#anyways hi hello im maggie and this is my baby

[fallingfavourites]

im such a little liar omg I said said would start 2 days ago and now i am instead but anyway s3 baby here I go,

wait actualy before I start I have to talk about this first it's probably going to be such am experience going from this and then after reading what happened in between the seasons, now fr here I come s3,

WE ARE SO BACK, oeh omg starting with a flashback always eats!! I NEED MORE LAWYER MOMENTS KF THEM IMMEDIATELY, the teacher is so me while reading this,

kinda offtopic but I know ex is an xreader but she just feels like such an oc to me at this point, i was having fun and you just had to hit me in the face with angst didn't you?,

-Matt tried to get out of the bed but he collapsed to the floor with the first step. It was like his body forgot how to move. His own skeleton failed him and let him crash to the ground and a wound at his side gnawed angrily at the impact. The fluid between his ears was as uneasy as the ocean and nothing around him felt solid. The only thing that kept him in that moment was the cold floor beneath him and the firm hands that tried to haul him up.- your writing is beyond this world once again, OH WE'RE DOING BACK AND FORTHS COOLCOOLCOOL, RECOVERED?? RECOVERED WHAT? MATTS DEATH WHAT WHAT IS IT TELL ME

,-“The.. The way her voice broke when she- When she called out for me… I heard her scream when it all happened.”- nono stfu I hadn't even thought about that😭😭 why did you have to say rhat I can't, BRO THIS MAN NOT TELLING HER IS SELFISH,

the punisher teasing is making me crazy, PHYSICAL REHAB??? BILLY WTF DID YOU??????,

-“Because you liked a guy that you could treat like shit and still expect him to care?”- Karen baby no why would you say that😭😭, -“No, you’re right. Because you two kept so many goddamn secrets nobody really knew either of you, right?” - okay but she kinda ate ex and maty up with that, god I love the way you write Karen sm, everybody loves Foggy and as they should!!,

-“Angry, sarcastic, and stubborn. Maybe you don’t have any friends.” Maggie joked, though Matt didn’t find it funny. - your own mom saying that to you is wild😭😭, Matthew murdock you would love hozier, MARRIAGE MENTIONS COUNTER: 2, -...allowing Matt to sit in his own continuous misery.- best way I've ever seen to describe his life,

wait pause, Matt knows it's ex right?? if so that wild for him to do this like thats actually sick and twisted, also would ex like recognize his fighting style? idkidk, also the way ex is just so casual about this😭, AH DEX, I SHOULD NOT LIKE THEM INTERACTING THIS MUCH😨, SCREAMING OMG,

^^me right now,

RAY RAY RAY YIPPEEE, FISK NAHH my girl just can't catch a fucking break omg, MARC MENTION OMG, Ray is just dragging her into this I love it, -“...It just made me feel worse until it got to a point where I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to die per say, but I didn’t wanna live like that anymore. So I buried everything and threw myself into a fight that didn’t really involve me, then I got stuck with this.” You shook the wrist with the brace.- HELLO?? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING TO HAPPRN IN THE SPINOFF??

boy o boy this was a long one but jesus was it good omg, phenomenal writing once again, missed reading this soooo much! my meme/reaction pics game sucked this chapter but I hope it's still a good reaction! probably will read chapter 2 tomorrow since it's 3:30am rn but omg I cannmtttt wait !!!!!! love you pookie!

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - House of Memories

tags: @ironprincessstranger @johnmurphys-sass @dusstory @americaarse @astrobees @mayasaurus--rex @woowwwee // two // Season 2B // masterlist

Pairing: Bullseye X Reader (Casual) , Matt X Reader (Past)

Word Count: 9,558

Summary: Times have changed since Midland Circle, so has Y/N. As she attempts to move forward, relationships are strained and circumstances are less than favorable. Can she cope on her own or will she fall back into old habits?

“Welcome to our final class for the semester!” The professor announced as he paraded into the room. Various hoots and claps came from around you but you simply smiled, glad to have another class checked off your schedule. “As you know, today is the final day for debates. We have only a few to get through so the quicker we go, the quicker we enjoy our winter break. Y/L/N, you’re up first!”

You pushed yourself up and hurried down the lecture hall steps until you reached the front. You stood at the closer podium and scanned the notes that waited for you.

A man attempts to break into a house late at night. The owner, a single woman, owns a retired police dog - a German Shepherd to be specific. He bites the perpetrator but releases and recalls when the noise wakes the woman and she calls him back. You’re supposed to argue the man is at fault. Your opposition will argue that the woman is.

“There’s five people you can choose to argue against, or I can choose for you.” Your professor said as you looked up at the empty podium across from you.

“You can pick.. But don’t make it easy.” You shrugged and glanced up at Matt. You knew he hadn’t gone yet and he was smiling down at you.

“Mr. Murdock!” He called and you grinned. “My two top students should go against each other, don’t you think? C’mon down, my boy!”

Matt laughed slightly and made his way down, cane bouncing off the steps. The professor pulled a different copy of the notes from his bag and placed it at Matt’s podium. You gave him a minute while he ran his fingers over the page and his brows raised in interest.

“Ladies first.” The professor bowed and stepped back.

“Clearly, the man is at fault.” You began easily. “Attempted breaking and entering.”

“Yes, but this dog is trained to attack and by New York law, that makes the owner liable.” Matt countered. “Just compensate for the $2,200 in medical bills and call it a day.”

“Yes, but New York law also states that if the victim is trespassing or provoking the animal, the owner isn’t liable.”

“How do you know he was provoking the animal?”

“Security footage.”

“That wasn’t in the notes.” Matt smiled slightly.

“You’re going to assume a woman who lives alone doesn’t have cameras?” You raised your brows.

“Regardless, the dog is trained to attack. Especially being retired police, there must’ve been training for him to engage in certain situations.”

“Certain hostile situations, you mean.”

“You can’t be sure the man was hostile.”

“Why was he breaking into her house then?”

“Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was running, looking for somewhere to hide or someone to help him. The dog misread the body language and attacked, unprovoked.”

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Murdock?”

“Please.” He smiled.

“If I threaten you, are you within your rights to defend yourself?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And if I am threatened, can I defend myself?”

“Yes.”

“With whatever I feel is necessary?”

“Sure.”

“Exactly. The dog felt it’s home and owner were threatened. It reacted accordingly.”

“Sounds a bit like victim blaming, doesn’t it?” He asked with a tilt of his head and you almost laughed.

“Coming from the man blaming an animal.”

“Let me ask you something, Ms. Y/L/N. By going off your last statement, your addressing the animal like it’s a weapon.”

“And if I had a concealed carry permit, do I have to show it to you or announce it before defending myself with said weapon?”

“No. But you are still held responsible if you kill your attacker, even if it’s self-defense.”

“You seem to be sympathizing with the attacker. Tell me, Mr. Murdock. Do you?”

“Are you insinuating I hurt people?” His voice feigned hurt but he nearly laughed in amusement.

“Of course not.” You said honestly. “But I do think you enjoy a bit of power.”

“Do you sympathize with the woman?”

“With a woman, on her own, being attacked by someone who she owes nothing to?” You challenged slightly, putting more of a personal anger into the words than intended. “I think any woman in the room would.”

“Maybe that’s clouding your judgment.”

“Is that an ad hominem I hear? Maybe you’re trying to attack me because you know your argument is weak.”

“I’ll admit that the man shouldn’t have gone breaking into houses. However, the woman should’ve had signage posted that a dog with the training and intent to protect was on the premises.”

“Should she have put a sign on every corner of her fence?” You raised your brows. “Because for all we know, there’s a sign on her front gate.”

“I don’t remember if it’s in the notes so just assume there is.” Your professor agreed, seemingly enthralled in your discussion like his favorite TV show. “You two are doing fantastic. You’ve almost gotten to the deciding factor.”

“With posted signage at the front of her property, she shouldn’t have to post it on the back if there’s no typical entry there.” You continued.

“One sign is easy to overlook.” Matt shrugged.

“Not if you enter the property in the proper way. Therefore, the only way the woman is liable would be if the dog bit the man on the sidewalk, since it’s public property.”

“Can we get a description of what the dog bites look like?” Matt turned to your professor.

“Should be on the second page.” He nodded and you cleared your throat. He looked at you and you gave a small jerk of your head towards Matt. “Of course. You’d think I’d remember.” He mumbled and your class chuckled.

You moved to his podium with your paper in hand and reached for his arm. He gave it to you willingly so you pushed the sleeve of his shirt up and twisted it so you could see the inside of his forearm while dropping your page on top of his.

“Punctures from the top canines here.” You used two fingers pressed against his skin as you looked at the paper. “Bottom here. Bruising along here.” Your fingers trailed along his arm and he shivered slightly. “Another set of punctures here, with a bit of lacerations. Less than an inch maybe.”

“A second set of punctures?” His brows furrowed beneath his glasses and you recognized the tone of his voice. He heard something of interest. “So the dog bit once, let go, and bit again? And shook, if there were lacerations.”

“The lacerations are newer, based on the blood color.” You countered. “They don’t look like a shake. It looks like he was pulling his arm away.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because they go downwards. Typically, shakes just make the initial punctures deeper and a little wider, little messier. If anything the movement would be horizontal.”

“Anything else on the bites?”

“No, but..” You flipped the page over and found another photo, though this one was the dog covered in blood and a copy of a vet bill. “There’s a vet bill.”

You flipped Matt’s notes and found what you assumed was the same thing just in braille. You put his hand against it and read your own.

“The dog had damage to his left eye and socket, a chunk missing from his ear and a bloody line four inches down his side.” You explained the photo. “Was the dog shot?”

Your professor nodded.

“Your guy shot her dog.” You turned back to Matt. “Probably used the butt of the gun to hit its eye.”

“You’re right.” He nodded with a small smile. “The woman’s not at fault.”

“You wanted the $2200 for medical?” You asked and he nodded. “Vet bills were $3700. Pay out the difference and we’ll call it even.”

Matt grinned and shook your hand. Your professor stood and celebrated, causing the class to give polite claps. Foggy gave a loud shout from the back.

———————————————

How he survived, he didn’t know. When he finally washed up after Midland Circle, he felt closer to death than he ever had before. He hardly had strength to breathe, let alone try to get home. Try to get to Y/N.

The thought of her was the only thing that kept him going. She was the only thing that had him even considering healing, considering living after that. He heard her voice in every thought. Her touch seemed to ghost his skin though she was nowhere near.

I can’t lose you, Matty. I just can’t.

I trust you with my life.

I want you with me.

I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you.

My life isn’t worth yours.

Just don’t let it take you from us, okay?

How could he ever face her again? To stand in front of her, knowing she would break down, and ask her to forgive him for sacrificing his life. And for what? For his own pride? For Elektra? And not even the Elektra they both knew and loved at that, but a hollowed out version driven by her own selfish desires.

“Where…? Where…?” He tried to get out a full question but every word seemed to die as it fell from his lips.

“St. Agnes. The orphanage.” A familiar voice answered but he couldn’t make out anything else. Matt felt like someone had shoved a pound of dry cotton into his ears. And while he appreciated the knowledge of where he was, that wasn’t what he wanted to know.

“How long?”

“Several weeks.”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

“She’s come and gone for the day.” The woman rushed an answer and the words made Matt’s head spin violently as he sat up. Or was that more the residual injuries? “Get back in the bed! You’ll hurt yourself!”

“My right ear… I can’t..”

Matt tried to get out of the bed but he collapsed to the floor with the first step. It was like his body forgot how to move. His own skeleton failed him and let him crash to the ground and a wound at his side gnawed angrily at the impact. The fluid between his ears was as uneasy as the ocean and nothing around him felt solid. The only thing that kept him in that moment was the cold floor beneath him and the firm hands that tried to haul him up.

She’s come and gone for the day.

Why was Y/N at the church? She didn’t believe in any of it. Was she looking for Matt? Did she already know he was alive? If she knew, she would’ve been beside him. He firmly believed that if she knew, she wouldn’t leave his side. She would’ve sat there, day and night, waiting to scream at him for abandoning her or to make sure he actually pulled through. There would’ve been some piece of her left in that room, whether it be the warmth of her skin or the scent of her perfume or the sound of her voice. Something would’ve still been there, unless maybe it was and Matt just couldn’t tell. What a cold loneliness he felt around him when he considered that thought.

To anything outside that small, lonely room in the orphanage, Daredevil - and in turn, for some at least, Matt Murdock - was dead.

————————————

Matt and Foggy were in their dorm room, the afternoon after meeting Y/N.

Saying the girl was electric was an understatement. From the second he heard her say his name, he was a goner. He had known her for mere minutes, hours if you count the night, but he felt something in his chest when she introduced herself. His heart thumped faster when she laughed and time seemed to slow when she touched him.

He started to wonder if that’s what it meant to have a soulmate.

“Are you gonna call her?” Foggy asked that morning.

“We met her last night, Foggy.” Matt reasoned with a nervous chuckle. “I’m not gonna call her.”

“Dude.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re gonna miss this perfect opportunity? Matt, c’mon man! She was gorgeous!”

“I-“

“No, like you don’t get it. She was probably the most beautiful woman to have ever walked this campus. You should’ve seen her.”

“Well I-“

“Don’t!” Foggy cut in so Matt smiled innocently. “Do not make a blind joke right now.”

“If she’s so beautiful, then you call her.” Matt tried, though the suggestion felt like a slap to the face.

“I’m not the one she was making googly eyes at on the walk back last night.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I-“ Foggy began before a loud, exasperated sigh. “Matt! Dude!”

“Foggy!” Matt replied in the same tone. “It’s fine. We’ll probably run into her in class anyway.”

“You’re gonna just wait and hope that you two run into each other again by chance? When she’s probably the most perfect and smart and beautiful and charming and-“

“Sounds like you liked her more than I did.” Matt mumbled and dropped onto his back across his mattress.

“Matt. Matthew. My friend.” Foggy said as he came and sat on his friend’s bed beside him. “I’m telling you this because I love you. Call the girl!”

“I’m not gonna call her!” Matt laughed. “C’mon man. You really think a girl like that - as beautiful as you say she is and can speak that many languages and who knows what else she can do. You think a girl like that is gonna wanna be with me?”

“Buddy, I think she would’ve married you last night if you had asked.”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed dramatically, though he was admittedly giddy. “I’ll call her. Dial her number for me.”

“Do you hear that?” Foggy joked as he found the scrap of her book page that she wrote her number on and dialed on Matt’s phone. “Sounds like wedding bells, my friend. Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N-Murdock.”

“Y/L/N-Murdock, huh?” Matt laughed as he held the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, you’re right… Murdock-Y/L/N? Nah, I don’t like that either. Maybe just Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“It’s about time, Murdock.” Y/N joked on the other end of the call. “And here I thought you forgot about me.”

————————————

“Matthew.” Father Lantom announced his arrival one day and Matt was drawn out of the same spiral of thoughts that haunted him. The same circulation of memories that plagued him.

“Father, I didn’t know you were there.” Matt answered honestly, though the feeling in his right ear was as nagging as ever. “Sister Maggie said something before… About Y/N.”

“Oh.. Yes.” He nodded and Matt noticed his hesitation. It was as if he was thinking of how to tell Matt whatever he knew. “She’s been coming around a bit more often lately.”

“Does she know?”

“No… No, I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell her.”

“Why does she come then?”

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. She’s only come inside once.. Said the building doesn’t smell like cinnamon anymore, whatever that means.”

Matt sighed heavily, understanding exactly what she meant. Though he had never smelled it himself, he knew it was how the devotion in the building showed up to her. It was part of her abilities, how she described the church as warm and alive with everyone’s belief. She described anger as red, hot and burning. Sadness was cold and blue. Happiness was a soft purple. Love was pink and fuzzy. Fear, yellow and bitter. He wondered what she was feeling now.

“Instead she just… sits on the bench out front until one of the boys comes to collect her for work. Poor thing.” Lantom continued and it made Matt’s heart twist.

“It’s my fault.. She was with me that night and I- I made her leave. I couldn’t let her die with me.” Matt said weakly.

“She’s doing well lately, better since she’s recovered.”

Matt wondered what that meant but he didn’t dwell on it.

“The.. The way her voice broke when she- When she called out for me… I heard her scream when it all happened.”

Just talking about it replayed that scream and he felt his heart splinter again.

“I’m sure she would love to see you.”

“I just can’t get that sound out of my head.” He nearly whispered.

“She used to say the last thing you said to her played in her head like a record on repeat… Said she’d give anything to hear you say her name again.”

Matt said nothing this time. He would love to have Y/N come by but he knew it wasn’t fair. He’d been gone for several weeks, at least. That could’ve meant months. Y/N could’ve gotten over everything and seeing him, knowing he was alive and she had been so close to him every time she came, it would only break her again. How could he put her through that? How could he be so selfish?

“Matthew, you have to admit it is a miracle that you survived.” Lantom tried.

“That’s how most of our conversations tend to go.” Matt complained and rolled to his side. “Let’s just give it a rest.”

Lantom left after that, allowing Matt to wallow in his own thoughts and boredom.

He wondered who were the boys that came for Y/N. What of her life was still the same? Did Exodus come back to protect the Kitchen, to take out her anger and pain on those she thought deserved it? Or did she sit at home, alone in the apartment that they had danced in? The apartment they had cooked dinners in and cleaned together and where she taught him more and more Russian. Was she as alone as he was? Chased by memories of something buried alive.

Those were the thoughts that plagued Matt day in and day out. He thought of his other friends, too. Karen and Foggy. He wondered if Jessica or Luke or Danny had checked in on Y/N. He even wondered if Frank had heard and looked out for her

Matt wasn’t sure how long exactly it had been since his conversation with Father Lantom about Y/N when Sister Maggie brought her up as well.

“There must be at least one person I can call for you.” She said, almost regretfully and there was a hint of a knowing tone in her voice.

“No.” Matt decided. “There’s no one.”

“What about the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The sad, pretty one. Although lately she seems more angry than sad.” She described her simply and a brief smile crossed Matt’s face. “She comes every morning and has told me about a specific someone who sounds remarkably like you. And given all of that, I’m guessing she was the one you liked to do backflips with.”

“Exodus.”

Sister Maggie hummed in response.

“Her name is Y/N.” Matt said, almost defensively. He couldn’t take her down to only her vigilante name because she was so much more than that. He helped her see that, so ignoring that would be wrong. Exodus was part of who Y/N was, not the entirety.

“You should consider yourself lucky to have found a girl like that that’s willing to put up with all of this.”

“Yeah…”

Back at the apartment, you were getting home for the day. It was an easy day. You had been back from Quantico for a few months, but everything from Billy at the carousel set back your timeline. After your mandated therapy and physical rehab, today was the first day you were unrestricted, though of course your luck meant nothing exciting happened.

You reached for your door handle and found it already unlocked. You walked in confidently after dropping your purse and coat by the door, a hand hovering at the gun on your hip, only to find Karen. She was kneeling by the closet under your stairs with the case to Matt’s suit open in front of her.

“I could’ve told you it’s still not there.” You said simply, removing your gun and badge from your belt and tossing them to the table. “It’s not coming back, Karen. Neither is he.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called.” She answered gently, a sadness in her voice.

“Yeah..” You agreed quickly. “Want a drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks.. But uh, how are you?”

“That’s not what this is about.” You threw the fridge shut. “Y’know, come to think of it, I don’t know why you keep coming back and looking for it.”

“I know.. I just can’t shake the feeling that-“

“Not even that.” You laughed with annoyance. “You don’t remember what you told him, do you? When you came by the next day after he told you about all that.” You pointed to the closet.

She was quiet so you continued.

“I don’t think Daredevil’s the problem.” You repeated and her eyes dropped. Her guilt tinted the air with a stale feeling, vaguely smelling like old water. “You didn’t want him in your life as Daredevil but now that he’s gone, you pretend that you cared about the suit.”

She looked back to you quickly. “I didn’t care about the suit. I cared about him.”

“You cared about Matt… Yeah, I’ll give you that. But you didn’t give a shit about Daredevil. You can’t separate the two!”

“Is that why you liked him? Because he was Daredevil.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered.

“Because you liked a guy that you could treat like shit and still expect him to care?”

“Fuck you, Karen.” You snapped. “I cared about Matt long before he even thought about Daredevil so don’t stand there and act like you know anything about our relationship.”

“No, you’re right. Because you two kept so many goddamn secrets nobody really knew either of you, right?”

“Is this really what you came for? To fight with me.” You came around the counter and took a few steps closer to her, making her step back. “Because if you did, you can walk right back out the door and y’know what. You don’t even have to come back. Okay? I don’t need this shit from you anymore. I’m done, Karen.”

She was quiet and you felt the way your words sliced through her but you were too angry to stop talking. You let that anger burn through you as the words fell from your lips.

“Evidently, the only reasons we got along were because Matt and Frank were mutual friends. Now that they’re not around, we have nothing.” You shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore. I don’t need a pity friend. And I don’t want one.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She replied quietly, like a child being yelled at by her parents. “I’m sorry. We’re just worried, me and Foggy.”

“Well don’t be. I’m fine.” You offered a sarcastic expression before going back to the far side of the counter.

She nodded slightly. “I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t care. I don’t need a babysitter. I still make a couple meetings for that support group with Curtis. I left Anvil and the Billy fiasco behind. I’m trying to take the FBI offer seriously. I don’t know what else you and him need me to do to convince you that I’m fine.”

“Foggy said you’re going to Matt’s church again.”

“Oh my-“ You mumbled. “That’s what this is about? Because I sit on a stupid bench?”

“It’s more than just a bench, Y/N.”

“What else is there to say? What are you fishing for?” You sighed heavily and leaned your palms against your countertop, nearly wincing at the sharp contrast of the cool surface against your burning skin. “I’m moving on. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

A series of quick knocks sounded at your door.

“What you both wanted.” You corrected as you went to open the door, seeing Foggy standing on the other side.

“Surprise.” He smiled nervously.

“Whatever intervention or ambush this is, I don’t need it.” You announced as you headed back into the living room. “I’m doing great.”

“I just came to see my friend. We haven’t had time to get together since you’ve been back, given all the other stuff that happened.” Foggy said honestly. You turned to face him and stared for a moment, reading his emotions. You found he wasn’t coming from a place of worry or concern. Just friendship.

You offered a small smile in response as your own headspace cleared. Maybe you needed someone familiar to be around for a bit. “Then you can stay a while. And if you don’t try to pick another fight, Karen, you can stay too.”

You had to admit. Foggy’s good heart and honest energy seemed to be the only thing lately that could help your heart break through.

Back at the church, Sister Maggie was continuing her conversation with Matt.

“Angry, sarcastic, and stubborn. Maybe you don’t have any friends.” Maggie joked, though Matt didn’t find it funny.

“Someone once told me that warriors were meant to be alone.” He answered simply rather than argue. “That caring for people would make me weak.”

“Is that what you told that Exodus girl?”

“Y/N.” Matt said defensively to himself.

“That you’d be weak if you cared? Cause it doesn’t seem like she got the memo.”

“I let people in, I paid a price… If anyone can understand that, it’s her. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Would she call it a mistake?”

“You really wanna push the Y/N topic, don’t you?” Matt groaned. Not because he didn’t want to talk about Y/N, but because it just hurt too much still.

“She seems to be the only topic that gets you to talk.” Maggie countered.

The conversation then shifted to Job after Matt found his old Bible and the way Matt thought he was serving God the same way. Matt admitted that he didn’t hate God, but he felt he understood Him better and understood where they stood with each other.

“For the record, I had friends. I had a life, a girlfriend and I- I loved her, probably would’ve married her one day. Started a family of our own down the road. I care about people and I’m choosing to let them believe that I’m gone because I am.”

“Tell that to the girl that sits on that bench every morning.”

“You don’t get it.” He sighed.

“I think I do, Matthew. She makes you happy, and that’s the worst thing for you.”

“I know my truth now, Sister.”

“What truth?”

“I’d rather die as the Devil than live as Matt Murdock.”

“So I guess she’d rather live as Y/N, without either, and blame herself for the Devil’s death.”

“At least she’ll live.”

“But what kind of a life is that?”

Sister Maggie left after that, allowing Matt to sit in his own continuous misery. Missing Foggy, Y/N, and Karen. That was his own punishment. He deserved that, for all the pain and suffering he had brought to them. He was better alone, the same as Y/N tried to convince herself she was, and he hoped she had started to believe she was better without him. Difference was that he chose to do what he did. Y/N was made into it. The only thing he would change was that Y/N blamed herself.

That night, Sister Maggie came back.

“I think you’re a hero, hiding down here and feeling sorry for yourself.” She said simply. “Just out back, there’s an orphanage full of kids who’ve lost everything and everyone. Some of them disabled, much worse off than you ever were. And they’re still trying to make the most out of life, the little cowards.”

“Okay, alright.” Matt cut in.

“I mean it! Here you are, with all the gifts God gave you. Handsome, smart, a law degree, people who care about you. You have a beautiful, thoughtful girl that comes here every single day without fail who only wants to see you again. Doesn’t even know you’re here, mind you. But you’re so bravely giving up.”

“Y’know, thank you for the tough love, Sister.” Matt complained as he hobbled across the cold room. “And your charmingly simplistic view of God and the world. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, but don’t for a second think you know anything about me or her or my life.”

“I’ve been a nun for 30 years. I know self-pity when I hear it.” She continued. “And I know that she’s had to leave people, without explanation. I know that after losing you, if how she feels is how they all felt, she would’ve done it differently.”

“Yeah? Well, no one died because of her. Twice, actually.”

“You don’t know everything about her past, Matthew. The guilt she carries could be more than yours.”

“But you do?”

“No.. But I do know your father was famous around here. I saw him fight, saw him go down many times. But he never stayed down.” She pressed before she left.

Matt laid in bed that night and thought of her words, and she was right. About his dad at least. He didn’t stay down. But he did have to wonder about what she said about Y/N, regretting the choices she’d made. If she had known the way people hurt when she left - how he hurt when she left - would she have made different choices?

He couldn’t help but think how different his life would’ve been if she had never left. Or if she had never came in the first place.

A few days passed and Matt found some sense of recovery. He managed to clear some of the blockages in his sinuses, allowing him to find some normalcy with training again. Certain moves still hurt, still caused him to fail, but he knew he was on his way back to what he was before. Back to Daredevil.

On your next day off, you were sitting on your usual bench outside the church with your gym bag tucked beneath your feet. You greeted some of the familiar nuns and patrons with a friendly smile, accepting the gentle handshakes and blessings from the older ladies that you were seeing for the first time since you’ve been back. Sister Maggie came and sat beside you, though her usual demeanor was replaced with a jittery energy.

“Something wrong, Sister?” You asked simply as she sighed and you felt the vibrations tingle against your exposed skin.

“Well, Y/N, I don’t know how to ask you this.” She admitted and you shifted to face her fully. “Would you be.. willing to come downstairs with me today?”

“For what?”

“For a… for a fight.”

“A fight..” You repeated and raised your brows. “Since when does the church have a secret fight club?”

“I’m not thrilled about it but I think you’re the best option.”

“Okay…” You agreed hesitantly. “What’s the catch?”

“Well… Have you ever fought blindfolded? Or with your eyes closed?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though her scowl made you quiet down.

“You’re serious?” Your brows furrowed.

“Unfortunately.”

“Weirdly enough, I have..”

“Of course you have.” She sighed.

“It was a good training exercise.” You shrugged. “It taught me to understand and hone my gifts rather than depending on what I see, kinda like how Matt used to… Well, anyways, did you want me to do it today?”

“If you’re willing.”

You stared at your hands folded in your lap for a moment, tapping your fingers as you thought. It was an odd request, definitely, and it made no sense to you. But the idea did make your nerves tingle and your muscles twitch. It could be fun to repeat an old training drill, despite the clear hesitation and borderline sacrilegious nature of it. There was something Sister Maggie wasn’t telling you, but really, you didn’t care to know all the details.

“Sure.” You shrugged and stood, kneeling for your bag before following the older nun through the halls and down the stairs.

You paused before a rod-iron gate and you could feel the buzzing of your opponent on the other side. A torn cloth was tied tightly across your eyes as Sister Maggie and Father Lantom exchanged a quick, hushed conversation that you were expected to ignore about what was going to take place. You were lead through the room quietly, guided where to leave your bag.

You knelt and pulled your wraps, wrapping them in place easily after your brace was fitted on as you spoke to Lantom while Maggie talked to whoever you were facing. You tapped your hands into your chalk pouch and patted them together to cover your exposed fingers and the back of your covered knuckles with the fine powder.

“Do you have gloves?” He asked simply, though you could picture the way he was fidgeting.

“I’d rather not, if whoever’s over there doesn’t mind.” You answered, nodding towards the unknown figure behind you. “They don’t have to either, just so it’s fair.”

After a moment of quiet, Lantom answered.

“Alright. He’s not wearing a helmet and there’s a lot of marble statues around so try not to beat on him too bad.”

You smiled slightly and turned your head in his direction.

“Shouldn’t you be warning him about going easy on me, too?” You joked and stood, allowing Lantom to turn you towards your opponent and guide you closer. “Given I’m the one that can’t see.”

“No wonder you two got along.” Maggie sighed, though the statement wasn’t directed at you. “Same sense of humor.”

You reached your hand out and felt another meet yours in a quick tap. Your skin flushed warm as you tuned in to your opponent’s feelings, finding yourself warmed with a general anger and an underlying sadness. A brief flash of loneliness and regret, tucked under a suffocating blanket of self-pity that you swore was going to choke you. You cleared the feeling with a light cough as you rolled your shoulders.

They’d be easy enough to keep track of. Your only issue now would be anticipating their moves, given that you knew nothing of their fighting style. All you could assume was that they were a traditional boxer.

You moved first with hopes of keeping enough of an offense that you wouldn’t need to defend against much, throwing two sharp jabs that connected with their stomach. You were met with a brisk hook to your chin that backed you up a few steps. You chuckled lightly and shifted your jaw, having been hit harder than anticipated.

The brief swell of pride gave away where they moved to so you acted quickly, grabbing their shoulders and yanking them down your knee could slam their stomach. When you felt the hands grab your forearms, you spun your hands around so you could break their hold before throwing an elbow against their nose which earned a loud gasp from Sister Maggie. Your next punch was caught, pushing you to the side. When you turned to face them again, you were met with a quick barrage of jabs that you could block with your arms and there was an obvious tell that your opponent was holding back.

“If you’re gonna hit me, hit me. I’m sure I can take it.” You spat with the unintentional tint of your accent and were hit with a heavy wave of panic.

You seized the hesitation and moved back in, landing hit after hit. Lantom and Maggie both tried to call you off, but neither you nor your opponent stopped. You two were trading blows and dodging shots until you managed to get enough room to swing a moderated roundhouse to the side of his head and he dropped.

Lantom guided you out after that while Maggie tended to the other person, both of them unhappy with the results. He thanked you for coming and insisted you keep it quiet. You joked that you didn’t know who you were up against anyway so your story wouldn’t make much sense if you told it. But even as you were leaving, and you couldn’t remove the blindfold until you were the majority of the way up the stairs, you couldn’t deny the feeling that whoever you were up against… Their emotions were familiar, like the sound of an old song that you still miraculously knew the words to but couldn’t remember who sang it.

Something comfortable. Something that was impossible to truly get out of your head.

That night, you were out with Dex for drinks to try and forget about it.

“Why does it look like you got punched in the face?” He laughed, tapping his mouth in the same spot where you knew yours was busted.

“Cause I did.” You admitted with a small smile that tugged the small wound open. “My gym was doing a little amateur boxing showcase type thing earlier so I jumped in after my lifts.”

“Hope you won.”

“Oh, yeah.” You grinned, the action tugging the split skin open further. “Dropped the last guy nice and easy. After I had my fun, of course.”

“Otherwise, y’know, I’d have to find a new partner.”

“Wow.” Your brows raised and he gave you a playful smirk. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“That’s cold, Dex.”

“C’mon.” He chuckled. “You think I can have a partner that loses amateur boxing?”

“Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Hattley says she likes the way we work.”

“Guess I’ll have to deal with you then, huh?”

“Can’t rid of me that easy. Just ask anyone who knows me.”

As he was walking you home, you felt that familiarity again. It hooked into your chest and was tugging at you, screaming in the back of your head to get closer. You faked a reason to return to the bar - lying that you had left your phone - and hurried the few blocks to get to them. As you were getting closer, you heard a woman yelling for her dad. Her panic urged your feet to move faster, but you were so distracted by the person - likely subconsciously - calling out to you that you almost didn’t notice the car.

The tires skirted along the asphalt and you had to hop back. You leaned on the hood to see through the bright headlights, and the girl driving was more panicked than you were, with mascara stall rubbing down her puffed up cheeks. It was easy to figure out she was the one you heard so you waved her off and kept moving. But when you got to the source, you faltered, only for a second.

“God forgive me.” He mumbled, hardly enough sound for you to hear.

The defeat in his voice - his familiar voice - drove a stake through your chest that let a chilling loneliness creep out and weigh heavily on your skin. With a shiver, you forced the feeling down and focused on the situation in front of you.

One of the men raised their arms but you were quick to yank the pole from their hand. He turned on you almost instantly but you offered a smile before slamming the pole against his temple, seeing an angry gash split almost immediately. You turned and slammed a foot against the kneeling man’s chest and leaned into it, pinning him to the ground. You threw the pole at the other man, seeing the end collide with his nose before you allowed him to gather his partner and take off.

You blew a loose strand of hair from your face and turned your attention back to the man under your shoe.

You heart nearly stopped when you saw the familiar outfit.

“No…” You said quietly, moving your foot to kneel beside him.

Your fingers reached gingerly for the edge of his mask, but just as you were about to grab it, he slammed his forehead against yours and you fell backwards. You let out a loud string of curses in Russian as you rubbed the place of contact but when you looked back, you found he was gone.

You could’ve sworn, as you got up and made your way back to the apartment, that it was the Man in the Mask.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Daredevil.

Matt Murdock.

Despite every logical thought in your head, everytime your brain mulled over the facts. Every night you went to bed alone and woke up the same. Every time you realized you missed him but forgot that it was supposed to hurt, when you realized you still weren’t really letting it hurt.

But if you had to put money on that voice being his, you would’ve.

Would it be better if he really was alive? Maybe whatever was cracking through your still cold core would reignite in your chest. You could regain your full sense of humanity and normalcy, return to the Y/N he knew and loved, assuming enough of her still existed at that point.

Or would it only force that floodgate of pain and anger and grief open? Would you find that the girl he knew, the girl you thought you were, was never real? That it’d be too much and you’d fall back into an uncaring, heartless and ruthless person that not even Dreykov would’ve wanted.

Damn him, for throwing your thoughts into a spiral even in death.

Alleged death, now.

The next morning at work, you wished you had stayed home.

“Y/L/N. You’re with me.” An agent you knew a bit, Ray Nadeem, called as he walked by you. He didn’t stay long so you had to move quickly to catch up.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you finally got to his stride.

“Talk to a guy who won’t give us shit. Hattley wants you to go since SWAT has nothing and you’re new but doesn’t want you going alone in case there’s a conflict of interest.”

“So why you? Why not send me with Dex seeing as he’s my actual partner.”

“Cause my number was up next.” He sighed in annoyance. “And didn’t Dex go out of town on assignment this morning?”

“You’re telling me this couldn’t have waited a day or two till he’s back? If he’s gonna give us nothing, what does it matter?”

When you got in the car, he passed you the thick rubber banded folder. You didn’t need to open it to know what case it was, and all thoughts of Matt and his possible survival were shoved from your head.

You were going to talk to Wilson Fisk.

You gripped the file tightly in one hand while pulling your phone. You shot Marc a quick text about Vanessa’s most recent location, and he sent back a short list of what he had since the last time you two spoke along with a rumor of where she’d be headed next. The drive to the prison was relatively quiet, but you could feel there was something eating at Ray. You thought about asking but you figured he wouldn’t want to talk to you about it so you said nothing. Instead, you cleared your throat to break the looming tension.

You two were escorted in after a brief security clearing and sat alone at a small table while the guards led Fisk in.

“Mr. Fisk, I’m Special Agent Ray Nadeem with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Ray introduced simply, flashing his badge before gesturing to you.

“Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, FBI SWAT.” You nodded.

“The FBI would like your assistance with… Let’s just cut to the part where you tell us to eat shit so we can stop wasting each other’s time.”

“Do you have someone in your life that you love so much, you’d do anything to protect them?” Fisk asked solemnly, his eyes lingering on you before turning to Ray.

“Are you threatening us?” He asked quickly.

“I have made many mistakes.” Fisk nodded. “But I accept the debt I’m paying because of them. A debt-” He turned to you again. “-that certain people ensured I could not neglect.”

“He’s not threatening us, not yet at least.” You sighed and leaned forward, your chest hitting the edge of the table. “He’ll talk.” You twisted your fingers under the table to pull on the gnawing worry that was presenting in Fisk. As the man stared you down, you watched the blue mist of sadness cover his eyes and you were given a flash of a name. Vanessa. “Because there’s something we can offer as incentive.”

“What I cannot accept is that the woman I love should have to pay for them, too. I would do anything to protect her.”

“So what is it you’re saying?” Ray asked carefully.

“He wants us to help Vanessa Marianna, some sort of pardon or acquittal, so she can come back to the States.” You explained, drawing a quick head turn from Ray. “She’s been pretty good about avoiding countries with extradition, I’ll give her that. But she’s passed through a couple in Europe, for the sake of art, I bet.”

“She had nothing to do with this!” Fisk said loudly.

“But she knew, didn’t she?” You instigated.

“I want to make a deal.”

“She knew you were a criminal, I bet.”

“Y/L/N.” Ray tried.

“A liar.”

“All I ask, Agent Y/L/N, in exchange is for someone to protect this woman.”

“Let me be frank here. I don’t trust you. I want you to stay in this prison and rot for the rest of your miserable life. Vanessa can run till the money runs out and I have someone grab her. But it’s not about what I want… Give us good information and maybe we’ll look into it. She’s easy enough for me to find anyway.”

The next morning, you and Ray were tasked with leading a raid on the Albanians. It was a show of faith in Fisk, that he’d given you viable information. But even though you didn’t trust a single word out of Fisk’s mouth, your job was by the book now. You had to look into it.

And as much as you hated to say it, Fisk wasn’t lying. You and Ray led the team through a perfectly successful raid. Your office congratulated you both and you accepted the praise with a smile, even though you didn’t like it. Something about everything felt forced, like you were playing exactly the part you were meant to play and it left a grimy feeling across your skin.

You stayed huddled at your temporary desk most of the day, writing your report of the raid and finding any other trivial task that kept you away from prying eyes.

You had a feeling that the path you were on, and maybe all the FBI officers that end up involved, was going to be a rough one.

“Come with me.” Ray said suddenly, tapping your arm.

“Wha- Again?” You answered as you hurried to your feet. “Where are we going?”

“We’re gonna convince Hattley to give us the Fisk detail.”

“What? No, Ray, I don’t want it.”

“Oh, c’mon.” He groaned as you two reached the SAC’s door. “You and I were the only agents to get anything out of him since he got locked up!”

“You think that matters? You have whatever issues - I’m guessing finances since you’re so desperate - and I’m still new SWAT with a conflict of interest. Besides, in case you couldn’t tell, I don’t like Fisk. I don’t like the way he looks at people. I don’t like the way he talks to people. There is no way in hell I go in there and ask for that.”

“Look, he’s afraid of whatever you know. Right? He believes that you can get to Vanessa, without even trying. If you stay involved, even as backup - just a presence in the room. Y/L/N, I promise you, we can get enough for everyone for years.”

“Wow, okay, so you’re just not listening to the whole ‘conflict of interest’ issue? I worked at the firm that built the case that got him locked up and had a tenement case against him. I want that man to die in jail. I don’t care what he can give or what I can take away. You wanna ask her for it? Go ahead. If she asks my opinion, I’ll back you on it. Just leave me out of it.”

All the while, Matt was sulking in the church basement when Sister Maggie came to check on him.

“Give yourself time to heal or you’re gonna get yourself killed.” She said simply.

“You’re probably right.” Matt said quickly before swallowing the pills.

“Is that what you wanted?”

Instead of answering her question, Matt changed the subject.

“She found me last night… Y/N.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No, I.. I ran off.”

“Do you wish you had talked to her?”

“I heard her heartbeat.. Seemed like the first time when she didn’t let me hear it but I heard it on my own. Something about her is different…”

“She’s been through a lot since you’ve been gone, not just counting what you did.”

“What happened?” Matt asked softly.

“Maybe if you let her be here, there’d be less of your self-pitying bullshit to throw around. She could knock some sense into you and you could ask her yourself.”

“Why did you become a nun?” He asked instead when he realized she wouldn’t tell him. He’d have to find a chance to ask Y/N instead.

“I heard God’s call.”

“So you feel like being a nun is what you’re meant to be?”

“Yes.” She said with finality. “Very much.”

“What if you couldn’t be anymore? If it were taken from you?”

“Your point being that if we can’t fulfill our calling, we might be better off as worm food?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay.. But let me ask you something first. What do you think Y/N’s calling is?”

He sighed heavily as he thought about it. As much as he missed her and he yearned her - as much as his own heart was probably betraying him and calling out for her in a way only she would feel - he didn’t want to talk about her. He didn’t want to be reminded of the pain he’d caused her. The way he essentially abandoned her at Midland Circle.

“Helping people.” He said finally, deciding how he wanted to word it. “Y/N was always meant to help people. Inside the law or outside of it, she knew she could make a difference.”

“I wouldn’t lose faith, Matthew, if I couldn’t fulfill my calling.” She explained with a slight edge to her voice. “I’d find some other purpose.”

“If you can be anything else, it was never really your calling.” Matt countered bitterly. “Just tell me, honestly. If you could no longer be a nun, wouldn’t you grieve?”

“Of course I would.. But this isn’t grief. This is-“

“Just please… Go away.”

“I understand what it’s like to feel lost.” She offered, with a much gentler tone than before. “It happened to me too once, a long time ago when I was still a novitiate. I left the order for a while.”

“Why?”

“I was considering a very different life… It was wonderful and terrifying. I struggled to know which life God wanted me to choose. I prayed. I looked for signs. In the end, I had to do my best to figure it all out.”

“Well, that there is the difference between us. I no longer care what God wants.”

You found your way to the church that night after work. You were texting Dex when Sister Maggie came and sat beside you with a heavy sigh, the sigh of a woman almost too tired to keep pushing. But that, you realized, was something that set Sister Maggie apart from the other nuns you had met.

She was too stubborn to quit on anyone. And maybe that was why you liked talking to her, because it seemed like she wasn’t quitting on you.

“I thought you’d grown bored of this place.” She offered with a bit of amusement, though she was clearly worn down. “Or that little event scared you away.”

“No.” You chuckled. “He got me good, I’ll admit. And it was strange. But it takes more than a cheap shot to get rid of me.”

“We missed you this morning. Some of the older ladies.. They asked about the ‘sweet young girl who sits outside’.”

“That’s what they call me?” You smiled slightly.

“Well, they just don’t know better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“How are you today, Y/N?” She asked honestly.

“It has not been my favorite… Work was interesting. We had this raid and it worked, I’m not complaining about that. It’s what I’m supposed to be doing with this job, y’know? But… The guy that gave us the information, I can’t stand him. Honestly, Sister, I hate him. And I don’t like this feeling of having to be around him again.”

“Do you feel the FBI is your calling?”

“I don’t think I have a calling.” You said honestly. “I’ve tried a lot of different things. The assassin I was raised to be, a mercenary, a lawyer, a vigilante, private security, now FBI… I just wanted to help people who needed it, who were stuck under someone else’s thumb. People like me when I was little, with no one willing to protect them. And I have, in a lot of different ways, but I don’t know about my calling.”

“In some aspects, you remind me of Matthew… When he was younger, of course.”

“In a good way?”

She sighed slightly but offered a fond smile, remembering Matt as a child striking a sentimental cord.

“He was always angry, sometimes lost. He always seemed like he was fighting, be it against himself or the city’s darkness when he got older.” She continued, her eyes falling downward as she toyed with her fingers. “But at his core, he had a good heart, up until his end. And I truly believe you do, too.”

You smiled slightly. Maybe Matt was right after all. Maybe you did have your own light.

“What about you, Sister? What’s wearing you down today?”

“There’s a man who… Well, he’s a great many things. Stubborn, mainly, but also defeated. And I can’t seem to find what sparks a want to continue.”

“Is he alone? No friends or family.”

“He’s not. He has both, or had, I suppose. Friends, even a girlfriend. But he doesn’t want them to know where he is.”

“Sounds lonely..”

She hummed in agreement.

“So why not let him rot in his misery alone? If he’s so determined to isolate himself, maybe you should let him.”

“This one, I’m personally responsible for.”

“How so?”

“He grew up here.” She answered simply but there seemed to be something else there, though you didn’t ask.

“Ah… Well, if he’s really choosing this solitude, I’d say just be there for him, best you can be. He’ll probably keep trying to push and seclude himself but if you really feel you have to help him, just keep pushing back. I know that for me, after Matt, I pushed away the only two friends I thought I had in this city... And I thought that hiding behind Billy and Anvil… I thought those things could fix me, spark something in me, but they didn’t. It just made me feel worse until it got to a point where I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to die per say, but I didn’t wanna live like that anymore. So I buried everything and threw myself into a fight that didn’t really involve me, then I got stuck with this.” You shook the wrist with the brace.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Somewhere in between, I think. Nothing’s perfect and there’s still this hollowness in my chest but… I can talk about him without feeling like I’m suffocating. I realized that I can’t just shut everything off and expect people to stick around. I care about people and I have to kinda take the good with the bad, even when it almost kills me. When it takes a piece of me and buries it hundreds of feet below the city.”

“We all heal in our own ways.”

“Yeah.. Problem was, I didn’t know how to grieve on my own. When I was a kid, we weren’t allowed to grieve. It was either someone came back or they didn’t. As long as you were still standing, you kept moving. And when Elektra died, I had Matt. But then Matt was gone and I went home every night to no one. I didn’t know what else to do other than distract myself. I’ve made mistakes but I’m trying to do better.”

“All we can do is take things one day at a time..” She nodded before she stood. “I truly do enjoy our little chats. Till next time, Y/N.”

“Good night, Sister.”

[libbygilbs]

LIBBY GILBERT ( ELLE FANNING ) is an EIGHTEEN year old from BOSTON, MA. SHE is known around the island as THE WILD CHILD because she is CHARISMATIC and INDEPENDENT but can also be RECKLESS and SELF ABSORBED. SHE reminds of makeup that’s the slightest bit smudged, smoking on a fire escape during a party in the middle of the winter , the way that doing something bad can feel so good.

BASIC INFORMATION

NAME: Elizabeth (Libby) Stella Gilbert

NICKNAMES: Lib(s)

BIRTHDAY: October 15, 2002

AGE: 18

HOMETOWN: Boston, Massachusetts

BIRTHPLACE: New York City, New York

RELIGION: Non-Practicing Christian (Presbyterian)

ETHNICITY: White

NATIONALITY: American

EDUCATION: High School Senior

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

SOCIAL CLASS: Upper Middle Class (closer to Upper Class rather than Middle Class though)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

HEIGHT: 5’9

EYES: Blue

HAIR: Blonde

BUILD: Slim

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Small scar on elbow

NOTABLE FEATURES: Rosy cheeks,

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: Cut her hand / thumb after accidentally breaking a glass as a little kid and still can’t bend her thumb all the way forward

ALLERGIES: Artificial Orange Flavoring (Oddly enough it’s the only artificial flavor that she has an issue with)

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR

HOBBIES: Parties, Watching movies, socializing

LIKES: Nighttime in a big city, drugs, gossip, designer clothing, long painted nails

DISLIKES: Political functions, small talk, following rules, waking up early, acne

QUIRKS: Libby loves rings and has a wide selection of them in order to have a couple that could go with basically any outfit that she could put together. The only ring that she wears with every outfit and practically never takes off is a gold signet style ring with an L engraved on it. Her sisters and mother all have the same one with their respective initials so it holds much more sentimental value than any other piece of jewelry that she owns. Over the years, she has developed a habit of twisting the ring around the tip of her left hand pointer finger when feeling nervous or uncomfortable .

STRENGTHS: From the time that she was a small child, Libby was fiercely independent. When approaching a task, she often takes charge, especially when working in group settings. She also isn’t afraid to speak her mind about her feelings towards things and doesn’t let people take advantage of or walk all over her.

WEAKNESSES: Libby lives for the feeling of an adrenaline rush. She views it as being courageous and spontaneous but the problem with this is that she’s never been good at thinking before doing something. This “courage” and “spontaneity” often turn into recklessness and impulsive behavior which tends to end up putting Libby into situations that are dangerous to herself and to others. She has a pretty bad temper which causes a tendency to get into and to cause arguments.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Independent, Charismatic, Bold, Loyal, Outspoken

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Reckless, Hotheaded, Impulsive, Hedonistic, Self-Absorbed

MENTAL DISABILITIES: Bipolar 1, ADHD

FIVE FUN FACTS

Libby’s dad is a politician and is in the midst of campaigning for mayor of Boston. So because of that, she and her family are not famous by any means but semi-well known within the city.

Much to the distain of her parents, Libby has seven piercings — three in her earlobes, two in her left ear’s cartilage and one in her right ear’s, a nose ring on her left nostril, and a belly button piercing (which her parents are not aware of.) She also has a small stick and poke tattoo of a lighting bolt on the middle finger of her left hand which she got from a guy who had she met 15 minutes prior at a Boston College frat party. It’s been a year since and she’s been telling her parents that she drew it on with a sharpie the few times that one of them has noticed.

She has a crazy good memory to the point where it borders on being photographic but only about certain things. Most of the things that stick in her mind seem to be weirdly specific facts and details as opposed to useful information.

There’s a two inch long scar in the shape of a half circle on her elbow She got it last fall when her boyfriend at the time tried to teach her how to skateboard.

She has a bad habit of deciding that she wants to learn how to do something, trying it out for a little bit and then forgetting about it. Currently she’s been trying to teach herself to play the bass.

FLIGHT ATTIRE If there’s one thing that Libby can’t stand about travel, particularly while flying, it’s the discomfort. As an attempt to prevent this as much as possible, she opted to dress comfortably rather than to look nice. This is fairly out of character for her as she usually cares a lot about the manner in which she presents herself, especially when she’s going to be meeting new people. That being said, she didn’t even want to be going on the retreat so she felt no desire to put forth any effort into a good first impression. She ended up wearing a pair of navy lululemon Hotty Hot shorts, a light blue tank top, a chunky beige cardigan that was big enough to practically function as a blanket and some rings from her vast collection and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail tied up with a white scrunchie.

PERSONAL ITEMS

A half empty bottle of Glossier You perfume which somehow didn’t shatter during the crash.

A medium large sized makeup bag that Libby filled with various small bottles of alcohol that she stole from her mother before leaving

A pill container with about 85 days worth of a 90 day supply of Lamictal

BONUSES BACKGROUND INFORMATION: These are just the answers to the prompts from the application but they provide a little more insight into who she is as a person, TW for drug use.

CHARACTER INSPO: Audrey Horne (Twin Peaks), Lux Lisbon (The Virgin Suicides), Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks), Effy Stonem (Skins), Evie Zamora (Thirteen), Madison Montgomery (American Horror Story: Coven), Kathryn Merteuil (Cruel Intentions)

PINTEREST BOARD PLAYLIST

[worstloki]

Part 3

Fury: I cannot believe the Avengers No. 1 unattainable criminal right now is a seventeen-year-old twink Clint: I can’t believe you’re calling Loki a twink Tony: I can’t believe he's been the legal godparent of kids his own age for months and I didn't realise Steve: You didn’t get him removed? I thought you made Rhodey their legal godparents instead?? Tony: nah I removed Thor Natasha: ?? why would anyone do that ?? Fury, having a breakdown: we nearly lost New York and the entire world to a 16-year-old twink with daddy issues Clint: yoU just did it aGAIN- Tony, the only actual Avenger who knows Loki isn’t actually evil™: heY! Daddy issues are a serious thing! Don’t make fun of the guy for having a crisis and finding out his life was a lie and he’d faced over a millennium of abusive environment for nothing!  Avengers: are you… defending Loki… the megalomaniac WAR CRIMINAL who turned every SHIELD facility into ice cream earlier today…? Tony, hands up in surrender: I’m saying maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to judge the guy. I wouldn't be able to guess what but maybe he had an ulterior reason for the New York fiasco? His normal stuff is usually harmless.  Avengers: ... Tony: What? It could’ve been much worse. Strange, rolling his eyes: Yes, at least it wasn’t Stark Raving Hazelnuts Loki, who has been standing at the back listening to the entire conversation: That flavour is way too chalky to suit SHIELD anyways [everyone turns to Loki with their weapons ready, except Tony of course] Loki, raising his hands in surrender: what? A Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge is way better, and its green, and for some reason they didn’t have a Loki flavour so that was the next best option-

---

Loki: hey Morgan what would you say if i offered you an officially evil part-time job with decent pay and extremely good evil workplace benefits? Morgan: do you offer evil dental? Loki: of course?? we also have A-Grade coffee 24/7 because top class extremely good evil deserves only the best Morgan: Excellent! I look forward to working with your evil team and being a part of your nefarious schemes and plots in future Loki: Thank you. Tomorrow we replace all Tony's vehicles with incredibly realistic wax models. Morgan: ...including the jets? Loki, scoffing: what kind of amateur villains would we be if we left his jets, boats, bikes and single vintage helicopter untouched Tony: its 4am can you maybe not have this conversation right next to me in my own workshop?!

---

Tony: I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WOULD REPLACE THEM WITH WAX MODELS Morgan: What kind of low-grade predictable villainous evil doers would we be if we did what we said we would Tony: oh $#!^ now you're speaking like him too Loki, cutting his shoulder to reveal cake: Just so you know, it wasn’t JUST the vehicles ;)

---

Peter: *following loki around with a notepad* Loki: Terribly sorry if you mind but he's MY intern now. Tony: You don’t think there’s anything wrong with what you’re doing, do you? Loki: I don’t think anything I’ve ever done is wrong Peter:  *avidly taking notes and nodding along*

---

T’challa: I cant believe you filed an application for ‘time off’ Shuri: I NEED at least 3 hours a week reserved specifically for training if I want to keep my part-time job T’challa: you don’t NEED a job! You make up 90% of Wakanda’s research and development departments! Your technology work IS a job! Shuri: yeah well my ACTUAL job is fun and has proper work benefits and I simply must empty the time blocks I specified for it! You wouldn’t stop me from meeting with Peter and Morgan would you? They ARE, legally and spiritually speaking, my siblings, brother :) T’challa: what job could you have that would need you reminding me that a mischief deity adopted you before telling me what the job actually is Shuri: The official position is called Secretary of Evil but that’s only for the probationary 2 week period and I’m allowed to request a name change if I think of anything better T’challa: T’challa: you are working as a SECRETARY?! Shuri: The job pays well, Brother, T'challa:  T'challa: mother will be so disappointed

---

Scott: I can’t believe you did that Maggie: I didn’t know he was a supervillain! OBVIOUSLY! Scott: how would you noT KNOW! He wears nothing buT LEATHER and BELTS and GREEN BOOTS AND- Maggie: I needed someone to watch her and she showed up in pink sweatpants and a black tank top and was charging a decent rate Scott: Scott: are you sure their name was loki

---

Clint: you told me it was a ‘family gathering’! Tony: yeah, it is, and the avengers are family Clint, pointing at Loki: so what’s the twink doing here and why are MY kids along with every other person here who is under drinking age clinging to him like a frickin’ koala bear Tony: morgan wanted to get her ‘the floor is lava’ badge and loki was the only one immune to the lava so they jumped him - and he enjoyed walking around covered in them way more than he should have -  and also loki is legally peter and morgan and harley and shuri’s godparent so he’s allowed to be here on more of a basis than anyone else here at this point Clint: There was LAVA near MY KIDS?! Tony: no of course not – it was FAKE lava that just looked and functioned like real lava Clint: im taking them all home Tony: good luck convincing them not to want another playdate Clint: this isn’t a joke Tony Tony: I’m serious. Good luck. The kids love him, and you’ll need all the luck you can get if you want them to ever root for the side of good instead of wherever-loki-is-at instead. 

---

Pepper: *watching the news* Pepper: oh hey the Avengers are on Peter, running into the room: woW NICE Pepper: wtf why is Hulk wearing giant boxing gloves Peter: Language! Pepper: is Steve's shield padded?! Peter: i don’t remember that being normal Pepper: did most of the Avengers just ditch Steve? Why’re they leaving Peter: I guess the danger must be over? Pepper: WHAT is going ON out there today Peter: I think Loki had planned an attack today so maybe he did it as a joke Pepper: oh they're facing Loki yeah okay that explains it Peter: Loki always does the funniest things of course he baby-proofed all the Avenger's gear! Classic Loki! :D

-meanwhile-

Captain America, tears streaming down his face: pl,,ease, loki,, stop,t his, I cant hit ,,a child Loki: Look at you, the American icon, unable to save all these innocent people from having their skin turn into primary colours, all because you are TOO AFRAID to fight me! Captain America: I’m a national icon, not a good soldier but a good man, I will do whatever it takes to keep innocents safe, but I can NOT beat up someone who isn’t even legal enough to vote Loki: I was around causing chaos before this ‘voting’ was even invented! And I’ll NEVER legally vote even if I could!! mwahahAHAHA- Falcon, to Bucky in the background: How did we not realise he was a teen, all his comebacks are ‘no u’ and ‘uno reverse card’ and ‘look over there!’ Bucky, to Falcon: I don’t know but I really really want to know where he gets his outfits from Falcon: if it means I’ll be seeing you geared up in leather again then I want to know where he gets his outfits from too ;‘) Thor: I think my brother makes his own outfits Loki, still tormenting Captain America: *SISTER Thor: ah, my bad Captain America, crying x2: wait does this mean I’ve been lobbing my shield at not just a child, but I’ve been misgendering them while doing it?! Loki: only occasionally and I don’t blame you that was on me for monologuing too long, really— Captain America, taking off the helmet: nope I’m done Loki: what are you doing Steve, handing Sam the shield: It’s yours. Enjoy. Sam: woah woah woah what’re you doing you cant retire just like that  Steve, unzipping his suit to reveal American flag boxers: watch me Bucky to Sam: hello new best friend Sam, realising that Cap and Bucky are a duo: oh no no no STEVE is your best friend Bucky: he hasn’t been my ‘best friend’ since I saw him with the American flag splayed over his butt Loki, holding his hand out for Sam to shake: Hello there new Captain America its nice to meet you formally, my name is Loki and yes I’m a child but I’m actually 1075 but that is irrelevant if I’m causing trouble and looking for a fight, I’m also genderfluid so yes sometimes my pronouns will be different but I’ll be sure to inform you if it happens Sam: what are you doing Loki: I’m… formally introducing myself Sam: Sam: why?? Loki, blinking to hide that he’s getting teary eyed: well, the last national icon I didn’t do this with ditched me because I didn’t Bucky, a trained assassin, who isn’t a fool: *hugs loki* that wasn’t your fault steve just likes to carry the stupid with him Loki: thanks Bucky: is this a bad time to ask where you get your clothes from…? Loki: I make them Bucky: oh. Well $#!^. Loki, sniffing: if you join the dark side I’ll make you some too Bucky, immediately: done. Sam: JAmES Bucky deadpan: Yes, Samuel, what is it that troubles you, my new arch nemesis? 

---

Sam: HE TOOK BUCKY Natasha: What do you mean ‘he took bucky’ he’s standing right next to you Sam: He’s “infiltrating the enemy” Natasha: *lifts an eyebrow and looks to Bucky* Bucky: It’s true. My loyalties lie elsewhere now. Natasha: ??? Bucky: note to self – unexpected outcomes confuse the black widow. Natasha: how did this happen?? Sam: he SOLD himself out to the ENEMY Natasha: well when you say it like THAT ;) — Bucky: I think friendship is a decent price to pay for decent clothing Natasha: ??? Sam: oh also I’m Captain America now because Steve broke down and quit Natasha: ?!?!?!

---

Peter, entering the room and high-fiving Loki: I heard you got Mr. Bucky to switch teams! Loki: well, my fashion skills ARE legendary Tony, under his breath: he’s not even trying and he’s gotten every kid and the freaking winter soldier on his side and I am so so grateful he isn’t actually TRYING to make everyone go bad

---

Bucky: we’ve been over this Steve, Loki is young but he’s also over a thousand years old Steve: I was beating up a KID, Bucky, a kid who was SMALLER and WEAKER than everyone else where he lived but wouldn’t EVER turn down a FIGHT for what he BELIEVES IN and he was probably BULLIED and I wanted the guy DEAD, Bucky– Bucky: don’t forget the genderfluidity thing Steve: he said it wasn’t my fault but I should’ve asked Thor after he referred to Loki as ‘she’ instead of thinking he’d made a mistake and I just can’t – he isn’t even old enough to DRIVE or VOTE or DRINK or BUY A KNIFE or -- Bucky, holding Steve and patting his back: hey now, there, there, it’ll be okay, Bucky: *gives Loki a thumbs up as he sits on the couch with popcorn and watches Steve be miserable*

---

Loki: We need to get through this locked door. Tony, quick, give me your card! Tony, handing the card over: Take it! Loki, pocketing it: Thanks! Morgan, fire at the door Morgan: *pulls out an iron man gauntlet painted green and gold* Tony: hOW COULD you deface YOUR BIRTHDAY PRESENT with GREEN Morgan: MINE is still being used as a paperweight. This is one of YOUR gauntlets.   Tony, under his breath: maybe it’s not too late to burn the physical evidence and hack Loki’s name off the digital copies of the adoption forms Loki, whispering back: oh its definitely too late. I’m already on your christmas card and everything.

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

Hold On c.1

Summary: Beth/Daryl, post-Home AU. When she saw him outside the prison gates in exactly the right place at exactly the right time, she was still pissed at him for leaving. But now he's back for good and she has to deal with what she really feels.

Characters: Beth Greene x Daryl Dixon, Andrea, Carol Peletier, Merle Dixon, Rick Grimes, Maggie Greene, Hershel Greene, Tyreese

Words: 3409

Warnings: language, Beth’s POV

Author’s notes: I wrote this fic over six years ago. It is originally posted at AO3 under my previous pen name Incog_Ninja.

He'd just up and left us for that no good brother of his, and then came back with not so much as a "sorry", or "I was wrong, and I missed y'all." I guess it was childish of me to think a man like Daryl Dixon would apologize for anything, much less for doing something he thought was right.

Being childish doesn't mean I wasn't fit to be tied, though. Maybe I should've been grateful. We didn't die, after all, and Rick didn't get bit. We were all glad to have Daryl back, but Merle was right on his heels, boasting about how he'd saved Rick—like he was some kind of hero.

"Officer Friendly here was crappin' his draws 'til me and my baby brother showed up," Merle went on. "What you'd'a done, huh, Rick? Those two geeks had you pegged, man."

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl griped at his brother, but it didn't much work. Merle kept yammering on about how great he was.

I could tell the whole thing made Carol uncomfortable; she didn't want Merle Dixon there any more than Glenn did, and Glenn was chomping at the bit to get back at Merle for beating him up so bad. Still, Carol was graceful and patient—ready to accommodate the men after their fight. She quietly asked me to help her round up some clothes and towels.

"Who does he think he is, anyway?" I whispered to her angrily, referring mostly to Merle, while feeling like confronting both the Dixons.

"No arguin', now, Bethie—just go grab some a Daryl's and Rick's clothes. And see if your daddy can't spare a few things for Daryl's brother," she said, making a face like she'd just eaten a wedge of lemon.

I nodded reluctantly, glancing over my shoulder at the quarreling men. Something churned my gut when I looked more closely at Daryl's face. He looked as tired and wrung out as Rick, and that was saying a lot. Daryl, as hard as he worked and as much as he never, ever complained, pushed himself harder than just about anyone—and by the looks of things, that was starting to catch up to him.

"Last time I saw Daryl look so bad he'd been thrown by Nervous Nelly, took an arrow to his side," I muttered, looking back at Carol. "And Andrea shot 'im."

Carol furrowed her brow and made a face at the men one last time, nodding at my comment. "Let's get a move on," she said, and I obeyed.

Somehow, Daddy got the men refocused enough for Merle to stop talking about himself. Carol told them all they should get cleaned up, too. Rick was still so shook up, but just having Daryl back seemed to be enough to keep him level; it leveled us all out.

I gathered some towels and clean clothes then marched myself down to where Rick and Daryl and Merle were taking showers. Carol had asked me to bring them down to her, but when I got there, she wasn't anywhere to be found. So I kept on walking, looking for her, and went straight inside the shower room.

It's not like I'd never seen a nude man before in my life. Before the virus, I'd seen pictures; and since I'd seen a few of our crew at least partially bare—was bound to happen living in such close quarters. Still, I wasn't prepared for what I saw inside that room.

"Well, hello there, sweet thang," Merle cooed, facing me head-on, leering at me like I was the last piece of apple pie at the 4th of July barbecue. "Whatcha got for us?"

He was disgustingly bare and unabashed in his advance on me. I averted my eyes before seeing too much of him, just in time to see Daryl, moving into his path, equally bare, but not even close to disgusting.

I was stunned. I couldn't take my eyes off Daryl, naked and wet and moving with pure intent. The sun-darkened skin of his arms and back stretched over his muscular frame in a mesmerizing way. My gaze wandered down his torso, to his narrow hips, and strong thighs.

Yes, I'd seen the men in our group half-naked, but I'd never seen any man that naked. My eyes came to a full stop right at the top of his thighs. I had definitely never seen a real, live dick before. It didn't just hang there like a bunch of grapes, like the ones I'd seen in science books, but it wasn't all blown up like a balloon, either, like the images my girlfriends and I giggled at online. It was thick and it looked so smooth, jutting out from his hips ever so slightly… There was nothing funny about Daryl Dixon naked—at all.

I blinked away the image and tried to look everywhere but there, and my brain spun with the immediate panic that I was checking him out. Daryl Dixon of all people—twice my age, impatient and surly, and usually not very clean Daryl Dixon. Jimmy was much more my speed, wasn't he? But I never stared at him this way.

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl said while attempting to keep Merle under control.

I took a deep, shaking breath, then turned to set their towels and clothes to the side.

"Thank ya, Beth," Rick said, subtly dismissing me.

"Run on, now, girl," Daryl said, backing up Rick's order, his eyes staying on his brother, continuing to block Merle's line of sight.

I didn't question the men, but Daryl's tone of voice rubbed me the wrong way. I stood for just a beat longer, thinking about confronting him, telling him I wasn't some little girl to be dismissed, but I didn't know quite how to say it. I turned tail and ran from the shower room, flustered, smacking right into Carol on my way down the hall.

"Bethie, where you off to in such a rush?" Carol searched my face, hers half-smiling and half-concerned. My hands itched and my belly flipped.

"Daryl, I…" I stuttered over my words with images of Daryl's bare, wet, solid skin and everything else teasing my mind, and I was further upset by the contrast of his gentle but firm voice, telling me that I was just a little girl in his eyes. Before he'd left, I felt like he trusted me. He'd asked for my help with Carl after we lost Lori, but now...

"They have clothes now," I finally blurted out.

Carol blinked, looking even more bewildered by my sudden admission. "Well, that's good," she said with a slow nod of her head.

She and I both looked up when we heard whooping and hollering coming from the shower room followed by another, and more vehement, "Shut up, Merle!"

Carol suddenly got that protective Mama Bear stance, her narrowing gaze focused on the shower room door, her lips set in a hard line. "You go check on your daddy, Beth." Then she moved with purpose toward the entrance to the showers.

It dawned on me that Daryl's stance was similar to hers—that he was trying to buffer me from his brother's onslaught—so I thought maybe he wasn't treating me like a child after all and maybe he was just looking out for me.

I did what Carol asked and made my way down the hall, pausing just at the end when I heard her voice, low and scolding. "She is 17-years-old. You best keep that brother a yours in check, or I will."

I peeked back around the corner to see Daryl looking down at his loosely booted feet as he awkwardly buttoned his sorry excuse for a shirt. He was nodding faintly, his shaggy, wet hair dripping water all over his mostly bare shoulders. He avoided Carol's hot gaze when he quietly replied, "I got 'im."

I slipped away unnoticed.

There was so much commotion after the Governor's attack on the prison that we were still reeling when Andrea showed up one afternoon. She had a walker on a catchpole, just like Otis and Daddy used to do back on the farm. She pleaded with Rick to let her help smooth things over with the Governor, disbelieving and condemning us all for not trusting her and shutting her out, while we let Michonne and Merle in.

In a way, her objections made sense because she was family and we were all torn about not letting her stay, but she didn't see it from our side. She was trying to get us to surrender to a man who had held Maggie and Glenn hostage and ordered his men, one of whom was Daryl's own blood, to torture them for information about how to find the prison. I honestly could not understand, as a woman, how Andrea could lay down with such an evil man.

When Rick finally gave her a car with a full tank of gas and a gun, we were all a little confused, but I thought maybe it was a sign that she'd come home. I thought maybe she and Rick had an understanding that we weren't all privy to, and I hoped we'd be a family once again.

"I think Rick was right, don't you?" I asked Maggie, curious about her thoughts on Rick's decision.

Since Maggie had come back from Woodbury with Rick and Glenn and Michonne, she hadn't been the same. Me and Daddy were keeping an eye on her, praying she'd pull out of it, but there was a space hanging around her, pushing us all away. I wasn't going to let her disappear, though.

Maggie gave a half-hearted scoff in response to my question. "Lotta good that car 'n gun'll do—still, more'n I'd'a given her."

I knew what was in her heart, knew for a fact that she'd have given Andrea anything she needed, and not before she begged Andrea to stay. I thought maybe she needed to be reminded that we were all in it together and that we all needed each other, right down to Little Ass Kicker.

"Can ya watch her for a bit?" I handed Judith over to Maggie. "I just wanna rinse off—get into some fresh underthings."

Maggie hesitated taking Judith from me, but I gently pushed her into her arms and handed her the bottle. "Be right back," I promised, watching Maggie closely, her hardened expression crumbling into the sister that I knew so well.

I left her alone with Judith, grabbed a clean pair of underwear and a towel, and headed down to shower. I wished I could tell Maggie about what happened the last time I was down there, but something told me she wouldn't much like what I had to say.

She and Daddy were always on my tail about Jimmy and me kissing behind the barn, as if I'd have let things go farther than that—no way was I ready. I could just imagine what she'd say about my mixed feelings after seeing a grown man naked—especially when that grown man was Daryl Dixon. Even I was a little ashamed of my own self for thinking about him the way I was.

A lot had changed, though. After Jimmy moved into the house, and Rick's group showed up with a couple of near fatalities for Daddy to look after, we all saw the world through a different lens. Daddy tried to keep us preserved from guns and brutality and growing up too fast, but even he had changed his point of view on the way the world works. I loved that he openly accepted Glenn as his own son instead of "that Asian boy."

I wasn't alone in honoring and respecting Daryl as a valuable member of our group, either. Rick looked to him for counsel and support; Daddy reminded us all every day that Judith wouldn't have survived a night if it hadn't been for Daryl; and Carl, Rick's own son, was saying Rick should hand over the group to Daryl and Daddy.

I was feeling something more, though—something that stirred in my gut with the heavy emotion from Daryl leaving the group, then the relief when he came back, then being sent spinning when I saw him naked in the shower. The closest I could liken what I was feeling was to the jitters I had waiting for Jimmy to ask me to his senior prom before he ended up asking Sally Kaye Templeton instead.

But Daryl was no boy, and there were no more high school dances to fret and flail over. I couldn't wipe the images of him naked and moving into his brother's line of sight from my mind. The thought of him considering me important enough to risk harmony with his brother and to put himself in a physically vulnerable position sent me spinning extra hard.

I cleaned up as quick as I could, wishing the shower could clean up my mind and give me some answers. Once I was dressed again and had hung my freshly washed unders to dry in my cell, I found Maggie fast asleep with Judith in her own bunk. The sight warmed my heart.

I quietly snagged the empty bottle from where it lay forgotten by both Maggie and Judith and left them to rest. I was due to meet Carol and help with some other laundry duties, so I picked up my pace, not wanting to make her wait.

When I rounded the last corner on my way to the laundry room, I almost collided with Daryl and his brother.

"Hello again, girly girl," Merle said, making my skin crawl. I saw Daryl move in my peripheral vision, much like he had just a couple of days before in the shower, and I was thrown back to that moment once again, thinking about him wet and bare and half hard. I felt my face flush and I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Merle." Daryl's voice carried a warning that calmed my nerves and stoked the blush on my cheeks and throat and chest. He was protecting me, just as he did all of us, but this particular effort made me feel drawn to him in a way that I would never have expected.

What I had assumed was him dismissing me as a child a few days ago could not be more wrong; instead, his action—stepping in between his brother and me—was recognition that I was a woman in his eyes, someone to be desired, even if it wasn't him doing the desiring.

"Leave her be," he continued.

"Aww, come on now," Merle said, never taking his eyes from mine. "Ol' Merle's jus' havin' a little fun. Wha's your name, sweetheart?"

The fact that I found a human being so physically repulsive in the world we were left to live in spoke volumes about the kind of man Merle Dixon was, and the dichotomy between him and Daryl was shocking. Before I answered Merle's inquiry, I looked to Daryl for guidance. He knew more about how to handle his brother than I ever would—thank the Lord.

"Her name's Beth and ya know it," Daryl said, his sheer annoyance with his brother's games apparent. "Got no reason to talk to her or look at her, so back the fuck off." Daryl glanced at me over his shoulder, furrowing his brow. "What're ya doin' down here, anyhow, girl? Where's the baby?"

"I'm lookin' for Carol," I said, trying to catch my breath that was growing rapid from the fire in his eyes. "Laundry duty. Judy's with Maggie up in her bunk."

Daryl nodded his head once and pursed his lips before darting his eyes back to his brother, as Merle leaned back against the stone wall and rolled his eyes at Daryl's and my exchange like it was trying his patience. Daryl's gaze returned to mine for a brief second, then quickly skimmed my face and shoulders before slowly dragging down over the rest of my body.

My belly started to flip and twist in every way I never knew it could and my skin felt hot and tight. Daryl was looking at me like he'd never looked at me before. Merle's leering gaze made me feel dirty, but Daryl made me feel like I was floating and on fire at the same time.

"Get goin'," he said, tearing his eyes from mine. "Carol's waitin'." Then he turned his back, effectively dismissing me.

Three days after Andrea's odd visit to the prison with her walker in tow, she reappeared with Tyreese and his sister Sasha. We all joined in the main room for a meeting, where they declared that the Governor was dead at Andrea's hand and that they wanted to join our group.

Merle snorted from the doorway across the room from me. "Tryna make us believe Martinez don't have some kinda retaliation in mind?" He rolled his eyes and shifted his weight and his rifle.

"Martinez is dead," Andrea said. "None of the survivors have any allegiance to Phillip. They've divided and scattered, just like we did when we left the quarry."

"Yeah, see, I don't 'member leavin' the quarry with y'all, 'cause I was stuck up on a damn roof in the middle of Atlanta," Merle sneered.

Rick all but rolled his eyes, ignoring Merle's jab, and Daryl narrowed his gaze, keeping Rick, Tyreese, and Merle all in his sight.

"Rick, we loaded up what supplies we could in the car you gave me," Andrea appealed to him. "We came here as soon as we could get away. Woodbury's overrun. It's done."

Rick cocked his head and brought his gaze back up to meet Daryl's for a few beats. Then they did that quiet nodding thing they always do, before Daryl looked back to Sasha, Tyreese, and Andrea, and picked up the conversation where Rick left off.

"Get that car cleaned out—take stock a supplies," Daryl said, then turned to Carol and me, his eyes quickly scanning my face. "Get 'em some food, some clothes—whatever they need."

I had accepted a long time ago that I wasn't a soldier, but I did everything in my power to keep our hearth fires burning. At that moment, the way Daryl looked at me like I was an equal and valuable member of our group, made me wonder again why he ever left, and I was pissed at him all over again.

He looked at me like he trusted me, and I knew his trust was hard-won. Having that trust filled me with pride and reinforced my hopes that I was delivering on my promise to make this place the kind of place that they would all want to come home to, and no one would ever want to leave again.

I pushed down my anger at him and started to do what I was told.

"We've got clothes, Carol." Andrea crossed the room and immediately reached for Carol's hand, halting us both.

Carol didn't hesitate to pull Andrea into a hug and they each held on tight, something intense passing between them.

I dropped my eyes away from the private moment and glanced across the room, from where Daryl was eyeing them sideways, something resembling satisfaction crinkling the corners of his eyes. The way his whole face transformed with that tiny, simple expression gave me pause; it was downright beautiful. I never would have thought I'd say any man was beautiful, least of all a man as rough as Daryl Dixon. I guessed that it was the contrast of light and dark that took my breath away.

I pulled my gaze from him before anyone caught me staring. "I'll get y'all some linens," I said, my voice quiet, so as not to disturb Andrea and Carol.

When I turned to leave the room, Andrea reached out and wrapped her arm around my shoulders to pull me in for a hug. "Thank you, Beth," she whispered. "Thank you for welcoming me home."

I relaxed into her embrace and hugged her back, closing my eyes and giving in to the feelings swirling around the room as they settled over us all. When I opened my eyes again, they landed on Daryl, his glued to mine, and a small beginning of a smile, softening his hard face.