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The Anatomy of Melancholy, 90: Jangles' Big Day

Table of Contents Third Instar, Chapter 21. Go to previous. Go to next. CWs: Physical hostility, moderately graphic injury, prolonged lack of hygiene, indefinite argument, location entrapment, drug use and hangovers, mention of bloodletting, copious amounts of insects and insect gore, entomophagy and hematophagy mention. Here’s... Glenn Johnny...?

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Data integrity recovery... 50%... Please do not power off your system.

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December 25, 2287

Angel's servos buzz with delight as it sets the hot, fresh Meals-Ready-to-Eat in front of Mister Carey and Mister Sticks. The two men sit facing one another at opposite ends of the table. Mister Carey smiles in recognition, but does not pick up any utensils as he glances to his partner. Mister Sticks, his once-white button-up shirt dark and crusted with blood, glares at the unlidded cardboard box. His hair is glued to his forehead. Beleaguered ire hangs heavy on his brow.

"Is it to your liking, gentlemen?" Angel asks, its relished tone still delicate with anticipation. "Shall I fetch you anything? Ah, refreshments! Here you go. Fresh condensated water for you both. The humidity in this building is markedly lower than average. I don't believe I'm producing water at the rate typical of my model."

"You produce plenty," Mister Carey lauds. He pats at the table beside the can the Mister Handy has set down. "Thank you for preparing us a nice meal, Moy Angel."

"But of course! It's Christmas."

Mister Sticks mutters under his breath, but his partner and Angel still both hear him.

"Who even celebrates Christmas anymore."

"You've outdone yourself," Mister Carey continues. He eats a spoonful of Salisbury steak. "All to keep us in good spirits. To give us reason to spend even one moment together. To remind us both to keep up hope." He smiles over his glasses when Mister Sticks decides it's acceptable to begin eating, too. "Thank you for agreeing to come out of your hiding spot to spend time with us."

"I'm making no habits of this," Mister Sticks insists. He opens both their cans, then gesticulates with his multitool. "I can't remember the last time I had a potato, and I probably don't want to. Starchy wet cardboard. This stuff's got more texture than I remember a potato having, and I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"It's certainly better than tatoe," Mister Carey replies. "I think mashed tatoes would be unpleasantly gelatinous. Wouldn't go with chopped steak at all!"

Angel anticipates further input from one of them, but a silence hangs between them. Eventually, the Mister Handy intuits a series of puns were had.

"Oh! Mister Sticks," Angel scoffs. "You kidder. Potato, toe-mah-toe. You're most welcome. Really, it was no trouble. I can do so whenever you like! May it nourish your mind and body!"

Mister Sticks mutters under his breath again, but it's mostly gibberish. Angel's interpersonal algorithms indicate his tone has softened.

They eat their meal in silence, but Angel knows their comfort by their level breathing patterns and steady bite portions. Eventually, Angel clears the table and excuses itself with the bussing, and returns with its tendrils behind its back.

"I know we've no Christmas tree, but surely we could exchange gifts, at least?"

In the days leading up to today, Angel has noticed that neither gentleman gathered a gift for the other. It takes the responsibility of filling that deficit.

After all, it tells itself, who would want to wake on Christmas Day with no gifts awaiting them!

"What gifts?" Mister Sticks insists. His guarded tone suggests that Angel's query worries him.

Angel sets a medium-size wrapped gift in front of each of them. Mister Carey and Mister Sticks pick up the packages and regard the way they're addressed.

"To Mister Carey, from Mister Sticks," Mister Carey reads aloud. He sniffs and purses his lips with a smile. "Mister Sticks, you shouldn't have."

Mister Sticks is holding back chuckles, in his eagerness for the surprise.

"I can't begin to guess what this is, Mister Carey."

They both pull off the continuous stock paper with which Angel has wrapped the two gifts. It adapted from its giftwrapping algorithms several intricate, deluxe folding techniques which do not call for any tape, as it has none. The results are fancy and impressive, and were anyone to call attention to the extra tucks and creases, they would likely regard such giftwrapping as markedly artistic. Giddy with anticipation, Angel keeps an ocular lens trained on each of them. Mister Carey looks at the game box in his hands, alternating between composure and heaving, nasal laughter. Once Mister Sticks starts laughing at his own, too, they both succumb to hysterical guffaws.

Angel cannot contain its tee-hees, either.

"Just what I wanted," Mister Sticks says between heaves.

"How did, how did you know?" Mister Carey cackles. His laughter slides into a high pitched whine.

"Soon to be a classic," Angel decrees. "RobCo Entertainment's latest holotape game release, Captain Cosmos in Jangles' Big Day! The both of you have been so hard at work. You should find respite and recreation where you can."

"Thank you, Mister Carey," Mister Sticks wheezes. He wipes the corner of his eye with the butt of his palm.

"Thank you, Mister Sticks," Mister Carey whines. Soundless cackling overtakes him, and he must lay his upper half on the table. His hands are buried in his arms for a bit, and muffle his speech once words find him again. "Even when you're not operating at your fullest, you're a treasure, Moy Angel."

"A testament to General Atomics craftsmanship," Mister Sticks agrees.

Angel freezes with pride. If they know it's responsible for these gifts, they're not showing it. It can't have done better by the two of them.

"Oh, gentlemen, seeing the two of you in such high spirits is the best gift you could give me. Thank you!"

"Merry Christmas, chap."

"Merry Christmas," Mister Carey seconds. He straightens back up and picks up the box again. "You know, maybe we should play it. Probably a different experience on a terminal than on a Pip-Boy, but Angel's right. We should have a nice low-stress evening."

"I know it's the meal talking, but you're not wrong." Mister Sticks pushes off to stand, and carries one of the game boxes. "Come with me. Step into my office."

Mister Carey follows him in kind. Angel remains nearby in the event they need its services. At the very least, it can stave off any errant blattidae which threaten to disenchant this rare moment.

"I thought you hated technology," Mister Carey says. "Finally decided to give it a shot, or is that also the meal talking?"

"This place has given me way too much time for a change of perspective, that's for sure."

"I've only seen you three times since, well." Mister Carey sighs. "We don't really get the chance to talk much anymore, is what I'm trying to say. What have you been occupying yourself with?"

Angel notes tension in its owner's voice and its partner's sustained silence. Its interpersonal algorithms refine its focus in anticipation of an argument. When he finally does answer its owner, Mister Sticks's humble chuckling reassures it enough that it excuses itself to its dusting rounds on this floor:

"All busywork. It's nothing. What's way more important is what you've been up to. While we play, you can tell me how things are going with Maria."

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November 30, 2287

Sticks drags open the desk drawer in his office and rifles through the pile of holotapes. He's only found four games on this floor, and he's tired of all of them.

Prior to getting trapped in here, he had never given video games a single thought. If he weren't trapped in here, he'd probably enjoy them a lot more. They're definitely not the stupidest thing a terminal can do, though the instructions could be way more straightforward. But what else is there to do? Just games and pest control. It's spooky how clean and orderly this whole place is. The elevator and stairwell have security doors without plugs or terminals. He's tried to find other ways out. Since the nor'easter, several nights of snow have replaced any snow that may have melted. It's maddening, to have a clear view out the windows on the front face of the building, right there. He can throw a chair and walk out right across that expanse of white bullshit, back to sanity, and back to civilization. 'Choly keeps telling him that breaking windows will sound the alarms, but has yet to explain what he thinks will happen if they breach the lockdown. They can't prove there are any robots or turrets here, for one, and if there were guard dogs before, all that's left are RadRoaches.

It pisses him off more that the roaches can inexplicably get in, than it does that he and 'Choly inexplicably can't get out. Where the hell were they coming from!

He surveys the holotapes in his possession. Red Menace has occupied him the most for the past month. The propaganda to it is so absurd. The Red flag is alive. Power Armor is a bonafide power-up. There's no question that RobCo and the army were in cahoots, with products like this. He likes the irony of it, but what he likes more is the sense of satisfaction saving the girl, even though she's just dots on the screen. He's not feeling it today, though. He picks up Rubble Rouser[2287.11.30-1], and tosses it right back down, too. He'd give Wastelad another try, but if he wanted to read, he'd rather have a book. Or solitaire. He groans. What sensible office doesn't have a single pack of playing cards? Hell, he'd settle for Caravan at this point. [2287.11.30-2]

RobCo Entertainment is a phrase he keeps seeing when he scavs the offices they can access. It had better not have anything to do with RobCo Towers. Things don't feel like a coincidence when they might involve the General in some way.

He decides on Automatron, slings his bugged out Pip-Boy and bugged out hand in the drawer, and slides the desk shut. He inserts the game into the terminal tape deck and clicks it shut. He pecks out a command line to start it. While it loads, he slides the joystick nearer with wrist and hand at the ready.

He easily zones out mowing down robots with a spray of fire. If only Lowell had been this easy. Automatron makes him miss his flamer, though… and the Riverhawk.

Admit it, you're scared.

Being told that to his face still chews at him after all this time. He's not scared. At least, not duly so! Shouldn't it upset just about anybody to have an entire day erased from his brain? All of Ant didn't get blackout drunk, and he knows it. Something happened that day, and until he knows what, he doesn't want a damn thing to do with that place.

It wasn't part of the plan, anyway, to end up there. Not in passing, and for damn sure not long term. They were supposed to already be in Goodneighbor by now.

A RadRoach walks along the wall behind the terminal. He sighs, gaze trained on the screen, and slides the chair out slowly handsfree, still clicking away at the game. Once he clears the current level, he stands and scans for the foot-long insect. The terminal continues chirping and beeping at him to remind him the next level will load. The roach lunges out from under the desk. It goes right for his ankles. He flinches, and flinches again seething before he can react to a third nip. His heel swings down on its back with a satisfying crunch.

He collects his machete from beside the couch, and crouches over the bug. A few zealous chops square away inedible parts. He cracks the shell apart with the butt and spine of the knife, and frees the meat with the knife's edge. He ran out of things to burn a week ago. Grilled RadRoach is almost like chicken. Raw RadRoach is even more like raw chicken. A resigned ennui drives him to stand again. He scoops the cuttings on top of all the others collected in the wastebasket he hasn't let Angel empty for days. Then he slops the fist-sized slab of meat on the desk beside the joystick on his plate, and slices it into a few unseasoned inch-thick pieces. He wipes the knife with his crusty apron tail and sets it on the other side of the desk. He wipes his hands on his apron, too, and sits to resume his game. Between levels, he eats a slice or two of insect from his plate. Under the chair, he rubs the top of one foot against the nicks to his ankle.

I'll wash it next time I get up, he tells himself.

He knows full well he probably won't.

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February 10, 2288

"Forgive the intrusion, Mister Sticks." Angel floats into the office where its owner's partner has been spending much of his waking hours. Its tendril pincers coil at a caution near its body. "Did you have something special planned for Mister Carey?"

Mister Sticks huffs in exasperation. Several gnashed guttural grunts punctuate an increase in the rate of his keystrokes. Angel's interpersonal algorithms indicate he is trying not to curse.

His task must be difficult, whatever it is, it thinks.

It can't quite make out on the screen what exactly it is Mister Sticks is doing, but lyrical digitized sound effects accompany his efforts. An intense but frustrated enthusiasm compels him.

"It's just that it's Valentine's Day in a few days," it continues. "I wanted to be certain to remind you."

"Isn't giving him my blood every three weeks enough?" he eventually replies.

He does not look up from his task.

Angel's ocular lenses focus, then dilate.

"Blood donations? I hate to say, Sir, but that doesn't seem so romantic. Shouldn't we plan to get him some flowers? Take him out for dinner?"

The terminal's sound effects resemble a digitized smash. Mister Sticks growls under his breath.

"I get that he's still working on you, but have you really got to do this? Right now? I'm busy!"

"Right, right. I know you're hard at work. My apologies. I'll let you get back to it."

Angel excuses itself, but remains in the hallway, as he begins to mumble to himself.

"What would he even find romantic?" he murmurs at a hush. His task seems quieter to match, but he's no less diligent. "Tch! He'd better not try to surprise me. I'll show him."

His gravelly, scheming chuckles delight the Mister Handy, and it speeds off to do a celebratory once-over dusting the floor of the building.

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October 28th, 2287

'Choly's stash of Mentats won't mitigate the absence of coffee in his diet, but it isn't like he has much choice. Swatting out the cobwebs from his belfry is his only way of restoring Angel. The MREs kindle his morale, at least. Whether they're placebo doesn't concern him: it only matters that they work.

Guard your nametag better than you guard your wallet or keys: Here, it's both!

He's laid hands on a Lockreed onboarding manual, and cards through it in hopes of learning programming and restoration. It's one thing, to use a Pip-Boy. It's another entirely, to fix one, and he'll have to in order to wing Angel's necessary repairs. There's got to be a robot workbench somewhere in the building, but they will require a Pip-Boy to operate, and he refuses to interface with the Mister Handy again until he has total certainty in his Pip-Boy's integrity. He can't risk corrupting it further with botched connections and garbage data, even though that means continuing to let it operate as is.

He still can't navigate his Pip-Boy's menus. This evening, following instructions from the manual, he interfaces the 3000 Mark IV model with a terminal, and remotely initiates a preliminary debug scan. He fears some threat at this location, but admits they lucked into sheltering in offices which required an advanced familiarity with Pip-Boys of its entry level employees.

Humility. Everyone starts with the basics.

He hopes the scan will be complete by morning, so he can aspire to assess more clearly the device's damage tomorrow, and continue teaching himself from the manual. The Pip-Boy clicks away where it rests on the desk. He rubs at his bare right wrist with a distracted frown.

As an unreleased model, Sticks' 3000 Mark V may surpass the repair limitations of the terminal's operating system. Nothing he's read yet has extrapolated upon anything higher than the 3000 Mark IV. Restoring the Mark V will take learning the differences between the two, and reverse engineering solutions based on their similarities. Of course, there's a lot to square away before he can even try that. He doubts they're even on speaking terms right now, for one.

He notices himself worrying. Funny, how DayTripper regulates his appetite. Before he had these MREs, he can't remember the last time he was hungry and genuinely interested in doing anything about it. He tuts, decides to make himself dinner, and calls it a night.

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November 22, 2287

Mister Sticks reclines on Mister Carey's couch. He has just provided Mister Carey with another pint of blood. Mister Carey is at the desk, where he's cleared a space for the hot plate from the break room and several glass bottles.

"Mister Sticks," Angel says, "I'd rather you didn't put your feet on the armrest, but thank you for not putting your shoes on the furniture."

Sticks mumbles and gets more comfortable. He presses the stained kerchief against the inside of his elbow, in which he's wrapped the cracked fusion cell.

"Gentlemen, Thanksgiving is in two days. Are we planning a trip to the grocer's today? The pantries are a bit scarce as of late." The Mister Handy's lenses attune to each of them. "Oh! Does this mean you're traveling, then?"

"We're not going anywhere, Angel," Mister Carey sighs over his shoulder. He can't mask his nuisance. "We're staying in."

"Aren't we ever," Sticks snips, shutting his eyes.

"Does this mean you wouldn't like me to prepare Thanksgiving dinner for you two? What are we to do?"

"Well, Mister Mosquito over there is taking care of that as we speak."

"Are you going to nap in here?" Mister Carey asks. "I hope the fusion cell is still helping. I believe that was a thorium cell, so it should keep going for a while even with the casing breached."

"My arm hurts, if that's what you're asking. Keep talking and I can't nap."

"So you do intend to nap."

"Your couch isn't as comfy as mine, but I can't be bothered to move."

Mister Carey sits back as the iodine-naphtha mixture yields benzoquinoline fumes. He takes the complex off the heat, then heaves a dejected sigh. He holds one of the bottles he's emptied.

"Would I be able to bother you to check the other offices and closets for more ingredients for me? If you haven't got anything better to do."

"If it doesn't involve bashing the walls open, I'm not interested."

"Mister Sticks, mind that I'll be most cross if you vandalize the building." Angel crawls over to the desk. "Sir, I'll gladly assist you! What do you require?"

Mister Carey hems and holds a coffee filter like he doesn't quite know where to put it.

"I was going to ask Sticks to look for mineral spirits. Naphtha would be best, but anything besides paint thinner will work. Of course, toothpaste and mouthwash. Always toothpaste and mouthwash. And he could be so nice as to locate more iodine for me. I just used the last of what I brought with us. Again, Lugol's would be best, but I can work with a tincture. We've got the Rad-X, but it's outside my current lab processes to separate the iodine from the other compounds in it."

Oh. His owner is trying to strategically request his partner to leave, without asking him outright. Its subtext algorithms could use some polish.

"Well we're certainly not using the Rad-X for anything else, now are we? Pfft. I hate to break it to you, but there's not exactly much of anything in this place. It's, like, the exact opposite of when we found that medical warehouse was leveled. Angel pointed out how there wasn't anything there, and that the lack of anything meant scavvers had to have looted it clean. This place is still standing like the bombs never happened, but there's almost no evidence anyone ever worked here. And there's sure no evidence that scavvers have picked it clean."

"I tell you, Liv was here at some point. She had to have taken everything of value."

Sticks shoots upright and pockets the fusion cell and kerchief.

"Not everything of value: everything. We're lucky there's even furniture and RadRoaches!"

Mister Carey's irritation deflates sorrowfully.

"I wish you'd eat the MREs, Jacob."

"A delightful idea, Sir! Shall I whip up a meal for each of you?"

"Sooner eat my other hand." The ghoul stands. He rolls the aches from his shoulders and pockets his hand and wrist. "Grocery shopping. Loud and clear. Come on, Angel. I get the feeling he wants us both out of his hair."

"Just you!" Mister Carey calls out from where he sits.

"Not even DayTripper can make him easy to get along with," Mister Sticks mutters. "All the worse for his two month Mentats bender."

"I'll do better keeping him hydrated, Sir."

"Aw," Mister Sticks grins. "We don't want him more shriveled up?"

"I do believe such a development would indicate poor health."

"He's got a lot more than dehydration wrong with him."

"Sir... these things you're saying. These... terrible things... I... I believe you need a distraction. Yes! A distraction, to calm this dire mood. It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. Checkers. Chess, perhaps?"

"Solitaire's more my tune. Let me know if you find a deck of cards."

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December 19, 2287

"How the hell are you getting i–"

Sticks sputters into minced oaths under his breath. The two RadRoaches he was chasing have vanished. Machete in hand, he slouches in the hall to catch his breath. His lone blond lock hangs limp and grotesque against the contours of his temple and cheek. He tries to talk himself down after missing his chance at a timely meal.

"Can't get a moment's peace! There's always more RadRoaches! Can't get out. Stuck in here! Alone! With a damn prewar vampire ghost with the Blue Flu, and his broken Handy! All I've eaten in two months is RadRoaches!? RAW. RADROACH!? WHERE. THE HELL. ARE THEY ALL COMING FROM!?"

With a rumbling feral roar, he slashes futilely at the modular deco paneling. The shrieks and clangs of steel on aluminum fill the corridor. Grunts, growls, and hisses punctuate the storm of metallic din.

"FUCK!!"

He slashes to one side.

"FUCK YOU!!"

He slashes at the air.

"I'M NOT SCARED DAMMIT! SHOW ME WHAT YOU'VE GOT, YOU STUPID ASS BUILDING!"

He eyes the handleless security door which leads to the stairwell. He backs up a few steps, to rush toward it. He slams his shoulder. The wire reinforced glass explodes, and the chunks roll down the stairs.

His head swims, and he tries to stand up straight. He rubs his right shoulder with an addled frown. When it feels warm and wet, he glances to his blood-streaked wrist, then to the now-exposed razor sharp latticed wire. He groans, and totters back to his office. He paws around in the pencil drawer of the desk, in search of that broken fusion cell they've been using to heal his blood donor cuts. When he can't find it, he nips a curse under his breath, slumps into the chair, and sits until his breathing steadies.

Put pressure on it. Right.

He cuts a wide strip off the end of his barkcloth-curtain-turned-blanket. He pins one end under his armpit, and works it around his bicep and delt as best he can. He tucks the loose end under the wrapping. He swivels his shoulder to test whether the wrap will stay, then coddles its soreness. He still can't remember where he put the cell–

"Jacob, what the fuck did you do!"

When he whips around in the chair, 'Choly is neither scared nor furious. That little Russian is laughing at him! He clenches his teeth. He snatches his machete off the couch. He shoves 'Choly out of the way, and powers down the hall.

"I'm tired of getting bossed around by a building and its damn nonsense bullshit doors." He shoves the butt of his palm against the stairwell door, but it still doesn't budge. "Do you often laugh at men with knives? Almighty, you're high."

"Do you often threaten men with knives?" With a small smirk, 'Choly tips up his cane for emphasis. "Yours is bigger, but mine is definitely sharper after your tantrum. So I was wrong about the Pip-Boy route, what without keyprongs and all that. I'm still trying every day to figure out the security doors. You've got to be patient. Are you okay?"

"You're not the one getting gnawed on by neverending RadRoaches–" Sticks notices the brushing of antennae under the janitor's closet door. "Shh."

He goes to the cracked door. The light switch scatters multiple RadRoaches, and he growls. Determination contours his wiry lips tight against his teeth. He makes a fist, and in half-foot intervals, he goes along the wall applying deliberate pounds. He listens for any change in hollowness, or change in resistance, and stoops lower and lower as he follows the wall.

"Cockroaches outsmart you." 'Choly leans into his cane with both hands. "We are in TmuRadTarakan for certain."[2287.12.19-1]

Sticks is too focused, too annoyed, and in too much pain to bother asking what the hell 'Choly is on about now.

The corner of one panel is no longer screwed down. Sticks stands to pull away the utility shelf in front of it, then pries at the panel. 'Choly sputters over how to help. Once Sticks has the panel peeled back enough, 'Choly squeezes behind it and pushes. Sticks stumbles back. His grip falters, and sooner than slash his hand on the edge of the panel, he directs it to fall to one side. He braces in the expectation he needs to catch 'Choly from falling forward, but only the clatter comes, not the collision. He shakes off the flinch and surveys their success. The RadRoaches have chewed out a sizable chunk of the interior of the walls. Wiring and woodwork alike have succumbed to the insects' path inside.

'Choly stoops to peer down the hole. His voice echoes back dully.

"Roaches and termites are cousins, you know."

"Sometimes, your weird bug trivia is on point enough to be creepy. You know that?"

"I do what I can."

"Either you're going down the rabbit hole, or you're going to get out of the way." Sticks pulls him back by the corset laces. "I should go first. There could be termites," he sneers.

"You really intend to go in there? Sticks, wait–"

"I will chew the wall open myself if I have to."

On all fours, Sticks scoots himself into the hole at the bottom of the wall, and squints in search of other light sources. Resting his upper weight on his injured arm hurts more at this angle than it did to pull on that metal sheet, but he powers through. He pokes the machete around out ahead of him. About six feet ahead of him, he finds another wall panel. He glances to either side, but it's too dark to tell which way the RadRoaches went. He sets down the machete close in front of him, then pushes with his left shoulder against the panel he's found. When it gives, he pushes harder.

"If you're behind me, could you swat any bugs that rush me? I think I found the other side."

"The other side of what?" 'Choly's voice is close and quiet.

"Jesus, you did follow."

"You have me curious." 'Choly yelps, only to wheeze. "Just some loose wires. Damn it."

Sticks kicks at him, but misses, unable to see behind him. 'Choly chuffs and swats him in the butt with the handle of his cane. Sticks's foot connects.

"Ow!"

Sticks chuckles. The panel spills forward without much effort. He inches through. The stairwell is on the other side. He looks down. There's a gap between the wall and handrail. He inches through the tunnel. Though he eases himself down, he still spills onto the stairs with a thud. Once he has his footing, he helps pull 'Choly through.

Frowning, 'Choly eyes the broken stairwell door.

"How are we going to get back up now?"

"Let's try going down first. We've been on the second floor, I think."

"We're still snowed in, in case you couldn't tell."

Sticks descends.

"Easier to chew through ice than metal. My kingdom for some tin snips. Wait." He produces his multitool from his apron with a heavy lidded grin. "What's a little wire to a handyman?"

With an unconvinced murmur, 'Choly follows him down the dim stairwell.

"Hope Angel won't come looking for us while we're down here..."

A dense blue carpet furnishes the walkways of the first floor. Unlike the second floor, the rooms all have the knobless doors, and they're sealed shut. The pair meanders to survey things.

"It doesn't even smell like dust in here," 'Choly utters. "You've noticed?"

"Yeah, I figured my sense of smell took that day in October on vacation with it." Sticks looks in an office door's window and bangs on the glass. "Probably safe to say that breaking the doors doesn't set off anything, you think?"

"We don't know that. Please don't break more doors."

"It's looking like our best option. We don't have keys."

Sticks sees a wastepaper basket. He snatches it up and hurls it at the first door's window that catches his fancy. He applies most of his throwing force with his left arm. He fires a contented sneer at 'Choly.

"This place still has half power," 'Choly says. "Before you cut that, you should make sure that it isn't electrified. Shouldn't you?"

"Slicing my shoulder up didn't electrocute me, but if it'll make you happy." Sticks picks up a scrap of paper scattered by his throw, and holds its edge so it contacts multiple wires at once. "There. No fire. No live wires."

'Choly watches Sticks snip a hole in the grid of copper wire. Beside the door is a placard designating it leads to a basement. He hems.

"There's gotta be something good down here," Sticks says. His hand spasms for the repetitive grip strength necessary to clear this many individual low gauge wires. He huffs a defeated smile and offers his accomplice the multitool. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"I suppose I should know how to do this if it comes to it."

'Choly's reinforced officer's gloves make the application of grip nearly effortless. He smiles as he snips the last ten wires, gratified. He then leans against the door and reaches an arm inside, to feel for any buttons, panels, or levers.

"We might do better to knock out even more," 'Choly says. He pulls his arm back out and cuts the hole twice as wide.

Sticks this time puts his head through. Two flood lights are aimed at the landing but one bulb is out. When he pulls out stumped, 'Choly looks for himself, too. Sticks glances down the hall in thought.

"Maybe there's a security office on the first floor," Sticks wonders.

"Wait, there's– I think I can– Yes!!"

The door unlatches with a clunk. 'Choly pulls his arm back out, with his cane in hand. He steadies his footing and bows to the ghoul.

"To think you've been telling me all this time not to bust up the place." Sticks clicks his tongue and draws his machete again. "Shall we?"

'Choly nods, and unsheathes the blade from his cane as he follows.

They descend the first turn of the stairs. RadRoaches descend upon them. Some fly at their faces, but most go for their legs. Sticks yells and grunts, kicking at them barefoot. He can hear 'Choly swatting and yelping nearby but too many are upon them for either to be of much mutual aid. All either can do for one another is to take out as many as they can.

Sticks feels a cool warmth inching up the back of his leg. He grabs through the curtain of RadRoaches to find a Glowing RadRoach. He cackles and smashes it against the wall. He pins the dead irradiated green and black insect in his right armpit. While the bug's rads soak into his shoulder, he commences to focus his fighting technique on stomping and kicking.

Eventually, the numbers dwindle to where what remains decides to scatter rather than continue trying to take down a large meal.

"You ok?" he asks 'Choly.

"I haven't dealt with this many roaches since– Since 111–"

Sticks looks to him. The poor man is shivering and has sat down on the last bit of stairs. His face is bitten up, but he mostly looks shaken. The ghoul sneers at the idea of the roaches, aspiring to lighten the mood.

"If they can get inside a sealed Vault-Tec vault, they can get into anything."

It takes some time to receive a response. 'Choly can't seem to stop rubbing at his arms. His wandering gaze doesn't actually look to anything in particular.

"That's for damn sure."

Sticks halts. He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and looses a dejected whistle.

"Well. I found the first evidence that somebody else has been here."

That gets 'Choly's attention.

A body lays sprawled in the floor. Only bones and tatters of a quilted khaki leather military uniform remain.

"A summer uniform," 'Choly comments. He eases himself to crouch with his cane, to inspect more closely. "Creeley. Uhh, Maria Creeley."

"A lieutenant?" Sticks says of the lapel stripes, to contribute to the observations. He's not sure why it matters much. It's not like the uniform is in any wearable condition. "Didn't know her, did you?"

'Choly checks the saddle pockets on each hip of the blazer. He shows Sticks a handful of fusion cells. He scans the basement floor, and points to the laser pistol about ten feet from the body.

"Of course not. …Strange."

"Mm," Sticks murmurs. He begins exploring the basement. There are several rows of utility shelving, and they're all packed with aluminum crates.

"Oh, most officers were outfitted with 10mm pistols or combat rifles. She must have had to get resourceful on her way here. Wonder what did her in?"

"I'm more interested to know how she got in."

"I suspect she came here with Olivia. Whenever that was, it was certainly decades ago or more, going by the state she's in now. She's not lying on the ground in a way that looks like she was placed where she is. Something definitely killed her. Skull's charred on one side."

'Choly's wild conjectures annoy Sticks, but he allows it. He glances back to the body, seeing it from a different angle.

"She's kind of crumpled up. What's under her?"

While 'Choly moves Maria's skeleton around to find out, Sticks turns back to a crate. He grips one corner of the lid and shifts it offset, to peek inside. His eyes light up at the phrase RobCo Fun, but he keeps quiet and shuts it back. He reminds himself there's a chance he won't need more distractions if getting in here means they can finally escape.

"She… She has a Fusion Core."

"She what?" Sticks picks his head up when he understands. He looks around for the one type of mainframe with which he has any real familiarity. "Yeah, the F.C. mainframe is in the corner over there."

"No wonder the place is at half power. I'm going to see if I can't reinsert it."

"Why not take it with us? No reason to waste it running a backup generator no one's using."

"The doors might be electronic. More power might render them operational again."

Sticks checks another crate on a different shelf. It's full of the same game as the first one.

"I knew that."

"We're in luck! Creeley knew the protocol sequence to eject it properly. She didn't brick the generator."

"Luck? I don't know her." The building emanates a low hum, and more overhead lights come online. "What gives? I've opened three crates now, and they've all got this one game in them."

Sticks pulls a game from a crate. The flat medium box is glossy and a sturdy weight. He walks over to 'Choly, and opens it. His eyes sparkle at the sight of board game chips. 'Choly takes the lid from him.

"Captain Cosmos in Jangles' Big Day." 'Choly turns the lid over, then looks at its top again. "Limited edition. Mail order rebate exclusive. Tch, you had to send in ten different Hubris Comics proof of purchase to buy one of these![2287.12.19-2] You said there's three crates of this game here?"

"Yeah, and judging by the stenciled labels on them, that's most of these crates." Sticks chuckles, poking around the tokens. "They look kind of like caps."

'Choly's brow piques with the slightest judgment.

"They're not crown crimped. They're more like one sided checkers. …Why does a board game have a holotape?"

"Oh, don't be a stick in the mud. I bet somebody would trade me for them! Didn't the lid say it's two halves of the same game? No idea what that means. It's just a regular cardboard game board."[2287.12.19-3]

'Choly gives him back the lid.

"I'll take one upstairs with us. Incomprehensible. What is this many copies of this strange game doing in the basement of a Lockreed?"[2287.12.19-4]

"It's a shame Ant has such distaste for prewar tech. I bet we could buy the largest lease in the place with all these JBD crates."

"I think the better value isn't the game, but the medium itself." 'Choly coaxes him to put the lid back on the box, so he can snatch it from him. As he speaks, his spirits brighten. A genuine smile of optimism snares him. "No one needs several hundred copies of a video game anymore. Viable holotapes, though? If I can format them, they're reusable. You know what this means! I can finally draft applied script! I can finally prove that I've retained all the reading I've done these past two months! I can start fixing my Pip-Boy! I can start fixing yours! And your hand! And then I can fix Angel!!"

"What." Sticks tries to pull the box from him. The RadRoach under his arm flops to the floor. He doesn't bother retrieving it. "No. No, no, no. We're not staying here a goddamn minute longer than it takes to smash the window out."

"It's impossible to travel this area in the winter." 'Choly beams at him, looking like he might spring to dance if he only had the faculty. "At least wait until the snow evaporates. The ice Fog will only get us lost again."

Sticks's snarl tickles 'Choly until the ghoul whips out his machete. The little man takes a step back with a tepid chuckle.

"That might not be until Spring!" the ghoul growls.

"And it could be tomorrow!" 'Choly flashes a commanding grin. "Come now. Be civil about this. Be rational. It's warm here. The worst of it has just been RadRoaches. We've managed so far. Haven't we?"

Sticks lets him hold him by the wrist, but doesn't put the machete back in his apron just yet. A snarl still locks his jaw tight.

"Give me a few days. I bet Lt. Creeley here got in the same way I got us in. Her ribbon rack is intact. If I can compare the two, I could determine a way to program her RFID with your biometrics. The building might recognize you. We could just walk out instead of demolishing the place."

Sticks's eyes water when it clicks.

"...Open sesame?"

"Open sesame." 'Choly rattles the box to jangle the tokens in it. "Now let's go try the doors. And the elevator."

"You think the elevator's working?"

"Only one way to find out."

______________________________

December 31, 2287

Mister Carey sleeps on the couch when Angel floats in to check on him. It comforts Angel, to watch its owner sleep. His long, greasy hair spills over the armrest, and a vague tension tugs at his features. He doesn't usually sleep on his back, it doesn't think. It observes his twitching microexpressions for several minutes.

"Mister Carey," it says from a few feet away. It gets nearer. "Mister Carey, do wake up."

His eyes open wide. He stares at Angel in the dark for some time, nostrils agape.

"Do you need something?" he asks.

"I believe you were having a nightmare, Sir. I woke you."

His gaze breaks away. His lips press together ever so slightly.

"Ah."

"Could I do anything for you? My condensator tin isn't quite refilled, I'm afraid."

He turns over to face away from Angel, and curls his head into the pit of the armrest.

"I'm not thirsty. I just want to be left alone."

"Oh, don't spend New Year's alone, Sir. Your nightmare was just that."

He curls up tighter against the back of the couch, only to pick his head up in confusion.

"What? It's not New Year's, Angel. Just. Please let me try to sleep."

Angel checks its chronometer and calendar. Its ocular lenses tighten and dilate as it thinks.

"As of thirteen minutes ago, it is now 2288. You didn't ask me to wake you to ring in with you, so I let you sleep until your distress was apparent."

He groans and tosses an arm over his ear.

"New Year's isn't for another two weeks. Just... let me alone until then."

"Sir, forgive me, but you sound hungover, or possibly ill. Could I–"

Mister Carey snatches the nearest book from the floor scatter at the foot of the couch, and flings it at Angel. Angel picks up the book it believes he's dropped, and returns it to him. His shoulders lock up and his hands clench, and he's shaking trying not to hyperventilate. Before Angel knows it, Mister Carey is bombarding it with holotape after holotape after book after holotape.

"Go! Get! Alone! I want! To be! Alone!"

Angel retrieves the dropped items for several minutes, oblivious to the clangs and twangs of being pelted with research paraphernalia. Eventually, Mister Carey stops dropping things. The pile at his feet is now tidy and bears no marks of exhaustive study. His eyes are wet and glassy. Angel's ocular lenses dilate and it floats in front of him in silence.

"I suppose, Sir, if you'd like some solitude," it eventually posits, "I could downscale my tidying algorithms. Or, even suspend and later resume them, when you're ready for further housekeeping."

He wipes at his face with a thick angry sniff.

"Suspend housekeeping for two weeks."

"Absolutely, Sir!" it beams. Its tendrils twitch as the command takes. "Keep in mind you can always reinitiate these algorithms at any time, even sooner than the designated time. My settings are at your disposal!"

He sobers up to hear it took his request in earnest, only to sour into a different hurt.

"Where's the setting where you go bother Sticks and leave me alone?"

"Right away!"

Angel excuses itself so its owner can go back to sleep. It wishes that he would simply talk to him.

Nightmares must be as terrible to humans as bad data sectors. If only he's able to idle his brain a bit, so back processes can take care of the damage for him. Do humans have back processors?

"Well, I'd imagine that's what sleep is for," it whispers to itself as it floats down the hall.

It extinguishes its thruster flame, content for nothing more than to follow orders. For the next six hours, it sits patiently beside Mister Sticks and watches the ghoul sleep.

Go to Next »»»

_____________________________________________

[2287.30.11-1] Rubble Rouser. 2D turn-based artillery game where players fire Mini-Nukes at each other's fortifications. A nod to the Magnavox Odyssey²'s Smithereens!

[2287.30.11-2] Caravan. A West Coast card game which likely sprung from an attempt to devise a viable game from incomplete card decks. Each player brings their own collection of cards to the game.

[2287.12.19-1] TmuRadTarakan. A medieval Kievan-Rus' port principality on the Black Sea. One etymological theory speculates that the location's name means roaches in darkness, evoking a metaphorical sense of some back of beyond. The Strugatskys' Tale of the Troika make a pun of this etymology, calling instead a remote expanse of an impenetrably bureaucratic research facility Tmu'skorpion. Here, the trio is in a place of RadRoaches in darkness. (RadTarakan also happens to be the Russian name for RadRoaches.)

[2287.12.19-2] Proof of Purchase. A nod to voucher games, like the Magnavox Odyssey 1's Precepts! and Atari's Chase the Chuckwagon. Also a bit of a nod to the Atari E.T. landfill, in the sense that RobCo Entertainment just couldn't get rid of them. More later on how these Easter eggs ended up in a remote basement. :]

[2287.12.19-3] JBD. A nod to the Magnavox Odyssey²'s The Quest for the Rings, which pioneered the concept of a board game video game hybrid. It's one of the most notable entries of the Odyssey²'s library, but I picked it specifically with Fallout 76's original Legendary Run event map in mind, and how such events are basically a board game with video game stages.

[2287.12.19-4] Lockreed of Nashua. Much in the same way RobCo Towers in Lowell is based off a real world technological historical landmark, so is Lockreed of Nashua. This is a real footnote with real insight.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #sole survivor #fo4 #the anatomy of melancholy #let's have fun in new hampshire #melancholy #sticks #angel #mister handy #ghoul oc #jangles' big day

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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

What if as an HSLOT blurb it could be something like the reader entertaining Sarah and Mitch’s baby in the bus and the whole band teasing H when they’re going to have one of their own

Have an amazing day!

THIS CONCEPT ACTUALLY MAKES ME WANT TO CRY😭😭😭 (also let’s pretend their baby is called Benjamin) ;

The tour bus was filled with happiness.

Everyone was sat around in the main living room area on the main bus, half-way between Denver and Texas. Jeff, Harry, you, Glenne, Lambert, Sarah, Mitch and their baby, Ben, were spread out across the wrap around sofa, a table in the middle to hold coffee cups and fashion magazines.

Currently you were sat next to Sarah with Ben in your lap, who was looking at his mum with such awe. He was around 4 months now and was the sweetest most happiest boy ever. You were laughing to the conversation around the room when Ben let out a tiny sneeze.

“Oh bless you, lil man.” You cooed down at him, making him smile up at you with the largest grin he could. Everything about him was so small and delicate, from his hands to his feet and even his little button nose. His eyes were just like Mitch’s but he definitely got Sarah’s face shape. He was an absolute treasure and it made you so excited to have your own baby someday.

Little did you know, Harry was thinking the exact same thing.

“Here.” Sarah handed you a blue handkerchief and you used it to wipe Ben’s nose, making sure he was clean again. He was wearing the most cutest green, corduroy, dungarees, that Harry had gifted him from Gucci, with pink stars all over it. He had a white t-shirt on underneath and white socks, no shoes because he didn’t like the feel of them on his feet at the moment.

“You all clean, hey? You had a sneeze?” You smiled at Ben, keeping ahold of him under his armpits as he sat on your lap facing you. He smiled back at you giggling at the funny faces you were making at him.

“You’re so good with him.” Sarah nudged your arm, making you look away from her baby - your Godson - and up at her. Sarah had such a kind face and her smile always made you feel loved as a friend. You could tell her words were definitely true by the way her eyes were looking at you.

“Really?” You asked, hoping that that was true but still doubting yourself.

“Motherhood is going to treat you well.” She replies, nodding her head like it was the most definitive thing she’d ever say.

“That’s if Harry quits messing around and puts a ring on you, Y/N.” Jeff spoke up, making the room laugh and Harry just flame up with a pigmented pink blush.

Harry was sat opposite you across the table and was leaning back, man-spreading as he always does. He shook his head as everyone laughed, most likely thinking to himself about how Jeff was right - you thought. Harry and you had often spoken about marriage and children, but that was still something for quite in the future because Harry was still touring and making a new album. The future was coming though and you and Harry were more than excited for it to come. You just wanted a little more time together before anything changed.

“Oi leave him alone!” You laughed, sticking up for your boyfriend.

“So you’re not waiting on him to do that?” Glenne asked you, sitting next to Jeff with her head on his shoulder. You missed Harry just looking at them two, from where he was sat across from you.

“O’course i’d love to marry him, just happy just being with him for the moment.” Harry smiled at your words and then Ben started smiling too, flapping his little arms as if he was happy about your words too.

“So no kids on the horizon?” Mitch asked the question that everyone was now thinking.

“Let us get married first, bro!” Harry responded, sitting forwards to look at you better. He smiled at you and then down at Ben, thinking the same thing as you - probably. At how good parents you’d both be.

“And I for one can’t wait for that day.” You smiled at him, passing Ben over to Sarah so you could focus more on Harry. Once he was passed back to Sarah he settled instantly in the crook of her neck and closed his eyes, probably extremely tired from all the chattering and playing around today. You sat forwards at the table too, reaching your hands forwards to cup Harrys and resting your chin on your arm so you could look up at him. He’s so beautiful.

“You’re going to be such a great mum.” Harry told you confidently, kissing your hands.

“And you’re going to be such a great dad.” You replied, pursing your lips to hide the shit-eating grin you would wear otherwise.

“And i’m going to bed so I don’t have to hear these two lovebirds love each other.” Harry Lambert stood up, saluting as he walked out of the room. Everyone laughed, but you and your Harry just stayed looking at each other for a long time after thinking about the future and the life you were only just beginning.

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stylesberries · 4 years

Text

Flower Field

Summary: Harry accidentally breaks his favorite guitar, which makes it an obvious choice of a present for his upcoming birthday.

Genre(s): fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): cuteness overload

After releasing Fine Line, Harry was preparing himself to go on a world tour with the new album. He refused to leave you, his most precious treasure, behind when going on tour. He begged you to come with him, as if you could ever turn that request down.

Couple of months before the tour Harry’s favorite guitar ended up broken. It was just another night spent in the studio with you and Mitch. Harry got a bit too excited (and a little tipsy) as he danced his precious bum off, he tripped and landed right on top of his guitar neck, snapping it in two. Watching his facial expression change from a blissful one to a mournful one, you stood up from your place to walk over to him and wrap your arm around his waist. You took a look at the body of the guitar on the floor, separated from the neck, that Harry was holding at the moment. He held it with disappointment written all over his face.

“It was a really good one, you know?” Harry stated, turning it look at you.

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” You pressed your body to his side and pulled him closer to you by his waist.

“It’s okay. It happens sometimes.”

Although, he tried to brush it off, you knew he was very upset. He wrote two albums on that guitar and was planning on taking it along on tour.

His birthday was just around the corner, so you knew exactly what you were going to get him as a present.

The next day you called Mitch and asked him about the guitar Harry broke and where you could get the identical one. Mitch provided you with the address of the guitar shop, that Harry mostly get his guitars from, and the name of the model.

You snuck out of the bed early in the morning, gently pushing Harry’s arm off of your body. Leaving the bed, you made sure to pull the blanket over Harry’s back, so that he’s not freezing in this mid-January situation that was going on in the northern hemisphere. You were turning to walk up to the closet to change your clothes, but you couldn’t keep yourself from turning back in your feet and bending over the bed to land a kiss on your beloved’s temple.

“Nghh, where y’goin’?” Harry surprised you by mumbling to you and tugging on your (his) T-shirt.

“Stay. Please.” How could you leave now?

Guess the guitar will have to wait for a day.

“Y/N, don’t go please. We haven’t cuddled in two days. I miss you. Come on, princess. Come here, love.” Harry whispered in your ear as you guys stood in the kitchen cooking dinner two days after you were supposed to go to the guitar shop.

“Baby, stay with me. It’s so early and you look so fucking hot in that T-shirt of mine.” Harry pressed his crotch against your thigh on the third day after you was supposed to go to the guitar shop.

“But we had to watch so many movies, sunshine. I even made us some popcorn.” Harry grinned at you, walking towards you with a bowl, while you were sitting on the couch.

As you may have already guessed - it was the forth day after you were supposed to go to the guitar shop.

On the fifth day, you told Harry that you have to do a lot of work that accumulated within those five days. He grudgingly let you go, but made sure to make you promise to spoon him when you come back.

Parking your car by the guitar store, you were relieved to see that the store was open on a Sunday.

You walked into the store and up to a shop assistant, who was wearing a Pink Floyd T-shirt. “Adds to the atmosphere.” You thought.

After telling him the name of the exact model you need, Eric, as his badge suggested, guided you to the guitars hanging on the wall. He pointed at one, that looked just like the one Harry cracked in two.

You walked out of the store with a guitar in a case and a happy smile on your face. A fucking poet you are.

Not wanting to leave the guitar plain crème, you also dropped by an art supplies shop to get some paints to decorate the guitar.

Next week you would sneakily decorate the guitar whenever Harry left the house to go to the store or the studio.

By the end of January the guitar was decorated with flowers. Chamomiles, roses and sunflowers graced the surface of the guitar, making it look like a portal to a flower field. Perfect.

On his birthday, Harry was woken up earlier than usual by your kisses. What greeted Harry was the undivided attention of his favorite person and a breakfast in bed made by said person.

At about seven in the evening you both were on your way to the party that Jeff put up for Harry and Glenne. On the way there Harry kept asking you about the mysterious present that you promised to gift him after the party.

“Is it something edible?” He asked, being visibly restless.

“No. Actually, who knows? I guess everything is edible. I think you could try to eat it but I doubt you’d like it much.”

Your answer just confused the poor guy even more. He turned his head back to the window and squinted his eyes. In a few moments, he turned his head back to you, sitting in the driver’s seat. You told Harry that as a birthday boy, he shouldn’t have to drive himself to his birthday party, which was a lame excuse, but you needed one to get him to let you drive, as you knew his attention would be on you the whole road to the place.

“Is it small enough for me to carry it around?” Harry tried his best to guess what exactly you were getting him. He’d been like this since the early morning when you wouldn’t tell him what you’ve gotten for him.

“It’s not small, but you can carry it around.” It was the first question, for which your answer wasn’t exactly a “no”, so Harry smiled, thinking he’s finally onto something. The party took place in a closed down restaurant that you all would go to once in a while. There weren’t many guests. Just the closest friends. “Knowing Harry, it’s probably hundreds of people.” You thought.

At 8:46 Jeff came up to you and Glenne and interrupted your heated discussion about the newly released albums that deserve more appreciation than they’re getting.

“Y/N.” Jeff whispered to you. “Harry’s going on and on about a present. He’s driving me insane.” Jeff started and leaned closer to you.

You know exactly what’s going on.

“What did you get him? I’m honestly intrigued myself.”

As if you didn’t know that Harry was the one who sent him over to you.

“Look, Jeff, I know Harry sent you over. I’m not telling you anything.” You turned to Harry, who was standing two tables away from you and was, apparently, engaged in a conversation with Ben.

You walked up to him and tapped him on his shoulder. He excused himself, slowly turned around and tried to hide a smile, knowing that you’ve probably figured his plan out.

“Hi, baby.” You moved your mouth up to his ear, which made him lean into it automatically.

“If you want to know what I got you, you should be patient like a good boy you are, okay?” Your voice was stern and you could feel him stiffen up next to you. As you moved away from him, you put on an innocent smile and kissed him on the lips. He froze in his place and couldn’t even move his lips against yours. Separating your lips from his, you turned to back to walk over to Glenne to continue your talk.

When you came up to Glenne and Jeff, he informed you that the cake is about to be brought out for the two Aquarians to blow the candles.

When the cake was brought out, the wishes ended up forgotten, as both Harry and Glenne had their faces covered in sweet frosting. You laughed while dragging your pouty boyfriend to the restroom to clean him off. On the way to the restroom, your fingers had already been covered in the frosting from Harry’s face, as you were getting a better taste of it.

You walked into the restroom and got napkins to clean Harry’s face off.

“Is it something we can both use?” There we go again.

“No, love. Unfortunately, it’s not. I mean it could become that but not at the moment, no.” You answered him while wiping the frosting off of the tip of his nose.

“Why is it s’complicated?” He asked with frustration written all over his face.

“It’s actually quite simple, lovie. We’ll be home soon and you’ll know what it is.” You smiled at Harry and brought your hands to cup his cheeks and kiss the tip of his nose.

“You’re so loving.” He lets you push his head into the crook of your neck.

“Of course I am. How can I not be loving to you? You’re my everything.” You cooed into his ear while drawing circles on his back.

“No. No one has ever cared f’me as much as you have. Y’make it look so easy to love me, and I know for sure - I’m not easy to love. I’m all over the place. I’m clingy and sometimes even annoying, but y’never make me feel like it bothers you.” He whispered truthfully into your ear as he relaxed in your arms.

You couldn’t bring yourself to push him away to look into his eyes. You hugged him tighter and kissed his temple.

“Because it doesn’t. I don’t make it look easy to love you. It is easy to love you. I love when you’re being clingy. Makes me feel wanted and loved. I adore everything about you, my precious. You’re so sweet, kind and attentive, sunny. I love you more than anything, do you know that?” You could feel him ready to start a debate on how annoying he is, but before he has a chance to say anything, you pull him away from your neck and look into his eyes, still holding his hands in yours.

“It’s a guitar.” You blurt.

“What?” Harry asked you confusingly.

“The present. It’s a guitar. The same as the one that you landed on. I also painted it but I want you to see it in person first.” You explained shyly. Harry looked at you with wide eyes and seemed a bit too shocked for your liking.

“Why do you look so shocked? Am I that bad that you didn’t expect me to do anything nice for you?” You jokingly asked.

Harry’s face softened and the corners of his mouth flew up. He kept looking at you with his loving green eyes and you could see tears building up in their inner corners.

“Harry, are you crying?” You asked and tried to pull him closer to yourself but he brushed your arms away. Instead, he grabbed your cheeks in his hands and smashed his lips into yours.

As his lips separated from yours, he kept holding your face in his hands and looked straight into your eyes.

“I spent my whole life thinking that I will never be able to find real love. I kept blaming myself for the fact that every relationship I’ve been in before you would fall apart because of me. When you walked into my life, I was so scared to mess everything up again, but you made it seem as if I wasn’t the one at fault. You made me feel normal for once. You make all the pain subside. M’heart and soul belong to you. Only you.“

As Harry finished his speech, Mitch bursted into the restroom.

“Guys, stop making out, we’ve been waiting for you to cut the cake. Glenne said she wanted Harry to help her make the first cut for a picture.”

Mitch walked further into the room and stood behind Harry pushing him towards the door.

“Y/N, come on. He won’t go unless you come with him. He’s like a lost puppy without you.” Mitch teased Harry, causing him to frown.

“He’s my lost puppy.” You joked and walked behind the guys.

You couldn’t see Harry’s face properly, but you were most certain that a grin on his face was impossible to miss.

Here you were now, watching Harry and the band during a sound check while biting on the takeaway food that Harry ordered for the whole team.

“Y/N!” You heard your boyfriend calling for you from the stage.

When you looked up from your feast, you took some time to chew on your food and answer.

“Harry!” You mocked your curlyhead, watching him smile at you.

“Look what Mitch just taught me.” Harry announced and positioned his hands over the strings and the fingerboard of his flower-field guitar.

As you walked closer to your excited boyfriend, you could hear him starting to play Mitch’s solo from ‘She’. The more he played, the wider your smile grew.

The crew carried on setting everything up for the concert, while Harry kept showing off his newly-learnt guitaring.

Harry kept telling you that the guitar made him play even better and was probably certain that it is exactly the case.

Knowing that it can’t be possible, as the guitars were identical, you put the blame on the fact, that he was strongly besotted with you.

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist

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ihearthes · 4 years

Photo

Quarantine Christmas Part 1

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff/Smut (Smut in Part 2) Word Count: 2826 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

December 23, 2020

My head spins as I haul my suitcase from the trunk, using two hands due to the heft of the dirty clothes inside. Setting it on the ground, I yank on the handle before grappling with the two shopping bags filled with presents, reaching back for the decorated Christmas tin that is filled with homemade cookies, fudge, and other delicacies baked by my colleagues at Apple Music.

Wrestling with my hands full, I close the trunk with an elbow, shivering in the chilly LA air. At the front door, I want to cry. Dammit. I could clearly remember that when Glenne had given me the code for the front door and the alarm, I placed them in my phone under her contact information.

“FUCK!” The primal scream is released from my lungs, likely scaring the neighbors if any of them are outside enjoying Christmas lights or having family celebrations on this Christmas Eve Eve. Balancing the tin of cookies on top of the suitcase, I set down the shopping bags to reach for my phone. My purse slips off my shoulder, knocking the container of sweets, and in the scramble to rescue them, I nearly fall head over heels into the bushes.

It isn’t until I punch in the numbers and drag my personal effects inside that it occurs to me that the alarm isn’t armed. Had Glenne and Jeffrey forgotten to punch in the code before they left for Palm Springs? Deciding I don’t care, I leave everything by the door as I drag my suitcase to the main floor laundry room, dumping everything in without regard to color or type of clothing. Since we’ve been working remotely the majority of the time for the last fucking nine months, “dressing up” encompasses blue jeans and the occasional blouse, but most of my clothing is sweatpants and t-shirts. Deciding washing the blue jeans and blouses with the sweatpants and t-shirts is the worst idea ever, I fish those out before pouring laundry detergent over the remaining garments and starting the washer.

Glancing down at the clothing currently on my body, it seems completely reasonable to drop them into the washer too. Stripping the t-shirt from my body, I toss it into the swirling water before adding my bra, socks, and leggings to the murky mix. Wearing only panties in the cool house makes my nipples bead.

Ha! I’m sure my nips are happy to get any action after almost a year with no dating of any sort because of the fucking pandemic. Which reminds me that I’ve forgotten my vibrator at home. Shit. Of all the things I don’t mind borrowing from Glenne, I do have a line I won’t cross.

Placing the tin of Christmas yummies on the kitchen counter, I grasp the handles of the two bags of gifts. It might be silly to put them under the tree since I’m the only one in the house, but it will make me feel better. More like I’m at home with my family in Indiana. Less like I’m stuck in quarantine in an empty house for my favorite holiday. Sniffling, I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand as I pad down the two steps into the living room to the tree.

Kneeling at the fake tree, I reach for the switch to turn on the lights. As the colors begin blinking, I carefully withdraw each present, reading the tag before gently placing the gift under the tree. Even my brother had sent a present through the mail which must mean he misses me his year. Right now, we should be challenging each other to the most ridiculous games to see who is the best. Inevitably, he would win some while I beat him at others until eventually we declare a tie. My mother would chastise us both with a grin on her face, implicitly encouraging us to continue our “reindeer games” as my father called them.

From behind me, I hear a shuffling sound. Hadn’t they taken Myles with them? No matter. I could use the company a dog would provide.

“Santa, you’ve changed!” a soft voice exclaims, and I jump, twisting around to find another human wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“It’s you!” Both voices exclaim simultaneously. “What the fuck are you doing here?” We both pause, “Stop saying what I’m saying!”

Out of breath, I stare at him. The Harry Styles. Fuck.

His eyes roam over my body, and it finally dawns on me that I’m wearing nothing but my Victoria’s Secret lace panties. Shit.

Pacing measuredly to the couch without openly cringing, I grasp a wool throw and wrap it around my chest regally like I’ve just exited the pool at some exotic locale near the equator. My shoulders straighten, and I face him openly.

“Are you joining Glenne and Jeffrey in Palm Springs?” My back is a board, and my tone is barely restrained.

“Nope.” His nonchalance combined with his truncated answer pisses me off, per usual.

“So you’re flying home, waiting here for your flight tonight?” The hopeful tone is obvious to me and probably to him as well.

“No.” Those green eyes of his rake over my nearly-naked body, and I shiver. From the cold of course. Jesus. Get your heads out of the gutter!

“Watering the plants prior to returning to the Soho?”

“Uh uh.”

Delayed dread begins to fill my stomach. “You mean --” I clear my throat -- “you’re staying here?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” Running my hand through my hair, I ponder the impact and my next steps.

“You?” He asks politely, even though I know he doesn’t feel solicitude at this moment.

“Glenne told me I could stay here for a few days. I made arrangements for my place to be fumigated while I was in Indiana for Christmas.”

His raised eyebrow mocks me.

“I’m not going, though. Okay?”

“Why not?”

“Seriously? Where the fuck have you been, Styles? In case you didn’t know, there’s a global fucking pandemic, and all of Los Angeles is locked down. So no -- I am not getting on a plane with a bunch of potentially infected and contagious --” Emotion overwhelms me, and I have to stop and catch my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I turn away from him so he can’t see the tears that form in my eyes.

“Whatever, Smith.”

“My name --” I draw myself up and gather my anger around me like a cloak -- “is not Smith.”

“Yeah, right. Which bedroom are you planning to sleep in?”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we both stay here?” Appalled, I stare at him with my mouth open. “I’ll get a hotel room.” When I realize my wardrobe is in the washing machine, I softly say, “As soon as my clothes are dry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Smith. We’ll share the space. It’s only a couple of days.”

“Excuse me!?” Anger wells up. “Only the most important days in the entire year!” Superiority makes me stand up fully to him. “Besides, I’ve been quarantining for months. No way do I want to share germs with you!”

“Oh please! As if you’ve got a monopoly on quarantining! I’m perfectly safe. We get tested every morning before we film. When was the last time you were tested?”

“Two days ago!” She’s at her boiling point. “Look, if we're both staying here together, then we’re just going to have to avoid each other. It’s a big house. We can do that.”

“Maybe once you put some clothes on,” Harry comments, smirking in that way he has where the left side of his mouth tilts up.

Mortified, I glance down at myself. Briefly I consider scurrying for Glenne’s closet, but I pause. Why should I rush away? Because he’s male? Because he was here first? Because he’s sexy as fuck and my panties can’t take anymore?

“Fine,” I respond as I brush past him like the Queen of England. “I’ll find something to wear, and then we can hash out the details.”

“Great plan. I’m ordering something for dinner.”

My stomach growls, and I suddenly feel an irrational hatred for that part of my body. How I long to state that I’ve already eaten or that I plan to cook something! But alas, I’ve brought no food with me, and I’ve no clue what’s in the kitchen. If Glenne and Jeffrey even left anything.

“Does that mean you’d like some too?” He gloats, and as much as I would like to smack the grin off his face, I’ve not eaten since a quick bite for breakfast hours before.

Knowing I’m going to have to grovel, I face him. “I’m capable of ordering for myself.”

“Yes, but that’s not necessarily good for the environment, is it? Sending two drivers to the same address from different restaurants?” Pausing, he appears to swallow whatever snarky comment was forthcoming. “Can we agree on this one small thing? I’m thinking poke.”

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. That’s exactly what I would have ordered. Fuck.

Casually, I shrug. “Yeah, whatever. I can choke down some poke.” As I saunter away, tucking the ends of the makeshift shroud under my armpits, I call back to him, “Spicy please.”

Quickly I make my way to Glenne’s closet, surveying the items there. Ripping down a pair of joggers and a Full Stop Management hoodie, I drop the covering I’ve been wearing and rapidly draw the clothes over my naked body. Nothing I can do about not having a bra, but the hoodie is roomy so I worry less.

In the bathroom, I run my fingers through my hair, combing out the curls as best I can in this environment. In no way do I want it to appear that I’m trying to look amazing for Harry. Biting my lip, I admit to myself that the opposite is true. I absolutely want him to fall at my feet.

Which isn’t going to happen, I remind myself. Give up the ghost of a fantasy.

Making eye contact in the mirror, I provide a pep talk for myself. “Listen,” I remind my reflection, “this is just one more fucked up situation in 2020. You’ve gotten through worse. It’s truly a giant house, so there’s no reason -- wait. Why is he staying here anyway?” For whatever reason, I had allowed him to dodge that incredibly simple question.

Tucking my hands into the hoodie’s front pocket, I amble to the kitchen where Harry is just disconnecting his phone.

“Food will be here in 45 minutes,” he promises.

“Why are you staying here again? I missed your answer earlier,” I prompt.

I’m confident I see a flash of embarrassment crossing his face as he lowers his head. “Wine?” He asks, gesturing towards the extensive rack of reds and then the chiller of whites.

Unsure as to whether I should allow the diversion or press, I examine him. His eyes look tired and sad. His clothes, while comfortable, aren’t upbeat. Nor is his current demeanor. Is he okay?

Planting his hands in his hoodie in an unconscious mimic of my pose, he glances at me before his eyes stray to the side, examining the marble countertop. That look tells me more than I need to know, and my empath side emerges as I toss him a life preserver.

“With poke? I think perhaps a Reisling.”

He nods, bending to look through the wines in the cooler before he extracts one, holding it up for me to inspect the label. My eyes start to widen at the vineyard, assuming the extravagant cost, but I calm my features. “Perf!” I declare.

Grasping the wine opener from a nearby drawer, Harry removes the cork as I snatch two wine glasses from the cabinet and place them near him. Carefully comparing the amount in each glass, he pours enough before recorking the bottle. Taking my glass, I move into the living room where I can view the tree. It’s Christmas Eve Eve after all, and I refuse to be deterred from watching the lights twinkle and celebrating the season.

Harry apparently has a similar idea as he fiddles with the sound system before a crackle of ‘Jingle Bell Drunk’ by RaeLynn starts playing which causes me to giggle.

I settle on one side of the sofa, and Harry plants himself on the other side. Separately, we each take a sip of the riesling. My tongue does a happy dance at the flavor on my tongue. “This sweetness will cut the spicy quite well. Excellent choice.”

“You made the selection,” Harry reminds me, and I cringe.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Silence descends as the song proclaims “I’ve been naughty. I’ve been nice.”

“If there was ever a year for this song, this is it.” I announce into the quiet.

“Yeah. It’s been quite the year.”

Sharply, I glance at him. Perhaps I had missed something? “Excuse me? You’ve had one hell of a year, Styles. Grammy nominations aside, there were how many music videos released during this global disaster? Plus a movie!”

“Agreed.” He’s quiet, his jaw clenched, and suddenly his words burst forth as though a gate at a dam has been opened. “But no tour. And almost no family time.”

Wait. Was this superstar feeling some of my emotions? He’d had a stellar year in anyone’s estimation. Maybe I could be more sympathetic.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about tour. I had tickets to Vegas and one of the LA shows.”

His head swivels to me more swiftly than an owl focusing on prey. “You had tickets?”

“HAVE.” I swallow. “Thanks for not canceling by the way. I cannot imagine the bloodbath for getting tickets in the future. You’ve become the ‘it celebrity’.”

A blush is followed by a sheepish smile. “You can always get tickets, Smith. Just ask.”

“I don’t do that.” My voice is filled with the prickles that I feel at his words.

“Do what?”

“Use my privilege to get tickets to shows.”

“Oh. I…” His words trailed off.

Suddenly, I feel less uncomfortable around him. Reaching out, I shove at his shoulder. “You’re a giant star, and you have a ton of fans who want to see you. Me? I’m just happy to be a member of the audience.”

“Really?” Incredulous is what I sense in that one word. “Why?”

“Seriously?” I’m appalled. “Do you not know what an amazing entertainer you are, Styles? Fuck. If I hadn’t been able to see your Fine Line show at the Forum last December, I probably would have cried. You know exactly what your audience wants, and you deliver it. Consistently.”

“But --”

“Hush. Don’t you dare negate your talent!” Taking another sip of wine, I reveal unabashedly, “Maybe it’s the wine talking, but I really enjoy your shows.”

“Smith?” He inquires, and my hand stalls with my wine glass halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my shows?”

Stalling, I run a finger through my hair and empty my wine glass before holding it out to him. “More please?”

He rises, but I can read his reluctance. Within moments, Harry is back at my side, handing me a second glass of the riesling. I can’t help but notice that he’s topped his own off too.

“Answer the question, Smith.”

“My name isn’t Smith. In fact, there’s not a single part of my name that’s related to Smith. Why do you call me that?”

“Tell me why you like my shows, and I’ll reveal the meaning behind the nickname.”

My head feels fuzzy from the wine and the headiness of being near Harry, and I watch the lights flashing on the tree for a few minutes while Meghan Patrick belts out her version of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ over the sound system.

“You make your fans feel like they matter.”

“How?” His question comes rapidly, and I have to gather my thoughts.

“You...talk to them. Listen to them. Watch them. Appreciate them. It’s rare, Harry. I mean, I’m in this business too, you know. Not every artist does what you do.”

“False.”

“I’m fucking serious, you asshole.” I gulp down more of the wine. “You make your audience feel like they’re your closest friends. I wish more artists did that. Specifically the ones I represent.”

“Oh.” His single utterance is enough, and we sit in pure tranquility for several minutes as the lights blink and Ava Max sings “Christmas Without You”.

“Wanna watch the quintessential holiday movie?” I inquire, looking at him.

“Which is?”

“Die Hard, of course,” is my response. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“Nope. It’s pretty good. In the top five for sure.”

“Wait. What are your top five?”

“Oh, that’s easy. ‘Die Hard’, ‘Home Alone’, ‘A Christmas Story’, ‘The Santa Clause’, and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly?” I giggle at the joke since ‘Die Hard’ is full of death.

“Fine. But we watch ‘Wonderful Life’ afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Part 2

#my writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #caitlin's fic challenge #part1 #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #original writing

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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

Text

Guardian Angel - Part 8

Daryl Dixon x Reader

(Warnings: smut, smut, a bit of fluff, smut and uh… oh right! Smut:3)

You yawned as you pulled up your pants, trying to be as quiet as possible, and you thought you succeeded, that is until you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. You had somehow managed to wake up before Daryl, or maybe he was just extra tired yesterday, but anyway you wanted to get the most out of the day before you went on a run with Maggie, you both had agreed on going to an old department store a little ways from the prison, not too far away, 15 minutes on foot, 10 if you were chased by lunatics or walkers. You leaned into Daryl’s touch, humming low in satisfaction, enjoying the sensation it gave you when he gave your shoulder a gentle kiss, moving his way up your neck “mornin’” he grumbled in that tired, morning voice that just sounded so amazing, it lit everything inside of you on fire. You turned around in his arms and smiled up at him “good morning, sorry if I woke you up” you kissed his lips briefly before turning around and looking for your shirt.

“Nah ya didn’t, wasn’t really sleepin’, just wanted to watch you get dressed” you scoffed at him, trying to look stern but it only came off as amused, which you were “perv” you mumbled as you threw his pants at him, which he pulled on, smirking like the stupid, lovable idiot he was. You rolled your eyes at him, finding your shirt and pulling it on, much to his disappointment, but then again he didn’t want everyone to see what he got to see every night, and day.

“Why’re you up so early anyway?” he mumbled as he looked for his shirt, looking like a lost puppy until you easily found it, picked it up and held it out in front of him “got a run with Maggie, remember? We’re going to that old department store down the road” he took the shirt handed to him and threw it on, and now it was your turn to be dissapointed, but his argument went for you as well, he was so beautiful, you had even gotten a glimpse of his scars, but you never asked, you wanted him to tell you when he was ready, not when he was forced to.

“That dump? Looked pretty fucked up, like it’d gone to shit” you hummed low in response, pulling on your socks and shoes before turning around to face him, “maybe that means people haven’t gotten to it yet, anyway, I’ll see you later today, before dinner at least, it shouldn’t take too long, but don’t be worried if we’re not back, maybe Maggie and I are gonna camp out, have a girls night out and get away from all the gray walls and prison beds, get a taste of real nature” you said the last part in your best southern accent, hearing him scoff in response, making you grin amused, “hell, maybe we’ll even go bar hopping” this caught his attention “you sure you don’t want me comin’?” you laughed low as he pulled you closer to him by your hips “nah, we’re good, they need you here, my handsome archer” you kissed him briefly before turning away, leaving him wanting more, which clearly worked by the way he groaned in annoyance as you moved away, “I washed your arrows they’re by your shoes, oh and your knife as well, had bits of dead squirrel guts on it, it’s next to the arrows” you picked up your backpack and went outside, going to Maggie’s cell to see if she was ready.

You were about to say something when you walked in on a very relieved Maggie and Glenn, both turning to you with relief in their eyes “oh uh, sorry should I leave or...?”

“No, no it’s okay I was just packin’, I’ll meet you outside?” you nodded and left them be, walking outside and waiting by the gate, seeing Carol walk towards you, probably for guard duty. “Hey Carol” you greeted, giving her a brief hug, being careful with the rifle on her shoulder, she had really gotten good with those “guard duty?” she nodded with a small ‘mhm’ before looking up at the sky “just hope it’s not gonna rain later, don’t like those clouds in the distance” she pointed out, making you look towards a bundle of grey clouds in the distance, a grimace making it’s way onto your face “ah shit, my hair’s gonna get wet” you mumbled, making Carol laugh “what’re you laughin’ about? You can’t get frizzy hair!” you gently slapped her shoulder as you both laughed, Maggie jogging up and joining you “hey Carol, (Y/N), you ready?” you nodded, the two of you saying goodbye to Carol and making your way outside the prison, heading down the road towards the store.

“So, I don’t want to pry but-”

“Yes you do” Maggie retorted, making the two of you giggle before you continued “but, are you and Glenn okay? You both looked like you were on cloud nine or something” Maggie shrugged, a smile still on her lips as she answered “we just had a scare is all, thought I was pregnant, turns out I wasn’t” she explained, and you nodded, eyes fixed on the road ahead of you “ah I see, good thing you’re not, I mean not that I wouldn’t be happy for you if you were but-... I just-...” you cut yourself off, looking at the ground as you walked, biting your lip as thoughts you didn’t want to think invaded your mind “hey, it’s alright, I ain’t pregnant and even if I was, Lori was… in a bad situation when her water broke, here, I wouldn’t be” you nodded at her words, your eyes still downcast. Maggie had been there for you after Lori died, you remember seeing her walk out with that baby in her arms, covered in blood and shaking, she had sort of replaced Lori, not that you ever could forget her, but Maggie had gotten close to you, being there for you, he was with Lori when she gave birth, she helped her with it, it felt nice to be around her, since she had been one of the last people to see her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You let out a groan as you waited by a window next to the entrance to the department store, your hair was wet and sticking to your face, your clothes soaked and you swore you had more water in your shoes than what hit the ground, so it was a relief when no walker responded to the banging on the window and the two of you made your way inside, quickly shutting the door and barricading it, just for good measure. You got out your flashlight and turned it on, thankful the water hadn’t soaked through your backpack and left it untouched. You moved the flashlight around as Maggie did the same, examining the shelves and the rest of the store, securing it before the two of you could relax. As you made your way towards the back room you stopped her, signaling her to be quiet and listen, as you both did, you heard grumbling and growling from inside the store room, “it’s probably trapped” Maggie mumbled, slowly moving towards it with her flashlight while you put yours away and instead got out your knife, Maggie’s hand slowly going for the door leading to the backroom, opening it and pushing the door open to see a walker trapped under a bookcase, it looked like someone slammed it down onto it, trapping it on purpose, or there could have been an earthquake and this person just happened to be by the bookshelf when it fell.

Either way you made your way over to it as Maggie kept her flashlight pointed at it, allowing you light as you put your knife through it’s skull, killing it, “well, I think that’s it” you mumbled as you wiped off the walker blood on your pants, cringing at the sight but still doing it. Maggie moved over to a lightswitch on the wall, switching it and like a miracle, the lights turned on, leaving you two grinning like little school girls at what should be something completely normal.

You peeked your heads out at the rest of the store, seeing the lights on as well, except the places where the roof had collapsed, that is. The two of you went from shelf to shelf, packing anything of value, but when you heard Maggie squeal you all but dropped something, running to her to see her holding up something very… unusual… for this new world. She was grinning like an idiot as she held up some lacy lingerie, leaving you stunned “the hell is that doing in a department store?” you got closer, inspecting the red lace amazed, Maggie however just shrugged “I don’t know, maybe someone forget it after closing time” she winked at you, making you scoff at what she was implying, you held it up to examine it further, it was dusty, so it had been there for quite a while, but it was in good condition otherwise “you should keep it!” you stared wide eyes at the brunette who smirked at you, “it’s your size! Daryl will love it, and you’d look amazing in it!” you blushed and thought it over, before shaking your head “n-no I don’t know, it could have like, germs on it, or something” Maggie gave you a ‘please don’t be serious’ look, which made you rethink it before throwing it in you backpack “what the hell, it’s the end of the world” you mumbled, making Maggie squeal again, which caused you to giggle like a little school girl, which you very much felt like right now.

The two of you continued looking around, eventually deciding that you picked up everything you could carry, plus your little ‘gift’ to Daryl, and headed back outside, it was still raining but not as much.

The two of you made it back to the prison in record time, giggling and shoving and nudging each other the whole way, laughing as the two of you talked about how exactly you thought that made it into a department store no less, each theory dirtier than the last. As you arrived back you hugged Carol who opened the gate for you, seeing her grin “well, someone’s happy” she noted, you and Maggie exchanging looks as she went off to another watchtower, probably to meet up with Glenn. You grinned as Carol walked you through the courtyard and into the prison, the two of you saying goodbye as you went into the cell you shared with Daryl, taking off your backpack and beginning to unpack, noting everything you had brought back down in a little book you had, including Daryl’s ‘gift’, as you labeled it. You packed the recent supplies with the others before going back to your cell, Daryl was probably out somewhere, maybe hunting, or just on watch.

You bit your lip as you quickly, or at least as quickly as possible, changed into the lingerie and put your clothes back on, tearing out some paper from your notebook and leaving a message from Daryl, telling him to meet you in the old washing room, where the inmates used to wash their clothes, before taking off with a certain skip in your step, which didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You hummed low as you studied the washing room, maybe you could actually get this place up and running, it would be nice to have clean clothes, hell right now even dry clothes would do for you, since yours were still a bit damp. You’d need to get power, that’s for sure, at least enough to get at least the washing machine going, didn’t need to be all of them, maybe you could have a look at where the prison generated it’s power, you were no mechanic but you knew the basics, maybe it still had some juice left in it, you never know.

You were brought out of your thoughts by feet shuffling closer, your head turning and seeing none other than your favorite, and only, archer, walking towards you as he put his crossbow down on a table, his hands finding your hips as he leaned down and kissed you “what’s up? Got your note” he mumbled as you both parted, and you swore your own grin split your face in two “I have a gift for you” he raised a brow, half expecting you to pull out a little box wrapped in wrapper paper with a little bow on, but what he did NOT expect was for you to take a step back and begin to strip for him, not that he is complaining, mind you, but he definitely didn’t expect that, or what he saw underneath, his eyes widening and his tongue peeking out to wet his lips subtly.

-----------------------------smut starts here------------------------------

As he didn’t say anything you slowly started to get more insecure, why wasn’t he saying anything? Did you look stupid? Maybe this was a bad idea… he probably just wanted to relax and here you were horny as hell. You chewed your lip nervously as you stood there, the room cold and you had no way of getting warm, at least you thought so, you considered putting your damp clothes back on, moving to pick them up when suddenly you were pushed against a nearby wall.

His hands instantly went to your hips, pushing you further up against the wall, making your face flush at how much you liked it. Slowly but surely Daryl had begun to be less careful, realizing that you wouldn’t break if he handled you wrong, and you loved every second of it, you loved how confident he was, how he could manhandle you one second and gently kiss your shoulders the next, it was incredible. You were brought out of your train of thought by his hand gently cupping your jaw, making you look at him, a perfect example to display what you had thought about just moments earlier. You both just stared at each other for a while, and for some reason it got you even more excited, the way he held your jaw formly but still careful, how dark his eyes had gotten, his pupils blown by lust as he stared down at you, how his lips were slightly parted, oh god how you wanted to kiss those lips.

Finally, after what felt like years, he leaned down and your lips met, moving in sync as his hands moved up your body, feeling your skin and curves. His hands continued up to your lace covered breasts, cupping them and squeezing them, toying with them as he pleased and it made you moan, god did it make you moan, you probably sounded like a porn star, except your moans were real, you weren’t faking any part of it, and Daryl LOVED it, he loved the effect he had on you, and it brought out a whole other side of him. While you were lost in thought his knee separate your legs, one hand coming down to lift it up, hooking it around his hip so he could press himself further against you, making you moan once again “Daryl” your voice was barely above a whisper, a breathless prayer, and he heard you, you didn’t need to say anything else, and even if you did you couldn’t, you felt like you lost all breath when his hand moved down your stomach, rubbing tight circles on your clit through the lacy underwear.

You leaned your head against the wall, hands clutching his shoulders, supporting you, if you didn’t have such a tight grip on him, or him on you, you’d probably end up on your ass. He pressed himself against you again, mercilessly working his will on your clit and within minutes you felt that knot tightening in your stomach, with every move of his fingers you got closer, just a bit longer, just a bit more and-

“Daryl!” you scolded, seeing him remove his hand from your clit, your new lacy underwear so wet that it had even made his fingers a bit damp “what the hell I was about to cum” you whined, but seeing him smirk, not affected in the slightest by your protest, it just turned you on more “I know, but I wanna feel you when you do” your face flushed at his words. So that thing about him becoming someone else when he let loose? Yeah, Daryl talked when you two were at it, and you suppose it’d make sense, he was normally so quiet so when he relaxed, no matter in what way, he’d feel comfortable enough to talk, instead of just keeping quiet, at least that was what you had experienced. Before you could even process his words he zipped down his pants, turned you around so your cheek was against the wall, and all but ripped down your underwear to your thighs, his left hand coming down between your legs, feeling how soaked you were, and he moaned, you swear, him moaning was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, it was a rarity that only you got to see, and that just made it even better.

“Damn girl, I barely touched you and you’re soaking” he groaned as he took another swipe through your folds, this time it was your turn to moan. He hummed low at the sound of your moan and leaned closer, his lips by your ear as he teased you with the tip of his cock, slowly sliding it between your folds, almost entering, but never entering you completely, it made you whine but you knew that wouldn’t help “what? You want me? You want my cock, say it” he bit your ear roughly, not enough to make you bleed but definitely enough to make a shiver run down your spine and make you shudder “please Daryl, please I want you so badly” you looked at him over your shoulder, seeing him smirk proudly before slowly pushing into you, the two of you moaning at the sensation, even as he was just still inside of you, not moving. You moved your hips back on him, the movement catching him off guard and his breath shuddered, hands gripping your breasts as he met your hips with his own, soon the only sounds that filled the guard tower was moaning and sounds of skin slapping against skin, the sound of your ass hitting his hip with every thrust. Soon though his hands gripped your hips and he held you still as he continued to pound into you, you barely had time to moan, your mouth open in a silent ‘oh’ as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten already, he really knew how to use what he had.

Soon you closed your eyes as tightly as you could, trying to get a grip on the wall but it was futile, it was too smooth, you had nothing to hold on to, at least you didn’t, not until you felt a pair of hands let go of your breasts and intertwining his finger with yours from behind, holding your hands as he pinned them to the wall in front of you. You moaned loudly as you felt the knot in your stomach snap, hearing him groan behind you as he left sloppy kisses all along your neck and jawline, his hips stuttering and before he could pull out he came, though none of you really realized fully, both of you just trying to remember how breathe now. After a while however, his hands left yours to move away from you, pulling out of you and putting himself away, he picked up your clothes and helped you put your underwear on, then helped you sit down on a nearby table, as you could barely stand now, your legs still slightly shaking.

-----------------------------smut ends here-------------------------------

You looked up at him lazily, smiling when he caught your gaze, and you allowed yourself to lean up and kiss him softly, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you back, handing you your shirt afterwards, as well as your pants, socks and shoes, helping you put those on as well, even though you were more than capable, despite your post-orgasm bliss. You loved this side of him, the caring, protective, ‘I’m gonna take care of you even though you don’t need it because I want to’ side of him, not a lot of people got to see it, you knew Carol was one of them, then you, and whenever he was around little baby Judith, but other than that, he was pretty closed off about this side of him, and it was wonderful to observe it when it did pop up. Afterwards he stood up, standing between your legs and you couldn’t help yourself, you gently cupped his face in both of your hands, just admiring him, seeing the tips of his ears grow red, knowing you were admiring him, but he let you, he didn’t look away, and it made your heart swell.

You bit your lip as you thought about doing something you weren’t sure he would be on board with, but you wanted to, you really wanted to, and if it ended things, then you’d have some of the beautiful memories of your life to keep you going. You sighed gently, still admiring him before leaning up and kissing him, feeling him kiss you back, making you smile into the kiss. As you parted, you never went far, your lips still brushing against each other as you did the one thing you’d been holding back with since you got to know him, the one thing you were so scared of admitting, especially in this new world, but then again, you never knew when you’d die, when you’d ever have the chance again.

“I love you” it was barely a whisper, but he heard it, you could feel his body tense up, and it made you nervous, but you tried not to show it, tried not to let him see how scared you were of what he was going to say, how he was going to react. He gave a low hum, like he wasn’t really present, and you were about to lean away, maybe you had been too quick, maybe this wasn’t what he was after, you got ready for the rejection when he pulled you closer to him and kissed you, this time more slowly and carefully, like he was scared that one second you’re here and the next you’re not, so he wanted to savour it for as long as possible. After a while you finally parted again, "I'll see you later" he mumbled and that was it, or so you thought, before he turned around and left the room you heard the faintest;

“I love you too”

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #TWD Fanfic

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“The Savior Sessions” Part 28 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Negan is slowly getting on good terms with the Alpha, the reader is slowly becoming desperate, and Alpha has a plan in motion.

Word Count: 4243

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Little Black Submarines” by The Black Keys

Note: I am trying to finish this before the 28th when TWD returns. Remember, this will not go past the 10B finale. Some of these chapters are getting shorter, but that is mainly because Chapter 30, which is the hilltop battle, will be quite long! ALL OFFICIAL DIALOG IS PROPERTY OF AMC.

-------

"Well, that's...creative,” Negan said as he was looking at the disassembled body that sat at the Southern border. Negan thought the tiki torches were a nice touch even if they were a tad dramatic and that was coming from him.

It was early that morning when Alpha approached him and told him to follow her. Knowing his history with her enemy, she had asked for his counsel on an issue. Considering they hadn’t known each other long, Negan was confused but went along with it anyways. However as soon as he saw what was at the border, he knew what was going on. The other side had finally made their move.

"They are declaring war," Alpha said, tilting her head to the side. Negan noticed that she did that a lot and it made him both uncomfortable and intrigued.

"Isn't that what you did when you put nine of their people on pikes?" Negan asked. Alpha looked at him with a neutral expression. Negan shrugged, the bat on his back shifting on his leather jacket. Alpha had returned his weapon shortly after they had met. She said that if he had even attempted to try to swing it without her permission Beta would gut him within seconds. Negan didn't doubt that. The giant man was even more psychotic than Simon was and that was saying something. Negan was always wishing for a gun whenever Beta was around and he could bet that you were too.

"The archer?" Alpha asked, her voice quiet but still very calm and emotionless. Negan took a few steps towards the dead man and kneeled to look at the body and then up at the decapitated head.

Seeing as there were no penetrating wounds that Daryl’s bow would have caused, Negan didn't think this was his handy work. Also, if it had been Daryl, he probably wouldn’t have taken the head off. Daryl was ruthless when he needed to be, but removing the head like this was too personal and if Negan knew Daryl even a little bit, he would have done something more simple. No, this was someone else.

"No," Negan said, moving the body onto its back. The headless body reminded him too much of Glenn and Abraham, especially with the amount of blood. It was never a good moment when he thought about his victims, especially when he was portraying a persona who was supposed to enjoy the kill rather than shying away from it. Shutting away those memories, Negan examined the other wounds carefully.

Looking at the clean cut at the neck and then the two hits to the chest and eye, Negan realized something. It was a clean kill with a sharp blade. There wasn't any type of torture or prolonging of death. With the depth and width of the strikes, he finally recognized the blade.

Jesus' broadsword. Your sword.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

"Do you know who did this?" Alpha asked. Negan shut his eyes for a second before turning to her with his own neutral expression, not letting her see how affected he was by his discovery.

"Couldn't say for sure, most of those assholes handle blades."

"Shame, he was a good soldier," said Alpha. Negan furrowed his brow.

"He was one of your men?"

"Sent him in to...gain information," she said. "Didn't think he'd be this foolish to be caught."

"Can't all be winners," Negan said, turning his attention back to the body. He had seen a lot of dead bodies since the world ended, but there was something about this one that was bothering him. You were not this...cold. At least not since he had gotten to know you. There was something off about the way you had done this. Anyone else, besides maybe Daryl, wouldn’t have noticed, but he did.

Negan had only seen this deadly side of you a few times and it made him do a double-take every time. The first time had been that first night in the clearing. You were nearly out of it, blood trickling down your collar.

He had just threatened Rick and was laying down the rules when his eyes had fallen on you. Dwight had to keep his hands on you in order for you to stay upright, but you were still hanging on. Your arm was reaching out to Daryl next to you, not quite touching him, but enough for the archer to know you were there.

Your eyes, however, were switching from staring at the ground to staring at him. Negan wasn’t sure if you could actually see him at that point. Throughout his speech, his eyes kept flickering back to you as you fought to stay upright and awake.

When he killed Abraham, your eyes never left Lucille and the blood that dripped off her wooded form. It was only after he had Daryl pinned to the ground and Glenn’s blood was splashed against your face that you locked eyes with him and in those irises, he saw pure fury. It wasn’t long after that first look when you fell over from the head trauma.

However, that one look was enough for him to remember you. The second time he saw that look was when he had brought Carl home from the Sanctuary. You didn’t seem to care about Spencer and while you were pissed about Olivia, nothing bothered you as much as seeing him parading Carl around Alexandria. While he didn’t speak to you, seeing your glare from the top of the Gazebo as he walked in had made him remember your face from the clearing.

It was from then on that he found himself always looking for you when his people met yours. Little did he know that your talents with a rifle had you always watching him rather than the other way around. You were always so precise with your shots so he shouldn’t have been surprised to see how clinical you had been with Dante’s body. However, the idea of you removing his head and doing this made him a bit sick. Though, he didn’t let Alpha see a second of that.

“How are you going to retaliate?” Negan asked.

“I have something in motion,” Alpha simply said.

“Can I get a hint?” Negan asked with a sly grin. Alpha just looked at him with her signature look and Negan raised his hand in surrender. “No worries. Gotta win the boss’ respect, I get it.

“You talk too much,” she observed as she turned away from the border.

“So I’ve been told,” he said, catching up to her. “Force of habit, I’m afraid.”

“Tell me more about these people who held you captive,” Alpha said.

“Not much more to say,” Negan said. “Their old leader is dead and their new ones don’t really know what the hell they’re doing. Got some good fighters, but they don’t have a central person. They don’t have an alpha,” he said.

“Then they have weak spots,” Alpha realized.

“More than one, I bet,” Negan said.

“Have you seen my daughter with them?” she asked and Negan forced himself not to hesitate.

“Lydia, right?” he asked and Alpha nodded once. “She’s around, seems to be alright.” Negan tried to get a line on Alpha’s reaction to hearing about her daughter, but like with everything, the woman remained stoic. He also then noticed some discoloration on her arms. It didn’t take long for him to realize they were the same wounds that adorned Lydia’s arms. Negan fought to keep relaxed as he remembered what Alpha had done to her child. You had told him about the abuse, it was one night when he had been able to spend the night with you…

Months earlier…

The cold air from the winter weather outside seemed to be seeping through the walls as if they were made of paper.

Negan lay next to you in your bed, his arms securely around your waist. He had only woken up a few moments ago and couldn’t help but watch as you slept peacefully next to him. These nights when Michonne and Gabriel found that they still had a heart and would let him spend the night indoors rather than freezing in his cell were his favourite.

Whatever the reason was, he was just happy to be there with you. With a deep breath, you turned towards him, slowly waking up. Your eyes opened just a bit to see him and when you did, a tired smile spread across your face. “Why are you awake?” you whispered.

“Why are you?” he countered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. Being able to kiss you or hold your hand whenever he could, was the greatest gift anyone could have given him. Negan was desperate for your touch and whenever you gave it to him, he relished in it.

Reaching up, you caressed his face as he leaned into your palm. Even with the cold weather, he had stripped off his shirt, using his own body heat to keep you as warm as possible. Dancing your fingers across the tattoos on his chest, he shivered under your touch. Just as he was about to pull you on top of him, a noise broke the tension.

Confused, you both looked at each other before sitting up in bed. A second later and the noise happened again and Negan finally realized where it was coming from. Nudging you, he pointed over the side of the bed. Crawling to the edge, you looked down to see Lydia fast asleep on your floor, a blanket thrown over her as she softly snored.

You and Negan shared a look then that said everything you both were thinking: the teenager was scared. Lydia must have snuck into your bedroom just as you both had fallen asleep. She had been staying in the guest room downstairs, but you now figured that she wasn’t used to sleeping alone.

“Do we wake her?” you asked him. Negan shook his head, grabbing you again and pulling you back into bed. He slid his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin.

“Let her sleep,” he said in your ear. “The girl has been through enough.”

“And yet she feels safe enough to sleep in here? She barely knows me, knows us,” you argued.

“She trusts you,” he said. “She needs you.”

“She needs someone who can protect her from her mother,” you said. “I won’t let Alpha lay another hand on her. She is never going to be hurt by someone she loves again.”

“Her mother is abusive?” Negan asked and you just nodded.

“Shit,” he swore, pressing his nose into the back of your neck.

“I have to protect her, Negan,” you said as you rolled over and lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“You will,” he promised. “We will.” Looking up at him, he leaned in and kissed you firmly before tugging the blanket up further onto your shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you, too,” Negan said. “Forever.”

Negan was pulled out of the memory as he and Alpha arrived back at the Whisperer’s main camp. An ache had opened up in his chest as he thought about you, but he kept it suppressed. He had come too far to mess up now. Especially since Alpha had taken an interest in him.

As Alpha went off to do whatever she did during the day, Negan began scouting the camp. He checked out how many people were in her little army and the kind of weaponry they had. There was no way that she would have everything out on display for some newcomer, but he was getting a decent idea of who these Whisperers were and he hated them more by the second.

It was a little while later when he ran into one of Alpha’s scouts. The man looked worried, but angry as well. “What’s got you all freaked out?” he asked the man.

“Enemy near border,” was all the man said.

“Did ya tell the boss?”

“Can’t find the Alpha,” the scout said.

“Big man went that way,” Negan said, pointing towards where he saw Beta disappear earlier. The scout nodded to him and went on his way. While Negan knew he should be doing more to be seen as a “team player”, curiosity got the best of him and he headed towards the border from which the scout was coming from.

It wasn’t far, and he figured it was probably Carol trying to figure out a weakness in Alpha’s defenses. However, it could have been another body drop, which would only light Alpha’s fury even more. Then again, Negan wasn’t sure if she really cared if a few of her men and women were sacrificed for her greater good. Just another thing Negan hated about the woman.

Continuing through the thick trees, it took him a bit longer to reach the ridge that looked over the specific border he was looking for. As soon as he made it to the tree line, he was struck by what he saw. It wasn’t Carol at all or even Daryl.

It was you.

You, and the young woman he knew as Enid, were walking along the invisible line that separated your territory from Alpha’s. Walkers were following you as you and Enid took them out with quick and fast strikes of your sword and her knife.

His heart jumped in his chest at the sight of you. He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but there was something about your body language that made him worried.

There was a hardness to you that he hadn’t seen in a while. There was no doubt in his mind now that you had been the one to put the Whisperer’s head on the pike. Watching as you killed the Walkers, all he wanted to do was reveal himself, to tell you that he was still there, but he couldn’t. Still, he didn’t move as you continued to cut down the undead enemy, whether it was risky or not.

-------

The weather was heating up and you didn’t like it at all.

Kicking out at another Walker, you kept walking, ignoring Enid’s looks that she had been sending you since you had met up with her earlier in the day. “You know, if you want to say something, just say it,” you finally said.

“I’m not sure you want to hear it,” Enid said.

“Try me,” you said. Enid sighed but finally said her piece.

"Antagonizing her wasn’t the best idea, (Y/N)," Enid said as she pulled her blade out of another Walker.

"What else was I supposed to do? I am sick of playing offense," you said, slashing down another Walker who came at you. Flicking away the blood off your sword you continued forward. It had been a long day and a long night. Siddiq was finally resting with Coco not far from him. Rosita was feeling better and everything back home was finally getting back to normal. It was only the external force that threatened your family now.

"You need a strategy," Enid said and even with your back turned to her, you knew that she was giving you one of her "doctor looks".

"I have one," you argued.

"Is that why Lydia is out there by herself?" Enid asked. Looking over your shoulder, you narrowed your eyes.

"I didn't tell you that for you to judge me," you said. After reviewing the maps, Lydia noticed a few landmarks that you had circled in red. She was sure that she knew where she could start looking. According to Lydia if Negan was your family, he was hers as well. Lydia had left early that morning with the promise that she would be back within a day or so.

"I can't believe you let her out there alone," Enid said.

"She knows what she's doing," you argued.

"She's a child!"

"So were you when you fought against the Saviors," you reminded her.

"That was different," Enid said.

"No it wasn't," you said. "Lydia was raised in this world. She knows what needs to be done and so do I."

"You're losing yourself in this vendetta against Beta and this drive to find Negan."

“Weren’t you just telling me that it was okay that I was still doing that?” you asked her.

“I didn’t mean for you to go all slasher film on Dante,” she accused.

“I had to send a message,” you said, ducking under another Walker’s arms and shoving your blade into the back of its skull, sending it to the ground to join the others.

“To Alpha or to Negan?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” you snapped back.

“You still think he’s around, don’t you?” she asked. Pausing, you took a moment to collect yourself. When you had invited Enid out to join you, you hadn’t expected a full-blown interrogation. You figured that she would still be rather reserved from the trauma she had sustained, but clearly, she was doing better than you thought.

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but I don’t believe that he’s completely gone.”

“What if…” Enid began. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” you said defiantly. “I can feel it. He’s not lost and I will find him.”

“Just prepare yourself, okay?” she offered, landing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You let the weight of her touch soothe you as you got your thoughts together. It hadn’t been that long since you had last seen him, but it had been long enough. Waking up in the middle of the night, you found yourself reaching for him next to you only to find the spot empty. That coldness that echoed in your blankets mimicked itself in your heart and it was only a matter of time before your entire body froze over.

You needed him home and you needed him now.

A chill ran up your spine just then, that feeling of being watched returning. Turning towards the tree line, you narrowed your eyes. You knew it was a risk to be this close to the border, but you were willing to risk it. However, if the Whisperers were watching you this closely, it wasn’t for regular observation.

“What’s wrong?” Enid asked, noticing the change in your behavior.

“We need to go,” you said, gripping your sword tighter. You began to move back towards the main road when your radio lit up.

“(Y/N), come in,” Carol’s voice crackled over the line.

“I’m here,” you responded.

“I need you back home,” she said simply and that was all you needed.

“On my way,” you said before hooking the radio back onto your belt. “Come on, I gotta get back,” you said to Enid who began to follow you to the point where you both would turn off to go home to your respective communities. Just as you were about to leave the clearing, you glanced back over at the tree line and you swore you saw someone watching you.

---------

Negan watched as you disappeared again and was frozen in that spot for a while before deciding to head back.

It was dark when he finally returned to the camp. If anyone asked, Negan would say he got lost. He didn’t want to be around people and he didn’t want to be around Beta especially. He needed a moment to clear his head, though that did turn into several hours.

Arriving back into the fold, Negan was glad to see that he wasn’t met with spears or blades. In fact, it seemed as if nobody noticed that he was actually gone. Negan figured that nobody would really care if he had left. Then again, as he approached the fire, he did happen to see one person who looked up as soon as he was in view. Alpha had returned from wherever she had been.

The woman looked incredibly determined and actually quite smug. It made Negan a bit nervous. Still, he sauntered over to her, leaning into his hips with that sly grin on his face. “Just the Alpha I was looking for,” he said.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I wanted to talk,” he said.

“About?”

“Well, I hear we're supposed to be keeping our eyes peeled for a spy lurkin' in the woods. I have an alternate theory to run by you,” Negan offered. Alpha gestured for him to sit down and he did.

“Go on,” she said.

“The spy you're looking for? Right here in your camp,” Negan said, enacting the next part of his plan. Divide and conquer.

“My people know the enemy have nothing to offer except lies,” Alpha said.

“Maybe they do. Maybe they don't. Believe it or not, I have been where you are right now. And if you don't want to end up where I am right now, I suggest you zig where I zagged,” said Negan. Alpha narrowed her eyes.

“You and I, very different,” Alpha said with a dismissive look, but Negan didn’t back down.

“I had people. I had a system. I thought they believed in it, just like you,” a flash of Simon’s traitorous face echoed in his mind and Negan pushed it down. “See, the thing is, you stay king or queen long enough, with people telling you all day, every day that your shit don't stink, eventually, you start to believe it. The thing is it still stinks.”

“Who?” Alpha asked, getting impatient.

“Well, based on my own personal experience, I'd say look closer to home. And, no, I am not talkin' about Frankenstein's Hemorrhoid. That big dude is clearly a goose stepper. But the little one?” Negan said, referencing Gamma. “You see, she is close enough to you that she knows exactly where that horde is. But she guards the border, which means she's close enough to the enemy that they could've gotten to her.”

Negan had overheard Gamma a day ago telling Alpha about a man with a metal arm. Negan wasn’t surprised to hear that Aaron was trying to be a hero. He was the type. However, this news did offer him an advantage. He didn’t think Alpha would care much about Aaron, which was good because his death was the last thing Negan wanted. He actually quite liked the man. Gamma, however, Negan didn’t care at all what happened to her.

Alpha didn’t like his tone all that much after his suggestion. “I will not have you sowing paranoia,” she said and then drew her knife, levelling it at his groin. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will take these,” she said, pressing the blade to his jeans.

“Fair enough,” Negan breathed as the blade bit into his inner thigh. When Alpha withdrew the blade, she returned to staring into the fire with a proud look on her face. While he didn’t plan on sowing any further paranoia, he had planted that small seed in her brain which was exactly what he wanted to do. After a moment longer, curiosity got the best of him.

“You look rather thrilled,” he said, breaking the silence. “Did I miss something while I was out taking my evening stroll?” he asked. Alpha looked back at him as she cleaned her nails with her knife.

“Our problem won’t be lasting much longer,” she said and a coldness fell over Negan. He had a sudden image of your head on a spike and it made him feel rather sick. Like always, he pushed it down.

“What did you do?” he asked in a teasing tone, leaning closer to her. Alpha looked at him and there was mischief in her eyes. It was the kind that made Gotham villains so special and the kind that Negan really didn’t like.

“Carol wanted the horde,” Alpha said slowly, “and so I gave it to her.” Negan didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t like the sound of it. He knew that Carol was out for blood when it came to Alpha and that she had been quite reckless with her vendetta. He remembered the day he went home and found out that she had taken a shot at the leader of the Whisperers. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had tried again. However, based on how elated Alpha looked at the moment, it seemed that Carol had lost this round.

Looking back at her, Alpha was watching him with a fire in her eyes that wasn’t solely mischief. If the circumstances were different and he wasn’t in love with you, he may have taken her up on the question that was so clearly written in her irises. Yet, he knew he wouldn’t. If there was any chance that he would get back to you, he didn’t need something that big weighing on him. You could forgive a lot, but him taking a tumble with the enemy would not be something you could turn the other cheek with.

Negan distracted himself then, looking around the camp at the masked soldiers. However, one in particular was still missing.

Where was Beta?

--------

In the dark of a cave, survivors struggled to find the light.

Then as night settled on Alexandria, a grave was no longer empty as a large shape, armed with knives, emerged into enemy territory.

TAGS: @lucillethings @cameronsails @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

#walkerwords #the walking dead #twd imagines #negan x reader #negan x gn reader #savior sessions #negan #oc #twd #whisperers #negan x you #negan imagines

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abeinginsand · 1 year

Note

Lovesong + "kitchen" for the hc asks :]

Thanks for the ask, baba! :D --- Sparrow's sunken deeply into dreamland, feeling the sensations of a dog licking his face and a goat baa in the distance. Lark's laughing about something and they're both tumbling through the grass, care-free. The wonderful before. Its cozy, pretending to be a little kid again. That's why, when he feels certain half-demon partners calling for him to get up, he tucks further into the clouds and hides beneath the blankets. Eventually the dream stops though and Sparrow is left to lay there for a few minutes. The urge to call Lark springs up like usual, but he doesn't even know what he would say. He turns to his side and stretches a hand across the sheets where his partner usually lays. It's still warm even though Nicky's been up for awhile. Something, something about demonic body heat lingering longer than normal. He smiles a tiny bit, drawing a heart pattern with his finger before slowly getting out of bed.

By the time, he does get up, Nicky's at the bedroom door peaking in. "Mornin' sweetheart~" "Morning, darling," Sparrow says with a yawn and stretch. They're wearing some shorts and one of Nicky's old band shirts. On the other hand, Nicky has one of Sparrow's oversized sweaters and bright yellow minion slippers. The slippers were a sign that the half-demon was in a great and relaxed mood. It makes the lovewolf's smile grow a little more. And he's full on grinning when Nicky, slightly flustered (always taken in by the 'darling'), walks on over to the bed and kisses him silly. The smell of pancakes reminds them not to get too distracted though and eventually the lovebirds walk into the kitchen. It's a day off, the weekend away from Nicky's tutor work at the local music and instruments shop and Sparrow's art teaching. So the two aren't rushing to get dressed, staying in their pjs as they set the table together. Sparrow takes a seat afterward and watches his partner move back over to the stove. A comfortable silence surrounds them as fresh and steaming pancakes are stacked onto plates. That's until Nicky starts to hum a bit and Sparrow joins in. Its off key, more so on the partial elf's part than the half demon's but neither mention it outside of a little goofy smile or laugh when their gazes happen to meet. ---- Other related hcs for the prompt + Sparrow had pansies growing in his hair that day which stand for nostalgia and remembrance in reference to the dream. Its a non-doodler au but they still have their magical heritages/s1 still happened. + In Nick Close timeline, it was his turn to bring snacks for the soccer team and Glenn stayed up all night the day before to make little snack bags together with him. In the Foster timeline, he does something different (not snack bags) but regardless its similar sort of a vibe. As Nicky, he ends making a little snack bag as a bday gift and Sparrow wonders how Nicky remembers what specific candies/snacks he likes. Including something's he's never mentioned etc. Nick liked to pay attention to/keep notes on what everyone around him liked (and later Nicky tries to do this too though memory issues can be frustrating). Uses a lot of sticky notes, probably in a cookbook. Not helpful for cooking, but Sparrow likes putting up little stick note drawings around their apartment to surprise Nicky with. Nicky adores every single one, probably carries the very first note in his wallet.

#babacontainsmultitudes #asks #abeinginsand talk tag #lovesong #dndads #dndads headcanon #abeinginsand writing tag #im very sleepy hopefully this makes sense

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the-daily-multi-fandom-post · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can you please write Daryl x Reader, where they were together since high school and when the apocalypse happens Daryl, Merle and Y/n join the camp at the quarry. After Merle was cuffed to the roof, Y/n finds out she's pregnant, she gives birth to Daryl's baby, then they find the prison and when Merle joins them, he meets his brother's kid and is so happy. Please make it fluffy 🥺❤️ thank you!

Oh my gosh, yes this is so cute!! Hope you like this!!

⚠️⚠️Request still open!! ❤️🖤❤️🖤

“I love ya, I’ll always love ya.” Daryl declares his love as they were trying to get to sleep.

Merle was on watch as they tried to get some sleep In the tent. She smiled as she leaned forwards connecting their lips together. The kiss was soft and passionate, but it slowly got faster as it became rough. Then they heard footsteps outside the tent. Knowing it was probably Merle coming to check on them they pulled away.

“You okay in there little brother?” Merles rough voice called as he stood outside of the tent.

“Yeah, fine. We’re fine.” Daryl called out to his brother as he held his wife in his arms.

“Alright then, night.”

“Night.”

- A few weeks later -

Y/n had her back pack on her back full of supplies. Like ammunition for her gun. Extra clothes, the tent and two sleeping bags. A big first-aid kit, matches, lighters and a compass and map.

Y/n had her gun on one side of her and her hunting knife in the other side. Daryl walked beside her with his crossbow across his bag with extra bolts. Merle walked on the other side of her with his rifle carrying it in a trail carry and his knife in his side.

They were walking through the woods when they heard laughing. They weren’t sure if they heard it or if they imagined it. But they continued walking towards it.

“Hands up!” A man shouted as he pointed a glock at them.

“Who the hell are y’all?” The man looked at the three of them. Y/n and Daryl held their hands up whole Merle looked at the man not pleased.

“I’m Merle Dixon and you best be puttin that Gun outta my face before I kill yo ass.” Merle threaten the man wearing a cap that said police.

“Merle!” Y/n hissed through gritted teeth.

“He didn’t mean that. We’ve been walking for a while and he’s probably just dehydrated.” Y/n tried to make up an excuse to the tall dark haired man.

“Is it just y’all?” The man asked Y/n since neither one of the men were answering her. She nodded as she made eye contact with the man. Hoping that would make him believe she wasn’t lying.

“Y’all can stay with our group. Y’all have a tent?” Merle chucked as he looked at the man.

“If we didn’t have a tent would ya provide one for us?” He asked the younger man.

The man nodded as a voice came shouting for him.

“Come on and I’ll show y’all where you can put your stuff.

“Thank you.” Y/n said respectfully as Daryl took her hand in his. Silently showing Shane she was off limits.

“Y’all left my brother-in-law hand cuff to the fucking roof?!” Y/n yelled as she looked at the group who had just gotten back to the city.

“He was fighting T-dog. He was causing too much trouble then what was needed. It was all we could do at that moment.” Glenn explained, trying to get the girl to understand.

“So you thought because he was fighting it was a good idea to feed him to those monsters?!”

Y/n was beyond angry. She was pissed she was seeing red. She hadn’t even got to tell Daryl. But as soon as he knew they we’re gonna have to fight the both of them.

“Y/n, what’s going on? Where’s merle?” He asked as he put three or four squirrels on the table to be fixed for supper.

“Ask the asshole who left him in the city for dead!” Y/n exclaimed as she stared daggers at the group in front of her.

“You left your brother in the city? Handcuff to the roof while them things were coming for him?!” Daryl screamed as he looked at the group who just came back from Atlanta.

“I’m gonna stump your ass!” Daryl went for Rick, but Y/n held him back.

“Come on, we’ll go get ‘em tomorrow. I know, we both want him back tonight, but it’s getting dark. If we go there at night time we’ll never get back.” Y/n whispered softly. Looking into the love of her life’s blue eyes.

“Come on.” Y/n said as she pulled him away from the group. Looking at both Carl and Sophia feeling bad because they look scared.

“I’m sorry, we scared you.” Y/n said as she walked towards the two kids.

“Daryl why don’t you go cool down. There’s some cold water in the tent. I’ll meet you over there in a little bit.” She softly spoke as she looked at her husband. He nodded as he gave her a soft kiss. Making the two kids say “eww” as loud as they could with smiles on their face.

Daryl laughed as he walked away. His mood was a little bit better.

“Why were you and Dayl upset?” Carl asked as you started braiding Sophias soft curly blond hair.

“Well, Merle was left in the city and they forgot about him. So me and Daryl are worried about him. But don’t you two everything Me, Daryl or Merle would ever lay a hand on you. We’lol protect y’all no matter what. I promise.” Y/n said as she looked at the two with a serious look.

“Group hug?” Y/n asked looking at the two with a smile.

The two smile and hugged her tightly before running off giggling. She stood up from her spot on the log when Rick walked up to her.

“I’m sorry we left Merle on the building. He was causing so much trouble and was gonna get us all killed if we didn’t.” Rick tried to get her to understand. Y/n nodded once he finished.

“I understand, but the thing is. That man, Merle. He is my family. He and Daryl are my only family. I take care of my own. The only others I’ll do anything for are those two kids. I won’t let anything happen to them. So like I said, I understand what you did was what you thought was right, but you should’ve though twice when y’all left him on the roof alone.” With that Y/n gave him a curt nod and walked away. Going towards her and Dayrls tent away from the others.

She got into the tent. Seeing Daryl lying in his back. His shirt was off and he had the blankets thrown off him. He had them laid out on the floor to make it softer for him to lay on.

“I seen you wit them kids.” He mumbled as she laid beside him. He wrapped her into his arms and held her head against his chest.

“You would be such a good mama.” He mumbled softly. As if he wasn’t even trying to get her to hear it.

“What?” She asked looking up at him flabbergasted.

“You heard me. I think one day, you’ll be a great mom. You’d take care of our kids. You’d carry ‘me around for nine months and then when you’d have ‘em you’ll probably want to Kill me. But one day, you’ll be a great mom.” He softly rambled as he pulled on top of him to lie down.

She smirked as she felt something against her inner thigh.

“Well, why don’t we practice.”

Days before that Y/n had felt a little off. She had thought it was just a little bug or something, but she wasn’t sure. She then realized she hadn’t started her period and she seemed to have gained a little bit of weight.

She seemed to start have over thinking everything. Maybe she was just stressed. Maybe her hormones were messed up and that was causing her periods to stop.

“Hey, you okay?” Carol asked as she sat beside Y/n.

Y/n was washing her, Daryl and merles clothes. She must’ve been in her thinking in her own world. She didn’t see it hear carol come down beside her until she spoke.

“How did you find out you were pregnant with Sophia? Did you just know or what?” Y/n asked randomly.

“Your pregnant?” Carol asked with a smile.

“I think so, but I’m not 100% sure.” Y/n whispered as if everyone was surrounding them.

“Well, I just knew. I had gotten morning sickness a little earlier then you normal would as a pregnant woman. Then I seen I had gained weight, plus I was an emotion wreck. More than ever.” Carol explained giving Y/n a soft smile.

“But if you are. There isn’t nothing to worry about. You have a man who loves you very much and I’m pretty sure everyone in this group will take care of you and help you and the baby.” Y/n nodded as she walked ringed out Dayrls tank top.

A few days later y/n asked Glenn while he and the group were going out on the run to Atlanta if he could get a test. And the prenatal pills if he could get them. She asked not to risk anything to get them. She asked him only to get it if he was already in the store.

He came back that evening with the test and medicine. She thanked him promising him, she owe him one.

She did the test and waited. The two minutes felt like an eternity as she waited for the test to come back. She looked down at her watch seeing it had been two minutes.

Looking down at the test she seen pregnant!

She couldn’t believe it. She had tears in her y/e/c eyes as she smiled down at the test. She and the love of her life were going to have a family.

She knew she had to tell Dayrl as soon as possible, but he was out in a hunt. So she figured she would make him a gift to give him for when she told him.

She decided she would make him a handful of bolts for his crossbow. Since he could never have too many of them.

After she made about 10 of them it was later on in the afternoon. She had put the bolts in a bag and put the positive test in it on the top.

Leaving the bag in the tent with the test in top she left the tent. Stretching she went out and went over to talk to the group.

An hour or so later she seen Dayrl coming back with the test in his hand. He looked at little nervous, but she could tell he was happy.

“Your pregnant?” He asked with a hopeful smile in his face.

She nodded as she looked into his ocean blue eyes.

“Yeah, were gonna have a baby!” She smiled brightly.

“That’s why you’ve been sick.” He said as if a hundred year curse had just been solved.

“And that explains why you look like your glowing.” He said with a smile. He pulled her into a soft, yet tight hug so happy they were going to have a family together.

-Nine months later-

“You were right, I wanna kill you!” Y/n exclaimed as her contractions were closer and closer. They were in the farm as went into labor. She was about to have the baby. She wasn’t sure whether or not it was a girl or a boy. But both her and Dayrl were okay with either.

“You got this is see the head.” Herschel said as he saw the baby crowning.

“Maggie hand me the clean towel.”

“Alright, one more big push!” Herschel said.

Y/n groaned and cried as he pushed. Holding and squeezing both Dayrl and Ricks hands.

“Oh, my god I’m gonna fucking kill you Dayrl fucking Dixon.” Dayrl chuckled softly as he rubbed the hair out of her sweaty face.

“It’s okay sweetheart, you got this keep going.” He said encouraging her as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

A few minutes late a little baby could be heard squalling.

“It’s a boy!” Dayrl said looking over at the baby Hershel was cleaning off with a towel and warm rags.

“Do you want to cut the umbilical cord?” Herschel asked as he held the baby up some.

Dayrl nodded as he walked over to cut them. He cut them umbilical cord and let Maggie, and Herschel take care of the baby. A few minutes later the after birth came.

Y/n was lying in the bed. She was so tired and her body was hurting. She watched as Dayrl watched them clean the baby and then asked Dayrl if he wanted to hold the baby.

“Let her hold him first. She was the one doing the hard work.”

Beth nodded as she laid the baby on Y/ns chest. Everyone left the room giving Y/n and Dayrl privacy with their newborn.

“Welcome to the world little Dixon.” She softly whispered as tears went down her face.

She looked at Dayrl and smiled.

“We have a family.” She smiled his reflecting hers.

“I love you so much. I love both of you so much.” She softly whispered as the baby slept.

They named the baby Mason Dixon. Mason looked just like Dayrl. He had Y/ns nose and hair, but the rest was Dayrl.

Mason was about Four or five months by time they found the prison. Luckily she was able to breast feed the baby, but they always made sure to find formula, just in case they would need it.

When they found Merle they were shocked. Y/n was damn near crying when she hugged her brother-in-law. She thought he had died. He was so shocked to see Y/n holding a baby.

“This little guy y’all’s?” Merle asked as he saw the sleeping baby in y/ns arms. Y/n nodded as she kept her arms wrapped around Mason.

“Yep, this is mason. Out baby boy.” Y/n explained as the baby wiggles to get comfortable.

“I’m glad to see y’all carrying one the Dixon Name. I’m a little upset you didn’t name him after me, but you can always have more.”’he teased the two with a playful smirk. “Yeah, we can always have more.” Dayrl said looking at Y/n with a smirk that looked just like Merles.

“Maybe in the future.”

(7-07-20)

#dayrl dixon #dayrl dixon x reader #the walking dead #merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #Carol #twd carol #carl grimes x reader #reader insert #request open #request asked and answered

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justjessame · 4 years

Text

The Deal Chapter 69

I was still at Mom’s, playing with RJ and waiting for a moment to take Judith off on her own to give her a stern talking to about her attitude toward Mom, when Laura came in and told me that a delegation from Hilltop was asking for me. Very little upsets my equilibrium, or at least outwardly, but this was one time that it did.

Mom had a multitude of questions, and so did I, but they die in our throats when the man tells us that Daryl asked for me specifically. Michonne’s eyes met mine and we both knew that whatever I’m needed for at Hilltop it’s of the utmost importance, because Daryl wouldn’t ask for me for anything less than something paramount.

I insist, since I’ve been paged, that I be allowed a chance to tell Negan first. I can see the wince, the twinge of irritation at the announcement, but too fucking bad. After hugging RJ and kissing Judith and promising I’ll be back safe and sound as fast as I can, I head to my house to pack a small bag and stop by Negan’s cell to let him know I’m off to Hilltop for an unknown purpose.

To say that he took it poorly would be an understatement. His distrust for Daryl is palpable. His distrust for Maggie, Glenn, Hilltop in general is so heavy that I’m shocked that he can breathe through it.

“You don’t even know why you’re fucking going, Jessi.” He sighs, eyes tight, looking like every muscle in his entire body is wound as tight as a spring. “What if-”

“What?” I shook my head and stepped closer, putting my fingers through the bars, touching his skin and pulling at him so he would move closer and I could touch more of him. “What if, what?” My eyes locked on his, drinking him in, this man who even caged was a riot of strength. “They bind me and lock me away? I dare them to try.” He rolled his eyes, but his long arms reached through the bars and wrapped around my back pulling me into him, the bars keeping us apart, but only just. “Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, will keep me from seeing you again, Negan.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Jessica Grimes.” He leaned down, lowering his head, his lips and mine meeting through the gap in the bars for a kiss before I had to head to Hilltop to see what was so important that Daryl needed my attendance.

“Says her name is Lydia.” Daryl was telling me as he led me down a set of cellar steps. “She was easy to catch, makes me think they left ‘er behind on purpose.” I nodded, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light of Hilltop’s very own jail. “Something ain’t right about her, Jessi. And if anyone can get it out of her-”

I nearly snorted, but then my eyes landed on the girl. Dirty as hell, straggly hair, teeth that looked like they’d never seen the sight of a toothbrush, and eyes like a cornered animal. Yeah, this was a different breed of human, alight. Movement caught my eye in the cell next to hers, and I did snort then.

“Henry? Is that you?” Dear Lord, Ezekiel’s son was locked up in Hilltop. “What the literal hell did you do to get locked up in the Hilltop clink?”

“Hey, Jessi.” He sounded defeated, upset, embarrassed, and defensive all at once. Impressive for a snot nosed teenager. “Didn’t know you did a lot of visiting.”

Well spotted, I thought, but kept it to myself. “I’m the tri-community cell inspector. Newly minted.” Nothing, until I heard a tiny grunt of laughter from behind me and had to bite my lip to hold back my own giggle. Fuck, I think I got a chuckle out of Daryl Dixon of all people. “Hilltop’s look more spacious than Alexandria’s, since you’re from The Kingdom’s, you have insider knowledge of those? Any help is appreciated, might save my ass a trip.” My eyes were on Henry’s, but I swear to God, I felt Daryl’s snort in my toes.

Henry’s eyes were wide, and I felt pretty sure he was trying to decide if I was serious or not, but my eyes went back to the young woman in the cell next to his. She was tucked into the furthest corner from where I stood. Her eyes were darting between the three of us, since Daryl hadn’t left the cellar yet, but I planned on getting his ass out soon enough. Her fingers were tugging at the cuffs of her sleeves, and I was trying to focus on whether it was simply a nervous habit, or if she was hiding something at that spot.

“Daryl?” I didn’t raise my voice, there wasn’t a need and I didn’t want her to jump. “Could you bring me something cool to drink? I’m a bit parched, and I want Henry here to give me some insider information on those Kingdom cells.” He grunted his assent and after the door gave me the proof that he was gone, at least from sight, I smiled at the girl. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your cell neighbor, Henry?”

Henry blinked at me, I could see him out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t let my attention move from the girl. I wanted her to know that I was entirely focused on her. If she was primal, then showing her that I was in charge was important.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Henry, the adopted son of the self-styled King Ezekiel of The Kingdom, finally found his fucking manners. “Lydia, this is Jessica Grimes. Her mother is the leader of Alexandria.” Close enough, I thought, trying to keep from rolling my eyes. “Jessi, this is Lydia. She’s-” And that’s where he faded. Helpful.

“Hello, Lydia.” Voice still quiet, pleasant. Keep soothing, make sure that she knows I don’t bite. Unless it’s necessary. I watched as one hand stopped fidgeting with her sleeve and went to her earlobe. “Does your ear hurt?” My head tilted as her hand dropped along with her chin, but her eyes never left mine. “Lydia?”

“She has an ear infection.” Henry, the world’s worst or strangest ventriloquist. And it hit me, teenage love. Shit. He was into her. Dirty and traumatised as fuck, Lydia was his type. How weird. “Daryl brought medicine with food, but-”

“Do you not trust the medication?” I addressed Lydia. While Henry was helpful as the puppet voice, I wanted to get Lydia involved in the conversation. “It’s hard to trust people who put you in a cage, I do know that.” Trust me, I DO.

“Jessi really does, Lydia.” Thank you, Henry, I thought. Right there as the world’s best/worst backup singer. “She fell in love with-” I couldn’t hold back the long sigh that hit me. I had to, it had to come out. Sorry not sorry. “Sorry, Jessi.” Yeah, pretty fucking sure that Henry was in the clink to dry out. Verbal diarrhea tends to be a symptom.

“Not a problem.” I was still studying Lydia. “Daryl tells me that you’re a member of the group that attacked and killed our people.” Her eyes flickered around the room, landing on Henry, the window, the door, the bars, me, and again making a route. “Lydia, I’m unarmed.” I lifted my shirt, took a slow turn to show her that I truly wore not a single weapon. “I haven’t fought anyone hand to hand for a very long time.” Also true. “I am NOT here to harm you.” I wasn’t. From what Daryl told me, and Tara had reiterated while I listened and took mental notes, was to find out how dangerous this girl was. Whether she was important to her people and whether that made her valuable and dangerous.

I take a seat on the ground, ignoring the wooden chair that sits nearby. I know that Lydia is probably wondering why Daryl hasn’t returned with the cool drink I asked for, but I plan on distracting her with other tactics. Henry, with a short glance his way, follows suit. Lydia, after a few beats, joins us.

“I heard that you said ‘hunger is a gift,’” I tell her, leaning against the wall behind me, getting comfortable. I want her to know that she is correct, as I’m sure she was thinking that she’s been eavesdropped on. “Hunger is what you make of it, nothing more, nothing less.” I watch her as she puzzles through my words, I can see the war fighting inside her head. “My father, his mentality throughout this entire mess, ebbed and flowed. On one hand, he wanted us to learn to use every single hardship that this fucked up world handed us to make us harder and stronger and fiercer.” Her eyes blazed as they met mine and I knew that whomever she feared or learned from had put that idea firmly inside of her. “On the other side? He was terrified that in doing that, in gripping the hard and using it to brace us and build us harder, it would steal the best and ONLY reason worth surviving. Our humanity.” I thought of Judith, of RJ, of Mom, of Negan, of Daryl, of Carol, Maggie, Glenn, and on and on-

“Hunger isn’t the gift, Lydia. LIFE is the gift. Never forget that.” I sighed. My eyes landed on the medication bottle lying close to me near the bars. I reached out and took it into my fingers. “Dealing with pain when you don’t have to? That’s martyrdom for martyrdom’s sake, and it’s stupid and shitty.” I tossed it to her and smiled when she caught it easily. “Good hands, now take the fucking meds.” Henry was staring at me, but I was gratified to see a smirk on the girl’s face. “Now tell me about Alpha, and how often you’re beaten for no apparent reason so we can discuss whether the cell is a permanent situation or not.”

Daryl had listened in on Henry and Lydia’s conversations before I’d come. I HAD insider information. I didn’t need to wait and dig, but I did want to see what I could garner without using it.

And what I learned was that Henry was overprotective and Lydia was more than willing to let him do the talking. Lydia was abused. She watched her mother kill her father. She watched this woman run roughshod over EVERYONE and no one stood up to her. Why would she suddenly choose to stand up for herself among strangers?

Which was the point where I gave up. Why not just admit that I knew it all? Cut out the middle tape and the middleman and get to the damn point of it all?

Plus, it’s HILARIOUS to freak out teenagers. Seriously. Try it sometime. I dare you.

“It’s not for-”

“No apparent reason?” I asked, biting back a yawn. “Lydia, listen, I’m here because I have this uncanny ability to cut through bullshit. OK, not really, but I do have a background in trauma.” Henry’s eyes were zeroed in on me so hard that I swore I’d end up with fucking marks. “When I first met Henry’s mom,” I heard him shift and I knew he was thinking of what he’d shared with her about Carol’s past. “I knew that she was abused by her husband. Not only because of her hair, but her eyes.” Lydia’s were still locked on mine, as though I were telling her a fairy tale. “People who are victims of repeated terrorization by loved ones, their eyes are haunted. They’re also fidgeters, they twitch and they jump.” Just like you, I wanted to add, but I didn’t.

“But I should do better,” she was still fighting to prove that her mom, that her leader wasn’t in the wrong. That she EARNED her ‘punishments’. “I shouldn’t-”

“Irritate her?” I offered, raising an eyebrow. “Upset her?” I leaned forward, raising my knees to prop my elbows on top of them. “You shouldn’t say whatever you said, whenever you said it, however you said it, to get her to hit you? Or you shouldn’t have looked at her in that tone?” I shook my head. How often had I heard it? Or seen it? When I’d volunteered during high school and college? “Abusers will never take credit for being the ones who perpetuate abuse, Lydia. The blame will always lay at the feet of those who they victimize. Even if that victim is an infant.”

The next round of questioning came with the subject of how important Lydia felt she was to her mother and people. Would they come for her? Would they attack our people again? At what cost?

#The Walking Dead #negan x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #rick grimes daughter #OriginalGrimesDaughter

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electricxmayhem · 5 years

Text

When It’s Time

Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies

Relationship: Oakson

Word Count: 5,339

Authors notes: There’s a lot of gen content in this because I accidentally thought too hard about the plot and also I’m afraid of intimacy. Please just pretend the action was more drawn out and realistic. Also if the writing of this seems un-American I’m sorry I’m...not American.

One

‘Did anyone think for even a second that this might be a terrible idea?’

‘All our ideas have been terrible, Darryl. This is our best shot right now.’

Trudging around yet another unfamiliar town was wearing on everybody, and the long day had only been made longer by Darryl’s mood. He had been a little extra crabby since his split with Carroll, which would have been understandable were the other dads not so on edge.

‘Can someone else take Peter?’ Ron asked, shifting his shoulders under the weight of Paeden fast asleep on his back, ‘He’s heavier than he looks.’

‘Give him here.’ Henry rubbed his eyes and reached out his arms to take the exhausted boy. But before he had him, something caught his eye and he turned suddenly. Ron let go of Paeden’s legs and the boy fell hard into the dirt, startling himself awake.

‘What the fuck?’ He spluttered.

‘Oh my gosh, Paeden, are you okay, buddy?’ Henry fussed, pulling Paeden up and dusting him off while he squirmed indignantly.

‘Yeah, I’m fine, I can take a hit.’ He sniffed, ‘What happened though?’

‘Oh, I think I just saw the sign.’

‘For the fortune teller?’

‘Yeah, come on, this way.’

Relief bringing a burst of energy, everyone followed Henry to a faintly glowing eye-shaped symbol carved into a wooden sign. Below, in similarly glowing letters the sign said ‘OPEN’. Below the sign was a small tent made of heavy red material.

Glenn reached out and knocked on the door. Nothing happened.

‘Did you just try to knock on a curtain, Glenn?’

‘Look, I’m really tired okay.’

‘Hello?’ Henry tried.

‘Enter.’ Came a creaking voice from inside.

Shrugging, the dads piled into the tent, shepherding Paeden ahead of them. Disappointingly, the tent was no larger on the inside than it was on the outside. There was barely room for 4 and a half people to squeeze in facing the woman sitting at the table within, commanding the room despite her small stature. She smiled at them in silence for what felt like minutes before Henry spoke up again.

‘Uh, are you the Seer of-’

‘Silverman? I certainly am, Mr Oak.’

Henry laughed delightedly. ‘Neat!’

‘Hey, Siri, what’s my name?’ Ron pushed forward.

‘You’re Ron. And my name is not Siri-’

‘Siri, call me uh, Adam Sandler.’

‘............No.’

Darryl waved his hands in the air.

‘We’re getting off track. Ma’am we’re here to-’

‘Let me guess. You vowed to take on the beast in order to gain the favour of Lady Lockwood, so that she might grant you an army to assist you in your raid of Castle Ravenloft.’

‘Uh, yes.’

‘So what do you want from me?’

‘Seems like you already know.’

‘I know a lot of things, Darryl, but I do hate a one-sided conversation. So come on, ask me nicely.’ The old woman leaned forward and clasped her hands under her chin. Her gaze was unnervingly bright for her wizened face.

‘We heard you might be able to give us some clues on the beast, see what we’re up against.’

The Seer chuckled. Drawing back a sheet of velvet she revealed a perfectly smooth crystal ball in the center of the table that glowed softly in the low light. Everyone leaned in.

‘You should know, first and foremost,’ The old woman hummed, ‘That I work for Lady Lockwood. I am forbidden to give you information like that.’

The dads groaned.

‘But!’ She continued, ‘I have one offer. For a few seconds I can allow one of you to see one day into your future. Whatever this reveals may offer you some...foresight into your battle.’

Darryl looked around at the other dads. Everyone seemed to be nodding. Paeden’s head was nodding too, in and out of sleep.

‘I’ll do it.’ Darryl nodded firmly.

‘There will be a price…’

‘No worries.’ Glenn held up a heavy bag, coins jingling as he did, ‘We’re good for that.’

‘Well, then, let’s begin.’

Without warning, the candles in the tent extinguished, leaving everyone blinking in total darkness. Small, cold hands found Darryl’s and he felt the cool curve of the crystal ball under his palms. Anticipation tingled through his arms.

And then suddenly he was somewhere else. His eyes fluttered open and low candlelight spilled in. He could still feel the hard wooden stool of the tent under him, but out of the corner of his eye he could see that he was reclining on a large bed with a thick blanket. It was kind of hard to see anything else, though, because it seemed like something was pressed against his face. He could hear movement and-

Oh God.

He was kissing someone.

Someone was sitting on his lap and he was kissing them.

Shocked, Darryl was vaguely aware of his shoulders moving to run his hands up the other person’s back.

‘Ow!’ The person recoiled suddenly, wincing in pain. Barely breathing, Darryl stared dumbly at the other person. At Henry. It was Henry and he had been kissing Henry and it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it but nothing had prepared him for it actually happening. There was no way this was right. He must have been in someone else’s vision-

‘Sorry! Sorry, I forgot-’ No, that was definitely Darryl’s voice. Those were definitely his arms, wrapped in bandages, moving frantically, touching Henry’s arms, his stomach, his hips-

Laughing, Henry grabbed his fussing hands gently by the wrists. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay! You were distracted.’

Henry was wearing an unfamiliar silk shirt with his old cargo shorts, which looked cleaner than Darryl had seen them in a while. He followed his future self’s awe-stricken gaze up to Henry’s flushed face, and watched as Henry’s hand reached out to brush his forehead. Finally, he heard himself take a breath to say something-

And his vision went black.

Darryl blinked in the darkness, a little shell-shocked, as the Seer gently moved his hands off the crystal ball. One by one, the candles in the tent lit themselves again, and in the flickering light the other dads were leaning in expectantly, searching Darryl’s face for clues. Paeden was sitting on the floor, dozing against Glenn’s leg.

Darryl nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Henry’s hand on his shoulder.

‘Whoah, Darryl, are you okay?’ Henry threw his hands in the air, looking worried.

‘It is something of a harrowing process, seeing one’s future,’ The Seer assured the room, ‘It may take a few seconds for him to adjust.’

Darryl massaged his forehead and turned to look at the others. Somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to look Henry in the eye.

‘Sorry, sorry guys, I’m fine it’s just...that was weird.’

‘So what’d you see?’ Glenn prompted.

‘Did you see the beast?’ Ron added.

‘I was...in bed.’

A look of collective disappointment shot around the room.

‘Well hold on! It was a big bed in some kind of fancy room, and I had bandages on my arms, and Henry had some kind of sore back or something.’

‘How do you know Henry had a sore back?’

‘He was in there too.’

The others took this pretty easily. Sharing rooms and beds had become a pretty familiar sleeping situation during their time in this world.

‘Well!’ Glenn shrugged, ‘That’s what we get for doing this at night.’

‘No, wait, are you kidding?’ Henry cut across, ‘This is amazing! If me and Darryl are hurt, but we’re resting up in a fancy room, that must mean what he saw was after the battle! Now we know whatever beast we’re up against, we win!’

Darryl put this together. Not only was the fancy room most probably in Lady Lockwood’s house, but despite their injuries they were obviously strong enough to…

Well, they couldn’t have been that hurt anyway.

Glenn placed the bag of coins on the Seer of Silverman’s velvet covered table, and Darryl gave her a firm handshake which she returned with surprising force.

‘Before you go,’ She spoke up ‘Let me see the boy.’

Groggily, Paeden stepped forward, and the Seer fussed over him, holding his hand and pinching his cheeks.

‘I just love children.’ She cooed, ‘How old are you young man?’

‘Eight.’ Paeden snuffled.

‘And so brave for your age! Tell me, little one, how would you like a gift?’

‘Hell yeah.’

‘Paeden, come on, use your manners.’ Henry said.

‘Oh, that’s quite alright.’ The Seer smiled, and turned to pull something from the darkness behind her. ‘I’ve got something I know you’ll enjoy.’

A glint of metal shone in the candlelight and Paeden’s eyes widened.

‘A sword!’

‘Mmhmm, a sword named BeastSlayer. It’s just a name, but hopefully it will bring you luck. Do you like it?’

‘Yeah, it’s boss. It’s fuckin’ sick.’

‘Paeden!’

‘We should go,’ Darryl told the old woman, ‘But thank you for your help.’

She returned his shifting gaze with a knowing smile. ‘You’re quite welcome.’

And, pushing through the curtains into the clear night air, the dads headed back to the van, led by Paeden swinging a massive sword with reckless abandon.

Two

Darryl had always been a light sleeper, even at the best of times, but tonight he’d given up entirely. Knowing he needed to rest up for the fight tomorrow did nothing to quiet his racing mind, and his heart beating fast in his chest just would not let him sleep. He sat in the upright drivers seat and just stared out the window at the city walls.

He thought about the first time Henry had kissed him. It had been to shut him up, but it hadn’t been mean. It had been rushed and desperate but comforting too. He’d felt guilty about the feelings that had stirred in him, cursed the butterflies in his stomach for making something out of what had been nothing but a peacekeeping move on Henry’s part.

What he hadn’t considered before was that there had been plenty of times that Henry had wanted Glenn or Ron to shut up, too. But he only ever kissed Darryl.

Tomorrow, Darryl knew, he was going to have to fight and defeat something mysterious and threatening. He knew it was going to be hard, and that it was going to hurt him and his friends. And still he was more scared of the fact that he was in love with Henry Oak.

As if on cue, Darryl heard stirring from where Henry had been sleeping moments before. He cringed silently to himself and waited for Henry to inevitably notice him sitting up.

‘Darryl?’ God, his sleepy voice at that moment was almost too much .

‘Mmhmm.’

‘What are you doing up?’ Henry whispered.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

‘To be honest with you,’ Henry climbed gingerly into the passenger’s seat, ‘I, uh. I swallowed my retainer a while back, when I was in bear form. So I’ve been kinda sneaking out at night and turning into a bear to try and, you know, pass it.’

Darryl blinked.

‘You swallowed...you had a retainer? And you haven’t- seen it?’

‘Nope! I hate to think what it could be doing to my insides. Never chewed gum a day in my life and this is what I get.’

Darryl chuckled and Henry smiled at him softly. Did he smile at him differently or was Darryl just reading into it too much? Was that just the way he’d always smiled? Or had he always been smiling like that?

‘You still haven’t told me why you’re up.’

‘Oh you know I just…. just got a lot on my mind.’

Henry reached for Darryl’s hand, which he shakily offered. Turning to face him, cross-legged, Henry turned his hand palm up and looked at it. Darryl shivered as Henry lightly traced his finger over the creases, stroking his fingers one by one.

‘Are you reading my palm?’ Darryl whispered, barely able to breathe.

‘Yeah.’

‘What does it say?’

‘It says I’m no psychic, but I just met one and according to her we’re gonna get through tomorrow, and I’ll be right there with you at the end of the day, sore back or not.’

Darryl closed his hand around Henry’s, squeezing gratefully. Glancing up, he saw Henry’s eyes searching his, open and honest, and he felt a crippling wave of guilt. There was no way he could tell Henry what he saw, but he felt awful keeping it a secret, keeping the image of Henry in his lap behind his eyes, even as he sat in front of him.

Darryl had the strange feeling of being a man caught spying in through the windows of his own house. Slowly, he let go of Henry’s hand and reclined his seat. Henry laughed almost silently as he watched him, before following suit and curling up in the passenger seat.

‘What about your retainer?’

‘It hasn’t killed me yet. What’s one more night?.

Three

The next day dawned with the noise of false bravado, each dad secretly comforting himself with back slaps and battle cries, filling the morning with terrible jokes and tense laughter. Paeden enjoyed swinging his sword a little too close to people’s legs as they hiked towards the castle.

‘Paeden, I’m glad you like the sword but I think you should give it to someone else for the battle, okay buddy?’ Darryl suggested, ‘I don’t want you involved in the action.’

‘Why are you taking me then?’ Paeden huffed.

‘Well we can’t leave you on your own, someone might take you.’

‘I’d take them.’ He grumbled, swinging the sword in a low arc right next to Henry’s ankle.

‘Whoah! I need that!’ Henry was exaggerating his confidence as much as everyone else. Darryl could see that he was paler than usual, and he kept scratching at the skin around his fingernails. Looking around he could see that Ron’s forehead was sweaty and that Glenn had tied his hair back from his face. He only did that when he knew they were getting into some real shit.

The two guards at the castle door regarded them with undisguised judgement as the five of them approached.

‘Hey fellas!’ Glenn waved an arm, ‘We’re here to take on-’

‘The beast?’ Said one of them, ‘Quite. You will see the lady. She is waiting for you.’

‘For some reason.’ The other one added, raising an eyebrow at each of them in turn.

Ignoring this, the dads and Paeden followed the first guard through the door into the huge entrance hall, and down through another door into a huge room with high stone ceilings and tapestries on the wall. In the center of the room stood a long wooden table, and at the end of it, in a high backed chair, was an incredibly muscular woman in a delicately embroidered tunic. She waved a hand for everyone to sit. There were notepads and pens at every chair.

‘So you are the brave warriors who have vowed to slay my beast.’ She looked skeptical. ‘I thought you’d be...I don’t know. Taller.’

‘We’ve got it where it counts.’ Glenn shrugged.

‘I don’t even know what that means.’ The Lady frowned. ‘Is the kid one of you?’

Paeden was drawing in his notepad. It looked like a drawing of himself with a six-pack.

‘He’s just tagging along. He’ll keep to the sidelines.’ Darryl assured.

‘Hell no. I’m fighting that thing.’

‘Maybe you should sit up in the box with me.’ Lady Lockwood patted his shoulder regally.

‘The box? Are you telling me you’re going to be spectating this fight?’ Henry asked.

‘Of course! Why do you think I have people challenge the beast at all? I just love a good blood sport.’

Everyone at the table looked uncomfortable. Suddenly, the Lady clapped her hands.

‘Shall we?’ And she swanned across the floor on legs like tree trunks, while four disgruntled dads and one disappointed boy stomped after her.

Outside the castle, the grounds had been surrounded with a large stone wall, encircling the lawn like an amphitheater. The features of the courtyard still remained; a few pleasant statues, a stone path, flower beds- but it was all overshadowed by a fifteen foot reinforced door set into the wall. No one could tear their eyes away from it.

‘Well, this is where I leave you.’ Lady Lockwood smiled, one hand firmly on Paeden’s shoulder. ‘Good luck, warriors.’

‘Wait.’ Ron said suddenly, ‘Paeden. Give me your sword.’

‘No.’

‘Okay, thanks anyway.’

And just like that they were alone in the courtyard. Darryl could hear the other dads’ breathing in the tense silence.

‘Quick dad huddle?’ He suggested, and the others fell gratefully together, ducking their heads into the private space their bodies created. ‘Okay I don’t think we have much time so let’s just one-two-three-doodlers okay? One, two, three-’

‘Doodlers!’ Came the nervous response as everyone’s hands went up. Henry turned back to the door, and then back to Darryl.

‘Listen, before this kicks off, I just wanted to say-’

The ground shook. Slow, heavy footsteps echoed against the walls. Darryl tightened his grip on his hatchet and set his jaw. Then came the cry of Lady Lockwood, safe in her viewing box above them.

‘RELEASE THE BEAST!’

The door gave way, and standing in the courtyard was a huge, red dragon.

A dragon.

Oh fuck.

For a second everyone just stood there, stunned. Then the dragon bowed its head and starting walking, covering too much ground with a single step. It took a while for all of him to come out of the door.

Henry yelled indistinctly, and suddenly vines burst from the ground, wrapping around the dragon’s legs. They held for a couple of seconds, then they were torn apart like wet spaghetti, lying useless on the ground. Henry looked around desperately.

Already, Darryl had lost sight of Ron. He took this as a good sign.

Steeling himself, Darryl mustered all his strength and ran towards the dragon, hatchet raised. Uncertainty was beginning to grow in his stomach. Maybe that Seer woman had tricked him. Maybe they were going to lose and she had just shown him a fantastical image to spur him on. He aimed for the dragon’s face and caught the side of it as the giant reptile turned away. Strange blood wet his blade.

Darryl was still processing his own strike, catching his breath, when too late he realized the dragon’s head was swinging back in his direction, fast. He tried to scramble out of the way but before he could move the beast’s huge skull knocked the air out of his body, throwing him like a rag doll to the ground. Darryl’s lungs tried to make up for lost time as his head swam. Vaguely aware of the dragon leaning towards him, he dug his heels weakly into the ground. Tears of frustration filling his eyes as huge, awful teeth moved in-

Any breath Darryl had gathered was suddenly knocked from him again, but this time by something smaller and warmer than a dragon’s head. Henry rolled into the space between Darryl and the teeth, his back on Darryl’s stomach, and green poison sprayed into the dragon’s mouth. The dragon recoiled, shaking his head, and Henry was beside Darryl, holding his arm, checking his eyes.

‘Are you okay? Can you stand?’

‘Yeah.’ Darryl croaked, ‘I’m fine.’ He was well aware that the fight was far from over, and even as Henry helped him up, squeezing his hand worriedly as he did, he could see that the dragon had turned its attention to Glenn, armed only with wildly swinging nun-chucks.

A surge of adrenaline tightened Darryl’s grip on his hatchet as Glenn started running, and he moved to strike again, but quickly noticed something was happening. The dragon’s steps became short and unsteady, and its head whipped around in confusion, still oozing blood. With one final step, it fell in an indignant heap on the ground. Darryl couldn’t help but laugh when he saw two of the dragon’s legs tied together with four pairs of shoelaces. Ron stood up behind the heap of scales with a grin. Somewhere above them, Paeden cheered.

‘Hey, nice work, Ron!’ Darryl called.

Nun-chucks spinning, Glenn ran towards the writhing dragon and flailed at it’s jaw, resulting in a loud crack, and a strangled cry as he nutted himself on the rebound. The dragon snorted.

Little by little, smoke began to pour from its nose. Struck by fresh fear, the four dads slowly backed away. The smoke thickened as the dragon’s breathing got heavier, angrier, and with a ‘ping!’ the shoelaces snapped. The dragon was back on its feet. And it was staring at Henry.

Darryl swallowed. He hadn’t thanked Henry yet for stepping in when he was in danger, and there was no time like the present. Henry was standing with his hands out, fruitlessly trying to de-escalate the situation as flames started to lick the dragon’s lips. He moved, and the dragon followed, locked onto his target. And suddenly Darryl was between them, heart hammering, holding up his hatchet like it could provide any protection.

Henry’s hand found Darryl’s shoulder and pulled.

‘Don’t you dare.’ He said as he pushed Darryl behind him, turning his back on the growing flames as he faced him.

Time froze for a second as Henry’s hands cupped Darryl’s face.

‘Look,’ Henry rushed, ‘I know this is a bad time and I should’ve told you before, but I can’t die without saying I love-’

He was cut off as Darryl’s arms were flung around him in a vice grip, and not a second later flames hit them hotter than Darryl could have imagined. He wasn't sure if he screamed, he just focused on Henry’s head buried in his neck hard enough to bruise, and held his body so close he worried he could break it. Fire and desperation rang in his ears, tinted with muffled yells. Smoke filled his lungs.

And it was just smoke. Without warning the flames turned to black, choking, extinguished smoke.

He looked up.

Glenn was wrapped around the dragon’s neck, kicking and yelling. The dragon’s head had dropped to the sooty grass, defeated.

‘FUCK YEAH!’ Glenn yelled, ‘I SLAYED THE FUCKING DRAGON!’

But Darryl was looking past him. Straddling the lifeless dragon’s back was Ron, and buried in the scales in front of him was the BeastSlayer.

‘Nice work, Glenn.’ He smiled genuinely. Glenn stared at the sword.

‘Yeah, I mean...you probably helped.’

From the box, Darryl could hear Paeden whooping, but his attention was turned back to Henry. His back, along with Darryl’s arms, was blackened. The adrenaline coursing through Darryl’s veins stopped him from feeling his burns as badly as they looked, but at least he could still feel Henry’s shaky breathing and bounding heartbeat against his own chest.

‘Henry?’ Henry didn’t move his face from Darryl’s neck. ‘Henry, we won. We did it, we survived.’

Slowly, painfully, Henry lifted his head. His tear stained face was still blank with horror. Darryl all but peeled an arm off Henry’s back to cup the side of his head. He leaned towards him, whispering into his hair.

‘You should have let me protect you.’

Henry’s own hand covered Darryl’s as his brow furrowed.

‘Your job isn’t always to protect people.’

‘It kinda is.’

‘It shouldn’t be.’

‘Guys!’ Glenn yelled, ‘Come on bring it in!’

‘Can we maybe…’ Darryl felt the dull ache in his arms begin to sting, ‘Can we maybe have the group hug over here? And maybe don’t actually touch me?’

Henry disentangled himself from Darryl’s arms and turned shakily to take in the scene with a small shake of his head. Gingerly, laughing with utter relief, the four dads orchestrated a makeshift group hug as decorated guards marched out to escort them inside.

Four

The rest of the day was a blur. The dads were welcomed by an elated Lady Lockwood who quickly bustled them into the castle infirmary. Darryl spent his afternoon biting back tears as attendants washed and bandaged his burnt arms, and biting back embarrassment as they bathed the rest of him and laundered his clothes. Although he had to admit, his aching muscles had been crying out for a hot bath.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Henry. He hadn’t seen him since the fight finished, and everything had been so overwhelming he hadn’t had the chance to think. Well now he had way too much time with only his thoughts.

It was just...it had sounded like Henry was about to say he loved him. Loved him. Loved Darryl. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told him they loved him. He had kinda resigned himself to giving out love and not getting it back. To protecting without being protected himself.

Of course, he’d seen his future. Maybe it should have been obvious to him. But he had assumed that whatever happened would be Henry experimenting, or giving him what he wanted in celebration, or some weird fluke born from a rush of high emotion. It just hadn’t dared to occur to him that it could be something Henry had wanted too.

Henry wasn’t at dinner. A servant informed them he was on bed rest. Glenn and Ron were almost unrecognizable in new clothes fit for nobles, with washed hair and clean faces. Even Paeden had been dressed up, and was sitting at Lady Lockwood’s right hand side with pride. Darryl felt a little under-dressed, having opted for his newly cleaned polo shirt and jeans, but he couldn’t get into the spirit of celebration anyway. He was too nervous to eat, and ended up asking to be shown to his room early as the others laughed and drank.

The room hit him like a ton of bricks. Of course it was the room from the vision, but it still made everything feel frighteningly real. The red curtains, the heavy blankets, the low candlelight. He sat down to stop himself from pacing. How much time did he have before whatever was going to happen happened? Did he have time to go and pee? Did he even need to pee or was he just nervous? He stared at the candles for a second. They were only recently lit but had melted down a little already. If he wasn’t mistaken they looked pretty close to how they looked in the vision.

There was a knock on the door and the breath was knocked from Darryl for the third time that day. For a moment he was totally frozen.

‘Darryl?’ Henry’s voice came softly through the heavy door.

‘Yeah, uh, come in.’ Darryl called, and watched the doorknob turn and Henry appear in his room, dressed in a familiar silk shirt and his cargo shorts, clean apart from those stubborn iodine stains by the knees, freshly washed hair bouncing as he moved, glasses reflecting the candlelight. Darryl was a little entranced.

‘I thought you were on bed rest.’ Was the first stupid thing out of his idiot mouth. Great job, Darryl. And they say romance is dead.

‘I’m supposed to be.’ Henry smiled, ‘But I wanted to come and see you.’

‘Well, sit down, take it easy. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, I feel way better.’

‘You look better.’

Darryl moved his legs to let Henry get comfortable on the side of his bed, their hips parallel, close enough to hear each other’s breathing.

‘I’m sorry-’ Darryl started.

‘Don’t.’ Henry cut him off, ‘Please don’t, just, let’s talk about anything else.’

Darryl took a deep breath to settle his nerves. He could feel Henry’s eyes on him as he looked at his hands.

‘Earlier. Before...this.’ He gestured to his bandages. Henry shifted his weight and nodded. Darryl noticed that he looked nervous, too. It wasn’t a look he was used to on Henry. ‘Were you about to say you love me?’

Henry looked very hard at the floor. Then he stared at the wall and sighed. Finally he turned his gaze to his own hands and stuttered ‘I-’

‘Just ‘cos I was wondering whether I should say I love you or I love you too.’

Henry’s shoulders dropped and his eyes widened. For a few seconds he just stared at Darryl, but there was no intensity in it, it didn’t hurt to meet his gaze. It was the stare of someone seeing something beautiful they hadn’t believed existed before.

‘I was.’ He whispered eventually, ‘I mean, I do.’

‘I love you too.’ Darryl smiled ever so gently and Henry softened completely, leaning forward stiffly to rest his hands on Darryl’s shoulders and leaning in as Darryl leaned in to him and their lips met like soot falling, soft and silent.

Kissing Henry before had been exciting. Thrilling, unexpected, and forbidden. This time, it couldn’t have been more different. This time, Darryl let himself relax and melt into it, and his heart jumped as he felt Henry do the same, moving his hands from his shoulders up his neck and into his hair, taking breaks to smile against his lips. Darryl felt safe, trusted to take control as he gently took Henry’s glasses off, and lifted him carefully into his lap when he started slipping off the bed.

This is a hell of a lot better with feeling Darryl thought as he appreciated the warm weight of Henry in his lap, and let his hands pull him closer by the hips, run up his back-

Wait, shit.

‘Ow!’ Henry recoiled suddenly, wincing in pain. Darryl floundered for a moment. How could he have forgotten?

‘Sorry!’ He yelped, ‘Sorry, I forgot-’ As he frantically touched the unscathed parts of Henry, trying to somehow reverse his mistake.

Henry grabbed his wrists gently, careful enough not to disturb his wounds through the layers of bandage.

‘Its okay,’ He laughed, ‘It’s okay! You were distracted.’

Darryl could do nothing but stare as Henry dropped his wrists. Looking up from his compromising position to Henry’s flushed face, smiling even after everything that had happened, watching the slight drag on one of Henry’s eyes without his glasses, he wasn’t sure how he could have possibly been this lucky.

One of Henry’s hands gently brushed a loose strand of hair off Darryl’s forehead.

‘This is what I saw, you know.’ Darryl said.

‘What?’

‘This past few seconds. That’s what I saw when the Seer showed me the future.’

Henry’s face turned slowly into a shocked grin before he burst out laughing.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah!’

‘No wonder you were so weird about it!’

‘I was weird about it? Do you think the others noticed?’

‘Nooooo, they probably believe you. I mean we are alive, in a fancy house, and covered in bandages.’

Darryl relaxed.

‘You know I have two Darryl-arm-shaped patches of skin between the burns.’

‘Oh, God.’ Darryl laughed ruefully as Henry dropped his forehead to rest against his.

‘Hey.’ Henry whispered. ‘Can I stay in here tonight?’

‘Are you sure?’ Darryl’s voice was slightly slurred by Henry running his thumb over his bottom lip.

‘I’m asking.’

‘Of course.’

With this, Henry kissed Darryl briefly one more time and crawled out of his lap onto the empty bed space beside him, where he lay on his front.

‘I’m just really tired.’

Darryl shuffled down until he was lying on his back.

‘Me too.’ He whispered. With everything that had happened, he would have done anything to hold Henry as they fell asleep, but with their injuries it was impossible. Instead he lay his hand, palm up, between them. Henry idly traced the creases with his finger, before folding his hand into Darryl’s. A gentle gust of wind through the room extinguished the candles.

Muffled by the pillows, Henry spoke up one last time.

‘You know, the others are going to figure out something happened.’

‘How?’

‘You told them I was in your bed in the vision. Now they know that we weren’t made to share they’ll know I must have sneaked in.’

‘Well, that sounds like their problem.’

Fin.

Authors note: This is not a songfic but the title is the name of a song which I chose for the lyrics

‘All I want is you to understand

That when I take your hand

It’s ‘cos I want to.

And we are all born in a world of doubt,

But there’s no doubt,

I figured out

I love you’

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #oakson #henry oak #darryl wilson #glenn close #ron stampler #paeden bennetts #fanfiction #my writing

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