom’s little trash can he heated it up to an acceptable temperature before starting to fill the bottom of the tub with water. Everything moved so fast from there. Daryl helped you into the tub and washed his hands. “Gotta be clean to hold our kid.” He said much to your impatience. Grabbing several clean towels he sat them them by his side, kneeling next to you and held your leg reassuring you with every push. Then suddenly. It was over. There was a sputter and a piercing wail that rocked you to your core. Daryl was scrambling to dry the newborn smiling from ear to ear. “It’s a boy, sweetheart.” He whispered tears once again spilled over but this time they were happy. So fucking happy he couldn’t help but laugh. “Beau.” You whispered caressing the baby’s downy soft hair. “Stop it… we’re not naming him Beau.” Daryl teased kissing the top of your head. “I like it though.” You whispered. “Beau Merle Dixon. A name of his own. The middle to honor the man that gave everything to make sure he lived.” You whispered meeting your husband’s awestruck gaze. “Mmm…” he hummed caressing his son’s soft cheek. “Alrigh’. Beau Merle Dixon it is.” He said softly. “Now let’s get you out of that cold ass water.”

#tw: long post #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #rick grimes #michonne #the walking dead carol #the walking dead father Gabriel

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apersonwholikeslotus · 7 months

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tbh in my opinion Scrooge McDuck is the funniest fictional character as a concept known to man; like they really went “ok so, he’s a duck, he’s Scottish, he’s named after Ebenezer Scrooge from Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol, he’s worth a undetermanite amount of money, but it is a Fuck Ton of money, he’s an adventurer, and his nephew is in the military and he got custody of his great nephews for some reason why doesn’t matter.”

and then 2017 ducktales made it even wilder by adding on things such as his housekeeper was a spy, his niece is stranded on the moon, the housekeepers granddaughter is actually his clone, he has a ton of other relatives who do everything from “being lucky” to “running a research facility on the bottom of the ocean” for jobs, his old butler is a ghost haunting his mansion but not for malicious reasons, he won’t fire half the people who work for him bc they all will seek and def get revenge etc…

like honestly how can you not think that’s just insanely funny

#scrooge mcduck

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deada55 · 1 year

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His Life Will Find A Purpose (When the River Meets the Sea) - Chapter 7

crossposting: ao3

work summary: A nine-year old in Tomahawk, WI gets glaucoma surgery over Christmas break.

chapter summary: As the advent calendar counts down, Pickles struggles under the anxiety of looming surgery.

tws: none (let me know if I missed a biggie!)

As December trickled by, Pickles would occasionally feel something rush up from nowhere in slow-motion, like he’d seen a tsunami climb out of the horizon. On the Wednesday before Christmas break started, they had a school assembly to watch the kindergartners and the fifth graders (including Seth) sing Christmas carols, and on that Friday they had a party complete with cupcakes from the classroom mom, quiet Mrs. Lofgren. But not even candy and watching Seth boil red from humiliation on the stage in the gym could break Pickles out of his fog.

Since he’d been provided an assigned seat after the first week of class, sitting with his friends in the back wasn’t an option, so he had to catch up with Rodney, Jonathan, and Michael during recesses. Today, they all sat behind the previous day’s snow fort.

“You’re lucky you don’t go anywhere on Christmas. My mom drags us to grandma’s house for dinner and it’s so boring.” Jonathan seemed to be related to almost everyone in town, if you went by everyone he claimed to be his cousin. A silent nodding consensus among Rodney and Michael cemented that yes, it was possible that Jonathan would have a large family gathering to attend on Christmas Day. Jonathan had the best baseball card collection and made a good playmate despite his constant fibbing, but his remarks consistently needed vetting.

“Yeah, it’s kinda busy at my house on Christmas.” Rodney’s mother was easygoing, yet exhausted with three year old twins, Rodney, and three beautiful Labradors. “I just play with my toys and have dinner.”

“Hey Pickles?” Michael interrupted Rodney just before taking a cool, refreshing bite out of a fresh snowball. “My sister’s in Seth’s class and she said you’re gonna be in the hospital on Christmas.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Pickles took off his wet mittens and drew furrows in the snow with his bare fingers. Traces of dried blood from his cuticles gave the snow the slightest rusty freckles as he plowed it into parallel lines.

“Really?” Rodney wiped his nose on his sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s his eye thing, remember?” Jonathan chirped, doing his best to be helpful.

“Yeah,” Pickles confirmed. Michael pushed himself up onto his knees.

“Wow. Are you going to get presents there?”

“No, my parents decided it’ll be when I get home.”

“Seth also said you’re not getting nothin’, but I don’t think that’s true.” Michael was always nice, whether he tried to be or not. Believing Seth came too easily to Pickles, and hearing someone else disagree with him always made Pickles feel a little better. If someone else thought Seth was wrong, then maybe he was actually wrong, and it wasn’t just Pickles trying to sabotage himself into disappointment.

Pickles sat back and put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t care?” Michael ducked his head a little bit and ended up looking so sincere, with big, warm, black eyes, that Pickles almost snatched him into a hug,

Pickles shrugged, but before he could speak, Jonathan piped back up, this time just to be a know-it-all.

“You know eye surgery sometimes makes stuff worse, right? That’s how my uncle lost his eye!” His uncle lost his eye in a VA hospital in California after he’d come back from Vietnam, a story he told almost everyone he met. And Jonathan’s uncle met a lot of people working at the liquor store. He’d get talking for hours at the counter and wouldn’t even remember the back door of the stockroom was unlocked, and the creme de menthe was awfully close to the back door… Pickles helped himself every now and then. Jonathan’s uncle sure knew how to drum up new customers.

“Would you come back to school if you were blind?”

“I don’t know.” Blindness was such a frightening prospect that Pickles had instead begun to settle with his mortality, and fully intended to choose death over blindness out of sheer will. Still, there was no guarantee that wishing himself dead would finally work… Jonathan had effectively read Pickles’ fearful mind, but he smirked and looked back up into his friends’ faces. “I could get an infection and die with pus coming outta my face, so…” Heh. That’d be funny. Closed-casket funeral for sure. Maybe it’d make his mom sick of making casseroles with that set, gelatinous, yellow cream of chicken soup that was so concentrated that it came out shaped like its can… Can pus be chunky?

The boys were silent as they watched two beads of winter “sweat” drip onto Pickles’ cheeks.

“Well, I’d miss you-” Michael began, but was interrupted by Mrs. Wallace clearing her throat from the other side of the fort. Her festive nativity vest wiggled its pom pom trim at them from above.

“Gentleman, recess ended five minutes ago.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Wallace!” Jonathan was not only a fibber but a kissup and stood up the fastest, but they all trudged into line with the other kids.

At the end of the day, right after the final bell, before she’d even sat her chalk down, Mrs. Wallace called Pickles over to her desk. He slid everything on the top of his desk into his schoolbag, leaving papers and pencils to get crushed under his books, as long as it could close. Then, he walked up to her, standing in the scuffed 12x12 asbestos tile squarely in front of her nameplate.

His eyes only lifted when she held his mittens out to him, dry and warm from sitting on the radiator behind her desk.

“You left your gloves at recess.”

“Oh…” They needed to be washed but otherwise they were perfect and almost steaming with warmth. He cupped them in his hands, but he didn’t dare look at Mrs. Wallace in case he were in trouble for forgetting them in the first place. “Thanks.”

“Merry Christmas,” she offered, softening her eyes.

“Merry Christmas.”

When Pickles had his coat on (and doublechecked that Luke and his inhaler were still in the pockets), he heard Mrs. Wallace call him again while she straightened out the rows of desks. “Pickles?”

“Yes?”

Her mouth opened and shut a few times but nothing in her mind made it down to her mouth. Over the length of the semester, it felt like a light had gone out in her class. Although Pickles became less disruptive, it wasn’t a result of trying to focus more in class, punishment, or ‘maturing’. If anything, he’d gotten more distracted with his head on his desk instead of making faces or trying to cut up with the other students. She let him get away with playing with toys in the pockets of his clothes because it was one of the only remaining signs that Pickles was a nine year-old boy and not a frightened dog. His current state was far from the description of the incorrigible and wildly sincere child his last teacher described. It was like he’d been snapped in two.

Mrs. Wallace knew from being on the church prayer chain that when someone believes they’ll die, they come that much closer to it. Surgery was no laughing matter, but to see Pickles say a roundabout goodbye behind the snow fort he built laughing the day before made her heart lurch into her hands. But who was she to tell him he wouldn’t die?

He could barely stand to be spoken to. With his head tucked and his arms creeping up to his chest, Pickles took baby steps backwards towards the door.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you back in class in the new year.”

He chalked it up to seasonal formalities and nodded in her general direction. “Yeah, uh, you too. Bye.”

While she was dusting the cubbies, she found his mittens again, laid right under his coat hook on the floor. She brushed them off and folded them, laying them neatly in the left corner of his cubby where he could see them as soon as he returned.

Pickles’ sleeplessness followed him to Saturday morning, cartoons be damned. His teeth ached, for no good reason, and it was almost enough to make him stop eating. Weakly, Pickles hiccuped, and scooped spoonful after crunchy, wet spoonful into his mouth, until he could feel the granulated sugar he’d sprinkle over his cornflakes squeak between his molars.

“Just slap me,” Seth moaned with his head leaned against the couch cushion and his limp arms giving him the languishing, saintly form of a groggy Saturday morning schoolkid.

“What?”

“I said just slap me.” The hum of the tubes on the TV was eerie and clear, or were they hearing the refrigerator? They were still as two bodies laying in adjoining cabinets in the morgue.

Pickles reached to the right and hovered his fingers over Seth’s cheek. He brought it down on Seth’s unfocused face with the same hardness you’d use to make a hollow sound on a dog’s ribs, but pulled back when he felt his brother flinch.

“Ow!” Seth squeaked… right before he laughed. “You hit like a girl.”

“I do not!” Pickles couldn’t help being a little brother, but he was not a little girl.

Seth clicked his tongue like an idiot (Mom smacked him when he did it, but he swore he saw it in a mob movie) and returned his head to the polystyrene hammock of the couch seat cushion. With his knobby legs shoved under the coffee table and that smug, satisfied look on his face, Seth looked as comfortable as could be.

“Do it again.”

This time, with twice as much hesitation, Pickles popped him in the chops with an open hand. The sound of Seth’s teeth snapping together briefly volleyed around the room.

“ Ow !” Seth twisted himself towards his brother, then looked back away with a puff.

Pickles pulled his knees to his chest and chased the not-yet soggy cereal stragglers floating around his bowl with a little tea spoon. “Yeah. Don’t call me a girl.”

Instead of letting it go and going back to his own breakfast, Seth slapped Pickles in the side of the head with a flailing arm.

“Seth! God-”

“You’re such a pussy.”

“Am not… Jeez.” Pickles grumbled. Unwilling to debate further, he got up to sit on the couch.

“I know I didn’t just hear you speak the Lord’s name in vain, Pickles! Shame on you…” Molly waltzed into the room clutching her housecoat closer around her chest. When she sipped her coffee, her glasses fogged over and her eyes went missing.

“Seth, I want you to shovel out the driveway this morning.”

“Mom!” Seth turned towards her and crossed his arms tight, hoisting his shoulders over his ears. “That’s not fair!”

“Now don’t throw a fit. I’ll give you $5.”

“But make Pickles do it!”

“He’s too short.” She cut her eyes towards Pickles and he decided to stop trying to hunt every cornflake down. “He did a terrible job last weekend- your father almost broke his back! I want you to do it.” Pickles left the room to wash out his bowl.

“Fine.”

“That’s good.” She took her glasses off and came around the couch to give her oldest a kiss on the top of his head. “Love you. I’m going to go call Aunt Elaine.”

“Love you too, Ma,” he mumbled over his soggy cornflakes, then he stared at the television.

Pickles returned as she was leaving and laid down across the sofa, minding Seth’s head and curling up in hopes that it’d stop his stomach from tossing his cereal around like a front-loading washing machine. The second he closed his eyes, he was dozing off. Almost every waking moment he wasn’t talking to someone, he was thinking about the surgery. There were too many unknowns, from the food to the other kids to the non-zero chance that the surgery would fail and he’d end up even worse. Maybe blindness would be where everything would look like a blurry shape. Or darkness. Maybe his eyes would pop or they’d scoop them out, and he’d have empty, skin-covered eyesockets like one of the neighbors’ outdoor cats. Maybe blindness would be not knowing how nauseating he’d be to the unwilling friends and family who could bear to see his mutilated face. He probably wouldn’t die if something happened, after all. He’d have to learn how to live with it.

Maybe he could be a telemarketer, since he could probably memorize where the numbers on the telephone were, if only someone could read the numbers out to him. Or, braille, there was always braille…

Can labels and money and newspapers didn’t come in braille. Maybe he’d have to live with mom and dad forever, since he knew the house.

The last thing he might ever see could be white sheets or a doctor’s face. How long would it take for him to forget what everything looked like? Last night, he’d tossed and turned and made himself dizzy suppressing sobs and using his inhaler, something that had become more and more frequent as Seth’s advent calendar counted down like a bomb.

Today could be his last day to be a normal kid. Tomorrow, he went to Milwaukee.

“Pickles, can I ask for a favor?”

Instead of brushing Seth off, Pickles always felt compelled to accept Seth’s little “deals.” Although they’d bitten him in the ass, there were a handful of times where it’d been fun, or it’d saved them both a lot of trouble… like the time Seth’s friend gave them a ride in the back of his truck to the gas station and he gave them the remnants of nitrite leather cleaner, which kept Pickles entertained for the rest of the month. But Seth would do the same for him eventually, right? That’s what mom told him. Besides, he didn’t have any big plans today.

Seth rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes. “You gotta shovel the driveway.”

“I can’t. Mom said I suck at it, remember?”

Seth leaned forward and looked Pickles in the eyes as he pulled himself tighter and tighter into a ball. “Pickles, look, you’re my brother, alright? And you can do what you gotta do. It just iced over last time- but it was perfect, just perfect before that. You’re my brother, you can do anything you want to, and so what if you did a crap job last time, ok? You can’t do everything right. But you gotta shovel the driveway.”

“You can’t make me. Mom said she wanted you to shovel the driveway.” Pickles dredged himself up and sat upright to argue, but stopped short when he saw how quickly Seth twisted around, and how his face was stuck in that still, stern look that felt almost as bad as mother’s.

“I can’t make you but you’ll be sorry, trust me, ok? You don’t want to know what I’m gonna do to you.” Seth stood up, leaving his bowl of lukewarm, used milk on the coffee table. As he walked away, he backhanded Pickles in the ear.

“Ow!”

As Pickles sat by himself, the TV’s cheerful chirp started to sound mocking and hostile. When it became unbearable and sick-feeling, he stood up, turned off the TV, and grabbed the little shooting gallery pocket game from one of the side table drawers.

“Pickles?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“Your snow suit is clean.” He’d had it taken out of commission for a few days after Seth and his friends infested their yard with every frozen dog turd they could find within a half-mile radius. And that happened only a few days after he’d become un-grounded from slamming the door when Seth chased him up the stairs for using “his” broom for broomball. With all the drama along with his asthma, he’d spent most of his weekends inside. If today was his last good day, he might as well spend it in the snow.

When he emerged from the house, he immediately heard Jonathan reciting the rules of street hockey and ran up the plowed street just in time to even out the teams. Although he wasn’t a particularly valuable player, even when he could see the ball, it was better to have another body on your side than nobody, and there was even an extra stick! He burnt the rest of the morning that way, hollering and hustling, setting his lungs on fire. The ice on the telephone wires gave them a tinsel-y sparkle in the morning sun.

He’d played a couple games before Seth and his friends replaced some of the kids who had to go eat lunch and change gloves, and at the end of a match, Seth slapped him upside the head so hard that his hat flipped off.

“So when you gonna shovel out the driveway?”

“I’m not.” Pickles shot back as he bent down and shook the snow off his hat. “Mom said-”

“I didn’t ask you what mom said, did I?” Seth grabbed the back of Pickles snowsuit and jerked it up so that Pickles would stand. The game hadn’t really stopped, but with two people arguing by one of the goals, the rest of the neighborhood boys stood around and watched the sun shine helplessly on the snow-burdened, slumping cedar trees in neighboring yards.

“I’m not gonna shovel the stupid driveway!”

The white snow sparkled with such a sincere invitation that Seth couldn’t help but kick Pickles in the back of the knees, but before he could do much of anything else Michael Jones’ mom poked her head out of her door, swathed in her own winter fleece housecoat and slippers, but with a silk scarf over her hot-combed hair. And Michael’s mom wasn’t afraid to pull out the phone book and find your parents. And if they hung up on her, she’d write them. And if she wrote them and called them and what you did in front of her house was bad enough, she’d tell Mrs. Wallace or the grocer or even the Schwann’s guy… Mrs. Jones would get you in trouble if she thought you deserved it, and not even Seth would test her this close to Christmas. At the sound of her screen door squeaking, everyone stood still.

Seth stood back, casting a shadow over Pickles as he flipped himself over. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Alright.” Without another word, he turned and left. Slowly, the game resumed, but Michael himself came outside, and he and Pickles and Rodney left the game to go sledding on trash can lids a couple streets over.

When he came back down the road, red-nosed and cold-handed, it was after lunch. He shed his boots and his snowsuit at the door, freeing his sweaty hair from his hat and flinging his gloves to the floor. Snow had managed to wiggle into the arms of his clothes, wetting his undershirt, so he went upstairs to change it while he shivered off the lingering cold in his legs and ears. Seth bounded down the stairs, shoving right past Pickles, with a pair of scissors in his hand.

The door to his room, typically wide open, was mostly closed. The inside was as dark as it usually was, but the outline of his plastic Millennium Falcon looked more like a microwave omelette maker than a blurry dinner plate on the ground. He turned the light switch on and almost gagged at the sight of it cracked in two parts, all the glued plastic joins popped-out, with shards of grey plastic spilling out of the splits. Around it lie the whole cast of Star Wars (at least, the ones Pickles had) in pieces, their arms and plastic boots scattered like they’d lain down on landmines. A couple heads were broken off, or marred by the force of two blades attempting to saw them in half.

He knelt, but he kept his breathy torment and pathetic tears in his hands. After all, they were only toys, right?

#my writing #metalocalypse fanfic #metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #preklok #metalocalypse hcs

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serendipity-writes · 2 years

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The One Where Hopper's Office Definitely Doesn't Catch Fire

Written for Harringrove Week July 2022! Prompt: last day of summer camp

Fics for this event: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Rated Gen, 2.3k

Summary:

“Hey, Harrington!” a new but familiar voice booms. “Enjoying being president of the Geek Squad, I see.”

Yeah, Steve might miss the kids, but he’s not going to miss this.

read on ao3

The last day of camp is always bittersweet.

Granted, there are sessions that are more sweet than bitter (the one at the beginning of the summer, with Troy and James, comes to mind), but this was actually a good one. Steve got real lucky with his group these last two weeks; everyone got along with everyone else. Of course, he had high hopes as soon as Jonathan told him his and Nancy’s little brothers were going to be in Steve’s cabin, which he somehow knew before the official assignments were released. Steve suspects he may have edited the list himself, off the books, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth because the boys were great. And they got awesome cabin mates, too. Dustin and Lucas were down for anything Steve threw at them, and by the end of the two weeks, the four boys were fast friends. Dustin in particular wormed his way right into Steve’s heart, the little shit. He still isn’t sure how the kid pulled it off.

“Oh, that’s my mom!” the camper in question says, shading his eyes against the sun and squinting at the cars pulling in to pick up their kids. He turns quickly, curly hair bobbing with the movement, and throws his arms around Steve’s torso. Steve lets out a startled “oof” but hugs Dustin back.

“Alright, kiddo, it was awesome to have you here but it’s time to go,” Steve says, attempting to ruffle Dustin’s hair before he ducks away. Damnit, unsuccessful again.

“Have fun!” Dustin calls as he runs to his mom’s car.

“Be safe!” Steve shouts back, waving at the car until it pulls out of the parking lot.

He feels a presence at his shoulder before he even turns around, but he knows exactly who it is. He and Nancy, as the current longest serving counselors at Hawkins Summer Camp besides Tommy and Carol, have forged a bond few can match. They’ve just about managed to convince the rest of the counselors that it includes telepathy.

“Last one?” Nancy asks.

“Yep,” Steve replies, popping the “p” obnoxiously. “Now the real work can begin.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Nancy turns and dashes up the hill behind them, leaving Steve in the dust.

“No fair!” Steve yells, sprinting behind her. “That’s a head start and you know it, Wheeler!”

“Not my fault you were too slow to catch on!” She laughs as she says it, and soon Steve’s laughing too, struggling to continue moving even though his cabin’s literally a few steps away. He sees Nancy disappearing into hers just as he’s stepping through his door. Hah. She may be smarter by miles, but he’s still faster.

Besides, he’s got the next part down to a science. Because it’s a sleepaway camp and the counselors are paid to be there literally all summer, it’s their responsibility to get the cabins cleaned up and ready in the few days between sessions. This is a little different, since it’s the last session of the summer, but it starts the same. Steve’s been doing this long enough to be able to strip four twin beds in just over thirty seconds. (Robin timed him once. It was a race between him, Nancy, and Jonathan. Steve won by a landslide.) And, unlike Nancy, who actually has a laundry hamper that she uses to tote clothes back and forth from the main cabin, Steve just piles everything inside one of the fitted bedsheets and runs.

By the time Nancy skids into the laundry room, panting and determined, Steve’s leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest to disguise how he’s still breathing heavily himself. All four washing machines are currently occupied by roughly equal portions of sheets and pillowcases. That was the first lesson Steve learned as a counselor: the machines break if you try to wash two sets of sheets at once.

“Damnit,” Nancy mutters, then louder, “God damn you, Steve Harrington!”

He just chuckles, and she shakes her head as she smiles. There was a time when Steve would have been scared half to death hearing those words out of Nancy’s mouth, but it’s long past.

Just then, footsteps echo from down the hall, heralding the approach of none other than Robin. “Steve, my man!” she says as she walks right past Nancy to give Steve a bro hug, knocking their fists together in what could almost be considered a fist bump.

“Robin, my dude!” he answers, returning the fist whack with more enthusiasm than is probably warranted. He tries to ruffle her hair but she skips out of his reach, wrapping her arm around Nancy’s waist with a smug grin. He’s now oh for two. Great.

“I feel betrayed,” Nancy complains, despite the fact that she’s now leaning fully into Robin’s side. “What does Steve have that I don’t?”

“Bro status,” he and Robin answer in synch. It’s enough to make Nancy laugh, and Steve’s heart fills with warmth at the beaming grin Robin’s sporting.

“So I see you got here first,” she says to Steve, gesturing vaguely toward the hamper of sheets that Nancy dropped on the floor at some point. “What’s the damage?”

“Well, nobody drew on the walls with Sharpie this time,” Steve muses, hand on his chin, “so it probably just needs a good sweeping and I’ll be home free.”

“My girls were wonderful,” Nancy brags, as though both Steve and Robin didn’t know that already. Steve and Nancy’s cabins always end up spending a lot of their free time together, since it’s the only time Steve gets to talk to Nancy (except when they all sneak out of their cabins in the middle of the night to light up with Jonathan). And in the last couple of years, Robin’s been joining them more and more often. Steve didn’t get to know her kids that well, but Nancy’s somehow integrated themselves into his cabin. It was great to see Jane and Max put the boys in their place, and hilarious when it came to Lucas bickering with his sister. Seriously, Steve could watch that shit all day. What was even better was the sheer multitude of arguments Erica won, despite being the younger sibling.

Robin plants a kiss on the top of Nancy’s head before pulling away gently. “I’ll go sweep your cabin for you, babe,” she says, and Nancy smiles gratefully. “Steve, you’re on your own.”

“Hey!” he shouts indignantly. “What does she have that I don’t?”

“Girlfriend privileges,” Nancy and Robin reply in unison. Steve gives Robin’s retreating back the finger as she leaves the room. After a moment, a pale hand comes back around the doorway, flipping Steve off.

Ah, the love shared between fellow counselors.

* * *

“I am going to miss those kids, though,” Nancy says, swirling her straw around her glass of lemonade.

They’re all sitting at one of the picnic tables in the pavilion, her, Robin, Steve, and Jonathan. It’s Jonathan’s fault they’re still there; on the last day of camp, the counselors are allowed to leave whenever they finish cleaning their cabins, but his sheets are still in the dryer and, for whatever reason, the four of them have established what essentially boils down to a suicide pact wherein none of them can leave until everyone’s ready to go. Steve has never benefitted from this clause in the Camp Counselor’s Guidebook, since he’s consistently one of the first people done, but he figures he can probably use it to cash in some favors down the line.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “I’m gonna miss the little brats too.”

“Ohoho!” Robin chuckles with far too much glee. “He called them ‘brats’! You must have really liked these ones. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you refer to a group of campers as anything other than ‘little shits’ or ‘motherfuckers’ since I started working here.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Steve says. “The only reason I didn’t is because I know Nancy and Jonathan would each kick my ass if I called their little brothers ‘motherfuckers.’”

“Damn straight,” Nancy says as though she isn’t currently melting into Robin’s side. Jonathan doesn’t have to say anything. They all remember, or at least have heard stories about, the time Tommy of all people had to pull them apart Steve’s second summer working at Hawkins. But that’s water under the bridge now.

“Hey, Harrington!” a new but familiar voice booms. “Enjoying being president of the Geek Squad, I see.”

Yeah, Steve might miss the kids, but he’s not going to miss this.

“Sure am, Billy,” he says, looking up at the chiseled fucking Adonis statue striding toward their table. “Why don’t you join? You could be the secretary, I’d love to have you working under me.”

Robin gags exaggeratedly next to him, which Steve supposes is fair, but Billy’s eyes light up. “Someone’s got some fire today!” he crows. “Speaking of which, what say you and I go set fire to Hopper’s office? You know, as a little goodbye present.”

Steve scoffs. “So you can implicate me in the resulting arson case? Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“Dunno what all this ‘King Steve’ business was about,” Billy fires back. “You’re not much fun, you know that, Harrington?” He moves on before Steve has a chance to reply, turning to Nancy. “How was my shitbird sister, huh? She treat you nice?”

“Max was a pleasure to have in class,” Nancy says, her voice the kind of saccharine that makes Steve’s blood run cold. That’s her “I could drag you to hell and back” voice. Steve should know. He’s seen it happen.

But he loses track of that conversation, focus returning to Billy saying he isn’t fun. Something about the guy pushes his buttons. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose, just to Steve specifically, and has been since the beginning of the summer. If it were anyone else Steve would let it go, but he finds himself rising to his feet behind the table and leaning forward so he can stab a finger intimidatingly toward Billy’s face. “Hey, who was the first person to agree to your little night swimming adventure last session?”

“Tommy,” Billy says without missing a beat, smirking just a little.

“Okay.” Steve regains his footing quickly; he honestly shouldn’t be that surprised. “Who was the second person?”

“Heather.” Billy crosses his arms over his chest, smirk growing wider, and Steve falters a little.

“Fucking hell, really?” When Billy just nods, Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Alright, but I came.”

“I’m sure you did, pretty boy.” Billy winks and Steve feels himself flush all the way down his neck. Fuck. It’s not as fun when the jokes are being made at his expense.

Their eyes remain locked for a few more seconds, Billy’s eyebrow raised in a challenge while Steve calculates just how likely it is he’ll actually get murdered if he jumps the table and punches him in the nose. Then a throat clears to Steve’s left, and he remembers they’re not alone.

“I hate to interrupt this weird-as-fuck mating ritual,” Robin starts, and the faintest spots of color bloom high on Billy’s cheeks. Huh. “But Jonathan, I think your laundry is ready.”

“I’ll come help you with it,” Nancy rushes out, practically vaulting over the bench she was sitting on. Steve watches the three of them traipse down to the main cabin before turning back to Billy.

“Well, guess that’s my cue,” he says, straightening up slowly and stretching his arms over his head. He thinks, for a moment, that Billy’s eyes drift to his stomach when his shirt rides up, but before Steve can even hope to confirm, Billy’s got that easy, infuriating grin back on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t want to give this place a proper sendoff? We could put one of the canoes on the lake and shoot flaming arrows at it, Viking-funeral style.”

The scary thing about that idea is that they could absolutely do it. The canoes are right down by the beach, and the archery equipment is locked away for the summer but Steve knows where the key is. Tie a little cloth to the arrowhead, dip it in the bottle of whiskey Steve definitely hasn’t had stashed in his bag all summer, and boom! Weapon of questionable legality. It’s so easy to imagine, actually.

The scarier thing is that, for a moment, Steve seriously considers it.

But something on his face must read as a rebuff, because Billy shrugs and says, “Your loss,” like Jonathan did when Steve refused to try the new strain of weed he’d gotten his hands on. Steve rolls his eyes at that, reminding himself that he absolutely hates Billy and does not want to spend any more time with him.

“Enjoy your last few days of summer,” Billy says, clapping him on the shoulder as he walks past. It sounds like a threat, distracting enough that Steve almost doesn’t feel the slight pressure against his back pocket. He whirls around, fully prepared to curse Billy out, but he’s already yards away, whistling through his teeth with his hands shoved into his own pockets. Steve watches him go, hand drifting absently to the pocket Billy just violated. He’s not sure what the point of it was until his fingers close around a scrap of paper. When he pulls it out, he has to admit he’s surprised by what’s on it. There, in clear, neat print, reads 317-555-0806. There’s no name. Steve is pretty sure Billy knows he won’t need one.

“What did he say to you?” a voice asks at his shoulder, and he jumps, startled by Robin and her unusually silent approach.

“Nothing,” he says, hurriedly stuffing the paper into his other pocket. “Just, uh, just goodbye.”

Robin hums, looking unconvinced, but she doesn’t comment. They watch as a blue Camaro peels out of the now sparse parking lot, engine revving obnoxiously as it goes. Steve rubs the paper in his pocket between his fingers. There’s no way in hell he’s going to call that number. In fact, he’s going to throw it away as soon as he gets home. Yup, it’s going straight in the trash. End of story.

(Steve does not throw it away.)

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my writing #stranger things #fanfic #billy x steve #steve x billy #HarringroveWeek

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unluckyuncle · 1 year

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You lucky duck, you get a present from Mary Sue too! It’s a return gift for the return gift of Christmas carols and includes:

-Two packs of ready-made cookie dough in gingerbread and peppermint mocha flavors

-A rubber ducky dressed in Santa Claus colors!

Attached to it is a quick but prettily written note scribbled on holly-scented paper with snowflake patterns:

“Even though I bought you cookie mix you still owe me two dozen back! Delivery before the New Year’s or bust! If they’re good I’ll give you a cake~”

-Mary Sue

Of course, he was delighted by the sight of a gift. Presents were one of his favorite holiday traditions not because he was a material person himself. He just liked being able to bring some cheer is all.

He and Mary Sue had... well they were pretty different to say the least. He has had a run-in with her on multiple occasions and had seen her around plenty of times. He couldn't help but wonder how that marriage thing was going.

Well, regardless, he was surprisingly happy to receive the cookie mixes - it was extremely difficult to mess those up when you triple-checked the oven and timers. He was a little confused about the rubber duck, but it was cute. He kept it on his nightstand.

Evidently, he was going to have to make it up to her in the cookie department. He did just get some cookbooks, maybe they have an easy cookie recipe in them. He would see what he could do.

#( . answer . ) // uncles advice ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆#( . ic . ) legacy ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

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Lt. Nick “Goose” Bradshaw, you are a babe 😍

#rooster gets it from his daddy ❤️#nick goose bradshaw #goose bradshaw #carole you lucky duck #anthony edwards #top gun

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fumikomiyasaki · 2 years

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🔑

Damián & Carol

Tarak & Emma

Lucas & Tyler

Move in with my Muse

After Graduation Carol accompanied him to a more forrest like cabin to live with him together... mostly she didn’t have much to pack aside the things from her dorm room given she didn’t return to her homeworld and instead decided to stay with Damián.. as she tried to paint the walls, he lifted her up with his arm to get the more upper spots as well as helping her with the furniture she was to weak to move around... she was lucky they had with this kind of hosue enough space so Damián wouldn’t have to duck all the time and also... she did make small kitten homes for all the cats he adopted and kept with her... looking around things finally looked very pretty, with some plants she kept, some pictures. She gave a sigh of relief even though she still had to unpack some off the boxes... however as her eye wandered to that huge bed fit for his size as well she chuckled...

“Guess we finally have out perfect comfy home now... I am s-”

As she wanted to admire everything she suddenly felt him sweep her off and carry her to the bed. Laying over her with a smirk.

“You are right it is comfy... but how about we take a small break... you know celebrate our new little home... Mi Amor, what do you think.”

She placed her hand on his face and smiled.

“Well you are true we have to try out this bed if it actually supports you...but after lets eat something and then slowly we can arrange things as they fit.” He nodded and started to kiss her cheek... however its still a lot of work to move in to do for them...

For Emma it was two big decisions after another... ending her career, gaining a new home with Tarak and starting a new job... it was stress but mainly both did well to share the work of carrying stuff and placing furniture... She sometimes spend time with wall paint to calm and think about all... and so they went quickly to have everything set up, including a fitness room. The money Emma made with Taraks faible for cleaning made this place a very fancy looking one... with some leftover music equipment she kept. Emma rested on the couch a bit exhausted as Tarak handed her some water.

“I do hope living together doesn’t get us on each others nerves.”

“Well I am sure we’ll manage,Tarak... after all we have spend enough time in school together as well, relax, we will managed...”

She turned to him and lightly hugged his arm.

“To think I would ever be with you, its still kind of a dream.”

“Guess I have to remind you each day then how much I care for you.”

She pulled him by his collar to kiss him... laying with him on the couch...at least they did were nearly done with moving in.

Tyler had quite a lot he demanded for them both to have in a house, so he had a own place to do sketches and sewing and given how him and Lucas worked together on it, it really did get a comfy aesthetic with the work place... a good balance of relaxation and his passion in Fashion... As they took a break from unpacking Lucas already stopped by to bring him a coffee to relax...

“I do hope we are done soon, I am not used to not go after my creative work flow... “

“You already think a bit too much about it... how about you take the break to actually relax.”

Tyler chuckled. “You are right but.. old habits are hard to forget...”

“How about I help you relax then, a good massage, a bath in our new bathroom, what you desire.”

He looked back at Lucas and reached up to give him a kiss.

“Thank you but I tell you if you need something.”

“Alright. Also um... I am actually glad you move in with me...”

He hid behind his mug and Lucas smiled back at him.

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #disney twst #twistedwonderland #twistedwonderlandoc #twst ocs #twisted wonderland fanschool #carol ann #carol x damián #emma yuki #emma x tarak #tyler nerington #tyler x lucas

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alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years

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Prom Queen Of My Heart {Steve Harrington x Plus Size Reader}

Plot: Steve Harrington is obviously going to be voted Prom King. You know it’s tradition for Prom King and Queen to dance together but instead of dancing with Abigail Wickers, Steve comes to you, his plus size girlfriend, and chooses to dance with you instead.

Character: Steve Harrington x Plus Size female identifying Reader

Requested by @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

Around you, teenagers waited excitedly to find out who would be crowned Prom King and Queen of this year. You laughed slightly as you looked at their desperate faces. You’d never been one to yearn after the plastic crown or the bunch of three dollar flowers that the winners got. You liked the tradition but it just wasn’t for you.

Your boyfriend, Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington fidgeted nervously with his suit jacket, “Do I look okay?” He asked you, “My hair? Is it okay?” Everyone knew that Steve would win Prom King. He usually did at these things; he was popular and handsome and everyone liked him. He was a people’s person and of course, he would win. You rarely voted at these things but you absolutely voted for your boyfriend to win it.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Steve, love, you look great.” He grinned at you, that signature Steve grin and turned his attention back to the stage where the Principal was giving a small speech before crowning the Prom King and Queen. You watched him for a few seconds, smiling at him without him noticing. Your heart soared every single time that you looked at him, you always felt so lucky and grateful to have him by your side.

People didn’t understand your relationship and that was fine because you didn’t ask their opinions or what they thought of the two of you. The fact of the matter was that people didn’t think Steve should be with someone fat which is just downright stupid. How does someone’s weight define their worth or beauty? It doesn’t; people are just jerks. People viewed you as being lesser than him, that you somehow weren’t worthy of him or his love due to your social status and your weight. It was bullshit. Just because you were plus size did not mean that you were any less worthy of love and affection. It didn’t mean that you were ugly, it didn’t mean that you were repulsive. It simply just meant that you were fat and there is nothing wrong with being fat. The only thing that mattered was Steve.

It began when you and Steve were paired up for a History assignment. Things had started off awkward as you’d had preconceived notions that he was a jerk but quickly, you learned that you had been wrong. When he was with his friends, Tommy H. and Carol, he was a jerk but when he wasn’t trying to show off, he was the sweetest boy alive. He asked you how you were every day that you worked with him, he spoke about movies he liked and about things he wanted to do. You found yourself opening up to him too, telling him your dreams in life. He would invite you to his house to study and when he first said it, you had immediately thought it was for sex so he immediately took it back and apologised. He told you he meant nothing like that but in order for you to be comfortable, that the two of you could meet at the library either after school or on the weekends. It was then your opinions of Steve Harrington changed. He wasn’t some dumb jock who cared about getting into girl’s underwear, he cared about your opinion, he praised you for being so good at History, he complimented you and he truly got to know you. He wanted to make you comfortable and when he saw that you were uncomfortable, he immediately tried to fix it. He was different.

The assignment took three weeks to complete and you had a spare week to go over everything. It was in that forth week that you began to realise that those secret glances you were stealing at Steve from across the table in the library wasn’t something a friend did. You realised that you laughing at his stupid jokes wasn’t out of pity, it was because he could actually make you laugh. You realised that in that fourth week when you said that you were comfortable to go hang out in his house to go over the assignment, it meant that you were comfortable with him. You realised as he was making you pasta for lunch at his house that you had feelings for him.

Although you’d been trying to ignore the feelings because you didn’t think someone like Steve could like someone like you but one day, Steve had introduced you to Tommy H. and Carol and they had made a comment about your weight. You were used to people saying things about your weight but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when people would say it to your face. You had went to leave but Steve caught your arm and started going off at his so called friends. It was in the moment that Steve admitted how he felt about you, telling his friends that you were the best person he’d ever met and you were the most beautiful girl to him. He had pulled you away as tears brimmed in your eyes. When you got to his car, Steve let out a long sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. He apologised for them and apologised that they had made you cry. But you had shaken your head and said they didn’t make you cry, it was him.

“Steve, you practically just said that you’re falling in love with me.”

“I, uh... I... So why are you crying?”

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

The rest is history. You and Steve got an A on your assignment and came out of it a couple. People didn’t understand your relationship but that was okay, you never asked them to.

You were brought back to reality when the Principal said, “Your new Prom King is... Steve Harrington!”

Steve fist pumped the air as the crowd clapped and cheered as he spun around to you, “I’m the King, baby!” He hugged you tightly as you planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Go get your crown, King.”

You watched him practically leap onto the stage, grinning and clapping. Sure, you didn’t understand why Prom King and Queen always caused such a fuss but you couldn’t help but be proud of him. He looked so handsome up on stage with his perfect hair and bright smile. The Depute Principal brought his crown over to him, Steve ducked down and she placed it on his head. You could hear him say, “Careful with the hair,” as she did do.

When he stood straight, he looked absolutely charming; grinning widely with his plastic crown on. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him. They announced Prom Queen to be Abigail Wickers, a popular blonde girl who was in the same class as you. Abigail looked beautiful as she stood next to Steve and you couldn’t help but feel like maybe that’s who people thought Steve should be with; someone prettier, someone skinnier... No. You wouldn’t go down that spiral. Steve loved you and you trusted him more than anything in the world. He loved your body and didn’t care that you were overweight with curves and stomach rolls. He loved the softness of your stomach and the jiggle in your thighs. Steve loved all of you.

As the lights dimmed and the crowd created a space in the middle of the dancefloor, it was announced that the Prom King and Prom Queen would start off Prom with a slow dance. It was always tradition, you weren’t sure why; a romantic slow dance to commemorate the occasion. You hadn’t realised that Steve hadn’t taken his eyes off of you the whole time, grinning at you.

Abigail Wickers held out her hand, ready for Steve to lead her to the dancefloor but instead, Steve jumped off the stage and began to walk towards you. You looked around, unsure of what was going on, and then back to Steve who had stopped just short of you. Around you people began to whisper as Abigail raged onstage.

“Care for a dance?” He asked with that lovable, goofy grin.

You could feel your cheeks burn as you gave an incredulous laugh, “You’re meant to dance with the Prom Queen, not me.”

Steve outstretched his hand and slowly, you took it. He led you out into the middle of the dance floor, “You are the Prom Queen of my heart,” he said before gesturing for someone to turn the music on. You didn’t know what song it was because all you could focus on was him, “Why dance with someone I don’t care about when I could dance with the girl I love instead?”

He pulled you closer to him and all you could do was stare at him with a smile, “You mean it?”

“Course I mean it. You’re the only one that I give a rat’s ass about, not Abigail; not anyone else here. Just you.”

The whispers of the other students had long since stopped and you barely realised that everyone had just kind of accepted it and were beginning to join in the slow dancing, “I love you, Prom King.” You laughed as you reached a hand up to fix his wonky crown.

“I love you too, Prom Queen of my Heart. Always and forever.”

#one shot #prompt #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #plus size reader #reader insert #plus size series #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington #stranger things #os #long prompt #written prompt

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blackacre13 · 2 years

Note

Could you do a Carol and Therese enemies to lovers fic? I’ve never really seen this trope when it comes to this pairing but I think if anyone could pull it off- it’d be you💗

“Hey! Terry!”

Therese rolled her eyes at the nickname, but pasted a smile on her face as she turned around to face her co-worker.

“John,” she nodded. “Something wrong? I’m wearing the hat. See?” She sighed, shaking the pom pom portion of the Santa hat at him to demonstrate.

“Nah, nah, nah,” he laughed, coming forward to lean over the counter as he waved her closer, urging her to lean in. “Just wanted to tell you I had this interaction with a customer. I mean what a bitch.”

“John,” Therese hissed, reaching out to smack his arm as he let out a yelp, shaking it dramatically as he winced. “You can’t talk about the customers like that. Forget it. You can’t talk to women like that.”

“You don’t understand, Terry,” he warned her. “I wouldn’t talk about just any woman like that, but she was all up in arms, trying to smoke on the floor. Something about her husband needing new damn skis and how he’d ruined Christmas and she just needed to get out of there and—you know what? You’ll see for yourself in a minute. Said something about having a daughter and had me direct her to the toy department, so don’t say I didn’t warn you when she blows through here.”

She had some choice words on the tip of her tongue, but thought better of it as she thanked him curtly and went back to studying her book, ducking half-behind the counter until she noticed a woman over by the train set, studying the little train chugging around the track with an amused look on her face that made Therese curious, but as much as she wasn’t a fan of John, her guard was certainly up now. This could’ve been the woman he had been talking about and her mood was already sour enough without a hysterical customer to make matters worse.

The blonde woman seemed to be smiling at her, probably about to ask for assistance, and Therese was suddenly grateful for the harried woman who appeared in front of her with a toddler in her arms, asking for directions to the bathroom, the blonde woman gone by the time Therese appeared back at the counter. She wasn’t sure why she was partially disappointed, but decided to thank her lucky stars that she had avoided extra chaos from customers around the holidays as she snuck another glimpse at her book, suddenly distracted by black leather gloves landing on the counter, Therese looking up as she swallowed thickly.

“Hi there,” the woman sighed with a tired smile. “Let’s hope you can help me more than that bastard in the ski department.”

And there was all the confirmation that she needed. No apology. No shame. And already setting Therese up for failure that she just wasn’t having.

“I’m looking for a doll,” she explained, her hands fumbling in the air as she tried to explain it. “She’s about—I don’t know—this tall and this…let me try that again, shall we?”

Therese merely frowned, studying the woman as she rummaged through her purse, finally producing a crumbled slip of paper that looked very much like a letter to Santa from a child that ordinarily would have made Therese’s heart flutter at the thought of such sweetness, but she was already more mad than she probably had any right to be, already having decided her opinion of this woman, who merely seemed dismissive, rich, snooty, and utterly ridiculous. Even if she was one of the most beautiful women Therese had ever seen.

“I was wondering if you might help me find this doll for my daughter,” she murmured softly, passing the slip over to the brunette as Therese snatched it from her, her eyes running over the messy scrawl.

“Well, that is what we do here,” Therese smiled sarcastically. “At the doll counter.”

The woman’s lips twitched with irritation, but her smile only broke for a moment, before she continued looking at Therese hopefully.

“Bright Betsy,” Therese nodded. “She cries.”

“Oh?” The blonde laughed. “I suppose I may want to rethink that choice then.”

“I suppose so,” Therese mocked through her fake smile. “Wets herself too. But, we’re out of stock.”

Luckily, Therese thought. Maybe the woman would go elsewhere to look for the screaming doll. A little, twisted part of her hoped that it drove her as crazy as much as the child loved it.

“Left it too long,” the blonde sighed, staring to rummage through her purse again. “Right. What was your favorite doll as a girl?”

Lucky again, Therese thought. She didn’t even have to lie. Therese had never wanted or played much with her dolls and didn’t have a recommendation for the woman.

“Me?” Therese laughed. “Not many—ever—nothing comes to mind. To be honest,” she added, not wanting to come across even ruder than she meant to be.

The blonde lifted a cigarette to her lips, placing it between them before rummaging again for a lighter, and Therese was happy to have an excuse to possibly have her removed from the store. Or at least, to direct her outside and then make her escape.

“Sorry,” Therese smiled. “No smoking on the sales floor.”

“Oh, of all the—“ the woman started, her face growing red. Here came the anger. But she seemed to cool down, rethinking the comeback she’d mapped in her mind. “Forgive me,” she sighed. “Shopping makes me nervous.”

Then leave, Therese thought. Go smoke your little cigarette outside.

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hannahshattuck · 3 years

Text

Captain Firefighter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight graphic description of injury, car accident

Steve Rogers Masterlist Main Masterlist

BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

You groaned as you slapped your hand around the nightstand trying to find your phone with the alarm going off. When you finally found it, you grabbed it and opened one eye to turn it off. You checked the time and realized you should get up to make sure you weren’t late on your first day at your new job. With a groan, you slowly sat up and noticed you were naked and had a pounding headache.

“Great. Hungover on the first day.” You mumbled as you rubbed your temples.

A groan behind you caught your attention. “God. I’m not drinking ever again.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw a blond man laying on his back rubbing his hands over his face. The blankets sat at his hips which put his built torso on display. His chest looked like a good place to rest your head and it seemed like his abs had abs. You quickly found your underwear on the floor and a navy blue tee shirt and put them on. You stood facing him and tried to smile even though it felt like a construction crew was in your skull.

“Um, hi.” You said.

The man brought his hands from his face and laid them on his chest. “Hi.”

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other and you hoped you were smiling more than grimacing. The man sat up, keeping the sheet covering him and stood looking for most likely his underwear. He found black boxer briefs and put them on without moving the sheet which was impressive to say the least.

Once he got them on, he dropped the sheet on the bed and found what seemed to be his jeans. He pulled them on and looked up at you and chuckled.

“I need my shirt.” He smirked.

You looked down. “Oh..” You found one of your sweatshirts in your dresser, along with shorts, and started towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. “I’m just gonna…” You trailed off pointing to the bathroom.

He smiled, “Alright.”

You ducked into the bathroom and quickly locked the door. “Oh god.” You whispered to yourself. You quickly changed out of his shirt and into your clothes.

You left the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge in your bed on his phone. You cleared your throat.

“Uh, here you go.” You held his shirt out to him. He stood up and it was then when you realized how tall he was. You were eye level with his chest and had to title your head up to look in his eyes that were a very bright blue.

He took his shirt and put it on without breaking eye contact. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” You hummed.

“I don’t remember a lot from last night but I do know you said you start a new job today so good luck on that and I hope you don’t feel too bad today.” He bent down and kissed your cheek. You felt your face heat up.

“I-I’ll walk you out.” You walked out your bedroom and led the way to the front door of your apartment. The living wasn’t a mess so that told you the two of you went straight to your room. You unlocked the front door and opened it to let him out. “I, uh, hope you have a good day.”

He smiled before he walked out the door, “You too.”

You closed the door and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. “Fuck me.”

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

You pulled up into an empty parking spot and grabbed your backpack with all your stuff once you parked. Looking towards the fire station, you saw both big garage doors open and saw your soon to be coworkers messing around or cleaning or working out. You swung your backpack over one shoulder and started walking toward the station.

“Hey! It’s the newbie!” You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw a dark skin man waving at you. “Hi! I’m Sam.”

“Hi.” You waved back.

“Wilson, keep mopping. It’s your fault there’s whip cream everywhere.” A red head woman said as she walked over to you. “Hi, I’m Natasha.” She held out her hand.

“Y/N.” You said, shaking her hand. “Do I want to know why he’s mopping up whip cream?” You chuckled.

Natasha playful rolled her eyes, “In between last night calls the boys were pulling pranks.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Natasha laughed. “They’re lucky it was our captain’s day off last night. Otherwise he would have laid into them and made them clean every nook and cranny of this place.”

“Is your captain here?” You fiddled with the strap of your backpack.

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. He texted me earlier saying he was gonna be running late. Apparently had a good night if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully which caused you to chuckle. “Let’s get you settled before he arrives.”

She led you to the lockers, where you filled yours, and gave a quick run down of where everything is before leading you to the ambulance. You found out that Natasha is one of the paramedics they have and you two would be partners.

“Okay, so here’s how everything is organized. We do share the ambulance with other shifts but we all got together and figured out where to put everything. If you figure out that a certain supply would be easier to grab in a different spot just send a quick text in the group chat we have for all the paramedics and EMTs. Oh! Speaking of which, let me get your number so I can add you.” Natasha pulled out her phone from her pocket and you gave her your number. “Most of the time we’re like a high school chat with the amount of memes we send.”

You chuckled knowing exactly what she meant. She continued to show you around the ambulance and then started to introduce you to the other firefighters. You already met Sam when you walked in and he seemed to be done with mopping the whipped cream. Then met James Barnes; who goes by Bucky because there’s two named James but it’s also a childhood nicknamed that stayed, Clint Barton; whose Golden Retriever named Lucky is the station dog and loves pizza apparently, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff; who are twins and moved to the States when they were kids, James Rhodes; who goes by Rhodey and is the other James, and then was told that Carol Danvers, Maria Hill, Peter Parker, Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne you would meet another time due to them being off.

“Sorry I’m late!” A voice boomed throughout the station. You turned in the direction of said voice and your breath got caught in your throat.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I know right.” Natasha smirked. “I’m kidding. One thing you’ll quickly see is how we all tease each other.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “Oh okay.”

He noticed you standing with Natasha and you saw his face pale before he schooled his features and walked over to you. He was now wearing the same uniform everyone else was and it was fitting him perfectly just like the jeans and tee he put on this morning when he left your apartment.

“Hi there. You must be the new EMT we were sent.” He placed his hands in the pockets of his pants and stood there exuding authority.

“Uh, yeah.” You tried to smile hoping it was an actual smile.

“Steve. Or Captain Rogers. Or Rogers. Or Cap like everyone else seems to call me.” He chuckled as he held his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N.” You said as you shook his hand while your brain so helpfully supplied an image of those hands around your waist.

“Let’s head to my office before we get a call. There’s some housekeeping things I want you to know.”

You hummed an acknowledgement and followed him to his office trying to keep your gaze in the middle of his back or the floor so as to not focus on his behind that was contained by the uniform pants. Steve opened the door and motioned for you to walk through the doorway.

“You can have a seat in one of those chairs if you’d like.”

You quickly walked over to the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. He sat in the rolling chair on the other side and leaned back in the chair studying you. Instead of meeting his gaze, you looked down at your pants picking off pieces of invisible lint.

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat and leaned forward to place his forearms on his desk with his fingers interlocked with each other. “I will say that this is not how I expected this shift to go.”

You chuckled, still staring at your pants. “You and me both.”

“I don’t want to make this uncomfortable for you and I can work it out to where we won’t be on the same shift. But, I do want you to be here because I’ve seen your scores for all the tests and they’re phenomenal.” Steve said.

“Thanks,” You mumbled with a slight heat in your cheeks. “And you don’t have to change anything. I’ll admit it might be weird the first couple days but I’ll be fine.” You gain the courage to look at him and saw his ocean blue eyes watching you.

“Not to make this any more awkward than it kinda is but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left your place.” Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. “I promise I’m not trying to come onto you but, uh, I just needed to say that.” He looked down at his desk and fiddled with his thumbs.”

“Well if it’s any consolation I haven't stopped thinking about you either.” You smiled.

Steve opened his mouth to say something but then the bell rang signaling that there was a call. “Well, let’s start your first shift.”

You two stood up from your seats and Steve opened the door for you to go first. You gave him a smile as you thanked him.

“Let’s do that.” You chuckled and took off towards the ambulance with Natasha.

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

It’s been a few months since your first day and the team has felt more like a family every day. Natasha has felt like a sister to you, Sam has gotten a run for his money when you’ve played pranks and your relationship with Steve has gotten…...closer. You ended up telling Natasha that you slept with him and she couldn’t help but laugh. When you asked why she was laughing she said, “Well, I don’t blame you. He is a nice snack.” You couldn’t disagree with her on that. Steve and you talked about how you two wouldn’t let that night affect you two working together but neither of you could ignore that there were feelings for the other.

“Hey Y/N!! Can you call Lucky over? He keeps trying to drink the soapy water!” Clint yells across the firehouse where he, Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey were trying to was one of the trucks.

“Yeah. No problem. Lucky! C’mere!” You whistled. The Golden Retriever came bounding over to you and jumped into your arms licking you all over your face. You giggled as you gently pushed him away to go over to his toys and grabbed a tug rope.

As you were playing with Lucky and wearing him out, the alarm that signaled a call sounded. Dispatch said an ambulance was needed for a car accident. It was always difficult to tell how bad car accidents are until you get there. You and Wanda, who you found out was another EMT, were on shift and ran to the ambulance to head to where the accident was. The accident was at an intersection that always had a lot of accidents whether it be minor or major.

When you and Wanda arrived, there were already two ambulances there which told the two of you how bad it was. There were at least six cars involved. One was wrapped around a tree, two looked like they collided head on, and the three rear ended each other. There looked to be people out of some cars but your biggest worry was the one wrapped around the tree. You asked one of the other EMTs if any of them checked on the patient of the car around the tree and they said they got there a few seconds before you and Wanda.

You yelled for Wanda to grab the bags while you ran over to check on whoever it was in the car. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw it was Steve in the driver’s seat. He was unconscious, slumped over the steering wheel. You gently leaned him back so you could check his front for injuries. Steve had a cut above his eyebrow causing blood to trickle down his face, his left arm was broken which also had the bone poking through the skin, the steering wheel dashboard trapped his legs which caused you to not assess the injuries there.

“Oh my god.” Wanda gasped when she saw who it was.

“Wanda,” You turned to look at her. “I know it’s Steve but we treat him like every other person we’ve treated before. Okay?”

She swallowed and nodded her head. Wanda pulled out a cervical collar and handed it to you so you can place it around Steve’s neck to prevent any hidden injuries from getting worse. You called over your shoulder to have Wanda get the spine board. She nodded and ran to the ambulance. A groan pulled your attention back to the man in the banged up vehicle.

“Steve? Hey big guy. Can you open your eyes for me?” You gently coaxed.

“Wha-? Y/N? What are you doin here?” His speech was slurred but you couldn’t tell if it was because he was regaining consciousness or if the cut on his head was more than just a cut.

“You got in a car accident. Do you know what happened?” You asked as you placed the collar around his neck.

Steve scrunched his face trying to think. “I-I can’t remember.” He started to panic. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Steve, you need to calm down.” You grabbed his wrists so he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Right now I need to check over your injuries.” You heard footsteps behind you and saw the spine board placed next to you. Wanda started getting stuff out of the bag to bandage the cut on Steve’s head.

The two of you started to assess what you could see but you knew the steering wheel dashboard needed to get moved. You stood up and turned to see if there were any firefighters who could help and saw Sam, Bucky, Clint, and Rhodey all running over to you. They looked over your shoulder and saw it was Steve.

“What do you need?” Sam asked.

“His legs are trapped so we need to get those out.”

“Alright. Guys, let’s get the equipment to help.” The men took off back to the fire engine and you turned your attention back to Steve.

“Hey. I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?” You asked Steve. He mumbled a ‘yes’ and you started asking questions which would assess his mental status. You heard many pairs of footsteps running back over to you and saw Sam out the corner of your eye. You, Sam, and the rest of your team who were there, worked together to get Steve out from being trapped in the car. Once his legs were free, you all placed him on the spine board while Clint and Wanda went to get the gurney.

“Everything hurts.” Steve groaned in pain.

“I know, honey.” Unintentionally letting the pet name slip out. “I’m gonna get you some meds for that.” You got everything to get an IV in his arm to distribute pain meds. Wanda and Clint came back with the gurney and everyone loaded him up on the gurney, then into the ambulance, and Wanda jumped in the driver seat and started heading to the hospital.

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “I’m glad that you were there.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “Well I’m glad that you’re alright for the most part.”

“You called me ‘honey’.”

“Eh. Pet names like that slip from me at times. Sorry if it was unprofessional.”

He gently shook his head as best he could with the collar on. “No, I actually liked it.”

You could see a sense of determination in his eyes. “How ‘bout we focus on you getting better before we talk about possibly dating and what that means for our jobs.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”

“Steve. Honey.” You winked at him. “It’s my job to check for even the smallest facial expressions in order to see how much pain someone is in.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

You shook your head chuckling, checking over his injuries you could see to make sure none have gotten worse.

Wanda pulled into the ambulance bay of the hospital where three nurses met you and helped you roll Steve into the hospital. He went to surgery for his arm and to make sure there were know serious internal injuries. You were there by his bedside in recovery when he woke up. The two of you would figure out logistics with the budding relationship at a later date but knew you couldn’t wait too long.

Steve mumbled as he was coming out of the anesthesia. He opened his eyes a bit and saw you sitting there. “Hi.” He closed his eyes with a smile on his face.

You smiled. “Hi. How you feeling?”

Steve mumbled incoherently which caused you to chuckle.

“Alright.” You grabbed his right hand, being careful of the IV line, in both of yours. “You get more rest.” Steve mumbled more as you placed a kiss on his knuckles.

Tags: @patzammit @bobbydearest @katiew1973 @rocketrhap3000 @harrysthiccthighss @justamarvelfan14 @this-kitten-is-smitten

#steve rogers x reader #firefighter!Steve #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #hannahshattuck writings

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

Photo

Word Count: 5796 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader Gender: Female Era: The prison Summary: After a close call on a run, the archer explodes at you.

Warnings: Language

Your name: submit What is this?

Another run, another disaster. You needed supplies. What you got was a pile of problems. Daryl, Maggie, Glenn and you ended up in a tight spot with far more walkers than you had expected. You were trapped inside a small flower shop with walkers banging on all the exits.

“How many you got, Glenn?” you whispered harshly to him over the banging fists and gnashing jaws.

“Uhh, too many out this way. Maybe twenty. Possibly more.”

“Fuck…” you muttered. You rushed back to Daryl and Maggie who were both leaning against the side door with all their weight to keep it closed. “Too many out Glenn’s way,” you relayed. You sighed and wiped a slightly shaky hand across your sweaty brow. “I—I’m gonna clear out the back.”

“What?!” Maggie snapped, readjusting her back against the door. “You said there were ten walkers out there.”

Daryl shook his head vehemently. “Nah! That’s too many. Ya can’t—”

“We don’t have a goddamn choice! Look, it’s the exit with the fewest geeks, so unless either of you can suddenly come up with a new and brilliant idea in the next five seconds, I’m doing it!” You waited, staring at both of them.

You shook your head. “You’ve gotta keep this door shut with Maggie until the back is clear. She and I won't be enough. I’m going.”

“Wait—Y/N!” Daryl yelled after you but you were already gone, disappearing into the back stockroom. “Son of a bitch!” Daryl was letting fly a lengthy string of expletives and there was panic in his eyes. Maggie noticed the overwhelming distress on his face as her own stomach flipped.

“She’s—she’s a good fighter,” Maggie stammered.

“And she’s too damn impulsive!” Daryl yelled, straining to keep his weight against the door behind them. “If we get outta this, and she makes it, I’mma kill her,” he growled. Maggie gulped.

In the back room you could hear the walkers still on the other side of the door and you steeled yourself, checking the magazine of your pistol and making sure there was a bullet chambered. You unsnapped the loop on top of your knife’s sheath and heaved in a forced breath. Here we fuckin’ go. You unlocked the door, barely opened it, putting your boot in the way to try and hold it open just enough for you to get your knife into the space. But the pressure of the walkers on the other side was too great for you to manage it for long. You stabbed your knife into the temple of the nearest walker pressing its face toward you in the opening and it was immediately replaced with another.

“Can ya hear anythin’?” Daryl asked desperately.

Maggie shook her head. “No! Just hold on,” she urged. Her back was sweaty from exertion and the stuffy air inside the store and she was starting to slide down the door behind her, constantly having to readjust her position to keep her bodyweight against it beside Daryl.

Just then there was a tremendous crash from the back room followed by gun shots. Daryl and Maggie exchanged a desperate look but the walkers outside the door just behind them had obviously heard the noise too and they attempted to surge forward. Daryl’s boots began to slide on the floor.

“We aren’t gonna be able to hold this much longer!” Maggie yelled, straining to press back into the door and hold the flood of walkers at bay. Over the groaning and mawing she and Daryl could hear more bangs in the back room.

Daryl leaned his head back against the door and shut his eyes for a moment. He felt sick, terrified. What if you were—? He couldn’t hear anything else from the stockroom. “Fuck this,” he growled, glancing at Maggie next to him. As if on cue, Glenn showed up and added his weight to the door behind them.

“I got the entrance jammed shut finally. Where’s Y/N?” he asked, incredulous.

“She went to clear the back way out,” Maggie said.

“What?!” Glenn’s eyes went wide.

“We ain’t waitin’ anymore! C’mon. On the count of three we make a run for the back,” Daryl said. “One. Two…”

Right then you emerged from the back room covered in walker blood, sweaty, your chest heaving, and looking completely exhausted. More concerning was a stream of blood pouring down the side of your face from a gash near your hairline. You absently wiped it out of your eye with your sleeve. “It’s clear! Let’s go!” you yelled at the trio, who were all staring at you in bewilderment.

“…Three!” Daryl said, and they threw themselves forward off the door. It immediately flung open and a flood of walkers began to pour in behind you all. “Go, go, go!” Daryl roared. He tossed anything he could get his hands on in their path behind him as he ran.

They leaped over the bodies of fallen walkers and debris as they rushed through the stockroom, but there it was—the back door standing open, sunlight streaming in, free of any biting jaws or clawing hands. Daryl slammed the door closed behind him as he exited the building but there was no telling how long it would hold.

You were all out of breath but had to keep going.

“Let’s get to the van. Now,” Daryl drawled, not even stopping to glance at any of you.

“My God,” Maggie said, looking over at you as you ran. “Your head—are you alright?” she asked you.

You pressed your sleeve to the gash again and nodded. “Yeah. I think so. You know, head wounds always bleed a lot. Looks worse than it is.”

“What happened?” Glenn asked, running beside his wife, one hand on the strap of his pack and the other entwined with Maggie’s.

“When they started coming in, I had to slow them down. They were coming too fast for me to kill. I pulled those shelves down but it was a bit of a domino effect.”

“Ain’t the place for story time,” Daryl snapped over his shoulder. “Let’s just get the hell outta here.”

You made it back to the van, exhausted, clutching a stitch in your side, your head pounding. You collapsed into the passenger seat as Daryl slid in behind the wheel. You shut your eyes for a brief moment, finally feeling the tightness in your lungs lessen, but you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you and you glanced over. They were narrowed but his expression was unreadable.

“What?” you asked in an undertone.

You thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense but he simply looked away and started up the van. Soon you were behind the safe, high fences of the prison, climbing out and truly feeling the pain in your head now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Carol and Carl ran to greet you all when you came in. Her eyes clouded with concern as she saw your bloodstained face. “Are you alright?” she asked you urgently, taking your chin gently and turning your head to the side so she could inspect the gash.

“Fine,” you said. “I think. Hurts a bit…”

“I’ll get Hershel so he can take a look at you. I think he’s planting in the garden plot with Rick. I’ll send him up,” Carol said. She paused to give Daryl, who was hanging back, a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and a once over.

You glanced back and he had the same moody expression on his face. It had been a close call for all of you but you couldn’t help but feel like his irritation was directed specifically at you. You tried to shrug it off, but couldn’t suppress the twisting knot in your chest.

Maggie and Glenn broke off to grab some fresh water and Carol went over to talk to Hershel, Carl trailing behind her. That left just you and Daryl heading up to the cell block. The air was tense between you as you crossed the yard but as you stepped into the small common area just outside the cells, it was like it suddenly ignited white-hot.

Daryl threw his bag down angrily on one of the tables and your eyes snapped over to him.

You were a little worried your voice would shake when you spoke. “What’s the matter?” you asked him.

“Are ya shittin’ me?” he challenged you, his chest thrust forward, his eyes now locked on your face.

Your heart started to race and you gulped at the constriction that had suddenly appeared in your throat.

“That was real dumb what ya did back there today!” Daryl roared, pointing an accusatory finger directly at you. His eyes kept flickering up to the gash in your head and his stomach twisted every time. “You’re lucky all you got was that thing on your forehead!”

“What—I—” you stared at him, in shock from his rage. “I got us out of there… I had to.” “Nah. It wasn’t your call to make,” he spat back venomously.

You scoffed. “It was nobody’s call to make, Daryl! We were trapped and we had to get out. We were sitting ducks. Sooner or later they were going to come through the glass up front by Glenn or through that door right behind you and Maggie. I made a choice. And what I did, it didn’t thrust anybody but me right into danger. I can choose to gamble my own life if I want to! Hell, you do it all the time!”

This only seemed to infuriate him more. “Ya ain’t goin’ on runs anymore,” he roared, turning and stalking toward the door that led to the cells. His broad shoulders were squared and rigid.

You let out a noise of disbelief. “That isn’t your decision! And don’t walk away from me! I’ve had enough of this bullshit!”

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” Daryl spat back over his shoulder.

You let out a frustrated groan. “Ugh! You are so infuriating! What is your problem with me? I haven’t done a damn thing to you and you treat me like I’m a complete waste of space! It’s like I can never do anything right for you, even when I save your ass!”

He spun around and took a few powerful steps back toward you, a scowl on his face, his blue eyes darker than usual. You refused to wilt under it. “This ain’t a shrink’s office, okay? And I sure as shit didn’t sign up for a little feel-good chat. So, why don’t ya leave me alone and go get your damn head stitched up.” He thrust a hand against the back of a nearby chair and it toppled over, echoing harshly in the high ceiling. You watched his broad shoulders shrinking away from you.

“No,” you said loudly, forcefully.

He froze mid-stride and you watched his fist clench and unclench at his side. He slowly turned to face you. “The hell did ya just say?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, resisting the urge to back down beneath his intense stair. “I said no. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck your problem is with me.”

His jaw clenched hard and he started back toward you, that familiar stalk and swagger in his gait. “You are my problem. You’re always getting in my damn way!”

You were trying to stay cool, but your confusion and his unwillingness to explain his anger was infuriating. “In your way? What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean what I said.” He pointed a finger in your face, standing hardly a foot from you now. “On runs. On hunts. Scavenging. Hell, even around here!” Daryl wasn’t prepared for the flash of hurt that crossed your face. You were always so tough, admittedly one of the things he loved about you. He hadn’t considered that his words might actually impact you so heavily, but he saw it flash in your eyes as plain as day and it snapped him out of his rage and filled him suddenly with regret.

Your brow furrowed and you just stared back at him, unwavering, puzzled, like you were trying your hardest to understand just what he was talking about, scrutinizing every past interaction you’d ever had with the archer, running over the events of the day, trying to decode his harsh words. Daryl would have preferred it if you had yelled back again, even if you had stormed out. But this? This was tying him up in knots inside in a worse way. You just went on looking at him… with that blood all down the side of your face.

And when you did finally speak your tone was so soft, so controlled in contrast to his that it only made him feel worse. Your words were measured. “Well, uhh… Sorry. I guess I’ll just—try harder to stay out of your way.”

And that was it. You just breezed past him and headed toward your cell, the sun coming through the high windows glinting off the shine in your hair before you disappeared. Daryl rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. You worthless piece of shit. Why the hell did ya do that? He cursed himself internally. You’re such an asshole.

_ _ _ _ _ _

That night the air was unseasonably cold but despite the chill you were spending the night on the outside balcony of the guard tower during your shift to keep watch. Every so often you shivered in the cold, but something about the bite of the air matched your mood after Daryl had exploded at you the way he had earlier. It was sharp, unexpected.

You still didn’t really understand what he had meant and you couldn’t stop puzzling over it. In his way? What the hell did he mean? Literally? Or did he mean something more… figurative?

The clank of the door behind you snapped you out of your swirling thoughts and you looked over your shoulder to see Rick emerging.

“Hey,” you greeted him, shrugging a little more deeply into your flannel.

“Hey,” he drawled back, coming to lean his forearms on the railing beside you and stare out across the yard. It was quiet tonight. He was grateful for that. “Cold tonight isn’t it?” he mused aloud, glancing over at you. When you didn’t respond and just continued staring into the night his brow contracted. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” your eyes finally snapped to his. “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. I thought you were supposed to be resting tonight,” you said pointedly. “I can handle the next shift. I’m not tired anyway.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, turning back to let his eyes wander across the perimeter. “Not tired? Even after that run today? Maggie said you all had a close call.”

You nodded. “We did. But we all came back so… about as good a day as any. Can’t ask for more than that.”

“Mmm,” Rick hummed again in agreement. There was a long silence and you could feel some growing tension in it, sensed that Rick was searching for how to say just what he was mulling over. He did finally manage it. “This whole ‘not tired’ thing have anything to do with that fight you and Daryl had this afternoon?”

You gulped and looked down at your hands. “You heard that? I really thought everyone was outside…”

“They were. I just happened to be coming in to clean up a bit.”

You sighed heavily and felt your cheeks redden a little. You put one hand up to your face. “That’s… great…” you muttered.

Rick turned so he was facing you, just leaning on the railing with one elbow now. “I wouldn’t worry about what Daryl said or how he said it…” he drawled. You looked at him like he was insane.

“…you did say you heard him, right?”

Rick nodded. “Oh, yeah. I heard ‘im. But there’s a saying and it truly does apply to Daryl Dixon.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.

“The dog that barks the loudest? That’s the one that’s the most afraid.” Rick watched you puzzling over his words for a moment before you turned back to the night.

“Afraid?” you repeated. “Daryl? He’s like—the most fearless of all of us.”

Rick sighed and followed your lead, again looking out into the darkness. “He is. Until he isn’t. Listen, I’m not making excuses for how he yelled at you. All I’m saying is not to think on it too hard.” He straightened up and pulled off his jacket, holding it out for you. “Take this. It’s cold. I’m gonna take this opportunity while Judith is asleep to also sleep. Let’s hope I didn’t just jinx it. Ya sure you’re alright up here?”

You nodded and slipped Rick’s jacket on. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alright.” He patted your shoulder kindly before again leaving you alone with your thoughts, possibly even more confused than you had been before.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were exhausted by the time you climbed down from the guard tower the next morning as the sun was cresting over the trees. All you could think about was collapsing into your bed. The prison was still fairly silent as you came in, most people still sleeping. You yawned as you turned the corner into the room just outside the row of cells. When you looked up you saw Daryl sitting on one of the tables sharpening some bolts for his bow. You actually froze, before forcing yourself to move out of your falter.

You could feel his eyes on you as you crossed the room, purposefully giving him a wide berth, your head tilted down. When you turned into the cell block you let out an exhale you hadn’t meant to hold. You breezed into your cell and collapsed down onto your bed, hugging the pillow as you sank into it, too tired even to pull the sheet across the doorway. You were asleep the next minute.

Carol was up and found Daryl still in the same place you had seen him, but although he had a bolt in one hand and his knife in the other his hands were still. He seemed frozen there, just glaring into space across the room, obviously in some deep thought.

“Mornin’, Pookie,” she said, ruffling his hair just to annoy him.

He let out a growl and leaned away from her hand before glancing over at her, his lips pressed together in a thin line. She knew the look in his eyes. Something was eating him. “What’s wrong?” He let out a non-committal hum and shrugged his shoulders vaguely, his hands suddenly fidgeting endlessly with the bolt between his fingers. “Obviously something,” she prompted him again. Daryl glanced back over his shoulder toward the cell block. “What?” Carol pressed.

He only hummed again and shrugged. “What’re ya doin’?” he asked quietly.

“Just gonna go out and haul some water. Wanna come?” she asked.

He nodded and hopped to his feet, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and sheathing his knife. He followed Carol out into the morning light and trailed behind her as she went to the waterline. As she waited for the bucket to fill she straightened up and wiped the dirt from her hands. “Are you going to talk to me or not? I can tell something is bothering you.”

Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and thought hard for a moment. He’d hardly slept. He’d laid awake on his bed roll all night, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and tracing them with his eyes over and over in a futile attempt to distract his mind. It didn’t work.

“I just—I screwed up yesterday. Big time. And I—” he shrugged. “I dunno how to fix it. Or if I even can,” he drawled.

Carol watched the turmoil in his eyes. She crossed her arms and studied him. “Is this about the run yesterday? Did something happen out there?”

“Kinda. Not exactly.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than that to go on.”

“I just—I said some things yesterday and… they ain’t even really true.” He was staring down at his boots, and in that moment, it struck Carol how boyish he looked.

“We all say things we don’t mean from time to time. You just have to apologize,” she said thoughtfully. “We’re a family here. Family forgives.”

Daryl’s eyes shot up to hers again and he shrugged, chewing on the side of his thumbnail. “Just like that? I dunno. Don’t seem that simple.”

“Daryl, it happens to all of us. We say things out of anger, exhaustion… hunger. Fear.” She stooped to turn off the flow of the water.

“But—when ya’ve said somethin’ and—and, I mean, ya can’t unsay it. Even if ya apologize, whatever ya said is still out there,” he mused. There was a gruff rasp in his throat, the gravel in his deep voice heavier than usual.

Carol sighed and picked up the bucket. “Well, the first question you have to answer for yourself is why you said whatever it was you said in the first place. And just apologize and try to explain.” She watched his expression. He didn’t look any less uneasy. “Just try. See what happens. If it blows up in your face you can come back and let me have it,” she joked.

Daryl rolled his eyes and watched Carol head back up to the prison. He remained standing down by the fence, leaning against it, and wondering how he was going to explain away his outburst at you… wondering if you would, if you could, forgive him.

The truth was that he was terrified of something happening to you, and being helpless as he held the door while you so willingly threw yourself into danger was agonizing. And that fear had come out in a blast directed right at you, with all sorts of unsaid things behind it.

There was a shuffle near the entrance of your cell and you shot awake, sitting partially up on one elbow and barely catching a glimpse of the back of Daryl’s vest as he moved out of view. Had he been standing there looking in at you? Did he need something? You puzzled over it and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You were probably just imagining that shuffle. He was most likely just walking by. Just then you saw Rick going past your cell in the opposite direction with Judith in his arms and you jumped up, realizing you were still wearing his jacket. You hastily pulled it off and jogged to catch up with him. “Rick!” He turned. “Hey. Thanks for this,” you said, holding it out to him.

He accepted it with a nod. “You can borrow it anytime you want to take over my shift,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed lightly. “I guess the little one let you get some sleep then, huh?” you asked, fondly stroking Judith’s soft hair.

“She did. I think she’s getting better at this whole sleep thing. Soon she’ll go straight through the night,” Rick said.

“That’s great,” you said.

“Hey, I know you were up all night but… I think there’s a bit of a pile up on the fence. If you’re rested up enough would you mind—”

“No problem,” you said urgently, grateful for a task to distract you. “I’ll get out there right away.” In a few minutes you were down at the fence, a sharp metal rod in your hand. You plunged it into a walker’s skull through the fence and immediately moved to the next one… and the next… Despite the cooler temperatures in anticipation of autumn, you were drenched in sweat. You were grateful for the ability to focus on the heaviness of the metal rod in your hands and the snarls of the walkers separated from you by nothing more than a thin barrier of chain link. It was hard work and you’d been at it a long time.

Maggie was just thinking the same thing and she came to stand beside Daryl, who was also looking out across the yard and seemed to be watching you. “She’s been out there for hours. We should tell her to come in and take a rest. Get somethin’ to eat,” she thought aloud.

“Mhm,” Daryl agreed, not looking away from you.

Maggie glanced over at him. “Well, do you wanna go and try to convince her or should I?”

The archer chewed his bottom lip for a moment before straightening up. “I’ll do it.” He headed for the far end of the yard. As he approached, he could see your skin was glistening with sweat in the sun, the hair on the nape of your neck sticking in the heat. He tried to ignore the jump his heart gave and the warmth blooming in his chest as he approached. “Ya keep at it like this you’re gonna drop out here,” he said loudly, trying to make sure you would hear him over the snarls of the walkers.

You spun in surprise, the metal rod hanging along your side, a bit of walker blood and gore dripping off the end. Daryl’s voice was just about the last one you expected to hear. You turned back to the fence and stabbed another walker. “I’m fine,” you said over your shoulder.

“Nah. Ya been out here long enough. C’mon.” You only continued at your grim work, your shoulders tensing as you raised the rod. “Ya deaf or somethin’?” Daryl yelled.

You turned and looked at him again, your expression mostly blank, except for your furrowed brow. “I’m not deaf. I’m—” you sighed and crossed your hands over your chest. “What are you even doing down here?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Daryl’s blue eyes looked away for a moment. “What d’ya mean?” He was gripping the chain link in front of him, his fingers poking through.

“I mean, yesterday. Me down here working on the fence is about as out of your way as I could get, Daryl. And now you’re here.”

You watched as he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and bit it anxiously. “That why you’ve been out here so long?” he asked.

“No, I—Rick asked me to come down and—”

“Mmm. Mhm,” Daryl hummed, his nose inclining a little. “Ya, that makes sense. You’d do anything Rick asked of ya, right?”

You gave him a confused look. His tone was so… odd, almost hostile. “What are you—”

“Yeah, I saw ya earlier. Wearin’ his jacket. Givin’ it back to him…” He felt a swell of jealousy in his chest as he thought of you laughing, your eyes fixed on Rick’s face, light in your eyes.

Your jaw dropped open. “I was—it was cold last night. I was on watch. I was taking over Rick’s shift too and he came up to check on things and left me his jacket… What are—are you—?” You were bewildered. It sounded like Daryl was jealous. What the hell was happening? One day he’s screaming at you to stay out of his way and the next he’s acting like he’s under the spell of a particular green-eyed monster. Daryl scoffed and straightened up off the fence. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it. Just you and Rick up in the guard tower. Alone,” he growled, flicking his hand in your direction.

“Are you kidding me? What the hell is going on with you?!” you asked, flabbergasted. “Not that this is even relevant or any of your damn business... and Rick’s a good man but I’m not interested in him like that. I don’t know what—”

Daryl interrupted you again. “Uh huh, ya. He is a good man. Only one here now, right?” Daryl spat back.

You were stunned. “Daryl! Daryl!” He had turned away again and started stalking back up toward the prison, but you were now infuriated and let out a frustrated growl before booking it for the gates that would let you get back into the yard.

By the time you made it, he was a good distance ahead of you, out in the middle of the grassy area and you had to run to catch up to him. “Hey!” you yelled, grabbing onto his shoulder lightly. He threw your hand off and spun around, but you were surprised to see that he didn’t look mad anymore. He looked… defeated. But now you were mad. “Are you gonna fucking explain to me what the hell is going on with you?!? I don’t know what to think! One minute you’re screaming at me to stay out of your goddamn way and the next you’re acting jealous because—what, you think I’m fucking Rick? Which, I’m not, by the way, not that it is any of your damn business.” You scoffed. “And just FYI, I don’t appreciate you trying to tell me what I can and can’t do! Now, what the hell is going on?” you demanded.

He stood there in front of you, his fists clenched at his sides, just looking back at you for a long moment, blue eyes narrowed in either a glare or a squint against the Georgia sun. He couldn’t stop looking at the neat row of stitches on your forehead and the dark bruising around them that had developed over night. His stomach twisted every time. He tore his eyes away and stared down at his boots, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I—you’re right.”

“…what?”

He sighed heavily and looked back up, meeting your eyes again. “M’sorry. Ya just—I thought I was gonna lose ya out there yesterday.”

You just continued to stare at him, confusion muddying your expression.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment trying to come up with the right words to explain, to apologize. “Ya scared the shit outta me, pullin’ what ya did. And every time ya go out there, I can’t stop thinkin’ about what if somethin’ happens to ya. And it almost—it’s like I can’t breathe.”

You just stared at the archer, your heart continuing to race in your chest, but not from anger anymore.

“And I know it isn’t fair that I yelled at ya like I did. I was bein’ a jackass. I guess it was just how all that fear… came out. And I didn’t mean how it sounded.” Now that he had started talking it was almost like he couldn’t stop.

“Then what did you mean?” You felt like you were imagining this.

“I meant that…” he licked his bottom lip nervously and his blue eyes met yours. “I couldn’t bear it if somethin’ happened to ya.” He studied your expression for a moment, his eyes landing on the soft pout of your lips. “And I was jealous of you and Rick.”

“Daryl, there’s nothing—”

“I know. I know…” he trailed off. “But I was an asshole and then ya were wearing his jacket and smilin’ at him, laughin’, and I just—” He gulped at the restriction in his throat. “I—I wanna be that for ya.”

Your brain still wasn’t entirely registering what he was saying, but the way he was looking down at you was certainly sending jolts of electricity through you. “Be what?”

His eyes flickered between your lips and eyes repeatedly and you felt like you were waiting in anticipation on the edge of something. He shrugged vaguely. “Everythin’. Anythin’ ya need,” he said simply.

“…so, when you said that I’m in your way—?”

“I meant I can’t hardly think of anythin’ but you all the time.” Daryl was quickly losing his courage, nerves starting to take over and he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously. You were looking up at him but he couldn’t read your expression. It was seemingly blank, and finally he was so anxious he started to turn away, but your hand landed on his arm gently and he looked back at the contact of your skin on his before his eyes rose and met your gaze.

There was a small smile on your face and Daryl’s heart leapt even as he tried to prepare himself for disappointment. “Where do you think you’re going?” you asked quietly. He again squared his feet to yours, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. Your hand was still on his forearm and it felt like it was sending out radiating waves of heat.

Your smile faded and your expression became more serious. “Everything you just said—is how I feel about you.”

Daryl gulped, feeling suddenly breathless in disbelief. Your hand dropped from his arm, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

“Listen, I’m on watch duty again tonight. First shift. I’ll probably be cold. Why don’t you come keep me company and maybe bring me a jacket,” you said, with a small smile.

Daryl’s heart leapt at the thought of spending so much time with you alone. He nudged his nose up in a nod and was about to leave when he felt your hand on his arm again. You arched up onto your toes and placed a kiss on his cheek, giving him a warm smile, he felt he didn’t deserve. He stood rooted in place in the middle of the grassy field, a hesitant excitement blooming in his chest, as he watched you disappear into the safety of the prison.

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