#punch me in the face it'll hurt less | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

panda-noosh · 5 months

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authors note: oh hey. enjoy!

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this is Daryl's fault.

all Daryl's fault, as most things tend to be nowadays.

this isn't the first time you've been held captive in the three years since you joined Rick's group. in fact, you get captured at least once every fortnight, but you always took it as a sign you were doing your job right; hunters cannot be hunters without a brief spell of missteps, and getting caught by the enemy is usually high on the list of scenarios that could take place. by now, you are used to it.

but this is different, because it's Daryl's fault, and that makes it ten times worse.

the rope holding your wrists together is painful, skin already red raw despite the fact you've only been tied up for an hour. Daryl tells you it will hurt less if you stopped trying to maneaveur your wrists enough to flip him off, but that doesn't stop you from continuing your attempts.

the walls are oozing condensation. it drips onto your head, slides down your nose, gets in your eyes, and it smells like damp. mould grows in the cracks in the floor. mice dart in front of you, as if boasting the fact they are free to roam and you aren't.

the worst part is, your knives are nowhere to be seen.

"i didn't even see them take them off me!" you exclaim. beside you, Daryl has barely moved. his hands and feet are tied in the same way yours are, but he's putting up no fight to get free, or even loosen them. he keeps his head down, shoulders sagging, shifting every now and then with his ragged breaths. you can't make out his expression due to the curtain of dirty brown hair shielding his face, but you would like to think his expression is one of pure guilt and sorrow for being the idiot who got you both captured in the first place.

"oi," you hiss. "a little communication would go a long way right now."

"what do you want me to say?" he bites; anyone else would back away from that tone, but you're not anyone else. you're the person put on this earth to be a pain in Daryl Dixon's ass, and that's exactly what you plan to be.

"i want a plan," you reply. "the others are expecting us back before nightfall."

"we're not getting back before nightfall."

"not with that attitude." you sigh, doing yet another pointless scan of the room - well, dungeon more like, considering the amount of rock and concrete there is. "how long has it been since they left? do you think they'll feed us?"

"we're not dogs, y/n," he grumbles. "we're hostages. chances are, next time we see them, it'll be so they can slit our throats."

"i didn't really get that vibe off them, to be honest. i know we're tied up and everything, but i think we can negotiate."

finally Daryl looks up, bloodshot eyes bored. "don't even try. things always go tits up the minute you open your mouth."

your jaw drops open. "are you serious? how can you say that when you're the one who got us into this situation in the first place?"

Daryl rolls his eyes, looking away. "i never asked you to come with me."

"yeah, well, someone has to keep you from killing yourself."

"you can keep me from killing myself, but not getting kidnapped?"

"i'm not a miracle worker."

Daryl scowls. you scowl back, even though he's not looking at you. it would be so easy some days to just punch him square in the face, but you've never let yourself get that far. at the end of the day, and as tough as it is to admit it, Daryl is the only one in the group you can properly talk to, whether he likes it or not. everyone else is too. . . flowery, too keen on sparing your feelings. they know what you've been through, and that effects everything they do when in your presence.

Daryl isn't like that, and for some reason, it feels safer to be with someone who tells you the truth, and nothing but the truth. sometimes, it feels safer to be with someone who hates your guts.

still, that doesn't mean he doesn't drive you completely mad. the way he chokes up in stressful situations, offering no help or communication - this is a life or death situation, and yet he still insists on kneeling there with his thumb up his ass. you could scream. in fact, you're so mad at his silence that you're being driven into your own silence, unable to come up with a plan when you're so angry at the idiot beside you.

he's a domino effect. a bad one. a domino avalanche.

you sigh heavily, closing your eyes, tilting your head against the concrete wall behind you. Daryl glances over, but neither of you get a chance to continue arguing - as much as you'd love to - before the rickety wooden door on the other side of the room creaks open. light spills in, blinding you, but you don't let your discomfort show. instead, you stare right into it, waiting for the face of your captor to appear, because you don't remember it all too well. they were wearing balaclavas for one, the smart bastards, but you can imagine they're young with the shabby way they've tied you up, and the complete whim of which they decided to-

"what the fuck."

two people come into view once the door is closed. their faces are lit only by the flashlights they carry, but the puny yellow light is enough to show the wrinkles indented in their leathery skin. the flashlights shake from elderly trembles, held by veiny, pockmarked hands damaged from years - years - of hard labour never soothed by retirement.

you and Daryl share a look; something isn't right. these can't be the same people who managed to pin you to the ground and tie you up.

that would be too embarrassing to even fathom.

"are you awake?"

the voice is frail but commanding.

"yes," you reply, earning a glare from Daryl that you ignore. "quite hard to sleep on concrete."

the flashlight pivots in your direction. you wince.

"right, stop blinding me, would you?"

"what's your name?"

"who's asking?" Daryl grunts.

the stranger - the male - steps closer. "the people who have the power to kill you, or let you go. i suggest you cooperate."

you stare at Daryl, hoping to God he can feel what you're trying to say through gaze alone; he needs to work with these people. they didn't come in here guns blazing, which means there is room for release if they just cooperate, but that word has never been something Daryl fully understands. right now, you need him to understand. right now, you need him to use his brain, need him to-

he spits on the concrete, right at the mans feet.

you close your eyes, resisting the urge to start cursing.

"go to hell," he growls.

the man steps back and wraps an arm around the female's waist. she curls into him, shooting daggers at Daryl as she places one hand on her husband's chest, as if protecting him from Daryl's lack of manners. you really can’t say you blame her.

“there’s no need for the hostility,” the man says. “we did what we had to do; you can’t trust anyone nowadays.”

“the wise thing would have been to leave us. kill us, even.”

“he doesn’t mean that,” you hasten to add.

daryl shoots you a glare before continuing. “instead you tie us up and bring us to your base. what good is that going to do?”

“it keeps us in control,” the female replies. “just because we want the upper hand, doesn’t mean we want you dead.”

daryl scoffs. “biggest load of horseshit i’ve ever heard.”

“do you want us to kill you? because, young man, that can easily be arranged,” the man growls.

your heart jumps in your chest; this isn’t going as smoothly as it could be going, all because daryl can’t keep his mouth shut. he’s the quietest guy in the group when he shouldn’t be, and the biggest loud mouth when he should.

your brain work at a mile a minute as daryl and the elderly couple have a stare down. it’s your first instinct to scan the room for any weaponry, but then you imagine yourself actually slaughtering this elderly couple, and your stomach twists; there has to be another way, some kind of reasoning you can find, even ground you can all agree-

your eyes land on the wedding bands on the couple’s fingers.

you don’t even fully process the next words out of your mouth, just dive head first into the ridiculous idea that has suddenly sprung to your mind. “look, i’m so sorry about my husband. he gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

daryl’s head snaps around, mouth open,ready for a retort, but you’ve stated digging the hole, and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin it now.

“i’m sure you understand, being a married couple and everything.” you laugh nervously. “we were actually just talking before you came down - we think i’s so admirable that you two have grown old together. it’s the kind of marriage we want. of course, the cards we’ve been dealt make that a little more difficult, but hope prevails.” you look at daryl and smile. “hope prevails. isn’t that what you said, dear?”

daryl only stares.

the elderly couple share a glance. if you’re not mistaken, they look almost sympathetic, and when they look back at you and daryl, their expressions have changed entirely, watered down to something you can certainly work with.

“i’m sorry,” you chuckle, waving a dismissive hand. “i always get carried away when it comes to taking about him. we’re newly weds, you see - got married just a few weeks before the news broke about. . . well, everything.”

“oh, goodness,” the female gasps, wrinkled hand covering her mouth. “you poor souls. did you at least get to have your wedding?”

“a tiny one,” you reply. “people were isolating, you see. my own mother, god rest her soul - she never made it. we had to put her down the day after.”

the woman shakes her head like this is the worst story she’s ever heard come out of the apocalypse. you glance at daryl, urging him with your eyes to play along, though you have very little hope you’ll ever get him to tart spewing bullshit marriage stories. the least he can do is stay quiet - that’s all your asking.

“we’re married, though, and we’re together,” you continue. “that’s what we’re focusing on.”

“yes, of course,” the man says. “do you . . . do you have a home to go back to?”

“a group, actually,” you reply. “we have a few young’un’s waiting for us. don’t tell anyone, but i think of them as our children now. they’re probably worried sick.”

the couple share yet another glance, and you know you’ve got them. when it comes to old married couples, the idea of a young couple mirroring their experience with marriage is always an easy fix; if you want anything, just tell them it’s because you want to end up like them, old and in love. they fall for it every time.

the woman inhales shakily, letting her hand drop to her side before she pulls a knife from a tiny sheath in her leggings; you almost whistle appreciatively at the blade, how shiny and well-kept it is, nothing like your own which have grown almost completely dull with age and overuse, and very little care on your part.

she walks over and slices the ropes from daryl’s hands, and then she steps back and waits. you blink at the scene, waiting patiently for her to make her way over to you to do the same, but she doesn’t. she just stares at daryl, lips pursed.

she’s waiting for him to make a big scene about being released.

what would a young, married man do in this situation? probably rush to his significant others side, smother them with kisses, ask them if they’re okay. daryl just rubs the raw skin on his wrists, cursing quietly under his breath, seeming almost oblivious to the audience watching him.

panic grips your chest. you have to do something before they realise something isn’t right.

“baby, you’re free!” you exclaim.

daryl’s head whips around. “huh?”

“you’re free!” you repeat. “come here, let me make sure you’re alright.”

daryl raises a brow, but he’s at least got the common sense not to say anything in the presence of your captors. slowly, he crawls over and kneels in front of you, confusion still etched on his expression. you rake your eyes over him dramatically, feigning worry; in truth, he looks to be in better form than you are, his wrists not even raw from the ropes.

“what are you-“ he begins.

“you’re okay!” you throw yourself forward, letting him catch you, and then you do the extreme part of the plan. without warning, you press your lips to his. he grunts against your mouth, eyes widening, fingers curling around your biceps, but he doesn’t pull away, and you almost sob in relief. you were fully expecting him to shove you to the floor, probably fight his way out of this dungeon and leave you for dead. instead, he goes still against you, but his lips don’t leave your own. you’re almost tempted to push your luck and stick your tongue in his mouth just to piss him off, but there’s a time and place for things like that, and it certainly isn’t here and now.

you keep the kiss short and sweet, pulling away with a smile you hope is convincing. the elderly couple are looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars in the sky; apparently the kiss was all they needed, as the man walks over and finally cuts the ropes binding your wrists. the cold air against the raw skin makes you hiss in pain, but you don’t let it take you from the character you have suddenly developed. as soon as you’re free, you throw your arms around daryl’s neck and drag him in to a hug. his hands hover at the small of your back.

you turn your head and whisper in his ear, “play along, you son of a bitch. i’m trying to get us out of here alive.”

he drops his hands, wrapping you in his arms. a warmth spreads through you, an odd sense of relief tat you don’t want to acknowledge when you’re in this position with daryl dixon.

“you two get home safe,” the man says, his voice being the only thing to remind you and daryl that you can actually let go of each other now. “tell your folks we’re sorry. we didn’t mean no harm.”

you pull away from daryl. he keeps his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side like the old little actor you never knew he could be. “thank you. honestly. we appreciate this.”

daryl gives a nod, which is probably all you should expect from him.

and with a final goodbye to your captors, you walk up the stairs and into the night.

——

daryl doesn’t speak the whole way back to camp. you didn’t really expect him to.

nonetheless, you still try. you would hate to go back to camp with all this tense energy between you, a direct result of daryl’s inability to communicate like a regular human being.

he barrels ahead of you, letting all the branches swing back in your face. usually you would tell him to fuck off and stop being a child, but it’s obvious what happened has shocked him, and the last thing you want to do is make it worse.

maybe you shouldn’t have kissed him. maybe you shouldn’t have let things get that far. hell, you probably could have worked out some way to get free without telling lies, but in the heat of the moment, it was the only thing you could come up with.

it worked, didn’t it?

“daryl!” you holler after him. “daryl, come on. slow down.”

“keep up,” he shoots back.

“are you mad at me?”

he tugs on the ropes holding the prison gates together; in the distance, glenn stands atop one of the watchtowers, watching you like a hawk.

you grip daryl’s arm. “are you mad?”

he pulls away and glare before finally getting the gate open; he doesn’t give you a reply, instead storming off without another word, which you suppose is answer enough.

you follow him into camp, eyes cast to the floor in any attempt to hide your emotions from anyone you might come across; it doesn’t matter that you’ve been gone for hours - you don’t want to explain why daryl has marched off in a huff, because that will be the first thing they ask you. always you, like you’re tied to the man in some way.

you make your way to the canteen without seeing anyone. you slump in one of the metal chairs and finally take time to rub at the raw skin of your wrist; it burns, but the sting is familiar at this point. you could easily go another few days before having it looked at, but of course hershel has other plans.

“you’re like a bloodhound,” you say, sensing his presence in the doorway.

the click of his cane echoes. “what happened?”

“what always happens - we got in shit, got out of shit. now we’re here.”

“now you’re here.” hershel kneels in front of you, taking your wrist for examination. “where’s your other half got to?”

you wince. “don’t call him that. he’s nothing of the sort; especially not right now.”

hershel raises a brow. “no?”

you sigh, looking at the ceiling; hershel is one of those men you are able to trust with anything, the grandfather of the group after dale died. you have told him secrets, confided in him with embarrassing questions, but he has never judged you. in fact, nine times out of ten, he knows what you’re going to say before you’ve even said it. still, he expects you to make an effort, which is why he doesn’t fill in the blanks, just inspects your wrist whilst waiting for you to speak.

“it’s complicated.” your go-to statement when it comes to daryl. “we ran into some people, and we had to. . . play pretend, and i don’t think daryl appreciated it very much.” you wince, cheeks burning. “did i violate the poor guy?”

“i’ll need more details before i can answer that.”

you hesitate. “we kissed.” hershel’s head snaps up, but you’re quick to clarify. “we had to kiss. the only way we were going to get free was by pretending we’re a married couple.”

hershel blinks. “i’ve. . . never heard of that tactic before.”

“either have i, but it worked like a fucking charm.” you sigh. “only problem is-“

“daryl’s huffing.”

“yep.”

hershel shakes his head, muttering almost to himself. “i don’t understand that man. he makes absolutely no sense.”

“he has every right to be mad,” you say. “it took him off guard, and we all know daryl doesn’t like surprises.”

“yes, but. . .” hershel shakes his head, taking your wrist again. “never mind. i’ll have a chat with him; i want to check him over anyway.”

——

the days pass, and daryl continues ignoring you.

you’re very good at pretending this doesn’t bother you; the group are absolutely none the wiser, not mentioning daryl to you once. however, you refuse to be in denial - you have greatly pissed daryl off, and you don’t like it.

your hunting trips aren’t the same without him. they’re lonely, and boring, and too quiet; you never realised how often you turned to him when it was just you in the woods, and no one else, how often you leaned on him to take your mind off everything going wrong in the world. without him, these hunting trips are almost scary.

of course, it would be easy for you to approach him, just ask if he wanted to hunt, but you can’t throw your pride away like that.

so you spend the next few days trying to distract yourself from his ever-looming presence. he stands in the corner of the room during group meetings, arms folded, avoiding your gaze. the fact he finds it so easy to completely block you out is a punch to the gut, but you refuse to let it get to you.

you will not be the first one to break.

two weeks pass with no disturbances at the prison. days actually start to grow boring, a repetitive cycle of prison upkeep and hunting that drives you insane. you tell carl this as the two of you sit on the floor of the courtyard, watching the small pile of walkers cling to the gates; you and rick fixed them up yesterday, so you’re in no rush to get up.

carl scoffs at your complaint. “have we not earned a little boredom?”

“yes,” you grumble. “i knew you were going to say that. make me feel all bad and stuff.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” he shrugs. “i’m enjoying the boredom.”

“not like you.”

“keeps dad calm. can’t ask for much more than that.”

you nod. “fair enough, i suppose. fair-“

carl suddenly lurches forward, eyes narrowed. immediately your knife is in your hand and you're joining him, one hand on his shoulder, the other curled around the hilt of your knife.

you don't need to ask him what he's looking at, because you see it instantly, the one breathing being amongst the dozens of corpses clawing at the gate.

"fuck," says carl.

"watch your mouth." and then you're both on your feet, sprinting for the gates. you catch glenn's attention up in the watch tower and wave your hand above your head, signalling for him to get the others. your heart pounds with an adrenaline you haven't felt in days, you're dizzy with it, on the verge of-

you nearly trip over your own feet when you finally get a glimpse of who the person is.

the same woman who watched you kiss daryl. the same woman who took you captive and forced you into this situation.

the same woman who let you go when she could have easily slit your throat.

"carl, wait!" you grab his arm and yank him back. "i know her."

carl doesn't lower his gun, merely glances up at you with a raised brow.

you step forward, pushing him behind you. the woman meets your eyes and continues to yell, slamming her hands desperately against the wire fence; a few walkers have already noticed her, slowly peeling away from their group and making their way towards her. by the looks of things, she doesn't even have a weapon; she's come here out of pure desperation.

"what's going on?" rick hollers, sprinting down the hill with most of the group close behind. "y/n?"

"open the gates!"

"what-"

"open the gates!" you demand, before thrusting your knife through the fence and into a walkers brain.

you ignore the confusion happening behind you and just hope they're following your orders. you continue to stab and yell, drawing the dead away from the terrified woman and towards you.

it doesn't take long for daryl to join you, though you aren't sure who he's doing it for. even though this woman showed you kindness, she is still the one who kidnapped you in the first place; you aren't sure if daryl would appreciate her presence near him again. and yet he takes the walkers down without hesitation, even helping glenn and rick rip the gate open, allowing the old woman in.

she's disgruntled to say the least, gasping and stumbling. she collapses at your feet, and that's where she breaks down completely. tears streak the mud caking her face, dripping into a mouth held open in absolute horror. her grey hair is matted with blood, and her husband is nowhere to be seen.

you glance at daryl, and for the first time in days, he looks back.

"someone grab her," rick orders.

"no," you bark, pushing maggie back. "can't you see she's distraught?"

"that doesn't matter," rick fires back. "we don't know who she is, how she found-

"y/n said no."

all heads turn to daryl. he meets everyone's gaze, letting them know he is not one bit intimidated before looking back at the woman. too caught up in daryl's overall presence, you hadn't even noticed the woman go silent, flicking her gaze between you and daryl like you're some kind of spectacle.

you kneel next to her. "hello again."

----

you and daryl decide to talk to her together. nobody else allowed in the room.

he's nervous, or furious - you don't really know which one. he paces back and forth, crossbow not leaving his hands once; rosalie stares with wide eyes, glancing at you like she expects you to do something about it.

you have a sip of your water. "you can ignore him if you want. he never really adds anything to the conversation anyway."

daryl whirls. "you know, your little jokes really aren't handy in situations like this."

"good thing i don't give a fuck-"

"no, of course not. everything's just a big game to you."

"why are you yelling? you think that's going to-"

"please."

rosalie's voice is barely a whisper, but you hear it nonetheless. she sounds so fragile, so broken - so much so that you actually feel guilty for being so hostile in front of her. you have been in this interrogation room for nearly twenty minutes, doing nothing but bicker with daryl.

"please," she repeats, not looking up. "don't fight. we don't need any more of that in this world, especially between two people who love each other."

daryl stiffens, and you wince. that's right - she thinks you and daryl are married.

you fold your arms on the metal table. "rosalie. sorry. look, you have to understand why daryl and i have been sent to talk to you. this - you showing up out of nowhere. . . it looks a little weird. we just need some answers."

"why are you here?" daryl demands.

you shoot him a glare and repeat the question, softer this time. "why are you here, rosalie?"

she sniffs, wipes her nose on her blood stained sleeve. "our base got ambushed. patrick didn't make it; they got him while he was trying to protect me." she squeezes her eyes closed. "i ran out and just. . . kept running. your prison was the first place i came across that looked like it had any sign of life." she opens her eyes again. "i didn't know it was you two. i promise i didn't."

"bullshit," daryl scoffs. "it don't matter that you just kept running. this place is in the asshole of nowhere. you couldn't have found it unless you had us followed that day."

rosalie's eyes widen, darting to you for support you can't give her. despite daryl being a known drama queen, he also has a point right now. rosalie could have ran for days, but the chances of her finding the prison without forewarning of it's whereabouts are slim.

daryl stalks over, leaning close to rosalie's terrified face. "what do you want?"

she pulls back, and you don't miss her wince when she does. "i-i don't want anything you're not willing to give. i just needed a place to rest. i'm exhausted."

"you think we should give you anything after-"

"where are you hurt?"

daryl looks down at you, that familiar glint of frustration in his gaze. it's a look you've become accostomed to, so it's easily ignored, especially when you're focused on something else. you didn't notice it at first, but the wince rosalie makes every time she moves is becoming increasingly suspicious.

rosalie stares for another few seconds, as if waiting for you to retract your question. you lean forward, pushing your knife closer with your elbow.

"i've been nice to you," you say. "and i'll continue to be nice if you tell me where you're hurt. why you're hurt."

daryl stiffens. "a bite?"

you narrow your eyes. "i don't know."

rosalie shakes her head violently, fresh tears beginning to leak down her face again. "i'm not bitten! i swear i'm not bitten!"

you grab your knife. "show us."

immediately she scrambles to her feet and yanks up the hem of her pink jumper, revealing not a bite, but what looks like a nasty burn mark. still, you and daryl have been through this before, are both well aware that there's no such thing as being too cautious when it comes to injuries. it's an unspoken routine when daryl grabs rosalie's arms and tosses you the flashlight always strapped to his belt. you catch it with ease, shining it on the throbbing, wrinkled mess on rosalie's hip.

"well?" daryl grunts.

"looks like a burn." he drops her; she lands back in her chair with a clatter.

you glare at daryl.

he plucks his flashlight from your fingers. "now what? we keeping her here or not?"

"you're letting me decide?"

daryl shrugs, but you don't miss the tiny blush rising to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by going back to his pesky pacing.

you decide to leave the teasing till later, instead turning to rosalie. "hershel will want to check her over."

"why does hershel have to know? send her out on her ass without telling him, he's gonna be none the wiser."

you raise a brow. "you're not really that evil. the tough guy act doesn't work on me." and just to add salt to the wound, you add, "we're married, remember?"

daryl scowls, but that blush only gets more pronounced. you're finding this quite fun.

"okay," you say to rosalie. "we're gonna get our medic to look you over. that burn doesn't look too good. once he's said it's alright, the group should have some idea of what to do with you."

rosalie hollows out her cheeks, slumping back. "thank you." "don't thank us yet," daryl grumbles. "we aint decided yet."

----

daryl lets you in his cell that night.

it's the first time in a while he's let you follow him to bed, the first time in a while you've actually wanted to. after everything that happened when you were captured, it seems almost. . . inappropriate, even though these little sleepovers have never been anything more than a platonic comfort for you both, just having someone there to exist with.

daryl doesn't invite you in or anything, simply lets you hover in the doorway as he sits crosslegged on his bed, busy sharpening an arrow.

you fold your arms, watching him. it's always jarring to see him like this - sitting still, doing something slow paced. he's the type of man you expect to always be in motion, like he might cease to exist otherwise. when he's sitting still, you can admire everything about him, and there's nothing he can do about it.

"you didn't like it, did you?"

you say it because that's really the only thing you need to say, the only elephant in the room. judging by the way he freezes, it's obvious he knows it too.

"i thought it was our only chance of getting out of there." you shrug. "you know me and my stupid ideas. i should have asked you first."

"you admitting you were wrong?"

you hold your hands up. "just 'cause the word 'sorry' melts your brain, doesn't mean it melts mine."

he glares through the tops of his eyelids, making you grin.

you step into his cell. "i'm just messing. i really am sorry."

"stop apologising," he grumbles. "fuck, it worked, didn't it? we got out alive."

"alive and wed."

he scoffs, but it's close enough to a laugh that you make your way over to his bed and take a seat. he goes back to sharpening his arrows, and suddenly it's just like old times. it was only two weeks of his silent treatment, but you still missed the evenings spent just like this, watching him work, those calloused hands so skilled in anything he puts them to. you can imagine a ring on his knobbly finger, though you aren't sure why the image sends heat racing through you.

"have you ever been in a relationship before?"

the question takes you by surprise; it's not the kind of thing daryl would ever ask about, not a topic he particularly cares about. when you look at him, he keeps his head down, tongue gliding across his bottom lip.

you shift on the bed, bringing your feet under you. "not a serious one, no. i'm better on my own, i think."

"ain't that what they all say?"

"what about you? have you ever had that special person?"

he pauses a moment too long. your heart jumps, a flood of some dark, grim feeling filling your body before you can get a hold of it.

you clap a hand over your mouth, gasping dramatically. daryl groans, lifts his head to tell you to shut up, but you need to bury this burning jealousy somehow, and the only way you can come up with is by embarrassing the shit out of daryl.

"you have, haven't you?" you grab his arm. he lets out a hiss of pain, drawing his arm back to reveal a droplet of blood welling on his finger.

you flinch back. "shit, sorry!"

daryl glares, placing his finger between his lips, and holy god, why is the room getting so stuffy? why can't you stop staring at his lips? those same lips you kissed only two weeks ago, those lips you have tasted, those lips-

"i've never been in a relationship," he grumbles, snapping you out of your daze.

"i don't believe that," you scoff. "a fine, sociable man like yourself? surely the ladies were dropping at your feet."

daryl rolls his eyes. "funny."

"seriously though. never?"

"don't act so surprised. you haven't either."

"yeah but that's. . . different. i'm . . . me."

daryl freezes, eyes snapping up to meet yours. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"well, i'm not exactly the best person to-"

"shut up y/n. you're ridiculous."

your eyebrows rise. "woah, okay. fuck you, dixon."

he just shakes his head, going back to his arrow sharpening. this is what he does, one of the many things that infuriate you about him; he will say or do something entirely out of pocket, and then go silent when you confront him on it.

but it's been years, and you're used to it by now. taking a deep breath, you try steering the conversation someplace safer. "you know if rick decides to let rosalie stay, we'll have to pretend we love each other."

he flicks his eyes up. "why do we?"

"well, she thinks we're married."

"who gives a fuck what she thinks? she's our prisoner now."

you roll your eyes, exasperated. "don't call her a prisoner. we're not tyrants, daryl."

"everyone's a tyrant."

"she came to us." you sigh. "we could just stay away from each other if you think that's easier."

his reply is quick, almost panicked. "what good will that do? married couple it is."

just to really seal the deal, you shake hands. it goes quiet after that, neither of you knowing what to say or how to proceed. still, you don't leave his cell, enjoying his presence more than you would ever willingly admit. despite him being a complete pain in the ass, he's still your closest friend in this place, the guy who knows you better than anyone. the guy who somehow managed to break down every wall you've ever put up, all whilst keeping his perfectly in tact.

---

rosalie is released from the infirmary and put under watch, but she is still free to roam the halls of the prison. rick decided an injured, unarmed, grieving old lady isn't much of a threat in the grand scheme of things, and you weren't going to argue. you have no problems with rosalie besides the fact you have to get uncomfortably close to daryl when she's around.

again, this isn't something that ever bothered you; once upon a time, you and daryl would spend hours with each other, out in the woods hunting, or just sitting in each other's company. however, after your last little sleepover, being in daryl's presence has become a very confusing experience, one you don't have time to face head-on. all those weird, warm feelings you felt just don't make any sense.

nonetheless, you keep up the charade when rosalie's around, because it's easier that way. even daryl agrees, which is why he sits beside you now, an arm thrown loosely over your shoulder. you can hear glenn and carl snickering behind you, but rosalie is talking, so you can't do anything about it.

she's in the middle of a story about the travels her and patrick used to embark on, how they aren't even from atlanta, but got caught there after the first wave of walkers made an appearance.

she's explaining how they didn't fret, because at least they had each other, when she turns her attention to you and daryl and says, "i'm sure you two understand. this world could really do some damage if we didn't have people we love."

daryl's grip tightens, and you purse your lips. you can appreciate rosalie's optimism, but her naivety takes the forefront; how can she say such a thing to a group of people who have lost everything, have watched their loved ones get ripped to shreds one by one? it wasn't that long ago rick lost his wife, carl his mother, you a friend.

you sniff, grabbing daryl's hand to keep your angered trembles at bay. "very true, rosie, very true."

"such a good thing that daryl and y/n have each other," glenn chimes in, amusement dripping from every word. "not so lucky for us - they can be loud when their - uh - love takes over."

carl chokes in his attempts to keep from laughing.

"oh!" rosalie gasps, abashed. "goodness, well, at least that spark is still there. i loved patrick dearly, but when you're busy surviving everyday, you don't get time to . . . you know."

"i wish you'd tell that to these two," glenn continued. "almost every night its-" and then the little bastard starts slapping his hand against the wall just to really get his point across.

you spin around and punch him right in the leg. carl bursts into laughter as glenn cries out. even rosalie laughs, a nervous little titter that tells you she doesn't want to get on your bad side.

you slump back in your seat, and daryl immediately wraps his arm back around you, tighter this time, like he needs something to hold on to or he'll lose his temper. you flick a glance his way, but he doesn't meet your eyes, jaw set and gaze straight ahead.

you turn back to rosalie, shaking your head. "ignore them."

"they're just jealous anyway," daryl pipes up. "couldn't make someone moan if they tried."

you choke and bury your head in your hands; this is not where you expected the conversation to go. around you, everyone besides daryl is doubled over in fits of laughter, a sound you would have treasured if it wasn't for the fact it's aimed at you.

you glance at daryl through a crack in your fingers. he smiles smugly, chewing casually on a toothpick. you hate that he looks so good after embarrassing you like that, putting the image of that in your head, and now you feel all warm and gooey, like you might melt straight into his arms.

rosalie excuses herself to help maggie and hershel with dinner, and glenn and carl follow suit shortly after. you dislodge from under daryl's arm, ignoring the way you instantly crave the weight of him again.

"didn't realise you had such a sense of humour," you say, plucking your shoes from the floor. "good job by the way; arm over my shoulder and everything. you're really sticking to the character."

he shrugs. "might as well have fun with it."

"fun?"

"watching you get all flustered?" he trails his eyes down your body, back up again in a slow, almost sensual way. "my idea of fun."

you blink. he stares right back, and the thing is, he isn't even doing anything he wouldn't normally do. the man is just sitting there, waiting for you to reply to his teasing remark, but there's been something in the air these past few days, finally coming to immobilise you for good. you can't even keep the eye contact as heat crawls up your back.

"right," you mumble, looking away. "that's all good then. glad we got that over with. i'll see you later."

he lifts his hand in an amused little wave, ending the conversation and allowing you to scramble from the room.

----

"you were stomping too loudly the entire time. no wonder we didn't get anything."

"if anyone was being too loud, it was you."

"bullshit, daryl. i would have had that rabbit if you hadn't-"

daryl shoves past you, storming towards the prison. you grit your teeth and follow close behind, desperately trying to keep calm. another unsuccessful hunting trip, and daryl is clearly losing his patience - still, he doesn't have to take it out on you, and you're not going to let him.

"you can be such a child, you know," you call after him. "there's still plenty of food in the kitchen, so you don't need to be throwing all your fucking toys out of the pram."

"oh, shut up!" he exclaims. "all your smart little remarks ain't helping!"

"i'm not saying them to help, i'm saying them 'cause you're being a fussy little-"

he whirls around and pushes you against a tree.

you gasp, but the noise comes out weak and choked by the fingers gently tracing a line along the column of your throat. daryl presses his knee between your legs, all but holding you up at this point, because suddenly he is so close you can see the tiny green specks in his blue eyes. you have half a mind to shove him away, tell him to go to hell, but the words fail you when he drops his forehead to yours like it's the most normal thing in the world.

you swallow thickly. "w-what are you-"

"no more yelling at me," he says quietly. "rosalie is standing at the gate."

you go to turn your head, but daryl catches your chin, keeping your gaze pinned to his.

"don't look over," he orders. "that'll be too obvious."

without another word, he trails his fingers down your throat, hooking them in the neckline of your shirt. you rise on your toes, you can't help it. you've never had him so close to you before, never had the opportunity to crave this proximity so much, but there is a fire lit in your stomach right now that is impossible to ignore.

"y/n," he croaks, sounding just as desperate as you feel.

"daryl," you manage. "i-is she still looking?"

he nods without looking over, but you take his word for it, because you don't want the moment to end just yet.

you watch the movement of his eyes, the way they slowly slip to your lips, lingering there. he wets his own lips with a swipe of his tongue, throat bobbing, and suddenly this isn't a performance. suddenly you are overcome with the urge to grab him, drag him into you, audience or not.

you have the strange, impossible feeling that he might want the same thing.

but that doesn't make sense, because daryl doesn't like you in that way. from day one, his boundaries have been clear when it comes to you - you're his hunting partner, someone kept around to make life a little easier, his pain in the ass. not once has he ever expressed feelings for you. not to your face. not like this.

his hands fall away from your throat like leaves tumbling off a branch. your breath escapes you in a rush as you wait for him to step away, but he does no such thing; his hands find your waist, and he oh-so-gently nudges your hips back against the tree.

"y-you're taking this roll very seriously," you manage.

he huffs a laugh, breath fanning your face. his eyes slip closed. "right."

you cup his cheeks. "hey, open those eyes or she'll think we're breaking up."

he looks at you then, the eye contact more intense than it has ever been before. daryl isn't an emotional person, but he could fool anyone with the gaze he levels on you, like you're the only person in the whole world.

you draw back, hand still holding his face. "hey. what's wrong?"

"nothing."

but his answer is too quick, too orchestrated.

you furrow your brows and finally risk a glance at the prison gates; rosalie is nowhere to be found.

"coast is clear."

daryls eyes snap over, and he immediately stumbles away. "right. good. let's get back."

you watch him leave, legs still too weak to follow. he runs a hand through his brown hair, tugging on the strands, a complete demeanour change that leaves you stunned. you don't want to acknowledge your racing heartbeat, but it's difficult to ignore when it is so all consuming, so confusing.

you have to take a few calming breaths before heading to the prison. you duck under the gap daryl made in the fence and head to the canteen, desperate for a distraction. you think you've managed to sneak past the group until you actually enter the canteen to see hershel sitting at a table, all on his own. you have half a mind to walk away, avoid any conversation, but then you remember this is hershel.

"need company?" you ask, sitting across from him.

he looks up with a smile, though that expression is quickly replaced by furrowed brows and a frown. "what's wrong with you?"

you don't meet his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"you look like you've ran five miles."

"i don't know what you're talking about."

he lowers his head in an attempt to get a better look at your face. you do everything to hide away, but you should know better when it comes to hershel greene - nothing gets past him.

he slowly leans back, having clearly inspected your flushed cheeks and frazzled hair enough to make his own conclusions. "oh."

"don't start," you grumble.

"you know i hate gossip, but could you explain. . ."

you chew your bottom lip, twisting the ring on your finger. "just. . . daryl. rosalie was at the gate, so we had to keep up appearances, obviously. he's just. . . really good at his role. got me a little flustered, that's all."

hershel is silent for a beat too long. you risk a glance up and catch his sceptical eyes, all furrowed brows and a frown so deep you think you may have accidentally hurt his feelings somehow.

"what?" you ask.

"rosalie was nowhere near the gate."

you pause. "huh? yes she was. daryl-"

"rosalie's arthritis had a flare up this morning; she's been out cold all day. hasn't even left her cell."

your heart stops, because surely that isn't right. daryl wouldn't have gone anywhere near you if rosalie wasn't watching. you were having an argument, for crying out loud, and lord knows the only way daryl settles an argument is by blanking you, not pinning you against a tree and making your insides turn to complete sludge.

you go to tell hershel this, but the words die the moment you see the amused little smirk pulling across his face.

"what?" you spit.

"is it not so obvious?"

you know exactly what he's referring to, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "clearly not."

hershel chuckles. "my dear, that man is head over heels for you."

please don't.

"that's not true."

"you don't believe me?"

"it's not like that with me and daryl. we're hunting partners at best." you don't mention the way your heart races when he's around, the way you aren't comfortable with anyone in the same way you are with him, the way you would call him your best friend.

hershel tilts his head, but you can't meet his eyes. that would give too much away.

"y/n," he says softly. "come on now."

"you're looking too deep into things."

"i would agree if daryl hadn't confessed his feelings to me personally."

you open your mouth to shoot back a reply, but again, the words die the minute you process what hershel has just said. a confession from daryl? daryl dixon talking about his feelings? the idea is so bizarre you nearly start laughing, but the shock has left you almost immobile, so all you can do is blink, waiting for hershel to get to the punchline. he stares back, not a trace of humour on his face.

realistically, you know this isn't something hershel would joke about, but you can't bring yourself to accept any other possibility. it doesn't make any sense. it doesn't fit in the puzzle that is you and daryl.

"he. . ." you shake your head. "what did he say?"

"will you believe me if i tell you?"

"what did he say, hershel?"

"that he thinks he's in love with you, and it scares him." a soft smile graces his lips. "that's why i was so confused when he reacted the way he did to you kissing him. i would have thought he would be over the moon." "but that's. . . why wouldn't he just tell me?"

hershel scoffs. "when has daryl ever made his own life easier?"

you close your eyes, letting your head fall into your hands. "holy fuck."

"rosalie was nowhere near those gates today, my dear. i can promise you that."

you stand before you can think better of it. you are suddenly overcome with the need to see him, to look him in the eyes and hear this confession for yourself. you don't care that he'll be put on the spot, that his anxiety will probably morph him into a hostile beast. you need the truth, because going one more day without it might just drive you mad.

hershel doesn't even try to stop you. you storm out of the canteen and make a b-line for daryl's cell, pushing past a confused rick and carl on the way.

of course, daryl is laying on his bunk, crossbow held over his face as he inspects the weapons underbelly. he looks over when you storm inside, opens his mouth to no doubt yell at you, but he doesn't get the chance as you grab his crossbow and chuck it onto the floor.

"do you love me?"

the colour drains from his face in an instant. it is answer enough, so answer enough, and you nearly crumble under the weight of it. part of you wants to kiss him, another part of you wants to yell at him for making all of this so complicated, for denying himself something good just because he's less in tune with emotions than the corpses walking around.

you trail your hands through your hair. "oh, daryl. . ."

"did that old fuck tell you?" he sits up. "i swear to-"

you push him back onto the bed. "don't you dare start on hershel. you wanna know where rosalie's been all day? nowhere near those fucking gates, that's for sure." daryl looks away, but you're not playing games any more, not when your heart is beating so fast, and you don't know if it's out of anger, or excitement, or dread, or all of the above. you just need things to be straight forward from here on out. you just need the truth.

"daryl, what was that?" you demand. "why . . . why would you play along instead of just telling me the truth?"

"it's a lot harder than that," he grumbles.

"how long?"

he narrows his eyes. "huh?"

"tell me how long you've felt this way. since i kissed you?"

he scoffs like the suggestion is ridiculous.

you raise a brow. "before?"

"a long time before," he replies. "that's why the kiss. . . freaked me out so much. i ain't used to that shit. especially not with someone. . ."

you pause. "someone you love."

he squeezes his eyes closed. "it's so fucking stupid. hershel should have kept his goddamn mouth shut."

"rosalie's on bed rest. i would have found out eventually." you take a step closer and reach for his hand. he stares for a moment before slipping his hand in your own; his fingers are rough, yet the minute he intertwines them with yours, you realise you never want him to let go. "it's nothing to be intimidated by. it's not stupid."

"it is stupid. it should be the last thing on my mind. the dead are up and walking, but all i can fucking think about is you. it's always just you." he shakes his head, grip tightening the smallest bit. "i'm caught in a hoard and all i can think about is where you are, if you're safe or not. do you know how fucked that is? how in my head you are?" he scoffs in disbelief, tilting his head back. "christ, and you don't even try. you never have tried; you just managed to completely take me down without a care in the fucking world." he rakes his hands down his face, groans into his palms. "i should hate you for it."

"but you don't."

he drops his hands into his lap, dejected. "no. no, i really don't."

he looks up at you then, expectant, like a child waiting for their next task. you can only stare back at him, because there isn't an awful lot a person can say after an admission like that. you wish you could reply with something coherent, something that would get your own feelings across, but for the first time in history, daryl has articulated your emotions for you. every experience he so heart-wrenchingly described is one you have experienced yourself, so there's nothing you can add.

so instead, you guide his hand to your waist and let him draw you in. he's hesitant at first, never taking his eyes off you as you step between his knees and take his face in your hands. for a man so muscular, his cheeks are soft and round, a feature you've always found so amusing and appealing at the same time.

he inhales shakily. "you're still a pain in my ass."

"but you love me."

he scowls, but there is no denial.

you grin, and finally your mind clears enough for you to kiss him. for real this time.

he stiffens for just a moment before easing into it, grip tightening on your waist to pull you closer. you slide your hands over his shoulders, deepening the kiss, feeling his body against your own. you taste the cigarettes on his tongue, a flavour so perfectly him that it doesn't even gross you out. your nails bite into his back, forcing a growl from his throat that nearly has your eyes rolling into the back of your head with how desperate it leaves you.

that's how you know it's time to pull away.

he chases your lips, hands never leaving your waist even when you gently push him back. he groans, pressing his head to your stomach as he says, "why'd you stop?"

breathless, you reply, "it's the middle of the day, daryl, and these cells aren't exactly private."

"so? as far as everyone knows, we're a married couple." his hands slip lower, making you gasp. "and according to glenn, we're known for being loud anyway."

you swallow thickly. the only response you can give is another kiss, only this time you do let your eyes roll into the back of your head.

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bronx-bomber87 · 5 days

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First off thank you much for the lovely response to my last thoughts. I was very nervous about posting and got a lot of good replies, notes and reblogs. This fandom is the best. I think it's important to see both sides and I wanted Tim's to be represented in a way that gave insight without condoning what he'd done. (Cause our boy done messed up.) So giving a little of myself achieved that I believe.

I didn't know a ton about this ep cause I’m a square who stays away from spoilers haha So let’s get started.

6x08 Punch Card

Ugh my heart Tim got a reminder for Lucy’s Bday. Instant heart stomping already….I love that he had a reminder set up though. Making sure he would't forget. I’m crying already. Even though I'm so very sad. I love that he had this setup. When the elevator opens the amount of tension is palpable. Something felt very wrong. Good thing Tim was lost in his Lucy moment or he would've picked up on this sooner.

Poor Tim just wants to explain himself to Mad Dog. To explain what happened. The man is not in a place to receive it and we see later why. That look said it all though when Mad Dog departs. When Dr. London said she just took the wrong elevator my red flag gut was going off.

Now that I've see the episode as a whole I can see Dr. London's play here. She seems to use flirting as a defense mechanism all her own. To protect herself and manipulate those around her. I mean they brought her flirt fest with Aaron in the recap back for a reason I think. She's worried Tim read into something about her interaction with Mad Dog. I mean Tim is clearly upset about seeing him and she uses that to deflect attention off herself. My off meter definitely was kicking on with her. Especially with how flirty she was being I didn't like it.

Now some may see Tim's response as him flirting back but I think he's investigating her. Also he's being a little sassy because he's not comfortable with her doing therapy outside the office. I mean his face when he leaves that elevator is not of a man who just flirted. It's one who is one still hurting and two his cop gut is going off but he isn't sure why....He seems conflicted by what just went down in that elevator. Just like us he was feeling off about her.

This scene was very cute with Grey. I loved him anointing her to be a T.O. LOL Also once again showing the faith he has in Lucy. To train Celina and know she would do a good job. I was excited for this opportunity for her. For her to tap into leadership. Honestly it shouldn't have taken this long for Lucy to get to show her chops with this.

Tim is so busy trying to delete his Lucy reminder he runs into the physical version of it without realizing. Andddddd it’s still awkward af between them. How could It not be? No communication between them so naturally it is. Stilted awkwardness. Lucy got out of there so fast. Even with Tim making the all powerful joke. Trying to make it less awkward. Ow. Couldn't get away fast enough. The way he watches her go. *sigh* Like he's watching his entire heart depart the room.

This hurts you guys. No matter how much I know it’ll be ok at some point this hurts to watch. Grey not pulling any punches noting how very awkward that was. Tim telling him that's actually better than it's been....Makes me wonder how much time has passed between 6x07 and now. Wade not caring that's progress to Tim. He is not messing around....

Just wants Tim to fix is ASAP cause of the team dynamic. He's not wrong. Man isn't wrong. Rarely if ever is. Saying if Tim can't there’s gonna be a transfer and it won’t be Lucy….I mean I LOVE Grey siding with Lucy on this one. Not a doubt in his mind if it shakes out that way it'll be Tim. That being said just hearing that. Ugh. Deep anxiety pit of my stomach. And of course it would be friggin North Hollywood. That damn station been haunting them since S2. Looming over them ready to take one of them away.

Lucy being Celina’s T.O .for the day I love it. She is so excited to be her leader even if it's just for this shift. Just wants to 'Invest in her success.' You know Lucy's leadership is pretty damn identical to how I am with my team. While I am mostly Tim there are pieces of Lucy in me as well. I related to her style of leadership quite a bit.

Aaron and Tim in the surveillance van is hilarious. Their dynamic has always entertained me. I truly adore these two goobers together. Tim is trying so hard to keep his shit together. Aaron dying of ask him if he finds it hard to surveil his old team for an OP? Tim of course gives him the company line. Doing what he is told without complaint. Pulling out some S1 Tim with that reply my love.

Tim then telling him he needs a stronger deodorant LOL It's too funny. What a boring assignment for them both. Tim went from running that entire team. Doing ops and making decisions on the fly to this….Also Aaron being too distracted by his deodorant comment to pay attention is the most Aaron thing ever haha

What I love the most about Lucy with Celina is her correcting without crushing her confidence. Once again reminding me of myself when I'm correcting my work kids on stuff. She is kind but confident in her assessment of what she did wrong in this moment. Celina receiving it well because she handles it this way. Lucy out here crushing it already with zero T.O. training. Just going off instinct and what she would want if she was a newbie still. Once again her and I very alike.

Oh Tim getting that reminder again. *heart clutch.* Sigh my boy. Aaron offering to turn it off for him. I love that he was gonna have it remind him through out the day. Pre-breakup Tim clearly didn't want to forget. Wanted to make sure he not only knew it was but to make sure to make a big deal of it. That's just an assumption on my part but man would've wanted to do that. it's the way he has 'TOMORROW.' Wanting to make sure he didn't forget such an important day. *screams into a pillow.* Aaron asking if he’s gonna get her anything? I’m sure he had stuff in mind. But yeah bad form indeed…

Tim’s sweet smile when he finds out what Aaron got her. Knowing how perfect of a gift that would be for her. That sweet knowing smile makes me wanna weep a bit. He knows his girl so well. Lot of sadness attached to the smile though. 'Can I ask why ya’ll split up?' 'No.' LMAO Took it too far Aaron....You're lucky you got that much good sir.

This scene with Mad Dog hurt my heart for Tim. No matter how wrong he was for what he did I still hate seeing this. This was what I was worried about with him working with Metro. Picking at the wounds he hasn’t even begun to heal about how he left. I knew him making notes on the OP was going to come back and bite him in the ass. Watching all his repercussions is painful to see I have to say. Knowing what we know about Mad Dog later I think that's part of why he goes off on Tim. Doesn't make it any easier to watch though...

Friggin Love Lucy being a BAMF in this episode. Especially in this moment. When she once again corrects but doesn't crush Celina about her gun. It's the way she guides Celina and has control over every situation they encounter in this ep. Proving herself a worthy teacher and leader. Also she was a better teacher to Celina in one episode than Nolan has been her entire career. Dude is a stinker of a T.O. It shows in how Celina makes basic mistakes Lucy had down pat long before this time in her rookie year.

Too bad Lucy can't finish out her training and Nolan is booted. But that'll never happen nothing sticks to that man. Not since S3 premiere. The rules and repercussions are rubber and he's glue. What doesn't stick to him does to everyone else... Grey should really evaluate his teaching skills. But that'll never happen. But she deserves a better teacher than him.

From the minute Tim entered the room something seemed very wrong. From the way Mad Dog was just expecting Tim to flog him. Like he wanted Tim to ream him out for how the OP went down. Also how Mad Dog seemed nervous af to see Dr London. I mean look at that man above. He is scared shitless she is there to see him. The way he watches her though out the scene. Especially when she leaves.

Tim's cop gut is going off like crazy when she enters the room. Wondering how the hell she even know about this? He seems to take her answer at face value because honestly its pretty good considering it's a bold faced lie. Tim once again feeling like something is very off but isn't sure why.

First let me say once again I feel personally attacked by the choice in song once again. lol I couldn't find the song to save my life. The lyrics are *chef kiss.* They're painfully accurate for them both. Think they've been very intentional with their ending music and just in general this season. These lyrics filled me with some hope as well. Jotted down the lyrics since couldn't find the song.

‘When the sun won’t shine and the words don’t rhyme. And there’s mountains you can’t move. Somethings on your mind and it’s been some time-since you felt like you were you. When it all caves in feeling paper thin. And the pain might cut right through.

Oh child, Lift up your head. All this trouble's only gonna last for awhile.’ Yeah we’re gonna be all right oh child. Lift up your head. And the light's gonna find you. When you feel like you ain’t got a friend. And you’re wondering if you ever gonna smile again. Every little thing gonna be ok. I know that you gonna see better days.’ *heart clutch.*

Damn smart of Tim saying happy birthday from Kojo and not him. I’m not crying you are. This was so so sweet. Lucy's reaction to Kojo got me all in my feels. She's so excited to see him. Then that excitement melts into sadness. Because he's an extension of Tim. The way she pet's him and says how much she misses him ugh.

Seems there is a double meaning going on there. We all know despite the hurt how much she misses her person. Tim just standing there only imagining her reaction when Kojo makes his way back. What a way to bring that sweet boy back in. I'm so happy about it. Tim is respecting her space but couldn’t let her bday go without doing something. Had to let her know her was thinking of her still. The fact that it’s happening in the hallway where so many seminal moments have played out for them.... I wanna cry.

I LOVE that Tim got Kojo to put his little paw in ink for the card. It is so sweet. Their fur baby. He put serious thought and effort into this. This was so well done. Only Melissa and Eric could have chemistry without even seeing each other. This is the first time we've really seen Lucy cry about them. 6x06 she was in complete shock. 6x07 was her processing her thoughts/emotions. She was on the verge of tears but we didn't see her cry. This was first time we've seen her shed tears on screen at least since the break up. Wanna hug her so much. She deserved this card and more. Like a real conversation with him but this is a good start.

She knows this is Tim reaching out without physically doing so. Showing her he still cares. I mean he clearly very much does. You don't put thought and effort in like this if you don't. It's a huge thing for him to do right now. Lucy recognizes the effort in this adorable act. Tim's face after she reads the card. Ripping my damn heart out. The absolute regret splayed all over it. Like it’s finally hitting him what he’s done to her. What he’s lost in the process. He gave up his favorite person. His happy place and just it’s hitting him square in his chest.

Like a freight train that’s run him over. It's the way he shakes his head. Kicking himself. Knowing he hastily threw them away. What a mistake he’s made in his irrational decision making. It’s written all over his beautiful face. He may not fully understand yet why he did it but the regret is evident. Eric be killing me. His face screams all that. Knowing he should’ve been with Lucy for her birthday. Hell probably sharing that bath bomb she brought up with her. Killing me softly. Hurts so good. Damnit writers... This is being handled so well though. So hats off to them. They both needed this moment more than either of them knew.

Mad dog killing himself....jesus H Christ. Poor Tim the last thing he needs is this. It explains why he was extra nasty to Tim though. Tim saw the flaw in his play and freaked the hell out. Also for Tim to see someone he once trusted with his life compromise themselves. Compromise the safety of their own men. Gut punch. And for what? Money? Power? We won't know till more of this unravels. Whatever it is won't be for a good reason. I know Tim hates himself for his mistakes. But those mistakes always had some form of honor attached to them.

He may not see that but I do. Now the op where he got his men killed no but what he did after was honorable. What he did for Mitch came from a honorable place. I just wonder how seeing Mad Dog doing something so very un-honorable is gonna affect him moving forward...Oh my lord I’m so mad about Dr London not because I liked her. But because I didn’t want it to derail Tim’s therapy in any way. The man needs it. Here’s hoping he continues in s7 with someone better.

Everyone was right she’s a dirty birdy. I was just hoping she wouldn’t be. But my ick and uncomfortable factor went WAY up in this ep with her. I knew it was inevitable. It's not that I didn't want to be wrong about her. It's the fact I didn't want this to hurt Aaron and I definitely I didn’t want her to be dirty for Tim that was it. For his therapy and the progress he's made. I hope this doesn’t affect his therapy journey and he can find someone not compromised in S7.

That promo for next week oh my lord….the hug! The hug! "This doesn't change anything." Then pulls him right in like nothing's changed. I will be living there from now on. Or until next week lol Love the Finale being a 2 parter as well. Phew this is gonna be an intense ending to this season. Gonna be chomping at the bit for S7 once it's done I know it. Like the song stated we're gonna see better days. I truly believe that. We got this my lovely fandom. Thank you for always being so wonderfully receptive of these reviews. Appreciate any likes, comments or reblogs that come my way.

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Angela shooting Monica down with Wesley. She's an Epic Queen and I adore her.

Dr London is in alliance with Monica. That's super great….cool cool cool……I have a feeling and D and I discussed this earlier. Reminds us of Armstrong. This feels more like a she's been forced into it a situation. Because its obvious she's good at her job.

But the way she freaked out about the cops being hurt clearly shook her. She looked on the verge of tears in Mad Dog's room. So do I think she's a bad person? Unsure at the moment. Do I think she was once a good person who was manipulated into whatever this alliance is? I do. Be interesting to see how her SL unfolds.

#Caitlin's Mini reviews #chenford #s6 #6x08 Punch Card #the rookie 6x08 #tim x lucy #lucy x tim #tim bradford #lucy chen #eric winter #melissa o'neil #otp: doing my job #otp: unless it is

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itsjaywalkers · 2 months

Note

for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)

HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!

anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)

57. "Teach me to fight."

It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.

This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.

His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.

Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.

He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.

There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.

"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"

"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."

Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.

"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.

There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.

Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.

"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."

Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.

"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.

"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.

"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."

Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.

He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.

"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.

"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."

"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.

"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"

"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."

Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"

"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."

There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.

"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."

Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"

"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."

"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."

"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"

Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.

But this? This is new.

"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.

"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.

"Because you're job kind of forces you to."

"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."

"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."

Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.

"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."

Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."

"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.

"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"

"Teach me to fight."

Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.

"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.

"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.

Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.

"Why?"

"I told you, I like boxing."

"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"

Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.

"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.

"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."

"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"

"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."

They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.

He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.

It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.

The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.

Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.

"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."

Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.

He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.

They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.

One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.

"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.

Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."

"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."

Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."

"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"

Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.

A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.

Barty groans again.

"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.

"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."

Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.

Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.

He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.

It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.

The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.

Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.

He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.

The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.

His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.

"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"

Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.

"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.

Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."

He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—

"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.

Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.

#this took me way too long bc my best friend kept distracting me #but i had . so much fun #god i'm obsessed with them #the boxer au is jegulus but don't get it twisted #it's still rosekiller's world #they're just living in it etc etc #ANYWAYS #hope you liked this saints and that it was everything you dreamt of #MWAH #silly little drabbles #rosekiller #boxer james agenda #saints tag <3

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peachesofteal · 7 months

Note

Hello peach hope you're doing well!!

I want to say that I love your writing, i grow too attached to it especially dead disco, you have no idea how it represents my deepest weaknesses and things in me that i never seen written in details that hit the right way, the way that darling is loved and wanted and even cherished by them yet she's so drown in her "what ifs" and worst case scenarios... i don't know if you do requests but my birthday is coming by, and well my birthday aren't the happiest days so every year i act like a workaholic in grieve, so i thought what of darling is like this and both her lovers notice how gloomy and on edge she gets when her birthday approach, how she may fake her birthday dates and never really talk about it when it's one week away...i think it'll hurt good, thanks again! 🩷🤎

⛈️

Hi love! Sorry this is a bit late, if your birthday has already passed, I hope it was okay for you. I usually feel like there’s a raincloud following me around on my own birthday, so I can relate to not enjoying it so much. I hope you like this! 🖤

18+ MDNI brief mention of spanking and praise kink, angst, comfort, emotional issues, Simon is in charge, darling is her own tag-warning / no au / dead disco canon - early relationship

It started with a lie.

A lie you had told months ago, on the patio, glass of wine in your hand. You had been enjoying the summer sun, curled up in your underwear on Johnny's lap, Simon's fingers working circles into the balls of your feet.

"My birthday just passed, actually." Johnny startled underneath you.

"What? How come ye never told us?"

"I don't know..." you swallowed, hard. "We had just started hanging out, I didn't want to make a big deal." The lie is incredible. So many half truths, twisted into something so false.

The reality was, your birthday wasn't for another few months. And you usually didn't make it a big deal, had stopped celebrating it years ago. Once everything started to feel hollow. Once you started to feel like maybe, your birthday really wasn't something to be happy about. Maybe, if you just pretended it didn't exist, it would sting less. Hurt less, when others did too.

"I wish we had known, darling." Simon interrupts your thoughts, and you shrug.

"Next year."

"Is everything alright?” Simon’s hand squeezes yours, drawing your attention from where you’re staring at a book, but not really reading. He can tell. He always can tell. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Your jaw tenses and relaxes with one breath. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” In reality, you were fine. Everything was fine. Johnny was in the kitchen, you were half sprawled across Simon with your paperback. You had a full belly and two doting, loving, warm partners, home, together, in the flat. What more could you want?

It’s hard to explain, the feeling of your impending birthday. The doom spiral that it begins in your heart, the sucker punch that it will deliver the morning of.

The guys don’t even know it’s your birthday, they think it’s not for however long ahead the made up date was.

You can’t decide if it’s worse, or better that you lied. Probably worse.

Will they remember? You never gave them a definite date. Will they push you on it?

You sneak a glance at Simon and realize he’s watching you, studying your micro expressions and picking them apart.

Definitely worse.

You feel awful when you think about how disappointed they’ll be if they find out, how Johnny’s face with twist with sadness, confusion.

You mentally cross your fingers, and hope it never comes up.

Your hopes are drastically dashed the next day, when you come home to a silent flat, Simon sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded.

“Hi?”

“How was your day?” He asks and you shrug.

“Fine.” You peer into the fridge, feigning interest to avoid whatever the fuck is happening at the kitchen table right now. “Where’s Johnny?”

“Out.” Out?

“Out where?”

“On an errand. Come here.” It’s a command, something you recognize now, and your mind goes on red alert, chest rattling with a shaky breath.

Your feet deliver you to him on auto pilot.

“You got something delivered today.” There’s a shiny piece of postcard barely peeking out from his palms, glinting in the kitchen light. “It’s from your dentist.”

“Oh.” You laugh, nervously, scratching your neck because you don’t know what else to do with your hands.

“They wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Since it’s on the fifteenth.”

Fuck.

Your brain splits in two. One half of you wants to double down and assure him it must be a mistake. The other half wants to say you’re sorry, burst into tears and crawl into his lap.

“Darling?”

“Yeah… I uh… it’s uh.” He raises an eyebrow and you trail off, eyes finding the floor, hot shame crawling up your spine to your cheeks.

“Why did you lie?” You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. No words, no lies, no rebuttals… just- a void. Nothing.

The walls feel like they’re ten feet closer to you, squeezing in on all sides, bearing down.

“Hey, hey.” His fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you closer into his body while you suck in a hurried breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t tell him. You don’t want them to know.

“I can’t.” You whisper to your feet, and he strokes a thumb across your pulse point.

“You can’t?” He pushes, like you knew he would. It doesn’t take much for you to fold, and when he squeezes you wrist encouragingly, you break.

“I… don’t like my birthday. So, I lied. I said it was a while ago so you guys didn’t know.”

“Why do you not like it?” You shrug.

“I don’t know. It just always seems so, empty. It makes me sad. When you’re a kid, birthdays are special you know? And then as you get older they just get… worse. It’s supposed to be a day to celebrate but I only ever feel alone. I feel like, I don’t know. Like it’s just sad. And not special.” Your lower lip trembles, but you swallow down the lump in your throat, unable to let yourself fall apart, unable to fall beneath the weight. “I can’t explain it but there’s always a pit in my stomach, the morning of, and I can never shake it. It’s not like my previous relationships even really went out of their way to do something, so I… I don’t know.” You cut yourself off from your ramble by biting the inside of your cheek, trying to ward off a tidal wave of emotion.

“I see.” He pauses, and then wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “And you were worried you’d feel the same, with us?” You shrug again. “Did you think we’d disappoint you?”

“No!” You blurt. “No, I just- I didn’t want the expectation. I didn’t want-“

“To be let down.” You shake your head with a denial, but Simon only nods, face grave and serious. “You always feel alone on your birthday. Why should it be any different now?”

“Because-“

“Because you don’t trust this yet.”

“That’s not true.”

“You trust us, darling. I know that. Johnny knows that. But trauma is muscle memory. It takes more than a few months with a new relationship to heal the build up of the pain and experiences you’ve been carrying.”

You can feel yourself twisting on the hook of his words. It’s so hard… to believe. To know. To trust but… this. Him and Johnny- you know it’s real. You’re terrified it’s real. It gives you the sweetest dreams and the scariest nightmares.

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“That’s alright, love. I’m not angry.” He watching you closely, cradling your jaw when your lip picks back up with it’s quivering. “But I think you need to feel better. I think you’ve been bottling this up for weeks now, haven’t you?” You suck in a deep breath, ragged and raw. You’re buzzing now, feeling too big for your skin, your clothes, your nerve endings rattling inside your body. “Should we sort it out?”

You nod.

“Words, darling.”

“Yes, Simon.”

When Johnny waltzes through the front door an hour later with a cake and a dozen balloons, he’s half curious, half elated to see you over Simon’s knee with your pants around your ankles, wide palm smoothing the raw skin of your ass as he hums sweetly to you.

“Shhh, good girl. I know, I know. It’s alright. You did so good for me.” Simon calls over your sniffling. “Johnny, c’mere. I think our girl is ready for her first gift.”

#peaches asks #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #john mactavish #simon riley

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raayllum · 3 months

Text

au where finnegrin's bluffing

"No, no wait!"

The words rush out of him like water, quick and anguished, mind racing. He read the spell just once, not wanting to pay any more mind to what had been used to avenge his mother, but it'd still been burned into his brain.

"A dying breath!" he bursts, chest threatening to cave in. If Finnegrin would just turn around then—"Blood filled with hatred, and a-a unicorn horn."

Guilt and relief wage war as the captain turns to face him; the bruises on his face, the ache from the electrocution seem to hurt twice as much. Withstanding all that harm and for what? For—for Rayla, though she'd loathe it. But he can't—he can't—

Callum can't meet the pirate's eye as he swallows, admitting, "That's the dark magic you want. Just..." His chest is so tight it's hard to breathe. He manages to raise his head. It'll be worth it if Finnegrin will just—"Just let her go." His voice creaks, cracks. He's begging and they both know it.

The captain pauses, then ponders, and then grins. Then he starts to laugh, hearty and cruel.

Callum glares at him, trying to put the pieces together. He pulls at his chains. He doesn't understand, but—"What are you waiting for?" he demands. He wants to punch the man all over again, to beat him senseless and—"Tell them to let her go!"

Finnegrin wipes a tear of mirth from his eyes and then bends down, grinning. "Oh, m'boy. So gullible. Your precious elf girl was never really in any true danger."

Staring, Callum keeps struggling, but less so. The snake rattle slips down from his sleeve and into his palm for reasons he can't (or doesn't want to) explain. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, do you see her tied up?"

"No, but—"

"Can you hear her screaming?"

His ears strain. One of Finnegrin's windows is cracked open just enough to hear the constant knocking of the waves. He still wants to punch that smug sneer from just the thought of Rayla screaming off Finnegrin's stupid face. "Well no, but—"

Finnegrin sets down Bait's cage. "You were so composed overall, you know—barely even screamed. Then you saw her in pain, and well, we've discussed your little display already haven't we? Unchained and you could've taken me down easily with a spell, but no. Just nothing but pure, raw, emotion." He hefts an overdramatic sigh. "Young love, I suppose. You didn't seem to think when it came to her, and I wanted to test if that was true. If you'd give me what I wanted after all." Finnegrin adjusts his cuffs, his smirk growing. "Thought I'd try a pirate's bluff. Worked out quite nicely, wouldn't you say?"

Callum's mind is still racing, heart beating loudly in his ears as his feelings try to catch up to his mind. "Wait, so she's—"

"Safely in the brig with the rest of your little friends. For now. But if you disrespect me again, boy, we'll see just how far I have to press that on weakness to get you to cooperate. I expect you'll have an idea or two of how to track down a unicorn, won't you, once we get back to Scumport?"

Callum glowers at him, eyes burning as Finnegrin whistles while he leaves, the door thudding shut behind him.

The mage runs his thumb over the groove in the snake's rattle tail, debating.

How does he know doing dark magic a second time won't unleash Aaravos? How does he know he could make it to the others, find the others, even if he did free himself? How would they get off the ship with a storm rolling in, rain and wind lashing at the windows? A bit of water seeps onto the floor.

Callum tucks the rattle back into his sleeve.

For later, once he has the answer to his questions—because he will not let Finnegrin hurt Rayla just to get to him.

Not again.

#rayllum #canon divergence #5x08 #s5 #arc 2 #tdp #the dragon prince #AU #ficlet #my fic #a thousand times which isn't half enough #so i'll do you a favour and set you free #snake boi callum

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lanawinterscigarettes · 4 months

Note

requesting fluff with dhawan!master x their gn! companion

I tried to make this extra cute and fluffy because I'm such a sucker for those kinds of things (also shout out to my bestest bud @your-next-daydream for helping me come up with this corny ass pun of a title. I love you sm <3)

The One Who Rocks My World (Dhawan! Master x reader)

Warnings: soft! Master (he might be slightly ooc due to a part in this where he gets a little emotional), teeny weeny bit of hurt/comfort, but mostly just lots and lots of fluff

"Ooh, let's go there!" You said in excitement, pointing at a random alien marketplace that popped up on one of the TARDIS console's many screens.

The Master merely sighed, knowing you wouldn't stop pestering him until you got what you wanted. He usually wasn't a fan of random, one off trips (he wasn't The Doctor) but something about you always made it so hard for him to say no.

"Fine, but we're staying for no longer than two hours, three tops. And I'm not buying you anything there." He said sternly, glancing up at you while he punched in the coordinates. "Do you understand?"

You simply squealed happily in response, clapping your hands together. "Yay! I knew you'd say yes!"

Less than twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the marketplace. You'd grabbed The Master by the hand and were already starting to drag him towards it before the TARDIS had even landed properly.

"Slow down, the market's not going anywhere in the ten minutes it'll take us to get there," he grumbled, though he made no real attempt to stop you, something he could very well do if he so pleased.

He lingered a little behind you, following you around from vendor to vendor as you oohed and awed over the different wares being sold.

"Remember, I'm not buying you anything, so don't pick anything up if you don't have the money to pay for it," he called after you, watching as you picked up a piece of fabric that was similar to a scarf.

You frowned slightly before putting it back down, knowing full well that even if you did have the money, you most likely wouldn't know how much to give them, and you had no interest in being scammed by some random alien seller, again.

The Master shook his head at your antics, smiling softly to himself. As irritating as you could be sometimes, he did have to admit he found it to be pretty endearing.

He turned to say something else to you before realizing you'd run off again, though to where he wasn't entirely sure. He was about to start tearing apart the entire marketplace looking for you before you suddenly popped up again, this time holding something in your hands.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to figure out what you had. "What's that in your hands?"

"Oh, I found it on the ground over there!" You said while pointing to a beachy area that was littered with small, multicolored stones. "It's for you."

He looked at you in confusion as he took the stone, not quite sure what to say. "What is this?"

"It's a rock." You stated plainly, doing nothing to actually answer his question.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that." He did his best to supress an eye roll. "I mean, why are you giving it to me?"

"Well, because I care about you," you stated as though it should've been obvious. "And you give gifts to people you care about."

That made sense, he supposed, though The Master never really did view himself as someone other people would care for. But, still. A rock?

"Why a rock?" He asked curiously, turning it over in his hands.

"Because it's purple," you simply replied, an unwavering smile on your face. "And you wear purple a lot, so I figured it must be one of your favorite colors. Plus, it reminded me of you."

Your words made him want to cry. You thought about him enough that you were reminded of him in even the smallest of things?

"It's- it's very nice," he choked out, blinking back a sudden onslaught of tears.

You frowned slightly, your forehead creasing in concern. "Aw, don't cry." You immediately wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

He wasn't nearly as stiff as he was the first few times you showed him physical affection, but he was obviously still a little awkward about it, holding his arms out to the side while you hugged him.

He glanced yet again at the rock in his hand, watching as the mixture of colors shined brightly in the sun, like his very own kaleidoscope.

The purple color of the stone made him smile, and he very slowly did his best to hug you back properly, not missing the way you seemed to hold on for a bit longer after that.

If this was always what happened when you went on trips together, then he'd have to make sure to plan them more often.

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87

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crusty-chronicles · 1 year

Text

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #2 Ging (HxH)

He finds you annoying (at first)

Can’t begin to fathom how he got stuck with you

Or why

Ging, the boar-ish man who’s an absolute ass, stuck with an idiot who can’t take hints?????

“Go away.”

“Ooohhh on a trip!!???? Where we heading.”

And then you look at him with those puppy dog eyes and he gives up.

“Bother someone else.”

“But you’re my friend???”

He may be completely stuck with you, but he will not baby you

You tripped?

Don’t be a baby, get up

You’re cutting with the wrong end of a knife?

Figure it out yourself

Lost your way home?

Good

He does classify you as harmless after he’s gotten used to your presence

But then he sees you fight and his perspective changes big time

He’d gotten himself into trouble, as Ging does, with a couple of angry goons

Now Ging could take care of himself perfectly fine. (He’s just lazy and doesn’t like to put in any effort)

But to you, your stinky little rat friend was cornered 🥺

Poor little buddy was gonna get pummeled

So you stepped in with your nen

And it was a sight to see

“Collapse.” One word and your aura had overwhelmed the enemies.

Not even one punch, just one word and you’d won

He lets you stick around without complaints after that

But only on the condition that you’d fight his battles from then on

He’s a goblin, the same man who left his son for 12 years. Is he not supposed to use your surprising strength to his advantage???

“Y/n, Pariston is being mean.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass!!!!”

You become known as his guard dog, much to Ging’s delight

It means less people bother him

It also means he gets to bring you in on Zodiac meetings

“I won’t go if they’re not allowed in.”

Will not change his mind

You make things more amusing and less boring.

The others don’t mind (except for Pariston)

In fact, Cheadle prefers having an unbiased and unintimidated party to hash out ideas to.

Ging has absolutely no clue he likes you until you leave for your own hunter business

You’d be gone for a month and he’d be alone with his thoughts

No sound of breaking objects

No constant buzzing from his phone (you and kite being the only people who had his number)

And no idiotic ramblings

It was too quiet without you

And it didn’t seem like you to be completely no contact

So little by little he began to worry

What if you were hurt somewhere?

What if you were being tortured somewhere?

What if you had just decided to stay gone?

You hadn’t gotten fed up with him, had you?

He decided to find you

Not because he missed you, what you’re crazy, he would never 🙄🙄🙄

It was because you probably got stuck somewhere and needed his help

And he had nothing better else to do

That was it!!!

He searched everywhere for you

Everywhere

But there wasn’t a trace of your nen

Was this what Gon was going through????

Man he owed that kid an apology when he found him

But that wasn't important right now, you were missing

You were a blacklist hunter so the possibility of you being dead was certain

However, as he checked into a shitty hotel after yet another day of looking for you, he could sense someone was following him.

It wasn't wise to track one of the best hunters in the world

An even worse choice to track one that was already pissed

"Just tell me what you want and get it over with." He was surprised to find himself engulfed in a hug

Then a very familiar voice filled the space

"Ging!!!! I missed you!!!!"

It was you

You were okay

You were alive

Of course you were, he'd seen you take out an entire group with just one word

Why the hell had he been worried???

He pushed your face away with one hand, a pout on his face.

"What did I say about touching."

You begrudgingly let go

"Fine. But what did I say about showering."

Doesn't let you leave by yourself anymore after that

"But Ging, I need to get paid. It'll just be for a few weeks"

"And I told you not by yourself. Last time I let you go alone you had a bounty on your head."

Calls you puppy or pup

Why?

Because you follow him around like a golden retriever

Doesn't let anyone else call you that

Will and has fought them

Doesn't like to engage with Pariston, but loves it when you do

"Oh, looks like Ging brought around his little guard dog again."

"What about it rat man?"

"I just think it's unnecessary for a grown man to have somebody else fight his battles."

"You're just jealous that everybody would rather fight you than for you. That and you're a bi-"

"The meeting has begun!"

He absolutely melts when he sees you interact with Gon

Your eyes lit up immediately upon seeing the small boy.

He was sobbing about what happened to Kite when you picked him up and started cooing

"AWWW!!!! ITS A MINI GING!!!"

And Gon stops crying immediately

"Look at how smol he is!!!! Aww precious boi!"

Gon's blushing, embarrassed by your sudden attention

And Ging is staring at the two of you with stars in his eyes.

His family, happy and complete

But he'd die before he'd admit that.

You and Gon get along so well and are constantly keeping each other engaged

Which is great for Ging, who is glad to have a small break from all your energy

But also not great because this immature man still wants all of your attention

Gon may be his son, but Ging found you first 😡

Ging's actually the one who has to ask if you're dating or not

You two spend so much time together

You live together

You refer to Gon as your son

"Are we dating?"

"Haven't we??? For a couple months, right???"

And he goes along with it because why not.

"Just testing you," and gives you a peck on the cheek so you don't suspect anything.

An: The easiest head cannons of my life ngl. His character was so fun to write for.

NEXT UP: Nico Robin

MASTERLIST

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #x reader #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #ging freecss #ging x reader #hxh ging #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

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differenteagletragedy · 6 months

Note

ol boys with bad boy mc headcanons? like how they are when the mc inevitably breaks the rules or shows up on a fat motorcycle to give them a joy ride or just. yeah. bad boy.

THIS WAS SO FUN THANK YOU

-- Take Baxter on a ride on your motorcycle. Please. He's too proud to beg, but he might make an exception for this.

-- At the beginning of Step 3, he may or may not keep an ear out so he can slink over to the window to watch you leave. If you start dating, he buys a leather jacket and overnights it just in case you offer to take him for a spin. He likes it A LOT.

-- Cove, meanwhile, is down for a ride but he doesn't want to wear any protective gear -- he doesn't like layers. But even a bad boy won't put that little cinnamon roll in danger, so you make him wear a jacket at least, and he'll roll his eyes but it'll make him feel warm and fuzzy.

-- Derek is the most nervous about the idea of a motorcycle, not because he'd be scared to ride it but because your safety is at risk more on a bike than in a car. If you don't like wearing gear, he's going guilt you into it, but in the most loving way. He cares about you too much.

-- And like Baxter cares too, but he's also like "MC, I've purchased you a pair of the finest leather gloves, please but them on for no particular reason other than your safety."

-- Also Baxter: "Tell me, are chaps practical or are they mainly used for stylistic purposes? Why do I ask? No reason."

-- Cove loves a rule breaker, that's already cannon -- if you punch Jeremy in the face, he likes it! So do what you need to do, he's there for it. Want to blow off school? So does he. Want to play hooky from work? He's down.

-- When you're like 13 you and Cove go for a walk and you didn't bring any money so you swipe some candy for the walk home and he's like *heart eyes* *swoon*

-- Derek does have a harder time with the rule breaking at first, he's such a good kid! But then you do something a little shady for him -- maybe call him during a practice and tell him you need help and when he gets there all frantic you just want to spend time with him, or you're at a game and you see someone from the other team try to hurt him and you make a scene/make him cry -- and that will win him over.

-- Baxter thinks you're so so fun, and he goes along with whatever you want to do. Where Cove is with you for the ride though, Baxter is going to match your antics. Not in any rude way to an innocent bystander or anything, he wouldn't do that (you wouldn't either I don't think, you're a bad boy with a heart of gold), but if you're out for mischief he can definitely keep up.

-- Did you make sure to get a motorcycle big enough to fit your favorite boy on the back? You sure did. Which is impressive, because you know some big boys.

-- I know a lot of bikers (not all, but a lot!) will make fun of a man for riding on the back of a motorcycle, but Cove, Derek and Baxter do not care. They could not care less. They are proud to be in that seat and no one will make them feel embarrassed about it.

-- Be sure to get back to Baxter about the chaps though, he's just really curious.

#our life beginnings and always #olba #our life #baxter ward #cove holden #derek suarez #our life cove #our life baxter #our life derek #cove holden x reader #baxter ward x reader #derek suarez x reader #our life headcannons

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keepthetension · 5 months

Text

jimmy's face is just all-around stellar this episode but in particular:

guess the crew gave up on trying to make his skin look "bad" huh

the actual tear rolling down his cheek????? for fuck's sake, just punch me, it'll hurt less

this "oh yeah? let me show you a thing or two" face. BRUH. BRUH.

#last twilight the series #it's the fucking #the cocky smirkyness on that rooftop??#the raised eyebrow??????#brb clawing my goddamn eyes out #impeccable work sir absolutely excellent face journeys all around #everyone let me know your favorite mhok faces this episode!#*if* you managed to get through the episode without losing your mind!!

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say-hi-intrepid-heroes · 3 months

Text

my experience getting/having a septum piercing!

(detailed journal under the cut, overview at the top)

TLDR: my experience was good, but that's because i planned and dedicated time to it. if you're in a situation where you'd need to hide it, make sure you get the piercing at least a week before you would need to flip it under. anything less and it's going to hurt like hell (although it'll still hurt a lot after a week)

general tips: 1) clean it at least once a day for a while. stuff builds up, especially in winter. i'd honestly recommend not getting it right before winter like i did, cause cold metal is not great. 2) try not to mess with it during the day, but make sure to move it around when you clean it, otherwise the healing skin will stick to the jewelry. 3) get a color/style you can live with for a few months. 4) don't flip it back and forth too much. 5) don't blow your nose aggressively or you might pass out from the pain. 6) dont wear face makeup to get your piercing done. touching your nose is gonna hurt like hell afterwards, so removing makeup won't be fun. 7) don't get a septum piercing as your first piercing. i've had two piercings in each ear, so i've had experience with the pain. if you flinch on an ear piercing, it's not as big of a deal cause those are so fast, but this one is NOT. major flinching is really bad here.

i've put a detailed log with dates under the cut. tw for descriptions of blood (obviously) but nothing major.

also, if you have any specific follow up questions, feel free to message or send an ask! i can't necessarily give you a perfect answer, but i can tell you what worked for me :)

(disclaimer: i wrote these on the days they are marked. i have not deleted or added anything, these were my thoughts and experiences as they happened. this does not represent everyone's experience, just mine, and is meant to be used as a reference to anyone wanting more information about this experience)

day 0 (11/11)

- got it done at a tattoo shop, they used a new/sterile needle and disinfected the area or something with something that smelled like iodine. it wasn't as fast as an ear piercing but it was honestly less painful.

- lots of initial bleeding (normal for me and head wounds in general), they nicked the outside of one nostril but that's probably because of my nose shape, lots of eye watering (also normal for me)

- cleaning it sucked, used the stuff they gave me (neilmed piercing aftercare mist) and qtips. moving the piercing was the worst part (it was slightly off center so i had to move it a bit), hurt so bad. did not appear to bleed further, however.

- nose area around piercing (nostrils, tip of nose) is extremely tender. putting on moisturizer was painful. glad i was not wearing full face makeup that i would have had to take off

- still too scared to blow my nose. i have a congestion headache.

day 1 (11/12)

- itchy. so itchy.

- currently biggest challenge is cleaning it. the area is so fragile and hurts so bad if you mess up how cleaning is done.

- also, allergies suck. i can't blow my nose. why.

- no bleeding tho, and nothing concerning

day 2 (11/13)

- cleaning is better, but i did figure out i was doing it wrong so that might be why moving the actual jewelry hurt so much. (the piercing was a lot further forward than i thought it was, so i was kinda just cleaning the middle of my nose. i wasn't cleaning where the hole is, so the scab area was just dry when i tried to move it, which is so so bad)

- area around it is much much less tender. no sudden contact though still.

- moving the jewelry hurts like a bitch

day 7 (11/18)

- substantial improvement over the last few days. no longer hurts to move the jewelry or touch my nose. only hurts if excessive force (i.e. getting punched in the nose)

day 9 (11/20)

- flipped it under (to hide it) for the first time. had to look up youtube videos for people with my nose shape cause i was doing it wrong but other than that it was very smooth and painless.

- now i just feel like i need to sneeze, but no pain.

about three weeks post-piercing

- we've kinda leveled out. no more major pain, now i'm able to flip it under in an emergency (without a mirror, without prep, etc)

- i got super sick and had a runny nose and it did fine the whole time.

- highly recommend flipping it under if you're having to blow your nose a lot, otherwise it snags and snot gets caught in it and i don't like it

two months (mid january)

- it is extremely cold where i am (hanging at about 10-15 degrees Fahrenheit) and this is making my skin so so dry.

- basically the piercing wound has cracked open a bit. it hurts a lot. i'm now drinking lots of water and running a humidifier/diffuser, but there's only so much that can do.

three months (mid february)

- just took out the jewelry, cleaned, and replaced for the first time!! it went really smoothly, no pain, no blood, but i did go slowly.

- make sure not to do it over a sink or the pieces could get lost. also, for the horseshoe i have, the little ball is kinda tricky to get back in, but if you take your time it'll work.

- i'm at the point where i feel like it is substantially healed, barring a major snag or other injury. i'm probably going to change out the jewelry soon once i get a new piece, and im very excited for that!!

[end]

#not really sure how to tag this tbh #oh well it's fine #personal #septum piercing

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thewideawakechronicles · 3 months

Note

Sits down next to the large pupper... and just sits in silence for a bit... eventually starting to speak.

"So... I want to tell you a story... it's a lot less sever then all of... that, but I think it's a bit appropriate."

"I had a friend once... we got along fine, and had fun. During that time, someone was messing with me, grabbing me in the school changing room while half naked, pushing me and running away, messing with me any chance they got just for a damn laugh-"

"One day, they did the same routine... but this friend joined in on it. They joined in on harassing me, right in my face, doubling up the harassments and I lost it. I hurt them, there was a bit of blood too. I lost control, because this friend of mine broke that trust I had."

"I regretted what I did, especially because I soon left the school without ever apologizing... I never got the chance to repent for what I did, even if it was justified in a way."

The person shifts a bit, picking at their hands

"Because at the end of the day... the hour of joy was justified, you had a right to try and stop the hell you all went through... you just didn't have a good way to do it. You lashed out, lost your control... and it's drowning you now..."

"I'm gonna be blunt here- You hurt a lot of people friend... there's no changing that. Everyone is telling you 'it's fine, you didn't mean it, you aren't at fault'... bitch I punched my 'friend' until he bled for doing what he did. I'm at fault for that, and is it not the same for you Noah?"

The person took a deep breath and looked into Noah's eye

"But I'm not gonna sit down and cry about it now, not anymore. It took me a while, and I still hate what I was when I was younger. I hurt a lot people lashing out- this wasn't a one time situation for me- but I can talk about it now. I can look at it, learn from it, and do better..."

"Sometimes it's okay to want to run, to not remember- but your gonna get tried, and then it'll just get worse! And it's scary, horrifying to try and face that kind of thing..."

The person looks down at their hands, a frown on their face

"But you need to face it sometime. You can't just ignore it and pretend, that isn't good. So instead... let's try to bring more good into the world then bad. Face judgement and atone and all that noise..."

The person brings out a comically large frying pan, tools, large stovetop, and a really big box of batter

"So, how do you feel about making Theo some giant pancakes? Making him happy can be a start to atoning ya? No more running, not more ignoring, just acceptance, and doin better."

"...."

Noah stares for a few moments before looking down.

" You're right.. I. I need to stop crying.. I.. I need to stop running away from this.. I. I need to face it. I need I face everything I've done.. I need to stop being nothing but a plain out coward. "

He then breathes in and lets out a vocal exhale before lifting his head. " No more running and hiding away.."

He then smiles at the thought of Theo.

" Yeah.. I'll make the kid some pancakes.. "

(Thanks ya'll for helping :) )

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime deep sleep #swap!au #dogday #swap!dogday #swap!catnap #catnap #thank yallss

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green-lotus · 2 years

Note

Headcanons for how the bros would react during/after the first fight with their partner? I’m feeling extra angsty today 🫠

I can't write lol

But! I tried

This came out way longer than I expected, and it turned more into a general description of a disagreement, but I felt that giving some context to the situation would make the whole thing more realistic. Hope it'll be alright to the person asking

So sorry if Donnie & Mikey parts are off key or out of character! I don't yet feel nearly as confident writing about those two as I do in Raph's or occasionally Leo's case, but I decided to give it a go anyway

Raphael

• It wasn't literally anything important that started it. Some most minor stuff about cleaning or putting something back on its spot. And it never happened before, Raph held his temper in check around you, he wanted so badly to make a better impression on you then as the aggressive meathead he too often came across as

• But he just forgot himself. He forgot that you're you, and not one of his brothers, you were both so comfortable around each other after more than a year in a solid relationship it sometimes would slip his mind that you're someone special

• And as you both threw shorter and shorter and more pinching remarks at each other, he just lost it and abruptly jumping to you, yelled over your voice, sending the nearest pile of cans flying towards the wall with one movement of his arm... And his hand flew dangerously closed to your face

• But since you were never a meek sort yourself - you pushed him away instantly, at least as much as you were able to, and screamed back at him, even louder

• Silence fell immediately, and you could both almost hear each other's hearts pounding

• You were scared. Just a bit, but even so. Raph the others knew threw tantrums like that constantly, but your Raph? He never did that. You always assumed a day like that will come, but it still wasn't any less unpleasant. You know he would never lay a hand you and all of that was accidental, but even so... Six inches and you may have been slapped

• You were staring him straight in the eyes, lips squeezed together, breathing heavily, furious, but already feeling the tension slipping off your body, a good sign

• Raph? Raph was only getting worse, terrified, his eyes changed immediately after he realised what he just did

• And now he was an image of pure misery. So confused and so ashamed, and with absolutely no idea how to express it

• He moved his lips, but made no sound; you composed yourself, ready to talk normally, but then he broke, shook his head as if trying to apologises, turned from you and ran away like a beaten dog

• You remained on the spot and took care to calm yourself first.

• He wouldn't seek you out first out of shame, and you knew that.

• So when you felt ready, you found him, pouring all his tension and unresolved emotions onto the punching bag as always, and the moment he spotted you he froze.

• You nodded, just to signal him you weren't angry any longer, but didn't say anything more. And after you have him the peaceful space, words came pouring out of his mind.

• "Y/n... I... I... Eeeeh... Baby, i'm so sorry. You know... You know I would never, ever hurt ya, ya know... I..." He looked into your eyes, his own still so uncertain. "You... Believe me, right? Tell me... You believe me, I don't deserve it maybe, but... Please..."

• You smirked and reached to his face, and took his head in your arms, telling him that you believe him and that all couples fight eventually, and your first one was still remarkably short and quickly resolved. As he leaned into you, you could feel his breath slowing down and all the tension releasing from his muscles. He chuckled into your neck

• "Thanks... Hey, but, next time I go off the range like that... Just throw something at me, will ya? Whatever's close to your hand"

• "Like this shit?" You picked the smallest weight you could find from the weight bar, and still could barely hold it up for a moment.

• Raph snorted. "Oh yeah. Will do"

Leonardo

• Congratulations! You found some subject on which you and Leo don't agree on, and neither of you are willing to back down, standing your ground firmly as always

• That's why you're so strongly drawn to each other anyway, and why you feel so right at each other's side...but this was just waiting to happen

• So the discussion kept heating up, until one of you eventually stood up and decided to raise your voice, and the other responded with the same thing, subconsciously refusing to be overruled

• Leo was astounded. You haven't met or got together yesterday, but still, he never before experienced the situation in which you annoyed him so. You were always his equal & partner, and now... He was just so damn pissed going over the same thing over and over again when talking, he never felt so badly out of touch with you, it was terrifying. He could argue with his brothers, but you were something else... What if that's a sign things are not working out between you? What if this wasn't right? What if he was doing something wrong?

• His anger quickly passed, or more likely, turned into confusion, and you couldn't not notice that

• "Leo... Leo, for fuck's sake, talk to me! What is it? What did I say?"

• "It's not..." He wanted to say something, but didn't really know what. "It's not you, it's... It's me. Excuse me" His voice was cold and static, but shy

• He tried to storm off, but you knew him too well by now and knew that him escaping an unresolved situation is never a good sign for anyone involved, so you grabbed his arm and walked over to him

• "No no no no, no, i'm not doing that. Just say what you want, i'm not gonna change my mind, but just say it, would you?"

• Leo took a deep breath.

• Initially, he wanted to just spit out the most trivial, obvious explanation and carry on. He didn't have strength to deal with anyone so steadfastly set in their opiniom

• But then... He realised... It was you, hell, it was you he was talking about, his woman, his beloved person. Why was he acting so stupid on purpose?

• He really didn't want to think about the fact he MIGHT be doing it on purpose

• He lowered his eyes and hunched slightly, letting his guard down

• "Listen, I guess... I just never thought we could really argue. I know it's inevitable in a couple, but you..." He took your hands in his and cradled them for a moment. "You are... So special to me. I didn't WANT to argue. But it still... Happened."

• "Uh - huh"

• "Uhu?! You don't have anything ... Else to say? We were just at each other's throats, it shouldn't have happened"

• "Were we?"

• "It felt like that to me."

• "Yeah. And now we're not. You could say we're past our first official couple fallout. How triumphant is that, sensei?"

• Leo capitutaled and chuckled. This one half - ironic, half - affectionate nickname always got through to him

• "Very. I'm proud of us, love"

• You embraced each other, but even so, he whispered in your ear softly: "you're still such a knucklehead... sometimes, i guess"

• "Yeah, that's fine. Love you too"

Michelangelo

• It took an unhuman amount of patience & extravagance to deal & exist with Mikey on a daily basis. And you were always more than happy to provide that. No one could ever quite keep up with YOU either, so

• But this one time, even your temper ran short.

• You would most often accompany Mikey in every not really reasonable venture he came up with. Going above ground to join a dress - up parade? Strolling through the city roofs in broad daylight and avoiding all sight? Got it, you were never the one to hold him back, and Mikey fell deeper in love with you every single time

• Until this one time.

• He just kept on fooling around, in the least suitable moment. Brothers were stressed, Leo needed peace & quiet after some serious talk with Splinter and Mikey didn't seem to notice that fact at all, and you had a really, really rough day and the last thing you were in the mood for were his wild ideas

• "Mikey, jesus, just shut up for a second, would you? Could you do that?"

• He looked at you, astounded, but not quite catching on the mood of the situation

• "Hey, my baby, what is it? Did those crabs get you down behind my shell? You need some special Michelangelo treatment?"

• If he corrected himself now perhaps you wouldn't have lashed out - but you simply couldn't take it anymore

• "No! Just shut up, Mikey, shut it! I'm tired, i'm sad, i can't deal with you!"

• Mikey stared at you with his blue eyes, utterly confused. He was clueless - what happened to you? You never acted like that in response to him, especially when he was acting out his very best for your smile & laughter

• "What do you mean? Baby doll, what do you want? What's wrong?"

• "Nothing, just... Mikey, i'm tired of you"

• That maybe wasn't the best choice of words, but there was no other right now

• "You're tired of me? How can you say that? You only just got here, i'm trying to cheer you up, i'm doing my best for you, angelcakes!"

• What you said hurt him more than he would have thought

• He had such a perfect partner in you. Always

• You didn't patronise him, didn't treat him like the younger, less serious one, he didn't have to hold back one bit, didn't need to overcompensate for any of his shortcomings with some extra acts, you were 200% on his ride and he would never think you can get tired of his behavior, what the hell happened? Did he do something wrong? Did you grow out of loving his dazzling personality and temper?

• No fucking way, no, it couldn't be

• "Angelcakes! Sugar plum! What's going on?" He grabbed you suddenly, feeling all his insecurities rising in his throat; but since you haven't calmed down just yet, you shook his hands off and stepped away, and that was somehow even worse

• How was he supposed to explain anything and talk and possibly even argue, not having hugged you in the first place, without showing how much he loved you first?

• "What are you doing?!" He shouted. "Don't you like me anymore? I'm trying my best here babygirl, don't do this to me! I love you!"

• A gulp in his throat was getting bigger and bigger

• "Don't you love my anymore?"

• He was overwhelming you. Quite a new sensation

• "Of course I do, Mikey, just... Give ma a second, alright? Give me some time? Leave me alone for a moment? Please?"

• At least she said that.

• Mikey wasn't stupid. He saw reason, he saw now how agitated you were. He should have noticed that sooner... And he wanted with all of his being to cheer you up, make you smile, but still, what you said... It hurt him. He knew he should have acted differently, but that burn inside him wasn't going away

• "Alright!" He exclaimed, raising his arms. "Alright! I get it! You wanna be alone angelcakes, you got it, i'm leaving! It's fine! All good!"

• That were the best words he could find that sounded right in between supportive & accepting and angry & obscene.

• He felt your gaze at his shell as he was backing away. Suddenly he felt like... crying. Why did he have to go through anything unpleasant with his beloved, sweetest dollcake? Why?

• And before he went too far, he collapsed on the stairs and realised he was snuffling and his eyes were wet.

• And despite what just happened between you two, you couldn't look at him like that. More calm now, you went to him and embraced him from behind, and you didn't have to see his face to know how happy he suddenly was

• "Hey, cupcake... I'm sorry, i know what you meant"

• "Yeah... Me too."

Donatello

• "But you don't! You don't know anything about it, you don't even know basic commands, just stop talking, it all sounds idiotic!"

• Right after saying that, Donnie realised... He maybe shouldn't have. Or should have done it more... Carefully.

• He certainly didn't want to insult you. Never. He had do much respect & love for everything you were & everything you said.

• But... You didn't know anything about what you were saying. It was his area of expertise... Wasn't it? He WAS in the right, factually. Was it impolite to point that out? Or to call things what they were?

• Yea... It was. Even without seeing your face... He knew he should have acted IT all out very differently

• A sudden panic took over him. Why, why did he have to say that...

• "Hey, hey, that's not what I meant, i mean... I mean i did mean that, but not like that, it's just i was right and..."

• He was only sinking deeper, words were twisting in his mouth, between stress and desire to make things right

• He gave up on trying to say anything else, and just sat down, desperately thinking what was he supposed to do now

• You stared at him in silence. It wasn't much of an insult what he said, it wasn't even that unpleasant, but just something about the way he said it and the dismissiveness in his voice... It wouldn't let you forget. It worried you, you've never seen your Donnie so... full of himself and so overconfident, he was right, you didn't know much about what you were discussing, but to say it like that?

• As neither of you could really come up with anything clever to explain your standing point, you considered running off, but what would be the point of that? It wouldn't solve anything

• And you knew Donnie thought the same - his gaze lingered at the far corner of the room, but then, it came back to you

• So you decided it would be best to do the same - and even if you weren't feeling quite ready to start the conversation again, you sat on the floor next to your purple turtle, staring into the nearest wall

• And you sat there for quite some time, without a word

• Until finally, you felt Donnie's hand gently slipping onto yours. You turned your head, only to meet his eyes, full of uncertainty

• "Emmm... I'm sorry if I... Hurt you"

• "No, it's not that"

• "Really?" Surprise in his voice almost made you laugh. "Then... What is?"

• "I mean... Donnie, i'm not as knowledgeable as you, not by half, but do you have to say it like that? I'm really trying to catch up to you in every conversation we have..."

• Donnie felt a tender pulse of heat somewhere inside him. "Do you? I mean!..."

• "Yeah."

• "That's..." You glanced at him again, and realised he was smiling. "That's... So wonderful of you"

• You opened your mouth, but Donnie, this time, was quicker

• "Then I promise... No, I promise you anyway, with extra consideration for that fact... That i'll never overlook that again"

• None of you were best at words to choose when dealing with emotions, but you knew each other well enough to know what the other is trying to express. You smirked

• "Fair enough. I promise to never say anything idiotic"

• Abrupt change in his expression was way too amusing. "No no, don't say that, that's exactly the opposite of what i was trying..."

• You placed a small peck on his arm. "I know. It's alright"

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