#s’not a threat s’a promise.

[dabisbratz]

sending love to everyone hurt by gege's cruelty <33

mgonna show gege some real cruelty f’he keeps playin in mface like this .

[dixons-sunshine]

hi!! i absolutely adore your writing, could i request daryl and gn!reader celebrating the reader’s birthday (fluff please)? it’s my birthday and i’m a very guilty lover of self-indulgent fics 💗

Happy Birthday, Bug | Daryl Dixon x Reader

A/N: Happy birthday, my love! I’m sorry this is so rushed and not my best work, and probably not what you had in mind, but I hope you like this! (Also, I feel like Daryl is a bit ooc in this, but I’m rolling with it lol.)

“Daryl, where are you taking me? We’ve been walking forever,” Your voice rung out through the air. To say you were confused about the archer’s behaviour would be an understatement. Having been together since the fall of the farm, you had slowly but surely started chipping away at his walls, worming your way into his heart and soul. Due to that, you could read the huntsman quite well.

However, at that particular moment, as you followed Daryl deeper into a part of the prison that you had yet to explore since it had been cleared out, you realized that there were still moments where you just couldn’t decipher what was going on in his complex mind.

“Jus’ follow me, Bug,” Daryl chuckled, his crossbow lifted in front of him in case the two of you encountered any threats that could potentially be lurking in the shadows. “Promise we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said ten minutes ago,” you mumbled, grimacing at the pain that shot through your elbow when you accidentally hit it against the side of the wall when you and Daryl took yet another turn.

Daryl heard the slight hiss that left your mouth, and he shot you a concerned look over your shoulder. “Y’alright?”

“I’m fine,” you reassured him with a small nod. “I’d feel even better if I knew where we were going and why I was dragged out of our cell at...” You checked your watch, one of the few items that somehow still worked after all that time. “Eight in the morning, when I was asleep after getting back from my watch shift.”

Daryl simply turned his head, not trusting his face to remain neutral, and he was correct in his mistrust; a small smile spread across his face. You didn’t even realize what made this particular day so special. That just added to the element of surprise. “S’a surprise,” he mused, taking another turn down a corridor. The surprise was set up quite a bit away from the main part of the prison, due to the fact that Daryl didn’t want anyone, especially not the newest additions to the group—the Woodbury residents—interrupting what he hoped would be a good moment.

“Wha—” Your response to his words were cut off when the archer came to an abrupt stop. You collided against his back, nearly falling flat on your behind. You would have, had it not been for the fact that Daryl turned around caught you just in time. You sent him a grateful smile, although a tinge of playfulness was laced in it. “Is my surprise being in the arms of the man I love? Because if it is, I can tell you that you didn’t have to go through all of this. I gladly would’ve let you hold me if you just asked.”

Daryl rolled his eyes affectionately and stepped away, before walking to stand behind your back. “Nah, s’not yer surprise.” He covered your eyes with his hands, ignoring your sounds of protests as he slowly and carefully led you a few steps further, guiding you down a final turn, right to your surprise. “This is.”

His hands fell away from your eyes, and you gasped at the sight in front of you; rose petals littered the ground, leading up to a table that held two bowls of what you assumed to be some sort of stew, a bottle of whiskey resting in the middle, and the scene was illuminated by a few candles surrounding the table.

“Happy Birthday, Bug,” Daryl whispered in your ear from behind, his hands rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

A surprised laugh escaped your chest, and you shook your head at yourself for forgetting what day it was. However, in your defense, with everything going on, it was a bit hard to keep track of the days, so you were pleasantly surprised to know that Daryl had done so. You turned to him in surprise. “How’d you know it was my birthday?” you questioned, still amazed by the effort your partner had put into his surprise for you, one you greatly appreciated.

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. “Beth’s been keepin’ track’a the days in that diary of hers. Asked her to tell me when yer birthday was comin’ up, so that I could do somethin’ special for you.” Unbidden, a look of insecurity flashed through his eyes. Did you hate the surprise? “M’sorry this ain’t exactly like those movies. I asked Carol to help me set this up, and we did the best we could with the things we could find. I wanted this to be at night, like the movies, but I have to keep watch tonight, so I figured—”

You cut Daryl’s rambling off by pressing a soft, tender kiss on his lips. When you pulled back, you gave him a big smile. “It’s perfect,” you reassured him softly, your hands gently cupping his cheeks. “It’s absolutely perfect. Thank you.”

Daryl smiled bashfully. “Ain’t nothin’.” Suddenly remembering something, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out, and you gasped at the object in his hands—it was a bracelet with little bees and fireflies as the charms, and the sentiment, the callback to the nickname he so affectionately called you, made you tear up. “I, uh... I got this for ya.”

You pulled Daryl in for a hug, one that took the archer off guard, but he reciprocated nonetheless. “Thank you,” you whispered, nuzzling your face into his chest.

Daryl rested his chin on top of your head, his heart swelling with love for you. “‘Course,” he mumbled, placing a kiss on top of your head. “I love ya, Bug.”

“And I love you, Daryl. I love you so much.”

[trustmeimawitch]

Backstory Drabble (Dylan) Part Six of Seven

Part One (1564-1589) | Part Two (1589-1720) | Part Three (1720-1816) | Part Four (unknown [1816-2013]) | Part Five (2013) | Part Six (2014) | Part Seven (2014-2015)

A/N: various triggers are contained within this drabble, so read at your own discretion. 

Thank you.

2014 – May

He settled in easily to his new life. And it was a good life. Very good. He traveled a lot—mostly to new worlds. Everything was fascinating, an adventure, a discovery. The shop and the flat above it became home—or at least the closest to a home he could ever remember having.

It came with a cat, or the cat came with the apartment. In either case, the white, fluffy feline began to show up shortly after he began to make the place his own. She came in one day through the window off the fire escape and never left. He named her Spooky, for her white fur and the silent way she moved around the flat, like a ghost.

Spooky was a constant in his life, always there when he came back home from one of his dimensional travels. A comfort.

He pet the top of her head as he flipped through channels on TV, winding down from the day—from the last place he visited. A world where technology ran everything and robots outnumbered people. Television seemed so simple by comparison. Give it another century or so, he thought, amused.

And as he settled on a program, he felt it. The familiar tightening in his gut of someone summoning, but more than that—he sensed him.

His eyes widened. His breath caught. He swore his heart stopped.

His master.

He could sense him. He was close. He was seeking him out. After all this time, he was finally coming to reclaim him, to wrench away his hard-won freedom, to destroy all that he’d built in the last year.

Panic set in. He needed to run. He had to make himself scarce.

Spooky Cat uttered a surprised meow when he moved her aside. He stood, he paced, he racked his brain. In the end, it was instinct that won out.

He grabbed a shadow, opened it, and stepped in. The television continued to play as the bewildered cat stared at the spot where her owner had just been and meowed once more.

2014 – July

Edaros was probably, by far, one of the best dimensions he experienced. Demons were the dominant species and how could he not like that? It was easy to assimilate himself into the culture, to make friends, and even find a lover.

Time passed faster there than on Earth. He learned that the hard way after a month spent in Edaros equaled barely half a day at home. That wasn’t enough time. He could still sense his master, and if he could sense him, then his master could sense him as well.

Here, in this other world, he found sanctuary. His master couldn’t find him here. It wasn’t so bad here. He could stay here indefinitely.

“You won’t stay here.” Sara rolled onto her side as she observed him. In many ways, she reminded him of Elizabeth—the dark hair and eyes and delicate frame, but beyond that she was as from the woman as could be.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you don’t belong here.” She said it so casually, with such confidence that he couldn’t really disbelieve her.

Her lips pulled into a tight smile as she leaned up and cupped his face. She peered into his eyes. “And you do not run. You will face him.”

“And die,” he murmured.

“Perhaps, but it will be on your terms and you will go with a fight. There’s honor in that.”

His responding chuckle was dry, humorless.

Her long, lacquered nails pinched the skin of his face sharply and he winced. “Stop being a coward,” she told him. “You’ll do what you have to do.”

He wished he could’ve blamed her persuasion on her natural demonic abilities to manipulate others, but he wasn’t a human or a lesser demon. No, what Sara did was make sense.

He knew what he had to do, and he’d do it too. Even if it meant he died.

2014 – August

“Do you know how long you’ve been gone? Where the fuck were you?”

He just shook his head and ignored Carla’s interrogation. “I’ve got to get ready. And you’ve got to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” She turned, eyes following him as he moved erratically around the flat. She’d shown up to the feed the cat, and Spooky was too intent on eating to take note that her real master was back. “You leave without a damn word. I’ve been taking care of the cat and now you’re taking off again?”

“No, no. M’not. You are. S’not safe.”

She huffed, and before she could protest again, he was in her face, invading her personal space. Her aura spiked with sudden fear and he knew she wouldn’t refuse.

“S’a demon thing, love. Best make yourself scarce. And take the cat too.”  He gave Spooky a small amount of affection before he handed the animal over.

He could still feel him. His master. He was close. Powerful. Bloody hell.

“Just go. Now.”

Carla gave him an incredulous look as she back out the door and left the flat. From the window, he watched, seeing her cross the street with the white cat looking over her shoulder. He let out a breath. He wasn’t ready. He would never be ready.

“You are a very difficult demon to find.”

Fuck.

He didn’t have much of choice. Ready or not.

Nervous laughter bubbled out of him. “Seems I’ve always been difficult, one way or the other.”

“I cannot argue with that.”

He finally turned to look at his master, at the same youthful but cruel face. His gaze swept over him. He took in the sword resting at his side—the same one he’d used to kill the other soultakers years ago, a weapon that could and would end their immortality for certain.

“M’sorry, I didn’t call. Didn’t write,” he began, words insincere, and flashed a grin that held more confidence than he felt.

His master’s stony expression didn’t change. “Where were you? I summoned you many times. The past two centuries—”

“—were hell. I know.” He kept his grin. “I was outta town. Outta this world, even.”

His master took that in, digesting the information. Dark eyes rolled. “You always did have delusions.”

“Maybe more of them now, but I digress.” Despite the tension, the danger of the situation, the fact his master could strike him down at any second, he edged forward.  “You’re here to kill me. Really kill me this time. No torture for me, old man, yeah?”

“A promise is a promise.”

“Threat, more like.”

“All the same.”  The sword turned. Light caught it, reflecting from it. Shiny.

The shadows had pooled into the corners, the darkness concentrated. He knew they were watching. They were quiet—no whispers from them. “I guess you should get it over with.” The bravado he presented was fake.

His master saw through it, and laughed.  And he didn’t hesitate. The sword swung lightning fast.

Right at him.