#jerry feeling a strange sense of familiarity when meeting rick for the first time

[birdricks]

i love you (but i never had a choice)

#rick and morty #jerry smith #beth smith #jerbeth #beth sanchez #GYYYAAAAAAAHHH…. they make me sad #thinking like everyyyy day abt beths and jerrys being forced together by the citadel. #do u think they ever like. saw the ricks out of the corner of their eye. or in their dreams deep in their subconscious #beth wondering why she thinks of her father when shes with jerry #jerry feeling a strange sense of familiarity when meeting rick for the first time #IDK. its smth i think about #oh this is kind of an aside but im curious abt those ricks whose beths didnt die. like did they All abandon her as a kid #or did some take the tech and stay for the most part....? #anyway #i cant believe i drew jerbeth before b*rdrick lol but whatever. thats the wayyyy the news goes #<- censored just so it doesnt pop up in the tags #cw eyestrain #? maybe . idk #i was a bit lazier w the lines on this one but i think it turned out nice. goes to show it is not worth it to put one billion hours in #artsbotz

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

a Christmas Caryl, them together and warming my heart. Merry Christmas! <3

Back For Good (also on 9L)

Daryl heard the news from Tara and headed straight for the bedroom he’d claimed to get the bag from the closet’s top shelf.

He’d grabbed it all a few days ago in defiance and anger, stuffing the items into his backpack. They didn’t need it anymore and had never deserved it in the first place. He’d gone through it all when he’d gotten back, choosing a few select items for her and distributing the rest to the others in their group. He just hadn’t expected to be giving them to her so soon.

Tara had said she’d be next door settling in, and he rushed out the back door and across the yard, shrinking the distance between them as fast as he could—until he reached for the door handle.

She’d come back. Only a few days had passed since the war ended and he’d watched Carol walk away with the Kingdom dwellers. She’d said goodbye, even hugged him—God, he shouldn’t have let her go again, not in this world—but then she skirted away to help rebuild the city that’d helped them win by losing so much.

He wanted to see her, needed to know she was okay, and, more pressing, why she’d chosen to come back to Alexandria.

He pushed through his doubt and the door, calling her name.

“In the living room,” Carol responded.

The sound of her voice soothed him in a way he hadn’t felt since the prison, since the times when he’d return after days, sometimes weeks, out on the road, and the sound of her voice welcoming him back made the world seem less skewed than it’d actually become and everything he’d endured on the road somehow worth it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on that—on her—until this moment and all the memories of feeling like home overwhelmed him. It’d been so long…

He made his way through the kitchen, steeling himself—his heart—against the onslaught of emotions that always bowled him over when reuniting with her, and stepped into the living room.

She sat on the couch, removing the Kingdom gear she wore across her chest and on her arms, looking out of place in the home that wasn’t hers, and he instantly wondered if she regretted her decision to come back. His chest tightened at the thought, so badly wanting to believe she’d returned for good that it hadn’t crossed his mind until now that it could be temporary.

She looked pensive, unsure, and entirely stunning, her hair framing her face in silvery curls, her round eyes seeking him out.

“Hi,” she stated simply, breaking the still air between them.

He gripped the small bag tighter in his hand and made himself speak. “Hey.”

She stared at him for several moments, drinking in the familiar sight of him, tall, lean, wearing a knife at his hip and his crossbow on his back, those worn, patched pants he kept washing but refused to get rid of, a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt under his ever-present angel-wing vest. He peered at her through his overgrown hair, his gaze intense and cautious but kind.

Her heart seized in her chest. How she’d missed him.

She patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit with me,” she invited.

Daryl moved through the room silently, removing his bow and leaving space between them as he tucked one leg underneath him and sat sideways, facing her, surreptitiously dropping the bag near his feet as he propped his weapon against the couch.

Carol turned toward him, and the room grew silent again as they both watched her pick at the flawless couch cushion with one hand.

Daryl had plenty to say, a myriad of things to ask her, but as he often did, he kept quiet, reveling in the fact she sat not two feet from him. Unharmed, seemingly content, and, as was their way, comfortable enough in silence that she didn’t immediately try to fill it. He felt as though the world had shifted since he’d last seen her, and he realized the last time they’d spent time alone was at that cottage she’d stayed in. Had that really only been a week ago? He wanted to know everything that’d happened to her since he’d left that night—and everything before that, when they’d forgotten they could lean on each other. He didn’t begrudge her her new-found friends and would be forever grateful that Morgan—who’d disappeared—and Ezekiel and Jerry and the others had taken her in and helped her heal. Still…he’d missed her. Still did, even as she sat in front of him, with all of the trauma and time and evil deeds they’d done lying like so much rubble between them.

He’d spend the rest of his life wading through the muck and mire of it if it meant she’d stay with him. He hoped he’d get the chance…

He glanced up to see her still staring at the couch, waiting for him to say something.

“Tara told me you’re back for good,” he broke the silence, and they both heard the question he couldn’t ask: Is it true?

She finally met his eyes, noting the hesitation and fear in them. She gave him a small smile. “I am. It feels…strange after…everything, but good. I’ve missed being with you and Michonne and Maggie, the kids.”

Daryl willed his blood to pump normally, her admission sending hope flooding through his veins like a drug. “Missed you, too,” he murmured, not willing to let any more time slip by without trying to acknowledge how much she meant to him.

She lent him a knowing smile before letting it slowly fall from her face. “I wanted to help them. I felt I owed them that much after they’d taken me in. They’re good people, kind, fierce, and loyal…to a fault, actually. I wanted to help them shore up the city, rebuild the walls, and I was…”

Carol trailed off, still absent-mindedly playing with the seam of the couch cushion, and Daryl knew something, or someone, had caused her to leave. He waited patiently, his silence encouraging her to tell the story at her own pace, even as he chomped at the bit to know what’d transpired.

“I only wanted to help…I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

She paused again, and he wondered what exactly she was trying to say. Had someone forced her to leave? Banished her like Rick had—which he still needed to process with her someday—leaving her no choice but to come back here? After fighting so valiantly in the war, how could they determine it better to let her go than keep her with them? He’d never rooted for her disengagement from Alexandria, but he’d have words with anyone who actively sought to push her out of their community.

“But he was.”

It took a minute for Daryl to realize her meaning, and his heart thundered rapidly against his ribcage, gripped by fear of what came next.

“Ezekiel, I mean,” she explained unnecessarily, finally meeting his gaze.

He kept his expression neutral as a quiet storm raged inside of him. He nodded once, encouraging her to continue. “I thought I’d made myself clear all this time. Back when I was in that house, he’d visit, and I’d tell him to leave. He’d bring supplies, and I’d refuse them. He’d send people to check on me, and they’d piss me off, springing my traps, and I’d send them away with an earful.”

He kept his smile to a minimal but couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride at how far she’d come since those days in the quarry. Living alone, setting traps, railing at people who encroached past boundaries she’d set, she was a force of nature.

Her admission also explained the initial look of irritation on her face as she’d opened that door to him, before the shock and relief and—dare he think it?—tenderness took over and the walls and tears fell.

Just thinking about it made his arms ache to hold her again.

“I didn’t lead him on—at least I didn’t think I did. He’s very persistent, though.”

“Seems like you made yourself pretty clear to me,” he agreed levelly. Only a lifetime of hiding his emotions allowed him to keep the irritation out of his voice. If a man kept pressing after repeatedly being rejected, he only had himself to blame for her walking away. And though he knew she could handle it—and likely had—he couldn’t help wishing the man lived a bit closer so he could pay him a friendly visit.

She shrugged one shoulder lightly. “Since I was going to be living inside the city, I asked him where I should move to, and he suggested I live with him. It’s when I realized I…I wanted to be here.”

He waited a beat. “Alexandria, you mean?”

“No. Yes. I mean, yes, Alexandria, but…not just Alexandria. It’s important to me that I’m here…with you and the rest of our group. The people who’ve been by my side since the beginning. The people I trust the most. The people who know me the best.  The person who knows who I am and the things I’ve had to do to make it this far.”

Daryl nodded in understanding, thinking of the journey they’d been on together. The trials and losses, the displacements and running and fighting and wars fought long before the man with a bat tried to rule a small corner of the world.

“I wanted to escape. After everything…after all we’ve lost, I thought I needed to be somewhere….someone else.”

Her words sent him back to their trek into Atlanta, another lifetime ago. She’d tried explaining to him then that she needed space, but he knew space, at least the kind back then, without other people around, would kill her. Survival meant sticking together, and he’d tried with every weapon in his weak arsenal to show her she belonged with him: protecting her, feeding her, listening and defending and encouraging and just being with her. He’d even waited until she slept to slip out and put down the mother and child walkers, knowing that act would likely push her over the edge if she had to do it herself. As a rule, if time allowed, they burned or buried the bodies of friends and loved one, not walkers. But that…he’d needed to do that for her. They’d both missed the funeral held for Sophia, she out of defiance or denial, he to ensure she wasn’t alone then, so the burning of those bodies had been his way to pay respect to the mother/child unit, the young girl he’d failed to bring back to her mother, the scared, scarred, and abused who hadn’t escaped from a living hell after all. She’d brought him back from the brink too many times to count; it’d been the one time he’d felt like he’d returned the favor.

“But all leaving did was made me feel like a pariah. I didn’t fit in there, and staying would’ve felt…weird. He’s a decent man beneath his disguise, and I could’ve even overlooked the whole…ridiculous king schtick to stay and help them rebuild. But not after he asked me that. It would’ve made things too uncomfortable.”

“I get it,” he confirmed. And he did. It was the main reason he’d never told her how he felt: because he feared she’d turn him down and leave, not wanting to bother with someone who made a tough life even more difficult. No, he’d rather suffer in silence and keep her around, have her friendship and watch her back, than ever risk her rejection and discomfort.

“I just...want to be here.”

His heart soared, and he desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, prove to himself that he wasn’t having a deluded fantasy, but he sat still, staring at her intently. “Glad to have you home.”

“Home,” she repeated, the word sounding like both a question and a resolution.

He nodded. “You always got a home here. Wherever we are.” Where I am, he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t make the words come out.

“Thank you.” He thought he saw tears in her eyes, but a few blinks later and they were gone. “Did you know tomorrow is supposedly Christmas?”

She sounded skeptical, but surprised and a little excited, and he nodded in response, realizing the heavy moments from before had passed. He’d learned how to manage those conversations over the years—hell, you couldn’t live in close proximity the way they had without getting into them—and even though they still made him uncomfortable, he treasured them. He never felt more important, never felt closer to her, than in those deep, often dark, places where she needed a companion. And when she chose him to accompany her, he faced the shadows, heart pounding, courage wavering, but determined to help her through at the expense of his own dis-ease. His chest ached that she’d come back to him—to them, he corrected himself—because it meant she wouldn’t seek out her new friends or a king or a stranger but him or Michonne or Maggie or others he trusted.

Damn, but he’d missed her. He nearly lost his breath at how much the realization suddenly overwhelmed him.

Carol gave him a questioning look. “You do?”

It took him a few seconds to realize she hadn’t read his mind but instead continued their conversation.

He nodded toward the front window at the blustery, overcast day and the bare trees in the yard and cleared his throat. “Seems about right with the weather getting’ so cold and the snow flurries we had the other night. Huntin’s been harder, and the jacket ain’t doin’ its job anymore.” He looked at her again. “Plus, Tara told me about the calendar the Alexandrians’ been keepin’.”

She huffed a laugh, shoving his arm a little at his teasing and making him smile in the process.

Her smile pierced his heart with affection. She looked beautiful, cheeks slightly pink, eyes happy with mirth, staring at him like he’d dreamed about since nearly the day he’d met her. If he could bottle this moment and hold it for safekeeping, for days when he thought he’d never see her again or the struggle to survive became nearly too much to bear…  He stared, drinking in the aura of her presence, the joy on her face, the sound of her chuckle, the way she sat turned towards him like he was important.

“Seems unreal that they’ve kept a calendar all this time.”

She sounded nostalgic, almost sad, and he understood the depth from which she spoke. While others had become mini-Hitlers, lived like kings, and played at Utopia safely behind walls, they’d clawed and clamored and scraped their way by just to stay together and feed themselves. It didn’t seem right.

“It’s stupid...but they didn’t know better.”

“I guess it’s part of what makes life…livable, huh? We’ve just been surviving for so long.”

He’d never known much of anything else, knew too that she’d spent at least part of her life like that, but he remained quiet, sensing she wanted to say more.

She stared out the window at the waning sunlight as the shadows crept longer across the lawn. “We never could stop to smell the roses like the others. Art and music and reading, birthdays and holidays and celebrating a new year…they all became ancient relics. Until the prison. Until we came here and met these groups.” She smiled sadly. “I guess I wanted to live in a fantasy. After everything we’d been through, everything I’d done, I…I just wanted to escape, to put on another costume and pretend I hadn’t sunken into a hell worse than Before.”

He watched her, knew the exact moment the scenes in her head turned from playing faux-happy homemaker to self-realized hoax. She blamed herself, he could tell, and though he wanted to defend her from her own incriminations, he waited.

“It didn’t work this time. It always had with Ed. I could….will myself to move past whatever nightmare had occurred that week. I had Sophia, and she made it worth the effort to try again. I thought I could do it this time like I always had before, but…” She shook her head, frustration on her face. “it was different. Sophia loved me. Ed didn’t love anything but himself, but she loved me, the real me. None of those people were like him, but they don’t know me and if they did…they’d be afraid.” She finally turned her gaze to him. “But you…you and rest of our family know. They know who I am, what I’m capable of.”

And love you just the same, he wanted to reassure her.

He hadn’t asked, and she’d already briefly explained why she’d returned, but it sent flutters through his stomach to know she trusted him with this…her past, her choices, the reason she’d decided to leave…and come back.

“We know,” he agreed quietly. “We know, and it doesn’t matter to us because we’ve all done the same. They don’t know…but we do. We’re stronger together. I know things happened that you ain’t ready to talk about—and maybe never will be—but I’m here if you ever do. And you think some of it’s unforgivable, that it makes you…worse than the rest of us. It ain’t true. I wouldn’t be here without you—none of us would. The CDC, Terminus...that was you savin’ us. You saved Judy. Wouldn’t let me leave when I distanced myself and acted like an ass. And always takin’ care of everybody except yourself.” He realized how emphatic and forceful he sounded, and he dropped his voice. “You gotta let us take care’a you.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t know how.”

“Gonna have to learn…to live with the love,” he nearly whispered, reaching up to softly wipe a tear away from her cheek with his thumb, the ghost of a smile on his face at the memory of her words to him from another time, a better place. “The only sense this world makes is when we’re together. You gotta know that.”

He reluctantly let his hand fall away from her face, the air between them a live wire he wasn’t sure he felt ready to touch. But, oh, he wanted to, wanted to lean toward her in the darkening room and tell her everything she’d come to mean to him. Cleanse the fear from her and let her know how he treasured her. His heart felt like it would explode inside his chest.

Carol swallowed hard and closed her eyes, severing the tension a bit, and he let out the breath he didn’t realize he held.

She covered her face with her hands for a minute before wiping her tears away and meeting his eyes. “I do. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. It’s why I had to come back.”

Daryl held her gaze and nodded, desperate to reach for her but afraid to disrupt the connection they were rebuilding.

“I’m glad you did. Glad you’re here.”

She grabbed his hand, squeezing gently, and her touch sent fire racing through his veins. What he wouldn’t give to hold her close, kiss her tears away, wash the darkness from her soul, calm her fears.

“I am, too,” she breathed, the pain easing away from her face.

He needed to move, needed to refocus their conversation, before he made a fool of himself by revealing too much. Having her back for good, sitting so close to him in the fading light of day, her hands on him, her soft voice caressing his heart, he needed to retreat.

He shifted on the couch, and his foot hit the bag he’d brought with him.

“I, uh…” He withdrew from her, reaching down to grab the gift he’d brought. “I got something for you.” He handed the medium-sized black zippered makeup bag to her. “Call it a Christmas gift.”

She stared at the bag for a few seconds before raising her eyes to meet his, and he felt the room get inexplicably hotter. Her blue eyes, intense and penetrating, held his gaze, and for a minute he thought she was going to kiss him, the space between them coiled tight with electricity.

He swallowed hard. “Go on.” He pushed the words out, and they sounded strained, even to his own ears. “Open it.”

Carol stared at him a moment longer before looking down at the bag in her hands again, and he felt the loss suddenly, like they’d missed a ripe opportunity for everything he’d ever wanted and would never have.

He watched her unzip the bag and open the top to reveal it full of sundry items: a few tubes of chapstick, a mini hairbrush, silver and black snap hair clips, a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of body spritz, a container of face scrub, a jar of moisturizer, and a small tube of sunscreen.

“Daryl...where…?” She rifled through the items, surprise written on her face.

“I was at the Sanctuary lookin’ for supplies and food, and I came across the stash of things the women over there had. Brought it all back with me and…set aside a few things for you before sharin’ with everybody here. I know it ain’t much, and I didn’t exactly know what you’d like, but I thought—”

She suddenly flew towards him, and he caught her up in his arms just as she flung hers around his neck. He froze, his body in shock, every muscle strung tight and attuned to the softness of her in his arms. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her against him again, never wanting to let her go. Her cupped her head with one hand, the other fitting around her waist, tentative but firm.

She felt perfect, scorched him everywhere she touched, his skin set aflame by her arms around him, her breath, ragged but soft, near his ear, her chest gently heaving against his.

“You, uh, you like it then?” he queried.

Her laughter rumbled softly against him, and she withdrew enough to look at him, joy evident on her face. “It’s wonderful,” she breathed.

Her fingers teased the hair at his nape, her hands, still draped around his neck, sending sparks through his blood, and he realized a small lean forward, just a single moment of bravery, would tell him what she tasted like. She sat so close, nearly in his lap now, and he felt time freeze, her words hanging in the air like mistletoe, waiting for a response.

“Carol…” he murmured, afraid she’d recoil. Afraid she wouldn’t.

With one hand she fluffed the hair away from his face, her eyes never leaving his, and he thought for sure he’d melt into a puddle at her feet.

She slid her thumb across his lips, the movement soft and sensual and altogether hotter than anything that’d ever happened to him in his life. Her eyes flicked to his mouth, and he was about to say her name again when she eased toward him and touched her lips to his, chaste and sweet and more than his brain or body could process.

He froze, his body tense, his mind scrambled, his hands at her waist hoping to keep her in place until he could come to his senses. His head swam, his body burning everywhere at once, the world tilting as he soared and fell, the motions leaving his stomach floating into his throat.

He sunk into the moment just as she began to pull away, and he chased her lips with his, gently tugging her back towards him. She moved into him again, her arms tight around his neck, and he felt her everywhere, against his thighs and his chest and his mouth, wrapped around him and stealing into his veins, settling into his muddled mind and burrowing deeper into his heart.

He never wanted to come up for air.

“Daryl.”

She whispered against his mouth, and he felt the vibrations of his name on her kissed lips deep in his soul. She was driving him mad, and he went back for more. He felt her smile against his lips, her tongue teasing him, his heartbeat thundering so wildly he feared it’d jump right out of his chest.

He eased away slowly, trying to catch his breath, and Carol gripped his neck, leaning her forehead against his.

He couldn’t believe what’d just happened, felt sure he’d wake up from this erotic dream any moment now, but it continued on…her breath feathering against his lips, her face mere inches from his, her soft skin beneath his hands at her waist, her forehead pressed to his in an intimacy he’d never imagined actually occurring.

She pulled away slowly, a satisfied look on her face. “You give the best gifts,” she stated, both teasing and serious. “We should celebrate more often.”

He huffed a little, still overcome by her kisses. He could barely breathe—let alone think of a witty rejoinder—with her nearly in his lap, her hands on him, the memory of her kisses still searing his lips.

“I’m glad I came back in time for Christmas.” She stared at him intently, speaking directly into his heart. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

A/N: this is a special fic written for @madwomanlexie and @jaimelannistre  Merry Christmas, my friends!!  Lexi, I told you (maybe a year ago? I’m horrible, sorry!) that I’d write a fic somewhat based on this post--and here it is! And Eena, you wanted a fic where they sit and talk. I don’t know if this suffices but I tried! Hope you both have wonderful, happy, merry Christmases. Love ya! <3

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #caryl fanfiction #caryl fanfic #christmas caryl #christmas caryl 2018 #my writing #personal #madwomanlexie #jaimelannistre