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#but carol refuses to use sun energy to help him so he's working on it with a hairdryer
worstloki · 3 years
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Watching Captain Marvel get ready to take on Loki at the end of What If was lowkey hilarious to me because she's super powered by the Tesseract (which Loki has never had a negative effect from) so I can just see her going and blasting him with a Tesseract energy surge and it not even phasing him
she's going to have to physically fight him XD
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strawberrysoup · 4 years
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Down with the Ship || Chapter 1
You never could’ve expected a celebration to go so, so wrong. The land was foreign, too warm compared to the Cold Lands, and filled with horrible people. Horrible people that planned to sell you to the highest bidder — who, as you’d come to learn, was the ruler of the stupid seaside city. She was a beautiful empress, the high priestess and war general her consorts and evidently, your new masters. Human beings shouldn’t be given as gifts, much less called ‘pets’, and you found the ship that was your life sinking so much faster than you ever could’ve expected.
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rating: M | 18+ chapters: at least 7, not sure chapter: 1/? relationship: dark!carol danvers x dark!natasha romanoff x dark!valkyrie x reader warnings: noncon&dubdon, pet play, degradation&humiliation, kidnapping, slavery, detailed warnings to be included per chapter; read more and CTRL+F to search ‘content warnings’ to skip to the more detailed tags at the bottom of the chapter. 
note: hey guys, this story was inspired by @scarlettwlw​ who helped me come up with the idea! if you enjoy this story, please consider donating to my ko-fi or buying me a birthday present from my wishlist! 
The night sky through the bars of your cage was beautiful, bright stars and a glowing moon casting a vibrant glow over the plaza, a gaudy waste if you’d ever seen one. There were stones laid in the ground to aid the turn of wheels, as if the dips and grooves didn’t cause wagons to stutter and bounce hopelessly. At least dirt roads could be cared for with regular maintenance to prevent damage, like the welts crisscrossing your entire back side down to the soles of your feet where the bars of the cage had dug more and more painfully into your flesh the longer you were forced to rest your weight on them.
It might’ve been the cage’s fault you hated the stone road—the bumps made it impossible for your bare feet to find purchase on the bars and you fell, constantly, if you tried to stand while the horses hauled you and two others earlier in the day. One memorable event had seen to your feet slipping through the bars, your left leg bashing against a rock so hard you felt something crack. Screaming had been a mistake though. The man steering the horses had nearly caved your face in for causing damages. The damages that could’ve been prevented with carefully pressed dirt roads. You never would’ve caused damages if you hadn’t been in the stupid fucking cage to begin with.  
You couldn’t remember exactly what had happened. Your village had been celebrating the winter solstice beneath the auroras. It marked your 18th winter, in fact, which meant you’d been drinking vodka like water most of the day. There was music and dancing and the food had smelled wonderful, but then the scent of smoke had grown more intrusive than the bonfire should’ve caused.
The screaming came after that. There had been blood and fire and so much screaming but you could barely remember what happened—your head still pounded with the after effects of the alcohol and extreme dehydration, but you had no idea how long it had been since that night. You’d been attacked and woke up in the bowels of a ship, vomiting profusely from both the vodka and the blow to the head you’d taken. The fucking cage had come an indeterminate amount of time later, when the boat finally docked.  
It wasn’t nearly as cold as it should’ve been. There was no snow and the brisk night air made you shiver but certainly wasn’t unbearable like it would’ve been at home. Your clothes and the furs you’d cherished most of your life had been taken from you, the black pelt your father gifted you in your 13th winter devastatingly gone leaving you naked in the cage. The weather reinforced how far from home you were, the unrecognizable language further emphasizing the distance—you we’re good with different dialects, you made a point of being able to speak to those who lived outside your village, but you’d never heard a language like the ones the slavers spoke.  
That’s what they were, of course. Aside from kidnapping and beating you they had treated you like furniture (and not even a precious piece at that). Not once had they spoken to you, with the exception of the one who’d screamed at you while decimating your face with his fists. The other prisoners had been spared similar fates thanks to the fact their cages had wooden slats across the bottom to provide stability—well, except the woman. She’d screamed at the slaver beating you until he’d deviated his attention to her, leaving you bleeding on the ground while yanking her from her cage. Luckily he'd expended most of his energy nearly killing you and didn’t spend much time on her, mostly just screaming and pulling her long black hair.
You didn’t know her name or where they’d stolen her from, but you’d carefully waved a small thank you to her once you were both returned to your cages. The look on her face betrayed how badly the man hurt you and she’d reached through the bars towards you with tears in her big, dark eyes. Now she was asleep in her cage, leaning against the bars closest to you while you held her hand. She’d attempted to give you some of the slats from the bottom of her cage but you’d refused—she was older than you by at least forty years and you worried; you were young and fully able-bodied, you would be sold regardless of your physical state. You didn’t know what would happen to her if the bars caused even half the damage they’d caused you, she already moved so stiffly. You couldn’t say for sure, but you assumed the life of an unmarketable slave was short.  
The other prisoner was a man, several years older than yourself. He’d kept quiet through the entire journey, a blank look in his eyes. You wondered how long he'd been under the thumb of the slavers, to be so dejected and nigh on soulless. You hadn’t so much as made eye contact with him, even as you both sat awake through the night. The stars shifted above you, the moon taking its path across the sky until the sun began to rise behind you. Hours passed like days, stretching infinitely until people began shuffling around the plaza. The slavers you recognized returned, yawning and speaking in soft voices to each other. They barely paid the three of you any attention until the sun was fully up—then they went to the man’s cage.
He complied with whatever they were saying, dutifully and with his eyes cast down. They dumped a bucket of water over his head and threw handfuls of dense white powder all over him, the grains sticking to his wet skin. He wasn’t given clothes, much to your disdain considering it meant you’d also not be given clothing, but they wrapped some sort of belt around his waist before shackling his hands to it. The other woman was next, also doused with water and powder and shackled. Instead of shuffling her immediately back into the cage like they had the man, dark paint was smeared over her tan shoulders and they forced her to the ground outside of the cage before attaching her belt to the bars.  
The slavers walked towards your cage with irritated expressions, the younger man gesturing angrily about your person while they conversed. The damage to your body, you leg and face especially, was evidently extensive. Everything hurt, but your leg was the worst. You assumed something was broken, at the very least deeply, deeply bruised and you could barely rest any weight on it—not that you’d tried in hours.
When the cage door was yanked open you tried not to startle, but a cry escaped your lips when the younger man dug a hand into your hair and yanked you out onto the stone ground of the plaza. Your ankle radiated pain up towards your shin and you collapsed, forced to crawl forward when he didn’t stop pulling on your hair.  
They were still muttering angrily when frigid water spilled over you, leaving you shivering on the stone. Another bucket followed and you found yourself being tossed around while they thoroughly drenched your skin. The powder caked onto your flesh like a layer of clay, itchy and tight as it quickly began to dry. It had a strong odor you didn’t recognize, overwhelming and unpleasant and you found yourself sputtering and spitting where a small amount had gotten past your lips.
A yelp escaped you when a hand immediately gripped your hair again, shaking you roughly and shouting. It stopped when the older slaver yelled at the younger one, slapping him away and gesturing at you angrily. They continued to argue while you laid on the ground, feeling like your lungs wouldn’t inflate. The woman shackled to her cage behind you shouted angrily at the pair, beckoning you towards her urgently.  
Your body didn’t hesitate even when your head did, crawling slowly across the stone. She grabbed you the second you were within reach, tugging you into her chest and shuffling to the side to try and block you from their sight. Her shackles rattled quietly, one hand running gently through your hair while the other gently roamed over the welts across your back. You could hear her speaking, another dialect you didn’t recognize, quietly with her lips almost pressed to the top of your head.
It sounded like a prayer and you wondered if the goosebumps that ran across your skin was a result of being touched gently for the first time in so long or if whoever she invoked was now watching you. There was no telling how her Gods worked, maybe they were willing to look over someone who didn’t worship them. The Gods of your village were rarely so kind, especially in the absence of a sacrifice.  
It was easy to tell when the slaver's attention returned to you; she immediately began spitting what you were very, very sure was a curse. The slavers hesitated, evidently able to understand what she was saying—or at least what she was implying with her furious words. It didn’t stop the younger man for long, he stomped over and grabbed a fist full of your hair once again and used it to throw you several feet away. The woman continued to spit a furious string of words, to which the slaver seemed to grow increasingly angry about. He turned towards her, arm raising swiftly.  
“Don’t you touch her!” Your voice was hoarse, you’d barely spoken since being kidnapped but the man’s head snapped in your direction immediately. “I’m right here you son of a bitch, me! Don’t touch her, beat me, asshole!”  
They didn’t understand your language, you’d learned that early on when they mocked your words with gibberish, but he certainly understood your tone if the vibrant red of his cheeks was anything to go by. His hand fell to the whip rolled up at his waist while he stomped towards you, lips curled in a snarl as he let the end fall to the ground with a startling crack. A wash of fear went down your back; you’d never been whipped in your life. You had a particularly high pain tolerance, but what was a broken arm to a whipping?
The other woman was shouting at him again and you steeled yourself—you’d either live or you wouldn’t, but you could at least keep his disgusting hands off of her until she could be sold. She looked as kind as she acted, beautiful and sharp, and next to the slavers her skin tone and eyes were exotic. Someone would purchase her to clean or cook, as long as she was able bodied. Even if your wounds were left to fester until you passed from fever, you would survive the initial whipping and still be fit for the auction block almost immediately. She didn’t have that luxury.
Your eyes widened when he raised his arm and you scrambled to cover your head, tucking your chin against your sternum and drawing your knees in; you desperately wanted to avoid learning what sort of pain a lash to the face would illicit while he seemed so keen on teaching you. She was still screaming and the older slaver was yelling and the crack of the whip was potentially the loudest thing you’d ever heard.
When it landed a line of fire erupted on your skin, stretching from that first point of contact on the crest of your shoulder down to your hip. If you hadn’t moved that line would’ve been in the dead center of your face and with the force used, bleeding profusely. The only reason you didn’t scream was because you bit down on your lip so hard you were unable to, purposefully falling to maintain your curled position down on the stones while you writhed—you wouldn’t give him the chance to aim for your face again.
The second strike ran diagonally from the same shoulder, across your back, and to the opposite hip. The third was directly on your spine and your body spasmed violently in response, a scream finally torn from your throat when you physically couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer. There would’ve been more, you were sure, had the voice of another woman interrupted the man. He spoke in return with stuttered, nervous reverence and while you didn’t move from your curled position you believed his face likely reflected his tone with fear.
You couldn’t understand anything that was being said. The woman was shouting, one word more and more desperately and you assumed it must’ve been something she assigned to you in her head. Your brain fogged and you found yourself having to fight your muscles from going limp every time you exhaled. You wondered what she was calling you, what she referred you to as in her language. Your mother had always called you her baby, your father called you sweetheart.
Pulling yourself up wasn’t a matter of wanting to or not; it came down to the fact you were unable. Otherwise you would’ve dragged yourself across the stone once again to find a place in the older woman’s arms, to keep her from drawing attention to herself with her shouting, but you didn’t have the energy, the will, or the ability. There was no way your arms would hold your weight, your left ankle was entirely out of commission and the right was just as useless considering the circumstances.
You would’ve laid there until you died had it not been for a pair of soft hands taking hold of your upper arms. A wail died in your throat, lips clamping shut—you had to keep it together, if it was the very last thing you did. It was bad enough for these people to see you bleed, you wouldn’t let them hear you cry. Your father was one of the greatest warriors in the Cold Lands, you wouldn’t disrespect him by showing such weakness to the enemy.
A woman’s voice spoke close to your ear, a crooning coo that set your teeth on edge even more than the pain. She propped you up on your hip, laying your upper body carefully against her side where she sat on the stone and resting your weak head against her shoulder. Your eyes caught dark red hair, falling in loose waves to a pale, pointed chin. Before you could examine her more closely, your attention was drawn to the sound of a loud smack.
There was another woman, this one blonde and wearing what looked like miles of folded pale gold silk, had evidently just backhanded the younger slaver so hard the man lost balance and hit the ground. You marveled, just a tiny bit, at the sight. Her hair fell in windswept blonde waves to her exposed collar bones and she looked like she’d just been wrecked in the bedroom. Absently you wondered if the woman whose hand was cupping your ribcage had anything to do with that.
The blonde proceeded to speak to the older slaver for several long minutes, gesturing lazily every once in a while with jewel laden fingers. You’d been able to realize that the redhead holding you was also incredibly richly dressed, even in comparison to the well-dressed merchants making their way into the plaza to set up for the day. The slavers also deferred to the blonde; she was evidently someone of incredibly high stature—especially considering the redhead, who you assumed was her wife or consort, was practically dripping with gold.
Your attention shot to the woman holding you when she spoke, shrinking back when she pressed her cheek to the top of your head. It sounded like she was pouting, using a cutesy tone that made the blonde smile affectionately and respond with a long-suffering sigh before turning back to the slaver.
It was obvious that there was a transaction occurring and based on the fingers walking their way down your rib cage towards your legs, you could only assume you were the merchandise in question. It was easy to tell when the sale was complete, the blonde looking pleased and the old slaver looking nothing short of relieved.
“Oh, fuck this,” you murmured quietly to yourself, eyes squeezing shut as frustrated tears tried to well.
Hearing your own language spoken back to you after so long was so shocking you almost didn’t process the redhead’s words. “Don’t be like that, pet. It’s our girl’s birthday and she’s always wanted a cute little kitten.”
content warnings: human trafficking/slavery, public humiliation 
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phoenixblack89 · 3 years
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Fera Ingris
Chapter 2: Fuck My Life
So I skipped Vatos. Couldn't get it to work at all the way I wanted it to but did get this finished. Next chapter will probably be out in 2 weeks. It's done but needs editing.
Anyhooo. Enjoy. If ya wanna be tagged so ya don't miss please message me or comment on this! Also up on a03.
Tags: @lilythemadqueen @writingdeadangel @boondoctorwho @fandomsaremykryponite @browneyes528 @darylsgirl
Daryl was pissed. Beyond pissed. The whole rescue Merle plan was nothing but a shit show from the start. First finding Merle's hand and no body attached to it. And no meds for the girl. Then Glenn being nabbed. Then the Vatos and that whole carry on. He was not in the best mood when they discovered the van had been stolen and they had to run back to camp. 
"Stupid Merle. Why didn't ya wait asshole?" Daryl grumbled to himself, panting as he followed the three in front of him and hoped he got back before something else bad happened as the sky began to darken. 
*
The walkers had somehow snuck into camp. Shrieks from the children, cries of pain and the vicious sounds of heads being bashed in or blowed out by bullets was all she could hear as she tore through the woods to help. She had gone out to check the snares she and Daryl had left further out in the woods early this afternoon and had found a fair few with small rabbits or birds in them, which she had slung from a rope hanging from her shoulder. Each step causing the critters to bash against her ribs, her two headed axe bashing painfully into her back. The screams and noise grew as she got closer. 
She shoved her bow over her shoulder and whipped out her axe and slowed her running. She came to a dead stop as the growls of eight walkers echoed loudly around her. She'd run straight into a group of the undead bastards without realising. 
"Fuck my life" She muttered as she started swinging her axe at the nearest walker, swirling it over her head. 
*
"Come on! Hurry!" Rick yelled from in front of Daryl, their ears being assaulted by the sounds of the camp being attacked. Daryl shouldered his crossbow and accepted the rifle from Glenn as they ran up the hill. The chaos in front of him made his blood race as he started shooting at everything in camp, taking care not to hit any one living. His eyes scanning continously for the young woman he had begun to enjoy spending time with, hunting and not. 
In what seemed to Daryl as hours, but was only 15 minutes, the camp had been cleared. 
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Rick thanked Shane for protecting his family as others grieved the loss of theirs. Daryl walked around camp quickly, eyes lingering on every corpse, his heart pounding his ribs in fear as he realised Phoenix was no where to be seen. 
"Shane!? Dale?! Where's Phoenix?! Ya see her anywhere!?" He demanded, storming up to the former police officer having checked every bloody body on the ground. Shane ran his hand over his head and shrugged his shoulders. 
"Nah man, last I saw her was this mornin' when I took over watch." Shane said quietly, his heart now worriedly gripped by fear for the Brit too. 
Jacqui slowly made her way over, hands shaking in shock still. 
"I saw her this afternoon, not long after we had to stop Jim. She said something about checking some snares or something. I wasn't paying much attention, I was busy. Maybe she's still out checking?" She said, grabbing hold of her crucifix around her neck in worry. 
Daryl grunted and began scanning the tree lines for his, possibly only, friend. He turned to speak to Rick about going to find her when a scream came from the woods. He glanced at Rick and took off in the direction of the woods. Rick, Shane, T-Dog and Glenn followed after him. 
*
5 down, 3 to go...
Phoenix thought her breath coming in short sharp gasps as she pivoted to face the next walker. Her axe gracefully span around the top of her head as she threw all her remaining strength into her swing. The sharp curve of the double blade head making cutting through flesh and bone like butter. She grunted as the head splattered into a waterfall of crimson and black. Her arms ached, her head was lightly throbbing with adrenaline and her energy was fading quicker and quicker. She span on her heels as growls grew around her once more. Another walker fell to her axe and sheer brutal anger. 
The last walker was formerly a large male, his stomach as wide as he was tall, making T-Dog and Shane look short; she tugged at the axe still inside the previous walker's skull but it wouldn't come. 
"Oh shit." She muttered, her fingers fumbling with the latch to separate her axe into 2 shorter and one handed weapons, the wound on her hand began to throb and pulse painfully. The walker got closer and she dropped her axe and slid to her knees, kicking out to knock the walker down. Unfortunately the beast's size worked against her and it fell onto her. She screamed as this was the first time in a long while she had been so close to one and without a weapon in her hand. 
Her hands quickly and harshly shoved the gnarled face and life ending teeth away from her body. Her arms felt like jelly holding the enormous weight off her. 
"You ugly fucker." She growled, arms already wobbling and shaking with effort. She needed to somehow roll the creature off her and get a hand free to pull her buck knife, her knife being painfully trapped between her thigh and the walker's massive stomach. She pulled one of her legs free and wrapped it around the waist of the heavy weight man and tried to flip them. It was no good. It was just too heavy for her slightly smaller frame to do. 
"Fuckkk" 
Her hands had begun to slip, her injured one burning fiercely and getting weaker faster, the wound beginning to ooze blood slowly. Her whole arm was burning, almost as if the flames were still licking along her skin, her chest ached from the weight, she could almost feel her ribs starting to crack as she struggled to breathe. She sighed and pushed with all her might. The teeth slowly getting closer and closer to her face as her vision started to swim towards the inky blackness. She turned her head and screwed her eyes up so she didn't have to see the disgusting pieces of rotten flesh trapped between its teeth, praying to a god she wasn't sure she still believed in that come the opening of her eyes she'd be reunited with her boys. 
A whoosh zipped through the air and the next second the full weight of the walker crashed down onto her far smaller and warmer body, pushing all the air out of her in a big gasp. She waited on baited breath for the feel of teeth taking a chunk out of her and it never came. She slowly opened one eye and realised the body on top of her had gone completely still. Footsteps near her had her twisting against the dead walker to face them, dark red-brown boots slowly came into sight as they walked closer and knelt down near her head. 
"Wha'd I tell ya 'bout comin' out 'ere on ya own?!" Daryl snarled down at her, before a half smile raised the corner of his lip with a small chuckle. She gave a short sharp laugh of her own before glaring at him.
"Ya cozy down there? Do ya need a moment alone wit' ya new beau?" 
"Screw you Dixon and get this fat fucker offer me!" 
Daryl smirked and stood up, using his foot to roll the walker off her. She slowly sat up, and took a huge gulp of air. Shane and Rick held their hands out to help her stand, she waved them away and stood. Her head throbbed and she swayed slightly to one side. Daryl put his hand on her arm to steady her and quietly regarded her. 
"You alright?" Glenn asked, his face pale as he looked around at the mess her frenzy had caused, blood splattered the trees and the ground, brain matter and bone fell in chunks on the tree trunks and the dry soil. She nodded at Glenn, giving Daryl a look and grabbing hold of her axe to tug it free. 
It refused to budge. 
Glenn, T-Dog and Shane began to make their way back towards camp. 
"Come on you sucker." She growled, grabbing the shaft of her axe with two hands and pulling. It finally flew free and she landed hard on her butt. Daryl barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Shut it Dixon!" She huffed and stormed ahead back to camp as the sun began to slowly rise over the treetop. 
"She's a fire ball that one. Might wanna watch yourself Daryl." Rick chuckled as the pair began to follow, Daryl gave him a look and raised his eyebrow in question. Rick shrugged and smiled slightly. "Just saying! Get too close to fire and you get burnt." 
Daryl ducked his head and smiled slightly to himself.
I wouldn't mind getting burnt by her, not at all he thought to himself, watching the girl's rear as she stormed in front of him. 
*
Phoenix stopped suddenly as camp came into her line of sight. 
So much blood and destruction. 
Carol, Sophia and Andrea were sobbing and clinging to their fallen loved ones. Tents were ablaze and being snuffed out by others. The Morales children clung to their mother and father as did Carl to Lori. Dale stood atop the RV on guard. 
"Oh fuck." 
Shane and the other members of camp were busy doing a headcount or putting the tents that were on fire out. She felt relieved Daryl had saved her once again but at what cost? How many more did they have to loose before everything stopped? Before the dead were actually dead and stayed that way? Until society and law and natural order was restored. Why would her god, a supposedly loving, kind god allow such a thing? Her heart felt heavy enough, this was such sheer cruelty and brutality. 
A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she jumped, her buck knife quickly leaving its sheath. Another grabbed the blade before it hit home and a grunt sounded behind her. 
"Stop tryin' t' gut me girl." Daryl hissed as he removed his hands from her. "Come on, we got grunt work t' do." He gave her a little nod and walked away. 
*
They'd worked through the morning to get some sort of order back into what was their safe little haven from the plague gripping the world. Sweat, blood and tears were falling to the ground with every step of every man and woman able to help with the clear up. Andrea laid her head bent low on her poor deceased sister's chest. Carol and Lori had settled the children down to sleep in the Grimes tent, Carol's being covered floor to roof in Ed's blood and other gory remains. 
What was left was being carried to the pile where Daryl and Phoenix were making sure they stayed dead, Daryl with a pick axe and Phoenix using her own custom made axe. Carol approaches the pair silently and almost immediately the pair stop their actions and watch her come to a slow halt. 
"I'll do it. He was my husband" her voice weak with the tremble of unshed tears, despite being an arse hole and abusive, Carol had loved Ed. 
The evidence of that being the little girl who slept soundly inside the Grimes tent despite the trauma of the night before. Daryl shares a quick glance at Phoenix, who watches almost cautiously and she gives a tiny almost unseen tilt of her head. Daryl handed Carol the axe he had been using and stands slightly back, closer to the other hunter and watches as Carol heaves the heavy weapon to her shoulders and with a cry throws it down into Ed's remains over and over again. 
The gore splattered around the former's head is almost a therapy for the small grey haired woman who had suffered so much at his hand. Carol is heaving in air as she stops and stands straight, wiping tears from her face as she silently hands Daryl the ax, as quickly as she came she leaves. 
Phoenix smiled bitterly and reached for the feet of Ed as Daryl took the ruined face under his arm, holding him by the shoulders. They carry him towards the fire where T-Dog and Glenn are burning the walkers bodies. Glenn looks up as they approach and stands. 
"No." He says quietly. Daryl and Phoenix drop Ed's body with matching grunts and wipe their arms across their faces.
"What?"
"We bury our dead." The Asian man says defiantly, pointing at Ed. Daryl raises his eyebrow and glares. 
"Don't matter. He ain't gonna feel it." Daryl huffs. 
"He's dead, don't matter what we do to the body. He's already burnin' in Hell, his fucking useless carcass should burn as well. Fucker deserves it!" Phoenix hisses, she agrees with Daryl. Who knows how long the virus or whatever it is that makes the dead rise would survive without a host. Last thing the world needs is it sitting in the ground and poisoning the land itself. 
"NO! We bury them. They're not monsters! We are people. People bury their dead. To honor them. If we don't... We might as well give up our humanity."  Glenn exclaims passionately, glancing around at the group, who had fallen silent and were watching the exchange. Phoenix glares down at the ground and walks away. Her head spinning and her hand throbbing again. 
Damn Merle, couldn't even get me some meds she thinks, her vision starting to grow blurrier by the second. She walks to her bike and sits down, leaning lightly against its dark green frame. Daryl joins her soon after. 
"Hey" 
She shields her eyes with her arm as the sun gives the older man a halo of light. "Hello angel" She smirks up at him and nods. 
"You okay?" He asked, shuffling from one foot to the other. A nervous habit she found quite funny as her mind thought of another she knew with the same habit. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, it felt filthy and coated in grime and god knows what else. "Rick says we're gonna head t' the CDC."
"Hmm"
"I know we ain't the most... We ain't friends or anythin'" 
"Oh DD! Here's me thinking we were!" She laughed lightly, as he sat down on his haunches beside her. He gave a slight chuckle at her as she nudges his leg and he lands on his backside beside her. She gives him a small side smile and gets one in return.
"Yea maybe." He shuffles around anxious about what he's about to say next. "I ain't sure but thought... Maybe... If ya... If ya want... Ya could ride wit' me, in the truck." He chews his lip and waits for the rejection he's sure is coming. "'s okay if ya don't." 
"Actually, I think it might be for the best Dixon." His eyebrows shoot off into his hair at the quiet mummer he hears. "I ain't feeling too hot." She says as her head feels heavier and her eyes grow dimmer despite the bright light in front of her. She turns her head to the man beside her and he becomes a blur of shapes as she loses consciousness. Daryl quickly grabbing her before her head made contact with the ground and laying it across his lap, worried beyond anything, his fingers running over her arm gently as he chewed his lip to bleeding point. 
*
Groans fill the cab of the faded blue truck as she begins to stir. An arm is around her waist and is pulling her into the cab. 
"Wah?!" 
"Shh girlie. Let me get ya settled." Daryl says quietly, sitting her on the bench seat and putting the seat belt over her shoulder. "Ya passed out."
"Huh." She replies, feeling sleep call her backwards once again. "My bike... Tent..." 
"I got it."
She mumbles something that Daryl is sure sounded an awful lot like Murph before gently closing the door. He sighs and walks over to T-Dog. The large man looks up as he nears and nods. 
"She okay man?" Daryl nods, eyes darting to the RV where Jim lays dying from the bite wound. "Her hand is getting worse ain't it?" 
"Merle was gettin' 'er some meds. Didn't see any when y'all came back." 
"Don't worry man. We're gonna be at CDC soon. They'll have something they can give her."
"I ain't worried. She's a fighter. She faced worse and got through it." 
Both men are quiet for a while, Daryl remembering that awful day that earned the girl the huge cut along her eye and the fear she felt around everyone. "Gimme a hand wit' her stuff will ya?"
"Course man." 
The pair quickly gather the bags strapped to the back of her dirt bike and throw them into the rear of the cab along side her bow and axe. Daryl wonders why she kept the large duffel bags on the bike all the time and why it weighed so much but it wasn't his place to go through it so he ignored it and returned to her tent. He felt a touch guilty about being in her safe space while she wasn't with him, especially knowing he was about to touch her belongings. He grabbed the open duffel and began to pack it with the pile of clean clothes beside her bed roll. He blushed as some of it fell and a lacy purple bra and panties set fell onto the ground near his feet. 
Damn, ain't gonna be able t' look at her t' same, not that ya ain't been lookin' already he thought as he stared at the delicate items. He felt his cock twitch the longer he stared and quickly grabbed them and stuffed them into the bag. His cheeks still slightly red as T-Dog opened the flap. 
"You got another chain on your truck?" 
"Yea, let me just finish in here. Then we'll get her bike up beside Merle's" he ducked his head more to hide his embarrassed and slightly turned on face from the man, grabbing the lantern and boots from around him. Shoving them into the bag quickly, T-Dog entered and began to roll the blankets and sleeping bag up. The pair made quick work of packing Phoenix's tent up, even taking it down and rolling it up. It and her bags thrown into the back of the cab next to Daryl's own scant belongings. The bike proved to be easier moved than the pair thought, it sat perfectly in the small gap between the two walls of the truck bed and Merle's monstrous Triumph, secured down with a long metal chain that also held Merle's down. Daryl quickly checked nothing of his or the sleeping girl's had been left scattered about before turning to his own tent.
*
The group gathered near to the RV as they neared readiness to leave. Phoenix sat in Daryl's truck, quiet and dizzy, her head was hurting something awful and she could barely stay awake. She could see the group talking and saying goodbye to the Morales family but couldn't hear them. After a few minutes Daryl stormed up to the truck, climbed into the bed and russled around near Merle's bike before climbing in beside her. He put a hand gently on her shoulder holding out a bottle of water. She gave him a sleepy smile in return, her hand shaking as she took it. He held it steady as she took a sip. 
"Here."
He fished an orange prescription bottle in her direction, his face starting to heat up. She took the pills from him and balanced the water between her knees. Quickly reading the label she smiled. Painkillers. She struggled with the child proof lock on the cap for a few minutes before Daryl reached over and helped her. He slid 2 pills out and dropped them in her hand. 
"Don't tell the others about those. Don't want 'em comin' t' me asking fer meds fer a paper cut." He growled harshly. She nodded and swallowed the meds with a mouthful of water. Daryl looked on as she closed the bottle of water and her eyes. The truck moved slowly out of the quarry with the rest of the convoy, horns calling out as the Morales family went a different way.
*
That night, the convoy pulled into the side of a quiet wooded road and made plans. Phoenix dozed in the truck while others stood watch. Jim's moans coming quietly from inside the RV put everyone on edge. No one complained of their hunger but they all felt it. The children especially. Daryl stood in the truck bed, crossbow raised as his eyes scanned around. Occasionally kneeling down to peer through the rear window at the pale girl in his truck. He and Merle had both decided she was a Dixon, not by blood or marriage but by deed. She had the Dixon spirit and like hell was he gonna let her go. 
She's a fighter, baby brother but she needs us. She's our baby sis now, got it? We gotta protect 'er. Merle's voice said in his head as he turned to look at her once again. 
She's more to you than a sister Daryl, just admit it t' yaself he thought a small smile on his face as she hugged his winged vest closer to her chest. He'd given it to her as the late summer wind began to chill the inside of the truck. He sighed and stood once more, knowing even if he admitted his feelings he couldn't be with her. He wasn't good enough and she didn't see him that way. Even if she did, the scars would disgust her the second she saw them. She deserves someone who could be everything he wasn't. He was worthless and she was worth so much more. 
Don't mean ya can't look, baby brother. 
Daryl chuckled at that and looked once again to the girl, nodding to himself. 
Ain't no harm in lookin' he mused, looking forward to the girl waking up properly. 
*
The horn of the RV honked loudly in front of Daryl's truck and Phoenix raised her eyebrow in question. She felt slightly better after the sleep but still weak, she hopped out of the truck and felt her knees almost give out. She held on to the side of the truck slowly making her way to the rest of the group. Jim was laid against a tree a little bit up a bank at the side of the road and seemed to want to be left behind. His face was pale and sweaty, under his eyes darkened with sickness. 
Daryl came to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her up the bank to say goodbye. She sank to her knees and placed her hand on top of Jim's. 
"Hey. I can... If you want... I got a silencer. It'll be quick. I'll sent you on your way with my family prayer." She whispered to him, Daryl waiting at the bottom of the bank with Rick and Shane. Jim smiled tightly as another cramp ripped through him, he coughed up a little blood and Phoenix grimaced. 
"No. It's your corrupt we claim, remember?" He laughed, taking her hand in his as Phoenix's face dropped. 
How did he know? 
"How - ?" 
"I saw you. I was in Boston that day, he'd killed my cousin." He smiled slightly, gripping her hand. "I know why you didn't say anything... I'm glad you did it... And don't give up on this group, protect them, they need you. That's your new mission." He burst into a coughing fit and tears dropped down her face as she shuffled away.
She stood slowly and wobbled over to Daryl, he reached an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. The only comfort he could offer. He felt awkward and uncomfortable but he was trying. He felt angry at Jim for causing her tears for a guilt inducing moment but he knew it was natural to seeing someone die. Rick offered Jim a gun which he declined and Jim met Daryl's eyes, Daryl nodded with a grim smile and lead the girl back to his truck. He helped her climb in and secured the seat belt around her as she silently cried. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before getting into the driver's seat and following after the RV. The girl passing out soon after. 
*
Phoenix was thankful when her head started to clear and her energy returned as the huge Atlanta skyline began to grow closer and closer. Daryl chewed his thumb, another nervous habit it seemed he shared with the man she'd once known. He glanced at her as the sky began to darken. 
"Feel better?" 
 "Yea, sorry for going dark on you back there." She whispered, sitting up straighter to glance through the rear window at her bike. "Thanks for taking care of my stuff. Appreciate it." 
She smiled at him as the RV started slowing in front of them. The cars all slowed down and stopped beside a road. In front of them was the CDC, its huge glass exterior mostly undamaged except for the expected gore. The barricades and army trucks had been coated with bodies of the fallen soldiers. 
She raised herself to her knees and leaned over the seat, grabbing her bow and quiver and throwing them over her shoulder. She climbed out and glanced around as the group began to move towards the building. Rick reached the door and shook it.
Daryl and Phoenix stood side by side, glancing at the shadows that darkened with every minute as the sun began to go down. She pointed towards the barricade as walkers began to approach. She nocked an arrow and let it fly, killing the walker with ease. Her blood pounding as adrenaline kicked it. She blocked the noise of the group out and focused on protecting them. Daryl also shooting at the walkers as the group got louder and louder. Three more walkers fell to her arrows when she felt Daryl tug her arm and try to pull her away. 
She spun suddenly as Rick yelled. 
"You're killing us! You're killing us!" 
Shane began pulling Rick away as a groan of the shutters sounded loudly in the dead city. A blinding light causing the whole group to stop and stare.
PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT
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empyreanwritings · 4 years
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The Cure to Heartbreak
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Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Ex!Peter Quill x Reader
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: loads of language, break up angst, mentions of alcoholism, suggestive themes
Summary: An impromptu road trip with your neighbor is exactly what you needed to get over your ex. 
A/N: Y’all, I watched Someone Great on Netflix and then I somehow ended up with 4k words worth of Biker!Bucky. It may be a little all over the place, but I wanted to place emphasis on the reader realizing her worth outside of a relationship, ya feel? Let me know what you think! x
Waking up to your best friend pulling the curtains open and blinding you wasn't the way you wanted to start your day. In fact, you didn't want to start your day at all. You planned on wallowing in your bed all day - avoiding all responsibilities and pretending like you didn't get your heart ripped out of your chest the night before.
Peter Quill was supposed to be the love of your life. You two met at a party your freshman year of college and hit it off quickly. At first, you didn't see him as anything more than a one-night stand. It was your chance to be slutty! You had just moved to the city far, far away from your parents, and you wanted to be a little reckless. But reckless never worked out for you.
When Quill brought you breakfast in bed the morning after, you knew you were a goner.
Five years. That asshole let you be in love with him for five whole years before he told you he met another woman, who he just "connected" with at work.
Thing had been rocky for the past few months. You got one of the editor positions at Stark publishing, and you let it take over most of your life. But could anyone blame you? Being an editor was something you worked for your entire college career. It was all you ever wanted to do besides becoming an actual author.
But you didn't think rocky meant you were pushing him into someone else's arms.
As much as you wanted to hate him, you couldn't do anything besides blame yourself. You let work become a priority, and somewhere along the way, you stopped showing Quill how much you truly loved him. Maybe it was all your fault, but you liked to think he could have stepped up and said something. He could have tried to save what you two had before falling in love with another woman.
Another woman with a stupid name, you might add.
"Not today," you groaned and pulled a pillow over your face.
"Oh no, you are not wallowing today!" Wanda scolded as she ripped the pillow away from you. "Get up, we're going to brunch with Carol and Peter."
"Tell them I'm too sick."
Wanda rolled her eyes. "You are not too sick. You're just a big baby."
You tried to fake cough for emphasis, but she wasn't having it. She grabbed your ankles and practically threw you off your bed. And when you glared up at her from the pile of blankets you grabbed in surprise, she just stared back at you completely unfazed. The woman was persistent.
"I brought you bagels from your fave," she held up a brown paper bag but kept it away from your reach, "You get them once you've taken a shower and gotten dressed! And I mean it on the shower, girl, you look crusty."
You glanced down at your hair, which still had hairspray in it from last night. You had meant to take a shower, but you were so distraught that Quill broke up with you at your anniversary dinner, you forgot. Well, you didn't forget, per say - you were a little too drunk to figure out how to work your own shower.
A shower sounded terrific, but you barely had any energy to stand, let alone clean yourself. Thankfully, Wanda could see your hesitation and pushed you towards your bathroom. She even made sure your face wash and favorite body wash were on the edge of the tub for you to use, which brought a small smile to your face. Sometimes, you forgot how great of a friend Wanda could be when you needed her most.
You decided halfway through your shower that your sadness would go down the drain with your shampoo. Being miserable wouldn't change the fact that Quill no longer wanted to be with you. Being miserable did nothing except make you look pathetic, and you refused to be the pathetic one in this break up.
And when you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body and steam pouring out from behind you, you felt yourself smile. Even if it was a little forced.
---
"If I drink another mimosa, I swear I'm going to puke OJ all over Carol's shirt," you moaned, giving your stomach a small pat. "But damn, they went so well with that French toast."
Peter nodded as he stared as his half eaten Belgian waffle. "I want to eat it, but my stomach might burst."
Carol looked between the two of you and shook her head, making it a point to snatch the waffle off Peter's plate and stuff it into her mouth. She managed to eat all her food, drink four mimosas, and she still wasn't ready to quit. When she committed to a brunch outing, she committed. And you didn't miss the way she called you babies through her mouthful of food.
Brunch started out more emotional than you cared to admit. By your second mimosa, you were spilling all the details of your breakup. How everybody gave you sympathetic looks when you stormed out, and how the hostess gave you a free meal voucher on your way out because she felt terrible for you. She probably cringed when she saw the mascara running down your cheeks, but you didn't care. Free food was free food.
You teared up. Your friends listened until you started crying into your egg's benedict - that was when Carol smacked the back of your head.
Once all the emotional shit was out of the way, you had a nice time. The four of you ate more food than your stomachs could bare. Peter talked about his date with MJ, which he didn't want to do at first (he claimed he didn't want to make you feel bad, but your baby boy was dating! How could you be upset?) And all was good.
Until Peter fucking Quill walked into the café with his new girl.
Not even a full twenty-four hours after your break up.
"Do you want me to kill him?" Carol asked, her glare on full display.
"I'll clean up the evidence," Peter added.
"And I'll help bury the body," Wanda said with a coy smile, clinking her glass against Peter's.
You shook your head. "No. If he wants to be with that woman then let him. She's got cheap pink streaks in her hair, so who's really thriving?"
While your words were confident, you could feel yourself breaking down. The urge to down an entire bottle of champagne crept right back up, and you hated yourself for it. Drinking wasn't a bad thing but drinking when you were emotional was. You always did it at the worst of times, and it was why your sister thought you were an alcoholic to this day.
You sucked in your cheeks and excused yourself quietly, trying not to bring too much attention to your table. They wanted to follow you out, but you reassured them you'd be right back. You just needed to get some air.
Your heart beat so rapidly, you could feel it jump to your throat. You were almost certain you were going to burst into tears at any moment, and you weren't sure which one was more embarrassing: crying over your ex or crying over your ex next to a dumpster that reeked of sun-cooked booze.
The rumble of a motorcycle pulled you out of your thoughts. You peeked around the corner of the alley and saw Bucky Barnes, the only normal neighbor on your floor. You hadn't run into him on your way in last night, but you were sure he heard you shamelessly singing Lizzo at the top of your lungs.
Oh god, you were a terrible neighbor.
"Y/N?" Bucky called out before you could retreat towards the dumpster.
"Hey!" You heard your voice crack, and you quickly cleared your throat. "Sorry, hey. What are you doing here?"
"Were you crying by that dumpster?"
You let out a watery laugh and tried to run your fingers through your already tangled hair. "Whaaat? No way! I-I…I totally was."
He hummed, trying to hide the smile creeping up on his face. "Does this have anything to do with the concert I got last night?"
"Fuck, I am so sorry about that. I was drunk - the kind of drunk that sings Truth Hurts at three in the morning."
"It's okay, really," he laughed. "I had gotten home only a few minutes before. Me and Steve were out celebrating with Sam on his new promotion."
You released a relieved breath. So, you weren't a terrible neighbor, just an obnoxious one.
Bucky's gaze flickered to the inside of the café, and you almost questioned what he was looking at when you turned and saw him staring right at Quill.
They weren't big fans of each other. Quill always got insanely jealous when he found out Bucky was hanging out at your place for a movie night or a game night, which Bucky wasn't a fan of. He thought it was childish.
He didn't ask what Quill was doing with another woman. He didn't ask what prompted you to get drunk and sing last night or cry by a dumpster just a few minutes prior to his arrival. He didn't need to. It was obvious what was going on, and he hated Quill for treating you like that.
You deserved so much better.
"Get on," he said as he held out his helmet for you.
"What?"
"Get on," he repeated with a shrug. "I wanna take you somewhere."
"I can't just leave. My friends are-"
Someone tapped on the window behind you, and you laughed when you saw it was Peter practically smushed up against it. He gestured to the hunk of a man behind you and made a waving motion that resembled something along the lines of "Go, crazy bitch! Don't say no!"
And you weren't sure if it was the encouragement of your friends or the fact that now Quill was looking directly at you from the counter, but you turned around and took the helmet from Bucky without another thought.
You wanted to ask where you were going, but you knew he wasn't going to tell you. Bucky seemed like the type who enjoyed being mysterious way too much.
Spontaneous adventures weren't your forte. You liked planning your trips out as much as you possibly could. When you and Wanda took a road trip down to New Orleans, you made sure every minute was planned - even what rest stop you were going to stop at. You liked knowing, you liked having a schedule.
You learned very quickly that Bucky wasn't that type of person. He had no idea where you were going when he asked you to get on his bike, and you started to realize that when he took random exits that didn't lead to the same place.
Every now and then, you found yourself standing and holding your arms out, letting the wind wrap itself around you. You had no idea where you were going, but you were going to make the most of it. You thought about pulling your helmet off at one point just to feel the wind in your hair, but Bucky reached back and pinched your thigh the second your fingers touched the straps.
He was a stickler for motorcycle safety, apparently.
It didn't feel like a long drive, though. It wasn't until you started to see signs for Atlantic City that you realized you had been driving for at least two hours. You should have been more aware of where you were going, but you enjoyed the ride too much. It was easy to lose yourself a bit.
"What the hell are we doing here?" You gasped once Bucky found a spot closest to the boardwalk. "You seriously drove us two hours away from the city!"
"Do you want to go back?" He wasn't asking to be mean. If you genuinely wanted to go home, he would turn right around and not complain.
The mist coming from the beach hit your face, and you could smell the fried food from some of the pier vendors. You weren't hungry by any means, but something about the smell of fried Oreos always made your mouth water.
"No," you replied after a moment, "No, I don't want to leave."
"Good." Bucky smiled over at you, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling back at him. Something about that man's happiness was contagious. Every time he smiled, you had to fight the urge to smile as well. But today, you weren't going to fight it. You were going to be happy. Spontaneous. Definitely not sad over Peter fucking Quill.
He took your hand and led you down the boardwalk, assuring you that he knew where he was taking you now. You didn't believe him for one second, but you let him lead you nonetheless.
"I know the couple who owns this casino," he stated as he pulled you towards Ocean. "I did maintenance here before I moved to the city, and they really took care of me. I know they can give us VIP access to the rooftop party."
"How do you know there's a rooftop party already?"
He looked over his shoulder at you, "Cause it's Atlantic City. They're always partying here."
---
Your first year of college was something you thought you'd never be able to experience again. You were able to party without needing to get drunk. You danced like no one was watching because you were young, and it didn't matter what other people thought! All that mattered was you were with your best friends.
Today you got to feel that way again.
The pool was filled to the brim with bubbles, and even though you didn't have your bathing suit, that didn't stop you from at least going in ankle deep and tossing some bubbles at Bucky. People crowded the deck, and you constantly squished against his chest just to get through to the other side, but neither of you seemed to mind. And the best part? You had no desire to drink.
Well, you had one shot, but Bucky offered to let you do a tequila shot off his very chiseled, very tattooed physique. How could you turn that down?
But, other than that, you didn't need to drink. You enjoyed every second of the rooftop party, and you planned on remembering it all. It wasn't often you decided to get on someone's motorcycle and drive all the way to Atlantic City with said person.
"I got us a room, by the way," Bucky yelled over the music into your ear.
"You didn't have to do that!"
He scoffed. "You deserve to have some fun, Y/N. This is a city that never sleeps, you need to embrace it!"
You were about to respond to him when you felt your phone vibrate. You held your finger up, letting him know that you were willing to continue the conversation, but you froze when you saw Quill's name flashing across your screen. You hadn't changed his icon photo yet, so a picture of you two kissing was staring right back at you.
"Wow, cold bucket of reality," you mumbled.
Bucky wanted to take the phone away from you - to tell you not to answer - but he didn't have the right. You needed to work through your heartbreak however you needed to. If talking to Quill was what you needed, who was he to stop you?
It helped knowing Quill saw you leave with Bucky. He had to keep himself from smirking the second they made eye contact. And maybe that was what he was calling about.
You shook your head and quickly declined the call. The last thing you wanted was to hear whatever Quill had to say. Whatever excuse he had for moving on so quickly, or whatever issue he had with you hopping on Bucky's motorcycle - you didn't want to hear it. It would only dampen your mood. You deserved better than that.
"Do you want to dance?"
Bucky grabbed your hand and twirled you around. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing your back against his chest. You held back a shiver the second you felt his lips against the shell of your ear.
"I would love to dance," he whispered, eliciting another shiver you couldn't hold back this time.
Being pressed against Bucky, moving to the beat of the music, felt…almost surreal. No one else around you really mattered. Someone could have elbowed you straight in the back, and you wouldn't have noticed. You focused on Bucky's hands on your hips; his fingers occasionally brushing against your exposed skin; or his lips that constantly grazed the side of your neck. It was hard not to lose yourself in the moment.
You didn't want to make Bucky a rebound. You made that decision before you took a shot off his abs.
Bucky was someone you knew you could fall for. You already spent a lot of time together, spent a lot of nights just getting to know each other. He knew things about you that no one else besides Wanda knew, and he wasn't afraid to share the darker parts of him. The first time you had a movie night, he told you about the scarring on his left arm that he covered with tattoos. And he listened when you opened up about leaving your parents behind.
What you two had was special. If it was meant to be something more than platonic, you couldn't ruin that by sleeping with him in the middle of a heartbreak. No matter how badly you wanted to.
"I want to kiss you right now," you confessed once you had a moment alone.
You two escaped the party and moved to one of the indoor pools. Everyone was at the party, so it gave you two the opportunity to enjoy some peace and quiet.
"But I'm guessing you're not going to?" Again, he wasn't malicious when he said this. It was almost as if he understood what you were thinking before you even said it out loud. He was far too understanding, and that made it even more difficult for you.
"I can't."
"I know."
You swirled your feet around in the water, keeping your eyes on the ripples at all times. Looking at him would make you crack right now.
"I can't be upset at Quill for moving on a day later if I do the same," you sighed. "Plus, I know I'm not ready. I want to be, ya know? I don't want to be miserable and think about how much my life is going to change now. I mean, I spent five years of my life with this guy - I had my future based on where we were supposed to be - and now…"
"Now you have to figure out who you are outside of those plans - outside of a relationship."
You nodded. You spent important parts of your life with Quill. You grew up and grew into the relationship with each other. You had no idea who you were by yourself. Single Y/N could be completely different from Quill's long-term girlfriend Y/N.
And you wanted to get to know who she was.
"If you ask me to wait for you, I will."
You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"
"I mean, I already have been," he chuckled. "And I don't mind waiting a little bit longer."
You pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his skin a little bit longer than necessary. It was your way of telling him to wait without saying it out loud. You'd never be selfish enough to ask him to wait. If he met someone while you were trying to find yourself, you'd be happy for him. A little disappointed but happy. But if he genuinely wanted to wait and be with you, you would love it secretly.
He linked his fingers with yours and smiled to himself as you rested your head on his shoulder.
"You know," you turned your face up to look up him, curious as to what was about to leave that man's mouth, "I'd be okay with you using me for one night. No strings attached."
You laughed, not sure if he was serious or not. He stayed quiet, but he leaned in less than an inch closer to your face. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get your attention. He was serious. And you weren't sure if that turned you on or terrified you.
"Bucky, I don't want to hurt you," you exhaled shakily.
He shifted next to you and gave you a small smirk. "You can't hurt me, darlin'. I'm a big boy, I know what I'm getting myself into."
The air shifted between you; the electricity was undeniable, you could feel it tingling on your lips. You shouldn't have moved closer. You shouldn't have kissed him, and you definitely shouldn't have slept with him. It was a terrible, terrible idea. The angel on your shoulder warned you about how bad of an idea this could be. But the devil…she really wanted to get laid.
Bucky's thumb brushed your bottom lip, and all your inhibitions flew out the window. You could think about the consequences in the morning.
---
"Make sure to ice that ankle," you teased as you dropped Bucky off at his door.
"You weren't kidding when you said you were going to hurt me, huh?"
You gasped and punched him lightly in the shoulder. Never in your life had you accidentally twisted someone's ankle in the middle of sex. You thought he was trying to mess with you at first - playing around with the whole "you can't hurt me" bit - but when you woke up, it was swollen and blotched with purple.
You were appalled, especially when Bucky started laughing about it. He was never going to let you live it down, and you were dreading it already.
Hey, remember the time you almost broke my ankle during sex?
Hey, do you wanna try that thing again? Oh wait, that's how we sprain ankles.
And here you thought you'd regret the sex because you were using the man. Who would have thought this would have been what you regretted?
"Before you walk through your door, and we go back to being just neighbors," Bucky grabbed the front of your shirt and captured your lips in a deep kiss. You hummed, letting him take his moment to explore every inch of your mouth again. When you pulled away, you were both breathless and staring at each other with lust blown eyes. "Sorry, I had to get one more in."
"Talk about-"
"Y/N?"
Your heads snapped towards your, now open, apartment door. Quill stood there staring at you locked in Bucky's embrace, and you knew by the way his nose flared that he was irritated. He wasn't allowed to be pissed, but break up or not, it probably stung a little bit. Good.
"Remind me to take your key back," you spat at him.
Bucky asked if you wanted him to get rid of Quill, but you shook your head. You appreciated the gesture, but this was what you needed to do. Neither of you got the closure you both clearly needed after your break up. Quill moved on, but it was obvious he didn't want to see you with anyone else, especially Bucky. And part of you was still a mess. A long, mature talk needed to happen to make everything seem a little bit better. Just a little, teeny bit.
You gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek and waved Quill back into your apartment. Bucky reminded you he was just one wall away if you needed him, and you nodded. Thank god for your scary biker neighbor. You always felt safe with him.
Quill waited until the door was closed to turn and look at you. You held out your hand, a look of annoyance written all over your face. He knew what you wanted; you wanted the key to your apartment back, but he wasn't ready. He was the one to end it and fall for another woman but seeing you with Bucky made his stomach twist. He wondered if he was ready to move on after all.
"I think we made a mistake calling it off," he muttered.
You barked out a humorlessly laugh. "Oh, do you?"
"Is that your way of saying you don't want to hear what I have to say? That you're choosing him over me?
You clenched your fists at your side. Hot breath left your lips. You could feel the anger burning at the pit of your belly, and part of you wanted to lunge across the living room and punch him in the throat. A good fist to the throat always seemed to help situations like this. But you stopped yourself from doing so.
Violence wasn't exactly your thing.
"I am not choosing him over you or you over him," you seethed behind clenched teeth. "For once in my fucking life, I'm choosing me because I fucking deserve it."
"What the hell does that even mean?!"
"It means I'm going to be able to make decisions without wondering how you're going to react! It means I'll be able to find out what I love doing outside of a relationship. Maybe pick up a hobby or two, I don't know! There are so many possibilities for me, and I don't know who I'll end up with in the future - emphasis on the future, Quill - but I do know it won't be you!"
He stared at you, the words you said swirling around his mind. He wanted to call you selfish. Your life didn't have to revolve around him, but you could have at least thought about including him in it again. Things had a chance of working out if you wanted it to, but he realized you weren't going to change your mind. No matter how much he wanted you to. Begging was pointless, and he hadn't really thought through coming here in the first place.
He, technically, stood Gamora up to be here. Which would cause him trouble later.
"So, that's it then?" He croaked. "You won't even give us a second chance?"
"When have I ever believed in second chances, Quill?"
"Good point."
You ran your fingers through your hair. The odds of Bucky hearing this entire argument were high. You already had this conversation with him. It wasn't nearly as intense, and you definitely didn't close any romantic doors between you two, but you made it clear you needed to choose yourself for once.
You deserved to love yourself before you loved another person again.
Quill stepped towards you, and you quickly moved back two steps, making sure to keep as much distance between you two as possible. Despite his "I want you back confession," you knew he still had Gamora waiting on the sidelines. He'd be able to go back to her now that you rejected him, but you hoped she came to her senses and left his ass behind, too. The two of you would be able to form a fun ex-girlfriend's club.
"I guess I should go," Quill relented.
You clicked your tongue. "Yeah, I think that's best."
"I'm sorry…for everything."
"Me too, Quill, me too."
A small tear slid down your cheek when he closed the door behind him, and you quickly wiped it away. You didn't want to cry. You didn't want to let yourself admit the conversation affected you.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, you would have jumped for joy knowing Quill wanted you back. If Bucky hadn't whisked you away, you may have gotten back together with him, too. But time away did wonders for a woman's self-worth. You actually owed Bucky a thanks later.
A knock came from the wall that separated your kitchen and Bucky's apartment. When you two were too lazy to walk through the hall, you often did this to talk with each other. It was one step above physically talking in each other's presence and one step below face-timing or talking on the phone.
"I'm proud of you," Bucky said loud enough to hear through the walls. You could hear the smile in his voice, and you smiled too.
"Thanks, Buck," you hummed. "I'm proud of me too."
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twdeadfanfic · 6 years
Text
Life at the end of the world Pt.32
Summary: Your life as a zombie apocalypse survivor. It starts with the Reader settling into the camp at the quarry, before s1 and then follows the show events and storyline, more or less, but with the Reader in it.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Warnings: Slow burn, violence, language.
Author’s note:  I’ve been itching to write a fic like this for a long while and I write it for fun, I don’t claim to be a writer so if you find you dislike this fic, please be kind and just stop reading. English’s not my first language so maybe there’re some mistakes, I apologize in advance. For the same reason, I can’t write character’s accents and things like that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy it. There’d be several parts to this.
Masterlist
The journey to Washington was long.
Blocked roads and herds of walkers forced you to change plans, take detours and backtrack all the time, and you were starting to run low on food and water.
Daryl went hunting almost daily, but he was barely able to bring anything back. He told you most of the animals he found were already dead, seeming to be suffering the lack of rain as much as you.
And there wasn’t any water around, all creeks and streams seemed to have dried. The situation was starting to get desperate, and you weren’t sure about how long you’d be able to keep going without water.
You were sitting down on the road, the inside of the van now an oven, after another unsuccessful run for water. All of you were silent, too tired and thirsty to do anything, waiting for Daryl, Sasha and Maggie to come back, they had gone further in hopes to find any creek that weren’t dry.
When they were back, you didn’t need to ask them, you could see it in their faces that they hadn’t found anything either, and so you were forced to go back into the van and keep going, hoping to find some water soon.
That night you didn’t stop driving, the situation was desperate enough for you to need to reach Washington as soon as possible, hoping to find supplies there.
You were in the back of the van, sat down on Daryl’s lap, finding comfort on snuggling with him despite the heat.
You were still worried about him.
He was still silent and sullen, even more than usual. You knew he was still affected by what had happened in Atlanta, Beth’s death weighed heavy in his heart, but he still won’t talk about it, won’t share his thoughts and pain with you, or anyone.
He held you, took care of you, but he wouldn’t open up to you and you didn’t know what to do about it or how to help him. You felt helpless and it hurt you to see him like that.
It only grew worse as he took in the increasingly desperate state of your group, which you knew worried him deeply, and you had caught him looking at you with concern from time to time, though you tried to reassure him you were fine, you always tried to appear more hopeful and less weak than you were feeling.
Truth was, you all were weakening fast, most at the lack of water than food, and were starting to despair.
Maggie was still mourning her sister’s death, sadness and pain clear in her eyes, but at least she let herself cry and be comforted, instead of burying her feelings.
Sasha was more like Daryl in that, if not worse, as she buried her pain somewhere inside her, didn’t share it with anyone, hardening her heart and seeming almost emotionless, though it was clear how much she was suffering deep down. None of you had any idea of how to help her, though.
You were deeply worried about your family but still, you didn’t know how to help any of them.
You let out a sigh and ran your tongue over your dry, cracked lips, though it didn’t do much to moisture them.
“You okay?” Daryl lifted your head so he could look at your face, worry in his eyes.
“Yeah, just tired.” You managed to give him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “You?”
He nodded silently, his standard reply, and you nestled against his chest again, hoping that at some point he’d give you something more than a nod or a shrug.
“We’ll have more luck tomorrow.” You tried to reassure him. “There has to be water somewhere.”
Turned out luck kept laughing at you, and next day your van ran out of fuel. It was the second time it happened, having been almost three weeks on the road now, but the other time you had been able to find a replacement.
This time, there wasn’t any vehicle around, the road seeming deserted, and so you were forced to walk.
That just weakened you more, you still didn’t have much water and were now forced to walk under the sun with such a hot weather.
A herd of walkers began following you down the road, but they were slow enough not to catch on you. You all knew you weren’t strong enough to fight them.
Next time Daryl announced he was going into the woods to see if he could find water of food, Carol went with him, despite Daryl’s initial reluctance. You knew she was trying to talk with him too, and hoped she’d be able to reach him, since you weren’t having much luck at it.
While they way away, Rick traced a plan to take care of the walkers following you. You reached some elevation on the road with some sort of bridge, so the idea was to lure them to the edge and then let them fall down and away.
Plan was working well until some sort of madness seemed to overcome Sasha and she began sinking her knife into the walkers head, messing up the plan and forcing you all to fight as she kept ignoring all attempt to stop her.
You didn’t remember your arms being that heavy the last time you had done that, but now every time you lifted your knife and sunk it into a skull, it required all your energy, and you almost tumbled down to the floor every time a walker dropped dead and you still hadn’t take back your knife. It made you realize how weak you all were, you had never had problems taking care of a herd that small, but now it was being a major effort.
Daryl and Carol appeared back right in time to help you, and finally you were able to eliminate all of the geeks.
“Are you okay?” Daryl’s eyes checked you with worry and you nodded, panting and too exhausted to talk.
You couldn’t stop though, you needed to keep moving, and you gave Daryl a weak, grateful smile when he wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you to keep going.
“Come on.”
You had been walking for a while, though you didn’t really know for how long, it felt eternal, when you reached a group of abandoned cars in the middle of the road. You all went to check them while Daryl headed into the woods again, alone this time, making it clear he didn’t want anyone to go with him.
Carol noticed your sad eyes as you watched him go and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close.
“Did you manage to talk to him?” You asked, leaning against her.
“Sort of...” She gave you a sad smile. “I think he listened...but you still have to give him time...”
“Okay...”
There was no food, no water, no gas, nothing in the cars, and you all sat down at the side of the road, deflated.
Daryl came back without having found anything too, and the mood just kept going down. You had seen him doing it a lot of times before, but it always amazed you how he was able to find you back when he went into the woods and you kept going. At first you worried sick, but by now you were getting used to it.
He came to sit down next to you and you gave him a small smile, trying to put on a brave face so he wouldn’t worry. He seemed to notice the worry in your eyes, because he let out a sigh and pulled you close to kiss your forehead.
Suddenly you heard some noises and growls coming from the woods and a pack of feral dogs jumped to the road, showing his fangs to you as if ready to attack. They had collars, as if they’d have been someone’s a long time ago, but were wild now and obviously as starved as you.
Daryl pushed you behind his arm and you all got ready in case the dogs attacked, but before any of you could do anything, Sasha shot them dead. They had been dangerous but still, it was hard to see, and it was even harder to skin them and get their meat ready to eat...but meat was meat and you had barely eaten in days, so you munched on them without giving it a second thought.
That night, you made camp there at the side of the road, Daryl and you taking first watch. You broke the silence when you saw him worriedly looking over your group.
“We’ll pull through.” You assured him. “We’re strong.”
You didn’t feel strong at all when you woke up with a pounding headache, which you knew was due to the dehydration. You were scared when you looked around at the faces of your group, all of them looking weak and on your last legs.
You couldn’t keep going much longer like this.
You all stumbled down the road again, walking silently and so slow you were sure you could easily be mistaken for walkers. You all felt half dead by now.
“Thanks.” You smiled to Glenn when he passed you your last bottle of water, taking a small sip, enough to wet your lips.
Daryl refused when Glenn tried to pass him the water, you knew he was going without so it’d last more, and you could do nothing but watch in worry as he left towards the woods without a word.
At some point ahead of the road, you found several bottles of water with a note attached to them, saying they were from a friend. Rick didn’t want you to drink it, though, afraid they might have something in, though your throat felt so dry you almost didn’t care.
Before you had time to find anything about the water, you heard the rumble of thunders and rain began falling as a miracle. You smiled to Daryl in bliss, but his face was still serious, so you reached out to brush his wet hair away from his hair.
“Come on, this is good, told you we’d pull through...”
He said nothing but leaned into your touch for a second.
You all rushed to catch as much water as possible in your empty bottles, but soon the storm turned dangerously strong and Daryl led you to a barn he had found as it seemed dangerous to be outside with the heavy rain and lighting.
There wasn’t but a walker inside the barn, so you all settled in for the night.
Some of you sat down around the fire, while others slept or tried to. You had been talking quietly with Maggie for a bit, checking on her but unable to offer her much comfort, and you left her so she could sleep, or pretend to, and went to sit with Daryl next to the fire.
He was hugging his knees, silent and sullen, listening to Rick told a story about his grandfather.
“We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead.”
You couldn’t help your shiver at the end of Rick’s story.
“We ain’t them.”
You looked at Daryl when he spoke up, a bit surprised. You made to reach out for his hand but he was already getting up and walking away, and you got up to follow him.
“Hey,” You reached out for his hand, stopping him from pacing around. “You’re right, we aren’t them.”
Daryl just shrugged but laced his fingers with yours and you pulled him close for a kiss, smiling softly when he put his forehead on yours for a moment before pulling back.
“Go to sleep, Y/N.”
You tried, but couldn’t, with the loud thunders outside and the groans of the barn as the storm hit it. Not to mention your own worries. You got up and went looking for Daryl, who was at the door keeping watch.
“I can’t sleep...”
You whispered to him, closing your eyes when he lifted his hand to caress over your cheek, nuzzling into his touch. You opened your eyes when you felt him suddenly pull away and turn towards the door.
“What?”
“I heard something...”
You moved closer to the door and your blood froze in your veins when you saw a herd of walkers coming. Daryl threw himself at the door, trying to keep it close and you ran to tell the others.
Soon you were all pushing at it, trying to keep it close while the walkers pushed it relentlessly, almost managing to tear it down, but you didn’t give up, pushing it close with all your strength.
It ended as suddenly as it had begun, with a big thunder and a bigger, terrifying thud outside. You would check it in the morning, though, right now it was too dangerous to go out, the storm one of the strongest you had ever seen, and you all were exhausted.
You sat down against one of the walls, shivering, still scared. Daryl noticed and sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, only loosening his tight grip when you stopped shaking.
You lied down on the floor, resting your head on his tight, sure you wouldn’t be able to sleep, but when he began playing with your hair you began to relax, and soon you were asleep. You woke up not much later when you felt Daryl moving and you opened your eyes to find him tinkering with the music box Carl had found for Maggie.
“What are you doing?” You whispered, half asleep.
“Fixing it. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay...” You had barely finished the sentence when exhaustion took over you again.
Next time you woke up, the sun was already filtering into the barn and you could hear Daryl and Maggie talking quietly. You yawned and sat up.
“Morning,” Maggie greeted you with a sad, yet sweet smile. “I’m going to keep watch with Sasha. Sleep.” She commanded to Daryl, and you gave her a grateful smile when you saw Daryl letting go of his crossbow as he actually listened to Maggie’s words.
You chuckled quietly when he pushed you until you were lying on your back so he could rest his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him.
“Are you okay?” You asked, out of habit.
“Gonna be.”
That was better than a nod, and you couldn’t help your smile, holding him tight to you and combing your fingers through his hair, hoping to help him relax enough to sleep a bit.
***
When Maggie and Sasha came back, they weren’t alone, they brought a man called Aaron with them.  Daryl rushed away from you to search him while the others eyed him warily, you all had grown distrustful of strangers.
Sasha explained he had told them he had a camp, and how he wanted you to join it. The man said it was no camp but a real community, which sparked your attention. You were tired of living like that, going from place to place without settling in, always running low in food and water, running away from the monsters, hiding and scared.
None seemed to trust him, though, and you could understand it. You hadn’t had the best of luck meeting other communities.
Aaron seemed to understand it and wanted to ease your worries so he had even brought pictures of his community. Pictures, real pictures, and they had a camera...you were in awe. The closest thing you had seen was the tiny Polaroid Glenn had found.
Aaron and the pictures of the walls promised you a safe place and you moved closer to Rick to inspect the pictures while Aaron kept talking about how they need people to be stronger. It was the same as you had thought back at the prison, when you began to take people in.
You couldn’t see past the first picture, though, because Rick dropped them to the ground. He strode to Aaron and sent him to the ground, unconscious, from a punch.
“What the shit...”
You understood you all had to be cautious and distrustful, but still, the man had seemed peaceful and nothing like a threat. Michonne and you shared a look, she seemed to think like you, but when she tried to tell Rick he just ignored her, sure that you were going to be attacked by those people.
You rolled your eyes and shook your head, kneeling to inspect the pictures.
Aaron came back to his senses fairly quick, just after Daryl and Carol tied him up, and Rick began questioning him, though nothing he said would satisfy him and you were starting to get frustrated.
You were grateful when Michonne kept sharing her opinion with Rick, knowing he’d listen to her more than to you. You voiced your agreement with her and so did Maggie, forcing Rick to listen to you.
Aaron had driven there with another person in two cars, enough to take you all to their community, so in order to see if he was saying the truth, Michonne suggested some of you went to check the cars.
Maggie, Michonne, Glenn, Rosita, and Abraham would go to see if they could find the cars. You thought about going with them too, but finally decided to stay with Daryl.
Rick, still sure everything was just a big trap, wanted the rest of you to cover the ground around the barn, find somewhere safe to hide and wait in case the barn were ambushed, while he’d stay inside with Judith and Aaron.
You all split up and you followed Daryl until he found a place in the woods next to the barn, almost hidden between the trees but from which you could see the barn.
“Hey, can we talk for a moment?” You kneeled next to him when he crouched down, his crossbow trained on the barn.
“Sure.” He murmured without looking at you.
“I don’t think Rick is doing the right thing with all this...” You began and Daryl frowned at you. “I don’t think Aaron’s a threat.”
“We can’t just trust anyone who appears out of nowhere, saying he had a community and what not...”
You had known Daryl wouldn’t agree with you, not at first at least.
“I know...I’m not saying we trust him blindly, but he had every chance to attack us and he didn’t, and he brought proof...” Daryl was still scowling at you but at least he was listening. “I saw the pictures, Daryl. It’s a real place, it’s safe...”
“And why does he want us there, why coming to find us?”
“He said it, because people are resources, the more we are the easier it’s to survive...We used to think like that, we helped people, took them in our community...”
“So said Woodbury. So said Terminus.”
“I know...” You let out a deflated sigh. “But this feels different...and is not worth a shot? If we had the chance to find a safe place? Somewhere we can live? We can’t keep going like this, without a safe place, barely any water and food...we wouldn’t last long...and that...that’s not life...”
Maybe it was stupid, maybe you were naive, but you couldn’t just ignore a chance like that. It could be another trap but it could also be your chance of surviving, maybe even living...
“I know...”
Daryl left go of his crossbow and sat down next to you, reaching to lace his fingers with yours, and you smiled at him.
“I’m not sure Rick’s gonna want to, though, no matter how many proof we have...”
“He’s trying to keep us safe, can’t let his guard down,” Daryl replied, always loyal to his friend. You liked it, even if now it was a bit frustrating.
“What do you think of Aaron?” You trusted Daryl’s instincts about people.
“Dunno...we can’t trust him just cos he doesn’t seem like a threat himself.” Daryl shrugged and you knew he hadn’t even paid much attention to Aaron, he’d just sprung into action mode and done what Rick commanded in order to protect you.
“I know...but if he’s not lying...if that place’s real and they want us...we can’t ignore it without check it first.”
You knew Maggie and Michonne were with you, and you hoped they’d find the cars and managed to convince Rick, who was mistrustful even to the point of paranoia, no matter you could understand where he was coming from.
“You want to go then?”
You looked at Daryl before answering, wondering what he was hoping you’d to say, what he wanted to do, but his expression was unreadable, so you decided just to be honest.
“Yeah...if there’s a place where we can be safe and have a life, I want to go. You don’t?”
Daryl seemed to think it for a moment before nodding slowly.
“It’d be good for Carl and Judith, they deserve it. You deserve it.”
“You do too.” You reached out to cup his face with your hand when Daryl just shrugged. “You do.”
Daryl said nothing but leaned to press a kiss to your lips before focusing his attention back to the barn.
***
Michonne and the others came back after having found Aaron’s vehicles and bringing with them a lot of cans of food and drinks.
After it, it was clear most of you wanted to try your luck and go to his community, but Rick still wasn’t sure about, still believing it to be some kind of trick.
Michonne seemed fed up with him, though, so she spoke up, saying you’d go together and asking if anyone disagreed. None said anything, and you grinned to Daryl when he voiced his agreement.
Finally, Rick agreed too.
There were still more negotiations before going, since Aaron wanted to drive you to his home instead of telling you how to get there. It was understandable, at least for you, he couldn’t risk you going there and ambushing them. You might mistrust them, but they were entitled to mistrust you just the same. And in all honesty, by this point you all had done questionable things in order to survive.
Neither Rick nor Michonne wanted him to drive, and finally, they reached an agreement, Aaron would give them indications as they drove. Rick, still not trusting him at all, wanted to take detours, ignoring Aaron advice against it, those roads might not be free of walkers.
Not only that, but Rick wanted to go at sundown.
You rolled your eyes, frustrated. All of you knew how dangerous was to be out there at night, especially in roads that Aaron believed would have walkers, Aaron himself was trying to make Rick understand it...but Rick wouldn’t change his mind.
“If we get eaten right before we reach a damn safe place, I’m smacking Rick’s head in my last breath.” You complained to Daryl, tired of your leader’s stubbornness, no matter it was well meant.
Daryl said nothing but wrapped his arm around your shoulders.
There was no way of changing Rick’s mind, and so you all waited in the barn for the sun to go down.
You sat down next to Daryl, who was fumbling with his crossbow, getting it ready you guessed, though he seemed lost in thought.
“We’ll be fine.” You leaned to kiss his shoulder. “As long as we’re together, we’ll be fine.”
He nodded, giving you a small smile before turning his attention back to his crossbow.
***
Aaron had been right, driving at night through roads he wasn’t sure were clear had soon proved to be a terrible idea, as you found a big herd of walkers roaming up the road.
Glenn, Michonne, and Rick were in the car with Aaron, and you were in the RV with the others, Abraham at the wheel. You almost fell to the floor when he swerved suddenly to avoid the walkers, but Daryl held you to him.
Abraham managed to drive past some walkers, taking a smaller side road which seemed clear of walkers. In the way, you lost sight of the other vehicle but when you tried to drive back, a herd of walkers was blocking your path and so you kept going forward.
When you saw a flare up the sky, you couldn’t do much but follow it, hoping it was Rick and the others telling you where they were.
The others weren’t there, but you found a man trying to crawl away from some walkers and you all jumped out of the RV to help him, making quick work of the geeks.
The man introduced himself as Eric, the person who had gone with Aaron on his mission to find you and take you to their community, and also his boyfriend. He had a broken ankle and Maggie began to help him with it, it was clear that man was not a threat, not even if he’d have wanted to, but also he didn’t look like one. He was skittish at first, until he was sure you meant no harm, and then kind and sweet, and you liked him immediately.
You didn’t seem to be alone in that, none of the others seemed to mistrust him, and you all took refuge inside a warehouse, waiting for Rick and the others to come back. Eric assured you Aaron would follow the flare, it was their signal for when they wanted the other to come if something had gone wrong.
He had shot it, scared after Aaron him being missing for so long without contacting him, and now you only had to wait, hoping they’d be able to clear their way through the walkers.
They did, arriving while Daryl and you were on watch, and soon Rick began again with his distrust in Aaron and Eric. By now you all were sure they were no liars trying to trick you, and so it didn’t take much for Glenn to calm Rick down.
You all passed the night there and in the morning, you drove to the community.
When you reached it, you couldn’t deny you were a bit intimidated and quite impressed by its tall, sturdy walls, and how big the place seemed, even though you couldn’t see the inside.
The door opened and you all walked into Alexandria.
------
We’re in Alexandria! For good or for bad.
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142 notes · View notes
werezmastarbucks · 6 years
Text
Soothsayer [4]
[1]
[2] 
[3]
Word Count: 2075
Warnings: Language, Drinking.
Genre / Pairing: Parent!Tony, drama, contemplating.
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You took on drinking. Natasha entered the kitchen space, observed it with her eyes, and saw you at the counter, trying to come to terms with whiskey. Oh well, since they’re all dead, might as well start drinking. She thought you were sometimes being too dramatic – even given the circumstances. She didn’t sleep for the past two days, too agitated with all the work. The world needed some gluing back, and she was in the middle of it, surprisingly clear-headed. She was coping better if she didn’t have time to eat, or blink. She felt almost fixed. After people started disappearing all over the country, and beyond, the collateral damage level sky-rocketed at the bitching pace. Three hundred thousand additional deaths in gruesome accidents or through suicide, that, with exactly half of the Earth’s population gone. Imagine a train with no machinist, or a plane with no pilot. All the mothers dispersing suddenly right in the middle of the street, leaving their children startled and confused, circled by empty cars, performing their wild waltz. The buildings fell, the space objects operated by people crashed down killing small villages, and the television studios were being wiped clean, looking like haunted spaces after a zombie apocalypse. And yet, the world was so quiet, like everyone was afraid to breathe. The only sound was clinging of the glass in Y/N’s hand, and at the end of the day, Natasha decided, it wasn’t the worst decision.
She placed herself calmly next to you, turning the bottle to face her, although she knew what kind of whiskey it was. The compound, though not Stark’s place of living, was his barony. So, only the best things definitely. Never has Nat thought that she would go warm inside at the thought of Tony Stark. That she would thank the heavens for him being around, and alive. However, there was another side of being alive for him at the times like this.
Nat couldn’t help grinning when this thought stroke her mind. At the times like this.
You looked at her. She was very tired. You did nothing all day and looked even worse.
“Can I help?”
She bit her lip, staring through the counter.
“You’re not leaving the compound until you’re fully healed physically”.
“Thank you, ma’am”.
Two questions circulated at all places inhabited by humans now: how are you? and what do we do? You asked none. You drank together in silence.
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 Tony Stark rubbed his face, which felt like sheepskin. When he opened his eyes, he saw the blurry picture of Y/N. She was holding on her side like it was causing pain.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m walking. What are you doing?”
“Tryina…” he scoffed. The pipe wouldn’t move. FRIDAY’s seen a leak yesterday, that let the heat escape the walls in the basement room where he kept the old suits. He’d entered the room, looking around at the dark-red gleaming silhouettes behind the glass. Only the chosen ones, the oldest versions, like the priceless pieces at the museum. He’d fought the impulse to blow this place up. Whatever happened here, a whistling sound told him that there was an actual hole in the wall, god knows why. He busied himself with it. He had four hours to go before catching the plane.
He punched the plastic pipe with his fist in sudden rage. He could feel his right eye twitch.
“Is Rogers here?”
“Yup, I think so”.
“When can you go out? I need you to come to Washington with me”.
“I could go today”.
“You sure?”
He examined you with a strict knowing eye. He shook his head to himself. You didn’t pass.
“Get this bitch moving, please, do me a favor”, he sighed and leaned back, sitting on one knee. He couldn’t waste all his energy on one fucking pipe. You were staring at the thick white worm, not believing there still could be such prosaic problems to deal with. You stretched out your hand and sent a hot impulse to the side of it, moving it slightly to the wall.
“NO! The other way, dammit!” he exclaimed sharply, waving his hands, and then his palms went up to his face again. You flinched at Tony’s outburst, pressing your arms to your chest like a rabbit.
“Sorry. I’m sorry”, his hand laid on your back, and you nodded, putting your hands on the pipe again.
“It’s okay”.
“Nothing’s okay”, Tony said in that tone of voice that you couldn’t describe any other way than dancing. When he was losing control so badly even his throat seemed to vibrate sporadically.
“This shit is torn off, Tony”.
“You don’t say. We need to take it out and change it”.
The rib sent killing waves to your nervous canals once you leaned forward, bending, and you ouched quietly. Tony pulled at your shoulder firmly. You were both sitting on the floor surrounded by his suits.
You swung your head looking at them, recalling how you’ve seen Mark II when you were a child. He seemed like a miracle. Iron Man was standing above all people, a gleaming golden and red titan of strong lines, with the sun behind his shoulder, the panels on his chest and his back shining like the sun itself. He was always the epitome of hope to you. You never voiced it, but… well… you didn’t even know how to phrase it to yourself correctly, so that it doesn’t sound cowardly, or cruel. You were glad Tony wasn’t one of the dead ones. You knew he wished he was. And yet you were glad to have your non biological father around. Now you already got familiar with that unpleasant idea that if he died, you’d probably weren’t much worse off; and yet. And yet. He was sitting on the floor next to you, his black coil-like eyes scanning all things, looking for something he knew he wouldn’t find. And then they land on you and get one thousandth calmer. And you can’t wish for more.
“Boss”, FRIDAY’s voice ascended on you before you could say anything. She sounded so polite and respectful. She was perfect. You felt migraine strike you right in the forehead.
“Thor has arrived”.
“Thor?” Stark lifted his face like she was on the ceiling, then looked at you. He stood up and offered you his hand, and you grabbed it, folding your fingers around his wrist. Why have you never appreciated this moment of contact? How could you think there was something more precious in this greasy, cold, noisy world, than the feeling of somebody’s palm gripping yours in support? Dry burning touched your eyes, and you took his hand with another, rising slowly, keeping his palm between yours in the solemn gesture. He didn’t pull away when you refused to let go.
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Thor looked fresh and fit compared to all of you. He was standing there like a skyscraper, with his usual curious look on the bright face, despite all, and you citizens of the Anguish Town surrounded him like he was the messiah.
Rocket was sitting on a high chair at the counter, his small attentive eyes have located a dark bottle near the sink. Unfortunately, it was empty. The last Guardian’s thin legs were hanging funnily from the chair, and you took a second to appreciate the sight of it.
“Hello, friends”, Thor said. Benner was limping. He rubbed his left fist on his thigh and marched to the counter, passing you with a nod. He’d shut himself in the lab just like you, in your bedroom, and you two had barely seen each other in a week or so.
“Anything new? I thought you’d be far away, chasing the douche”, Tony requested politely. Steve watched from afar, his arms crossed on his chest. Thor gave away a small smile.
“Well, we haven’t found Thanos, not yet. But we have located somebody who could help us. She is, in fact, a Midgardian, and I was thinking to first council with you, in case you’re familiar with her”.
“What’s her name?” Bruce asked.
“Carol Danvers”, Thor offered readily, and did a pose. You raised your eyebrow. Rocket was already chewing on something.
“Doesn’t ring a bell”, Stark confessed, “Anyone?”
A round of slowly shaking heads. Tony gave a long look to Steve, and he shrugged.
“Why are you standing so far away?” Tony asked, hurt in his voice. “Why are you not paying attention to me”. Rogers sighed, giving up in advance, and headed to the rest of you heavily. He wasn’t holding a grudge though. You saw Stark’s hand going up and landing on his back briefly once he got close. You leaned on the counter not to give away how badly you wanted to knock yourself to sleep. The painkillers were killing you, not pain. They gave you headache and were putting you to sleep, making your slow brain work even more slowly.
“Well, she’s our good chance for help. Me and the rabbit, we shall reach out to her, and, I figured”, the Asgardian nodded towards Cap and Tony, “Stark would like to go with us”.
“No can do, not today”.
Thor frowned.
“Alright. Tomorrow. Is tomorrow good?”
“Who is she, that Carol Danvers?” Natasha wondered, slightly irritated. Ha! Romanoff doesn’t know someone?
“She’s our big hope”, Rocket noted knowingly. He grew even tougher yet than he used to be.
“Hope for what? How can a Midgardian help you locate Thanos? I thought you were the best at it”, you were puzzled.
“Oh”, Thor’s face alighted, “no. Not with Thanos. With your deceased ones”.
Silence fell on everyone for a second. You felt a small axe hit on your brain once, and then hot air left your nostrils. You swayed.
“What do you mean?” Steve asked. Tony was standing in the defensive pose, clutching his elbows, at his shoulder.
“Well, to bring them back”, Thor smiled lightly, with the soft condescension that marked his every conversation with the mortals. The softness in his heart, piercing it through and making him smile warm, every time he had to explain something to them, was unmistakable. Thor would never get enough of their awe, the mouths agape, their powerlessness they expressed when faced with the wonders of the Universe. Their denial, and shock, and their convulsive attempts to take everything in at one bite. He could never get enough of the Earth.
“De… you can’t just…” Benner started and shut up.
“Or can you?” you finished slowly. Thor smiled at them. Oh, he forgot to tell them, didn’t he. Yes, back there, in Wakanda, when he lost Thanos because of his foolishness, when everyone started to disintegrate, he was so preoccupied and angry, he forgot to comfort them, and left. Bah! He was about to slap himself on the head. He gave out a laugh that startled his friends, and made their faces go as long as the tail of a comet.
“No-no-no, we just call them deceased, well, to mark their absence, but they’re not really… ah, you didn’t start mourning them, did you? I am so sorry that I haven’t mentioned it earlier. You must all feel like idiots”.
Tony’s mouth opened and closed, and then his eyes went completely black. He hissed something like a snake, and no one could translate.
“Wait. Are you saying they’re not dead?” you didn’t realize you were yelling.
“Oh, no”.
“Where are they?” Steve whispered. Rocket cracked his fang on something and swore under his breath. You jumped at the sudden noise.
“Well, they’re inside the Soul Stone currently. That’s how it works, you see, - it takes the souls and conserves them inside, it’s very greedy indeed. But it is possible to restore the lost lives. I mean, it happened to me once, about seven hundred years ago…”
You lost sight and touched your face to check whether you still held other senses. The bright green spot before your eyes was stealing the kitchen space, the raccoon, Thor, and the sunshine gathering behind his back. The tip of your nose was cold, and you pinched it. That was it, you’ve had enough, you told yourself. A huge bird with sharp golden feathers raised its head inside your chest. You turned your head to where you thought Steve was standing, gasped for breath. Someone grabbed your shoulder. Steve Rogers glanced at you, his hands falling down. The soothsayer was right again.
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duallygirl178 · 3 years
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Dearest O'Malley Chapter 12
Chapter 12
It took me 2 months to pull myself back to health and being sad about losing Joe really got me. I didn't want to start working again as soon as I heard about it. I know that small things such as a relationship has came to an end don't upset me. I wasn't upset when Shay stopped hanging out with Nathan but when things like this happen, it takes me a long time to get over it. I too was really close to Joe since I was almost always up there. I know I would mess around with him when I needed something lined up. It would be a very hard, tough summer for me. Night after night, I'd sit under the carport looking sad. Nathan spent over 36 dollars trying to fix me while Natalie urged him not to give up. She went with him to see me. No matter what the problem was, I still missed Joe. Carol was transported to Good Sams to get better and it would be days before she could come home. The only person that could help now was Shannon; Buck's old landlord from Flora Vista. Nathan needed to go get him.
When Shannon came to the rescue one day, I started to feel a bit better. It had been after 5 years since I've seen him. He helped Nathan correct the problem and realigned my points. Then, when I started for him, it brought Nathan great joy. It was all on a Thursday afternoon in September and it was just in time because tomorrow would be my 51st birthday. Nathan took pictures of me t show Natalie. I quickly noticed I had worn off the affects of the nitrous from the college and let go of the pain of being sad. After all, the sun was shining and it was comfortably warm out. I would miss Joe but I will always remember him. When we went to get Natalie that Friday evening from her babysitting job. Natalie was happy to see me running again. Today, was my 51st birthday and we drove to celebrate it at SONIC as my birthday dinner. We ordered hamburgers and had master blasts  while listening to all my favorite songs on Natalie's phone. She recorded song over the week all for me. They all took me back in my day when those hit songs were written and sung on the air. I haven't heard songs like "Rip it up" in over 16 years and it really had been a long time since I've heard them all in a drive-in burger joint on a summer night. I was having a nice birthday and I was enjoying it all except for that two friends of mine that were missing to make it even better.
The moment after we got done eating, I started to make my way down the street headed home that night. I suddenly heard someone sing out to me about 4 feet behind me "Good Golly, Miss Molly!" and I wasn't paying any attention until the last minute on who it was. I heard it again. "Good golly, Miss Molly! Sure like a ball!" I looked behind me and it was Gonzo. I laughed and said "Uh-on. Someone come get Gadget-mobile...'Good morning Riverton'!"
It was a very good to see him here tonight. I haven't seen the ol' Saucer in weeks. When he finished laughing, Gonzo replied "Where've you been at the last few weeks?" I told him; "I got sick after I had surgery on my transmission and didn't run for two months." Gonzo gasped in surprise and said "Oh no. That's not good. Well, I hoped that you were able to get better." I agreed and remembered to tell Gonzo something important. I said "And I was able to get well because it's my 51st birthday. I'm an old man." Gonzo replied back "I remembered. Happy birthday, O'Malley. I had a gift for you, but I forgot it at home. Let me make it up to you. Tomorrow, I'll come by with it and give you a cake that I made to celebrate. You'll really like it. I made you a Recess cup ice cake." I smiled and said "You didn't have to do that. It's not a big deal." Gonzo refused and said "No, no. I insist because that's what friends do." I snickered and said "Alright, if you insist." Then Gonzo talked to me a few hours and then, had to get home after he was going to the dollar store. It was almost time for his TV show that he was hooked on. We headed home also with our bellies full of good old American food. When we got home, I got a nice birthday under-carriage rub from Natalie. It was a great present and whatever that Gonzo was going to get me, it was going to be even better. I've been enjoying a lot of those belly rubs from Natalie lately and they got better every time. Once I got a belly rub, they appear to come out like a lasagna in every place. I would get a massage under my chin, belly, sides and hood. I started feeling younger, healthier, and stronger. When Jan got up to wash dishes, the TV was ours to watch after she was done watching her Lifetime channel. I didn't mind, I was enjoying my massage from Natalie. She gave me a chin rub after she rubbed my belly. I wished Gladys could have given me massages, but she never did. I was guaranteed Natalie did a better job than anyone.
The very next day in the afternoon, Gonzo came over to 1025 which was where I lived at. He brought me cake and a gift over and he told me happy birthday even though my birthday was last night. We still celebrated it and ate cake. It was even better than the Village Inn restaurant because when it came to cake, Gonzo made the best.  When I opened my gift, it was a fifty dollar gift card to Starbucks. Gonzo wasn't so great at picking gifts but I have been craving Starbucks for a while and since I haven't been to Starbucks in a long time, I was sure to spend it on a latte and a cheese Danish for sure. I smiled and thanked Gonzo. He chuckled delighted and said "Now you can stop by Starbucks and those cheese Danishes and coffee won't be taunting you anymore." I told him "I had a few dreams about hot and doughy pastries like cinnamon rolls, donuts, scones, and Danishes that I wish I could pull right out of my dreams and bask into their sweet gooey sin of freshness. You did a good job of making this recess pie. I tell you what it makes all the cherry pies look shameful." Gonzo thanked me on the compliment and we updated on what we've been doing on each other. Other than me getting sick for almost 2 months, Gonzo's been doing good aside from him getting allergies from the cottonwood trees and getting stuck out in the sun, only to get worse in his condition. It was a good thing I didn't catch allergies coming to think of it while Gonzo talked on and on. I mean, holy flounder-flop, he talked as long as my cousin did.
After that, Gonzo had to head home because it was already 3PM and getting late. He needed to be home for dinner so, he let me have the rest of the cake. Gonzo departed as soon as he pulled out. The next day, I got to celebrate my 51st birthday again with Robin since he always remembered my birthdays. Robin took me out for lunch at DAD'S Diner by the mall. Robin encountered a jukebox, put a quarter in, and played "See you later alligator" by Bill Haley and His Comets which I hadn't heard that song in forever. It was one of my favorite songs. I instantly perked up and hummed along. Just as Robin was headed back to me, he saw me humming along to "See you later alligator" and said "You know, you're 51 years old. You need to loosen up, be cool and release your energy into some of that jive." I looked embarrassed. I haven't danced in a very long time and wasn't sure if I wanted to stand up and dance. I stuttered and said "Robin...I.…...I-I haven't danced in over 20 years. I don't even know if I want to dance in front of all these people." Robin blew raspberry and said "Oh come on. It's your birthday. You only get to be 51 once in your life. It'll be fun." I snickered and was finally into the groove since I loved that song so much, I could listen to it for days. So I got up and said "Okay, only if you dance with me, man. No matter how many people are staring." and Robin agreed. So we danced to the song and even got a kick out of it when the song ended. I had the most fun. Being 51 was great and it was about to get even better. After Dad’s Diner, we went on a little cruise in town. Robin blared the music to "Good Golly, Miss Molly" and we shouted to every classic car that was also out for a drive, parts of the lyrics to Little Richard's song in their faces. We got looks of "What are you talking about" on their eyes and lots of "Whoo hoo!" comments. I was sure having a great time and a great birthday. When the song ended, I was talking to Robin on how much fun I was having and I added "You know Robin, Folks my age should really goof off on special days or on young moments from being 17 years old. This us just...too much!" Robin bursted out laughing and said "I know. It pays for being 51 years old because old folks just want to have fun." Instantly, I thought of an idea and so I told Robin what it was. He laughed and reduced his speed to 10 miles an hour. He and I picked random cars in traffic and cruised by them for a few minutes. Then we would make them fishtail and stop dead in traffic. I sped up to a person with a Farmington High School bumper sticker on his 2008 Nissan Ultama. I got by the driver's side while driving in traffic and waited 20 minutes for the moment at 20 miles an hour and then, made the dude swerve over to the left side and right on the street until his car drove over on a curb. Robin and I bursted out laughing as we left the sucker in the dust. Robin did the same thing as I did. He drove up to a random car in traffic, pulled up, waited for the moment and swerved a little making the car fishtail. We started doing that until we turned down the street to fill up on motor oil. Robin couldn't wipe that smile off his bumper but it would take weeks to wipe the smile away.
The week before Carol came home, I heard some news that Erik had stolen her computer. I couldn't believe it! Stealing! From his own grandmother! It was treacherous.  This happened while I wasn't paying attention and how he broke in, was beyond me. Erik might have crawled through a spare room window and got the key to the computer room when I know it was locked. But I do know that Erik had stolen a lot of items from Joe and Carol before and then some at Wal-Mart. He was quite a bad person for a thief. I had this feeling that no one was going to do a thing about it to get it back. I didn't even hear him come in as I was reading Carol's books and relaxing on Joe's chair. I laid the book page-down to go see what else the little thief took with him. I came to the bookcase in the dining room with the antiques on top of it, and checked in the bowl where the computer key was. The key was still in there and so I grabbed the key to unlock the computer door. I opened the door, and saw the computer was gone. Next, I closed the door, locked it, set the key back into the bowl and thought about Joe's bedroom. I hunted all over the room to find what more Erik stole. I remembered Joe kept a pistol by his bedside for emergencies. It was gone too. I looked for the pistol but couldn't find it. I supposed Erik stole that too but I wasn't sure if it was true. I couldn't prove it because I didn't see it nor video record it. There was nothing I could do, so I went back to the living room and enjoyed the rest of the book. It would be up to Jan now to find out about what happened and believe what she saw. I still couldn’t believe Erik did such a horrible thing from his grandma. It was all because he wanted Nathan to buy him an expensive gaming system after Tiny was sold to a new home when Nathan's mother was a big priority than Erik. He threw a fit for a few days and Nathan still wouldn't buy him anything because Erik was disrespectful. Nathan didn't care and he always took care of things with love. Erik didn't deserve it. When Carol got home from Good Sam's that late September, after my birthday, we started to take care of her to help her live well again. She went downhill after several weeks and it was getting tiresome.  We knew it was time to call an assisted living care when Carol got too needy because She wanted Jan to stay up at her home and help her. Jan had work and couldn't give her the care she needed. Jan looked at several assisted living agencies and searched for their reasonable prices that only Carol could afford. None of them seemed to help Carol with the chores that needed done, although the nurses did help her change diapers and bathe her. It was time to make drastic measures. Jan called Good Sams and had her transferred to Aztec. The first week that Carol was there, the nurses didn't attend to her and took over an hour to get to her. Carol was going downhill fast and all we could do now was keep visiting her.
That Autumn season, I was having a conversation with Natalie. She was worried about something that Nathan was saying to her. I told her "Nathan always does this. He tried to scare me because I wouldn't start for him. He threatened to sell me to a home, but I outsmarted him. He doesn't start acting on what he says he was going to do." I added that Nathan needed to act more mature by following through on things he was asked to do. Natalie sighed and said "Why does he act that way?" I looked down almost ashamed of myself for telling her that Nathan was trying to win in an argument. I told her "Because he wants you to think you've done something wrong so he can win in the conversation." At that moment, I asked myself quietly 'Was that the best advice I could give?' Was it enough to make Natalie satisfied on how Nathan worked? I didn't feel that it was, but Natalie was very satisfied with the input I gave her. So, Natalie went back in the house and said nothing more...not even what I told her.
A while back, Nathan got a dog after Natalie had to surrender her new cat; Velvet that she got from the Durango animal shelter. What I didn't expect, was to get a pit-bull mix. She was pretty with the black and white but she talked a lot with moos. I knew Nathan wouldn't take care of her nor pay attention to her after a while of getting her. I liked Shyla because she had a different personality, she was full of energy and was funny. She didn't deserve to be left out on a chain on summer nights. She needed a good home with a family that had space and a yard. She needed someone who could walk her. Shyla had ran away a few weeks later but came back 30 minutes later. I remembered that Candy had done that a few times but I've never seen a dog that was so athletic that she could outrun a cheetah in Africa. When Shyla returned, she needed a large amount of discipline. She started walking all over Natalie with no boundaries and making sure Natalie was out of energy. But she didn't stop for Natalie to rest, she wanted to play another round of tug-of-war. Shyla would bring the toy to Natalie while she sat down. Instantly, Natalie got Shyla trying to reach up and grab the toy out of Natalie's clutch when she would jerk it higher than Shyla's reach. I watched her do that too-slow game to Shyla just for my entertainment. Then, I would take a turn to play with Shyla and give Natalie a break. The poor girl had been to the gym for 45 minutes and worked out hard on the treadmill. As I was playing with Shyla, I noticed Shyla had quite a grip. It was like trying to play tug-of-war with an alligator because that dog had a strong, tough grip. About 30 minutes later, Shyla gave up and laid down on the couch. I had finally exhausted Shyla in a game of tug-of-war. I had imagined I had more energy than Shyla. I put the toy on the table and had a seat next to Natalie and said "And that's how you exhaust a dog with tons of energy. I told you I could tire her out like that. Natalie gave me this tired but I'm-quietly-proud-of-you look on her face. I chuckled quickly. I had out-powered Shyla good enough.
That evening as we went into town, we stopped at the gas station to get me fed with gasoline. Our next stop was going to be Wal-mart because Jan needed to buy BOOST drinks while she's pn the run for the weekdays. Natalie was talking about treating Nathan to some new shirts to wear for the week. After I ate my gasoline meal, we pulled into the busy parking lot to Wal-mart. I prepared to wait 45 minutes for them to go shopping. I found out I had to wait only 30 minutes because I saw them coming out with a cart of groceries. Natalie and Nathan were loading the groceries into the trunk while Jan was let in to sit down. She was tired. It felt heavy from all those groceries weighing my balls to the ground. But it turned out, it didn't weigh me down. I was able to get it home with no problem. When we got home after Wal-mart, Natalie grabbed about 15 bags of groceries out of the trunk. Nathan told her and kept telling her to bring in 5 bags at a time. She didn't listen and kept bringing in all the groceries she could handle. After bringing in the groceries, I got a few side rubs from Natalie while Nathan tried on his new shirt. It was a black DEADPOOL Shirt that said "I have Issues" which matched Nathan so well. Recently, Nathan bought the movie "Deadpool" from Safeway and he just loved it. I've seen it once and thought it was pretty raunchy for me, but good for one time. There was a part in the movie where it reminded me of Impa and what he would say. Impa has had that personality that Deadpool had in his eyes. He said the same crude things Deadpool used once. Gonzo and I were even shocked that Impa would say such things but all that was 40 years ago. I didn't remember why Impa said that or who it was to. But besides my point, Nathan and Natalie would watch that movie over and over on occasional nights.
That very next day, Nathan was wearing his new Deadpool shirt. Natalie bought him another one that was white too but she didn't know why he wasn't wearing it. I wouldn't get to see the white shirt on him to know how Nathan liked it. Natalie had asked him "Why aren't you wearing your Beavis and Butt-head shirt?" Frankly, Nathan responded to her "It's hard for me to keep whites clean. Every time I wear them, they get stained." I looked at Natalie and remembered the last few white shirts that Nathan had were stained with something impossible to get out. Natalie told him "Well, if you aren't going to wear it, then I might as well wear it myself." Nathan chuckled as if he didn't mind. Natalie enjoyed wearing T-shirts better than those mule-twisted tees that were for sixth graders...not that I've ever seen or had a problem with her wearing them. I liked her in whatever she had in her closet; pants with a large tee, shorts with a t-shirt...whatever she owned.
A few weeks later, I noticed it was almost time for the Brookside park to have its annual car show. I had to look spiffy and clean for the judges to see. Natalie was already getting a hop on it. She vacuumed my interior out and did everything to get me ready. She worked hard to get the dirt out and the ashes that were in my ash tray from when Jan emptied her ciggs. After a few "Ows" and a lot of "Take it easy. you're hurting me" cries, Natalie was done vacuuming the interior.
A day before the car show, Natalie gave me a bath and scrubbed me down with soap herself. I had to say, it was the best bath I ever gotten. She wore shorts that she sewed together out of her old pants and wore a long t-shirt. I got a little excited and said "Now all you need to be wearing is a shorty-short shirt with a bikini bottom and you'll be all set." I chuckled after I just imagined Catherine Bach's body with Natalie's face on it. Natalie gave me a strange but silly eyes and said "Oh sure, yeah right." She was more confidently happy about her figure than most husky girls. Natalie was my kind of girl with that-girl-as-good-as-she-looks personality. It was like a whole new spunk for me.
Natalie was very thorough when she scrubbed. It felt good as she scrubbed my hubcaps and tires hard. It was like getting a finger massage in hot coconut oil. She gave me a better bath than Nathan and it wasn't normal for Nathan to allow other people to wash any of us three cars. I hated the part where I was sprayed down with a high pressure of water. Now as for the washing part, Natalie loved to use a sponge with soap on it. Next time, if I wanted a bath, I wanted Natalie to do it from now on. That night, Sonic was having a classic car party because it was registration night. I got nervous I wasn't going to be able to park next to Robin this year. I remembered there was a time when I didn't get to do that. I've been parked and seated next to strangers that were terrible. I was used to being close to Robin and I didn't do so hot with strangers. In 2015 of summer, I almost had a fight with an Oldsmobile and I didn't want to go through that again.
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