#2. I actually used to write my fics entirely by hand before moving them over on my phone- pen

[cinderspots]

Answering in tags bc I can

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[permanentmess]

Can we pls get a Peter maximoff x reader fic where Peter is annoying the reader and ofc the reader is getting annoyed by him and then he explains how he only does it cuz he likes her attention? Pls and thank you :]

attention (peter maximoff x reader)

a/n: thank you so much for the request! you’re actually my first request ever!!! i thought this idea was so cute. fem!reader in mind but could be read as any gender easily. reader also has powers but it’s unspecified and unimportant to the plot.

word count: 754 (just a short and sweet thing. i can make a part two if you want more!)

warnings: none! just fluff, mentions of being tired (aren't we all), unestablished relationship but not entirely platonic

pt. 2!

GIF NOT MINE

~~~

You were dead exhausted. Like eyes blurry, body aching, could fall asleep standing up tired. 

You loved being a teacher at Xavier’s school, you really did. But between trying to grade exams and homework, training after classes with the other X-Men, and then lesson planning, it made it hard to not be exhausted. And on top of all of this, you still wanted to hang out with your friends. Storm often invited you out of the mansion, Logan offered for you to share some drinks and watch movies, and Peter, well, you didn’t care what you two did, you just wanted to spend time with him. 

But you needed a break from life. That is, of course, right after you finish grading the exams you’d been putting off all week. 

You’re rubbing your eyes with your hands, taking a quick break in between two exams when there’s an incessant knocking on your door. You have a suspicion on who it is, but regardless, you open the door with a scowl. 

“Hi,” Peter greets you with a grin. You can’t help but smile back a little bit. He’s infectious with his happiness. He looks insanely cozy in his sweatpants and plain white t-shirt, slippers hiding his feet. If he was officially yours, you’d hug him in an instant and fall asleep standing up.  

“Hey,” you reply, leaning against your door frame. 

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I come in or are you just going to leave me standing in the hall?” You give a short laugh and nod your head towards your bed for him to sit. 

“I’m warning you now, I have to finish grading these exams before I can hang out,” you tell him as you shut the door and go sit at your desk again. 

“That’s alright, I can wait” he says, swinging his feet back and forth off the side of your bed. “What’d you do today? What’s the exam on?” 

You take a moment to respond, but it’s not quick enough for Peter. In an instant, he has moved to your desk, making some papers fly away from the force of using his powers. You close your eyes, trying not to get annoyed. You know he’s just fast by nature, even in his mind, and you know you’re just exhausted. 

“Oh shit, sorry,” he quickly rounds up the papers and puts them back on your desk neatly.

“‘S alright. This one is for the life and health management class I teach,” you tell him, continuing to grade. 

“Oh nice,” he says, staring down at your papers, before moving to go look at the things on your shelf. He did this often when he came to your room, but you’re not sure why. “Where’d you get this from?”

You turn around after marking a question wrong, looking at the picture frame in his hand that held a picture of everyone in their suits. “Uhh, Jean gave that to me, for my birthday.” You turn back around, going back to mark the last question on the exam, writing the grade at the front and moving it off to the side. 

“It’s really pretty. What about this?” You sigh and turn around again. 

“Peterrrrr,” you whine. “I really gotta finish these exams, I told the kids I’d get them back by tomorrow.” 

He puts the object down. “Sorry, I know.” He walks over and puts a hand on your upper back, running over it softly. You relax a little at his touch. “How many more do you have left?” 

“Five.” 

“Okay so how about this: you hang out with me tonight and I can finish them tomorrow morning for you, before your class?” You look up at him, contemplating his offer. “I feel bad for annoying you, I just like having your attention. I thought that was obvious.” 

You grin. “Well, I mean, yeah.” You look back down at the papers. “Sorry for getting annoyed, I’m just exhausted lately.” 

“Then cmon, let’s watch a movie.” He moves to your bed and pats a spot next to him, grabbing your remote to turn on your TV. 

You’re hesitant, but oblige. There’s not much space on your bed, so you’re pressed up against his side. He’s put on a movie you two have seen a thousand times, so you decide to relax into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“You know, I like having your attention too.” You tell him quietly. He rests his head on top of yours. 

“I know.” 

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 2

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: omg guys the love part 1 received has been so amazing. I seriously am so happy you're all loving this fic as much as me. As someone who hasn't written in so long it's been so fufilling to write this. Thank you for all the kind words. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SA, starting to get a little steamy

Word count: 2704

(all photos are from pinterest)

The next morning I woke with a certain lightness to my step that I knew shouldn’t be there. My hands skimmed over the countless dresses looking for just the right one. All of the sudden I had started caring more about my appearance for council meetings. Deep down I know why. 

I meet my brother and Lucien in the foyer per usual, and I feel Lucien’s fiery gaze rake over the lavender chiffon draped over my body. I told myself that I had selected the revealing dress because of how hot the Day court was, but I think I had other motives backing my choice. 

The Day Court, like all other courts, was utterly beautiful. Large pillars stood all around and like the summer court it was entirely open air, allowing the sunlight and breeze to float into the room. I sit between Lucien and Tamlin at a large table with the other High Lord’s and nobility. My eyes scan the room for a hint of that violet that I dreamt about last night but I don’t find it. It isn’t until a few minutes later, when my skin starts buzzing, that the High Lord of Night steps into the room. His presence commending, his eyes immediately finding mine. 

I feel him pluck at the bond as if to say hello. After speaking to him through my mind for so long it was almost strange to see him in real life. Somehow he was always much more handsome in person. Like no matter how many times I tried to put together the image of his face at night it never compares to the sheer glory and presence of him. 

As Helion began speaking a voice crawled into my head. 

I’m glad you find me so glorious, darling.

“Shh you nosey High Lord. I’m trying to listen,” I silence him and to my  surprise he obliges.  

Helion talks on and on and of course there is arguing between Kallias and Beron as there usually is but I couldn’t begin to tell you what about. I spend the entire meeting noticing every move the High Lord of Night made. When he breathed, or flexed his hands, adjusted his spot on his seat. Whenever I felt his eyes sliding over to me I would do my best to evade them. 

See something you like? I look over to him and find his eyes smirking. 

“Yeah actually, Eris is looking especially delicious today,” I tease, I don’t break eye contact with him. 

He chuckles brushing off my comment. You’re a vision in purple mate, but if Lucien looks at your cleavage one more time I might just leap across the table and rip his only good eye out. 

“So violent,” I muse disapprovingly, looking towards where Kallias is speaking about potential war with Hybern.

I save my most brutal acts of violence for those who seek to harm you darling. My eyes flit back at him and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he averts his gaze back to Kallias. 

“Enough talk of war my friends, let us adjourn this meeting until next week.” Helion finally says, causing the rest of the council to let out a breath. 

Tamlin doesn’t say a word before he and Lucien stand and make a beeline to Tarquin, most likely to talk about problems we’ve been having on the border. I take it as my queue to walk around the Day Court’s terrace and I secretly hope that a certain High Lord follows me. 

The Day Court and the Summer Court are like twin sisters. Except the Day Court always felt like liquid gold. All around me I could see clouds and honeyed sunlight peeking through the them. The rays warmed my skin as I basked in them, leaning against one of the many large pillars. 

“I knew you’d look amazing in this light,” drawled that voice I had secretly wanted to hear. 

I glance over to find The High Lord admiring me, the light of the Day Court doing wonders for him as well. “You shouldn’t be here,” I say, trying to act like I mean it. 

“Yet you wanted me to follow you,” he smirks knowingly, slowly stepping towards me. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“This,” he says, pulling on the bond again. I take a sharp breath in and he chuckles. “I’ll never get tired of that reaction.”

“I really hate it when you do that,” I grumble. 

“No you don’t,” he muses using one arm to cage me into the pillar I’m leaning against. 

“Yes I do,” I affirm. His other hand lifts my chin to meet his stare. 

“No you don’t, you don’t hate anything about me. In fact you think I’m beautiful,” he smirks, somehow stepping even closer to me. “And, you want me to touch you right now, your skin is practically on fire for it.” 

“My Lord-” 

“I told you to call me Rhysand,” he cuts me off. I want to lie and tell him no, I want to push him away but I fear that even the action of me touching his chest, even for a moment, would be too much for me to bear. 

“Rhys,” I breathe out. Before I can even think his lips are on mine swallowing the breath that held his name, just like he promised.  

The kiss is hot and needy, built up from the last two weeks of torture. One of his hands finds my face while the other finds my waist. His frame presses me into the pillar behind me. I feel my body ignite in a way I didn’t know possible, I need him closer. I pull on the lapels of his jacket earning a low grumble from him. 

“Say it again,” he says between kisses. 

“Rhysand,” I moan, his name like a prayer on my lips. 

“Fuck,” he groans before sliding a hand down under my knee and hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. The slit in my dress parted for him, giving him full access to my bare leg. I feel his lips drag across my neck leaving opened mouth kisses on me. I practically come undone for him, the only thing keeping me upright are his hands and the pillar behind me. 

In the distance I can hear footsteps clicking across the floor, in a panic I winnow both of us further away. He breaks apart the kiss and gives me a bewildered look. 

“Sorry, someone was coming,” I say breathlessly. 

“Let them see,” he grins before stepping closer to me. I take a step back and he halts his movements, surprised. 

“We can’t, my brother will kill me, kill you.” I remind him. 

He lets out a chuckle like he’s completely unphased, “I promise you that I hold more power in my pinky than Tamilin does in his entire body.”  he boasts. 

“Still,” I start. “You’re the High Lord of the Night Court, his sworn enemy, my court's sworn enemy. Think of what they would say about me if the truth came out. What they would say about you. You’d be the monster who stole away the princess of spring.” I ramble. 

“I’ve been called a monster by those who know nothing but stories of me my whole life, what’s one more?” he states. 

“I’ve heard stories of your court, that it’s the part of Prythian where the most feared monsters and beings of our kind reside,” I say fearfully. I start to remember who he is. Not just a pretty face, but the High Lord of the Night Court. He’s dangerous, and he is a monster. 

“Part of that is true,” he affirms, and I can see a tinge of hurt in his eyes. 

“And the other part?” I ask on bated breath. 

“You’ll see soon enough mate,” he says. 

“My Lord we cannot be together,” I state firmly. 

“Back to formalities now are we?” he sighs. “I’ve waited 500 years to find my mate y/n, don’t think for one second that I’m going to stay away from you just because you’re afraid of that pathetic excuse for a brother.” 

“He’s not pathetic, he loves me!” I growl. 

“You don’t know half the things you think you do about your brother,” he sneered. 

As much as I hated to admit it he was right. Tamlin and I had never truly been close. We hardly ever did anything together. I always sensed a darkness in him that I couldn’t place. There was so much he simply refused to tell me just because I was a woman. But I couldn't bear that truth to Rhys, not when I needed his silence. 

“This conversation is over,” I huff before walking away, I feel him grasp my arm. 

“No darling it’s not,” Rhys says with frustration in his eyes. 

“Wanna bet?” I ask smugly before winnowing back to the Spring Court. 

The next few days I don’t hear from Rhysand, and I don’t feel a tug on the bond. All of the sudden my life is filled with a sense of melancholy, I never had before. I had grown so used to his constant tugging on the bond or his remarks throughout my daily life that I felt a little empty without him.  

So empty that I now found myself nudging around the food on my plate at dinner. Lucien had been out with the emissary of the Summer Court fixing the problems on the border, which meant it was just me and Tamlin. 

We spend the whole meal in silence until he finally breaks it, “I have something I want to discuss with you,” he says, placing his napkin down on the table. 

“What is it?” I ask, starting to wonder if maybe he saw me and Rhysand the other day. 

“I’ve been talking with Beron Vanserra, and it seems that his eldest son Eris has taken a liking to you. We think it might be in the best interest of our two courts if you two were to marry.” he says casually, as if the words weren’t a huge punch to the gut. 

“What?” I breathe in disbelief. 

“Come on y/n this has always been our plan, to get you an advantageous marriage.” he reminds me, irritation laced in his voice. 

“Not my plan Tamlin, yours.” I seethe. “Eris is a viper, I won’t marry him.” 

“You’ll do as you're told and that’s final!” he screams slamming his fists down on the table making the silverware rattle. 

I leave my plate full of food on the table and get up. If I wasn’t hungry before I certainly am not now. I leave the dining room and make sure to slam the door on my way out. The halls of the palace were dark save for the moonlight drifting through the windows. My mind was a mess of Tamlin’s words, I was so angry I could hardly think beyond it. At the end of the hall there was a door and even from where I was I could see the doorknob turning. A head of red hair popped through the door and Lucien stumbled to close it.

 I kept my head down trying to avoid him but it was no use. The second he passed me his hands were on me shoving me into the nearest wall. 

“Hello my flower,” he slurred. 

“You’re drunk Lucien,” I pointed out, jerking my head away. 

“Yes I suppose I am, the emissary for the summer court knows how to celebrate. We went to a tavern after completing the job on the border to indulge in some women and maybe a few drinks,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah a few hundred drinks you fucking idiot,” I gripe trying to get out of his grasp but his hands only pin my wrists tighter.

“It was fun, but being around all those women made me long for my little flower,” he smiled drunkenly before kissing my neck. 

For months now he’s been doing this, stealing touches whenever he could, and kissing my neck like this when he was feeling really bold, or in this case, drunk. He never took it further than that though. Never kissing, never fully fucking me, and I think it’s because he knew that it would be where Tamilin drew the line. But tonight he was drunk, in a way I had never seen him before, and I wasn’t sure if the line that had held for so many months would be held now. 

“Get the fuck off me Lucien,” I growl trying to push him off again. 

He completely ignores me, “You know my dear I’ve let my hands wander every expanse of this magnificent body, but I have yet to taste you,” he says lowly. “I think I’m going to change that.” 

I don’t even get a chance to try and fight before his lips are on mine. He tastes like shitty whiskey and he smells like cheap perfume. It’s vile and it has me sick to my stomach. I find my opening to rip my lips off him and take it. 

“Lucien what the fuck!” I scream in his face. His eyes just go down to my heaving chest, where my breasts are pushed up high due to my corset. 

“And these,” he drawls before placing open mouth kisses on the peaks of my breasts. His hand lets go of my wrist and flies to my waist to pull me closer to him and I take the change of position as an opportunity to knee him between his legs. 

His knees hit the ground and I run down the hall towards my room. I slam and lock the door as fast as possible, barricading myself in with a chair. I pace back and forth trying to dispel the pent up adrenaline that’s inside of me but in the end I sink to my knees and start to cry. 

What happened?

That calming voice cleaves its way through my mind and it feels like a huge weight off my chest has been lifted. 

“It was Lucien he tried to…” I let my voice trail off not even wanting to finish the sentence. I know the High Lord of Night is at the complete other end of Prythian but I swear I feel the ground beneath me tremble. 

Did he? He asks, like he would winnow here right now and make due on his promise of ripping out his good eye. 

“No, I fought him off,” I assure him.

Are you safe? 

“As safe as I can be, I barricaded the door,”  I say, as my heart rate calms down. 

You shouldn’t have to live in a place where you have to barricade yourself in your room.

“Well I do so I’m handling it the best I can,” I gripe at him. I would gladly change the situation if I could but I can’t. There's a silence and I can feel him ruminating over my words as I crawl into bed. 

I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it like that. 

“It’s okay I understood what you meant,” I say pulling the covers up to my chin like they might protect me. 

And I’m sorry for what I said about Tamlin. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you, he’s your brother, of course you’re going to defend him.

“It’s okay, maybe everything you said about Tamlin wasn’t entirely false,” I confess remembering the conversation that had me fleeing the dining room in the first place. 

What happened? 

A moment passes and I think about telling him. But saying it almost makes it real and I choose not to, “I’d rather not talk about it now. Too much has happened tonight,” I say

Alright we won’t then. I sense disappointment in his voice but I am happy that he respects my wishes. 

“Rhys?”I ask, and there’s a hesitation there. 

Yes darling? He purrs and I can hear him practically swooning at the fact that I said his name.

“I don’t wanna be alone, will you stay up with me?” I confess feeling like I’m baring my soul. 

Of course I will darling, all night if you want me to.

Taglist: @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88

(I've never made a taglist so hopefully this works)

[samaraannhan20]

Harry Styles Imagine: College AU!: The Final Show

A/N: Hey guys! this is my first time writing smut, so please be gentle with me. I’ve been working on this fic for a week now, and I’m excited to finally put it out in the world.

A/N 2: I guess when I copied and pasted the text from google docs my links for the outfits didn’t transfer, so I just went through and added them in, they should all be there now!

Warnings: 18+!!!, unprotected p in v (Wrap it up guys!), oral(fem! recieving), fem!reader, Collegestudent!reader, mentions of anxiety and depression

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“One more show,” I quietly say, both to myself and Harry, as we stand in the bathroom after showering, getting ready to leave for the stadium. “One more show,” he echoes, both of us just staring into the mirror. “How are you feeling?” I ask him “Nervous,” is the first word out of his mouth, and he pauses for a second before continuing. “Happy, sad, excited. A little bit of everything. It’s been three years, and it’s crazy that it’s coming to an end. Love on Tour is ending.” “I feel all of those things too,” I admit quietly. “Not to the same level you do, but I feel them all. Life without Love on Tour is going to be weird. I mean, without this tour we wouldn’t be here. Together. We probably wouldn’t have even met. If it wasn’t for that concert that I managed to get pit tickets for, you never would have noticed me or met me,” I say, chuckling a little. “You know,” I say, beginning to laugh a little harder, “we really have a typical fanfiction romance story.” “Do we now?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Yes. I mean, I read a lot of fanfiction when I was growing up. I was a fangirl. And how we met and our love story really is typical of fanfiction.” 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ November 19th, 2021 I walked into the Forum with my best friend at my side, both dressed-up and matching from head to toe, with feather boas around our necks. “I can’t believe we actually got pit tickets,” I say as we walk in, only a couple of other people being let in before us. “I know. I really thought that was a pipe dream,” Haylee responds, and I nod in agreement. We find our spot at the front of the pit, and plant ourselves there, not allowing ourselves to be pushed or shoved away from the spot. We spend the entire concert jumping up and down, and at random intervals I hold the poster I had made, that says “I skipped music theory to be here,” because I had left school early to drive out here today. One of the times I hold the sign up happens to be a time that Harry is standing in front of us, and he looks down and reads my poster, before smiling and shaking a finger at me. I watch as he mouths ‘shameful’ and then dances away. “Did you see that?” I shout as I turn to Haylee, and she looks to be in as much shock as I am, and just nods her head vigorously. We both turn back towards the stage, and just enjoy the rest of the concert as though nothing had happened. At the end of the concert, one of the security guards comes towards us, and I begin to get concerned that we did something wrong. “Hello ladies,” he says as he stands in front of us. “Um, hi,” I say quietly as I feel the panic attack begin to set in. “Are we in trouble?” Haylee asks, speaking up because she knew I wouldn’t. She’s the braver of the two of us. “No no no,” the guard says, shaking his head, and then continues. “Quite the opposite actually. Harry saw your sign,” he says, nodding his head towards me. “And he watched as the two of you enjoyed the concert, and he wanted me to come over and give you these passes, and invite you backstage,” he says, and hands us two VIP passes. “Wait what?” I say, vaguely sounding like Anna from Frozen. “Harry would like to meet you,” he says again, and then moves the barrier to let us through, and lets us follow him backstage. “What just happened,” I whisper to Haylee, grabbing her hand as we follow the security guard. “I have no idea,” she responds, and we walk in silence backstage. When we get back to the common area, Harry is standing there talking to some of his bandmates. I see him when he notices me, and he says something to the people he was talking to, and then he walks over to me and Haylee. “‘Ello ladies,” he says as he stops in front of us. “I’m Harry,” he says, and holds out his hand. “Hi,” I say softly. “I’m Y/N.” “And I’m Haylee,” Haylee says from next to me. “Nice to meet you both. Would you like to meet everyone else?” he asks, and we both nod our heads, and make the rounds to all the others as he introduces us to everyone. The more time we spent talking to other people, the more comfortable I got, and I could feel my body loosening and my body language becoming more welcoming.  Haylee separates from me and Harry, going over to talk to some of the band members, and Harry gently touches my elbow to get my attention, and then nods over to the side, motioning for me to follow him. I do, and before I know it we’re standing in our own little corner talking to each other. “Did you really skip music theory to be here?” he asks, and I blush and tuck a spare hair behind my ear before looking up at him. “Yeah. We wanted to be at the front of the pit, so we left super early this morning and sat in line all day.” “I never knew I had such devoted fans,” he says with a small laugh, and I laugh right along with him. “Yeah right,” I say in response. “There were others who were out there before we were, and we thought we were super early.” “Wow. Well, I hope you didn’t miss anything important in any of your classes today,” he says, and I laugh. “The classes I didn’t miss anything important, but I did miss rehearsals today, so that might be a little hard to catch up on,” I say, smiling as I look at him, and then I frown when I see a small frown cross his face. “Well I hope it’s not that hard to catch up. What kind of rehearsal?” he asks, and then we spend the next hour standing alone and talking about different things, not noticing what is going on around us. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “I’m glad you skipped class that day,” he says, placing a kiss on my neck, and snapping me back to reality and out of memory lane. “Me too,” I whisper, and then turn in his arms so that I’m facing him. “Last show.” “Last show,” he repeats, and then leans in to kiss me. When he pulls away he has a cheeky smile on his face. “And then two weeks in Italy before heading back to the States to make sure you’re back in time for classes,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner. “You’re cheeky,” I say before leaning in and kissing him again. “I can’t believe you’re moving to America for a year just for me.” “It’s true love baby love,” he says, leaning in and pressing his forehead against mine. “True love,” I whisper, and then peck his lips one more time before pulling away. “C’mon. I need to gather my outfit for the show before we leave.” “No you don’t,” he says, and I stop in the bathroom doorway and turn back to him. “Yes I do. I’m not going to the final show in this,” I say, and motion to my bike shorts and oversized Pleasing sweatshirt that I had stolen from him. “I know that. I had Lambert pull together something for you. I wanted us to match for the last show,” he says, and I run the short distance to him, jumping on him. He catches me easily, and laughs as I start to kiss all over his face and neck. “No love bites,” he says with a laugh as I focus on one specific spot. “I still have one more show.” “Did you really have Lambert pull something together for me H?” I ask as I pull away. “Of course I did. This night is just as much for you as it is for me.”  I shake my head as he puts my feet back on the floor. “No it’s not. I don’t perform or do anything. You do it all.” “Maybe so, but there wouldn’t be a Harry’s House yet without you. Over half of those songs were written and produced after you came into my life. It’s amazing we were able to get the album out when we did,” he says, and pulls me in for a kiss. “I love you. I wouldn’t have made it through this tour without you. This night is just as much yours as it is mine.” I kiss him again, before turning to leave the room. “I love you. We really do need to go though,” I say looking over my shoulder at him. He laughs and follows me out of the bathroom. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Okay Lambert,” I say as I stand in Harry’s dressing room. He’s been kicked out for the time being so that my outfit is a surprise for him. “Get me in this outfit. Also it better be comfortable because the concert is over 2 hours tonight,” I say smiling at him. Harry had already changed, but not let me see him. I had been led into the dressing room with a blindfold on, giving Harry the chance to kiss me before he left so that my outfit was a surprise for him. “You got it girlie,” he says with a laugh, and then grabs the garment bag off the rack behind him. “Prepare to be amazed. Also, keep in mind you don’t know what Harry’s outfit looks like yet, so this might not make sense but it will.” After he says that he unzips the bag and drops it on the ground, holding out the outfit for you.   “Lambert…” I say trailing off, shocked at how beautiful this outfit is. “I know. It's beautiful. And just wait until you see Harry’s.  You guys will look amazing together,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “And, Harry told me you would refuse to wear heels, so, even though I picked out a pair of heels for you, he got these for you,” he says as he bends down and grabs a box of shoes from under the clothing rack and opens them. “MY OWN PAIR OF SATELLITE STOMPERS!” I yell, super excited, jumping up and down.   “Yep. Everyone got a pair for this last show, but Harry had something special embroidered on yours,” he says as he holds them out for me. I grab them and inspect them, fawning over the Love On Tour logo on one side, and then I tear up as I read the embroidered message. “My Satellite,” I whisper as I read the message. I hear Lambert sniffle and look up to see him tearing up. “Why are you crying?” I ask him through my own tears. “Because I am one of the people who got to watch the two of you fall in love. I got to watch him text you everyday, starting from the first meeting, through random concerts you were flown out for, the trips he would make just to see you when you both felt it was too early in your relationship for you to join him on your yet,  until you joined us this summer because you both agreed it was past time. I’ve watched you watch his concerts and I see the love you have in your eyes for him. The two of you were meant to come together,” he says, and I walk to him and give him a big hug. “Thank you Lamby,” I say, and then pull away and wipe my tears off. “Okay, I’m going to go change. You go get H and tell him he can come and wait on the couch.” I turn and head into the bathroom that’s in the dressing room, and quickly change. I smooth out my hair and wipe the small run of mascara off, before opening the door and stepping out. When I step out Harry is sitting on the couch, and he stands up and walks over to me. “Wow, Darling you look amazing. Lambert did a good job,” he says, and as he says that I take in what he’s wearing. “Lambert did an amazing job of making us match,” I say as I walk closer to Harry and press my lips to his own. “Thank you for the shoes. And the extra special message I whisper, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “They’re going to become my new comfort shoes. I’ll wear them everyday,” I say, and he kisses me. When he pulls away he smiles and says “Did you notice I got yours as platforms?” “Yes I did. And I greatly appreciate it. You know I’m crazy about platforms because they make me taller,” I say with a huge smile, and he leans in and kisses me again. We have some time to spare so we go and sit on the couch together. “How are you feeling?” I ask as I curl into his side after he takes his vest off and sets it aside. “Nervous. Sad. I’m ready for it to be over, but I’m also sad it’s ending. But excited because we’re staying here in Italy for a few weeks and we get to spend unbothered time together,” he says, and I can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s really feeling all of these emotions. “I’m really nervous to play that song for them at the end.” “All these emotions are valid. But I know that no matter what your fans are thankful for the time they got from you. You gave them three years of your life. A new album in the middle of that. They love seeing you, but they know you need a break to stay healthy. And they’ll be here waiting when you come back. No matter how long it is,” I tell him, rubbing his back as I say it. “What if they forget about me?” he says very quietly, and I gently grab his face in my hands. “Harry Edward Styles. Never in a million years will those fans ever forget about you. You saved so many of them. When I was just a fan, you saved me. And you saved me again when you brought me backstage that night and gave me your number before I left. Those people love you. I love you. Your mum loves you. Everyone who works with you loves you. No one will ever forget you,”  I tell him, and as I finish he pulls me into him and crashes his lips onto mine. When we pull away we’re both breathless, and we both need a minute to calm down. I stand and cross to the bathroom to fix my lipstick and grab a wipe to get the lipstick off of H. As I sit down and start to wipe his lips off, there’s a knock on the door and Jeff comes in, followed by Glenne and Anne. “Oh. Sorry,” Jeff says with a laugh as he sees me wiping Harry’s face, and Harry and I both laugh in return. “No worries,” Harry says when I move the wipe away from his mouth. “A minute earlier there might have been worries, but you’re just in time,” he continues, and I quickly get up to throw away the makeup wipe and try to hide my blushing face. “Harry, don’t embarrass Y/N,” Anne says with a smile on her face, and I mouth thank you to her from where I stand. “It’s not as if we all didn’t already know what was going on in here before we walked in,” Jeff says, and I laugh when Glenne gently smacks him on the chest. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop now,” he says with a laugh, and everyone sort of chuckles in response. I cross back over to Harry and he wraps his arm around my shoulder and places a kiss on my forehead. “Sorry love. Are you okay?” he whispers to me when he pulls away, and I just give a small smile and nod my head, before laying my head on his shoulder. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “My family are here tonight, my friends are here tonight. My girlfriend is here tonight. Thank you for my family,” Harry says, continuing his final speech, and I watch as he starts to tear up, before pausing to collect himself.  “I was doing so well!” he exclaims, trying to make the situation less serious. “Thank you for the support. Thank you for loving me the way that you have. My friends are here tonight. Thank you for having my back, always. I love you all so much. My girlfriend is here tonight. I wouldn’t be here tonight, finishing the tour on this date if it wasn’t for her,” he says, and pauses as he searches the area his mother is standing in looking specifically for me. When he finds me he zeroes in, his gaze falling solely on me. “I love you,” he says, with tears in his eyes. “I have a lot of things to feel incredibly lucky for in life but I feel the luckiest with my friends’ support. It allows me to do this. I am so full right now. I’ve never been happier in my entire life,” he says, pulling the microphone away from his mouth and mouthing “I love you” to me one more time, before turning to the band and starting to talk to him. I walk to Anne and stand right beside her as he continues his speech. We stand there holding each other as he talks to the audience. “Thank you,” she says to me, voice barely to where I can hear her, and I turn my head to look at her with a questioning look on my face. “For what?” I ask, and she just smiles and shakes her head. “You don’t see it, but everyone else does. You’ve brought him back to life.  Without you this tour would have ended a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, he loves his job, but he probably would have ended this specific tour the first time around, found the inspiration to finish and then  release Harry’s House, and then organized a new tour. You gave him the ability to write while on tour, because you inspired him while he was on tour,” she says to me, and I tear up, and kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you Anne. But none of it would have happened without your support,” I say to her, and she tugs me to her and gives me a tight hug. When we pull away and turn back to Harry I can tell that he is starting to finish up his speech. “I see it- the love- in how it’s affected all the people around me, continue to affect people. It does not end with this tour, it doesn't end when this tour ends. Put some love into the world, it really needs it right now. I love you and I’ll miss you. You not only changed my life, you have made me the happiest. I’m so thrilled, I’m so happy. There’s lots of emotions tonight,it’s been a long time and I just wanna thank you very seriously for what this has been to me. You’ve changed my life,” he says, and then pauses for a second, and I watch as his eyes circle around the stadium, as he turns to the band one last time, and then turns back to the audience. “None of you are alone. Look around, look at how many people there are here. We’re all the same. I love you. Thank you so, so much.” As he finishes his speech, I tear up, and look around at all the people in the stadium and all those surrounding me. They may have changed his life. I may have changed his life.  But he’s changed mine as well. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ As soon as I get backstage I go on the hunt for two things. One being water, and the other being Harry. As I get to the refreshments table I grab a water bottle and begin scouring the area with my eyes, looking for Harry. I see him just as I take a sip of water, and choke a little when I see that he has ditched the vest, never quite prepared for the image of him shirtless, even after two years together. I immediately begin walking over to him. He’s surrounded by the band, but when he sees me his smile gets bigger, and they all immediately turn to see what it is he’s looking at, and then cheer when they see it’s me. He pulls me in for a deep kiss as soon as I reach him, and for a minute the world is lost to us. I don’t register the hoops and hollers that are happening behind or around us, all I notice is him. When he pulls back he raises his hands up and starts jumping in the air, and everyone around him follows suit. As I jump up and down with him I can see Anne standing a few feet away, and I jump/hop my way over to her and pull her into the group. When Harry sees her he pulls her in for a hug, and then reaches out to pull me in too. The three of us stand there hugging and just lost in our own world. After we separate from our hug, someone starts playing music and Harry and I stand and just dance around, partying with everyone around. Eventually Harry pulls away and gets everyone’s attention. “You all did so amazing during this tour, and I am so thankful for each and everyone of you. But it’s late, and we’re all tired. So let’s go to our hotel rooms or wherever we're staying. I will see all of you at dinner at my house tomorrow night for our final family dinner!” he exclaims, and everyone cheers one last time. Before I know it the entire band and crew and anyone else who was back here partying with us has corralled everyone into one big group hug. Some people are crying, others are laughing. The people at the back are the first to break free, and as soon as we are finally released from the hug, Harry and I head towards his dressing room to gather our things and go home. “What a night,” I say as the door closes behind Harry and we’re alone for the first time in hours. I start to gather some belongings that we had strewn across the dressing room, and as I start to throw items in my tote bag, I hear a sniffle come from the door. “Harry?” I say as I drop what I had been holding and begin to walk towards him. He hasn’t moved, and is still facing the door, so when I step up to him I place my hand on his arm and turn him toward me. “Honey what’s wrong?” I ask once he’s facing me and I see the tears that are falling down his face. “It’s over,” he whispers, and I let a small “oh” escape my mouth, before pulling him into me. He buries his head in my neck, and I feel the tears start to fall off his face and onto my skin. I stand there holding him for a while, but after a few minutes the tears slow and he pulls himself away from me. “I’m okay. I just didn’t want to cry in front of all of them.” “H, it’s okay to be sad that the tour is over. It’s been your life for three years now. And everyone else is sad as well.  I’m sad, and I haven’t even been here since the beginning,” I tell him, and gently lead him over to the couch. “You were only a few months late,” he mumbles, a small smile coming across his face. “Right, but either way it wasn’t the beginning. You’ve been doing this amazing thing for three years now. It’s okay, and it’s time for you to take a break. In all reality, you don’t have to be onstage to be doing amazing things. Your music does it for you,” I tell him, and I watch him close his eyes and nod in agreement and understanding. “Thank you,” he whispers, and before I can ask why he continues. “Don’t ask why, I can feel the look on your face. Thank you for being here. For being with me. Or always being there to talk me down.  Just being there. Even when you weren’t physically here you were just a call away. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in this world,” he explains, and then leans forward and kisses me. “I love you,” I say when he pulls away, and he just leans back in and kisses me again. Our bodies are so in tune with each other that with each push and pull or move of our bodies or tongues it is a seamless connection. When we pull away we lean our foreheads together as we catch our breath. Harry leans in and attaches his lips to my neck, and I laugh a little as he moves his lips further down, getting closer to my chest with each move. “Harry, we can be home in twenty minutes and continue this if you’ll let me finish gathering up our stuff,” I say, laughing, and gently pushing him away. He places one last kiss on my collar bone and pulls back. “Okay, let’s go,” he says, standing up and holding his hand out for me, helping me stand so I can gather the rest of our belongings. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Harry we have to get up to meet with the caterers,” I say as I try to get out of bed, but am quickly pulled back into bed with a vice grip around my waist as Harry holds on. We had both received a text from Anne and Gemma saying that they were going out for the morning, and that thought alone made Harry not want to let me out of the bed, knowing that we were alone in the house for some time. “We have like 3 hours before they will be here,” he mumbles into my shoulder, placing small kisses all over it. “Right but we both need to take a shower,” I say as I continue to try to pull away. “Okay, so 30 minutes to fool around in bed, an hour to shower, 30 minutes to fool around in the shower, and we’ll still have an hour left to get dressed,” he says, flipping me over so that I’m laying on my back and starting to move his body down mine, lips trailing over my body as they move down. “I don’t have the heart to stop you,”  I tell him, getting a little breathless as he gets closer to my core, and I feel his small breaths of laughter on my lower stomach. He continues down my body, and spreads my legs open, slipping between him. I shiver as he kisses the insides of my thighs, before he moves to where I really want him. He starts flick his tongue on and around my clit as he inserts a finger into me and starts to move it in and out, making a ‘come here’ motion when he is inside of me, hitting the perfect spot. I thread my fingers through his hair as he starts sucking on my clit, and slips two more  fingers inside. He looks up at me through his eyelashes as he brings me closer and closer to the edge, and I see the smirk on his lips as he suddenly pulls away. He brings his body up over mine and brings his lips to mine as he pushes into me. A moan escapes both of our mouths as he begins to move in and out of me. “How are you doing baby?” he asks when he pulls away from my lips. “Amazing,” I moan out, and scratch my nails down his back. “Harder Harry,” I moan out, and he obliges. He starts to move in and out faster, and reaches a hand down to rub my clit. He keeps moving in and out of me at an excruciating pace, but it feels amazing and I do not ask him to stop. He takes his time, making sure that I get to my breaking point first, and then he follows after. After we both take a few moments to catch our breath, he moves his body down mine and starts to eat me out again. He works me up again, rubbing at my clit, and before long he has me hurtling over the edge again. He moves his body back up and lays down next to me, pulling me into him, and we lay there in silence for a few moments, catching our breath. Neither of us makes a move to pull away from the other, instead laying there together. After a few minutes Harry pulls himself away, before holding out his hand. Together we walk to the bathroom and get into the shower. As soon as the water is heated up, Harry is on his knees and eating me out again, cleaning the mix of our cum out of me. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “I tried to tell you that we weren’t going to have enough time,”  I say to Harry as we both scramble to put clothes on after hearing the doorbell ring. “I didn’t hear you complaining,” he says, buttoning his pants and grabbing a shirt. “I’ll get the door,” he says, crossing over to me and pecking me on the lips as I straighten up after slipping underwear on. “I got it. Take your time,” he says and then heads out of the bedroom. I slip my pants and sports bra on, and walk back into our en-suite to apply mascara. I put the mascara on and brush out my hair, and then walk back into our room and grab the shirt I had laid out and slip it on. I stand in front of the mirror for a second and make sure that my outfit looks okay, and will be okay for the last family dinner with the Love on Tour family dinner. I then slip  out of the room, and walk down the hall towards the kitchen. As I near the kitchen I can hear Harry talking to the caterer that he had let in. “I think setting up the buffet right here would be best, and then people will just be standing and eating or sitting and eating wherever they decide. We weren’t planning on pushing any tables together or anything. It’s essentially one big house party before we all go our separate ways for some time,” he tells the caterer, and as I step in and walk next to him the caterer nods in understanding. “I will bring my team back in a few hours with all the food you ‘ave requested,” the caterer responds as Harry leads him to the front door to let him out. “Sounds great, thank you so much Tomas,” Harry says, and then waves as he walks out the door, shutting it after the man has made it out. “See,” he says, turning to me with one of his trademark smiles. “I told you everything would be okay.” 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Hi, welcome,” I say as Lloyd and some of the other photographers come in the front door. They all stop and give me a small hug as I say “the food is in the kitchen to the right, and everyone is spread all over the room.” I close the door as they all walk in the direction of the kitchen, and turn and look over the house. From this spot I can see Harry and Pauli dancing around. I can see Sarah and Mitch holding the baby and giving him little pinches of safe food every now and then while they talk to Anne. I can see Jeff and Glenne talking to Lorryn and some of the other band members.   I go through the kitchen and grab a little food and then cross the room to sit with Anne. I grab the glass of wine I had left there when I went to answer the door and take a sip. When I place the wine glass down again, Anne wraps her arm around me and I lean into her. “How’re you doing sweet girl?” she says when there’s a lull in the conversation. I watch as Sarah and Mitch take the baby and walk over to where the other band members are, and I can tell it’s their way of giving me and Anne some privacy. I set my plate down in front of me before answering her. “I’m… okay,” I respond. “It’s been the best summer of my life, and it’s not fully over yet, but it feels like it is. Especially since I’ve made so many friends traveling with H, and now I know it will be a long time before I see them again,” I explain, and I can see the understanding across her features. “I can understand that,” she says, and then leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “How long until the two of you head back to the states?” “I thought he told you everything,” I say with a laugh, and she laughs with me. “We’re heading back on the 12th. I’m one of the leaders for orientation and I have a meeting at school on the 18th, but we discussed it and we both wanted some time to settle back into the house. Well,” I say pausing to let out a small laugh. “I guess we wanted time to move in and settle. He sold the LA house, which you knew, and the movers are moving everything into the new house, which is closer to my school and has a private beach attached to it. We had everything, both his and mine, moved into a storage unit. The only clothes I currently have access to are the ones I packed for this trip,” I say with a small laugh. “I’m not positive what we’re doing with the very little furniture and other things that I have, but we have to figure something out.” “Would you like for me to come out around that time to help you guys figure it out?” she asks me, and I immediately wrap both my arms around her. “I would love nothing more. And I know Harry will feel the same. He misses his mom.” She smiles in response and squeezes my sides before pulling away. “I miss my boy. It’s settled then. I’ll look at tickets the moment I get home tomorrow,” she says and I lean over and kiss her on the cheek before reaching out for my wine. I sit silent for a minute, sipping on my wine and thinking. “I feel bad,” I say when I speak up again, and Anne looks at me as though I’ve grown two heads. “Why on earth do you feel bad?” she asks me, reaching out and placing her hand on my arm, gently squeezing. “I’m taking Harry away from you. He’s moving to America for me,” I say, refusing to look in her eyes and instead staring into my wine glass. “Oh my sweet sweet girl,” she says, and gently reaches out and tips my chin up so I’m looking in her eyes. “You are not taking him away from me. He was getting close to moving there full time anyway. He sold the one LA house to find a new one, not to move home. He might not have admitted that, but we both knew it. It is in no way your fault. I would be upset if he was moving there and didn’t have anyone, but he has you. And you have shown me time and time again over the last two years, that you are the person for him,” she tells me and I smile. “Thank you. I’m gonna miss you when I’m back at school and don’t have as much time to see you.” “I always tell Harry that I’m only a phone call away, and that goes for you as well. I love you sweet girl,” she says, and I lean into her again, wrapping my arms tightly around her. “I love you Anne.” When we pull apart we sit there visiting for a while longer as I pick at some of the food I had on my plate and take a few small bites and finish my wine. I don’t notice Harry watching me pick at my food  until he comes over carrying a plate of fruit and a glass of water.  He comes over and gently takes the plate out of my hands, handing me the plate of fruit at the same time, and that  is what brings my attention to him. I look up at him with a questioning look and he just smiles. While I’m looking at him I feel Anne get up, and Harry is quick to take her place on the couch. “Haz, I have a plate of food,” I tell him as he gets comfortable next to me. “But you didn’t want it,” he says simply, and I feel my facial expression morph into one of bewilderment. “How could you possibly have known that?” I ask him, not wanting to admit he was right. I had only grabbed the plate of food because everyone else had one, and I didn’t want to be the only one without food. I typically only eat one meal a day, with some snacks here or there, and I had eaten lunch so I wasn’t that hungry. “Because I know you. You sat here drinking your wine, and took maybe two bites of food. I don’t like that you only eat one meal a day, but I know it has to do with your depression and anxiety, and I know that being one of the hosts of a party is causing you some anxiety,” he explains as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and gently pulls me to lean on him. “However, I also know that you need to eat something. Fruit is a comfort food for you. So I grabbed some of your favorites and brought it over,” he finishes, and I tilt my head and lift it to meet his lips in a kiss. “You’re too good to me,”  I whisper when I pull away, and he just smiles and shakes his head. “No, you’re too good for me,” he says, and then leans down and presses another kiss on my lips. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Thanks for coming,”  I hear Harry say from my spot laid out on the couch,  as the last guests leave. Anne had gone to bed about an hour ago in her room here at the house. Gemma had also gone to the guest room she was staying in, which was right across from their mother’s room. Sarah and Mitch had left hours ago, heading back to the hotel to get the baby into bed at a semi-decent time. I close my eyes as Harry walks back into the room and Moon River, by Audrey Hepburn, comes over the speaker in the room. I quietly hum along with it until I feel a shadow fall over my head. “Come dance with me,” he says, gently playing with the necklace that is resting on my collar bones, one that he had given me a couple of months after our one year anniversary. I hum in agreement before allowing him to take my hand and pull me up. As soon as I’m standing he pulls me to him and we sway back and forth, slowly moving around the room. Another slow song comes on as we continue dancing, lost in our own little world. After a while I pull back and look at him. “Ready to rest now?” I quietly say, not meaning for the night, but meaning for a greater amount of time. He gives me a small smile and nods yes. We stop dancing and make our way over to the couch, and he sits down first, laying down on the couch. He spreads his legs so that I can slip my body between them, and I lay down with my head on his chest. He rubs his hands up and down my back as we sit there in silence, the only noise being the music that is playing through the speakers. “What are we going to do tomorrow?” he quietly asks after a few minutes. “Rent that boat you mentioned. Clean up from this party and get the house ready for the guests that are coming next week.  Say goodbye to your mom for now,” I say, and then pause. “It doesn’t really matter what we do. What matters is that you get some well deserved and needed rest,” I say, and then place a gentle kiss on his chest. “What is this rest thing you speak of?” he says, and without looking at him I can hear the smile in his voice, and feel the chuckle rumble through his chest. “It’s something you deserve and need to enjoy,” I say, and then I stand up, holding my hand out for him. “Here, let me show you.”

[musings-of-a-rose]

Falling Slowly - Chapter 3

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2600+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This is the chapter where the start of my initial thought happens. Literally wanted to write one thing, but Tommy had other plans for me. If you want to know, it’s actually been in the fic moodboard since the beginning, but also check out this moodboard too. 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Divider made by @benkeibear 

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

<<;Chapter 2<<

“Mornin’ sunshine!” Tommy greets his grumpy brother as he walks into his kitchen, immediately raiding the refrigerator for some food. 

Joel grunts at him, taking another sip of his coffee as he watches his brother move about the room. He hadn’t seen him outside of work for a few weeks, but Joel’s truck needed a minor repair, and he’d needed a ride to work. 

“...and I really think I can close that contract. Mrs. Jones loves me, and I could probably get her to agree to those upgra-”

“You got laid.”

“-upgrades. What? Why would you say that?”

Joel narrows his eyes. “Because you’re extra…chipper…When did you have time to find someone who would let you fuck them?”

“I get around.”

Joel puts down his mug and crosses his arms, watching Tommy flit about the kitchen, resuming his conversation about Mrs. Jones and moving into one about Daisy.

“Aren’t you gonna take that girl on a date yet?” Joel blurts out, cutting Tommy off mid-sentence. 

“Who? Oh, Daisy? Nah, we’re just friends.”

Joel looks at him. “Yeah, friends who keep the condom companies in business.”

Tommy’s eyes snap to his brothers. “I never said we were fuckin-”

“Oh come on Tommy. Your entire body does this..shifty thing when you talk about her. Your eyes light up like she’s all that matters. And now? You have the “I fucked her” look on your face when you talk about her so don’t give me that crap.”

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

“You didn’t tell me. I figured it out. But do me a favor and just ask that girl out already?”

Tommy shrugs. “I don’t know. But if it makes you happy, I’ll think about it.”

It’s been several months and our arrangement is going very well. I swear we’ve fucked on every surface of each of our homes, sometimes not even making it past a few steps in the door before we’re on the floor or up against a wall. When I asked him if he would attend a work party with me, he enthusiastically agreed, pushing me in the bathroom and bending me over the bathroom sink as I watched his face while he fucked me, those curls I love falling onto his forehead, some of them sticking to the sweat beading across his gorgeous skin. So things were going great. There was just one problem, a small one really.

I love him.

I’ll never tell him. I don’t want to risk losing him in any capacity, and if I’m being totally honest with myself, it would be really hard to go back to being just normal friends. I can’t get enough of him, his smile, his laugh, the jokes he cracks when we’re hanging out or when he’s buried deep inside of me, the touch of his skin on mine, the way his curls sometimes fall onto his face. He’s ruined me for other men and I’m totally ok with that.

But sometimes it makes me want to scream “What are you doing, Daisy?”

I do take solace in the fact that he hasn’t found someone either, whether from choice or not I don’t know. And that’s not something I want to ask myself. Not yet.

Shaking my head, I pull into the site lot where the project he’s working on is, walking up to the trailer and knocking, lunch bag in my hand. 

“Come in.”

I open the door and he glances up, a smile spreading across his face when he sees me.

“Hey Daisy! I wasn’t expectin’ you.”

I hold up the bag from his favorite place. “I knew you’d be working late tonight and miss burger night so,” I shake the bag, walking up to his desk and placing it down on an unoccupied spot. 

Tommy looks at me, his eyes soft when they meet mine. What is that look? Love? Nah, I’m probably projecting.

“Thank you, Daisy. That was really sweet. I didn’t expect this.”

“I brought something else.”

“Oh?” 

I walk around the desk and Tommy pushes his chair back, turning it towards me as he looks up expectantly. When I drop to my knees between his legs, his eyes grow dark.

I spend the next several minutes pulling as many sounds as I can from this man, wiping my mouth when I stand.

“Hope you enjoy lunch.”

“Is it ok if I invite Daisy to Sarah’s birthday party?”

Joel looks over at his brother from his side of the truck. “I don’t think so.”

Tommy furrows his brow. “Why? She’s been around a few times. Her and Sarah get along. "

“You take her on a proper date yet?”

“Who are you? Mom?”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t want you bringing strange women around my daughter.”

“She’s not a strange woman. She’s my friend.”

“Any woman you’re fuckin’ but refuse to have an actual conversation with to define your relationship is being disrespected by you. And I’m not letting you set the example to my daughter that that’s ok to be treated that way.”

Tommy’s mouth falls open. “Hey, fuck you man. We are definied. Friends with benefits.”

Joel gives his brother a look. “You know there’s more to it than that. Any idiot can see it. Except you two, apparently.”

I had to go a couple of time zones away for work, hating the time I have to spend away from Tommy. Maybe it's a good thing? We are nearly always together and we aren't even together. Officially. 

The jet lag hits me hard when I get back and swear all I've done the last 2 days is sleep. On the third day, I manage to force myself from bed to take a shower and start to unpack. I have a bad habit of waiting to do that, usually from being sad the trip was over. This time, I was happy to be back so I could see Tommy, and while he did pick me up from the airport and bring me back home, he ended up leaving, demanding I get sleep and feel better. He'd dropped by a few times and brought me food, but he ended up leaving, saying he could see I was trying to stay awake when he was around and he just wanted me to rest.

I grab my toiletry bag and head into the bathroom, pulling things out of the bag and putting them away. I have a small basket under the sink where I keep my travel items. I open the door and grab it out, putting everything away. When I go to put it back, something is blocking the basket, annoying the shit out of me. I bend down to see what could possibly be blocking me from just putting my crap away. A small box of tampons had fallen from the top of the drawer set I have down there to organize other things. Rolling my eyes, I grab the box of tampons and angrily shove them where they go, pushing the basket into it’s proper spot. I close the door and stand up, stretching. Heading back into my closet, I dump the clothes from my suitcase into my laundry hamper. Even if I didn’t wear them, I’m still washing them. Shoving the suitcase in it’s storage place at the back of the closet, I close the door and sigh, glad that that was finally over.

I head to my kitchen and make a little lunch. Nothing major as I still haven’t regulated back from my trip. I’m about 7 spoonfuls into my vegetable soup when I realize something, like a puzzle piece I’d been staring at for hours that finally jumps out to slide into it’s place.

The tampons.

I shove myself back from the table and walk with purpose to my bathroom, yanking open the cabinet door and feeling around for the box of tampons. I grab it and pull it out, peering inside. Only a couple were missing, as I’d just needed a couple near the end of my last period. Which was…when exactly? 

I grab my phone off it’s charger and flip to my calendar, counting back days and realize…I’m late. I’m never late. I can set my watch to my period it’s always so precise. But…I’m not even feeling sick? Aren’t you supposed to feel nauseous?

I know it’s just jet lag, but I should grab a test to officially rule it out. Just to calm my now racing mind. I mean, Tommy and I doubled up, he with condoms and me with birth control. These things are supposed to prevent this kind of….problem.

I pull on some sneakers, not even bothering to change out of the athleisure outfit I had on, and go to the closest store that would sell what I need with the least chance of me running into someone I know. I stand in the isle, staring down what feels like a hundred rows of tests, all advertising the same thing in different ways. In the end, I decide to buy 2 in case I fuck one up. I go with something called a “pink dye test” and another that just reads it out to you in plain English. 

By the time I’m done reading the directions, my hands are shaking so bad. I don’t know why, as there’s no way I’m pregnant. The directions say it’s best to test first thing in the morning with your first pee of the day, but there’s no way I’m waiting for that. Somehow I manage to not pee all over the place, setting the sticks upside down in the wrappers and turning on the timer for 3 minutes. The longest 3 minutes of my life. I take the time to putter around my bathroom, absentmindedly cleaning off random things until the timer goes off. Ok, so when these say negative, I’ll give myself a few days to not be exhausted and, if I still am, I’ll make an appointment with my doctor. No big deal. Just ruling this out. I grab the one that just reads it to you, thinking this would be easier than trying to figure out of I was seeing 2 lines or 1. I take a deep breath and exhale, flipping the test over, my eyes focusing on the tiny box that would read out my fate.

PREGNANT

I laugh. I actually laugh out loud. And not quietly, more like a full body laugh, my head tipping back with the force of it. Which is probably not the most mature response, but this test is faulty. I would get the one faulty test in their lineup. I mean, it even says it’s not 100% on the box. I reach for the pink dye test, flipping it over, feeling the smile that was on my face start to falter as I look down.

||

Two lines. That…wait that can’t be right. I snatch the directions off the counter, eyes scanning for the part about reading the results. It says 2 lines means pregnant. It says some other things but I suddenly can’t focus, my eyes snapping back to the 2 little tests on the counter, 2 little sticks that are changing the entire course of my life. Assuming I want it. Do I want it? I don’t not want it. What am I saying? Do I really want to have a kid? Now? If I was going to have a kid with anyone, I’d want it to be Tommy. Fuck, what the hell am I going to tell Tommy?

He texts me a couple hours later to check on me and I tell him I’m feeling better but still tired and need a couple more days. He doesn’t question this and why should he? He says he’ll see me Friday, our weekly Netflix and chill night and I can’t say no. If I do, he’ll suspect something.

“She’s alive!”

Tommy smiles at me, that ear to ear grin that I find so damned endearing as he pulls me in for a tight hug, kissing the side of my head. 

“I missed you, Daisy. You feelin’ better?”

“Eh. I’m not sure.”

“Still?” He crooks his finger and tilts my jaw up, his eyes roaming over my face and I almost crack then.

“Your eyes do look…odd. You need to go to the hospital or somethin’? I can drive-”

“No. No, I’ll be ok.”

He doesn’t look convinced as I pull myself from his grip, every inch of me begging to be closer. We get the food set up and I manage to eat some, nerves killing my appetite. We settle onto the couch and he pulls me up next to him, resting his head on mine. As much as I don’t want to move, I have to tell him. It’s eating me alive and I can’t…I need him on this. I need to talk to him, my best friend.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Mmm?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He lifts his head and pauses the movie, turning his head to give me his full attention. My eyes meet his, soft and warm, and I almost choke. It’s killing me to break this happy buzz he has going on. 

“I…I don’t really know how to tell you this-”

“You found someone else?” He chuckles, but it’s nervous, like he isn’t quite sure, his eyes bouncing between mine.

“What? No, never.”

“Phew! Well then, darlin’, anythin’ else you have to say can’t be bad.”

“It’s big.”

“So am I.” He waggles his eyebrows and I punch his arm.

“I’m trying to be serious, Tommy.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” He pretends to lock his lips and hand me the key, his big eyes settling on mine.

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“I’m p-pregnant.”

Tommy laughs, his body shaking with it, his head tilting back with it, very similar to my initial response and I can’t help the soft smile that appears on my face for a second or two at this parallel.

“Ok, ok, Daisy. Pregnancy isn’t something to joke about.”

“You’re right. It isn’t.”

His laughter starts to fade, his eyes still meeting mine as I will him to finally realize what I’m saying. The moment it does, I can see it - the smile dropping, his eyes growing wide, and he starts nervously stammering.

“I-I…uh wh-what…uh…when….why-”

“I’ve been feeling exhausted since my trip, realized I hadn’t had my period, took a few tests to rule it out, and…” I gesture to my stomach. His eyes flick down to where I gestured, somehow growing wider, as if he could already see a belly. Which is crazy because I’m too early. Right?

I need to read a book.

“P-pregnant? But that makes no sense! I suited up and you - you said you were on birth control.”

“I am. Well, was. When I found out I was pregnant, I stopped taking the pill. And no, I never missed a dose. Always took it on time.”

“Then h-how?”

“Sometimes these things just…fail. I guess. I mean, it does say like 99% effective.”

His breathing has picked up, his chest starting to heave with the weight of it all. He starts glancing around the room, looking for any indication that I was joking. When he finds none, he stands abruptly.

“I-I can’t be here. I gotta..I gotta go.”

“Tommy-”

But he doesn’t stop, tripping over his feet and yanking open the door after fiddling with the lock, slamming it behind him as he all but runs towards where he must have parked his truck.

I don’t know what I expected. I guess maybe more…anger? That wasn’t like him. Talking? Maybe. Nervous support at least? Something. But Tommy storming out like I’ve told him he has 5 seconds before I'm dunking him in a tank full of piranhas? I didn’t expect that. The man was in Desert Storm - I thought he couldn’t get freaked out. When he gets back, I’ll have to ask him about that.

He will come back, right?

>>Chapter 4>>

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry

[waytooinvested]

Fandom creators tag game

1. What sort of content do you create, and what is the thing you’ve made that you’re most proud of? Mostly I write fanfiction. Sometimes I make little needle felted character dolls. Over all proudest is probably still The Hands I Used to Touch (Call the Midwife), but for my current fandom (Supergirl) it's Forgotten, Not Forgiven, as that is my latest big project and home to all the fluffy supercorp that I need in my life (okay not in the published chapters but IT WILL BE EVENTUALLY I PROMISE)

2. What fandom(s) do you create for? Right now just Supergirl, and I have only written three fics for that one so far (but hopefully more to come!) Before that it was Call the Midwife.

3. What is your current favourite ship (or brotp if you prefer), and how controversial is it? Supercorp, ie Kara/Lena for Supergirl (I know, I’m so quiet about it on this blog you would never have guessed). It occupies an interesting space of being simultaneously entirely non controversial in that it is by far the biggest ship I have ever engaged with, while also being extremely divisive, both within and beyond fandom spaces. But I arrived here LONG after most of that had happened, and am now just happily playing in the sandpit of creative space while the bones of drama stay *mostly* buried. Always a bit of a shock when one rises up to try and kick down your sandcastle though (yes, I am aware that that is a mildly horrifying visual)

4. For your answer to question 3, are they canon? They are not (TECHNICALLY), but there is enough raw material in canon to build The São João Baptista, and that is enough for me. That and the 21,302 (and counting) fics with their relationship tag on AO3.

5. What was your first fandom, and how old were you? The first I actually engaged with other fans over was Call The Midwife in my early 20s, and that was because I snapped after seeing one too many tv lesbians get hit by a car.

6. What is your most unhinged fandom creation to date? Unhinged is not really my brand so I don't really have anything good for this one. Is Kara gets accidentally miniaturized unhinged? Or a bait and switch Lena "villain" arc? I think probably not really to either, but that's the closest I've got for this fandom so far...

7. Do you remember what started you off creating fandom content, and if so, what was it? The aforementioned incident between Delia and a car, which left her with amnesia and taken away to Wales mere moments after she and Patsy had moved in together. But I’m over it. Honest.

8. Do you let people you know in real life see your fandom creations? Not usually, I get shy about it. The exceptions are my wife (but we met via fandom so that one maybe doesn’t count) and on occasion my best friend, who talked me round by being an enthusiastic sweetheart.

9. How do you feel about fanworks of fanworks? Has anyone ever made something based on a thing you made? A few people have made fan art for my fics and it felt like the absolute highest compliment that could be paid to my writing. It was amazing to know that something I wrote meant enough to people to inspire them to go and create their own thing from it, and I loved getting to see other people’s takes on the version of the characters/story I had created. I think it's one of the best things about fandom communities! But I do understand why other people might feel differently about something they have poured so much of themselves into making, so I guess the main thing is trying to be respectful with it, crediting the source, and accepting people's boundaries. Basically I think we should all just be kind to each other and have fun.

10. What feeling do you most often try to evoke with your creations? I'm generally seeking my own catharsis through writing fix-it fic for painful things that happened in canon, so I guess a certain amount of pain followed by the eventual fluffy feel good satisfaction of resolution, but honestly I consider it a win if I can evoke a whole spectrum of emotions along the way.

11. Has someone ever paid your work a compliment (in any form) that has stuck with you, and what was it? Someone once liked my fic so much that she married me about it, so it’s hard to beat that haha. But on a more usual level, people making fanart for my fic was a HUGE one. And also just when people have left particularly in depth comments, commented on every chapter, told me they're rereading or that a fic of mine was their favourite etc... Basically just knowing that something I made has really meant something to someone gives me all of the warm fuzzy feelings, and I am very grateful to each and every person who has taken the time to tell me so!

12. What’s your favourite thing someone else has made that you’ve seen in the last 24 hours (and link it if you can find it again!) Originally I had the bouquet toss ficlet by @fazedlight here, because it just captures the characters so beautifully, but then I left this sitting in my drafts and it is now more than 24 hours ago that I saw it, so I'll add this adorable art by @awaitingrain, because LOOK AT IT! They are so cute??! Also I relate to gentle nomming as a display of affection XD

13. Give a small sneak preview of something you’re working on right now (eg a couple of sentences of fic from a WIP, a gif set theme, a small piece of a larger picture, whatever you feel happy to share) "Lena Luthor was dangling from the side of a cliff, nothing between her and the vast chasm of space below but the small jutting nodule she was clinging to to keep from falling.

How the hell had she ended up here?

Well. She knew how of course.

Kara Danvers was how."

14. Have you ever seen/read anything made by the person who tagged you? If so, what was it and what was your favourite thing about it? (pick a favourite if there are several) SO MANY!! it’s hard to pick a favourite of hers honestly because she is a RIDICULOUSLY good writer, but I’m going to go with The Next Best Thing by @cynicalrainbows. I don’t tend to read many kidfics but this one is the absolute best I have come across, she captures the child perspective fantastically well while also being incredibly engaging and entertaining to an adult reader. It is what successfully pulled me into reading Six fanfic despite (at that point) never having seen the musical. Even if you haven’t either, I wholeheartedly recommend checking it out. Or go and read her new Paperdolls fic and help grow that fandom, which I think currently has all of two people in it!

15. Do you leave comments on fandom works, and if so how would you describe your comment style? I do! I know how much I love it when people do it for me, so I try to leave comments on every chapter of the fics I read (or add tag notes for tumblr art/fic reblogs), and give specifics about what I like about it. Sometimes I just fully liveblog the fic reading experience, which is always fun. I also find it makes you engage and appreciate the work more because you’re taking your time to really think about it, AND it makes an author happy to receive (at least so I hope), which makes me happy.

16. How many works in progress do you currently have? Will you finish them all? Not counting a couple of dump documents of ideas and snippets, technically 3, I guess? One is Forgotten, Not Forgiven (Supergirl) which is my big one and will definitely be finished. The others are less certain – Storybooks and Siren Suits (Call The Midwife) is the one kidfic I have ever written, and is both my longest story at 151,020 (published) words, and also the one I am least likely to finish, because it has been stuck on the same chapter for around 3 years now. The other is Small Problem… (Supergirl) which could be counted as a finished oneshot, but I will probably end up adding further Adventures of Tiny Kara at some point.

17. what’s the longest it’s ever taken you to finish a fandom project?Well, see above re: 3 year stall on new updates. For actually fully finished and published stories I think it was around 6 months.

18. Describe the thing you made most recently in a way that is technically true, but also completely misleading. Link the thing if it’s published! Lena discovers Kara in Lex’s bed, then decides to lure her into friendship under false pretenses. Alex helps her do it. Forgotten, Not Forgiven.

19. Do you ever engage with fanworks for a fandom you’re not in? Which one(s) and how did you get into it? See above re: getting into fanfiction for Six!

20. Recommend a fan work from your fandom to your followers That’s tough because there are so many amazing ones, but I think I will go with I Guess I Live Here Now by @fabulousglitch, because it was both the first fic I really got into for supercorp and also contained everything I wish the characters could have had in canon. I know I am several years late to the party so if you are in the supercorp fandom you have probably already read it, but if you haven’t read it GO READ IT, IT’S SO GOOD!

Suggested tag list, but there are no rules here, follow your heart.

A mutual you have never actually spoken to but think seems cool @nottawriter

The most recent person whose content you engaged with (eg read a fic, reblogged art, whatever form you feel best fits) @sideguitars (and I still owe you a comment on AO3 for that!)

Someone whose content you saw via tags/reblogs and you followed them because of it @sssammich

Someone in your fandom that you think makes cool things @fazedlight

Someone in a different fandom that you think makes cool things @havaamina

Someone you always tag on things like this @cynicalrainbows

Someone you have never tagged before @thatonebirdwrites

Someone you would like to get to know better @thecasualqueer

Someone who makes art you like @pea-green (I don't know if you still do fandom drawing/writing these days, but your commissioned art is still up in my house/in my profile picture and I love it so much)

Someone who writes fics you like @fabulousglitch

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Congrats on the 1000 followers. You deserve it. I’d love an ending to failed fic 10 please? It was really really cute. I don’t know if you need any details like in the usual rules, but if I do need to do that I had a cute idea that Sabo finds a letter in his locker similar to the letters he wrote that’s signed “the person you admire” and he turns and sees her waving to him and he gets more courage and ends in a smooch. But feel free to ignore that idea entirely because you probably have an idea that is like 100 times better. Thank you 💙

Yay, my first event request! I hope you enjoy this, I used your idea but changed it up a little. As a note, I did actually make the poem in this myself. I spent probably half an hour or more just trying to rhyme a couple of words!

Word Count: 1600

     Sabo watched you from across the classroom, head resting in his hand. How long had he admired you from afar? Normally he wasn’t a shy person, taking action, making his move, and often getting what he wanted, but with you, it was different. He couldn’t ever seem to find the words, his plans fell apart, and if he didn’t trip over his own feet, he ended up tongue tied. It was infuriating as he attempted time and again to tell you how he felt, he could tell you how he felt in letters, he’d sent you dozens of ‘secret admirer’ letters. Sticking them in your books when you weren’t looking, placing them in your purse while your back was turned, or bribing the coffee shop you frequented to stick them to your drink. He’d considered signing his name a number of times instead of writing ‘from your secret admirer’, yet always felt his hand shaking. What was wrong with him? How were you doing this to him? How was it that you turned him into a bumbling, stuttering mess. 

     Sabo closed his eyes, standing up and starting to walk over to you. He had to do this, he needed to tell you how he felt. Taking a deep breath, he tapped you on your shoulder as you packed your things up, getting ready to head home.

    “Hm? Oh, hi! You’re Sabo, right?” you said, giving him a friendly smile.

    “I uh, y-yeah.” Sabo said, sticking his hands in his pockets in an attempt to hide the shaking.

    “So what can I do for you?” you asked, head tilting adorably to the side. Sabo could already feel his cheeks heating up, how did you manage to be so cute without even trying?

    “W-well we have a few classes together and I’ve seen you around campus, so I-I uh, I was thinking, well, I mean, I know we don’t really know each other, but uh, I was hoping that maybe, that is, if you’d like to, perhaps, I could uh, t-take you to get some coffee? O-or maybe study together, s-since we’re in a lot of the same classes, that is.” Sabo stuttered out, feeling the blush start to crawl across his entire face. You smiled and giggled, making Sabo’s heart skip a beat.

    “I’d love to. How about we do both! I know of a great cafe where we can study. They’ve got really great coffee. Here, let me give you their address.” you said, quickly pulling out a piece of paper and writing the address and name down before handing it to him, “Think you’ll be able to find it alright?” you asked, giving him another stunning smile. Sabo’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at you.

     “Yeah, yeah I can find it. I think I might have been there once or twice.” he said with a ‘nonchalant’ shrug. Once or twice? Try at least once a week when you got coffee. They were the coffee shop you almost always visited, the ones he bribed to stick notes onto your cup. He never went there while you were there, but he knew the place.

     Taking a deep breath, Sabo checked his appearance in the mirror for probably the tenth time this morning. He was meeting you at 2 and he really wanted to look his best without looking like he was trying too hard. If he looked too nice, you’d probably wonder what was wrong with him and start backing off. Similarly, if he was unkempt, you wouldn’t want to be with someone who was that much of a slob and leave.

     “Dude, will you chill? You’re gonna be fine!” Ace called from his place on the couch, leaning his head back to look at his brother.

     “First of all, I am chill. Secondly, you don’t know that. And third, you don’t know this girl, she’s far too amazing, I have to look good.” he said, giving his brother a light glare before checking his clothes again, smoothing them out and checking for anything that might be on them despite the fact that they were basically pristine. Ace just rolled his eyes at his brother but didn’t say anything further. If Sabo wanted to panic about his date, then fine. 

     Putting on a calm air and a smile, he sat down with you at one of the tables, setting his coffee down as the two of you pulled out your books.

     “Thanks for buying my coffee. You really didn’t have to.” you said with a sweet smile, one that had his heart racing. 

     “Of course, a g-gentleman should always buy the lady a d-drink.” he said, doing his best to remain cool. He had to remain cool! He couldn’t let you see what a stuttering, blushing mess you made him! Looking at you, the blond began to panic, noticing your brow furrow like something was wrong.

     “Everything alright, Y/n?” he asked, still trying to come off as calm and collected.

     “Yeah, I’m just thinking, it’s not really easy to study like this. Hold on.” you said, quickly pulling your chair next to his and sitting back down, “Much better. We’ll have an easier time looking at each other’s notes and books this way.” you said with another smile. He was pretty sure you’d be able to hear his heart with how close you were. The young man could smell what kind of shampoo and conditioner you used at this distance. All he could do was nod as he started studying with you, taking a short break after about half an hour to splash some water on his face. He needed to calm down! Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to calm his pounding heart. He could do this, he was Sabo, brother to Ace and Luffy, best in his martial arts class, and top scores for pre college politics! It was one date! Drying his face off, he headed back out to your table, sitting next to you once more. 

     Walking back into the school building, Sabo sighed. The study date had gone really well, you’d both gotten a lot done and you seemed to be happy to have his company. That being said, when he’d written you another short love note, he still couldn’t bring himself to sign his name. He was hopeless! At least, he felt hopeless. Approaching his locker, his brow furrowed. The edge of a light blue card stuck out the top. Quickly opening his locker, he easily caught the small card. It was fairly simple, a cute, blank card he must have seen in a thousand stores. Looking at the card in confusion, he opened it, his eyes darting across the page. 

“Roses are Red, 

Violets are blue, 

I have an admirer, 

I know that it’s you. 

You didn’t think that I’d notice, 

you think that you’re clever, 

from the corner of my eye, 

I caught you, however. 

These feeling you have,

They’re really endearing,

Rejection from me,

You need to stop fearing.

Please meet me under your favorite tree.

Signed, the girl you admire.”

     He wasn’t sure if his heart had stopped or was just pounding too hard and too quickly to register. Was… was this what he thought it was? Slamming his locker door, he took off at a dead sprint, skidding around corners and nearly crashing into walls as he sped through the halls. Sure enough, standing under the tree he always ate lunch under, was you, looking as cute as ever and holding something in your hands that he couldn’t quite make out. Another deep breath and he was walking up to you, a little sweat dripping from his temple from running, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, and his hands shaking. 

     “I-Is this really from you?” Sabo asked once he reached you, watching a smile spread across your face.

     “I was starting to wonder if you’d actually gotten it.” you said, making him swallow hard as he glanced back down at the card.

     “Your um, your poetry is really good. I didn’t know you had so many skills.” he said, unsure of what else to say.

     “Oh, not really. That took me all night to figure out. I have a thousand crumpled papers in my trash.” you said, making him chuckle.

     “It’s still cute. You mentioned I should stop worrying about rejection. Does that mean… that you like me back?” he asked tentatively, looking back up at you. You nodded, your cheeks dusted pink as you unwrapped the item you were holding. Inside was a box of his favorite sweets, his eyes widening. The bakery was on the other side of town! You would have had to wake up an hour early to get there, wait in line, and get back here in time! Sabo gently took the box, lifting it out of the way before caressing your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. You weren’t sure who melted more, him or you, both of you a bright pink when he pulled away.

     “So, then… Can I… does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” Sabo asked. 

     “I wish I could say something poetic as a yes, but all my poetry went into that note, so how about just an ‘absolutely’.” you said with a small giggle, making the blond chuckle.     “I’m framing this, by the way. The first thing I ever received from the best girlfriend in the world.” he said before giving you another soft kiss. Normally he didn’t get such sweet gifts, his heart didn’t pound like it was, he didn’t get flustered but you were different.

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Things I Noticed While Writing Light The Fuse: Part 2, Episode 1

And here's more of episode 1 starting off strong with my favourite scene ever /)w(\ I noticed so much stuff crammed into here that I had to make this its own part, I wanna join them on the river so damn bad ;w;

I've seen this damn scene so many times they've created a pavlovian response within me, now whenever I watch it or think about it I gotta doubeltap whatever I'm nearest to, once for Betty and once for Uncle Lug

Johnson saying they're more than Brawlers and he means it! He also motions towards the jacket on time to the music and I must also do the same now, I'm a sucker for timing and this is so simple but cute 🥰 also love how they're just saying this assuming we're Ethan in this moment following them to get his tattoo

This is the old caution room a lot of stuff happens in, you can see it better in the promo image, as well as the fact that some Pinups are hanging out in there too

Matty reading the paper while it gets sewn 😭 I actually thought they went into town for this but nope it's all Agnes and she's doing it in house. I also had no idea what Johnson was doing at first, maybe just being silly, but on the transition you can actually see that he's adjusting his sleeves cause he's about to fix Ethan's collar I'm sobbing again

See 😭 I'm also very convinced they dressed him in canon since Ethan did not dress like this before coming down here and you can't convince me otherwise, they went on a shopping trip just like in my fic and that's the truth. Also I swear to god they share shirts cause sometimes it really looks like they've switched and that makes me insane. I also went ahead and counted how many shirts Ethan wears over the season so I knew how many they'd buy him in my fic lol turns out he's got a bunch!

This is the shot from the promo images!

I love getting to see inside the trailer, I wonder what they keep in those bins back there?

I'm in love with him

I love how this entire scene is Ethan doing all the work while Matty and Johnson shop, I love them so much like the matching HATS DUDE IN THEIR COLOURS and Matty trying to get Johnson back on track and then stopping to look at something else on the way out I would die for them. I also love the detail of every bag going out being red and everyone coming in being yellow, they probably switch between those two every weeks.

This is also the shop where Matty buys Johnson his books in Melt With Me ;w;

💗😭💗 he likes being a Phoenix guys this is all he needs he's happy doing this I'm gunna cry again

Was there any reason to look this hot while opening a trailer, seriously

I'm so goddamn in love with him it's not even funny

This one isn't even an observation I just really wanna have a drink with them they're having so much fun 🥺🙏 why is Ethan is small between them lol and why is that not me

There's so much I love about this shot. Ethan just collapsing. Johnson drinking away in the background. Johnson still being the one to urgently wake him up after a sleep so deep he didn't even move. The fact that they either visit this place multiple times or this was a very long night before Matty gave up the bed and let Ethan rest because it appears again when they're watching tv. The fact that there is only ONE BED in this room and you can see that when they leave and in the bts with Matty. Also the bonus second take making it in lmao he bounced so hard in that one

Again, he could either be talking to us, and so the wink is for us, or he just straight up looked like that to Ethan. I don't know about you guys but... 🙄

They are the hottest men I've ever seen. Hand shot from Matty just for me. His lip curled over the cigarette. Johnson staring directly into the camera. The smoke they both just blow out so casually. I need to participate in one (1) sloppy makeout with these two stat plEASE

I love him I need to have a car ride with him just to hear whatever he's so passionate about. Plus it looks like Johnson is leaning on the back of his seat to listen and that's just plain adorable

They didn't have to do this 😭 I'm so in love with Ethan being so sleepy that he falls asleep on Johnson, and Matty just stealing the whole entire bed for himself (which again there is only one of!) and funnily enough since Johnson's wearing the same shirt as the other scene (obviously because they filmed all this at once but I'm thinking in world hehe) Ethan took his shirt off before bed and put it back on again lmao I'm also completely ignoring how normal I am about this rare glimpse of Johnson chest 😀

Johnson likes to sing! Matty clapping away for him all proud and cheering him on!! Ethan smiling in the background until he joins in!!! These boys make me cry I swear to go- Anyway he's gotta be good, I need to go back in time and get into this scene

This made me laugh when I first saw it, just Matty being so expressive and energetic that he straight up stops driving and Ethan has to take over with such an unimpressed look lmao I doubt he's even listening

Based on his sleeve being rolled up, that's Matty telling him to come on and I think that's so cute ;w; Ethan is so spaced out, nice of them to let him have a sit before it was time to go. In my fic I wrote them as carrying around their own duffle bags with their clothes but it actually looks like Johnson's holding a suitcase, so Matty might be too. I like them having just an excess of duffles though lol I can't see Matty taking the time to pack a suitcase every morning it would be so messy

Literally the three hottest men on the planet and I love them all, I'm so incredibly happy I got into this show

And that's it for this scene! Episode 1 will be wrapped up for real tomorrow, there was just too much to look at here 🥰💙❤️💛

[therapeutic-dose]

60, 70, 80, 90 for the writers asks! And wild card for 100: as a fellow KimChayCau writer, what drew you into writing about that pair specifically over something like KinnPorscheBig, etc? :3

60. where is the most dangerous place you've written fic?

Ahaha, honestly? Probably in my teens on my family's desktop computer. It was in a Microsoft Word document, I think? Just some really bad way-too-young-to-be-writing-this fanfic. It was the early 2000's and the desktop was centered in a the livingroom where you could walk by and see the screen at any time. Any time at all! And family had no clue, somehow, but maybe that's because it was like 2001 and they weren't worried about anything but me being in weird chat rooms lol

70. are you very critical of your own writing?

Yes, horribly so. I'm constantly editing as I write (though I've been much better about it since I started sprinting), and then edit a great deal before publishing. I go back and forth between thinking my writing is try-hard and purple and stupid and thinking that it's actually pretty good, but I think my main worry is that I'm a decent writer, but not a good storyteller, if that makes sense? The actual writing itself isn't bad, but I lose faith in my ability to tell an overarching story, and that leads me to a lot of edits as well.

80. do you try to put themes, motifs, messages, morals, etc into your writing? if so, how do you go about it?

Yes, absolutely. I almost beat them to death in my stories lol. I'm pretty obvious about them, and they're usually adapted into how the characters think. For example, in Harmony's Overture (and the whole of In Three Movements) music is a major part of how the three of them think and interact because it's so intrinsic to them. Music lends to the theme acceptance and stepping fearfully out of isolation, because music itself is so profound in what it offers us - not only catharsis and comfort, but the community it brings. It worked well for the theme of found family, in this case their individual notes becoming chords, played together not to change them, but to make them exist as something more together. Wounds and sickness also runs through the entire series as a commentary on not only how we perceive ourselves, but how we have to open ourselves to healing hands if we want to feel and be better - and that sometimes the illness is incurable, but you're allowed to breathe and be loved anyway. And I get heavy-handed with religious imagery with VegasPete, for obvious reasons lol. I'm digressing lol, moving on.

90. do you notice your own voice in your writing style?

In dialogue, sometimes, especially when it's banter or chit-chat. As far as prose/internal monologue I bleed so much of my actual self and the emotions around my experiences into my writing that it's hard not to see some of that reflected back at me, though I think I'm pretty good at becoming the character when I write them. (I think that's what this as asking? Lol)

100.

So to be honest, I'd read a bunch of MacauChay and enjoyed it, but was really wanting to explore Kim, and KimChay didn't quite have me by the collar enough to explore them. I also wanted to explore Macau for a lot of different reasons, so I landed on writing KimMacau. But I actually felt kind of sad leaving Chay in the dust, so I wasn't sure exactly what to do there. KimMacau truly began because I got eaten alive by this idea I had in a discord server that 6-year-age-gap Kim and Macau had been besties when they were younger, until Kim got VERY weird about it and yeeted himself out of Macau's life (breaking his sad little wet cat cousin's heart). I wanted to write a really twisted Kim, but I didn't want to write about him hurting people he loves by being toxic in the traditional(?) way - and that in combination with me feeling bad about Chay being left in the dust had me making a way for him to be very much a part of the story. After the end of part 1, part 2 erupted out of me because I just wanted to see what could happen between that version of Kim, this lonely and depressed version of Macau, and this twisted up, damaged, conflicted version of Chay. As for other throuples, so to speak, I think I just never quite vibed? I'd been so obsessed with VegasPete and couldn't really find anyone I wanted to put them with... And then somehow, when that original KimMacau story nagged at me forever, I decided this would be THE route haha.

Thank you friend, these were so fun!

[oliverreedmasterass]

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Interlude | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Second Interlude | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Epilogue

Chapter Summary: The group makes their way into Frankenmuth, ready to fight against the hunters to protect their nest and pack.

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: grotesque violence (more intense than in previous chapters), gun violence, blood, head injury, language, implications of death

Notes: I'm writing this to hold myself accountable: Chapters 12 and the Epilogue will be posted by Halloween. If that doesn't happen, I will deactivate my account (jk) (also thanks to @infinisonicosm for the fic idea!!)

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Rae was sure she wasn’t the only one feeling the day weighing on her shoulders, but no one else showed it as they briskly moved through the woods back out to the residential streets. A part of Rae was relieved that her gut had been telling her the truth so they could get back to town faster, but she was also concerned. Where did this intuition come from? Rae had never noticed it before, and now it consumed her mind. 

The sun was just starting to make its way over the horizon when their feet met pavement for the first time in hours. Beside her, Morgan let out a sigh of relief. Jake turned around and looked back at Rae and Morgan, his face twisted with concern. 

“I heard your phone call with your mom,” he told Rae. “You and Morgan need to go home and stay safe. My dad said that Bri is in town, which is really bad news. Both of you go and let your parents know you’re okay. We’ll be able to fend things off.” 

“Look, I don’t know who Bri is, but we’ve made it this far, I don’t want to leave your side,” Rae tried to protest. 

“She’s a hunter. The best, actually. A vampire killed her parents and filled her with such an intense rage, she’ll kill whoever gets in her way, even if they’re human.” 

“People say she took out an entire nest in less than five minutes with nothing but a cheese grater,” Sam popped into the conversation, widening his eyes as he shared his story. “She kept one alive so he could tell the tale.” 

“I doubt that’s true,” Danny rolled his eyes at Sam. 

“No,” Karen countered, “It is.” 

Rae grimaced at the thought but held her ground. “This seems like an all hands on deck kind of deal.” 

She noticed that Jake was looking closely at Morgan, and then turned to her brother as well. In the fading sunlight, Morgan’s skin was entirely sapped of color. His rustled hair looked like it might never properly smooth down again. He was starting to fold in on himself like he couldn’t stand upright any longer. 

Jake caught Rae’s eye and Rae sighed. 

“Okay, Morgan definitely needs to go home.” 

“I can stick it out,” Morgan gave a weak protest. 

“Take one look in the mirror and you’re gonna change your mind,” Rae cut him off. She looked around at the group and wasn’t sure whether to smile or keep a straight face. She opted to let the side of her lip curl upwards slightly, and gave a joking salute. “Please be safe,” she told them. 

Josh gave Rae a comforting rub on the back. 

“What time is your chemo tomorrow?” he asked Morgan. Morgan looked caught off guard by the question, scrambling to come up with an answer. 

“10?” he guessed. 

“See you at 9 tomorrow,” Josh winked at him. 

Kelly and Karen gave waves to Rae and Morgan, and Danny and Sam called their goodbyes as well. As Josh rejoined his family, Jake remained behind, looking at Rae with those melancholy eyes. 

“Get some rest and lay low,” he told Rae. “I’ll swing by and check on you guys later.” 

“Don’t worry about us,” Rae shook her head, even though she did desperately want to see him later so she knew he was alright. “Watch out for Bri. If anything happens to you, I’m legally obliged to kick your ass.” 

“I’ve personally never felt more threatened in my life,” Jake’s face warmed slightly. 

“Now, go out there and get em, tiger,” Rae told him. Jake laughed, but he looked unsure. Rae watched him with interest, wondering what was going through his head. Before she could react, Jake stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close so she could feel his heart thundering in his chest. “Hey, hey,” Rae softly spoke. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Just in case,” Jake whispered back. Then, just like that, he released and took a step back, focusing his attention on Morgan. “No more running into the woods, okay?” 

“Trust me, I’m never going back there again.” 

Jake looked over his shoulder to see his family slowly disappearing from sight. 

“I’d better go,” he said. Rae saw a flash of fear cross his face. She wanted to tell him to sit this one out, that he had been through enough and should stay with her and Morgan, but her words stuck in her mouth. She knew he would never abandon his family when they needed him. Her heart broke that, at just 17, Jake already had to put his life on the line over and over again. 

“Be safe,” Rae reminded him, and then Jake was off. Rae felt a knot form in her throat as she watched him leave but, before the emotions could take hold of her, she focused her attention on Morgan. “Let’s get you home, bud,” she told him. 

All it took was crossing the street and walking half a block for them to make it back to their new house. Rae was in the middle of twisting her key in the lock when her mom flung the door open with a relieved cry. She engulfed Morgan in a tight hug, leaving Rae standing awkwardly to the side. 

 “Four hours!” their mom exclaimed into Morgan’s shoulder. “I thought you were dead!” 

“We’re fine, Mom,” Rae promised her, trying to hide her hurt that she hadn’t received a hug as well. 

“Where were you?” their mom had her eyes glued on Rae. “What were you doing that was so important you couldn’t answer your phones?” 

“I went into the woods,” Morgan cut in before Rae could think of an answer. “I got lost and Rae had to go in there and find me. Neither of us had cell reception.” 

Their mom held Morgan out in front of her so she could study him. “Why were you in the woods? You’ve heard all those stories about people going missing, Morgan. You know better than that.” 

“I was trying to clear my head,” Morgan levelly answered back, not breaking eye contact. “You know, before tomorrow.” 

Their mom let out an exasperated sigh and hung her head, unable to continue with her scolding. 

“Come on,” she told Morgan and Rae. “Let’s get you two inside. Dad has some dinner that he can reheat.” 

Rae took a look over her shoulder at the empty residential street before she made her way indoors. They were alone. 

The next hour and a half was torture for Rae. All through dinner and creating countless white lies about what had happened in the woods, she couldn’t stop thinking about how she was in the wrong place. She needed to be with Jake, Josh, Sam, Danny, Kelly, and Karen, defending their nest and pack from the hunters. They had been through too much for her to tap out early. 

Her eyes kept falling on the front door and, after probably her fifteenth time gazing longingly out the window, Morgan seemed to pick up on her thoughts. For a brief period where neither of their parents were in the dining room with them, he leaned across the table. 

“You want to go back out there, don’t you?” he asked. Rae could only nod. Morgan took another bite of his pasta and chewed thoughtfully. 

“I do too.” 

Even though the color had returned back to Morgan’s face and he looked more like a teenage boy than a ghost, Rae quickly shut him down. 

“I don’t think you really do,” she said. Morgan looked back at her in surprise. “You’re still recovering,” Rae continued. “You need to get your rest. Also, as your older sister, I can’t afford to see you endure any more of this violent shit.”

Morgan’s shoulders slumped. 

“I honestly do want to help, but I am feeling super gassed. I haven’t moved around this much in a crazy long time.” 

“You’re gonna stay here,” Rae decided for him. “And you better pinky promise you won’t come looking for me or do anything stupid while I’m gone, okay?” 

Morgan rolled his eyes, but offered his pinky out to her. “Promise,” he said. 

Rae took his pinky in hers and then stood from the table. 

“I’m gonna go out through the back,” she thought aloud. “Can you cover for me?” 

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re in your room,” Morgan agreed. “Put on one of your weird folk albums super loud and stuff your bed with shit so it looks like you’re sleeping.” 

“You’re the best,” Rae grinned at him. She never had to sneak out of the house back in Folsom, but she and Morgan had had plenty of conversations over the years talking about how they would pull it off. She was so glad that Morgan had remembered their plan. 

Rae gave Morgan a kiss on the head which he returned with gagging noises, and then slipped out the back door and rushed through the side gate to return to the street. She wasn’t sure where to look for her friends, but heading downtown seemed like the best option.

Rae started to run down the middle of the road, her ponytail whipping behind her with each step. The streetlights were starting to flicker on overhead, and Rae sputtered as some gnats made their way into her mouth. The closer she got to downtown, the more Rae noted that things felt off in Frankenmuth. The streets that she and Jake had strolled down just a few days before when they first met were in disarray. Houses had their front doors entirely ripped off the hinges and their windows smashed. People stood, lost, on their porches, trying to make sense of everything. Off in the distance a werewolf howl rumbled. Rae couldn’t tell if it was Jake, but it made her run faster. 

She was moving quicker than she ever had before, but then skidded to a stop to clutch at her stomach, which was twisting in agonizing knots. 

“Oh god,” she groaned out. “This can’t be good.” 

While she held her middle, she heard footsteps rush to her side. She lifted her head slightly in the hopes that it was Jake or Josh to help her out, but was instead met with the boney face of a middle aged man who had a large scratch running from his forehead to his right cheek. 

“Gotcha,” he rasped. “Fuckin werewolf.” 

Rae’s stomach turned again and in a blur, she saw the man start to reach for her waist to hoist her up. She blinked and saw that the man was still standing over her, waiting to make his move. Then, his hands started to reach for her. Because she knew what he was about to do, Rae did the first thing that popped into her mind and jumped out of the way. The man turned around to look at her in surprise and she sent her foot flying up into his crotch. The hunter clutched downstairs and stumbled around in a daze, but then Rae saw him take out a large knife and slice at her. With another blink, she saw that he was still keeled over. After a few beats, he straightened back up, growled at her, and reached for his weapon. In a flash, Rae rushed to his side, snatched the knife out of his hand, went behind him, and held the sharp edge to his throat. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Rae hissed at him. 

“What the fuck?” the guy choked back. Rae saw a flash of him turning out of her hold and thwacking his hand through her arm so she dropped the knife. She waited for him to move and, as he started to shift on his feet, she sent the hilt of the knife into the back of his head. The hunter thumped to the pavement with a groan. Rae sent a few kicks into his side and head for a little extra insurance, and stole his leather knife holder to tie around her waist. She inserted the knife into it and then wiped her dirtied hands off on her jeans as she caught her breath. 

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and she felt the adrenaline rush back through her veins. The knife came back out in front of her and Rae turned to face Sam, who jumped with wide eyes. 

“Woah!” he called out. “It’s me!” 

Rae let out a hefty sigh and dropped the knife back down to her side. 

“I was gonna step in to try and help you but, Jesus, you handled that all on your own.” 

“I don’t know what happened,” Rae admitted. “It was, like, I could see what he was going to do before he actually did it.” 

“It sounds like you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve,” Sam nodded with a smile. “Speaking of tricks, look at this!” 

Sam squeezed his fists and let out a straining grunt which made Rae wince. This went on for an uncomfortable amount of time, but Rae caught sight of a nice set of fangs coming in from Sam’s mouth. He wiped some sweat from his brow when he was finished, and then flashed a wide grin at her. 

“I’m a hybrid!” he announced, opening up his arms like he was reintroducing himself. 

“That’s amazing!” Rae congratulated him.

“I still can’t turn into a bat or a full werewolf but, you know, baby steps. I was helping a nest move into hiding a few blocks over and one of the elders told me what I had to do to get the fangs. The guy was a genius or something because it only took one try!” 

“Those hunters better watch out,” Rae joked. 

“Right back atcha,” Sam nudged her side. Rae laughed, but was still filled with uncertainty about what had happened between her and the hunter. It was like she wasn’t herself for a second. 

Rae looked around and then back at Sam. “Where’s everyone else?” 

“My dad and mom are with the other leaders trying to put pressure on the mayor. Danny’s also there so they can prove they had nothing to do with his disappearance,” Sam shared. “I have no clue where Jake and Josh are, though. The last I saw them, they were by the river trying to get back some members of our pack who were taken by the hunters.” 

“I want to help,” Rae said without thinking twice. Her words seemed to relieve Sam. 

“Uh, yeah, I could use your help,” Sam nodded. “Don’t tell anyone, but being on my own out here has been kind of terrifying, even if I have my fangs now.” 

“Let’s find Jake and Josh so we have strength in numbers,” Rae suggested. 

Sam couldn’t argue with that, so he began tracking around, trying to pick up their scents. Rae followed behind him, putting every ounce of her energy into focusing on her stomach to see if it sent her any more distress signals. Rae didn’t know where it had come from, but she had total faith in the power of her gut feeling. 

Sam led them through more empty streets, which started to look familiar. Rae realized that they were moving closer to the high school and reflected on how confused she had been about Jake earlier during her first day. Ringing sounded loudly in her ears and her vision blurred, replacing the street in front of her with a disturbing scene. Rae saw Jake and Josh fighting in desperation against a staggering number of hunters who had them backed into a corner. It was dark and hard to see, but Rae could tell that they were struggling to defend themselves and growing afraid. 

Her sight returned back to normal and she immediately saw Sam in front of her with his hand on her shoulder. 

“What did you see?” he asked her with concern. 

“Jake and Josh,” Rae told him. “They’re in trouble. Somewhere dark, I don’t know where.” 

“I can smell them near the high school,” Sam replied. “Let’s go.” 

Sam started to run, and Rae followed behind him. With each step, Rae grew more anxious and worried. Considering all that they had been through, she had never seen such terror on Jake and Josh’s faces. It was as if they could see their end in sight. 

They made it to the front doors of the high school and Sam hurdled his body into them with all of his might. Rae watched in awe as the doors groaned at his weight and flung open. Sam let in another deep inhale and then looked back at Rae. 

“You said they were in a  dark place?” 

Rae nodded. 

“I bet they’re in the basement.” 

Rae started to move towards the staircase leading downstairs, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed that Sam wasn’t following behind her. Instead, he was glued in place, squeezing his eyes shut with his fists clenched, making more groaning noises. Rae watched in confusion, unsure what to do. The last thing she wanted was for the kid to pop an eye out. 

“Dammit,” Sam grunted. “I’m so close.” 

“Can I help?” Rae found her words, stepping back to join him. Sam shook his head and continued to strain. 

“AGGHHHHHH!” a voice bellowed with a crack from beneath their feet. 

“Jake!” Sam opened his eyes to shout. He then squeezed his eyes shut again and, in one fluid motion, transformed into a werewolf, fully equipped with bat wings and a set of murderous looking fangs. Rae took a second to gawk up at Sam, who had nearly doubled in size, but Jake’s screams were still sounding beneath them, so they headed for the stairs. 

Rae kept waiting for her stomach to kick into gear, or for her to see another vision, but her brain instead buzzed with panic. Sam led the charge downstairs with a low growl and immediately sliced through two hunters who had rushed to them to see what the commotion was. Rae had the knife out and pointed in front of her, waiting to see who would attack her. Finally she saw an image of a woman rushing behind her with a stake and then quickly turned, cutting at the woman before she could make her move. Rae caught a part of the woman’s arm, which made her cry out in pain, and then pushed her in Sam’s direction. In his monster form, Sam seemed to have lost every ounce of his human self. It was hard to believe that a fourteen year old was somewhere inside the terrifying monster that was fighting through a whole crowd of hunters with vicious strikes, bites, and blows. 

Jake’s screaming had stopped, which made Rae worried. Sam looked to be fending off the hunter with ease, so she rushed farther into the basement. Metal piping ran along the walls and her footsteps echoed in the space around her, lit only by a few dying light bulbs suspended from the ceiling. The farther she moved from Sam, the more she slowed her pace so she could listen for any signs of where Jake and Josh might be. After turning a corner, she heard voices and leaned against the wall, trying to stay quiet. 

“Bri should be here soon,” an unfamiliar man’s voice spoke. 

“She’ll be happy with what we caught,” a woman replied back. Rae could tell she was grinning from how she spoke. “Children of the Kiszka Pack and Wilson Nest, how lucky are we?” 

Rae thought hard about what to do. Jake and Josh were obviously behind the wall, but there were at least two hunters she would have to get through first. But she needed to make sure they were okay. Rae tried to force another vision to come to her, to no avail. Her mind remained blank, and she cursed to herself. Then, a thought ran through her mind: 

Just go in there. 

Rae felt like that was probably an incredibly stupid idea, but it was all she had. So, holding the knife firm and steady, she slipped out from behind the wall and took in the scene. The two hunters were facing away from her as they looked down at Jake and Josh, who were tied back to back on the ground. To Rae’s relief, they were both conscious, but the gash in the side of Josh’s head and Jake’s black eye left her concerned. 

“We use the children to get to their mommy and daddy, and Bri can finally get the justice she deserves.” 

Jake was gazing in front of him, looking like he wasn’t actively looking at anything, but he must have picked up Rae’s scent because he slowly rolled his head in her direction. She could see the surprise hidden beneath the wounds of his face, but he made no sound to give her away. Instead, he made brief eye contact with her, widened his one open eye, and nodded at the hunters. Rae nodded back and took in a deep inhale. 

Go. 

Rae lunged forward and plunged the knife in between the man’s shoulder blades, immediately causing a waterfall of red to ooze down his back. He fell down hard with the knife still in him, and Rae moved onto the next hunter, who was coming at her with her gun out and ready to unload. Rae caught a vision of something, but it confused her. It was just a brown blur. 

The hunter started to press on the trigger but then, in a flash, Sam soared into the room with a blood curdling shriek and slammed straight into the hunter with his talons clawing into her chest. He lifted her from the ground and threw her at the wall so her head slammed into one of the rusty metal pipes. She fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. 

Rae pulled the knife out of the man, and then looked at Jake and Josh. Their mouths were both hung wide open. 

“Jake,” Josh whispered. “I think they did something really bad to my head. I just saw the craziest shit.” 

Jake was focused on Sam, who was examining his body to make sure he hadn’t gotten any serious injuries from his fight against the herd of hunters. Considering no one else was coming into the room for backup, Rae could only assume that he had entirely eliminated that problem. 

“You turned,” Jake breathed out, taking in his brother. “You’re a full hybrid.” 

Sam let out a few beastly huffs, transformed back into a human, and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was trying to hide himself. 

“That was my first time fully changing.” 

“You’ve got a lot of power in you,” Jake told him. 

“I just wanted to make sure you both were okay,” Sam softly spoke back. 

“We will be once we’re untied,” Josh replied. “I gotta get away from this guy. He smells like a wet dog.” 

Rae came up to them and started sawing away at the thick ropes with the blood-stained knife. Josh caught the ropes as they fell from his wrists and dropped them onto the floor with haste. 

“You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s what happens when a werewolf is in a damp place,” Jake complained back, looking offended. 

“What happened to you both?” Rae asked as she helped them to their feet. 

Josh grabbed at his injured head and huffed. “Let’s just say I put a little bit too much faith into the guy with the supposedly good sniffer. The hunters set a trap and we walked right into it.” 

“We were able to get back seven families and I thought I had a lead on one of the last ones that’s still missing, but it turned out the hunters had just gathered their stuff to lead us here. It was stupid on my part.” 

“No, no,” Josh backtracked. “You had the right idea. I mean, how could you know?” 

Jake shrugged, unable to answer. 

“How many more families are missing?” Sam continued to press. 

“Three,” Jake said. 

“Fuck,” Sam cursed. 

“Language!” Both of his brothers scolded him. 

“Any updates from Dad or Mom?” Sam asked. Josh and Jake both looked down at the ground and shook their heads. 

“Nothing,” Josh spoke. Then, he looked at Rae and Sam. “I know this probably isn’t the time, but do you think I could get to Danny kinda quick? My head hurts like a bitch. I can’t see out of my right eye.” 

“A hunter hit him over the head with a pipe,” Jake explained. 

“We should go to City Hall,” Sam told them. “Danny might still be there with our parents trying to talk to the mayor.” 

They began to move towards the hallway leading back to the staircase when Rae was hit with an overwhelming wave of nausea and a vision. A tall woman wearing all black. Armed with a gun and stake. Moving fast. 

“Guys,” Rae choked out, trying to get the image out of her head so she could warn her friends. 

“What is it?” Josh looked at her, concerned. 

“I think it’s Bri,” Rae said in fear. Sam wore a large frown on his face. Across from her, Jake had gone more pale than he already was. 

“Where?” Sam whispered. 

A wooden stake came whizzing through the air and just barely missed Sam, clunking against the wall only inches from his head, and clattering to the floor. Sam’s eyes were bugged, and his breaths quickened as he looked beyond Rae at something. Rae turned and saw the tall woman, maybe a few years older than her, rushing toward them through the darkness. 

“Fuck,” Sam, Jake, Josh, and Rae all said at the same time. 

“You took out my hunters?” Bri barked at them as she neared closer. Without any struggle this time around, Sam transformed back into his hybrid form. Rae could tell that Bri slowed down at the sight of Sam, but continued to project herself forward. Even though Jake looked entirely sapped of energy, he sucked in a deep breath and turned into a werewolf. Josh let his fangs grow out and touched his head gingerly. 

“I’ll be okay,” he told himself. 

Sam pounced on Bri, knocking her to the cold pavement, and held her down by the shoulders, foaming at the mouth. Jake joined his brother and tried to put weight on her feet to keep her entirely immobile. Before he could secure his paws around her ankles, she kicked free, and twisted out of Sam’s grasp, rolling away from the brothers. With a crazed look on her face, she reached behind her and pulled out another wooden stake, tossing it from hand to hand. 

“Which one of you wants to go first, huh?” she asked them with a malicious grin. 

“Preferably none of us,” Jake said under his breath. Josh sped at Bri, hissing and attempting to swipe at her. Bri expertly dodged his blow and held the stake up, ready to insert it through Josh’s back. Jake rushed at her and smacked the stake from her hand so it rolled away. Sam booked it to the stake and threw it into the distance. While he did this and Josh tried to regain his balance, Rae was struck with another image. Bri had a gun and pulled it on Jake, pressing it against his heart. 

“No!” Rae shouted, throwing herself in between them right as Bri flipped the gun out from her sleeve. To Rae’s surprise, instead of Jake’s chest, the gun was forced against her head. 

“Oh Jesus Christ!” Jake cried out in surprise. The feeling of the cool metal just above her ear made Rae tremble. “Let her go! She’s not one of us!” 

“But she obviously means something to you,” Bri smirked. Jake’s face fell. “How about we strike a deal,” Bri continued. Josh and Sam were by Jake’s side now, gaping at Rae in fear, unsure what to do. “You three hand yourselves over to me, and the girl doesn’t get shot.” 

Rae knew that, no matter what happened, it wasn’t going to end well. She pictured the bullet waiting to launch from the gun and let out a shaky breath. 

“What do we do?” Josh whispered to Jake. Rae could see Jake deteriorating in front of her. 

“Any day now,” Bri called to them. Rae squeezed her eyes shut and saw Sam holding his hand out towards Bri, closing his eyes. Hypnosis, Rae thought to herself. As a hybrid, Sam can hypnotize Bri. She reopened her eyes and stared at Sam, meeting his gaze. While he first looked at her in fear, his scrunched face opened with recognition at what she was trying to tell him. Whether it be intuition or some kind of telepathic connection, Sam quickly shut his eyes and lifted his shaking hand towards Bri. 

“What’s he doing?” Bri stared at Sam. Jake and Josh studied their brother in confusion. 

“Close your eyes,” Sam hummed at Bri. While Bri first looked at him like he was crazy, Jake and Josh let out a collective gasp. Although the gun was still held against her, Rae dared to peer out of the corner of her eye and saw that Bri was standing stiff, her eyes shut. “Put the gun down,” Sam continued. The cylinder jutting into Rae’s skull was quickly removed. “Now sit.” Rae watched Bri drop herself to the floor, her face placid. Jake and Josh hurried to her side and used the ropes from the previous hunters to bind her in place with her arms behind her back. Sam took a brief pause and looked around at them. 

“Go,”  he said. “I’ll keep her in place here.” 

“What, are you crazy?” Josh shook his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not leaving you on your own. I’ll drain her and we can get a move on.”

“No,” Jake cut in. 

“No?” Josh’s voice rose in surprise. 

“We can’t,” Jake said down to Bri, who was sitting at his feet. Josh stared at Jake like he was out of his mind and threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can’t be responsible for taking another person’s life.” 

“Then leave the room, you’ll never know it happened,” Josh said. Jake frowned.

“How about this,” Rae proposed, “We’ll tie her up extra good and keep her down here where she can’t hurt anyone else. Sam, how powerful is your hypnosis?” 

“What do you need me to do?” 

“Tell her she has to stay down here until she hears some obscure word like, I don’t know, Raisin Bran or something.” 

Sam held his hand out towards Bri and began his humming sound again. “You must remain here, unmoving, until you hear the word antidisestablishmentarianism.” 

“That should do the trick,” Jake said, looking relieved. 

“Just,” Josh cut in, “let me tie her up a bit more. To be safe.” 

After ten minutes of tying knots that would floor a boy scout, they left the high school, en route to city hall. Bri remained behind, restrained against a pole in the far back corner of the basement, her head rolled down, still under Sam’s spell.

****

Taglist:@lvnterninthenight, @writingcold, @myownparadise96, @i-choose-the-road, @psychedelicsprinkles, @mama-likes72, @ascendingtothestarssasone

[maccreadysbaby]

Do it. Rate the MW2 men. I dare you.

Oh gosh. I’m about to get hated on. I feel it.

THESE ARE REBOOT CHARACTERS.

How I Rank the MW2 Men

7. Rodolfo Parra

i just don’t know enough about him to actually get into it. i like what parts of him we see, but i wish he had more screen time. i did get scared when i thought he was gonna die in the burning house, though, which shows that i at least care a little lol. he’s cute, but we have very little canon information displayed in-campaign and i can’t form a good enough opinion of him based off of what i know.

5/10 - just don’t know enough!

6. Alejandro Vargas

again, very little canon info shared, but he’s more personable than rudy! he’s loyal to an absolute fault and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, which i love. also very cute and charming. i was on the edge of my seat the entire length of prison break and was very relieved once he was found. i did get just a tad bit annoyed when he got angry over valeria, though, dude needed to take a chill pill

6/10 - i think i like him because ghost and soap like him

5. John Price

hold on before you attack me. i really, really, really like price! just not as much as others. he is totally the dad figure and the team wouldn’t be complete without him. also, when he puts his game face on, ain’t no one gonna stop him from getting what he wants. (ex. violence and timing, that one call with shepherd) his relationship with gaz is aww-worthy and i really appreciate his drive and willingness both to lead tf141 and be a vital part of it. i think too many people write him as a semi-absent, substitute teacher-like authority figure than the actual extremely useful, skillful, and vital part of the 141 that he is.

8/10 - underrated!

4. Simon “Ghost” Riley

firstly, stop hitting me with your shoe. secondly, let me explain. simon ghost riley is one of the most distinct and fine tuned characters i’ve ever encountered and it seriously boggles my mind and makes me terrified to write him. he is cold and closed off for good reason, due to trauma, and i love those characters. i can’t stand the i-can-fix-him fics a lot of people write about him because he doesn’t need someone to fix him. i think it’s possible he could lean heavily on a s/o like that, because he is a wreck, but it always seems a little ooc for him. he has so many walls built up it’s like trying to walk through a maze. i love him in-game, and his voice makes me blush, but he just isn’t my type of go-to comfort character.

9/10 - it’s ghost, what more do you need?

3. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

he was the first one i fell for when i played. he’s a freaking charmer. and, even if he is the comic relief, he is also a hard working, extremely skilled soldier. i was terrified for the entire alone mission, and watching him get shot by graves? sheer panic. he oozes the modern military man trope while also being the second most emotionally vulnerable character, in my opinion, and i love the way he balances out ghost perfectly.

10/10 - i recommend getting you a soap

2. König

now, before you beat me up, i know he’s like ghost… but he’s distinctly different! he’s been used his entire life like some kind of tool, the battering ram, and is totally emotionally stunted in a different way than ghost. ghost has an off switch, könig doesn’t. he just suppresses it until he gets on the field. he moves like lightning, fights like a machine and gets his missions done. but he’s also self-conscious and severely anxious about interactions, which adds to why i love him. i totally get that, even if not to the extent of his. he’s just a big, big, scary man that wants friends but is too scared and scary to make them.

10/10 - so much depth

1. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

i fell for him later in the campaign, but definitely harder than i did for soap. he’s so young, he’s so, for lack of a better word, readable compared to the others. he just wants to do what’s right. fight for a good cause. definitely passionate and driven, but you turn those two traits around, and you get a man whose morale is fragile and can get emotional. it doesn’t take more than a few blows and his morale will be at its lowest, only a few failed missions and he thinks he’s a failure, asking what is he doing with his life. but, with that, comes the fact that he thrives with and around other people and can be consoled easily. probably the most suited for a romantic partner. he’s just a baby, and i love him.

1000/10 - i reccomend gaz more than I recommend air

please don’t hate me :,)

[whyy77772]

#RadioStatic2024

#RadioStaticWeek

Day 2!!

Very late, I know. But I got it out!! Today’s prompt was cooking/sharing a meal. I drew ‘cooking’ (I really like how I drew vox in the second drawing, kinda messed up Al *guess who I draw more - IMPOSSIBLE*), and I wrote ‘sharing a meal’. I was late bc I had a bunch of stuff to do after school and inspiration didn’t hit for the writing until 10pm lol. Anyways, I’ve linked the fic, please read on ao3. But, if you’re too lazy, you can read here as I’ve pasted it. Hope you like todays :3

Chapter 2

Sharing a meal

Alastor looked down at the written letter in his hand, double checking before finding where the address led to. It was a fancy looking restaurant, but classy. Certainly out of character for Vox, Alastor thought. It had been 2 weeks since the extermination, and Vox had invited Alastor to dinner to discuss business. Alastor could hardly believe this wasn’t some sort of trap, but he knew he would be able to escape easily if the situation called for it. Alastor walked into the restaurant, being met by a terrified hostess standing at the front. Alastor asked if Vox had been there and she nervously pointed a shaking hand over to Vox, sitting at a table by the wall near the front, his cyan/blue theme crashing with the dimly lit warm lights, old yellows, and reds that covered the entire establishment. Alastor walked over to the table, greeting Vox with a ‘hello’, to which Vox responded with a very clearly forced smile and ‘hi’ through gritted teeth. Alastor found it impressive how Vox didn’t burst out in anger at the sight of him. He’d always been so emotional when it came to him, Alastor thought.

Alastor sat down, making eye contact with Vox. “So, I assume you need something.”

“Well, yes and no. Why not have dinner first, catch up?” Vox said, voice distorting, trying to make small talk.

“Oh, why of course. You make better decisions on a full stomach, you wouldn’t know that though, would you?” Alastor smiled mockingly, successfully pissing Vox off more by reminding him of the time he asked Alastor to join the Vees, right before eating dinner.

Vox called over a waiter aggressively, trying not to explode right then and there. Alastor ordered venison and a bottle of Pinot Noir, while Vox ordered a filet mignon. While they were waiting for their food, Alastor tried to spark conversation, mostly just to aggravate Vox.

“Well, what have you gotten up to without me? Certainly couldn’t have been much” Alastor asked, inspecting his claws dismissively while Vox drilled holes in him by how intensely he was staring.

Vox, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm himself down, started. “Well, you know Valentino, our partnership has really been working out, as you know. My tech business is booming, and Valentino’s industry is unsurprisingly thriving.”

“Hm, too bad none of you actually do anything of value.” Alastor laid his claws on the tablecloth and tapped them. He never really liked that moth, saw him as only a distraction to Vox, steering him in the wrong direction.

Vox’s eye twitched, the lights in the room flickering. “Ha, right. In other news, we have another member. Her name is Velvette, although I’m sure you’ve heard of her. Runs hell's social media, she’s very influential on hell's younger residents. I don’t expect you to know what social media is, you were never one to keep up with the times, were you?”

“No use in keeping up with the youth, I say. A waste of time. They may like their moving pictures and modern entertainment, but nothing could best radio. Besides, nothing good ever really came out of, how do I put this… Overlords like you and the Vees.” Alastor smiled smugly. Vox was losing his cool.

“Oh you-“

“Ah, it looks like dinner is ready.” Alastor gestured to the imp server, placing down their meals, the Pinot Noir, and two wine glasses.

Alastor grabbed the bottle, pouring some into his glass, then into Vox’s, before taking a sip and cutting into his meal. Vox watched with disdain, never taking his eyes off Alastor as he angrily cut into his steak.

30 minutes of silence passed, and eventually Alastor patted his face with a napkin, finishing off his second glass of wine. Vox finished the rest of his filet mignon, and his third glass of wine before Alastor spoke.

“Lovely food, I must say. Not the best venison I’ve had in my life, but decent enough. How about yours, Vox?”

“Great, yeah. So, about the actual reason I invited you here?” Vox sounded impatient, his voice fluctuating in tone, ready to get this over with.

“Ah yes, I almost thought I would have a nice night. So, what do you need?” Alastor tilted his head slightly.

“Well, as you’re staying at Lucifer's daughters place, I assume you have contact with him? Well, I was wondering if you could get him to help with Voxtex’-“

“I’m going to have you cut you off there, Vox. I am not your errand boy and I will not talk with that man for you, he’s a nightmare to live with. You know, you shouldn’t drink that much Vox. It makes you stupid. You’re prettier when you’re not speaking. Do me a favor and never try ask me for something like this again. It was nice having dinner with you, but I’m afraid I must leave. Goodbye, Vox.” Alastor stood up, and joined the shadows, leaving Vox sitting in his chair alone.

Vox sat, face flushed, half from frustration, and half from being flustered by Alastors comment. He could hear his fans whirring on.

“Wait, that asshole left me with the bill!”

Hope u enjoyed!! Srry this was kinda boring again lol

[brzatto]

Hello! I'm the person who wrote the dissertation-length comment on chapter 2 of BCM. My essay of a comment probably speaks for itself but I really love your writing. I'm still thinking about your fic over a week later and reread your reply to my comment over and over. It took me a full evening to read chapter 2 because I would read a part, sit and think about it, then move to the next part. Even though the chapter was so long I was scared with each paragraph that it was going to end, I didn't want to stop reading. The ending was really satisfying, if the fic ended there it would be a lovely ending, but like I said in my original comment I'm so happy there's more to come. The ominous reply from you saying you might scrap what you've written and rewrite the ending nudged me to message you. I really hope you don't scrap what you've written so far! Even if it's not the direction you want the fic to go now, I think everyone would love to see the alternate ending if you're happy to share it in the event you don't use it for the fic. Kind of a "BCM 0.5" if you will. Everyone is begging for the porny carmrich writing so thought I'd throw my hat in the ring and beg for the alt. ending of BCM. xD

Also thank you for leaving such a long reply to my comment! I really liked hearing your thoughts about Carmy and Richie and would love to hear more about your writing process. Your fic was the first The Bear fic I ever read and it hasn't left my mind since I first read it back in December last year.

Sorry for another really long message I can't seem to stop typing once I start. xD

(p.s. you should post the carmrich pwp huhuhuhuhu)

of course i remember you! i always remember repeat commenters and i distinctly remember being at work when i got the email for the first comment you left me on bcm, it was a really lovely comment and it made my entire night.

i say this often to a lot of commenters but it really does mean so much to me that you enjoy my writing and it has that sort of effect on you!!! like more than you’ll ever know. i can count the number of times i’ve actually published works on ao3 on two hands and i’ve always gravitated towards rarepairs with nicher audiences in almost every fandom i’ve been in so the type of enthusiasm i’ve received so far with bcm is really genuinely touching. i always try my best to reciprocate the energy given to me in the comments i get but longer ones make me especially happy because i loooove discussing character analysis and dynamics with people and i’m always eager to know how other people interpret my characters and my writing! thanks for how much thought you put into all of your comments, i always look forward to reading what you have to say <3

as for the ending of bcm i don’t actually think i’ll fully be scrapping it, it’ll still end the same general way that i had in mind but i’ll probably end up rewriting/reworking it because a big chunk of the fic leading up to it is still unwritten and by the time i actually get close to the ending it probably won’t make much sense as it is currently word for word. i don’t normally write in chronological order, i write scenes out as they come to me (i usually envision climactic scenes very visually in my head and then write them out first lol) and then fill in the gaps/flesh out the storyline as i go. but since i got the idea for this fic and planned it out back before s2 came out and now s2 is out and canon’s been vastly expanded i’ll probably end up also borrowing some elements from s2 for my own storyline purposes just because if i’m being fully honest… i actually can’t tell you what ch3 of bcm and onwards is going to be like. i have vague notions of major plot points and the direction i want the story to take and fragments of later scenes in my docs but even as it stands now uncompleted bcm is the longest thing i’ve ever written (it’s 49k on ao3 and 60k in my docs) like… ever. i’m not used to finishing fics at all much less writing long fics (if bcm would count as one) so this is all very much new territory for me but everyone’s support and encouraging really helps keep me engaged and on track! including yours 🤍 in the event that the ending does drastically depart from what i’ve originally envisioned for it i probably will upload the alt ending separately. i’ve also sort of toyed with the idea of writing some scenes out from richie’s pov but if anything that’ll be something that comes much much later.

[ace-does-stuff]

oh yeah?

Most recent Kenman fic. What inspired it? Any lessons or morals? Be ignorant be gay? 👉👈🥺

before we begin talking about Contractually Obligated we need to start with some small pre-ambles

1: it's intended to be the final piece of a trio of fics, one wherein Cartman is taking the aforementioned photographs of Kenny (mentioned when they're making out on a car), and one wherein they have a big ass chat about how they should hook up now that Kyle is dating Stan (Cartman is already out of town). will I finish either of those fics? fuck if I know, do they exist in my head without fail and keep me motivated to keep going? absolutely

2: I usually write kenman fics to fill the gaping void, to cope with the complete lack of kenman fics. I also use the kenman dynamic to explore different scenarios that I can't entirely justify with K2, Stenny, Crenny, etc, etc- because sometimes Cartman is the only one who hits the specific vibe I'm shooting for.

3: they would've had gay sex on screen but I wanted it to be safe for tumblr so we only get a scene of them smoking in bed like in the movies just to make sure people understand that they hit it hard

now, actually talking about the fic itself

see, i have a fixation with the whole 'if we're both single' type of contract, because it can go two ways. both parties struggling to prevent the contract from happening, or both parties shrugging off attempts to prevent it. in this case, they gave up on preventing it, and almost forgot about it, style and creek both happened so why not try and hook up right.

but they are both stubborn, repressive, idiots! and they won't just ask each other out because no, that's pretty fuckin' faggy, and Cartman won't lower himself to that. he will lower himself to going on a date with Kenny only in the case of a bet, or a contract, because there's no control over that. he can't control it, it's not of his own volition, he's not gay if he does it, he just lost a bet. Kenny on the other hand? he's kissed all of his friends, fuck, he's slept with all of his friends because of course he has.

the pre-existing dynamics, my god, kill me now, they make me go insane. Kenny is Cartman's best friend, and Kyle and Stan are less Cartmans friend than Kenny is. already we have a rooted relationship, they're close, so very, very close, and Cartman remembers when Kenny dies (he briefly states Kenny dies all the time in the ep where he buys an amusement park). there's this dependency you know, Cartman goes to Kenny because no one else will actually listen, and Kenny listens. they ran a restuarant together! thats fuckin gay as shit!

i am getting off point, very off point, sorry. but basically, they made this contract age thirteen, and Kenny knows Cartman will still be single, because of course he will. it's just a convenient excuse, quell the anxieties. and you know what? it worked, Kenny got a partner (will be disclaimed in the unwritten fic) and so did Cartman, and that contract was as good as dead. they could just tear it up and move on.

but no, nineteen, Cartman is fresh out of town, and he calls up Kenny to tell him he finally got a girlfriend. and Kenny is so fucking happy for him, the contract fades into obscurity and that point it's entirely out of Cartman's head. Cartman gets dumped first, and he doesn't dare call up Kenny, but when Kenny gets dumped? they are sitting on the phone, consoling each other, and just bullshitting like long distance friends do.

two more years pass and Cartman is back in South Park and he knows what must be done, he's been waiting patiently for it. and he'll never tell Kenny that he dumped the chick in the same way Kenny will never tell Cartman he got dumped because his partner found the artfully nude photographs ('to test lighting!') that Cartman took.

'so what? they both fucked their relationships?'

big fucking what, it wasn't purposeful, remember, that contract has faded into obscurity. Kenny never thought the photos would come up and Cartman isn't getting what he wants, someone to remind him of his best friend. they require each other, Stan and Kyle got together, Craig and Tweek married at age twenty one, Butters is off with Tolkien, yuri happened between Bebe and Wendy- everyone is together.

except for Kenny, he's single in South Park and no one is available for him, and Cartman, single out of South Park and he's been asked out once or twice at that. he turns them down, he has business to fulfill and he refuses to leave this contract unfulfilled. he's been waiting for this, for the dominoes to finally fall so he has an excuse to get what he wants and so does Kenny.

sure, it's subconscious, but they've always had each others backs. they'll never get married (unless they make another elaborate bet for Cartman to lose so he has his personal excuse), they'll never have kids, they'll never call each other boyfriends in the public eye, even rarely around friends and family. 'it was a fluke' Cartman keeps saying whenever they're caught in public, 'I lost another bet' he needs his excuse, he needs his reason because he can't just have something this nice.

Kenny on the other hand? oh how he revels in what he's finally attained with a man as untouchable as Cartman. that he can finally have the brunette to himself, that they belong to each other instead of defying a fact as simple as that they should've coupled off so long ago. but again, Cartman needs his reasons, and Kenny respects that, he respects that they'll only be lovers in private and that they'll always be friends in public. because this is good enough, it's almost what he's been waiting for since he was thirteen.

in short: the tension of this fic weighs heavily on Cartman being inwardly homophobic, and to an extent outwardly, despite knowing he wants Kenny. an addition to the tension is Kenny being queer, no fancy labels and entirely out, the entire worlds know at this rate. he is gay and Cartmans safe way to step foot into being a little bit gay despite the idea making him feel ill (he can't, he's failing himself if he is). he can't be romantic with Kenny for a reason as simple as 'i love him' and Kenny will keep giving Cartman all sorts of elaborate schemes and reasons now that the initial barrier is broken.

[brick-a-doodle-do]

For the ask game,

1-22 24-39

I am sorry

-Small brain anon

you're forgiven, it's in the past :)

okay before i get into these,,,, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 15, 20, 25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 35, and 36, 38, have been answered!

that leaves....still quite a few. god damn.

2 : if you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? if you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

i would try, i probably could it just wouldn't be a very long time, even longer than usual. my hand cramps a LOT when i write (which is a new thing idk why) but my stories are still important :D

7 : what is your deepest joy about writing?

i have a few actually! honestly, starting with the most basic joy, it's really rewarding to remind myself that i have the ability to make a world. i can create cool versions of people i absolutely adore and make totally new people too! and i often forget that if i try hard enough i can make people cry with my writing or make one joke have people go feral,,,

another one is the reminder that god damn. almost eight billion people and i had this idea. i have complete freedom over this. i have claimed the coolest idea EVER out of almost eight billion people.

and i guess just the fact that i can write what people want me to write or what people enjoy. i love taking input from others because i know it'll make one person enjoy something! little details that i remember about someone? throw it into a fic and hope they see it and smile

8 : if you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

bye bye fucking dialogue. i would love to write something wordless and see how it works out, it just sounds awesome tbh, very moody. one of my non g/t wips is like that for a lot of it and it's just really calm to write! i don't have to worry about balancing things or making accurate dialogue, it's just one person in the universe and the vibe of that can easily get through to me. and in my experience, it'll go pretty good!

13 : what is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? what is easy?

ehhh i really hate writing combat or anything fast paced. moving scenes along and changing settings has never been a strong suit of mine imo,,,, like it always feels either really rushed or really choppy imo

and i think mental health is pretty easy for me to write. like that hazy, unhappy mind. it's extremely slow and easy to make long and extravagant descriptions with,,,,

14 : do you lend your books to people? are people scared to borrow books from you? do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? will you ever get them back?

i don't have a large collection of books. i'm never really immersed into actually reading a book which i know is awful as a writer and honestly just a terrible attribute of mine but i'm not a big reader. fanfic tho is my bitch, and in which case i have no experience with any of this :'D

16 : what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

a piece of lined paper i found in the book, so essentially someone else's makeshift bookmark

i am respectfully gonna skip 17 & 18 because i don't have the energy to really explain any of that and all of my wips are so like not worthy of those questions. the best ur gonna get is the minutiae of tiny workers i'll post tomorrow lmao

19 : tell me a story about your writing journey. when did you start? why did you start? were there bumps along the way? where are you now and where are you going?

it's nothing too dramatic, i started when i was in third grade and wrote a nine page story by hand and my teacher mentioned i was a strong writer for my age. i wrote all the time in school, picked up fanfic in like early 2019 (which also conveniently was my first g/t writing)

and uhh i started just because the feeling of writing was really rewarding and freeing. i loved roleplaying on roblox all the time too i would love making long descriptions of things n such :DD

i think i'm on a good track, i have 42 full-fledged wips that i have some ideas for, 3 book ideas and a cool and supportive community to share my growth with :]

21 : could you ever quit writing? do you ever wish you could? why or why not?

honestly, no, i don't think i ever could. even if i change my mind about pursuing it as a career i could never stop it being my hobby. it's so freeing and a great way to unwind, i love the thought of writing all of my life and the thought of what my writing will be like in a few years if i'm writing like this now (which is such an improvement from 6 months ago, let me say. and yeah i'm complimenting my work for once)

i never do wish i could, because i know that regardless of if i take a break or not i'm never going to completely abandon it. i have ideas that i'm too in to be out of,,,

22 : how organized are you with your writing? describe to me your organization method, if it exists. what tools do you use? notebooks? binders? apps? the cloud?

it depends on my wips, but for the sake of convenience i'll just go off of my aus on here: it is so messy. there is no organization, and if it is there are so many wips of my organization ideas, it's so sad. i have tried so many different ways to organize my thoughts because doing lists and making things look neat and tidy is my favorite, but on the opposite end i get bored countlessly listing out information i already know, so uhh yeah no organization. occasionally i'll jot down like "make sure to add this!" in my notes app or at the end of wtv im working on

24 : how much prep work do you put into your stories? what does that look like for you? do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

i love the thought of prep work, hate actually doing it. i go in head first, usually with a mental map of whatever i want to happen. a lot of the time though i let the story write itself cuz i'm lazy like that :'D

i dislike trying to actually sit myself down to make things all laid out and ready to be written cause..........gagghghhsadskdj

29 : where do you draw your inspiration? dhat do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

it depends! some of my ideas are directly from a movie or show i watch, usually taking the idea of an "au" not from the fandom but from that show specifically if that makes sense,, other times my head'll give me some three am ideas or random ideas.

i also really like picking a color and making an inspiration board off of it! it gives me some cool ideas cause imagery can tell a big story sometimes imo

when the well is try i usually either work on other stuff or just wait for it to rain again so there's water to run off of.

31 : write a short love letter to your readers.

idk about a love letter but honestly y'all are literally so cool. i know my community isn't remotely close to any big publishers' fanbases but damn it feels so overwhelming in the best way possible to get showered with love by the people i can easily recognize whenever i post something! to have over 100 notes on some of my fics and know that every like on my work is an individual person is just baffling. to know i have almost 200 followers in my corner, even if some of them are bots or following me for other content, it's fucking amazing. sweet comments and questions about my work is just fucking exhilarating!! it's so motivating to hear "write more of this" because damn. demanding. people demand i write more. it's SO COOL. joining social media was probably the worst decision i've ever made but tumblr has singlehandedly fixed every doubt i've had about being on the internet :) <3

32 : what is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? how did you find it? what does it mean to you?

ee passerine & rooftops spoilersss down below :]

i will do fanfic bc. yeah wtv. anyway there are a few, i think that if i'm being actually serious and not doing joke ones, i absolutely love the ending off passerine, it's so perfect. i am tearing up thinking abt it ngl which sounds dumb but damn. "he had a life before this, a mother, a father, a home, sisters and brothers, but what he had now was alright too. he stood alone in his bedroom mirror, combing his hair back from his face to braid it for the day, tucking it behind an ear where a sapphire earing hung, catching sunlight. he paused when he saw it, leaning in close to make sure it wasn't a trick of the light, or the lingering traces of a dream. he blinked once, twice, his mortal heart caught in his throat. there, nestled amongst the pink strands, delicate as a bird's wing, was a single, grey hair. if he listened closely, he could hear his brother coming down the hallway, looking for him. but this moment was his alone, half-sobbing, half-laughing, he fell against his chair and closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. he could see in his mind, a field of flowers under an open sky, a place for waiting, where all the finished stories went. where he too would go someday. a knock came at his door, and technoblade began to smile." LIKE DUDE. I AM SUCH A SUCKER FOR ENDINGS TO STORIES. it's so dramatic and so domesicated and passerine is such a short story all in all but it's so perfectly written and captures relationships so well. it shows technoblade's acceptance of death so well, and although he'd been wanting of death for a while it still kind of shows how he is eager to pursue the rest of a mortal life.

also from passerine i like "this is what it feels," someone gasped, "to lose everything" I LOVE IT. tommy is their everything and losing him made the story turn so dull,, it went from silver to grey easily. love it.

ALSO. FUCKING ROOFTOPS. it is such an old fic, but it's the second fic i've ever read in the fandom. “youuu aren’t real. nope! noo, no you aren’t. youu’re not reeaal, you'ree inn my head. my head! geoorge is in my head again!” it's just so sad. i love it. the atmosphere of this scene despite it being out of context here is still just so perfect. the vibes of rooftops have never left my head.

and also this absolutely doesn't count but there's a comment on rooftops that said "this is the same story where they went camping" and i have never gone a day without thinking about that LMAO

33 : do you practice any other art besides writing? does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

hghghhhhh not really, no other art. cooking and baking sometimes but i wouldn't call my skill level art LMAO

but it did start a gbbo au and has helped a lot with terminology and stuff!!

34 : thoughts on the oxford comma, go:

i love it in practice but the second i get reminded to use it i go bonkers and start hitting things

37 : if you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

they would think i am weird as hell bro i keep writing about these people SWALLOWING EACH OTHER ALIVE 😭😭😭

i wanted to do a real response to that but a. its 3 am and b. this was funnier <3

39 : what keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

the atmosphere of the thing i am writing. i can be in the most unmotivated mood but the second i start thinking about how a scene or an au feels i am immediately lightened up and want to write it!

god damn it only took about half an hour but i did it!! thanks for these questions, even if they took like 2 weeks to finish and cut me short of what i wanted to do tonight /lh/nmay

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Hey everyone!! For those of you who don’t know, this is the only Hiatus Fic that Star didn’t have the inside scoop to read beforehand, so this is her genuine first reaction, and I fucking love it. 

I have to say right off the bat that the ‘I’m gonna need twelve more of these little blonde bitches’ meme actually made me snort laughing omg. I did not even make the connection that both of their little sister figures are blonde and I love it so much omg. 

So here comes the bullshit lmao. I genuinely wonder if anybody else reads or enjoys any of these exchanges. But we have fun. 

Star: "this fic will spoil Seasons 2 through 5 if you are watching the show for the first time and haven't seen those episodes yet (I am looking at you, Star)" do I look preeeetty ? 🫣

Sunny: you always look pretty <3

Star: "mentions of canon injuries - Daryl being shot with his own crossbow and then being shot in the ear by Andrea" which should not be as funny as it was to me

Sunny: Andrea shooting him in the head is so weirdly funny omg. Especially compared to stuff that happens in the later seasons, the early seasons are a fucking comedy omg 

Star: "If there were anymore left of me - I'd give it to you" so we start with OFFENSE MOVES ALREADY

Sunny: ALL THE LYRICS OF THE SONG FIT SO WELL IT’S FUCKING CRIMINAL OMG 

Star: "people you would die for, kill for if needed" and I hope we do :3     KILL THAT IS !!! NOT DIE !!!

Sunny: well if you want to- (whump alarm blaring) 

Star: "hold back his drunken brother Merle from getting into a fight with Shane" FREE HIM !!!! WHOEVER GETS THEIR SHITS ROCKED !!! I STIL WIN !!!!

Sunny: this actually made me laugh so hard omg. Let two of the worst characters fight for my amusement just to see who gets beaten up harder 

Star: "The knife on your belt was heavy with memories of him, ached with the ghost of his touch" is there any more space on the "lines that chill me to my very core" jar ? ... we can get a bigger jar !!

Sunny: every time you say stuff like this I get SO FLATTERED OMG. like I am actually a good writer? My metaphors are actually efficient? Keep feeding me treats omg 

Star: "took down the deer - as you skinned it, gutted it, and portioned" you could Not Yellowjackets me, I was not build for this, I don't even think the desperate need of survival would help me become more useful in this situation ;-;

Sunny: I love writing about Daryl teaching the reader to hunt because it’s such a ‘brutish’ part of Daryl but it shows his love for people. Feeding people, providing for them is his love 

Star: "It was strange to think that things had been so different not that long ago" I love how you use flashbacks in your fics SO MUCH !!! YESS WE'RE SAD AND NOSTALGIC AND REMINISCING ABOUT PAST MOMENTS !!!! GIVE ME THAT NARRATIVE BABIEEEE

Sunny: like I was saying in that one post, Saw is one of my huge creative influences, and they have SO MUCH NON-LINEAR STORYTELLING. And I love how it works - revealing things to the audience when the audience needs to know them and not in the order that they happened works so much better for a story, in my opinion 

Star: "you felt more words form in your mouth and spew out your lips before you could stop them" MOTORMOUTH/CHATTERBOX/CHRONIC NERVOUS YAPPER!READER !!!! YOU ARE EVERYTHING TO MEEEEE

Sunny: Chronic Yapper Y/N x Speaks So Few Words Daryl - a match made in heaven 

Star: "“Come on! Bring the ball back!" A MÍ NO ME GRITAS !!!!!! What the hell, Carl? i thought you were cool

Sunny: early seasons Carl’s entire job was to be annoying lmao 

Star: "And you did believe that Daryl would be the one to find her" *looking you directly in your eyes* you are very mean to me, I'm very SENSITIVE ABOUT THIS PLOTLINE

Sunny: catch me cackling and rubbing my hands like a cartoon villain over this lmao 

Star: "Especially because once Sophia was found" ☹️ "you wouldn’t give a shit to talk to him or be around him any more" you have a weird way of saying i would kiss you on the mouth with tongue, Daryl 

Sunny: this is why I love writing from Daryl’s perspective, because he is such an emotionally warped and unreliable narrator, but he is convinced that he is being 100% logical at all times. It makes him so much fun to write omg 

Star: "You had it in your hands for all five seconds, and now - he had been thrown off a horse and shot by the damn thing" SKSKSKSKKS LEAVE ME ALONE, I DIDN'T CURSE YOU !!!!

Sunny: again, this was just funny for me to write lmao 

Star: "even if he was greeted by a bullet from Andrea, believing he was a Walker" I don't why this scene is so funny to me !!!!!! homeboy looked so AWFUL and TERRIBLE, he got mistaken by a WALKER !!!!! it's a little funny looking back !!!

Sunny: the early seasons WAS A COMEDY. Like especially when Glenn was like “HE’S WEARING EARS” with so much concern in his voice. Like yeah, Glenn. Sometimes people wear ears. You wore a cape covered in guts. It’s called Fashion, sweaty 

Star: "He didn’t want to point out that this was a growing problem. That it would pull his focus during the run for the medicine" *shaking him by the shoulders* having a home/someone to come back to is the whole gODDAMN POINT

Sunny: you are SO RIGHT. Also one of my favourite Daryl moments EVER is when Daryl finds out that Bob almost died for a bottle of booze (because Bob is an alcoholic) and not because Bob has any meds in his backpack, and Daryl says in the most low, gravelly, ‘I am resisting the urge to murder you so hard right now’ voice “If you take a single sip before any of those meds get to our people, I will beat your ass into the ground”. And I SOOOOO resisted the urge to re-write that moment with Daryl thinking about Y/N and bringing up their name during that moment. But I couldn’t think of a good place to put it where it wouldn’t mess up the flow of the fic. AAAAAHHH 

Star: "You turned back and gave him a big smile and blew him a kiss... he couldn’t help that his form of affection in return was to flip you off. You loved it just as much" im bashing my head through a (very flimsy) wall, THE OPPOSITES !!!! WHEN THEY ATTRACT !!!! (these two Will be the death of me)

Sunny: I loved writing their dynamic SO MUCH. cause moments like this are just so much fun to write 

Star: "Just as you had in life, you dined on parts of him that he would never get back, stole his life force with no consideration as to how he would ever get it back" BRING ME THAT FUCKING JAR !!!!

Sunny: I !!!! AM !!!! BLUSHING !!!!

Star: "We had to perform CPR on Y/N for an extended period of time" ooohh every single rib is broken baaaabieeee

Sunny: I don’t think so? Because they were performing CPR with intubation and pumping a bag. So the brain is fucked but the ribs are in tact!!!

Star: "Come on. Come - o-on. You know I can’t do this on my own" this is fine, im gonna be okay... im gonna eat my OWN HAND and THEN I'm gonna be okay

Sunny: that is the whole POINT. The whole middle of this fic makes you wanna eat your own hand and then you get to the relief <3 

Star: "He used to belong to someone. That was how Daryl felt now. Used up and dead. Nothing but a past tense in someone else’s life"

Sunny: I am SO. FLATTERED. That you pointed this out because this is literally my favourite line of the whole fic. This is one of my most favourite lines that I have written in a LONG TIME. and I am so glad that it stands out to other people too <3 

Star: "Even if you didn’t know it, you had been feeding Daryl lies the whole time. And those lies had ruined him" mentally complex characters when i catch you, WHEN I CATCH YOU

Sunny: abused and traumatized characters who are so used to being hurt that being loved ruins them WHEN I CATCH YOU 

Star: "He sure as hell didn’t believe that someone like Merle would be an angel" SKSKKSKS oh yeah, he took a SLIDE down, Saint Peter was THAT sure

Sunny: oh YEAH lmao 

Star: "You had to feel naturally suspicious of him and his stack of polaroids" KSKSKSKS THAT IS A LITTLE CREEPY YEAH

Sunny: this is EVEN FUNNIER because you don’t know the context. Aaron wanted to recruit Rick’s group for Alexandria, so he took pictures of the community to highlight the good aspects of it - the high, fortified walls, the gardens, the apple trees, the solar panels, but he didn’t take any pictures of the people and Rick found that really suspicious. And they thought that Aaron was going to try luring them into some kind of trap, so Rick tied him up and made him eat the apple sauce that he brought for Judith to prove that it wasn’t poisoned, and it’s literally the dumbest funniest scene of Rick trying to force feed Aaron like a child and Aaron whining about it because he just DOESN’T LIKE THE TASTE OF APPLESAUCE. It’s such a comedy 

Star: "A new group came in yesterday, while you were gone" SHE'S GONNA SEE THE CROSSBOW !!!! AAAAAAAAAAA !!!!  AND NO FUCKING DOUBT IT'S DARYL'S CAUSE OF THE STICKER !!!! AAAAAAA THE SURPRISE TOOLS THEY'RE HELPING US OUT !!!!

Sunny: I LOVE SEEING THIS SHIT PAY OFF. YESSSS 

Star: the section is too big to copy and paste here BUT !!!! Olivia mentioning members of the group in a not so positively light and us seeing cute memories of them !!!!!! DO YOU THINK ME MAKING ME CRY IS COOL ?????

Sunny: this was so much fun for me because a huge theme of the show when the group first enters Alexandria is that they’re ‘scary’ toward the people who live within Alexandria. They are dirty, they’re bloody, they’re carrying a lot of big guns, it’s clear that they’ve murdered people before. So I wanted to drive home that for Y/N, the people in Alexandria are scary - they’re nosy, they’re too personal, and they’re unwillingly to get their hands dirty. And for Y/N, those dirty people talking through the gates are FAMILY. They are kind, welcomed faces. It’s flipped 

Star: "You ended up at one of the last houses on the lot, rounding the corner when you finally spotted him" THIS ENTIRE SCENE IS SOOOOO GOOD !!!! IM ACTUALLY SCREAMING AND THROWING UP RIGHT NOW

Sunny: I HAD THIS SO PERFECTLY PLANNED IN MY HEAD. I am sooo obsessed with the visuals of dirty Daryl sitting on the perfectly clean porch skinning a possum, which would freak out everyone in Alexandria, and reader is like “YESS THAT’S MY MAN” 

Star: "Why would you ever think that?” You sniffled weakly in return. “You had this for good luck" IM GOING INSANE !!! THEY'RE EVERYTHING TO ME !!! THEY'RE ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT

Sunny: writing them was so much fun omg 

Star: "Sophia?” Carol gaped." SHE IS ALIVE !!!!! OH KY GOD !!!! AAAAAAAAA!!!!!! YOU THINK MAKING ME CRY IS COOL ?????? OH KY GOD SMAMKAAJNn DUDE OF COURSE SHE'S HERE !!!! THIS IS A STORY ABOUT HOPE !!!!! DID YOU PUT THIS IN FOR ME ?????? IS THIS WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT ???? I can't believe I fucking called it ans THEN FELT STUPID AND SILLY FOR HOPING im actually crying now, you're such an asshole SKKSKSKSKS I kept scrolling down and thinking "this feels like the end of the fic, of her and Daryl finding each other, why is there such a big chunk left?" FOR SECRETS !!!!! FOR SECRET SURPRISES !!!!

Sunny: this means I have done my job!!! And I have done it well!!! I hated how TWD got into a habit of killing off characters for shock value, so I wanted to spite that by showing a ‘dead’ character to be alive for shock value. And it’s so much fun. There is SO MUCH ROOM FOR SURPRISES in the back half 

Star: "Can’t get five minutes of damn peace ‘round here" SKKSKS you're lucky Andrea didn't give you a full eternity of peace, bucko

Sunny: this actually made me SNORT omg. I wish I would have thought for Reader to say something like this to his face. MISSED OPPORTUNITY 

Star: "It would become a pattern so utterly predictable throughout your relationship. You were so direct and so stubborn that you learned how to play him like a fiddle" ZMSKKSKKS LOOOOVE THEM

Sunny: it’s literally the perfect relationship dynamic 

Star: "I could just make a necklace out of ears. That would be very fashionable.” THEY'RE JUST SO- *heavy breathing*

Sunny: and like it was SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. I love writing dynamics like this omg 

Star: "Crying. Distinctly - the sound of someone crying... You had been riding for less than an hour, and fuck - there she was" HOW THE FUCK DID YOU WRITE THAT FIRST HALF AND TRICK MEEE !!!! IT WAS JUST THE PERFECT AMOUNT OF VAGUE THAT IT NEEDED TO BE !!!!! TO TRICK UUUSSSS !!!!

Sunny: USING YOUR PRECONCEIVED NOTIONS AGAINST YOU, HELL YEAH! Because I skipped over the part of the canon where Sophia would have been found in the barn with the preconceived notion that Sophia died during that part of the canon, only to reveal that she is ACTUALLY ALIVE. It’s very satisfying as a writer to see this succeed omg 

Star: “I thought you were gonna leave me.” IIII !!!! WOULD NEVER !!! *looks pointedly at Sheriff Stupid and his Bastard Deputy*

Sunny: SHERIFF STUPID AND HIS BASTARD DEPUTY. One of these days I am gonna use this in an actual fic and I will have you to thank this is SO BRILLIANT OMG. and it made me laugh SO FUCKING HARD 

Star: "The first time you hit the Walker somewhere in the middle of its torso, and the second time you locked onto two disgusting yellow eyes - and you jabbed the knife right between them" SOOOO FUCKING COOL !!! SOPHIA TELL YOUR MOM HOW COOL I WAS !!! SHE NEEDS TO KNOW !!!!

Sunny: (Sophia: … what? Can we just GO HOME PLEASE) 

Star: "So he was aggravating the wound and simply ignoring the consequences. Very predictable for him" he's nothing if not consistent

Sunny: he really is omg 

Star: "Maggie and Glenn (who had hugged you so tight upon seeing you and refused to let go for nearly a full minute)" I LOOOOOVE THEEEEMMM

Sunny: GLENN IS A HUGGER !!!! I need a hug from him so bad omg 

Star: "Dude, I’m just happy to be eating something that’s not from a can" omg lesbian !! hiii *waves excitedly*

Sunny: I can’t wait for you to meet Tara in the canon YOU’RE GONNA LOVE HER SO MUCH OMG 

Star: "Carol smirked. “That’s always your story, isn’t it?" she's been invested in this relationship since DAY ONE BABY !!!!

Sunny: who’s a bigger shipper of them, Carol or Michonne??? 

Star: "He peered around you then, and eyed Sophia heavily with a look that made you all too certain your next move" listen i know the prison falling was Not Great but I did get to kill a pedophile today.... a win is a win

Sunny: I did not think of it this way, but hey A WIN IS A WIN 

Star: "And you know, him being cute is just a bonus" KSKAKSKSKS MAKE THAT GROWN MAN BLUSH, WE'VE EARNED IT !!!!

Sunny: Daryl would be so bashful when it comes to this kind of stuff and I LOVE IT. I love how we can make someone who murders people and guts squirrels BLUSH 

Star: "Is it your bare ass?” Abraham joked, clearly at least a bit drunk" MAYBE SO !!! SKSKSKS reader's like "you know it" *hi fives him* and they immediately become best friends

Sunny: … now they’re all picturing what Reader’s ass looks like 

Star: "If you’re done snuggling up next to Rick on the living room floor" KSKSKSKKSKS

Sunny: again, this was one of my favourite lines to write lmao 

Star: "You kept me fed and sheltered and warm, and I don’t know how much I could thank you for that" 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Sunny: this is the whole BASIS OF THE FIC. the soul being fed by hope and the body being fed by hunting and survival, sharing things in a relationship that keep you going forever. That love comes in many different forms and love is what keeps you going 

Star: "Through the window, he saw it there perfectly - the red cardinal that you had gifted him with for luck" i think you pavloved me into crying whenever I see that fucking bird now

Sunny: when my mom pavloved me into getting excited whenever I see birds outside like an old lady and that largely inspired this fic so YOU’RE WELCOME 

Star: STOP SMILING !! I KNOW IT WAS ON PURPOSE !!!! EVIL WOMAN !!! EVIL !!!

Sunny: and I was SMILING SO EVILLY WHEN I WAS READING THIS OMG. I am just sooooo happy to know that this fic had the impact that I wanted it to. It feels like such a huge accomplishment as a writer.

Heaven's Gate

Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral Reader

If there were any more left of me - I'd give it to you.

Summary:

Hope. Not the fragile, delicate thing that everyone mistakes it to be.

Hope is stubborn, and grows inside of you long before you ever realize its purpose there.

Hope can't be crushed by a thousand pound tank or torn apart as easily as concrete walls can. Hope is balanced on the backs of songbirds, it whistles quietly in the wind, and it brings you right where you need to be (even if you don't know it).

Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff. Set during Seasons 1-5.

Word Count: 24,200

The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

...

Warnings: the reader character in this fic is completely gender neutral - there is no mentions of the reader's genitals, their clothing style, or their general appearance, and I did not use any gendered terms to refer to the reader whatsoever; a few times the term 'they' is used in conversation, but I tried to be clever and make it so that it could be referring to just the reader or the whole group, interpret it how you want; it is possibly implied that the reader is younger than Daryl, but it's never explicitly stated (when I was writing, this I had in mind that they do have an age gap but I didn't want to state so to leave it more open-ended) - the main focus is the reader being less experienced with survival skills and more 'citified', which is the case for a lot of the characters at the beginning of the apocalypse; there is a lot of TWD themes in the fic - death; canon typical violence, hunting and killing animals for food, killing other humans in order to survive, killing walkers, gun violence, mentions of food scarcity, the general emotional depression that comes with being surrounded by death and being on the brink of survival, mentions of Merle being racist and sexist (the fic does not contain him saying any slurs or performing any actions in alignment with this, it is a background element); there is mentions of canon plot points and this fic will spoil Seasons 2 through 5 if you are watching the show for the first time and haven't seen those episodes yet (I am looking at you, Star), mentions of 'fate' and 'good luck' as concepts; bird symbolism (that may not be accurate to the general recordings of these symbols and are just things I have learned from my personal life), mentions of religion - mentions of the reader praying to 'any god that will listen' (the reader is not religious to one specific religion, but believes in prayer) (yes all of the spiritual concepts in this fic come from my personal life lmao); mentions of canon injuries - Daryl being shot with his own crossbow and then being shot in the ear by Andrea; mentions of stitches for medical purposes; use of the term Y/N (I am nothing if not a traditionalist); mentions of alcohol/characters drinking (Beth and Daryl at the moonshine shack) - implications of genetic alcoholism and how it plays into Beth and Daryl's interactions with alcohol; passing mentions of Daryl smoking cigarettes; mentions of Daryl's abusive past (non-detailed); Daryl describes the reader as 'beautiful' in his personal narration; mention of reader having an abusive father (a father who is 'similar to Ed') (this is not described in detail); mentions of suicide (performed by a non-named character not during the time of the story) (also mentions of Daryl having suicidal ideations due to hopelessness when the prison falls); mentions of taking things off of dead bodies because those things are useful for survival; I think that's it.

A/N: I re-wrote the summary like four times cause I actually have no clue how to summarize the essence of the fic. But I hope this fits well. This is way more about the emotions than it is about what's actually happening in the fic. I am really proud of this fic and I hope that you guys like it.

...

Daryl Dixon was someone who came into your life quietly. 

When that original group first made camp at the quarry around Dale’s old RV outside of Atlanta, trying to escape the epic traffic jam and the chilling after effects of the hellish bombs that had been dropped on the city, everyone thought that it would only be temporary. Everyone thought that it would last a few days, at most. Everyone held onto the comforting delusion that it wouldn’t be long until the world got back up on its feet again. 

You certainly never thought that all of the people within that camp would become a second family to you - people you would die for, kill for if needed. 

When you first saw Daryl, he was trying to hold back his drunken brother Merle from getting into a fight with Shane. You didn’t think much of him then - perhaps you wondered why he stood up for someone so sour and surly, but you knew that the loyalty of blood related family meant too much to some people. That he was likely willing to do far too much for someone who would never return the same favors for him. (And you turned out to be right.) 

These days, you thought of Daryl Dixon with increasing frequency and a mixed bag of emotions that you struggled to carry. Bitter nostalgia being at the top of that list. 

When you woke up on this particular morning, you thought of him as you gathered your hunting gear. You heard his quiet, gravelly voice in your ear telling you to travel light, but reminding you that the items you should take would each be important and serve a planned purpose. The knife on your belt was heavy with memories of him, ached with the ghost of his touch. 

You thought of him as you tracked a buck’s steps through the dirt. You thought of him as you crept through the woods, feeling equal parts peaceful and dangerously pensive. You thought of him that night as you sat beside a gently crackling fire, the flames warming you only beside he had taught you how to start one. You thought of him as you eventually took down the deer - as you skinned it, gutted it, and portioned  exactly how he had taught you. 

Stepping under a stream of hot water after three long days out in the woods was one of the most satisfying feelings you could have ever conceptualized. The bottom of the tub quickly became muddy with a combination of blood rinsing off your skin (from when you had cleaned the deer), and the general dirt you had gathered on you from the hunting trip. You let the heat of the water relax your tired muscles, and tried your hardest not to let your mind wander back to something you couldn’t have. 

But you missed Daryl so damn much. 

It was strange to think that things had been so different not that long ago. 

… 

The quarry was an oddly beautiful place to be during one of the darkest times in your life. 

It was the definition of breathtaking - crystal blue waters, bright green grass, nothing but open space to let the sun shine down on you. None of that city stink from the piled-up, rotting corpses. This far away from Atlanta, it was easy to forget why you were all gathered here, camping out night after night. It was easy to forget that this was about survival and it wasn’t a simple summer vacation. 

Well, it was easy to forget when you weren’t actively staring down that city full of corpses. Which is something that you tried your best to do - forget. You tried to focus on the task in front of you, tried not to let yourself get too bogged down with dread at the idea of the end of the world. 

You knew that the others likely would have called you foolish because of it. But you had to keep your head up in order to keep going. It was how you survived. 

Currently, you were playing a game with the kids - a makeshift game of kickball with an inflatable beach ball that you had gotten for them during your last trip into the city. You were one of the only people that Glenn trusted to go with him. Mainly because you had lived in the city before everything had ‘gone to shit’ - before the bombs. So you knew it well, and you could have his back. 

When Carl accidentally kicked the ball past you, you rushed to get it, and you became slightly hesitant when you saw that it had landed at the feet of Daryl Dixon. He was in deep concentration, gutting and cleaning one of the many squirrels that he had recently caught, his fingers stained red with blood. You had never seen animal butchery in person before, and it did make you slightly squeamish. You had only spoken to him a handful of times, most of those conversations less than four words each, and he was one of the only people in the camp that you were still slightly weary of. 

His generally stoic nature and his brother - his mouthy, racist, sexist asshole of a brother - didn’t exactly make him approachable or friendly. Though you weren’t exactly sure if Daryl agreed with everything that his brother did and said, or if he just stood by the man because he was family. You still took caution, approaching him like you would approach a supposedly tame bear. Very carefully. 

“Sorry,” You quickly apologized for possibly disturbing him as you rushed to grab the ball, and he spared you only a harsh sideways glance as you picked it up. 

“Ain’t nothin’.” He shrugged, his words coming out as they always did, in a quiet grunt. 

Feeling an awkward lull come over you as his intrusive gaze continued to stare you down, you felt more words form in your mouth and spew out your lips before you could stop them. 

“I was just playing kickball with the kids,” You quickly explained, gesturing to the small grassy area about ten feet behind you where Carl and Sophia were standing, waiting for you. 

Daryl’s eyes strayed curiously there, clearly listening, and you continued. 

“I got them this ball when I went on that run with Glenn. And some other things, too. Coloring books, stickers, fake tattoos. Sophia insisted that I needed one,” You chuckled awkwardly, sticking out your hand to show Daryl the glittery blue tattoo of a butterfly that Sophia had put on you. 

He grunted, nodding in reply. 

You weren’t expecting him to speak any further, and it surprised you when he did. 

“‘s good.” He mumbled. “Makes ‘em happy.” 

In the back of his mind, he considered adding on some sentiment about ‘kids being kids’, getting to have fun during such a dark time - but he stopped short. He didn’t want to annoy you with the conversation that you were clearly only partaking in out of social nicety. Politeness that a world falling apart no longer needed. 

You nodded, flashing him a smile. “Yeah.” 

“Come on! Bring the ball back!” Carl shouted, distracting you from the interaction, causing you to walk away without another word. 

Daryl watched you playing with the kids for a few moments - laughing and running around with them, somehow so carefree in a world that was determined to fall apart. He wondered if you had always been like this, or if being around kids just brought that out in you. He wasn’t sure which reason made you better in his eyes - and he certainly wasn’t sure why he thought about it for so long. 

Why he thought about you for so long. 

He had to shake himself back to reality and go back to cleaning his kills. 

…

“Daryl!” 

You called out his name as you jogged up toward the stables, and he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to catch up with him. 

“Daryl, hey.” You greeted him with a small smile. “Rick told me you’d be up here.” 

He grunted in reply. “Yeah. ‘m gonna take a horse out. Make better ground t’ look for the girl.” 

Your stomach clenched at him mentioning Sophia. 

The group was supposed to be headed out towards Fort Benning - supposed to be finding refuge at the hopefully safe military base. Instead, you were all setting up camp at the very reluctant Hershel Greene’s farm, not straying too far from where you had lost one of your own in the hopes of finding her. 

But that was why you had come to talk to Daryl in the first place. 

Sophia had become like a sister to you in the few short months that you had known her. And though everyone else kept telling you it was deeply unlikely, you were hopeful that she was alive - that she would be found. And you did believe that Daryl would be the one to find her. 

“How’s the trail?” You asked. “Do you think you know which way she headed? You - you can be honest with me.” 

You hesitated on the last part. But you did want his honesty more than anything. You knew that he was never one to sugar-coat things. Even if you hadn’t told him that, he would give you the truth. 

“Trail’s a little muddy.” He said, doling out that honesty. “‘m gon follow the river. It’s her biggest landmark out there, so she’ll probably be somewhere round it.” 

You smiled at him. And then, you remembered - 

“I brought you something.” You noted, reaching for the back pocket of your jeans. 

Daryl watched with quiet curiosity as you pulled out a piece of paper - when you showed it to him, he quickly realized that it was a half-used set of stickers. 

“These are some of the stickers that I got for Sophia,” You explained. “My mom always used to tell me that cardinals are good luck.” 

You peeled off a sticker of a bright red bird with a pointed head and a black pattern that resembled an eye mask - as much of a nature man as he was, Daryl was never one for bird watching. He didn’t care about identifying certain species of birds unless he could shoot and eat them. But he quickly reasoned that this must be the cardinal that you spoke of. 

“Give me your bow.” You said, shoving the rest of the sticker sheet into your back pocket again and holding out your hand expectantly. 

“I don’t need no luck.” He replied, voice full of snark. 

In a sense, he thought it was… sweet. You were trying to share some of that brightness with him that the kids got every single day. But he didn’t need you marking up his crossbow with a dumb little sticker. Especially because once Sophia was found, you wouldn’t give a shit to talk to him or be around him any more. 

“Just give it.” You replied - equally snarky, equally stubborn. 

Daryl sighed and tugged his bow’s strap over his head, presenting it to you. You placed the sticker on the bow’s handle, in one of the places where it wasn’t as worn down from him holding it. 

“There,” You said, giving it back to him with a smile. “Now you’re all set.” 

It was more for you than it was for him - a token of good faith and protection. The idea that you could do something to bring Sophia home when you felt so powerless. 

Daryl let out a harsh sound - somewhere between a laugh and a sarcastic snort as he walked away. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” You replied brightly, edging into a sarcasm of your own. 

He resisted the urge to flip you off, believing that you were too sensitive to take it as a joke. 

You watched him off for a while, seeing him disappear into the stables before you left to do your own chores. As you scrubbed at laundry, you sent a prayer to every god you could think of that your new little sister would be found alive. 

… 

Daryl felt like a dumbass. 

When Daryl was laying on the harsh, rocky ground after the horse had thrown him, with one of his own arrows digging into his side - he wanted to laugh at the fact that you had supposedly ‘blessed’ his bow with ‘good luck’. He had owned and used the bow for years previous, and not once had he ever been injured by it. You had it in your hands for all five seconds, and now - he had been thrown off a horse and shot by the damn thing. It was the definition of irony. 

While he laid on the ground, struggling for breath, bleeding from his wound, drifting in and out of consciousness - he spotted a flash of bright red above him. 

He managed to pry his eyes open long enough to properly focus on it, and - 

It was your damn bird. 

A bright red cardinal had landed in one of the trees above him, staring down at him in a seemingly taunting manner. 

‘My mom always used to tell me that cardinals are good luck.’ 

“Good… good luck… my ass.” Daryl huffed out, still spiteful even if he was exhausted and losing blood. Even if no one else was around to hear this verbal jab. 

His head lulled to the side, and before his eyes could drift closed as he truly succumbed to the blood loss, he spotted something else - a bright floral fabric, and some strings of yarn that definitely didn’t belong in the muddy creek bed. Once again, he forced himself to focus on it, pushing through the heaviness that threatened to overtake him. He realized in a heart-jolting moment that he had seen the object before. 

It was Sophia’s doll. 

He turned back to where the bird was still sitting on that branch above him. 

“Any… any chance you can lead me to the girl?” 

Perhaps it was the dizziness of his injury talking, but he could have sworn that the bird tiled its head at him - as though quizzically asking: ‘what girl?’

It was the spite that kept him conscious, the idea that he would get to laugh in your face when he got back and tell you how unlucky your ‘blessing’ had been. But it was his desire to find Sophia and bring her home that truly got him up on his feet again. 

… 

Your bird didn’t lead him to Sophia, but it did get him back to the farm before he completely collapsed from his injury - even if he was greeted by a bullet from Andrea, believing he was a Walker. 

Because of that bullet sharply colliding with his head, he didn’t remember to tell you about that bird finding him laying in the creek bed until much later. It didn’t come back to mind until the group had truly settled into the prison, after welcoming in the people from Woodbury when the ‘war’ with the Governor was seemingly over. He only thought about it that night when the two of you were up late on watch because he had seen another cardinal on one of his runs that day, and he was telling you how much the damn bird had annoyed him. 

Daryl wasn’t someone who believed in luck, but he knew that the story would entertain you nonetheless. And it did. 

In fact, it entertained you so much that it caused you to plant a confident hand on his shoulder and lean in for a kiss - sealing your mouth against his, trapping any noises of surprise in his throat as he stood frozen, pinned against the guard rail. 

He only truly had time to take in what had happened - to process that sweet, perfect kiss after you had chirped a ‘goodnight’ to him and left. You mentioned something about going on a morning run with Glenn and Sasha to scope out a place with more supplies, but his ears were still beating with blood and he barely heard you. 

He had to get used to it then - being yours. But he found that even though the hand-holding and the hugging could be a bit embarrassing at times - he liked it. He liked having someone taking care of him as much as he tried to take care of others. And though it was something he had desperately tried to deny because of your stubbornness and your sharp tongue - he liked you. He was beginning to love you in that dangerous way that was going to get him hurt. 

But he would deny that. And he would do anything to stop that from happening. 

And that was one of the most dangerous parts about it. 

… 

It wasn’t just you that he was willing to die in order to protect. Daryl had gotten dangerously attached to life at the prison. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he had a home. Family, friends. As soon as Hershel told them about the veterinary college, about a place where there might be medicine to combat this strange flu that had suddenly struck his home and the people in it - he knew he had to get a group together. 

Before he went outside to get the car ready, and make sure he had all the equipment inside it, he stopped by your cell. It would be rude not to say goodbye. 

His stomach dropped when he heard coughing. 

“Y/N-” He spoke your name in that alarming tone, concern so ripe in the single word as he pulled aside the curtain you had hung across your door for privacy. 

You cut him off before he could say anymore. 

“I know.” You said, your voice annoyed and slightly strained from the illness clearly running through your body. “I need to go into Cellblock A for quarantine. I’m - I’m on my way there now. I’m just gathering up some stuff. My sketchbook and some novels. I’m guessing it’ll be boring as shit in there,” 

Daryl nodded, and moved to step into your cell, wanting to place his hand on your forehead to check you for a fever. He wanted to know how bad it was - how much time he had to get back with the medicine. 

“Don’t come any closer.” You said abruptly, raising your hand to keep him back. “I don’t - don’t wanna get you sick too.” 

Hesitantly, he stayed where he was. 

He knew that you were right, and he knew that it was weak of him - but he found himself craving the affection that he previously found annoying. He had been hoping that you would hug him before he left. 

“‘m goin’ on a run.” He said. “Hershel told us ‘bout this old veterinary college - he said there’s medicine that could help.” 

“Medicine for dogs?” You heaved out a laugh, strained and full of crud in your lungs, collapsing to sit on the edge of your bunk. 

Daryl shrugged. 

“Apparently it’s the same as medicine for people.” Then, after a moment of you staring at him with uncertainty, he added on: “He gave us a list.” He assured you, patting his breast pocket, where that list was currently sitting. 

You nodded. Naturally, you trusted Daryl. You had to, after everything you had been through together. 

Then, you turned to the bag that you had been packing up and took out a sketchbook that looked familiar to Daryl - one that he often saw you doodling in. You flicked through a few of the pages and then ripped one out, presenting it to him with an extended arm. You covered your mouth and nose with your shirt, seemingly for the assurance that you wouldn’t breathe on him so that he could come and fetch this from you. 

He took one step closer and grabbed the paper, and you coughed into your shirt as he stepped back and inspected the drawing. He wasn’t surprised to see that it was a beautifully drawn sketch of a cardinal - shaded red with what he guessed were smudges of lipstick. He was almost sure that you had picked it up at one of the houses the group had stayed in during the long winter after they had to abandon the Greene farm. 

“For - for luck.” You told him between more coughs, letting your shirt down to smile at him. 

He knew by now not to attempt rejecting the symbol. He wouldn’t say that he believed in it - but he believed in you. And he wanted to have you with him. So he folded it up and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt, right next to the list that Hershel had given him. 

“You’re a fool.” He griped, half-winded, only half meaning it. 

You smiled brightly at him, your face clearly tired from feeling so ill. 

“You love me.” You replied with utter certainty. 

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to point out that this was a growing problem. That it would pull his focus during the run for the medicine - that he would be distracted thinking about getting home and getting that medicine to you. 

“Now go on and get,” He told you, motioning toward Cellblock A. 

You gathered your things and got up, making a wide berth around Daryl as you walked down the stairs. 

“And I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about you bein’ heroic neither.” He called after you, shouting at your back. “You’re gonna go in there n get your ass t’ bed, ya hear me?” 

You knew it was his way of caring - wanting you to rest when you were sick. 

You turned back and gave him a big smile and blew him a kiss - something he often remarked upon as being ‘childish’. He hated that it caused a flutter in his stomach, and he couldn’t help that his form of affection in return was to flip you off. You loved it just as much. 

… 

That was the last time you spoke to him before the prison fell. But it wasn’t the last time that he spoke to you. 

When he got back, you were unconscious - you had to be bagged by Hershel to help you breathe, and the medicine helped you survive. Just barely. Daryl held your hand and begged you to live, and eventually he had to be distracted away from your unconscious body by Maggie so that he wouldn’t simply sit there the whole time and mourn. She reminded him that they all had jobs to do, and he made a few rounds of the prison, busying himself with chores to help everyone else get by so that he wouldn’t drive himself insane at your bedside. 

And that’s what he had been doing when the Governor rolled up with a thousand pound tank and shot their walls down. 

He knew that his love for you would come back to bite him in the ass one day. 

…

Daryl got out with Beth. 

He almost couldn’t stand her bright, big eyes staring at him, waiting for answers - her chirpy little voice, prodding at him, demanding that they ‘follow the trail’, telling him that they needed to go look for everyone else. Telling him that he was a tracker, that he could find them. As if it was his damn responsibility just because he had the skills to get it done. 

It was all too reminiscent of you, telling him that he could find Sophia. That it was a ‘when’, not an ‘if’. All too hopeful, all too damn certain. 

Perhaps that was what got him off his ass and doing what he did best - reading the dirt. 

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, staring at the girl curiously as she went to one of the bushes and rushed to pick berries from branches. Had she not gotten enough to eat that morning? 

“They’ll be hungry when we find them.” Beth told him confidently. 

Of course. That undefeatable streak of optimism. 

Daryl knew that blueberries weren’t your favorite - but he should have something to give you. He would be too busy tracking the footprints to properly hunt for squirrels or rabbits and clean them for you. So, he found himself pulling a large bandana from his back pocket and offering it to Beth - something to hold the berries in to keep them safe as an offering for you. 

“Here.” He grunted at her. 

Beth smiled at him. 

It was one of the last smiles she gave him for a long time. 

When they came across those bodies splayed out beside the tracks - any sense of hope was crushed inside of him. The picture you had gifted him was heavy inside his breast pocket, and he hated that tears threatened his eyes - even if he carefully looked them over to confirm it, and he knew that none of those bodies belonged to you. There was no trace of you there. 

It was just a cold reminder that even if the others had gotten out of the prison, they could be dead. They likely were dead. 

The days started to blur into each other, and Daryl couldn’t get you off his mind. 

One hazy evening, as he and Beth both stared into the fire with dead looks on their faces, he took the drawing out of his pocket and unfolded it. 

For good luck. 

He didn’t believe in luck - because it didn’t exist. The world was fucked. Nobody was lucky. You and your good luck were dead. 

He tossed the drawing into the fire, ready to burn it up along with anything he had ever felt for you. Only a moment later, when the corner of it had barely caught, just barely turning black, Beth snatched it out. She stomped on it with her boot, successfully saving it. 

“Don’t do that.” She hissed at him. 

Daryl snatched it from her, and crumbled it up, tossing it aside. He let out a harsh grunt, but refused to look at her. 

“That was from Y/N, wasn’t it?” She posed. 

He could feel her imposing stare as she waited for an answer. 

He didn’t give her one. 

Just because they had an unspoken agreement to help keep each other alive didn’t mean that he had to participate in stupid conversations with her. 

“You can’t burn up the past. You can’t burn your love for people just because you think they’re dead.” Beth sighed, tired and defiant. “You can’t burn up memories. We’re gonna find them. Y/N, and Maggie, and Michonne, and - and everyone. We’re all gonna be together again.” 

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah. Cause that’s gon’ happen.” 

Beth rolled her eyes, but didn’t speak any further on the subject. 

After she had fallen asleep - when the fire was dull, Daryl picked up the crumbled ball and smoothed it out again. The charred corner hadn’t even touched your bird. He felt like a fool doing it, just as much of a fool as he accused you of being, but he folded it neatly - well, as neatly as he could. And then put it back into his breast pocket again. 

But that was the thing - Daryl wished that he could. He wished he could burn up those memories. He wished that Beth was wrong. 

He wished that you would stop haunting him. Then he wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore. 

… 

When Daryl sat up in camp that night with his back to the trunk of a tree, he did not intend to fall asleep. He honestly did not think he was capable of doing so - even with the exhaustion so deep in his bones, he was used to going without sleep. He was used to trudging on much like the Walkers shambling around them - upright, puffing shallow breaths, but barely there, barely conscious. These days, he felt as though sleep was a luxury. 

As the fire died down, Beth turned over with her back to him, curling an elbow under her head, the only thing separating her from the dirt. She no longer bothered with the mockering of grunting out ‘night’ as an acknowledgement that she was trying to go to sleep (because she stopped saying ‘goodnight’, long ago, even at the prison, because those were few and far between). 

Daryl supposed that he was staying up to keep watch. They did have the cans and spare car parts scattered around on lines to make noise if any stray Walkers wandered near their camp. He knew that he slept light, and this would be more than enough noise to wake him if he did fall asleep. 

With his eyes locked on her back, he wondered if Beth slept at all these days, or if she simply laid down to fake it. Maybe so that she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore, even for a few hours. Sometimes, he would notice the grip on her knife beside her head go a bit laxer, and believe that this was a true sign that she had actually managed to drift into unconsciousness. Still, even if she wasn’t sleeping, he should keep watch. 

Daryl hadn’t intended to fall asleep. 

Daryl’s consciousness was jolted suddenly - his entire existence shaken by the feeling of someone - something grabbing his legs. When he looked down, he saw the blur of a snarling Walker crawling up his body. He panicked, his heart thudding hard inside his chest. Naturally, he reached for his crossbow beside him - grabbing, hands shaking, grasping at air. 

It was gone. It wasn’t there. What the hell? 

One of the cold hands grabbed his shirt, forcing him to look back down the length of his own body at the beast. When its head snapped up toward him, he was filled with a colder kind of shock. 

It was you. 

Though your once beautiful features had been tainted with rot, yellowing teeth, and your laughter filled eyes had turned sour and rotted like putrid eggs - he absolutely recognized that this was you. 

He sucked more gasping breaths, and reached for the knife on his belt, but - that was gone too. 

Then, somehow - you let out a dark, harrowing laugh. A laugh that shook everything he was, that somehow managed to echo through the trees and rattled the ground underneath him. An utter mockery of his entire existence. 

“This is all your fault, Daryl.” You spewed, your rotting mouth spilling out horrible, black blood. “You did this to me!” 

Then, in an utterly horrifying moment, you reached down and tore into him - your weak, dead hands easily ripping into his abdomen, and before his very eyes, you ripped out his guts so that you could consume him like a perfect, bloody feast. Just as you had in life, you dined on parts of him that he would never get back, stole his life force with no consideration as to how he would ever get it back. 

You didn’t care how he would survive without you. 

Daryl awoke with a start - the sound of the cans clanking at the edge of their small campsite forcing him back to reality with a harsh jolt. 

His fingers wrapped around his crossbow where it was seated between his knees within seconds. Before his sleep-sticky eyes were even fully open, he had the loaded end pointed at the source of the sound - a tired, messy-haired Beth, who was wandering back into camp with her hands full of something. 

“Told you not to go wonderin’ off.” Daryl barked at her easily, hating how his heart thumped in his chest with residual ‘fight or flight’ instincts, even though he knew that she was of no true threat to him - still partially spooked from the horrible dream that he would never tell anybody about, ever. 

He slumped back against the tree, keeping a careful eye on her as she came back to her place beside him, already spouting her surly argument against him. 

“I saw some berry bushes over there.” She whined quietly. “Daddy taught me what’s safe and-” 

“Don’t matter.” Daryl grunted in return, hating that he felt a sensitive pang inside of him at the mention of Hershel. “I told you: don’t go nowhere without me.” 

Beth let out a sharp sigh. “You’re such an asshole.” 

He was. 

Nonetheless, she silently slid some of the berries his way, carefully contained on the bandana that he had given her before for such berry-picking purposes - and nonetheless, he ate them. 

Later that day, when he was prowling the woods with Beth at his back, hoping to score something a bit more substantial for dinner - his eyes landed on the faded splotch of the cardinal sticker that you had put on his crossbow during his time spent looking for Sophia. His thumb traced it idly, and he knew that Beth was dying to ask about it, but held back. 

He knew then that he would never be able to escape your ghost. 

… 

Daryl wished that he could burn up the memories. He wished that you would get the hell out of his head. That if you were dead, every last trace of you would just die. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he had seen you - back in A block, after he had brought back the medicine. 

… 

He thought it was a victory - getting the meds back to the prison. He thought that it was simple. If he got to the veterinary college, got the meds that they needed, got the run group back in one piece - he thought it would be a win. He knew you. You were a fighter. You would hold on long enough for him to get back. He had to do all the guesswork. He had to keep everyone going on the road. 

If anything, he knew that you would be doing the exact opposite of what he had told you - you would be up and about, shuffling through the makeshift ward, feeding the people the hope that you grew and doled out so well. That was your job. He just had to do his. 

Maybe it was that stupid, foolish hope infecting him like the illness had infected you - but he truly thought that getting the medication and getting back would be the only complicated part. 

“Hey, Doc, how we doin’ in here?” Daryl asked, stepping to lean against the mouth of the cell that you had taken up temporary residence in.  

Of course, he was calling Hershel ‘doc’ with a joking air. The man loved to tell everyone now that he wasn’t actually a doctor - but few actually listened. They trusted his experience and the way he spoke with wise authority more than anything. 

Hershel used a stethoscope to listen to your lungs, and then looked up at Daryl, his face firm and unreadable. Daryl didn’t like it - but he was still being strung along like a fish on a hook by that foolish, bitter hope. 

“Y/N is doing a lot better than before.” He said, placing a gentle hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. “The meds have helped to take down the fever.” 

Daryl nodded. “Tha’s good.” 

Hershel gave him a serious look. “I like you a lot, Daryl. So I don’t intend to lie to you.” 

Daryl’s stomach clenched up - grabbed by a fist of nerves. 

You were alive. You were breathing - Daryl confirmed this, locking his eyes on the gentle up and down puff of your chest. What else could possibly be wrong? 

“Our friend here is showing remarkable signs of improvement, as is everyone who received the medication that you brought back. You have done a mighty service to these people, Daryl.”

Daryl knew this wasn’t simple praise for the work he had done. This was the sunshine before the storm - it was an omen. He could feel the ‘but’ coming before Hershel spoke it. 

“But,” 

Of course. There it was. 

“-I have to warn you.” Hershel sighed. “We had to perform CPR on Y/N for an extended period of time.” 

Daryl’s eyes cast over your face, fixated on your peaceful, unconscious form. His ears became fuzzy, filled with blood, and he could hardly focus on more of the older man’s words as he explained your condition. Explained how you had been deprived of oxygen for a few minutes - how you were at risk of brain death, and Hershel had no way of knowing what the state of your brain activity was without the proper equipment. If your brain wasn’t active enough, you would never wake up again. 

All they could do now was to sit and wait for you to wake up. If you were going to wake up at all. 

Hershel left Daryl alone with you, and he perched himself on the edge of your bed, his ass shuffled in tightly by the edge of your hip, struggling to find purchase on the edge of the small bunk. It was much like you had done to him after he had been haphazardly shot by Andrea. He took your hand in his, his eyes still focused on your unconscious face - at least you looked peaceful. 

With a large knot forming in his throat, he attempted to speak. 

Even though he was unsure if you could hear him - he couldn’t contain what he had to say. 

“You’re an asshole.” He mumbled out. Part of him was expecting to get a reaction out of you. To mock you into waking up. “I went through all that damn trouble to get those meds, and you gone n croaked on me while I was gone?” 

Your face didn’t even flinch. 

You were so damn still. 

For the first time since he had met you - not laughing, not smiling, not loudly voicing your chirpy, hopeful sentiments. So still. 

“Nah, that’s bullshit.” He growled out, his voice growing louder as his frustration grew inside of him - as he became more determined to wake you. “You’re gonna wake up. Wake up!” He shouted, his words echoing painfully off the walls. 

In the next cell over, Maggie heard this and became distracted from dabbing a wet cloth against Glenn’s forehead. He was still drifting in and out of consciousness, still too sick to fully take this in. But it caused Maggie to strain her ears, listening in on what happened next. 

“You’re gonna wake up. You’re gonna-” 

Daryl was startled when he found himself choking on his own words. He sucked in a sharp breath, and despite his best efforts, a sob rattled his chest, and a hot tear rolled down his face. 

“Why do I gotta to everythin’ around here? You set me off into the woods lookin’ for Sophia like it was my damn job. Make everythin’ my damn responsibility. I had to teach you everythin’. I had to teach you how to start a damn fire - what kind of simple asshole doesn’t know that?” 

He swallowed thickly. 

Truly, he wasn’t angry at you. 

It all came down to one thing. 

“Come on. Come - o-on. You know I can’t do this on my own.” He choked out, his face shrinking into a sob. “I can’t do this on my own.” 

He turned more toward you, laying himself down gently so that his face was pressed into your chest. He turned his head - laying his ear against your chest, listening carefully for your heart beat. It was there - thumping along steadily. 

Hershel had warned him that your breathing wasn’t the problem. Brain damage would keep you from waking up because your nervous system wouldn’t be active again. 

If you didn’t wake up, would you still turn into one of them? 

According to what Jenner had told them at the CDC, maybe not. 

Maybe you just be like this forever - stuck somewhere in the middle. Some hollow thing for Daryl to scream at that would never answer back. 

“You gotta wake up.” Daryl choked out. Knowing that only you would hear, he gathered up the bravery to speak out his next words. “I - I love you.” 

In the next cell over - Maggie heard all of it. She was holding Glenn’s hand, wondering what she would do if she were in Daryl’s shoes. She now had muddy tears in her eyes, listening to Daryl plead to you to wake up. Hearing Daryl - someone who had been so stony and tough in her eyes before - cry for the first time - it hit her hard. 

So it got her up; she kissed Glenn’s hand and told him that she would be back later, and he mumbled something incoherent back. 

“Daryl.” 

Maggie felt guilty when he jumped up - clearly alarmed by her presence at the opening of the cell, breaking his bubble of alone time with you. He began to frantically wipe at his face, obviously afraid to be vulnerable in front of her by showing his tears. After all that they had been through together - he still wasn’t willing to show this weakness in front of her. 

He only grunted in acknowledgment of her, staring hard at the floor instead of looking up at her. 

“These people need water. And they could probably use a good meal after all this.” Maggie told him. “I know you wanna stay with Y/N right now, but - come on, we all got jobs to do.” 

Daryl nodded. “Right. You’re right.” 

They did have jobs to do. But of course, the main reason she reminded him of the chores was to distract him. To keep him from going insane at your bedside, waiting for you to wake up. 

And that was the last he had seen of you before the Governor blasted a hole in A Block with the tank. 

…

When Daryl and Beth got to the moonshine shack, it truly came to a head. 

Daryl didn’t want to play the stupid game - he just wanted to drink in peace. He wanted to get shitfaced and hopefully pass out, actually. He wanted to have a good, booze-induced heavy sleep so that he could spend one night not plagued with spotty sleep and nightmares of your death - seeing your face painted in his mind as a nightmarish, growling dead thing. One night where he didn’t stay awake and stare at the back of Beth’s sleeping head because he couldn’t bear to close his own eyes. 

He didn’t want to play the game, but he did anyway. 

It got out of hand. 

Instead of trying to calm down, he rode the wave, leaning into the only existence he thought he knew - he turned back into the sputtering, bitter asshole that had once protected him so well. The hard shell that had kept him from getting his feelings hurt when the world had been cruel to him before. When Beth stabbed the Walker in the head, ending his game, he grew all too worried that she had figured him out - that she would try to get him to talk about his feelings. 

“What the hell did you do that for?” Daryl howled. “We was havin’ fun!” 

He knew it wasn’t true. Nothing about this was fun. 

“No, you were being a jackass!” Beth easily corrected him. 

She was far too much like you. Too direct. Never one to dance around the point instead of saying exactly what she meant. 

“If anyone found my dad-” 

Daryl was eager to cut off her additional reasoning, not wanting to think about it - he couldn’t add the mental image of a turned, dead-alive Hershel to his nightmare rotation as well. 

“Don’t!” He barked back, making her swallow up her words. “That ain’t remotely the same!” 

He had to convince himself of that fact. This random Walker pinned to a tree wasn’t family. At least - it wasn’t the same because it wasn’t his family. 

Beth gave him a tight-jawed look, staring him down with those large, knowing eyes. In that moment, he could hear your voice in his head, telling him exactly what she wanted to say. 

‘It’s someone’s family, Daryl. That Walker used to be someone. He used to belong to someone - he used to be important to someone. You need to consider that.’ 

Instead, Beth countered with something a bit more broad. 

“Killing them is not supposed to be fun.” 

She scolded him like a child, and he felt intensely small in that moment. He hated it. 

“What do you want from me, girl?” He warbled out, barely able to find his voice. 

He barely had anything left to give. 

He was a shit protector - as he had proven, unable to stop the prison walls from collapsing on top of you. Unable to hunt down the Governor - unable to keep him from rolling up to the gates with a fucking tank and blowing your house down. 

He was a terrible tracker - unable to find any of the people they had lost from the prison. He couldn’t provide anything for Beth that she couldn’t get for herself. She was more than capable. She was likely only with him now to stop him from going off into the woods and laying down to die. It was likely out of some mental obligation towards you, because she fully believed that you were still alive. 

He didn’t have anything left to give. 

After a moment of Daryl waiting with baited breath, she gave an answer. 

“I want you to stop acting like you don’t give a crap about anythin’.” She announced firmly. 

That would be difficult for him. Because currently, that was the only way he was surviving. He gave way too much of a crap about everything - and turning it all off was the only way he got through. 

“Like nothing we went through matters.” She added on. “Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It’s bullshit!” 

It was bullshit. 

“Is that what you think?” Daryl countered sourly. 

He cared too much about all of them. It all mattered too much. 

If he turned that switch back on - if he let himself care again - it would break him. 

“That’s what I know.” She whispered tightly near his face, all hot drunken breath. 

“You don’t know nothin’.” He spat back bitterly, absolutely assured of this fact. 

“I know you look at me and you just see another dead person.” Beth dueled on, determined to make her own point. “I’m not Michonne, I’m not Carl, I’m not Maggie, I’m not Glenn…. I’m not Y/N.” 

She knew that mentioning your name was sensitive, but she did it anyway, as if hoping to evoke some positive emotion out of Daryl. As if hoping to wake him from his dreary hopelessness. She hoped that mentioning you among the list of people that she still concretely believed to be alive would shake him, make him believe it too. 

She noticed that Daryl refused to make eye contact when she said it. 

When he didn’t say anything about it, she continued on. 

“I survived, and you don’t get it, cause I’m not like you or them - but, I made it.” 

She spoke passionately, determined about the point. If she had made it - someone who used to be so soft, someone who still needed to be protected - then why hadn’t everyone else made it? 

“And you don’t get to treat me like crap just because you’re afraid.” 

Somehow, among all that, one singular point stood out to Daryl. 

“I ain’t afraid of nothin’.” He grumbled back. 

To him, it was a horrid accusation. 

He had already lost everything that was important to him - what could fear possibly do to him now? 

Fear was the stupid, idiotic thing that had held him back in the first place. It had kept him from going after the Governor alongside Michonne. It had kept him tethered to the prison, stuck to your side watching you to make sure that you were safe. And look what it had gotten him. 

Nothing but ruin. Nothing but ashes. 

Beth looked contemplative for a moment, and Daryl hoped that she would finally just shut up. But then, like an unstoppable, sickly bile - the words came spilling from her lips. 

“I remember.” She announced. Before he could wonder what she was talking about, she continued on. “Back when you first came to the farm. The way you were - out combing the woods like a madman, looking for a little girl that wasn’t even yours. You never gave up hope, not once.” 

Daryl swallowed down his own words. 

He wasn’t some damn fool. He wouldn’t even begin to call it hope. He called it the truth - a little girl lost in the woods shouldn’t be hard to find. Like he had told Andrea at the time - it was the backwoods of Georgia, not the mountains of Tibet. It wasn’t the way that everyone else made it out to be. 

“Maggie told me that you cried when Y/N wouldn’t wake up.” 

Beth added on - to Daryl it felt like a mockery, a clever prodding at his vulnerability. But to her, it was just another observation. 

“That’s why you’re not out there, followin’ the trail. That’s why you’re not even botherin’ to look. You would spend months out there tryna find Y/N if you actually thought-” 

“Shut it.” Daryl grunted, cutting off her words. 

“You are afraid, Daryl.” Beth told him - and chills went through him as he realized that she had seen right through him. But like a prey animal staring down a predator, he kept stiff eye contact, trying his hardest not to let her know that he was weak. “You’re afraid of findin’ nothin’. And now you’re actin’ like it’s my damn fault.” 

When he didn’t speak up to make any apologies for this, she snidely added on:

“God forbid you ever let anybody get too close, right?” 

“Too close, huh?” Daryl reared back dully, gearing up for another fierce charge in the argument as things got all too personal. “You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends - you can’t even shed a tear. Your whole family’s gone, all you can do is go out lookin’ for hooch like some dumb college bitch!” 

He knew that he was being unjustly cruel to her - that on some level, he was taking it out on her just because he could. 

But he couldn’t let her talk anymore about him and his fucking feelings. Especially not about how he acted around you. God forbid that big precious four letter word came up. He needed to pull the knife out of himself and turn it around onto her. 

“Screw you! You don’t get it.” She easily snapped back. 

“No, you don’t get it!” He roared out, quickly growing tired of the seemingly pointless back and forth. “Everyone we know’s dead!” 

Beth looked icy shocked by the statement, but quickly argued against it. 

“You don’t know that!” She screeched bitterly at him. 

“Might as well be!” He yelled back. “Cause you ain’t never gonna see ‘em again!” 

Finally, they had come around to his entire reasoning - the whole fact as to why he had so faithfully given up. Even if they weren’t dead, he believed that he might as well operate on the assumption that they were. 

Of course - Beth was operating on the opposite mindset. Killing time, getting by, surviving until she believed that she would inevitably be reunited with her sister, and the other members of their newfound family. 

Beth let out a whimper as the truth of it hit her - as she fought past it. Battling internally as a small voice in the back of her mind said: ‘he might be right’. 

“Rick…” Daryl hesitated to list more people. Even now, he hesitated to say your name. “You ain’t never gonna see Maggie again!” 

It was a bitter personal attack, but he was putting on that hard outer shell - hoping to get Beth to become just as cold as he was. If she gave up, then she would leave him alone. She would stop trying to inject that stupid, putrid ‘hope’ into him. 

But of course, that infallible hope could not be stomped out of her. No matter what. 

“Daryl, just stop!” She begged quietly, and then - she reached out for him. Attempting to give him some comforting touch. 

The last time he had been touched by someone was when he had held your hand without you even knowing, staring at your unconscious face, waiting for you to wake up. Aside from that - a gentle pat on the shoulder from Hershel, assuring him that everything would be okay. 

But both you and Hershel were dead now. 

Daryl’s touch was a disease that he would not let Beth catch. 

He whipped away from her quickly, and turned to face the dead Walker that was still pinned to the tree. 

He used to belong to someone. 

That was how Daryl felt now. Used up and dead. Nothing but a past tense in someone else’s life. 

“The Governor rolled right up to our gates.” Daryl’s throat clenched tightly around the words. He could barely speak about it, but it was true. “Maybe if I… I wouldn’t’ve stopped lookin’. Maybe it’s cause I gave up? That’s on me!” 

He was supposed to keep you safe. He was supposed to keep everyone safe. 

He had failed. 

“Daryl-” Beth choked out, trying again - but she didn’t have anything to follow up. She couldn’t find anything to combat this particular chasm of self blame. 

“Your dad… maybe I coulda done somethin’.” He choked on a sob, and tears clouded his eyes now. 

It was his attempt at an apology. But he hadn’t even begun to forgive himself yet - so why the hell would Beth forgive him? 

Hershel’s death had been his fault. Your death had been his fault. 

The others… even if they were alive, their home was destroyed and now they were vulnerable to a cruel world. And it was all Daryl’s fault. 

Daryl finally broke down in sobs, and he didn’t have enough energy to fight off the touch when Beth leaned into him, hugging him from behind. 

He couldn’t muster up any more breath to better apologize to her for all he had done, but he hoped that it was implied. 

… 

Things were a bit more smoothed over later that night, when Beth was drunker and Daryl had sobered up some. 

“Is it always like this?” Beth sighed, staring out at the grass with a delighted smile. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she meant. She was clutching a half-filled jar of the moonshine like it was precious, her eyes glassy - obviously no longer fearful of going blind because of the stuff. 

“You’re lucky.” Daryl remarked. “You’re a happy drunk.” 

Beth let out another contented sigh, and then after a moment, and another sip of the moonshine (which she was taking down without hesitation now), she spoke up again. 

“You’re wrong.” She told him calmly, seeming very confident in this fact. 

Daryl was tired of talking, but too curious not to reply. 

“Bout what?” He asked. 

“They’re not dead.” She told him. “They’re out there somewhere. All of them. And we’re gonna find them.” 

Daryl wanted to believe her. Some tiny part of him wanted to embrace this as truth. But at this point - it felt too much like fiction. Without his family standing in front of him, pure proof that they were alive and well - he couldn’t let himself partake in that paper thin hope. He couldn’t let himself get high on the hope only to come crashing down from that high in the worst way. He couldn’t let himself be hurt again. 

He only grunted in reply, staring at the worn floorboards of the porch, hoping the conversation would naturally frazzle out. 

Of course, Beth didn’t let that happen. 

“Come on,” She said in a nagging tone. “You don’t really believe that Y/N is dead, do you?” 

Daryl wasn’t sure what he believed. 

Before this, before the dead had risen up and walked the earth, he had spent his whole life focusing on truth. Concrete truth. 

For as long as he had been alive, that truth had been hopeless. His father had beaten him, his brother was an asshole, what little he knew of his mother was a drunken slur ultimately engulfed in flames. He had fended for himself most of his life. He never knew hope or optimism. He never spoke of luck or brightness or tipping the odds in his favor. 

Not until he met you. 

You laughed so genuinely; you sang the praises of looking on the bright side and blessing people with good luck. And he found that at times - he started to believe you. 

But having the Governor roll right up to their gates and blow apart their home wasn’t exactly conducive with everything you had been preaching. Having you sick and likely dead under a pile of concrete, unconscious and crushed without even knowing it wasn’t exactly in line with the ‘good luck’ that you supposedly had. 

Even if you didn’t know it, you had been feeding Daryl lies the whole time. And those lies had ruined him. 

Daryl couldn’t hold out hope that you or anybody else that he had known and loved from the prison were alive. 

“Don’t know.” Daryl grunted in reply. He kept his answer vague, not wanting to stir up another argument with Beth. 

“Yes, you do know.” Beth chuckled lightly in reply. 

Still ever the optimist. Still so damn certain. 

Daryl grunted again. Even if he didn’t agree with her, he wanted the day to end calmly, at the very least. 

“Can I see it again?” Beth asked, suddenly changing the subject. 

Again, this was a confusing little whip for Daryl - something that clearly only made sense to Beth in her own drunken mind. 

“What?” Daryl replied. 

“The picture.” Beth answered. “The one you tried to burn.” 

Daryl felt a pinch of guilt surge over him at the thought. Oddly enough, this was the one time he would be willing to admit that Beth was right - you can’t burn up memories. He was still glad to have a token of you with him, even if he would never get to see you again. 

“It was Y/N, wasn’t it? That drew it.” Beth added on, her words slurring slightly. She lifted the mason jar of booze to her lips again and Daryl was tempted to snatch it away from her. Something in the back of his mind reminded him that he wasn’t her chaperone - she was an adult, and if she wanted to get drunk enough to have a nasty hangover, then that was her choice to make. 

Instead, he found his hand drifting to his breast pocket and reaching to take the picture out. He presented it to Beth, who put down her drink to unfold it. She stared at the picture fondly under the brightness of the moonlight, tracing a finger over the slightly faded details. 

“You know… my daddy used to tell me that a cardinal is like an angel.” Beth said, recognizing the bird from her father’s teachings on the farm. “Someone - someone you loved who passed away, watching over you from heaven.” 

Daryl found this to be a nice thought. He could imagine Hershel’s voice in his head, saying something like this while pointing to the bird among the trees. 

“Y/N said they was good luck.” Daryl replied. 

It was the first time in a long time that he had gathered the courage to actually speak about you aloud, and he found a painful tugging in his chest because of it. 

Beth shrugged. “Same thing.” 

It was this thought that kept Daryl going for a long time. The idea that even if you were dead, you were watching over him somehow. He sure as hell didn’t believe that someone like Merle would be an angel - but you, you definitely were. And even if it was a waste of your eternal life, you would be determined to watch over Daryl - to make sure that he was safe, well-guided. 

You would make sure that he was lucky. 

That thought alone carried him through the long journey to D.C. 

It was something that lingered in his mind as the group hunkered down in a random barn - as he spotted something carved into one of the wooden beams holding the place up. Even though it wasn’t colored, he could have sworn that the long tail and pointed head of the silhouette indicated that the carving was meant to be cardinal. Of course. 

Who knows who had stayed in the barn before them - if it had been left there by a weary traveler, or even put there by someone who had used the barn before the Turn. But Daryl could have sworn that you - your ghost, your angelic hand - had led him to this very spot. 

It was a thought that gave him strength as he held the doors up - helped to keep them from caving in while the storm raged outside. 

Your luck, and your damn bird - you would keep him safe. 

When they reached Alexandria, and they were forced to give up their weapons - Daryl spotted your bird perched on the fence. Bright red, with its pointy head cocked sideways at him. All too knowing, staring at him like it wanted to say something. Just like it had been when he had fallen off the cliff out in the woods when he had been looking for Sophia. 

Oddly enough, it made him feel safe giving up his crossbow - perching his precious weapon on top of the fully loaded cart before the awkward, bespeckled woman wheeled it away. 

Rick was still weary of this new place after everything that had happened at Terminus, and Daryl understood. He followed Rick’s lead. Especially because he couldn’t tell Rick that he had a good feeling about this place because he saw a damn bird. Even if he was feeling such foolish things, he knew that he couldn’t speak them aloud. 

(He couldn’t speak them aloud to anybody but you. And well…) 

But even if it was just in spirit, he felt you there. He knew that it was the home you had chosen for them. 

So Daryl entered the strangely clean suburban home that Aaron had picked out for them and tried to imagine himself truly living there. He tried to think of Alexandria as his new home now. Because he knew that it’s what you would have wanted for him.  

… 

You were tired.  

You had just gotten back from a three day long hunting trip - three whole days out in the woods, killing small game while tracking a deer in order to shoot it and haul it home. 

For a while now, home had been a town called Alexandria. 

Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘home’. 

Alexandria was a great place to live, sure - but to you, home was a certain redneck bowman who often stank of cigarettes and dirt and had to be reminded to wash his hands before eating a meal. Home was the gentle grunt he gave you in response to a variety of questions, the scratch of his beard on your skin as he kissed you. 

You couldn’t think about him for too long - because you would get homesick. 

Since the prison had fallen, since you had escaped nothing more than debris and a crowd of Walkers - you had been moving from place to place, drifting. A lot of the time, you used the skills that Daryl had taught you during your time together in order to survive. 

When you found Alexandria, it felt like a dream. 

At first, you questioned why a shiny gee-golly boy in a blue rain jacket was trying so hard to ‘recruit’ you. You had to feel naturally suspicious of him and his stack of polaroids. But then you remembered what Daryl had said about bringing people back to the prison - bringing new people in wasn’t just about pity. There was strength in numbers. It became very clear to you very quickly that Alexandria needed fighters - they were bringing people as a tactic. 

You leaned into it. You proved to them what a good asset you were. You doubled down on using everything that Daryl had taught you in order to earn your place in the closed off community. 

You hunted and brought back game for the people there to eat, you used the skills Daryl had taught you to maintain the cars for runs and even fix-up ones that had been previously out of commission. You were widely liked by the members of the community, and Deanna often called on you for advice about dealing with Walkers. You had been on a few runs with their crews, but you preferred to stay close to town, to keep an eye on things. 

The hunt you had recently taken - three long days out in the woods. That had been for you. Something you had learned with Daryl was that hunting could be intensely peaceful. Maybe it was because it was time you spent with him - time when the two of you didn’t need words, just soaked in each other’s presence. Maybe you missed that too dearly. But you needed it to be just you and the trees, the focus on the craft that he had taught you. 

No closed-off bottle town politics. No smiling and nodding and pretending to care when the others complained about asinine things like the water from their showers going cold too quickly. Complained about being bored. To you, boredom was a blessing these days. 

No men sniffing around you, firing off increasingly poor attempts at flirting, believing that you were single even though you couldn’t tell them otherwise. It was difficult to explain to anyone in town that your heart belonged to someone that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Someone that you didn’t have the room to believe was dead. 

So after spending a few days in the woods, enjoying the peace alone, and bagging a deer and a few rabbits in the process, you came home. And currently you were in the shower, cleaning up - it was a blessing to even have a shower, to have perfectly functioning running water. A three day hunt could create a hell of a stink. 

Stepping under a stream of hot water after three long days out in the woods was one of the most satisfying feelings you could have ever conceptualized. The bottom of the tub quickly became muddy with a combination of blood from where you had cleaned the deer, and the general dirt you had gathered on your skin from the hunting trip. You let the heat of the water relax your tired muscles, and tried your hardest not to let your mind wander back to something you couldn’t have. 

When you got out of the shower, you felt wonderfully refreshed. You were still bone tired, and part of you did want to rush home and crash right into bed. But you had other things to do first. You had to check-in with Deanna, and go by the school before you could even think about going to bed. 

Olivia - ever kind and thinking ahead - had set out a change of clothes for you. She had seen you run upstairs to the bathroom covered up to your elbows in blood after you had asked her to stash the deer meat in the pantry’s freezer. 

You got dressed, and then went down to the pantry looking to make sure that she had taken the deer meat out of the plastic container that you had stored it in and put it into some plastic freezer bags to store it properly. She was squeamish around blood or raw meat - she had thrown up the one time that you had tried to teach her how to gut a rabbit, but you were hoping to wean her off those fears. 

Olivia was a nice girl. You knew that eventually, she would need to get her hands dirty in order to survive. It was a miracle that she had gone this long without doing so. When she told you that she still carried around a cellphone in her pocket - one that had long been dead and useless - you got stuck somewhere between paralytic shock and maniacal laughter. 

But it was just a mark of how untouched Alexandria was. How much they needed someone like you. 

“Olivia?” You called out gently when you hit the bottom stair. 

“In here!” She called back. She was in the armory rather than in the pantry - likely counting bullets to redo her inventory in order to avoid touching the bloody deer meat. 

You rolled your eyes at the thought of it and walked into the room, which was lined floor to ceiling with guns, the entire town’s supply. You were also casually pushing back against Deanna’s rule that nobody should be allowed to carry within town, but she had yet to truly hear you out on it. Your eyes fell upon a large cart that Olivia had parked in the middle, one that wasn’t usually there. It was filled to the brim with a variety of weapons. 

“What’s this?” You asked. 

“A new group came in yesterday, while you were gone.” She informed you, staring at the notebook she had in her hands - the one containing her inventory. “Deanna wanted me to make a list of their weapons. Well - the weapons they surrendered. I wouldn’t doubt if one of them is still hiding a knife in their shoe or something. They seem uber shifty and paranoid.” 

She said this with a dreary chuckle - the kind of nervous laughter that told you she was feeling weary of these people. 

A strange feeling came over you. A haze - tingling, from your head to your toes. A feeling almost as if you were about to faint - while at the same time, intense adrenaline was pumping through your whole body. You took a more careful look at the weapons gathered on the cart. 

A sword. One with the distinctive white leather sheath. A gun that you easily recognized as a Colt Python. A military knife with a knuckle guard… and perched right on top - a crossbow. The sight of which almost made your heart stop. 

“Maybe you could help me with this?” Olivia asked, motioning her pen toward the cart. “You know I don’t know the names of guns and stuff.” 

Clearly, she was trying to get out of bagging the deer meat - but that dropped off your priority list as you tried harder and harder to keep your hopes from swallowing you alive. 

“Sure.” You replied, knowing that it sounded terribly strained in your throat - joy and tears battling terribly inside of you. 

You gathered your breath, and forced your concrete legs to move. You stepped toward the cart, and timidly stroked a finger across one of the bolts that was strapped to the top of the crossbow. 

After a moment, you finally gathered the courage to ask the question. 

“So - can you tell me more about the group?” You asked, your throat clenching around the words, so damn dry all of a sudden. “Did you happen to catch any of their names?” 

“Come on,” Olivia sighed. “You know I’m no good with names.” 

Of course. 

The one time when you needed her to be paying attention, she hadn’t been. Where the hell was Aaron when you needed him? 

You could have been wrong. This could be nothing. It could be a coincidence. 

You wouldn’t let yourself get your hopes up - not until you knew. 

“Well - what were they like?” You asked. 

Olivia picked up one of the guns, inspecting it before she wrote down something in her notebook. It took her a moment too long to answer. You became dizzy with agitation, unconsciously holding your breath while you waited for something. Some proof. Something. 

“They were… strange.” She shrugged. “They reminded me of you when you first came here. But… you can tell they’ve been outside for longer.” 

That didn’t answer your question. So you moved on to another one. 

“How many of them was there?” You asked. 

“Maybe a dozen, I guess.” She answered easily. “It’s the biggest group Deanna has ever allowed in. I don’t know why, though. Aaron seems to really like them, but I didn’t get to talk to him much before he went home.” 

She wrote down something else, and then she continued - seemingly not noticing the way you were staring at her with an intense glare, hanging on her every word. 

You needed to know. 

“There was kids with them. A baby, and a young boy. A teenager, maybe? He was wearing this brown cowboy hat, that looked like a sheriff’s hat, kind of? I guess he got it off some cop.” 

‘My dad says that I get to wear the hat because I’m in the club.’ Carl’s small voice excitedly announced to you, pushing the too-big hat up over his eyes as it sagged down from how fast he had run toward you. 

‘What club?’ You countered curiously. 

‘People who have been shot and survived.’ 

‘Woah… okay. You probably shouldn’t go around saying that to people.’ You chuckled in return, trying to play off the casual morbidity. Knowing that ‘and survived’ was the important part. ‘Cool hat, though, kid.’ 

‘Thanks!’ 

As the memory from Hershel’s farm played over again in your mind - you remained frozen. Your voice was caught in your throat, seized by tears and shock - but all you could do was stand there as Olivia continued talking. 

“And their leader is this really grumpy guy. He kept… staring at me. His eyes were so cold… it was almost creepy. I could hardly see his face past his beard.” 

‘And, uh, I got this for you.’ Michonne chuckled, extending her arm out toward Rick, trying her hardest to gift him the electric shaver. ‘Your face is losing the war.’ 

The words evoked another memory from you - Michonne making jokes about Rick’s beard being overgrown, trying to get him to trim it down. Now, you couldn’t picture him without one when you tried to remember him. 

“Here, take this.” Olivia picked up the crossbow and put it in your hands. “Can you help me with the rest of these guns? I don’t know how to unload them. I need to take inventory of the ammo.” 

Your eyes were fixated on the crossbow in your hands - you ran your thumb over it. 

You had almost forgotten about it. 

Trying so hard to push down the memories, to forget - it had almost slipped your mind. The marking you had left on Daryl’s crossbow that made it so uniquely yours. The blessing of good luck you had marked him with when you had sent him to look for Sophia. 

The cardinal sticker that you had put on his bow. It was faded now, but it sure as hell was the one you had put there. 

In the back of your mind, you could still hear Daryl’s snarky voice snarling about how he didn’t need luck - but it had gotten him this far, hadn’t it? 

All at once, your nervous system shook, your body prickling up fiercely with goosebumps as the realization truly hit you. 

Daryl was here. 

Daryl was right here in Alexandria. 

He was alive. He was within arm’s reach. 

He was home. 

“Daryl.” You mumbled quietly, your voice still choking on it - it was a name you hadn’t spoken in so long. 

“What?” Olivia asked, turning around to look at you, clearly confused. 

“Daryl.” You spoke it louder. 

You looked to the door, and before you could take a moment to explain or even put down the bow - your legs were carrying you with a great urgency. 

He was close by - you were going to find him. 

“Daryl!” 

You screamed out this time, your voice echoing through the streets of Alexandria. Random people going about their day stared at you, but you didn’t care. You continued sprinting down the street, looking for that familiar face that you knew had to be close by. 

“Daryl! Rick! Michonne!” 

You screamed out the names of the people you knew would be with thim, and then your mind became fixated on him - on seeing his face again, on hearing him call you an asshole with a smile. Fueled only by joy, you pushed past your previous tiredness, determined to find him. Your cheeks began to hurt before you knew you were smiling and your legs pumped harder as you ran. 

“Daryl! Daryl!” 

You weren’t even sure where you were going, but you knew he would come to you - he would be there soon. 

You ended up at one of the last houses on the lot, rounding the corner when you finally spotted him. 

It was something you had pictured in your mind a thousand times. 

One of the quaint porches of Alexandria - so clean, so white, so picturesque - finally dirtied up by his presence. Olivia made you gut your kills in the back because she didn’t want it to disturb people, but Daryl didn’t know the rules, or just didn’t care. His hands were already covered in the blood of the possum that he was skinning - careful, meticulous, doing it right. His gaze focused downward in pure concentration - much like he had been on the day you had first properly spoken to him. 

Dressed in all black and still dirtied from the road - he was a sight for sore eyes. 

And he caused you to pull in a sharp, shattered breath as you began to cry outright now. Hot tears of relief, joy, love streaming down your face as you laid eyes on him for the first time in so long. 

His head snapped up at the sound of it, and his eyes widened beyond the splintering bangs that hung beyond his brows - hair longer than the last time you had seen him. His hands froze their movements, still hanging onto the half-skinned possum. You gripped tightly onto the crossbow, holding onto it tightly like an anchor, drifting at sea. 

You knew that look - his jaw gaped, his eyes swimming with intense emotion - shock, most of all. He was frozen. 

He was looking at you as though you were a ghost. 

In Daryl’s eyes, you might as well be. 

The last time he had seen you - you were dead. Or dying. 

It was all the same to him. 

He genuinely couldn’t believe that you were standing right there in front of him - alive, clean, beautiful as ever, holding his crossbow. It was like a dream. 

“I think I have something that belongs to you.” 

Hearing your voice again - it was oddly startlingly. You motioned toward the crossbow - his crossbow, that you were holding for some reason. 

His entire body was filled with concrete - he was frozen. 

“Daryl, is that possum so much more interesting than me, or are you gonna come on over here and give me a damn hug?” 

Yes.

That was what finally got him up - he tossed the possum aside because it would never be more important than you, and he rushed off the porch, rushing toward you. You dropped his crossbow in the grass and when he pounced on you, his arms encircling you for the first time in such a long time - you finally felt like you were home. He squeezed you in a bone-crushing way, and you squeezed him right back - feeling a strange kind of comfort from the smell of sweat and dirt and cigarette smoke coming off him. 

It was so Daryl. It was so real. 

You heard gentle sobs in your ear and you realized that he was crying too, so overwhelmed by the emotions of seeing you again and not too proud to hide his tears now. You didn’t notice and didn’t care that he was getting blood all over your clean shirt, gripping you so tightly with his possum-skinning hands. It was just another assurance that all of this was real and not another stupid daydream. 

“Goddammit.” He croaked out, his face shoved so tightly in the crook of your neck, soaking your skin with his tears. “I thought - I thought I lost you.” 

Pressed so close to his chest, you saw the yellowing corner of the paper sticking out of his breast pocket. You couldn’t help but to raise your fingers to fish it out of his pocket. 

“Why would you ever think that?” You sniffled weakly in return. “You had this for good luck.” You teased him lightly, pulling away slightly to wave the folded piece of paper in front of his face - both of you knowing exactly what it was. 

He let out a weak laugh in response. 

“You’re still a damn fool.” 

That was all he managed to reply before he put both hands on either side of your face and pulled you in for a kiss. It was unlike any other time he had kissed you before. This wasn’t chaste - it wasn’t a simple kiss signifying that he cared about you, that he was trying, but affection simply wasn’t his thing. 

This was gravity. 

This was passion, this was love. This was this kiss of a man who had nearly ended himself because he had realized in horror that his entire world had hinged on you. And now that he had you back, he wasn’t going to waste a single second treading around feelings, hung up on simple things like the fear of affection. This was a kiss from someone who needed to show you that you were his whole world, and now that he had you back, he would move mountains just to see you smile. 

It was a kiss that easily had you moaning into his mouth, made you dizzier than you already were, stole breath from your already weak lungs. 

He held you tight to his lips and he poured every single ounce of emotion into that kiss - telling you how sorry he was for all the time he had wasted, telling you how much he had missed you, and most importantly - telling you how much he loved you. 

“Daryl, please tell me that you’ve showered by-” 

The stunning moment was sorely interrupted by another voice, one you distinctly recognized as Carol. She opened the front door behind you and stuck her head out, ready to scold Daryl - but she promptly cut off her own words when she saw you. You pulled away from his lips at the sound of her voice and whipped around toward her, and instantly a smile cracked your face, broad and unbroken. 

She was staring at you with utter shock. 

“Carol.” You said her name warmly, greeting her as an old friend. 

You couldn’t help it - you jumped forward and embraced her in a hug. It was only then that she loosened from the shock and let her own arms fall around you, hugging you back, and she was able to speak again. 

“Y/N.” She said your name quietly in return. “What - what are you doing here?” 

“Um… returning Daryl’s crossbow.” You chuckled, motioning to the bow that you had dropped with numb arms before you had ascended the steps, rushing toward him. “But you know… I think I have something for you too.” 

Naturally, Carol looked confused - and you chose to show her what you meant rather than to explain. 

… 

You brought Carol and Daryl to a house in the complex that functioned as the school. They didn’t know that yet - and you asked them to wait outside as you rushed inside and boisterously disrupted the beginning of the afternoon class. 

The teacher began telling you off, but you didn’t care. 

Daryl and Carol were theorizing about what you were doing, half ready to go in after you when you stepped out the door with someone in tow. 

“What’s so important? We’re supposed to start reading King Lear today and I can’t miss-” 

Both of them looked up at the mousy voice and instantly recognized the streak of sandy blonde hair - a bit lighter now from exposure to the sun, topped on someone a bit taller than they remembered. 

“Sophia?” Carol gaped. 

A daughter she had said goodbye to in her mind, someone that she couldn’t keep hoping was alive. Somehow once again, standing right there in front of her, fully alive and well. Once again - all thanks to you. 

“Mom?” 

Sophia broke out of your grasp and ran from the door into her mother’s arms, and Carol quickly embraced the girl who was almost as tall as her now. Carol was unable to hold back her tears and you knew that it was a swelling of perfect emotion as they hugged each other so tightly. Daryl petted a gentle hand over Sophia’s hair as he looked at you fondly. 

You couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. 

Carol used a hand behind Sophia’s back to wipe some of her own tears from her cheeks, still not letting the girl go as she looked at you with a wet smile forming tightly across her face. 

“I should have known she’d be with you.” Carol choked out - her way of thanking you for taking care of her daughter. Clearly scolding herself for not keeping the faith alive that Sophia would be okay. 

“We’re BFFs.” You said, unable to hold back a smile. “Of course we’re gonna stick together.” 

… 

You thought back to the day you had first taken on the title of Sophia’s BFF. 

The two of you had been close since the group at the quarry had first formed. It was unfortunate, but Ed reminded you of your own father, and you found yourself gravitating toward Sophia because of that. A natural instinct kicking in that made you want to take care of her because you understood what she was going through. You knew that Carol had to take care of herself, had to keep her own head above water, and she said that she was always appreciative of your help. 

You knew that Sophia appreciated having you around, being treated with gentle caring and a certain kind of maturity that she needed from an older sibling that she didn’t have. You didn’t always treat her like a child - you talked to her like a person who needed to be listened to, who had her own feelings that needed to be heard. 

Especially after Ed’s death - when she was feeling conflicted about the partial relief of being freed from her father’s abuse but oddly missing him at that same time. You were more than happy to listen to her and give her honest advice. 

When she fled into the woods off the highway that day, Daryl had to physically hold you back to keep you from running into the tail end of the herd yourself. It would have been stupid for you to blindly run after her, especially considering that, at that point, you didn’t carry a knife or any other weapons on you regularly. You would have been running after Sophia with nothing but your bare hands and your best intentions. 

It would have ended up with you both dead, and in the end, you thanked Daryl for holding you back. 

Which was why you trusted Daryl greatly to find her. You trusted his skills and his abilities, and especially his judgment. And you silently cursed Andrea for almost shooting his head off and putting him out of commission in that search. Especially considering the fact that Shane and even Rick were clearly losing hope in ever finding Sophia alive, and it was clear that they were ready to call off any search efforts. They were ready to abandon the Greene farm and leave her out there to die. 

So after Daryl’s wounds had been treated, when he was resting in his tent, you decided that it was high time to get the search back on. Of course, you had to wait for Andrea to leave, after she had apologized to him and left him with one of Dale’s crappy books as entertainment - something you knew wouldn’t help him much, because he was far too much of a hands-on busy body to sit around and read. 

But you didn’t dwell too much on thinking about that. Instead, you stepped into the tent next without being invited, determined to get his advice so that you could pick up the search for Sophia where he had left off. 

Daryl’s eyes snapped open where he had been lightly dozing off and he glared at you - it wasn’t malice or true anger, instead, simply light annoyance. 

“Can’t get five minutes of damn peace ‘round here.” He grumbled out as you invited yourself fully into the tent and without speaking a word to him, came right in and sat down on the edge of his cot. 

He instinctively scooted away from you. He could have said that it was because you had aggravated soreness in his injured side where he was still stitched up. But truthfully, it was because he wasn’t used to having you (or anyone) this close. Though he also couldn’t deny that the simple warmth of your body - the gentle heat of your ass pressed up against his thigh from you having to sit so close on the small cot - it was nice. 

But he couldn’t think too much about that right now. 

You obviously weren’t as caught up on the simple act of closeness. You weren’t as mindful of being this close to another person. You were someone who thought nothing of hugs and other simple forms of affection - something that you did regularly with people you considered friends, like Glenn and Lori and Dale. 

Instead of thinking at all about how close you were sitting to Daryl, you dropped your bag at your feet and began rooting around inside of it, looking for something. A moment later, you pulled out a map, which you held in one hand and shoved tightly in Daryl’s face. 

“Show me where you found Sophia’s doll.” You ordered stiffly. 

Daryl grunted at you, chewing on one of his nails for a moment before he replied. 

“What good is that gon do?” He asked. 

You didn’t know how to track or follow a trail. You weren’t the outdoors type. If he sent you off looking for her, he’d probably have to go off into the woods looking for you next. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. 

“Maggie is saddling one of the horses for me right now.” You explained. “You know that Shane has already given up, and Rick is about to.” 

You cleared your throat, trying to hide the quiver of potential tears. 

Daryl knew it wasn’t the kind of grief that everyone else held when talking about Sophia - you weren’t afraid that she was already dead and you would be combing the woods looking for a Walker to put down. You weren’t looking for closure. You were more terrified at the aspect of Shane and Rick giving up when someone you viewed as a little sister was still out there. You were afraid that she might be abandoned when she was still alive and had a chance to be rescued. 

“You’re not goin’ out there by yourself.” Daryl declared firmly. 

Predictably, he then tried to sit up - as if he would somehow accompany you in his severely injured state. But he didn’t make it very far off the cot before he let out a sharp wince of pain. Something he tried his hardest to conceal out of an ingrained toughness, so you knew that his pain had to be a lot worse than he was leading on. He fell back down instinctively and gripped a hand to his side, taking in sharp breaths as he tried to ignore the pain. 

“Well, you’re not going with me.” You griped sarcastically, motioning toward his injury. 

“Screw you.” Daryl replied, tossing up a middle finger - frustrated by his circumstances more than anything else. 

“Look, I’m gonna go whether you tell me where to pick up the trail or not.” You announced, firm and finite in your conviction. 

Of course. Stubborn. 

Daryl glared at you again. 

“And I’m not gonna drag your ass around with me,” You added on. “I just wanna know where you would search because before you got hurt, you were the best man for the job.” 

Daryl wanted to hate the snide, back-handed compliment - he wanted to hate your stubbornness and your inability to take ‘no’ for an answer. But he knew that you were going to keep to your word. You were going to do this with or without his help, and his help would be invaluable to someone like you. 

So, for some stupid reason, he folded to your will. 

(It would become a pattern so utterly predictable throughout your relationship. You were so direct and so stubborn that you learned how to play him like a fiddle.) 

“Gimme that damn map.” He grumbled out, finally folding to your infallible will. 

“Here, I have a pen. You can mark it down for me.” You announced brightly, giving him a chirpy smile as you got your own way. 

You reached back down to your bag, looking for the aforementioned pen, and Daryl bit his tongue. The fact that you even needed a marking on the map to remember what he was going to point out to you was a huge red flag for him - a sign of just how naive you were when it came to the woods, tracking, finding someone lost out there. 

He was already mentally preparing himself to go looking for you later. (He just hoped that this would be a good thing - that even if you got lost yourself, you would take some supplies to Sophia and help her survive a bit longer until he could get both of you back home.) 

He took the red pen that you handed to him and stiffly held the map, trying to ignore the gentle waft of floral soap coming off you as you leaned more into his personal space. More and more into his personal space, clearly trying to better pay attention to what he was showing you as he pointed to the landmarks on the piece of paper. 

“Found the doll down ‘round here.” He said, marking a small red X on the map. “I figured that she mighta dropped it when she was crossing the creek up somewhere here, and it washed downstream.” 

“Oh, okay.” You said. “So you think she’s on this side of the water?” You asked, pointing to a heading of your own. 

“Prolly.” Daryl nodded. “She gotta be close by the water cause it’s her only real landmark. You better stay close by the creek, got it? I don’t need to go in those damn woods lookin’ for your ass too if ya get lost.” 

“I’m not gonna get lost.” You sighed, snatching the map from him. 

“Make sure you don’t spend the whole time on the horse.” 

He added on, determined to give you good advice if you were determined to go out there. In the back of his mind, he was surprised that you knew how to ride a horse, but he didn’t bother to bring it up. Instead, he continued speaking about the topic at hand. 

“She’s little. It means she could be hidin’ somewhere down low. Caves, ditches, even down in the bushes. She could be passed out somewhere from the heat and you might not see her if you’re perched up high on that damn horse the whole time.” 

You nodded, soaking up all the information, determined to take advice from someone you knew was better versed in things like this than you were. 

“Anything else?” 

Daryl looked thoughtful for a moment. 

Then he reached off to the side for his own bag, holding in another pained wince as he stretched out his injured flesh. He batted away your hands as you went to help him, and his hands came back with a large knife - his hunting knife, sheathed in the cover that he often wore on his belt. You had never seen him without it, and you were surprised when he extended it out toward you - clearly wanting you to take the knife, even if only temporarily. 

“Daryl, that’s yours, I can’t-” 

“Shut up and take it.” He growled quietly. “This is gonna be better to you out there than any gun. And not just cause you’re a piss poor shot.” 

You rolled your eyes at the paper thin insult, but still hesitated to reach for the knife. 

“The woods are damn quiet, and if you run into a Walker, you gon need somethin’ quiet to take ‘em down.” He explained. And then, with a fair amount of cheek, he added on: “Come on. It’s for good luck.” 

You let out a sharp nasal sound that could have been mistaken for a laugh, and then you reached out and grabbed the knife, tucking the holster onto your belt. 

“Maybe I don’t need luck.” You stated, getting up and making your way toward the mouth of the tent. “If I run into a bunch of Walkers, I could just make a necklace out of ears. That would be very fashionable.” 

You winked at Daryl, and he flipped you off - though you knew he didn’t mean anything harsh by it, seeing as it was paired with a small smile that he was unable to hold back at your comment. 

“Asshole.” He mumbled under his breath. 

“I heard that!” 

(For some reason, this made him smile harder.) 

… 

Despite what Daryl believed, you were comfortable in the woods. 

You had spent a lot of your childhood camping - he likely would have called it ‘glamping’ (if he knew what that word was). Your family spent a lot of weekends in an RV, driving off to remote areas to go fishing or so that your father could go hunting. You spent a lot of time off in some cabin deep in the woods with no TV reception, playing around in the trees with a stick, making mud pies for fun. 

You knew the reason that you seemed so naive in Daryl’s eyes was because you spent all those childhood experiences very hands-off. Your father was a wicked control freak of a man who never let you touch anything, despite how many times you voiced wanting to learn. 

He insisted that your family have ‘happy’ family outings - he insisted that you get your ass in the boat while he was fishing, he insisted that you eat the game that he shot while out hunting, he insisted that you get out in nature because it was what he had done as a child. But he would never let you touch a fishing rod, he would never let you hold a gun to hunt or set a snare. He always told you it was because you were ‘too stupid’ and you would inevitably mess things up. 

So before Daryl had started teaching you the basics, you didn’t know how to read a map, you didn’t know how to start a fire, and you had been learning how to fix vehicles only because of Dale. Your mother was the one who insisted that you learn how to ride a horse because it was something she had learned during her childhood. (It had spawned a wicked argument between your parents that you didn’t want to think about.) 

But nonetheless, you felt comfortable by yourself in the quiet of the woods. It was a quiet you had come to enjoy throughout your childhood. 

It was why your ears immediately picked up on something - a particular noise - standing out from that quiet. The gentle thrashing of cicadas, the quiet bustle of leaves in the breeze, but then, something else. Crying. Distinctly - the sound of someone crying. 

You hopped off the horse that Maggie had given you and tied the saddle to a nearby tree, taking Daryl’s advice to get off and having a look on foot. 

And sure enough - you soon came to a small cliff, at the base of which there was a small rocky indenture that could have been considered a small cave. It was something that you might have passed by when perched so high on the horse. 

When you crouched down and got even lower on your hands and knees- 

“Sophia?” 

You almost couldn’t believe your luck. You had been riding for less than an hour, and fuck - there she was. 

She was curled up with her back to you, likely crying out of upset from being separated from her mother for so long, being scared and alone. Even covered in dirt - you recognized that blue tee shirt that she had been wearing when she had run off. And it’s not like there would be some other little girl hiding out in these woods. 

“Sophia.” You called her name a little firmer, in case she hadn’t heard you, or she was fatigued from the whole ordeal and needed a little extra jolt to awaken her attention toward you. It was then that her head turned and she gazed at you with two large teary eyes. 

“Y/N?” She hiccuped sorrowfully. “Wh-where’s my mom?” 

“Your mom is waiting for you,” You grinned at her, extending your arms out to invite her toward you - and she began crawling out to meet you. “Everybody set up camp at a farm just off the highway so we could look for you.” 

“I thought you were gonna leave me.” She sobbed, sitting upright and jumping into your arms - you couldn’t help but embrace her in a tight hug. 

Relief flooded your system, and though you knew that she was scared, hungry, and definitely dehydrated by now, you couldn’t be happier to have her in your arms - alive. To know that Carol would feel the same relief in such a short time. 

“Nobody was gonna leave you.” You assured her. 

You hated that it was a partial lie. But of course you weren’t going to tell her about Shane’s pessimism and Rick’s liability to fall for the ramblings of his best friend. They would all feel foolish when you rode back with her on the horse. And you would be happy to prove them wrong. 

Then, something else came to mind. 

“Are you hurt?” You asked, pulling away from the hug to inspect her. A secondary terror spiked your system. If she had been bitten - you didn’t know that you would be up to the task of ‘doing what needed to be done’ as Daryl had put it. 

“My ankle.” She said, motioning to her foot. Upon further examination, it was swollen so tightly that it looked more than painful, cartoonishly bulged over the edge of her shoe. The sight of it made you wince. “I fell down.” 

“Okay, well - one of the people at the farm is a doctor. So he’ll be able to fix you right up.” You smiled at her. “But you didn’t get scratched or - you didn’t get touched by any of the Walkers?” You asked, wanting to be sure. 

“I hid from them.” She assured you. “I was running away, and - and I got lost, and I couldn’t find my way back, and that’s when it got dark, and-” She broke into more sobs, and you reached out to hug her again. 

“It’s okay.” You assured her. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take you to your mom now.” 

“Look out!” Sophia screamed this in your ear suddenly, pointing a finger to something behind your back. 

Your heart thumped in your chest, panicked, and then, with an instinct you didn’t even know you had, you reached to the handle of the knife - Daryl’s knife on your belt. You pushed Sophia away, whipping around in order to jab the knife toward the danger. 

The first time you hit the Walker somewhere in the middle of its torso, and the second time you locked onto two disgusting yellow eyes - and you jabbed the knife right between them. Within seconds, all the movement in the Walker went limp, and it fell to the ground - and you let out a huff (not even fully knowing that you had been holding your breath) as you pulled the bloody knife out of its skull. 

“I got it.” You said, feeling victorious as you looked over your shoulder toward Sophia - who was shell-shocked and very tearful once again. “Let’s just… get on the horse and go back to the house, okay?” 

“There’s a horse?” 

You gave Sophia your canteen and she drank the entirety of the water during the ride back, and by the time the sun was setting, you were emerging from the trees with her sitting on the front of the saddle. 

On top of the RV, Dale and Andrea were having a dispute about who was supposed to be on watch. One especially heated after the debacle of Andrea accidentally shooting Daryl in the head. 

“Just give me - give me those! Give me those!” Andrea snapped, taking the binoculars from Dale. 

The man acquiesced to her fierce will, and he nodded, putting his hands up in surrender as he walked toward the edge of the RV to descend the ladder. 

Andrea put the binoculars to her face and looked out upon the fields, and what she saw shocked her more than the bloodied Daryl that she had mistaken as a lone Walker. 

“Oh my god.” Andrea gasped. 

“What?” Dale whipped back around, obviously thinking that something was wrong. “What? What?!” 

Andrea took down the binoculars and turned to Dale with a look of pure shock. 

“It’s Sophia.” 

… 

A short time later, everyone was gathered in the living room, an odd air of dread and tension having fallen over the group. It seemed that nobody else shared your joyous relief, as they were all anxious to hear it from Hershel’s mouth that Sophia was going to be fine. It was a case of waiting for the other shoe to drop, of course. 

It wasn’t long before Hershel came out of the downstairs bedroom to grace everyone with the news. 

“How’s she doin’?” Lori asked, practically trampling the man before he even had a chance to close the door behind himself. “Is she gonna be okay?” 

“Well - the girl is quite dehydrated after the adventure she’s been on,” He said, pressing that word, using it quite liberally. “But - after some IV fluids and rest, I don’t see any reason why she won’t make a full recovery.” 

Lori burst into tears. The previously silent room became a muddle of relieved sighs, delighted chatter, and more tears - and the joy you had somehow been suppressing exploded inside of you tenfold. As you looked around at everyone hugging and celebrating, you realized that there was just one person missing from the scene. 

The man who had made it possible to find her in the first place. 

You knew that Daryl should be resting because of his injuries - but what he should be doing, and what he usually did weren’t two things that often coincided. You wandered out the front door while everyone was distracted by the exchange of hugs and the general relief of the whole situation, and you weren’t surprised to find Daryl sitting in front of his tent, poking at a low-flamed fire with a long stick. 

You were slightly surprised to see him sitting up - but if you weren’t mistaken, his shirt was licked with blood on the side where his stitches would be underneath. So he was aggravating the wound and simply ignoring the consequences. Very predictable for him. 

“Hey.” You greeted him casually as you walked up. 

He didn’t bother to take his eyes off the flames, and after a quiet moment, he quietly spoke. 

“She okay?” He croaked out - his typical meditative speech. No more words than he needed. You liked that about him. 

“She’s great.” You answered. “You were right. She’s gonna eat a good meal and sleep in a warm bed tonight, and she’s gonna wake up next to her mother. She is gonna be more than fine.” 

If you weren’t mistaken, the small flinch at the side of his mouth - something that could have been taken for a tic in his cheek muscle - it was a genuine smile at the idea of Sophia actually being okay. A smile at something actually turning out well for the group. 

“And it’s all thanks to you.” You added on, taking the opportunity to give him genuine praise where it was due.  

Daryl shook his head. “Nah.” 

“Come on.” You sighed, crossing your arms. “You pointed to a place on the map, I went there, I found her. That’s all you.” 

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re just lucky.” 

You knew he was being snarky, but you couldn’t help leaning into it. 

“I am.” You grinned at him. 

He sighed harshly, shaking his head. He resisted the urge to argue, not wanting to ruin the general air of happiness at Sophia coming home alive. 

“But the knife did help.” You had to admit it - he had been right about forcing you to take it. You took it off your belt and extended it out back toward him, and he hesitated for a moment, perhaps wanting you to keep it for your own protection - and then he took it back. 

“Told ya it would.” He grumbled quietly. 

Before you could form some clever reply, you heard the front door of the house open once again, and you were surprised when Carol came marching toward you. You thought for certain that she would be attached to Sophia’s side after such an ordeal, but soon enough, she was sweeping you into a tearful hug. 

“Thank you.” She wept into your shoulder. “Thank you, thank you so much. You found my daughter - you brought her home.” 

“Oh. I…” You weren’t really sure how to respond. “It wasn’t all me. Daryl told me where to look. He was the one who followed the trail.” 

Again - you had to give him the credit where it was due. 

“Of course.” Carol nodded, pulling away from squeezing you and moving toward Daryl. 

He jumped up from his camping chair so fast that he knocked it over, nearly tripping over himself in an effort to escape her thankful affection. A tense silence fell over the three of you as he gripped at his side, and he stared her down with wide eyes like a deer caught in a hunter’s cross-hairs. 

“I got stitches.” He mumbled out, clearly looking for an excuse as to why he couldn’t be hugged in the same way. 

“Okay.” Carol replied meekly. “I still want to thank you for everything that you’ve done for my daughter.” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. “Welcome.” 

…

Even if Daryl didn’t know it then, helping to bring Sophia home truly cemented his place in the group. If it wasn’t a truth in everyone’s eyes, it was you whispering it to them, hammering home the fact that he was more than worthy - not as some kind of politician, but because you truly believed in him. 

And while you spent time rooting for him, he became an iron clad wall behind you. He continued teaching you every single skill he could, imparting all of his knowledge. And while you had insisted on returning his knife to him, he realized that a bothersome nuisance was that you didn’t have a good knife of your own. 

And he needed to make sure that you got one. 

Things were always subtle with him. He never went out of his way to make it seem like he was intentionally being nice to you or giving you a gift. He always made it seem like it was a coincidence - a side effect of whatever else was happening at the time. If the two of you went hunting together, he was teaching you because it was practical, because he had to. 

If he picked a flower out of the ground and tucked it behind your ear, it was because he claimed you smelled bad and it would dampen ‘the stank comin’ off you’ - not because it was meant to be any kind of affectionate gesture. If he made sure that you got a little bit extra on your plate that night, it was because he didn’t like the particular kind of game he had picked up, or because he was giving you ‘the worst parts’. Not because he was trying to make sure that you ate more in order to stay healthy and keep from going hungry. 

So when he gifted you a hunting knife of your own, it was entirely by mistake, of course. 

You didn’t know that he had been on the lookout for one with the intention of giving it to you for weeks. He wanted you to be able to protect yourself, and to be able to gut and skin your own kills properly now that you were learning to hunt. And in order to do that, you needed a good knife of your own. 

It just so happened that he found the perfect one while the two of you were out on a formula run for Little Asskicker. The kid was only a few days old and had lungs like a professional opera singer, wailing loud enough to shake the prison walls every few hours, and she was going through enough formula to fill up a mac truck. At least, that’s what it seemed like. 

The stuff that Maggie and Daryl had gotten just after she had been born had only lasted about a week. So now, you were out with Daryl once again, raiding a small rest stop that the two of you had seen nearby while out on a hunt. 

So far, the trip had been pretty successful. 

After struggling to get through the heavily padlocked and gated front door, Daryl boosted you through a higher up back window - which left you impressed by his strength and slightly afraid to fall on the other side (and then grossed out by the state of the bathroom that you ended up in). You got the gate up from the inside and found the keys to the padlocks on the dead owner (sitting in his office chair with a bullet in his head beside a very typical scrawl on the wall about hopelessness that you tried to ignore). And soon, Daryl unlocked the chains and then the two of you were in. 

Turns out that the security had been a deterrent for other people, and the place was relatively untouched. The two of you made off like bandits. Medicine, bandages, canned food, bottled water, juice, and of course - plenty of baby formula. Daryl even found a spare car battery that would work for one of the vehicles, and a half full can of gas. 

You were celebrating your haul with a handful of jellybeans each, smiling to each other, when Daryl noticed something. The molding corpse of the owner, now nothing but dried out skin husking against the bones with tattered old clothes rotting on top - had a very nice leather knife holster on his belt. 

Some things really do withstand the test of time. 

He necked down the rest of his candy, and as he chewed, he stepped into the office and you cringed as he reached for the dead man. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

“Thas a nice knife.” He mumbled in return, causing an awful crunching sound as he peeled the holster off the corpse. 

You had to admire him - where everyone else saw decay, he saw possibilities. 

He took the knife out of the holster and admired it for a moment, and sure enough - it was a damn nice bowie knife. It would need to be sharpened, but things like this last a lifetime. It would be perfect for you. He took out his bandana and wiped it off a bit, getting off any of the decay or dead skin that the previous owner had gotten on it, and then, he turned to you. 

“Here.” He said, holding it out to you. “You need one.” 

You did have a knife on you - a small pocket knife that Maggie had lent you for the trip out. Though you knew it was a nice gesture in Daryl’s mind, you were slightly hesitant to take something that had come off a corpse. 

“No, I don’t-” You huffed, trying to deny it. 

Next, Daryl did something that entirely shocked you, causing any protests to easily die off in your throat. 

He stepped forward, crowding into your personal space with his tall, looming presence - hot, sweaty skin lurking on every inch of him, warm breath that lingered partially with cigarettes and the sugar he had just consumed becoming absolutely apparent under your nose. And then, he lifted up the edge of your shirt, causing sharp tingles all through your body when his knuckles brushed across the bare skin of your hip as he forcefully slatted the holster onto the edge of your pants. 

His eyes were sharply locked on your hip, refusing to look at you, busying himself with securing it and then straightening the fabric of your shirt behind it so that you would have easy access to it in case you needed it. But your gaze was hard locked on the side of his face, only inches from yours. And you knew that he could feel how thick the air had gotten between the two of you. That he hadn’t missed the tiny gasp you had let out the second his skin had brushed against yours. 

“Daryl-” You said his name quietly, a whispered prayer, and before you could wander any further into dangerous territory, he easily cut you off. 

“There.” He grunted out, stepping back, breaking off the tedious moment. “Now you got one.” 

Before things could swim any further into that murky territory, he moved back to the bags the two of you had packed full of supplies, forcefully busying himself with taking them out to secure onto his bike. 

That moment left you thinking about his hands for hours after, days after - and you still thought about that moment occasionally when you used the knife. 

Strangely enough, you didn’t work up the courage to kiss him for the first time until much later, still lingering with the belief that he might reject you, even after that heated moment. 

…

It wasn’t long before news got around to the rest of the group that you and Sophia were in Alexandria, alive and well. You were greeted with many tight hugs, excited chattering, and you were introduced to the new people who had helped the group along the way and seemed to have cemented themselves into the family now. 

Quickly the idea came about that everyone should gather for a big family dinner - much like the one that was held to celebrate Sophia coming out of the woods alive and well. 

Even though it was something that had peeved you earlier, ultimately you were glad that Olivia hadn’t put the deer meat in the freezer, because it meant that you were able to treat everyone to something fresh. On top of that, when you had first arrived in Alexandria, Aiden had gifted you a few bottles of wine with some cheeky line about ‘sharing’ them with you whenever you wanted, and they had been gathering dust in a cabinet somewhere - so you could think of no better occasion to open them. Soon, you were all sitting in the living room of the house that Rick and company had been sleeping in - sleeping bags and blankets cleaned up in favor of a jumble of mismatched tables and chairs thrown together to make a long dining table that would fit the entire group. 

Surrounding the table was the whole group - Rick, Michonne, and Carl who was holding sweet little Judith on his knee (someone you had been so excited to see again). Beth and her new friend Noah (who were not-so-subtly holding hands underneath the table). Maggie and Glenn (who had hugged you so tight upon seeing you and refused to let go for nearly a full minute), their new friends Abraham, Rosita, Tara, and Eugene. Sasha, Bob (who looked happier than ever somehow) and Tyreese. 

And to round out the table, Carol sitting close by to Sophia with an arm wrapped lovingly around her daughter. Daryl was sitting next to you with a hand so shamelessly on your thigh - something that he never would have done before that you absolutely loved. As you looked around, all you saw was family - even in the people you didn’t fully know yet. You knew from Glenn and Beth’s words that the new people were nothing but good - and that was more than good enough for you. 

Radiating through you was nothing but pure joy. You truly didn’t know how things could get any better than this. 

“Well, I would like to propose a toast to our host,” Abraham said, rising up out of his seat and raising the plastic cup that he had filled with wine toward you. 

“Technically, Rick is our host,” You reminded him, nodding toward the man who looked so odd when he was clean shaven. It felt so strange to see his naked face. 

“Hey, this has only been my house for a day.” Rick replied with a shrug. “You can take full credit for giving us the best damn welcome wagon ever. This is a pretty fine spread you managed to put together on such short notice.” 

“Well, in my book, anybody who brings such good grub and such prime booze is the host,” Abraham argued lightly, giving a grin. “Plus, you were crawling around in the woods and shot down this buck so we could eat it. That deserves a thanks.” 

“Well, you’re welcome.” You shrugged in return. 

Everyone else raised their glasses in a slightly disorganized chorus of ‘thanks’, and Abraham accepted this and sat back down. You felt almost too humble and too embarrassed to accept it. You didn’t think that providing food for your family was all too big of a deal. 

“Dude, I’m just happy to be eating something that’s not from a can.” Tara added on with a grin. 

“I’m just happy that we’re all together again,” Bob replied with a smile. 

“Cheesy.” Sasha scolded him lovingly, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, I’m not the only one deserving of thanks.” You shrugged, feeling a need to deflect some of that embarrassment. “Daryl taught me how to hunt.” You explained, giving him a pat on the thigh to affirm the credit in his direction. “I wouldn’t even know how to hold a knife properly if it wasn’t for him.” 

Carol smirked. “That’s always your story, isn’t it?” She mocked you gently. “‘Daryl showed me the map.’ ‘Daryl taught me how to build a fire without matches.’ ‘Daryl taught me how to hotwire a car.’” She said, performing a mocking imitation of your voice. 

Sophia let out a gentle laugh at this, having heard this plenty of times from you while on the road together. 

This time, you could see Daryl shrinking back into his seat slightly with embarrassment, his eyes purposefully fixated on his empty plate instead of looking at anybody else around the table. 

“Well, it’s true.” You replied. 

… 

You thought back to a time shortly after you and Sophia had escaped the prison alive. You had tried looking for the others, and found nothing but the stalled prison bus, surrounded by corpses. The two of you were tired, broken down, starving - luckily, you and Daryl kept some hunting supplies outside the fence for when the two of you went hunting, including the spare crossbow that he had fixed up to teach you with. 

So you had managed to snag a few squirrels and gut them just as night fell, and you started a fire with the flint and steel with minimal difficulty as he had taught you. 

“Daryl taught you all this stuff, huh?” Sophia wondered aloud as she watched you put the flayed squirrels, now skewered onto sticks, over the fire to be cooked. 

“Yeah.” You confirmed gently. “I’m certainly glad he did.” 

You didn’t let yourself wonder where Daryl was, if he was okay. You couldn’t imagine that someone like him would be easily taken down by Walkers, not with how you had seen him handle himself. Anybody could be blown apart by a thousand pound tank or smashed by falling concrete, even if they were as skilled and vigilant as him. 

But you refused to let yourself think about it. You refused to worry about going back to pick over ashes just to have some confirmation - because there wouldn’t be any. You had to believe he was alive, or not even think about him at all. 

You had to take care of Sophia. 

A rattle in the leaves behind you caught your attention, and you grabbed your crossbow without any hesitation. You whipped around and pointed it toward the source of the sound, and soon found yourself staring down a random man. He didn’t hesitate to walk closer to your makeshift campsite, clearly unafraid of you even with your weapon raised. 

He was obviously someone who had been outside a long time - his clothes dirty and tattered, his teeth rotting as he gave you a filthy smile. 

“What do we have here? Hmm?” He greeted you in an oddly calm way - perhaps his attempt at mocking kindness. 

A general sense of unease caused all of your hair to stand on end. 

“Sophia,” You called her name gently, getting her attention, and in a moment, she was at your back, standing behind you while you stayed guarded. 

“Y/N-” She said your name quietly, grasping at the back of your shirt. 

“It’s okay.” You assured her, keeping the man locked in your sights as he came to fully stand in the light of the fire that you had made. 

“Oh, it is okay.” The man chuckled. “I assure you that I don’t mean any harm.” 

He gave another filthy smile - not just dirty by the color of his teeth, but something deeply unsettling that made your stomach twist with disgust. 

“I’m only looking for a kind person to share the night with. Perhaps I can share the warmth of your fire, and we can make friends.” 

He peered around you then, and eyed Sophia heavily with a look that made you all too certain your next move. 

You pulled the trigger on your bow and shot him, the arrow landing perfectly in the hollow of his neck - he sputtered on his own blood for a moment, and then fell to the ground. You felt regretful that Sophia had to witness it, but you knew that sadly, during her time at the prison, she had seen similar or even worse things. 

Once you were sure that he was dead, you walked over to his corpse and pulled out the arrow, and stabbed him in the temple with it to make sure that he stayed down. And then, almost hearing Daryl’s voice in your ear telling you what to do next, you began looking over his corpse for anything useful. His backpack held a few cans of food, and the knife on his belt wasn’t too bad. You gave it to Sophia and reminded her to tuck her shirt behind it as her mother had instructed. 

After you dragged the body far enough away so that it wouldn’t be an eyesore, the two of you enjoyed some canned spinach alongside the squirrels for dinner. 

…

“He knows a lot of very practical stuff and I’m lucky that he’s taught me so much.” You added on, not even realizing how much praise dripped through your voice as you spoke about Daryl. “It’s a huge reason that me and Sophia survived out there for so long. I was able to get us food and fix vehicles for us to get along because of what Daryl taught me. Back at the beginning of all this, I would have been so helpless and… probably dead if I had gotten stranded out there by myself.” 

You felt Daryl’s eyes on you, thoughtfully fixed on the side of your face, and he gently squeezed your thigh. It warmed him to the core to know that he had given you a gift - that he had kept you and Sophia alive with the proxy of his knowledge and skills, even if he couldn’t be there to protect you and provide for you himself. In a way, he had kept you fed and safe all that time. 

It was so sweet that you felt a devilish temptation curling up in you. 

“And you know, him being cute is just a bonus.” You added on with a grin - knowing that it would tickle him with embarrassment that you had loudly, affectionately announced this in front of the group. 

And it worked. 

“Aw, shove it.” Daryl scoffed, reaching up to shove your shoulder. 

But you didn’t get very far away, didn’t get to fall off your chair completely before he took the hand off your thigh and wrapped that arm around your neck, pulling you close and smothering your cheek in a few beard-scratchy kisses, making you cringe and smile all at the same time. 

This was a brand new, openly affectionate side of Daryl that you had never seen before. He had missed you for so long and he certainly wasn’t wasting making up for lost time. 

Fuck, you really loved him. 

“You know, Dixon, I never woulda guessed that you off all people would be saddled up.” Andraham commented. 

“Yeah, you never mentioned Y/N before,” Rosita added on, clearly curious as to why Daryl had never mentioned you. 

Beth gave Daryl a very knowing look as he reached for his glass of wine and finished it off, and Daryl felt lucky when someone else spoke up before he could. 

“We all saw it coming. Him getting ‘saddled up’, that is.” Michonne added on with a smile. “Carl owes me a Baby Ruth, though.” 

“The over-under was two years,” Carl hissed quietly in reply. 

Rick glared at them, and any further discussion about this bet was silenced. 

“You never told us how you got out.” Glenn piped up, suddenly curious about this. “The prison was utter chaos, if I had known that someone else was alive in A-Block, I would have-” 

“It’s not your fault.” You pressed. “It’s actually a really crazy story.” 

“Well please - do tell.” Sasha said. 

… 

Chaos. Noise. 

Being woken from the deepest unconsciousness of your life, still coughing up ugly yellow mucus and nearly having large chunks of the concrete ceiling fall on top of you due to an apparent explosion - definitely not one of your best days. Your vision was a clumpy haze due to the sickness you were still battling and you had to forcefully, bloodily rip out the IV that Hershel had put in you in order to try and navigate through it all. You climbed over the fallen bits of the building, stumbling around with a dizzy, weak body to climb down what was left of the stairs and partially falling down to the ground floor. 

“He - hell - o?!” Your efforts to call out for help were damped by coughing and the general chaos around you - the sounds of more explosions and a hail of gunfire that you could barely form panic over because your head was pounding and you still felt so fucking ill. 

You needed to find Daryl. You needed to find somebody. 

The prison bus. That was the plan if things ever went wrong. 

You moved toward the exit and found that the main hallway was blocked by more debris, but a splintering path that you knew led toward the library wasn’t. Even in your hazy state, you remembered the fact that Carol had a very large trunk in the library filled with emergency supplies. Water, dry rations, and knives that she had been teaching the kids with. Even if you couldn’t get to the bus, you could get those supplies and get out on foot. The others would likely be camping somewhere along the highway when the bus eventually ran out of gas, so you could catch up to them - eventually. 

It was the best plan you could come up with on such short notice, so you stumbled your way toward the library, and as soon as you opened the door - another explosion rocked the building, causing one of the tall, unsecured bookshelves to come tumbling down on top of you. You ended up flat on your back with the large shelf crushing you, leaving you as perfect bait for Walkers that were likely being lured by all that noise outside. 

Though you were already weak from illness, you did try to move your arms - and you found out that only one of them wasn’t completely pinned down by the shelf. It was a completely futile effort to try and lift the thing off yourself. Between the weight on top of your lungs and the way the illness had weakened your system - you soon passed out. 

When you drifted back into consciousness, the noise had greatly lessened. There was the faint growling of Walkers - cordoned off unintentionally in some other area of the prison - but there were no more explosions, and no more gun fire. 

The first thing that caught your eye was something bright red. You focused your eyes to focus, and you quickly realized that it was a picture of a red cardinal. A hand-drawn sketch on the front of a book titled ‘Birds of North America’ that was on one of the other shelves. It was tipped perfectly into the line of your vision, as if meant for you to see. 

Before you could futilely try to lift the shelf off yourself again, you heard a voice. 

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” 

You quickly recognized who it was. 

“So-Sophia?” You called back, barking out another cough that strained your words. Luckily, she heard you. 

You were soon greeted by the sight of her legs rushing toward you. Though you had no clue how such a waifish girl would ever be able to lift the bookcase off you, you were at least relieved that you were no longer alone. 

“What happened?” She asked, kneeling down to speak to you. 

“Stupid thing fell on me.” You wheezed quietly. “I came in here looking for your mom’s stash. I’m guessing you had the same idea?” 

“Yeah.” She confirmed. “Can you get this thing off you?” 

“Yeah. I was just having a leisurely lie down underneath a bookshelf.” 

Sophia rolled her eyes at your sarcasm. 

“Guess I’ll just leave you here then.” She remarked, battling back with her own sarcasm, clearly having no intentions of doing so. 

“Well you might have to… I have no clue how you’re gonna lift this thing off me.” You admitted quietly, hating how defeated you sounded. 

“I think I have an idea.” 

You were curious what she meant, and you couldn’t quite see what she was doing as she stepped out of your eyeline and made some noise, shuffling around to grab something. Then she came back with a long wooden beam - a shelf she had broken off of one of the other fallen bookcases. She stacked up a few of the books, making a hinging point, and then stuck the beam underneath the bookcase and somehow - using all her bodyweight, she was able to push it off you for long enough for you to crawl out from underneath it. 

“Thanks, kid.” You smiled at her as you sucked in greedy breaths. 

“Glenn taught me that.” She smiled back. “He said it’s basic physics.” 

“I’ll remember to thank him when I see him.” You said. 

… 

Sitting at the dinner table, you then turned to Glenn. 

“That reminds me,” You said. “Thanks for that.” 

Glenn chuckled. “Happy to help.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ve just one question,” Rick piped up. “Why did you have a stash of weapons in the library, Carol?” 

Carol took a long sip of wine, pointedly avoiding the question. 

“Oh shit, he never found out about storytime, did he?” Carl chuckled, obviously directing this question toward Carol. 

“Storytime?” Rick echoed, eyeing his son heavily, clearly confused. 

You cut them off, not wanting to get Carol in trouble for her proactive teaching a bit too late. 

“Okay, let’s all just be happy that we’re together and that we’ve had a nice meal.” You said. “I’m not doing dishes. You guys have fun with that. Come on, Daryl, I’ve got somethin’ to show you.” You made your exit, getting up from the table and hoping he would follow - which he did, making way to push out his chair. 

“Is it your bare ass?” Abraham joked, clearly at least a bit drunk. 

“Abraham!” Rosita chastised him with a gentle smack. 

“What? I think it’s cute that Dixon’s all shacked up.” He replied with a chuckle. 

“You’re lucky he doesn’t punch your lights out for that one.” Tara remarked. 

“Nah, you’re safer with Y/N around.” Maggie commented. “He gets all soft when he’s around Y/N. It is cute.” 

“Oh, if you think this is cute just wait til I tell you about what they were like back at the prison.” Michonne added on. “He used to bring Y/N dead squirrels like a cat dropping dead mice at someone’s doorstep. I have no clue how such an odd form of flirting actually worked.” 

“Well, some people like dead squirrels, some people like toothpaste.” Rick replied. 

And that was the last of the conversation you heard before you closed the front door behind you, going off down the street with Daryl in tow to show him your place. 

When you took him up the porch of another manicured house and opened the door, he quietly croaked out: 

“This ‘ur place?” 

“Yeah.” 

You told him, shoving your boots off, not wanting to get dirt on the clean rugs inside. Daryl felt a bit strange taking his shoes off - knowing that his overly worn socks had holes in them, but still, he followed suit. He knew you wouldn’t judge him for something as petty as his socks having holes in them, after all. 

“This is where me and Sophia have been living. But there’s always room for one more. If you’re done snuggling up next to Rick on the living room floor,” You couldn’t let another opportune joke escape you, and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

“Asshole.” He gently scoffed. 

Though the two of you had never slept in the same bed together before. And he couldn’t help but to love the idea of being curled up next to you at night. He found that he also loved the idea of waking up next to you every morning - especially after going for so long without seeing your face. You walked up the stairs and he couldn’t help but to follow you, and he was surprised when you didn’t lead him to bed - but instead, went to the back of a hallway, and pulled down a latch. 

This unleashed some stairs that led to the attic, leading the two of you up even higher. He found himself shamelessly admiring the view of your ass as he followed you up the stairs, and when he emerged into the dark attic (only lit by a few strokes of moonlight coming in through the small window) - he was surprised by what he saw. He had to crouch down on his hands and knees to be comfortable, and he quickly adjusted to sit down on his ass as you had. 

It appeared that you had built a watchtower of sorts up here. 

There was a telescope set up in the small window, and off to one side, there was a cork board with a hand-drawn map of the surrounding area, a few notebooks sitting in the corner that you likely wrote down observances in. Posted on the cork board - there were names of all the residences in town, and you had written down certain traits beside each of them. Along with a hand drawn map of the town itself and names on the houses, indicating where everyone lived. 

“So you’re gettin’ paranoid?” Daryl joked. 

“No.” You scoffed. “Besides, you should know that a healthy level of paranoia is necessary these days.” 

It was in that moment that it truly hit Daryl - you had taught him to be hopeful, even if he hadn’t fully known it at the time. And he had taught you to be less naive, to be firmer in order to survive. The two of you were only alive, only able to have the privilege of being in each other’s presence now because you had accepted those pieces of the other person that kept you alive. 

“Ain’t that right.” He replied. “Why did you wanna show me?” 

You shrugged. “I thought you might like it.” 

Daryl couldn’t hold back his grin - one of the most genuine smiles you had ever seen come from him. He did like it. He liked that he had made a little fighter out of you. But at the same time, nothing had snubbed out the perfect spark that he had fallen in love with. Your smile, your laughter, the brightness in your eyes - somehow, it was all still the same. It made him love you even more somehow. 

“I guess I also wanted to thank you.” You added on. “I meant what I said before. You taught me so much - I would have been clueless without you. I would have starved to death and been blind, and lost and stupid without everything that you taught me.” You declared passionately. “You kept me fed and sheltered and warm, and I don’t know how much I could thank you for that.” 

Daryl began to get choked up, and he hated that for the second time that day, more tears swelled in his eyes. 

He knew that in a different way, you had kept him fed, sheltered, and warm too. You had kept his soul from dying out in those woods - you had kept his spirit fed on the idea of hope that he never would have conceived as something real before he had met you.

He couldn’t bring himself to put it into words. So instead, he found himself reaching out toward you. He put a firm hand under your jaw and guided you toward him; you easily fell limp to the touch and let yourself be guided toward his mouth once again. 

This was much less of a surprise than the earlier kiss. This was much warmer, like sinking into the hot shower had been earlier that day. Only this was much, much better. You let out a gentle moan as you let yourself feel it, simply enjoying the tingling sensation throughout your body, gripping into the lapels of his vest, crawling forward to sit in his lap as your mouth embraced his. 

After a moment, you pulled away. There was only one thing on your mind, one incomplete thread that you had been thinking about since you had lost him at the prison. 

“I love you too.” 

Daryl grunted in reply and pulled your mouth back to his. 

For once in his life, he didn’t feel like a fool for letting himself hope. 

That night, Daryl went to sleep in your bed. 

For the first time in far too long, he got to wake up knowing that you were alive and well - he had the privilege of being greeted by the sound of your even, calm breaths. You slept on his chest long after he awoke, and he let you. He was greedy and starved for your touch, soaking in the feeling of your warmth half on top of him, nosing over the top of your head to enjoy your natural scent mixed lightly with the smell of soap. 

As the sun rose over the walls of Alexandria, Daryl noticed a streak of red flash by and land on the roof of a house beside yours. Through the window, he saw it there perfectly - the red cardinal that you had gifted him with for luck, the symbol that had guided him all the way here, all the way back to you.  

He couldn’t help it, then - he grinned to himself. 

The next day, he found one of those picture frames that Aaron had gifted the group with that they largely had no use for, and he put your picture of the bird, still singed on one edge, inside of it. 

A while later, when the two of you were out on a run and he had a bit of time on his hands as you fell asleep - he edged a stick n poke tattoo into the skin of his forearm, outlining the bird as best he could with his very little artistic talent. When you saw it, you giggled - and he assured you that it was because he liked the look of it, most definitely not for luck. 

He didn’t need ‘luck’ anymore - not when he had you.

...

A/N: This is a stand-alone oneshot, and there will not be a follow up or a 'Part 2'. I have always intended for this to be a stand-alone story, so please do not ask for a follow up or a sequel in the comments. If you are going to comment, please comment about the material that has already been written. If you want to see more TWD fics from me, I have some posted on AO3 (which is linked in my pinned) but I don't currently have any of my other TWD fics posted on Tumblr. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this!