Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Author's Note #1: Drabble entry for the USS Caryl's '25 Days of Caryl Challenge' – Day 20 (Sep 22) Random Prompt challenge: Roll reversal. Today's new teasers trailer promo was the inspiration.
Warnings: Contains angst, UST, adult language, adult content, mild sexual content, emotional baggage, adult babies dealing with their feelings, vague season five spoilers, fluff, teaser promo spoilers. = This little ficlet is dedicated to subversivegrrl, as thanks for the inspiration on Carol's new gun name and in the hopes that she will forgive me for last week's soul crushing drabbles.
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"Where are they!?"
He heard her from clear across the courtyard. They were too far away to get to her, too far away for his voice to carry above the screams and moans, but somehow, impossibly, she was there - bloody, filthy and fierce in the low light.
Fuckin' gorgeous.
She was all slicked back hair and no patience. Hefting the mother of all guns and looking like one childhood trauma away from capping each and every one of those sorry sons of bitches right where the sun don't shine.
She stood, tall, proud and unafraid in their midst, sparing the sniveling huddle at her feet a dismissive snarl as she made the rounds. She was right pissed, make no mistake. She was searching for them, him, her people.
Something deep in his gut, something like pleasure - like anticipation - coiled. Tightening his jeans in a way he couldn't blame completely blame on adrenaline and - oh yeah - they were definitely going to have to talk about this later.
"I'm only going to ask once," she hissed, eyes flashing - ice cold and firm – as she stalked around the huddled group with an unquestioning sort of confidence that had him on point in less than three seconds flat. Skin prickling as pleasure points he hadn't even realized he had made themselves known.
Christ, what a woman.
He squirmed in place, mindless of the way Rick and Glenn were pulling at him, shouting - they had to move. But they didn't see her, they didn't know. He bit his lip, teeth see-sawing on soft flesh as she walked back and forth, firing a splattering of rounds into the air to let them know she meant business, as what was left of Terminus' forces tried their best to cower right through the god damned floor.
She was fierce and feral and best of all, his.
She was his just as much as he was hers and they both knew it too.
They'd known it before the prison, known it during that shitty winter after they lost the farm. Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he'd probably known it the moment he'd watched her bash in her husband's skull and stagger off, a mess of coltish limbs and bloody hair - a sprinkling of tears making tracks down her freckled face as the pick-axe bit into the soft, red-soaked ground.
He licked his lips.
Pookie got game.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This drabble is now complete.