#dying light night walker

[unhinged-idiot]

Low IQ specimens located in the city of Harran

[wickedzeevyln]

Blind

The night suffered a stroke.Nobody bothered to call 9-1-1.No blaring sirens ripped through the silence and all the windows were shut tight. Those who were therewere old Roman gods,their limbs stiff,plaster for skin chipping off,motionless,fortunately the pigeonsare asleep at night. The night winched in pain,he was forced out of his skinand into the light. The stars fell out of the…

[daryltwdixon]

Watching from the Sidelines

Daryl x Reader angst

more pining! more angst! A continuation of the story I’ve been putting together based on songs I love. Part 1 & 2. This one is more of a drabble.

inspired by Phoebe Bridger’s Sidelines

Daryl still sits on the edge of the porch, his fingers absently twisting the strap of his crossbow. The early morning light stretches long shadows across the ground, but it does nothing to chase away the knot that has taken root in his chest. He’s been up since before dawn, unable to sleep—not with his mind running in circles, not with the thought of you still next to him. You linger, vivid and inescapable, like the sun gone from his vision but leaving behind the afterimage of the conversation you’d tried to have this morning.

He hasn’t lied outright. Not really. He was drunk last night, drunk enough to let himself slip, to kiss you, to say things he’d never let himself think about in the daylight. And now? He can’t stop replaying it. The press of your lips against his, the way your breath hitched, how your touch lit a fire in him before he pulled away like a goddamn coward.

His jaw tightens, the strap creaking under his grip. He told you he didn’t remember anything—brushed you off like it was nothing—but he remembers everything. Every second.

And he feels like a fool. For saying those things to you, for kissing you without warning or permission, for letting himself slip when he knows better.

The thing is, Daryl Dixon wasn't afraid of anything. Not walkers. Not the world going to shit. Not even the idea of dying out there, alone, just another nameless body in the dirt. He’s always figured he’s living on borrowed time anyway, so what’s the point in holding onto something? Nothing to prove, nothing to lose.

But then there’s you.

You, who look at him like he’s more than just another body. You, who have this way of making the world feel a little less cruel, a little less empty. You, who kissed him back, even for just a moment, like he’s someone worth wanting.

And now? Now he isn’t so sure anymore.

Because for the first time in his life, Daryl has something to lose. And it scares the hell out of him.

It isn’t just the kiss—it’s everything. It’s the way your laugh pulls at something deep in his chest. The way your voice softens when you say his name. The way you look at him, even now, like you haven’t given up on him, even when he’s wanted to give up on himself.

He isn’t built for this, for feelings like these. Hell, he doesn’t even know what to do with them, let alone what to say to you. All he knows is that he can’t screw this up—not when you’re the first person who’s made him feel like there’s something in this world worth holding onto.

He lets out a heavy breath, running a hand over his face. The sun is higher now, warming the porch beneath him, but it does nothing to ease the chill in his chest.

He doesn’t deserve you. He’s told himself that a hundred times. Knows it’s for the best to keep you at arm’s length. But the truth is, he doesn’t care. He wants you anyway. Wants you so bad it makes his chest ache, makes every thought feel like a battle between holding onto you and letting you go before he ruins everything.

Daryl glances over his shoulder, his eyes catching your movement through the window. You’re still padding quietly around the downstairs, your steps slow, shoulders drawn inward. You stop by the counter, leaning on it like something heavy has settled over you, your head bowed as if the weight of the world has finally found you.

He turns away quickly, swallowing hard, the knot in his chest twisting tighter. He isn’t sure how to feel about any of this—about you, about what you make him feel, about the way you’ve turned his whole damn world on its head.

Shit.

He thought pretending not to remember was the easier way out—for both of you. But now, seeing you like this, seeing how let down you are by his refusal to acknowledge last night…he realizes just how wrong he’s been.

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to go back to watching the world from the sidelines. Not anymore. Not now that he’s met you.

Daryl stands abruptly, the crossbow forgotten as he pushes away from the porch. His boots hit the steps with purpose, his heart hammering as he crosses the short distance to the door.

He has to make this right. For you. For whatever was left between you after he nearly ruined it all.

Daryl stands in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame for a second before stepping inside. You’re still in the kitchen, your back to him as you fiddle with something on the counter. From the way your shoulders hunch, he can tell you aren’t just busying yourself—you’re trying to hold yourself together.

The thought twists something sharp in his chest. He hasn’t even given you the chance to talk about it, about what happened, and then he went and made it worse with his excuses.

He isn’t good at small talk, and he’s definitely not good at starting these kinds of hard conversations. So Daryl takes a step closer, his boots heavy against the floor. He hesitates for a moment, his hands flexing at his sides, before speaking to your turned back.

“I lied,” he says, the words rough and uneven.

That gets your attention. You jump slightly, startled by his presence, and then you slowly turn to face him, your brows furrowed in confusion as your brain tries to catch up to him. “Daryl—hey. What—what are you talking about?”

His jaw tightens, his gaze dropping to the floor before he forces himself to meet your eyes. “I remember."

Your breath hitches, your eyes widening as the words sink in.

“I remember,” he says again, his voice quieter now. “all of it. Every word, every—” He stops, swallowing hard before trying again. “I didn’t forget. Just didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know if I should.”

You stare at him, your hands gripping the edge of the counter behind you like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. “Why would you lie about that?”

“’Cause I’m a damn coward,” he admits, the frustration in his voice clear. “I thought… if I pretended it didn’t happen, maybe it’d make things easier. For you. For me. But seein’ you like this? Knowin’ I hurt you by not sayin’ nothin’—that ain’t easier. That’s just me bein’ stupid.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, his words hitting you harder than you’d expected. “Daryl…”

He takes another step closer, his hands twitching like he doesn’t know whether to reach for you or not. “I meant what I said last night,” he murmurs. “Every word. I know I shouldn’t feel like this, know it’d probably be better if I kept my mouth shut, but I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. Can’t stop thinkin’ about what it’d be like to… to have somethin’ with you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. His eyes search yours, raw and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before, and it makes your chest tighten all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For lyin’, for messin’ this up. But I had to make it right. Had to tell ya the truth, even if…” He trails off, his voice catching, but he doesn’t look away. “Even if it means losin’ ya.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is your unsteady breathing. Then, without another thought, you close the distance between you, your hands reaching for him as you pull him into a kiss.

This time, there’s no hesitation. No uncertainty. It’s full of everything you’ve both been holding back—real and impossibly tender.

When you finally break apart, his hands stay on your arms and yours remain tangled in his shirt.

“It would take a lot more for you to get rid of me, Dare,” you whisper, your voice trembling but steady. “You never have to worry about that.”

Daryl lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening their grip ever so slightly as they slide to your waist, grounding himself in the feel of you. His forehead presses against yours, and for a moment, his eyes close like he’s still bracing for something to shatter.

“Scares the shit outta me—all this,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, the words tumbling out like they’ve been trapped too long. “But... but I want it. I want you. Always have.”

“I want you too, Daryl,” you say softly, your hands lifting to cup his face, his stubble rough against your palms. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me.”

His eyes open then, meeting yours, and there’s something so tender in them it makes your chest ache. Vulnerability, relief, and something warmer, deeper—a flicker of hope that hasn’t been there before.

His thumb brushes against your hip, and his voice drops even lower, almost like he doesn’t mean for you to hear it. “Don’t know if I know how to do this… but I’ll try. For you, I’ll try.”

Your lips curve into a small, trembling smile as you lean in, pressing your forehead to his again. “That’s all I need, Dare. Just you.”

And for the first time, he doesn’t feel the need to pull away. To retreat. He just stays there, holding you close, letting himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this is something he can hold onto. Something he deserves.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"The way to heal a heart." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

When his heart can’t stand the pain of a loss, you discover why Daryl ignored you all those days. But there, you tell your husband the way his heart can heal.

A/N: Based on the conversation between Maggie and Daryl after Glenn's death. (Spoiler alert: also Daryl briefly threatening a poor guy for touching you, because I don't like things to get too serious TT–TT) Hope you like it. Thank you!

The small and cozy cabin loses the amber glow that the fire of the small chimney caused when Daryl throws the sand on the hot embers, extinguishing all the flames. Lying on the small bed, you watch silently as the place loses its color, but the heat is still impregnated in the air and on the walls, and you feel it as a little shelter for your husband and for you, far from the walkers and the world in general.

When Daryl reaches the bed, he kicks off his boots, taking off his vest next, his shirt and his pants, leaving them on the floor to get in the bed too, where the heat of his body wraps you as he puts his left arm around you, resting on his right side to stroke your belly under the covers.

Living there was good, but that wasn’t the reality and you two had to take a step to it, so tomorrow you two would go to the Hilltop.

“I wish I had said good–bye.” You say. King Ezekiel didn’t offer his help to fight against Negan, but you would always thank him for his help towards Daryl. “I think we should leave the Kingdom in the right way.”

Although Daryl didn’t like that the king hadn’t helped you all, he recognized Ezekiel’s gesture towards him.

“We can come back someday. Kids were crazy ‘bout ya.”

Even if you trained them to protect themselves during your stay, they kept the innocence within, intact and bright, despite how cold and grey the new world had become. But the future was uncertain for them and for you two, and you worry about what would happen next.

“Do you think we’ll be okay after all this?”

Daryl was never a person who thought of the future either, the difficulties of his life took him to live one day at a time, without great plans or big expectations. But he found you there, as a light of hope, and then he found himself wanting more. He didn’t dream of impossible things, but simply asking to have one more day with you.

“As long as we’re together everythin’ will be fine.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I want to.” He says, looking softly at you. His doubts and his negatives had consumed his life in the old world, but he had to find himself falling too deep to then realized that he wanted to live in this new one. “Close yer eyes, peach. We’ll leave early tomorrow.”

The hours pass when you fell asleep and it feels like being on a cloud, far from the fear of dying or losing your people. There is no heavy guilt on your shoulders, no recollections of who you are and who you had to become to survive, no walkers, no blood, without a world painted red. But suddenly, your heart starts feeling heavy, and your body sinks into a complete darkness, fear and weeping. Your closed eyelids move, trying to wake you up from that high fever, until finally, you do. You sit on the bed, taking a big breath of air, back in reality where the cabin is no longer warm, but then you realize the nightmare isn’t yours. It is not in your head, but in Daryl’s.

“Daryl, hey, wake up…” You shake his shoulder. Lying still on right left side, his body moves against the bed, his hair covering his face as he complained. “Daryl!”

The last push finally awakes him, and for a moment, Daryl finds himself looking to the void, in a place far away from there as he sits down too and breathes through his parted lips, his gaze lost and his chest rising and falling sharply.

“Hey, it’s okay, it was just a nightmare—”

“No… it was somethin’ else.”

“What?”

But Daryl remains silent for a while, never saying what it really was. The cool night air helps him to calm down, and Daryl finally comes to be himself after he was lost in his own memories.

“Ya should… lie down again.”

He looks at your side of the bed with his head down as he did when he was ashamed, and without saying anything else, he lay back down with his back to you. In that moment, you realize Daryl is suddenly far gone again, but you don’t want to force anything with him, so you just lay sideways too, your gaze fixed on the scars on his back.

It takes you some time to fall asleep, but the hours pass in a few seconds when you do, and then, it is day again: the birds are singing a sweet song, and it is time to leave. The muscles of your body are tense, and you find yourself staring at the wooden ceiling after you rub your burning eyes with your fists.

“Time to go, peach…” Daryl is standing next to the table, already dressed as he packs his backpack and yours. “Get yer pretty ass outta bed and get dressed.”

He seems to be in a good mood that morning, so you decide not to press him to speak and wait for him to do it first.

There are no walkers around the forest near the Hilltop, and the group of future archers had improved greatly in the previous days since you and Daryl got there. But when the afternoon falls slowly, there are only two people with you, a young man and a young woman, twins. They are the best in the group; they are the strongest too, especially since they are not afraid to fight for their freedom.

“Have you been married for a long time, (Y/N)?”

Sean is a good man, young, brave, handsome, determined, but blushes when Mary, standing in front of you two, chuckles to herself before shooting her arrow that hit the target perfectly. She and her brother live in a trailer and they gave Daryl and you a place in their home.

“Sometimes it feels like centuries.” You chuckle at him, and then, you look back at Mary. “That was amazing, Mary, well done. You are getting better every day.”

She smiles at you.

“Are you flirting with (Y/N), Sean?” Maggie’s voice behind you makes everyone turn around. The knife–throwing lesson group is already moving away in the distance to get back home, and only Maggie and Sasha are left. “That’s a very bad idea.”

“If Daryl finds out I don’t want to think what he would do.” Sasha chuckles, making fun of him. “He doesn't like people getting too close to his wife. He just wants (Y/N) all by himself.”

Suddenly, Sean looks frightened, because he had met a very silent Daryl. That scared the strangers.

“Thank you, Sasha.” You say, but she just laughs as you look at Sean with a soft gaze. “They're kidding, Sean, please, don't listen to them.”

Maggie chuckles.

“Okay, it’s time to go, guys. Get your things and go home.”

Everyone on the Hilltop respected Maggie, so the twins take their things and walk in the same direction as the other group after saying goodbye. You walk towards the tree and pick up the arrows. They are firm against the trunk, and you think how easy it would be to embed it in the body of the enemy. But that is a dark thought, so you push it away and go back with the girls to walk through the woods.

“Is Daryl okay, (Y/N)?”

Your gaze moves from the front and you look to your left without stopping. Maggie waits, her eyes looking at you with concern. You know where her question is going, because since you and Daryl came to that place, he couldn’t look at Maggie in the eyes.

“Yeah. He is.”

Your short answer makes her nod, thoughtful, but she is not satisfied with it. Maggie loved Daryl, she worried about him, and you knew nothing had changed for her.

“He seems distant these days.”

You knew perfectly well that Daryl was being distant with everybody. He disappeared all day in the forest and barely spoke at night, and the only one who seemed to be able to approach him was Jesus. It hurt you to think that Daryl didn’t lean on you as your husband, but he was like that and you knew it when you married him, and now, you can’t complain.

The amber light from the lamp on the picnic table glows in the dark and cold night as you and Jesus play cards. You are sitting down on the wooden chair while resting your elbows on the table, having a good time with him, but you didn’t tell him that you only stayed up so late because Daryl hadn’t yet returned.

Time passed and you worried more.

“And… straight flush!” Jesus throws his cards on the table feeling like a winner. All his cards are hearts: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. “Beat that, (Y/N).”

You chuckle.

“It is impressive, Jesus, but you don’t win with that…” You push your cards on the table, too, five cards of spades from 10 to ace, without feeling like a winner though. “I think this is a Royal flush. And it means I win.”

Jesus leans his elbows on the table as his expression falls.

“If this was not ordinary poker I would have lost all my clothes by now.”

You laugh, and for a moment, that seems like a very distant memory. Jesus begins to laugh with you, but his smile dies as the gates open and he looks back. You both look in the same direction and see Daryl coming in with his crossbow around his body and a canvas bag that seems to be heavy, so surely he had hunted some animals.

Jesus turns again and picks up all the cards as Daryl walks towards you two. The distance is long so Jesus speaks freely, but softly.

“He’s just having a bad time, (Y/N), but don’t worry about him.”

It was impossible not to worry about him.

“I know his personality is… special, but it’s a bit hurtful that he still can not talk to me.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it, it’s just that Daryl doesn’t want to worry you. He doesn’t know how to do it, too.” He sighs. “Should we play again?”

You are still not sleepy and being awake turning on the bed is not a tempting idea, so you nod while finally, Daryl reaches you two.

“Shouldn’t ya be sleepin’?” He asks, his voice low and hoarse.

He cares about you, he always did.

“We’re playing cards.”

“I’m playing; (Y/N) is kicking my ass.” Jesus chuckles, handing out the cards. “Do you want to play, Daryl?”

“Nah. I’ll go to sleep.”

Daryl just passes you by and walks away. You feel that your body falls when you exhale, but you take the cards to forget the matter, at least for a while.

After about 25 minutes, you call it a night when your eyelids start to feel heavy, so you say goodnight to Jesus and walk back to the trailer. You didn’t sleep much anymore, but sometimes, under the apparent protection of the gates surrounding you, you could lay down for a while, to stop thinking.

Inside and on the other side of the trailer, Sean and Mary are sleeping too, so you quietly take off your boots before lying down on the bed. From his side, Daryl sleeps with his back to you. However, lying on your left side and as you drift off into a light sleep, you feel Daryl rolling over in bed, blindly searching for the warmth of your body, pressing himself against you, because that reminded him that he is still alive.

In the Hilltop orchard, you are glad to see the vegetables growing perfectly. The days were good in that place because the people accepted you two so fast. Mutual help was what increased the trust between the community and the new guests, and until then, everything went well.

Squatting, your hands become dirty as you remove some soil.

“Normal people would wear gloves, (Y/N).” Sean chuckles, appearing in front of you as you stand up.

“Are you calling me weird?” You tease him and run the back of your hand down your face to scratch your cheek. “I thought you were practicing with the bow.”

“I was going to go now, but I thought you were going with us.” He smiles a little bit, kind of shy.

You smile a little bit too.

“Not today, Sean. My arm hurts.”

The bowstring used to scrape your skin every time you released the rope, and the friction was starting to burn, but the truth is that you are tired mentally after last night.

“(Y/N)…” Sean chuckles, again. “You have some dirt on your cheek.”

Your first reaction is to clean it, but getting even more soil on your face. Sean tries not to laugh, and you wipe your hands on your jean before trying again.

“I think I should have worn gloves. Guess you were right after all.” You chuckle. “But don't tell Sean, I don't want him to think he's always right.”

He smiles.

“Here… let me do it for you.” Sean hides his hand on his long sleeve to help, and he wipes your face gently. “We don’t want you to go around here with your pretty face dirty.”

But there, just as in the romantic books you used to read before the world went to hell; Daryl has to arrive at the wrong time to misunderstand the situation completely, and in that moment, he takes Sean’s arm and pushes it away from you.

“Keep yer hands off ma wife or I’ll break ‘em, kid. I ain’t gonna say it twice.”

You feel terrible, because Sean is still young and easy to scare.

“Daryl…” You call him in such a firm voice that he turns to look at you. The fire inside is suddenly burning, but Sean is not the one to blame for anything as you look back at him. “Sean, leave us alone, please.”

He looks at Daryl and then at you, wondering if you would be okay. But, even scared of Daryl's horrible silence the past days, Sean remains in his place.

“(Y/N), are you sure?” He whispers, and his small words are enough to make Daryl narrow his eyes, giving Sean a look full of anger.

“Are ya fuckin’ thinkin' I’m gonna hurt ma wife, kid?” But before Daryl can take a step towards him, you block his way with your body, causing your husband to stop dead in his tracks, however, you can’t stop him from keep talking. “Ya better walk away ‘fore I start beatin’ yer ass.”

You are mad as hell.

“Daryl, shut it!” You say firmly again, without raising your voice because that wasn’t in your nature, sadly, and you look at Sean. “Sean, leave. In any case, I would hurt him first so don’t worry. Go, please.”

Unsure, Sean walks away, but it's your confident words that keep Daryl looking at you. However, before you could say anything to him, you hear the man on the gates screaming that the saviors are coming.

“(Y/N)! Daryl!” Enid shouts running toward you from the gates, and you two run towards her and meet halfway. “You two must hide. The saviors should not know that you two are here.”

“Wait, no…” You say quickly. “We must find Maggie first. She’s in the woods with the others.”

“Jesus went to warn her. She will be alright. Come on!” Enid runs toward the building behind and you two run after her.

The sound of the cars become clearer and the gates open just as you all surround the building. Enid stops at the wooden doors that would lead you two to a cellar in a small basement, but it doesn’t feel right, not while the others are exposed with the saviors there.

However, Daryl opens the door and waits for you to enter.

“I will come for you when they are gone.” Enid says behind you.

Against everything, you walk down the stone steps and open the wooden door to enter the cellar while the place sinks in the darkness the moment Enid closes the doors above. The vegetable baskets are stack on shelves, and you push one to the side, which had enough space for you to hide in case someone come down. But, when you turn, you see Daryl staring through a hole in the door with his knife in his hand.

“Daryl, this is not the right time…” You whisper. Your mouth is dry and you feel your heart as tight as your stomach. “Please, don’t do it, not now.”

The plea in your voice surprise him, so he turns around and you both hide. The shadows of the basement serve as protection as he pushes the shelf back into the right place. It is not long before the outside doors open again, and the light enters through the cracks in the wood. You hold your breath when one of the saviors comes in, watching everything around him and then taking a basket. The place is full with food and the savior begins to collect the vegetables, piling them near the door.

And again and again, he turns his back on you, unprotected. Daryl lifts the knife in his hand, squeezing it hard, so close to kill the savior. But, even if you know he could handle one of them, they are too many outsides for you to make it alive, so you raise one hand and close it around his wrist, soft but firm, and at then, he finally looks at you after days. His blue eyes hold your gaze, and you slowly shake your head to stop him.

Fortunately, the savior takes his things and leave. Your heart feels less heavy and you breathe again as Daryl and you step out of that little hiding place. Doubts return to you, and you wonder how much harm those people could do, and how much harm you could do, and you ask for the time when you only had to worry about the walkers.

“I could have killed him.” Daryl grunts with his back in front of you.

The hatred to them for having kept him in that cell was never going to disappear.

“I know well you could. But you didn’t think about the consequences.”

Through his shirt, you see his back tenses.

“I never do it, do I? That’s why people die… ‘cause of me.”

The guilt you hear in his voice takes your breath away. Daryl really believed that, and his voice was so sincere and broken that it breaks your heart. The guilt is on his shoulders, you can see it more clearly know, so heavy that he can hardly bear it.

“Daryl…” You say, preparing to say your best friend’s name. “Glenn’s death was not your fault.”

Daryl turns, head down and part of his hair covering his face. His strength is destroyed, and he sobs before he speaks.

“It was… I have nightmares 'bout it. If I had not been so stupid—”

“Daryl, no…” You try again, taking a deep breath first. It is hard for you to hear his words, because they are not true. “Things happen, people die and we can’t help it, but we can honor their lives, fight for the things they believed in. They are not here but we are, and now I understand that we owe them this because they deserve it. Glenn was brave, kind, strong, and had a beautiful heart that no one else. He stayed true to himself, he didn’t lose part of him in this world, and he loved you so much because you and he were exactly the same.” Silent tears are about to fall from your eyes, but you stop them for a moment. “Talk to Maggie, okay? Listen to her and believe when she tells you that she loves you so much because she wouldn’t lie to you. The way she sees you has not changed at all, but you have to forgive yourself even if you are not guilty of anything. Be stronger and fight for Glenn, make him feel proud. It’s the only way you can live in peace.”

He takes a moment, but finally, Daryl nods: he wipes his face and tries to hold your gaze.

“M’ sorry for leavin’ ya alone these days. M’ so sorry, peach.” He says softly, and you walk to him to put your arms around his shoulders. He clings to you like his life depends of it, arms around your waist, holding your body against him. His beard tickles your bare neck and he takes a deep breath before looking back at you, but without letting you go from his side. “And I would never hurt ya, never, y’know it, right?”

You let out a sigh, knowing that from there, things will get better.

“I know, love, but you still have to apologize to Sean.” You smile a little bit just to lighten the mood, pushing away a few strands of his hair out of his face to look into his eyes, but at the same time letting him know that you are serious. “If not, I'm going to have to hurt you, like, seriously.”

Daryl smiles softly, and he nods, hugging you again.

At that very moment, he’s letting out all the pain that was hurting him all that time, but that is the first step to healing. And you know everything will improve over time. Hearts healed at their own pace but they did eventually. And right there, your hearts are regenerating, closing their wounds and beating harder than before.

[aoioozora]

Platonically sharing a bed with the Ghosts

One-bed scenario hcs with the Ghosts, and you get to see their sleeping habits. Enjoy!

Logan Walker:

A little awkward about sharing the bed, but not against it.

Even though he's shared beds with Hesh when he was younger, he hasn't done it in a long time. And with someone of the opposite sex? It's a little awkward.

But he's not awkward in his sleep. He'd probably sleep in a starfish position, accidentally kick your back or put his leg on top of you

And maybe if he's having a nightmare, he might cuddle you for some comfort.

David 'Hesh' Walker:

Also awkward about sharing the bed but tries to hide it and plays it cool, telling himself, "it's just gonna be one night."

But he cannot keep his cool once you hit the bed next to him.

He loves cuddling but since both of you are just coworkers, he's fighting the urge so hard because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. He ends up not getting a wink of sleep for a couple hours

But when he does sleep, he sleeps like he's a dead body in a coffin, fingers intertwined and all, straight and tall like a soldier.

Sleeptalks sometimes, but it's just incoherent mumbling.

Elias 'Scarecrow' Walker:

He gets in bed, says "good night" and proceeds to not acknowledge you unless necessary. He is visibly embarrassed and annoyed by this arrangement, but doesn't complain about it.

He sleeps in a rather loose fetal position, tosses and turns around a lot and it keeps you awake for a while until he finally stops and falls into a deep sleep.

Tends to wedge his hand in between his knees when asleep.

Although he can sleep anywhere, he prefers a completely dark room with minimal light

If there's too much light, on goes the eye mask.

Thomas Merrick:

It's written all over his face. He's AWKWARD. But he doesn't say anything so as to not make you uncomfortable. And you don't say anything to him either.

He even offers to sleep on the floor to escape this ordeal, but you refuse and have him sleep on the bed, since it was big enough for two and you didn't want him to be uncomfortable.

He obliges and gets in bed, but makes sure he keeps plenty of space between you and him (he's at the risk of falling off the bed)

And when you tell him to chill out, he grumbles, "I'm... chill." The hip and groovy slang doesn't roll out of his Millennial tongue very well.

He eventually falls asleep facing away from you, hogging the blanket and burying himself in it like he is a worm in a chrysalis.

Big, strong guy sometimes feels like he needs some protection from the world too.

Keegan Russ:

His face is blank. He does feel awkward about it but neither his face, his voice, nor his body language betray any of what he feels.

He sets up a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed. "Neither of us are crossing this line, alright?" he says, and you nod, not planning on doing so anyway.

Both of you go to sleep. He sleeps in a tight fetal position and hugs the pillow he's sleeping on.

Another position he sleeps in is on his stomach with his knee hoisted up. He won't care if it's bad for the spine, it's comfy.

Give him a few hours and he's already disregarded his own rule, and has pushed away the pillow wall to simply press his head against your back, just to feel a little less lonely.

Kick:

Not awkward AT ALL. He actually digs this arrangement but is trying not to show it. But the amused smirk on his face blows his cover.

He sleeps very comfortably and if he's close enough friends with you and ensures you don't mind his touch, he would actually shamelessly cuddle you.

And you find his cuddling comfortable.

Sometimes sleeps like a Victorian child dying of a disease, having his hand on his head and all that

By the time it's morning, he's on the floor

Alex 'Ajax' Johnson:

Ajax genuinely doesn't care. Only one bed? He'll just shrug and go along with it. He's done this countless times.

In a way, him not caring makes you feel a little less awkward about it.

He keeps his distance from you and doesn't trouble you at all

He's an absolute madman to sleep without a blanket, and it's not just because he's used to it. It's a preference. He doesn't feel very cold.

Light sleeper. But he snores a bit.

Not a cuddler, but he wouldn't mind if you cuddled with him to keep warm.

Riley:

No awkwardness, no shame, only a little baby happy to sleep on the bed with you.

BED HOGGER!

Normally a light sleeper since he's a dog, but in complete safety, he sleeps like the dead, deep enough to dream

On hot days, he likes to lean against the headrest and sleep on his back to support his legs.

On cold days, he sleeps in a doughnut formation with his nose tucked under his tail.

He's a warm boy, loves to cuddle. Even when he needs his space, he'll make sure he keeps either his tail or his paw touching you.

He's an early riser and to wake you up, he'll either lick, paw, or nudge your face with his cold nose.

BONUS - Gabriel Rorke:

Like Ajax, he doesn't care. Once he hits the bed, he's conked out.

He has one of his legs hanging out of the bed, a nightmarish thing for a kid who might see this. You tell him jokingly, "The monster under the bed will grab your leg and drag you underneath." And he just says, "I am the monster under the bed," to assert dominance to the imaginary beasts.

Light sleeper, and sleeps on his back, arms crossed like he has a meeting to attend in 30 minutes.

He sometimes has his eyes half-open, which is kinda freaky

And being a light sleeper, you don't know whether he's asleep or awake and trolling you.

Read this next! Romantically sharing a bed

[1989butcher]

All Night

daryl dixon x reader

accidentally injured on a run, daryl refuses to leave your side till you wake.

set in early alexandria era

3.5k words ! mostly fluff, maybe a bit of angst but just daryl being angry for a bit. enjoy!!

not my gif!

—————————————————

You were running. Bags wrapped to your body, holding as much supplies as you possibly could as the building burned behind you. “Y/N! Come on!” Rosita yelled from the driver’s side of the truck. You were panting, and could feel blood dripping from your forehead. Just a bit further, you told yourself. You heard the dead right behind you, the ones that weren’t attracted to the fire that is. There were at least 100, maybe more. Abraham opened the door from the inside of the truck, extending his arm out for you to grab. His face was also coated in blood, but it was walker blood. You practically threw yourself at him, and he pulled you into the truck. Rosita floored the gas and sped back home.

Before you could even take the bags off, your head hit the back of the seat and you were out like a light. You had been in the building when Rosita threw the dynamite stick in. Not in an attempt to injure you, but to get the swarm of walkers that were surrounding you away. You had been scavenging the building a little longer than planned, but also none of you saw the dozens from behind the building file in. When the dynamite went off, you flew against the wall, your head throbbing and ears ringing. You were knocked flat on the ground, grabbing your head in. You shook yourself awake, hearing the growls of the dead, and grabbed your bags as fast as you could before running out.

What happened next are only the bits and pieces you remember, when your eyes would flutter open or when your hearing would return. While you were sleeping, more or less just passed out, Abraham had taken the bags off of you as your head rested against the window now. You slightly woke as he pulled each strap from over your head and the back pack off your back, but you never fully gained consciousness.

“Rosita, I’m gonna need you to step on the gas a little harder, my friend.” Abraham said, shooting a concerned look through the rear view mirror where Rosita made eye contact. She pressed her lips in a line and did just what he asked, Glenn turning to look at you. The four of you had only been out a few hours, but since the run wasn’t really planned, it was more of an exploration, you were all a little banged up. You had just unfortunately been in the line of fire. Glenn opened his backpack to reveal some gauze, handing it to Abraham. “Put this on her head to try and stop the bleeding.” He nodded, holding the gauze to your head for the entire duration of the car ride. He was the one that told Rosita to throw the dynamite in the room he had already cleared, or he thought he did. You had wandered back in there to look around a bit more, not realizing what was happening outside. It was a mistake, and you weren’t angry, you just didn’t think you were going to step so close to death today.

You remember feeling pressure on your forehead; you weren’t sure if it was pain or Abraham’s hand, but it just felt hot. The gates were pulled open and everyone opened their door to get out, except for you. “We need help! ” Glenn called out, heading to your side of the truck. Although Abraham had opened his door, he stayed inside, keeping his hand on your still bleeding head. You were losing the color in your face. “No dying today, Missy.” He whispered under his breath. Rosita slowly opened your door, catching your shoulder as it dropped. Glenn was next to her, the two of them carrying you on their shoulders. You were dead weight, honestly by the sheer amount of blood from your head and body, you looked to be dead too. The fear of losing you became all too real for the archer.

After Glenn called for help, a few people from your group came sprinting down the street. Maggie came from the garden, already coming to greet Glenn, but ran after he called out. Rick and Michonne came flying out of their house, and Daryl followed right behind them, running even faster as your seemingly lifeless body was removed from the car. His heart was pounding, it’s like he knew this would happen. Right when he lets someone in they go and leave him, happened to his brother first, then Beth, and now you. Glenn saw the look on his face when he came at them full speed as him and Rosita were slowly but surely carrying you to the infirmary. Daryl looked at him for answers after scanning you up and down. “She’s still breathing, dude. Got knocked out after a run in with a herd.” Glenn was out of breath, since his own body was aching from being hurt too. The archer didn’t respond, just nudged Rosita out of the way and picked you up bridal style.

He looked down at your face, your eyes still shut and your arm now hung over his. You were completely out of it and it terrified him. He could never stop you from going on runs, it was your favorite thing to do together, it added a little adventure after getting used to being so comfortable at Alexandria. He quickly carried you up the steps of the infirmary, kicking the door open with Denise sitting on one of the cots. “What happened?” She asked worriedly, placing her book down and rushing to your side. “Dunno-“ the archer was cut off by Rosita standing in the door frame. “A herd came when she was still in the building. We thought she was out and tossed an explosive in to distract the herd so we could leave.” Her voice wavered, she felt absolutely terrible. You were her friend, more so family now, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt you. The fear that coursed through her veins when throwing that stick was a fear she had never felt before. Rosita didn’t see you exit the building, but if she waited another second it would be too late. Glenn and Abraham were fighting off walkers when ‘Big Red’ as you called him, cried out he was certain you exited and were making your way around. He swore he saw you right behind him.

Pure anger was all Daryl felt. He could’ve punched Rosita’s lights out right here, right now. He turned his head to meet Rosita when she spoke and when their eyes met she could feel his anger from across the room. She shook her head and broke the eye contact, but she could still feel his eyes burning into her skull. Denise listened intently to her words, before getting right to work on fixing you up. She also desperately wanted to ease the tension. “Daryl, can you please get some water. She’s dehydrated.” Denise didn’t even look at him, afraid of his eye contact in all honesty. He stood up without saying a word, walking right out the door to go grab water from the pantry, purposely slamming his shoulder into Rosita’s. Once he was gone, and would be back within a minute, Rosita sighed, and quickly came to assist Denise.

“Let me help, please.” She grabbed gauze and some alcohol, cleaning your other wounds and waiting for Denise’s instructions. You didn’t have any serious injuries, you needed some stitches, water, and rest. You maybe had a mild concussion, but until you woke there wouldn’t be much of a way to tell.

As Daryl stormed down the street, Rick saw the anger in his eyes. He quickly grabbed his wrist, Daryl pulling away as soon as he felt Rick’s touch. “Daryl, stop, you need to cool down.” He said calmly, jumping in front of his path. Daryl attempted to go around him, but Rick kept stepping in front. “Move.” He was about to blow. He needed to get back to you. Getting water was the only thing he could do for you. “It was an accident. They told me the whole thing.” Date cut him off, yelling “She could have died!” He took a step back, staring Rick down.

Rick placed his hands on his hip, sighing. “I know that, man, but she didn’t. It’s not anyone’s fault.” Daryl scoffed at his friend, someone he called his brother. “The hell it ain’t!” A few Alexandrians were watching the altercation now, along with Glenn and Maggie on the porch of their house, Carol was with Michonne and Abraham at the truck, a few of your other people scattered around. The pair could feel the eyes on them, but Daryl’s rage was fueling him. He couldn’t protect you, couldn’t fix what had happened, he needed someone to blame. As usual, he blamed himself. Rick was quiet for a second, knowing Daryl had something else to say.

“If I’d been there-“ the archer started, staring at the ground now. Rick shook his head, “Brother, do not do this.” Rick wanted to step closer to him, but talking with Daryl was not like any normal conversation, especially when he was angry, or when it came to you. “Nah! If I was there, nothin’ woulda happened to her!” He began to feel eyes on him now. Rick lowered his head, sighing “It’s not on you Daryl, it’s just not.” Daryl stepped back, anger still running rampant in him. Until you were awake, he would still be angry. He didn’t reply to Rick, instead he walked around him, bringing back the water he was asked for.

As he jogged up the steps, he saw Rosita at your side. He quickened his steps, making them louder so she would walk away. It worked. She looked at him and quickly stepped away and out of the room. You were cleaned up now, a handful of stitches were near your hairline where the large gash once was. Your other cuts were clean, some covered. He pulled a chair up to your bedside, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. “She should be okay, probably just going to sleep for a while.” Denise broke the silence, looking you over one more time to see if she missed anything. Daryl nodded in reply, a wave of slight relief washed over him, and the anger was quiet now. Since he laid eyes on you sleeping, he couldn’t hold on to the emotion. He just wanted you to open your pretty eyes.

Denise took some supplies and quietly walked out of the building, shutting the door behind her. The other three you were with sustained minor injuries, Rosita had informed her of this when the two were alone with you. She also knew Daryl so desperately craved privacy with you, although he’d never say it. He just had that look.

Once she was gone, he took your hand in his. He wasn’t much of a crier, but the fear of you being dead was way too real today. He was just staring at you as his mind raced. If you woke up, he would have no idea what to say. His immediate thoughts were ‘The hell were you thinkin’?’ Or ‘You coulda died’, but he knew better than to say these kind of things to you. You would always reply with something lighthearted as a way to ease the tension. Everyday was spent running from death, people died everyday before the apocalypse and they died everyday still, just even more so.

He brushed some hair out of your face, tucking some of it behind your ear as he always did. It was a habit he had. You two would be mid conversation whether it was in bed or out walking, and he would gently push some hair out of your face and behind your ear. It never failed to make you blush. He kept his hand near your face, gently rubbing his thumb on your cheek. “Need ya here. I need ya.” He whispered. The sun was setting when you had pulled up, and it was now pitch black in your community. He peered out the window at the sound of creeping on the porch. He pulled his hand away from your face, but not your hand. He was still as shy as every when it came to affection. It was Denise returned with the unused reply. “Sorry.” She muttered, leaving as quickly as she had come in.

Daryl sat there for hours, his hand in yours. He eventually turned the dimmed lights all the way off, as a way to conserve power and he thought it would help you sleep. You loved to sleep in total darkness, always had. He learned this about you one night, shortly after Terminus. He was on watch, and you had a habit of sleeping near him, since you would take watch often as well. You would wrap a t-shirt, or use the sleeve of your jacket to cover your eyes as you slept. One night, before you had fallen asleep, he playfully lifted the sleeve. “Hey,” your voice was groggy, “I’m using that.” You didn’t even open your eyes, just reached your arm up to pull his back down. He released the sleeve and let out a small chuckle. “Weirdo.” He said, under his breath of course. You heard it and shot your head up, this time removing the sleeve from your eyes and rested it on your forehead. “What did you say to me?” You snapped, jokingly of course. “Nothin’, nothin’ at all.” You rolled your eyes and laid back down before he mumbled another “Weirdo.” You sat right back up and attacked him with tickles and teases, the two of you exchanging kisses in between.

He missed you, your laugh and smile especially. It always managed to light up even the darkest situations. It annoyed him at first, but now he knew if you weren’t making a joke out of something, you were really fucked. After a few hours of sitting there and the night was slowly passing, Carol carefully entered the room. “You need anything?” She asked, staying near the door. Daryl turned to her, exhaustion all over his face, and boy she could read him like an open book. She sighed, “Y/N’s probably not going to be up for hours, you should get some rest.” He shook his head. “Not leaving her.” He looked right back at you, in the exact position you had been in for hours, your chest slowly rising and falling with your slow breaths.

Carol asked again if he needed anything, to which he replied “Nah. You should get some sleep.” Carol almost laughed, knowing the two of them probably get the least amount of sleep out of anyone here. She wished him a good night and closed the door, leaving the two of you alone again. The minutes felt like hours, and the hours felt like days. He rested his head next to the space below your hand and next to your body. He still held your hand, and found himself slowly drifting off to sleep.

Morning crept in as slow as ever, and as the sun reached your eyes, you let out a sigh. Your head was pounding, and the last thing you remember was being in that room. Everything felt heavy, but you thanked your lucky stars. You were alive. You wanted to stretch a bit, but you looked down at the figure draped over the side of your bed. He still held you hand. You deeply wished in that moment someone had a camera. Not that this was a moment you wanted to remember forever.

You attempted to speak but your mouth was paper dry, so instead you reached over your other hand and gently ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a small grunt in acknowledgment, since that was something you did often. Then it hit him. It was something you did. You were awake.

His head shot up and he stared at you with tired eyes. A million thoughts raced his mind again. He had a million questions, mostly because he knew you were more careful than that, you weren’t one to get injured on runs. “Hey.” was all he could manage. “Hi.” Your voice was raspy. He let go of your hand to crack open a water bottle that was on the floor, handing it to you. You drank as much as you could before handing it back to him. “Thank you.” You said weakly, but sounded more like yourself. His heart fluttered at the sound of your voice. You smiled at him, as wide as you could with the little energy you had. He returned it with a smaller smile, taking your hand again to kiss it about a million times.

“You stayed with me all night?” You asked, looking around the empty room and realized the sun was rising. “Mhm. Had to make sure you were alright.” He replied, still staring at you in disbelief. The image of you slung over Glenn and Rosita’s shoulders haunted his mind. “I think I’m ok.” You reached for your head, softly touching the stitches. You sighed, you deeply hated having stitches. You’ve only had them a few times, but it just grossed you out. You hated being hurt, too, just like Daryl you always wanted to tough it out.

“You should get some sleep.” Daryl said quietly, watching your every move. If you had the strength to laugh, you would’ve. He looked like shit, “You too.” You let out a small giggle. With this, he knew you were going to be okay. His tensed shoulders eased up at the sound of your quiet laughter. “Whatever.” Was all he said, before standing up and began looking for something. You frowned, assuming he was leaving. “Please don’t go.” Your voice was small, but Daryl didn’t turn to you. He was sifting through drawers until he found a small wash cloth that was clean. He returned to your side, laying your head back. “Not going anywhere, sunshine.” He placed the wash cloth over your eyes, blocking the sun out. You smiled, even though you couldn’t see it, he smiled at the sight of you. “I love you.” You said, before puckering up your lips. Daryl rolled his eyes, lovingly of course, before planting a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Love ya too, now sleep before you give me another heart attack.” His tone shifted on that last bit, it made you realize how scared he was. Your heart broke a bit, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. He returned to the position of sleeping at your side, this time one hand in his and the other draped over his head, you gently rubbing the back of his head till you both drifted off to sleep.

A few days pass and you were back home, just about fully recovered. You were recounting the story of what happened before the explosion when you remembered what you had been doing in that room. “Where’s my pack?” You asked mid-story. Daryl’s eyes squinted, confused at why you asked, but brought you your duffle from the kitchen to the couch. You excitedly unzipped it, holding onto what you had searched for. “I went back in that room because I found these.” You grinned, revealing a half a dozen arrows that you thought would work for Daryl’s crossbow. You handed them to him, letting him inspect the set carefully. He sighed in disbelief “Ya almost died for a couple o’ these?” He asked, still checking the set. You nodded, still beaming at the sight of him.

“Worth it to see that look on your face.” He was so damn happy, he just wouldn’t say it. He had been using the same, maybe four, arrows for two years. You couldn’t believe your eyes when you came across them, buried in a drawer. You remembered it was the last thing you had shoved in your bag before the flash of light. Daryl was afraid to hug you and thank you, the last thing he wanted to do was cause more pain. “Think they’ll work?” You asked as he put them down, along with moving the duffle from between you two. He nodded, carefully wrapping his arms around you. You welcomed the familiar feeling, pulling him into you even closer, resting your chin in the crook of his neck.

“Next time I’ll try harder not to get blown to bits.” You said, causing the both of you to laugh a bit. He pulled away. “That’d be good.” He agreed, before kissing you. “Thanks, for the set. Ya didn’t have to.” His cheeks were burning because of the gesture you had made. You shrugged. “I wanted to. I’d do it again if it came down to it.” Now, you wouldn’t want to get blown to smithereens again, but arrows were hard to come by, and now every time he used them he’d think of you. “Yea,” he scoffed, “Don’t do that again. Didn’t like sitting there all night thinkin’ I lost ya.” He stared at the ground, blaming himself as usual. The only way to get him to stop, you found, was not feeding into it. You took his face in your hands. “You sat there all night?” You assumed he did, but you weren’t certain. “Mhm, had to see those pretty eyes when they opened.” he blushed and so did you at the compliment. Your heart could’ve exploded right then and there. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” You said quietly, stroking his hair. He shook his head, “Sorry for not being there.” He replied, a sadness cloaking his usually rougher voice. You sighed, knowing damn well he would take the blame no matter what happened. “It’s not on you honey, I’m home. That’s all that matters now.” You stroked your thumbs on his cheeks, hoping to ease his pain. He looked back up at you, his eyes a bit glossy. Your heart sank, “Oh, Daryl.” You threw your arms back around him, pulling him close to you again, this time he held you as if you would disappear into thin air if he let go. You had no idea the state you were in when you had pulled up to those gates a few days ago. You had no idea Daryl thought you had died.

The two of you pulled away after awhile, placing a kiss on his lips before looking him in the eyes again. “Can’t believe I almost got blown up, how dumb was that?” You joked, knowing that was definitely one of Daryl’s thoughts hearing the story. He shook his head, laughing at you. There you were, cracking jokes about nearly dying.

That’s his girl. And there wasn’t another place on earth he’d want to spent his night.

————————————————————

a/n - let me know your thoughts!! would love to take requests too in my ask <3 thank u for all the love on Boots!!

[renren-006]

Keep Her Safe Pt. 2 | Daryl Dixion x Fem Reader

PART 1: Keep Her Safe A/n: hehehe enjoy part two for those who want to know what Dary would do if you were hurt

Everyone wonders what Daryl would do to someone, or the world if you got hurt. It wasn't too long after you arrived at Alexandra where they learned what would happen. 

When you got back from the run, blood covering your arm and chest Daryl swung at the first person he saw with your blood coating their skin.

“You” He has said, pounding his fist into the guy's face. You were too weak to help and the blood loss barely let you stand up without one of the girls' help. Rick pulled Daryl off the man, he himself was also pissed about you getting hurt. 

“The hell happened?” the first question out of Rick's mouth, the man stuttered. The look of anger on Daryl's face was enough to make the man want to run. Daryl looked down at the knife in the man's pocket, your blood seeped out from the pouch.

“There was a walker, he freaked out and thought she got bit,” the girl said. Rick checked your wound realizing it was a nife slash instead of a bite. Your birthmark peeked out from your tank top next to the knife wound. “Her birthmark?” Rick asked. “He thought it was a bite,” you told Rick. “he's dehydrated and new he didn't know”

“Dont excuse it” Daryl said. “He almost killed her”

“I know.” Rick said. “Well deal with him” 

Daryl took you from the other girl's arms carried you to the health house and had you stitched up. Part of your shirt was ripped and hanging off you, leaving your bra to be the only thing covering you. The birthmark was red and bloody, leaving you with a long scar from it to your chest. Daryl sat on the steps of the house awaiting you. 

“I'm fine ya know,” you told him, causing him to jump up from the stars. He looked at your stitches. “Will make a cool scar don't you think? Can add it to the list” 

You had a few scars from over the year, Daryl always felt guilty for everyone you had. Your biggest one happened when the prison fell, leaving you with a gaping wound on your thigh stretching the entire length. You remember that night being the most pain you had ever been in, and Darly had to stitch you up while Beth was crying at the sight. There were other scars and near-death experiences both of you had gone through, and still, it never got easier for Darly to handle.

“I hate seein ya like this” he said. 

“D…” “Nah nah dont brush it off this time” he asaid, “ya keep”

“What? Living? Almost dying?” you asked. “Daryl, look at the world we live in”

“Your infuriating” he said stomping off into the street. The light in the sky was fading, the sun having started its descent into night. 

“Me? How about you? Punching him, yelling”

“I was trying to protect ya” “I don't need it” you told him turning him around to face you in the street. “I don't need to be protected, I can take care of myself. I just…I love you and if I get hurt I worry about how you react every time”

“I love ya too. Its why…i need to protect ya”

“And I need you to trust me” you told him. He lowered his head and nodded.

“I do” he told you sincerely.

“Then let me handle things. Ill let you know when ya need to step in”

You didn't know it but what everyone thought was that while you were tough and could handle yourself, you were off limits. No one was to threaten you or else they would have to deal with Daryl, and he loved it. He loved the fact that he had this effect on people and that he could protect you this way. He can stay out of your way, but he wasn't going to stop acting like if anyone touched you they were dead. He learned to be sneaky about his threats.

[zmbiesoph]

Gone

part one

Summery: Carl is desperately trying to save you

warnings: (SPOILERS) death(?), blood, zombie bite use of Y/N

master list

Carl’s heart hammered in his chest as he pushed himself harder, his legs burning with every strained step. He could barely see through the haze of his own fatigue, but there was no time to stop, no time to rest. You needed him. The thought of losing you was too much to bear.

Your grip on his hand was barely there now, weak and fading, but Carl refused to let go. The world around him was a blur of trees and darkness, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to stretch and sway in the wind. Every crack of a twig, every rustle of leaves sent his heart into overdrive, as if the forest itself were conspiring against him.

"Just a little longer," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, strained. It was a promise. To himself. To you. It had to be.

But as he moved through the night, a creeping dread began to coil in his gut, gnawing at him. He could see it in the pale, waning light—your face, once full of life and fire, now drained of color. The bite was bad. Worse than he’d hoped. The infection was already setting in, and no matter how hard he fought, Carl knew that the odds were slipping away.

His breath caught as he glanced down at you, too scared to meet your eyes. The tremor in your fingers had grown more pronounced, and your skin was cold, clammy. He could feel the faint pulse in your wrist, but it was growing weaker with each passing moment.

“Y/N��” His voice cracked, and for a moment, he stumbled, almost dropping you. He couldn’t lose you like this. Not like this. The weight of it pressed on him like a vice. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

He wanted to scream. To rage against the world. Against the walkers. Against the sickness that claimed so many, including you. He had never felt so helpless, so powerless.

“Please,” Carl whispered, more to the world than to you, though he held onto your hand tighter, his grip almost desperate. “Please, don’t let me lose you.”

Carl fell to the floor, you in his arms, tears starting to grow. “Please…” he pleas, your breath getting fainter and fainter. It starts to get hard to breath, for both Carl and you, your dying, to the point of no saving… salty tears start to fall from carls eyes across his pale freckled skin. It starts to feel hard to feel hard to keep your eyes open. This is the end, both you and Carl know it. Carl whispers a small “I love you”. You smile and before you can say it back, your body goes numb. Carl lets out a choked sob… your gone…

AHHHH. I’m so sorry. I luv this, sorry it’s shorter then part one but 🤷‍♀️ love youuu!

@carlsangel @rarllover3753 @txrasbae @hiro--aoki

[xagave]

pleasepleaseplease recommend some danphan fics!!

Sorry these are on ff.net I was into danphan before AO3 was really A Thing. Invisobang also just completed and a whole wack of new fics are also now out for your enjoyment so I suggest taking a look there too Lab Rat - Danny (as Phantom) is captured by his parents and vivisected in the lab. THE MOST iconic dp fic from this era of fandom and also the first dp fic I ever read which single-handedly got me into the fandom. I also recommend anything else by this author[sequel]

Pits - Danny is captured by Walker and thrown into the Pits to fight for his life. HANDS DOWN my all time favorite dp fic. I drew a bunch of fanart for it and never showed the author LMAO [sequel]

In The Way - A twisted tale of a summer spent all alone

Wondering - Danny's been captured and tortured by his parents, but he refuses to say a word until his psychiatrist starts connecting the dots. Can he risk keeping it a secret any longer?

Dreams of Light - A cute box ghost fic with a fun twist at the end

Phantom's Sketchbook - Mr. Lancer finds himself in an unparalleled situation, he has access to something which can give him incredible insight into the personal workings of Amity Park's local ghost teen hero, Danny Phantom

Masks - Lancer has had enough of his most enigmatic, frustrating student Daniel Fenton and forces him to stay in detention with him until Danny tells him The Truth. A story examining Danny's relationship with the human race. Another BIG FAVE of mine [sequel]

Darkness - Part 1 of Illuminations saga. [part 2][part 3][part 4] Maddie and Phantom are trapped in the dark and must work together to avoid dying. I don't remember much about this but I do remember it being super creepy and I bulldozed my way through all 4 parts so it must have been good lol

I'm Still Here - Danny's been locked away in a forgotten thermos, buried in the backyard for 70 years. When he's finally released, happy isn't the word he'd use to describe his new life

Real Life - A very creepy take on ghosts and the events of the show, where they're more inhuman, feral, and scary. I don't remember much about this but it's unfinished

Lopeholt - Valerie must survived the night in the third scariest place on earth. **VERY** creepy, I remember reading this in the dark and it gave me nightmares. Another top fave. I def recommend reading anything else by this author

Running to the Enemy's Arms - Danny runs away and ends up on the doorstep of the person who's dead last on his list of favorite people - Vlad. Danny/Vlad father son relationship. A fun and interesting view of what Danny's life would be like had he been the son Vlad always wanted. Incomplete but also another BIG FAVE of mine. Tolerate the first 1-2 chapters and the rest is golden

Checkmate - Vlad forces Danny to leave everything behind in order to save Jazz's life. But just when the billionaire believes to have won his chess game against his young rival, Danny makes a single unexpected move.

A Secret Uncovered - Danny's transformation is caught on tape and now the whole town knows who he is Photoshop - Dash and Kwan find an old class picture and start having a little too much fun on Photoshop. Will someone's secret be revealed?

Chained - It starts with a fire at the Guys in White headquarters, where a vengeful Valerie stumbles across an imprisoned Danny Phantom. It starts with injustice. But what happens when justice and revenge are confused for one another? Where does a hero end, and a villain begin?

Phantom of Truth - Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her subject, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth… except, perhaps, herself [Sequel]

The Soul Sepulchre - Something foul is stirring in Amity Park and it all starts in the bowels of Amity Park's Museum of Natural History

Moral Code - Moral code says to never kill or capture a specimen that you did not weaken yourself. Maddie finds Danny Phantom wounded late at night after a hard battle. After she helps him, she finds there is more to him than she ever thought possible. Mother/son bonding

Connections - Maddie knows that the Booo-merang has keyed into Danny, for whatever reason, so what's she to think when she sees it collide with Phantom? [Sequel]

Isolated - It's just a wish that's been granted with the wrong twist, but for Danny, it's a nightmare that's become reality. He's stuck as Phantom, his family's hunting him, and everyone who can help him is gone

Little Earthquakes - They say that a man is defined by what he does when he thinks nobody's looking. Does the same hold true for ghosts?

Tortured Truth - Danny's parents discover that the ghost boy is half human. Now that they've captured Danny, will he submit to torture and reveal himself, or is the revelation just the beginning of their problems? [Sequel]

Estrelas - AU. Sam's attention is captured by a lonely ghost haunting her grandmother's attic…and discovering his secrets will take everything she has.

Criteria of Life - Every living thing must follow the Laws of Life; however, Maddie wonders if Phantom can somehow follow these laws as well. The fact that he is a ghost is putting a knick in her plans, but what if Phantom can follow the Laws of Life?

[mel-valerio]

ACT ONE

Chapter one

Leaves crunched under Tom’s heavy boots as he trekked forward along the old train tracks located deep in the upper forest of Oregon. It was the beginning of winter, and a breeze had just started circulating its way through the thick, humid air making it dense and heavy.

Each breath Tom heaved combated with the cold wet air and every breath taken in chilled his esophagus, making him shutter and pull tightly at the winter coat clinging to his body. He rubbed his gloved hands together creating friction and warmth, eyes traveling for a break in the forest, for refuge.

Tom had wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours until he finally stumbled upon a road. His feet, sore and caked with dirt and rocks, met the smooth asphalt. The shift in terrain caught him off guard, and he nearly lost his balance, but regained it quickly, his senses sharpening as he took in his surroundings. Ahead, a clearing stretched out, and across the road, he saw a cul-de-sac. Behind him, the long, haunting trail he’d taken was now just a fading memory in the distance.

He stepped onto the fresh asphalt crossing the road, determined now to find a place to stay for the night. Tom made his way through the open field; the quiet sound of his feet crunching under the tall grass broke through the silence of night, with the few nocturnal animals making their way leisurely.

Tom's neck snapped at the sound of footsteps coming from across the field. His hand placed itself on the hilt of his gun that sat in its holster on his right hip he stopped in his tracks sitting listening. Suddenly the squelching sound of a walker erupted from the clearing as it began to make its way towards tom its steps uncoordinated its feet picking up speed as it made its way toward him. Tom drew his gun, firing twice aiming for the head, the walker Went down with the wail of a dying animal. Tom drew a deep breath before deciding to run, the noise would attract any walker in the nearby vicinity. He raced to find the cul de sac located at least a quarter mile away, which now was his only hope of safety.

Heavy breaths escaped Tom’s mouth as he sprinted into the cul-de-sac. His eyes scanned the row of houses—some in better shape than others—but it was the one at the end that caught his attention. Its lights were on, cutting through the darkness. Without thinking, he bolted down the empty street, passing abandoned cars and bikes, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he neared the house with its glowing lights, he slowed, his tall frame moving cautiously toward the entrance. Just as he stepped forward, his foot snagged a tripwire. A deafening sound, as sharp and sudden as a gunshot, filled the air. Tom crashed face-first into the cold, unforgiving ground. Dazed, he tried to push himself up, but his mind betrayed him. A wave of exhaustion swept over him, and his eyes grew heavy. He collapsed, unable to move, as darkness slowly took over.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

36 - Wolves of the Past and Back

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 18k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, graphic descriptions of gore and violence, references to past rape, sexual trauma, smut, past character death

Notes: I'm basing my description of the Others off of the books, but it's perfectly fine if you envision them as the White Walkers from the show. It's just my own stylistic preference. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Nothing of the orders seemed as if it would lead to anything different. Black dyed fur sat warm around their persons as the same colour matched all the rest they wore, but it wouldn't be warm for long, not as they travelled. All sat atop a horse each as the jarring loud rise of the gate blared before them. The tunnel as it always was, stood dark, long and shivering in the air even despite the North beyond. As if the wind trapped inside as the gate opened never allowed it any warmth.

Finally as the men all waited for the second gate to rise, Will could only wonder how long this time would take. Some rangers would come back with whispers of strange happenings, some didn't even think twice of it, and it was always difficult to tell who was spinning stories from fear, and who was fearful from the things they truly had seen. As the three men had begun to move along the woods, nothing was out of the ordinary. Just snow and cold, and nothing within sight for far too long in far too chill of air.

But it was then which him alone which saw it, a plume of smoke. Nothing was around it, no signs of life or attack and there was not much in these closer parts that they could hide so well in. But climbing off the horse, Will saw nothing strange, but still approached as careful as he knew to be.

As he slowly descended on the small cliff side, he braced himself for whatever was waiting and yet, it wasn't them. Well, it was the wildlings, but not the way Will thought they would be spotted.

The bodies were frozen solid, many parts cut and severed brutally as they all sat formed on the ground which each body part stripped bare to the cold. Sat in the middle formed a large circle, with bodies straight down the middle of it and beyond with more body parts scattered across the end of it. Multiple spots on specific edges sat heads perched onto spikes whereas torsos, legs, and arms sat on the snow alone.

Whatever shock came from that sight, was tenfold to the sight of a young girl with large orange curls pinned dead and frozen to a tree, and it was what startled Will to run back to his horse.

Ser Waymar Royce hadn't actually worked to deserve the authority he was given, or the attitude he spoke with. He had only been at the Wall half a year. The youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs and he was dressed fancier, spoke fancier and looked down at both there, as Will returned to him and Gared to speak of what he had seen. “What'd you expect? They’re savages. One lot steals a goat from another lot and before you know it, they’re ripping each other to pieces.”

The thicker accent which spoke back looked at him with an ingidnance, and a searing startle that made him come off more angry then perhaps intended. “I've never seen wildlings do a thing like this. I’ve never seen a thing like this, not ever in my life.” Asking how close Will had gotten, he looked at Royce as if that was a ridiculous question. “Close as any man would.”

Gared spoke up next, “We should head back to the wall. It'll be night soon.”

But Royce only raised an eyebrow with a glint in his eye as mocking as his tone. “Yes, it does that everyday around this time. Don't tell me, do the dead frighten you?”

Gared was a brother who had spent forty years at the wall, he was not a man accepting to be made light of, but there was something else. A nervous tension coming close to fear that was felt not only in one man alone. There was an edge to the cold and darkness falling upon them, the cold blowing from far North had grown strong and stronger so with each passing hour out here.

The elder man though, tried to hold firm in his certainty. “Mormont's orders were for us to track the wildlings. We tracked them. Won't trouble us no more.”

But that was not going to stand with this present commander, not in his arrogant youth which hadn't learned a single lesson in his time. He was a highborn with a Ser attached to his name and spent many years of his life being handed things the moment he pulled such arrogance out. He cared more, Will suspected, for how it would look if he were to return, not the integrity of the task given. “You don't think he'll ask us how he died? Get back on your horse.”

Will only tried one last plea. “Whatever did it to them could do it to us. They even killed the children.”

Royce, once more, looked but entirely condescending. “It’s a good thing we’re not children. You want to run away south, run away. Of course, they will behead you as a deserter. If I don’t catch you first. Get back on your horse. I won’t say it again.”

They had moved as Will returned, his other two bothers at his backs. Moved perhaps, on their own or of something else. But there were no men left to show them, and thus, Royce had the three of them look the area, seek out where they could've gone.

But it felt dark, too dark and too cold. It felt wrong. The wind rustled and the trees blew so freezing it drew attention between all three, but just as Royce looked to Gared asking why he seemed to fearful of such wind, did it stand. The wind blew and so did the trees rustle, but Royce never heard a thing.

The Others made no sound.

Only when Will could see what happened from where he stood, and the wind blow so cold it almost froze him to the spot, did he see her. The little girl stood in a clearing, skin pale and deathly, but her eyes a glowing blue and so like Gared who ran for his own, Will did as well. Ran and ran and if something, or somethings chased after the two men, they did not know. Even though it felt as if many things were behind them.

Going until Will came across Gared who was as terrified across the way. It was so cold.

It came from behind Gared, standing taller then any man he'd ever met. It looked somehow gaunt and yet it's skin was also smooth as if a soft ice, and pale as milk in flesh. In the freezing winds, it's armour seemed to change colour with every step it took, looking like the sky rippling across water but in the trees and dark to match around it.

On silent feet it moved forward, the blade it rose looked as if it was made of moonlight. A shard of crystal ice that almost vanished if looking at it from the edged blade alone. Like the Others itself, its blade seemed to almost glow a tint of blue that made it stand out.

The one, two, three, five of them all emerged around the woods, as the one behind Gared rose the glowing ice and sliced through his neck with such an elegant stroke it looked as if not a shred of effort had been made. But then the one holding his head looked at Will, and as more of them came closer to did the ranger feel shock and numb, falling to his knees. Slamming him into the cold to whatever fate held, such terror was strong.

The Other opened its mouth to speak as freezing and dark came around, but it spoke in a language he did not know. It's voice sounding like the crackling of ice on a winter lake.

Only as they approached, did he look back up at them and the hand of milk white reached out to grasp, kill, take, whatever intended, did it stop. Glowing blue eyes like something of another world peered into Will's as if searching beyond the eyes looking, and it found them.

Pulling back, he and all the Others yelled out in a loud crackling of ice.

As the eyes of a shaggy haired boy, barley in his teen years watched, he knew that the men, Gared and Ser Waymar Royce had seen a ranger named Will.

The boy however, wasn't like them, not anymore. He could see the eyes behind Will. He was learning how to do it, move as if travelling alongside whatever gazing into the past the boy was doing.

But he also realized, the Others could see the person behind Will too. Despite approaching the man with intent, the boy watcher to the side knew that they only backed off, left him alive, beacuse they too, could see the dark hair, green eyed Baratheon girl behind them.

The Others didn't harm you, but the boy watching it all, didn't know why.

Bright the surroundings of the North looked as snow blanketed everywhere you went now. It was always beautiful, but not quite easy to see in summer, as the land didn't look as light and colourful as much against the dim sunlight it received. But against snow and ice, the sun now radiated off the brightness of the winter and lit the air around for all to see perfect in that morning hour.

When he found you, Jon knew your eyes looking around weren't where you and him stood. Your mind was elsewhere, and the white that covered them looked almost what he knew now, was what one looks like when warging. But you weren't a warg at all, and yet you still stood there eyes white and mind stolen elsewhere. But if your physical person were before him? Why did you look so much colder then even the air around you both?

Freezing air leaving your lips with a shiver as many would once the far North winds blew, but it was odd as nothing else but just your skin felt it. Each time before, you were able to be pulled out of it either by touch or a voice close to you in the present world but this time, neither party present could do it. Ghost  was in front of you, barking and growling when he had tracked you. The direwolf would turn to look aggressively in defence elsewhere but not find anything which was a threat.

Jon had tried calling your name, but you didn't react. By the time you had stopped, it was like you were still as a statue as the expression on your face with white eyes, looked terrified. Grabbing you by the arms was when he realized you were almost so cold your lips tinted blue. Moving so he could pull you back into his chest, while Ghost had whined and stepped up closer to your front and as if protecting you from something.

You grew colder and colder by terrifyingly quick seconds passed, until you blinked.

Your eyes focused on the world before you, tilting your head down to see Ghost before you started to properly shiver, being turned to face that which was behind you. Gloved hands grasped your cheeks and tilted you up, your eyes meeting Jons wide, grey ones full of a concern and filtering in fear. His eyes scoured you over, almost debating if asking about you being alright, but he knew the answer was no.

Instead, he ran a hand down your hair and pulled you in so he could almost hide you when wrapping more of the fur around him, to drape across you. Your hands found his waist as you spoke none, you rarely did for a few minutes when coming back.

Ghost looked around the area to find none of what he previously sensed before too walking up to the side of you both. His great size meaning as he moved to nuzzle his head into your side, his own fur was tall and warm enough it helped sooth you. You had something warm loose on you before and you didn't know when you lost it.

Likely you thought, eyes slipped closed as you leaned into Jons comforting and warm embrace, it fell from you when you, or whomever your eyes watched through, began to run. Running from the crystal blue glowing eyes. First it was fire, then you would see this, that, them, her, and now you were seeing what your dreams showed you, only now it was so much more real before your vision.

Jon's visions were nothing like this. You knew that, he was seeing both sights at once. He could see the world and he would see you and never be confused or lost as to who or where he was. You, were utterly gone from your mind when this happened. And your reactions were only growing more vivid.

Your voice muffled against his warm chest when you finally found a voice. “I don't suppose saying this is only stress, would be an acceptable explanation would it?”

Jon both tensed, and then sighed out a mixture of frustration and an on edge level of amusement. He tucked your face more into his neck, and you wondered if this was to comfort you, help warm you, or what you suspected Jon wasn't saying, was that maybe his reactions to this were getting more concerned.

Jon was trying to not tell you how much this was scaring him.

Maybe it was the sights you saw this time especially, and you wished you could be scared of your own mind. But you weren't. What scared you, was the black charred bones of a small Ghiscari girl named Hazzea, and the tall, looming nightmare that moved to crowd you as a group of five of those things came for you. Came, and yet, as it reached out to grasp you, it pulled back.

Pulled back and almost let out what their voices of a yell could sound like, which was as if someone cracked a shattering of ice inside your eardrums directly. They pulled back from you all suddenly at that, and just as you sighed out almost so terrified you had no feelings left in your heart, you were in a very different snowy woods.

The rangers out there were tracking wildlings. Wildlings which were no longer North, and out there on the orders of a Lord Commander that had been dead for years. You couldn't help but wonder, if the visions showing you the silver haired Targaryean were too in the past. But that wasn't possible. Any dream or vision you or Jon once held, always was based in the now. You saw things as they occurred even if you didn't then realize. You had seen each other that way, two visions accidentally finding each other and you somehow saw the other.

But this was far in the past, these now dead rangers. Or, at least, two. What happened to the one you saw through, Will, once they left you did not know. But if that fear in your heart now was shared with him, you wondered if he had found it in himself to try and run. If you were him then, you might try and desert that cause as well. Looking into their eyes as if they were truly right in front of you?

Part of you could feel the edge of Longclaws pommel, and you could only think to yourself that Jon was truly a man made of something entirely different. To have fought one, survived one, and killed one and yet he so determined led the true fight against them without letting that terror over take him. Beacuse it felt like it wanted to strangle you.

Pulling back, you shivered still, the cold of the winter air now seeping into your skin. Some of your body was warm, but you knew Jon was looking at the tints of blue still sat upon your lips you were so cold. His hands ran up and down your upper arms as he looked the rest of you over. Quiet for a good moment, he likely was keeping it inside until his voice could speak as steady as it did when he finally grasped the words to let out. “If you aren't with me, or with your guard, I'm having Ghost stay by your side from now on.”

Tilting your head, the ease of a protest slipped your lips, “Jon I can't ask-”

But he shook his head, a gloved hand rising up up cup your cheek and let the leather covering his thumb run along your cold lips. His brows furrowed as his voice dropped so you knew the frustration was there. “I know you didn't ask. This is a command. I don't want you alone anymore while this keeps getting worse.” You swallowed your words right back down your throat instead of arguing. The brightness in his eyes was not endearing, it was full of blatant worry. “You had almost gotten two miles away before Ghost caught up with you. I won't order you to stay only inside the castle walls, but I don't want you out here on your own right now.”

Nodding, you found no strength in you to protest. Nor did you really want to, it was his command and that was the end of it. Your cold, ungloved hands reached up, just enough that your shaking fingertips trailed over the direwolf etched into the dark leather across his torso. His eyes curious as they watched you as your voice came out hesitant, but affectionately soft in muttering. “You're still wearing the sigil.”

Not looking, you missed the way Jons face twitched almost to smother the conflict only as it passed for a second, but much more comfortingly landed on a softness, as he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes with the thumb already at the side of your face. “House Stark is still my fathers house.” Your heart wanted to melt down into the snow at your feet at the ease he spoke. More of a whisper, he treaded the water that he had been avoiding before. “You told me the truth, and I took this all out on you for it. You didn't deserve that.”

The words of sorry were about to come from his mouth when you shook your head, letting one cold hand of yours run along the facial hair covering part of his jaw as you whispered back. “You were upset, that isn't your fault.” Jon trying to say different, that he had yelled at you but you took him off guard, your lips half finding a gentle smirk. “This is, what? Only the second time we've ever had any sort of fight, in nearly two decades of knowing one another? Not anything worth demanding a sorry for, not with you.”

Jon that time sighed out almost pretending to be more frustrated then he really was. Both hands now moving to cup your cheeks as he leaned down, his lips brushing over your blueish slowly warming ones. “Why do you make apologizing so difficult?” His lips were gentle, just a warm press that almost seemed to intent to bring the pink tones back to your lips proper.

You were both dancing around what happened just now, and that was how you knew for sure it was Jon which was scared the most. He would protect you, but maybe he wasn't ready to ask more about it. So you let him keep your lips pressed to his, until you felt shimmers of warm seep back into your bones.

A good while passed before he left one more kiss to your lips. “Come on, before the rest of them wake  up and start searching for us both.”

Sam sat in a disbeleif, eyes looking back over to Jon before returning to the fire they sat around as the morning was still early and quite bright. “I mean I knew he hated you, but this is different.” Jon had to tell Sam the truth, but at the least you could tell it was easier to swallow after spending a number of hours sleeping on the truth of what happened.

Jon had you sitting right by his side, but this time your distant mind wasn't that which was distracted. A drift of your gaze over to where Beric Dondarrian and Thoros of Myr were tied and kept. What Jon did with the others he had not told you, said it was best if you left it for him to handle as he prompted you away the night before. Nor did you know how he came to the conclusion to take those two with him, but you never once questioned or doubted his intentions.

All he had said for now, was that they had more to offer then nothing at all, but it didn't mean Jon was going to be kind about it. Already knowing there were to be two cells which would make home for them until he had the time to deal with it. But it was the way in which Thoros kept looking at you.

Your eyes would meet and you'd narrow them and peel back glaring towards the fire only to find Gendry's with more spite in the same intention. You didn't blame him.

Jon beside you spoke low even in the mostly private space in the packing up camp. “Said it was for the Watch. What all of them said. Think he wanted to do it for a while, I just gave him an excuse.” You knew both men flickered their gaze to you, but you ignored them as your eyes found the fire once more. You still felt unusually cold.

They had been dancing around the subject of how he was alive, likely sensing that Jon didn't want to talk about it as much as you didn't. “I imagine he probably couldn't believe he was going to die before someone like me.” Jon tilted his head at Sam, almost imploring him not to find a reason to run back down that route of insecurity. It was difficult not to when discussing Thorne. “What about..”

Sam's voice trailing off as you knew he was asking about anyone else who did it. For only a moment, did you know Jon felt you stiffen beside him. Your own gaze flickering up to meet where Theon was standing not too far off before swallowing. Turning back to the fire intently.

Jon luckily, was skilled at laying it out as diplomatically as he could while also holding a deep, rough tone as he started with the blatant truth. “I hanged Yarwick and Marsh.” You glanced up to see a bit of taken back surprise in Sams head as it jolted a bit. “They were the only two other then Thorne to help actually shove a knife in my chest.”

You hadn't blinked, eyes stinging a bit at keeping that certain information out of it. Theon, then Olly? And now you couldn't help but wonder, were you not there, what would Jon have felt compelled to do with the Brotherhood. Perhaps death truly had made you soft. Or weak. You supposed that distinction depended on who you asked. It was hard to tell if you made Jon worse for it too.

Once more your eyes found that similar to Gendry's. Only that time, both men were watching back. Perhaps not at him, but certainly at you, and you felt an unpleasant shake creeping down your spine  before you looked away again. Finding Gendry's, you knew he felt frustrated that they were even coming along despite their position as prisoners. A small shake of your head as you almost looked a bit narrow eyed trying to implore him to let it go for now.

There was enough problems around, none wanted the return to Winterfell to be full of more strife then was about to exist anyways. Sam's voice caught both your attentions back, fighting between focus and something in your mind desperate for things to just slow down or stop. Too much kept happening all at once and you were struggling to keep up. “I suppose its easier to get more people to listen to you if your a King then Lord Commander.”

There was a small huff in Jon beside you, as if a doubting laugh almost poked through. “Believe me, Sam. Doesn't make it any easier. No one thinks we're telling the truth in the first place.” Sam pointing out that Stannis had believed them, but Jons tone only grew deeper and more frustrated. “I'm starting to think he's the only one who will.”

Your voice was more of a quiet mutter, your arms slinking more into the cloak around you trying to hide from the cold that existed only in you still. “Most of us in the South don't even think The Long Night happened.” Eyes all turning to you, but you only shrugged as your voice didn't raise any further. “There isn't any proof it happened, so most of us grew up thinking Northerners are superstitious for even believing in it.”

The hope in Sams eyes however, was what surprised you. “But we do have proof.” Your brows narrowed as did Jons, prompting him to explain himself. “Well, not proof, but as close as I could find. It's..it's why I was coming back North. I know you sent me there to replace Maester Aemon one day-”

No one but Jon knew it, but as Sam continued, he felt something almost painful stir in his chest. A feeling Jon never once had to confront, it didn't mean the same thing then. He didn't think about it, what that line traced back to who. He didn't want to, he didn't want to look at them the way Jon did the Starks, they didn't deserve it. But maybe there was one who did deserve his memory.

Those people weren't Jons family, but Jon thought to himself, he and Maester Aemon still served together in the Nights Watch. And those men are still his family, his brothers. It was all confusing in his head, and for once he almost missed everything Sam had been saying. Ironically, you had to be the one to listen and respond for him as his mind drifted, when lately that was Jons job for your sake.

It was your responding voice that pulled him back to the present, you sensing Jon suddenly shifting beside you despite the past few minutes him being still as stone. “Why keep them a secret?”

Sitting up straighter on the wood you were all perched on around the fire, the slow creeping feeling of a gloved hand trailing along your back fell upon you. Jons hand reaching around you to rest against the wood at the side of your hip, for a single moment you almost tried to move away.

All of this speak of Robb so strongly the night before, and it was likely your mind had ever so briefly associated Jons touch with something kept for the secret or dark. Neither Theon nor Gendry noticed, or cared. But you did see Sams eyes glance down and almost look back between you with eyes just a bit brighter that you tried to ignore.

His voice a mock whisper, leaning forward a bit to you. “I mean, our ancestors weren't very nice to theirs, were they?” His head nodding a bit towards Jon. “Makes sense they would lock it away, if they think the First Men were all wild and superstitious. And like you said, most of us all think it's just stories. So there's no need to look at them if they aren't real.”

Almost in a tinge of amusement, Jon spoke much more dry as his face twisted up in a playful jest. “You do remember I sent you there to learn to be a Maester. Did you do any learning in between all this?” Sam and Jon both shared an easy look, the more you were around them both the more that it really did feel as if Sam was as good as a true brother to Jon. It felt good, seeing someone that so naturally brought out some of Jon's lightness with ease.

Protesting in his own mocking offence, “I did, spent my day busy with my tasks. It just meant I had to do a lot of sneaking around and reading at night.” Relenting to more serious but still within a memory that acted to entertain. “If we thought being stewards was messy work..” Shaking his head with a flash of something minorly disgusted in his eye. “Try being assigned latrine duty for a whole wing full of sick people. Made being at the wall feel like a privilege.”

A laugh shared between them, but you guided it, perhaps a bit stilted, back to the question in your mind. “So is that why you came here? You found these old texts and what they say?”

Multiple eyes turned to Sam, as he thought carefully his choice of words likely due to the number of people simply around. “I haven't been through a lot of it, mostly I just figured out a way to translate it but it takes time and, if we don't have much time before..” Before they come, was what you knew he wanted to say. “Then I can't spend only a few hours every night looking them over in secret. If the answers are in those runes-”

Jon finished for him, stern and focused back in his eyes. “Then we need to know what they say as soon as we can.” Sam nodded as Jon begun already to make plans in his head. “When we get back, I can find you a place to work in the castle, our Maester will help you.”

Sam almost grimaced, catching Jons questioning gaze. Sighing out, the man spoke a bit on the side of down trodden. “Don't know if he'll believe the things I tell him. I tried asking the Archmaester if there was anything on the Long Night in the library, and he only told me it would do me good to be a bit more skeptical about what Northerners say.”

In opposite stances, Jon was much more certain and sure of his own words. “Maester Wolkan's smart, you can trust him. And believe me, he's seen enough not to doubt that what we're up against is real.” Silent in you own words, but you knew the scar under yourself was the first in that line of abnormal things.

Just to the side, it was Gendry who leaned over to Theon with a whisper, “Am I the only person here who has no idea what they're talking about?”

Pushing up from where he leaned against a tree, he came more around to sit somewhat next to him with a quiet but much more casual air of his tone. “The Long Night was real, winter is coming and we're all going to die.”

Raising an eyebrow at him with a incredulous look that notably reminded Theon of the exact same kind of look you would give him when annoyed. “Okay, now can I hear the version that's not for children?”

It shouldn't have surprised any, how quickly you found yourself moving right back into things almost the second your feet were on the ground. You didn't want any decorum upon riding through the Winterfell gates and there was far too much to do. But it did strike some, the natural way you and Jon worked around each other in harmony, as if little needed to be said to be on the same page.

You once more avoided the look in Maege Mormont's eyes, you had the entire journey back. There had been no indication when you reunited that there was a thing between yourself and Jon, then once more you leave to Dragonstone and the eve of your return, you and him marry. Many were happy, and none vocalized any discontent, but you knew she had questions upon questions. None of which you were ready to answer.

You could talk to Jon and Theon about Robb, but talking about him to the rest of the very people he fought side by side with was another. Theon said no one cares what you and Jon do together, but it didn't stop the swirling pit of doubt fester in your stomach over it.

Lady Stoneheart had accused you of just being a whore there to warm Jons bed. And maybe, you were terrified, that those were not the words of a vengeful creature with no humanity. You were terrified, those were words spat out by what of Catelyn Stark had remained. She was a mother to you, you loved her son, you didn't want what was left of her to doubt that. Nor the rest of your people. Not wanting those words to match another dead voice tormenting your new life. Not wanting her voice to watch what Ramsay had said to you, what he made you believe.

Not too long in your return, did you feel Jons hand brushing against your lower back as he led you inside the castle from the hustling noise of people upon your return. Most here knew what was expected of them, and whatever reunions were to occur around, would be done without you for now.

“You have never seen them do that, why start now or..whenever I-” Your hands dropped from their position, landing with a thud on the drawers below you as you took a steady breathe until the words found themselves without a stutter. Moving back as you did, trying to slowly work through the now wet strands of your hair before they dried. “They want people like us for their army, why let one ranger go free after hunting them all?”

Jon had been quiet while you told him what you had seen. Silently letting you make your way through the whole tale as he had ensured your skin and hair were scrubbed gentle and clean from the days you had been gone. His voice only speaking in low murmurs in your ear when he had directed you out of the water. Telling you to stay put, quickly throwing something on for himself before moving to grab something warm for you to wear.

Naturally, you had thrown on a shift to hide the sight, and stubbornly made your way to the small mirror and worked to handle your hair before it became too much of a hassle. Mostly thinking out loud trying to work out what in the vision you saw made little sense to you.  It was only as you suddenly felt Jons warmth envelop your back, his hands pulling your hair from where you had it in your own hands. Collecting it himself without second thought as he took over for you instead.

You both glanced to the reflection to see the other trying to avoid a smirk at how both of you were too stubborn for your own good, before you let him just do it. His voice low as he concentrated behind you. “If it was in the past, could be long ago enough that they were still working slow. The free folk said things only started to get worse years ago.”

Nails finding your lip to tap along in thought, unsure if you could even gauge what these things could possible have wanted anyways. “Or none of it was real, and I am simply losing my mind.”

You felt Jons hands pause before continuing to run a comb through the locks, “You're not losing your mind.” Raising an eyebrow with an ask of how he would know that, Jon exhaled almost with a tone with a tinge of nerves behind them. “When Ghost found you, it was like he was trying to look for something. As if he could sense something was there, when it wasn't. And the only times I've seen him like that..”

Slipping your eyes closed with a sharp exhale, you felt yourself digging your nails into your lips, moving them off by force only to have nothing to occupy them with. Falling lamely against the wooden surface before you. “So, he what? Could sense what I was seeing, wherever I even was?”

Jon's face grimaced in an unsure thought, setting the comb aside as you felt him moving the strands around for whatever style he saw fit to look at on you which he liked. Noting silently in his own mind, that he loved how often you simply let him choose for you. “He was the only reason I was there to kill the wight that night in Castle Black. He knew something was wrong right away, and it was the same this time. Only, he couldn't figure out why he thought you were in danger.”

You wanted to avoid the worried softness in his voice, but he wouldn't let you, almost standing a bit closer then before as one hand dropped down to your waist. Sliding gently along to pull you back into him as the other draped your hair along the other shoulder. Keeping that hand closer to the back of your neck as if somewhat massaging the tense muscles there.

Your hands finally found their place, pushing up his sleeve just enough you could gently wrap your hands around his wrist and forearm comfortingly. His voice lulling near your ear. “If it was all in your head, you shouldn't have been freezing like that when we found you.” Only in the halls of Winterfell did you start to feel any warmth returning to you, like it was a cold that seeped deep inside. “You were cold like you were right there with them.”

Leaning back, you both felt the heavy air between at the uncertainty. First fire, then ice, and in between a scattering of your own memories flying through you to haunt. “It felt like I was right there. I had no idea I was- I didn't even feel myself. It was like I was just seeing and thinking through this persons mind without any idea who I was anymore.”

“Maybe you weren't yourself.” Brows furrowing in confusion, Jon moved the hand on your neck down to your waist. Running up and down, dragging around the shift that was currently your only covering in the airy breeze of his room. You felt not much of it against his warmth. “Your eyes were white until you came back.”

Neither needed to elaborate. You both knew from two what that seemed to mean. Only, you weren't doing that at all. You weren't really in control, you were just this person until you weren't. The silence though, it almost felt on the edge of too overwhelming the longer it went on. If Jon could hear your heart racing, or the growing unsettled illness in your chest, it only made his grip tighter.

Swallowing harshly, you tried finding the strain of a voice, “Jon..” But he shook his head, the hand around your front moved up. Tilting you by your jaw to the side so Jon could more rest you against the side of his, keeping the hand there gently running along what his thumb could reach.

Something more was trying to get out, but you just stood there with him. Patient for it to find it's way into the air between you. When it did, his voice was but a rasping whisper as he could barley find it in him to pull away long enough to meet your eyes. Ending up only shifting slightly as if just nuzzling closer instead.

“We need to stop doing this.” You hummed in confusion, but Jon just let the hand on your waist take over what his other did. Wrapping around your front and pulling you back into him more as he spoke. “Ever since I came back, it's like we can't go a week before something gets between us. I- I'm constantly terrified I'm going to lose you again, but I can't do any of this without you.”

One of your hands reached behind, gently running through his own still somewhat damp curls as if to keep him just as close. “I'm-”

“Don't.” Taking you off guard, like Jon wanted to be stern but it only came off in somewhat of a crack before he just let that vulnerability open up. “Don't say sorry, none of this was your fault.”

Your whisper would have been missed were he not as close as he was. “I think you're wrong.” If you thought he was going to let you pull away, you were mistaken. His grip strong and knowingly holding you right in place when you attempted to step away from him. He wanted you to explain yourself while in his embrace, which was as clever as it was unfair. “Every step of the way we've either stopped talking or been separated, has been beacuse I did something, or I screwed up. All I do is cause you stress, and force you to worry about me, when you have so many more important things to focus on.”

Heart going from racing to stopping in an instant, Jon said something you didn't at all expect. “Maybe it's me. You never had problems like this when it was Robb you were with.”

Your head fall back as much as he could allow, leaning as much into him as you could despite his tight grip. Voice a quiet tone despite the tear in your heart. Maybe you and Jon were experiencing similar insecurities without the other realizing, you wondered. The fact that he even remotely could think to compare himself to Robb, you never wanted that. You didn't want either of them comparing to the other. “What did I tell you in White Harbour?”

He was silent, and so you continued, but you knew he remembered it. “I told you, there are no conditions to loving you. That was true then, and it is now. And I don't want you trying to compare this, to what I had with Robb. You aren't him, I'm not with you to feel like I'm back with Robb. I'm with you beacuse I love you. And before you say it, yes I am aware of how hypocritical this sounds.”

The chuckle behind you started deep, and only increased as Jon almost playfully let his face drop in between your shoulder and neck to laugh. Only pulling back to press a kiss there, feeling the smile on his lips. “It's very hypocritical of you.” You and Jon both relaxing in his amused tone.

Finally though, he let you turn to face him. Your palms finding his chest flat, the shirt on him only managed it seemed to get on but not at all done up. Sliding them down to his scars did for once, your face not twist in a pain looking at them. It felt weird to think, but you almost missed them. Sliding them over his heart and one closer to the scar near his hip, your eyes shined bright as you looked up to his grey ones, finally looking warm and full.

Drifting up, one hand danced with the ends of his curls as the other draped along his shoulder under his shirt fabric. “We came back different then we used to be..I think maybe we need time to get used to being with the other like this.”

His large hands on your waist now before he cupped your cheek to lean in more, nose nudging gently against yours playfully. “You mean how now I'm the stern one and you're the emotional one?” He grinned as you almost laughed. Eyes fading to the side before rolling up to meet his with a faux look of offence that meant nothing. “I promised to take care of you, and I haven't been doing that. But I will from now on, no matter what. You're my wife now, I'm here to protect you. Even from me.”

Leaning up, you nudged his nose gently that time. Prompting him to tilt you to let him trace down the length of yours as you whispered. “You already take care of me, I should take care of you.” A bit of a pause, you added, “I don't want you to be perfect or think you have to live up to what I had with Robb. I was his, but now I'm yours. For good.”

It must have been more days apart then you thought, as Jon leaned in you both almost felt the kind of nerves that used to exist between you both so early on. But, this time you both closed the small gap. His hand on your cheek tight as yours at his shoulders were, his lips already will of a soft need as he pressed you gently into the drawers still behind you.

There was much to do, and far too many people to meet with but for now, you and Jon stayed right there. One of your hands moved to wrap around the back of his neck and returning to his curls. His kiss deepened, but was never with greed nor hunger. Just a steady coaxing for your lips to dance with his as long as you had the breathe to last.

And once that ran out, Jon gently pulled from your lips. Only a tinge of greed as he stole one more before pulling you into him, keeping you in a tight embrace. Your face tucked safe in his neck and his buried comfortingly in your hair. Neither of you knew how long you stayed like that, but you also didn't care.

Sometimes, it was going to have to just be about you two from this point on. You both sacrificed so much to get here, and what was that meaning or purpose if you let the other slip through your fingers time and time again?

It didn't fix the noise in your head, nor Jons, but at least your noises now hummed in mutual harmony.

Strangely, you  had never actually been down here for this sort of purpose. You had been in here when it was empty many years ago. It was in your first visit to Winterfell, and by then it was been a number of months and you were beginning to feel quite well adjusted. Which meant that a certain Stark had begun his quest to teach you the ancient tradition of sneaking around and getting into trouble.

Robb had asked if you ever have seen a dungeon before, and while you had on Dragonstone you admitted these ones were spookier. The Winterfell ones had not much light beyond torches hung along the walls, whereas the ones in your home still had light shining from the windows near sea level. He had begun to tell you stories, scary ones he'd heard from Old Nan until he watched you walk into an empty cell curious, and startled you into a shriek by slamming the gate shut.

As it turned out, he hadn't realized it would lock right away. It was the first time you'd ever heard Eddard Stark laugh, and certainly laugh that hard when he came down with Robb when he left to go get him to help. The sight of you sitting cross legged in the middle of a cell with an extremely Robert like scowl before he let you out.

Least to say, he had laughed even harder when you walked out and shoved Robb so hard he almost fell over. You had taken his seat at supper next to Jon that night, just to force him to sit in your further away spot alone. It took another two days for you to forgive him, when he had asked the bakers to make you a special batch of blueberry tarts and left them in a basket on your bed with but a note that said “Please talk to me again.”

Now though, you had intentions to speak to your newest guests. Part of you wished you could do so alone, but if you weren't going to convince Jon on it, you certainly weren't going to convince Theon. At least your pattern of finding yourself in dire situations had bonded them over something at the least, Theon already organizing a rotation of at least two guard with you, him being your primary captain of the guard when his time permits.

You had given him a look, asking “And what sort of guard is to be with the King exactly?”

But Theon shrugged with a knowing glint in his eye that he was purposely not telling the full truth just to annoy you. “Don't know. I'm captain of your guard, not his.” Only a roll of your eyes followed as he gestured you to continue forward. At least someone had maintained their sense of humour all this time.

Sat on separate walls not too distant from the other, Thoros and Beric had made themselves as comfortable as could be down here. Both eyes watching you closely as you made your way to the outside of the cell, arms crossed along your front with a flat look on yourself. Choosing to cut right to the chase you looked between them. “I presume you both understand why you're being kept here.”

Once more Thoros looked more curious, Beric more knowing as the later was the one who spoke. “Your life was put at risk, we can understand that.”

Your eyes narrowed, and for a few moments silent sat between you and them. Only your voice returned was quiet even in the empty dungeon. “You let good, innocent people die just to serve out a purpose that woman you follow, demanded. That does not make you ghosts who hide in the shadows to protect the common people. It only makes you murderers.”

His tone wasn't condescending, but you disliked it all the same. “What does waging war make you then, your grace? Because those same common people would say it makes you as bad as any murderer we've brought to justice.” The tense feeling swimming in you veins flooded only as you looked at Beric with a silent gaze that spoke little of your true irritation.

Your voice gave even less away in tone. “We did not go to war thinking it would be better for the realm during so. We did it because sitting back and letting the Lannisters rule would far more cruel for far longer then the years we spent forced to fight against it. Robb Stark never claimed he was a good man for declaring war, and neither do I.” Watching closely, you knew there was likely more he wasn't saying but he was good at keeping it tucked away. “Justice can be cruel, my lord. But only when you start enjoying that cruelty, do I think is a line which shouldn't be crossed. And the men you sent enjoyed killing those innocent people. My people.”

Thoros spoke up, quieter then you expected, but also much more calm and coherent then you many times knew before. “Suppose you would need to hang me first, make sure he can't come back.” You only rose an eyebrow, forcing one of them to elaborate in the silence you insisted on them. “Those men were hired under the behest of the Lady Stoneheart. It was not our choosing to send them to hunt you down like that-”

Your voice cut through louder then likely they had expected. “How did you know? Where to find me, how did they know I was in Barrowton? No one knew I was there.” They stared at the other, and you knelt down to meet their eye level through the bars as your voice felt more strained as did the blood flowing fast in your veins. “I would suggest telling me the truth, because the King in the North will not be anywhere near as kind or patient about it.”

If there was any sort of silver lining, it was that there was tone of regret found in Thoros which matched his unwillingness to look you in the eye. “I can't say from whom, I don't know, but the lady was being given information by an unknown source regarding yourself. They seemed to have an interest in you being in the North and I presume they knew she would want to know as well.” Asking who would even want to know where you were or where you had been going, Thoros gave an answer you felt a cold wave in your lungs hit as you heard. “Someone with enough watchful eyes in the North. Someone who would take issue with your involvement with your new King.”

That answer made much sense and yet very little. You knew spies were littered about Westeros and the North included but none led back to any who would have a single reason to guide a creature of vengeful blood thirst to your doors. Neither the North nor Jon meant anything to those you could think of, but looking between the men, it was as much as they knew as well.

There were dots you were missing, and eyes in your lands that didn't belong to the North. Neither you nor Jon had time to let spies watch and report to play into anothers distant games. “And you have no idea who would have known she was alive, or who would be able to get into contact with her?” Still the answer was no, and you had no inkling these two at least were lying over it.

Standing properly, you hadn't even turned away yet before it was Thoros who brought it up. “How did you bring him back? Your King.”

The stares between you both were something that left you feeling those same shivers even in the warmth from the underground. This time, no impatience or contempt was felt as you whispered in complete honesty. “I don't know.”

But the way Thoros looked, again you felt as if it was understanding. There was something that could be seen as kind behind his eyes as he spoke. “Do you know how I first came to discover the Lord of Light had chosen me to work through? That I could pray to raise him back?” Gesturing to Beric, who could only watch carefully.

Shaking your head, you stepped back a bit closer as he looked away lost in memory. “I was a priest in Myr. Sent to Westeros to spread the Lords reach. But I was terrible at it, I always was a terrible priest, and it only got worse here. Drank too much rum, and fucked every whore there was in Kings Landing and by the end of it all, I didn't even believe in him anymore. That he, that all the gods, were stories we told the children to make them behave. So I wore the robes and every now and then I'd recite the prayers, but it was just for show. A spectacle for the locals.”

It wasn't quite the same, but you knew of such a feeling. Not that they didn't exist, but you knew how it felt to be alone. Like whatever gods you prayed to had left you abandoned and no longer mattered to the world. A lot felt like that in the Dreadfort, and it only got worse with Ramsay. A demon sent to torture you, true genuine hell would be a mercy compared to what he did to you.

But Thoros looked to Beric, and there was an affection that was difficult to ascertain. Like there was something about whatever their dynamic was, that found of great importance as he continued. “Then The Mountain shoved a lance through this one's heart. I knelt beside his cold body and said the old words. Not because I believed in them, but he was my friend and he was dead. And they were the only words I knew. And for the first time in my life, the Lord replied. Then he did so, five times after.”

Your eyes had glazed over almost, much death flashing by your vision and none of it as he spoke. And yet he knew that, pointing to you from where he sat against the wall with a curiosity. “But you, your grace. You spoke no words, you performed no ceremony or ritual, but the Lord of Light gave you the power none should hold like that, and brought him back from your doing. He chose you to serve him.”

Heart pounding in your chest you could both feel the necklace sat under your dress, and the feeling against your palms of a phantom cold and tracing over what then was still fresh scars. Your voice was held back as your eyes stung. “I don't serve the Lord of Light. I serve the North, and I serve my King. That is all there is for me.”

But you hadn't gotten far, gesturing for the men with you to leave first but you were caught turning back to face him as Thoros somewhat yelled to you. “It won't get easier. That feeling inside of you. It never gets any better, no matter how much time passes.” Your body slowly turned back to face him, but the red in your eyes and the sting went away none.

Beric spoke low, the sympathy spoke of something you felt in waves in capture of the Boltons. “Death changes us all. Everytime you come back, you're a bit less. Pieces of you get chipped away.” It was sympathy beacuse that was exactly it. Part of you was missing, and you would never return to what was lost that night bleeding at Robb's side. “But to be the one to bring another back? It gives you purpose.”

“How can you deny you have a true purpose here?”

“Could be why you came back. You couldn't stay dead because you needed to be here to bring him back.”

Your throat closed, the weight in it too strong as Thoros had one final thing to say. “I've asked the Lord to bring him back six times, beacuse that is why I am here. What it means only he knows, but my purpose is to guide this man from the darkness each time it tries pulling him right back. And that changes you. Bringing a soul from death changes you. They become your purpose. The Lord needs you to keep them alive, so they can fulfill their own purpose.”

None dared said a word about it as you left the dungeons, but the glance you had just before stepping out into the corridors with Theon? Well, he had said just that didn't he? Only a tilt of your head in knowing, he didn't rub it in. Too much blood it took to get here, and saying he was right the whole time wouldn't make that any better.

The only solace, was that they respected where they shouldn't go. The guards with you now were aware their place was not the crypts and they let you walk in alone. Jon had told you to come meet with him here when you were finished speaking to the two of them, but as you walked up to the only ones of the Starks you knew, he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

You thought, your eyes would find Eddard Stark, but they didn't. The only statue you stopped in front of when you realized Jon wasn't here, was her. You had never stopped here before, never seen her, but now? It was a growing urge to tell her you were sorry, that you should've done better for her son by now. Maybe you would have said it, if that creeping feeling at the back of your neck didn't suddenly shout and forcing you to whip around.

As it turned out, her intention didn't quite work as planned. She startled you just as you startled her, and suddenly you stood in the crypts beneath Winterfell only feet from Arya Stark in silence.

Your eyes were wide, you knew she was here but it didn't feel like that was true until this very second. Somehow she both looked exactly the same, but completely different, but maybe that was true for all of you who remained now. But you knew the last you saw her, and the guilt that came with.

But she spoke first at least. “The Lannisters arrested you..who helped you escape?”

Gods, it felt like..well it was a lifetime ago. The one you barley recognized by now. Her voice was quiet, held back, and if possible yours was even moreso. Barley a whisper heard over the quiet crackling of torch fire. “Ser Barristan Selmy. Went through the tunnels under Kings Landing and got on a ship.” The silence continued, but as soon as you tried to let out that guilt in apology she stopped you. “Arya, I shouldn't have left-”

As if she wanted to step to you, but hesitated as you were as on edge as you ever had been with her, but that was just the way you were now it seemed. Nothing like who the Starks used to know. “They would have executed you if you stayed. Probably drag you up just like my father that day and..”

Head tilting to the side somewhat, you knew that painful sting in yours was there in hers. A strain in your voice as there was a painful floating feeling in your chest. “Please don't tell me you saw that..”

But she shook her head. Trying to send away that wave of emotion. Unbeknownst to you, but Arya stood there hating that she didn't know how to do this. She had known you her entire life, you were like a sister to her before even in marriage. Reuniting with Jon was so easy, but she hated that it was difficult with you and not knowing quite why.

“I was there..but I didn't see. Yoren made sure of that.” But you knew, the sound would haunt her all the same. When blood wasn't haunting you, the sound of a string of music did in it's place. “He was in the Nights Watch..tried to protect me, bring me home to Winterfell...obviously that didn't work.”

The gold cloaks, then Lannister guards then death and led all the way to Harrenhal. You knew the story, Gendry had told you as much, but it didn't make knowing she saw the things she would've seen any better. She didn't deserve to have the rest of her childhood stolen.

“But I was there that night.”

Eye widening just as your heart stopped, then raced all at the same instance you knew exactly what night she meant, and suddenly little stopped how watering her eyes looked as horror was yours. But you had to ask anyways, little breath left in your voice. “What do you mean you were there?”

Looking around, Arya found nothing to distract and landed on the ground between you both. “I was trying to get back to you all. I knew you, Robb and my mother were at The Twins for a wedding and..but when I got there...it- they had already...”

It already happened. The fire and muffled yelling, you knew little of it but was what you once thought was beyond death. Words failed you though, nothing could make that alright, nothing could hide what a massacre inside and out she had found. “Arya..”

But her voice raised, and the crack in tone only served to shatter more of that illusion she was holding herself together. “I saw you, I saw your body and..I still don't know if I've ever seen that much blood..” If how you woke up was any state, you had lost likely what was left in your body and somehow life was breathed back into that with no reason or possibility. The scar under your dress burned even now. “And I- I saw what they did...to Robb...”

You had never said it, never once not even coming close. You spoke none of it and you suddenly felt lightheaded, dizzy, ill and everything clawing at your heart in between. A sight so horrific that nothing would ever come close to making that nightmare go away and yet she saw that. The one thing you had spent a year and a half trying to bury. The tears fell on you then, and as soon as Arya saw yours, so did hers let free.

Her voice only a whisper as well. “We'll never be able to bring him home, will we?”

Head shaking a slow no, and without any more seconds passing, you both went to the other without care. Tall enough now you didn't need to lean down as much, but her strength was as tight as yours. Your arms wrapping one around her back and the other gently in her hair at the back of her head as you both just stood there, buried in the other's embrace as the pain was shared too much to bare.

The Young Wolf was what they called Robb, and they forced him to die just like that. If you both moved a few feet, you would see the place where he deserved to rest but never would. The Freys would have left nothing of him anymore. He was lost in the Riverlands, and in this place, only you and Arya would understand why.

Robb deserved to be here, but no one deserved to know his final memory was what it was. You felt just as ill as she did, and neither would part until the silent tears passing were gone enough to wipe away, despite the other knowing they fell freely.

Arya had been closer that night then you ever thought, and it was the only time you wished she hadn't.

By the time either of you had been seen by him, the cold of late afternoon had fallen over the sky and you and Arya had found yourselves tucked close to the others side sat on the steps just outside in one of the main courtyards. His focus was supposed to be entirely elsewhere, but then he saw you both.

Strange the feeling in Jons chest. Still being able to walk in his home and know you were there with the very freedom to stay, that you were his was already odd. You had been his best friend for years and yet still you could make his heart skip just with a smile sent his way.

But seeing you in the distance, sat so normal looking on the steps next to his baby sister, it made him feel overwhelmed. He never thought he'd see Arya, didn't even know she was alive, no one did. But now she was here, she was the only one of them other then Jon who made it back alive and here she sat with you, the love of his life, and no one around to hide his affections from.

Arya still made you smile and laugh easily, more easily then he still could. She had told him she wanted to be alone when she properly saw you again, and he could tell she was holding back something painfully emotional she wanted to save for you alone. But whatever it was, it didn't keep a distance between, she would lean into you with no doubt something far too clever for her own good coming out of her mouth and you would respond with a laugh that shined brighter then the sun just beginning to set.

She had always thought of you like a sister, and Jon's heart was warm and heavy still seeing that time had not changed that. It hadn't changed how much he adored Arya, and it hadn't in turn changed how much Arya adored you.

What little family Jon had left, he was glad it was you two who were in it. And for the first time in days, Jon never once felt that strange pull of conflict over the truth thinking in terms of his family.

“What is he like?”

If she had been expected a real answer, she was sorely mistaken. Glancing flatly at Arya to your side you almost rolled your eyes while doing so. “I'm not sure if I am the proper one to answer that question, beacuse I would say he's insufferable. But we also hate each other so, I could be biased.”

Sighing deeply, Arya leaned forward to wrap her arms around her knees. “What does he look like?” Turning to her in question, she elaborated. “Aegon, what does he look like? No one's seen him since he was a baby, how would they even know it was him?”

A shoulder shrugging, you thought little of it. “None of us at least can be sure, but in truth it doesn't really matter. As long as he believes it, that's the only truth that he needs to claim it.” Her eyes wide and curious still as she looked at you. “If he thinks he is truly Aegon, then that is all the power he needs to try and take the throne.”

You knew it was possible it was a lie, then you would recall the almost insecure way he stammered when claiming the baby that died that day wasn't him. Like the idea that the Aegon there was real, made him uncomfortable. It had been hard to tell, but you still wondered, if anyone had ever pressed him on the matter before.

“Still didn't answer my question, what he looks like.”

Her tone as flat, but you picked up the jesting nature with ease. Leaning back, you gloved hands fat flat on the stone behind you, fingertips tapping in your thought. “Well, he's rather tall. About the same as my father, who towers over me even still. He has blue eyes, and when I met him, he had been dying his hair blue matching. Likely I suspect, for the years he spent trying to hide his identity. Meaning I can only assume his hair is silver under it all.” Not much else you could think of stood out, and it didn't strike you that not once did you associate this conversation with the one person also in the courtyard that reasonably would be a point of comparison. “I'm not the best authority on the matter, not quite good at describing people, really.”

But Arya's eyes glanced to Jon, and running through that short list, so far nothing matched. And she was thankful for it. She didn't want any of it to match, Aegon had no right being thought of as his brother. His brothers are..well as she thought of it, his brothers are dead. Or lost somewhere far North in Brans case.

She hated that a lot. Bran was only a year younger then her, but they may as well have been twins the way they were. Bran looked a bit more like their mother, but they still looked so similar to the other in that age too. In her memory growing up, what Robb was to Jon, Bran was to Arya. The one that was a constant figure, her closest companion.

Sure, she was really closest to Jon, but they were simply so far apart in age that the dynamic was different then it was with Bran. She got to run around with Bran, play with him, annoy the other constantly knowing they never meant it. The day they came back with the direwolves, the boys had all been in the training yard trying to help Bran practice archery.

She still remembered hearing the shots from where she sat in her lessons. Having to listen to Septa Mordane compliment Sansa next to her, and all but ignoring whatever she had been stitching. To this day, she could still recall when she mentioned it to you, in the Kings visit you had so easily said to her, “That's beacuse you're left handed.”

Arya who had been sitting up on a landing whipped her neck to look at you, as you laughed. You had moved to sit down next to her, uncaring in the moment of how childish it would look to be sitting up there like that with her, legs dangling in the air both of you.

You had reached over casually to grab her left hand and held it up almost in display, “You write with this hand, you eat with this hand, do everything with this hand.” Your eyebrow raised, before dramatically tossing it to the proper side of her before yanking her right hand up with a mock sternness. “Use your proper hand like a lady, none of the other girls are trying to do it wrong.”

Arya had chuckled, nudging into you as she did so, telling her that you used to be terrible at embroidery beacuse your own septa made you use your right hand as well.

But then, she didn't know that. So she sat hearing the arrows flying and her brothers all laughing as she sat annoyed that her lessons always had to be with Sansa and her friends. So she snuck away, quietly finding herself in the training yard before she picked up a bow from behind her brothers. Truth be told, she hadn't expected to hit the middle, it was just a rather funny stroke of luck.

Bran had instantly moved to chase her, as she cold hear Jon and Robb behind them yelling jokes about it. But now? It wasn't just Bran not being able to use his legs, it was also that what was ever the likelihood he was coming back?

Jon had told her why the wildlings were here, and Arya hated that if all of them were in the North, that meant Bran and whoever he was with, were alone out there. Just Bran, ice, and snow. If beyond the Wall wasn't even larger and vaster then the North, Arya wouldn't hesitate to go find him. But if Jon knew he wouldn't be able to find Bran, Arya had even less of a chance.

Still however, Arya sat next to you as her own eyes kept looking at Jon, and thinking of the drawings in books of every Targaryean she'd read the daring feats of and realize, she didn't want him to be like any of that. He still looked like himself, he still looked like her even. But he also wasn't like the Targaryeans she used to read about, he was better then that, he was a Stark . But still, Arya felt an unusual fear that maybe one day Jon would learn he was more like Aegon then her, and decide she wasn't good enough as a sibling anymore.

That was stupid she knew, Jon wasn't like that. But still, as she asked you about Aegon she kept feeling relieved everytime it wasn't anything like her own brother. “Was he at least a good fighter?”

You had shrugged, thinking not much of it as if such details weren't plaguing you as it did her, which likely it wasn't. Arya needed to remember to ask Jon in private later if he was planning on telling you the truth too. “He's strong, I will give Aegon that. Almost got me a few times, but I think that was his first proper duel like that. So I can't say for sure if he's truly any good.”

It was quiet for a little while between you both. Just enjoying the ease at seeing the other again, despite both your minds running fast through too much to think on. By the time Arya found something else to say, you couldn't tell if you wished she didn't. The shock in your system of anxiety heightened in a single second to the height which you felt the muscles in your neck almost shaking from strain to keep still. “I still can't believe you two got married.”

Wishing you could be coy about it, but instead you found nothing to fall back on. Only the rumblings in your head that made you almost flinch.

“Fucking all those big, strong wolves made you a fighter, hasn't it?”

Don't think of it, you had made so much progress keeping from your mind you hated that he was spilling back into it now. But you kept hearing him until you felt him and the utter shame he hammered into your mind as if that was your only use ever to him, to the Starks.

Until at least, she elaborated as she called your name. But your eyes were kept open and set sternly forward with a hum in your throat to respond. So she sighed, and tried again. “Whatever you're thinking I'm thinking, you're wrong.”

Only one side of your lips half smirked for a second before fading. “Would you like to try that sentence again?”

You couldn't see her head tilt or the flat bemused look, but you heard as she clearly leaned more into your side with an earnest low tone. “You're worried I think badly of you for being with Jon now. But I don't, I'm happy you two are together.”

Eyes only flickering to the side, you didn't really still see her gaze nor did you know beyond the nervous anxiety in your heart, if you wanted too. Jaw clenching, the nod you gave was indiscernible were she not looking so intently.

It was no misunderstanding why you kept clamming up at the subject, how it looked to most outside of the North would be exactly what you feared. And you were still too much of a Southerner in your blood to see past that bias, when in truth the North all around you saw no issue. It was only you, and the many voices in your head talking down to you.

It was on the tip of Aryas tongue, but with your attention being called to elsewhere there was no time for it. Looking back to her, Arya hesitated wanting you to leave just yet, but you only spoke low with something hopefully comforting to placate that expression on her. “We'll talk later.” Arya nodded, and with your leave, she was left on the steps.

Eyes once more looking across the yard, and it almost was enough to make Arya grin. How so quickly once Jon glanced over to see you weren't there, he almost on instinct appeared to then turn his head trying to see where you had gone. At least she thought, now her brother could obsess over you but in public finally.

Trying to make sure before she too found herself useful elsewhere, Arya took one last look. Still looked just as much of a Stark as he ever has. If only one thing about that truth brought Arya comfort, it was that he still had the same amount of blood like Arya's own that they thought he did before.

Part of her hoped Aegon wasn't really who he said he was. At least she thought, then the only thing left of the Last Dragon then would be someone no one knew had any ties to him, and was the most Northern, the least anything like a dragon, and the most Stark a person could get. Just to rub it in.

But, Arya couldn't dwell on it. She had things to do, and around a list of eight hundred questions she was about to all but interrogate Gendry with, trying to figure out how in seven hells he and you even know each other.

Leaned back comfortably, the sheets and fur underneath you both keeping warm, as was the fire to the side, and the chest you were pulled back against.

One hand of Jons laid more lazily at your side, resting at your waist, while his other arm was draped around your shoulder, crossed your collarbones and let his palm sit at your other shoulder comfortingly. One of your own moved across your stomach where Jon had spared no time grabbing it. Whatever fingers he could wrap his around from that angle kept warm while your other reached up to run your thumb along his forearm.

You envied how he could lay behind you, only one layer covering his chest and even at that, the laces undone from top to bottom exposing should you look, the scars on his chest. Uncaring with you that they were visible. Having you sat between his own legs, both of you toying with entangling them just as much. You had a dark shift on under, but a long, slightly warmer dress, equally as undone at the front. Which Jon had been the one to insist you keep it that way. Coming up to you from behind and grabbing your hands as he murmured in your ear “Leave it, it looks beautiful on you like that.”

Only grinning at you in an almost charmingly boyish manner, when you raised an eyebrow, turning partially to try and see him as you responded, “I'd be curious if there was anything I could wear that you wouldn't think that about.”

Murmuring low in your ear, “Wouldn't be much.”

You had been trying to describe what you saw in the snow. How the first real thing you could recall was whatever symbol the bodies had been placed in. Jon had been quiet, his voice distant in thought as he asked you what it looked like.

Trying to think clearly, you hadn't been at an angle to see the whole thing but the organization separately was still clear. “Most of it was in a large circle. Arms, legs, torsos, all of them stripped down and laying there. Then there was a line right down the middle of it and another horizontally by the bottom.” Your face twisted trying to come up with the right way to describe it.

“Sort of like the basic hilt of a sword right down the middle of a circle. And..” You could partially see Jon lean over your shoulder a bit at your pause, giving enough comfort to your mind you continued. “At random places on the outside, heads were all on spikes. Not high up or anything just, specifically the heads were propped up on purpose.”

Jons hand on your shoulder almost rubbed gently like a caress as he was in thought, before he spoke low and a bit unsettled himself. “The first time I went north of the Wall, we reached the Fist of the First Men when I went with a Qhorin Halfhand, to go sneak up on a group of wildlings.”

He hadn't ever really said much about how it all happened, how she even came into his life, but Jon wasn't yet sure if here in the comfort of his bed, and you soft in his arms was the right time or place to say it. So he pushed onward, a rough clearing in his throat that you both knew you caught onto despite your silence.

“The Lord Commander and about three hundred of the rest stayed behind. I don't know when it happened, but at some point..they showed up.” The shiver down your spine was felt in Jons chest behind you. “Two hundred of my brothers that day died fighting them. And I didn't know about it until I was already inside Mance Rayders army.” Your own hand by your waist tightened on whatever grip you had, and Jon returned it in an instant. “When we got there, the ones that were left had gone. But the only thing still there was something in the snow. The horses we had, they cut them in pieces and laid them out.”

Describing the way it was, it clearly wasn't the same manner, but there felt between you was it couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

Almost shaking his head trying to comprehend it, Jon muttered. “There was something Mance said when we found it. Always the artists. Almost like he'd seen it many times before. It can't be a coincidence, both things happening wherever the Others attacked..I just..don't know what it's supposed to mean..”

Leaning back more to rest against him, you could feel the tense sensation in Jon's muscles loosen almost right away. Your voice trying to be kept soft as you could hear in his tone, the gears trying to form an answer in his head. “It has to have something to do with raising the dead. They kill a group of wildings, form that symbol in the snow. They attack your men, and you find another symbol just like it.”

Humming deep in his chest, Jon shifted to keep his hold on you a little more gentle. “Maybe there's an answer somewhere in one of those books Sam brought with him.” Turning back slightly, you couldn't really see him but the lightness in your tone said it all, as you emphasized the word brought with a question. Chuckling easy behind you, it brought more of you closer to a smile. “Alright, stole. The books he stole.”

Shaking your head slightly, “Is the King really going to let such a crime go unpunished?”

Muttering deep, you knew without looking his face had twisted into an expression amusingly doubtful, “I'm King in the North, not of Oldtown. When the Citadel finds itself moved all the way up here, maybe I'll have the ability to do something about Sam stealing old books no one was reading anyways.” You both laughed a bit at that one.

For a while, all you could hear was the crackling of the fire. Just long enough you almost felt the pull to fall asleep before Jon rasped in your ear. The hand on your shoulder tilting your head just enough so he could rest part of his head against yours. He finally decided on it. “She was there that day.” The hand on your waist drifting to pull you more into him by your stomach as you hummed. “When I went with Qhorin Halfhand to track the wildlings. Ygritte was one of them.”

Both your hands moved, the hand across your stomach, grabbing it with both you gently started to open his palm, your fingers gently toying with his now, or running your fingertips across the skin there, occasionally Jon would shift his own fingers to dance back with yours, as if to provide something to ground him.

He was quiet, his other hand slipping to your neck, just letting his thumb run over what he barley reached as his voice broke with something rough, something otherwise to be pushed down. “She was the last one alive, so the others left me to deal with it myself. I killed a wight before that, but..”

The softness of your own voice seemed to put him a little more at ease. “You had never actually killed a living person before..” Nodding against you, he was quiet for a moment before you slid from his grasp, but he followed. Turning with you, Jon gently guided you to lay with your back comfortably against the bed while he rested on his side somewhat hovering over your top half. His free arm not keeping him up reached over so he could gently run his fingertips along your cheek, caging you in.

His eyes were distant, a fog in them which spoke volumes of pain you knew he had purposely kept the worst of such out of your knowledge. “I don't know if she kept trying to get close to me because she thought she had the right, or if she was trying to make me uncomfortable. But I ended up having to have Ghost sleep in between us at night beacuse I didn't trust her not to do anything.”

Resting your hands gently on his waist, you simply looked up to his eyes with a brightness that was keeping him tethered to the earth as he spoke. You knew he needed to get it out without interruption or he would never go back to it.

“By the time I was in Mance's camp, the Halfhand had me kill him so I could convince them I wanted to be one of them. He knew I had a better chance at living and getting inside his army, but that wasn't enough for them. They wanted me to prove myself, and to them there was only one way to do that was..”

His eyes drifted away, causing you to run a hand gently along his own cheek, cupping it tenderly without forcing him to look back. His jaw clenched and even though he still didn't look at you, you could see something painful in his eyes you knew he didn't want to turn into anything close to tears. Even though you both knew you would never judge him for it.

“I had to send Ghost away. She made me send him away, beacuse we both knew he never would let her do anything if he were there to protect me..” He inhaled shaking, but dropped his gaze down to nothing on the bed just beside you. “But I did it, beacuse I had to. They would've killed me if I didn't, beacuse then they'd know I wasn't really one of them. And she spent every moment after that acting like she had any right to...I wanted all of that with you and she took it away from me.” Jons voice was so strained you could feel under your hand at his waist his muscles were tensing up at the feeling. Letting it drift up to his stomach and running over whatever scar you could find, it almost seemed to bring his focus back.

But no judgment was in your eyes, no pity. Just the same love he always gave you, and an understanding of the kind if pain such things left on a person. “And you still came out the other side a better man then most could dream of being in a lifetime.” He tried looking at you in a doubt but you once more ran your thumb over his cheek. “Trust me, most people are worse off for good after things like that. You're nothing to scoff at.”

Shaking his head, “What Ramsay put you through was so much worse-”

Interrupting him so abruptly almost took him back, but your brows narrowed at the very idea. “Jon, I'm not going to lay here and let you downplay your pain beacuse of me. What Ramsay did to me, what Ygritte did to you, it doesn't matter how different they were. What matters is that it happened to you, it matters that it still hurts. I don't care what I've been through when you're telling me about your pain.”

Your only looked at one another for a moment before he rasped quietly, “What you suffered through was far worse, but you're right. I know I shouldn't be keeping all of this to myself. I just don't like upsetting you.”

But you only smiled, and the brightening in his grey eyes almost made your heart lift. “You don't expect me to be better yet, and so I don't expect it from you either. We heal however long it takes to heal, but we do it together.”

Jon took his time just looking at you before he spoke, his eyes full of a teetering affection but his expression was serious despite his words. “You really did come back the emotional one, didn't you?”

Your face fell entirely flat, Jon breathing out a light chuckle instantly. Rolling your eyes in jest, “Sorry, do you want to be married to someone more like my father?” If such a thing was possible, Jons eyes rolled even harder then yours. His face twisting sour as he leaned down, his breath hitting your skin as he spoke.

“Do me a favour, never mention your father when we're in bed ever again.” You laughed, and Jon captured the sound with a greedy kiss.

Hovering more over you, your hands drifted up to his shoulders and back of his neck as he cupped the side of your face to tilt you over to him to perfectly fit his lips. Just a gentle brushing of his lips, never quite broaching into demand as he would deepen it. Each time he even slightly was separate from your lips he seemed to press you into the soft bed even more.

Running a hand in his hair so your nails could scratch along his scalp, your other hand just caressed flat against his neck and shoulders as if unable to decide where to stay.

Losing yourself in his lips, you felt just the slightest brush of his tongue along your bottom lip, only as you parted them slightly to let his tongue meet yours gently, his hand drifted down your face, neck, side of your waist until his palm landed flat against your thigh. Ever so slightly, did he begin dragging up the material did you react.

Quickly for only a second did your nails dig into his skin as you almost flinched from him. Pulling back in an instant, Jon looked down at you with a worried narrow eyes. “What's wrong?” But you looked up at him, lips parted and your mind a little confused at that as well.

So you shook your head, and pulled him down to meet your lips as you rose to meet him halfway.

Sliding your hands both down along his collarbones until you reached the edges of his shirt, Jon shifted from your lips, kneeling up over you slightly as he took over pulling it off and letting it toss somewhere behind him. You moved, sitting up somewhat so your palms could run all across from his stomach up to his neck. One arm wrapping around behind his neck again as the other grasped his waist as you somewhat kept his lips pressed to yours.

Jons hands both as you moved flat against the bed pressed at each side of your head as he coaxed you to ease up with how urgent you kissed him, only to slowly take over in deepening it. Growing more greedy as he almost without thought moved, so he could shove one of your bent legs wider to fit him in between. Then the strange unpleasant feeling returned.

Something that made your heart pick up that wasn't from Jons touch. But you didn't want him to realize it, didn't want him to pick up on it again. Instead letting your nails scratch at his scalp as your other leg almost rested along his hip, prompting him to grasp at your thigh. Wrapping an arm around it, and keeping you secure right there.

Running his rough hand along the skin until he reached the edge of your shift, you this time just kept it to yourself at the feeling of him pushing it up. Jon not bothering to undress you properly yet, he ran his other hand do do the same to the opposite side until he could blindly grasp at your underwear. His lips nibbling into your bottom lip only to just barley tease you with running his tongue along yours, Jon begun dragging the material down.

You wanted to be fine, just stay calm you told yourself. Just fall into it and let Jon do what he liked, or what made him happy. He had a rough time as well these past days. Tearing himself from your lips, Jon hovered over you, his own parted and eyes black as he breathed heavily. Not looking away from your own eyes peering more innocently back up at him, he yanked the material off your legs and reached right for the layers covering you.

The dress first easy to come off, and almost impatient as his own breathing increased he tossed away your shift even with less care. Peering down at what he could see, you ran your hands down his chest to the laces on his own pants.  

Jon only grasped your hands, and moved to shove them up beside your head, interlocking your fingers together as he moved to grind into your now bare core. Lips capturing yours. The feeling of his covered cock was at the perfect angle, hard as he could be, and almost selfless grind which just so happened to feel as good for him, as he wanted you to.

But even though your lips and hands worked, the rest of you didn't. You didn't feel good.

The more he hovered over you like this, the more your heart raced, the more your chest hurt. Your hands flexed in his, and Jon only tightened his hold with what you knew was something deeply loving in honesty. But you felt trapped.

If you opened your eyes, you knew the world would be spinning and you could feel it even as you lay there at his gentle mercy. Brushing against your lips as he rasped deeply, “I spent way too long without you,” Unable to stop himself from another biting kiss as he never left making his way to your neck, “Let me make you feel good,” Kissing and biting more down your neck, you knew it felt as good as normal, yet you couldn't help but wanting him to stop, but you kept quiet as he pressed a more gentle kiss to your jaw muttering, “Is that alright?”

Jon felt you nod, and that was enough. You kept your eyes closed, and your hands didn't even move when he released them. Kissing a path to your breasts, you were desperate if he could tell how fast your heart was racing, he'd think it was good. What you didn't realize, was that you weren't convincing of a physical lie.  

So much of your energy was being spent trying to be good for him, you didn't think to spend part of that on pretending you enjoyed it. As Jons lips would normally have greedily kissed and marked up your breasts, but he found something before he could start, when he let one hand move down between your legs.

Your legs tensed around him but he almost didn't need to notice that, since as soon as he even slightly went to brush two fingers down along your core, he stopped. Dark eyes suddenly accompanied by a furrowed brow as he looked up at you, no longer touching you with his lips. The hand between your legs moving instead of press against the bed beside your hip.

But, you didn't know what he was looking at you like. You couldn't tell what that glint in his eyes said and you interrupted whatever he was about to say, shaking your head. “I'm alright, I can take it-”

Jon however, didn't buy it. He pushed up more to hover over you more instead as you leaned up on your elbows. His head tilted at you in doubt, “Darling, you're not even close to ready..” Kneeling up more, he no longer was touching you beyond a gentle hand resting on one of your thighs. You swallowed nervously, and that weightful sick feeling only made you feel dizzy and far more guilty as he looked at you.

Shaking your head, you tried pushing yourself up to  go to him, but Jons other hand reached out. Pressing gently against your sternum to keep you in place as he looked over you. Your voice was not as confident as your face was trying to look. Not realizing you likely said the one thing that would not convince him, in fact, you said the one thing that instantly rung the bells too loudly in his head.

“We don't have to do this whole part, if you just want to get to it. It'll be fine, it won't hurt much.”

The way he looked at you though, your head started to hurt at that look. Something instead of being frustrated, or annoyed, just looked at you with those bright eyes shining as his heart broke.

You wanted to shrink in on yourself, you couldn't even pretend to be fine for one night for him.

You wished Jon would just do what he wanted, you'd get over it. You liked when he felt good, and suddenly you felt an upsetting frustration inside your own heart, not understanding why he wouldn't just take what he wanted, when you were already bare for him.

The way he deeply said your name, the narrowed expression as if he was trying to figure you out, and you felt something in your muscles trying to react.

“This would be a whole lot easier if you just pretended you enjoyed it, my bride. But, if you insist on making noise-”

By the time your eyes found his again, not realizing you drifted away somewhere, Jon was leaned much more into you. His hands hovering by your cheeks as if unsure if he should touch you. Only then did you feel that tears had silently fallen already down your skin. Whatever he was trying to figure out as he looked over you, you made it all the worse for yourself. You were good at that. Theon had said you had been making it worse for yourself, right?

But the painful race of your heart couldn't seem to grasp with the logic of your mind, that this wasn't Ramsay. And for a second, you could only wonder how much more boring and frustrating you were compared to a pretty hair of red.

Jon though, finally cupped one of your cheeks gently, tilting you up to look at him as he murmured your name more softly then Ramsay ever had spat it out. Your nails were digging so much into the sheets beneath you it almost tore the material as you looked up at him. You didn't know why you felt like this, you had been with Jon many times now what was wrong with you?

Shaking your head you tried to whisper, “I'm sorry..”

In truth, though? It only made Jon feel just as sick, he knew exactly by now what was going on. Running his nose gently along the length of yours, he felt you slightly ease up as your eyes fluttered closed. Rasping to you gently, you could feel his breathe along your skin, and this time it was soothing. “Will you let me hold you?”

You only nodded, something burning in you that flooded you in a deep self hatred. You couldn't even please your husband after what you had just put him through for days. Your voice was much more wavering this time. “I- I, I'm so sorry..I don't...”

Jon tilted you down just a bit as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, muttering into your hair before shifting. Pulling you up to perch right in his lap where he could get both his arms around you properly. “Don't be sorry.” Kissing another he muffled, “We don't have to do anything.”

Why did that make the growing panic worse? Why did that make you feel even more selfish?

So you shook your head,trying to move to press your lips to anywhere on him, and it took a good few tries for Jon to get you to look back at the call of your name. “Stop,” Tilting his head back, Jon gently cupped the back of your head, mostly so you couldn't as easily distract him, his own face sat in a frown. “Darling, if you don't want to do anything tonight, I'm not making you, not at all. I want you to feel good, not make you do things for my sake.”

But he could tell you looked as confused as you felt. Your mouth opening and closing a number of times before sighing out. Looking back up at Jon, who had nothing but a concerned patience in his eyes. “I- everything I've made you suffer these past days, what you just told me, I shouldn't- I should be..”

He watched you for a moment, before capturing your lips in one more, far more gentle kiss, barley pulling from you to mumble into you. “There's a lot going on inside that beautiful head of yours, it's allowed to feel upset or confused sometimes.” You almost sighed out a laugh, instead choosing to meet him back in another kiss. “Do you want to talk about it right now, or would you rather we lay down and I hold you for a while?”

Your hands on his shoulders eased in their tensity, looking up to meet his eyes you nodded your head and trusted, rightfully, he knew what answer that chose.

It took some time, but slowly you both laid down. Jon kept you in his chest, running a hand tucked behind your head along your hair while the other ran soothingly up and down from waist to hip. Your voice muffled as you kept your hands by his shoulders and around the back of his neck. “I assume if I were to apologize again for ruining things, you wouldn't want to hear it.”

A smile found its way onto his face that you could feel in your hair. “There's my smart girl.”

Rolling your eyes as you mumbled a shut up, Jon just chuckled deeply. Pulling you more into his chest, deciding he'd only move to pull the fur up over you both when you settled a bit, or were nice and asleep. For now, he hoped his own body heat was enough for you in the cold air.

At some point, you started to drift off, only having enough sense to press a kiss to the scar over his heart before nuzzling more into his chest with an, “I love you.” And falling asleep just before hearing him gently rasp it back to you in your ear.

Jon held you for a long time after you fell asleep, telling himself not to get upset on his own. He knew you were thinking about Ramsay, and he knew you would be insecure enough to wonder if he'd be angry you weren't ready for him at any moment. But Jon's need stopped the second he realized you weren't even slightly wet for him, when normally he'd have you already soaked. Instead, just keeping you safe in his arms, truthfully, was the thing which was making Jon feel just as safe.

You were upset, and what Jon needed right now, was for you to do just this. Not shove him away, let him take care of you no matter what.

Jon struggled to see what he was forced to do, as anywhere near as bad as what Ramsay did to you, but if you were going to be insistent that he not hide that pain as he insisted on you, that honesty was the least he could do. But if he were to tell you in that very moment, what was close to pulling tears from Jon still, even as you slept soundly against his chest, was how far you disappeared for a moment.

It terrified him that you had sunk so far into something scared that for a second, he knew you weren't seeing him as him. You were seeing Jon as if he was about to treat you exactly like Ramsay would. The Bolton had been dead for months, but he still haunted you as strongly as he did when Jon finally reunited with you in Castle Black.

But, Jon had to tell himself, had to remember that you were always going to push your issues away in favour of caring for Jon, tending to and healing his wounds inside and out. You would put priority on the looming horror coming from the North before wanting Jon to ever prioritize your pain.

He wasn't going to let that happen. Jon wasn't about to let the looming threat of the winter storms, take any more importance then the life he was building with you, here and now.

[hyunjilicious]

dog walkers [hwang hyunjin x reader]

Summary: it wasn't enough that Hyunjin already missed you beyond words, but then he also had to sit down with Felix and reminisce about one of your guys' best dates and make everything worse. (FLUFF) 2.2k + texts

Warnings: none except for hyunjin being absolutely adorable and this being completely self indulgent and not edited ❤️ (also pls ignore the fact that halfway through this I forgot how time zones work, just go with it. Thanks 😖)

"What's my ideal date…" Felix hummed, scrolling through one of the online quizzes his phone recommended. It was the middle of summer, the intolerable heat of Seoul's July forbidding any of the boys from leaving the house. 

"Yeah.." Hyunjin chimed in, his phone instantly falling down onto the couch they were both sitting on. "What is your ideal date? I never heard you talk about it before - about dates in general"

"Probably because I've never been on one," Felix shrugged. "I mean, I have… but just like.. casual dates. I've never actually been on a 'let me take you out' kind of date"

"Casual dates count too!"

"All we did was sit down and talk. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change that memory for the world, but now that I think about it, I kinda wanna go on crazy dates too. Like you and Y/n used to do"

Just the sound of your name brought a smile to Hyunjin's lips. The memories flashed before his eyes at lightning speed, from the first time he saw you, 3 years ago, to the last text you sent him, which had been that morning. "I miss those"

"Which was the best one?"

The enthusiasm in Felix's voice somehow made Hyunjin sad. "Urgh, don't make me do this. I already miss her so much"

"Don't pretend talking about Y/n is not your favorite thing to do"

Again, he couldn't help but smile. "Not when she's on the other side of the globe"

"You're just grumpy today" Felix shook his head. "Do you want me to show you a picture of her? Maybe it'll cheer you up"

"Pff, yeah right" Hyunjin threw an eye roll and pointed his phone in Felix's direction. On the lockscreen there was a picture of you two hugging in front of a blossoming tree. The sun was setting but the gentle and warm artificial light from the fairy lights made it so that both your wide smiles and the flowers around you were perfectly contoured and visible. "I have her as my wallpaper"

"Aww" Felix pouted, grabbing the phone and bringing it closer so he could examine the details a bit more easily. "And it's such a nice picture too."

"Yeah, it is"

"Come on, tell me about your best date. I know you're dying to talk about her"

He wanted to refuse. He knew he should've refused because just the thought of that night filled his heart with so much pain. It was now that he finally understood the true meaning of the word bittersweet. But it was too late, his heart rate already picked up and before he knew it, he was settling better against the cushions on his corner of the couch, feeding off of Felix's radiant and awaiting smile. 

"Ok, but I'd like to start by apologizing to all the other dates we've had, because I feel like an asshole just choosing one-"

"But you know exactly which one it is"

"Yes'' Hyunjin laughed with no hesitation. "Ok, so I don't know if I already told you about this date. I might have, it was the best day ever"

"I don't think so," Felix dreamily shook his head. "I think I'd remember"

"It was right after Y/n got accepted into the programme at work. The day I realized she's leaving. Like she's legit leaving. Like I knew she'd leave, there was no doubt in my mind she'd get accepted, she's the best at what she does, but reality hit me when she showed me the email"

"I remember the email," Felix laughed out loud. "You called me crying, remember?"

"Yeah…"

"One eye crying happy tears, one eye crying sad tears" 

"Leave me alone" Hyunjin exclaimed with a fit of giggles, knowing damn well there was no way to deny it. That whirlwind of emotions was still familiar to him, he was still going through it, one day so proud of you his heart could burst, and the next, so pained by your absence that he could just drop everything and hop on a plane. "I was going through something. That was what made us come up with these ideas for the dates. We always had fun staying indoors and doing absolutely nothing together, but when I realized she'd be leaving for two whole years I kinda freaked."

"Yeah, exactly! Like the other person being there is enough, but if you can do something different, why not do it?"

"Yes. And the first date we had after this was the best day of my life"

"I remember you made a list at one point? The planetarium, you wanted to go hiking, all that stuff-"

"Yeah, well, the first date wasn't so-" Hyunjin trailed off in search of the right word, "Date-y"

"What did you guys do?"

"We decided to walk dogs"

"That's such a Y/n thing, I love it!" Felix laughed, his head thrown back as he clapped his hands. "And no, you haven't told me about this one, I'm pretty sure"

"It means I was saving it for the right moment"

"How many dogs did you walk?"

"Yeah… about that. Y/n posted an ad somewhere, mostly as a joke. We didn't think anyone would actually ask us to walk their dogs, especially because it was on a Saturday. Like during the weekends people actually have time to do this… so we just said ok to every person that contacted us and before we knew it, it was Saturday morning and we had 9 dogs to pick up"

"9!?"

"Yes… I know"

"How did you-"

"Don't ask… please don't ask. They all pooped at least twice and it wasn't just small dogs… every one of them was pulling in different directions and ok, I'm totally used to sticking my hand in Kkami's mouth to take out whatever gross thing he found on the ground and decided to chew, but I wasn't familiar with all these other dogs! Other chihuahuas are fine, but any dog bigger than a beagle? Never doing that again"

"Jesus Christ" Felix was hardly able to contain his laughter, the mental picture being just what he needed. "Only you two could've had this happen"

"It was her idea!"

"I'd be surprised if you didn't jump up and down in excitement when you heard it"

"I might have, but still, I'm not the one who thought 9 was a reasonable number"

"How did you even get to the dog park?"

"We took the car, obviously."

"As if you and Y/n in a car alone with 9 dogs is so much better"

"Hey, we got it done, that's what matters"

"How is this your best date, I don't get it"

"Maybe it was the trauma we went through together. It brought us closer. No, I'm kidding. But it actually was very fun. Once we got to the park, I swear it was like heaven. They were so, so sweet and adorable. And we didn't even have to sweat. All we did was sit down on the grass while they chased each other and played around us. I've never had my face licked so much. We were literally covered in dogs. And at one point-" Hyunjin said with glee and sat up from the couch to exemplify. "- I'd just say turn around and they'd all turn around! Or sit, and they'd all sit. It was like a little dance, they were so happy. It was the best"

"Ok, I take it back. It actually sounds nice" Felix agreed. 

"But then we had to take them all back" Hyunjin sighed, his smile slowly fading off his face as he sat back down. With his legs now gathered to his chest, he continued to speak. "I was starting to get attached. And most of the people that asked us to walk their dogs were older people, you know. And when we brought the dogs back, they were so nice. We obviously didn't want to accept any money, but most of them refused to let us go just like that. One lady gave us flowers from her garden, and I actually painted them. I'd show it to you but I gave the painting to Y/n. And others also gave us pie, and fruits. And like you could tell some of them didn't have much, but they still wanted to share it with us"

A little frown settled on Felix's face as he blinked a few times, "I would've cried" he said sincerely, his eyes not showing even one glint of sarcasm. 

"Oh, we did," Hyunjin nodded with a giggle. "We cried on our way back. Not ugly cried, but we cried"

"It counts"

"Yeah.. and by the time we were done with the dogs, I don't remember what time it was exactly, afternoon anyway, we didn't really know what else to do. We initially planned to go to a restaurant and eat, but we were already full. So we settled for a walk, and we found online this garden in the center of the city - thought it would be nice to go check it out. But when we got there, there was a wedding going on"

"A wedding?"

"Yeah, and the problem was that we didn't realize it was a wedding.. we thought it was just busy so we just strolled in not even bothered by the fact that everyone was dressed in suits and fancy dresses. And so we went towards the back of the garden, where there weren't that many people. It was gorgeous, by the way. You have to see it too, it feels like a different world."

"So you crashed a wedding"

"Well… technically yes, but when we realized what was going on, the bride and groom were very nice about it. They hadn't rented the whole thing so we could've been there for a whole different reason. Like we could've just been there to eat or something but we didn't know. They offered to let us stay if we wanted to dance or something, which was probably just them being polite - we obviously didn't, but we did take some pictures! I mean their photographer took them for us-"

"Your lockscreen!"

"Yes, exactly. And then we left. We stayed there for like 10 minutes maybe? So it wasn't that big of a deal, but we interacted with so many nice people that day. Like, how often does that happen? I don't know, it filled me with joy"

"I can tell, it sounds like a really nice break. Especially since it was the first date like this"

"Yeah… it was very nice. After that we just did a little bit of shopping, went home, cooked together and went to sleep. Like, nothing major happened, but it's still one of the best days of my life. And Y/n was so happy. She didn't stop smiling the whole day. And until then she had been so stressed with work, but that day she was so relaxed, and I got a full day of Y/n just being herself around me, with literally no worries in the world. And I think that's what makes that day so special, because others have technically been more fun, but as time passed and the day she was supposed to leave started approaching, she stopped being so.. I don't know, free. Um… yeah, I don't know what I'm saying-" Hyunjin stopped himself to take a deep breath. "I'm rambling"

"No, I know what you mean," Felix reassured him. "I miss her too."

"What time is it?" Hyunjin asked but was also the one to tap his phone screen to check. When the picture of you two in the garden popped up, both of them smiled. "It's almost 5pm"

"Got any plans?"

"Yes, pester Y/n until she gives me attention. But she's usually working at his hour so I don't want to bother her… too much"

"Send her a selfie" Felix suggested, "It'll make her smile"

"No, I look horrendous. All I've done today was sweat"

"Come on, you could send her a picture of your pinky finger and she'll still find something nice to say about it"

"Yeah, she would," Hyunjin giggled, "somehow…"

"Just like you would, about her pinky"

"Hey, she has very nice hands. And I'm not just saying that"

"I know you're not"

Shortly after, the topic of conversation swiftly shifted. They left the couch in search of food, and neither of them refrained from complaining when they realized there was none left and they had to cook. It was a daily occurance, the complaining and the cooking, but today it was different. While Hyunjin did his part, he moved a bit slower, showed less enthusiasm and his usual jokes were at best delayed, but mostly absent. 

While they both knew the reason, they didn't want to address it. Felix knew his friend would come to him and speak up if he needed someone to listen to him, but he also knew that wasn't enough. Maybe that conversation really wasn't the best idea.

The day drained itself pretty slowly, especially because the only person he wanted to interact with was busy and on the other side of the globe. He wasn't in the mood for anything else and thought he'd go insane, so there was only one thing left for him to do. 

[daryldixonfanfiction]

What you fight for! Pt.3- what changed your mind?

Masterlist

Summary: Daryl has his doubts, but as he grows closer with Julia that all seems to change...

Warnings: protective Daryl, age gape, pinning, angst, fluff, typicall twd violence and gore.

WC: 11k

Daryl couldn't go back to sleep. 

Daryl was a light sleeper and often never slept the hours he needed. Meaby it was the hunter in him or the fact he could never fully relax. He was awake now and the consequence of their fair share of moonshine aches all over -He felt like shit. 

Standing with a heavy grunt, Daryl lets his gaze fall on Julia. She sleeps on the forest floor, curled in a fetal position, with her head resting on her hands. Daryl smiles, she was put out like a light when they turned in for the night, sleeping without a care in the world. Daryl felt envious, wishing he could sleep as soundly as her. 

A twig snaps from behind, in reflex Daryl grabs his crossbow, aiming towards the rustling. He engages slowly but quickly finds the walker skare was just a false alarm. The culprit was no other than one harmless rabbit chewing on a peas of gras -Daryl exhales in relief. 

“Well hello breakfast,” Daryl takes his aim towards the rabbit and shoots a bolt, but misses when the rabbit gets scared off by nearby birds. He sighs.

Julia stirs, she lies on her back, hands ley lax on either side of her face. Daryl turns thinking she had woken up, but Julia continues staying sound asleep, her chest rises and falls steadily. Daryl kneeled slowly beside her, to wake her, but decided against it seeing the dark circles faintly visible under her eyes. She needed rest so he let her be. 

Then… 

his gaze wanders from her lips, down her neck, to her breathing chest, down  further down to her thighs. He swallowed seeing the ankle length skirt revealed her skin, innocently  -nearly revealing her undergarments. Daryl glanced nervously towards her face. Still sound asleep. With a shaking hand, Daryl covers her legs with the skirts fabrike. Julia stirs again and Daryl froze. If Julia saw him holding her skirt, even if pulling it down, she would certainly miss judging the situation. 

Julia mumbles something incoherently, unbeknownst of Daryl's panic. He sighed, dropping his shoulders in relief, seeing her eyes were closed and face lax in what appeared to be deep sleep. 

He rises, standing to his full height, throwing the crossbow over his shoulder. Daryl continues the search for breakfast and hopefully brings back a rabbit or two. Daryl was sure he would have time before she woke as the sun was still under the horizon. Before he goes he looks back, seeing Julia lying there. She would be fine, the forest was quiet and he wasn't going far knowing more rabbits were close, so he continued forward, deeper into the forest. 

…

Julia's eyes flutter open, she looks tiredly upon trees above her. Slowly sitting up she scrunches her face, her head pounds making her groan with a hand against the forehead. 

“I’m never drinking moonshine again,” -It felt like she was dying. 

Her eyes scanning -sershing, searching for him. A pang prices her chest. For a moment Julia thought about Daryl leaving her, that he had left. But would he really?

Daryl’s backpack rests against the nearby log. She picks up his hunting knife and lets her gaze travel along its sharp edge for a moment, studying it. Julia sits on her knees, attaching the knife to her belt then continues, looking through his pack finding some matches, stacks of dollar bills, a plastic jar of cinnamon sticks - she takes one and starts to chew on it, she continues placing the plastic jar back, finding valuables like rings and gold chains. -she shakes her head, because what was Daryl thinking he was gonna do with money and jewelry? She stops her snooping and drums her fingers on her knees with a sigh.

The cinnamon's strong taste makes her terribly thirsty and as if in que, Julia hears water pouring somewhere nearby. Julia found it to be pretty easy to navigate her way. Before she even reached the water’s edge she knew it to be a river.  

A fallen tree extends over the burbling river as clear water travels along its bed, bubbling over rocks and branches in the shallower parts as forest hills and trees line the river shore where she stands. 

Julia gazed with awe before closing her eyes, she inhaled, savoring the pure scent of wildlife, then exhaled gazing down where the water ended and kneeled, and reaches a hand into the water taking a sip of the pure water and grips a smooth rock, letting it rest in the water for a moment before pulling it out. She cloutshes the rock then picks up another flat stone with her other hand and piles it on top of the other. She continues to stack the rocks, each smaller than the one before, making a cairn. Perhaps a way of mourning? Julia didn't know but she hoped, hoped wherever people go after they die was a kind place.

Gripping the fabric of her dress, Julia notests maybe for the first time how dirty she really was. The cowboy boots were unrecognizable, covered in dry dirt and mud, making the beautiful western embroidery unnoticeable. The skirt, torn and ingrained in dirt where her knees had pressed when sitting. The short sleeved button down was stained with filth and splash stains. Julia begins undoing the buttons of her shirt and lets it fall to the ground, then the belt. She places the knife for easy access, she lets the skirt slip down her legs and leaves it with the rest, placing her bracelets on top. The boot's fit is snug, so she sits down on her bottom to easily pull them off, the mid calf socks follow along still in the boots. Julia goes into the river leaving her only in undergarments and a camisole. Its vintage floral print is faint, spaghetti straps reach down to a ruffled hem snugly hugging her chest. Its cotton fabric flows loosely down the rest of her body ending just above the knees. Julia began to wade into the water until it came up above her chest. She looked back where she had settled her things on the shore then submerged into the river.

…

Julia was gone by the time Dayl returned. His pack remains, resting against the log just like he left it.

"Julia!" Daryl calls out, he's met with no answer.  

He kneels, investigating footprints removing a leaf they headed the opposite direction where he came, leading further down the forest. He could tell she was doing fine so far, there was no sign a walker was anywhere near her. The sound of water pouring became clearer. Daryl heads towards it -chances were Julia hasn't gone that far and would most likely be there. But what was she thinking? But on the other hand he knew he had made a poor choice leaving her alone. 

Making his way to the river Daryl halts rounding a tree and he stops for a moment, notesting Julia's clothes neatly pleased by shore from a far. Anxiety bloomed in his chest. Because what happens if he finds her and she’s bit? Daryl didn't know the answer to that and he certainly didn't like the idea of it. Agin, he should never have left her.

Stop worrying. I’m gonna locate this girl, she's gonna be just fine. He told himself.

Daryl prosedes with his crossbow in hand. He walks slowly and stops, picking up the knife placed on top of her folded clothes. Daryl looks around, scanning for anything but sees nothing. The twisting feeling with something he knew - it was familiar…

Sophia.

Finding her doll lying in the creek just like Julia’s clothes lies on the shore. He didn't like this, not one little bit. 

“Julia!” Daryl calls out scanning his surroundings, then turns towards the tree line behind him, but then… 

Julia emerges from the surface, wiping her hair back, smoothing the wet hair from her face and Daryl felt his panic fade the moment she emerged. But just as fast he was pissed off, almost wanting to grab her right then and there, dragging her out of the water. He refrains himself from doing so by blowing an attention grabbing whistle instead and commands, “Girl, come up here before you drown!”

Julia’s head wipes towards the shore, spotting a figure there, standing. She knew it to be Daryl just by the voice. And there he was, two dead animals hanging attached to his belt. Relieved she couldn't help the way her mouth upturned in relief, she hurried with excitement towards him, not paying attention to his harsh tone. 

He really didn't leave.

“Julia. You could have been pulled under,” Daryl scolds as Julia gets closer, “Even if the river looks calm it can still be strong,” -and closer and he continues standing just on the water's edge.

“Is that rabbit!? Two!” Julia confirms, excitedly. 

“Hey, are you even list-  The words disappear from his mouth.

Julia’s bare feet stood before him; he's at a loss of words. She looked breathtaking. The morning light painted her soft features along her face and neck. Water dripped from the ends of her curls as some strands she mused had missed are stuck to her cheeks and forehead. The camisole dress was drenched, accentuating her soft feminine curves, spaghetti straps hung loosely off her shoulders, her hardend nippels poked through the fabrike, leaving little for the imagination. Her eyelashes curled, enhancing her brown eyes beautifully. Everything about her was so feminine and pure. If he didn't know any better he would have thought she was Aphrodite herself. 

Daryl didn't know where to look. He didn't even notest he’d dropped the knife and crossbow, she didn't seem to either.

Unbeknownst, Julia didn't notice how his breath became heavy nor how his pupils had blown wide -so she reached for the rabbits because she had never seen wild ones this close before. But Daryl turns cold, moving so quickly Julia didn't have time to react. His hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist so tightly, she swore it cracked under the pressure forcing a cry to escape her lips, she nearly fell to her knees from the pain. She lifts her gaze, confused by his sudan grabbing. In that moment Julia wished she could read his mind, figuring out what went beyond those deep blue eyes, and that hard face. But what Julia didn't know was his reason for doing so, stopping her was to stop whatever urge within. Fearing if she got to close, he would give in to something he…he didn't quite know what, it felt… wrong. 

Julia pushed at his hand with her free one and managed to croak, “You're hurting me,”  making Daryl snap out from what every daze he was in. But the moment he lets go he sees something he never noticed before.

That is…

The edges of his vision turn dark with a sort of panic he wasn't sure existed within himself, he commands  with a low tone, “Show me your arm.” Causing her to jump.

Julia pulled her arm behind her back  -biting down on her lip, looking anywhere but him. She should never have taken the bracelets off, but it was too late for regrets. 

Daryl yanked her arm back just as fast. There was a heavy flinch, then a slight struggle. However, it didn't take much to overpower her. Daryl pulls her towards him, stretching her arm out revealing the bite mark just above the inside of the wrist. His face became hard, almost angry, she could feel it too, how his hold hardened further if that was even possible, and she hadn't realized how small her wrist was in his until she glanced down, seeing how his hand easily swallowed hers.

Julia stares up, blinking several times -meeting Daryl's cold glare. Her pupils shake with a sort of panic, shaking her head frantically as her long curls fall in her face. 

“No, No!” “No, I’m not sick!” “I am not sick!” “I am not sick!” 

Daryl shakes his head as if not buying it.

She points to the bite mark, “This is three months old.” “Nobody lasts more than a day!”  “Does this look a day old to you?” She insisted, voice cracking, as if she was trying desperately to make him believe her.

Daryl looked at the bitmark then back at her glaring intensely.

“You would have killed me!” The words came shakingly more than anything. Because she was frightened, remembering Marlene's warning.

Daryl didn't say anything as he inspected the wound with his gaze; he had never seen anything like it before. it was faint, as it had healed. Was he angry? He didn't know. 

Julia continued because she was so scared… so desperate. “Does it look like I’m infected? Julia asked -Daryl stares, searching her eyes for an explanation. Maybe if he were calmer, he would realize this was all wrong. She was scared out of her mind. But it had become something much more.

“See it's not getting any worse.” “I’m not gonna turn.”

Daryl’s face became unreadable, voice firm and questioning, “What was Marlene doing with an infected kid like you?”

“I’m not a kid, and am not infected.” She answered, sounding slightly annoyed. As he doesn't respond she continues and admits, “Marlene found me after I was bitten.” 

“And she didn't shoot you.” Daryl States.

“Yeah… She made me distance myself from everyone and tested me every day. To see if I was getting sick.”

"Test you how?” Julia didn't answer. His voice became deep and threatening in his chest as he all but groweld, “Test you…how?”

Julia let out a heavy breath, she answered, “She'd make me count to 10 and hold out my hand and then keep it steady, and guess what, I didn't turn into a Walker.” -She inhales “I've made it through these past 3… ” -she corect’s herself. “4 days. I'm fine.” -She insists almost pleadingly.

But Daryl felt indifferent, because she just didn't seem to get it.

“You need to stop talking’ like there is some kind of future ahead, because there ain't.” He said it a little too harsh then he should have because her chine trembled in response and her eyes looked pained, but she restrained herself from crying.

His hand that wasn't gripping her pointed a daring finger towards her, demanding, “Why are you so important to Marlene, and don’t lie to me. Answer the question.”

Julia's body language became nervous, uneasy in his grip. She answered, knowing there was no way to avoid it. “She told me not to tell anybody, and now I’m telling the first person that I– She interrupted herself inhaling a needed breath for any kind of courage.

Daryl stares, impassively waiting for her answer.

She exhales and begins, “There's a base camp somewhere out west, you can see it on the map…There doctors. They’re working on a cure. And what happens to me..is the key to finding the vaccine.” 

"Mm-hm." -Daryl grunts, shaking his head, “I’ve heard that before”. It reminds him of the CDC, and he wasn't fond of that memorie. -Daryl continues speaking way too harsh for her liking.

"I call bullshit. Vaccines, miracle cures. None of it works. I’ve been at the CDC. And you know what, the scientists had either left or opted-out. I almost got blown up in the process so don’t feed me with this miracle cure bullshit. Whatever Marelene has told you, you better forget, because it's gonna get you killed.” Daryl said directly staring into her eyes. 

He then stepped forward, she stepped back, causing him to pause letting go of her wrist as if he became self-aware of how intimidating he was. Daryl felt a guilt burrow and the argument melted away - because..he saw how she inhaled, holding her arm close to herself. Maybe he had done too much? And it was going to haunt him every time he looked at her.

Julia stairs, eyebrows furring -searching for something to somehow change his mind, she felt almost a sense of defeat. His cold eyes turned sad and Julia didn't want to quarrel, he didn't seem to ether.

“Daryl.” Julia said after a few moments. Taking one step closer, he appeared surprised by the movement. “I know I must have scared you, disappearing like that.” Her voice laced with sincerity, eyes looking into his. 

Daryl lowered his gaze in return. He couldn't seem to find the right words. To his surprise, Julia wrapped her arms around him and her head was against his chest, embracing him just like before. He jolted slightly but returned the embrace, although he was stiff and hesitant at first. Carefully his hand placed itself on the small of her back, he needed that.

“I’m sorry.” Julia said softly. Daryl could feel how her fingers gripped the back of his vest and her wet hair causing his shirt to dampen as she held him even closer -to make the words more true. Daryl nodes slowly in response. She couldn't see it as she was pressed to his chest but she felt him do so.

“We should eat,” His voice was deep and rumbling within his chest. His chest is warm, he always seemed to be -a gentle contrast from the dripping chemise clinging to her skin. There was this moment, where she just listened. Listened to him breathe, and she swore she could feel his heart beating or maybe it was her one? She tilts her head up to speak. Daryl does the same, gazing down with that unreadable face he often made. 

She looked small. He could see her begin to shiver and goosebumps forming on her skin as she said -smiling softly.

 “Not gonna lie but I’m starving.”

…

They were forced to continue further within the forest the next day, making their stay on the river bank a short one; he had spotted a walker. 

Daryl’s strides were wide compared to hers, they didn't talk. Julias mind was elsewhere, her mind often was. Always thinking about everything and nothing at once. She often was distracted like that when nothing seemed to happen. A dangerous flaw in a world like this. 

The forest was quiet, nothing seemed out of place. She liked the green and the chirping of the bird's maid. It almost seemed like everything was normal, as if  they were on a simple walk out in the forest. 

Julia notest Daryl's change of pace. His steps were careful, his gaze set on something ahead, making him lower himself, almost kneeling. Julia does the same. With a motion of his index finger he reveals what caught his eye. Just a couple of meters ahead a light green tent is set up. Julia stairs for a moment before she said.

“There could be someone inside.” 

“Could be a whole bunch of things in there.” Daryl wisperd, stating simply. 

He stalks closer, leading the way, Julia follows close behind. He scans their surroundings, crossbow against his cheek, taking a couple of more steps he then slows down, motioning for a halt handing her the crossbow. Julia stairs, confused. What was she gonna do, she can't even shoot? He then motions for the knife attached to her belt. Of course the knife, she gives it to him and he gives a silent command, stay here with a motion of his finger. Julia frowns, she didn't want to be left standing there all alone, but she nods, giving in knowing there was no room for arguing. 

Daryl slowly approaches the tent, knife firm in his grip. He tries to peek through the flap of the opening then traced back in his steps avoiding the trash surrounding the tent, then carfolly lifts the outer fabric to get a glimpse of what could be inside, seeing nothing indicating there was something there he returns to the opening. He unzipped it slowly, all about making as little noise as possible. For a moment she thought his movements seemed more than just a hunter's, as if he has done this before. 

Daryl redis himself with the knife high up, its edge pointing downwards -in the purpose stabbing whatever he had thought could be inside. He lifts the fabrike of the opening, she is too far back to see but she could tell there was something, noesting how Daryl turns his head and coughs in a disgusted manner shielding his nose with the hand still gripping the knife. Without hesitation he steps inside, disappearing from Julia’s view -she swallows anxiously.

Inside Daryl finds a man dead in a chair, with his brains blown all over the fabrike, the jaw was gone as it had been blown to bits by a gun or a shotgun of some kind. Daryl grimaces in disgust of the decomposed smell.

Outside Julia had become more anxious. The quiet felt like Daryl was forever in that tent, making her call out. “Daryl?” No response - she steps closer and calls out once more, “Daryl?”

Daryl reaches for the gun in the corpse's hand, taking it and puts it in the small of his back holstering it there, then emerges out, notesting Julia standing right outside and not where he left her.

“I told you to stay back,” Daryl scolds.

“What’s in there?” Julia asked curiously, trying to get a glimpse inside, Daryl steps in front of her as if not wanting her to see as he explained simply.

“Some guy. Did what them scientists did. Opted out.” Right she remembered him telling that back at the river.

“Oh,” Julia breathed in response, he could be so blunt sometimes. 

A pause then…

 “There could be stuff inside we might have youse off,” she tried to step round him but Daryl stepped in front again, holding her in place by the arm -lightly, not putting any pressure, simply keeping her from entering. He didn't want to subject her to such a sight and to be honest it disturbed him. 

Julia searches his gaze. He seemed to be thinking for a moment and then he gave in and said.

"Alright." But you stay here.” Julia nodes heavenly doing as she was told. 

After some rustling Daryl emerges from the tent throwing her a bag, it lands before her feet. Opening it she hesitates for a moment, this was once someone’s, perhaps this was wrong, it felt like stealing. Daryl noticed her hesitating and said, “Don't think, just take what you need.”

Julia started digging through the bag, there wasn't really anything until she found what she had in mind. She puts on the knitted gray cardigan and buttons it, she looks to Daryl, looking him up and down. She looked through the bag once more, finding a men's long sleeve button down and a black denim jacket. Holding the jacket out before her she looks up at him then back to the jacket making Daryl shift on his feet, feeling her eyes scanning his body.

“What?” He grunts.

She smiles and tosses the clothing items at him. Daryl easely catches with his one hand then inspects the clothes holding it out in front of him.

“Put them on, I think it will suit you.” Julia insisted. Daryl grunt’s in response and she didn't quite figure out if it was disapproving or approving. 

Daryl peels the vest off, sliding his arm through the shirt, then the denim jacket on top, finishing with his signature biker jacket. 

Pleased, she smiles to herself, it suited him just like she imagined. Daryl then goes back inside the tent as if looking for something. To her surprise, he walks out with a cheated knife. Her mouth opened, agape a moment as she looked into his eyes, and then down at the weapon - it being offered to her, and he said simply, 

“You're better off with this. Won’t be clumsy in your grip like mine, and it’s lighter.” 

Daryl urges the weapon into her hand -Julia accepts it, she would like to think it was a gift, she liked the idea. 

Daryl notest she had struggled with his, and often at times it looked like she was going to cut her damn fingers off. His solution was simply giving her a less harmless weapon, in harmless meaning from her clumsy fingers. 

…

Daryl had noticed the bruise his grip had left behind, Julia sat beside him, staring into the fire, following the flames with her gaze. He removes the meat, handing her a piece.

"Here." She takes it. 

A few moments passed…But then he began and said, “Hey, sorry for what I did that morning.” He gives an awkward glance, she stares up at him silently and she notest how his gaze travels to her wrist. And maybe she had not really noticed, but a bruise had formed there. Her gaze returns to him, shaking her head slowly. She knew why he was apologizing. He was apologizing for grabbing her. But Julia knew he did not mean to hurt her, he was scared.

"No." “I should have told you.” Julia said softly.

Daryl stairs for a moment then diverts his gaze and bises himself with the fire, feeding it tinney sticks to just keep it going. He still felt guilty and even more when she wasn't upset. 

Julia leaned forward to place a bigger stick into the fire, Daryl stops her from doing so. Julia frowns, confused by the interruption and she questions, “Why? It’s freezing.” 

“Because it'll attract e’m,” Daryl said simply. 

“You mean Walkers?” Julia stairs, gauging. 

There was silence before she spoke again..Sounding perplexed, “People?" It was a bit quiet, the way she said it - hesitant. As if she was pretty sure she didn't want to know the answer. Daryl gives her a look and continues to toss the small sticks into the fire and Julia begins to pick at her food as anxiety starts to bloom in her chest.

“So what are they gonna do? "Robb us?” A hint of sarcasm plaid in her voice, masking that unsettling feeling growing in her stomach.

“They’ll have way more in mind than that.” He eyed her sternly and she knew what he was insinuating and it made the anxiety only worse and her heart quickened. Maybe she had been naive, never had she believed people could be something to fear. She could only muster a quiet  “Oh,” in return.

Part of him had hoped she'd go to sleep after that but she continued to look at him, as if thinking or perhaps waiting for him to say something. 

The fire caused her gentle features to glow orange and red, she lifted her head, resting it on her hand and her elbow into the forest floor. Daryl remained on his back, arms crossed holding his knife over his chest, he pretends not to notice her staring. 

“Daryl,” Julia began, he hums in acknowledgement, noticing the hesitance in her tone as she all but whispers. “when you said, ‘they’ll have way more in mind… There’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right? No one’s gonna find us?” 

Daryl knows, but he doesn't tell her the truth for the benefit so she could sleep peacefully, so he lies, he lies straight to her face and assures, “No one’s gonna find us.”  

"Okej." She said, because really she just needed to hear him say it, to hear the confirmation leaving his lips. With that she adjusted herself to sleep -and turned over shutting her eyes, her head resting against the backpack and the conversation was over. 

Daryl curls his arm underneath his head then turns his head to look at her facing him with her back, his eyes studying her. Daryl knows she’s frightened, even though she tries to hide behind sarcasm. She was naive in her ways. A part of him wanted her to guard herself - but selfishly, another part of him enjoyed seeing optimism. She had empathy like no other, when she told him it did matter, even if that mannequin corpse of a woman was no one she knew. She cared so deeply and so easily, ultimately selfless, he had never met anyone like that before. He could only assume whatever upbringing she had received from her family had something to do with the ability to not become hardened and maintain that purity, that heart and compassion. She had pleaded for him to believe her, that she was some type of cure, and that bite mark fucking scared him. He didn't know what to believe. Holding onto hope he himself could not. Because there was nothing, nothing that would change his mind. To him it was just another pipe dream, a fairytale Marlene had put in her head. It was no surprise Marlenen had chosen her, she seemed like the sort of girl who would believe blindly because she simply didn't know any better. 

Daryl shifts his gaze scanning the trees surrounding them, holding the knife close to his chest, glancing towards his crossbow resting beside him. And he knew it was there, he just needed to make shore. He stairs a few moments looking at Julia, she seemed to have dozed off. Daryl couldn't stop from dwelling on what she had said with that small frightened voice.

There’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right. No one’s gonna find us… 

He kept thinking about it over and over. Every fiber of his being was almost nauseous over it. Thinking about something like that coming true. Thinking about her being in danger, being hurt -he couldn't imagine what it would be like losing her to. This new sense of fear had become more evident each day since the prison fell. He didn't recognise it as fear at first but then he did. The closest thing to it was that same feeling he had felt when they had captured that kid, Randall on the farm. Knowing there were people out there hurting kids, women, young girls, girls like her. Men like that have no soul, no remorse. He forced himself not to spiral any further, not to be emotional in such a way. Instead he shoved it down. He pretended it wasn't there, doing the only thing he knew. 

Julia gently turns over, hands resting beneath her cheek as Daryl stands in distance pacing back and forth and stays up until dawn cracks beneath the horizon. Keeping her safe.

…Julia had thought about what Daryl had said that night. And she was grateful. But the unsettling feeling still lingers, she remembered how his eyes had looked, they held a knowing in them, as if he had seen the darkest part of life that she herself had not. A part of her wanted to ask him more, to know what he knows, ask him of what cruelty he had seen. She referred not to of course, it would be selfish. If he wanted to share he would simply tell her. 

Julia walks in his footsteps, a game she entertains herself with. Suddenly…Daryl halted, making Julia bump into him, pulling her from her thoughts. Daryl turned to face her and said…

“Take out your knife. I want to show you something.”

Julias brows furrowed, but she did as she was told, unholstering it, holding the weapon to her side.

“Which is your lead foot?” Julia shrugged, she didn't know. 

Daryl moved quickly, with one intimidating stride towards her. It was quick and she instinctively stepped back and she understood now where this was going -he was teaching her. Daryl continues speaking to her firmly, clearly to make her understand.

“If someone comes at you, you race this arm up and you block, and use their strength against them.” Julia did so, blocking him with her forearm, staring intently upon him for further instructions. He reached around, grabbing her hand in his that was holding the knife and pulling it towards his chest, his hand that wasn't gripping her hand grabbed her opposite by her wrist. He was somewhat rough with the movements holding her so close she could feel his breath grasing her face and his touch, warm wrapped around her wrist against the autumn breeze. 

 “You're small, so wait until they’re close and you drive it through their heart to the hilt.” -her gaze shifts from his chest back to his face, “You understand?” His eyes searched hers shaking her firmly, desperate to make her understand, and he continued, “Do not hesitate. And you look in their eyes and do not pull it out until you see their soul.” 

Julia blinked -processing his words slowly. That seemed to be a difficult thing to do. At least inside of herself. His hands were steady, steadier than hers as she tilted her head to look up at him. Then placed a hand flat to his chest where her gaze had shifted. He lightend his grip in return as she pulled back and he dropped his arms to his sides. She held the knife with both of her hands, still looking to his chest where the knife had pressed to his heart. The idea of hurting someone, killing someone felt impossible. She inhaled…then shakes her head stepping back. He stared down at her, as she all but whispered, “I couldn't do that.”  

He continued to stare at her, until eventually he moved and simply said, “Well, you might not have a choice.” 

…Daryl tucked his jacket around her limp form, she was curled against his side as soft snores rumbled through her lips. Daryl didn't know when they had begun to draw close to one another. He worried it was for selfish reasons. She seemed terribly comfortable after only spending the past several days with him. And despite them having gone through a few stressful situations together -it concerned him. He was more concerned about himself, about how he was behaving, getting distracted by many of the things that she did. And how he couldn't seem to keep his breath even when she got so close. Especially at night. And the worst part of all. He was longing for it.

Julia snuggled her way into his arms and Daryl nearly moved away, but only tensed for a moment. Her head was on his chest and she had grabbed hold of his shirt for what he could only assume was a form of comfort. Daryl doesn't hold people he finds them, but he couldn't deny the warm, fuzzy feeling he felt when she tugged on his shirt as if he was worth holding onto. And he lets her as he studies her soft face, lax with sleep. Even though it was innocent, she was tormenting him. With a deep sigh he tried to stop his heart from racing and his mind from wandering. He moved ever so slowly to prop his hands underneath his head, gazing upon the night sky, his body became heavy and relaxed as he slowly drifted into sleep.

Daryl was typically the one who woke up first, this morning was no different. He was grateful he did. They lay how they fell asleep. Carefully he removed her hand from his shirt, slowly slipping it from her fingers. Her hands laid lax against her chest. He sat up fully then turned his head to look down at her, in doing so, he wanted to move a bit of hair from her face, but refrained. He seemed to do that alot, refraining. 

He noticed when Julia woke up, and started moving around. He would never tell her about last night, afraid it would be awkward if he did, so he pretends like nothing had happened. As if she hadn't been sleeping on his chest or how he could feel her heart beating against his. He had taken notice how soft she was, different from himself. Of course they had been close when she had hugged him by the shed and by the river a couple of days ago. But it was nothing like this, this was different.  

Daryl scratched his stubble staring ahead, Julias soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, “Daryl,” and he hums in agnolishment still staring ahead. 

Slowly Julia sits up fully, holding his jacket in her lap, feeling the fabrike between her fingers, then continuing, “You know, one of these days you're gonna have a cold. It's not summer anymore.” She felt terribly guilty when he so easily gave up his own comfort for her. He had given his jacket every night since she had mentioned it was cold, and she wished to never have mentioned it in the first place. The truth was she had been cold that night, but it was not the real reason. It was because she was terribly afraid of the dark, the strange sounds of the forest that she never seemed to get used to. She offered his jacket back and he retrieved it. He said nothing, and she thought maybe he wouldn't until he did -with a soft tone she wasn't sure she had heard him use before.

 “Ain’t no big deal. And besides, can't sleep hearing you chattering your teeth all night.” 

Julia felt her face heat up, she knew she must be blushing. Just as she was about to argue against it, that she was fine, admit what she should have told him that night . Daryl stood to full height, offering his hand and urged, “come on.”  

Julia looked confused but took it either way, he grabbed his weapon off the forest floor. She tilted her head, staring. She had asked him to teach her as he had been her only source of socialization and she was determined to prove herself, rather than doing nothing. Daryl put the swing strap over his shoulder, and he began and said.

“I think today is a good day for you too-  Julia cut him off, stepping closer, with a smile lighting up her face, “You're gonna teach me how to choot?” She said, maybe sounding a bit too much like a child.

He stared and felt that same feeling in his chest, fuzzy and warm, then he answered simply, “Something like that,” -a pause…then he demanded, becoming serious, “And no wondering of.” Julia rolled her eyes, humoredly, “Yes Mr.Dixon.”

“Julia, I mean it.”

“I’ll do whatever you say, Daryl.” 

Daryl stared for a moment a little taken back by her genuine honesty. He didn't know what to say to that. There was a truth in her russet brown eyes, round and sincere. Daryl clears his throat, urging her forward.

…

He had never seen her show such interest before and he could tell she was serious about learning. He wanted to make it right this time, teaching her how to use his crossbow. Everything was calm and peaceful as Daryl walked close behind watching her back as she scanned their surroundings for anything out of place, but it was more difficult than she thought. And she wondered how on earth he could hold such a thing and make it look so easy, like it wasn't heavy. He must've had a great deal of strength, not to mention his perfect aim. Holding it up against her cheek trying out the scope she asked.

“Are we close?” 

"Almost done.” He answered like he knew exactly what they were looking for, Julia asked again, still looking through the scope, “How do you know?” 

“The signs are all there. Just got to know how to read’em.”

And she did so, slowly prosiding onwards. But it was all so difficult in her head, she didn't see any signs nor did she know if she saw any she knew how to read them like he did. She prompted him again, “What are we tracking?”

“You tell me.” Daryl vaguely offered. Julia turned to him with a slight frustrated frown. Daryl shrugged, “You’re the one who wanted to learn.” Her gaze travels along the forest floor.

“Well, something came through here. The pattern is all zig-zaggy.” She stated, deep in thought, she clearly had paid attention to what he had said a moment ago. And then it all made sense, “It’s a walker.” She confirmed, clearly happy with her accomplishment.

“Maybe a drunk.” Daryl said, and she knew he was testing her. She smiled back at him before proceeding onwards as she became a little bit cocky, “I’m getting good at this. Pretty soon I won’t need you at all.”

Daryl nods to himself as a subtle smile plaid on his lips, he almost chuckled at her sudan confidence. He kept her going and ordered, “Yeah, keep on tracking.”

Daryl of course was aware of the tracks, but it was about her finding it by herself in order to learn, and she did. He felt a sense of pride in that, teching her something he knew. 

The trail led them upon a clearing. A lone walker stands on its knees, turned with its back, festing on something in its hands. Julia stands in front of Daryl staring for a moment before she turns her head and states, whispering, “It’s got a gun.”

Daryl nods and gives her a go ahead. She takes a nervous breath as she steadys the crossbow against her cheek and begins with careful steps, approaching. Daryl stayed back, his eyes never leaving her. He had seen her kill a walker before so he lets her handle this one on her own.  

Even though she was scared she was determined enough to not let her fears controle her. And she was desperate to prove herself that she could hold her own. Every step was carefully put in front of the other, like Daryl did. Just a little bit further and she would be in the right distance to fire. One last breath and she stepped down. But to her surprise her foot gets caught in an animal trap and twists in a natural way. Her leg gives out and she falls to the ground, a pained sound leaves her lips. The commotion alerts the walker, it starts to growl, dropping the dead animal to the ground and begins to head her way. Pure horror rises in the pit of her stomach as she desperately tries to aim from the ground. The weapon fired, and she watched as her shot missed, only making it stumble back a bit and it kept on coming her way. 

Daryl sprinted straight towards her. He snatched the crossbow from her hands, hitting the walker with the momentum of his speed. He hurried towards her, sliding on the leaf covered ground and kneeled, grabbing her skirt and pulling it up to reveal her foot underneath, then ripped the animal trap from her foot like it was nothing, throwing it out of sight. 

His voice was laced with concern as he asked out of breath, “Can you move it?” He studied her face, lifting her foot by the heel examining the sole. Julia inhaled unevenly, a clear response from the pain. She managed to croak out a shaky,“Yeah.” And the pain in her voice and her trembling lips carved a new fissure in his heart. 

Daryl carefully lowered her foot back on the ground and stood fully. Julia looked up at him and he told her, “Hold on.” She watched him walk towards the dead walker, pulling the bolt she had missed when firing from its cheek, then grabbed the gun from its side holstering it in the small of his back. Before approaching her he grabbed the crossbow off the ground. Julia quickly grabbed the edges of the skirt, tugging it downward. She managed to stand on her own even though she could see Daryl tense of her doing so when she lost her balance for a moment. He steadied her with his arm around her waist, pressing her against his side. Her arm was over his shoulder, her hand gripping the fabrike there, like she had dune in the night. And she weld to control tears from forming, screwing her eyes shut with the tension of the pain, but the gentle feeling of his arm around her, holding her there tightly forced them to flutter open and she found the strength to ask, “Can I have the gun?” Daryl urged her onwards and gave her a firm “No.” And she knew there was no use in arguing. 

Eventually they exit the forest, coming upon a graveyard and a white memorial house further ahead. She limped alongside him as his strength kept her upright, though gravity seemed to be working against her. Her feet were tired, soar, and stinging with cuts from the animal trap. Just for one moment she wished to stop, to catch her breath and to rest. "Can we…Can we hold up a sec?” Julia said and reached for her foot as his hand gently left her side and he asked, "You all right?” 

“I Just need to sit down.” Julia reassured, rotating it carefully and put most of her weight on the opposite foot, clearly avoiding the pain. Daryl looked ahead and breathed, “All right. Hold up.” And begins putting the crossbow over his shoulders, settling it infront on his chest, adjusting it a bit. Julia blinked at him perplexed and stepped back when he suddenly got closer, his back facing her as he began to bend his knees, hunching forward with his arms hanging loosely to his sides, and he ordered, “Hope on.” 

It surprised her, he had never offered such a thing before. The sudden change of character made her think he had to be joking, “Are you serious?” She questions. Daryl looked over his shoulder, “Yeah. This is a serious piggyback. Jump up.” Julia grabbed his shoulders  for leverage and jumped up with her arms over his shoulders. 

“You're heavier than you look.” He joked straightening up and adjusted her further up his back with his arms underneath her legs and began their walk through the graveyard. 

"Maybe there are people there.” Julia states, ever the optimist. “Yeah, if there are, I’ll handle them.” 

“There are still good people, Daryl.”  But Daryl found it difficult to believe in such filosofie, “I don’t think the good ones survive.”

They encountered a gravestone with the words beloved father. Julia stood before it with a sad expression on her face. Daryl places flowers in response and returns to her side. Her soft features clashed with the sorefull expression and he wondered what her quiet thoughts were about and If what he had said contributed to the sadness there. He blinked in surprise as her soft fingers gently intertwined with his and he glanced down to look at her, his stomach twirls, but she continued to stare ahead..Her expression telling him she was far away.

Everything she's experienced hasn't just gone away, even when she acted as if it had, always being positive and hopeful. Time doesn't really heal anything and pain doesn't simply disappear, it fades. And in that moment she needed him...to hold him close. It felt so..human to stand beside her and to feel the touch of her hand. He had never done that before, never been the type to hold someone. And he took notice he did not tense like in those moments when she had pushed herself close to him in the night. It was oddly comfortable, even when she squeezed his hand and leaned against him he didn’t push her away.

A few moments later they headed towards the funeral home.

Daryl continued carrying Julia until they approached the front door of the building. He cracks the door open then makes a few loud sounds that surely would alert any walkers in the home. “Give it a minute,” he tells her. But it was quiet, oddly quiet. Daryl enters the entryway and gives the nearby rooms a quick look. Julia limped after, on guard with her knife in her hand. She took notice of the clean smell and the neat state of the house that Daryl clearly seemed to find strange. 

“It’s so clean.” Julia declared. “Yeah.” Daryl answered. “Someone’s been tending to it. May still be around.” 

Right. That made sense.

Daryl moves further into a large room, Julia follows. They discover A dead man in a casket. The man didn't look rotten and decayed like walkers did, he appeared natural, peacefully lying in a suit. It felt as if they had walked in on a public viewing. She supposed that would make sense as it was a funeral hom after all. The room was beautifully arranged, decorated with big bouquets of flowers on each side of the casket. They were dry now but she imagined it had to look even more beautiful before. Chairs were placed before the man in the middle of the room for family and friends to say their last goodbyes and an old piano facing the window. She didn't feel disturbed by the sight, she had attended one before. So it didn't surprise her when Daryl inspected the man's face notesting something odd she supposed, as he drags his fingers across the man's face revealing the cosmetic work done. 

Daryl thought it was odd as he felt the cosmetic between his fingers then looked at Julia. Why did someone take their time doing this to a walker he would never get his head round. To be honest it creeped him out. 

They continued down a set of stairs leading to a white room. It smells of chemicals,.the ones used for disinfecting and it was noticeably colder than upstairs. On two embalming tables lay 2 more desiset men dressed in suits. One looked like a walker with its gray skin and the other looked more like the man upstairs. Julia carefully takes her last steps down, a bit slower due to her injury. Daryl opens the carbonets in a surge for medical supplies clearing his throat, a habit he did before speaking. 

“Let's get that ankle wrapped.” Julia didn't answer. She quietly admired the cosmetic art the unknown person had dun. They had even taken the time to make the hands look normal and comed the man's hair. Only a good person would do such a thing. 

Ripping the bandaid package with his teeth Daryl glanced at her and said humoredly, “Looks like somebody ran out of dolls to dress up.” Julia wipes her head towards him, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s beautiful.” She states softly. Daryl diverts his eyes looking down as if searching for that beauty she seemed to admire. Julia continued to be ever so thoughtful in her ways of speaking.

“Whoever did this cared. They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered these things were people. Before all this. They didn’t let it change them in the end.” Her gaze shifts to him from where she had looked down upon the man on the embalming table. “Don’t you think that’s beautiful?” His eyes met hers from where he was leaning against the wall and he couldn't find the right words to answer. He found it difficult to see the beauty she saw. Perhaps because he didn't fully understand it, not in the way she did at least. But Daryl did think something was beautiful, and it was not the dead men lying on the tables. 

Daryl escapes the question completely and instead urges her back towards the sink, gently. Daryl was oddly careful with his touch as he rapped her foot. She looked down from where she stood leaning back against the sink. She could tell he knew what he was doing and she wondered  if he realized how much he's changed in these past 2 weeks. If he recognized those small changes as she had? It wasn't dramatic, personality altering changes per say, but he was softer and more talkative which pleased her. 

Continuing they explore the kitchen. 

Julia checks the fridge, “Dang,” she sighed, “You find anything?” 

Daryl checks the wall cupboards, opening them one after the other, finding nothing until then he comes across something. Julia exclaimed in surprise, standing by his side. A large cache filled with food is in front of them. 

“Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda and pig’s feet. That’s a white trash brunch right there,” Daryl said humorously, grabbing a jar off the top shelf.  “It all looks good to me,” Julia commented, grabbing a couple of items, clearly hungry.

Inspecting the jar in his hand he noticed it looked like it just came out of the store and so did everything else. He came to realize and told her, “No, hold up.” And Julia wipes her head looking at him. “Ain’t a speck of dust on this.” He states. “So?” Julia prompts. “That means somebody just put it here. This is someone's stash. Maybe they’re still alive.” 

Right, she should have thought of that.

He spoke with a voice of coming to a conclusion, and he told her with a new sense of thoughtfulness, “All right, we’ll take some of it and we’ll leave the rest, all right?” And that was different. Julia smiled brightly at him, “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Daryl questions. Julia holds their eye contact repeating herself from before. “It's like I said. There are still good people.” Daryl reaches two fingers into his jar, scooping out jelly, shoving it directly into his mouth, humming as if it was delicious . “It’s gross,” Julia scolds, heading towards the kitchen table with her peanut butter. Daryl likes the edge of the jar and warns playfully with jelly still in his mouth, “Hey, those pigs feet are mine.” 

Julia smiled to herself. He could be funny sometimes. 

…

No matter how much Julia insisted she could help him get rid of the walkers, he made her not lift a finger, ‘due to her injury, he had told her. 

He could be so stubborn sometimes. 

While Daryl was outside setting up security tripwires, Julia made the room cozy. The room with the casket, with candles lit on top of the piano and more across the room. It had been a while since she played. She never learned to read music notes but she could play by heart, finding melodies with her fingers while she hums softly, remembering the words to a song she used to sing. 

Closing the front door Daryl immediately heard a soft voice flowing through the home. He stepped towards the entrance of the room, seeing Julia playing the piano with her back facing him, the only light was from the candles, painting the room in a warm glow. He did not enter but instead leaned against the door frame and just watched and listened. It reminded him of those early mornings, when Julia did her chores and he would just take a moment to listen, just like he did now. He never knew she could play, it was nice. When he thought about it she had not sung sins the prison. It relieved him, he couldn't stand the thought of her being sad and she had been so quiet this morning. Daryl makes his presence known clearing his throat, Julia abrupts her song turning to him.

“The place is nailed up tight.” He said and began walking fully into the room, awkwardly. He hoped not she knew how long he had been standing there in the doorway. “The only way in is through the front door.” He told her and Julia nodded, following him with her gaze as he made his way to the empty casket and to her surprise decided to lie down in it, and she asked “What are you doing?”  

“This is the comfiest bed I’ve had in years.” He remarked with an arm curled beneath his head. Julia turned fully towards him, still sitting. “Really?” she questioned. “ I ain’t kidding.” He insists.

Julia lowered her gaze, becoming quiet again. Daryl stared at her, “Way don’t you go ahead and play some more? Keep singing.” Julia inhaled, lifting her gaze, “I don’t wanna annoy you.”

She rarely sang in front of others, It made her feel vulnerable in a way. She didn't like to feel judged or the feeling of people's eyes on her, it was naked in a way. But Daryl was different from others she had met.

Her response surprised him though he didn't show it as he instead urged, “There ain’t no jukebox, so…

Julia gave him a shy smile and began to sing playing the same song again. Her voice velvet smooth and angelic, transporting him to a world of peace above the clouds. And he wondered why someone with a voice like hers would hide such a gift. Daryl studied her as she closed her eyes. It was from her heart he could tell. Every word meant something. And when she sang…

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet

But I will never do you wrong

I've known it from the moment that we met

No doubt in my mind where you belong…

It felt as if the song was meant for him. But surely not? It was just a song after all. 

Her voice carried such warmth and sounded so sweet a sense of calm washed over him, tucking him in. Daryl almost felt guilty he didn't miss them as much being with her. And before he knew it, he had drifted away into a deep sleep he had not had for a long time.

Julia opened her eyes as she had finished the song. But to her surprise Daryl had fallen asleep. She had never seen his sleeping face before. His troubled frown had evened out, though the lines in his face were still visebull. And she wondered how old he was as she knew there had to be an age difference there. There was no denying she found him handsome with his ruffe complexion and the dark hair framing his face, but that didn’t mean she had romantic feelings towards him. She liked to think of him as a friend and that it was mutual, that she wasn't just some girl he felt an obligation to care for, simply because of the fall of the prison. 

Julia moved to a nearby sofa, it looked to be for decoration, but she laid down on it -lying on her side and shutte her eyes.

They rest for the night. 

…

Morning came, bright light seeping through the covered windows. 

Daryl sat up fully looking to where Julia had played the piano, the candles had burned aout, no longer offering its warm glow. He must have fallen asleep when she had played, the bed and her playing the piano had all been so soothing. Daryl scanned the rome still sitting in the casket and he grew worried when he did not see her, but then there she was -soundly sleeping on the sofa to his side. She laid curled into herself, facing his way with one arm hanging out and the other beneath the cheek. Even though he knew she was a heavy sleeper he jumped down carefully in case he would wake her. His gaze studied the scar on her wrist and the  bruse faintly visible now, remembering all she told him about being an emunine, the map to the facility she so badly wanted to go to. And he didn't know, he really didn't know. 

He decided he would let her sleep in a bit more, she needed the rest with her injury, he takes his crossbow and heads to the kitchen.

Her eyes fluttered open as a gentle hand slid along her arm. Julia looks up at the figure, rubbing her eyes past the sleep, she sat up fully, legs off the sofa. Daryl’s deep voice spoke to her. “It's morning.” 

Julia hummed in acknowledgement then tilted her head up to meet his gaze. He looked as if he'd been up for a while and she felt bad she always seemed to be the one that woke last. He then took her arm, tugging her up to stand, “com’on.” He urged. Julia blinked past the rest of the sleep but she clearly could tell there was this excitement in his voice and the way he seemed eager. 

“I wanna show you something.” And there it was and it immediately got her attention. “Show me what?” She asked. Daryl began to leave the room, Julia took the hint to follow as she heard him say, “You’ll see.” 

Julia walked with the best of her ability but due to her ankle injury was not fast enuff to catch up to his strides. Daryl looked past his shoulder, “Hurry up!” Julia kept on halting behind him, “Going as fast as I can!”  

Daryl suddenly turned, approaching her, “Forget that,” he said and before she knew it she was in his arms, carrying her like a bride. She squeals of the action. Her arms found its way around his neck, he kicked the door open and he carried her into the kitchen. A smile lit up her face as she was pleasantly surprised by a set up meal. Carefully he pleased her on the chair opposite of him. He breathed, “Here you go.” Then settled himself down,  “All right. Let's eat.” He said and they began to dig in.

Daryl flinched at the sound of his traps getting triggered outside. Julia looks worriedly at him and begins to stand but gets turned down as he orders “Stay.” And he hurries off taking his crossbow to check on the disturbance. Cracking the door open Daryl is surprised to see a one-eyed cat meowing on the front porch. “It’s just a damn cat!” He tried to pet it but the cat scurried away. 

The Moment Julia heard him say to the word cat she couldn't help but to hurry towards the hallway only to be met with Daryl closing the door. 

“It wouldn’t come in?” Julia asked. 

Daryl stepped closer standing an arm length apart and scolded, “I told you to stay back.” Julia smiled, "Yeah, butt, Daryl, you said it was a cat.”  Daryl took her by the shoulder, speaking softly “Maybe he’ll come back around. Come on.” And he beaconed her around back to the kitchen.

…

Julia liked the place, it was nice and it had brought them closer. She hoped the cat would visit them once more, but she also knew Daryl would probably make them leave soon. When the prison went down her diary was the only thing she had left and she thought it would be nice of them to leave something for the occupant of the house.

Julia looked to Daryl beside her, he was spooning some jelly in his mouth while she opened her diary on the kitchen table, candles were lit across the room creating that same cozy feeling when she had played the piano. 

“I’m gonna leave a thank-you note.” Julia told him. Daryl looked at her beginning to write and he asked, “Why?” 

Julia shifts her gaze, Daryl looks back then explains as she continues to write, “For when they come back. If they come back. Even if they’re not coming back, I still want to say thanks.”

Daryl thought for a moment….And then..

“Maybe you don’t have to leave that.” Julia looked at him, listening. “Maybe we stick around here for a while. They come back, we’ll just make it work. They may be nuts, but maybe it’ll be all right.” 

He gave her a little smile, Julia returned it with a grin and said, “So you do think there are still good people around.” Daryl shrugs his shoulders, suddenly finding the jelly very interesting. Her mouth continued to turn upward and she looked at him and said, “What changed your mind?” He shifted his gaze back and forth between her and the jar in his hand, swallowing hard as his defense began to crumble and could feel how his heart started to beat. 

“You know.” Daryl replied, eyes averting. A light blush creeps up his cheeks and he was grateful for the darkness and the candlelight hiding that burning feeling in his chest. Her smile widens, “What?” Julia giggeld. And without her knowing her smile stole all his words away. Daryl could only stare, a little taken back by his own thoughts; he had never felt like this before. His gaze dropped from her shyly then returned, answering in an incoherently grunt, shrugging his shoulders.

"Don't…" -Julia copied him and encouraged softly, “What changed your mind?” Her lovely brown eyes stared into his blue ones, round and sincere waiting for his answer. Julia had noticed his lack of words seemed to be a lack of skill finding the correct ones. 

Never before had Daryl wanted to say so much, but couldn't utter a single word; felt so much but stayed so silent. A million feelings warmed his heart that he could not express with words, because it was deeper than that. Like there was this disconnect between the feeling and his mouth and all he could do was stare. He studied her in the dim light, as if he could find his words in her eyes. But it seemed he never could as his eyes spoke without saying a single word.

YOU

And there was silence. A realization fleeting between them.

And when he gazed deeply into her eyes, she knew. It was her, something within her had somehow made him believe good people did still exist. Julia’s smile faltered, taken back a bit. She couldn't possibly fantum the idea that she had changed something within him, he who clearly had told her “I don’t believe the good ones survive.” 

Her gaze continued to search his, blinking a couple of times before breathing out a quiet, “Oh.”

The firelight ghosts across his face and he couldn't stop from continuing to stare. Her face was gentle and inviting despite being in shock, there was softness in her eyes -irises blown wide, twinkling into his, lips were parted and plump from the little oh that had past her lips, a pleasing shade of deep rose from what he could tell, subtle freckles painted her cheekbones, he haven't notest those before. And that lovely hair framing her face, with locks that glowed deep brown in the warm light. In conclusion -she was in his eyes... 

The snap back to reality when tripwiers outside goes off for the second time today. Neither of them flinched as they knew it to be the little friend from before. Daryl finishes his spoonful of jelly then says jokingly, “I’m gonna give that cat one more chance.” And goes to investigate.

Without checking, expecting the cat he opens the door. But unfortunately their moment must have slowed his reflexes and dulled his edge as he is met with a horde of walkers trying to get into the house. Immediately he tries to chute the dore, braising it with his back shouting her name. Julia hurried and threw his crossbow from a distance, retrieving it he ordered her to run ahead. The horde storms into the house, Daryl fiers one shot, but there are too many of them. He tells her to escape through one of the windows as he distracts them, she is hesitant for just a moment, she doesn't want to leave him she tells him as they slowly lose sight of one another. But she relents when he assured her that he will met her by the road.

The Walkers followed Daryl down the stairs into the embalming room. He shoots another walker then grabs a few sharp tools and uses one of the embalming tables like a barrier between him and the walkers corning him against the wall. He takes out one after the other, stabbing them. He dukes and crowles under their legs to hide behind the other table, stabbing some more before he pushes the table one last time creating enough space to escape up the stairs unscathed. He hurries around the house and runs across the graveyard, up the road he is shocked to discover the backpack lying on the ground. But he had come moments too late. Wheels squeaked, a black car with a white cross drove away. Immediately Daryl runs after realizing Julia had just been kidnapped. He tries to follow but on foot can't keep up, shouting her name again and again while his lungs burn like acrid smoke.

Daryl never stopped running that night, he just kept on going and going then going some more, until morning came when he reached an intersection. 

He fell to his knees, the pure exertion numbing his body. He felt  a terrible pain inside his chest, he felt sick, wanted to throw up, and could hardly process what just had happened. He could hardly read it as being real to him. It was like a blizzard setting into his joints, his brain, everything. 

Everything was gone and Daryl was alone.

Pt.4

[goodberrygay]

I downloaded Native Camera Tweaks a bit ago and am still playin around with it, forgot you could ultra zoom in on everyone and got a screenshot of the entire group (minus tav) I'll probs get a better screenshot later, with better lighting but for now this is what everyone looks like.

If I had money I'd def buy Otis_Inf camera mod but unfortunately I'm unable to do so. If anyone has camera mod suggestions let me know! Thinking about looking into reshaders too

Current Gear being used:

Gale- Battlemage’s Resolve (from Delfinition's Armor) [dyed with Purple Dye], Bracers of Defence, Mystra’s Grace boots

Lae’zel- Astral Plate Armor, Astral Plate Boots, Gloves of Uninhibited Kushigo

Shadowheart- Sharran Plate Armor (alt), Sharran Plate Gauntlets, Disintegrating Night Walkers

Karlach- Pugilist’s Leathers [Dyed with Faewild Green and Dun Dye], Astral Plate Gloves, Plated Leather Boots

Astarion- Wide Shoulder Drapes, Harper Armor, Harper Boots, Wondrous Gloves [all dyed Black and Gold from Basket Full of Equipment mod]

Wyll- Rich Cloak, Adventurer’s Gear (Low Cut, Bandit Belts), Adventurer’s Boots, Daredevil Gloves Most of the Gear seen is from a mod called Extra Gear

Bracers of Defence, Mystra's Grace, Gloves of Uninhibited Kushigo, Disintegrating Night Walkers, Wondrous Gloves and Daredevil Gloves are all Vanilla.

(edited to add the mods for the armor)

[zaynmirrors]

Warnings: show related violence.

JUST US

Chapter 4: when the night is over

Daryl stared at the roof of their tent, listening as she breathed quietly. Morning light was making its way into the canvas home. He turned his head, taking in her bruised and puffy features.

He rolled to his side and pulled her closer, pressing his nose into her hair. He didn’t want to face the horrors of what they’d walked into when returning to camp last night.

Daryl hadn’t slept, not much anyways, he was unable to ease his anxious mind. Worried more walkers would wonder their way into camp. However they hadn’t. Y/n stirred, a small moan escaping her lips as she awoke. “Daryl?” She mumbled, eyes opening.

“I’m right here” he mumbled into her hair, rubbing her side gently. She turned to face him. A small smile on her bruised face. “Hey sunshine” he said, returning the smile.

Y/n cupped his cheek, rubbing her still manicured thumb across it. She stared at his face, taking it in, memorizing every small detail. “What’re you doing?” He asked, resting the tip of his nose against hers.

She smiled, moving the tip of her nose against his. “Nothing”

He returned her smile, “nothing huh?”. Daryl moved his hands to her sides and began moving his fingers. A laugh erupted from her throat. He loved that sound. It was music to his ears. He stopped his assault and looked at her. “Alright, I gotta get up”

She watched him as he sat up, reaching over her to grab a shirt on the floor of the tent, slipping it over his head. He exited their tent, going to help with the massacre from the night before.

Y/n sat up, gently rubbing her face. She straightened up her clothes and joined the rest of the survivors, helping dispose of the fallen.

-

The remainder of the group had decided to move camp, so here y/n was packing up what little belongings they had left.

Daryl helped pack, saying nothing. Unsure of what to say. Y/n looked him over, eyes lingering longer on his rear. His jeans hugging his attribute tightly. God, he looked good.

She shook the thoughts from her head as she rolled up the sleeping bag. Now was certainly not the time nor the place. Though, she was dying from the lack of affection in that regard. It wasn’t like the two were sex starved teens but a month without it was definitely a new record.

The two packed in silence, packing away their temporary home and loading it into the bed of that banged up red truck.

Daryl chewed on the inside of his lip as he watched y/n lean against the tailgate. The sun glistening against his gold wedding band around her neck. He reached out, gently taking the ring between his fingers.

Neither spoke, not needing to as she took off the necklace. Letting Daryl take his ring and put it on his finger. Y/n smiled and leaned up, pecking his sweaty cheek. This earned a smile from Daryl as he discarded the chain into his pocket.

Shane and Rick spoke, giving everyone a walkie. They were headed to fort benning. Some survivors supposedly had it good there. The group loaded up in their vehicles and began their journey.

The caravan had come to a halt when the group had happened upon a graveyard of abandoned cars. Y/n hopped out of the truck and joined the rest for a debriefing. There wasn’t much of way to continue forward, and the rv was in no condition to travel. They were sitting ducks at this point.

“Thirsty, ms y/n?” Shane asked, holding a five gallon bottle of water. She went to open her mouth, a grunt sounded from behind her.

She offered Shane a small smile, “we’re alright, thank you.” Shane looked behind her, she didn’t need to look to know her husband stood only a few inches away. Arms more than likely crossed over his chest.

“I don’t like him” Daryl huffed as Shane walked away, “something about him” y/n nodded in agreement. Something about the former officer, made y/n skin crawl. She shuddered at the thought, then turned to join the rest of the women scavenging the abandoned cars.

Chapter 5

Taglist:

@nameless-ken , @bymailin , @writer-ann-artist , @minnie-min , @angelbunny222 , @hc-geralt-23

[ll7esxs]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Ashes of Yesterday

18-19 hesh walker X fem!reader! [my idea]

summary: A once cozy and intimate evening with Hesh, filled with quiet affection and whispered promises, soon transformed into something darker, a love shadowed by impending ruin. The looming presence of ODIN disrupted everything, turning your shared moment into a fleeting memory of what could have been. In the aftermath, uncertainty reigns—was Hesh still alive, still breathing, or had the chaos swallowed him whole, leaving behind only echoes of a love now distant and unresolved?

notes: SFW, then slight NSFW

2017 JULY 10TH

The golden sun hung low in the sky, bleeding its last light across the horizon where the sea and sky met in a seamless embrace. Waves rolled in gently, their white foamy edges kissing the shore before retreating, leaving behind darkened patches of damp sand that clumped together before crumbling away. The scent of salt and the distant call of seagulls filled the air, mingling with the soft whispers of the evening breeze. You stood there, feet sinking ever so slightly into the cool, wet earth, your eyes fixed on the endless stretch of water that shimmered under the sun’s dying glow.

You were waiting.

The thought was almost enough to make your heart race, though you steadied it with a slow breath. Of course, it was him—you were waiting for your boyfriend. Hesh. Or David. You had always preferred that name, something about the way it rolled off your tongue, the way it carried a sense of quiet strength. You whispered it under your breath, testing how it sounded against the hush of the waves.

The sun’s reflection danced on the water, stretching out like golden veins against a shield of deepening blue. It was mesmerizing—the way the light clashed and intertwined with the restless sea, fighting to hold on just a little longer before the inevitable descent into night. Just like time, just like memories. Just like the feeling building up inside you as you stood there, waiting for him.

It was already 11 a.m.

A sigh slipped past your lips as you glanced at your phone, your patience wearing thin. You hated how he sometimes showed up late on dates, how time seemed to be nothing more than a suggestion to him. But then again… whatever that handsome face was doing, you could never stay mad for long.

Because David—yes, David—wasn't like the others. He wasn’t like the teenage boys who stumbled through their words or the young men who tried too hard to impress. He carried himself differently, with a quiet confidence that made your heart race. His strong, well-built frame, the kind that spoke of strength without arrogance. That voice—deep, rich, dripping with a natural charm that sent a thrill down your spine every time he spoke. Oh, and those lips. God, you could kiss him forever, drown in the warmth of his embrace, lose yourself in the way he made you feel…

A sudden sound shattered your thoughts.

The sharp crunch of footsteps against the sand. Steady, deliberate, familiar.

You turned instinctively, already knowing. The weight of his presence, the way he walked, the way even the smallest sounds seemed to carry meaning when he was near—you could recognize him anywhere.

And there he was.

David.

“David, you fuck—” The words shot out before you could stop them, frustration bubbling up as you turned to face him, ready to argue about his horrible sense of time.

But before you could go on, his arm was already around your waist, pulling you in with that effortless strength of his. And just like that, the fire in your chest wavered. He was smiling, that lazy, charming smile that had a way of making you forget why you were mad in the first place. His eyes drank you in like a man starved, like he had been counting the seconds until he could see you again.

“Miss me?” His voice was a low murmur, teasing, smooth as ever.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. A part of you wanted to melt into him, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“I would keep missing you by not going out with you anymore. Is that what you want?” You arched a brow, your tone sharp, but he only sighed, his smile never faltering.

Shaking his head at your words, he met your gaze, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your waist. “Babe, you know how busy I get.” yup with daddy training.

There it was. The excuse. One you had heard before, one you understood but still hated.

The city hums softly around you as the cool air whispers past. But none of it touches you—not the chill, not the restless rhythm of the world—because his arms are wrapped securely around you, holding you close as you walk together. His dark grey jacket is thick and slick, carrying the scent of crisp air and something undeniably him. The fabric brushes against your cheek as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

His dark green pants rustle slightly with each step, a quiet rhythm against the pavement. The sound blends with his voice—low, rich, and endlessly smooth, like raindrops sliding down glass. It drips into your ears, every word soaked in something warm, something familiar. "How was your day?" he asks, his voice melting into the cool morning.

You sigh, your own voice slipping easily into the space he’s made for you. "It was fine," you murmur, though the way you relax against him says more than words ever could.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your skin. "Just fine?" There's something playful in his tone, something that makes the corner of your lips tug upward despite yourself.

The world feels distant, blurred behind the warmth of him, behind the quiet intimacy of a simple walk. And in this moment, wrapped in the sound of his voice and the steady warmth of his embrace, the rest of the night ceases to matter.

"I literally just started the day with you, david."

-----------------------------------------

small roadside diner, the kind that seems frozen in time. Neon lights buzz overhead, casting a soft pink and blue glow onto the pavement, their reflection shimmering in puddles left by a recent drizzle. Through the wide windows, the warm glow of the interior spills out, painting the time with something that feels familiar, something that feels like home.

Inside, the scent of sizzling burgers and fresh coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the distant hum of an old-school jukebox that crackles with a song from decades past. Red leather booths line the walls, their surfaces softened by years of late-night conversations and quiet moments shared over plates of fries and milkshakes. The clink of plates, the low murmur of conversations—it all feels like background noise to the only thing that really matters: him.

Before you even have a chance to glance at the menu, he orders—your usual. Not in a way that makes you feel small, but in a way that makes you feel known. Like he’s memorized the details of you without even trying, like he’s paid attention in all the little moments when no one else did.

"You always take forever to decide anyway,and end up with the same thing" he says with a smirk, his voice dripping with that effortless warmth, that teasing edge that makes you roll your eyes but smile anyway.

He doesn’t sit across from you. No, he slides into the booth right beside you, close enough that the heat of his body seeps through his jacket, through your sweater, through the space that barely exists between you. His thigh presses against yours under the table, solid, grounding. One arm stretches along the back of the booth, not quite touching you, but close enough that you feel the weight of him there. A quiet claim.

You reach over without hesitation, plucking a few golden fries from his plate and popping them into your mouth. The salty warmth melts on your tongue as you give him a defiant look, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Oh, really? Then gimme your fries."

He doesn’t protest—just watches you with that unreadable expression, shaking his head as he raises his hands in surrender. "I mean..." he drawls, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "they were there before we got here."

Your chewing slows. The flavor in your mouth suddenly seems questionable. You blink at him, processing his words, and his eyes flicker with amusement as he leans back against the booth, watching your reaction unfold.

"Bon appétit, babe," he adds smoothly, voice thick with mock innocence.

Your stomach drops. Your eyes widen. Wait... what?!

He doesn’t break character, just sits there, arms stretched along the back of the booth, looking effortlessly smug as you freeze mid-chew. The betrayal. The horror. Are these—were these—leftover fries?!

You stare at him, your entire existence now hinging on whether he’s serious or just messing with you. And that’s when you see it—the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips, the glimmer of laughter barely contained behind his cool expression.

You grab a napkin, ready to spit them out if necessary. "You’re kidding, right?"

He finally breaks, a low chuckle escaping as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Relax, princess. They’re fresh, took some before ya."

You shove his arm, groaning as he laughs, the sound deep and unbothered. You should’ve known better. He always does this—always keeps you on your toes, always finds a way to turn the moment into something his.

-----------------------------------

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes your lips as you glance at David, eyebrows raised. "Oh my god, David. You must be tipsy or something. Why would you wanna order a milkshake with two straws? That’s just too cheesy!" You almost can’t believe your own words—yet here you are, staring at him as he casually sits back in his booth, the grin never leaving his face.

David chuckles softly, adjusting his position like he's already won. He stretches his arms out lazily, his casual demeanor only making him seem more dangerous in his charm. His eyes glint with mischief as he leans forward, elbows on the table.

"Come on, babe. It’s romantic," he says, voice dripping with that playful confidence that makes you both roll your eyes and want to punch him at the same time.

You stare at him, your lips parted in disbelief. Romantic? You feel your face scrunch in a mix of amusement and disbelief. The sheer cheesiness of it hits you all at once—yet, there’s a spark of something else, something you can’t quite place. "Oh, wow..." You shrug dramatically, trying to feign disinterest, but the way your lips curl upward betrays you.

David leans back, watching you with the same unshakable grin, as if he knows you’re secretly enjoying his ridiculousness. He knows he’s won, and the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s savoring the moment.

The waitress arrives a moment later, balancing the absurdity on her tray—a milkshake in a glass, topped with whipped cream and a cherry, two straws sticking out from either side. You look at it, then back at David, who meets your gaze with exaggerated sweetness.

"See? It’s just like the movies," he says, his voice a little too syrupy for comfort.

You roll your eyes, but deep down, you can’t help the warmth that spreads across your chest. Maybe it is cheesy, but it’s him. And you can’t deny that, despite yourself, there’s something a little romantic about this absurd moment.

"Fine," you sigh, grabbing one of the straws, and you watch his face light up as he grabs the other. He’s always so effortlessly him, and no matter how cheesy he gets, you kind of love it.

The laughter never stops, rippling through the both of you as you try to sip from the milkshake at the same time. It’s absurd, ridiculous, but you can’t seem to stop, even as you both end up laughing harder with every awkward slurp. David’s totally watching you out of the corner of his eye, trying to act all cool and nonchalant, but you can see the mischief dancing in his gaze. His lips curl with a grin every time you pull the straw from your mouth at the same time, as if he's savoring every goofy second of it.

You can feel him in your peripheral vision, that silent, confident he knew this would be fun vibe radiating off him, like he’s having the time of his life with this stupidly romantic moment. But the second his eyes meet yours, that playful glint falters. For a second, he hesitates, and you catch it—a flicker of something else. It’s almost as if the whole scene becomes suddenly too intimate for him, too real.

He pulls away with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as if this whole thing was a little too much even for him. "This is so stupid," he mutters, but you can tell he’s loving every second of it—loving you.

You, on the other hand, are struggling to keep it together, your face turning pink as you hold the milkshake up to your lips, trying desperately to control your laughter. "David, stop! I’m gonna choke on it!" you manage to say between fits of giggles, though the words sound barely coherent because of the laughter bubbling up inside you.

He’s not making it any better. Each time you say something, he lets out another chuckle, the sound rich and warm, just enough to make you nearly lose it all over again. The look in his eyes softens as he watches you try to compose yourself, that lovestruck gaze creeping up on him despite his attempt to stay cool.

And there it is—that soft, unmistakable look on his face when he pulls back from the milkshake. It’s almost too much—he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in this little corner of the world, and all that teasing, all that laughter fades away into something much deeper. Something warm. Something real.

God, you love him, you think, and in that split second, you can see he feels the same way, too.

You pull away from the milkshake, nearly spilling it, as your laughter bubbles over. "Stop it!!" you gasp between giggles, swatting at him playfully. The sound of his deep, wholesome laughter fills the diner, the kind that makes everything around you seem a little brighter, a little warmer. The moment stretches between the two of you like a beautiful, shared secret, and he turns his head away to stifle another chuckle, but you can still hear it—soft, full of love, the kind of laughter that makes your heart skip a beat. He just loves the way your eyes shine when you’re happy, loves seeing you this carefree.

Finally, the milkshake sits forgotten between you as you both catch your breath, the laughter dying down to a soft hum that lingers in the air, like a melody that won’t fade. You both smile at each other, the playful tension slowly melting away into something quieter, something more intimate.

And then it’s back to the streets again, your hands casually brushing against each other as you walk side by side. The time feels like it’s made just for you two—your feet moving in sync, It’s almost magical, the way everything feels so effortlessly right.

You both stop at a nearby ice cream cart, and he orders two cones—one chocolate, one vanilla. You lick at yours, slowly, savoring each bite. But before you can finish, he’s already done with his. Of course. Typical. He looks down at you with that mischievous smile of his, his eyes bright under the streetlights.

"You gonna finish that?" he asks, a playful edge to his voice, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But before you can even answer, you’re standing between his legs, your back resting against his chest as you keep eating, your ice cream melting slowly in the warmth of the light.

His arms slip around you, settling comfortably at your waist, pulling you closer. He leans against the brick wall, his chest solid and steady behind you, and for a moment, just feeling. The world feels distant, muted, like it’s all happening in slow motion around you.

You tilt your head back just slightly, meeting his gaze with that same teasing smile, and in that moment, everything is perfect. He holds you, not tightly, but enough to remind you that he’s there, that he’s yours, and this simple, silly time is the kind of memory that will last forever.

You finish your ice cream, the sweetness lingering on your lips, but it’s the warmth of his arms around you that makes your heart feel full—like you’ve found exactly where you’re meant to be.

---------------------------------

The date lingers like the final notes of a favorite song, the world around you quieting as the air grows colder, the warmth between the two of you still burning strong. You feel the weight of the moment, the way everything—every laugh, every glance, every touch—has led to this. But deep down, you both know it’s time to wrap up. And even though neither of you wants to face it, the inevitable is here.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen, his expression shifting just slightly. You know what’s coming before it even happens. "Hate saying goodbye," he mutters, his voice tinged with reluctant fondness as his thumb hovers over the call button. His eyes meet yours, the unspoken words hanging between you two. You both know the date is winding down, but neither of you is quite ready to let go.

his phone buzzed with a call from Elias, his campfire plans waiting. Of course, you think, feeling a twinge of disappointment in your chest. He takes the call, his voice low but laced with that same playful edge he always has.

"I should probably head back… but I don’t want to," he says, his words drifting into the cool air between you two, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else. The sincerity in his voice is enough to make your heart ache, a quiet longing tugging at you.

You turn toward him, giving him a little pout, and holding his arm like you don’t want to let go. "Seriously, just a few more minutes!" You’re pleading now, though you know it won’t make much difference. You’re asking for the impossible, but you can’t help it. You want more of this moment, more of him.

He chuckles softly, looking down at you with that same mixture of affection and reluctant amusement. "I don’t wanna go, ya know?" he admits, his voice softer now, like he’s wishing he could stretch the moment out forever too. "But the old man’s gonna lose it if I don’t show up for the campfire."

You can hear the quiet laughter in his voice, but there’s a flicker of something else—something real, something that tells you he feels it too. That feeling of not wanting to leave, not wanting this night, this connection to slip away. You both know the clock is ticking, and no matter how much you wish for more time, it’s slipping through your fingers.

As he reach up to your place, the step slows to a stop, the time now settled around you both like a soft blanket, almost too perfect to end. He glances over at you, his lips curling up into that familiar, lazy smile of his.

"Best damn date I’ve ever had." He says it like it's a simple fact, like there's no debate, and for a moment, you're not sure whether he’s talking about the milkshakes or the laughter, or maybe just you. It doesn’t matter. You feel the warmth of the moment settle between you, just as real and as easy as breathing.

You reach for the door handle, but before you can even make a move, he leans in, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. The sudden proximity, the softness of his touch, makes your heart skip. You freeze, your breath catching as he leans in, his lips brushing yours, slow and lingering—like he's savoring the moment, like he's trying to make sure it doesn’t slip away. You could stay like this forever, the world outside fading, everything narrowing down to just this—a kiss between two people who don’t want the night to end.

As his lips met yours, you could feel the intensity behind the kiss—a rush of warmth that made everything around you fade into the background. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, a quiet expression of concentration flickering across his face as if he was trying to savor every second, trying to make the moment last as long as possible. But there was something more behind it, something raw. It was clear: he didn’t just want this kiss, he wanted more. The way his body leaned into you, his lips pressed against yours with an almost desperate slowness, told you everything you needed to know.

Your breath hitched as his lips moved with a deep, unhurried tenderness, and you could feel the intensity building between you both. But before you even had a chance to process it, he pulled away just enough to look at you, eyes dark with something that felt like both hesitation and longing. And without another word, he leaned in again, this time kissing you more deeply, more urgently. His lips met yours with a heat that sent a rush of fire through your veins, and you found yourself pulling him closer, instinctively, your hands reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck, drawing him in.

His arm slid around your waist, lifting you just slightly off the ground, pulling you even closer. The movement was effortless for him, like he knew exactly how to hold you, how to make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. The kiss deepened, both of you lost in it, in the warmth and the pressure that seemed to build with every passing second.

And then, in the midst of it all, you both heard it. A loud whistle that traveled from one of the nearby houses—a neighbor who must’ve been watching. The sound of it, light and amused, almost seemed to break the bubble of heat surrounding you both, but it only made you both smile against each others lips, knowing you didn’t care who was watching, because this moment—this heated, tangled mess of emotions—was yours and his alone.

He pulled away just enough to glance at you, his breath ragged, both of you caught in the aftershock of what you’d just shared. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the neighbor’s teasing, not the time, not even the fact that the night had to end. You were right here, with him, wrapped up in something that felt both too big to fully understand and too perfect to let go of.

When he pulls away, it's with just enough space for him to look into your eyes, his voice a whisper, soft and teasing, just enough to make you smile. "Don’t get yourself too emotional to miss me, sweetheart," he says, the words wrapped in that familiar playful edge, a wink accompanying them.

You laugh softly, shaking your head, the lingering warmth of his kiss still dancing on your lips. "You’re such a tease," you reply, a smile tugging at your own lips.

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement, the teasing smile never leaving. There’s a moment of silence between you, but it’s comfortable, easy, like you both know this isn’t quite over—not yet.

With one last wink, he pulls back just a little, his fingers brushing over yours before he finally lets go. You watch him, standing there just a moment longer, like he’s reluctant to leave but knows he has to. And even as he walks off, part of you knows this goodbye is just a brief pause, a chapter that’s far from finished.

------------------------------------

me writing this fic to heal myself because i am like this rn with the problems are happening to me