#and beth was beta's way of making it her own

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

So, Tex might've had a thing for smartasses and nerds with nice asses. Sue her. "I'd love to take you apart, Agent Texas," "Tell you what, Doctor Grey. Call me Beth and I might just let you."

RVB Rarepair Week, Day 4: This doesn't seem physically possible!

Characters who never met in canon,,, the galaxy brain of this prompt was both fun and surprisingly hard to fill!!

[roseghoul26]

Javier Escuella x gn!Reader

Synopsis: For the last few nights, Javier’s guitar has been disappearing at night, returning back to its spot in the morning. No one in camp seems to know where it's going, and he’s getting real tired of his belongings getting taken. Tags: Not Beta Read, I Wrote This In Like Two Hours, Developing Relationship, Crushes, Fluff, You Steal Javier’s Guitar, Turns Out I Can Write Something Short(er), Arthur Morgan is a Nosy Bastard, But We Love Him Author's Note: i wanted to try writing from a different pov, and i needed a break from writing smut so here’s this little drabble <3

For the life of him, Javier could not figure out where his guitar was disappearing to each night. 

He prided himself on being a very observant man, someone with eyes on the back of his head, as the saying went. He was quick to notice when someone was attempting to swindle him, pickpocket him, deceive him in any way. It’s how he’d survived so many years on his own, and how he excelled in the gang. 

Even when it came to his belongings in camp, he kept a close eye on them. If he saw someone approaching his tent, even if he trusted them, he’d always keep an eye on their hands, not too keen on having someone steal his hard-earned belongings. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his campmates, but he lived with a group of professional thieves; he could never be too cautious.  

When it came to his guitar, his most treasured belonging, he watched it like a hawk whenever he was lingering around camp. If it wasn’t in his hands currently being played, then it was propped up on a barrel or stool, always in line of sight. So you’d think he’d notice when someone took it, right?

You’d think so, but the currently empty spot where it should be said otherwise. Every night for the last couple days, without fail, it had been snatched, only to be returned an hour later. The first time it happened, he nearly lost his mind, practically tearing apart the camp to find it. His relief was immeasurable when he saw it returned an hour later, with not a single scratch on it. He had then chalked it up to having too many drinks that night and forgetting where he had set it.

When the second night came around and it disappeared again, he was less worried than before, but he still began to ask around camp, keeping an eye out for the wooden instrument. Charles had just shrugged when he asked where it was, but even in the dim light he could see a slight grin on his face. He refused to elaborate further when Javier asked, and after a few moments of getting only silence to his question, he moved on to the next person.

Arthur was even less of a help, saying he saw someone take it, but didn’t say who or to where. He had cursed at Arthur then, and the other man just laughed in response. 

Hosea hadn’t seen anything, apparently, and Sean was too drunk to even make out the whiskey bottle in his hand. Pearson was too preoccupied with making the camp dinner, and Mary-Beth claimed she was too busy reading to see anything, but the lack of a book near her made her lie very clear. 

It was like the whole camp was conspiring against him, making him look like a fool. Every person he asked either feigned ignorance, or just straight up refused to tell him. It was when he asked Tilly that he got any sort of clue. She had pointed him in your direction, saying that he should ask you if you’d seen it. 

Javier wasn’t sure what to make of you. The newcomer of the Van Der Linde gang, you’d been with them for about a month, and Javier had had very little opportunities to speak to you, always on different jobs for the camp. When he did speak to you, it was quick conversations, or around the campfire with the others. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you; it was quite the opposite. There was something intriguing about you, something that he couldn’t quite put a label on. You were talented, that was undeniable, and he’d heard nothing but praise about you from Dutch, which made you good his book. 

But as he glanced over to where Tilly was pointing, any plan of speaking to you went right out the window. He quite literally stumbled over his words as he talked to Tilly, a small chuckle leaving her that he missed as he continued to watch you. You were sitting around the fire, in the middle of talking with Bill, Hosea, and Dutch. The light from the fire illuminated your face, and you felt his heart begin to race as he watched a beautiful smile appear on your face.

Another thing that Javier prided himself on was his confidence. He was suave, a charmer, and could talk his way out of anything. Yet as he watched you, all that confidence seemed to be sucked away, and the thought of talking to you became a daunting, impossible task; it was almost pathetic.

So, instead of following Tilly’s suggestions, he had just wished her a good night, heading back to his tent. He had to do a double take when he saw his guitar propped up in his usual spot, still in the same condition as it was prior. He felt like he was going insane. 

Instead of playing like he normally did, he just went straight to bed, much to everyone’s confusion. He was confused, and not just about his guitar. He was confused on why he had reacted the way he did when he saw you. He’d never really thought of you in that way before, but now that he did, he couldn’t stop. Has he always found you that… beautiful? Was the reason why he didn’t talk to you not because of conflicting schedules, but because of his cowardice?

He didn’t sleep well that night.

He expected the next night to be the same thing, but was almost disappointed to find his guitar untouched the entire day. He even made a point not to play it, but there were no takers, and he went to bed even more confused.

It disappeared that night, and he somehow managed to not see who did it. It was like they were a phantom, invisible only to him. He practically stared holes into the empty spot as he awaited for the person to return to it, but when an hour passed and no one showed up, he got up, legs aching from sitting still for so long. A disbelieving sigh, followed by a string of curses in Spanish spilled from his mouth when there, behind him at one of the other campfires, the guitar sat. Arthur just smiled at him when Javier raised a brow in question, and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to not throttle the other man.

The rest of the week went like that. No matter how hard he tried, or how many “traps” he set up, he couldn’t catch the little thief. It was almost funny, the entire situation, but he was far too frustrated to find any amusement with it. 

He had tried multiple times during that week to approach you, but it was like the universe hated him. One time, he nearly tripped over his own feet while making his way towards you, and you luckily didn’t see. When he successfully was able to walk, you were called away by Dutch, an apologetic look on your face as you walked away. 

But most days, he just couldn’t bring himself to approach you. The others, Charles and Arthur especially, had picked up on his predicament, one of the kind enough to not tease him for it. The other, more specifically Arthur, found great pleasure in tormenting him about it. Charles had to stop him from attacking the other man, and that’s how he currently found himself alone in the woods, calming himself down with a cigarette. Normally, he would use his guitar as an outlet, but to his not-surprise, it was missing. 

It had been a while since he was this far away from camp as Horseshoe Overlook at night. It was almost eerily peaceful, the sound of crickets and nocturnal animals the only thing he could hear. It was even colder, and he was grateful that he had slipped on a jacket earlier in the night. 

Grass and branches crunched beneath his feet as he walked further into the woods, no intent behind his motions except for exploring. That was until he heard something in the distance, so light that he thought he was imagining it for a moment. It was music, a lone guitar, to be exact. Tales of hearing music in the woods from his childhood flooded his mind, yet he didn’t feel scared. Weirdly enough, he felt at ease, and he found himself walking closer to the sound. 

It got louder as he went down the hill, and as he got closer he heard a voice accompanying the guitar. It was soft, uncertain almost, yet it was quite beautiful. It pulled at him, almost like a siren’s song, and he continued to make his way toward it, an excited energy buzzing in his body. 

To say he was shocked to see you sitting against a rock, guitar in hand, singing those stunning melodies, would be an understatement. You had your back to him, and you doubt you could hear him approaching, and he glanced at the guitar in your hands. His new suspicions were confirmed when he was the familiar faded oak instrument in your hand; you were the one taking his guitar each night. If it were any other person, he would be pissed off. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset at you. Instead, he was amused, the hilarity of the situation finally revealing itself to him, and for once he didn't feel the need to run the other way instead of talking to you.

He stomped out the cigarette, still going unnoticed by you. Not wanting to startle you too badly, he cleared his throat, jumping himself a bit when you immediately stopped. There was now a gun in your hand, aimed directly at him, and he held his hands up. When you were able to make out it was just him in the darkness, you relaxed, holstering your gun. “Javier,” you breathed out, and he felt his heart jump at the way you said his name. “I’m so sorry…”

He waved it off. “I startled you. No need to apologize. I’d be a bit more concerned if you hadn’t done that.”

You huffed out a laugh. “So it’s good to be jumpy, then. Noted.”

“Being ‘jumpy’ keeps you alive. Heard way too many stories of people being a little too slow on the draw, and end up dead because of it.” 

You just hummed thoughtfully, before a look of concern crept on your face. “I wasn’t disturbing you, was I?” You gestured to the guitar. “I thought I was far enough away from camp, but if you need me to move…”

“You’re fine,” he reassured. “And besides, even if I could hear you all the way from camp, you wouldn’t have disturbed me. You play wonderfully, and your voice is, well, beautiful.”

He swore you blushed at the praise, ducking your head in embarrassment. He watched as your fingers danced over the frets, almost like you were doing it out of nervous habit. “You’re too kind, Javier.”

“How long have you been playing?” He asked, taking a few steps toward you.

“Since I was a child.” You let out a breath, your head resting against the rock behind you. “Here,” you patted the ground beside you, “come sit.”

Praying that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself, he complied, your shoulders brushing as he sat. You didn’t seem to mind, not pulling away. In fact, you almost seemed to relax even more, but he quickly banished that train of thought. He was reading too much into it. 

You continued. “I’m admittedly a bit rusty; I stopped playin’ a few years back. But then I saw the guitar in camp, and Arthur said it didn’t belong to anyone and I, dunno, just got the urge to start playin’ again.” 

He had to bite back the laughter and the threat towards Arthur’s wellbeing that almost spilled from him. Of course Arthur was behind all this, the nosy bastard. He couldn’t tell if he was grateful or not, though. 

“You should start playing in camp. They’re probably tired of hearing me play all the time.”

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his lips at the excited look on your face. “You play too?”

He nodded. “I do. I realize now you probably haven’t heard me yet.” And so you don’t realize who’s guitar that actually is.

You shook your head, the motion causing your arms to continuously brush against him. “Well, then how long have you played?” You shot his question back at him.

“Only during the past couple of years. Picked it up because I needed something to occupy my time, and I found I rather enjoyed it. Let’s just say, though, you’re much better than me.”

“Well, I don’t know ‘bout that,” you laughed. “I haven’t even heard you play yet.” You tried to hand him the guitar, but he just held his hand up, shaking his head lightly. It was adorable, the way you almost pouted. 

“I promise, you’ll hear me soon enough. For now that guitar’s better off in your hands.” 

You sighed, barely conceding. “Fine. But don’t get annoyed if I nag you ‘bout it.”

“You couldn’t annoy me if you tried,” Javier admitted, almost a bit too honestly. He wasn’t sure where this was coming from; it was like the filter on his mouth just shut off, scared off by your proximity. You cocked your head, confused, and Javier elaborated a bit further. “If it was any other person that was taking my guitar each night, then we’d have issues. But I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Shock then mortification washed over your face, and Javier regretted telling you for a moment, missing that soft smile. “This… this is yours?” You asked, voice rising in volume as you gestured to the instrument. You groaned when he nodded, head slumping against the rock, defeated. “And I’ve just been takin’ it each night. Javier, I am so sorry-”

Javier chuckled a bit. “Like I said, I don’t mind. You’ve treated it well, which is more than I can say for the others when it comes to my stuff.”

His words seemed to just go in one ear and straight out the other. Your cheeks had darkened from embarrassment, and he would’ve found it cute if you weren’t so upset. “But it’s not alright! I should’ve asked, I… I should’ve known Arthur was lyin’ when he said it didn’t belong to anyone. Oh, I’m gonna kill him,” you snarled, getting up quickly, not before gently setting the guitar in Javier’s lap.

He didn’t let you get too far, his hand instinctively reaching up to grab your wrist, halting you immediately. You were both equally shocked, both pairs of eyes glancing to where he was currently touching you. His heart hammered in his chest, but he didn’t let go, gently pulling you back towards him. “Stay. Please.”

You continued to stare at him, moth agape, and for a moment Javier thought he misread everything. But his worries about disgusting or upsetting you were quickly discarded when a bright grin adorned your face, a pleasant light in the darkness of night. With a gentle tug, Javier brought you back down to where you had just been sitting, his hand never leaving your wrist. It was weird, how quickly his body had missed the heat of you, and he unconsciously felt himself pressing close to your side. 

Or maybe you were the one pressing into him. He couldn’t tell. 

“I’m sorry.” He heard you apologize yet again, and he let out a lighthearted scoff.

“How many times do I have to say that it’s alright? I’m not lying, I swear!”

“And that’s what Arthur said, but here we are.” Even though your words were accusatory, he still heard a slight laugh behind them. “He was ‘bout to face my anger if he had just ruined anythin’ with you.”

“What do you mean?” He tried to not sound too hopeful.

“Well, I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you, to get to know you,” you admitted, no longer looking him in the eye. “But I thought by doin’ all this,” you pointed at the guitar in his lap,” that I ruined any chance of creatin’ any sort of… friendship with you.”

“Only a friendship, cariño?” There was that confidence he was known for, back now that he realized that his desire to know you wasn’t so one-sided. 

Your head snapped to him when he said that, eyes going wide. “I… well…” you were extremely flustered, and Javier found great joy in the fact that he had done that to you. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

“Yes, we will.” He murmured. He finally let go of your wrist, smiling a bit at the way you seemed to sadden, but his touch wasn’t gone for long. Running his fingers across the back of your hands, he then interlocked them, resting them on your thighs. 

Another beautiful smile from you dazzled him, and he sighed in contentment when you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. In no world did he imagine that this was how his night would end, but he was certainly not complaining, especially when you moved impossibly closer to him. 

When the two of you returned back to camp hours later, hand in hand, guitar in your own, laughter making you breathless, he barely noticed the looks from the others, too caught up in you to even bother to look elsewhere. Something new flickered in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a while, and it took until he tried to fall asleep to put a name to it. 

For a moment, he thought it was just love, but even it was overshadowed by the other thing he was feeling: hope. For the first time in a long time, Javier Escuella went to bed with hope for the next day, and he had you to thank.

[dramaticallytotal]

TDWT Headcanons: PT. 6

Part 1 Last Part

• Lindsay definitely is bringing some of her Admiral Lindsay Her Hotness attitude back for this season, just not as intense. She liked being respected for once, and she liked being relied on. So this season, she vowed she would find the in-between for herself.

• This season, she is even wearing a navy blue jacket that looks kind of like her admiral jacket along with a thick navy blue ribbon headband to replace her usual blue bandana.

• Heather actually has friends this season! Because as much as I love her Queen Bee, lone wolf thing, I think she deserves to make some friends. Leshawna is, of course, one. Harold is surprisingly another. And Noah.

• Leshawna and her have gotten closer, though there are still moments when they argue with each other. Harold respects her game, and they both relate to each other about their siblings, not liking them. It's sad, but it's nice to have someone relate to. Noah was a surprise for her, but it was a little after Action that he reached out and gave her his sister Nila's contact info since she knew what it was like to go from super long hair to short very abruptly. Plus, Nila had tips for growing her hair! Plus, plus, the two like to talk shit about other people with each other.

• It's why Heather hates Alejandro so much. Like, yeah, they need to try and pretend to have crushes on each other, but it's hard to do that when he got Harold to vote himself out. When he got Leshawana and her to fight worse than they ever have before, and when she could tell Noah had a crush on him and the guy flirted with him only to go and flirt with her. It created a lot of space between her and her favorite snark.

• No one is supposed to know about their separate deals with Chris to make the show more interesting, but some people have guessed who has a deal and who doesn't. Though Noah has guessed most of the deals, he doesn't know that Aleheather is scripted.

• Yes, Lindsay and Beth got attested in Paris, but not for what Celebrity Manhunt reported. She never touched the Mona Lisa, but Beth did trip over the ropes, and the security guard was yelling and Beth looked so scared, so Lindsay reacted, and by reacting, I mean , she slapped the security guard.

• Beth's mom, Clara, did bail them out because Lindsay's family were on their own vacations, and she couldn't get a hold of them. When they did hear what happened they of course, paid her back, but Lindsay felt like it's her responsibility to do it, so she agreed to pretend to forget what Tyler looks like and his name. It's to get the money to pay Clara back.

• Courtney, Noah, DJ, and Sierra are all published authors.

• Courtney writes guides on how to make study guides and other self-help type books. Noah writes video game guidebooks as well as coding books. He's actually paid to make the video game books. He's also a beta tester, but no one knows that. DJ writes cookbooks with his Momma. Sierra wrote, of course, books on Total Drama. Basically, guides for those just starting to watch. Like the who's who, the challenges, the teams, secret little Easter eggs she found.

• If Noah gets hurt during an episode, Chris makes sure to call his family and tell them how he's doing. He is friends with Noah's parents, so he feels like it's his duty to let them know how their kid is. (He definitely doesn't count himself in that 'their' no siree.)

• Alejandro is definitely trying his best to make the showmance happen, but every time he goes to flirt and make it seem like he and Heather have something going on, he gets distracted by Noah. Like the way he only wears his glasses when he's sure the cameras are off even though he looks positively adorable in them. Or the way he pouts when something in his book displeased him. Oh! Or the small smiles he gives Alejandro when he strikes up a conversation with the bookworm about his thoughts on books he himself has read.

• At some point, he does want to tell Noah that the showmance between him and Heather is just that, a showmance, but then London happened, and Noah was voted off, and maybe Alejandro feels guilty for letting his emotions take over seeing as Noah was actually a strong competitor.

• He also overheard Chris and Chef talking about how Noah had planned on getting voted out and how the kid did great! "I mean, he saw an opportunity and took it, Chef!"

• That's when he realizes that Noah had planned to get out and used him to do it. Now, normally, that would have probably pissed him off, but nope. It basically makes him swoon. He's whipped.

• Owen does actually hold a grudge against Alejandro for voting off his little buddy. (He doesn't know Noah was planning on it). Noah had told Owen that Alejandro didn't like being called Al before he left, and Owen knows his friend didn't tell him so Owen could mess with the guy. His little buddy told him and asked him to go easy with the nickname since he didn't want Owen to become a target. Target be damned! Owen made it his personal mission to call Alejandro, Al, as much as possible.

• Chris and Chef pseudo adopted Noah together, but Chef definitely pseudo adopted Izzy in his head.

• Izzy has shown Cody her hiding place she made in the vents for when he needs space. Look, she may be crazy but she draws the line at stalking/stalkers. (I know in her biography it says she's stalked boys, but I have elected to throw that out of my canon)

• Yes, Noah planned to get thrown off, but when he realized the producers/network wanted him to basically be a miracle worker after he was done with Aftermath, he was like, "What if...no? UwU" and wanted them to suffer, so he won his way back onto the show. Oh, he'll come back to his job after the show, but he expects a big raise.

• Trent feels bad about Noah being voted off because he finally realized that someone else was suspicious of Alejandro, but Noah told him to vote for him so he wouldn't be made a target. He made a real convincing argument, but Trent still felt bad.

• Trent is trying to lay low, but he does warn Gwen about his suspicions, but everything gets crazy with the cheating plot. Which pisses Trent off because he knows there is no way Gwen would cheat on anyone given what happened with her mom.

Next Part

[imwall-e]

Until we meet again : Chapter 1

Pairing : TB!Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warning : MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAY THE GAME, major character dea•th, tuberculosis, angst, (tell me if I forgot some), reader but external POV

A/N : I wrote this a few months ago and finally decided to post it. I'm really proud of this chapter, my best work so far (imo). I first wrote it in French and mostly used Deepl to translate the text, and even if I re-read it, they may be some mistake so don't hesitate to tell me! This is not beta read. This is my first work for the Red Dead fandom and I hope it's good. Consider liking, rebloging or commenting if you like my work (and feel comfortable with that of course).

The atmosphere of Beaver Hollow was already being felt long before we arrived at the new camp. The area was dark, damp, stinking. It was as if it were haunted. Cursed. As for the cave, it was a concentration of all that, only worse. Once home to a local gang nicknamed The Rejects of Murfree, it bore indelible traces of the horrors it had harbored. The smell outside was unbearable, but inside was a vision of dread. Blood was visible from floor to ceiling, pieces of decomposing corpses smeared all the way down to its entrails. Impossible to settle inside.

Where just a few weeks earlier the gang had been celebrating their exit from the snowy mountains, and everyone was ready to give their all to make a new place a comfortable place to live, now there was no laughter to be heard. Not a smile was to be seen on any of the faces. Only whispers, distrust, fear and death reigned.

And Arthur… his coughing fits were becoming more violent, and more frequent. His skin was pale, contrasting with the blue of his eyes, which betrayed his illness and fatigue.

Outlawed, hunted by the Pinkertons or opposing gangs like the O'Driscolls, he'd been shot at many times. And yet, he was dying of tuberculosis. A fucking disease. After all, he'd probably earned it with the life he was leading… had led. His punishment for beating up Mr Downes. A good man, always ready to help others even though he didn't have much.

Arthur, who'd never done anything right. Or so he thought, but she was always there to remind him otherwise. After Mary, after Eliza, he never thought he'd fall in love again. Then she'd come along, and offered him more than he thought he deserved.

Arthur had met her while hunting. She was wearing a long white dress. At first, he thought he saw an angel. Then their eyes met. He saw the fear in her eyes and decided to put down his bow. He introduced himself and she gradually seemed to calm down. After a few minutes' silence, she finally told him her name. Her voice trembled, but she'd asked for his help: she was supposed to be getting married that very day to a man she'd never met. But what she was looking for was freedom.

She wanted to travel. To discover. To live. And Arthur had offered her all that. For five years, they'd been happy together. Arthur had even proposed to her while they were still in Blackwater. But they'd kept it a secret until things got better.

Unfortunately, the moment never arrived.

Micah was a traitor. And Dutch had blindly followed him, going so far as to question the words of John and Arthur. He'd rather believe a dangerous madman than those he considered his own sons.

Arthur should have left after the Blackwater massacre. Hosea had tried to warn him when they'd all fled to Colter. Or he should have let Micah hang at Strawberry. If only he'd been willing to open his eyes to what Dutch had become. To his true nature. If only.

But it was too late now, and there was no point in dwelling on the past. Now he had t o protect those who remained. Tilly had already taken Jack to safety. Abigail was safe thanks to him and Sadie, and the two women had left to join Tilly. Mary-Beth and Karen had probably escaped too. She was the only one left. And he knew exactly where she'd be safe.

He helped his young fiancée onto her mare, then settled down behind her. He wanted to smell her hair while he still could. He wanted to hold her close. However, time was running out and lingering was a luxury they couldn't afford. The person he was looking for was passing through the Annesburg area, but they'd better get moving fast. He nudged the horse's flank to move it forward, and whistled for the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings to follow.

The journey wasn't long, but it went by faster than he would have liked. A dilapidated house appeared in the distance. Arthur had exchanged a few letters with the man who had taken an interest in his bleak landscape, a man he had helped not long ago. He was standing outside, setting up his camera. His gaze wandered to them, and he soon recognized Arthur.

"Mr. Morgan! I'm so happy to see you again! As you may have noticed, I've given up taking pictures of wildlife. I'm now content with the magnificent landscapes" exclaimed Albert, warmly greeting the man who had helped and saved him on numerous occasions. But his familiar enthusiasm soon disappeared when he saw the young woman's tears and Arthur's sickly pallor. "What's the matter?" he asked worriedly, abandoning his camera.

"Mr. Mason, I need you to…" but Arthur was interrupted by a coughing fit causing him to cough up blood as he stepped to the ground. "I'm dying and I'd like you to take care of my fiancée."

The young woman tried to smile at Albert, but knowing that the man she loved would soon be leaving her was too much to bear. It dashed all memories, all hopes of a better life with her cowboy.

"I'm sorry I haven't written to inform you, but recent events haven't given me the opportunity," Arthur resumed after helping his beloved off his horse.

The tears continued to roll silently down the cheeks of the woman who was to become Mrs Morgan. She was silent now, staring into space.

"Mr Morgan…", Albert didn't know what to say. This kind man, who had come to his aid so many times, was going to die. He could see the sadness in the lovers' eyes. And Albert saw only one way he could do something for them: "Don't worry, I'll take care of mademoiselle."

Arthur was relieved: she would be safe. She would live. He turned to her: she seemed no more than a ghost. But she had to fight. For him. For her. For them.

"I love you, Princess," he began, taking her in his arms. "More than you can imagine. I wish I'd said it more often. I regret so many things. But I promise we'll meet again. Not in this life, unfortunately, but in another. I'll find you again."

"We… we… we didn't even have time to get married," she managed to articulate between sobs, the crying resuming in earnest following Arthur's words.

"It wasn't our time. Now you must stay with Albert. Live, princess. Do it for me. I'll always watch over you, but promise me you won't let yourself die."

"I… I promise, Arthur."

That was all he needed to hear. He had to go now. He had unfinished business with Micah, but also with Dutch.

The sun was setting as he rested his forehead against hers. His way of kissing her for the last time, wanting to avoid her contracting tuberculosis too. He squeezed her hands and heard her whisper "I love you, Arthur".

He gently let go of her hands and she kept her eyes closed, not wishing to watch him go. To tell the truth, she was so focused on remembering his scent, his laugh, his voice, that she didn't even hear him mount his mare and gallop away.

When she opened her eyes again, the sky had darkened. A storm was approaching. Arthur was gone. Only Albert remained, looking after the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings. He knew she wouldn't move immediately, but it was time to go. He'd better get back to the cabin he'd rented before nightfall.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry but we must leave now. Tomorrow we'll go to Rhodes, my house is close to the city."

"Of course," was all she could reply, her gaze fixed on the mountains.

The journey to the cabin Albert had reserved was silent. The storm was roaring in the distance. She held back from joining Arthur. But she had to keep her promise.

Without Arthur, life would be difficult. Her heart would be broken forever, but she had to try. And one day, they would be reunited. She had to believe that.

The rain finally came, falling on her cheeks and mingling with her tears. She couldn't stop thinking about all those mornings she'd wake up alone. She couldn't accept that he wasn't coming back. Ever.

"Mademoiselle?" Albert's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We've arrived. You should try to eat something and get some sleep." He didn't know what to do or say.

She followed him silently. Inside, she sat by the window, where she could see the mountains near Beaver Hollow. Soon, she closed her eyes, tears still flowing.

Her mind took her to a river in the middle of the woods. The light wind gently moved the leaves on the trees. She was wearing a long white dress. A branch cracked, startling her. But it was only Arthur, wearing the hat he always wore and the blue shirt she loved so much.

"You're beautiful," he said, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Dance with me?" Was there an answer other than "yes"?

And, each immersed in the other's gaze, they danced. Without stopping, they talked about their future: having a ranch, raising horses, starting a family. A quiet life away from traitors and the Pinkertons. Just them.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, princesses," he replied, kissing her tenderly. A deer passed by them. Then nothing.

When she opened her eyes again, she knew Arthur was gone.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Albert and the young woman began their journey to Rhodes.

"I think you'll like Rhodes very much, mademoiselle. It's much quieter and warmer since the Gray and Braithwaite families, two rival families, entered… well, since they left."

The young woman smiled at the mention. It brought back memories that were certainly recent, but seemed so long ago. But her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared as she recalled Sean's death.

Then came Kieran's turn. Hosea. Lenny. Eagle Flies. John. And Arthur.

Sensing that she wouldn't talk any more than she had the day before, Albert decided to talk to her about anything and everything, in the hope of distracting her from the sadness that overwhelmed her, even if only for a few minutes.

"The landscape is also much brighter. Annesburg offers beautiful scenery, but it's a very dark, eerie area. Rhodes is nicer, warmer."

Albert was right: the further they got from Annesburg, the fresher the air seemed, the more colorful and welcoming the surroundings.

She glanced back one last time, to where Arthur had remained. Her heart sank. She felt she was abandoning him. But she had to stay strong.

Finally, Rhodes appeared before them as the sun tinted the sky orange, ready to give way to the moon.

"Miss, look!"

A majestic deer had stopped in the middle of the road, staring at them with its big dark eyes.

"It's the first time I've seen one approach like that. They're usually very frightened," Albert continued.

The deer approached the young woman and rested its muzzle against her leg. She gently touched its large antlers, then the animal moved away, disappearing among the trees.

"Goodbye, Arthur."

I hope you liked this first chapter!

[itsthatpearl]

layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog 🩸

Hannibal x F!OC

His Amuse-Bouche

Chapter 2: Eat Your Young

AO3 LINK

Beth finally wakes up, and Dr. Lecter has an interesting suggestion for her...

Word count: 1.3k

Thank you once again Ziggy and my baby Kris for beta reading <3

TW: THIS IS A HORROR FANFIC. MAJOR DEAD DOVE. SPECIFIC TRIGGERS ARE LISTED, BUT THEY CAN SPOIL THE STORY, SO IF YOU WANT TO ENJOY THE HORROR AS BEST AS YOU CAN, GO STRAIGHT TO THE STORY.

SPECIFIC TRIGGERS: Mental health issues (depression, ptsd, anxiety, social anxiety, panic attacks and dissociating), distressing impulsive thoughts, sexual tension, sexual themes, horror, gore, cannibalism, bad parenting, rough language, violence, drugs, spiked drinks, alcohol, light emetophobia.

----

I wake up from the floor. The front door is open. The house is quiet. I hold my head while standing up slowly and walk into the living room. Then I see the blood. It is everywhere. The dark sticky substance has covered half of the room. My feet touch the rug that is soaking wet. Cold fear coats my every nerve ending making feeling and movement a struggle. The air smells like iron and sweat. My stomach makes a turn twice and I cover my mouth to prevent throwing up, as if it would help at all. 

I woke up slowly to the scent of food. For a moment I gathered my thoughts and took in my surroundings. I lie on a bed covered with a luxurious duvet. Panicking, I threw the duvet away and sighed in relief because I had my clothes on. I inhaled deeply. The scent made my mouth water. It was intoxicatingly delicious. I got once again lost in my thoughts until I heard the door open. I looked up and there he was. Doctor Lecter. He was wearing an ox blood red pants, matching vest, cream coloured blouse and a dark blue tie. I stared at him with the same feelings coming back into my body. Fear and lust. Weirdly shameful too. 

“Good, you are awake.” he smiled slightly and walked slowly closer to the bed. He handed me a glass and continued “it is just water, I can assure you that. I don't want you to miss the feast I’ve prepared for us”. I took the glass and gulped it down eagerly. I hadn't even noticed how starved and thirsty I had become. “Thank you” I nodded and handed the glass back. He took it and turned around. “Follow me” he said calmly and started walking out of the room. I got out of the bed and followed him. 

He led me to the dining room. The table was neatly set and ready. I sat down and looked at him. He sat down, took a deep breath, eyes closed and then took the utensils into each hand. “Today we are having slow cooked rabbit cacciatore paired with a ligh gamay. Enjoy'' he added with a pleased smile and started eating. I watched him for a moment and started slowly eating. As soon as the tender meat met my tongue, I was lost. The food tasted exquisite and I couldn't help but close my eyes to savor it fully. The rabbit was pure perfection melting on my tongue, salty and full of flavor from different herbs, at least thyme and parsley. I took a sip of the gamay, and a pure bliss filled my body. The light red wine complimented the rich food perfectly. My own body betrayed me, as I heard a soft moan escaping my lips. I opened my eyes wide and looked at the man sitting next to me. He looked at me like nothing out of the ordinary had happened and smiled warmly. “How do you like the food?” he asked softly with the same, dangerously sweet tone he always had. “It is…..it is…..the best food I’ve ever had” I shaked my head in disbelief and looked at him almost confused. 

“Why?” I blurted out. “Why what?” he asked unbothered. He leaned slightly back in his chair raising his brows. I placed my utensils down and looked at him. “Why did you do all this? And why did you...drug me?” I asked. I tried to keep my tone as calm as possible. He cleared his throat and looked at me calmly. “Because you started getting hysterical, a very humane way to react to the situation. I didn't want you to be stressed before your operation. What comes to this dinner, I think it would just be fair to let you enjoy it too” he answered. My stomach dropped and my mouth went dry. “M-my operation?” I stammered. I looked at him in horror as he finished his food and patted the corner of his lip with a napkin. “Yes, your operation. This was your last meal before it, you need to fast for 12 hours so I will perform it tomorrow morning” he stood up and sighed before continuing “I can sedate you now if you think sleep is not an option tonight”. I looked at him in pure fear, unable to answer. He took a small medical syringe from the corner table and looked at me. “Let’s go to the bedroom, shall we?”

The bedroom is dark, but I don’t need lights to see the bed is coated in black. In the middle lies two figures in a dark tangled clump. You couldn’t say which one is which, where an arm changes into a leg and where their heads are. If they even have proper heads anymore. In the corner of the room lies the third figure. My mouth opens into a silent scream as I hear the sirens coming close.

I sat on the bed with my whole body shaking. Dr. Lecter closed the door behind him and came to sit next to me. “Give me your arm and relax your muscles” he ordered but kept a cool and relaxed tone. Tears started to pool down my cheeks as I started to cry helplessly. “Hush, be brave, Beth. Remember what we talked about in our session: you are far braver than your body lets you be” he hushed next to my ear. His breath tickled my soft skin which made my whole body shake even more and tears run down my cheeks. “Have I ever told you you look delicious when you cry, especially during our sessions” he added. I looked at him with weary eyes until I remembered the fridge. My hand flew to cover my mouth to force the rabbit down my esophagus.

He gently stroked my back as I started to do my breathing exercise to keep myself from throwing up. He lifted the medical syringe next to my deltoid muscle, fondling it slowly. “We can make a deal. I am forced to keep you here so you don’t go to the police. But I can help you, Beth. And you can help me” he smiled against my arm and placed a kiss on the soft skin. There it is again. The fear. The want. “H-how could I h-help you?” I breathe out. My skin is burning under his touch and so is my core. “I want your mind,” he whispered. “My…my mind?” I looked at him. “Yes. Your mind. I have grown to enjoy your company, our sessions, Beth. I want you to devote to me, to surrender your mind and let me in. I want to be able to cure you. But most importantly, I want to taste you ” he purred into my ear and inhaled deeply. I felt like my soul had left my body, but not out of fear or dissociation. This was something far stronger. This was pure need . My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest, spilling blood and bits of my skin and intestines along the way all over the beautiful dark velvety indian carpet. I threw my head back and gasped out loud. Then I felt a needle penetrating my muscle. I looked at the man next to me and fell down into the mattress which sank beneath me down, down into the darkness. “Dr…Lecter…” I muttered before my eyes closed. A hand touched my cheek and the darkness whispered into my mind “please, call me Hannibal”.

----

Next chapter

[hannibalzero]

Red dead redemption omegaverse

Update ❤️

So when I first made my omegaverse headcanons I was only half way through the game. But now, a lot of my options and ideas have changed.

Growth you know? So please humor me while I tell ya about our favorite band of outlaws

John Marston: he’s a alpha, very cocky about it. Will puff out his chest to make you think he runs the show…at least when Abigail isn’t around. Bi

Abigail is a female omega, but in gender only. Everyone knows who’s the real leader of the Marston pack. Abigail doesn’t really care about her genders just wants to be the best mom she can be for Jack. Bi as well

Jack is a beta, he wants to be a alpha so badly like his father. It takes a long time for Jack to feel comfortable about himself. When he became a writer. Jack had done a lot of research, finally understanding the gang as a adult. Gay

Uncle? Uncle is Uncle but at one time he was a alpha, or so he says. No one really wants to know. An ace king

Javier is a beta, he doesn’t care about it. All he knows is that he’s bi. He misses his family and homeland but the Van der Linde pack is his family now.

Sean is a omega and will fight you if you point it out. Sean is straight and loves himself some boobies. Or so he says, he has been caught ogling a few good looking men with their shirts open. Straight/maybe polyamorous..he hasn’t become aware of that part of himself yet

Karen is a alpha female, Sean is her sweet little omega. She plays like she’s an omega when she’s robbing, pays better. She is considering making Sean an honest omega. Polyamorous. 

Tilly, a omega bit a spitfire of one. She’s like Abigail and just tries to do her best. Her old gang tried to make her a pack breeder, it’s why she killed a man and ran to the Van der Linde gang. Lesbian

Mary-Beth, she’s a beta. She romanticizes the whole secondary gender one true mate thing. She’s still young, she’ll grow out of it. Maybe not… makes great romance novels ❤️ straight

Kieran: omega boi, loves his horses. Is very protective of himself when it comes to anything sexual. Keeps away from people so he isn’t touched. He’s demisexual but really likes Mary-Beth.

Pearson: beta and ace, just keeps to himself. Likes sending naughty letters with some feller a few states away.

Grimshaw is a omega women who was bonded to Dutch at one point. Bond broken but loyal. She takes care of the camp like it was her own pups. Straight

Molly, a high end omega women. Dutch’s newest Mate. She loves the man but knows deep down that she could not have pups with him. As much as Dutch wants a pup so bad he can taste it. Bi

Hosea: omega, he was Dutch’s first mate. They broke that bond when John joined the family. Hosea loved Dutch but loved Bonnie more. Bonnie was his one true love and privately considered John and Arthur his pups with her. Not Dutch. Stays in the pack to be with his family now. Bi

Dutch: alpha, wants to be the most alpha alpha that ever alpha’d. Wants to lead a huge pack that he is king of, gets board easily. Changes Mates when the mood strikes him, but privately knows his one true mate was Hosea that he threw away. He likes Molly, mostly because of what she does for him. Bi

Strauss: ace beta and not really interested in anything but money.

Swanson: Polly, he’s an all or nothing type of omega.

Josiah trelawany; a alpha that loves other alphas. Yeah he has a family in Saint Denis, but that’s just a marriage of convenience. He has men in every city after all!

Bill: gay as hell, alpha and self loathing.

Micha bell, straight and a Alpha. Looks down on anyone and anything. Thinks beta and omegas are only good for keeping his knot warm. Micha is sterile. Pissing him off more.

Charles Smith, demi alpha. Women are wonderful, Men are wonderful. Why chose. Is big on serious relationships. Charles knows what he wants and goes after it.

Sadie, alpha female. After the loss of her husband, she realized she enjoyed women more. There would never be another man like her husband after all.

Arthur Morgan, omega and bi. Arthur hides the fact he is an omega. It makes him uncomfortable when people know because suddenly people treat him differently. As the gangs enforcer, that’s not useful. Force celibate because Dutch gave him a order to keep his damn legs closed. So he had, feels like sex gets him in trouble, even with women. He hates dressing like an omega but has a love of soft fabrics and underwear. A lot of self loathing but maybe Charles will help him with that. 🦌🦬🦌🦬

Well that’s the updated version of the omegaverse headcanons. Any questions just ask!

[lemortehomme]

New Story Coming Soon!

I've been quiet for a bit but I haven't been idle! I've been working on my next longfic. You can find a preview of some of the first chapter below the cut!

Also, I have been balls-to-the-wall with this dang story and have absolutely no outside perspective on it 🙃 so if anyone would be interested in beta-ing, hit me up. I'm not looking for line-by-line editing, more so pacing and "why the fuck is this plot thread here when you never pick it back up" kind of beta-ing. It is already a long story (so far, 27 chapters and over 100k with more to come), so I would be happy to offer betaing in return, or illustrate your story, or attempt binding one of your fics into a book (I'm still learning how to do this though lol).

Revenant

Beth wakes up screaming in the back of an ambulance, dying not from a gunshot to the head, but from a suicide attempt. Walkers are nothing but a distant memory she can't forget and no one remembers. Three lonely years later, Beth is almost ready to accept the memories are delusions, until Daryl Dixon crosses her path for the first time.

And he knows her name.

A loose thread dangles from her sleeve. Beth captures it between her fingers, rolling it back and forth until it twists itself into a sharp point. She lets go and the thread curls, but the point remains. There is a muted squeak from the office chair across from her as Dr. Blake shifts in her seat.

Beth looks at her from beneath wheat straw hair, dried to a crisp by the industrial-strength shampoo she must use. Dr. Blake is pretty in the way older women are; the lines on her face are comforting and the crows feet punctuating the corners of her eyes hold a lifetime's worth of experience. Beth knows she is married because of the ring, but there are no photos of her family on her desk. There is, however, a framed photo of a sunset, film-grained and amateur in a way that speaks to it being a shot Dr. Blake or her husband took, rather than a photographer's work. Beth has always wanted to ask where it was taken.

Dr. Blake shifts again and says, "Are you sure you don't have anything else you'd like to share with me today, Beth? Not even your opinion about our kitchen's take on chicken parmesan?"

"No, I've been feelin' alright," Beth says with a little shake of her head, straw hair rustling like dead grass.

Grass baked by the sun crepitated as worn soles broke the stems; the enduring sun brought beads of sweat popping up across her forehead as she watched Rick make his way down the hill. On the other side of the fence waited—

"Can you tell me what you see right now?"

The thread is caught again between her fingers and Beth lowers her eyes to her laceless shoes. "I see you. In your chair. Your desk. I see my shoes. The carpet."

"Good. Will you tell me what it was?"

"My hair. It sounded like grass."

Dr. Blake blinks patiently, waiting, as she always does, for Beth to volunteer more information of her own free will. But the more Beth talks about these delusions—delusions, she must use the right word or she will slip up; they are not memories—the longer she will be here, so she doesn't. It is her second longest stint, three months so far. She's been shuffled between the centers, units, and wards of half the state. Maggie promises there's a place waiting for her at home every time they talk, but Beth knows the bed waiting for her is conditional. She will lose herself again and return to the bland embrace of locked wards.

She doesn't get a say in these decisions. Each one is made for her and will be long after she returns home. One of the decisions made for her happened right after she was locked away the first time and the courts said she was not in a place to make decisions for herself. The problem with being crazy is once people know you're crazy, you can never convince them otherwise 

"Okay. Our time's almost up. I'm really proud of the progress you've made here," Dr. Blake says, turning her clipboard over to reveal the smooth, brown back. "I think you have a solid foundation for success."

And with those words, Beth knows she is getting out soon, because she has not made any progress, she only knows how to lie in the way they want.

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Bonding with the Enemy - Chapter 27

*Warning Adult Content*

Too Many Clues

The most worrisome part of seeing Holly was how pale she looked.

Before, her spirit was vibrant and indistinguishable from a living person.

Now, she was partially transparent with the color drained from her face.

She was so pale in fact that Darren thought that this time she might actually be a ghost but the small bit of pigment from her clothes reinforced that this was yet another astral projection.

Stumbling down the stairs, he stopped beside Jasper who tensed as their shoulders brushed.

"It's Holly," Darren pointed, forgetting that they wouldn't be able to see her.

Kenny immediately turned but when he saw nothing, he glared back.

"Are you serious right now? My daughter is missing and you're playing games?"

"No," Darren tried to explain.

"She's standing right there or at least her spirit is."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP," Beth snarled.

"You're taking this joke too far."

"He's telling the truth," Jasper quickly supported Darren's claim.

"You already know what kind of ability he has, so if he says he see's her ghost then..." he chose not to finish that sentence and looked morosely towards Kenny.

"I'm sorry."

Kenny's eyes widened as he stared back at Jasper in disbelief.

Then he collapsed down onto his knees.

It looked like his exhaustion, worry and fears had hit him all at once as tears began to silently stream down his face.

Beth kneeled beside him while the Alpha stepped up to put a hand on his friend's shoulder, assuming the worst.

"She's not dead," Darren sighed. 

Beth squinted.

"What do you mean, 'she's not dead?' How can you see her ghost if she's alive?"

"Because she's astral projecting," the rogue explained, keeping his eyes on the girl's form while Jasper let out a sigh of relief, having forgotten about her ability.

Slowly, he approached Holly.

The little girl quickly backed away from him, though she continued to shiver violently as she clutched her body for warmth.

He also noticed that her clothes looked damp.

"Hey Holly," he squatted down in front of the little girl, making himself appear as harmless as possible. "Can you tell me where you are?"

Holly opened her mouth but no words came out.

Instead, a shadow started forming behind her and as Darren watched, dark tendrils slithered their way around the girl's shoulders, solidifying into a pair of bony hands.

"Jared," the rogue grit, looking into the creep's sunken eyes.

Holly screamed silently, then vanished, leaving an unfazed Jared behind as he grinned towards Darren.

"Who's Jared?" Beth asked Jasper, who waved his hand to keep her quiet.

Jared started twitching violently.

The monster looked like he was having some sort of seizure as his hands and neck twisted into unnatural angles, then faded away.

Darren let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding but when he turned to explain himself to the others, he was met with Jared's grinning face just inches from his own.

"I'd hurry up if I were you," the spirit mocked.

"She works quick."

And with that cryptic warning, he disappeared again.

Confused by the ghost's words, Darren spun around, making sure the creep wasn't still latched onto the ceiling or some other dark crevice.

He didn't stop until he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards as he all but shit himself.

Jasper backed off immediately and waited for the smaller man to calm down.

"What happened?"

"Holly's not dead," Darren repeated himself.

"Wherever she is, it's cold and wet and..." He glanced towards Kenny, who was now eyeing the rogue with interest.

"And Jared's ghost is stalking her for some reason."

Jasper cursed under his breath, then remembered that neither of his Betas knew what Darren was talking about, so he took a moment to explain who the bastard was and that they needed an exorcist to get rid of him.

Darren did bring up that Gerrit supposedly already called the guy but it would take him a few days to get there.

"So my daughter's body has been dumped somewhere while her spirit is getting followed around by a pedophile?" Kenny croaked in horror.

"That means she's still alive," Darren tried to be encouraging.

"And now we have a chance to save her if we can figure out where she is."

"If we narrow down the search to places that are damp or cold, then I have a few ideas," Jasper perked up.

Beth shot to her feet.

"So do I."

"Wait," The rogue stopped them before they got ahead of themselves. "There's one more thing. Jared might have indicated that whoever is behind all of this may be a woman..."

"A woman?" Kenny muttered to himself.

"Are you sure?"

"Not entirely. As a matter of fact, knowing the guys history, he might just be leading us on a wild goose chase. But then again..."

He faced Jasper.

The Alpha quickly pulled out his phone and made a call to the police department.

Midway through, he was cut off and listened intently, then hung up and faced Darren.

The rogue didn't appreciate the look he was receiving.

"What is it?"

"The police said they have a suspect already. They arrested her yesterday for trespassing."

"Trespassing where?"

"There's a section of private properties in the woods. They said they found her snooping around without permission."

The rogue furrowed his brow in thought.

"A private property would be the perfect place to hide kids, especially if it's secluded in the woods."

The young Alpha put a hand on Darren's shoulder and squeezed.

Darren glanced at it, then up at Jasper.

"What?"

"Darren..." The Alpha started cautiously.

"It's Sophie."

He immediately ripped away from Jasper's grasp.

"Fuck that," he spat.

"She's my aunt. She's the one who invited me here to help. There's no way it's her."

Kenny suddenly stood.

"Isn't she that woman that was coming to Town Hall every day and demanding progress reports on the investigation?"

"Yeah," Beth nodded, seeming to understand what Kenny was thinking.

"She has no kids. If she did, then it would be understandable but even the parents aren't being as nosy as she is."

"It would make for a great cover story to say she was only sneaking around because she wanted to help find the missing kids."

"And even better if she brought a rogue into town because then everyone would be more suspicious of him than her."

The Betas both looked at Darren, who was now shaking his head violently.

"Absolutely not. Let me talk to her. I can prove it wasn't her."

At this point, Jasper tried to put a comforting hand on the irate rogue's shoulder, but Darren pulled away angrily.

"I want to see her NOW."

Seeing that he was inconsolable, the Alpha eventually agreed and they decided to let Beth and Kenny search for Holly while Jasper and Darren head towards the station.

By the time they arrived, Gerrit was already waiting for them.

Jasper had called him up so he could convince the sheriff to let Darren speak with his aunt ahead of time.

As soon as they got passed the waiting room, Darren flew down the hall, searching each cell until he found Sophie located in the back, wearing the same clothes from his vision. 

"Darren," she immediately pressed herself against the bars.

"How did you find out I was here?"

"Jasper, believe it or not," the rogue explained.

"What were you doing running around on private property?"

Sophie was about to answer, then spotted Gerrit jogging up, having been left behind when Darren sprinted ahead.

At the sight of him, she snapped her mouth shut.

Curiously, he glanced at the other man, then back at her.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," her hands began fidgeting nervously.

"I was just looking for places that the kids might be."

"Did you find anything?"

Once again, her eyes flew to Gerrit.

"No."

Darren looked at the man, wondering why she kept glancing his way.

Then he remembered earlier how Jared's ghost had pointed in the Gazebo.

'Was Jared actually pointing at Gerrit back then?'

So many questions were piling up but he didn't have time to answer them as he addressed Jasper once he finally caught up.

"We need to get her out."

"She was due to be released today anyways. This was just an overnight holding cell."

"Great, so get her out," he looked eagerly at the man, who sighed tiredly.

"Fine, I'll go talk to the sheriff."

"We should probably go with him," Gerrit suggested.

"As you know, he's not that great with paperwork."

Darren was about to agree, then began having second thoughts. 

You only need one person to fill out paperwork.

Why was he asking for Darren to go with him?

As a matter of fact, if she was already due to be released today, why would they need to fill out any paperwork?

"Wait, can I stay here while you guys do that?" he suggested instead.

Gerrit quirked an eyebrow.

"Sure. I'll see you in a bit."

He turned and wandered back up to the front.

Darren waited until the guy was out of sight and right when he was about to ask Sophie what she new, she suddenly grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him closer to the bars.

"Don't trust him."

"Who? Gerrit?" Darren asked.

"Why? What did you really see?"

"It was..."

"Hey."

An officer then approached and noticed how Sophie was latching onto Darren.

He hurried over and pried her fingers off.

"Stop that."

"It's okay." Darren tried to say but the damage was done and the officer peered suspiciously back at his aunt. 

"After that display, I'm not leaving you alone with her until she's released," he stated.

Darren looked helplessly at his aunt.

"It's fine," she said.

"They don't have anything to keep me for more than a day anyways. I'll talk to you then."

The rogue prepared to protest, then figured she might have a good reason for not wanting to talk in front of the officer.

Coming to an agreement, Darren left as he mulled over the situation.

All the clues indicated that whoever was taking the kids was someone they trusted.

After all, no sane person would get into a rusty red car if they didn't know the person driving it.

What's more, based on Holly's reaction to Darren, the kids were very cautious around strangers.

At first it would make sense to suspect Liam.

Everyone in the pack trusted him, plus he had the power to withdraw all search parties and act like nothing was wrong.

But what if that was all it was?

The Alpha did have a track record for avoiding bad press.

What if that was his real reason for trying to contain the investigation?

Then there was Jared's cryptic warning. 

He indicated that it was a woman.

But then, why Sophie?

What would she have to gain?

Even if he was able to suspect her, he couldn't figure out what her motive would be... Unless all the kids had powers, just like Holly.

Realization dawned on Darren, and he stopped mid step. 

That would explain why he hasn't seen a single one of their ghosts.

They weren't being murdered, they were being trafficked. 

Other packs would do anything to increase the number of Betas in their community.

The more Betas they had, the more powerful their pack would seem and grooming one from childhood would be much easier than bribing or threatening random rogues into joining.

He could only imagine how much an Alpha would pay for young Betas and it was well known that Alpha's were more than wealthy. 

He recalled how angry his aunt had been about his uncle being banned.

Sophie may act obedient but she already helped smuggle Darren out of the pack before, thus proving that she was willing to break the rules. 

'But then why did she tell him not to trust Gerrit?' 

Were they both working together?

Did they have a falling out?

When he thought about it, he didn't actually have any proof that Gerrit was in his room when Holly went missing.

For all he knew, the guy could have snuck out his window or something.

Gerrit was also a well known member of the pack, what with being the Alpha's son and all.

Plus he had access to all the same files and documents that Liam did.

He could easily manipulate the investigation from the inside. 

But something still wasn't quite adding up.

He shook his head, desperate for answers but unable to get any of them until Sophie was released.

So he continued his walk towards the waiting room.

Opening the door, he bumped into the last person he expected to see.

Despite having the guys back facing him, he recognized Liam's imposing figure instantly.

Darren blinked.

Then rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing properly.

The man looked the same as he did the day he disappeared.

As a matter of fact, he looked cleaner than before. 

Confused, he approached the Alpha with one hand protectively over his Collar and as he got closer, he realized the man was watching both Gerrit and Jasper sign something.

Unlike usual, Liam had a soft look on his face.

The rogue reached out just as he spoke.

"Maybe I sacrificed too much..."

Then, Darren's hand went straight through his form, causing his body to shimmer, then vanish.

The rogue stood, stunned, as he realized that in his surprise, he had failed to noticed how pale and transparent Liam was. 

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he face the two men and wondered just how he was going to break the news. 

[brooklynislandgirl]

A Little Me, A Little You || Accepting @tangleweave​

ʻĀnela || Beta Ray Bill Falling Into Light || BRB verse

It isn't the first time that Skutt makes herself a conversant to Beth, though to this day she isn't sure whether the ship's AI is acting like a store-detective, keeping a careful eye on Beth to deter any sort of mishap, or if maybe Skutt is also sometimes lonely when he sleeps. It could be some complicated melange of both. It never really occurs to the mage that the ship might actually also harbour very similar feelings. Beth gingerly uncoils her limbs from where she'd drawn herself up and into the space she'd occupies. Not exactly a seat and not exactly comfortable but she had no intention of disturbing him in her quest to watch over him. Bare toes hit the deck soundlessly. But just as it might seem that she will mouse right past him, she hesitates. Ever so carefully using the same skill set as she might while assisting in surgery, Beth brushes the backs of her fingers along the ridge of his cheek and across the curve of his skull. As if she were brushing hair from his face that he doesn't have. The purity of affection could not be mistaken in the gesture or in the fondness that graces her eyes. She beckons Skutt with two waved fingers as if the AI were in a physical body that needed any such direction before she exits the bay that he claims as his room, and makes her way toward her own. Talking is easier when she doesn't have to mouth the words for the sake of not disturbing him. Once in her own room, Beth makes herself a cup of tea before she folds herself onto her makeshift bed, legs folded in a lotus position. "There are many factors or pieces regarding how one being might come to feel about another," she begins carefully, to provide Skutt what it seems like she is asking about. "When it comes to me, it almost seems backwards. Normally, a being sees something about another that they are drawn to, and then pursues the chance to get to know them better, in hopes of judging their potential as a mate. Now, I can't say I was not stricken when I first saw him, I absolutely was. But mostly because I've never seen someone like him before. Silly as it might sound, I half wondered in relief-delirium if he was an angel, or some sort of magnificent Umbrood Lord." Her lips quirk to the side. "Umbrood in our language means a disembodied entity that originates in, and usually dwell within, the Umbra, a spirit. Clearly realised he isn't." A sip, a dismissive hand wave. "Life for a mage is often a lot weirder dan mos' mortals, so as he introduced himself, and we talked, it didn't seem very odd. Maybe even comforting, I suppose. His stories are everything I've ever believed in and maybe validated all of my hopes. He's a little archaic in some ways and sometimes I don't always understand him or his motivations but over these months, he's opened my eyes to so many things I could only ever imagine, and he's done so in such a...a... an innocent and courteous way. Bill truly embodies all things honourable and chivalrous and I can't say I know what to make of it. "I would like to think we have grown in our friendship, our trust in each other. I know there is nothing I wouldn't do or give to ensure his health, to ensure his happiness, and nothing would make me betray him, not even a chance of going...home. I feel he and I are very much alike in spirit, in temperament, and he's become one of my nearest and dearest if not...only...friend, not excluding you, of course." She feels a little guilty saying that and hopes she didn't do harm to the AI's feelings. "I...I love him, you know. In all of the ways I can, that I'm capable of feeling. He is my companion, my guide, my protector. He makes me soft in all the places I've felt so guarded for so long. I could easily see myself defending him with my life, or taking one if I needed to and that doesn't really bring me any pleasure. Sometimes I know he worries that he isn't deserving of his purpose, or his place in the grand tapestry of the universe but I don't think there's anyone better. I've learned so much about worthiness, about acceptance and honour. And I know he's younger than I am all things considered, and I've seen how some people in the places we go look at him. That particular look apparently is not limited to humans. Sometimes, I catch myself looking at him like that, too. I...I don't know if we're even biologically capable of that kind of thing, and I won't lie and say it doesn't scare the daylights out of me but..." Beth giggles. "I don't know if any of this actually answers your question.

~*~

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable {In that he will do the most honourable thing possible} / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends / my only friend.

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

[january-summers]

*kicks down the door and wanders back in five weeks late with a Zarraffa's (that's a coffee store chain brand, like Starbucks but with less suckage)*

So I've had some thoughts. (terrifying, I know)

At first I was thinking about Chuck, and how maybe the him of this universe could be used somehow, for the Alpha/Epsilon thing, but then I was like, "fallen angels actually."

But how to do that when Leonard Church is real? Angel Vessel him? like the time Michael had to borrow young John Winchester's body, except Alpha had to take him out of time. But that has temporal implications that'll give you a migraine.

So then I thought: Anna.

Anna was an Angel who tore her own Grace out an took a dive, born and raised as a human and whose human Identity persisted for some time after she retook her Grace.

So: Alpha and Beta as the original angels, they fall in love, but God's a dick and they aren't allowed to love anyone more than they love him while they're angels, so they decide to gamble on their feels, cut their Grace out and take the dive to be reborn as humans, trusting that they'll find each other in their human lives. (or maybe they make a deal/bet with God to get permission for their relationship)

Except things don't go the way anyone was expecting, and Allison and Leonard end up as Allison and Leonard, and yeah they meet and fall in love and have kids and then Allison dies and Leonard begins his Allison-less spiral of sad-sackery.

MEANWHILE

The separated Grace (Graces?) of Alpha and Beta are dreaming of their human lives, not in their entirety, but enough that a lot of their personalities transcribe onto their Grace selves, which become their own separate identities (Epsilon and Texas/Church and Beth), independent of either their whole (Alpha and Beta) or their other halves (Leonard and Allison)

I understand there's probably some squick with mixing Alpha and Epsilon who are technically different people, but it's what I got. Cause my only other thought is Epsilon being a Grace baby and thereby technically the third Church sibling. Who maybe had to possess Wash for a bit and a fun time was had by none and he has some of the Alpha&Leonard memories also?

is it unnecessarily convoluted? probably, or maybe it's necessarily convoluted, who can say.

Is Sigma Lucifer now? He might be.

*slow deep breath in* damnit

now I'm imagining CarWash sibs as Hunters in a Supernatural AU.

Can't decide if the AIs would be angels and demons, or what.

Freelancers as Hunters, Reds and Blues as The Ghostfacers, but more competent. (even if only by accident.)

And yes David still goes by Wash(ington) because: David Church > D.C. > Washington D.C. > Washington > Wash "It was a long strange high-school year, it just kind of stuck, let's move on you said items were moving by themselves?"

Carolina is Caroline "Carolina in state name solidarity with my big brother" Church.

"Dad went on a hunting trip and hasn't been home for a few days."

"Awesome, that's our problem why?"

"Bastard owes me fifty bucks, help me find his corpse so I can go through his wallet."

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi! Could I request a Alpha! Daryl Dixon and Omega!Reader? I'm so in love with your writing it's fantastic! She's a very shy/timid omega, although she's 27+ years old and still virgin? She was waiting for her truemate which she finds out after a while it's Daryl? Although he knew all along, he was just giving her time to ajust. Fluffy and smutty. Please?

Worth The Wait

Alpha!Daryl x omega!reader

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

TWD Masterlist | Main Masterlist

He knows what she needs even before she knows it herself and he is more than happy to give it to her.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her mid to late twenties and Daryl is in his mid forties), smut, first time, lots of fluff, mentions of character death and walkers but no real angst, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, risk of getting pregnant

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

You knew since the moment you presented as an omega that the only person you would take into bed would be your alpha, your soulmate, your one true love. People had laughed at you before but now, after the fall of civilisation, they just felt bad for you.

The world had ended, every day you risked death, either by starvation, exposure, sickness, other humans or the walking plague. People took pleasures where they could but still you held fast. Maybe it was some silly pipe dream, the only thing that kept you tied to the old world.

Of course, you would remain a virgin forever considering that most of the world was dead, walking or not. Sure, Maggie and Carol tried to get you to at least think about going out with one of the many alphas or even betas that worshipped the ground you walked on since you were one of the only omegas in Alexandria.

But still you refused. You held your head high, holding onto the hope that one day you would find them. Until that day, you would settle for pining over the grumpy archer that took special care of you.

Daryl was an alpha through and through. Big, incredibly strong, territorial, and protective over his pack. He only bent for Rick, and you. Since you had met in the prison after Woodbury had fallen, he had always looked out for you, making sure you had enough food and water. And when you got sick, he almost went rabid trying to get the medicine that would save you.

You rarely left his sight. And if you did, he immediately went in search of you to make sure you were ok. There was a brief period of time where you thought he could be the one since he was so attentive and possessive over you but he never showed interest when you went into heat or he experienced his own ruts. He had never even scented you like the other members of the pack had done when you joined them.

So, you believed he saw you as just another pack member, the only remaining unmated omega after Beth’s death. He protected you and cared for you the same way he did with Carl and Judith. But you couldn’t help watching him as he worked on his bike, the way that his muscles flexed beneath his leather vest, how his tanned skin shimmered with sweat. You were enamoured by the way he growled when something went wrong or how his blue eyes sparkled behind the wall of greasy hair that always covered his face.

You sighed as you watched him, leaning heavily on your hand as you looked out your kitchen window. Daryl was digging through your shared garden, making sure that all of the plants he had found for you while out on a run were growing healthy and strong. “You know it’s rude to stare.” You whipped around, hand held up to your heavy chest in fear.

“M-Michonne, I didn’t hear you come in.” Your head bowed in submission for the alpha. “Y/N. How many times have I told you, you don’t need to do that.” She raised your chin with a slender finger. “I know. I’m sorry, it’s a force of habit.” You replied bashfully, avoiding her piercing brown eyes. “So, Dixon?” Heat creeped up your face and you turned away bashfully. Michonne chuckled.

“He’s obviously interested in you. Go for it.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “I can’t. I made a promise to myself and I don’t want to break it.” You closed in on yourself, arms crossing over your plump tummy as your gaze dropped to the ground. “Why do you not let yourself be happy?” You shrugged but remained silent. “Just think about it ok. Even if he isn’t your true mate, he’s a good alpha.”

You nodded shyly. “Ok, I’ll think about it.” Her hands rubbed up your arms in a comforting motion. “Now, do you want to come hang out with Judith for a while.” You smiled brightly, your inner omega preening at the prospect of caring for the pup. “Yes please!” You scurried to the backyard, leaving the laughing woman standing in your kitchen.

“Daryl!” You called out to him. He spun around quickly, holding up his little spade like a knife but relaxing when he sees you. “Whaddaya want?” Your pulse thumped loudly in your ears at the sound of his raspy voice but you shook it off. “I’m goin over to the Grimes. I’ll be back later.” He opened his mouth but you predicted his next words.

“Michonne will be there, I won’t be alone.” He glanced at you warily before nodding. “Your dinner’s in the fridge!” You called out as you ran back into the house, leaving the archer smiling stupidly behind your back as he watched you practically skip through the garden.

——————

Judith squirmed as you held her close to your chest. You purred quietly, rocking her back and forth in the little nursery that had been set up for her. Soon enough, her little pink lips were parted and small snores filled the room. You swayed as you moved slowly to her crib, carefully laying her down in the center and tucking her under a thin blanket.

You stroked her chubby cheek, making the little girl sigh and snuggle closer to the warmth of your hand. “You’d be a good mom.” Rick was leaning in the doorway, smiling fondly at his daughter. “I don’t know about that.” You answered shyly before laying a kiss on her forehead and backing out of the room carefully. 

The older alpha laughed quietly and shut the door behind you. “You don’t have to babysit her every time you come over.” He placed a large hand on the small of your back, guiding you back down the stairs. “She’s just too cute to resist.” “Except when she’s screaming her head off at night.” You laughed and nudged him with your hip. “Just give me a call and I’ll take care of it.”

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Carl wanted to cook tonight.” “Oh no,” You started, gathering up your coat and lacing your boots, “Daryl gets anxious if I’m out past dark without him. Besides, I’ve got kitchen duty tomorrow morning and you know Carol likes me there early.” He nodded, helping you slip your jacket on.

“Let me walk you home at least.” “Thank you Rick.” 

Dog greeted you at the door, happily wagging his tail as you slipped inside, trying not to make too much noise. “Shhh, quiet boy.” His wet nose nudged your hand. “Go lay down.” He huffed, giving you a stink eye before turning his back and stomping off, presumably to Daryl’s room. 

You tip-toed into the kitchen, going immediately for a glass of water. As you leaned against the sink, sipping from the cup, you spotted something hanging off the back of one of the chairs. Your hands skimmed over the soft leather, delicately tracing the scuffs in the fabric and the dirty wings on the back.

Daryl rarely took his vest off for anything. You practically had to fight him to even get him to shower a month after you settled in Alexandria, even then he wouldn’t let you wash it. A heavy smell filled your senses as you brought it up to your nose. It smelled like cigarettes and the forest after a rainstorm. 

A tugging in your chest made your eyes widen. You teared up and Daryl stepped into the room.

“W-why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice broke as your omega cried out in pain. His eyes went wide as he smelt your distress. “Ya deserve better than me. I wanted ta give you a chance to choose your mate instead of bein stuck with me.” He took your hand in his. “You were always what I wanted.” You cupped his cheek, brushing his silky hair from his face, dark blue eyes hidden and he sighed, eyelids fluttering shut as he leaned into your hand. 

“I’ve waited a lifetime for you alpha.” Strong arms wrapped around you, bringing your soft body to his broad chest so your head laid in the crook of his neck. “I would’ve waited forever for you.” He nudged your face up with his nose, giving you time to refuse him. When you didn’t waver from his gaze, he kissed you.

And the world clicked into place. His chapped lips met yours perfectly as he tightened his grip around your thick waist and you clutched his shirt tightly, savouring the warmth that radiated from him. Arousal curled in your belly as he growled against you, nipping your bottom lip. You moaned, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss.

Your arms wound around his neck, bringing your bodies together, his thick erection poking into your tummy, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, goosebumps following his every touch. “Alpha.” You moaned as Daryl began kissing down your neck, nosing at the junction between your neck and shoulder, where your scent was the strongest. 

“We don needa do this tonight. We can wait for ya heat.” You shook your head, refusing to let go of the alpha. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.” He kissed you again, this time much softer, barely brushing against your lips. “C’mon then.” His fingers laced with your own as he lead you back to his room in the basement. 

“Go on get.” Dog gave his owner a stink eye as he jumped off the bed, letting you plop down on the spot he vacated. Daryl locked the door and strode back over to you, stripping the ripped plaid off as he did. You took that as your cue to take off your own shirt, leaving you in just a too small bra which you quickly unclipped. Your arms crossed over your generous stomach but Daryl stepped forward to pull them away. “Ya beautiful. Too beautiful.” He dropped to his knees, settling himself between your plump legs.

You were so glad that you had started to wear skirts on hot days because now, there was almost no barrier between your flesh and Daryl’s plump lips. Big hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling them apart so he could get closer to your core, his nose nuzzling against the already soaked fabric of your panties. He gave a tentative lick to the wet spot and you fell back on your hands, giving out a whimper. “Oh Daryl.”

With quick movements, he pulled your panties down your legs. You shivered as your cunt was exposed to the slightly cooler air of his room. “Ya alright with this?” His eyes were back with lust and he looked at you like he wished to devour you. “Yeah please.” You breathed and he surged forward, fingers digging into your thighs.

He laid a small kiss to your clit before moving downwards, tongue circling your entrance, pushing in only when your hand threaded through his hair, trying to bring his face closer to you. Your eyes fluttered shut, legs wrapping around his head to keep him in place. You ground against him, urging your mate to go faster. “D-Daryl please.” You moaned as his tongue fucked you faster, his nose rubbing your clit. 

A growl rumbled through his chest. The alpha was ravenous for you, needing you to soak his face before he even thought about knotting you. He had waited so long for this, everything about you drove him wild. But he needed you to want him, not be with him out of some instinct. Your fingers grip his hair, your breath hitching as the knot in your stomach wound tighter. He moved higher, taking your throbbing clit into his mouth, letting two of his thick fingers slowly enter you.

“Oh fuck!” Your back arched up from the bed at the slight burn of his fingers but then the calloused tips hit that spongy spot inside of you that you always struggled to reach. His beard scrapped the sensitive skin of your inner thighs but you relished the pain, loving each scrape and burn he was giving you. “Alpha gonna cum.” You whined, thrashing around, both trying to escape his mouth and push further into it. 

His free arm moved from your thigh to your lower tummy, using his strength to pin you down. “Keep still.” His voice was dark. A shiver rolled up your spine at the pure dominance of his tone and more slick coated his fingers. Your breath was now coming out in pants as you climbed higher and higher, you cried out. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” “Cum for me ‘mega.” The alpha groaned against you, his own hips gyrating into the bedspread, trying to get some relief to his aching cock.

“Daryl!” The pleasure crashed over you, your voice calling out, cracking from the force of your orgasm. You slumped back against his pillows, eyes fluttering shut as his scent surrounded you. The clinking of a belt broke you out of your afterglow. Daryl’s face was red and shiny from your slick. His dark jeans were pulled down his hairy legs, exposing the multitude of silvery scars along his pale skin.

His fat cock sprang up, slapping against the thick trail of dark hair that lay below his belly button and ended at the base of his dick in a dense forest. Your mouth watered at the sight of the deep purple head, beads of premium already leaking from it. His big hand wrapped around himself, squeezing tightly to calm himself down.

“Ya ready for me?” You nodded frantically, spreading your legs to expose your dripping center. “Words omega or ya won get anythang.” “Please alpha! I need your knot!” He climbed over you, taking the time to kiss and lick up your salty skin as he worked his way back up to your mouth, kissing you deeply. “If ya don tell me ta stop, I’ll claim ya.” 

You cupped his fury cheeks, forcing his blue eyes to meet your own e/c ones. “I want to Daryl. I wanted you before I knew you were my alpha. Take me.” Your lips brushed against his, wrapping your chubby thighs around his waist. The tip of his cock rubbed against your entrance.

The kiss deepened as he lined himself up, his fat head prying open your tight entrance. You whimpered against his lips as pain shot through you. You were being stretched more than you thought possible but your insides were quivering as you found yourself being filled for the first time. Daryl groaned as you dragged your nails down his back, leaving red welts in your wake.

He stilled when he couldn’t go any further, dropping his head to the crook of your neck, breathing harshly. Nothing had ever felt this good. Like this was where he was meant to be, completely at one with his mate. All he could feel was you, you consumed him. Taking over his every thought, every dream. Everything he did was for you, everything he was, everything he could be, belonged to you.

“Alpha please.” You hiccuped, rolling your hips upwards to get him to move. A growl vibrated through his broad chest as he pulled back and snapped his hips forward, burying his cock inside you once more, his tip rubbing your cervix. He tried to be gentle, he really did but the way that you moaned directly into his ear and how your sweet, flowery scent invaded his senses, drove him insane.

“Oh god!” You screamed as he began to punch into you. Your entire body was being pushed up with the force of his thrusts, your head coming dangerously close to slamming against the headboard. Daryl leveraged himself up, gripping the wood above your head tightly, driving his cock even deeper inside you.

You tried to meet his thrusts but they were too strong, making your mind go blank with pleasure. “Ya want my knot mega.” The breath was knocked from your lungs with a particularly powerful thrust but the clenching of your pussy told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah that’s right. Ya mine. My good omega.”

You shattered below him, your orgasm coming out of nowhere. Your eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy and the alpha lowered his head as you reached your peak, his teeth clamping down on your scent gland, taking advantage of your fucked out state so the pain wouldn’t be overwhelming. You smiled dumbly, feeling the first trickle of a bond between you.

Daryl kept shoving into you, now desperate for his own release. You nibbled on his earlobe, his dark hair tickling your nose. “My alpha. My perfect beautiful strong alpha. I love you.” You moaned into his ear, urging him to take what he needed from you. “My love, my heart.”

He roared, the vein on his neck pulsates as he twitched wildly within you, his knot expanding rapidly. With one last powerful thrust, he shoved the tough ring of muscle inside you, making you scream from the wide stretch. “Mark me.” He grunted. “Wha?” He moved his hand from the headboard to the back of your neck, guiding you to his own mating gland. “Claim me.” Sweat was pouring down his face as he tried to hold off his end.

With one last side-ways glance, you mouthed at his neck, giving a little kitten lick to his skin before opening up wide, and sinking your teeth into him. “Fuck!” He shouted as he exploded deep inside of you, his cum warming your tummy.

Both of your breaths got steadier as your bodies cooled. Daryl wrapped his arms around you so he could roll over, bringing your leg up over his hip for a more comfortable position until his knot went down. You delicately brushed the hair from his face, peppering kisses against his cheeks. A small smile came over his lips, a smile he only gave to you. “I’m so thankful it was you.” You whispered, not wanting to break the calm atmosphere of the room.

“Ya too good for me but I’ll take care o ya. I promise.” You shook your head. “All I need is you.” “Yer perfect.” With one last kiss, you laid your head against his chest, letting the exhaustion of the day take over your body and drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had in years.

Daryl watched as you fell asleep, still clutching him tightly. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, he never could. And now you were here and you loved him. He hugged you closer, and just watched you, sleep being the furthest thing from his mind. And as the sun rose, casting your body in a golden light, he whispered. “I love you more.”

Taglist

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Hi. Just wanted to say how much I appreciate your work on Rough Night. I looked forward to Fridays all week ever since I found your story and couldn't wait for updates and was so excited every single time, it became my Friday night treat haha. I saw your note about being on here so hopefully this is okay to ask (and just pls ignore if not). When did you know what the ending would be? It seemed to me like the whole thing just flows naturally to the conclusion but I started reading about halfway in and I saw from the original description you didn't have a planned ending at first. Just really curious how you made the whole thing tie together so well!! Thank you again for writing it all and being such a bright spot in my week.

Anon! This is so sweet! You made my day. And it’s Friday. My second Friday without an update. It’s so weird!!! So really, thank you for the ask because it feels like I’m still writing them. 🥹 Everyone who read and commented always made me feel so so loved. I’m so grateful.

It’s funny because to me the story doesn’t feel super cohesive at all, so it’s a super nice compliment that you feel it was. It makes me feel a lot less insecure about it. I made these long, meandering situations where we just watch Brio exist in their relationship. That’s all product of unplanned story. Lake Vacation was very much filler. They didn’t HAVE to go on vacation. I just wanted something soft to write about. Annie and Rio bonding didn’t HAVE to happen. I just like spinning domestic Brio round and round and watching them as they behave like “normal” people. All the lengthy, domestic moments did serve a purpose of Brio taking those baby steps toward increased intimacy and closeness. I just think had I actually had a plan, those steps would have happened in a more targeted and concise way. So my lack of direction got us 200k+ words. 😁

I had been planning how to end RN almost from the start. Chapter one was a one-shot. There wasn’t supposed to be a story at all. Then I added chapter two and three… Then I wanted Beth to really show up for Rio in reciprocity for his support of her, so chapter four happened and THAT was going to be the stopping point. But it just kept going.

The ending I ended up with became a more formed idea and goal around the time of Lake Vacation, when I first started discussing it with my friend who beta read for me, and began its trajectory in earnest when Beth went to the police charity event. That event was a super poorly thought out idea, actually, because that police event was supposed to be part of the final story arc. Something about it was supposed to carry over, but nothing really did other than the implosion of the Beth/Ruby relationship. I initially was thinking the police relationship would help Beth get Rio off the hook, and Rio donating to the charity event under his own name could be later used to further Beth’s anti crime standing by bringing Rio along with her in a publicly accepted way. Like, “See, he’s a good guy. Wrongfully accused. Forced to serve jail time. And he’s such an upstanding citizen! Donated money to police charity. Supports local youth programs.” Kinda like that. Give Rio a place in Beth’s world since Beth got a place in his, further blending them into a cohesive unit.

But I’m really happy with the way the story ended and even more happy that you and others enjoyed it. It’s been such a joy writing and interacting and enjoying the fandom with everyone. ❤️❤️

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Daryl’s Origins Story 😱🎉🎉🎉

Okay! How fun was the Daryl origin story? It’s set our fandom on fire in a way it hasn’t for quite awhile. I’m ALWAYS a fan of that.  😉

There are three major parts that I’ll be discussing today. The part about Beth and S4/S5 (obviously), the very ending of Daryl’s story, and the sneak peek for S11. I’ll go over a couple of other details in other parts as well, but most of the rest of the episode was just going through what Daryl was doing in each season.

Before we go into what they said, though, there’s something very important about how they presented this that everyone needs to understand. As @wdway​ pointed out, obviously Norman was reading from a script. It’s not just him meandering along and talking about what’s happened in the show. 

There are probably a lot of reasons for that. Because they have so much to cover (10 full seasons’ worth, after all) they needed him to stay on track and keep to the important elements of the story. 

Perhaps even more important, this is the writers telling us exactly what they want us to remember. What’s important to Daryl’s story moving forward. The unimportant things will, naturally, fall by the wayside.

What I noticed very early on was Norman’s body language. Especially in the way he was moving his arms and shoulders. It was clear to me that he was in character. It’s Daryl that moves like that, not Norman.

So, despite speaking about Daryl in the third person (“Daryl did this, Daryl said that…”) he is actually telling this from Daryl’s point of view. One good example of this was when he talked about pushing Beta down the elevator shaft. He said “Daryl kicks his dumb, tall ass down an elevator shaft.” That’s the way Daryl would phrase it if he were telling his story to someone. (Say Rick or Beth, perhaps? 😁)

And why does this matter? Because if this is coming directly from Daryl, it shows what he’s thinking about all the people and events he talks about. We can interpret everything Norman says here as a thought that’s coming directly out of Daryl’s own head.

So, with that in mind, let’s dive in. The first thing I noticed is that when talking about Merle getting left on the roof in S1, they said he was Daryl’s “first big search.” Now, we’ve focused on Daryl searching for people for years, but it was interesting to hear them say this. They also talked about his guilt in being unable to help Merle.

Of course they covered Sophia, and they talked about each person he searched for and how, in the end, he was unable to save them. So of course he didn’t find Sophia in time. She died. In the end, he couldn’t save Merle. And he basically felt the same way about losing Beth. He searched for her, eventually found her, but was unable to save her. I saw something of pattern in the way they presented this, but I’ll go more into that more in a few days.

I also want to mention something they said about him and Carol in S2. I know none of our fandom cares about Carol, but go with me on this, because it’s important for the point I’m going to make about what he says about Beth.

It shows the scene in S2 where Carol goes out to stop him from leaving and says, “we can’t lose you, too.” And he gets mad that she’s giving up on Sophia and throws the saddle. During that part, Norman says, “Daryl doesn’t know how to accept Carol’s affection, so he rejects it.”

Why is that important? Because this is the writers, in this very episode, showing that someone (Carol) showed Daryl some affection. In other words, she was “nice” to him. Keep that in mind.  

So then we get to Beth and Daryl in S4. 

Incredibly, they go through the major S4 episodes in about 4 lines and 60 seconds. But good HEAVENS, those were some magical lines and seconds.

Here’s what they say:

Daryl escapes with Maggie’s sister, Beth.

On the road, Beth and Daryl get to know each other better.

It gets pretty intense.

Beth is the first girl who’s been nice to Daryl, so he misreads the situation.

Okay, let’s unpack this, shall we? It’s hard to know where to start. 

When he says, “It gets pretty intense,” it shows the fight in Still. So presumably he means that the fight and the emotions flying around are really intense. I’m cool with that description.  😎

This final line is what has both our fandom and other shipping fandoms all excited, but for very different reasons. Let’s first acknowledge that the line is very vague and unclear. And that’s by design. The writers are DEFINITELY hinting at things, and honestly, this gives us a LOT of insight into Bethyl that we didn’t have before, but they’re still not openly admitting the romance aspect. Or at least, not in an obvious way that leaves no question.

So, I’ve been bombarded with questions about how I’m interpreting this line for the past 2 days. I was going to post some comments from my group here, but it’s already very long, so I’ll do that tomorrow or Monday, just so you can get some insights and see how various people are interpreting it.

The overall understanding (with a few nuanced differences) is that this shows Daryl was crushing on Beth. That’s why the other ships are pissed and saying super-mean things. While Norman might not have used those exact words, even the other ships are picking up on that. 

I can tell the “he misreads the situation” part is tripping up people in our fandom. As though it’s saying Beth didn’t have feelings for Daryl. But I don’t think that’s what it’s saying at all.

First of all, let’s return to Carol in S2. The “nice” part is one we have to look closely at. Clearly, it doesn’t mean someone just being “nice” to him. Because the writers already told us earlier that Carol showed him affection. (That’s one thing the Carylers are being very loud about. How that doesn’t make sense because Carol, Michonne, even Andrea and Sasha, all had good relationships with Daryl. So clearly, Beth wasn’t the first woman who was ever “nice” to him. But other ships have never been good at interpreting symbolism or reading between the lines. They take EVERYTHING at face value, and you can’t really do that with this show and expect to correctly guess where it’s going.)

So, when he says this line about her being the first girl who’s nice to him, it specifically shows them at the graveside in Alone and the part where Beth holds his hand and Daryl looks down at it. So to me, it’s clear that “nice” means in a romantic way.

And remember, once again, that this is coming from inside Daryl’s head. It makes me smile because this is exactly the way he would describe it. Daryl has no frame of reference for romance. He wouldn’t say she was the first person to hit on him, or make him feel all the romantic feels, or show him romantic affection. He would totally just say she was “nice” to him, with an emphasis on the word to mean nice in a special sort of way.

Here’s what I said to my group yesterday:

I think we kind of have to read between the lines of what he’s saying here. The Carylers are feigning confusion about her being the first girl who was nice to him. And yes, of course Carol was nice to him. Usually. So were Andrea and Sasha and others at various juncture. But that’s not what he means.

My read on it is that this is the first girl Daryl was crushing on that was nice back to him. Sure, maybe as a teen he crushed on some girl or some woman, but she didn’t give him the time of day.

I think Daryl had come to believe he would never find romantic love and he’d accepted that. He was fine with it.

But when Beth was “nice” to him and treated him like an equal instead of a stupid redneck (the way Lori, for example, treated him) he started to hope that maybe he could find that kind of happiness.

She was the first girl who was kind to him in that way.

All our Bethyl dreams are on the verge of coming true. It’s not a coincidence they’re using this to lead into s11.

So when he says she was nice to him, he means she’s the first girl who DARYL ever thought was showing romantic interest.

Then there’s the second part of the line where he “misreads the situation.” What does this mean?

Broken record over here, but I’m once again going to emphasize that this is coming from DARYL. So, when she said, “oh” and was surprised at his feeling, he assumed he’d misread the situation and that she didn’t feel that way about him.

And this actually makes things way more tragic than we even realized.

Because most of us don’t think that’s true (that Beth didn’t share his feelings) at all. If you look back to S3, there was clearly a vibe between them long before they escaped the prison together. We have her crushing on him to Carol after he left with Merle in 3x10. And we have him staring unabashedly at her while she sings two different times (3x01 and 3x11).

So the general consensus among our fandom theorists is that we think she definitely DID have feelings for him (a crush at least), she also didn’t see herself as worthy of him and didn’t even entertain the idea that he would ever think of her that way or they might become a thing. Like, she liked him, but “knew” he would never like her, and she was okay with that. She still love and respected and clearly wanted to be close to him.

So when she realized he had feelings for her, she was shocked.

But her shock, and then them being interrupted by the walkers made him think he’d “misread” her.

And that’s more tragic because it means that from that moment on, from the time she was taken from the funeral home, he assumed she didn’t like him that way, even if he liked her.

We could even apply this to what we saw at Grady. The haters like to make the (somewhat ridiculous) argument that they didn’t hug when they saw each other at Grady. And our response has always been that it’s because it was an intense situation (a freaking prisoner exchange, for heaven’s sake) and there would be time for that later. There’s also the fact that nothing actually happened between them physically. If they’d had a full-blown romantic relationship, they probably would have hugged there, but they didn’t. It’s still awkward and they don’t know exactly where they stand with each other.

The point is, Daryl was actually less likely to hug her or anything of that nature because, due to her “oh” reaction, he really thinks she doesn’t feel that way about him. He might even think he made her uncomfortable at the funeral home.

Geez. Just when we thought what happened at Grady couldn’t be any more tragic.

And for the record, I want to address the fact that he did say “but Beth it killed.” I know that always freaks people out and I’ll have people asking if that isn’t tptb confirming it.

No, it’s not, for one particular reason: this is, once again, from Daryl’s point of view. And he thinks she died.

So then we’re going to skip a bit. I want to give you just a short blurb on Carol, Leah, and Connie.

Carol is in it quite a bit, which really can’t be avoided since she’s a huge part of Daryl’s story. But the thing that jumped out at me is that he (and remember, this is coming from Daryl) calls her his friend or his best friend like fifty times.

So this is another reason it’s important to understand that Norman is in character and telling this from Daryl’s POV. For the first time, we’re really getting his inner thoughts and feelings. And it couldn’t be more obvious that he loves Carol, but thinks of her only as his good friend.

There really was no emphasis at all on Connie. It shows that he met her, and they mention his “skills” in learning sign language for her. And then they say that he looks for her after the cave in, but that’s really it. No talk about his relationship with her, or how he feels about her, or that he sees a future with her, or that he likes that she sometimes takes care of his dog. Nothing. Nada. She’s practically an afterthought.

Then there’s Leah. She wasn’t emphasized overly much either, but there were a couple of lines here I want to point out.

The first one is suspicious and I’m totally side-eying it. He says, “Daryl meets Leah. Well, he meets her dog.” What’s the “well,” about? Almost as if to say he DOESN’T actually meet Leah? Just her Dog. And after that they go on to show several scenes with Leah, so they kind of gloss over it.

But guys, we know every single line of this thing was carefully written and purposely placed. So why the “well”? Why are they making that distinction?

I also noticed that he says, “They clash at first, but then end up spending a lot of time together.” And it shows the scene by the fire where she reaches out to him. I’m side-eyeing that, too.

Look, I wouldn’t expect them to go into some super-detailed sexual recall or anything, but why not say something generic like, “he has a relationship with her”? He very specifically doesn’t say that. We’re being made to believe, from the Find Me episode, that he had a serious, semi-long term relationship with this woman. And… “they end up spending a lot of time together?” That just sounds like something from friends.

I’m just saying that they’re really tip-toeing around this Leah thing. (And if we’re going with the FRIENDS interpretation, it specifically means he’s not in love with or committed to Leah. Which, we already knew.)

Finally, he says that the reason he left and didn’t choose to stay with Leah is that he’s afraid that he if lets someone else in, he’s going to lose them. Clearly that hearkens directly back to Beth, which is what we’ve said all along.

And overall, I don’t think that tells us much about Leah, but what it made me think of is a possible future arc with Beth. Just as Beth kinda forced him to open up to her in Still, I think she’ll have to do that again. I think this foreshadows that he’ll be too afraid to let anyone in, for fear of losing them. And clearly, Beth is the only one that can get him to open up. Carol can’t, Leah couldn’t, Connie can’t. I’m just mentioning.

I also noticed that when they talked about him going back for Leah and her being gone, and him acquiring Dog, it just says that he and Dog go off together. There’s literally nothing about him searching for her, even though in the episode he said “we’ll get her back.” So again, it just feels really contradictory to what they were trying to make us believe in the episode. 

The other interesting thing that had, obliquely, to do with Leah was actually something they said about Rick. They said that when Rick’s body didn’t wash up, Daryl holds onto hope that he’s still alive. I don’t think anyone realized that. We just assumed he was searching for Rick’s body for closure. But he actually thinks Rick could be alive. Interesting. I’m sure that will be a catalyst for his future arcs and finding out Rick is alive.

It also has interesting implications where Beth is concerned. And we can’t know what happened without those missing 17 days, but whatever it was, something must have happened to make Daryl believe, without a doubt, that Beth is dead. And I don’t think it was just the gunshot. Maybe it had to do with the horde. He thought she was torn apart by walkers. So no body, but no reason to keep searching either, you know?

Anyway, let’s move on to my FAVORITE part of this origins episode. 

Right at the end, Norman says, “what’s next for Daryl?” 

And the VERY NEXT thing they show is him and Beth sitting on the porch in Still. 

Me:

They have her say the “you’re going to be the last man standing” 

and Norman says, “hopefully proving Beth right.” 

But to me, that’s just an excuse to show that scene. I take this as a MASSIVE hint. What’s next for Daryl? Beth is. What’s coming next in his life? Beth. What’s next? Romance. Beth, Beth, Bethyl.

You could also argue that if they’re going to prove her right about that, by extension they’ll be proving her right about other things as well. It’s not like this was the only thing said on that porch.

“Maggie and Glenn would have a baby…”

“I wish I could just change.” “You did.”

“You’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone…”

It also talks about giving Daryl what he’s been searching for his entire life. It’s actually talking about what he’s FOUND in the apocalypse (family, purpose, etc) but they specifically use the phrase ‘what he’s been searching for’ after showing Beth. 

So yeah, I was practically salivating. That was pretty much the best TD thing I’ve seen in a long time.  😍 😍 😍

Okay, let’s talk about the sneak peek.

We see Daryl in the subway tunnel with Dog. He’s just look at what’s there: junk, corpses, and murals on walls.

The first thing that jumps out is this walker. It’s been shot in the forehead, for one thing, and actually is positioned a lot like the one Daryl saw in Them with the deer.

It’s also handcuffed to a suitcase. I definitely have some thoughts as to this theme, but again, I’ll get into them next week. For now, it’s a theme we’ve seen often and have always related to Beth, both because of the imprisonment theme around her, and because every time we see it, there are other Beth symbols around it (i.e. dog food). Here, we see that the walker is handcuffed to a suitcase of cash that looks a LOT like the stuff Daryl scooped up in Still.

It’s also been said that the way this walker is dressed, and the things he looks at here are very reminiscent of the country club. @galadrialjones talked about how there was a subtle class theme going on there (rich people who had everything but still couldn’t keep themselves alive in the apocalypse, juxtaposed with Daryl who had absolutely nothing monetarily, but is the ultimate survivor) and we may have a similar theme going on here.

He sees the words “it comes for us all,” which presumably means death.

We also see what looks like a burning capitol building. If you recall, a week or two ago I posted @wdway’s thoughts on Andrew Jackson (on the $20 bill which was used to burn down the moonshine shack) and his role in the American Revolution and specifically an incident where the Library of Congress was burned.

I’m not going to try and interpret this on a super-specific level, but to me it’s just more evidence of the revolution that’s coming.

But there’s more stuff here that’s truly fascinating to me. He also sees pictures in which some people are wearing golden crowns. There’s a man, woman, and child standing together, but also other single individuals. He sees words that say, “Truth Lies” and another sentence that says, “Your crown for your life.”

This one is harder to interpret because I don’t think we get the entire sequence. The sneak peek breaks off in the middle of it. (Grrh!) But it may be more of the rich/poor/class system theme. We do see some of them being attacked by walkers and it really doesn’t look like they’re going to survive.

So, I’m not at all confident that we can accurately interpret this yet, but if I had to make a guess, based on what we see, I’d say it’s showing that people who are rich, or who have power of some kind.

Keep in mind, this is most likely metaphorical. I doubt we’ll see golden crowns. Power in this world will be in safety, walls, ammo, food, and…water. But those people’s “power” can’t save them. In the revolution that’s coming, their crowns will be useless. 

On the other hand, the “your crown for your life” suggests they do have something that others want.

One of the people in the picture above is holding up a sign that says, “no home, no work, hungry.” Which suggests famine but is coupled with the home theme and a revolution at the capitol.

So again, I don’t have a super-cohesive theory here, but I’m very intrigued and it will be fascinating to watch this unfold. I’m sure it has to do with the CRM and the final conflict that’s coming. That makes me excited.

Okay, I’ll shut up, now. Did I miss anything you saw in the Origins episode?

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

How Far We’ll Go

Thank you, as always, to the immeasurably wonderful @jetaime-jespere for her support, friendship, and beta of this chapter. 

I am a better writer with every word because of you. 

Read on AO3.

Chapter 16

By the time flowers bloom from small buds aided by the warmth of spring, they celebrate Jack's seventh birthday at a local park and she stops monopolizing Aaron’s every thought.

The passing months had dulled the persistent ache in his chest - the one that had set him on edge after the wedding, traces of her perfume in his nose and her taste on his tongue. He had pressed his phone to his ear, a blush of a mark that she had drawn on the base of his collarbone, with absolutely no clue as to what he wanted to say. He just wants to hear her voice and ask her why.

Aaron tries for three days, her new number practically burned into his keypad as he dials the same thirteen digits over and over again. The night on that balcony was a sliver of hope, a small flicker that ignited a flame he had thought had long gone out. But the flame is extinguished as fast as it starts, doused by the never-ending dial tone in his ear and dozens of unreturned calls.

She never answers and he decides that he isn’t going to spend his life waiting for a phone call that would never come.

Aaron perfects a routine that avoids anything too reminiscent of her. He gets the strength to clear the expired creamer in his fridge he's conveniently forgotten about, tossing the shampoo bottle that's been nearly empty for months, and gifts the cat mug to Garcia who was none the wiser as to its previous owner. He starts to drink coffee at the office instead of at home and drives to and from work in a route that avoids the park they used to train at and the cafe where he first realized that his feelings had morphed into something soft and sweet, like the lemon curd pancakes that she used to order.

Now, he and Jack eat waffles on Sundays.

--

She meets Mark through a friend, being pushed into a conversation by their mutual connection, who insisted that they would get along. Emily resents the introduction, but feigns interest and agrees because she's lonely and for once, she doesn't want to think about the way the rough edges of brick pressed into her back as he drilled into her, as desperate and erratic as she felt.

Mark is surprisingly engaging, witty and smart as he talks about his work in corporate law, specializing in mergers and acquisitions. He's incredibly normal - filling his days with visiting his parents on the weekends and running when he can squeeze it into his calendar. His eyes light up when he talks about how he enjoys kayaking in the mornings and Emily is jealous of the seemingly simple life he lived. She finds herself drawn to the light he exudes because all she's known is shadows, secrets lurking with threats of unravelling the composure she's carefully built. He's bright and unscathed, and she wants a taste of what that's like.

When he slips her his number, soft and sweet into her palm, she blushes.

She tries to ignore that his eyes aren't the shade of brown that she wants and promises to call him.

--

Mark is sweet and persistent, insisting on seeing her again. She's hesitant at first, her breath hitching when he asks if she wants to get dinner the following Saturday, if she wasn't travelling for work. He has a very minimal understanding of what she did and for that, she's grateful, avoiding having to relive memories she isn’t interested in sharing.

She realizes that she'll probably never be truly honest with him, but says yes anyways.

He's easy to read. He's nervous, evident by the constant tugging on the cuffs of his sleeves, unconsciously fidgeting the small buttons between his fingers. He tries to impress her with his knowledge of wine, but quickly admits that he really didn't know the difference between wines aside from being red and white. She laughs and orders a Merlot that she loves and asks him what it’s like to be a corporate lawyer.

The conversation flows easily as does the wine, swapping book recommendations and Mark insisting that she would love hiking and that he would take her sometime. When the wine blurs her vision slightly, he kisses her and they end up back at her apartment, their clothes strewn across the living room as he touches her nervously as if she was made of glass. He's clumsy and unsure, fumbling with the zipper of the black dress she wore and spends a while attempting to unhook her bra. He finishes before she does and she barely gets anywhere, the coil in her abdomen tight with no relief in sight.

She slips into her shower when he falls asleep, muscles taut and tense, a stalled release still deep in her. She turns her shower head to the highest pressure and lets the warm water beat on her skin as she stroked herself, chasing the release that she needed after months of large piles of paperwork and being pulled away on one case after another.

Emily thinks of him, the veins on his forearms that formed ridges underneath his skin, thick and bulging as his fingers stretched her open. How he had curled right there and flicked just like this and it isn't long until she's toppling over the edge with the well-worn memories of him seared into the back of her eyelids.

She slips into bed next to Mark when her muscles are looser, the warm shower and orgasm dissipating the remaining tension she's been carrying around for weeks. She stiffens when she realizes that all the covers are pulled over around him, leaving no warmth on her side of the bed and she fights the annoyance that flashes through her and the subsequent pang in her chest.

She hated it when they hogged the covers.

--

The next morning, he makes her breakfast of eggs that he had run to the store to get while she was asleep.

Mark’s in her kitchen, using the only pan that she owns because she really doesn't cook aside from easy mixes she could throw together quickly, and makes her slightly overdone scrambled eggs and apologizes for falling asleep last night and wants to see her again. He's still nervous, fidgeting with last night's clothes that he had thrown on in an attempt to look decent, and she doesn't have the heart to say no .

Mark is uncomplicated and distracting and she wants to be distracted.

He smiles wide and drops a kiss on her lips before saying that he had plans with his sister and would call her later.

The eggs are left untouched on the counter.

She makes chocolate chip pancakes instead.

--

He meets a museum curator named Beth when he volunteers to chaperone Jack’s field trip. He had snuck away from the rest of the group, choosing to wander over to the classical art section as the kids ran mayhem in the dinosaur exhibit downstairs. His ears were starting to ring from the loud, high-pitched conversations about the stegosaurus and figures that a break would save his sanity.

He’s staring at a painting that is adorned with broad strokes of red. It’s an abstract piece of work, the lines fluid and dancing across the canvas. The movement reminds him of waves of red fabric, draped across ivory thighs and falling with every thrust of his hips.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A light voice chimes, shattering the memory and suddenly reminding him where he is. He turns to the sound of the voice and his breath is slightly knocked out of his chest.

A pair of dark brown eyes are staring up on him, accompanied by a bright smile and deep dimples. Long brunette locks cascading like waves down her shoulder, a lightness to her that he doesn’t think he’s seen before. She radiates light.

He isn’t used to it - his entire life had somehow been shaded in different layers of darkness. His father’s calloused knuckles, Haley and his divorce, Haley’s death, Emily’s sudden departure after a taste of what his life could’ve been like. Things that brought him light were usually ripped away, torn from his hands at the seams. He’s used to lurking in the darkness.

“It’s gorgeous.” He says and she smiles.

Later, with her number saved into his phone and promises to call if he wanted to come back for a private art tour, Aaron wonders if she can help shine a light on the darkness that was determined to follow him around.

--

Emily doesn’t know what’s wrong.

She doesn’t know why her temper flares ever so slightly when his soft palm flexes over her knee. Why when she feels the slenderness of his fingers against her thigh, her first instinct is to pull away.

Her temper flares when he leaves his clothes in the bathroom like a child, the mirror covered in streaks from his fingerprints. She savors being alone at night, glad to not have his cold toes accidentally brush against her calf and his annoying habit of monopolizing the covers on his side.

On nights where she’s alone, grateful for his absence, she tips whiskey into an empty glass and savors the burn of the alcohol.

She used to hate dark liquor.

Now, she doesn’t know what she’d do without it.

--

There’s something about Beth that Aaron can’t quite place.

She’s kind and sweet. She’s smart and passionate about art. Her entire being lights up, her expression animated as she talks to him about the difference between the key differences between Greek and Roman art styles. She drinks tea and loves pop music and brings a smile to his face when she pulls on his hand to dance with him in the middle of her living room on a rare Friday night when Jack is with Jessica while Katy Perry is playing in the background.

Beth makes him smile and for a split second when her lips are on his, he forgets the hole in his chest that he’s gotten better at hiding with time.

It still doesn’t stop his dreams to be filled with memories of her, of maple syrup and of cups of coffee that grew cold on his kitchen island in favor of playing pirates with Jack, or of mornings spent watching the soft morning light dance on crumpled sheets and gentle curves.

Beth is uncomplicated and distracting, and he wants to be distracted.

On a quiet Sunday, he brings her to the cafe that he once frequented. His memories of the place had dulled, now blurred by the passage of time. He wants to make new memories - those untouched by the memory of lemon curd pancakes and their bikes sitting on the rack in front. He holds Beth’s hand loosely in his and guides her through an old routine still embedded in his muscles.

A sting of familiarity hits him, seeing Beth read a menu he thinks once upon a time he could have recited front and back. She orders french toast and a chai tea, which he points out is actually translated to tea tea. He expects her to roll her eyes and sarcastically reply, but instead Beth just smiles and giggles.

He ignores the pang in his chest when he realizes who he really expected that reaction from.

“Is the food okay?” Beth asks out of the blue, snapping Aaron out of his reverie.

“Oh yeah.” He pushes a piece of bacon to the side, suddenly losing all of his appetite. “Just not as hungry as I thought I was.”

Maybe there were just some places where she would always haunt him.

--

When he drops her off at her house, she wraps her arms around his waist and gives him a soft peck.

He catches a whiff of her shampoo and he realizes what it was that he couldn’t place.

Her hair smells like oranges.

He swallows the lump in his throat and promises to call her.

He buys a bundle of oranges before he goes home, determined to rewire his brain to prefer orange to lavender.

--

By the time the leaves start to fall, he’s forgotten what lavender smells like.

--

By the time the leaves start to fall, she feels like she’s simply going through the motions.

She floats through it all - a seemingly mindless blur of passing days. She floats through her days with Mark, her cases with Interpol, and her life in London.

Until one day, she sinks.

--

She loses someone on her team after a year of being their unit chief.

Peters was one of her younger agents. He had a degree from Oxford, an extensive background in linguistics, and had just recently proposed to his long-time girlfriend. He had just turned 31 a few weeks before they lost him.

She doesn’t lose him to another job opportunity or some notion of his that he wanted a normal life outside of days spent travelling to far off countries in pursuit of evil. She loses him to an unsub, a pistol pointed straight at his chest as a man with evil laced in every fiber of his being unloaded four bullets point blank.

She can still recount, moment by moment, how her carefully crafted plan had fallen apart so grandly. They had to lure the unsub into an abandoned warehouse by the river Seine to help the Police Nationale arrest him the moment he stepped one foot past the door.

The unsub, a terrorist from an old cell that Interpol had believed to have broken apart years ago, had lured them into a trap. The cell had gone underground, instead of completely disbanding, and fell off of the Interpol radar. They had resurfaced in recent years and they were on track to arrest the right-hand man of their leader.

If only she had known that while she was concocting a plan, they were already concocting their revenge.

Peters had ended up trapped, the only body in that warehouse as her team scrambled to escape while she was at the command center down the street, ordering whoever was around to get her team out .

She had heard the shots, her heart faltering in her chest when she realizes what those four cracks in the air meant. A moment too reminiscent of that day outside the bank.

Emily doesn’t let her team see her falter. She was their leader and a fearless one at that, and she was determined to keep a stony facade as she delivered the news to his family that he had died in action.

She thinks the sound of his fiancee’s wail at the news that her future husband had died would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“He was a great agent, and it was an honor to have him on our team.” She said, as his fiancee’s face crumbled into tears as his family came around to grab the last of his belongings. She had made a point to clear the desk herself, forcing herself to touch all the things he will never use again and pack them all in a neat box.

Forcing herself to relieve the consequences of her actions over and over again, so that she would never forget how one decision could alter the course of someone’s life.

She wonders how many decisions she’s made that ruined someone else’s life.

--

Peters’ death weighs over her like a stormcloud, the anger and disappointment that brews under her skin seeps into her judgement. Her temper is on a short fuse, mistakes that she would normally let pass now needled with a fine point that she knows is unnecessary. She’s hard on her team, and even harder on herself, in an attempt to grasp some semblance of control after the tragedy had shaken their foundation.

It doesn’t help that her office overlooks her team’s desks and every time she glances up, her heart catches in her throat when she sees the new agent is at his desk, empty of the framed picture he kept of his fiancee and the pictures of his family he tacked on his cube wall.

She’s no stranger to the nightmares that start haunting her after his death.

She wakes up in a cold sweat most nights, and on the nights that she’s with Mark, she tries to drown herself in wine to blur the dreams so she didn’t startle him with her nightmares.

It only lasts two weeks before the dreams get too intense even with the aid of an extra glass of wine at dinner and Mark insists that she start seeing a counselor. Clyde insists on it too, when she comes into his office with dark circles under her eyes and the heaviness of Peters’ death still clouding her.

He gives her a mandatory two weeks off to try and process his death, ordering her to see an Interpol-approved therapist in London, but the lack of work is more detrimental to her than she anticipated.

Without the menial tasks and challenge of work to keep her occupied, her mind immediately floods to replaying Peters’ death in excruciating detail. How she was powerless at the center of it all, the ice that flooded her veins at the cracks in the air, how she was the one who found his body, a pool of dark red beading underneath the bullet hole in his neck.

She spirals in the silence of her apartment, the vast emptiness of the space that is permeated with loneliness and darkness.

Her phone is pressed against her ear before she can think twice about it, not wanting to back out of a decision that she knew was treading a dangerous line.

There was a chance that he wouldn’t pick up, maybe a twisted form of revenge for letting his calls go ignored, unwilling to provide him with the answers he craved after that night.

He could’ve just let the phone ring, ignoring her call the same way she had done all those months ago. She honestly doesn’t know if she could handle him not answering, despite him having a completely valid reason to.

But he doesn’t. He sounds surprised when he answers, cautiously greeting her.

“Emily? Is everything alright?” Relief floods her at the sound of his voice and she lets out a soft sob at her name passing through his lips.

"You told me to tell you if I was having a bad day." She says, the tears clear in her voice. "I'm having a really bad day, Aaron."

--

She sinks, but Aaron is the lighthouse that guides her out of the darkness.

He listens as she blabbers, managing to get the full story in between tears and soft sobs. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t press for information and instead lets her tell her story at her pace. He makes soft soothing noises while she’s crying and when the sobs dwindle down to soft sniffles, he speaks.

“You did your best, Emily. That's all we can do.” He says. “The rest is part of the job.”

“Who told you that? She sounds wise.” She teases, his words immediately sparking a memory of a shared moment they had in a different lifetime.

“She is.” Aaron’s voice is soft, tone lowered like he was speaking information that needed to be confidential and she can almost see the way his eyes would shift, tucking his chest away from the door.

Another secret, just one more to keep between them.

“His fiancee, Aaron. I don’t think I will ever forget the way that she sounded. The love of her life died.” He understands the implication of her words. It reminds her, too much, of that day at the bank. How she could hear her own curdling screams in Jeanette’s, aware of the hole that opened up in her world the moment that Peters’ blood pooled on that abandoned warehouse floor.

She lived that horror for a brief moment in the ruins of the explosion, searching for him in the rubble.

“She’ll find love again.” He says. “I did.”

Emily doesn’t know if he was referring to her, or the new girl that Penelope had hinted to, but she takes those words and tucks them away to be saved on a day she needed it most, taking its spot right next to Jack’s drawing of the three of them and his old Georgetown shirt. She replays the memory of her old words, when she stares out into the bullpen and straightens out her blazer before walking into her first briefing back.

The rest is part of the job.

--

They start to exchange calls. He starts, calling her one random Tuesday morning as his confidence was fortified by the alcohol in his blood. He was sitting in his hotel room in the Los Angeles heat, a cheap motel that was the only accommodation they could find on such short notice. The air is hot and sticky, the unusual humidity in Southern California causing beads of sweat to form on his neck.

He calls her, skin damp and his chest thick with old wounds resurfacing at the desperation in Mrs. Payton’s voice at his presence at the precinct instead of out in the streets looking for a little girl who was around Jack’s age when he was taken by Foyet.

They had successfully saved Phoebe but he knew all too well how wrong it could have all gone.

He thinks of Haley. He knew that she loved as fiercely as Mrs. Payton, who lashed out at him in the elevator. She was desperate to do anything to save her child.

He knew that Haley’s last sacrifice was the same - done in desperation to save Jack.

The thirteen digits are still embedded in his fingers and he plugs it into his phone the same way that he did that night.

Except this time, she answers.

She stays on the phone with him as long as she can, before she’s whisked away to a series of bureaucratic meetings where her attendance is mandatory. She listens when he talks about the case and doesn’t have to ask him how he feels about it.

She inherently knows which parts of a case would brush too closely to his scars.

“You won, Aaron. You saved her. Don’t kill yourself thinking of what could have happened, because it didn’t.”

He wonders why her words are the salve that soothes the hollow ache in his chest.

The next time he calls her, he doesn’t have any problems to talk through. Instead, he calls with a wordless urge that he’s worked hard to suppress, letting the need for her pour out of his being in a flood. He knows about Mark, a casual detail that Garcia had let slip after one too many margaritas during a team dinner.

But part of him doesn’t care.

“Hi.” He says, a small smile on his face when she answers, breathing his name out in a way that triggers a forgotten memory of soft morning light that broke through his window, the day barely beginning and him already occupied with tracing the length of her spine with his fingers.

He had been without her for so long. He thinks he’d have her anyway she’d take him.

“Did your meeting go well?”

--

He was an addict, and she was his vice.

He craves the way syllables roll off her tongue, the lilt of her laugh when he narrates Jack’s adventure at the water park, accidentally sliding head first on his back on one of the larger slides. His heart skips over itself when her number flashes across the screen, even when he presses ‘ignore’ when Beth eyes his phone at dinner.

“Work?” She asks sweetly and Aaron is unsure if she’s oblivious or giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“Just a friend. I’ll call her back later.” Her eyebrows quirk at his response, but she lets it pass and instead brings up the new art exhibit that was coming to her museum.

Emily is the first one to ask about Beth and he’s stunned into silence, unaware that he had given her any information about his current relationship.

“Garcia told me.” She explains and her tone softens at her next words. “You can talk about her, you know.”

So he does. He tells her about how they met, stumbling awkwardly through asking her on a date that he’s pretty sure he really didn’t end up asking anything, and Emily laughs. She tells him about Mark, and the companies that he consulted for, and how he took her hiking and it was a complete disaster. Aaron listens in amusement when she tells him about all the statistics for killers in remote places and how maybe hiking wasn’t going to be her thing.

Despite the subtle ache in his chest when she mentions Mark, he thinks that the comfort she brought him by hearing her stories outweighs the pain.

Emily calls him when she gets stranded in the rain, frustrated and with no one to talk to. She calls him and he smiles and tells her to duck into a coffee shop to wait out the downpour and that he’d keep her company. He calls her when he’s reading a book and wants to talk to someone about it, because he doesn’t think that Beth would understand The Wisdom of Psychopaths .

She listens to his theories and recommends a book to him, and suggests that maybe they exchange opinions over email. He wakes up to a lengthy email from her the next day, a breakdown of all her favorite quotes from the book and links to articles she thought he’d find relevant to the topic.

They learn how to be friends again.

--

She’s not stupid.

She can see the way his eyes lit up when his phone rang, his attention always curiously piqued towards the smartphone he kept face down on the table. He never answered her calls, at least not while he was with her.

It was hard not to know her, when some of Jack’s favorite stories included Emily and he retold them so many times she thinks she could recite them from memory. She knows of the emails Jack would write to her, always tugging on Aaron’s sleeve to hurry up whatever he was doing and help him turn on the computer because Emmy was waiting .

But Aaron never mentioned her. She got clipped answers, saying that she was a colleague at the BAU before she moved to London. She hadn’t found it weird, not at first, until her name started flashing across Aaron’s screen more times than she could count.

He always pressed ‘ignore’, but she had a sneaking suspicion that his early mornings were dedicated to her. He would always slip out of bed, at least an hour or two before she would, and she would awaken to his laugh muffled in the living room.

“Hey, I gotta go.” He would say to whoever was on the phone, and stand up to greet her with a kiss.

It wasn’t until recently, on an early Sunday morning, that she heard a small snippet of what he was hiding from her as she stood in his doorway.

“Come on, Em. You know that the only album that’s worth listening to is the White album.”

Beth didn’t even know that he listened to the Beatles.

She’s not stupid.

--

Syllables tumble out of his mouth, entangled in the dull ecstasy that he was accustomed to after almost a year of being with Beth. He was lost in the snapping movement of his hips, unaware of the words that were slipping from his lips as he teetered on the edge of a release.

She stiffens as he collapses on top of her, a last moan leaving his lips. His sweat is still breaking on his skin when she twists her head away from him in disgust. She pulls away from underneath him, pushing him off with anger.

“Are you okay?” He asks, the sudden change in her demeanor too apparent in the harsh way her hands collide with his chest.

“Do you even know what you just said?” Beth says, her tone biting and unforgiving as she snatches her clothes from the floor, an anger that he’s never synonymized to her suddenly etched into her every feature. Aaron reaches out, wrapping a tender grip around her wrist and she pulls away like his touch radiated with the heat of the sun.

“Beth, I don’t understand.” Aaron says, watching her pull on her clothes and collecting her belongings. She had been prepping for this conversation, for the inevitable break to ten months of companionship. She just didn’t expect it to happen like this.

“Beth, please talk to me.” He pleads, stepping closer to her and stopping her hand from picking up her purse in the chair in the corner.

“Do you know what you said, Aaron?” She asks, the deathly calm in her voice reminiscent of scorned women he’s become familiar with after a long career at the FBI.

“You said her name.”

He doesn’t have to ask who she’s referring to.

He steps back and lets her collect the last of her belongings, her body language stiff and curled as she throws her clothes back on. He doesn’t know if there are any words, if he could say sorry enough times to rectify his mistake.

But he also knows that this relationship would always come to its end.

He knew that before he asked her out for the first time.

“I don’t think you’ll be happy with anyone that isn’t her. Stop lying to yourself, Aaron.” Beth says, before slamming his apartment door shut and walking out of his life.  

He pours himself a whiskey, fishing out an unfinished bottle he thought he’d stop relying on. He lets Beth’s words echo in his head.

I don’t think you’ll be happy with anyone that isn’t her.

Maybe he’d always live with an Emily-shaped hole in his heart, the same way that Haley had.

He would never have his first love again. The sweet, light kind of love that was untouched by the harsh grip of reality. Of broken trust, of crumbling marriages, and of psychopathic serial killers.

He doesn’t think that he’d be happy with anyone as long as Emily was on this Earth.

He realizes that he probably wouldn’t have his last love again either.  

And that was something he had to learn to live with.

--

The nightmares start shortly after Beth breaks up with him.

He’s lived a life made for nightmares, so he isn’t surprised when more than one relentlessly steals his sleep and slowly, his sanity.

Some nights, he’s back to being a small child lurking behind the mustard walls of their corridor, listening to the smack of his father’s fist against his mother’s flesh.

Other nights, he relives Haley’s death in excruciating detail. Every moment was still sharp, constructing perfect reenactments of finding Haley’s body in their old den, the crush of Foyet’s bones underneath his knuckles, and Jack helping him on the case.

He tries to save her, but he’s always too late.

Most nights, it’s about Jack. Some variation of him losing Jack - either to someone who had taken him, or an unidentifiable unsub he’s sure he’s seen before but forgotten, that snatched him from his grasp and dragged him towards the shadows. Old crime scenes reconstructed with snippets of his memories, concocting nightmares that starved him of rest.

It isn’t long before the lack of sleep catches up to him. On top of the horrendous amount of paperwork that he had taken on since Strauss had passed, he knew that he was heading right towards burn out. Exhaustion was almost a regular feeling now - never able to shake the sleep that chased him. He was almost sure his diet was solely cups of coffee and a granola bar when he remembered to eat, his attention unevenly split between work and Jack.

He’s startled out of a nightmare when the unsub points a gun at Jack, and he shoots up from his fitful nap on his uncomfortable office couch with a mild ache in his chest and a panic when he’s not in his apartment. There was an open file in his lap, an unfinished report that he had meant to finish before he got home, still incomplete with pen marks staining the edges of the paper.

He would deal with that later, when he had taken something for the headache that was currently thundering around between his temples.

Aaron clumsily reaches for his phone, dialing Jessica’s number while his heart gallops in his chest, a dull ache creeping in when the phone rings for a second longer than normal.

“Hey Jessica, it’s me. I’m sorry, I dozed off. Is everything alright?”

He doesn’t really register the words he’s saying, a throb of pain shooting in his stomach that passes in an instant. Jessica pauses and Aaron assumes that’s the end of her sentence, his neck muscles tightening with a tension he was sure was caused by the couch.

“Ok. And Jack’s alright?”

Jessica confirms that yes he is alright and yes , she listened to his instructions this time and didn’t feed him dinosaur nuggets.

“Great. I should be there in about half an hour, ok?”

He apologizes again, because this isn’t the first time in the last two months that he’s accidentally missed Jack’s pick up time because of work. His chest is tight and his head spins slightly when he stands, but he’s quick to dismiss it when an Amber Alert comes through his phone.

There was no rest for the weary.

--

She calls him the following Thursday, wanting to ask him about the book he had just recommended.

Her call goes to voicemail and she doesn’t suspect a thing, knowing that his workload has nearly doubled since Strauss died. He had called her well into the night on his timezone, searching for company as she was on her lunch break. She had been pleasantly surprised by the call, being regaled with tales of Jack in between her file appraisals and his complaints about the mountain of paperwork the Director dropped on his desk.

But when she still hears the monotone voice of his pre-recorded greeting when she tries to call later in the day, she begins to worry.

It was unlike him to not shoot her a text that he was busy, promising to contact her at a more convenient time.

There’s a dark pit that grows in her stomach with each passing hour that he doesn’t call.

--

Dave is the one who breaks the news to her.

A bolt of fear passes through her when she sees Dave’s name flash across the screen.

No.

She answers on the second ring, a breathless hello as Dave greets her, a heaviness in his voice that she notes in an instant.

“Dave, what’s wrong?” She asks, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“It’s Aaron.”

He gives her a rundown of their morning, her heart in her throat as Dave relays the details. Aaron had collapsed during a briefing and they rushed him to the hospital. Internal bleeding, thought to be caused by old wounds inflicted by Foyet’s knife that were reopened.

“I thought you’d want to know.”

“Which hospital?” She prompts, already creating a to-do list in her head of all the things that she needed to make sure were buttoned up before she got on a plane.

“Emily, that’s insane.” Dave says, probably already aware of what she was planning to do and she knows. She knows that it’s crazy.

But she’s suddenly reminded of that day at the bank, when he offered himself as the sacrificial lamb to save lives.

It was that uncontrollable itch that rattled underneath her skin, tearing at the fibers in her muscles as she struggled in Morgan’s strong grip while he walked right into her greatest fear.

She needed to be with him and nothing was going to stop her from doing just that.

“Text me which hospital or I’m going to call Penelope and find out for myself.” She hangs up the phone, ending Dave’s protest mid-sentence.

She books the next flight out.

--

She can’t explain to him why she has to leave, why she books the first flight that she could despite the absurd amount of money it had cost and the two or more layovers she would have to contend with. She doesn’t even tell Clyde in person, opting to call him and explain instead of taking the time to head to his office, knowing that every second here was another one wasted without him.

“Aaron? Your ex?” Mark asks in disbelief, following her around her apartment as she pulls out her suitcase. He’s pacing behind her, begging for attention but all she can focus on is the panic in Dave’s voice, laced in a pessimism when he relayed the details of Aaron’s condition.

“Mark, I need to go.” She says stiffly, shoving clothes as quickly as she can into her suitcase. There was one seat on a flight that left in two hours - there was no chance that she was going to miss it.

“You’re on the phone with him all the time. His son calls you in the middle of the night. For Christ’s sake, you’re leaving in two hours to fly all the way back to the States .” Mark almost yells and she flinches, absorbing the anger in his voice. She deserved this. She didn’t deserve the understanding, gentle Mark that she had known for all of their relationship.

She was wondering how much he could take before she broke him too.

“Emily, if you leave, I’m not coming back.”

There is a finality in his tone, the end of a sentence she thinks that she shouldn’t have written in the first place.

At his ultimatum, her eyes widen at the realization that she’s shielded from herself for so long. A truth that she had attempted to put into a cardboard box, shoved in the back of her closet, only to be revisited as a taste of light in her darkest of moments.

There was going to be no one like them. No one who would feel as close to home as they felt to her - the safety that Aaron’s arms provide, the pure joy that radiates from Jack, how complete she felt when she was with them.

Doyle had made her afraid, so afraid of losing them that she thought she would sever the connection before someone else had the chance to. At least she could wrap her mind around it, prepare herself for the brutal blow that threatened to tear out her insides at the simple thought of losing them. She could live apart from them if she knew that it was for their own safety.

But there could be any number of things that could take them away from her. It could be an accident, an unsub, or old scars that burst after years of dormancy. She would rather be there with them than 3,000 miles away.

She’d go as far as she needed to.

“Goodbye, Mark.”

She lets the front door close behind her, keeping her gaze straight ahead as she focuses on only one thing.

Going back home.

--

[please-help-this-little-lesbian]

*Shows up at AMC’s headquarters with a megaphone:* HERES HOW ID NOT MAKE YOU LOSE MILLIONS OF VIEWERS YOU IGNORANT FUCKS!

Anyhow, only one person asked for this, but I thought I’d share anyway: Here’s how I’d run The Walking Dead

(Note: It has been a *long* time since I’ve seen 2-8, so I’m only speaking on what I remember)

General changes

Make it animated! (Except in Tony Moore’s style, bc I’m sorry Charlie Adlard but I just don’t like your style) This way if someone wants to leave we don’t have to sacrifice characters and/or plot lines. (And yes I know you can tell the difference between voice actors, but I’m focusing on story) Another general change I’d make is having each season be only 12-14 episodes instead of 16. That just helps with pacing. My final change is never letting Scott Gimple touch the show ever.

Season 1

No Changes. Absolute perfection. 10/10

Season 2

I honestly don’t think I’d change anything. The only thing I can think of is the Randal plot line, and that’s only because it makes me uncomfortable. Which probably means it should definitely be kept. Oh! One thing I’d change is having Dale die at the Prison instead of the farm, and I’d have Carl’s walker nearly kill Lori, instead of killing Dale.

Season 3

I’d have Dale have T-dog’s death, T-dog in turn have the big fight with Rick, and scrap the whole AndreaxThe Governor plot line. Instead, she goes to Woodbury, realizes what a dick the Governor is, pretends to fall for him, and in the mean time is working with Sasha and Tyrese to smuggle people out of Woodbury and kill him. He finds out and tortures and kills her. Also, Morgan goes with Rick but instead of his pacifist plot line, he keeps in line with his comic character. Also, Michonne is the one assaulted by the Governor, not Maggie.

Season 4

Nothing changes except for we explore Tyreese being a pacifist. Also T-dog dies during the final battle of the Prison.

Season 5

Scrap coda and the Grady plot line, draw out terminus for two more episodes. Beth stays with Daryl and they end up saving Noah from Terminus.

Season 6

Tyreese dies during the Wolves attack saving the one that Morgan originally did. Carol goes off on her own and discovers Kingdom in this season rather than season 7. Morgan will take Denise’s death.

Season 7

Absolutely nothing except...we keep all out war to this season. 7x16 is the mid season finale. Also Carl won’t die.

Season 8 (AKA 9)

Rick doesn’t leave. Also, we jump straight into the time jump. Maggie still leaves, but Beth, Noah, and Jesus all run Hilltop. Beth dies instead of Jesus. Tara and Denise have moved to Oceanside. Enid doesn’t die at the pikes, but Cyndie does. Also, we kill off more Alexandrians at the pikes. We also show Jesus and Aaron’s relationship. Rosita isn’t with Gabriel, but she IS with Siddiq. Rick’s busy with the Whispers, Carl’s busy at Hilltop, and Michonne’s busy with RJ, so Judith still has her friendship with Negan. Because I want it. Negan still saves Judith in the storm, which earns Rick and Michonne’s respect.

Season 9 (AKA 10)

Nothing except for Negan actually gets to kill Beta. Sorry Daryl. Also, Luke, Dianne, and Alden die in the finale. Judith also is forced to kill a whisperer while trying to get back to the tower with Daryl. Yumiko and Magna don’t break up either. Michonne doesn’t leave.

9c (AKA 10c)

Doesn’t exist. Make 10x17 the premiere of my ten, and Here’s Negan the second or third episode. And speaking of Here’s Negan, Negan actually leaves Alexandria and stays away, but he offers to let Lydia come with. She refuses, wanting to stay in Alexandria, but she promises to visit him.

Season 10 (AKA 11)

Since season 11 hasn’t premiered yet I can’t say much but I will say that I’d make Maggie have been in the Commonwealth instead of the whole Reaper’s plot line, and that’s how we’re officially introduced to them. I’d make the whole police brutality part of the Commonwealth arc be the mid season finale. Also I’d straight up address the whole communism vs capitalism allegory. The series finale would be similar to the comics epilogue, but we’d also show what Judith, Noah, Carol, Daryl and Lydia are up to. Also we scrap the whole “Hershel Rhee doesn’t understand Walkers” plot line bc I refuse to believe Maggie would raise her son like that.