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bellawoso · 3 months

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Head Over Heels

Jana Fernandez x fem!reader

Jana Fernandez my love, you have my heart.

You and Jana had been keeping your relationship under wraps for a while, from the team and from the public, with the only people aware being your two’s family- which was still fairly new.

Your relationship stemmed soon after you signed for Barcelona, with you moving from England and struggled with the spanish language, Lucy and Keira quickly took you under their wing.

At first you struggled to make new friendships with your teammates, being constantly wary of the fact they are the top players in the world, however this feeling wasn’t new to you.

Both Keira and Lucy knew that you struggled with imposter syndrome after you signed for England and had constant nervous episodes before a match after you were told you were to be in the starting 11.

However, each time your anxiety spiked, either one of them would always be there to comfort you, which was why you were having such a hard time not telling anyone about yours and Jana’s relationship.

In a way, you felt as if you had to be more open with Keira and Lucy due to everything they had done for you, being honest with them was the least you could do.

———————————————————————

Honestly to begin with, you had a bad first impression of Jana, with you previously playing for Arsenal, the only interaction you have had with Jana were the 2021 games against Barcelona, which left you having to listen to Beth’s rants about how the young defender was shoving her all throughout the game.

It was your fault you weren’t friends with Jana really, despite you attempting to make an effort to speak to some of the Barça girls who spoke English, you had completely avoided the brunette who constantly haunted your thoughts.

Everyone on the team knew that Jana and Bruna were their own duo, they tended to pair up all of the time in drills, sit together on the bus and at lunch, they had been best friends since their youth.

You were used to seeing Jana and Bruna constantly looking at you, giggling, and rapidly whispering in Spanish, which didn’t help to ease your worries of not fitting in.

Until one training session where Bruna was ill left Jana without a partner for a drill. You usually partnered with Keira, but after some encouragement from the English girl that she would be fine and partner with Aitana, you walked over to the brunette defender and asked if she wanted to partner with you, to which she happily accepted to your surprise.

The brunette seemed eager to get to know you during the drill, and after training she offered to take you home instead of Lucy and Keira as your car was currently being fixed.

It turned out that you two didn’t live far away from each other, so you both car-shared after that training session, until one day you were confident enough to invite the brunette in after she dropped you off.

You both laughed over coffee, which led to you admitting how you thought she hated you at first, as you always saw her laughing at you with Bruna.

Jana simply looked at you in shock, and was quick to reassure you that she never hated you, but she was just very nervous around you.

At hearing this you offered her a soft smile, encouraging her to continue, when you noticed her hesitance to continue.

Jana was then quick to confess her newfound non-platonic feelings for you, until you cut off her rambling with a chaste kiss to her lips, effectively silencing her.

“I like you too Jana”

After a few more dates, Jana asked you to be her girlfriend which you happily accepted, you had been dating for 4 months now, with nobody suspecting anything of you two.

———————————————————————

Barcelona vs Real Madrid

A highly anticipated match, that always left people on the edge of their seats at Camp Nou.

Sadly, both you and your girlfriend weren’t playing, with you two both sporting matching muscle injuries, however you were both just as happy to watch.

You and Jana both loved physical affection, so it was a shame your relationship wasn’t public to anyone yet. You had both decided to wear many layers of clothing in attempt to prevent anyone from recognising you, so that Jana could at least have a hand on your thigh without a fan snapping a picture of it.

You had both decided that you would look more weird in your disguises in the friends and family stands than the public stands, which left you two in a random part of the stadium, surrounded by fellow culers.

Both you and Jana were clad in big puffer coats, beanies, face masks all in attempt to not be caught by fans.

Honestly, you did start sat down in your chair, however as the match progressed, you began to miss Jana’s lap, so you were quick to climb onto her, as she welcomed you in an embrace.

The Barcelona weather was honestly quite hot that day, so you were fast to discard your extra layers.

Everyone was focused on the match, so who would actually notice you?

With Jana’s extra layers, they made it impossible for you to nuzzle your face into the crook of Jana’s neck, so you made the rash decision to pull off Jana’s disguise, insisting it was too uncomfortable, to which Jana happily let you, the girl being as head-over-heels for you as you were for her.

You were right, no fans noticed either of you, Jana’s hand resting dangerously low on your back the entirety of the game, and she placed regular kisses on your forehead every time you tiredly mumbled “te amo” repeatedly.

With you too tired to look up, and Jana too enamoured with you, both of you failed to notice the camera which projected both of you clearly onto the big screen.

———————————————————————

As soon as the match ended, both you and Jana were quick to part ways, keeping up the facade of you two not being close.

Jana immediately went to her friends, and you went up to Esmee, who to Jana’s annoyance, you had grown quite close to over the past month. This was something you constantly teased your girlfriend for, and even though Jana knew you were loyal, she couldn’t help the sudden rush of jealousy she felt whenever she saw Esmee hugging you.

However, today Bruna noticed Jana’s glare at Esmee who had lifted you to a piggyback, as she interacted with the fans. The forward chose to not pick at Jana’s sudden dislike for Esmee, but it stayed at the back of her mind even when they were on the bus.

Your teammates noticed your fatigue, and chose to leave you alone when on the bus, as they knew both you and Esmee were such good friends due to your shared trait of always being tired. Both you and Esmee were currently sharing AirPods and appreciating the unusually calm conversations going on around you.

Until it was broken by a shriek from Claudia which immediately had you jolting awake, only to turn back to see what the problem was, to be met with a sympathetic smile from Jana, which had you subtly smiling back at her and then relaxing back into your seat instantly.

The back seats that day consisted of their usual group: Alexia, Jana, Bruna, Lucy, Mapi, Claudia and Patri, usually the loudest and most energetic of the team on the way back after a match.

After choosing to settle back into your seat, and once again blocking out the conversations around you, you were made completely oblivious to the incident arising at the back of the bus.

After Claudia’s sudden outburst caused everyone’s conversations to stop, she was immediately met with Alexia asking her what was wrong. Claudia however was still in so much shock, that when she attempted to tell Alexia and the others what was wrong, she could only stutter, until she was cut off with a scolding from Alexia for being so childish, who mistook the shriek of surprise for one of mischief.

When Alexia’s lecture had ended, Claudia managed to muster up a few words which immediately made Jana freeze:

“Twitter, Jana, Y/N”

Claudia quickly shoved her phone in the awaiting hands of her captain, who’s only reaction was a sharp intake of breath and a soft “ay dios mio” which the group knew was not a good sign.

The phone was then passed around the rest of the group, only landing in the hands of Jana last.

As the brunette studied the picture, she couldn’t help but smile at the candid photo of you two on the big screen, you on her lap with your head resting on her shoulder, however the photo also had captured Jana’s blush and the hand that rested way too low on you for any couple in public.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jana could see you jolting awake, after being shaken awake by Mapi, who she had not realised had got up to confront you.

Jana immediately went to stand up, her protective nature shining through, only to be pulled back down by Alexia.

“She will come over here, maybe she can sit on a normal seat, instead of your lap this time?” The captain teased.

This was only met with a scowl from Jana, the only available seat was next to Mapi, and Jana was not planning on leaving you anywhere near the Zaragozan, as she knew that the blonde would only tease you more.

As you neared them, Jana could see Mapi tugging on your wrist harshly in excitement, not noticing the wince on your face, the brunette reached over to smack Mapi’s hand, to let her know to get off you. Hesitance was evident all over your face on where to sit, so Jana hastily tugged you by your waist onto her lap.

This confirmation that you were in fact together sent Claudia into a rambling state mainly consisting of how she couldn’t believe it, and that she didn’t even know you and Jana were friends.

This combined with Patri, Mapi and Lucy’s teasing only irritated Jana more, and Alexia studying the picture of you two on the big screen did not ease your worries.

Jana noticed this, and tapped your thigh as a signal for you to stand, as she led you to the front of the bus for the last ten minutes of the journey. As soon as you arrived back, Jana pulled you to her car where you went to her house as you had been spending most of your time there recently.

After a long conversation with Jana, you had decided that although you two had already been hard launched by some random cameraman, you two could still go through the process of making your relationship ship official online.

———————————————————————

yourinstagram

Head-over-heels inlove with you from day one my love ❤️

Liked by alexiaputellas, janafernandez3 and 57,675 others.

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janafernandez3

Mi amor in her natural habitat: on my lap ❤️ (no where else I would rather have you)

Liked by yourinstagram, lucybronze and 49,873 others.

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A/N: i <3 jana fernandez

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ghoststyles · 16 days

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Meet Me In Augusta

A quick little check-in for Fairway to Heaven ❤️ inspired by my beefy hunky man at the Masters 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

SMUT. FLUFF. That’s all.

———————————————————————————

When Briar and Harry first got together, she thought she’d won the lottery. A doting, strong boyfriend who puts her needs above his own. He cares for her dog as much as she does, gets along with her family members, and donates to charity regularly. It’s like the heavens handmade him. And yes, the reverse is true on Harry’s part. She’s his dream girl, and the bloody best thing to ever happen to him. But, where he’d truly won the lottery differs slightly:

He won tickets to the Masters.

It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to attend one of the four major golf tournaments, and when Harry entered his name in the lottery system the year before, he never thought he’d see the day where his bucket list item would be checked off.

Briar is lounging on Harry’s couch, watching old episodes of Real Housewives (NY, obviously) with Gus at her feet and a bowl of popcorn and M&Ms beside her when she hears a completely manly and dignified shriek from Harry’s office. Sitting up in alarm, she opens her mouth to yell back to him, to make sure he’s okay, just as the heavy oak double doors swing open. Shirtless and in his Calvin Klein boxer briefs and socks, Harry sprints down the hall, phone in hand as he leaps over the back of the sofa to stand beside her.

“What on Earth! Harry, you’re scaring me! Is there a mouse? Where are your clothes?” Briar screams, jumping up to crouch on the sofa and cocooning herself in her blanket in case there’s a spider clinging to him.

Harry is laughing maniacally, and every so often an oh my god leaving his mouth. He nods to whomever he’s talking to on the phone as if they can see him before thanking them and hanging up.

He drops the phone, eyes wide and meeting hers. Grabbing her shoulders, he all but tackles her back to the sofa, signaling Gus to bark at him for hurting his mom. They’re on the settee part of the sofa, Harry’s arms wrapped around her, preventing her from moving, even if she wanted to.

“Harry! Tell me what’s going on right now!” Briar’s shrill voice finally brings him back to Earth.

He peppers kisses on her neck before shouting in her ear, “I’M GOING TO THE MASTERS!”

She doesn’t respond, not because she’s not supportive of his enthusiasm, but because she has no idea what that is. Feigning a smile, she replies, “wow, baby, that’s great!”

Craning his neck, his brows furrow when he meets her gaze, a clear indicator she’s confused.

“Birdie, do you know what the Masters is?”

“Mmmm, is it like MasterChef?”

Harry squawks out a laugh, shaking his head, “No, my love. The Masters is one of the big four golf tournaments for the PGA. When you win, you earn a green jacket and become a member of Augusta National in Georgia. And then you get to plan a celebration dinner. Plus, you win like, $3,000,000.”

“Ohhhh, okay, yes. Uncle Patrick has gone to that, I think. He didn’t win, though.”

Harry’s brows furrow even more, a bewildered look gracing his features, “We’ll come back to that later. I have a lot of questions. But, you enter a lottery to win tickets and I won! Otherwise, tickets are almost a million dollars.”

“A million dollars!? The course better be made of solid gold. I can’t even believe the stuff people spend their money on sometimes.”

“Tiger Woods will be there. He hasn’t played in a few years because of injuries. Baby, I could be near Tiger!” he smacks her ass, eliciting a yelp.

He hops up from his spot on the sofa as he looks outside with the biggest smile on his face, running his hands through his not-so-there curls on his head. He’d shaved it a few months ago impulsively; that was a crisis Briar never thought she’d see the other side of. But his peach fuzzy head grew on her.

“When is it?”

“Second weekend in April. Are you doing anything?”

“Me? Why wouldn’t you take Niall?”

“He and Lydia already have a wedding that weekend back in Ireland. I already asked him.”

“So, I’m your second choice!?” Briar smacks the sofa cushion beside her, faking offense.

Harry rolls his eyes, “You didn’t even know what it was five minutes ago, brat.”

She parrots his eye rolling, leaning down to snuggle Gus. They’re quiet for a moment, letting Harry soak in the news.

“Wait, why don’t you have clothes on?”

“Oh, I stripped them off as they were telling me I got the tickets. I was just too excited,” he responds casually, as if the answer is obvious.

———————————————————————————

So the pair is in Augusta, Georgia, watching Harry’s childhood dream come true. The problem? No phones allowed.

To maintain their traditional values, Augusta National banned the use of cellphones. Briar’s lovely boyfriend failed to remind her of this fact until they were in the back of an Uber heading to the course.

“No phones!? I wanted to document this whole experience for you!” She whines, gently squeezing his wrist.

“Thanks for wanting to do that, Birdie, but it’s okay. My generation isn’t addicted to their phones. We like to live in the moment.”

“Oh my god,” she snorts, punching him lightly. If anyone is on their phone too much, it’s Harry. His entire day is determined by solving the New York Times Connections puzzle. What do you MEAN the theme was ice cream flavors without the last letter?

“What if we get separated? How will I find you?”

“Did you pack your leash?” Harry smirks, waiting for her to smack him again.

“H! Quiet,” she snarls, trying not to look if the driver is listening. “Fine. Do they collect the phones or do they just kick you out if they see it?”

“I think they kick you out and you’re not allowed back, ever. There’s also no running. It’s hilarious. When everyone is trying to follow around the big names, it turns into a speed walking competition to try and beat them to the hole.”

She hums, looking out the window at the gorgeous scenery. She hasn’t spent much time down south, but this trip has changed her opinion of this part of the country. They’ve had beautiful dinners at night on patios and taken walks on historic grounds.

“Good news is, the food and drinks are super cheap, and I think you have some French 75’s calling your name.”

“Yesss!”

The Uber turns, the beautiful gates to the course opening as they pull in. The white building before them is gorgeous and neatly kept, embodying the prestige of the entire event. For a moment, she thinks Harry is tearing up. Harry snaps a photo of the two of them in front of the building to send to Niall and Patrick.

He grabs her hand and squeezes gently as he flashes their credentials to the security guard.

“Lead the way, baby,” Briar whispers, linking her arm with his as they stand outside the car, taking it all in.

Like a kid in a candy store, Harry drags her by the wrist, slaloming through the crowds of people as they all try to make it to the entrance.

Harry looks fucking good today. He’s donning a navy blue sweater on top of a cobalt blue golf shirt. His taupe pinstripe pants are pressed perfectly. His fingers are decked out in rings of all different finishes, and his Prada sunglasses fit his scruffy face perfectly.

The finishing touch, his shoes, are what has Briar giggling to herself. His black Hoka sneakers are throwing off the whole vibe. She tried to change his mind as they packed, but we’ll be walking a lot, and I don’t want my plantar fasciitis to come back!

To make the occasion even more special, Briar let Harry pick out her outfits. She knew he’d pick out her lavender sports dress, a classic piece she whips out when they play on weekends so he’s frustrated and thrown off his game. She’s 3 for 4 on this strategy.

Harry loves the way it cuts at Briar’s strong thighs, and shows a little bit of her back. To elevate the look, she tied a white Hermes scarf around her neck just like Daphne! Her shoes are white Vince Camuto sneakers with no support. She knows she can’t whine later if her feet hurt, in fear of hearing a relentless, I told you so!

Before examining his choices in her suitcase, she zeros in on the lack of underwear and bras. She knows he also picked her floor length, black bodycon dress. He’s really pushing the limits of voyeurism with these picks.

They finally make it past security, thankful they didn’t confiscate her purse, a gift from Harry that is just a smidgen too large for their rules. He leads them to the main clubhouse to grab their first drinks of the day, and maybe even a breakfast sandwich.

They start off with mimosas to ease into the day drinking, because Harry is too fucking old for daydrinking and Briar is a menace when she drinks when the sun is up. By their third round, Harry is full on fangirling as all the players buzz around him. He’s allowed to fangirl all he wants, but when she wants to gush about One Direction for a minute, he covers his ears. Eyeroll.

Briar snaps out of her brattiness, deciding she needs some food in her stomach. As they’re gathered on the 8th hole, she starts to “koala” him, as he so lovingly calls it. She wraps her arms around him from behind, laying her chin on his bicep.

“What’s wrong, Birdie? Hungry?”

Briar lightly bites his arm, looking up to meet his sideways gaze. Part of her hates how well he knows her. She slides her hands in his front pockets, making him wiggle uncomfortably.

“Be good,” he says lowly so only they can hear.

“Okay, Daddy,” she says sweetly, smiling up at him. “But yes, I’m hungry.”

Briar can feel him hesitate, clearly conflicted in what to do next.

“Okay, baby, but,” he pauses. “Tiger is at this hole next, and I’d really like to see it.”

Briar slumps, making a slight hmmph sound. She knows better, and knows how important this is to him, so she shakes it off.

“It’s alright, I can go back to the clubhouse by myself. Will you stay here so I don’t lose you?”

“Of course,” he leans down to gently peck her lips, before his head whips around as Tiger arrives at the tee box just a few feet from them, sending the crowd into a chaotic roar. She reluctantly lets go of his waist, crossing her arms over herself as she walks away.

The crowd has only increased as they arrived, and she’s honestly overwhelmed. A staff member nearby can sense her unsettled demeanor, so he asks if she’d like a ride back to the building.

She smiles at him, “Yes, that’d be lovely! Thank you so much.”

Trey, the worker, doesn't say much, but Briar isn’t one for awkward silences. She tells him about Harry, Wynnewood, and how this is a lifelong dream for him to be here. He nods along, visibly recoiling after finding out Briar isn’t single. She hops off the cart as they approach the doors, and waves a friendly goodbye.

Perusing the snack bar, her eyes are bigger than her stomach. She grabs grapes, potato chips, a turkey sandwich, and even a pudding cup. A nice man helps her condense her items into a cardboard box for carrying. She grabs a fresh squeezed lemonade to finish off her deliciously simple lunch.

Slightly tipsy and overly giddy, she finds a bench to start eating. It’s amazing the different walks of life at this event; the die-hards who don’t care about the glamor of it all, and the ones that are here only as a status symbol. It’s honestly nice not having her phone; she’s a little more in touch with her surroundings.

Taking small bites of her sandwich, she’s startled when another man approaches her on the bench.

“Pardon me, miss. Are you Miss Barlowe?”

Taken back, she nods as she swallows her bite, “Yes, can I help you?”

“Mr. Styles is on the line over there,” he points to the hilariously old fashioned phone stand, where 3 mossy green phones hang on the wooden stand. “He just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

Briar smiles, patting her mouth with her napkin and rising to her feet, “Thank you so much. Do I have to do anything to connect to the call?”

“Just press # and it should connect. I’ll be right over there if you have trouble.”

She laughs to herself as she approaches and presses the ‘#’ just as he said, “Hello?”

“What are you wearing right now?”

“Who is this?” She plays along.

“Your handsome, charming boyfriend,” he muses.

“I have a few of those, so you’re going to have to narrow it down,” she fakes a sultry tone.

“Briar – come on, you know I don’t like those jokes,” he mutters.

She laughs, twirling the curly phone cord around in her hand, “I feel like Carrie Bradshaw with this phone, talking to one of my boyfriends.”

“Are you insinuating I’m Mr. Big? I’m Aidan at the very least. The good guy.”

“Of course you’re Aidan. But instead, we get married.”

“Yeah, y’wanna marry me?” Harry can’t contain his grin as he looks around to see if anyone can hear him. “I won’t say yes until you come back here and get down on one knee, Briar.”

“In your dreams, Styles. Why’d ya call anyway? I’m just sitting here eating my sandwich.”

“Just missed you. Tiger got a birdie on this hole, so it made me think of you.”

“Aw, you’re cute. You’re the first place boyfriend today. You were in third yesterday, for reference.”

“Glad to hear that. Finish up your lunch and come find me. I’m gonna go to the 17th hole to try and catch Justin Rose. He’s an old friend from home.”

“Okay, I’ll come find you. Love.”

“Love.”

Briar hangs up the phone, the butterflies in her stomach buzzing. Since returning home from California, she’s never felt so secure in their relationship. He’s balancing fatherhood, work and their everyday life with ease.

Readjusting her skirt, she walks back over to the bench, mouthing a thank you to the worker who let her know Harry was calling. She sips on her lemonade, the ice rattling as she finishes the cup. Tossing the remnants of her meal in the trash, she spots the beverage cart girl. Briar smiles as she approaches her, requesting another French 75 and a Casamigos on the rocks for her lover.

The 17th hole is a hell of a lot closer to the clubhouse, but swarmed with people. It’s going to be a needle in a haystack to find him. Briar scrunches her brows, scanning all the kinda old white men with brown hair. Where is her old man?

Panic sets in for a moment, until she feels two hands on her waist, lifting her off the ground slightly and kissing her neck where it meets her shoulder.. She squeals, reaching for her skirt to make sure nothing is showing. He didn’t pack her any underwear, after all!

“There y’are, Birdie. Wish I brought your leash to drag my cute puppy around. Make everyone jealous.”

“They’d think you need to be sent to jail, actually. Were you able to focus in my absence?”

“Yeah, but I missed your hundred questions and commentary. Is that for me?” he asks, pointing to his drink.

“Yes, but you made me spill it on my shirt,” she frowns, her gaze traveling down to the beads of liquid wicking off the fabric on her chest.

Without a second thought, Harry leans down, pressing his mouth to just over Briar’s nipple to suck up the dribbled liquid. Her eyes widened, in disbelief he just did that. She grips the back of his hair, pulling him out of her bosom.

“H! What the hell are you doing? We’re in public!”

“Mm, I know. I’m so hard right now. And thirsty. Saw an opportunity,” he smirks, his grip now around the back of her neck. “Wanna take you to the clubhouse and fuck you dumb.”

“Harryyy,” Briar whines again. Little does he know all he has to do is slip her skort to the side to reveal her soaking wet pussy. She does her best to drag her six foot tall boyfriend to the treeline, hiding themselves from prying eyes.

“Let’s go. We’ll find somewhere safe. Daddy needs you to do a favor for him,” he says low in her ear, his tongue touching her earlobe. “Did I tell you how happy I am that you came with me?”

“I’m happy you invited me,” she places a gentle kiss on his lips. “Love seeing you happy.”

———————————————————————————

The lovey dovey talk is how Briar got HOODWINKED into sucking her boyfriend’s cock in an administrator’s office at Augusta National Golf Course at the biggest event of the year. The door locked, thankfully, but the amount of foot traffic outside the door has Briar’s head spinning, even more than when his tip touches the back of her throat.

Harry lets out a guttural moan, “Oh my – fuck! Such a good fucking girl.”

Briar is pulling out her signature moves; cupping his balls with one hand, tweaking his shaft with the other when her mouth doesn’t cover it, and swirling her tongue along the ridge of his bright red, plump cockhead.

Briar bats her eyelashes and pulls off just as he gives his sign of completion; his left thigh muscle twitching. Harry’s eyes shoot open as he grips the desk to prevent himself from falling over. He was so, so close.

Before he can speak, Briar stands, pushing him to half lie on the desktop, opening his belt and pants wider. She climbs on the desk to straddle him, staring down at him deviously.

“Wanna ride you, Daddy,” she whispers in his ear. She sits back up, pulling her skort to the side to show him her pussy, spasming and begging to be touched. He reaches out to touch her, but she bats his hand away, instead placing her hand around his neck firmly. “Nope. No touching.”

Harry snorts, knowing anytime she’s tried to be in charge, she fails miserably. He knows she’ll be howling for his help in a few minutes. His smug look is wiped clean as she grips his cock again to line him up with her dripping hole. They moan in unison when he pushes through the tight opening as she squeezes him for good measure.

Briar bounces lightly, the skin of their thighs slapping together. She could listen to the sounds their bodies make for the rest of her life. He bottoms out a few times, puffs of air escaping his nose as he struggles to not cum immediately.

She starts to rub at her clit, her free hand coming up to tweak her nipple. His eyes are closed again, so she takes her middle and ring finger that are rubbing and sticks them past his lips. He moans, lapping up the wetness from her fingertips and choking on them a bit. She smiles before bringing the fingers back to her center and continuing to rub.

“Oh my god, baby. You taste so good,” Harry whines. “Want you to come. Then I’ll come in your little pussy. Don’t know how you’ll hold it all in there.”

Briar cries out, seconds away from tumbling over the edge. She leans forward, gripping the desk above his head. They’re making extreme eye contact now, the tension between them palpable.

“I’m cumming, Daddy. I’m cumming. Your cock feels so big in my pussy,” she cries out as Harry feels a tiniest bit of wetness expelled from where their bodies meet. She twitches, barely able to hold herself up. He sits up on the desk to support her and begins thrusting up into her with his hands wrapped delicately around her body, fingertips digging into the plushy skin of her ass and waist. He captures her lips in a deep kiss, her breath stuttering when he rams himself back into her.

The two remain intertwined, reality hitting them when Briar utters words he never thought he’d hear from her.

“Fuck me, Daddy. Fill me up. Make me yours. Wanna have your babies,” she fires off things he can’t even comprehend. “Want you to make me a mommy. Fuck – want it so bad. Fill me up, please!”

Harry’s breath is knocked out of him as he throttles upward, his tip colliding with her cervix every time. As he topples over the edge, he buries himself in her pussy – his eternal resting place, he’s decided he’ll request in his will – and releases his full load into her. He drops backwards, beginning her down to lie on top of him, his pants now hanging around his ankles.

“Oh my fucking GOD, baby. So fucking good for me,” he says into her ear, a shiver running down his spine.

“Love you, Daddy,” she says quietly, her ear pressed to his chest so she can hear his heartbeat racing.

“Love you so fucking much, Birdie,” Harry sighs, petting her back.

Harry smiles to himself. The diamond ring he has in his bag at the hotel is going to make an appearance even sooner than expected.

He’s sure of it.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles imagine #Harry styles smut #dom!harry #daddy!harry #agegapfic #Harry Styles golf #golfrry #one direction imagine #daddy!h #fth h #fairway to heaven #harry styles x oc

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descendant-of-truth · 10 months

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Why do people think that Shadow's going to beat up Sonic after the most recent episode. just because he was proven right?? Do we think he wanted to be proven right???

Shadow had ample reasoning to stay back at the cave and keep an eye on Nine. He doesn't trust him, doesn't think he should even be left alone with the shards, and he's certainly stubborn enough in this opinion to stand guard. But he decided to leave him alone anyway.

In a practical sense, it's probably because he knows that the Chaos Council is the more immediate threat, and that they'll buy more time if he works with Sonic instead of against him. But think about it; he never even goes to check on Nine until the SECOND explosion. Why?

I do think it's possible that I'm wrong about this, but my first thought was that this was actually a show of trust from Shadow. He lets himself trust Sonic's judgement just this once, because there's a viable reason for him to go along with it - Nine is the most qualified to handle the shards, and Sonic does need his help on the battlefield.

Shadow expects the worst, sure. But his behavior suggests to me that he's hoping for the best, deep down, and that's important because it means that it wasn't just Sonic's trust that Nine betrayed.

And I mean. just look at how the scene plays out when he gets there:

Shadow sees Sonic trying to plead with Nine, who scoffs at the idea of trusting him before leaving with the Shards. It's only once he's gone that we get this shot of Shadow looking ticked off, and while it's hard to tell, I don't think he's supposed to be looking at Sonic here.

If he was, I think his head and/or eyes would be tilted down more, given where Sonic is in relation to him. But as it is, I'm inclined to think that he's more angry about the shards being taken away than he is at Sonic specifically.

And even if he does have a moment where he gets mad at him, how long can we really expect that to last when it's implied that Sonic was on the verge of tears after this? It's a little hard to tell, but he brings his hands up to his eyes right before the screen fades to black, so even if he's not crying, he's clearly not okay.

I don't think Shadow is mean enough to fight Sonic right now, because as previously established, he loses a lot of steam whenever Sonic starts looking sad, and doesn't gain anything from fighting him like that. If anything, I imagine he'd try to practically drag Sonic out of his slump to deal with practical issues instead of letting him wallow in his feelings for much longer.

There's no telling how effective that would be, but I think it's a more likely first attempt for him than just smacking Sonic around and adding injury to insult. I know we love to see Shadow pick fights and all but give him a little credit

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #shadow the hedgehog #analysis #meta #This post has the potential to age very poorly once the next episode comes out but I'm willing to take that risk

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 month

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Hi there. I'm sorry if I'm doing this the wrong way. I've never requested anything before. (i want to put a trigger warning for self harm)

I was wondering if you could do a Kate Bishop and female reader angst/comfort where they've been dating for a bit. Kate comes home early from duty with cliny to surprise her and finds her self harming. If you can't or its too dark I understand. I struggle with self injury and a story with Kate comforting her girlfriend who struggles with mental health sounds nice.

Scars to Your Beautiful

Summary: You thought you had time to get it under control, a dark secret that not even your girlfriend knew about. But now she knows.

Please read the warnings as some topics in the this story can be triggering for some. As always you are enough and I am here if you need someone to talk to!

Warning: mention of past and current self harm, act of self harm, verbal abuse from parents, anxiety, Kate being a good girlfriend, reader has bad mental health

Word Count: 3.2k

“Sweetheart,” you looked up at your girlfriend’s voice. Her eyes flicked to yours and the small razor blade in your hand. What was she doing at home? She was earlier.

5 Days Ago

You dropped your bag to the ground with a groan. It seemed heavier daily, but you were one step closer to graduating. Then you would be free—free from strict professors, free from anxiously waiting for a paper or test to be graded to pop up on the portal, free from the endless pressure your parents placed on your shoulders to carry on your family’s legacy.

You slumped down on the couch, and your girlfriend’s dog rested his head on your lap. The action made you smile. “Hi, Lucky baby,” you whispered, scratching his head. His tongue hung out of the side of his mouth. “When do you think your mom is going to be home?” The one-eyed Golden Retriever jumped on the couch and laid on you, forcing you to lay back. “Lucky,” you laughed. “I have to do homework.” Instead of getting up, he placed his head on your chest and closed his. “Unbelievable,” you mumbled, but his breathing soon brought you to an unwanted nap.

Soft fingers running through your hair slowly woke you up. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and saw Kate with a smile on her face. “Hi, sleepy,” she teased. “How was your nap?”

“Good but unwanted,” you sat up and put your arms around her neck. “Your dog held me hostage and forced me to take a nap,” you felt her body shake from laughter, and her arms locked you into place. “Katie,” you whined. “I have to get up and do homework and cook dinner.”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’. “Homework can wait, and I ordered food. So now you can cuddle with your girlfriend.” You huffed, but Kate pouted her lips and gave you the best puppy dog eyes.

“Cuddling does something nice,” you gave in and rested your head on the crook of her neck. Kate reached for the remote and played the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You loved these moments. With her training, your classwork, and other extracurricular, it was hard to have these moments of peace. Still, anxiety began to creep into your bones as the seconds ticked to minutes, and the list of assignments was not getting any smaller. Kate touched your neck and dug her fingers into the knots. You melted against her. It was unfair how easily she could turn you into a puddle. You stayed there until the food was delivered and had to part away from the warmth of your girlfriend to eat your Chinese food. She allowed you to change the show to SVU while you ate.

“I leave for a mission tomorrow morning,” you said, dropping the chopsticks you were using. They said it should be about a week.” A week without her would be the longest you both would be apart.

“Whose going with you?” You asked.

“It’s a small team—me, Kamala, America, and Peter.” The urge to ask more died on your lips. Kate never told you what the missions were in the name of keeping you safe. It was hard to wonder, especially when nightmares woke her, and you had to clean her wounds. Instead of rattling off a hundred and one questions, you placed your food on the small table and wrapped your arms around her.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me in one piece.” It was a hard promise to keep, but you needed to hear her say.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she kissed your temple. “You are my home, my one and only. I’ll always come back to you.”

The universe must have liked fucking with you. As soon as Kate left for her mission, one bad thing happened after another. You received a horrible grade on a group project you were stressing over because your other members-only did the bare minimum for their part. Pleading your case to your professor fell on deaf ears because you passed. A passing grade wasn’t good enough. You needed to be perfect.

Then, your internship kept piling more and more work on you because they claimed you were the most responsible and could handle the workload. The cherry on top of the shitty sundae was a phone call from your mother.

“It seems that Dr. Narvaez hasn’t received your application,” you rolled your eyes at your mother’s tone. “Is there a reason for that?” Lucky greeted you at the door, making walking into Kate’s apartment difficult. But you greeted the one-eyed dog with a forced smile and a pat on the head. You toed off your sneakers and dropped down at the small table.

“Because I didn’t send it in,” your confession was met with silence. Sometimes, you preferred your parents constantly yelling or belittling you over the silence.

“And why is that?” You played with an arrowhead that Kate left.

“I don’t know if I want to work for Dr. Narvaez,” you said honestly. He was a friend of your father’s and owned a private practice catering to high-end clients. It would be good money but different from the work you wanted to do. You wanted to help people, not rich saps who wanted Botox.

“Are you serious? Your father gave up a lot to secure you that spot.” You bit your lip, stopping the sigh. It was what they wanted, not you.

“I want a break,” you told her and crossed your arms on top of the table. “Kate and I are thinking about taking a vacation.” The Bishops had a cabin up north, and she wanted to take you right there after graduation. She scuffed at the mention of your girlfriend. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That girl doesn’t know what’s best for you. Not like your father and I,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. It was the same argument every time. “If you do not work with Dr. Narvaez, you will not have a successful future. You will amount to nothing. You will not only be a failure to yourself but your father, brother, and me.” This type of rant was what you were used to with her. Not praise or support or a gentle reminder that she loved you. All she would do was remind you of how much of a failure you were. If she said it so many times, it had to be true. Right?

Your mother’s degrading words echoed in your head. Worthless. Stupid. You were a disgrace. An embarrassment to the family, and you were going to amount to nothing. You were a mistake. A nobody compared to your brother. They consumed you. Everything seemed to spiral out of control. You needed some aspect of it back. It was a behavior you weren’t proud of that started in middle school. For the six months you were with Kate, you had no need to resort to destructive habits. Kate grounded you. She kept all the negative thoughts away. You found the razor blade in your jewelry box. A hidden compartment at the bottom was perfect because Kate had gone through it all the time.

So you sat on your shared bed with your pant legs rolled up. Your fingertips danced over the faint scars that decorated your skin. Sometimes, Kate traced the lines but never asked where they came from. It was second nature as you moved the sharp razor across your skin. The red of your blood bubbled to the surface. The pressure you’ve felt for the past day and a half disappeared. Finally, you felt like you had control.

The behavior continued over the next two days. Every time you brought the blade out, you promised yourself it would be the last time. It never was, but you had time to get your habit back under control. You had three days, then Kate would be home, and you wouldn’t need it anymore. You had to get everything under control, so you thought.

Present day

“What-what are you doing back?” You asked. You tried to keep your voice steady, but panic raced through your body.

“We got done early,” her voice was surprisingly calm. “I wanted to surprise you.” Her hair was damp, and she was dressed in a purple tracksuit. She must have taken a shower at the tower and rushed over here. Slowly, she closed the distance between you and here. There was enough space so you wouldn’t feel trapped. “Sweetheart, can you hand me that?” She pointed to the razor in your hand. On instinct, you gripped the blade, and you felt it cut your hand. “Please, baby, give it to me.” Her voice was firm, but you heard the plead.

“Katie,” you whimpered and dropped the blade into her outstretched hand. The world seemed to collapse around you. Your legs began to shake, and Kate caught you before you hit the ground. No tears fell from your eyes. A blanket of numbness covered your body.

“I’m going to lift you so we can get you all clean, okay?” You nodded, unable to open your mouth. Your stomach dropped as Kate quickly picked you up and walked to the bathroom. Goosebumps formed on your skin when she set you down and turned to get the first aid kit. Her body shook as she exhaled, looking at the new cuts on your thighs. “This may hurt, but I’ll be gentle, okay?” Again, you gave her another nod. You expected the sting of the antiseptic, but you felt nothing. How long have you been numb to it?

“None are very deep so that you won’t need stitches,” Kate explained. You knew that. Even in your mind-numbing haze, you knew to be careful. There was one night during high school when you cut too deep and stole your father’s suture kit. You learned that night your hands were steady enough to become a surgeon. “I’m going to clean your hand now,” without a response, she didn’t reach to take it. “Baby,” you forced yourself to look into her blue eyes. “Can I see your hand?” You nodded and gave it to her. There was a small cut, nothing compared to the ones on your legs. She cleaned it, placed a badge, and kissed your hand. “I’m going to ask you something, and I won’t be made no matter the answer as long as you are honest with me. Are there others?”

You wanted to lie. All you had to do was say no, and when she went to bed, you could clean the cuts that scattered your arms, but the lie tasted like poison. It made your stomach twist and throat constrict. Before Kate, lying about this was easy. It flowed off your tongue so quickly that even you believed it. With a quick nod, you tugged off your long-sleeved shirt. It was one of Kate’s old college shirts. Your girlfriend scanned your upper half. Again, her body shook as she exhaled. “Okay, thank you for being honest with me, baby. I’m going to clean these too.” You nodded as she kissed your forehead.

Quickly, you put your hand on the back of her neck and kept her close. You knew they needed adequately cleaned, but you needed her close. Everything felt so cold. “Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Need you,” you mumbled. “Katie,” you whined. “Please.” Your throat burned as you tried to keep your tears at bay. Kate hushed you and brought you into a tight hug.

“I’m right here, sweet girl. I’m not going anywhere.”

Once Kate deemed every cut was cleaned, she helped you change into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. She carried you to the living room, sat on the couch, and covered you with a blanket. You whined when she pulled away. “I’m going to order food and get you some water. I’ll be right back.” You wanted to protest. She just returned from a mission, and you should be caring for her, but there was no energy in your body. When she entered the kitchen, Lucky jumped on the couch beside you. You ran our fingers through his fur.

The action was mind-numbing, the repetitive motion of his fur through your fingers. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but Kate returned with a pizza box, and Lucky jumped to the ground. He wasn’t far, just by your feet. “Are you hungry?” She asked. You were, but your stomach twisted and turned. Dark thoughts filled your mind of how undeserving you were. “Just a few bites. I got your favorite.” She opened the box, and it was your favorite. You took a small piece, and with every bite, Kate kissed your forehead and whispered positive words in your ear. You had another slice, and once Kate ate, she put her arm around your shoulders and brought you closer. A conversation was on the horizon, but you were in no mood to talk about what led you here. It would only lead you to spiral more.

“I know we have to talk,” your voice was soft. “Can it wait? I want to cuddle with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” you felt her sigh. “I love you, baby girl. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Katie.”

You woke up in your shared bed with Kate. The archer was fast asleep, and at some point, she separated from you in the night. You smiled at how peaceful she looked so different from when she came home. You got out of bed as quietly as possible and went to the kitchen - making breakfast was the least you could do. There was little in the fridge. In your slow mental breakdown, you failed to fill the fridge. Come to think of it, that pizza you ate was your first meal since Kate left for her mission. God, your mother was right. You were worthless.

Deep within the freezer, you found a bag of frozen fruit and decided to make an acai bowl. So you divided the fruit, making sure Kate had more strawberries than blackberries, and placed it in the blender with some Greek yogurt. Thankfully, Kate was a heavy sleeper, and as the mixture was being blended, you started a fresh pot of coffee. Once it was blended, you poured the mixture into bowls.

It was on instinct. You picked up the two still-good bananas and the knife from the drawer. It was an action you’ve done 100 times, but this morning you hesitated.

Your eyes were trained on the knife every time you cut the fruit. It was dangerous to be this close to something sharp after last night. Dark and dangerous thoughts started to fill your head. You wondered how the knife you held would differ from the small razor blade you used. It could be deadly. “Sweetheart,” you snapped out of your thoughts. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly and set the knife down as your hands shook. “Sit, please. I made breakfast.” She sat at the table, and you placed the cut-up banana on top with some leftover granola you found. You brought it over to her with a coffee, and you quickly turned around to get your breakfast and return to her. You ate in silence. Occasionally, Kate would grab your hand and squeeze it. You wondered if she needed the reminder that you were here.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said and sipped your coffee. “I thought I’d get it under control before you came back.” Kate moved her thumb on the back of your hand.

“How long has this been going on?” You sighed, brought your knee up to your chest, and rested your chin on top.

“Since middle school, but I stopped when we got together. You made me feel grounded despite all the pressure and stress,” you explained. “When you went on the mission, one bad thing happened after the other.”

“Tell me what happened,” you told her about your lousy grade from your professor, the extra work your internship pilled on you, and the comments your family made. When you brought up your family, Kate tried to keep her face neutral, but her blue eyes turned stormy. She’s met your parents a handful of times and you knew how much she hated how they treated you. Once you were done with your story, it sounded foolish. It was typical pre-adult responsibilities; people were going through much worse. But Kate had a soft smile that almost caused the dame you were holding to break.

“You are so loved, baby girl. You are smart, beautiful, and kind. My world is so much brighter with you in it,” you felt your bottom lip tremble. Still, it was hard for you to believe. “Come with me,” she pulled you to your feet and towards the bathroom downstairs. She flicked on the lights and put you in front of the mirror. Her arms wrapped around your waist. “Look in the mirror,” you struggled to say, but you looked at yourself in the mirror. “My beautiful girl,” she mumbled, kissing the part of your skin uncovered by the hoodie. Her hands were warm as they moved under your hoodie and rested on your stomach. The warmth made you melt against your girlfriend’s solid frame. “I will say some sentences, and I want you to repeat them for me. Can you do that for me, baby?” You were a little hesitant but nodded. However, Kate gave you a stern look that said use your words.

“Yes, Kit Kat,” you smiled, using the nickname she hated. She tickled your sides, and your laughter danced off the bathroom walls.

“Okay, okay,” she said once your laughter turned to quiet giggles. Kate let out a shaky breath and turned her attention to the reflection. “I am strong,” you pouted when she expected you to say it back. It wasn’t true. You weren’t strong. At this moment, you felt so weak. “Come on, sweetheart, say it back to me.” You sighed.

“I am strong,” you mumbled. There was no belief in your words but Kate kissed your cheek.

“Good. I’m so proud of you. Alright, next one. I am smart,” she continued with more phrases. Each one was different from the next, but they had the same idea: I am confident, brave, and loved. Every time you repeated a phrase back, your voice was stronger, and a small part of you started to believe it. “Last one, beautiful,” she whipped away your tears with her thumb. I am enough.”

“Katie,” you whimpered. It was almost painful to say or believe. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she squeezed you tight. “Say it.” She encouraged you and rested her chin on your shoulder. You closed your eyes. “I am enough.”

“I am,” Worthless. A disgrace. Dumb. “I am enough.” It was so soft. “I am enough.” The second time was stronger. “I am,” Loved. Beautiful. Strong. Brave. “Enough. I am enough,” you cried. Kate was quick to turn you around and pulled you into her arms. You clung onto her back as you sobbed into her shoulder.

“You are baby. You are enough, and I will remind you every single day.” It was hard to believe. After years and years of verbal abuse from your family, those thoughts weren’t going to disappear overnight. But you were stronger than them. You were better than them. You were enough.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop imagine #hawkeye x reader #kate bishop #hawkeye kate bishop

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linnorabeifong · 5 months

Text

I Physically Can’t Get This Idea Out of My Head

How many people actually know Lin got her scars from Su ? I was rewatching the Zafou episodes and I don’t think Lin ever explicitly mentioned Su giving her the scars. So none of the krew knows. So I get why her anger doesn’t look justified to them and why they would pressure her to make up without that context. But I so badly want them to discover it. I want to see their reactions . I want them to see photos of Lin before she was scarred. How would their perceptions of Su and Lin change ? Would they be more empathetic towards Lin ?

Additionally I don’t think Su’s kids know the truth. Opal really loves her aunt I imagine she would be quite angry if she found out and while Lin’s bond with her nephews isn’t explored in the show ( which it should’ve been I want to see her play power disk with Wei and Wing, and praise Huan’s art and have a heart to heart with Baatar) I think they’re also attached to her and would be upset.

Further how about the air kids, Lin seems quite close to them and they’re all very curious. They’ve probably asked her several times before. Did she lie to them to protect her sister ? Does she give up and tell the truth one day ?

How about Kya, Bumi and Izumi ? Were any of them actually there when it all went down ? Did she tell them ? ( I don’t think she would it seems painful for her to talk about ) How would they react to the truth thirty years later?

Also I think Toph has the capacity for empathy. I think she’s ignorant to the full extent of Lin’s injury and that’s why she was so apathetic about it and just wants to move on. She’s blind. She never saw the bandages or saw how deep the scars ran, how large they were but if she did would she have acted differently? I think so. Sure she’s neglectful but she’s not a monster. If she actually felt the scars I think she would’ve comforted her daughter. She would’ve been more mad at Su. In her eyes Lin has a little scratch and Su was an accomplice in a crime. So if course she thinks Lin is overreacting. In her eyes sending Su away for being an accomplice is a crime is proportional to the harm done. She thinks Lin’s anger is just her being a square and normal sibling bickering. If she knew the whole truth maybe she would’ve punished Su more and made her make it up to Lin somehow.

( does she even know that Lin has a scar afterwards? Does anyone mention them in front of her ?)

and Lin would never let anyone touch her scars ever so how is Toph supposed to understand? How can she without feeling them ?

More thoughts about Toph: Raising both of the girls while being blind must’ve been difficult. Think about it she can’t see if their clothes get stained, can’t see if they have a bruise or see if they’re crying. So much of communication and understanding is nonverbal. She misses out on so many social cues and so much visual information. On top of being blind both her and Lin dislike physical affection.So all they really have left is verbal communication and both of them are too emotionally stunted and prone to bottling things up to ever say what they need to. Let’s be honest Toph isn’t a great listener either so she probably doesn’t fully realize/respond to what Lin is trying to say. Lin may be better at writing out or drawing her emotions but Toph wouldn’t be able to read what she wrote or see her visual work. Lin would have to learn braille and sit down and write in it to get her mother to understand which I honestly don’t believe she has the patience or desire to do. Nor do I believe Toph has the patience or desire to sit down and read all of that. ( Does Toph know braille ?) They can’t communicate with each other properly. There are so many barriers. Of course their relationship is strained. While it may not be wholly Toph’s fault it has produced a huge impact on both of her daughters that none of them can address.

An epiphany : LIN IS A SILENT CRIER. She doesn’t sob. Are you following me? Rewatch the Zafou episode if you don’t believe me . Nonverbal - audio communication ( I don’t know if there’s an actual word for this) doesn’t happen between them. Lin isn’t vocally expressive. She doesn’t cry out loud or scream or make any other vocalizations when she is in physical or emotional pain. She may grunt in some of the fight scenes but she isn’t loud. Think about when she got her bending taken. Probably one of the most physically and emotionally painful moments of her entire life. In that scene she didn’t make a single sound. Or the reverse she got her bending restored a huge moment of relief she didn’t laugh or make any other sounds of joy. She just thanked Korra. Lin is silent . Toph can’t hear her.

In conclusion communication is everything and everyone of them needs therapy.

#legend of korra #lin beifong #fan theory #toph beifong

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lilgoblinbitch · 2 months

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saw your post about rick and daryl, do you think you could write a rick TOWL smut with him angry that you left your post and got yourself injured and he takes out his frustration on you? idk why just had that idea after the recent episode😫

Grimes' Dominion 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: ahhh omg yes i actually had time to think abt this for a few nights. i added a bit of plot to this because i love me some backstory & descriptions. but anyway i made this pretty lengthy so if u wanna skip to the smut part just look for the '💋'. here is your plotty smut! lmk your thoughts ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: smut 18+, PinV, unprotected sex, oral/face fucking (male receiving), slight bondage, fingering, ass slapping, hair pulling, orgasm denial, degradation (use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), language, mentions of blood and injury, angsty angsty angst!, reader is a mother, overall Rick is very rough so you have been warned

It was training day at your post. You had recently graduated from consignee and signed up to become a CRM soldier. It took you six whole years to get to this point. While your agility and militia knowledge were already unprecedented, the CRM didn't fuck around when it came to producing the world's most unrivalled soldiers. It was serious business.

Nearly eight years ago, you trekked a long journey down from your small community in southern New Jersey. You lost everything: your husband, your friends, and the people you lived with and grew stronger with through the grisly and dilapidated post-apocalyptic world. Terrible people – which were apparently becoming more and more common – destroyed your community, leaving very few survivors. It was you and your newborn child who managed to escape safely; you weren't able to go back to see if others had made it out. For almost two years you were alone, and your only hope left was keeping your baby boy alive...

Fast forward two years after the traumatic fallout you managed to escape, you discovered, or rather you were found by, a giant military in Pennsylvania, called the CRM. A military that bordered and protected a whole city of people – 200,000 of them. Out of desperation and maternal instinct, you bargained with the militia in hopes to give your two-year-old son a stable future. The CRM agreed to place your son in a 'nurturing fostering service' within the safe confines of the protected city – known as the Civic Republic of Philadelphia – so long as you swore to abide by the military's code and regulations by becoming a consignee. Of course you agreed, because you were nonetheless terrified of what would happen to your baby boy if you didn't play it safe with this strong force. But for a while you lost it, you couldn't bear not seeing your child – they took him from you. You became defensive of your child, throwing yourself into dilemmas with whoever refused to listen to you. Except no one ever took notice of an angry and hurt mother because the CRM showed little mercy about their policies. And no matter how much force you put into finding hope about getting to your son, you'd always end up falling right back where you left off.

Soon enough you learned from acquiring an acquaintance that not only did the CRM take the only family you had left away from you, they were the ones responsible for destroying your home in the first place.

But now, six years later, you were predisposed to fight whoever and whatever got in your way in order to see your son again. You were a force to be reckoned with.

"No, you're doing it wrong. You gotta follow through, like this—" your sweaty hand maneuvered the heavy spear, sending it soaring through the air at high speed and finally piercing the bullseye of the target. You turned to the soldier beside you, who, to say the least, looked perplexed.

"What?" You huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face. "Ya give up? Need a break?"

"’Ey! Rogers, I'mma need ya to head back inside. We're gonna start sizing you all up for your new gear."

A brooding and strict man, Sergeant Major Rick Grimes, commanded the young man beside you. "Uh, yes sir," he saluted, then jogged toward the dome-shaped building.

Rick Grimes used to be a consignee like you were, and you even heard stories where he tried escaping at least four times. No one ever fled, or even attempted to, without failing. Escaping the hellhole was like trying to fit your right shoe on your left foot, it was entirely fruitless. But you heard all the stories about Rick, and how he got to become a leader. After the death of Lieutenant Colonel Donald Okafor, Rick was trained to replace his position by virtue of General Beale taking note of his loyalty to the military. Now, Rick was scaling further up the ranks. He was Sergeant Major, and in charge of the post you currently resided in.

You looked up to him, though, not because he was your leader, but because he understood you. He recognized how it felt to have your family ripped from your hands and not be able to do anything about it. You were able to bond with him. Most nights he would invite you to his apartment and the two of you'd spill your guts to one another over a glass or two of bourbon. That is how he got to know you, and see through your clouded demeanor that you kept in check. You were fierce and obstinate, because the place you were trapped in forced you to be that way, and truthfully Rick admired that about you. He was never able to relate with someone as well as he did with you.

Feedback echoed from Rick's receiver and he lifted it to his masked face, stating his position and whatnot. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to give you an order. "Well?"

He turned his attention to you, finally. "We need to talk." His one good hand snagged a hold of your arm and guided you toward a smaller brick-designed building, which you recognized to be the building that housed the high ranking officials like Rick himself.

"What do we need to talk about? And why is Rogers getting his gear but I'm not?" You struggled against his grip, a decision that ended with futility as his clutch tightened when you tried pulling away from him. You furrowed your brows and grunted in annoyance.

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Actually it's quite the opposite." Once again he faced you, stopping in his tracks as you both had reached the air-conditioned building. His grasp on your arm loosened and then reached for his matte black helmet detailed with red outlining. Your eyes darted across the room, taking in the essence of prestige and momentarily locking in on the various framed photos on the walls, which depicted a few recognizable CRM authoritative figures. One particular photo caught your attention, and you carefully examined it, discerning it to be Rick himself with a shiny black name plate decorating the bottom of the frame.

Your gaze finally diverted back to Rick, whose helmet popped off in a swift motion, freeing his slightly disheveled brown and gray curls, and his stern blue eyes – the spellbinding reflections to his enigmatic soul. And this man was undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes.

The silence was disrupted by the shuffling of Rick’s boots, his curt footsteps leading him across the room. He pulled out a chair from the corner and without any trouble picked it up with one hand and set it down across from a dark wooden desk. “Sit.” He motioned to the chair, and then found a seat in the larger, more cushioned chair adjacent to it. Without a peep you sauntered over to the wooden chair and sat, folding your hands on the desk in front of you.

“You gonna keep me on edge or are you gonna tell me why I’m here and not at training and getting my gear?”

His serious eyes bored into yours now, hinting that he wasn’t in the mood for your cynicism. “I brought you in here to tell you that you’re going to become Colonel under my order.”

You scoffed comically and dropped your hands to your sides, gripping the chair with force. “That’s ridiculous. Me – Colonel? Why?”

Rick’s focus never left your unserious face – one that was twisted with amusement. With a slight tilt of his head, he spoke, “Because you’re one of the best fighters and you’re fit to start leading, I know it. And I trust you, so does Major General Beale. We both expect your habitual commitment from now on.” While you were still preoccupied with processing this information, Rick reached into one of his sleeve pockets and pulled out a silver badge, decorated with ‘Col.’ followed by your full name. He slid it across the desk toward you and you scrutinized it before giving him a look of disapproval and sliding the badge back to him. You shook your head in defiance.

“No thanks.”

He frowned and once again his frigid stare taunted you, something you’d undoubtedly gotten used to very much over the past few years that you'd known him. He leaned forward and for a second you could feel the steam emitting from his nose as he exhaled, eyes scanning your face for any signs of possible sarcasm. You were dead serious now, though.

“This isn’t an offer you can refuse. It’s an order,” the sergeant commanded, grabbing the badge reiteratively and this time placing it firmly into your hand. “So take it, and don’t lose it.”

You remained perched in your spot, not stirring any muscle, just studying his face with the badge dancing across your fingertips. Rick was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Now do as I say, and meet me in that meeting room over there, in 10 minutes.”

You snarled and swiftly rose, shoving the badge into your zipper pocket. Without even giving Rick another look you booked it out the door full tilt.

All throughout meeting with Grimes and Command Sergeant Major Thorne and overlooking your shared brigade of soldiers, your mind couldn’t escape the worry you had about your son, and how you were going to escape and find him. Your mind raced as you tried to recollect what the map of your base looked like, so that you could pinpoint which weak spots there were around the perimeter. You recall a little while back which security took which shifts at each area of the southwest perimeter where your complex was, but it wasn’t all that simple since sometimes they’d switch shifts around. However, security officers periodically switched their attention to different areas at a time out along the walls, so you could use that as leverage to sneak your way around and cut a hole in one of the fences–

Nah. That would be too obvious, and dangerously stupid. You needed to really think this through – come up with a strategic plan. So that’s what you were prepared to do after your first night of training as Colonel.

Sweaty and disheveled, you entered your sleeping quarters and kicked the door shut, immediately peeling off your bulky armor and tossing your heavy combat boots across the floor. With a satisfactory sigh, you trotted over to the shower and flipped the handle all the way to the left – you needed a steamy shower to filter out all the stress your body had been loaded with that day. Not only that, the steam would help you think, and you needed your head clear if you were going to figure out how to leave successfully that night.

If you were going to escape – if. You needed to keep that thought in mind, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

Frantically you shoved a handful of essentials into a black backpack – a lighter, duct tape, a pocket knife, flashlight, and a small glock you 'borrowed' from your trip with rick to the armory earlier. After zipping up the bag you threw on your combat boots and your gloves. You checked your watch for the time; 11:48 it read. The moon was scintillating in the sky and beaming with conviction. You took one last glimpse around the room to check if you had forgotten any extra tools or gadgets, and before you confirmed that you were ready to head out, you spotted something on the rusty gunmetal colored nightstand. Inquisitively you wandered over to the table and examined a small, white folded paper. You unfolded it and inside it read, in urgent script:

“Meet me at my place at 11:30 tonight. Need to talk again.

-R.G.”

Too late now. Not happening. Besides, you were sure it was another booty call because for one, on busy task days like tonight, Rick often had a knack for ‘letting off steam,’ which meant fucking your brains out. Sorry, Rick, but my child is more important to me than easing your sexual frustration. And two, it was already reaching midnight…why else would he want to “talk” to you so late at night? Rick was just too obvious.

Speaking of Rick…

The man who shared his bourbon with you for the first time two years ago. That very night he had spilled to you CRM’s legacy and the nightmares behind it. The two of you bonded over your mutual grievance toward the antagonizing militia. Rick spurred hope in you finally leaving and finding your son; if anyone could help you escape it was him. But he changed – his interest in leaving the CRM no longer seemed to exist. After all, he was already climbing his way up the military rank. He was gaining power and respect, and that seemed to be more crucial to him then getting back to his own children.

So, screw him. He had his chance to leave with you, and it already passed – because now you were tiptoeing out your apartment and being welcomed into the darkness of the night.

You were cautious of your surroundings, turning a few corners and eluding one or two officers. You noticed the southwest wall, which didn't look impossible to climb. You discovered a hefty pile of broken shipment container parts – bingo. And that's what you used to climb the wall. unfortunately your endeavor led to you stumbling and hitting both your knee and your arm against the metal object, then landing with your hands scraping against the unforgiving concrete. Fuck. What an idiot you were. Surely someone within about twenty feet of you heard you basically eat shit.

Gritting your teeth and whimpering from the twinge that shot through your knees and hands, you managed to put every fiber of your being to use and push yourself off the ground, only to end up on your ass with a humph. You winced as you peeked at your hands, using the flashlight from your bag to examine how badly cut they were. Blood leaked from multiple crevices in your palms, and you didn’t even bother paying much mind to your bruised knee or elbows because there was no time to dawdle. “Shit. You need to get up now!” You scolded yourself, but as you tried standing up completely, your knees buckled. Well, at least behind this building it was dark enough for no one to see you, unless they heard you already…

Your alert ears picked up the sound of shoes marching upon the solid ground, and you cursed to yourself; someone was coming, but there was nothing you could do because they had already heard you most likely. “Just play dead, or pretend you passed out!”

You heard your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

The pace of your heartbeat quickened drastically, causing your head to spin toward the voice. Well, shit. It was Rick Grimes himself. This time his helmet wasn’t on and he seemed to have abandoned his uniform. He was instead dressed in jeans and that black tee that always hugged his muscles so perfectly–

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice boomed in your ears as he knelt down to your level, and you shivered.

You wheezed and resumed your pursuit of getting your ass off the wretched ground, to which you failed. Rick noticed the cuts and bruises decorating your injured body and his face softened. He sighed, gathering your belongings, and then in one swift motion he lifted you up off your feet, holding you bridal-style. You bit your lip to stop the tears forming in your eyes; your plan backfired, you got caught, and now everything was out of your control. You felt so stupid and useless.

Rick shifted around with you in his arms, taking one last glance at your injured figure. “Oh, honey. Let’s get ya cleaned up now.”

He had carried you all the way to his room without any hindrances, and the whole time you honestly thought about kicking out of his tight grasp, nailing him where the sun doesn't shine, and booking it out of there. But the way his strong arms cradled you made you melt into him.

Rick lay you onto his large – well, larger than your own – neatly made bed and pulled your shoes and socks off. Before he could reach your pant zipper to pull them down and examine your knee, you slapped his hand away, scowling at him.

“I can do it,” you promised, although of course your trembling hands reaching for the zipper illustrated a paradoxical story. Not to mention, the stained blood and soreness reminded you that you needed to ease up on any further use of them. It felt like carpal tunnel. Damn, that concrete did some damage to you. Your exasperated grunts caught Rick’s attention and he ignored your misleading comment, zipping your pants down and peeling them off himself. The look you gave him could have been detected as either annoyed or demoralized. Either way, your body was weary and your mind still raced with unrelenting thoughts.

Rick brought back a wet cloth and a first aid kit he kept under his sink. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth over your battered hands and then bandaged them up. You let out a few pained huffs while he went to work on your scraped hands and busted knee with his doctor abilities. When finished, his eyes scanned your body, being certain he didn’t miss any other wounds or minor cuts. You, however, were busy ogling him; his beautifully sculpted figure that was outlined by the black t-shirt he wore, and the scruff that layered his defined jaw, and the way his pink lips pursed as his rough hand prodded your exposed flesh – it sent you into a trance.

He adjusted his gaze back to your face, and you snapped out of your trance promptly, painting that stern cast back on your expressive face. You recalled why you were irritated with him in the first place – he prevented you from escaping.

“Y’alright now? Gonna tell me why you were scurrying around past midnight with this bag on you?”

Your hard stare didn’t falter. He tsked at you and grabbed the backpack off the ground, unzipping it, and dumping its contents onto the bed. When he recognized the gun to be one from the armory, it was his turn to scowl at you.

“You better start talking before I get angry, sweetheart.” His body flexed as he folded his arms across his chest, eyes cornering you and making you feel small.

“I was–,” you cleared your throat and sat up with your hands on your bare thighs, “I was going to escape, Rick. I… I need to see him…”

Rick lowered his head to the floor in disappointment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his other arm rested on his hip. He paced the room. “You knew this was going to happen. We even planned it together, for fuck’s sake!” You pleaded with him, emotion spilling from your lips. You stared at his back, watching the way his muscles tensed. “I have a child I haven’t seen in years and I–”

“Yeah, so do I!” He interrupted, “But that life is over, there is no more escape plan pipe dream. Don’t you get it?!” His pacing ceased, and he waited for your focus to meet him. When it did, he inched toward you daringly, almost wanting you to test his patience. “I got you that ranking because I trusted you and expected you to be cooperative with me in this mission. I was planning on trying to convince Beale to let you visit your boy but that won’t be for a while. I need your trust in this,” Rick’s footsteps approached the bed, his towering figure intimidating you. “Do you understand? Look at me—” his rough hand pinched the sides of your chin to tilt your head up at him.

Your lips cracked open to speak but truthfully nothing could be said in that moment. The tension in the air was heavy and laced with despondency. You choked trying to enunciate words as you felt your shoulders drop, and your heart chugging on. Soon you gathered yourself from breaking down in front of him, masking the persistent commotion going on inside the walls of your skull, and the unabated sense of dread pouring over your body. You nodded your head in compliance and Rick released your chin.

This was a confirmation that Rick was never going to let you get away. And if he did end up finding a way for you to see your boy, living under an unlawful and controlling military organization was not something you stood for. With or without Rick, you needed to escape with your son, using any proper chance that swung your way. But if it was going to be without Rick, you needed to be secretive.

You batted your eyes at him, aiming to give him a reason to believe that you were officially yielding to him. The way you looked under him, all battered and desperate, made a spark ignite in his brain. You belonged in this position – underneath him, following his lead, and obeying his orders. He was going to need to show you how insistent he really was.

Your attention remained undivided. Rick stepped backwards a foot and took in the sight of you – your whole body and the way your thighs begged to be kissed and touched.

“I’m assuming you saw the note I left you, right?” His tone dripping with vehemence and his southern drawl rasping, relaying a yearning to your eager core, which you attempted to ease by clenching your thighs. He certainly did not miss that.

“So you were planning on not only ignoring my note, but being reckless and trying to leave this post and then, what? Risk getting caught and dying and never getting to see your son ever? You need to get your head on right, and I’m telling you this from experience, because it’s never going to work out the way you want it to, no matter how perfectly you think your plan will go.” You gulped and studied your hands, which were thankfully stinging much less. You fiddled with the bandage, until Rick demanded your attention with his authoritative tone.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you to cooperate with me. Keep that in mind,” he warned. Your front teeth bit into your pouty bottom lip as you struggled to make yourself look uncritical of his “plan.” Rick’s eyes targeted your every move as you, this time successfully, propped yourself up and off the bed, bending down to grab your pants which were sprawled out next to your feet.

💋

“What were you gonna talk to me about, y’know….if I ended up showing up earlier?” You flipped the pant legs so that they were no longer inside out.

“I was gonna do this—” Your heart quickened as he neared you rapidly, his arms finding themselves exploring your body and causing goosebumps to multiply across your vulnerable skin. He dexterously greeted his lips to yours, catching you by surprise. The man was quick with it.

You melted into the kiss while his hands continued to trace your curves, eliciting longing whimpers from your throat. You craved his touch.

Breaking away from the kiss, the Sergeant gave you no time to protest, spinning you around so that your back was facing him. Taking your jaw prisoner in the tight clutch of his hand, his hot breath fanned against your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck come alive. “Originally I was going to fuck you gently, make you relax from your big day—” His hand slid to the middle of your back and he forcefully bent you over on the bed, scoring a small grunt from you. He took your pulled back hair into his hand and with a tantalizing tug of it, he pushed his clothed hips against your bare ass. “But now I’m not gonna be so easy on you, because you decided to go and put yourself in danger. Well, I’m gonna have to punish you instead of reporting you, hm? For your own sake…”

Your heat practically leaked through your panties and down the inner part of your thighs. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved when he was rough with you. It stirred you up with the perfect concoction of salaciousness and angst. Still, your alacrity temporarily repressed your aroused state and you barked back at him, “All I want is to see my son…you have no goddamn right to take that from me, Rick,” you cried, with your trembling hands supporting your upper body as he gripped your hips.

Rick delivered a firm slap to your ass cheek, then promptly straightened you up and turned you around to meet his sifting stare. You gulped, feeling submissive under his touch. You watched the way he contorted his face in vexation and you abruptly felt overpowered by him.

“In case you’ve forgotten you are under my command, and if you disobey me I have every right to correct you where I see fit,” he eyed your pout, huffing, “and I fucking told you already – you have to be patient, it’s gonna take a while.”

The hope you had was dwindling slowly, even though you really wanted to trust him. It almost felt like putting your full trust in him was equivalent to playing with fire. You couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore. But ultimately Rick was right, you were under his command and the very least you could do at this moment was take his word.

His leer intensified. “Get on your knees.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the command jolt through your body with a cogent nudge. You conformed to his request and scrunched your face in slight discomfort from your bruised knee making contact with the floor, but it was still tolerable. With urgency he unbuckled his belt and wasted no time in freeing his thick, throbbing length. The sight of his cock was not something foreign, as you’d slept with him many times; but the way he was so much more ambitious in getting his cock inside your mouth and feeling you gag around him, made you squirm.

The restless man bucked his hips forward, enjoying the way your soft pouty lips hugged his shaft so magnificently. You moaned softly, the vibration inciting a groan from Rick as he grabbed at your hair. “Gotta do more than tha’. I know you know how to be a good slut f’me.”

You took his whole length in your throat, feeling spit drip down your chin as you choked. You started to bob your head back and forth, becoming accustomed to the size of his dick and how it collided with the back of your throat incessantly. He took it upon himself to grasp your head and guide you up and down as his hips pushed against your needy mouth. Your tongue traced the veins that protruded across his length, as your head quickened its pace. His grunts echoed in your ears and you prepared for his sweet release when you apperceived the twitch of his cock against your tongue.

“Fuck, yes…good slut,” Rick sung out as he thrusted thrice more, shooting his thick warm seed down your throat and riding out the remainder of his orgasm. He pulled out and stared intently at your lips licking up the remnants of his juices while panting. His hand patted your head in approval. “You think you deserve to cum tonight?” He taunted, his hold on your hair taut. You didn’t respond, but instead observed the way his muscles flexed when he lifted his shirt off his back, and how he flattened his hair back with the palm of his hand. You were getting wetter by the second, shifting your thighs in anticipation.

You stood up, tracing your hand over his bicep and fluttering your lashes at him enticingly. He smirked, recognizing that look to be your calling for him to fuck your brains out. Your hands reached down to lift your own shirt off, but he swatted them away in protest, throwing the shirt across the room hastily. All you desired was for him to make love to you, to comfort you and promise you that everything was going to work out, and frankly your sore muscles from training could use as much appreciation as they could obtain. But love-making wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

Rick flopped you onto the bed, and effortlessly your panties were torn off and thrown next to your shirt. He kneaded your tits with his hand then bent over top of you to hungrily kiss your lips. Your fidgety hands stretched up to tussle through his hair but he broke from the kiss to pin both your hands above your head, rousing a dissatisfied whimper from you. The carnal man bent down diligently to grab his belt and release your hands for a moment, before grabbing your wrists and securing the belt around them. Bondage wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to you but you had never expected Rick to ever want to partake in it with you. Nonetheless, your core ached further for his touch. His hand went back to pinching your sensitive nipples, while keeping his ferocious eyes locked onto yours, and lowering his head down to your throbbing heat. The lewd mewls escaping your parted lips sent Rick into a frenzy. You bucked your hips up in an attempt to get him to do something, to give your desperate parts the treatment you longed for, except he just remained concentrated on the way you jerked and crumbled beneath him – he wasn’t even touching you anymore, and yet he had you folding already. How pathetic you looked.

“Rick, please do something!” Your pleas left him unphased. The only thought in his mind at that moment was how rough he was eventually going to fuck you.

Finally, his finger swiped up your soaking folds and came into contact with your swollen clit, giving it a soft pinch, stimulating a ribald whimper from you and inducing your back to arch off the bed. “What d’you want, sweetheart?” His husky tone intimidated you.

“Need you, please. ‘M lonely,” You sniffed, overworked from all the teasing. He cooed in a mocking manner, and with two fingers he plunged into you, sending you into the clouds.

“This sweet pussy needs attention, dun’it?” He curled his fingers upward, activating that sweet spot inside your squelching sex. With his thumb he circled around your sensitive bud, accelerating the speed of his thick fingers inside your tight, wet hole. Bliss clouded over you, and your head lulled to the side.

Rick hissed, dissenting your lack of eye contact. He yanked his fingers out all the way, giving a slight tap to your voracious cunt. “Nuh-uh, eyes on me.” The glazed-over look you gave him was enough for him to give in and slide his digits back into your heat, this time being merciless by the way he finger fucked you with racking momentum.

Your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, legs syncing with the rhythm of your swirling hips. Rick sensed your orgasm approaching – he ascertained that you didn't get to reach its peak by ceasing his thumb's labor and plucking his drenched digits out of your weeping center. Your sensual clamors didn't go unnoticed; instead he hushed you, and bringing his mouth near your ear he rasped, "I decided that you don't get to cum yet. Not till I feel like it."

Rick really loved tossing you around, especially tonight. He arose, untying the belt around your wrists – almost as if he was showing mercy, but that thought was surpassed as he effortlessly flipped you around so your bandaged hands were gripping desperately onto the sheets, as if that'd prevent you from losing your grip on reality from what was about to go down.

Your begging hole cried for his further attention, causing you to become more agitated by the second. That is, until you felt his hard cock slap against your ass cheek, and his hips striking the back of your shaking thighs. The grumpy commander pressed his leather-sling gloved fist slightly against your upper neck, just enough pressure to ensure you stayed where he wanted you. You didn't plan on leaving, though – not until he fucked you to your heart's content.

He could take a picture right now, the way your ass pushed against his solid member so hysterically, as if your pussy lived to be stuffed by his cock. In that moment, it did. Rick grabbed his cock and lined it up with your welcoming entrance, collecting the condensation on his tip.

"God, just fuck me–"

One rigid thrust was all it took for you to fully engulf him. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, stars eclipsing your vision while his thrust followed another one, this time much deeper. Your whines bounced off the pale room's walls, alerting Rick, who hushed you with a growl, "Shutch'er mouth, the whole building's gonna hear ya." A third thrust ensued, with the sound of his pelvic bone smacking against your backside and the echoing of your sodden cunt being governed by his greedy shaft. The wet squishy insides of your walls hugged Rick so magnetically, he almost gave in right there.

His pace picked up with each ram of his hips, and his assault to your clit. Your grip on the sheets tightened, bandages likely slipping off but that wasn't a concern. Shy whimpers were trapped inside your mouth as you gave it your all at keeping your lewd blubbers and cusses at bay. Your soft, muffled cries continued as he pounded into you strenuously and tirelessly.

"You're not gonna try to leave again, not ever." The thumping of his hips on your ass and him fucking you into the mattress was all too much for your brain. "I won't fucking let you."

You felt fuzzy. The dauntless rebel attitude you once had vanished, and now your were a blubbering hot mess under a relentless leader. His bulging biceps flexed as his leather arm continued pushing on your neck, the other hand groping your hip and then going back to flicking your clit as his cock rutted into your core. He fit you like a puzzle piece.

Your walls were pulsating and you sensed your climax approaching quickly. "Oh, fuck, Rick!"

"Don't you even think about it. So help me god, if you do..."

Rick's demands only filled you closer to the brim with pleasure, and you weren't assured how much longer you could hold it. His thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, indicating that he was probably close too.

"Mmmph–" You focused on grasping desperately at the sheets again, trying to fixate on the way the soft fabric felt against your hands and your face which was pushed into the bed.

Rick groaned out, whispering filthy affirmations as his pounding became more jagged and his grunts more urgent. "Wanna fill ya up, but you don'need another baby, not yet."

One last press against your clit and the band finally snapped, your juices releasing all over his cock, and his orgasm causing him to grasp your hips roughly as he used your dripping hole to help him ride out his own orgasm. He pulled out, releasing onto your back with a few strokes of his slippery member.

The bottom half of your body gave in finally, collapsing and being suffocated by the plush mattress. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. He truly fucked the energy out of you.

"You gonna try that shit again with me?"

With half-lidded eyes you simpered and muttered, "Not without you."

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

Text

Hunter's Experiences After Belos's Death

Oops, this got long. Aw well, it was really fun to write.

Special thanks to @ashanimus!

This is speculative at the end of the day, but since:

1. This is my fave animated show of all time

2. I grew up with Complex PTSD (CPTSD) like Hunter

3. I work as a therapist,

I thought to list down some things I can visualize happening in the duration of the finale's timeskip, before that beautiful epilogue we saw. And I want to dive in using whatever clues, leads and parallels I can find in canon: to analyze and see how he went from the Bad But Sad Boy to that peaceful-looking palisman carver in the epilogue.

A small reference I had for this meta is Cinema Therapy's episode on the Hunger Games movies (link), since the protagonist, Katniss Everdeen, from the book and also movie trilogy would have the same diagnosis as Hunter. Those books and movies explored how Katniss coped with the frightening and dramatically different landscape that was the calmness of her world post-victory.

Part 1: His Possible Experiences Leading Up to Seeking a Therapist

His disposition could possibly become like Luz's from early Season 3: a state of emotionally shutting down and numbing out. He appeared to nearly head in this direction right after he was revived by Flapjack, as he began to cry. There was that small window where he could have expressed more tears than he did, and have his body shut down under the weight of bereavement.

But the immediate physical threat, Belos, was still on the run. He got up, sprang into action and didn't catch a break from the time he followed Belos through the portal until he stood in The Collector's palace after Belos died (had he even received the news of his 'Uncle' dying yet??!).

Now that Belos isn't around anymore, the Isles will have a completely different feel and rebuilding the land would've taken grueling work after the dismantling of a damaging Coven System.

I was looking at Luz's behavior and gestures in Thanks to Them, which were indicative of her sinking into depression after 1. the horrible revelation in Hollow Mind that she unintentionally helped Philip. 2. witnessing Flapjack's death. I'm putting screenshots of her below in parallel with Hunter's own emotions in For the Future:

They have different mental health conditions if you talk symptoms, e.g. Luz doesn't show signs of CPTSD hypervigilance, while Hunter doesn't have that slowing down in his physical and mental activity which points to depression. But both have suffered from moral injury thanks to Belos's violence and manipulation.

However, a major comparison is that Hunter has had much more repressed emotion over a long period compared to Luz. The column with Hunter screencaps above, is what he may feel with a much higher intensity in the weeks and months after he first hears that his abuser has passed on.

Shown below, the few seconds of Hunter's big smile drooping when it was all over, was a big hint for me:

A hint that there is a deep undercurrent of emotions he'd much rather not feel, that he'd probably rather hide from himself. Even while smiling, we know how his heart-wrenching story has played out and the light in his eyes here doesn't match the brightness we see in his expressions in the epilogue, post-timeskip.

That is the face of a kid who has not cried out massive amounts of tears yet. He doesn't look like he's carrying a light load yet, compared to what we see in his future self. And it's certainly a heavier smile than the jollier one he makes here right after King's Tide when Flapjack was still around:

I can't imagine the amount of grief that his body has yet to dredge up and release, once he finally doesn't have to worry about his 'uncle' threatening his life anymore. Too many times to count, I've been in the situation where I cry intensely after being retraumatized and think "Huh? More tears? Where did it come from?? I thought I had cried it all out from my whole being the last time!". It kind of convinced me that anyone with CPTSD has so much grief stored up in their body that the number of times needed to have a good cry feels like a really endless expanse.

However: because I had 7 years of being in and out of therapy, what matters is that the durations between these episodes of mine, the durations of the episodes themselves, plus their intensity have reduced a lot. It was around a 4-year timeskip in the finale, so for Hunter to get as far as he did to heal, his own therapy sessions would've probably been rigorous and very consistent.

Anyway, he might now cycle through his own version of what Luz cycled through when she gradually shuts down from failing to build a new portal door in Thanks to Them, continually believes she's as bad as Belos, and when she alludes to her suicidal ideation in the classroom:

whereby there is a likely parallel between Luz wrestling with guilt from her own moral injury, and Hunter's own guilt from what he wished he could've done to prevent being possessed, to prevent Flapjack from dying. Both their situations are that of moral injuries.

The adrenaline rush would be over for everyone on the Isles.

I'm quite sure the therapists on the Isles will operate pretty soon after the news about Belos's death was out. They would conduct whatever version of mental health triage they have, that involves risk assessments and crisis counselling. Both of these based on what I've learnt are shorter in duration (30 minutes) and are one-off sessions, compared to regular talk therapy which is an hour minimum.

The therapists would be redirecting people to necessary resources e.g. where to find food or loved ones, and managing distress only related to people's immediate needs instead of forming a longer term plan for several weekly sessions.

I believe things are simpler when you are running away from an external threat, like the two Hunter scenarios below. In Hollow Mind there is no emotion on his face because in peak C-PTSD mode he has shut down his emotions to pour that energy into escaping Belos. In Thanks to Them, he appears quite obviously scared with widened eyes because he got comfortable with safety for months and Belos's return was a surprise attack (thanks ashanimus for pointing out to me how his expressions are animated!):

But what is there to run from now? Not an external threat for sure. The war zone is now the one in his mind, heart and soul and it would become front and center. I believe both these screenshots are two notches on a dial, and the missing third image - which would show him finding it difficult to stuff down the grief any longer, might look like a more exasperated version of when he told Willow "Please don't call yourself [a Half-a-Witch] ever again" in For the Future, and eventually a more depressed version of his vanishing smile in The Collector's Palace.

When can he really run from himself? Only while asleep, if he's spared nightmares on any given night, or while distracting himself with the main mission of rebuilding the Isles or continuing to bond with his friends and other people.

His anger in For the Future was a telling sign for me that he made sure his focus was still on an external threat: he still had the opportunity to do so back then, because Belos was still alive. But when we see him in The Collector's palace sending Willow off to her dads, there has realistically been a shift in what will threaten the more fragile shreds of inner peace he's still clinging on to. There are those scary trauma-related emotions to worry about, which wouldn't have just evaporated into thin air. They would be looking for a new outlet, and they'll find their way into flashbacks, nightmares, tension still stored in the body, an exaggerated startle response, etc.

We have seen a range of reactions he has to danger, triggers and emotional pain: some involve moving his body more, and fewer involve a short of shutting down:

Flinching during Belos's tantrums, being able to fight Kikimora calmly, freezing up in the throne room (Hunting Palismen)

Suicidal ideation and even a sort of suicide plan (Eclipse Lake)

Freezing up and expecting punishment from Darius (Any Sport in a Storm)

Being able to stay almost entirely calm as he learnt more and more of the truth about Belos, though his hand was shaking briefly, then a panic attack later on (Hollow Mind)

Lots of avoidance symptoms like numbing, combined with hypervigilance e.g. shivering and another panic attack (Labyrinth Runners)

Feeling fear with underlying shame and subconsciously expecting punishment, when he failed to save Luz (Clouds on the Horizon)

Freezing and recoiling, though he fought against this by asserting a boundary with Belos (King's Tide)

Panic attack when looking into the mirror and having an emotional flashback, hypervigilance e.g. stamping his foot and shivering (Thanks to Them)

Anger and rage to cope with bereavement, later being tearful (For the Future)

Most likely a sense of bereavement, deep exhaustion and possibly loneliness, during that briefly shown moment in The Collector's Palace (Watching and Dreaming)

The serious work he has to put in to heal from his trauma would begin once his whole body gives in to the exhaustion, catching up with the bereavement-related emotions that have also begun to settle in. It could be a massive emotional and physical collapse that he can't fight off, where his physical energy levels become tanked seemingly out of nowhere. And I think it would look like a worse version of him lying in his makeshift grave, where he is barely able to move around the house or anywhere for some time.

This happened to Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, and while the portrayal was done differently in the books and movies, both were good explorations of what it's like to shift from the default high alert (and long-term) mode of CPTSD to coping with the scary unknown world of newfound safety. Katniss spent her childhood in poverty and being constantly on edge that she might be chosen for the Hunger Games, being parentified, to provide for her family.

While participating in the games, she had to utilize battle skills and kill others to survive and sustained many injuries, still constantly on high alert whereby any respite would last for incredibly short durations. Towards the end of the story, after she loses the one she loved most (her sister Prim, who I think can be a parallel of Flapjack in this meta), Katniss shifts from peak physical activity into mostly sleeping and being actively suicidal for months, hardly moving and not leaving the house, until the shock of traumatic grief began to wear off. She absolutely crashed and went from one extreme to the other. In the movie Mockingjay Part 2, they added a non-book scene where her grief comes out in an outburst when she sees their pet cat hanging around on the kitchen counter. She flings an object in the cat's direction, then screams "[Prim] is gone!!" repeatedly before collapsing into heavy sobs, picking up the cat and holding it to her chest to soothe herself.

This kind of major collapse might happen very soon to Hunter after he leaves The Collector's Palace or only after some weeks. The timing of this, I can't predict. The reason why he didn't appear to have this issue in the early months being in the human realm is because there was still something external to concentrate on: help his friends get back to the Human Realm, help Luz reunite with Eda and King, while him and Flapjack hoped to go home too.

You could argue that even now, he still has something external to focus on i.e. helping the others rebuild the Isles. However I keep imagining that the people who love him are going to be quite adamant in getting him, Luz and the other kids to please rest. Since we saw Steve recommend his therapist to Lilith in O Titan Where Art Thou, I can picture the adults in particular monitoring how Hunter is doing without Flapjack.

But if this collapse I'm speculating about doesn't happen so soon, he would be pouring himself into helping others, referencing his character-centric line all the way back in Hunting Palismen about wanting to offer help, which he utters twice in that episode. There is an overlap between this expectation he has of himself and the old habit he's at risk of falling back into periodically: overworking.

Once his desire to help others is clearly comes across as an avoidance tactic on the outside - a maladaptive coping mechanism to run from the very difficult emotions that he should be processing - people around him are definitely going to set boundaries and say "No" to any attempts he makes to assist them. Someone is probably going to tell him that whatever desperation he is showing in wanting to help other people, needs to be redirected at himself. Making time and space for himself, taking time off to rest.

Him suffering from a major emotional and physical collapse is pretty likely because things are more complicated (though, physically much much safer) for him now than at the beginning of Thanks to Them when he had just fled from Belos to the human realm, and had Flapjack as his closest company. Fast forward to the victory won in Watching and Dreaming: both Flapjack and Belos are gone now.

It's telling that different thoughts are occupying Hunter's mind now, from how his expressions are drawn during his first days in the human realm vs. when peace is restored in the Isles.

1. See the sense of calmer urgency in his expression, putting the mission of building the portal door first, while experiencing a strong sense of togetherness with his friends, and learning to trust Camila who is treating him well:

compared to

2. the sheer exhaustion and feeling of "What now...?" (see his upper eyelids below?) that set in, once he helped Willow find her parents and there was no more task at hand that didn't involve himself. His bright smile from a split-second ago has drooped and disappeared:

I know that right after the above frame, Darius and Eberwolf reunited with him, but his emotions are going to cycle up and down in the hours, weeks and months ahead. The elation from seeing Darius and Eber - people who were there to greet him when he expected nobody to turn up - is not going to last, though it will certainly come and go, because high-running positive emotions like that don't last as long, especially in the context of the life he's had as a child soldier. It's totally possible that on the same night, hours after this reunion with their loved ones, their emotions will shift drastically.

The tired look in his eyes above and the sad face he then makes, is in between two moments of him having something external to focus on (Willow and then Darius). I'm inclined to think that the above depressed look reflects a lot of the complexity that is going on underneath the surface. What is his state of mind when alone with his thoughts, when he has zero tasks to perform? How is he handling those thoughts?

There will be a deep, sometimes mind-numbing sense of bereavement over two significant figures in his life. First Flapjack, now this:

He used to love Belos. But I'm really not sure he can just uproot that love from deep within and discard it. Hunter carries memories like the following ones around which will be confusing to navigate on tougher days, despite being able to tell Luz "That's what Belos does, he tricks people". Because these were his formative years:

and something tells me that Philip was cunning enough to strike a delicate balance between being 'nice' to Hunter like above, versus unleashing his violent temper to terrify and harm him. Making sure that balance was so close to 50/50 that it would leave a child very confused. So confused he would rather believe he's never good enough rather than the more frightening prospect that his so-called family does not actually love him at all.

Hunter will have a moment now and then of still missing the 'niceness' that his 'uncle' showed towards him (felt in his heart and subconscious), while still knowing (in his head, rationally) that Philip was not genuine when treating him that way.

To note though, he did not witness Belos's death which reduces the severity of intrusive images that the poor kid would see in his mind.

What I'm worried about is how he'll handle the news about the grimwalker graveyard, since I'm sure that location is going to be scoured and Darius would want to give his mentor a proper sending off. They'd want to give all the Golden Guards and Caleb a sending off and pay their respects. This might add to what I suspect will be the messed up depression he'll fall into.

It will be very confusing and emotionally disorienting, literally not needing to worry about anyone killing him anymore. He has had no point of reference for this in his life at all. It might possibly the furthest he ever goes from that primal survival instinct he had while living in the Castle for so long, which took up the majority of his life so far:

There will also be the added layer of how he feels about those first emotions. This is literally a concept called Feelings About Feelings and it's a key part of my work since I use the Satir Model in my style of counselling. We don't just feel emotions, we also tack on our own judgments and evaluations about them. E.g. shame about feeling anger, guilt about feeling sad because of burdening others, or even a combination like fear about feeling joy which can show up in healing from bereavement.

Depending on how we feel about whichever emotions got there first, it makes a difference because we could be adding or subtracting unnecessary suffering from the first emotion, especially if the first emotion is an already unpleasant one.

I have a feeling that we'd see Hunter look very very tired, till he makes breakthroughs in therapy. A tiredness that sleep, a healthy diet and exercise alone simply cannot fix. Because there's an entire upbringing in the Emperor's Coven to sort through in his head, this time not combined with the avoidance of having fled to the human realm and living under one roof with his friends.

The Hexsquad are not living under the same roof anymore, they are reunited with their own families with much to emotionally talk out, and the group no longer has a very urgent single collective mission. Sure, Hunter has an active role to play in rebuilding the Isles, but what about rebuilding his very self? He has the steepest climb, because we have seen the symptoms he exhibits.

Most of all, referencing a section of my Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1) meta (link), a memory as horrible as this:

will likely be the most intrusive image is going to be replaying again and again over the months to come, and it may flood his thoughts during moments of being triggered or even out of nowhere during quiet moments for no apparent reason. It will be just like a broken record, where the same small excerpt of a song loops endlessly until the needle of the gramophone is repositioned.

It was remarkably poignant that his final words to Belos were "And most of all, I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone again", and I'm happy with the story keeping it this way and understand why the writers likely made this decision - not just because the season was shortened. Hunter did not need to directly see or hear more from Belos in close quarters, not after his abuser minimized his needs for years, gaslit him, possessed him and got him to murder his best friend with his own hands.

It's more straightforward to make sure someone else isn't hurting anyone. It's easier to think of what plans to implement, when it comes to him protecting others: which he has had plenty of practice with. Because those are practical methods that we can see in action on the outside.

But here's the kicker: what about applying that last grand statement from his TTT speech to himself, emotionally: making sure he isn't psychologically hurting himself with harmful unhelpful thoughts and beliefs, after Belos's death? "I'll make sure I don't hurt myself (and by extension, my loved ones) again".

This will be very new to him, and it is a theme that I handle in pretty much every client case in my therapy work. The client's self-dialogue, the self-compassion or lack thereof. Which, in real life, is often not a concept that our own families and schools introduce to us to be familiar with.

For Hunter, this may translate into him making the decision to get help and truly accepting the gift of life that Flapjack gave him.

Basically this on a much bigger scale:

whereby in Flapjack's absence, he can truly believe in this new and positive fundamental belief about himself. The evidence that he managed to make it to that heartbreaking but incredibly beautiful place is pretty strong:

But before his happy ending, the pressure on himself to be useful to others via helping and working is likely going to come back and be used as his way of coping, and there's a chance it will cross the line into becoming a form of self-harm that he's relying on to avoid the frightening, deeper emotional pain. People around him know him well enough that they'll be able to spot his behavioral changes and then sense he is not going in a helpful direction. They'll see that it's hurting him even though it's the most familiar territory for his mind to be in, and someone is going to tell him to change that.

He's going to be seeing his friends with their palismen. How will it be like being among them, even if they are pretty good at supporting him? How would he attempt to make sense of the void that is the absence of the incredible love he experienced from that first friend, the absence of that mental link between witch and palisman?

What emotions could be lurking beneath the surface? Believe it or not, there are some signs from Luz's nightmare even though yes, Hunter was being controlled by The Collector. I wouldn't quickly dismiss this dark Flapjack-related scene as 100% being about The Collector's goal to scare Luz in the nightmare.

I think there was a smaller subplot going on as well.

The Collector needed material to work with in the first place, to perform the puppet acts: the material was whatever fears and whatever pain was already there in their targets.

The Collector didn't create Hunter's emotions from scratch for the puppet act; instead he manipulated and redirected what existed at the base level. All this wouldn't work as analogies of mental illness vs. mental health if The Collector could just engineer emotions on their own and simply replace whatever his puppet targets were already feeling. Emotions never vanish and always take up space somewhere, they are redirected, transformed or channeled into outlets even if it means they become repressed or locked away. But they never stop existing.

I have a feeling that despite the nightmare being Luz's, despite Hunter being used as an instrument for The Collector to achieve their goals...the pre-existing emotions that Hunter himself felt in his body, not puppet!Hunter's verbal responses towards Luz, were true. He is a haunted boi.

This face he makes above might be a hint at the worst of his pain. It might be the furthest he has felt from when he said "I like who I am right now" to Flapjack. In the place of that confidence from before, there might now be his own version of Luz's "I'm as bad as Belos". I cannot be entirely certain, but the negative belief that may have taken root in him could be "I am not deserving of the life Flapjack gave me".

Interestingly, if this is the case, it could easily parallel his line from all the way back in Any Sport in A Storm: "I'm unfit to wear the sigil of the Golden Guard." It's definitely a possibility, since Hunter is now faced with having a lot of time and space now, and less urgency than he's ever had in his life, to think back on all those times he helped to further Belos's cause. Especially when it came to sending many palismen to their deaths.

With his own palisman now dead, the engraving we would eventually see on Flapjack's grave: "Thank you for finding me", would be the destination. But the journey needed to reach that destination of amazing gratitude in the first place...must have been a harrowing one. In the early months of the acute grief, it would've been more like "Why did you have to find me?! You shouldn't have. Then none of this would've happened". Not forgetting the number of times Hunter has replayed in his head what he could've done differently, trying so desperately to rewind the clock and make that better alternate timeline a reality.

If you remove The Collector and even Luz from the equation in the Luz nightmare scene, Hunter may well be having such responses - the ones that puppet!Hunter directed at Luz to blame Luz - as a dialogue with himself. He might direct those negative emotions towards himself since he's so careful about hurting others and has taken on unfair punishment for so much of his life.

Even when he was temporarily himself, smiling, expressing a positive emotion to encourage Luz with "What's the first thing you do when you wake up from a bad dream?", that was him conversing with another person, someone external. Not his own self. I am willing to bet he wasn't at a point in his arc where he would smile at himself like that and easily encourage himself in the same way.

While we can be certain he had already reached his breakthroughs by the time we saw him post-timeskip, he has not experienced them yet in the frame above. He has not felt (yet) what Luz felt onscreen when she had breakthroughs in relation to her moral injury:

Taking a leap of faith to accept the Titan's gift, to trust that he chose her because she has a good heart and will never be Belos.

Then later, being able to stand firm, believing she truly is good ("I am the Good Witch Luz!"), and not uttering a word to Belos as he died - which was post-traumatic growth beyond how she broke down under his threats and manipulation towards the end of Hollow Mind and later in King's Tide.

Recap time. In the (quite likely) long period that passes by before we meet his new palismen, he's likely going to want to jump into action and attend meetings with Darius, Eberwolf and co, help to physically rebuild things and organize people with his own Coven Head experience. Leaning back on the ingrained and familiar lifestyle of pouring himself into work and gearing towards burnout is certainly a risk to watch out for.

The Hexsquad, CATTs and the Clawthorne sisters are going to notice his behavior and likely urge him to get appropriate rest and seek help.

However, there is the other extreme: Belos isn't around anymore to torment him, and Hunter would know this in the rational sense (head knowledge). Which leads to the possibility that he may swing towards shutting down as opposed to overworking tendencies. He would feel allowed to do whatever he wants, in this new Boiling Isles, and he had months of opportunities to do that in the early part of Thanks to Them before Belos's return.

What I'm getting at is, if he didn't sleep enough before, he might swing towards sleeping too much after finally collapsing from the familiarity of survival mode into unknown but genuinely safe territory. If he cared too much about helping others before, he might swing towards a depressive state of apathy (the closest canon reference point would be him digging his grave: he was very disarmed in that scene to even think much about helping anyone including Belos). This is why the screenshot I used of his smile drooping in The Collector's Palace, feels like a big clue to me. This would be where Darius, Camila and other adults have to seriously keep watch over him.

In the Cinema Therapy episode I had as a small reference for this post, the licensed therapist who hosts the series mentions that "It takes a lot longer to put oneself back together than it took to fall apart." In Hunter's case, the "falling apart" period here refers to that collapsing I mentioned. It would be the time between:

1. the grief hitting him in full force: when he subconsciously understands and acknowledges that Flapjack isn't coming back (which...will involve hell of a lot of wailing and sobbing. Him having a full version cry of those first few tears he shed at the end of TTT),

and

2. the time when the painful shock from feeling the full force of the grief has decreased enough that it plateaus.

This falling apart stage may need to pass before he seeks therapy. If he tries going for sessions while still going through that shock and pain, it might be too much for him.

As terrible and sad as it sounds, a deep dark spiral like this might be necessary. It would be his body and mind wanting to compensate for several years' worth of unnatural hypervigilance which wasn't serving him in a advantageous way (i.e. surviving) any longer. His body and mind begging for rest at last, to try and make sense of everything that happened. This big collapse into depression would empty out the old and free up much room in him for new stories, beliefs and perspectives to take root. Depression is, after all, the body's attempt to (maladaptively) try and protect us by numbing us, or else we would be overwhelmed.

As someone whom we know keeps himself very busy, this could be the period where he is the furthest he has ever been from that old simpler life. Because his CPTSD-ridden body would be demanding more than ever that he compensates for a childhood and teen years' lack of general rest, he may not even have the strength to cope the way he did before. The only way he might possibly cope in this period is to go with the flow of that raging current and do exactly what his body is asking of him: getting real rest.

Like what happened with Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, this early grieving stage would emotionally be difficult and terrifying, like walking along a tightrope, finding balance between left and right to angle yourself as straightly as possible and walk forward. (the tightrope metaphor is what I use with some of my clients to explain swinging between extremes of coping mechanisms).

The missing pieces of the puzzle in his arc, in the 4-year duration before the timeskip, might be his own version of these points in Luz's arc:

where she sank lower before she realized her deepest wish and emotionally experienced her worst fear in her Watching and Dreaming nightmare.

For Hunter, these could look like the following:

Like Luz saying it'd be better for everyone that she permanently stays in the human realm, Hunter might say he wants to remove himself from his loved ones in some way, for good. Whether a literal suicide attempt (like Katniss from The Hunger Games) or not, I can't say for sure.

A parental figure trying to reach out to him, saying he is deserving of Flapjack's gift. But he still struggles to believe that. What matters though is this parental figure is present and he's not pushing them away.

Him hearing some confirmation of his deepest negative belief about himself, in his own nightmares. Like Luz hearing the most terrifying things she could ever hear - Amity's "You've been the real villain this whole time" and "But for the sake of everyone you hurt, I challenge you to a witch's [duel]".

Him being able to reach an emotional space where he can begin to question that unhelpful belief: "Am I really deserving of Flapjack's gift?", or something similar.

The big moment when he finally tells someone how he really feels about the possession, Belos's death, Flapjack's absence in this new supposed peace and quiet....this would be the important invitation for the other person to connect and meet his emotional needs, and is a lot like how support groups for addiction work: a client needs to acknowledge that they are struggling with a problem, not avoiding it with distractions any longer, and then seek help and express their need for said help.

I suppose the question is how soon Hunter might decide to accept professional help and give it a go: or whether he'd have the genuine need for space first and say "I need some time". Because one's rational mind can be ready to go for therapy, but their subconscious and body would find it too unpleasant if it's too soon. Every part of him would have to be ready to begin putting himself back together after the falling apart stage occurs.

The messed up experience of CPTSD is that you stay shockingly calm during real danger, but on the flip side have big, disproportionate freakouts during actually safe times. Compare how calm Hunter was when he smiled at Luz in her nightmare while he was tied up with puppet strings vs. his fear and shame when he couldn't save Luz in Clouds on the Horizon.

In a CPTSD memoir I read, the author describes that it was horribly frightening to hear her partner be in a bad mood and wash the dishes more loudly than usual, while during the pandemic, she felt completely calm seeing empty shelves in a supermarket when she struggled to get supplies.

From my own experience, I have experienced being pretty damn calm when bleeding out and needing hospitalization. But in a different year before that, I recall one afternoon alone in my house right before a vacation where a strong gust of wind very loudly slammed an open door shut next to where I happened to be standing, and I broke down sobbing from a retraumatization via an emotional flashback. Because it felt extremely real as if my abusive parent was lashing out to physically hurt me.

After a 5-year period of mostly being in talk therapy, and then a 2-year period of regularly scheduled EMDR therapy, my response if I have a door loudly slam shut near me now would maybe be a smaller-scale flinch and a flash of anger that would last about maybe a minute. Which is miles better than sobbing for half an hour and being dissociated and frozen in a memory for hours before I thaw out of that flashback.

Since the show's writing is just that good, I could look at Luz's depressive symptoms manifesting in Thanks to Them and see a likely parallel in Hunter's story moving forward, since we know how much this show also digs neat and tidy parallels. These are characters written for TV after all, so they'd have to fit a formula to an extent, to have compelling arcs and reach high and low points along said arcs.

Part 2: Therapy Itself

Part 1 was the setup to give a good amount of context: now for the technicalities of the therapy sessions themselves:

Like Adrian Graye said in Labyrinth Runners, Illusion Magic can sort through memories. We have seen from Gus's own powerful Illusion abilities that he could do so with Belos. It makes sense that a therapist does this in sessions to have a magnified version of how in our world, therapists exercise empathy by imagining what it is like to be their clients:

I would monitor whether his mood (what he is feeling within) and affect (how the emotions appear on the outside e.g. tone of voice, face expressions) are congruent. Congruence usually means a client is in less distress. Incongruence might mean they are in so much pain that they can't connect directly with the main emotion: the perfect example of this being Hunter laughing when digging his grave.

We therapists take note of aspects such as affect, mood, the client's motor activity, any indicators of psychosis, even down to things like how untidy their hair looks in case we get clues about the severity of their issues (this is called a Mental Status Exam, and we write what we see in our case notes per session).

Because CPTSD is so relationship-centric, I'd discuss how he's getting along with new parental figures (the Belos replacements who will heal him so much and change his life forever!) and friends.

If the Boiling Isles therapists use their own equivalent of EMDR therapy, which is theorized to be like a waking version of how REM sleep and REM-related dreams help our brains to sort through memories, it sounds like a great fit for his case. This intervention involves subconscious work and could help him reshape how he experiences memories of Flapjack and Belos. EMDR clients are expected to see vivid images popping up without control in their mind during the sessions, and they are quite symbolic e.g. seeing a grey sky often indicates grief, seeing lighter colors indicates more calm. This technique helps a client's subconscious rewrite their story the way they'd like it to be, and install new positive beliefs and emotions over time.

My own example of EMDR experiences from the second half of 2019 as a client, is it majorly changed how I related to my own abuser, got me to finally feel allowed to emotionally break away from her, even though she is still alive and even lives in the same building.

In the early sessions, I saw an image of my 5-year-old self being forced to wear an ugly grey apron that my abuser used for baking. The apron is a real object, not fictional, and the emotions I felt showing up were matching with the image: feeling very uncomfortable seeing a visual representation of my abuser's hold over me.

But in a later session after a few months, guided by my therapist, I saw a vivid image of my abuser receiving a sea burial. She was lying peacefully on the water surface and sank down until she was gone. That was me subconsciously burying any expectation that she could ever provide what I needed. This was so powerful that I could go home after that session and permanently (so far) be significantly calmer around my abuser.

Therefore if Hunter goes through something like this, he'd potentially be able to put Belos to rest and have it feel very real and true: and have significantly reduced distress about Belos-related memories. There is the potential for powerful breakthroughs for him here, especially also related to Flapjack's death and how challenging it might be to carve palismen in the beginning. Especially since in the worst case scenario, even touching palistrom wood might be enough to badly trigger him. I cover this particular point a bit more in my other meta, Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1).

We would also be discussing what he's implementing into his routine and what may benefit him. I would be seeing if he is able to laugh about things, be motivated enough to be outdoors and among people, experience pleasure when creating new things, and form closer bonds with parental figures (what I just listed is to do with neurotransmitters in the brain that increase mental health: serotonin, endorphins, dopamine and oxytocin).

If I were his therapist I might suggest that whatever volunteering tasks he does, he carries those out with his friends, and time should be allocated to managing and taking care of a specific demographic: children. Because I think it'd be a safe, low stakes form of unfamiliarity for him to have enough emotional distance from his traumatic memories. Early months of acute grief usually require such emotional distance.

Having a good dose of an environment like that alongside the other tasks where he's working alongside Darius etc, could help him because kids' emotions are less complex, and their infectious laughter and fun-loving nature may play a role in helping him be more open with his own inner child. His therapist would be seeking to draw out that inner child in their sessions, and that little child would need to feel safe enough to emerge.

Importantly, his future palisman: it would've been interesting if he did what Luz did with Stringbean and allowed the palisman to be whoever they wanted to be...that would've been a nicely organic process. But even if he had a good idea to incorporate a Flapjack-like design but change details like the color, I'm sure he thought it through very well. I'm certain that this was a major topic of discussion at some stage of his therapy. Discussing the guilt he'd feel about replacing Flapjack vs. still taking Flapjack with him in a new way.

Coming from a strengths-based angle: paying attention to which of his individual strengths he is shows and recounts in the session. If he needs reminding, I could give him a simple worksheet listing various positive qualities and ask him to circle/colour in which ones he feels he has, which then prompts further discussion and questions. Lastly, a powerful tool called reframing e.g. if he says he's worried about being a nuisance to his friends, I'll point out how much he cares about their comfort and affirm that place of kindness.

Work on inviting self-compassion into how he sees himself. Is he able to view himself the way he views his friends? If he remembers the encouragement he gave to Luz about "turning on the light", I would ask him what that would look like in his own life, symbolically.

Hunter's own life has been a really really bad dream for a very long time. He himself has to reach for that light switch and choose to heal by embracing Flapjack's ultimate gift to him.

And we can rest assured that Hunter did that.

Because this post-traumatic growth right here?

This looks like multiple breakthroughs have taken place while he's been receiving consistent care from an excellent community. And there's no way it was an easily won victory. It has been very much hard-won, after how dark the story became in Hollow Mind and Thanks to Them, and it looks like whatever breakthroughs he had left him pleasantly surprised.

It doesn't seem like his heart and soul can contain this much joy and hope, without a very painful dismantling to have taken place first, to make room for the most unexpected treasures to fill his life back up.

The joy becomes even greater if you never would've expected it in your wildest dreams.

#toh hunter #toh analysis #toh spoilers #the owl house #loz writes a meta

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starlightnorris · 9 months

Text

don't go - lando norris

oh no not another friends to lovers blurb with lando heheh... also ignore the title?? when it comes to titles, i can't think of anything creative 🙄

word count: 840

“can i send you my location later, i’m going on a date later and you’re the only person i trust to pick me up if it goes bad,” you ask your best friend, lando. you were finally putting yourself out there and meeting up with a bumble match. however, while the guy seemed really sweet, you were still a little bit nervous about actually meeting up with him, and you didn’t really want to turn into an episode of dateline.

“what do you mean you’re going on a date?” lando asked, completely ignoring whatever he was doing. “with a stranger? y/n, are you insane?”

“lan, i can’t be single forever, so i’m meeting up with this guy from bumble,” you say, and his eyes widen.

“like hell you are,” he says, shaking his head. “i am not letting you meet up with a stranger you met on a dating app.”

“you do it all the time,” you counter, and he rolls his eyes.

“y/n, that’s to hookup, not date,” he says, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “there’s a difference.”

“lando, you’ll have my location, and i promise i’ll text you if he seems sketchy,” you say, trying to reason with him. it really wasn’t his business whether you went on the date or not and you were currently regretting even mentioning it, but you didn’t want to make him mad, so you just tried to calm him down and explain that it would be fine if you went out with this guy.

“no, y/n, i’m not letting you go,” he says, and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you ask, and his eyes widen at the tone of your words.

“what do you mean?”

“don’t play dumb, lando,” you say, rolling your eyes again. “i just asked you to pick me up if the date went bad, and you’re acting like my dad. i can go on the date if i want, and if you don’t want to pick me up if he’s sketchy, then it’ll be on your conscience if i get murdered.”

“y/n,” he says with a sign, running a hand over his face. “you’re not getting murdered.” you let out a humorless laugh, and he glares at you.

“well, i’m going on the date and i don’t have anyone i trust to pick me up so i might get murdered.”

“please don’t go,” he says, and you pause, bringing your eyes up to meet his. obviously, you’d been arguing for the past 10 minutes, but something about the way he said these words made you stop. “please, y/n. don’t go on that date.”

“why?”

you watch as his mouth opens and closes again, and he sits there for a minute before speaking, “go on a date with me.”

what.

you stare at him open-mouthed for a minute, trying to process what he had just said. lando wanted to go on a date with you? lando, the guy you’d been friends with since you were kids? the guy who’d always been a part of your life, the one who’d comforted you after breakups, and injuries, and whatever else life had thrown at you.

“y/n, please go on a date with me, i don’t want you to go on a date with any other guy,” he says again, breaking you from your thoughts. “i’m tired of pretending that i’m not in love with you.”

“lan, you’re my best friend,” you say, but as the words leave your lips, you realize he’s always been more than that. when you pictured a future, a family, it was always lando there. when you pictured having kids, it was always the idea of lando teaching them to drive, or taking them to the playground, or whatever else you had conjured up in your mind.

“i know, and you’re my best friend, but i’ve always wanted more and i want to take that next step, if you’ll let me,” he says, and he reaches his hands out to grab yours. you let him take your hands, and you can’t ignore the feeling that floats over you as your hands rest in his.

“lan, are you sure? i don’t want to lose our friendship,” you say, and his eyes meet yours, traveling over your face. his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin heat, and you just know that your cheeks are turning red.

“y/n, i promise that i won’t mess this up, i’ve been waiting for this moment forever and i would be an absolute idiot if i did anything to mess that up. it’s always been you, y/n.” his words are so gentle, but they carry so much weight, and you feel a smile splitting across your face. “now can i please kiss you?”

“yes,” you say, biting your lip and his hand travels to the back of your neck, pulling you into him until his lips are resting against yours. you smile against his lips, relishing in this moment.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren

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lavender-jukebox · 8 months

Note

How about parental decepticon stuff? I like the episodes where Tarantulas and Starscream end up as mentor figures

I love this idea...I hope I did it right-

Characters are Starscream, Soundwave, Tarantulas, Shockwave, Breakdown

(Reader is human btw-)

Enjoy!

Starscream

Will gladly answer any questions you have about himself or about the history of Cybertron

He's protective of you weither you're bot or human.

he'll take you for flights in his cockpit when you've had a bad day and let's you vent whatever you need to.

He tries his best to be a role model for you but thinks because he was a decepticon he isn't good at it

You two have deep talks about the past and listen to eachother

Seems like he doesn't care for platonic cuddles but actually loves them

Likes to praise you for things you've done

Gives headpats

If you ever do anything that could involve you getting hurt, get ready for a stern lecture and a shit tone of scolds when you explain your reasoning

He just wants you to be safe and happy :)

Soundwave

Probably the most parental decepticon out of them all

NEVER let's you out of his sight and insists you either stay beside him or sit on his shoulder

Gets a little worried if you and Frenzy ever rough house (cause you is a fleshie)

If you wanted, he would teach you how to hack

Has unlimited patience and you test this. All the damn time.

He always knows when's somethings up, but won't force you to tell him if you don't want to

If you want any affection he'll give it to you

VERY PROTECTIVE and will kick someone's ass if they lay a atom on you

He can be stern in more serious situations but doesn't intend to make you upset

If you're ever hurt he goes into mom mode and patches your injuries no matter what size

Likes it when you sit on his shoulder and blabber nonsense. He's all ears to hear what you have to say, no matter how stupid it seems

Tarantulas

Questions himself how he "adopted" a human but goes with it

Always keeps you within a distance where he can pluck you up if he senses danger

If you're energetic he'll let you climb and swing from his extra limbs

Some days you can convince him to play hide and seek

If he sense someone coming, he has a tiny burrow hole your size and hides you in there

A little paranoid if you leave the lab that G.H.O.S.T might find you so you have a little living space

Likes to poke you with his extra legs to make you giggle

Will teach you new things and walk you through whatever inventions he's making

Is happy if you offer to help him

More than happy to comfort you in a situation and has many limbs to hug you better

Shockwave

He's like the strict dad who has eyes on the back of his head

Ironic for someone with only one eye but-

When you try and sneak out the lab or go for a walk, he'll ask where you're going or what you're doing without even turning

If you give him sass, he'll sass you back and you guys have a lot of playful bickers

Basically "home schools" you but not really

Just teaches you something new every day

Seems like he hates affection but will hold you in his hand or let you fall asleep on him as he works in the lab

Listens to every word you say and gives suggestions to help

You stump him all the time with shower thoughts

He makes sure you're healthy and makes you drink 8 cups of water a day as well as eating meals

Does not take no for an answer

Doesn't matter if you're 10 or a grown ass adult, he'll put you in a corner for time out

Oh he knows you're too old he just does it cause he's petty like that

Breakdown

Not the best influence but definitely one of the more fun ones

He'll take you on energon runs as he explains to you not to turn out like him

Takes you to an empty street or raceway to absolutely speed

He cracks dad jokes all the time.

If you have a bad day he'll try to make you laugh by jokes or something

He's protective of you to the point where when he knows the littlest thing of G.H.O.S.T in the area, yall are gone

Teaches you how to fight in case of an event where he cannot be there for you

Doesn't mind carrying you or letting you sit on his shoulder

He might be a douche sometimes and moves the shoulder you're on to catch you off guard

Laughs when you swear

I wouldn't say he's like a parent but more so a parent / big brother type of guy

=========================

#earthspark #tf earthspark #transformers earthspark #starscream #starscream x reader #earthspark starscream #soundwave #soundwave x reader #earthspark soundwave #tarantulas #tarantulas x reader #earthspark tarantulas #shockwave #shockwave x reader #earthspark shockwave #breakdown #breakdown x reader #earthspark breakdown

359 notes · View notes

deansapplepie · 6 months

Text

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 7

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 6 Chapter 8

Chapter 7: Chupacabra

Summary: The group settle down at Hershel’s farm. The search for Sophia continues and they have more clues about it. The Drama is all around the place, secrets, words not told and heads figuratively rolling, or not.

Warnings: swearing, fluffy, violence, agression, blood, injuries, mentions of cheating, mentions of possible death, scars, Daryl is a soft, Reader (yes, you are a warning in this one), Rick’s glare. (I think that’s all, if you see anything I didn’t mention just tell me) Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 5,337

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. I’m consulting a timeline of everything that happened, but it can happen that I put events out of order, but I don’t think it’ll make much difference in the story. As you can see this title coincides with a name of an episode, normally I use something important in the Chapter as the title, but this time I had to use Chupacabra, because reader is a believer.

After you were settled down at your new camp, everyone reunited to Otis’ funeral. It was very beautiful all the words Hershel said and the family, in the end they asked Shane to say some words, he was the last one with the man. He talked about what happened and said some beautiful words about Otis. It was a very sad situation, but you were glad that the man helped saving Carl.

Later Maggie brought a map of the region and the group started to talk about what they could do and where they could go to search for Sophia. Hershel prohibited Rick, who donated blood, Shane, that had hurt his ankle and you, who had injuries from a trap to go in the search. Having that in account, Daryl was the only one going on search for Sophia.

Also, Hershel prohibited you all to walk around with guns, and very reluctantly you gave your gun to Rick so it could be stored with the others, but you kept your knife with you anyways. You had to follow the rules since he so kindly took care of you and let you stay at his property. At least he agreed to let Dale have watch and stay with a rifle.

Hershel told you to not walk much, you could walk but just a little to stretch your muscles, more than that could rip the stitches open and would interfere in your healing. While everyone was getting ready to do something, you head inside to the room where Carl was resting. You sat in the chair beside him and Luna sat on the floor taking her cold nose to his hand.

“He’s resting Luna, you need to behave, he can’t play right now.” You explained to the dog as if she was a little child and petted her so she wouldn’t be upset. You caressed his forehead and observed his face, now he wasn’t pale anymore, his cheeks got color and he had a peaceful face.

You were happy that he was good now. Also you were very impressed at what Hershel did. If you had come to a situation like this you don’t think you would think right ahead that as a Vet you could do something with your knowledge to also help humans. Sometimes you even doubted that you could be a good Vet… You knew the Death of the cat that costed your later job was not your fault, he was old and very sick, also for a rich person, his owner took a long time to take him to the clinic having in count the time he said the symptoms started, but you couldn’t help, but doubt yourself sometimes.

“Aunt Y/N” you heard Carl’s voice bringing you back from your inner thoughts.

“Hey! Hello little man! How are you feeling?” You asked turning all your attention back to your nephew.

“It hurts a little, but I’m good.”

“Of course, look at who missed you a lot.” You said And brought Luna’s attention back to the boy, but holding her by her collar just in case she decided it was a good idea to jump on Carl. She sniffed him all around while he passed his little hand on her back.

Soon he got back to sleep, you encountered Beth and asked her to show where you could wash clothes. You didn’t had clothes to wash, but you had the rag Daryl had put on your injury and you wanted to clean it and give him back. After you washed it, you put it to dry near your tent.

Later that day, Daryl came back with no Sophia, but he got clues that she probably was at a cabin at some point. It was good news, maybe she had survided… maybe she was out there somewhere. You still had hope, even in a world like this. Now you had Walkers, but back in the old world human beings were just as dangerous as them, if not worse. Dinner was ready, but it seemed like everyone were eating at their own places, the exception being Andrea, Dale and Carol that were together. You made a plate for you and a second to Daryl, he had assembled his tent a little bit far from the rest of you, just like he and Merle used to do at the quarry. Your leg hurt, but you needed to eat something before taking the medicine.

When you got near his tent, you didn’t see him, but you could swear you had seen him some minutes before close to his tent. So you called for him and soon he emerged from his tent.

“What are ya doing here?” He asked coming out of the tent, and you couldn’t quite say if he was pissed or if it was his normal grumpiness.

“I brought you dinner.” You said handing him the plate and sitting on a cut wood that were close by.

“Ya shouldn’t be walking around this much.” He answered taking the plate from your hand and sitting at his beach chair.

“Well, I wouldn’t if you had assembled your tent closer. You know you don’t need to be separated from us.” You stated taking some food with your fork, he grunted. ‘What does it even mean?’, you asked yourself. You were getting used to his grunts, but you couldn’t understand all of them.

“I like ma privacy.” If it wasn’t for the southern drawl, he would have sounded like an English Lord at this moment. “What are ya smiling about?” You didn’t even notice the smile on your face.

“You just sounded like a very pompous person.” You said, you always spoke your mind to Daryl and it could be cool, or turn really wrong. “I’m not mocking you. It just made me smile.”

You ate the food in silence, that silence that you learned to appreciate so much. He had a small fire there and it kept you warm from the slightly cold breeze. You felt like you could stay there looking at the fire next to him, for the rest of the eternity, but you also knew that maybe he didn’t wanted you to. So you decided you should go to your tent, maybe read something and try to sleep. You couldn’t be more wrong, because he was thinking the exactly same thing, how he could stay there for a long long time watching the fire and occasionally taking small glances at you, watching your face relax and how anything could put a smile to your face, you were beautiful at every moment, but in his opinion, nothing could win how much beautiful you were when smiling.

You reached for your pocket and took the clean rag that you had folded to give it back to Daryl. “Here, I washed it.” You handed him. “Thank you.”

“Ya didn’t need to… ya could have it.” He took it, a little embarrassed to receive it all clean when he had wrapped it all dirty around your wounds. But it was all he had at the time.

“Of course I had to. You kindly wrapped my wounds in it, it was covered with blood and you may need it.” He let out a grunt, so you decided to say something. “Keep it for the next time I get hurt.”

“Ya’re not getting hurt again.” He answered grumpily.

“I can’t promise you this.” You stated, and really you couldn’t you didn’t know what could happen tomorrow in this world. “Gonna go back to my tent. Rest yourself, you’ve been working harder than anyone here.”

You got up and put your hand on his shoulder. You wish you could give a kiss on his cheek and tell him good night, but you had already tested your luck hugging him earlier today. “Goodnight D.”

“ ‘night pup” he answered, he wanted to touch your hand, tell you to stay a little more, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you.

You walked back to your tent calling for Luna, she was nowhere to be seen. After some seconds she came from the RV to meet with you. You said your good nights for the ones you could see. Then you took Luna to your tent and prepared yourself to sleep. You thought about reading, but you were way too tired.

You woke up early in the morning with that feeling when you want to stay more in bed, but you’re not sleepy anymore. You changed your clothes and got out of your tent to start the new day. You met Carol at the bonfire to make breakfast and you were overjoyed about having fresh eggs to eat. She suggested making a dinner to the Greenes so you could thank their hospitality and all the help they gave you, and you thought it was a great idea. You could help chopping the vegetables and in any other way that didn’t demand you to stay up for a long time.

Dale, T.Dog, Shane, Andrea, Rick and Daryl were discussing a plan to do the searches for Sophia of the day. You approached them just when Jimmy arrived saying that Hershel gave him permission to go with the group, it sounded fishy to you… but you couldn’t just accuse the kid of lying.

“Can I go with you guys?” You asked, you were so silent that almost nobody noticed you were there already.

“The hell ya’re going”

“You’re not going.” Daryl and Rick said at the same time, they looked at each other for some seconds and Shane just rolled his eyes at the situation. Rick thinking that Daryl cared too much for being just a friend and a little bit annoyed, because he was your brother and he was the one who should say these protective things when you were not on your right mind. Daryl inner panicked a little, did he sound too protective? Did he sound bossy? Not that he didn’t want to protect you, in fact he really wanted to, but he also didn’t want Rick to have the wrong idea.

“Ok gentlemen, don’t need to fight. I’m not going, because of my doctor’s recommendation AND because I promised to help Carol and Lori.” You stated trying to sound cool, but in reality you were sulking wanting to go with them. Not that you were bad with domestic things, you were actually good… but it didn’t mean it was your favorite thing to do.

They continued planning and you just stayed around, it made you feel like you were also participating and being useful. Then T.Dog joked about the Chupacabra Daryl told he saw back when you were at the quarry and Dale had to explain to Rick the story.

“I believe on Daryl.” You said, nobody asked, but you didn’t give a fuck. “They were commonly seen in South America, but there are reports of people who saw it in other places. Did you guys know about the theory that they might be aliens or alien’s pets?”

“Let me tell you something, nobody knows and nobody cares nerd!” Shane picked on you, you showed him your middle finger, but he knew this time you were not actually mad with him.

The group started to leave and you followed Daryl to the barn. You didn’t know if it was a good idea to go out there in the woods with an animal, eventhough Maggie did it just fine the other day, but things could get bad if they encountered walkers.

“Why are ya following me? Ya’re not going.” He stated when you entered the barn.

“Well, if you’re taking a horse with you, better to have a vet look it before you take it.”

“Whatever ya say.” He muttered, approaching one. “What do ya think about this one?”

He was next to a mare, you looked at her and she was a beautiful animal. “She seems strong and healthy, I think it’s a good animal, but I can’t assure you it’s safe to ride her. I don’t know her temperament. Are you sure about going on a horse?”

“Yep, it’s faster and more secure. I can cover more land.” He affirmed, and in fact it was true, but you still thought about all the dangers he could encounter.

He saddled the mare and already got all he needed to continue his search. You wished him good luck, he was going to need… all of you needed it in this moment and hope too.

You went back to camp and stayed around Dale in the RV. You couldn’t do much in the moment, so you’d better enjoy good company. You were talking with him, when you saw Glenn acting strange. You couldn’t tell how, but you could see in him that something was wrong. You decided to live Dale for a moment and approached the younger man.

“What’s going on?” You decided to be straightforward with him. “Don’t try to deny, it’s written all over your face.”

“I… I can’t tell you.” He said, so indeed there was a secret.

“Maybe, if you tell me, it’ll make you feel better.” You tried convincing him. “Is it about you and Maggie?”

“No, I mean… how do you know?” He denied fast, so probably it was bothering him, but wasn’t the main reason.

“I saw you two talking earlier and I see how you look at her.” It was obvious, even Hershel that was an old man could see that there was something between them.

“Yeah, something happened, but… I don’t know if it would be respectful to talk about it with a woman.” In which decade did he live? The 20’s? The Korean was really a gentleman.

“Well by what you said I can just assume that you had sex…” you hadn’t finished saying when he interrupted you afraid that someone would listen.

“Don’t say it, she’ll kill me if she discovers I told someone.”

“She won’t, I’m not telling anyone. Just be careful to not get hurt and to not hurt her, I don’t know how long we’ll be staying here.” You could see that something more were troubling him. “But it doesn’t seem to be the only thing in your mind.”

“If I tell you, you need to promise me that you’re not telling anyone, not even Rick!” He was panicking, but the secret was already eating him away.

“I promise, now spill it!”

“Lori’s pregnant.” He blurted it out.

“Fuck.”That was the only thing that came out of your mouth. Fuck. The shit just got worse and worse. ‘No fucking way that this kid is Rick’s’, you thought. It had been how long since you reunited? One week? Two? The chances were very low. Holy shit. At the same time you wanted to go to Rick and tell everything, you knew you could just get things worse if you did.

“You can’t tell anyone.” He pleaded.

“Now I don’t know if I thank you or if I regret for making you give me this information.” You were still shocked, but you were the one that pestered him to tell you what was wrong.

You let him go to the RV, but you couldn’t dare to go back. You needed to think about it. You went to the room where Carl was recovering and passed some time there thinking while the boy slept. You couldn’t even calculate the size of damage that would be caused when shit hit the fan, and you knew it would at any moment.

Later that day, you were in the kitchen helping Carol, Lori, Patricia and Beth to prepare the dinner to thank Hershel and his family. You sat on a chair, cutting some vegetables. Everybody had already come back, everyone but Daryl, and it was starting to worry you. He had a horse, by this time he should already be back. Damn, it was late… you were already preparing dinner. You were staring too much at the window and it couldn’t go unnoticed.

“He’s going to arrive soon. Don’t worry.” Carol said and it took you aback, you were not expecting anyone to notice your worry. “He’s the best of us in the woods.”

“I know, it’s just… it’s getting late. He should already be here.” You probably sounded silly, he had stayed out the night uncountable times back at the quarry, but here… here was different and you thought he’d not risk staying out late in a place he barely knew.

“You should tell him.” Lori spoke from the sink, where she was washing some fruits.

“What?” Where did she want to go with this?

“How you feel.” She completed, how you felt? You didn’t feel anything besides the urge of being close to him, and hold him and sometimes kiss him… ‘Well, you also should tell a bunch of things to my brother,’ you thought.

“Rick saw you kissing back at the CDC” you almost chocked with you saliva. The door was open. You fucking let the door open. “He got to the room talking about it and I didn’t know if the alcohol made him hallucinate or if he had actually saw it. Given your reaction… don’t worry, he probably forgot, he was too much drunk and he never talked a thing about it anymore. If he remembered he’d still be talking about it.”

“It’s not like this. Yeah, we kissed but we were drunk. We… we’re not like that.” You got up from your sit and was going to excuse yourself…

“I knew there was something about it. He was really protective at you back at the woods.” Maggie affirmed leaning on the door frame.

“You just say it because he was carrying me, because I was stupid enought to step on a bear trap. I already did everything I could here to help ladies, so I’ll excuse myself and see if I am of some use outside.” You excused yourself and got out of the kitchen the faster you could with your injured leg, your cheeks were burning and probably blushing too. It was nothing like that, why did nobody understand? And you were so afraid someone would tease him about it and then he would pull away from you and ruin what you had.

Andrea was in the roof of the RV taking watch and it looked like her and Dale had just got in a fight, again giving the sadness of Dale’s face. He always wanted the best for everyone and he for sure saw her like a daughter, but she couldn’t understand and would constantly have fights with him.

She spotted a walker coming out from the woods in the direction of the farm. She wanted to shoot it, but it would just waste ammo, everyone said they would go there and take care of it. You watched as they approached the thing, you couldn’t see much but they had stopped… when you heard a shot by yourside coming from the rifle Andrea was holding, you saw movement down there and you could swear you listened his name being brought by the wind. While they were getting around him to check, you started descending the hill, running, despaired. You tripped on a damn rock, a stabbing pain on your leg but you continued.

‘No, how could she shoot when everything was under control’, you could feel something suffocating you at the thought that he could be dead. They were bringing him, she didn’t hit. But it didn’t made her attitude less grave.

“It nicked, he’s not dead.” Shane said when you stopped mid track seeing them bring an unconscious Daryl.

You could listen Andrea approaching followed by Dale, giving a thousand excuses and you couldn’t just get it anymore. You were seeing red.

“What’s your problem?” You said after you jumped on her taking her to the ground punching her nose and already ready to throw another punch, she tried to deffend herself putting her hand in front, but it had already hit her, You didn’t even saw where. She scratched your face trying to protect herself. She pulled your hair, you pulled her hair. “Learn how to fucking listen the others! If some of us say don’t shoot, don’t shoot! You could have killed him!”

Soon you felt arms pulling you away from Andrea. “Release her hair Y/N” you listened Dale’s voice by your side. You started to listen voices again, you were so lost trying to give Andrea hell that your brain were just ignoring your surroundings. They had asked you to stop many times, but you didn’t listen to. The only solution was for T.Dog to pull you away from her. Dale suggested Glenn since you were friends, but the young man was frightened, he never saw you like that. “Y/N release Andrea’s hair.” Dale commanded again, very reluctantly you obeyed him, while T.Dog tried putting you as far as possible from Andrea.

“You’re crazy! I said I am sorry!” Andrea yelled getting up with the help of Dale. Her hair was all messed up, her nose was bleeding and you could see the black eye starting to show.

“And I don’t give a fuck in the same way you didn’t when you didn’t listen to the instructions you were given!” You yelled back, T.Dog still restraining you afraid that you would jump on her again. “If you had hit him, I would like to see you saying how much sorry you are! You’re so lucky he’s still alive.”

Andrea was going to reply you back, but was cut when Glenn appeared in front of you and pointed at your leg. “Y/N/N your leg is bleeding.”

You were so angry that you had stopped feeling the pain and you didn’t even notice that your hurt leg was bleeding and that you probably had opened some stitches. “Fuck.”

“Can I free you?” T.Dog asked afraid of letting you go. “You’re not going to attack Andrea again, are you? You need to have your leg seen by Hershel.”

“Fine. I’m not going to attack her, T.Dog. Bitch got what she deserved.” You were still furious, but all your senses coming back made you feel the real intensity of the pain in your leg.

T.Dog and Glenn helped you inside, it was very difficult to step right now, you probably hurt something else on your run to get to Daryl. Carol and Lori looked at you concerned, in all these years your sister in law had never seen you act like this. Patricia said the room where Hershel was at the moment taking care of Daryl and the boys took you there, since Hershel needed to have a look at you too.

When you entered the room, Daryl was already conscious, probably weak from the blood loss and he explained what he discovered to Rick and Shane while Hershel stiched the wound on his side. Daryl tried to cover his body that was exposed, but didn’t have much success since Hershel needed to give him stiches. They all turned to you noticing the mess you were and how T.Dog and Glenn had to support you.

“Done causing trouble?” Shane asked, they had seen the moment you jumped in Andrea, but they couldn’t stop their priority was to get Daryl to Hershel.

“You look horrible, no offense.” Daryl commented noticing your disheveled hair, the scratchs on your face and messed clothes.

“You should see Andrea.” You replied sarcastically, while Glenn put you to sit at the other side of the bed.

“She beat Andrea’s ass, T.Dog needed to split them.” Glenn explained. “We think some of her stiches opened, her leg is bleeding.”

“I probably hurt something else, because my foot is hurting way too much.” You stated resting your back at the headside of the bed.

“We’re talking about it later.” Rick told you and you rolled your eyes. He was your brother not your dad.

“I regret nothing, Rick. She can’t go shooting people and don’t receive any punishment.” If looks could kill, you’d have already died at least 5 times by Rick’s concerned pissed look at you. “And you’re my brother, not my dad.”

You knew he was already mad, but so where you and you were tired of him and Shane treating you like a child. You let them finish discussing Daryl’s discoveries and Hershel finish taking care of him. When Hershel finished with Daryl, he take a look at your leg, two of your four wounds had opened and your had a small torsion on your foot. Hershel said the torsion was going to be better by the next day if you rested how he recommended. He stitched your wounds again and prohibited you to do long walks. Of course, he couldn’t control you, but you knew that you should obey the farmer. Before leaving Rick came to you and you could swear he was going to give you a speech, but he didn’t. He curved, gave you a kiss on your temple and left.

“So… did ya kick Andrea’s ass for me?” Daryl broke the deafening silence in the room.

“Nah, that’s just my new hobbie. Kicking assholes’ asses.” You couldn’t hold the sarcasm. He knew it was for him and he just wanted to start a conversation, and you also knew it. “I was afraid that you died. You can’t die D.”

“I didn’t die, pup. I ain’t gonna die right now.” He looked at you and he could see your tearing eyes. “I’m not worth it, princess. Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying, yet.” You defended yourself, you hated not being able to hide most your emotions. “You don’t see what I see Daryl, and for me… you’re worth it all.”

“Are ya high on painkillers?” He joked, he didn’t know how to deal when people said he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“I wish, cause my leg is hurting like a bitch.” You laughed, but you knew it was his mechanism to deal with compliments. “I meant what I said.”

“I know, ya never lied to me.” He was honest, even though he was reluctant to believe he was any good, he trusted you and he knew you meant every word in the same way he believed he would see if you lied.

You continued having a conversation about trivial stuff. Soon you started to feel the smell of the food and it smelled deliciously, and to be honest you were hungry. After some time Carol knocked on the door and entered the room carrying a tray with 2 plates.

“Oh my God! Thank you Carol! I was smelling the food from here, and it smelled so good.” You said sitting up on the bed, she gave you a plate and you started eating happily.

Daryl didn’t move from where he was laying, Carol went to him and thanked him for everything he was doing for Sophia and of course for her, because of his incessant search for he daughter. She gave him a kiss on his forehead before leaving. You knew he wasn’t used to it, but you were glad that another person told him how good he was. Maybe, if you told it many times he would start to believe it. You finished your food and Daryl hadn’t touched his yet.

“You should eat, it’s going to get cold and you lost a lot of blood.” You said, he was laying in the bed covered by the sheets and facing to the other side. “I’m not going to look. You can eat comfortably.”

You turned your back to him and expected that he was going to use it to eat the food. You didn’t know he was so concerned about his body, you noticed it earlier today when he tried to cover while Hershel were taking care of him. It was just his chest, so there wouldn’t be any problem for you to see in normal situations. That was when you noticed he was concerned about people seeing his body.

You had seen his body before, he probably didn’t know, but one day he was changing his shirt and he thought no one was seeing, but you were and you couldn’t resist but watch. He was beautiful and all the scars he had just made you admire him even more. This was his story and it made him who he is. You chose to respect him, and some time after you listened the noise of plate and cutlery, and you were relieved he was finally eating.

When he finished and was settled again he let you know so you didn’t need to have your back turned to him. Later Carol came back to take the plates to the kitchen, you asked her to take care of Luna for the night. You let her tied all day and you didn’t want her to be alone. Carol agreed and she had to confess she would appreciate having a company for the night.

The rest of the night was calm, you talked very little and it didn’t take long for you to sleep, specially Daryl that was incredibly tired from all his day and everything he suffered. He even hallucinated about Merle that he had no idea where he could actually be.

During the night you moved around the bed a lot and at some time, Daryl woke up startled in the middle of the night. He opened his eyes and he saw you, and he thought he never saw you this close except the time you kissed at the CDC. That kiss, he couldn’t forget it and he didn’t want to. He never felt anything like that, no one he ever kissed or even slept with made him feel what he felt when he was with you. And seeing you this close again, made him think about all of this. You were so comfortable with him, one arm around his waist, your leg lightly tangled with his and he was surprised to see that his right arm was around you, holding you tightly against him. He was worried about having you so close, but he couldn’t dare to disturb your sleep or to push you away.

It took a little time for him to sleep again, but soon he did it. It was comforting to feel your hug and you warmth against him, even if there were the sheets between you. He hadn’t slept this well in ages, he can’t even remember the last time he had such a good sleep. So he decided to allow himself this little joy of a good and comforting sleep with you.

The next morning, Rick came to check on both of you and he was a mix of surprised and embarrassed by seeing the scene before him. He could see it was innocent, but either way he was taken aback with the situation. He cleared his throat and hoped both of you would wake up.

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

Note

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers.

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her.

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her.

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying.

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly.

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?"

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car."

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -"

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?"

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!"

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four.

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?"

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy."

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?"

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!"

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly.

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N.

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge.

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight.

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles.

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday."

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way.

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word.

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?"

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?"

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls.

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking.

Sam huffs, "Who's that?"

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N.

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead.

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..."

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again.

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it.

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam.

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!"

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that."

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips.

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge.

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him.

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks.

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know."

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on.

"What the-," Dean says.

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks.

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them.

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing.

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge.

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?"

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water.

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her.

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him.

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!"

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit.

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing."

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him.

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest.

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead.

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static.

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths.

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away.

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest.

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue.

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him.

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop."

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N.

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest.

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again.

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor.

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be."

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits.

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks."

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start."

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks.

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods.

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters.

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat.

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-"

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N.

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers.

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head.

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation."

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge."

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me."

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

Everything Tags <3

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#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fandom #supernatural fan fic #little sister Winchester #angst #supernatural dean winchester #sister!winchester #3rd person pov

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tonberry-yoda · 11 months

Text

Big Strong Man - Shanks

notes - here's my shanks fic from the poll I did!! I was so happy to write for my husband until I realized I still don't know enough about him. If this doesn't fit with the story, I'm sorry lol, I'm only on episode 345 rn, so bear with me. Nonetheless, I think it's super cute! I hope you enjoy and have a super awesome day! Sending lots of hugs and kisses to everyone!!! <3

word count - 788

warnings - mentions of alcohol (Shanks drinking a beer, nothing crazy, but I thought I'd mention it), blood

"Can I see Shanks now?" Luffy pouted, stomping on the ground.

Shanks had asked you to take care of Luffy for a while, and you were hoping that he would be chill and just play with some blocks or something, but the kid hadn't shut up for three hours at this point and you were amazed. For a seven year old, he sure had too much energy.

"Shanks is busy," you told him as you did the dishes, and Luffy quickly attached onto your leg. "He'll be back tonight though, I promise."

"But I wanna see him nowwwwww!" he whined, making you struggle to hold back an eye roll. "He's probably doing cool pirate stuff without me, huh?"

You wiped your hands dry and pulled Luffy off of your leg, leaning down to his level.

"Luffy," you said, your tone soft. "I know you wanna see Shanks do his pirate stuff real bad, but you're going to have to leave him alone for a little. He is super busy today because of that other crew that showed up."

"But I wanna fight them too!"

"I know you do, but you're gonna have to train and get a crew of your own to fight a pirate crew like that, Luffy, do you understand?"

"Well, when can I do that?" He poked out his bottom lip and crossed his arms.

"When you're grown up and ready to go. Once you're strong enough to take down this whole island, you can become a big bad pirate yourself."

"You think so, y/n?!"

You nodded, a smile plastered on your lips. "I know so."

Luffy jumped up and down in victory exclaiming, "I'm gonna be a pirate!" over and over again in a singsongy voice.

And right on cue, Shanks opened the door, bloodied and covered in bruises.

"Shanks!!" Luffy yelled, running over to the redhead at the door and jumping on him like he didn't have a single injury.

"Woah there, kiddo," Shanks laughed, setting Luffy down. "I don't know if I can take one of your big bad Luffy hugs right now."

"Are you okay?" Luffy asked, tilting his head. He was shocked to see Shanks in a condition like that, especially since he was used to Shanks being a more peaceful guy who seemed to avoid fights if possible. And if he did get into fights, he never looked like this.

"I'm fine! This is nothin'! Though, y/n, do you mind grabbing me a beer from the fridge?"

You crossed your arms and looked at Shanks with an unamused expression. "Luffy, go play in the backyard for a little."

Luffy saluted at you and quickly made his way outside.

"What's that look for?!" Shanks asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"First of all, I'm not going to grab you a beer when you look like this. And second, why the hell do you look like that in the first place?!"

"Those were some pretty pesky pirates." he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Gave us some trouble before we kicked their asses."

"They're gone though, right?"

"Of course! What do I look like?" Ignoring your comment from earlier, Shanks walked to the fridge and cracked open a beer. You just rolled your eyes and grabbed a wet rag to clean him up a bit.

"Well, thanks for getting rid of them, Shanks, and tell the rest of the crew too."

"Can do!" Shanks said with a smile as you began taking off his shirt to find little scratches that were surrounded by blood and dirt. You cleaned him up with the wet rag, making sure to avoid the deeper cuts that you would clean more thoroughly later as to not infect them.

You didn't even notice Shanks staring at you with hearts in his eyes until you were finished.

"What?" you said, trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks.

"Thanks for cleaning me up, cutie." He winked at you and set his beer down before pulling you into his arms, pressing kisses all over your forehead.

You pushed him away, giggling and readjusted yourself so you could better be in a position to kiss him back.

"You know I suck at babysitting, Shanks. I can't believe you left me with Luffy today. The poor kid was bored out of his mind watching me make maps."

"I can make it up to you." he told you, giving you puppy dog eyes and puckering out his lips.

You just giggled and pressed your lips to his several times before pulling him into your arms.

He sighed lovingly and breathed in your scent before hugging you back.

"Alright, big guy, let's get these deep cuts fixed up."

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

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inbarfink · 5 months

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Alrighty, friends, it’s time for a lil project I’ve been working on for a while now. It’s time for…

MY VERY BIG ZIM VS. DIB SCOREBOARD

I am going to go through all of the (finished) episodes of Invader Zim that feature both Zim and Dib (at least two lines of dialogue from each, so that I won’t have to worry about weird edge-cases like “Bestest Friends” or “Abducted”) and count which of these two won at that specific confrontation/misadventure. Each episode is worth a point, a two-parter is worth two points (since they tend to be higher-stakes).

I will give them both a point if they both equally won and I won’t give any points at all if they both lost… but I am only going to use it in true tie/no win situations. Most ‘Zim vs Dib’ episodes have some elements of both of them losing on some level. If only because their main goals - conquer the planet and unmask Zim to the world - can never actually happen without breaking the status-quo of the show. So I am going to do my best to judge, like, their goals for that specific episode, and how humiliated and/or hurt they got, or at least which one of them lost the least at any given episode.

I will also be judging the win/lose situation while taking the conclusion of the episode at face value. Because Invader Zim loves its implausible snapbacks where a character dies or ends up at a seemingly-impossible cliffhanger situation at the end of an episode - and then the next one starts with everything back to normal again. After some deliberation, I decided to still take into account obviously-not-going-to-remain-in-continuity losses as losses. So if Dib fucking dies at the end of an episode, that would still be a Victory for Zim, even if obviously he would be back in the next episode.

Okay, so let’s start! With the start!

"The Nightmare Begins"

This one is pretty clear cut. Zim wasn’t even trying to take over the world yet, just to blend in. And he pretty much succeeded in that goal, while Dib failed to capture him and lost the ‘Alien Sleep Cuffs’ in the process.

I was maybe considering if Zim's little ‘MY SPINE!’ right as the episode ended could change the score. But I think this is just a minor-yet-painful injury, rather than an Implied-Reset-Comedy-Death. And I think for both of them this matters less than Zim successfully or unsuccessfully fulfilling his missions.

So the first two points (since this is a double-length) go to Zim!

"Nanozim"

So here we have our first classic Mutually Assured Failure situation with these two. They both failed in their overarching goals in that episode. Dib lost those pictures of Zim for good, and Zim failed to rid himself of Dib for good. Buuut, I think Zim got a lot more Physical Pain

And got a lot more thoroughly humiliated in his defeat

So I am counting this as a point for Dib!

"Parent Teacher Night"

Yet another episode where Zim is only concerned with maintaining his cover. Since this is preserving the status quo of the show, I think they’ll inevitably skew in his favor. While stuff got kinda hectic and embarrassing for Zim a couple of times, he did successfully convince everyone that the Robo-Parents are his parents.

And Dib got in trouble for throwing punch.

So this point goes to Zim!

"Dark Harvest"

Zim got away with every horrible disgusting thing he did in this episode, successfully maintained his cover and

Yeah, point to Zim.

"The Wettening"

At first I thought this was going to be a point for Zim since he pretty much unambiguously won that water balloon fight.

But that’s where my ‘take the endings of the episode at face value’ rule comes into play, because Zim drowned in his toilet and died at the end of the episode!

Zim: Help! My head is stuck! GIR! Help! I can't breathe, I…

So for literally being the Last Man Standing in the conflict, Dib technically wins this round!

"Career Day"

More Mutually Assured Defeat!

Dib thoroughly failed to demonstrate to Bill that Zim is an alien, but while Zim successfully maintained his cover - he still got fired from McMeaties, which torpedoed his then-current world-domination schemes.

Zim: 8 billion! That is more than the entire population! And they all serve McMeatie? If I rule McMeaties… I rule the world!

(I mean obviously that wouldn’t have actually worked but.... to be honest, I suspect that even if Dib did get Bill to personally witness Zim’s molt it wouldn’t have helped him either. They were both kinda running fool’s errands in that episode, I think. Dib’s self-delusion was just more subtle.)

I mulled over it for a while, and I decided this is probably our first true ‘No Points Either Way’ Episode! Congratulations, boys, you both lost!

"Planet Jackers"

Zim fully achieved the goal he was working towards in this episode - rescuing the Earth from the Planet Jackers. While this is technically something Dib would’ve also wanted if only he had believed Zim, I am not going to give Dib any points - because Dib basically missed out on the ego-boost he gets every time he successfully defends the Earth.

Plus, the Moon crashing into the Earth at the end there is probably not something Zim would be worried about - who cares if a few million humans die as long as the planet’s still here for him to conquer! But it might bother Dib a little bit. You know if he was aware of it.

"Rise of the Zitboy"

Zim successfully got the information he needed to improve his security system, while Dib was left without the blindspot he planned on using and he needed to clean up all of the disgusting alien pus all on his own. The point goes to Zim.

"Bad, Bad Rubber Piggy"

Look, yeah, Dib did get beat up by the Lawn Gnomes by the end of that episode. And I’m sure that hurts. But you know what I bet probably hurt more?

Having your brain teleported out of your body!

PAK or no, I think that warrants counting Dib as having lost the Least in that episode, and so the point goes to him!

"A Room With a Moose"

While it was a tad humiliating, Dib did still manage to successfully save the lives of himself and his classmates. I mean, even Zim knows that he lost. Which is not that common for him.

Zim: No! The moose has failed me!

So that’s another point to Dib!

"Hamstergeddon"

While Zim’s evil scheme did not go as he planned, it did still cause a lot of death and destruction for the human race - which he is always in favor of. He managed to get rid of Ultra-Peepi before he actually caused damage to his base and got away with everything scot-free. And while Dib also wanted Ultra-Peepi gone, he did also get humiliated and ignored and placed in the Crazy Bucket. Point goes to Zim.

"Bloaty's Pizza Hog"

Gaz: There, see, you won. Eat your pizza.

Can’t argue with that logic! Point to Dib!

"Door to Door"

So while Zim technically won the fundraiser, it is important to remember what Dib’s actual goals were for competing with Zim in the fundraiser to begin with.

Dib: The only reason I'm selling this dirt in a wrapper is to watch you fail at something else, Zim!

The only reason that he wanted to win, is because he wanted to see Zim get humiliated. And he surely got his wish by the way the episode ended.

Plus he got that handy box of [Adhesive Medical Strips]! Point to Dib!

"Bolognius Maximus"

Both lost, zero points each.

"Battle of the Planets"

Okay, so we have a classic example of the ‘Dib foils Zim’s attempts to take over the world, Zim foils Dib’s attempt to expose him’ runaround, but I think in this context - with Zim sustaining a lot more physical injuries -

And Dib actually getting to meet an ally in this episode -

That this is a victory for Dib! A two-point victory for a two-parter!

"Halloween Spectacular of Spooky Doom"

While the two were basically working towards the same overall goal in that episode despite their constant double-crosses (get back home safely, foil the Halloweenies’ invasion plan) and those two goals were achieved by the end…

Zim still ended that adventure with a broken skeleton (according to himself)

Zim: As soon as my skeleton stops being broken, I'm going to destroy you, Dib.

While Dib ended up seemingly totally unharmed and with a lollipop for his troubles! Two more points to Dib!

"Mysterious Mysteries"

Zim successfully maintained his cover, got Dib publicly humiliated on national television and made even LESS likely that Dib will ever be invited on MM ever again. Point goes to Zim!

"Future Dib"

Well, Dib did at least successfully foil Zim’s plan to basically destroy all life on Earth. Buuut… he ends that episode still captured, with Gaz not really giving a shit about saving him, and implicitly tormented by a monkey for Zim’s amusement for the rest of his natural life.

Obviously that gets reset by the next episode but like I said, I’m not taking those into account. The point goes to Zim!

"Walk For Your Lives"

Well, Zim’s plan succeeded… but that just means that he failed. His actual goal was to impress the Tallests for Probing Day and obviously he did not manage to do that at all.

And Dib also failed since he was trying to warn others and stop Zim. And… I think the implication at the end of the episode is that he probably died, with "you jerk!" as his last words. While Zim is burned, but alive and well. So… Zim does still win this one by default! Truly Zim’s most incredible talent is being able to pull a technical victory out of the most thoroughly embarrassing situations.

"Megadoomer"

Yet another Mutually Assured Failure. Zim failed to kill Dib again, Dib failed to expose Zim again. They both lost the devices they were planning to use to achieve this goal (the Megadoomer exploded and Dib lost his camera to a random bird) and yet they still both claimed victory.

But thinking about the little details… While Dib ‘liked that camera’ it is probably a bit more replaceable than the Megadoomer was. And Dib was at least physically unharmed through that whole encounter, while Zim got crushed by a giant hunk of metal. So the point goes to Dib!

"Lice"

Well, Dib was pretty embarrassed to discover that the Lice Queen was real and he was forced to admit he was wrong and apologize…. But Zim got gruesomely skinned alive

AND as an added bonus, his pain is only going to lead to humanity being better equipped to deal with the lice menace. Which obviously he’d hate. Point to Dib for Suffering Less in that episode!

"Dib's Wonderful Life of Doom"

At first, I kinda debated what to do about this episode. Because while it’s true that Zim accomplished the goal he was trying to achieve in that episode and Dib seems to feel pretty humiliated at the end of the whole ordeal…

There’s no doubt that this whole scheme was an extremely flagrant misuse of resources and - since we know that at the very least the Meekrob’s planet exist and that the fact about the Massive’s side pods is accurate

Dib: The Massive; the armada capital ship. The side pods are filled with snacks. It's their weak spot.

Lard Nar: Ahem, well… If we can just knock a hole in one of the side storage pods, we can steal the snacks that fall out to feed the growing resistance.

Zim actually revealed to Dib some actual dangerous tactical information about the Irken Empire’s weaknesses.

However, I mulled that over and I decided that

If I were to penalize Zim every time his scheme is a stupid/humiliating misuse of resources then this actually applies to almost every Zim vs. Dib episode actually. The question is whatever or not Zim accomplished his goals, rather than if there was a more practical way to accomplish them because the answer to that second question is pretty much always ‘yes’

The fact Dib has technically gotten some useful tactical information from that little simulation has literally never come up again in the actual Invader ZIm canon. As far as we know, he just literally forgot to write it down and now he has no idea.

So yeah, that point still goes to Zim. Even if by a very small margin.

"Tak: The Hideous New Girl"

I was considering making this our first ‘both of them get a point!’ (or well, two points, since this is a double-length episode) since they were both working towards the same goal of protecting the Earth from Tak and they both succeeded!

But… I think I am actually going to give these points to Dib, because Zim only managed to preserve his Status Quo. Dib actually made progress. Between finally getting a good look at Zim’s base, and getting some more info on the Empire

Dib: Your leaders are just taller than everyone else?

And, of course, getting one fun little gift at the end.

"Backseat Drivers From Beyond the Stars"

The entire gimmick of this episode is Zim having just so many things to worry about at once. He’s got this new Brain Parasite scheme, and he’s trying to bring the Tallests to Earth to check it out, and he’s trying to wrangle up the Robo-Parents and maintain his cover. And by the end of the episode, he only really succeeded in ‘maintaining his cover’ and even that just by the technicality that most Humans in this world are just so stupid and apathetic that he just shouldn’t have bothered probably. By the end of the episode the Robo-Parents are still running wild, his Brain Parasite plan has gone to hell and his plans for the Massive have gone wrong in every possible way.

Now, Dib has also suffered some losses in this episode - the spy-bug in Zim’s base got disabled and the activation of Tak’s Personality in her ship is obviously a huge drawback to that whole plan of repairing it and making it his own. Buuut… at least he didn’t get his brain eaten. So I think he at least won this round. Two more points to Dib!

"Mortos Der Soul Stealer"

While Zim got himself Touched by a Smelly Human and lost a few of his genetically-engineered rodents - the implication seems to be that he has more and this is at best a minor setback to his plan. Meanwhile, Dib didn’t just lose the chance to use basically a magical superweapon against Zim - he also lost a lot of money and then got arrested.

So yeah, the point goes to Zim.

"Zim Eats Waffles"

Nothing about Dib’s plan to expose Zim in that episode worked in his favor and ended with his entire computer being smashed up by Cyborg Zombie Soldiers Created by a Giant Flesh-Eating Demon Squid. Meanwhile, while Zim forgot his Evil Plan for the day - the fact that he sent these aforementioned Cyborg Zombie Soldiers after humanity has got to count for something. Plus he ate some waffles! Point to Zim!

"The Girl Who Cried Gnome"

While both Zim’s attempt to utilize the Moofy Media Storm for his own humanity-destruction plans and Dib’s attempt to do the same in order to expose Zim have thoroughly failed - Zim literally ends this episode whistling ‘If You Happy And You Know It’ as he torments Dib while he is stuck in his yard indefinitely.

Yeah, Zim won that round as well.

"Dibship Rising"

Okay so that episode ends with the Dibship throwing Zim to the horizon. And then he saves Dib’s life.... only to leave Dib stuck in the cesspool for hours as he recounts every embarrassing thing that happened to him before the ship can properly delete his own personality.

But while this seems to be a pretty humiliating and kinda uncomfortable (“the smell’s getting to me”) situation for Dib. I… think that being thrown to that distance would still probably hurt more. Plus, Dib did still make progress with the Ship since he successfully deleted Tak’s personality (I mean that didn’t stick with the Comic and Florpus Canons but we’re not even looking at those today, so…)

Point to Dib!

"Vindicated!"

Zim: Sad little Dib! No more ally and no more proof!

Yeah, Point to Zim.

"The Voting of the Doomed"

This one’s actually kinda hard. So… Dib’s plan succeeded and Zim’s failed - but that just means Zim was spared from becoming a brainwashed pawn of the school board. But is it more humiliating that you worked so hard for a plan that only ended up saving your enemy? Or that you worked so hard for a plan that would’ve doomed you if not for the intervention of your enemy?

Both Zim and Dib seem to assume it’s the former, so, yeah, point to Zim!

"Gaz, Taster of Pork"

While not inflicted by Zim, Dib sure had his fair share of Suffering in that episode. Meanwhile, as far as we can tell, Zim’s Exploding Monkeys Plan went off without a hitch. I mean, Dib or not Dib, I’m sure Zim can find a way to mess it up all on his own - but that was still probably less humiliating than

Yeah, so Zim kinda wins the two points by default.

"The Frycook What Came From All That Space"

So despite going through a lot of painful and grueling and humiliating things in this episode - Zim still won at the end, he still achieved everything he wanted to do: escape Foodcourtia, return to Earth and resume his mission.

Meanwhile, Dib once again failed to convince anyone Zim is an alien

And his attempt to use Zim’s absence to gather information from the Tallests seems to have been thoroughly derailed.

So I think this point goes to Zim!

"The Most Horrible X-mas Ever"

So… Zim's plan has failed and derailed into a threat to himself more than anything - only to be saved by Dib (who earned some sort of Bonding Moment with his dad in the meantime) and together, they (but mostly Dib) throw Santa into space. And then Dib gives a heartfelt speech.

.....And then Zim convincely impersonates the Easter Platypus and incites an angry mob against Dib.

This is probably the episode I mulled over the most, and not just because it’s the last one. I was really unsure if I should prioritize everything Dib has accomplished in the episode - or Zim for getting the last laugh… literally!

But I think, after some deliberation, that yeah, those last two points go to Zim. It was kind of a close-call, but by the end of the episode banishing Santa was a victory for both of them and inciting a mob against the other is something they would both find a meaningful victory - so I think it’s got to count for something???

Final Score:

Zim: 22

Dib: 17

And now I can quite honestly say

VICTORY! VICTORY FOR ZIM!

(But also, like, I think Dib got a pretty good score too. Especially considering his reputation as a universal butt monkey, that gap could’ve been a lot larger. I mean if we counted ‘Enter the Florpus’ as.. by my logic like seven points we’d have a total turnabout)

And of course, this is just my own methodology of counting victories, like you've seen, I have a lot of Weird Edge Cases that you could make arguments on either way. If you have, like, your own interpretations and your own ways of counting victories for these two Ultimate Losers, I’d love to hear it!

#invader zim #zim #zim iz #iz zim #iz #dib membrane #iz dib #zade #dib #iz zade #zim invader zim #zim irken #dib iz #dib invader zim

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