i jusr realized u have seth queer but r u ready for lt gabriel hrt
GHDJGH YEGHAGHD
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Thinkin bout the kid wanting to go west, wanting to pick up a security job, seedling instincts that BW allowed to flourish unabashedly to the skillsets he'd scraped together surviving as some street urchin
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Me: I just don't understand why there should be any love triangles if they are perfectly complement each other and should be happy all three together without suffering and feeling themselves alone!
My friend: Let me guess when we were children you've taken all your toys to the bed because weren't able to choose just one of them cause other toys would feel themselves abandoned?
Me: what do you mean?
Friend: just saying
Me, taking a pillow: what. do. you. mean? 😑😑😑🤾♀️
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hmph. i'm at that point in the creative cycle where i start a few fics but don't really know how to continue them by the time i write down what i have in my head
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Just Don't Say You Love Me
Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.
Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending.
W/C: 4,776.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester.
Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.
A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.
Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.
Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89
Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main
You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day.
Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”
You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again.
“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him.
“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”
“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.”
“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.
Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.
If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.
“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours.
“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will.
“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”
“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.
You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise?
They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.
“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later.
“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.
Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.
“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”
“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.
Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.”
“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?”
“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.”
“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”
Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”
“But if I can do more…”
“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”
“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”
“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”
“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”
“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”
It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension.
“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.”
He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.
“Good to know,” you say.
You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first.
“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both.
“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”
“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play.
“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.”
“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests.
Dean nods, “lead the way.”
When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.
“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks.
“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.”
He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.”
“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”
“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”
“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh.
“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.”
You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.
“That hurt?” he asks.
“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.
“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.
“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”
He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.”
The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.
“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.
“Anytime,” you smile.
You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.
He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”
Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial.
He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.
Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.
If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s.
You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.
You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.
“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.
You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.
He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him.
Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone.
“Hey, hi,” you answer.
“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?”
“Yeah, sure, okay.”
“You okay?”
No. Yes.
Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.”
“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.
“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.
“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine.
He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”
You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.”
He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.”
“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.”
Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”
Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”
“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”
“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.”
He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.”
“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”
He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”
“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?”
He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.
He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”
He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better.
Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.
The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair.
Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.
You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”
His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.”
“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”
“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.”
“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.
“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.
You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes.
“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard.
You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.”
“They seem like a good bunch.”
“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”
His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”
You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.
Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.
It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.
He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door.
“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“
“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”
He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”
You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”
“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.
Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”
The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.
Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you.
The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.
It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.
Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them.
The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.
He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.
You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you.
It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.
He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction.
Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls.
“Hey,” you greet brightly.
The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.”
“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”
He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?”
“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”
“I can wait.”
“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer.
He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.
“Okay, got it,” You laugh.
Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.
He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?”
“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own.
Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you.
“Maybe we should take this inside.”
“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.
He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.
“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.
“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you.
“How’s Sam?”
“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.”
“Good for them.”
You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards.
He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.
It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong.
You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”
He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.
You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you.
He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…”
“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.
“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”
You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.”
He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly.
“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”
Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away.
He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again.
“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”
He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return.
Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”
He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop.
He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.
“Dean, please,” you call from the door.
He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.
Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.
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Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main
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rick has to be the most possessive man you know.
you love him, but you also love daryl.
so that complicates things. it confuses you even more the number of times both of the men managed to have you bent over between them. being as jealous as rick is, it’s hard to believe that he could even think to share you. daryl’s his brother however, and you’re an individual, you can make your own decisions, rick guesses.
he can’t fault you for your obsession with his best friend. daryl’s a moral man, a provider, good looking enough that you can’t help but run your hands through his hair every chance you get. sometimes it takes rick some deep breaths and a moment of grounding to contain his jealousy. he loves you too much to not see red every time you’re swooning for someone who isn’t him. he even loves daryl but he can’t help it, not when it’s you.
so rick will never stand between you and daryl, not when you show no signs of ever dropping your infatuation with either man, especially not the sheriff. everyday when he comes home and plops down on the sofa after a day of his enduring constable’s duties, you’re on top of him in his lap. you don’t even have to be horny to make yourself at home with your head against his chest.
adoring his deep blue eyes, you straddle him every opportunity you get for the time to lock eyes, hands on his shoulders and his on your hips as you talk about your days. after a long day out in the community, it doesn’t take long for rick’s dick to tent in his jeans and you to feel a pressure against your clothed slit.
it isn’t uncommon for daryl or rick to come home and find you curled up with the other on the sofa. so rick has to endure the empathy exercise that is not dragging you from the sofa, tossing you over his shoulder and retiring to the bedroom for the night.
plush lips parted with only your breath coming through, you just melt into them whenever you have the opportunity. one look and you’re a puddle.
how can he not be jealous when you’re this fucking sweet?
he tries to extend daryl the same courtesy of enjoying you without the drama but rick is still getting used to the dynamic - more than the group is at this point.
the three of you were an unusual case but the group had gotten used to it after long enough. it only took a few weeks for them not to take a second glance at rick’s hands on your waist or how daryl’s crossbow could almost always be found somewhere around your sleeping situation.
that’s why it’s not awkward when carl knocks on the door in the mornings to hand judith off to his father and you and daryl are snoozing away in the background. you do your best to keep the pda to a minimum but the neighborhood doesn’t mind, so rick often doesn’t.
you think back to gabriel's church in georgia; you'd been hiding with the members of your group that had stayed while the others went out to do in the cannibals once and for all. your plan had went off without a hitch but that didn't mean that the event hadn't shaken you to the core.
one of the savages whose name you couldn't be bothered to remember had graphically described how specifically delicious your parts would be.
rick slashed his throat.
the entire series of events had rick on edge but even after the bloodbath, rick couldn’t stand to have you out of his sight.
“what’re you doin’ all the way over here?”
you tensed up.
“rick, i-,”
“why the fuck were you wandering off?”
you paused, recognizing the ire in rick’s voice when you hear it. you almost wanted to say nothing to avoid what you know will be a fight regardless but you know you’ll be accused of not speaking up.
“i didn’t mean to. i was stretching my legs. i’ll stay closer.”
“yeah, you will.”
the group’s known about how rick feels for you for a while.
it’s why you’re wrapped up in rick’s arms while you watch your newly assimilated group and the alexandrians trying their hands at the compound bows hanging around the makeshift archery range.
daryl’s leaving everyone in the dust of course.
“show off,” you whisper to rick who snickers in agreement.
this is nice; quaint and tranquil, just like the suburbs out to be. you never imagined ending up essentially married with two husbands and two children, shacked up in a gated community in a nearly million dollar house with the dead being a greater issue than a mortgage or getting the kids into college but you’re content with it.
you’d rather watch as daryl does trick shots - going as far to pull out the old splitting the arrow in half trick, which you almost whistle at. are they going to put an apple on the windmill next? you chuckle at the thought.
“when are you going up?” maggie calling your name snaps you out of your musings about daryl.
you scoff at her playfully. “you know i’m a bad shot, maggie.”
the redhead shrugs. “don’t think you’re as bad as you say you are. c’mon, even the kids are trying it.”
she’s not wrong - even sam is picking up a bow and giving it a try with some encouraging from ron.
“sure,” accepting the challenge, you untwist yourself from rick; not before indulging in one last full lipped kiss, a “good luck” on rick’s lips as you head to the picnic table to gear up.
you select a familiar looking compound bow and join daryl at the shooting line. he frowns when he catches sight of your arm.
“wait, baby, you’re not even wearin’ your armband right.”
you shrug. “it’s been a while.”
he’s in you; fixing the nearly sideways arm shield. muttering about you never taking safety too seriously. you’d beg to differ but you’re too bewitched by his striking blue eyes up close. the man slides the band in place before dropping his hand back to your rear, letting a hand fall down your cargos as he gently shoves you towards the cylinder full of arrows at the spray painted shooting line.
the delight is all over your face when you knock your arrow with no notes from the bowman observing your practice.
archery isn’t your strong suit but you’d come into contact with it at summer camps in your youth and in gym class. your form is fantastic - or at least it always starts that way. the arrow that flies flies flawlessly and suddenly you’re beaming at the cheers once you notice your arrow a mere inch from where a bullseye should be.
maggie’s awestruck face and rick’s grin are enough for you to start knocking another arrow, sending daryl a cocky look.
the problems start when you reload and tilt your bow upright. you’re drawing your arrow back like your boyfriend showed you all of those times before, but something makes the auburn haired man stop and correct your form, saying, “here,” softly and moving your left arm long.
he steadies a hand on your hip as he helps to steady your aim. despite being momentarily tucked in daryl’s steel embrace, you feel eyes boring into it.
rick is striding over, not caring about glenn approaching the other end of the shooting line to give it a go or even your almost perfect bullseye.
“i think you would’ve gotten that one is daryl would’ve given you some space.”
an eye roll is sneaking out of daryl and rick still has his arms crossed. you shake your head to signify that it’s all a misunderstanding. “rick, i’m shit at archery because i’m shit at archery - not because daryl has his hands on me.”
rick grunts. “that’s not what i saw.”
you smile sweetly at the constable. “he’s just helping me learn to shoot, babe.”
“yeah, let her learn. might come a day when we’re out of bullets,” daryl backs you up, citing an obvious concern now that scavenging was growing riskier and riskier.
“might come a day when you stop drooling over every touch.” rick jabs.
an eyebrow shoots up. “you don’t seem to have a problem with me drooling over you.” you counter. “just wait until later. you’ll be changing your tune about all of this,” you gesture to daryl.
rick’s eyes are alight with something stronger than irritation, more personal than just being annoyed. he looks like he almost wants to bend you over his lap and you’re sure he’s about to say something just as embarrassing until a voice interrupts his thought before it comes out.
you and daryl seize your getaway when rick is summoned up onto deanna’s porch to try some of her famous peanut butter buckeyes. “proudly from ohio,” she’d proclaimed of the recipe.
midwestern sweets are the perfect cover for you and your archer to stowaway in the barn, somewhere it would take rick a long time to look. daryl has you next to him on a hay bale in an empty horse stall before you can even count how many horses are actually around. not that it matters with the stall dividers giving you more than enough cover.
the finger screwing you open has you screaming your face with pleasure. this is what you’d been wanting rick to do at the archery range. you would’ve done whatever he said for him to whisk you away and take care of that specific need right there and then.
“real quick? just to hold you over until later?” he’s massaging your worked up insides like he’s aware of every tension that’s been brewing in you all day long.
“dare’,” your ability to keep it together is slipping.
“you want me to fill you up with a finger now, baby?” daryl toys, middle finger joining his pointer in your pulsing cunt.
you say everything but no when daryl embarks between your thighs.
deanna’s buckeyes were delicious.
not as great as his mom’s peach cobbler but enough of a sign that this place is where the group should lay down there roots. where you three should put down your roots.
rick doesn’t want to be the overbearing boyfriend, not when you and daryl are on the other end of it. the idea of sharing you is still just so foreign. in bed, it mostly goes off without a hitch but during the daytime is another story.
jealousy manifests in all kinds of inappropriate ways - like spoiling your moment with daryl after you shot so well, rusty as you were not having picked up a bow in god knows how long. rick wants to apologize. the thought’s on his mind but the way his body moves, searching for you and his friend, he’s more of a predator than a man. moved almost as if by the primal need to be close to you. to know where you are.
so when he finally finds and daryl in the stable, he thinks his head might explode.
“the fuck are you two doin’ in this stall?”
your climax is put on pause as daryl freezes his tongue over your clit. despite your frivolous wrenching of his auburn waves, your efforts to at least enjoy a release before rick starts on his lecture prove to be futile. daryl’s not just abandoning ship but pulling up your underwear.
“and the fuck are you whimperin’ about?”
you stop; a deer in the headlights. “what?” you mumble through swollen lips.
“move the fuck over, daryl,” before you know it, rick is doing the unexpected and taking your lover’s spot sucking your clit.
rick doesn’t give you anytime at all to mentally or physically adjust to him just jumping in and slurping you up.
the lack of warning has you coming on his tongue and daryl’s eyes widening. none of you can be surprised by the fact that rick isn’t stopping. you’re fine with that; you can’t face his “i told you so” looks right now anyways.
rick rarely gets to eat you out as often as he wants to. usually it’s daryl torturing your sensitive cunt without abandon. the scene before you: rick, with a tongue treating you like the last popsicle in the hell, tongue fucking you even as you grip as his hair.
“rick,” you say starry eyed.
“he’s busy, baby,” daryl explains and settles into the spot next to you against the hay bale.
“rick, rick!” you’re stirring up straw around you as rick adds a finger to his artful invasion of your pussy. the tongue isn’t enough, no, he needs to penetrate you with a finger as well. it doesn’t matter that his nose is shiny with your slick or that you’re begging for a break. you’re gonna overload all over his face like the good little slut he knows you are for him.
at least that’s what he tells you after he holds you down and tag teams you with daryl to incur a whirlwind of pleasure from your sensitive pebbled flesh to your slippery entrance. your kicking legs don’t phase him, much less than tsunami of pleasure that washes over you and coats his mouth.
the intense breakdown from inside your core has your mind completely wiped. you’re so fucked out, you’re begging for rick to do the dirtiest things to you on this hay strewn floor.
“you need me to smack your pussy baby?”
“yes, rick!”
the light sting that flushes your cunt has you gasping into daryl’s mouth when he leans over to lock puffy lips with you. another swat or two is more than enough to have you even wetter than you were when rick interrupted you and daryl. the stretch you’re expecting comes more as a squelch for the first few inches.
rick has gotten used to you over time but as daryl props you up on his lap, you grit your teeth. the older man is hitting that marianna trench deep angle with his horsecock fitting for the stable that’s on the verge of battering your cervix.
kudos to daryl, you think. how supportive of your fucking antics. you know why that is.
daryl will let rick go as far as he does because he knows it’ll end up with the three of you right here. right on top of each other, gliding into position wordlessly. the tent in his pants has been freed and by the way he’s palming himself, you can tell he’s not saving that thing for your mouth.
the massive cock splitting you up and imprinting some kind of shape, begins to pulse. you’re ready to come all over him when you feel an intrusion at your sopping hole.
“what the-,”
“relax, it’s a finger.”
“you’re cutting in here already?”
daryl raises an eyebrow at his brother. “you’re tellin’ me that you don’t wanna double stuff her?”
you clench around rick at the younger man’s words.
rick laughs, wrapping his arms around you before starting to roll over, “well, when you put it that way.”
and he sends his tongue down your throat as soon as the second dexterous finger struggles inside of you. the pressure ebbs and flows from pain to pleasure. regardless, the pain is dull enough that the hold rick’s maintaining on your sides is enough to distract you.
you’re draped on top of rick, snug against him but he still starts to run his cocky mouth.
“i thought the bigger dude’s supposed to be on top. isn’t that what that magazine you guys found said?”
daryl raises a tawny eyebrow, not bothering to slow the pace of his fingers. “you’re really gonna brag about your dick right now?”
rick pistons his hips upwards, squeezing a cry out of you and proving his point.
“you’re an asshole,” you’re muttering as you endure another pointed thrust.
rick gets his recompense when daryl finally feeds his own impressive cock, centimeter by centimeter at first - eyeballing it and checking in on you and rick as you both start to squirm.
daryl’s struggling to not give it one heroic thrust and dive balls deep but he knows that would probably tear you in two. theres no way you can handle anything other than slow right now. rick is the same with a matching flustered expression. he accepts your hand when you grasp his much larger palm in yours.
the once cocky constable is now absolutely being shut up by your all encompassing, air tight walls and daryl’s cock edging you two as he edges further inside of you.
daryl’s fingers were pipe cleaners in comparison to his meaty cock cramming into you as if you weren’t meant for only one. it doesn’t matter though. no one would hear you complaining. this isn’t the first one they’ve stretched you on both of their cocks and it won’t be the last - not if you have anything to do with it.
once the man above you is a bit more firmly entrapped in your tight warmth, you start to move your hips back. rick is smirking beneath you when daryl warns you with a spank not to squirm too much - not if you want both of them to come in you. the conditions have you settling your hips and clinging onto rick, stilling with the close contact as daryl sandwiches you into him.
rick has no reason to complain, not with the sunlight coming through just the right panes of the barn’s skylights and painting your face and your hair a delicious shade of golden hour. daryl’s disposition is made only more chiseled and picturesque with the waning daylight.
neither of them are lasting long with the way the day’s gone.
you don’t make it a piece of cake holding on regardless. wound up since rick first pulled you into his arms back at the range, you have no patience for the men overfilling your walls. your hips can’t wait to thrash and jerk just like daryl’s. the archer is rasping in your ear to calm down but with the blush bringing, brain fogging pressure that two cocks in your entrance brings, you barely listen.
your constable comes first of course. he’s the one that sets off the real showstopper of a release that wrings a cry so loud out of you that one of the horses sighs in the background.
the warmth of his come fills you from his position buried deep in your pussy. it’s slipping out of you with each erratic propel of daryl into you, fucking the two of you straight through your orgasms.
come floods from your womb and out of your entrance, spilling down your thighs once daryl finally pulls out. he whistles and gestures for rick to check it out but the man is too worn out to look between your sticky thighs. instead, you’re flush against his chest and he’s calling daryl down with the two of you.
tangled together in the hay, you can’t think of a better way to spend this idyllic day.
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just read ‘working it out’ and to say the least it was amazinggg. a pt 2 where they get to finish what they started without the interruption of officer cockblock would be equally amazinggg ! keep up the good work, can’t wait to read more ! ❤️
Hi again, lovely reader! ♡ You’re so sweet and I appreciate you so much!! You and @murdadixon with the sheriff/officer cockblock is still sooo silly and funny, you made me laugh!! Anyway here’s what I got for you, let me know if you like it!
For any new readers, even though I use a line from the previous work and reference it a few times, this can still be read on its own I think, but if you’d like to read that one (Working It Out) there it is!
This includes smut of course— a bit softer than the first part, a relationship confirmation, and Daryl and the reader being totally in love with each other even if they don’t say it; such cuties.
Two weeks have passed. Another fourteen days of walking, and walking, and walking. Eating plants and berries deemed as safe, and those where few and far between. Not to mention, the amount that each of you shared evenly when you found something could be counted on your fingers— it was practically nothing.
You guys needed to find a cabin again, or get back to the towns, maybe find a house or supermarket or drugstore. You were so deep in the wilderness.
That car Rick and Michonne found didn’t take you any far. All of you couldn’t fit in it, anyway. Each of you took turns riding and sitting in it, trying to find a new place to camp in. You did this for six days until the car gave out.
Despite the lush greenery that surrounded you, it was needless to say that this had been a more than bleak half of a month.
Daryl brought the color back to you, just a little at least. He would always opt to stand and walk closer to you and the group as you all continued your trek; and he’d even offer you a little of his food sometimes, although you always refused— “we all need to stay alive right now,” you’d whisper, “but you’re sweet.” You couldn’t tell if it made him smile or blush or not, but part part of you wondered; he didn’t look you in the eye, and that usually meant there was something there he didn’t want you to see. And there was always the way you would feel his hand on your back at times, pushing you forward when the endless walking slowed you down to exhaustion. He always gently guided you to keep moving.
His silent kindness was so tender, so needed.
But he was still quiet, and in some ways, you couldn’t even blame him. It’s just who he is; and it’s sort of who you all were becoming right now. There was nothing to talk about unless it had to do with food, a plan to find shelter, or killing walkers that got in the way. And with all of you together all the time, there really wasn’t a moment to talk about the state of your relationship, but your mind kept rewinding and turning over with his previous words, I’ll kiss you like this anywhere… Any way you want. You longed for the day that this would be true. If these words were food, they were the only thing sustaining you; it was the only thing good to think about at all.
A few more days had past until you finally caught a break. You saw Rick starting to run as he shouted Carl’s name. He was running ahead of him, “I think I see something!” Carl told the group.
It was a barn. Completely desolate, the wooden walls almost looked unstable, but there was a roof. It was a place to sleep. At least for the night.
“Thank God.” Gabriel’s exhale matched the whirling wind as he said it, it was a true release; a relief. Some may not have had the same beliefs as him or thought the barn was anything that special, but no one disagreed. The barn door had a latch and a couple of blankets someone must had left. As little as it was, it was something to be just the littlest bit thankful for after sleeping on the dirt with nothing for what felt like ages.
As night rolled in, you were lucky enough to get a corner spot. It was one of the ones that was closest to the door. You had taken care of Judith during the day, so you had sat there most of the time trying to keep her quiet and entertaining her. You even got to take a nap when she did. She was so warm, it was nice. You almost felt sad when Rick relieved you of her, but because of it you offered to take first watch, knowing you were more rested than the others.
Your stuff was still in place, but you moved closer to the door, using the slit between the door and the rest of the wall as a peephole to look through when you remembered or when you heard any strange.
Daryl moved himself to your spot. The barn was dark, but you could tell it was him based on how he walked. He took his steps with the sway of his hips, his feet heavy as they tapped on the ground when he didn’t care if he was seen or not, different from when he hunts.
He put his stuff down in the corner with yours and right when you thought he was probably going to lay down himself, he comes up to you.
“Daryl, sleep.” It was a soft demand.
“Can’t.” He said simply, moving closer to the door to sit with you. He was so close that your arms and knees touched. You took the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder even if it wasn’t an invitation. He doesn’t protest. His head lightly rests on yours actually.
“It’s so cold,” you whisper, taking the sheet off your legs, it was so thin, it did nothing, and the cracks between the old barn’s wooden panels didn’t help either, the wind seeping through much stronger as the night went on.
Daryl rubbed his hands on your lower leg— the calf, heating it up until one of his hands rests on your knee, the action made you laugh lightly. It was a kind attempt. Then, his hand started lowering to your inner thigh. It was just to the middle of it. It didn’t have to be anything more if you didn’t want it to be, it could have just been a gentle hand, trying to warm you up, though you couldn’t help but to let yourself close the gap between your legs; allowing him to heat you in a different way. Slowly, he pushed his hand further down.
Once he reached your center he turned his palm inward, his fingers pressing into you over your jeans. You rocked up to him, closing your eyes, turning you head away from him as your breathed in sharply. You were quiet, other than your exhales that came out of your nose, but you tried for them to sound as small and short as you could.
One of your knees caved inward to build upon the pressure, trying to lock his hand in further. He dipped his hand into your pants without even unbuttoning them, stretching the denim to fit his thick fingers beneath. He started to slide his middle finger through your wetness until it found your hole and he slide right in, circling while his palm rubbed against you on top. It made you reach out for his shoulder tightly.
“Daryl,” your whisper was piercing as you gasped. “Can we go outside?”
He nodded to you, though you could only see it slightly through the darkness of the barn. You eyes widened as he unexpectedly picked you up, it was a wordless and soundless motion. He opened the latch of the barn, taking you to the outer back side, then gently placing you on feet.
Your eyes matched the stars of the sky. Was this finally going to happen? Everyone was asleep, or so it seemed. No one else was around…
The realization made you notice how big he was in that moment: his broad shoulders and arms, his hands, his bulge… it makes you look back up at his face again right when you reach it. You stand there for a moment, you eyes fixed on him, the limitless sensation of right now overwhelming you until— instinct kicks in, your actions, almost animalistic. You were so used to respecting this blurred-line-friendship you didn’t know what he would think to see you so eager, so desperate again, but your shirt and bra and pants come off immediately. You wanted him. So bad.
If you all died tonight it was your fault. You were doing a horrible job at keeping watch, but your mind was absolutely elsewhere that you didn’t even think of it.
You look up at him as you continue and notice he is repeating your actions at the same force, it makes you smile excitedly, it was comforting as much as it was so, so dirty. Here you were, starting to have sex outside… again. Was this you? Maybe for Daryl. No, definitely for Daryl.
You instantly put your hands on his chest and abdomen when he was done undressing and you kiss him, it’s just in the way you’ve always wanted to, the way you’ve dreamed about.
His hands goes to your waist as you do so and one of them travels farther to your ass, pressing on it as he pushes you up to his height. Your hands go over his shoulder and you’re on your toes to help.
He gently pushes you toward the wall and you slide down on it, you could get splinters but you’re not thinking, you don’t care. There is only him right now, there is only finally getting to touch him right now.
You lay yourself on the ground and he goes above you. Neither of you even think about him touching you more to get you more wet as you see him hardened, as you see him throbbing. It makes you throb. It makes you whine.
His actions say don’t worry, as he kisses your chest between your breast once before he slowly pushes into you, watching himself go in. Enjoying the way it looks as he bottoms out until he’s hovering over you, closer now. He kisses you quickly on the lips before starting to thrust and moving in, and out, and in, in, in. “Mmmm.”
Then he exhales, a breathy sigh, and you do to. So good, you think, “So good” you sigh out. “Thank you.” You stroke his hair.
“It feels really good,” he agrees. You’ve never seen him be so soft, it makes you giggle. You like this side of him.
You hand travels from his hair, to his neck and down to his back. Your other hand comes to his back to match and your knees move forward around him as well. You are light with your touches, you’ve yet to touch his back almost at all before, especially not like this.
“I want to make you come,” he says lowly, it’s almost comical how genuine and sincere he means it, but he does. His voice soft despite its rasp.
“You can,” you reassure; you’re so sure, in fact. You’ve wanted this forever.
He starts to speed up, but it’s more of a deep and full explosion of movements than it is a hard and fast one. You feel it everywhere, it feels like this perfect balance between sex for lust and sex for showing his love. Your moan sounds beautiful, it sounds like finally. He loves it.
His head goes into your neck and both your mouths are open, you’re both panting, you’re both smiling, you’re both happy. So happy and feelings so good that you want it to last forever.
Your eyes open and you see the stars again. They match the stars in your eyes, you can’t tell which are real and which are fake or if you’re seeing anything that’s real at all right now. You don’t even know if this is a hunger ridden hallucination as you see a star shoot across the sky and feel it right at the bottom of your stomach as you both come undone. It’s the first time you’ve felt complete.
He colapses onto you now, you feel all his weight and you don’t care. His forehead is on yours and you hold the sides of his face. It feels infinite.
You don’t know how much or how little time passes until you hear, “So, that’s you keepin’ watch, kid?” The sound make Daryl’s head go up and your hands go straight to your head. Why is it always the leader of your group to find you like this?
“Why you always watching?” Daryl finds your shirt and puts it over your head again before he tries to cover himself up.
“Just came out to use the bathroom, Daryl.”
As Rick started walking to a tree, his smirk is still firmly placed he says, “I’m sure you two tired yourselves out, I’ll take watch for now.” He looked back, knowing you were clothed now, smiling directly at you, “Goodnight.” The look was almost actually sincere. If he did see anything, maybe he knows it wasn’t what he saw last time… at least not entirely.
As you see his body move out of sight, Daryl turns to you, “You need to stop gettin’ embarrassed by him.” He finishes putting on the rest of his clothes, leaving his vest on the ground, and he brings you closer to him, leaning you two against the barn wall. You nod you head, acknowledging his words and his arms go around your shoulder and you melted into it. The cold air finally getting to you again as the heat of the moment passes and your flushed face starts to fade.
You look up at him from his shoulder, “Daryl?”
“Yeah,” he saw your mouth slightly open, the words were on your tongue and he knew it, but you weren’t speaking. “Say it.”
“Are we… are we an us?” You were still too scared to use the words you truly wanted, you opted for being as vaguely specific or specifically vague as possible, “Am I… Am I- your- person.”
He looked at your eyes that were below his head, “I think you have been. All this time.” You noticed his lips twitching into a smile, but trying to keep them down, to keep them neutral. It’s hard, you make him happy even when he doesn’t want to show it. Even though it’s hard for him to show it to other people. Even though he’s terrified of how vulnerable you make him.
“I just don’t want to have to guess.”
“Well then you don’t gotta anymore… I’ll make sure you don’t have to. We’re together,” he shrugs, “We’ve always been.”
He kisses you now, fully this time, holding your cheek as he does so. It’s the light and soft way, but also the deep way; it was both the ‘anywhere’ and ‘any way you want’ way. You hold his face in return, accepting his words, accepting it all. If anyone else where to come out they would see that truly your lips weren’t the ones in action, but your two hearts drumming into each other, wordlessly saying everything: I’m yours and you’re mine. It’s always been like this.
that unconfirmed possible voyager!rick(???) surprise SHAWTYY jfdjfj anyway, thank you for reading!!!!! ♡ ♡ ♡
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In The Dog Days | Mature | 22,300 words
Author: @hectatess
Artist: @reverieofforgotten
One day deputy sheriff Castiel Novak is out on his usual run, when a guy comes up to join him. They hit it off, and before the day really starts, he has a new running buddy called Sam.
Fast forward a few months, and Sam comes running into the office, all upset because his brother is missing! To top off this eventful day, Castiel finds a dog without a collar.
Link to Fic | Link to Art
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Bg Sam/Gabriel, Bg Jody/Donna
Warnings: No Archive warnings apply
Tags: Canon Related, shifter curse, Civilian Winchesters, Witchcraft, Mentions of abuse and child trafficking (Magda Jack Claire), Mutual Pining, dog!Dean, Cop!Castiel, Happy Ending, Even for Lucky, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Gabriel & Dean Winchester Friendship
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Put Your Head on My Shoulder…
Daryl Dixon • They/Them Pronouns • Some nights you need your other half to help you get through it. Other times he knows to find you, when you really need it without even asking. • ANGST/SFW • TW: PTSD
Requested by: Anon
“You’ve seen Y/N?” Daryl asks Rick after returning from a run with Aaron. The retired sheriff gave him a confused look before shaking his head.
“Haven’t seen them all day. You sure they didn’t leave with the group last night to the Kingdom?”
“‘M sure. They drew the short straw in watching Negan this morning and couldn’t go. Thought you would’ve seen’em during the shift change”
“Well I’ll keep an eye out for yea” Rick pats his shoulder on his way back to his house.
Daryl sighs taking his findings to the pantry before making his way to his place. He spotted Y/N’s shoes on the porch beside their gear as he did the same for their sake.
________
“We have knives lying around the house. It’s the least we could do given…our main threat is behind bars..” Y/N kept their voice low thinking about how the Saviors war ended and remembering Maggie screaming on the field.
Daryl watches their face distort into discomfort from their own thoughts as he picked himself up from the couch bringing them into his embrace.
“Like leaving your shoes at the door huh? I can do that” Daryl reassures rubbing circles on their back until he knew they were relaxing in his embrace. “Hope yea know one of’em is gonna be under the mattress”
“Works for me”
________
The house was quiet but not empty.
Daryl set down a few things he brought from the pantry. Thinking he could make something later with the rabbit he caught. But there was more important matters and that was finding his partner.
Checking the usual spots they’re in…
The living room where he’d usually find parts to an arrow, knowing Y/N makes his and extras to be shipped to other communities.
The garden that Daryl didn’t want in the first place but given how happy it makes Y/N, he’ll suffer kneeling in the dirt whenever they need him to
The basement, where they first stayed in when the house had more people. From the time they first arrived at Alexandria.
The masters where they moved into once the Saviors war was over, he’d usually find them asleep or reading one of their favorite books for the millionth time The Lord of the Rings. But given that’s an obvious spot. He wouldn’t find them there.
Daryl checked the empty rooms before coming to the conclusion that they aren’t there. It normally doesn’t take long to find Y/N…unless they needed a second alone. But he’s a tracker. He’ll find them.
“Hey Daryl mind—-“
“Lookin’ for somebody” Daryl interrupts Gabriel as he shrugged it off and let him do what he was doing.
The chapel, were they religious? Can’t remember the last time they’ve been in there.
“Daryl. Did you get our findings in the pantry?” Aaron joins Daryl in the main road walking beside him.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Did you take a few things?”
“Just what I claimed before we came back. The rabbit”
“Right. Think we can go on another hunt soon? Maybe rope in Y/N?”
“Yea see them?” Daryl thought asking another would give him more of an idea besides picking other spots they could be in.
“Not since we left. But I did hear Siddiq bring them up when I took Gracie for a checkup one we got ba—“
“Thanks Aaron, I’ve gotta go” Daryl cuts him off to head toward the infirmary leaving Aaron a bit confused.
“Oh okay?” He watches the archer go before going to Rosita’s to pick up Gracie.
The infirmary. They could be hurt. Negan could’ve hurt them.
Wait. Negan.
Daryl quickly ignored the infirmary and entered the cell that Morgan had made for a purpose that Rick is enforcing with Negan.
The second the ex-leader to the saviors spotted the archer enter the building, he immediately stood from the cot and went toward the wall thinking that would get him away from Daryl. But the man has a key. Just in case.
“Y/N was your guard earlier. Anything happen?”
“Shouldn’t you fucking ask them?” Negan snaps watching Daryl get closer to the cell as he held his hands forward in a stopping motion. “Nah alright. Earlier they left early from the stupid confessional shit I had to do. I didn’t do anything but argue with the fucking priest.”
Daryl heard the last bit and knew what triggered them to disappear from everyone else’s line of sight. But he pressed.
“About what?”
“Why do you—-“
“Answer or I’ll kick you in the balls again” Daryl threats watching the man cover himself while he sat back down.
“These confessions get heated. Cuz Gabriel wants to hear why I did it. What motivated me to kill a fuckton of people and steal from the innocent. But I dodge every question and today got annoying. Real fucking annoying that hell…part of it might have to do with your partner being there”
————
“Come on Gabe. Ask me a different question”
“The purpose of these questions is to get you to confess. Let go.”
“Yeah? And where with that fucking get me?” Negan slams against the bars seeing no reaction from Gabriel but a flinch from Y/N watching from the door to the basement. “Seriously. Y’all think I’m the only one to kill to get my way through the world? I’ve done a whole lot more…like take advantage of people…their weaknesses…use them against themselves and watch them crumble beneath my foot” he yells this time making Gabriel rise to his feet to shove him away from the bars as Y/N held their chest a second glaring at the man behind the bars.
“Negan. Something positive may come your way if you just tell us why”
“Haven’t I already told yea when we both were about to die to a herd?”
“Not the whole story” Gabriel frowns returning to his seat as Negan brought himself back to the front staring directly at Y/N watching them tense when the eye contact was met.
“Yea think just cuz you’re on the other side of the bars that you haven’t done anything as bad as I?”
Gabriel noticed his attention was on Y/N as he did his best to divert. “Negan. We’ve all done bad.”
“Yeah yeah. And we turn to Jesus Christ as our lord and savior to forgive us for our sins. Hell the man died for us but the kicker? We keep on sinning…like what’s his name? Winger? The abuser that managed to live until the laws didn’t matter no more…doing my bidding until the new guy put a bullet between his eyes for the trembling individual behind’em?”
Y/N took a deep breath knowing Negan is talking about their ex. The ex that broken a rib or two and managed to get them to admit to paramedics that it was their fault. The same one that would yell at them for getting the wrong kind of milk or smiling whenever anybody else smile toward their direction. The same one that was assigned to hurt them when Negan decided to take both them and Daryl. The same…one that Daryl didn’t hesitate to take out when they were escaping. Only thing Negan got wrong was the bullet. Winger died to Daryl’s hand, yes. But literally.
“Leave them alone Negan.” Gabriel’s voice brought Y/N back to reality, making them leave after grounding a calming thought. Even if that was the promise of Daryl being back later.
________
But even that thought couldn’t stick for long.
As the door opened to the roof of the windmill, Y/N lifted their head to the sound finding Daryl coming into view. He didn’t say anything. He got himself in the room with them, shutting the door, setting his crossbow down before bringing himself to sit beside them. Bringing himself close to them but also close enough to lean against the wall.
Y/N kept their attention on him for every second he’s been there watching him get comfortable. They straighten up a bit rubbing the rest of the tears away for that second, waiting for something.
Something Daryl instantly knew as he opened his arm for Y/N to instantly slot themselves in place. Resting their head against his shoulder feeling his arm wrap them up.
“Sorry I took so long” He whispers kissing the top of their head as Y/N couldn’t hold it in any much longer feeling the tears return.
“You’re here now…”
“Yeah…and I ain’t going anywhere” Daryl reassures bringing Y/N closer squeezing them slightly in his embrace. “I’m always gonna be here” he whispers listening to their cries start to slow and their body relax finally after the day they had.
But they weren’t moving any time soon and Daryl wasn’t leaving either.
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MY MAN CRUSH MONDAY IS...TIMOTHY OLYPHANT
SPOOKY SEASON EDITION
FULL NAME: Timothy David Olyphant
DATE OF BIRTH: May 20, 1968
PLACE OF BIRTH: Honolulu, Hawaii
AGE: 55
SIGN: Taurus
BEST KNOWN FOR: Portraying Rickey Altieri in the slasher film Scream 2; Todd Gaines in the crime comedy Go; Dennis in the romantic comedy-drama The Broken Hearts Club; Detective Drycoff in Gone in 60 Seconds; Thomas Gabriel in Live Free or Die Hard; Sheriff Seth Bullock in Deadwood; Raylan Givens in Justified and Justified: City Primeval; Joel Hammon in Santa Clarita Diet; and Dick "Leafy" Wickware in Fargo.
HEIGHT: 6 feet tall
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The convergence of signs is off the charts right now.
And while we didn't see Beth, we actually did get off-screen proof of her coming.
As Father Gabriel said (when we thought we were watching Beth's funeral, but we weren't)
2 Corinthians 4.18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen (off-screen), since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
Where's Beth?
She's with Gabriel, the archangel who heralds the coming of Christ (and the Antichrist)
Read more on that here
Gabriel was front and center just before and after Beth died, so it's a good sign that Seth and his character are heavily promoted right now.
And after the coming of Christ, what comes next?
Beth with Daryl.
Enter the Lydia (Daryl) and Beth panel in the Netherlands. XX (chromosomes) 10.10.
We all saw the Daryl/Beth parallels with Lydia and Henry, and this is an unseen way of saying we are getting a repeat of that Whisperers story but with Daryl and Beth.
We all know the Whisperers were connected to the episode Morning Star 🌟 so the lineup of these panels was not random.
Netherlands is known for their windmills, which is a hint to the Moulin Rouge of France and romance between Beth and Daryl.
The windmill symbolism also fulfills the X coda, + car, and cross symbolism we see around Beth.
I've mentioned before how the Alexandria windmill became a representation of the Moulin Rouge during season 11 with Leah and the Meridians, and the tower mentioned in that episode was a play on the Eiffel tower.
You can read about that here
The host at this panel asks Emily and Cassady if they went to the red light district while visiting the Netherlands. Hinting at the Moulin Rouge and Daryl and Beth doing the deed. 🫣☺️🤭
Lydia and Beth, together like this, are a shadow of Daryl and Beth past and future.
Beginning to end.
So, no, we didn't get Beth on resurrection Sunday, but actually, we did get Beth on resurrection Sunday when you look at what is unseen or off-screen.
Thanks to everyone who shared the different panel videos. They are amazing. 👏 🤩
We got a whole lot more on and off-screen hints pointing to her imminent return, and I'll try to work through some of the biggest clues now.
It's still the season of her return, and that hasn't changed and the biblical links pointing to that are numerous.
All the signs I've talked about, including the A eclipse, are still at play, and here's why.
We are currently in a crossover time between episode A 416 and episode 501, "No sanctuary" of Terminus.
The A = beginning and Terminus = end
Jesus is Alpha and Omega, beginning to end, and that's why Rick and Beth's story are mirror images of each other.
They are telling the same story beginning to end for one, and end to beginning for the other.
We have just seen Rick as Jesus getting a resurrection and reunion with family, which is linked to the second coming of Christ.
So we should see practically the same mirror story with Beth as Jesus.
The episode A is the marker for the switching over of the sheriffs hat from Rick to Beth.
The A eclipse is a marker for that switch, too.
Consider this break between TOWL and The book of Carol as the middle point of infinity ♾️ or A.
One of the other biblical signs of the coming of Christ is that there will be signs in the sun, moon, and stars 🌟
Luke talks about this in Luke 21.25-36
“There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken.
We already have the star Sirius symbolism used to depict Christ (Beth) return, and the eclipse that we saw Leah and Daryl look at was a clue to look up to the sun and moon also.
If you think about the story-line from the episodes A 416 (Alpha) with the sheriffs hat, all the way to the Terminus (Omega end) in 501.
Those two episodes were split over two seasons, and so is this Sheriffs hat "A" and the Jesus, beginning to end switch.
TOWL ♾️The Book of Carol
A
The flow of the story is moving in infinity ♾️ this is hard to explain, but basically Rick is on one side of the side of the story, moving towards the A sheriffs hat moment to take it off and give to Beth, and Beth is on the other (unseen) side of the story moving towards the sheriffs hat A switch.
Each side of episode "A" or the A eclipse, we will get a different Sheriff wearing the hat and a resurrection.
Rick ♾️ Beth
This means the Easter resurrection symbolism is still at play for Beth, too, even if it's further into the year. Her return/resurrection will coincidence with the dog days of summer ☀️ and Sirius rising.
Rick at the CRM blew it up like (The book of Carol blew) up Terminus.
The CRM are all about "us first, always" like the people at Terminus were, and when Rick destroyed it, the CRM became No Sanctuary.
The Terminus people were cannibals (eat their own) a similar theme to the CRM who kill their own.
That's why we got so much Terminus symbolism in the final, including railway tracks.
All roads lead to Terminus, and it was after Terminus Carol and Daryl find a clue to Beth.
Beth's story will be a combination of all the symbolism that we see with Rick, but add in the CDC symbolism (also blows up in a similar manner) with a bigger focus on experiments and cures.
It will circle back to season 1 and the choice between going to the CDC or Fort Benning (real and fake cure), as mentioned in season 1 by Rick and Shane.
Conversely, for Rick we see a flashback in episode A416 of Rick on the other end of the Terminus (CRM) story.
In this flashback, Rick hangs up the sheriffs hat (law enforcement/CRM) and becomes a farmer.
Which seemingly is what Rick will now do, having hung up his CRM law enforcement hat and arrived at the Commonwealth.
Now that he's home with his family, he's repeating the time at the prison where he started farming, and it's then we got hints at a cure/fake cure story beginning and working backwards to the CDC.
I've talked about that here if you want to read more.
I went back and started to watch episode A again and wanted to mention this car that drove into the prison at the very beginning of the episode "A".
Zack's Ram charger with no number plate.
It's a twin to this car...
I mentioned how the yellow Nissan points to the Jewish New Year and the A eclipse here and here
The Rams Horns were seen around Rick and Beth and are linked to the angel Gabrielle as well, but they definitely reminded me of an Infinity symbol, which is interesting because the brand Nissan also has a car brand called Infiniti ♾️
The fact that it's Zack's car (old boyfriend) ties it to Beth and Daryl and the damn romance novel to come back around.
What happens during an eclipse? The moon 🌙 blocks out the sun 🌞
And these two book end cars being black and yellow depict the "A" eclipse of the sun being blocked by the moon, and also the switching of the sheriffs hats at A.
Solar eclipses also make a golden ring 💍
This speaks to the marriage/ring symbolism we have seen with Rick and Michonne, and why now the CRM has changed its logo to one ring as seen on the on the helicopters at the end of the episode. 🚁
We will see this with Beth and Daryl too.
It's linked biblically to the bride of Christ (Christ's followers) and his return.
Revelation 19.7
Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready;
When Christ returns, there is a wedding between the bride of Christ and his followers. It's symbolic of an unbreakable bond.
So, the return of Christ is also linked to marriage.
We see Rick and Michonne in a helicopter 🚁 (which represents being in heaven or from "above"). While the focus on the wedding ring.
While we see this, we hear the talk of reform and a new age (Millennium) to begin.
To end it all, we see this beautiful depiction of Christ returning to earth from the helicopter 🚁 of heaven with his bride. 👰♀
And they combine that with the symbolism of believers who knew he'd return.
The dad comment is a play on this verse...
John 1.12
Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God
A few extra off-screen signs of Beth's return...
The panel content gave us more hints.
Firstly, one huge theory circulating back in season 4-5 as to where Beth got taken in Alone was that she was with Father Gabriel. Emily being with Seth at the panel is another sign of her return. ✅️
Secondly, another big theory was that she would bring a cure. Which Emily brings up in her panel with Seth ✅️
Thirdly, Emily mentions Beth becoming a leader. Wearing the Sheriffs hat ✅️
Lastly, a big part of the conversation in season 4 and 5 was the talk of Emily looking like Luna Lovegood. Which Emily brings up in the panels also. ✅️
🇫🇷 ❤️🚁💍♾️💍🚁❤️🇫🇷
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One might think a deputy sheriff officer crushing hard on and attempting to court a girl barely outside her teen years was an act of grooming. But they never play it that way. You never see Nicole harassing Waverly. You just see her watching her from across the room or whatever. She keeps at arms length from her until Waverly is the one to decide where she wants the relationship to go and practically does assault her. Or at least, she would have if Nicole wasn’t waiting for it.
But I really like how they show that despite Nicole being an older woman, an officer of the law at that, you only ever really see Waverly making the moves on her until Waverly is expecting reciprocation from her. Only then does Nicole make her own moves on her.
It’s not just the notion of consent that’s really well shown and communicated between them. It’s also the notions of respect and patience. So despite them getting together pretty quickly in the show, there is somewhat a sort of slow-burnishness to their romantic/sexual WLW representation because nothing gets all that heavy with them until they both want it.
And if anything, it really does show you what kind of person Nicole is with letting Waverly set their pace. When Waverly says “fast”, Nicole accompanies her and does her best to satisfy her wants and needs
I really love that dynamic between them. It is so Xena and Gabrielle early days. So experienced woman lover and baby gay vibes. But both Xena and Nicole show the level of care that they should always take with this because it would be a completely different story if either Xena or Nicole drove the relationship they have.
Nicole introduces herself and makes it known that she’s interested. But after that - nothing but space. It’s not until Waverly closes that space does she act.
That’s how you do positive old/young romances in TV.
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British actor Julian Sands, known for his work in shows like “24” and movies like “A Room with a View” and “The Killing Fields,” has been found dead after going missing in the San Gabriel mountains in Southern California in January, investigators announced Tuesday.
He was 65.
“The manner of death is still under investigation, pending further test results,” the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department said in a statement. “We would like to extend our gratitude to all the volunteers that worked tirelessly to locate Mr. Sands.”
The actor had been the subject of an ongoing search in the Mt. Baldy area since he failed to return from a hike on January 13.
Weather conditions had hindered search efforts in the weeks following his disappearance. Officials announced a renewed effort to locate Sands earlier this month.
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I LOVE FORBIDDEN MEDIEVAL ROMANCE! *flips table*
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Bad Moon Rising
When a rash of killings claims his brother, Miguel steps into the gap to take up the case.
Throw in a funeral director/coffee shop owner with a mysterious past and a curious daughter, Miguel's certainly got his hands full, and his work cut out for him!
Gabriella looked up from her phone and out the window of their sedan. Dirt. Nothing but miles and miles of dirt.
Shocker. She thought with a roll of her eyes.
"Are we almost there dad?" She turned to look at her father.
"We're no closer than when you asked me 5 minutes ago, mija." Miguel responded without taking his eyes off the road. Groaning she flopped dramatically back against the seat. "If you'd asked how close we were..." She perked up at his playful tone. "I'd have said..." Pulling to a stop sign he looked pointedly out the passenger window. Looking out the window she saw a large sign indicating they were only 10 miles from their destination.
"Dad!" She whirled around to look at him and narrowed her eyes at his smug grin.
"It's not my fault you haven't looked at the GPS, Gabi." He chuckled, checking both directions before driving through the stop sign. Grumbling to herself, Gabriella turned her attention back to her phone and shifted towards the window, effectively snubbing him. Miguel shook his head and suppressed an amused sound at her actions, turning his own attention back to the road. It was easy to lose himself in his thoughts, the occasional tumble weed the only intruder to his ruminations.
If not for recent unusual happenings, he wouldn't be uprooting his and his daughter's lives to come 'adventuring' out in the back woods of the mid-west. His eyes flit to his daughter's curled up form. Miguel's chest swelled with pride at how well Gabriella had handled the news. Like a champ as usual.
Like her old man. He smiled to himself before sighing wearily as reality tinged his thoughts a melancholy grey.
Mr. O'Hara, it is with our deepest regret that we inform you of your brother, Gabriel O'Hara's untimely death.
Recalling the words of the letter Miguel's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Sheriff Gabriel O'Hara. His older brother. Dead. The letter had said it appeared to have been the work of a wild animal. And his brother hadn't been the only victim. He vividly recalled his last phone conversation with his brother.
"I'm telling you, Mig, I've never seen anything like it. Sometimes there's hardly anything left of the person..."
"Gabe, most apex predators take their kills with them."
"If you'd seen some of these crime scenes... all I'm saying is... this doesn't look like something an animal does, Miguel."
And now his brother was counted amongst those victims. And Miguel had accepted the offer of his brother's old post as sheriff. A shiver went down his spine.
Miller Springs. An innocuous name for an innocuous town. Then why, as he whizzed past a large 'Welcome to Town' sign, did his stomach drop to his feet? Gabriel's face flashed into his mind, and Miguel tried to shake the image of his brother's final moments. Had he fought back? Had he been taken by surprise?
"Ugh, finally." Gabriella's voice shook him out of his thoughts. "Dad, stop!" She said excitedly, grabbing his arm. Miguel slammed on the breaks.
"Que pasa, mija?" He looked at her, his alarm turning to curiosity at her excited expression.
"Look dad!" She pointed excitedly at something out the window.
"Gabriella, don't scare me like that." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gabriella merely tugged on his arm again, urging him to look at whatever it was that had caught her attention. Sighing, Miguel looked out the window and saw a mortuary. "A mortuary? Mija... what's so special about a mortuary?" He raised a brow and looked unimpressed. She shook her head and pointed, his eyes followed her finger and he finally noticed what must have caught her excitement. Attached to the mortuary was a coffee shop.
Coffee, Coffins & Chemicals.
"Isn't it awesome?" Her face grew increasingly animated as she practically pressed her nose to the glass of the passenger window.
"Gabi... sweetheart, it's just a coffee shop... attached to a funeral home. Morbid if you ask me." He said dryly, clearly not understanding her enthusiasm. She looked at him through narrowed eyes.
"You're such a Gen Xer dad." She huffed, looking back out the window. "Can we stop there?"
"For the coffee? Or maybe to do some coffin shopping?" The sarcasm fairly dripped off his words.
"You're funny dad." Miguel shook his head but parked the car outside the seemingly abandoned establishment all the same. Unbuckling her seat belt, she climbed out of the car and looked around the empty parking lot. "We're the only ones here."
"I wonder why." He muttered, closing his door and locking the car. Gabriella looked at him and huffed.
"You're impossible dad." She waived a hand and headed for the front door. Miguel glanced again at the signage about the door, muttered something about questionable life choices and followed his daughter.
Opening the door, he was hit with the mixed aroma of mouthwatering pastries and a strong earthy coffee brew. Glancing up at the tinkling bell that announced their entrance, he was taken aback to see that the bell was in the clutches of a stuffed raven.
"I'll be right with you!" A distant voice turned his attention from the raven back to the rest of the building. It was a small shop; it might even be described as cozy if he hadn't known that just on the other side of the wall someone was embalming bodies.
Thinking about it, Miguel could almost swear he caught the faint scent of embalming fluid. He shook his head at the thought. Gabriella went straight to the front counter and began taking pictures of the display pastries.
"Dad, look!" She looked at him and waved him over. Folding his arms, Miguel sidled up behind her and looked unimpressed at the display. The usual assortment of muffins and donuts interposed with cookies in various macabre shapes, even a few with what appeared to be the visage of Edgar Allen Poe.
Turning, he almost jumped to see a large picture of Vincent Price on the far wall, surrounded by shelves of books. Accompanying this nook were two overstuffed vermillion chairs.
"I'm looking... but I'm not certain what I'm looking at." There was no one point in the room he seemed to be able to focus on. Gabriella rolled her eyes.
"Thanks for waiting," The voice called again, elbowing open the swinging double doors behind the counter. A figure emerged backwards, carrying a large pan. "It's not often we get customers." Turning she placed down her pan and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. Miguel narrowed his eyes, something seemed strangely familiar about this woman. "Now, how can I." Placing her hands on the counter she smiled at Gabriella before her attention shifted to him and her expression froze.
"Y/N." He breathed in disbelief.
"Miguel?" She blinked, equally at a loss.
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