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toasttt11 · 4 months

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ethereal

February 20, 2022

It was supposed to be the happiest day for her, she just won gold at the olympics again, breaking history and accomplishments dreams she never thought were possible to accomplish. It was supposed to be a day she was going to celebrate all night but instead it was a day that she knew was coming.

Fredrick and Vera were two peas in pod since the moment they met, the two connecting in a way that was just ethereal.

They quickly become one of the best pairs in history. Most days were spent together training, laughing, smiling, spinning around the ice together.

They grew up together as their friendship grew with them. Fredrick and Vera had a beautiful connection anyone could see it by the way Fredrick treated Vera with love and affection, the way he always was softly touching her, always gently picking her off the podium, Fredrick never once dropping her ever, The wha Vera would light up around him, the way she always relaxed fully again him, how Vera talked about him whenever someone asked about.

Fredrick and Vera just had a connection that was priceless and special and it slowly turned into something more even. In January of 2020 they admitted what they felt for each other and it just grew from their, it was so natural and passionate between the two anyone would think they would be together forever.

Except they weren’t.

Vera never knew when it changed but it did. One day, slowly but surely the sweet boy who use to bring her flowers and make her laugh turned into someone she couldn’t ever recognize a flash of. The boy she fell in love with was gone.

Vera noticed the way he slowly moved into the guest room and on the road suddenly ever room had two bed. The once loving and affectionate touches became nonexistent, the only time she felt his touch was when they were on the ice. And the once sweet comments and lovingly words she received turned into cold condescending words or pure ice cold silence and ignoring anything they came out of her mouth.

Vera noticed it at the end of the summer of 2021 they had been together for a year and half and everything was great until it wasn’t anymore.

Eventually the more she was treated this way she noticed she was falling out of love with him, and at the end of the day she could handle losing his love and losing being in love with him but she missed her best friend.

Vera planned to split up their partnership after the Olympics were over because she was done trying fighting to save something that he doesn’t even want to save.

She knew she made the right decision when they went to sign their contract for the next year of being pairs when she read the requirements. He wanted her to pay for everything. Everything for skating or to do with skating was to be payed by her. The money they receive from winning would not be spilt but would go all to him and Fredrick had the finally say on everything.

Vera slowly looked up from the contract looking right into Fredricks eyes as she picked the contract up ripping it down the middle, “No.”

“What why not?” Fredrick angrily snapped, the lawyer looked between his two clients nervously, having seen the requirements but was told by Fredrick they both wanted them.

“No i won’t sign this. I won’t sign another contract to continue being your pair.” Vera slowly stood up still maintaining eye contact, “You forgot something Fredrick, i never needed you. But you have always needed me.” Vera turned around walking towards the door, hiding the heartbreak from showing on her face.

“You’ll regret this.” Fredrick yelled towards her back slamming his hands on the table. Not ever been known to control his temper.

Vera held the door knob in her hands before turning around, “No i wont.” She turned around ready to leave before she turned her head once more to see the fumes coming from Fredrick, “Oh and if you couldn’t tell, we’re over.” Vera shut the door behind her walking out the hotel confrence room heading straight to the elevator, she clicked her phone on calling to have her plane ready in a hour to go back to California.

Vera walked down the hall to her hotel quickly opening the door slamming it behind her, sliding down against the door hitting the floor burying her face into her hands.

Apollo and Aries jumped off the bed where they were sleeping and ran right to their mother, Aries nudged his nose into her hands and Apollo leaned his body on Vera’s side.

“Thank you my loves.” Vera whispered to her two babies cuddling with them needing the comfort more than ever. She took a few minutes to just hold her dogs before she gently let go of them getting up and starting to pack up their stuff, she packed all of her stuff back into her large suitcase and all of her dogs stuff into their suitcase she clicked on the leashes for her dogs before exiting the hotel room with the two suitcase, her backpack on her back, her purse on her shoulder and both of her dogs on the leashes.

Vera walked out of the hotel into the car that was waiting for her, thanking the driver who took took her bags before hopping into the back with her two dogs.

The drive was quick to the the airport and she quickly climbed up the steps into her plane, nodding at her employees before heading to her bedroom she has in the back of the plane she closed the door and un clicked Apollo and Aries leashes and sat on the bed pulling her knee to her chest resting her forehead on her knees feeling both of her boys sit on either side of her. Aries layed his head on her arm looking at his mom with sad eyes giving her a small whine, Apollo leaned his whole body weight into Vera’s and licking his mom’s arms.

Vera remembered meeting Frederick when they were young, only just kids and when they went onto the ice together for the first time they just clicked and they knew they had to be partners, their connection was so natural and so easy for them. It was a connection many other skater’s envied wanting to be that connected to their partner.

Vera and Fredrick had met Alexandra who quickly became their other best friend, the three quickly became a trio. Becoming each other’s safe space, where they didn’t feel as the whole world was watching. Alexandra and Vera becoming platonic soulmates the two pushing each other to only become better on the ice. Alexandra and Fredrick finding a sibling in each other and having a very teasing relationship.

Traveling the world and spending most your time on the ice you tend to grow close with the people you skate with and Alexandra and Vera don’t know what was wrong with Fredrick but Alexandra slowly stopped respecting her once best friend that was a big brother to her when she saw how he was treating her best friend.

Alexandra could see how hard Vera just wanted their best friend back and she only hoped that Vera will get her happy ending one day.

Vera woke up hours later running a hand through her hair seemingly to fall asleep with her dogs cuddled with her and checked the time realizing the flight was over half way done and decided it was time to get away from California and fast and she knew exactly where she wanted to go.

New Jersey.

New Jersey a place she’s always loved staying in and the biggest factor as it has one of her most favorite people in the world living their her big brother Nico, and the Devils who have all become like family to her and one of her closet friends Jack.

She pulled up the apartment complex she knew Nico and Jack lived and quickly found an apartment that would be perfect for her and her dogs and quickly applied for the apartment and was surprised when her request was immediately approved and the contracts quickly emailed over for her to sign and put into the money and she would already have the apartment. Vera quickly finished everything letting out a small smile seeing how quickly everything fell into place.

She pulled out the book she was currently reading to past by the rest of the time and before she knew the plane was landing and she was waking up her dogs putting their leashes back on and grabbing her backpack and purse.

She walked down the stairs to the plane heading into the car that was waiting for her and got into the car, the drive to her house was quick and she quickly thanked the driver before unclipping the leashes of the dogs and walking into her house in California, one of her more favorite places and had made some of her closest friends here and the first place she bought a place not rented.

She breathed out a sigh of being home and for once she thanked Fredrick for having moved out a while ago so she didn’t have to worry about him coming over to get anything that is his.

She took out her phone as she walked up her stairs towards her room and texted her group chat with Trevor and Jamie telling them she is home and she knows they don’t have a game today or tomorrow before throwing her phone on her bed and heading into her bathroom and taking a long shower.

Vera walked out of the bathroom with her hair freshly washed and brushed before grabbing a pair of grey sweatpants and a purple loose long sleeve, she slipped on a pair of fluffy socks and walked down stairs and across the long hall to the living room and throwing the throw blanket across her lap as Aries and Apollo layed on both sides of her.

Vera heard the door open and knew exactly who it was especially when her dogs tails started excitedly wagging.

“Honey we’re home!” Trevor’s voice echoed through out the house.

“In here babes!” Vera called back not getting up.

Trevor and Jamie walking into the living room making Aries and Apollo jump up and run over to the two. Trevor set down the bag he brought and kneeled down petting them like crazy as Jamie softly petted the top of both their heads before looking at one of his best friends nothing the dimmed look in her eyes that has been more common recently and the way her lips were naturally more downturned.

Trevor bounced up from the dogs jumping onto Vera, “Congratulations VeeVee!” Trevor hugged his best friend tightly.

Vera tried not to think of everything that happened but she couldn’t help and starting sniffing in the hug from the comfort from her best friend, she burrowed her her head into her chest feeling the tears running down her face and her shoulder began to shake.

Jamie and Trevor looked at each other with concern, Trevor hugged her tightly as Jamie sat on the other side of them brushing a soft hand through her wet hair.

The two let Vera cry all her tears out onto Trevor’s hoodie before she slowly calmed down.

Vera lifted her head looking between her two best friends, Trevor wiped off her tears as Jamie looked her in concern, “What happened Vee?”

“He wanted to sign a contract to continue our pair and it was fucked, he wanted me to pay for everything including all of his expenses, all the earnings were to go to him and he had final say in everything, so i ripped up the contract and broke up with him.” Vera fiddled with Jamie’s hands as she told them what went down a day ago.

Trevor clenched his jaw hearing about Fredrick, Trevor having known Vera before she dated Fredrick and with Vera living mostly in California he was one of the few who truly saw how much their relationship got extremely toxic and how much Vera has been heartbroken over the last year.

Jamie frowned looking at one of his best friends, “Is that why you came home early?” He knew she was supposed to be there a few more days celebrating her gold medals.

“I had to leave.” Vera mumbled resting her head on Jamie’s shoulder while Trevor laided on top of her.

“Well i for one am glad you broke up with that asshole!” Trevor grinned looking at Vera making her let out a soft laugh.

“Of course you are ZeeZee.” Vera fondly smiled knowing how much Trevor hated seeing her in that relationship getting hurt.

“How are you feeling.” Jamie looked towards her in concern.

Vera took a deep breath, “Honestly kinda free, obviously it still hurts to think about losing him as my best friend but i’m relieved to have finally cut that part of me.” Vera for the last year as she noticed Fredrick slowly changing she had hoped everything would get fixed and she could have her best friend back but she knew she really needed to end things with him.

“Good.” Jamie kissed the top of her head.

“I got an apartment in New Jersey.” Vera blurted out into the comfortable silence.

Trevor’s head popped up from where he was laying on Vera, “What! Why?”

“I thought maybe a fresh city to live in could do some good, besides my new location will be opening there soon and Nico apartment complex had an open space and Jack will be there too.” Vera explained her thoughts to the boys.

“I think it will be good for you.” Jamie reassured her thinking a new city could be good for her.

“As long as you don’t forget about us!” Trevor pouted, “And we have a lot of games in New York and New Jersey so we will be able to see you a lot.”

“And i’m keeping my house here in California and i still have to come out here a lot anyways so it won’t be that bad.” Vera reassured the pouting Trevor.

“Alright but as long as i’m still you favorite hockey player best friend, Jack cannot past me.” Trevor looked at Vera extremely seriously making Vera and Jamie throw their heads back laughing at their silly best friend.

#verahischierau #jack hughes x reader #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jh86 #luke hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #nico hischier x reader #ch86 #nico hischier #jamie drysdale #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #alexandriazegrasau #nhl #nj devils #luke hughes x reader #simon nemec

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braidlottie · 5 months

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christmas in july.

pairing: pool boy!transmasc!reader x milf!shauna shipman

summary: you’ve been cleaning ms. shipman’s pool for quite sometime now, even having a friendship with her. you never would’ve thought what happeneds when you stepped foot into her pool one night.

tags: smut, 18+, nsfw (minors dni), reader has his own pool business, reader has top surgery, shauna is divorced :3, pool sex, clit play, oral sex (shauna receiving), shauna has a christmas tree in the middle of july (you’ll see why), brief smoking (from callie and shauna)

wc: 1.8k

sorry i didn’t know how to end this fic pls Forgive me!!!!

life couldn't be better for you right now. you were out of college for the summer, and your pool business was booming. you always loved this time of year, you got a shit ton of money, and you just loved seeing little kids' faces when their parents tell them the pool’s clean. but there was one house that you absolutely love going to, you never pass up a chance to go there.

mrs. sadecki’s house.

well, ms. shipman’s house. you forgot she recently got a divorce over the spring, just leaving her and her daughter alone in that big, suburban house. you never really knew why they separated, but it was none of your business anyway, though you missed seeing the two together. mr. sadecki was always very kind to you.

parking your van on the curb, you grabbed all your supplies, like your chlorine tablets and your leaf skimmer. you walked up the porch step and rang the doorbell. “coming!” you heard ms. shipman’s voice echoed from outside the house, and it took for her to answer. “oh, honey, i’m so sorry, i just got out of the shower.” she opened the door, in a robe and wet, dripping hair. you told her it was fine, and she let you in. she kept apologizing for leaving you out in the hot sun, and offered you some lemonade outside.

you went out the back door to the pool and got to work, checking the pH levels, changing the pool filter, and even going back to your van for your vacuum to get some debris off the pool floor. your tank top came off while doing so, so you wouldn’t get it wet while vacuuming. you were at it for about thirty minutes before ms. shipman came back to check on you, a pitcher of lemonade in one hand, and two, tall glass cups in the other. she set them down on the patio table and pulled out two chairs. she couldn’t take your eyes of your chest, the water droplets trickling all the wall down to your-

“mrs. sadecki?” your voice brought her out of her trance.

“i’m just about finished, mrs. sadecki. oh- i mean, ms. shipman.” you cursed at yourself for the mistake. “that’s alright, honey, and i told you to start calling me shauna. all that ‘mrs’ stuff makes me feel old.” she poured you a cup of lemonade, passing it to you as you sat down.

“it looks beautiful, callie’s gonna love it,” she smiled, taking a sip of the cold beverage. “i made you a little kit, until next time. put some of this shock in there once every week so you can get rid of the bacteria. and your own little leaf skimmer so you can get all the bugs and leaves out and what not.” you pointed at the supplies next to you.

“thank you, that’s so sweet. oh, how do i keep the possums from getting in?”

“oh yeah, i got you a tarp, just lay it flat right over it at night, and you’re good to go.”

shauna smiled and nodded, ever so grateful for somebody like you, taking care of her pool. the two of you sat and talked for another twenty minutes when you realized it was around that time that you went to get something for lunch. it was almost like shauna didn’t want you to go, so she proposed something you never would’ve thought of. “are you free tonight?”

your eyebrows raised in surprise. “sure, what time?”

“around 7. i wanted you to join me and callie for dinner today. just as a thank you.” shauna got up from her chair, her hands behind her back timidly. “but, i’ve been cleaning your pool for a while now, shauna. i’m just doing my job.” her shyness began to shed off onto you now.

“i know, but i never really formally thanked you. c’mon, please?” shauna couldn’t believe she was begging to her pool boy right now. “well, i’ll be there. thank you, shauna.” she smiled back at your response, watching you grab your things and leave.

***

you came back, just “around 7” like shauna told you too, the sun was setting and shauna’s daughter, callie, was sitting on the porch swing, taking a hit from her vape. she saw you get out and walk up to her.

“sup?”

“sup.” you replied, putting your hand on your hip, your keys jingling in your hand. you’ve had a few interactions with callie before, except they were just awkward smiles and waves.

“your mom know you have that?” you gestured at the pen.

“no. are you gonna tell her?”

“nah, not today.” you smirked. the girl sniggered at that.

there were a few more seconds of silence before she got up to go back in the house. “i can’t believe my mom let the pool boy come to dinner. she must really like you.” she left the door open for you to walk in behind her.

“you’re back! and you changed.” shauna came to greet you, noticing that your swim trunks were different, and you had on a t-shirt with your company name on it. “of course, i did. didn’t want to come to dinner smelling like chlorine.” she chuckled at your joke. “woah. why is your christmas tree still up?” you admired the beautiful red, silver, and green ornaments strung along the branches.

“ever heard of christmas in july?”

“i didn’t even know people celebrated that.” you shrugged and callie scoffed. “that’s my mom, celebrating every holiday known to man. like, how are you from new jersey and you celebrate boxing day?” the younger girl scoffed.

“enough from you, help me set the table.” shauna scolded. you got a kick out of the duo, seeing them bicker back and forth about the most random holidays.

***

the three of you had just finished dinner, callie going up to her own room after saying goodnight. shauna let you stay for a while, sitting by the pool with you. the night air was cold against your legs.

you saw shauna pull out a box of cigarettes from her pocket, with a lighter as well. the lighter clicked a few times before she successfully lit the cigarette. she held out the box to you with a raised brow.

“oh, no, i don’t smoke.” you shook your head and smiled nervously. “ever since i left jeff, i started smoking these. i need to quit it though. i can already feel myself staring to shrivel up.” she scoffed, and you laughed again. looking up at the stars.

the two of you sat in the patio chairs the conversation g when shauna put out her cigarette and stood up. “wanna go for a swim?” she slipped off her cardigan, placing it on the chair. “i really shouldn’t.”

“aww, come on. just this once?” she kicked off her sandals. you twisted your lips in second guessing, shauna giving you a pleading look. “just for a little.” you smirked, and she smiled.

since you were already in your swim trunks, you just took of your shirt, leaving you in a tank top. you thought shauna would do the same, but when you turned around, she was already in the pool.

naked.

you gulped, not even realize how hard you were staring until shauna said something. “don’t be shy, honey.” you stepped down the pool stairs, teeth chattering at the coldness of the water mixed with the night air. you dunked your whole body in, even your head. you stayed under for a while before coming to the surface, wiping the water from your face.

“it feels amazing.” she ran her hands through her wet hair. you stood on the pool floor, trying to adjust your swim trunks, that have been feeling a little too tight ever since you got in. your rock hard nipples poking through your white tanktop. it was shauna’s turn to stare now.

“you okay?”

“yeah, sorry.” you looked up at her again, but your eyes went straight to her breasts. “my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” she spoke seductively. your eyes met hers, and she giggled at your expression. she swam closer, making you back up against the pool wall.

her finger went to your left nipple, twisting and pinching it over your tank. your breathing got heavier and heavier, her brown eyes looking up at yours.

“ms. shipman, we shouldn’t-”

“i know you want this. you’ve always had your eyes on me for too long, even before i divorced jeff.”

“wha- no, what are you talking about?” you sputtered. “i wouldn’t do that to mr. sadecki.”

shauna had a “you sure about that?” look on your face, and you knew she was onto you.

she was onto you the whole time.

she giggled at your reaction, so embarrassed but surprised. “naughty boy.”

her hands were snaking further down to your trunks, fingers still grazing over your nipple. “oh, shit.”

“want me to touch you?”

you nodded and shauna’s hand slipped down your shorts, fingers rubbing your engorged clit in small circles. you moaned, tipping your head back in pure bliss.

“you better be quiet. you don’t want my daughter up there to here, do you?” shauna pointed up at callie’s window, seeing that her bedroom light was still on.

“n-no- fuck- i’m sorry.” you bit your lip, trying to supress another small whine of desperation. “shauna, fuck.”

“such a dirty mouth for a sweet boy like you.” she smirked, applying more pressure to that little bundles of nerves. she knew you were close. and she wanted to make you come hard.

“fuckfuckfuck- i’m gonna cum,” you hips thrusted into shauna’s hand, shying away from her eyes. you groaned, muffling it with the back of your hand.

“that’s it, honey.” she whispered, wiping the trickles of water look from your face. after you catch your breath, your hands go to shauna’s waist, backing her against the pool wall now. she finally kissed you, moaning breathlessly into your mouth. “i wanna taste you.” you said hungrily, making shauna sit on the the edge on the pool for you.

you spit on your hand before rubbing over shauna’s clit, getting a low yet desperate moan from her, inhaling sharply when your tongue swirled against it. “fuck, baby!” she holds your head closer, squeezing it between her thighs. “oh, baby, i’m gonna cum so fucking hard. keep going for me.” her teeth gritted as she cursed.

she gasped, hurling forward and muscles spasming as she came on your tongue. she wiped a tear from her eye, the overwhelming feeling hitting her so hard. she’s never had sex this good. even when she was married to jeff.

“well, that was something else.” she struggled to stand, her legs a little shaky. she walked back to the patio chair, putting her clothes back on her wet body. you also got out as well, just lifting yourself up to sit on the edge.

“i’ll see you next week? y’know, for the pool?”

“uh.. yeah, yes you will.” you sniffed, shauna just smiling at you adoringly. hopefully it’s just for the pool, right?

part of you hoped it wasn’t.

#finalgirlmeeks fluffmas/kinkmas ‘23!#shauna sadecki x reader #shauna shipman smut #shauna shipman x reader #adult shauna #shauna shipman #shauna sadecki #shauna yellowjackets #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

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the0maski · 7 days

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Little thoughts and feelings about Update Dawn part 9| part 3

You cannot tell me, that his eyes didn’t showed the windows blue screen of death at exactly that moment. He really can’t handle attention, Twi would feel probably very uncomfortable turning someone down, more so because he knows how it hurts. Yet I think he really is the type of guy who needs a deep friendship level first, before he falls in love with a person.

Both of them are so happy to see each other! Epona immediately turning her head once she sees him, and Twilight moods going to maximum happiness! The first thing he dose is price her, so cute.

Warriors comment just solidifies that Twilight wasn’t comfortable when he asked who the lady was.

Game reference my beloved!!! Not hard to explain, if you can jump down from somewhere you jump, easy!

(Wind does a classic roll?

Legend and Hyrule just jump down)

Warriors…he’s trying way too hard.

I think this is also a reference to Hyrule Warriors being a complete different type of Zelda-game.

From the creator of Wind gets push out of the way by Dink and Those who get lost together stay together Wild and Hyrule! We get now, a brand new running gag: Of course you’re rich Wars, and I am the King of Hyrule!

Legend has a point…but I wouldn’t say that Time keeps the ranch income…he isn’t the owner of Lon Lon, since he married Malon. All the money goes to his wife, and I even say Time takes just what he finds in dungeons, and or demands necessary. I doubt he has a lot of rupees with him.

(Wanna know who is the poorest Link?

Warriors: 9.999,999 (≈10.000,000)

Wild: 999.999 (≈1000.000)

Twilight: 9.999 (≈10.000)

Sky: 9.999 (≈ 10.000)

Legend: 9.999 (≈ 10.000) from ALbW

If we take all his LU canon games:

ALttP: 999 (≈1.000)

OoA: 999 (≈1.000)

OoS: 999 (≈1.000)

LA: 999 (≈1.000)

Total: 13.995 (≈14.000)

Wind: 9.999 (≈ 10.000) from PH

If we take all his LU canon games:

WW: 5.000

Total: 14.999 (≈15.000)

Four: 999 (≈ 1.000) from MC

+ all his LU canon games:

FS: 99.999 (≈ 100.000)

Total: 100.998 (≈ 101.000)

Time: 500 from Oot

+ all his LU canon games:

MM: 500

Total: 1.000

Hyrule: 255 from TloZ

In conclusion Hyrule is the poorest! If there are some mistakes pls tell me, because I’m doing this in the middle of the night with half my brain working…)

Wild is so proud of his sword, look at that smile! He really there saying: »Four and the others made me this sword! Look! Isn’t it amazingly made?«

Four knows his craft!

Wind also getting acknowledged with Wild’s comment is so sweet.

Really looking forward to this! How their will organize and team up to take The Shadow down!

Ending this arc with Four.

Till the next arc! Stay hydrated

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu thoughts #lu theory #lu chain #lu time #lu four #lu legend #lu wild #lu wind #lu sky #lu twilight #lu hyrule #lu warriors

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madwomansapologist · 4 months

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smile for the camera | peach salinger

Navigation | More Best Friends Forever AU | AO3

synopsis: Peach has been sick for so long, it makes sense that now she wants to have fun. What was supposed to be just a drink or two turned into an endless night - albeit a forgettable one for your drunken brain. But Peach has more than enough photos to prove that what happened is not imagination.

warnings: yandere!peach salinger. smut. groping. nudes. fingering. oral. toxic friendship. codependency. her rare illness that reaaaaally exists. gaslighting. manipulation. jealousy. substance abuse which means this is somehow equally dub!con? cheating. as a survivor of a homoerotic toxic friendship, this is more of a confession. in this house we support women's wrong. female!reader.

You should be preparing for next week's seminar for your work. More than that, you wanted to be preparing yourself. It's important, you worked a lot on it. You promised yourself that you would finally make sure that everything was ready and set for your big day.

And yet there you were. Driving towards Peach's location. Not the first time. Certainly not the last.

Peach just had the worst week of her life - acording to her huge history of messages, twitter account and daily Be Real updates. Another complication of her rare disease. It's something about gluten and PH. You never really understood what it's, all you need to know is that it's serious.

And you weren't there for her.

Peach is way more than just a friend. She's your family. You know her since graduation. A couple of years, but it feels like a lifetime ago. She's been there beside you for so long that you can't actually remember how life was before her.

She's always there for you. Since the first day. A kind listener to your ramblings about horrible teachers turned into someone that would hear anything you needed to say. And Peach can count on you too. What for her started as someone who actually knew how to do makeup ended with someone who would clean her tear stained face.

Peach's advices may be harsh to say the less, but she always is there to hear about your problems. It was so difficult when you were suddenly fired from your last job, but you knew you could count on her - still embarrassing to accept money from her, but what other choice did you had?

When your grandma passed, she was there for you too. When you lost your cat, when your car died out of nowhere, when you discovered in the worst way possible that blush actually does spoil.

Peach is always there for you, just as you're always there for her. But just when she was sick... you weren't there to help.

Away for the holidays, with your family, everything was perfect. That's what hurted you the most. If it was at any other week you would be worried, yet not guilty. But of course it happened right on the week you knew Peach would be alone.

Fuck her decease, and fuck her shit family.

You almost came back. You even told her. Peach tried to tell you not to, but you really would. But your mom almost killed you with her stare just from mentioning that you might need to go back to New York earlier.

Back to town, you had so much to do, but what else could've you say when Peach asked if you were free to go drinking with her? Maybe the truth. But the truth wouldn't help her, nor would make you feel good about yourself.

Just two or three drinks, you told her.

"Pookie!" Peach called you when you entered the pub. You looked around, the place with more movement than usual, and saw her waiving for you. "Right there!"

You dropped your purse on your usual place. Peach knows the owner, and he always makes sure to have her favorite place free. You kissed her cheeks, relieved to see that she looked healthy.

"I knew that dress would suit you perfectly," Peach pulled the hem of the golden piece. Her fingers stayed there longer than necessary, just feeling the warmth of your skin throught the dress.

You sat down, seeing that she had already asked for your drink. Exactly what you wanted. "Thaaanks," you pratically purred at her. "I have clothes at your home, I will give it back to you tonight."

Peach took a sip from her drink, mirroring you. She fixed her hair, as if it wasn't perfectly done. "You can stay with it. Looks better on you, anyway."

"Always trying to gift me things," you rolled your eyes, but a smirk quickly appeared on your face. 'So... who are we talking shit about tonight?"

"Boo... I've missed you so, so, so much," Peach grabbed your hand.

You held it gently, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of her palm. So warm, so free of any scars. Peach's hair smells like milk, her neck like strawberry, her breath like mint. But her hands always smelled like honey.

"I've missed you too."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You drank way more than three drinks.

The night started on that pub, but it didn't end there. Somehow things with Peach always ends with you both wandering throught New York. As if live was a tv show. Maybe that's something that happens to rich girls, and you're experimenting it out of proximity.

Going on different bars, laughing at anything that moves, talking about epiphanies that wouldn't survive the night. It wasn't a surprise that it would turn into a drunk karaoke night, but you'll still get surprised by the photos on your phone.

Struggling, Peach unlocked the main door of her house. You went upstairs trying not to fall, and put your heels on the floor - you don't remember taking them off.

Peach dropped her purse, not caring about where it would fall, and stretched. That was too much. Definitely too much. Peach is used to get wasted, but even she was affected.

She don't even remember how you both managed to get to her home. For a matter of fact, neither do you. After a certain point, the night was nothing but a dark blur.

Peach knew you would do everything to come back to her. You have the biggest heart ever. She wanted you to spend new years eve with her, but she undertood you wanted to be with your family. But when she saw the picture of your new boyfriend with your mom... she needed to do something to stop that.

He just... He don't deserve you. He's not on your level. You need someone that will be able to take care of you. Someone that will assure that you can work on your researches, that will give you freedom, that will support you in all ways that matter.

And that's not that guy. How will be your future with him? Worrying about mortcages and settling for the basics when you deserve the best? You deserve more. And if you can't see that, than she'll open your eyes.

Her sickness wasn't able to get you back, but now you're here she'll make sure to tomorrow morning give you a few advices. She didn't mean to make you feel guilty, but if you feeling guilty makes her have so much fun... Peach ain't able to say that she's ashamed.

"You ain't going to throw up, right?" Peach kicked her heels away, moonlight illuminating her bedroom. "I really don't want you to die while I sleep."

You just rolled your eyes, admiring yourself through the mirror. "I feel so pretty."

"That's because you are, pookie," Peach sat on her bed. Getting her earrings off, she followed your hands as you slid them across your dress. Her dress.

You licked your lips. "I feel... hot."

Peach sighed. She needs you in her life. You're half of her. You're hers. Most of the time she can ignore that. She can pretend that being your friend includes wanting your attention all the time, needing to always have an eye on you, dreaming of you.

But now with alcohol messing with her head, it was difficult to chose to look away from you. To keep on pretending that she don't want to look at you all the time. To shut up that part of her that knew you both are endgame. To not pretend that you're the forbidden fruit and she don't even need a snake to tempt her.

"That's because you do."

You looked at her hazy eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so."

It was your time to sigh. "I don't want to forget that," you played with the hem. "I would record me like this if I could."

Peach opened the second drawer of her nightstand. In the mirror, you saw the analog camera shining. “What an old thing,” you teased her.

"Then pose," she said. You turned to her, brows arched. She was already aiming it at you. "Smile for the camera."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway. Even blinded by the flash you still knew she was too.

That wasn't the first time she used that camera to record you. You reorganizing your kitchen's cabinet, wandering through libraries, dining with a date. Peach can't believe you're real. She uses those photos as a proof of your existence. A proof that you're more than a fragment of her mind.

Peach thought you wouldn't want it. That you would think she was weird. But now you'd asked for it. As the flashes go on, you have fun with new poses. It was almost childish. Just two drunk woman having fun together.

You sat down on her bed, and Peach walked towards you. Looking at you through the camera, she tripped and fell on top of you. You laughed hard, your head against her pillows, as Peach tried to get up. She leaned on your shoulder, sitting on your lap, and felt your laugh echoing inside her.

Then the laughter ended, and silence consumed you both. Suddenly you both realized how late it was. How really lonely you both would've been if not by eachother company. Peach on your lap, the camera lying on the bed, your breathing unregulated.

"Is it ok if I take it off?" Your fingers were again pulling the hem of your dress. "Would you mind?"

"O-Okay," Peach whispered. "Go on."

Peach hesitated before reaching for the camera. Her hand was shaking. The first photo was just a grey blur. She breathed in and tried again. Then she saw.

You weren't looking to the camera.

You were looking at her.

The next was of your face. You body didn't even appeared. Your hair loose on her pillows, a lopsided smile breaking free, eyes glowing with the moonlight. The forbidden fruit, within reach of her touch.

"Am I pretty like this?"

Peach breathed in. "You're perfect."

"Show me," you whispered. "I want to see it."

Peach reached for your cheek, caressing it slowly. Her fingertip brushed against your lip, and you opened your mouth. Without even realizing what she was doing, Peach put her thumb inside your mouth.

The flash made you close your eyes, but she knew there was no way for you to not look perfect. The wet finger went down your body, marking your breasts with your own drool, and the flashes continued.

She could die from your expression as she pinched your nipple. Or from how easily you opened your legs for her. How you glowed, so sensitive to her fingers. How you arched your back. How you whispered her name.

Then she started recording it.

Her tongue against your clit, fingers inside of you. Her mouth on yours, hands grabbing your waist. Your drunken gaze, stupid mind, static body. Sometimes you spaced out, but Peach would bring you back to Earth.

It was slow, and torturing, and neverending. It was a fever dream, a blurred memory, a drunk imagination. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. A dream, that's the only explanation.

But her so precious photos and videos would proof otherwise.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #best friends forever au #yandere peach salinger #peach salinger #peach salinger x reader #peach salinger x you #peach salinger x y/n #you (netflix)#you (netflix) x you #you (netflix) x reader #you (netflix) x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #shay mitchell x reader #shay mitchell

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prismaticpichu · 13 days

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Zack & Sephiroth Angsty Writing Prompt!

The idea budded on discord a couple days back; thought I’d toss it out there for anyone who may be interested!! Absolutely feel free to take this outline and run with it! <3

Title: Dead Silence

It’s a tradition for Zack & Seph to always call each other when they are away on missions—a way of ensuring each other that they’re safe, that they are happy, and that they know that they are there. One solo mission, however, Zack loses his PHS: it falls into water, it breaks, etc. And he cannot contact Seph. Seph, who is used to checking in on his friend, begins to panic. Genesis had already deserted; Angeal had already deserted. And he can’t help but begin to wonder if Zack had done the same. But then there’s another part of him—the part that trusts Zack, that trusts their friendship. He goes about the rest of his day.

But he can’t focus. He nearly rips one of his papers bc he is scrawling so hard, falters when fighting a monster in the VR room bc all his mind can think about is Zack being hurt, Zack being captured, Zack… not coming home.

He can’t sleep that night, tosses and turns in bed. Has nightmares of Zack sprouting a wing and flying away- out of his reach, forever, ignoring his calls his pleas… Perhaps, he even sees something else: a glimmer of crimson, a bloody splotch against the night as the moon Zack disappears into morphs into something blinding and a voice begins to whisper to him in sweet, venomous velvet that tells him he will always be alone.

He wakes up in a cold sweat.

The next day- the following days, maybe a week- the anxiety only grows. His focus only cripples and his sleep only worsens. And that’s when it happens: there, in the training room, fighting some winged monster, he sees it—Genesis. Genesis & Zack working together. Laughing at him, taunting him. Something crimson flashes before his eyes. And that’s when he officially snaps. He slays Genesis in a bloody, manic rage, rips him apart and tells him that It’s all his fault. All of it. Once the man is dead, he turns around, aims his blade at Zack. But then he stops. He can’t bring himself to do it—to repeat history, to make another Modeoheim. To tear apart a friend he still loves with all his heart. The crimson flashes again, his head swims, and the mirages disappear as he blinks and opens his eyes again.

He can’t take it anymore, and crumples to his knees. Curls into himself against the cold, dissolved training room wall and grieves for the friend that he thinks he has lost forever.

And that’s when the hand falls upon his shoulder, a concerned and young voice breaking the silence.

“Oh my god… Seph! What happened, buddy…?”

Sephiroth glances up- having been on the verge of tears- and everything in his world seems to snap back into focus. He regains his senses and clarity but still can’t seem to articulate the tumultuous feelings that had overtaken him. Zack pulls him into a hug, sensing that he needs it. Holds him close and assures him that he’s here, that he would never leave him. Seph asks him quietly why he didn’t respond to him, and Zack shows him the broken PHS. Sephiroth practically laughs at his own stupidity—his anxiety…—before melting back into his friend’s arms and apologizing profusely for doubting him. Zack gently tells him not to apologize, and just holds him closer.

In the end, sensing the stressful environment that ShinRa brings upon his friend, the two do indeed decide to leave. A respectful resignation—perhaps with Masamune if needed—and Zack and Seph head off to Gongaga, a fresh world to come.

The end! <3

#sephiroth #ffvii #crisis core #zack fair #ff7 #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #final fantasy vii #prompts #jenova #fanfic prompt

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pan-de-queer · 7 months

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excerpts of the wips to make it easy for y'all to choose:

three words said through a million more

Kara ended the call and turned to grab her suit, instantly freezing at the sight that met her. Memories of the night before started coming back to her at the sight of one Lena Luthor rubbing sleepily at the corner of her eye.

Kara had invited Lena over for a movie night, arguing that it was a Friday and Lena didn't need to go into L-Corp early (or at all) the next day so they could marathon a trilogy before she went home. They'd ordered from Kara's favorite Chinese takeout place and Lena had brought dessert before they'd sat down and watched the Terminator movies, Kara's own pick of the week after her friend had shared how she'd never watched a "robot movie" before. Suffice to say, Lena did not go home.

2. hanahaki au

The first time Lena thought Kara might be able to love her back was when Maggie had arrested her.

While she was used to false accusations and surname-biased condemnation, she was not used to anyone standing up for her.

Lena’s spent her entire life having to fight for herself. From the moment she left Ireland to the day she lost Lex, Lena’s learned the hard way to never rely on anyone but herself.

Even when Kara seemed like she was fishing for answers, she’d stopped all her grilling just to defend Lena’s integrity.

It’s one of the things Lena first learned to appreciate about Kara—how she was willing to set aside tough conversations and disagreements to put their friendship first. To put Lena first.

She’s never had anyone put her first.

3. soulmate au

In the darkness and difficulty of being raised in the Luthor household, there were very few things Lena could rely on.

She had her wits. Her brain was one of the few things she could always trust. It’s why she worked so hard on keeping her thoughts sharp and ready—always waiting for the next problem she’d need to fix or person she’d need to impress (or not disappoint, in Lillian’s case).

She had Lex. Her brother loved her. He was a constant in the ever-changing sea of Lena’s life. She knew that if there was ever a problem she couldn’t solve, Lex would be there to teach her or encourage her to keep trying. She never had to impress Lex because he always reminded her that someday, she could be the best of them.

And when those two things didn’t help, well, she had her soul mark.

The two little promises wrapped comfortingly around her right hip.

Promises of a future where she wasn’t lonely or used. A future with someone who’d stand beside her and protect her from all the darkness being a Luthor has let into her life.

Two promises she swore to return once she finally met her soulmate.

4. ph uni au

Alex called her stupid.

More accurately, she called her a bobong baby bakla. And though Kara argued that she was actually using a great deal of scientific method in her approach, Alex didn't care. All her sister found both amusing and furstrating was the lengths Kara's decided to go through to find her "mystery girl." A woman who wasn't even really a mystery! Kara knew her name was Lena, she was an international student from the USA, her ID showed that she was from DLSU, and she was leaving campus on a Friday. That narrows down her search by quite a bit, thank you very much, Alex! Now, she just needed to put her deduction skills to use and see if she could find her.

bobong baby bakla = stupid baby gay

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #my writing #queer bread writes #polls for my writing #maus was right i need to decide this weekkkkk 😭#for my sanity and for anything to move forward

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thekatebridgerton · 9 months

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hello followers, and welcome to another episode of 'on a scale of 1 to 8' bro code edition. In which I rank the Bridgerton men from to absolutely worst bro to best bro ever. here it goes

8) Benedict: when it comes to Sophie, This dude breaks all the rules of the bro code, he is totally a) willing to throw other bros under the bus if he can spend time with her b) failing at wingman duty c) willing to withhold sensitive information from the bros if it means he gets to keep Sophie a secret and I don't know, in AOFAG He just gives off that kind of vibes, that not only would he be willing to date a bro's ex GF, if that GF was Sophie, he'd be the one causing the breakup in the first place.

7) Simon: self explanatory, he hooked up with his bro's little sister, which is totally against the bro code, he's putting Daphne before ANY bro night out and refusing to defend any of his bros if their significant others are attacking them. Simon, however, would not date a bro's ex GF, which makes him a little better than Benedict. He wouldn't even hook up with Sienna. so he gets bro points for that. Also, we all know Simon is also capable of stealing other people's GF, just because he's never done it doesn't mean the rest of his bros are okay with leaving their GF alone while he's in attendance.

6) Anthony: Like all Bridertons, exept Benedict, he IS an excellent wingman, and can keep the secrets of a bro. BUT he's a coward when it comes to his wife, so he would totally throw a bro under the bus if it got him out of trouble with Kate and we all know it. Does NOT believe in bros before girls, does NOT believe in defending bros. But he will bail a bro (most likely Gregory) out of jail while lecturing that they deserved it. When it comes to dating, the only help the bros get from Anthony is a list of who are the crazies that need to be avoided, on everything else, except parenting advice, the bros are on their own.

5) Gregory: I feel like Gregory should be higher up this list because he's just so wholesome, he's one of the nicest bro's in the game, he's a good wingman, he's good keeping his brothers secrets, he helps his bros out of sticky situations. And then I remember that Gregory, (for all his wholesomeness as a bro), has a thing for unavailable women, and has probably tried proposing to Kate and Penelope at least 3 times before they got married to his brothers. And he actually did end up stealing someone else's bride. Haselby may not have been his 'bro' in the strict sense of the word, but they still knew each other and went to school together. Gregory had his reasons, but he was not above breaking the bro code in a spectacular way

4) Gareth: I don't have anything against Gareth, but he kinda does give off the vibe that he can't keep anything from Hyacinth, so no bro would trust him with sensitive information, and he absolutely ditches wingman duty if it's way more trouble than it's worth. I can imagine Gareth being Gregory's wingman with Hermione and failing so badly at it, that he indirectly becomes the reason Lucy has to step up. But he's the sort of bro that gets points for trying at least, and we should respect that. Gareth would never date a bro's little sister, or ex, he'd never leave a bro alone to face the cops, he's a moderately good middle ground.

3) Colin: best wingman in the Bridgerton series, the only reason he's not #1, is because Colin would never sacrifice as much as Phillip and Michael did for the sake of a bro. But in everything else, he's your man, Colin will keep a bro's secrets, he will get the bro together with his girl, he will go above and beyond in the friendship department, hype up his men with super supportive speeches. On the other hand... He would still date his bro's best friend if Eloise had been born a guy. That's the only strike against him, and also that he's okay with throwing Anthony under the bus for his own amusement. Not all his bros, just Anthony. And only when he deserves it. Which is always.

2) Phillip: Was willing to enter a loveless marriage just to honor the memory of a bro. The extent of respect Phillip had for George, led him to marry Marina. And it was a large part on why he took care of her for so long. Phillip is willing to get beaten up by the bros to fit in, he's the guy who went trough every hazing ritual in the frat house and came out all the more manly for it. Also, out of all the bros, he's the one with the third highest alcohol tolerance meter, after Anthony and Michael. So it's very hard to beat him at drinking games. Phillip is just one of those bro guys okay. He does believe in the bros before girls thing, he'd never chose a girl over a bro, so much his bros had to practically beg him to just chose the girl, because they wanted Eloise out of their house. Still, he would never abandon a bro. the downside of this hyper wholesome bro...is that he does not know how to talk to girls

1) Michael: Out #1 best boy. Michael Striling, the man with enough self control to not seduce his bro's wife, even when he was dying inside. This man took being true to a bro's memory to a higher level than Phillip did. Because he actually LIKED his bro's widow. And never made a move until another bro practically pushed him towards it (see, Colin does have his uses) Michael may be the merry rake but this man would never touch someone else's girl, or ex girl, or their sister, or their bestie. he goes after merry widows and courtesans for a reason. Michael is a ride or die bro, so much even girls want him to be their bro. He will not throw a bro under the bus, ever, he will be there for every bro that needs him, even if it means leaving Francesca alone for a few hours. This man is so confident in his masculinity he's probably the one who organizes boys night out whenever he's in town. Because he just knows his bros need to unwind away from their wives. He's right. And we love him

but what do you guys think. Did I rank them correctly. Am I being too hard on Benedict and too soft on Michael? tell me.

because that's the tea for today

#on a scale of 1 to 8 #bro code au #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #simon basset

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

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Philip | You, Always You | Romantic

Requested: Yes

Whilst reminiscing on the past, you realise the love of your life has always been right in front of you.

Forcing the yawn that threatens to escape back into your system, you rub your eyes tiredly as the light of the flames hurts your eyes. Seated against a log that digs into your spine, you pull one leg a little closer to your chest, hoping to get more comfortable.

The day has been long and tiring, with crowds of people constantly gathering around Jesus and requiring His attention. Although there is no better place than at the Messiah’s side, you are aware that all of you need rest from time to time, including Jesus Himself. Constantly staying alert whilst ushering people into fair queues whilst Jesus did His work was worth it yet physically draining.

Ever since returning to camp, all you’ve been yearning for is to crawl into your bedroll, drape over an extra pelt to keep warm and close your burning eyes. With a rich stew warming your belly, you feel your exhaustion creeping up on you as all of camp slowly starts calling it a day, most Disciples already having withdrawn themselves to their tents, and you are about to do the same when a familiar voice says your name.

You blink in surprise at Philip’s sudden appearance behind you and you turn to face him, your heart fluttering pleasantly at the sight of his smile. “Are you headed somewhere?”

“Well, yes,” you breathe, “I was about to go to bed, actually. Is anything the matter?”

Something sad flashes behind Philip’s eyes, but it is soon replaced by something hopeful. “Well, I was supposed to keep the first watch with Nathanael, but he fell asleep and I can’t get him to wake up.”

You chuckle at the image you can vividly imagine. “That’s typically Nath.” you laugh lightly, “Nothing new with him, hm?”

Philip grins and shakes his head. “He never changes in that regard.”

You hum and are silent for a second, staring at the flames whilst your heart is torn between two things – to call it a day or suggest to stay with Philip for a little while to keep him company – but his request decides for you: “Say, (Y/n), would you like to stay with me for a while? Otherwise, I’ll be so lonely during the first watch. It will only be about two hours until Thomas and Zee will be taking over.”

“Sure,” you tell him, your heart pleasantly skipping a beat. Spending some extra time with Philip is always a dream, but it also makes you worry that you’ll slip up one day, or that you would say something embarrassing that causes him to not like you anymore. For as long as you can remember, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and the last thing you want is to ruin your friendship by running your mouth. “Where shall we sit?”

“I was thinking, maybe on the other side than where you are sitting right now? That way, we’ll have a better view of the plains.”

You agree to that and shift your position to the other side of the fire, where he takes a seat next to you.

A brief silence befalls you two and Philip is the first to break it. “I can boil us some water.” he suggests, “If you can pick a few herbs, we can soak them into it.”

“Of course,” you tell him, rising to your feet to gather some fresh mint leaves that grow in the shade of a rock formation, whilst Philip rummages around for a bit. You quickly pop a mint leaf into your mouth in the hopes of making your breath a little fresher, for if you’re talking in a low volume, he’s bound to get closer to you. The idea makes your cheeks flame.

After collecting enough sprigs, you return to his side, for Philip has already put on the kettle and has found two clean cups that he brushes clean from dust with the end of his tunic. “Here you go,” you say, handing him the mint leaves, which he divides evenly. You watch him work whilst getting comfortable. “I remember that we used to make this on days that we didn’t feel like going into town to buy food. When we were still with John, I mean.”

“I miss these days sometimes.” Philip muses, “The wild honey we’d add was so sweet, too. I remember your small obsession with the stuff.”

Blushing, you swat his arm. “Hey, I was not addicted to honey. Okay, maybe a little, but it was over as soon as I got stung in my mouth that one day.”

Philip laughs at the memory, swirling the water around the kettle carefully to distribute the heat. “Oh, yes, I remember that. You couldn’t eat properly for two days. Your extraordinarily chubby cheeks looked very cute on you though.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the way he had considered you then, but Philip avoids eye-contact by pouring scalding water into the two cups, handing one to you carefully. His hand brushes yours in the process and you have to prevent yourself from startling too much lest you spill anything, your heart skipping a beat regardless.

“Luckily, it was only temporary. After all, such an experience is not recommended.”

Philip hums and blows some air into his cup. “I can only imagine, and I did feel really bad for you then.”

“You were basically panicking when it happened and my face started to swell up.”

He smiles. “Well, I couldn’t exactly help you in the same way you had helped me when we were children. Remember the incident with the tree branch?”

It takes you a moment to realise what he means, but when a memory about Philip being stung in his thumb after poking a beehive he had expected to be empty, you cannot fight the laugh. “I’ve never heard you scream that hard ever in my life, nor have you screamed like that after.”

Philip smirks and takes a careful sip of his drink whilst the two of you look at the fire. His upper arm snugly pressed against yours makes you soar, his proximity welcome, familiar.

“I do remember that you gave me a kiss on my thumb after removing the sting, and it was as if the pain was gone instantly.”

Your cheeks turn red; You had totally forgotten about that detail, and the fact that Philip still remembered made your gut swarm with butterflies.

“Well, I am glad to have been of service.” you try to hide your sudden abashedness. Philip lets out a pleasant sound, his knee hitting yours playfully.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve often thought back on that moment.”

Flustered, you blink in puzzlement. “Oh? Why?”

Philip finally dares to look at you, his gaze containing something that you cannot quite place.

“Because it was the first time I ever had such contact with a girl.” Your heart drops, then tightens at the implication that he has been kissed by another girl later on in life. “Of course there have been moments during our teens that girls showed their interest by kissing my cheek, but none of them had evoked such a reaction as to when you had healed my thumb that day.”

With reddened cheeks, you avert your gaze. “Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that I’ve had such an impact on you.”

He smiles wryly. “You must think I’m weird now.”

You frown. “How so?”

“Because that was… How long ago? Twenty… Twenty-five years? And I still think about it from time to time, truth be told.”

You nearly drop your drink and carefully put it down on the ground beside you.

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” you muse, “I had completely forgotten about it.”

The glimmer in his eyes dies down. “Do you mean to say that it meant not as much for you as it meant for me?”

Regret immediately shatters your heart, you firmly shake your head, and you lean towards him. “No– No, of course not! I-I mean… Of course it meant something to me, but… Perhaps I was afraid of how much it would mean to me, so I pushed away the memory.”

Philip lets out a sound of confusion. “Afraid? Of what?”

You fall silent, embarrassment clawing at your throat. For a second, you scold yourself mentally – you should have gone to bed, now you’ve said something dumb that will potentially ruin your friendship, just what you had warned yourself about – before you open your mouth to respond.

“I don’t know.” you shakily say, eyelids fluttering as you force back your blush. “Why did you… Why did you never mention it again?”

Philip lets out a sad scoff and lowers his gaze, shrugging. “Well, I always thought you were going to get married to Boaz.”

“Boaz?” you let out a laugh, “Really? Where did you get that idea from?”

With genuine surprise on his features, Philip meets your gaze. “What…? Do you mean that you weren’t going to marry him?”

“No!” you chuckle, “Never even thought about it. I thought he was way too childish for someone who was nineteen and… Well, I wanted to reserve myself for someone else.”

Philip’s eyes widen. “Oh… What happened?”

For a second, you hesitate. “He never asked.” you say at last, which is the truth. “And I fear that he never will.”

The flow of your blood is so loud in your ears that you hope you’ll be able to hear Philip speak as he visibly mulls over the words. “Well, I think that man would be very lucky to have you as his wife, and if I ever run into him I’ll tell him he’s pretty stupid for letting you wait for so long. If it had been me, I would have asked you ages ago.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. Is this a confession?

Suddenly short of breath, you bring your fingers to your lips to touch them, completely in shock. With your free hand, you reach for your tea, that has cooled down enough to be consumed.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit pale.” Philip worriedly queries when you remain silent. For a moment, you’re worried you’ll spit the drink back into the cup. You take a moment to gather yourself and try to come up with an answer.

Yes, this is a confession, you decide then and there. And you’d be dumb to let it pass.

“Then why haven’t you?” you break your silence.

Now it is Philip’s turn to grow flustered, momentarily confused with your words until he thinks it over. When everything seems to fall into place, his eyes shimmer with hope.

“Are you… What are you implying, (Y/n)?” He tilts his head slightly in question, as if he is still unsure.

You take a deep breath. “What I am trying to say is… The man who I was waiting on to ask for my hand in marriage was… Well, you.”

The silence between you two is heavy with unspoken emotion as you stare at one another, neither of you looking away.

“Really?” Philip croaks, “Am I… Am I dreaming?”

Laughing in relief, you shake your head. “No, Philip, I’m very serious and this is very real.”

His gaze flickers back to the flames and he runs a hand down his brow, grunting in frustration. “Oh, I am such an idiot. Have I been that blind?!”

You giggle and put a hand on his arm. “To be fair, I haven’t been very assertive myself, either.”

Philip hides his face in his hands and lets out another sound, still processing what he has just heard.

“Forgive me, (Y/n), I am just… Oh, forgive me for making you think I wasn’t interested, because I am. I have always been.”

“As have I,” you admit, “Since we were teenagers.”

“I’ve loved you since long before that.” His words are so soft that you nearly melt and his gaze meets yours, gently, patiently. “Please, forgive me–”

You cut him off lest he feel bad for any longer: “I have already forgiven you,” you breathe, “There is nothing to forgive, anyways. It turns out that both of us were too afraid to come forward with our feelings and misunderstood the other.”

Philip smiles and takes your hand in his. “Then please don’t misunderstand this, (Y/n).” he mutters, and your breath hitches in your throat as he moves forward slightly.

“Misunderstand what?”

“Marry me.”

Blinking rapidly, you try to comprehend what he has just asked you. When it takes you a few seconds to reply, Philip’s face falls into embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry if I am going too fast, I didn’t mean to pressure you–”

“Yes.” you interrupt, “Yes, I will!”

He exhales in alleviation before grinning from ear to ear, putting a hand over his mouth in disbelief. “Oh!” he murmurs, “Oh, that is… Yes! You’re serious! This is the best day of my life!”

You can’t help but laugh and scoot a little closer to him. “The best is yet to come, Phil.” you muse, and he softens, looking you in the eye.

“Feel free to say no, because it’s not really part of our customs, but… I’ve been wanting to properly kiss you for so long, and at this moment…” He sighs and cups your jaw, thumbing gently at your cheekbone. “I would love to just…”

His voice trails off, and you don’t reply verbally. Instead, you lean upwards to connect your mouth to his, for he has not been the only one to have mustered that desire for the last fifteen years.

Softly pulling you closer, Philip returns the sentiment, wondering why he has ever waited this long, and imagining a beautiful future with you at his side, promising you silently in this moment to always be there for you, like he always had been.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #angel studios #the chosen philip #philip x reader #philip x you

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basils-pot · 1 year

Text

Perks of Friendship

Another self indulgent fic, motivated by monster energy and the fact college starts back up this week. (i know the image is the snake planet but its space and its pretty)

❁Prompt(s)❁ - “I’m on my way, don’t move.”, Holding onto them/them holding you through a crowd, “...Please stop looking at me like that.”/“Like what?”.

⚠︎Warnings⚠︎ - Minor warning for implied alcohol/generally not being sober

⇨Content⇦ - Angst(if you squint), Fluff(for mentally ill people) (gender neutral)(no pronouns)(no physical description of reader)

You weren't built for it. Not that it was a big deal, after all who was built for it, the lifestyle of space travel. Especially the kind of experience you get when you're traveling space with Rick. But you could adapt. You have and would continue to adapt so that you didn't have to let the best years of your life come to an end. Being friends with Rick, if you could call it friendship, was an adventure that you weren't going to bail on anytime soon.

However, that didn't mean you couldn't use a break. Which is why you're in an alien club, by yourself, in a not so hard to find corner of the universe. Not that you regret coming, but this wasn't the change of pace most people would look for in a vacation. The never ending party that had been your last few earth days, only interrupted by occasional naps in undisturbed corner booths of the club, was all to reminiscent of your time spent with Rick. The constant noise, action, and periodic failing of your body, that is.

As you looked down as your drink, examining the melted ombré of the varying liquids in the glass, you couldn't help but feel like maybe you were being unfair. You couldn't boil down your time with Rick like that. It was more. It would be ignorant to describe it as only ever action and noise. You could recall countless trips in his ship, seeing the universe and all the sights it had to give. Seeing the space outside and seeing it's merits reflected back at you when you looked at Rick, and all the time spent in alien arcades, foreign festivals, and clubs like this one with him. Looking around at the place, between the dance floors and the bars, you felt an overwhelming urge to go home, or well, wherever Rick was.

You stood up, which was no easy feat, and excused yourself from the table where you'd been buried in conversation with strangers. Intending to make it out the door, you began to try and force your way through the dance floor, being pushed and pulled, only to find yourself on the outside of the crowd again, with no progress forward. You were pretty sure there was a seat behind you, which you were thankful for as your legs gave up and you fell back. Landing in the seat which happened to be at an empty table, your head fell forward and into your arms on the table top. After a moment, you leaned over to the side to loosen one of your arms, and patted your pocket to find your phone. Space phone? Whatever, all you knew is that Rick had made it capable of use all over the universe, despite you never actually needing to call him before. The thought of which now made you hesitant. Rick had countless walls put up and if you called you couldn't help but wonder if you'd be crossing a boundary. You didn't have time to figure it out before you were calling and the phone was ringing in your ear. It was three rings before someone picked up,

"R-Rick someone called your ph-"

"What the fuck Morty, don't answer my fucking calls, do you know the countless things you could've just roped me into?"

"Jesus Rick, s-sue me for helping."

Morty's voice got quieter and you could hear the phone being handed over. Rick answered with his usual level of courtesy which was oddly relaxing to you at the moment,

"What do you want?"

"Hey um..."

The music of the club was all to noticeably blaring now and you couldn't hear your own thoughts.

"...Sorry for calling, but do you think you could do me a solid?"

It was a moment before he responded,

"Where are you?"

You laughed a little out loud,

"Three days deep into my bender at that club we went to once after a fiber trade with those Gazorpazorp ladies......can you just, just come get me maybe?"

You felt odd asking and you could feel the acidy shame crawling up your throat. Rick replied,

"What am I, your glorified uber?...

...

...Are you outside?"

You smiled,

"N-no I'm inside. I tried to get out but I couldn't make it through the crowd."

He groaned in response,

"Really making this convenient aren't you. Stay where you are, I'll be there in a minute."

The shuffling of his coat and the squeak of a chair were heard before he ended the call. And with that, you passed out face down on the table.

.........

You came to after feeling someone flick your forehead. Lifting your head and raising your hand to sooth the small pain, you turned to see the offender but smiled widely when you saw Rick.

"Took you long enough, huh?"

He glared lightly,

"Like you would know, passed out like a true drunk."

He grinned at the obvious irony of his own joke. You laughed and grabbed onto his coat sleeve while you slid off the chair onto your feet. None of your body was to terribly happy with you right now, and your face fell into one of dread looking at the crowd you were about to try and navigate for the second time.

Not even a moment later, Rick disappeared from your peripherals and you felt a pair of hands settle on your waist. Your head fell back against someone's chest and you looked up to see Rick, who was looking towards one of the club entrances. Your hips moved in front of you and your back fell against his chest as he guided you forward. You looked down and found yourself not sober enough to ignore the warm tingle that started from under his hands and moved to your brain. By the time you looked back up you were at the door and re-entering the outside world for the first time in days. You froze at the sudden change in environment and Rick moved to your side but kept a hand on you, now at your hip. Within a minute you were at his ship and put out a hand against it to steady yourself as you did your best not to fall into the passengers side. You felt a little pathetic like this and curled yourself up sideways in the seat, so your body was facing the drivers side but you were still looking out the front of the ship. You felt the shake of the car and heard Rick open his door and get in. Before your brain could catch up, you were already out of the planets atmosphere and on the way back to Earth. Your eyes were open but you couldn't focus on any single given point. Any star or planet in the reach of your vision melted past you.

It was beautiful. You were thankful for this. For being one of the people able to see the universe from this angle and now that you thought about it, thankful that Rick came to get you. Returning your attention to Rick, you turned you head to align with your body, facing him. He was relatively relaxed, scooched ever so slightly forward in his seat, one hand on the wheel. He sighed and his head relaxed against his seat. You watched the lights of the universe float past in the reflection of his eyes. In that moment, you wondered if you'd really taken a break from Rick, or if you only meant to take a break from the adventures. No part of this, right now, exhausted you. He didn't take anything from you. If anything, his presence fed you. Soothed the low ache in your bones and made you just a bit less tired. Even inspecting the way his hair fell made your eyes sting less than they had. He took a deep breath through his nose and sighed, turning his head towards you.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Your face fell into confusion as you continued to take a visual tour of his features, leaning the side of your head against your seat.

"Like what?"

"Like you're developing a terrible habit."

"And what habit would that be?"

He turn his head back to face forward before replying,

"Thinking we're friends."

You stopped your exploration of his facial features and look at his eyes again. You let out a small sigh through your nose. Rick always did this. You didn't hold it against him but it didn't make it less strange to you. If you weren't friends, what were you? Because it didn't take an intergalactic genius to see you were something. You extended your arm out and rested your hand on the center console, open and asking. You found your voice after a moment,

"I don't care if we're friends, Rick. I just care that we are."

He didn't say anything, nor did he take your hand. You did your best not to take it personally and curled up a bit more into the seat. You closed your eyes and listened to the humming of the ship as if it was music.

Ten seconds later, he moved his hand into yours, intertwining his fingers, and you did the same.

You didn't open your eyes. You didn't want anything to take away from memorizing this feeling. You didn't care when you got back to Earth.

Right now, you had home in the palm of your hand.

AN: lollll this is so sappy but it feeds my soul, kicking my feet in the air n' everythinggggg. ty 4 reading! -xo Basil

#fanfic #x reader #rick x reader #rick sanchez #rick and morty #happy ending #slight angst #gender neutral fanfic #no pronouns #twirling my hair #kicking my feet

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

Text

Picking a flower = saving the day

Howdy, slowpokes, mb for the late, late, late chapter again. Give yourselves about 15 and get comfy, y’all!

When - right after Better with a friend. You and Daryl are stuck in a thunderstorm while out searching for Sophia.

What - the search gets cut short due to torrential rains, you and Daryl argue a little, and goddang it but you just want to find a present for Carol. Daryl also fesses up about when he got lost for 9 days, that’s a big step for him.

Relationships - it’s you two, otherwise only T-Dog pops in at the end when you finally make it back to the farm. Y’all do radio the camp at one point, so Papa Dale and big bro Shane are mentioned.

Pronouns - she/they again

Perspective - 2nd person you, third person Dixon

Genre - it’s part of the Slowpoke Series, idk, friends

TWs - language, mention of childhood physical abuse, parental death mention, and Daryl does refer in his head to Jacqui as “the black lady” before remembering her name.

Plot points - a quarter per white lie, reader’s migraines (and the prodrome phase of getting one), reader hating feeling weak, Two idiots, It was a pragmatic cigarette, What were your nightmares about?, Daryl’s childhood cat named Eyes. T-Dog and Daryl’s growing friendship (I say it’s canon). The story “Quarter!” I’ll put more if I think of them.

Masterlist will give you all the Slowpoke news published so far, as well as a Ko-fi link if you’re able to assist my tire budget :D

“Where we heading?”

“Just follow me!”

Through the thunderstorm, he leads the way. Mud starts to cake his shoes, ankles, and calves.

It’s hard to tell which way to head, a few times he veers off-trail. He’s pretty sure he gets lost for a while.

When the rain gets so heavy that visibility drops and parts of the path turn into small pools or streams, Y/N’s hand grabs the back of his shirt and clings to it.

It’s bad outside. Raining cats and dogs and horses, probably a couple cows and pigs, too.

Then he finally sees the shed that was at the farmhouse and almost cries with relief that he’s found it again.

He leads them by the arm to the side door, crossbow ready.

Y/N gets her pistol out, good.

And as he enters first, the sounds of them shouting “Wait!” reach his ears.

He aims all around the kitchen just in case, and kicks an empty bottle across the floor to make noise so that anything in there will either be drawn to them (walkers) or will scurry away (rodents).

“Why didn’t you check the windows first?” she pants, pistol still ready, shouting, “Sophia?” He does likewise in case Sophia came back here and he’d simply missed her yesterday. He’s hoping that he simply missed her yesterday.

Y/N limps (?) around the bottom floor of the house, repeatedly calling her name along with, “If anyone’s here, we’re s-sorry if we scared you, we’re lookin’ for a little girl who’s missing!”

He jogs up the stairs and calls Sophia’s name more quietly, poking his head into the rooms.

No one and nothing answers.

He goes back downstairs.

“This is the place I found the can and the cot,” he lets Y/N know.

Pistol still out and aimed, her stance doesn’t relax as she blinks in confusion. “Hm?”

“Sit down, s’okay,” he tells them.

Soaked to the skin and covered in mud as they are, the two of them can at least catch their breath now.

Y/N looks beat, promptly grabs a chair, drops into it and starts rubbing their knee. That was new.

Their baseball cap is missing, too.

You

The drip-drip-drip of yours and Daryl’s clothes and the stiff, squidgy feeling of the wet clothes and sticky mud on your body is only propelling your agitation. And where’d your hat go?

First, Mama and Good Dog and the man you shot in the fucking head set up shop in your mind, then your fear of finding Sophia as a cold, muddy corpse decided to dance with you all afternoon. Now, how Dad got washed away and drowned is ping-ponging around your thoughts. Your heart aches. Your body hurts. Good Moses, it even hurts to breath at this point.

And you were in enough physical pain today before idiot you smacked your already-bruised knee on the way here because Dickhead Dixon over there decided to up and sprint to a place he already checked?

“Why are we here, Daryl? We sprinted,” in a thunderstorm, in a flood zone, in woods we don’t know, “all the way to this place? Not somewhere unsearched?”

But before he has a chance to answer, you feel the angry voice in your head get the better of you.

Why did you bring us here, you backwoods bastard? It’s a spot you already been to! How is this helping our girl? It’s been seventy-two hours by now, it’s-it’s too late! You stupid, stupid man!

“You just wasted valuable time, listen to the storm out there! We need to get back down to the road and find someplace to search around there before the flash flood risk gets higher!” you almost yell at him, the pain intensifying when you strain so.

“I wanted to come back here in case she was campin’ out and I just missed her,” he snarls back. “A kid would probably wanna stay out somewhere they felt safe.”

“Then why the hell would you bust in like that, guns blazing? Woulda scared that little girl half to death.”

“Because anybody else here would’ve been scared, too, but I would’ve had the upper hand.”

“Until they put a bullet or a knife in you in self-dembense—fuck, self-de-fense!” you correct, growing more frustrated and furious and feeling more and more helpless and sad by the minute. Goddamn prodrome shit is making you sound like as big of an idiot as you feel. You didn’t even hear whatever the abrasive redneck you’re stuck in here with threw back at you.

Then your mood turns on a dime, your throat tightens and your eyes start to burn. Yours hands immediately cover your face to conceal it while you calm down. Kettle off the burner, Y/N. Inhale. Exhale.

“You okay?” reaches your ears. “Not going postal or nothing, right?”

You nod, feeling the sharp, achy tug in your shoulder and neck when you do. Swallowing to make sure your voice sounds normal, you relax your hands back to your sides and open your eyes—then blink in confusion as to when it was exactly that you stood up?

“Nah, you’d know if I were going postal. But, um, sorry for losin’ my cool and yelling.”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Overtired, how about you?”

“Quarter.”

Him

“I am overtired, ain’t a white lie,” they insist.

“You’re pretty busted up, too. You in a lot of pain?”

Y/N stares him down as if to challenge him, but there’s something about the look they have on that suggests they’re about to tease him. “No,” she states, that hidden grin starting to come out.

“Quarter.”

“No. You said quarters are for white lies.” Ah, there’s the smile. “Not outright ones.”

He finally looks up at them again but stops when he sees that their egg-stained white t-shirt is soaked. It might be dark and they have on an undershirt, but he can still see the outlight of everything.

But even when not looking, when they take their hand off that spot under their ribs, he can’t help but notice a new, red stain.

Shit.

“What’s wrong, Daryl?” They peek down. “Oh, look at that.” As if it were nothing, they turn around and lift their shirt to check. They sigh in relief. “Stitches ain’t popped, we’re good. I should slap a bandage on there, I reckon.”

This weird sensation of like guilt or whatever starts to kick him in the balls.

The first thing that pops into his head to do to make up for it is to offer them a drink from his water bottle. Then, he rummages through their backpack to hand them the first aid kit they kept in there. There’s also this, though:

“You got a jar of flour?”

“Oh, that’s for Beth, I found it at the thother—the other—house.”

Which one is Beth again? Oh, never mind, she’s ‘the teenage girl,’ right, right. “Messin’ up your words a lot today.”

They take a gulp of his water. “Pre-migraine phase, most likely.”

“You should make people sign a waiver when you head out with them,” he jokes. Not his brightest idea. Maybe he said it wrong?

It’s like he turned their power button off. Y/N gave no offended or angry comeback, no eye roll, no chuckle. She just got really still.

The imaginary knee kicks him in the balls again.

He’s back to not knowing what to do but wanting to do something because Y/N was his friend and shit. It pops into his head this time to ask them for the little walkie next so he can radio the camp in her stead, letting the group know that the two of them were fine.

“No Sophia yet,” he has to tell them.

Dale asks if Y/N is okay (“It’s unusual for you to communicate with the walkies, Daryl, that’s usually Y/N’s territory.”)(“I’m peachy, Mr. H! How are Carl and Teddy, both improvin’ still?” she calls, real bubbly about it, too.)

T-Dog and Andrea apparently went out, as did Rick and Y/N’s brother.

He crouches down beside her as Dale told her all this, holding the walkie between them. Y/N thought he was handing it to her and her fingertips brush his.

(“Daryl?”)

Oh, um, yes, yeah, they know it’s getting late, they’re gonna head back when the rains slow enough. (“Dale, can you use the police walkie for Shane and Rick? They’re usin’ that one, right? I’m just worried about them and the flood risk.”) (“They made it back maybe ten minutes ago, I’ll wave your brother over.”)

While they wait, Dale checks about their physical safety.

Yes, they’re safe inside a shelter. No, they aren’t in a flood zone anymore, so Y/N assures Shane when he interrupts Dale and specifically brings that up. Weird how that keeps getting mentioned.

“My shoulder’s doing pretty okay. Stitches good, still intact,” Y/N repeats to her brother. “I think I’m prodromin’, though, how angoying is that?” Not correcting their pronunciation mistake for the first time that day, they even add that awkward laugh people make when they don’t want to sound upset. “Least I got a warning that I’ll be a liability tomorrow or the day after.”

Stress on the “liability” part. Their eyes look wet and they seem sorta pissed. Daryl feels like he got kicked in the balls by the imaginary foot again. He’d implied she was a risk to bring along, hadn’t he?

“How ’bout you help with target practice tomorrow, then?” Shane’s voice crackles to Y/N back over the walkie.

Their face lit up in response. “Sounds good, so long as we can risk the ammo?”

“These people gotta learn how to shoot proper.”

When all was finished, she clicks off the walkie. He stands up from his crouched position and sits down across from her again. Lightning flickers outside.

“Okay?”

Then the thunder rumbles.

“Okay,” they respond, going back and forth from massaging their shoulder, to their neck, to their knee. “While we’re stuck, I think I’m gonna poke around, find me clean shirt. Hopefully find Carol a present.”

“I’ll, um, cook this up,” he says, gesturing to the sopping wet squirrel carcass on his belt. “Lemme show you what I found yesterday, first, though, tell me what you think?”

Wanting to know their opinion was one of the reasons he’d lead them back here.

“Yeah, of course.”

First, he takes them to the trash bin so they can see the can (and he notes her suppressed gag). She frowns and bites her lip.

He doesn’t like that.

Next, he shows her the little makeshift bed in the cupboard.

She frowns and bites her lip again.

He doesn’t like that either.

But yes, it’s still better to have Y/N there even when they start to bring up stuff that he hadn’t thought out. It’s much better, in fact. They’re honest. He’d wanted to know what they thought and they were telling him.

But like, he still gets angry about it, though.

“Mr. Morales taught the kids how to open cans without, but was there a manual can opener in one of the drawers when you checked?” is their first question.

And he thinks that’s a weird question. “Why’s that matter?”

Y/N moves to check the drawers, hesitating before explaining. “This is gonna slound sliy—fuck, ‘sound silly’—but with the other options of canned stuff here, that she’d go for sardines…” They trail off and seem to stifle a groan when they start to massage their neck again. “I get that sardines are in a pull-top can and are quicker, and when you’re ravenous you’ll eat anythin’—”

“Exactly.”

Okay, yes, it’s possible that he grated that back a little strong. And interrupted them. He’s just...this was a lead, had to be. There were no other damned signs of that little girl otherwise.

Not even a damned sign that she’d got killed and eaten, there’s been nothing. Why couldn’t Y/N just agree with him? They’re his friend!

He sees Y/N’s nostril do that twitch thing people do when they’re fixing to get mad but are trying not to.

“Sophia is a child, is all, and she kept things neat, too. And it, it ain’t that she’d be picky, but,” She swallows and sighs, tugging at the hair at the base of her neck. “Children and teenagers generally will avoid stuff like sardines. Hell, I avoid sardines, I ain’t British.” Yep, using humor to lessen the tension, as always.

They close the open cupboard and reach to check another drawer.

And the second drawer they open has a fucking can opener in it.

He hears them make a small curse under their breath before they whisper, “This took me seconds to find, man.”

Then they stare at the damned thing as if the can opener just told them it had terminal cancer. “I...I just imagine she would grab something like, like the can of cranberry sauce that’s right there in the pantry, and then go to the, the, um—” they can’t seem to figure out the word ‘drawer,’ so settle on “to this pully thing to get a fork or spoon, then she would’ve found the can opener.”

“Jesus—you wanna explain away the bed, then, too, Sherlock?” he snaps despite really, really not wanting to. And that’s coming after using that name that way even though he knows Y/N doesn’t like it. ‘It’s shitty to go around usin’ a deity as an expletive’ was something along the lines of how they’d phrased it.

And Y/N is trying not to snap like he did, to her credit. “When somebody’s scared, they sleep curled up, child or grown. And the pantry is on the bottom floor where the temp’s cooler and has a door.” The last part she stresses, still massaging herself. “No, please don’t you go getting mad at me, Daryl. You wanted to know my thoughts, and I ain’t done nothing but said a truthful thing, tell me I didn’t.” A deep breathe. “You’re my friend, you’re worth the honesty, so is Sophia.”

He took a deep breath like he’d seen her do and listens to the torrent of rain spattering on the house. ‘You’re worth the honesty’ threw him off. And how they repeated that they were friends.

Another flash of lightning outside, another thunderclap.

Okay. He understands what Y/N said about the clues. The ‘clues’ could be nothing, could’ve been from any person alone and hungry in this world-turned-to-shit.

The trail could be cold, just like Merle’s had turned cold.

He just doesn’t want to have fucking failed that little girl just like he failed his brother.

But since when was Y/N doubting that Sophia was alive, too? This wasn’t the time for no doubts, all those do are drag you down.

It’s hard enough to not want to give up these days, and that’s without a lost child or her heartbroken mother left alone. Especially when it’s what, not even a month after those two finally got free from that deadbeat shithead Ed?

Fuck, he’d hated that bastard. Who knows what that asshole did to his kid? Bad enough what he was doing to his woman.

So, maybe, as much as he’s trying not to lash out, he doesn’t sound too friendly or patient or like an adult when he throws back at his friend, “Still don’t mean nothin’!”

Instead of getting all angry like he’d just done (I’m sorry, Y/N…), all they say back in reply is, “Wanna grab more food while we’re stuck here, or leave it in case somebody else takes shelter here and needs it?” as they place the can opener on the counter in plain view before limping away.

The only sound becomes the rain outside hammering away at the roof and windows.

He eyes the dumbass can opener, storms over, throws it back into the drawer and kicks it shut.

Pissy little bitch Darylina.

Yeah, he gives himself a minute to cool off. Y/N seems to be doing the same.

Another bolt of lightning flashes outside, following closely by a loud boom of thunder. Storm’s closer now.

“Ah, the painkillers are kickin’ in,” he hears them sigh from their spot near a window.

Lightning flashes again, thunder at just about the same time.

He decides to join Y/N in the living room and stare out the window, too.

“M’sorry I blew up,” he mumbles.

“Friends fight,” comes out of their mouth almost immediately. They sound tired.

“Heard ya say the painkillers are kicking in?”

“Thanks be.”

More thunder. He must’ve missed the lightning.

“Ain’t gonna work out, us heading to the road today, is it?” they ask him, tone soft and defeated.

He just runs his hands through his hair and flops onto the couch. “It’s gonna get dark soon. Out in the dark’s no good, you know that.”

They’re still standing by the window. A bolt of lightning flashes. “Andrea mentioned she and you went out to search in the dark.”

Shit. “Y/N…”

“No leads, then?”

“If there were, we’d have followed ’em.”

“Alright,” she relents with a sigh. After a few moments of quiet, she offers, “I’ll get a fire going, you do your thing with that squirrel there.”

You

I’m so sorry, Sophia. You were so loved. You’re still so loved, I don’t mean to be writing you off as gone so soon, but…I’m so sorry we couldn’t find you in time, baby girl. Please be alive.

Please let her be alive. Let her end have been quick if she’s gone already. Or bring her back!

Or…I don’t know, either way please just help me find Carol a damn present.

Him

Y/N’s been staring into the flames for a while.

The squirrel meat’s cooked, he threw it onto a plate from the kitchen and left it on the coffee table then headed to a window.

He opened it up, stuck his hands out to rinse off, and is now enjoying a cigarette. Small favors this fucking storm is moving further away.

“Rain’s slowin’ down.”

“Yeah,” they hush. He sees as they perk up. “We should oughta go now, then, flash flood risk is—”

—A massive thunderclap interrupts so forcefully that the house shakes.

Oh, damn it, he dropped his smoke on the covered porch outside! Of course he was holding it out the window when a hulking fucker of a thunderclap shook the place.

Can he reach it, maybe? Oh, nah, it fell in a crack that was wet. Well, there goes that.

He quickly looks back at Y/N to find them wide-eyed, tensed-up, and breathing heavy. “That was scary. What do you think Sophia is…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, and turns back to the fire.

He’s thinking the same. How terrified must that kid be right now?

Then there’s that asshole part of himself that is thinking how after this bullshit storm they’re having, the chance of finding that little girl is gonna be that much more difficult and…and unlikely.

Screw that.

“So, remember how I said I got lost when I was a kid? When I found my cat?” he calls over.

After a few sniffs, she responds back, “Your cat Eyes?”

“Yep. So, I was wanderin’ around playing and shit. I didn’t want to be ho—um,” he pauses and pretends he sees something outside. Did he really almost tell her how he didn’t want to be home? More mopey bullshit he almost spilled, what the hell.

And like, come on, it’s nothing, it’s just that things had been pretty shit then. Ma had died and Dad was…who he was. And Merle had been dicking around so he wouldn’t have to be around their old man, which had landed him in juvie again.

Anyway, being away from home felt safer. Hurt less.

None of this Y/N has to know.

He begins to walk back to the fireplace and sees that they haven’t eaten any squirrel meat.

“And yeah, I dunno,” he continues his story, “I ended up goin’ deeper and deeper into the woods by my neighborhood. Got lost.”

“How long ’til you made it back?” Their expression warms slightly when they ask, “And when d’you find Eyes?”

He opens his mouth to tell her.

Closes it.

He just doesn’t want them to get, like, all emotional or whatever. “Don’t, um—it ain’t a big deal, okay?”

Her brows draw closer, just a little. “Maybe it kinda is if you have to tell me that,” she gently counters, her curious smile switching into a cautious sort of look.

Might as well out with it. He’d already basically blurted out how he’d hid under his bed a shit ton as a kid, she’s probably already drawn some kind of conclusion. “I found Eyes on day seven, I think?” Was it day seven or six? Maybe eight?

“How long, you said?” they question, voice casual.

“Was out there nine days by the time I made it back.” He glances over for a second to see their reaction, and to his relief, there isn’t much of one.

You

Tears forgotten and voice as level and as nonchalant as you can crack it, you wonder about the phrasing of that sentence. “By the time you made it back?”

He hums.

Does that mean he was out there and he ran into the search party, or that no search party was sent? He said nine days. Nine!

“Your mama and big brother must have sobbed so hard with relief when you came back in one piece,” you decide to respond, praying you won’t say the wrong thing or react in an unwelcome way or cause him grief.

“Nah, Ma wasn’t around then, she’d died.”

Oh my, it got worse. Oh my. Okay, keep your voice normal, Y/N, you know the drill. “How old were you?”

“It ain’t a big deal,” he repeats instead of telling you.

So, you try humoring him a little. “Ain’t never said it was.”

And it’s probably him compromising when he allows, “I was younger than Sophia is now.”

Okay.

He’s probably feeling very exposed right now, that’s a given. God knows you’ve had the hard blessing of living with and caring for a lot of kids like him; when stuff came up that kids (and grown-ups) from difficult situations didn’t like facing, they’d fight it.

So, because it isn’t anything immediately urgent as it sometimes was with your foster sibs, there’s zero reason for you to encourage, press, or pry at this moment. But because completely changing the topic isn’t the best course of action, either, you try to direct it away from the painful part.

“You mentioned you’re from northern Georgia, right? We talking by Gainesville or far up like Dalton or Clayton?”

“In between, I guess.”

In between those are a whole lot of trees and not too much else. “Ellijay? Helen?”

“You got a map out or somethin’?” he snorts. He appears more comfortable now, which is good.

But shit, nine days lost in the woods? Whoever was meant to be his caregiver dropped the ball so hard it cracked the mother-fucking pavement—ohh, great and here goes you getting all huffy. Good Moses, you can feel your blood pressure going up!

You know, you know, you should be used to this kind of thing, but every time it still hurts to acknowledge that people can abuse or neglect kids. Sometimes, you swear, people don’t care about young humans half as much as they care about dogs.

Daryl could’ve been one of yours just as easily as Sophia could have.

All you want to know is where the fuck was this guy’s dad was—where was Merle, for that matter?—or, you don’t know, an auntie or grandma or whoever was supposed to be taking care of your poor mangy hick and didn’t notice he was gone for over a w—

“—Anyways, I told you that so you’d get it into your head that that little girl could still be fine,” your poor mangy hick’s voice interrupts.

Just a sec, did you just think of him as ‘your’ mangy hick? Twice? That isn’t gonna be your term of endearment for your new friend, right? Sure you’ve had that in your head since the day your group left the quarry, but it’s kinda rude. Plus, he’s not a child, he’s like six and a half years older than you.

Anyway, your curiosity gets the better of you. “What’d you do for food when you were out there?” you ask your poor mangy hick.

“Berries mostly. Wild onion, too,” he grunts back, picking up his food-knife (separate from his walker-knife) and taking a big bite of squirrel meat off it. “I overheard you doin’ a lesson with ’em about edible plants once.” He says this as if it means Sophia would know all the plants off the top of her head now.

More thunder interrupts, and thankfully it doesn’t shake the house like the last one did. And yet, your hope gets washed away with the rain and leaves dread in its place.

“But only one lesson, Daryl,” you begin to panic, efficiently tumbling down into worst-case scenario thoughts as the memory of her crying out in terror that day on the car-packed highway floods your mind. “We only went over poison sumac versus edible, poke versus elderberry, and, um, w-wild carrot versus hemlock.” Calm down, calm down...

His shrug might have come across as rude if he wasn’t staring so intently into your eyes. “Sophia’s smart, said so yourself.” With a shake of the plate, he seems to be encouraging you to eat some of the meat.

“Smart only gets you so far when th-there are dead people who chase and eat us,” you falter, pulse rising.

“Y/N, c’mon, zen,” he says, but not in the way he’s been speaking. The gentleness in it catches you off guard.

Plate put aside, he holds up nine fingers. “Nine days. That was me.” Then he points to himself, then toward the window. “Sophia’s on day three. She’s got the creek as her landmark and water source, and there are plenty of farmhouses she could be crashing in. Don’t go gettin’ your panties in a bunch just yet.”

As well-intentioned as the first half might have been, that last part gets you snapping, “Bitch, don’t patronize me or my panties,” as tears (not now, idiot!) pool in your eyes and threaten to slip down. Feeling weak and stupid and useless and helpless, you promptly turn your head and tuck your lips in, determined to cry too obviously and give credence to Daryl’s (*cough* sexist) choice of phrase.

His apology comes out annoyed, but one comes out nonetheless. Plus, he follows it up with, “I didn’t mean it like that…”

Then another rude-ass, mother-fucking, loudmouth thunderclap booms through the air and all you can do is whimper, “Oh, baby girl, I’m so sorry,” as you close your eyes and pray (scream inwardly) again and sink onto the couch.

Him

Y/N is quick to apologize for calling him ‘bitch,’ as if it were a big deal.

“I’m sorry, you don’t like being called that especially and here I go sayin’ it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it, we all say shit we don’t mean.”

He takes another bite of squirrel, thinking how he’s gonna have to pilfer around for some hot sauce to help choke stuff like this down. After another two bites, he tosses the rest back onto the plate and sits down on the opposite end of the couch where Y/N is. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, that is.

The rain sounds like it’s slowing down.

There’s still a stack of magazines from when she got the fire going. He grabs one, rips out a page. Crumples it. Pelts it into the fire.

Rips another. Crumples it. Pelts it into the fire.

Rips a third. Crumples it. Looks at Y/N. Nods his head toward the magazine.

Glancing back, they mutter, “That’s a good idea.”

He puts the magazine on the middle cushion between him and them before pelting his third paper ball as hard as he—fuck, it hits the glass fireplace door and lands on the floor.

It’s Y/N’s usual delicate teasing when they hint, “That’s how I felt when you chucked that rubber band ball too hard and I didn’t catch it.”

That happened back at the CDC. Fucking cosmic-level crazy day. And that black lady, uh, Jacqui, right? She was decent. Liked root beer as much as he does, so he found out while there. Too bad she chose to check out with that scientist bastard.

More thunder outside brings him back to the present. Based on the sounds of it, the storm’s finally moved its ass away.

Y/N’s attempt at tossing their paper ball ticks the bottom grate first but still flops into the fire.

He rounds up a fourth ball of his own, throws it—hell yes—and sends it straight into the flames.

“Ow,” Y/N hisses, dropping her second one. “Tried to throw with my bum arm.”

He figures he’ll do some teasing of his own. “Idiot.”

As expected, they bug him back. “Mangy hick,” they snark, and lightly toss the paper ball at his head.

He’s about to inquire why that, um��kinda weird nickname instead of ‘bitch,’ but she speaks up.

“Daryl?”

When they don’t say anything for several seconds, he looks over. Their chest is rising and falling slowly and controlled. Then he realizes he’s staring at their chest and turns away.

“We tell Carol we found somethin’, yes or no?” she finally speaks. “I don’t think we should, but do you think she'll need that?”

“Nah, we ain’t lying to her.”

“W-we can tell her about the old couple’s house.”

“We can.”

“And we can find her a present.”

A gift? Trying not to sound like a dick, he wonders, “What the hell kinda present?”

“I dunno, dude, I’ll look around.” Y/N massages their temple for a moment. “She likes modern art,” they trail off.

“So ya wanna bring her back a painting or some shit?”

She shrugs her good shoulder and closes her eyes. “Daryl, what sorts of signs might could there still be tomorrow of our girl?”

His answer is coming out before they’re even done asking. “Plenty. The wet ground will help us see way better, if she’s out in it leaving tracks. Just don’t—” What is he trying to say? “Don’t write her off just yet is all I’m askin’. From you of all people,” he adds, really not liking how…naked he felt in saying that.

Partway through making another paper ball, the crinkling noise slowly stops as Y/N pauses. She licks her lips, then tells him “It’s not me writing her off. That ain’t never gonna happen, she’s just a child. And I love her, it’s j-just me tryin’ not to be blind about her situation. It’s been seventy-two hours, man.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

He feels her turn to look at him for a moment. When he starts to return her gaze, she’s already standing up. Her voice comes out low and rough. “Stats say we’re most likely gonna find a body now.”

Um…wasn’t expecting that. How is he supposed to react? And who cares about some statistics bullshit?

Luckily, another damn thunderclap interrupts and helps him take a figurative step back before he gets pissed again.

So, he knows, alright?

These past three days, he’s known how slim it’s been getting. He isn’t stupid.

But it still doesn’t mean the worst. There are plenty of places for her to hole up and keep safe, fed.

Sophia’s surprisingly good at throwing punches, too, from what that little lesson Y/N was giving the kids that time showed. That means she can defend herself, at least somewhat.

Well, Y/N’s gotten up and is searching this dump to find useful stuff. And a present for Carol, for what good that’ll do.

Well, he’s gonna take this as another opportunity to have a smoke. And not drop it out a window this time.

You

A jug of cooking oil and a jug of bleach. Neither are for Carol, but both will benefit your group and the Greenes (and whatever Patricia and Jimmy’s last name is).

You think you took too many ibuprofen, your ears are ringing and you’re feeling kinda nauseated. Another idiotic thing you did, overdoing it on pain management so you could pretend you weren’t the liability you are for going out.

It was hard enough getting the fresh shirt on without resorting to asking Daryl to help pull it off (hell no), but you managed to get a clean, unstained one on yourself along with a pair of all-cotton jeans, one size too small but the cotton will loosen up, right?

“Ain’t that top kinda warm?”

“It’s comfy. Don’t you go snippin’ the sneeves—sleeves—off my new button down, hear?” you try to joke, eyeing his own cut-off shirt. Every sleeved shirt that man had had with him he ended up ripping the sleeves off. It was one of the first thing you and Amy noticed. She did enjoy peeking at his arms.

“You good?”

“I’m good. You good? You look tired.”

“Same to you. Ready to head back?” he puts to you, already shouldering his crossbow and—oh, shouldering your backpack as well. He also grabs the jug of cooking oil.

Okay, Carol really called it. There is a good man hiding underneath all that anger.

Him

“Yeah, the flood risk only gets higher the longer we wait,” they reply under their breath, dark circles under their eyes more noticeable in the light. She notices her bookbag on his shoulder but doesn’t protest. Then she picks up the gallon of bleach with her uninjured side and follows him on his way out the door.

“What’s with y’all and flash floods, anyways?” he’s curious to know.

Their brows go up just a little as they heft the jug, but their response nearly causes him to drop the one he’s holding. “Dad drowned in one.”

Shit, they serious?

They sound almost amused. “Oh, Dary-bear, are you freezin’ up? Relax, you’re fine. People die.”

“My bad,” is the only response that comes into his head.

“Make it up to me by lettin’ me carry my backpack?

He doesn’t think that’s a good…fine, he gives it back—but he takes the jug of bleach from their hand first. He just doesn’t want her to hurt too bad later. He can carry the cooking oil and the bleach, she can be the spotter, and he’ll just drop a jug if he has to aim his crossbow. Easy. “How old were ya when that happened? To your dad?”

With a pointed glance, she repeats the same reply he gave her earlier. “Younger than Sophia is now.” She adjusts the bookbag. “Maybe we can both share when we have that beer at some point.”

You

The skies are darkening and the birds are starting to leave their nests to get worms since the rain has finally slowed to a light drizzle. The air smells nice.

Dead tired, you’re already ready to ask for a break and you two only have a quarter of a mile from the farm, so Daryl estimates.

You two pass a big cinder-brick farmhouse-looking thing. He already checked the inside yesterday (“It’s stripped bare, Y/N.”), but the two of you pop in for one final sweep. ‘Stripped bare’ is the perfect description for it. After maybe five minutes of calling Sophia’s name and looking under and inside possible hiding places, it’s time to leave.

You trudge outside. And as you’re daydreaming about leaning against that tree while you try to wrangle enough willpower to make the walk back, he checks out of the blue, “Hey, you find that present for Carol like you were after?”

“Other than the red shirt from the highway and an unopened box of peach tea, no. Why?”

He’s staring at something. “She like flowers?”

“Very much.” She’d had the kids pick wildflowers more than a few times back at the quarry. And that Daryl is offering is something.

He bends down toward a scraggly wild shrub and picks—oh, it’s one of those? Those are the official state flower. They smell kinda like Christmastime.

“Ready to head back?” Daryl asks, holding just the single bloom.

“I guess.” You nod at the flower, intrigued and a little confused. “Why only the one? There are two.”

“I think it’s a sign,” he says quietly without looking at you. His gaze is fixed on the flower.

Your gaze is fixed on him. It’s—it’s weird to think, but you don’t want to look away. He whole appearance is unlike his usual self—he seems shy. He looks gentle. “What do you mean?”

“You know the story behind the Cherokee Roses, right?”

Of course, you were Georgia born and raised just like he was. “Yeah, that the, um, the Cherokee prayed for a sign of hope for the future, and those sprung up wherever they cried for their lost ones.”

“On the Trail of Tears,” he reminds you, still staring at the petals and delicately running his finger along the tips of them as if lost in thought. “All those people were dyin’, the kids especially. After the elders prayed for that sign to keep hope, every time a mother’s tears touched the ground for her children, one of these bloomed.” And it’s almost too soft the way he mumbles to himself “These bloomed for Sophia,” that you nearly didn’t hear it.

Your stomach does a flip. Your cheeks get all warm. You’re just about ready to start crying again, to be honest. Also, you get slightly turned on for a sec, but that’s neither here nor there—and you pay no mind. You’re overtired.

Carol called it. There’s a very good man hiding under all that anger.

“Y/N, you good?”

“I-I’m great, um—tell Carol that story when you give it to her. Okay? Daryl, it’s perfect.”

The flower in his shirt pocket, he doesn’t reply, he just picks up the jugs again and makes a half-grunt while inclining his head toward the farm.

“It’s perfect,” you repeat, but still are given no semblance of a reply as you both continue walking the final stretch back. You get the urge to bug him. “Since when do you get shy, mangy hick?”

The trudge back grows quiet.

Him

They hadn’t called him ‘mangy hick’ in a while. He even kinda liked it. It didn’t sound like an insult when they said it, probably because it wasn’t. If Y/N was mad at somebody, their mouth would run, sure, but without fail they would then apologize for that shit and mean it.

“We’re almost back,” he lets them know.

“Good. Because really, man, what you told me about that flower will mean a lot, like, a whole lot to Carol. She needs that right now.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to this. It’s a flower, big deal. “Yeah.”

“How is it that you,” she sighs, “got to save the day two days ago, now you’re savin’ the day again?”

Not this again. I remembered leftover pills two days ago, Y/N, and today I picked a flower. How are you gonna swing this as meaning anything? “Pickin’ a flower is saving the day?”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “Today, for that woman, might could be.”

The two of them finally make it to one of the farm’s fields.

He doesn’t get it. “Tracking down her daughter might could’ve been better.”

A slight huff. “We’re working with what we got, Daryl, take the compliment. Carol needs comfort. Life’s beaten her down enough,” she mutters under her breath. Then she speaks clearly and almost as if she’s scolding him. “And now life has taken her daughter, at least for a few days. Carol needs comfort right now, and you found somethin’ deep and real to comfort her with.”

Before he can grumble or make any kind of lame reply such as “Picking a goddamn flower ain’t saving nobody,” a figure in the distance shows up from around a hay pile. He drops the jug of cooking oil and aims his crossbow within a second.

Oh, it’s just T-Dog. Does he look happy, did they bring back Sophia? He turns his head toward Y/N, who looks back at him and shares that same hopeful expression for just a moment until she waves and appears to be about to shout over to him. But she hesitates.

“You realize Carol ain’t gonna hate you that we didn’t find her girl yet? The one she—well, the person she hates right now, it’s herself. That’s why we need to remind her we don’t agree, okay? Especially comin’ from somebody as,” a slight pause, “as independent as you. That’s why you have to do it.”

There’s no time to process this idea or grate back anything he’d probably regret and kick himself in the balls for before Y/N finally does shout, “Teddy! I hope you and Andrea made it back before that free shower from Mother Nature!”

“It washed off the sweat, I’ll give it that.” T-Dog calls back, his voice sounding…disappointed. “Y’all find any leads?”

That answers why he sounds disappointed. No Sophia. Again. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, son-of-a-bitch, fuck!

“There weren’t signs of her back at the little shelter y’all made at the highway, either?” Y/N falters.

“We’ve got a new road to check out tomorrow,” Daryl cuts in, and states it loudly and as confidently as he can scrape up for both Y/N and T-Dog. “I don’t think that area was checked yet, right?” he adds with a toss of his head toward the east.

“Nah, Andrea and me did a sweep of the woods in that direction,” T-Dog gestures to the far end of the farm, then to another. “Shane and Rick searched that way. And y’all did that direction.”

“They find any signs?” he presses, knowing he sounds desperate.

T-Dog shakes his head.

After this, he reaches his hand down for one of the jugs Daryl is holding. Daryl hands it over without a word and without looking at him. He’s only finally let himself believe that Y/N was actually his friend, he isn’t gonna start assuming everybody will want to. That he thought T-Dog was a decent dude didn’t mean it was mutual.

“Teddy, how’s my Carl?” Y/N checks sadly.

“Still doing great. Little man’s itching to get out of bed already.”

“He ask about Sophia all day?”

“His parents told him.”

She coughs. “What? How did, h-how did he take it?”

“Good. He took it real good.”

“I gotta go see him—wait, I forgot to ask about you! You gonden dinzy—ahem, gotten dizzy spells at all? Are your stitches still clean and—ohh, how’s your stomach, those antibiotics can wreck—”

“—Okay, we good, slow down. To answer, my arm’s fine, and Glenn gave me the probiotics you put on the drug store list.”

“Glenn got back okay? Margaret, too?”

“Both good as far as I know. But to be honest about my stomach, yeah, it only been a day and a half on them antibiotics and that shit’s messed up,” he cracks to try and break the tension.

“Literally, huh?” she deadpans back at him, causing him to make a genuine laugh. Daryl gets the feeling he should smile or something, but he feels too out of place as T-Dog and Y/N have their conversation.

“Hey, Lori was looking for you, Y/N. Glenn, too.”

“Okay, I’ll go find them after checkin’ on my Carl. Oh, and I’ll try to find a vase for you, okay, Daryl?” she adds, taking off at a faster pace that Daryl didn’t realized she still had in her.

T-Dog slows down and nudges his arm, then nods over at Y/N. “They okay? No sling on today.”

“They overdid it.”

“You both look bone-tired.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing they was the one who wanted to bring these back with y’all, right?” he guesses, holding up the jug and grinning.

“Mmhm.”

“Was that flower you got there what she meant about the ‘vase?’ Not many Cherokee Roses this time of year. That’s what that is, right?”

“Ain’t nothin’,” comes out of his mouth before he can rethink it and not act like some asshole white-trash redneck.

T-Dog slows for a second, then rolls his eyes and shrugs. “A’ight, brother, I’ll leave you to it.” He maintains his distance from Daryl after that and walks along at his own faster pace.

No wonder no one fucking wants you around or is gonna. And throw out the damned flower, who the hell will care? You failed again at doing the only thing you’re supposed to be good at.

And he almost does throw the damn thing out. But…Y/N would be upset, for one. But more than that, the thing she said about it being something Carol needed right now? That much is plain, the poor woman does need some kind of something to keep her going.

And those two flowers, they fucking did bloom for Sophia. Two single blooms, one for every night she’d been missing and her mother cried for her. There’ll be one more in it’s place tomorrow, try and tell him there won’t be.

When he sees Y/N across the field slow to a stop and lean over to catch her breath and forgets about the goddamn flower-drama in his head.

Y/N thought it was obvious. Carol needed a present, something to give her comfort. In their opinion, Daryl finding that flower was “perfect” for Carol, and was “saving the day again.” They said it without a lick of sarcasm, too. Then, when he turned into pissy Darylina and tossed it back in her face anyway and told her she was wrong, she didn’t even blink.

“Today, for that woman, it might could be,” she told him. “Life’s beaten her down enough, and now life has taken her daughter.” Then came the part where she seemed disappointed in him. The imaginary knee kicked his balls again. “Carol needs comfort right now, and you found somethin’ deep and real to comfort her with.”

He can’t chicken out. That woman—Carol—if there’s a chance she’ll get some kinda comfort out of this, it’s worth him feeling stupid and unwelcome or blamed.

Hot damn. What would Merle say if he could stare into his thoughts and read this shit, right?

You

You’d meant to go to Carl, but Maggie found you first. Wanted to talk.

You wish you’d waited to talk to her until after seeing Carl. And Lori and Glenn, or maybe after a good night’s sleep, like, what the fuck, Glenn? Never mind whatever was going on in Margaret’s mind, but as for Glenn: did he even think before getting himself into this?

Shoot—the pun wasn’t intended, it wasn’t, but really! What the hell were they thinking?

Maggie and Glenn had sex?

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