#so that Will can destroy the Fold/Upside Down

[wheeler-things]

Okay this isn’t quite what you were suggesting, because it’s crows not Sun Summoner and tracker, but also there are six Party members and this post may or may not have sent me on a tangent about who I would put in what role for a Crows AU. Fair warning though, I did read the books, so there may be spoilers if you’re only a show enjoyer.

El’s the team’s heartrender. But rather than coming from Ravka, she’s Kerch. Basically in Wylan’s place in terms of running away from her well respected Mercher papa, who experimented on her and told her that her mama was dead (but actually she’s in a hospital). She was almost drowned in the harbour before being found and taken care of by…

Mike as the Kaz equivalent. He’s good at planning, at seeing five steps ahead of everyone else, and deeply loves his friends… but isn’t always the best at showing that (especially as he gets older). Also, Mike can be ruthless against the Upside Down (ie. with the idea to torch the hub), so it would be interesting to see a darker version of him who was okay with turning that ruthlessness against people. Especially in the context of his very black and white view of things. Plus, the touch aversion leading to a scene like the failed airport hug makes sense in the context of a world with limited or no homophobia, and fighting with a weighted cane is at least vaguely similar to fighting with a sword.

Obviously this makes Will a (very loose) equivalent to Inej. But obviously a lot of Inej’s story wouldn’t work for Will because a fair bit of what’s going on with her ties into her Suli culture/ethnicity, and the rest of it ties into her indenture at the Menagerie which… is a backstory that I understand is intended to make readers uncomfortable, but which I am personally not okay with assigning to a character that has been played by a real life minor the entire time the show has been running so far. So in light of that, other than that he’s in the Wraith role (which I do think works— Will is canonically very good at hiding, so I think that could translate to light feet and disappearing into shadows), he’d have his own backstory. WHICH. If we want to take the show’s timeline and suggest that the Crows are existing at the same time as the issues in Ravka… secret Sun Summoner!Will who maybe doesn’t know what he is yet?? His dad’s terrible, so he very much could be originally from Ravka but forced to get out by his mom and older brother when Lonnie figured out what he was (or at least that he was Grisha in some capacity) and wanted to send him to the Little Palace in exchange for the rest of the family living an easy life. I don’t have all the details in mind, but I think it could make sense for Joyce to protect him by sending him away if she knew he was a Sun Summoner and knew he would be used as a weapon by the Darkling (Henry??). I don’t quite know how this leads to him ending up in Ketterdam and down on his luck enough to fall in with Mike’s crew, but still. This would also open the possibility that, similar to Inej, a significant portion of his motivation was the desire to find his brother and mother again.

Dustin’s the demolitions expert. With that being said, I do think it would be funny if he had a bit of Jesper’s backstory in terms of liking gambling a little too much (he has such an excitable personality, and he was the only one of the group I could even maybe see being in that position) and falling into a life of crime while his mom thinks he’s at university. He’s still Dustin, though, of course— clever and upbeat and a little bit full of himself. Steve and Robin could also totally work in a local shop where he tends to hang out when not on the clock with Mike.

Lucas is the charming, impossibly good sharpshooter and secret durast. He could be Zemeni or Ravkan, but either way, was kidnapped by a father/son pair of Fjerdan drüskelle (Billy and Neil)— basically a very warped version of Nina’s backstory. On the way to the Ice Court for “trial”, the drüskelle met up with Neil’s wife and daughter, and this leads to Max meeting Lucas, helping him escape, and the two of them running away from Fjerda together (and falling in love). They end up in Ketterdam, but due to some sort of severe miscommunication, Max is locked in Hellgate, which Lucas is now trying to get her out of, leading to him getting involved with Mike’s crew. Yes, this does mean that I’m suggesting an “I. Should. Let. You. Die.” [punctuated by CPR] scene with Max and Mike. Yes, this does also mean that I’m suggesting a Max who could and would beat any of the other Party members in a (fair) arm wrestling contest.

i am just a casual enjoyer of s&b so i am ill equipped to do this but i am begging someone to write a grishaverse byler au like please please please i’ll give you everything i have

[m-jelly]

The Crow's Song - Chapter 2

Prince Levi x Witch Reader

Royal Romance with magic.

In this chapter: You and Levi butt heads because he's been avoiding you. You help Levi unlock a deep power within him, but his waving uncertainty causes an issue resulting in emotions to be high. After talking things through, you and Levi are certain there will be no more issues between the two of you.

Ao3

Part 3

Avoiding you at all costs was Levi’s number one goal because he lost his ability to function when he was around you. Levi knew you weren’t using a spell on him to control him. You had power over him because you were so fucking attractive, strong, sweet, outspoken and sexy. Whenever you were near him he would just melt and instantly relax when he heard your sweet voice.

Levi slashed his sword and sent so much of his magical power into it that the dummy was obliterated and a deep gash appeared in the earth across a few meters, and even went down a few too. It surprised Levi that he’d destroyed a large part of his training grounds, and he felt embarrassed in front of his men. It was clear to him that the more he avoided you the more wound up he’d become, he needed you.

Mike snorted. “You need to get laid.”

Levi glared at him. “Tch, do you have to be vulgar?”

“Just wanted to break the tension.” He eyed the damage and whistled. “Something is clearly on your mind. I’ve never seen you use this much power on the training grounds.”

“You’re right.” He released a long sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

“As your knight, I can’t advise on your fighting but as your friend, I am here to listen.”

Levi sheathed his sword. “It’s about my witch, the one my parents hired to work with me.”

Mike hummed in delight. “What a woman. You’ve got a lot of people jealous of you for having her around.” He helped Levi start to clean up the mess. “She single?”

Levi glared at Mike. “Why are you asking?”

Mike laughed at his friend’s reaction. “Relax, Your Highness, I’m asking for you. If she’s single you should go for it.”

“I…I…I don’t have time for romance…she’ll leave me like the others.”

Mike’s brow raised. “Hmm, doubt it. I mean, her job is to be around you. No matter how hard you’ve tried to escape her this week, you’ve failed badly.”

Levi released a long sigh; his friend was right. He was just coming up with excuses now and even he could see his own bullshit. He went to reply but his body floated up into the air and was held upside down. “Shit! Fuck! Ugh! Who the fuck-.” His eyes widened when a beautiful pair of breasts were in front of his face. He slowly looked down a bit to see your face. “Ah…”

You folded your arms pushing your chest out more. “I thought I’d find you here.”

He panted a bit. “I can explain.”

“Oh? Can you?” You smiled. “I’d love to hear it.”

He gulped hard. “Uh…”

You placed your hand on the back of his head and lifted causing him to look up at the sky for a bit. You leaned over him, grabbed his cheeks in one hand and squeezed. “Perhaps I should put a collar on you.”

Levi felt his heart throb, the thought of a collar was exciting, but he would have liked one on you. He clenched his jaw and held his tongue, he needed to be a prince. “Is that any way to speak to a prince?”

“When you start acting like one then I’ll speak to you like one.”

He growled at you. “I’m acting like a prince! I’m doing my duties.”

You squeezed his plump cheeks making him pout. “You’re acting like a teen going through hormones. You push yourself to work through papers as if there is a test coming up. You don’t confront your feelings and you’re stroppy like a toddler. Plus, what kind of prince rips up his training grounds because he’s pent up.” You flipped Levi and dropped him onto his feet. “I’ll fix the grounds.”

Levi fixed his clothes a bit. “Why do you treat me like an idiot?” He turned to face you and admired how you looked. You were slightly floating off the ground with your arms out as the earth filled up and pulled together. “Wow.”

You dropped to your feet and panted. “Don’t do that again, it’s exhausting for me to fix.” You turned to him. “And to answer his question, I treat you like an idiot sometimes because you don’t know how to look after yourself. I’ve been brought in to help you relax and all you’ve done for a week straight is ignore me or hide!” You released a long sigh. “I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t need your help. I’m not a child.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, says the man who almost ripped the training grounds in two!” You huffed. “You need my help.”

“I don’t!”

You walked closer to him. “You can’t even eat and sleep properly!” You gazed at him with genuine concern. “You bleed often because of it.”

“My mother only hired you because she still sees me as a little boy.”

“She hired me because she loves you and she’s concerned about you.” You gazed at him waiting for a reply, but he said nothing. You shook your head and felt your confidence slip away, you were tired of his chasing. “Part of me is tempted to just leave here and get another job. I like travelling the road. I’m not going to waste my time on you.”

Levi panicked when you started walking away. He chased after you. “No!” He grabbed your wrist and yanked you against his chest. The two of you gasped as your bodies pressed together allowing you to feel every inch of each other. Levi placed a hand on your lower back to catch you as you gripped his chest. “Don’t leave me.”

Your eyes widened at hearing his words. “Your Majesty, are you saying that because you are accepting my help?”

“I’m saying it because I don’t want to lose you.”

You felt a rush of pleasure go through you. “Ah, uh was not expecting that.”

He released you a little. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No…” You let out a long sigh. “Your Majesty, I will stay but I need you to promise me you’ll stop running from me.” You gazed deep into his eyes making him blush hard. “Promise me.”

Levi was already hooked on you, all it took was your beautiful body pressed against him, bright eyes gazing at him, soft voice speaking to him and your intoxicating floral scent. “I promise.” The wall he tried to build up over the week was gone, he was back to how he was when you first met, doing everything you asked of him. “Call me Levi, please.”

You reached up and patted his cheek. “Good boy, Levi.”

His breath hitched at your words. “Mm.”

You pulled from him and walked back towards the training grounds. “Come on, Levi.”

He hurried after you. “Where are we going?”

“You’re allowed to train for a bit longer.” You looked over at him and smiled. “I know you enjoy it and I’m not going to stop you.” You floated up and summoned some tea. You grabbed your cup and sipped a bit. “You will take a break when I tell you to.”

He ruffled his hair and glanced over at his men and expected them to laugh, but they were just gazing at you in pure awe. “Tch, oi you lot! Get to training!”

You giggled. “Look at you all, so cute.” You summoned some floating targets. “Here’s something to train with. If you all do well, I’ll reward you.” You smirked as they all charged towards the targets with a fire inside them. “Adorable.”

Levi growled a bit, he didn’t like that you were focused on his men and not him. He yanked his sword out and growled as black smoke with shimmers of red surged around his legs. He launched himself at impressive speeds towards the targets you had made for him. It didn’t take long for him to cut down everything in his way. Nothing was stopping him and the more you watched him the more impressed you were with his abilities.

He sent a burst of his black flame and panted. “Tch.” He hoped you watched him and you were impressed.

You floated down to Levi and offered him a drink. “That was beautiful.” You floated around him allowing you to study him. “You have such a beautiful power.”

Levi blushed when you were face-to-face with him. “Th-thank you.”

You ran your hands up his chest and purred. “Mm, I was right.”

He gulped hard. “Right?”

You nodded as your hands glided over his pecs and abs making him pant and shiver. “You have a power inside you that you haven’t unlocked.” You pressed his pec making him moan slightly. “I’ll help you unlock it, it’ll take time but it’ll help you in battle and other places.” You hummed a laugh. “You’ve never unlocked it because you haven’t taken time to tune into your own body.”

Levi placed his hand on yours as he softly said your name. “You’re touching me a lot.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “A-Ah, sorry. I was just reading your aura.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

You looked up into his eyes. “Huh?”

He leaned closer. “You touching me, it’s not a bad thing.” He tilted his head. “I like it. I like it when I’m the centre of your attention.” He gripped your hand. “Tch, only pay attention to me.”

You blinked a few times as you thought before you started giggling. “You’re sweet.” You caressed his cheek. “You look tired.”

“I do?” He frowned a bit. “What…what do I do?”

You pinched his cheek. “You get some sleep.” You entwined your fingers with his and pulled him along. “Follow me.”

He stumbled behind you and felt proud when his soldiers grumbled about Levi getting all your attention. He gripped your hand tighter as he smiled a little. “Where are we going?”

You glanced back at him. “A nice quiet spot so we can be alone.”

He gulped hard. “O-Okay.”

You moved to a nice spot under a tree with views of the lake. “Here.” You released Levi’s hand and wafted your hand causing a blanket, lots of comfy cushions and pillows to appear. “Lie down.”

Levi sat down and dragged his boots off. “Isn’t this dirty?”

“It’s clean, trust me.”

He undid his belt and removed his sword. “Okay.” He flopped back on the blankets. “I don’t normally do this.”

“I know.” You sat down next to him. “You don’t rest.” You rubbed his chest. “You need to sleep.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed your touch on his chest. “I’ll do as you say.”

“Good boy.”

He opened his eyes when you stopped touching him. “Why did you stop petting my chest?”

You giggled. “Sorry.” You rubbed his chest again. “Rest. I’ll send some of my healing powers into you.”

He felt his body melt under your touch. “Mm. Thank you.”

“Aren’t you glad you kept me around?”

“I am.”

Levi gazed at you and felt a little confused. “Wait, what do you want me to do?”

You smiled. “Take your shirt off and meditate.”

He cleared his throat. “Why do I need to be shirtless?”

“Because I need to touch you.”

He stared at you for a while before looking down at himself. He was in nice trousers that gripped his body, smart shoes and a loose white shirt. “I ah…”

The two of you were in the large greenhouse connecting to the palace. It was full of so many plants full of life and pools of water. At the centre, where the two of you were, was a large mosaic piece of the God that blessed the family which was linked with strength, passion, love and the animal to represent them was a crow. The light was shining down on the spot and was perfect for relaxing with a water feature.

You floated over to him and started pulling at the tie on his shirt. “This session will help unlock whatever is locked inside you.” You locked eyes with him. “Whatever it is, it’s strong.”

He softly said your name. “Are you sure?”

You nodded as you pushed his shirt up and over his head revealing his muscles and scars. You gulped hard as you admired how handsome and strong he was. “I’m sure.” You let out a shaky sigh. “Wow.”

He looked down at himself. “Good?”

You folded his shirt as you smiled. “You’re impressive, Levi. I’m shocked that you don’t have a long line of women after you.”

He took your hand and started to massage it. “Am I that good-looking?”

“Yes.”

He smiled a little as he blushed lightly. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so honest.”

You hummed a laugh. “I don’t like to beat around the bush.” You winked at him before leading him to the right spot in the middle of the mosaic. “Sit and focus on your energy.”

He slipped his shoes off and sat down. “Are you sure this will work?”

“Levi, you have a great potential inside of you. Your family have been unlocking it for years, so I’m here to help you do that.” You sat on the edge of the mosaic and smiled at Levi. “This will work...eventually…”

Levi frowned a bit. “Eventually? What do you mean by that?”

You shifted a little. “Well, this might go well or it could take a few sessions.”

He pulled a face a bit. “You don’t have much faith in me, do you?”

“I have a lot of faith in you, but the thing is I don’t know how much damage you’ve done to yourself over the years. Plus, I’ve healed you up but you’re still very sick in your aura.”

He looked down at his hands. “So, I’m holding myself back.”

You pressed your lips together and debated on what to say. “Mm…do you want me to be honest or make you feel good?”

He looked up at you. “I think I know what you’ll say.” He released a long sigh. “So, why am I shirtless?”

“I need a good view as I help.”

He blushed hard and felt a rush of bliss. “What?”

You giggled. “I’m kidding, but I got you to relax. It’s because the energy will burst from your chest. After all, it is linked to your emotions and heart. You can put your shirt on, but it’ll probably get torn apart.”

He hummed. “Point taken.” He took in a deep breath before sighing. “I’m ready.”

“Close your eyes and focus on your emotions.” You smiled when he did as you asked. “Do you feel something deep inside you? It can be different for each person, sometimes it’s like tingling, others a flutter or it could be this heavy sensation.”

Levi frowned as he focused. “It’s light and warm…it…it feels nice.”

You shifted closer to him and placed your hands on the floor. “Good.” You sent some of your power into the floor and made it circle him. “Tune into it. I’ll help.”

Levi held back a moan when he felt your power caress him, as soon as your magic reached him his locked-away powers pulsed and vibrated as if it needed you and wanted you. He softly moaned your name. “It’s close.”

You slid closer and placed your hands on his chest. “I believe in you. Focus on your emotions, sensations and desires.”

Levi opened his eyes and looked down at you as you stared at his chest and pushed some power into him. He smiled as you looked so concerned and focused. When you looked up at him all he could think about was kissing you, loving you, marrying you and making you his for his very long life. All those thoughts were the last hit to the wall that was put up inside him. Black smoky crows burst from his body, but they went around you meaning Levi’s emotions connected with them, they didn’t want to hurt you but cared for you.

You gasped and looked around the two of you as the crows flew around you. “Incredible. This is the power of the God.” You looked back at Levi. “You truly have been deeply blessed.”

Levi panted as he admired you. He smiled and leaned closer to kiss you but stopped himself, doubt came into his heart because he knew you were there to look after him and there was no possible way you could love him. He smiled sadly as he watched you praise him and enjoy his power, he didn’t believe there was anything more that could happen between the two of you. He didn’t think that you could see him as more than a student. The two of you were similar in age, but you were there to teach him about how to be a normal functioning person.

You hummed a laugh. “You’re wonderful, Levi. You’ve done amazing.” You reached over and cupped the side of his face. “You really are blessed.” You flinched and closed your eyes when Levi coughed on you and something wet hit your face. You opened your eyes to see blood coming from Levi’s mouth. “Levi!”

He coughed up more blood onto your lap. “Sh-shit.”

“Stop your crows, now!”

He winced a bit. “What’s happening?”

You wrapped your arms around him. “Stop!” You pushed your magic into him and felt his aura and emotions were all over the place. “Levi, stop you’ll hurt yourself!”

He welled up a little as you held him, he adored your touch which made his thoughts and feelings worse. “I…I can’t.”

You squeezed him. “Then, forgive me.” You used your magic to make him pass out. “Levi…” You cradled him in your arms. “What went wrong?” You placed your hand on his chest. “Oh…oh Levi…you doubted your feelings.”

“Your Highness!” Charles gasped as he gazed. “Quick! Get the Prince!”

You cried as they tore Levi from your arms and hurried away with him. “Levi.” You stood up. “Let me heal him.”

Maria, the head maid, blocked your path. “The King and Queen will want to speak to you. Go to the meeting room, they will be with you soon.”

You rubbed your tears. “No, I need to be with Levi.”

“We’ll get the palace doctor.”

You glared at her before turning into sparkles of light. You moved through the halls until you reached Levi’s room. You formed together and watched Levi sleep peacefully. “I have to fix this.” You sat on the bed, placed your hands on his chest and sent your power into him. “Levi...what happened?” You moved one hand to the side of his face. “I pushed you too much, didn’t I?”

Levi slowly woke up at the sound of your voice and the soothing feeling of your magic flowing through him, but he didn’t open his eyes. He just enjoyed your touch and voice. His heart fluttered when you kissed the top of his head and then his cheek. He knew that it went wrong not because of you but because of him. He wanted to tell you how he felt and what was going on in his head, but when he tried to move he couldn’t.

Kuchel sternly said your name. “Get here, now.”

You hurried over to her. “Your Majesty, let me explain.”

“Explain? I hired you to protect and care for my son, to make sure he was safe, to make sure he was well and to watch over him.”

You hugged yourself. “Your Majesty, I have been doing that.”

“Have you? My son is in bed after vomiting blood! Before you came here, he never did anything like this.” She walked over to Levi. “Maybe a nosebleed now and then, but nothing like this. What were you doing?”

“Unlocking his powers, his hidden one.” You looked over at the King. “He has powers like the God you worship. It was beautiful, but something went wrong. I don’t think he was emotionally ready and he…I’m sorry.”

Kuchel sighed. “I think you should leave.”

You turned to her. “But.”

She looked over at you. “I knew I should have trusted my gut when we met you. I was hesitant…” She sniffed a bit. “Please, leave here. We will send you gold for your work.”

You lowered your head. “I don’t want any gold. I have failed you all. I’m deeply sorry.”

Sebastian followed you outside into the hall and stopped you. “I’m sorry about this. I mean, it must have been horrific to see Levi like that after you tried to help him. I know my son, he’s just like me. He’s very emotional and I’m sure he doubted how he felt which caused this reaction. I had to do the same thing he did and I vomited blood.”

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yes.” He smiled a bit. “It was before I met Kuchel, it was when I was a teen.” He released a long sigh. “She worries about him so much because he got sick as a toddler…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She needs to let him go and be him.” He looked at you and smiled. “Since you’ve been here, which is only two weeks, he’s more rested, having fun, smiling, laughing and showing more emotions. He’s better and I don’t want to let you go.”

You bowed deeply. “Thank you.”

“Forgive Maria and my wife, please.”

You nodded. “Mm.”

He pulled you against him and hugged you. “It’s okay to cry, okay? It’s not your fault.” He rubbed your back. “How long have you been alone?”

“For a long time.”

He hummed. “Explains why you’re so kind and caring, but you keep people are arm’s length.” He frowned when he heard raised voices, shouting and then pleas as someone walked closer. He flinched when Levi’s doors were shoved open and Levi stood there panting in just his bottoms looking slightly pale. “Where is she!?”

Kuchel ran after Levi. “I told you I sent her away! Levi, she made you bleed.”

He turned to her. “I made myself bleed. I didn’t follow her instructions properly.” He winced and limped down the hall as he shouted your name. “Don’t leave me!” He stared at his father. “Where is she?”

Sebastian turned to face his son to reveal you were in his arms. “I was stopping her.”

You peered over at Levi. “Mm…Levi…” You pulled from the King and bowed. “I’m so sorry.” You dropped to your knees. “I failed you. All that confidence and for what?” You sniffed. “I messed up. I was supposed to make you better, heal you, help you and I hurt you.” You squeaked when the shadow crows lifted you from the floor and yanked forward towards Levi. “W-wait!”

Levi opened his arms and caught you. “You tried leaving me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as Levi held you. “Well, your mother did tell me to leave.”

He hugged you against him. “You’re not leaving me.”

Kuchel hurried after Levi as he carried you down the hall. “Levi! Levi, please stop! This woman made you sick.”

Levi turned to his mother. “Mum, I love you so much, but you must stop this. I bled because I didn’t listen to her. This happened because of me. If you won’t hire her any longer that’s fine.” He gazed down at you. “Because I’m not ever letting her go. Ever.”

You gulped hard. “Levi.”

“We’re going to talk in my room, please don’t disturb us.”

You wiggled in his arms. “Wait!”

Sebastian pulled Kuchel closer and squeezed her. “I think there’s marriage on the horizon.”

Kuchel let out a long sigh. “I like her, I really do. She’s a wonderful person. It’s just…”

“I understand, one minute your son is getting better and the next there’s blood everywhere.” He pulled her along. “Let me explain what happened when I unlocked my powers.”

You wiggled in Levi’s arms as he kicked his doors closed. “Levi, listen to me.” You slipped out of his arms and stumbled a little. “Your mother-.”

He walked closer making you back up towards the door and stop talking. “My mother was emotional because she saw that I was hurt, I can imagine we’ll come to understand this feeling someday. One cannot possibly comprehend a parent's pains until they are one.”

You gulped hard. “I s-suppose so…” You looked into his eyes. “You don’t want me to leave?”

“No. We talked about this the other day.” He placed his forearms on the door on either side of your head. “We agreed you would stay.”

“I hurt you.” You reached up and caressed his cheek. “I…” You welled up and saw his blood was still on you. “I…” You whined a little. “I don’t want people to get hurt. I don’t like it and I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

Levi cupped the side of your face. “You care about me that much?”

“Of course!” You placed your hands on his chest. “I need to check if your aura is okay.” You listened and tuned into the feelings. “Mm…” You felt your heart flutter at the beautiful warm aura he had, like he was sure of the feelings he was conflicted with. “Something has changed.”

It was impossible to deny that things had changed. He doubted how he felt, but as he thought things over while passed out in bed, and having his mother want to kick you out gave him a push. When he thought you were going to be gone forever, he felt a strong pain inside him and dark thoughts fluttered in his head. He could just lock you up.

Levi placed your hand against his chest. “Do you intend to leave still?”

You slipped from his touch. “I’m thinking about it.” You paused by his bed. “I put you to sleep. I didn’t want you to be in pain anymore.” You sighed. “I’ve had a lot of bad things happen to me and I’ve always been running. I run a lot because of a bad ex. He seems to follow me everywhere. Plus, I seem to cause a lot of trouble wherever I go.”

He walked up behind you. “I like this trouble.” He smiled when he saw you flinch at him speaking so close to your eye. He admired you when you turned to face him. “Come now, where is that unbreakable confidence that I’m so familiar with?” He caressed your cheek. “The fierce and powerful witch who was confident in her body and abilities.”

You smiled sadly. “She’s still here, she just hit a bump.” You let out a long sigh. “I should-.”

Levi pushed you onto his bed and pinned you in place. “No! No, you cannot leave me!”

You gazed at Levi with wide eyes. “Levi.”

“I will lock you up if I have to. I will not let you leave me.”

You smiled a little. “Levi?”

“You’re mine. You belong to me. You’re all mine.”

You giggled. “Leviii.”

“I will tie you to your bed and lock the door if I have to. I’ll find some sort of magic to keep you here.”

You placed your hand over his mouth. “Levi!” You laughed. “If you let me speak. I was going to say I should take a bath because I have your blood on me.” You smiled. “I didn’t know you were so desperate for me. You continue to surprise me, Levi. For a while, I’ve been playing with you a bit to build up your confidence and get you to relax, yet here you have me pinned against your bed declaring how you’ll keep me.” You laughed as he went red. “Who knew you were so kinky with your ideas of tying me up and locking me up.”

Levi pulled from you and sat on the bed next to you. “Mm.”

You sat up and smiled at him. “Been an emotional day for the two of us, huh?”

He put his head in his hands. “You could say that.” He released a long sigh. “I’ll listen to you from now on and follow every instruction. I don’t want to scare you like that again.”

You massaged your fingers in his hair. “I trust you. We now have an understanding, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He looked over at you. “You swear you won’t leave.”

“I won’t.” You angled your body towards him. “After what we went through today? It’d be insane for me to run.” You tilted your head a bit. “I’m in it for the long run now. I’m done running away.” You looked out his double doors to see it was night. “For a long time I barely took anything seriously, thought there was no point with my fucking mental ex.” You looked over at Levi and smiled. “My job might be about changing you, but you’ve also changed me.” You winked at him. “It also helps that you’re incredibly handsome.”

Levi chuckled. “There she is.”

You stood up and stretched. “I’m going for a bath then I’ll sleep. You better sleep, okay?”

Levi called your name. “You know you can be vulnerable with me, right? I know I’m talking about the confident you, but I like seeing this sweet, emotional and vulnerable side.”

“Well, I feel safe enough to be that way with you.” You grabbed the door handle. “As long as you promise to be the same with me.”

“I swear.”

“You’ll get some sleep, right?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You hummed a laugh and waved to Levi. “See you in the morning, okay? We have a lot of work to do and yes, you can practice your new powers. I will allow you to work.”

Levi smiled. “Thank you.”

[the-snake-and-the-statue]

Odette goes up to the observatory and opens up the spellbook on a nearby wooden desk. They open it up, flipping the pages as far back as they can. Each page is somewhat harder to turn, as if wind is resisting their attempts. They press on however, using both hands to push the pages down.

They finally reach the very furthest page in the book.... there's a small ripped paper folded within the book, an English translation in sloppy, quick handwriting. They get to work, turning on the stars above.

It's hard to not marvel at the cosmos, but Odette tries their best to find the right alignment.

"Zoom out.... to the left.... where's the constellation, where's the constellation, where is it...."

After what feels like hours, their eye falls on a familiar alignment of stars and nebulae, resembling something of a dreamcatcher with diamonds jutting off in different directions. A million rainbow colors surround the golden center of each section. In one of the other windows is an arrangement of stars resembling an upside down tree, and in a third is the vague outline of judgement scales.

Odette focuses on the form of the sight above as they take out several crystals from their pocket. It's a miracle they were able to get past the thorny, scalding brambles with minimal injuries and burns to retrieve such items, even moreso that Hexe didn't destroy them after they teleported Dunite's books.

No time left to waste however. They arrange the crystals exactly how they remember Dunite doing so that one time, turned so the offcentered points are closest to the sky.

"Okay..... come on.... please be asleep..... Dunite, Icia, Ramona... Dunite, Icia, Ramona....."

They close their eyes, holding a wand with a purple crystal on the end towards their throat. Each word feels as if it's sucked out of their throat until no more can be said, drowned out by a sudden wind that nearly knocks them off balance.

The room shakes. Violently shakes. Dunite once said this could happen, but they didn't expect this! They dig their fingernails into their palm, holding onto the wand as they whisper the incantation under their breath.

It's long. It's such a long phrase, more like a multistanza poem than a summoning ritual. Each syllable results in another book falling off the shelves around them, but the wind is too loud to be sure. Even once it's so loud Odette can't hear their thoughts, much less their whispers, they try to keep their balance and continue the incantation.

A minute passes. Then two. Then three. They've hardly caught their breath, but they're so close.

(ALMOST THERE.... PLEASE.... COME ON....)

They utter the final syllable.

A massive, searing shockwave shoots out from the armillary sphere, launching Odette off their feet and into the wall behind them. The wave ripples throughout the kingdom air, fading only at the edge of the world.

Their ears are ringing.

They can hardly breathe from the impact.

But something...... something now tells them they aren't alone.

[romanticsanthem]

Will Byers: The connection and the letters.

originally posted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/41130420

“Guys, we can’t do that” Mike said, his voice on the brink of yelling.

“If Will was the connection, that’d be the only way to cut all ties to the upside down to our world” Dustin spoke out, you can tell it pained him to say that.

“We are not killing my brother” Jonathan yelled out, looking directly into Dustin’s eyes, making himself clear as daylight, Dustin felt intimated.

The party, minus Will and El, as well as the older kids sat in the Wheelers basement, awaiting news that could destroy their lives, friendships, their whole world.

Eleven sat in the wheelers bathroom, blindfolded, and with static playing, all while her brother sits on the ground, on the verge of a panic attack, ignoring the muffled talks outside of the bathroom.

Will really doesn’t want to die, he’s yet to do so much.

He’s never been outside of the U.S, he’s never made friends outside of Hawkins, he’s never gone on a date, he’s never had his first kiss, and most importantly he’s yet to tell Micheal Wheeler that he’s in love with him.

Suddenly, El gasped, and threw the blindfold to the side, panting, tears streaming down her face.

“Will.” She started, pulling her brother into a tight embrace, almost as if she let go he’d simply disappear into thin air.

“I’m sorry.”

Will understood what she meant, he knew that he was the connection all along, he just wished it didn’t come to this.

The Byers-Hopper siblings sat there, huddled up together, sobbing for what felt like hours, El muttering “I’m sorry” in between sobs.

Finally they had gotten up, eyes red and puffy, to go deliver the news to the others.

Once the pair arrived in the room, all arguments and shouting had come to a halt, all eyes on them.

Based on the look on their faces, Mike could tell the next sentence to come out of Eleven’s mouth was going to be a sentence he hated.

“Will.. is the connection” El muttered, looking down at her feet.

Will just observed everyone’s faces, a mixture of teary eyes and angry faces.

He was then pulled into a tight hug by Jonathan and soon the whole party was hugging, crying over the fact that their dear friend and brother, may no longer live past tomorrow due to circumstances they didn’t want to happen.

After awhile the they pulled apart from the hug, sitting around the Wheelers basement in silence.

Will broke the silence, “I need to do something, I’ll be back.” And he left the basement, feeling all eyes on him.

Will grabbed his notebook, a pen, a stack of envelopes and locked himself in the wheelers guest room, he was going to write letters to the people he cares about, if he was going to die he wanted them to know how much he truely loved them.

The first letter up was Lucas, his dear friend,

To Lucas,

I understand we didn’t really speak much whilst I was living in Lenora but I heard about you being on the basketball team, that’s awesome! I hope it brings you joy, I hope you know how much I care about you, I appreciated it when last summer you and max invited me to hang out with you two when I didn’t have anyone, I loved learning how to skate with you guys by the way. Meeting you and Dustin in the 2nd grade was one of my favorite memories, I hope you the party stays friends after this, I’d love that.

Please take care of yourself and Max, I know how much you love her.

Love, Will.

He folded up the paper and placed it neatly in an envelope.

Next up was Dustin.

To Dustin,

You were the one of the first people to make me not feel weird for being well different, and I’m glad. You were always the smartest one out of us four and I’m glad that you still have the same love for dnd that I have, even after all these years. Never change Dustin. By the way, we met suzie, she seems really nice and she helped us find El, so in my books, she’s just as awesome as you described her to be. I hope you guys get to see each other again.

I hope your doing alright, I heard about Eddie, I never met him, but from his description he sounded amazing and I would’ve loved to meet him. Take care Dustin.

Love, Will.

His eyes were already getting watery and he was only on the second letter. That’s pathetic he let out a small laugh.

He then went on to write a letter for Max, not as long as the others however still just as meaningful.

To Max,

I know we didn’t hang out much, however you were just as important to me as the rest of the party, you make Lucas and El incredibly happy and for that I’m so thankful, never stop be the sarcastic, yet caring friend I know. You included me in a time that I felt incredibly excluded, and I’m so glad to have met you.

Love,Will.

After writing a letter for his birth father, Lonnie, which to summarize, stated that he was a horrible father to will and how he wished they had a good relationship, however it was too late for that.

He then went on to write a letter for Hopper.

To Hopper,

Thank you for being there for my mom when I went missing, I will be forever grateful, in this life and the next. You make my mom so happy and I’m glad, she deserves someone as kind and caring as you, take care of her and El for me please? I wish I got to know you more as a father figure.

Love,

Will.

Next up we’re Jonathan and His mother, Joyce. He decided to write them one letter for the both of them.

To Mom and Jonathan,

You guys were the best family I could ever ask for, thank you both for raising me to be the best version of myself I could be. I however, have a confession to make, I’m gay.

I never told either of you directly not because I didn’t think you’d support, but because I was still figuring things out for myself, I know you’d support me.

Jonathan, please take care of mom for me, I understand this will be hard but it’s for the best and I truely do wish the best for you in life, I hope you get into that college you and Nancy want to get into.

Mom, please stay strong, I know this is difficult but I promise we’ll meet again someday, please make sure El has a nice time in high school, treat her as normal as possible please?

I love you both so much.

Love,

Will.

Tears were now streaming down his face, he hopes his family can move on with their lives afterwards.

Two more letters to go, El and Mike.

He decided to save Mikes letter for last.

To El,

Im so glad to have been known as your brother, I couldn’t be prouder. Ever since you saved the party, me included, from the upside I’ve been forever thankful. I hope you find true happiness and have a better time at school, I’m sorry for not defending you all those times, I regret that a lot.

I hope you and Mike can work things out, I know he’s not the best at expressing things but I hope you guys figure things out, romantically or platonically, I just want you to be happy.

Love,

Will.

And finally, Mikes letter.

To Mike,

The day we first met, was the best day of my life. I cherish that memory a lot. I’m so incredibly happy that I had you as my best friend. I apologize for saying this so late but it’s better you know this now rather than later.

Mike, I’m gay and I’ve been in love with you since we were eight.

I loved you even when we fought, which is why I didn’t like any girls, I liked you.

If I listed all the reason why I loved you so much it might take up the entire page, so here’s a few;

I love your black hair, especially the way it curls. I love your smile, the same smile that gave me butterflies often, I love your kind heart, the same heart that stuck with me while the mind flayer stuff occurred, crazy together right?

I hope you have a good life with El and the rest of the party, you truly are the heart.

Love,

Will.

1 MONTH LATER

Mike sat in his bedroom, Will is dead.

He’s been wallowing in his room all by himself for the past month, they won but at what cost?

He doesn’t know how he’ll live without Will being by his side.

The entire party was hurting, but it hit Mike twice as hard.

He’s yet to open the letter Will wrote for him, it hurt too much.

He sat at the foot of his bed, the letter in his lap, by the look of his face, it seems as though he hasn’t slept in days.

The grief had fully struck him by now, Will is dead, and never coming back. That thought kept replaying itself in his head, over and over again. He hated it.

He decided to finally open the letter, the moment he read the words on the page, his eyes started to watery, and that turned into a full blown sob.

“Mike, I’m gay and I’ve been in love with you since we were eight” He read that sentence, too many times to count.

Will loved him, Will loved him so much it was able to overlook all those times he acted like an asshole to Will, especially last year, he regrets that so much.

He wishes he could go back in time so desperately.

Mike ripped a piece of paper from his notebook, and sat at his desk and began writing.

Dear Will,

I’m sorry.

Im so so sorry for being an asshole to you, I’m sorry that I made you feel bad for not liking girls, I’m sorry for not realizing my own feelings so long ago. I love you too, Will.

I wish things didn’t end how they did, I wish you were still here.

I hope one day I’ll see you again, we’ll be reunited one day.

Love,

Mike.

Mike sobbed, like a full on ugly cry.

He stared at the paper before him, his tears dripping down on the letter.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to bounce back after this, but he knows he will, it’s what Will would want.

[the-haunted-office]

The Ruined Office - Episode 1

Thursday is no stranger to other Offices.

With the way hers is connected to and heavily influenced by the In-Between, she's been to dozens. Offices identical to her own, before all the renovations were done. Offices sporting different layouts. Offices flooded with water. Offices encased in fire. Offices literally turned upside down. Offices literally turned inside out. Offices with walls pulsating with what looked like real, living, actual veins. Offices that were... actual offices full of people who were just trying to do their jobs, leaving Thursday in the very awkward position of trying to see her way out the front door.

This one is the very first ruined Office she's ever been to.

Not that she's never heard of them. She's heard of plenty, and that's because she knows who ruined them. She knows their Story, as it is her own - or very nearly was before she derailed it.

There's something uncanny about being in one of them, though. It's distinctly different than having heard of them, or even being in her own when she was in the midst of ruining it alongside her ghostly alternate. That's who was doing all the ruining, you see. Doomsday. She didn't come by that name from nowhere, after all.

The inside of this Office is utterly gutted. The ugly orange carpet is ripped and torn more than it’s not, and where it isn’t ripped and torn it’s stained and pocked with what appear to be massive patches of burn marks. These burn marks are further accentuated by smoke damage that crawls up the walls and clots the ceiling in puffs of black and gray, at least where it’s still intact.

Where the ceiling isn’t intact, bundles of wires and cords dangle down like intestines ripped out of some great animal, left there to rot. Broken, uneven piece of ceiling tiles lay strewn about, and the floor is littered with shattered glass and filament from what used to be the overhead florescent lights.

Those are out too, and the entire Office is utterly dark. Every cubicle and desk and printer and wall and filing cabinet, everything, is lying in ruin. Not a single piece of the Office has been left untouched. Everything is… just broken and ruined and it’s kind of sad. It looks like a tornado came through and chewed up and spat out everything in its path.

Thursday can remember how her Office looked very much the same when Doomsday first appeared. How she had told her she was going to die in a month. How she, Thursday, had felt knowing that not only was she going to die, that everyone would abandon her, how she would die alone, suffering and in pain. Herself had told her so, that it had happened 999 times before, so how could she believe otherwise? Destroying the Office felt sensible and cathartic at the time.

Burn it all to the ground.

Everywhere glass and debris is crunching underfoot as Thursday walks around, trying her best to tread carefully lest she fall through the floor as that's rotting away too with the rest of everything else. She can't help but wonder which Thursday this Office belonged to, or if this actually is one of the Offices Doomsday visited. It's possible that it isn't.

That possibility is all but instantaneously erased when two pairs of black hole eyes suddenly loom out of the shadows at her, rearing up on what appear to be white blankets draped over two five-foot-pairs of stilts. They look like some kid’s idea of silly ghost costumes, except these two kids aren’t holding out Halloween buckets and asking for candy, and one of them is baring a ridiculously large mouth full of needle-sharp teeth at her.

At least until they all at once seem to recognize her, and then the teeth get folded away neatly.

Thursday had only taken a couple of steps back in very understandable surprise, although now she's pretty sure she recognizes these two creatures as well.

A trio of voices all go off at once, two in Thursday's head, Thursday's own spoken aloud:

"Cyrus? Aurora? Is that you?" Thursday says.

"Thursday?" one of the Nightcrawlers inquires, his voice unmistakably identical to the one Thursday knows as Cyrus.

"How can that be you?" asks the other, whom Thursday recognizes as Aurora.

All three voices are laced with utter surprise.

While Thursday understands that these two are alternates of the Cyrus and Aurora she knows, this Cyrus and Aurora aren't quite sure what they are seeing. They think they might be seeing a ghost.

They rush to meet this apparent ghost to embrace her.

Having known what likely happened to their Thursday here, Thursday allows it, for as long as they need.

[themysteriousauthor18]

Billdip chpt. 2

One book hit the floor, than another…than another…and another. 

Bill smirked with amusement, he floated in the air. Hanging upside down with his hands folded behind his head. “You look nervous, kid.” 

Dipper grimaced picking up another book, he eyed the cover before briefly looking through the pages. With a heavy sigh he tossed it into the growing pile. “I’m gonna find out why the heck you are here,” another book. “Why this stupid mark is on my arm,” and another “and why I can’t get rid of you.” Despite the unicorn barrier. Why hadn’t it worked? Was it not strong enough? Did it need to be updated? He wished Uncle Ford was here. 

“Get rid of me?” He echoed, “now why would you wanna do that? Who doesn’t love me? I’m amazing. I’m the most powerful being in the universe.”

“You were.” Dipper muttered under his breath.

Bill froze, he wrinkled his nose at the brunette. “Watch it kid.” He warned floating down infront of him. His feet hovering over the floor. He pointed a finger at Dipper who stumbled back a little. “I could easily make you into minced meat by just snapping my fingers.” Bills form seemed to grow fainter, barely visible.

If Dipper had still been 13 he’d be shaking in his shoes. But he was older and smarter now. He squared his shoulders back and prodded a finger back at the blonde's chest. Despite it going through. “You could at one point but let's face it. You're obviously powerless now so all you are is talk now.” He withdrew his finger because his arm was beginning to feel funny. He made a mental note that it was the same arm with the insignia on it. 

Bill scoffed, “this is just a temporary set back. You’ll be eating those words pinetree. Literally. The second I’m back to myself and not this weird form.” He remarked wiggling his ghostly fingers and eyeing his torso. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a torso. Or more than one eye. 

Dipper walked over to one of the desks. Part of his mind argued it was a horrible and stupid idea to even be in Ford's secret lab. (Which over the years was changed more or less into a guys cave.) But it still held all of Ford's books. Soos and Melonine were kind enough to do that. He wished he had the journals still. He paused only briefly to glare at Bill, the one responsible for destroying them in the first place. 

“What?” He asked, hovering in the air with his legs crossed. 

Dipper scoffed. “Nothing.” He grumbled, he caught the quizzical look from Bill before he turned back around. It didn’t seem like he could read his mind, or even get in it. Another mental note he made. He grabbed one of Fords books that he threw onto the floor and turned on a lamp on the desk. A purple light glowed from under it. He opened the book to a random page and held it under the light. His nose wrinkled to find nothing. No hidden messages. He continued regardless flipping through each page hoping to find something. 

“It's pointless kid.” Bill remarked. He ignored him. “Besides anything you find won’t be of any help to you. This is obviously way more than you and your little fleshy brain can process.”

“Oh and like you have any ideas of whats going on?”

“Pft. Please. I’ve been alive before your ancestors were even born. I know way more than you do, kid.”

He flipped a page, “so you're clueless too.” He heard Bill mutter something under his breath. It sounded faintly similar to ‘shut up.’ Maybe he should return to where the statue was. …The statue. God he was such an idiot. He should have left it alone. This was all his fault. If he ever managed to fix this he would never disobey Ford's warnings again. He wasn’t the rebellious one. Mable was. He should have listened. He should have. What if his family was in danger now because of this? What if gravity falls-no the world was in danger. Now all because of him and his stupid curiosity? He could have doomed the world! He-

“I’m boreeeeeed!” Dipped stumbled back alarmed when Bill’s face- or human face appeared in front of him. So startled in fact that he ended up knocking the lamp to the floor and tripping over his feet. He heard Bill laugh. It wasn’t his maniacal laughter but more close to a kid who had played a prank. Regardless, it was annoying.

“You did that on purpose!” Dipper growled up at the floating man. He was laughing hysterically on his back. His form seemed more visible. 

“Oh you should have seen the look on your face!” He laughed. He paused long enough to see the annoyed expression Dipper wore. Bill grinned, flipping to float on his stomach. “Oh lighten up Pinetree! It was just a joke!” 

“Joke?” He snarled. “Oh I’ll show you a joke!” He moved only to smack his hand against the lamp on the floor. He let out an ‘ow’ before looking down. It was then he took notice of something. When he first came down here he’d initially took his hoodie off due to it being hot down here. Well he’d been hot since he got back home, but had to keep his arms covered. But after he got down here he took the hoodie off leaving his T-shirt on and displaying the insignia in full. 

Now that it was uncovered. He saw something…

Under the purple lighting was something else on the insignia. Something he hadn’t seen with the naked eye. He smacked himself. Why didn’t he think to check the insignia for clues? Stupid…stupid…stupid. No no no, there was time to scold himself later. 

He shook his head grabbing the lamp and holding it at a better angle over his arm. 

The insignia by itself was a portrayal off Bills markings. The ones left in the dairies warning of his return. The one were the triangle being himself floated in the center surrounded by several other symbols and markings. But now, something else lingered behind that triangle, it was faint but it loomed behind the triangle. Larger and curled around him like a snake entrapping him.

He furrowed his brows.

It was an axolotl. And in the sigils surrounding Bills triangle form, was writing. But it was in a langage Dipper had never even seen. He studied a lot…and he meant a LOT. Enough to reconize most of the languages on planet earth. But to him, the symbols didn’t even favor anything. Not even Chinese or Japanese which was his best guess. Maybe Egyptian? No…similar but not exactly.

A chill ran down his spine and it was then he remembered the other figure in the room. When he looked up he found Bill hovering over his shoulder looking at the markings. With a deep frown. Dipper’s blood boiled. He hated this man…no this creature. He was the one to endanger his family. His world. And all for what? Some game? He never understood Bill. He tried to understand all the creatures in gravity falls, what their motives were. Why they did the things they did. All of them seemed to have some motive good or bad. But Bill? It just seemed like he did things because he just could. He never understood him. And he hated him for that. Hated him for hurting people just because he had the power too.

But…

He swallowed. If he was going to fix this, he had a sinking feeling Bill was the key.

He sighed… “Can..” he hesitated, before lifting his arm closer to Bill who backed away a little. “Can you read this?” He said, pointing to the weird symbols. 

Bill parted his lips about saying something snarky, but for some reason he seemed to think better of it. Instead saying “yes. I can.” 

Dippers brows raised. “What does it say?” 

He scoffed, “like I’d tell you.”

He grumbled. “Just tell me you stupid triangle!” Dipper snapped. “Or I’m cutting of my damn arm and throwing it in a ditch!”

Bill had crossed his arms. He eyed Dipper for a while before he huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He hovered close and peered at the symbols. 

“Sixty degrees that come in threes.

Watches from within birch trees.

Saw his own dimension burn.

Misses home and can't return.

Says he's happy. He's a liar.

Blame the arson for the fire.

If he wants to shirk the blame,

He'll have to invoke my name.

One way to absolve his crime.

A different form, a different time.”

Dipper eyed him. “...What is that supposed to mean?”

“Like I’m supposed to know?! Your the brainiac kid use your head.” 

Dipper glared. “You're a century old grump! With ‘boundless knowledge’ so tell me what it MEANS!”

“I don’t know what it means! Geez Pinetree I can’t do everything for you!”

Dipper cursed and stood, grabbing the lamp. Setting it down and turning it off. He grabbed his hoodie and flung it back on. God Bill was so annoying. He was gonna pull his own head off by the end of this.

He sighed marching back up the stairs with Bills form being dragged with him. 

At least he had a start…

Now he just had to figure out what it meant. But he also had the feeling…that Bill knew something he wasn’t telling.

Of course he was. It was Bill.

[freya-rat-face]

more whining about the fucking cat

It's getting later in the year and I would be celebrating having the cat for two years last month and I'm going to scream.

The cat is a trigger. Thinking about her. I can't let that stay like that.

It feels bad to let go of any guilt. Like I shouldn't, like it's wrong to let go of it. Like I SHOULD feel bad.

I don't know how I can say that.

Except I didn't try hard enough.

But I don't know what I think I could have done. I can't say it would have been helpful at all to try. It might have killed us both to try.

But I didn't fucking try.

And I left afterwards, instead of staying and looking forever and ever. I wanted to stay, but I needed stitches. I can't say I didn't try at all and I went back so often.

I feel guilty because I failed, and it would have been enough if it worked but it didn't.

So now every time I remember her. I remember that fucking day and hiding and wishing I had built a door into that closet thing and looking down, gravity-wise down, at the kids' door and thinking, "well shit, I guess this was a good idea"

Because the place I hid was this stupid gridwall "closet" I made, supported by another one on the other side of a dividing wall. So when the house got picked up on its side, I didn't fall into the TV or down the hall.

I was running to my s/o screaming bloody murder, until I couldn't even hear my voice over the wind.

The cat followed me down the hall, and I didn't grab her. I don't know where she went after that. She couldn't get to her usual safe place, under my bed, which is probably for the better.

His door jumped up and to the left and I said, "nope" and I was about to run back to the bathroom with my son, but then the house started trembling and then shaking, and the lights FINALLY flickered. That's a trigger, now. It makes my heart race even when it doesn't remind me.

I jumped into the closet thing thinking, "yeah right". It didn't have a wall or a floor, but it was better than nothing.

I grabbed the nearest soft thing to me and hugged it, trying to bury my face in it. (Turned out it was a coat that I'm keeping for fucking EVER. I put a Titan sigil on the back of it.)

I tried to figure out where I was. What the house was doing. I lifted my head at one point to see if I could see anything, but I couldn't. Just gray.

I tried to figure out where everything would be falling and landing.

Wondered what happened to my boyfriend. If my son would be okay.

I was going to fall out of the closet thing, and I tried to hold on for a second, but I didn't want to lose the soft thing I was holding, and I tried to use my feet but I only cut them on the edges where I never cleaned up my work in the back corner. So I decided to tuck and roll, preparing for impact landing.

The landing wasn't bad but then I had to curl up and hope nothing landed on me. A different coat on my back blew off, finally.

I remember the sound of the wood splintering. I still like that smell. It triggers him.

and then it stopped and I opened my eyes and I could finally see. Rain was spitting on my back, the afternoon was kinda gray, but the weather wasn't even than bad. Even afterwards.

I saw one of our storage milk crates on top of something near my head. I remembered the lessons about peace in storms on and tried to stay down and hidden.

Until my boyfriend stood up from under the mattress and called for me.

We found our son. I still don't know how he made it. I'm still so fucking relieved. That side of the house, along the back and along the right end, were completely smashed flat. Everything. The roof folded at that end, onto itself.

I still worry about my neighbor down the hill. His house was as ruined as mine.

And I can't say "well no, others had it worse" because I think we really won the Destroyed House contest for that tornado. Lots of destroyed property but no one else got theirs flipped literally upside down.

I miss my cat.

And every time I remember her, I remember all of that

And to let go of that makes me feel guilty, because I failed her and my family because I never found her.

And every time I try to remember that she was so fucking loved and she loved us, and how happy she looks in all her pictures; I get angry at me for fucking it up when I know there was only bullshit and self-preservation, which I guess is my primary sin here, the thing I can't forgive.

I don't know what I think I could have done. I couldn't even see. I was literally IN an F3 tornado, in a house being tossed like a child's toy, of course I couldn't save my fucking cat.

I don't want to have been helpless like that.

I don't want to have chosen myself first like that

I can't let my memories of her be tainted like this. I want to remember her without hating myself.

She wouldn't be angry at me if I saw her now, she'd be happy to see me.

I hope someone found her and took her in and I hope she's so happy that she forgets me.

i also really really hope I can find her but I've let that go as much as I can stand to.

Guilt and fear are a lot alike, in that they use their tautology to keep their holds. Of course you're scared, you should be scared, it's scary.

But I know the answer to that one is doing it anyway and either validating the fears and learning your lesson and calling it experience instead.

How dare you not feel guilty? You should feel guilty. Not wanting to feel guilty makes you a bad person.

So learn from your mistakes....?

Maybe get her chipped next time, cos we didn't? We didn't think we would need to and technically the chipping just marks her as owned in the shelter, it doesn't actually help beyond that (in this locality with the available services)

i didn't fuck up. My luck ran out. It got spent on the survival of the humans.

I don't want to say I couldn't have done anything. I don't want to have been helpless. What if it had been one of the kids?

I could still have failed.

I don't want that to be true. I don't want to have been helpless.

I don't know how the fuck i could think or feel anything else. hundred fifty pound asthmatic meatsack facing a literal force of nature fueled by decades of indifference and outright maliciousness, the fuck do I think i am?

Azdaya helps with the self compassion thing. I'm better at it when I write it.

That helped.

[kedreeva]

For the ST prompt: protective, cuddles, soft. the fruity four

(My askbox is open for ST prompts!)(Previous Prompts)

The call comes a little after 2am. There's only a few people that would call that late, and Steve's not asleep anyway, so he picks up.

"Can I come over?" Robin asks without preamble. They both know the answer is yes, of course, so Steve knows that's not the question she's asking.

"Yeah, gimme 15," he tells her, already plucking his keys off the hook.

They don't come straight back to Steve's after he picks her up. He does a loop around town, checking on all of houses of their group. Assured of their mundane condition, he heads out of town to cruise some of the long roads on the outskirts, letting the summer air run warm through the open windows. The stars shine so bright in the clear night sky it seems they mean to make up for the absence of the moon. Robin hangs her elbow out the window, fingers folded together and her chin on her wrist to watch them.

Steve mostly watches the road, content to let his mind fuzz to the comfortable emptiness of driving an open road, but even so he doesn't miss the flash of a big, chunky van parked off the road in the middle of a fallow field. Robin looks over when he brakes, eyes flicking up to Eddie's van as well. She doesn't question when they park on the shoulder, or when they get out and begin to trek across the field.

"How'd you find me?" Eddie asks from the roof, as soon as they're close. He's lying on top of a big blanket,

"Couldn't sleep," Steve says at the same time as Robin says: "Spying on you with satellites."

"Funny," Eddie says, holding up a can with a flick of his wrist to Steve, who passes it to Robin before popping the top on the beer Eddie hands him next.

Steve collapses into sitting up near Eddie's head, and Eddie shifts and wiggles until he can get his head on Steve's lap like an overgrown puppy. Robin waits until they're settled before she sits as well, and then leans back to lie with her head on Eddie's belly. She doesn't open her can, just sets it beside her and tips her head to look up at the stars again. Without the headlights, no streetlamps in sight, the dusty arm of the milky way spans in a slash across the sky.

"Wayne again?" Steve asks after a little while, fingers gently threading through Eddie's hair. Most of it is already splayed in a halo over Steve's lap from his fiddling, but Eddie never minds.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees. He always leaves the trailer when it's Wayne in his nightmares, when he gets skittish that the Upside Down is going to destroy everything they own again when it comes for him. Sometimes he comes to one of their houses, but Steve has learned that when it's bad, really bad, Eddie comes out here, to where he's not even really in town anymore. Where he won't endanger anyone if a gate opens and swallows him whole.

"Come over next time," Steve tells him quietly. "Call me."

"Or me," Robin says. "Or Nancy. That's what I did."

"You called Nancy?" Eddie asks, gaze flicking up to Steve's face as he smiles.

Robin rolls her eyes. "I called Steve.

"Russians?" Eddie asks, but lightly.

"Vines," she says, barely a breath, as if she can feel them around her throat all over again even now.

Eddie reaches a hand to her and she catches it, threading their fingers. "Hate that one." He hadn't even been caught by the vines, but the other three had described it enough times. "Steve?"

Steve shakes his head. "Never got to sleep in the first place," he admits. He does sleep, he just does it when there's daylight, when he can wake up without feeling like he's back in it.

"Steve..."

"It's fine, Robin," he assures her. "I swear I'm getting enough sleep." They've had this argument a dozen times since he fell asleep at work because he hadn't slept at all the night before.

"I can come stay for a few days, if you're having trouble," Eddie offers tentatively. "Wayne won't mind having the place to himself."

"You don't have to..." Steve starts.

"I know," Eddie says simply, no other explanation. They've also had this conversation more than once, and it always ends the same. Steve still hasn't won this kind of fight, with either of them.

"...Yeah, okay."

Eddie nods and returns to stargazing with Robin, Steve sipping at his beer until headlights slash across the dark down the field. He watches the little station wagon run the length of the road, turn, and come toward them slowly. It pulls up behind Steve's car, and even though it's too dark and too far to tell who it is, they all know.

Nancy drops her armload of blankets on Robin's head once she's climbed to the top of the van, and it might be a cramped situation if she didn't basically pile herself on top of the three of them, curled up around Robin with the blanket over both of them and part of Eddie. Steve smiles as Robin passes her the can she's protected.

They split the cherry Coke - Nancy's secret favorite, which she'd only admitted once in a game of truth or dare a few weeks ago - in silence for a little while. Steve finishes his drink and sets the empty can next to Eddie's behind him. No one bothers asking how Nancy had found them; they'd been to this field as a group several times, and even if they hadn't, Steve at least is convinced there's nothing Nancy can't figure out.

"Fire," Nancy says to the stars, when her can has joined the others.

"Vines," Robin says, and then nods to Eddie without taking her arms out from under the warm blanket. "Wayne." Then she looks at Steve and he knows what's coming even before she says: "Didn't sleep, again."

"Steve..."

"Oh my god," he says with a laugh. "Eddie already agreed to stay over."

"I'm sure that means you asked for help when you needed it," Nancy says. Somehow, a little bit of guilt flushes under his skin, even though he knows she's dragging him out of concern.

"You know he didn't," Robin says.

"I know he didn't," Nancy says. "He never does."

"Hey," Steve protests. "I'm trying, okay, Nance? It's just..."

"I know," she says, and she does. She knows he's never really had anyone to ask for help from, and that it simply does not occur to him. Layer that with his desire to be as little burden as possible, and his need to protect others... she knows. It's difficult to learn better.

"We should just... get a place," Robin says, offhand. Everyone turns to look at her. "Sorry! Is that weird?"

"Like, together?" Eddie asks, glancing from her up to Steve, as if Steve might've understood Robin better. Not the case. "A place together, the four of us?"

"Um... yeah?" Robin says, hesitant. "We hang out all the time anyway, and... y'know, then... we don't have to sneak anywhere in the middle of the night. We don't... wake our parents up screaming."

Eddie hums. "We just wake each other up."

"Or someone's there to wake us up before the screaming starts," Nancy points out. She does not at all sound opposed, which surprises Steve.

"Plus, if- I mean, it's not like I want any of this stuff to keep happening, but it does keep happening, and if we had our own place, like... we wouldn't have to worry about anyone walking in or catching us."

"Home base," Steve says.

"Yeah," Robin says, relieved. "It wouldn't- it doesn't have to be forever, but... it would be nice, I think."

They sit in silence. Steve can't honestly think of anything that's sounded better in his life; he hates living in his empty house, hates the pool out back and the woods beyond it, hates it more when his parents do come home and screw everything up. He can't even imagine the relief of coming home to a full house of people he actually likes. Of having part of his chosen family at hand, where he can see them, touch them, assure himself they are all safe at the same time.

"I'm in," Nancy says, after a while.

"You can bring Jonathan," Robin offers.

Nancy just shakes her head. Steve feels badly for her. She hasn't left him, but she's been angry with him for a while over his decision to keep things from her. She understands why- they all do. He'll be moving back soon, now that Hopper's back, and Steve's not sure he's looking forward to the upheaval that will cause. Or maybe it won't- maybe he'll just settle in where he ought to have been all along. That's a bridge to be crossed or burned later.

"Yeah, me too," Steve agrees quietly. "It'll be a lot easier to get a house with four of us."

"With that many bedrooms?" Eddie asks. "I haven't looked at real estate prices but-"

"You really think we need a bunch of rooms?" Robin says, twisting to give him a skeptical look. "Planning on spending a lot of nights alone?"

Eddie blushes, even by starlight, and mumbles something under his breath that even Steve doesn't catch. "That mean you're out?" Steve asks.

"No," Eddie says. "I mean, I gotta talk to my uncle, but I followed you lunatics into another dimension to fight monsters. After all that, house seems pretty domestic."

"Har har," Robin says at the pun, but Steve smiles when Eddie looks at him expectantly. "So... now what?"

"It was your plan, Buckley," Eddie says.

"Yeah, but I was just-"

"Now we get home before our parents notice," Nancy interrupts, gesturing toward the horizon where it has begun to turn a lighter shade of dark, heralding dawn. "And... we'll start looking. There's a lot of people leaving town, after what happened. We can probably get something bigger than we would have otherwise."

"I can start looking into financing," Steve offers, heart a little lighter at the prospect of being useful. "I'm sure my dad knows someone."

Robin's grinning full-on now. "Are we really gonna do this?"

"Sure looks like it," Eddie says with a smile.

[bored-storyteller]

Yeeeeeh

Leona with "throat" please? I can't resist

Here we are! 🌹

Warning: violent content at the beginning. Although I guess they were predictable.

Twisted Wonderland, Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Word: "Throat"

Like the predator he is, Leona had aimed for your throat.

He hadn't used his magic with you; his black touch had left wounds, but they stopped as if he was in control right now. His flaming eye had been so close to you at that moment, it was frightening in the haze of the Overblot, yet you still recognized Leona in those gestures.

He had touched you, skin to skin, and she had folded you by bending over you. He hadn't used force, yet you had been forced to indulge him, and as the world turned upside down, you felt his fangs on your neck, exactly where predators kill their prey for food.

Someone had screamed, he had left you and you had fallen on your ass, but by putting a hand to your throat you could clearly feel the grooves left by his teeth, your skin broken where it had been touched by the sharpest points.

Dark marks that color your skin are still there, but they don't hurt anymore. Not even now that your throat is as wide and exposed as it was then.

Leona still points to your throat, but now his lips are warm and gentle, barely touching your jugular. Many would be surprised at how gentle and respectful that prince's kisses can be.

When he lifts from you, you can see his pain behind his pupils, a pain he will never, ever say aloud.

“Leona…” You call it softly; you pronounce his name in the most loving way possible.

"What is it?"

He didn't apologize for what happened, but the shaking of his touch is enough to take your breath away.

You hold out your hand, he sighs - he always has to sigh - but he intertwines his fingers with yours.

For a moment he looks at you in silence, in the soft glow of the only light on in his room. Every so often when you are alone these moments happen, where he freezes, he stares at you, and he seems on the verge of throwing up everything he has in his heart on you, but he always stops a moment before.

You think this is still the case now, so you just smile and playfully kiss the back of his hand, but instead of retreating or saying something ironic as usual, he keeps staring at you blankly.

Before you can speak, he does it, as you never expected.

"What am I becoming ...?"

He asks you in a tone you've never heard in his voice, so lost, so alone.

"What do you mean?" You ask as you sit up too, but his gaze escapes you as he shakes his head.

You can't understand, that's what he's telling you.

"Leona, it didn't just happen to you." You try, but he refuses your attempt and rather reaches out to you. His fingers run along the edge of your throat and trace the boundaries of his teeth on your skin. He frowns, an expression that you don't know whether to say of anger or pain.

"I'm not a beast." He tells you "But in that moment ..."

Your words tremble: "Did you hate me?"

Leona looks offended, his gaze strikes you but you can't help but smile.

"I didn't want to destroy you. I didn't want you to go away from me. You would have run away and in that hell the only way to stop you ..."

Now you shake your head. He has already said enough. It's not like him, he's uncomfortable, you know.

"I don't go away. You already have me." You tell him.

Now you are aiming for his throat. You kiss him, gently, playfully, and this time the only thing he does is breathe.

The air is inhaled through his mouth, falls under your lips and fills his lungs.

"Stupid masochistic herbivore." He tells you, but his arms surround you, squeeze you to his chest and make you fall onto your back.

His body is on top of you, his face hidden against your shoulder and you can't see his expression, but you feel his warm breath trembling, light purr vibrating in that throat.

You smile as your hand sinks into his hair. How can you, little prey, escape from such a predator?

[rphelperblog]

Shatter Me Series Rp Meme Part one

“I spent my life folded between the pages of books.

“All I ever wanted was to reach out and touch another human being not just with my hands but with my heart.” 

“I'm oxygen and he's dying to breathe.”

“Books are easily destroyed. But words will live as long as people can remember them.” 

Swords may cut and kill, but words will stab and stay, burying themselves in our bones to become corpses we carry into the future, all the time digging and failing to rip their skeletons from our flesh.”

“Ignite, my love. Ignite.”

“Raindrops are my only reminder that clouds have a heartbeat. That I have one, too.” 

“I've been screaming for years and no one has ever heard me.” 

“It's the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.”

“Why do you call her 'love'?"

"Would anyone else like to take over this conversation?"

“And we are quotation marks, inverted and upside down, clinging to one another at the end of this life sentence. Trapped by lives we did not choose.” 

“Time goes on even when we do not.”

“The man is moody as hell.”

“Hope is hugging me, holding me in its arms, wiping away my tears and telling me that today and tomorrow and two days from now I will be just fine and I'm so delirious I actually dare to believe it.” 

Loneliness is a bitter, wretched companion. Sometimes it just won't let go.” 

“Hope is a pocket of possibility.I'm holding it in my hand.”

Love is a heartless bastard.” 

You don’t like to kill people, remember? You’re against that, remember? You like to talk about feelings and rainbows—

“I like the way I feel about myself when I'm with him." 

“I want to feel your skin on fire. I want to feel your heart racing next to mine and I want to know it’s racing because of me, because you want me. Because you never,never want me to stop. I want every second. Every inch of you. I want all of it.”

“Sticks and stones keep breaking my bones but these words, these words will kill me.” 

“ I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association. My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.”

 He makes me feel like his equal--like I can accomplish just as much as he can, and more. And if I do something incredible, he's not even surprised. He expects it. He doesn't treat me like I'm some fragile little girl who needs to be protected all the time

Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to. Twice I've laid myself bare to you and all it's gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don't torture me,

“Please don’t shoot me for this.”

I’m falling.I’m falling apart and into his heart and I’m a disaster.” 

“Hey, um, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a friend of mine.Have you seen her? She's a tiny little thing, cries a lot, spends too much time with her feelings-"

I am a whisper that never was.” 

“Come back to life, love. I'll be here when you wake up.” 

“And if you insist on continuing to make assumptions about my character, I’ll advise you only this: assume you will always be wrong.”

"I need waves. I need waterfalls. I want rushing currents.” 

“Someone picked up the sun and pinned it to the sky again, but every day it hangs a little lower than the day before. It's like a negligent parent who only knows one half of who you are. It never sees how its absence changes people. How different we are in the dark.” 

" the truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies.” 

"Do I look like the kind of guy who's never had a girlfriend? Have you even met me?”

“You destroy me.”

“Hate looks like everybody else until it smiles” 

“People seldom realize that they tell lies with their lips and truths with their eyes all the time.” 

“My life is four walls of missed opportunities poured in concrete molds.”

“Find me a cure for these tears, I'd really like to exhale for the first time in my life.” 

"You just like him for his personality, huh?"

“In a world where there is so much to grieve and so little good to take? I grieve nothing. I take everything.” 

“Because if I lower my voice, I won’t be able to hear myself speak. And that is my favorite part.”

“Every butterfly in the world has migrated to my stomach.” 

"I do like his face.” 

“The books...they helped keep me from losing my mind altogether.”

"Just because I'm going to hell doesn't mean you'll ever deserve her.” 

“I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.”

"I want you so much it scares me.” 

“I am nothing more than the consequence of catastrophe.”

“Hope in this world bleeds out of the barrel of a gun.” 

"Only those who cannot express themselves intelligently would resort to such crude substitutions in vocabulary.

“Do you never get exhausted being so wholly unbearable? You have as much charisma as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.”

“Truth is a jealous, vicious mistress that never, ever sleeps.” 

"You deserve to live, You deserve to be alive.” 

“A handful of letters doesn't always make a word, love.” 

“Lift your hips for me, love.” 

“Nothing in this life will ever make sense to me but I can't help but try to collect the change and hope it's enough to pay for our mistakes.” 

“I feel like I’ve been split open and stuffed with sunshine.” 

"I love you exactly as you are.” 

“I want to trust but it scares the skin off my bones.” 

"I love making you mad.” 

“I am no longer afraid of fear, and I will not let it rule me. Fear will learn to fear me.” 

"Don't be sad. Or hurt. Or guilty. You've done nothing wrong." 

“My mind is a warehouse of carefully organized human emotions. I lock away the things that do not serve me.” 

“You're absolutely delicious when you're angry."

 "Too bad my taste is poisonous for your palate.” 

“You know, you have a really strange way of telling me you’re attracted to me.” 

“Idiots are highly flammable, love. Let them all burn in hell.”

“This is so unbearably inconvenient,I was prepared to hate him for the rest of my life.” 

“My words wear no parachutes as they fall out of my mouth.” 

“All of you. Your entire body. Proportionally. Symmetrically. You’re absurdly, mathematically perfect. It doesn’t even make sense that a person could look like you,” 

“You allow the world to think you're a heartless murderer,"

"I'm afraid I'm just the regular kind of murderer.

“I have a heart, says science, but I am a monster, says society.” 

“I'm too poor to afford the luxury of hysteria right now.”

“People can think whatever they like....I don't desire their validation.” 

“That this girl would know exactly how to shatter me.” 

“The world is a mess and I want to laugh because all I can think is how horrible and beautiful it is.” 

“Torture is not torture when there’s any hope of relief.” 

“We are synonyms but not the same.” 

“It's the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world. The kind that takes forever and no time at all.” 

“This girl is destroying me.”

“You couldn’t kick my ass if I had ten of them.”

[stariwrites]

Please

Pairing: Sukuna x GN! Reader (The reader is AFAB)

Warnings: Dubious Consent, Oral (Reader! Receiving), Mind break, edging, denied orgasm, monsterfucking, corruption kink, dirty talk, mean dom to soft dom Sukuna, use of little one and little sorcerer as well as pet (only twice though), forced submission just to be safe 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this and this is for @seita “Corrupt a Virgin Collab!” Thank you so much for letting me participate! All characters are 18+  and as always Minors DNI and if you do or if you’re a nameless blog I will block you instantly. 

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

Debris settled over the city. You coughed, cringing at the blood that spilled from your lips at the hit you had taken. You looked around you, watching as more buildings collapsed, people screamed causing it to echo. You couldn’t find anybody no matter where you looked. Your heart raced inside your chest. 

How much longer would you be able to pull this off? Ever since Sukuna and Itadori had been separated he caused nothing but destruction. 

You watched the curse you were currently fighting rush towards you. It’s green spindles shot out only for you to dodge it in the nick of time. The wall where you had been standing in front of was nothing but a hole. You cringed. That could’ve been you.

Before you had time to recover it focused it’s sights on you again, the eight purple eyes stared directly into yours. You tried to get up again only to be met by an explosion of pain. You glanced down at your hand nursing the wound on your stomach only to see crimson seep through your fingers. Shit. 

It let out a wicked shriek, leaving your ears ringing. It charged at you again. You closed your eyes. 

Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

���Protect me?” Gojo’s voice was incredulous as he tossed his head back and laughed. It had been a busy day filled with killing curses and saving people, but at the end of it all of you were able to spend time together and watch the fireworks. “I’m the strongest there is, if anything it would be me protecting you.” 

Nanami huffed at his response, proceeding to whack him upside the head. He whined, turning to Nanami no doubt to start playfully fighting him which would end in Nanami sighing in disappointment.

You could only shake your head at the two of them while Nobara scoffed, nudging your arm with a grin. “Yeah, and besides we’re all going to get stronger so we don’t need to be protected.”

Megumi nodded with a small smile which caused you to huff.

“It’s not like that!” You clenched your fists beside you, before lowering your voice. “It’s just that all of you are precious to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to not see you hurt.”

They were all speechless at your response until Itadori’s face lit up into a bright smile. “Let's do it!” He cheered, jumping into the air. “We’ll be the best group of sorcerers out there you’ll see! Let’s all protect each other.”

The six of you looked at each other with matching soft expressions, a silent agreement that you’d all make it to the very end when the first explosion fired off. Itadori shrieked at the unexpected boom that echoed in the sky causing your laughter to break the silence between each firework. 

You smiled looking back on the memory. It was fun. The people you met, the friends you gained, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. As you anticipated the final blow one last thought flashed through your mind. You had no regrets.

An explosion of light flooded from behind your eyelids, you braced for impact but none came. Slowly, you cracked an eye open only to have your breathing hitch. Standing where the cursed spirit used to be was-

“Sukuna,” your own voice surprised you. The demon turned to you with an unamused expression.

“Think you can just die like that?” He sneered approaching you. “You fool.” 

You tried to get up, all your senses screaming to fight but you only managed to straighten your posture before wincing in pain. Broken ribs, you assumed, if not worse. “What do you want?” You managed to croak out. 

Standing above you, his eyes were filled with venom. You swallowed silently wishing the destroyed cursed spirit had taken you out. You refused to break away from his gaze while his hand moved to cup your cheek. You flinched from his touch expecting him to rip your skin away with the swipe of his talons, but instead he clicked his tongue at the action.

“Make no mistake little one, If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, but your body relaxed at the words. You wanted to shake your head. How could that even be remotely comforting?

You couldn’t dwell on it for long because the next thing you knew you could breathe properly again. You took a deep breath in, almost choking on it. You removed your hand from your stomach only to gape in shock. 

“You,” you looked up at the demon with wide eyes. “You healed me?”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t stand the way humans interacted nor did he want to. He craved the chaos he created and only wanted to see more of it, but one sorcerer managed to get under his skin, you. 

You were an enigma, your cursed energy was strong, that was for certain and as obsessed as he was with Megumi there was something about you that drew him to you. Maybe it was the way he could tell you were a virgin. You had so much experience but none with another person’s touch. He thought many times about you being tied up and at his mercy while he edged you for hours causing you to cry out pleas along with his name. 

Unfortunately there was no time to act on what he wanted with him still being inside the brat, but now, now was the perfect time. 

“Why?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. He wanted to laugh at your perplexed expression paying close attention to your lips. You didn’t realize it, but you backed yourself into a corner. 

“Oh Little Sorcerer,” he crooned mockingly. A sinister smile stretched across his face reminding you just who you were dealing with. 

Squatting down to your level, he let his eyes rove over your body, paying close attention to where your uniform was torn and wrinkled. Instinctively, you covered yourself to the best of your ability which only made him lick his lips.

“You didn’t think I did that without a price,” his voice dropped an octave, “did you?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest while you gasped. There was no way, but noticing the hunger in those eyes that held a predatory gleam you understood what he meant. You couldn’t-

“Get away from them!” Megumi shouted. His footsteps raced towards where you were. Itadori and Nobara were fast at his heels shouting for you. A ghost of a smile fell onto your face. They were okay. From what you saw the only wounds were some scratches and bruises. They would be okay. The relief quickly faded when a talon turned your chin to make you look at him once more.

His teeth were on full display. “Let’s make a contract, shall we? I won’t hurt your friends as long as you do what I want in my domain.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And what would that be?”

“I get to ruin you.”

You knew you could stall, could buy time until they could help you, but the more you waited the more people screamed.

“So little one, what will it be?” Sukuna’s voice rang heavy in your ears. You could either go with him or more people would be hurt. You purse your lips, you had two choices: either allow Sukuna to take you and buy your friends some time or wait for them and risk more people dying. 

With a deep breath you faced the demon. “If I go with you, you promise that no person, that includes jujutsu sorcerers and civilians will be harmed?”

“Of course.”

Part of you didn’t trust him, but you mulled over the deal, searching for any loopholes. Megumi, Itadori and Nobara were getting closer. 

“Time’s running out, have you made a decision?”

You looked at your friends one last time as they screamed in horror running faster. With a final breath you focused back on the king of curses. 

“I accept.”

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

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t you?”

Obscene sounds echoed throughout the domain as you grinded against Sukuna’s tongue that resided on his abdomen. Small whimpers and broken moans spilled from your lips. Tears slid down your face while the appendage was lapping at your folds, flicking at your clit every now and again. Each grind down had your toes curling. You tossed your head back.

“Shut, ah, shut up!” You tried to shout, but it held no mirth to it. 

Sukuna smirked at your reaction. Still so fiery even after he edged you, you were a fun one that was for certain. 

He’d envisioned this moment many times before, but nothing beat the real thing. He kept your arms stretched above you with one of his hands while the other he used to cup your cheek. He lived for your expression, the way your eyelashes were grouped together with tears as you were forced to keep taking what he was giving you, completely at his mercy.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer,” he snarled. “Can’t take my tongue?” He couldn’t help but grow addicted to the breathy pants you let out as you clamped down at his words. His eyes widened, peering at you with an expression that almost looked impressed. 

“Who knew you could be such a slutty pet. Nobody’s ever touched you like this before and you’re already so fucked out, I wonder what will happen when you cum, hm?”

“Fu-fuck you,” you managed to get out between moans. You refused to give into him, wishing you had more strength in you to glare. You needed to put up a fight. 

He raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Brat,” he dug his nails into your hips, there would be indents there for days, but he didn’t care. “You try to put up such a front, wouldn’t it feel better to give in rather than fight me? You’re so wet and you’ve been so good, so pliant for me are you sure you don’t want a reward?

The familiar coil in your stomach was about to break causing you to thrash your head back and forth. The burn was becoming painful, you didn’t know how much longer you’d last if he kept denying you. Sukuna noticed, forcing your hips to grind faster. 

“Oh? Is the little sorcerer close? Tell me, do you want to know what it’s like to cum from somebody other than you, hm?” He hummed keeping the brutal pace, watching as you heaved for breath, your eyes glossy and almost rolling back. A twisted grin morphed onto his face at the sight. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already,” he bit his lip to keep from groaning out into the domain. The reflection of the water only made you look more wrecked. “Tell me, is this what you’re going to look like when you're stretched out on my cock?”

The image alone had your toes curling. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You needed release. “M’close. M’so close. M’gonna cum. Gonna ngh gonna cum Sukuna. Sukuna,” you babbled, slurring your words.

You were almost there all you needed was one more extra push. 

Before you had time to process what was happening your hips stilled. A loud sob ripped it’s way from your throat. You couldn’t handle being denied anymore. All you could do was struggle in his hold and curse the king in front of you for torturing you like this. That’s when it registered, he was going to kill you like this. That must’ve been his plan all along.

You were about to speak, to tell him to just kill you already when he leaned closer towards you. His lips ghosted against yours. Without thinking you leaned in, desperate to feel his lips against yours, but before you could he pulled away and gazed at you.

You could see your reflection in his eyes, the way you were drooling for him, you were a mess, your eyes glossy from crying, you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. You couldn’t remember how many times he edged you, but it was unbearable. 

“Beg me.”

Your breath caught in your throat even though you’d been expecting that. Part of you, the desperate want that curled itself into your skin and set your heart aflame wanted to cave in. Wanted so badly to finally get the release you’ve been craving all this time, but rationally you looked at the demon and whispered, “I, I can’t.”

As soon as the words were out you wanted to take them back, disappointment swam within you. You wanted to know what it was like, but the sorcerer in you couldn’t yield. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, but that would’ve been a lie.

 You expected Sukuna to tear you to shreds or leave you like this but instead he shushed you.

Your eyes snapped open, not even remembering when you closed them. He only rubbed your back with one of the hands that was on your hip while the other hand holding your arms set them down.

“Such a brave sorcerer, aren’t you? Even when you’re so desperate you still hold so much strength, but don’t you want to be ruined? Don’t you wish you would just be able to let go and have somebody else take the reins?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft like he was talking to something fragile, something that could break. 

“I-”

You couldn’t deny that it sounded nice, to be out of control for once, to just let yourself be ruined by Sukuna. You craved release so bad it hurt. You shuddered against him at the thought of finally being able to lose yourself in pleasure while the cool air of the domain caught up to you.

Without hesitation, Sukuna embraced you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest. You imagined that if he was human, you’d be able to hear his heart beat pressed against him like this. He caressed any inch of your body his hands could reach as he placed a chaste kiss to your temple. You settled in the warmth.

“Shh, just let me take care of you little one,” he squeezed you close before placing two set of his hands on your shoulders to pull you back. It took everything in him not to smile. He had you, he knew he had you judging by the way your face was going from conflicted to completely lax. 

“I’ll ruin you for anybody else,” the hands on your shoulders dropped down to barely touch your waist, tickling you. He began to kiss down your jaw, moving to your neck. “You could rule by my side and stay with me in this space forever, you wouldn’t have to worry about curses,” he sucked a mark causing you to whimper. “Or saving people,” his other hands moved to play with your nipples. “Or those pesky sorcerers.” 

Your mind was reeling, unable to concentrate on any coherent thought. The difference from being so rough to being soft was messing with your head. You were losing yourself, but still tried so desperately to hang on, to not give in. You had friends you needed to protect, but all of that was fading away. 

Sukuna noticed and as he sucked on your earlobe, he used the hands tickling you to meet your hips, positioning you over his cock. “All you have to say is-”

“Please.”

[crossbowking]

Honey & Whiskey

Summary: (Set throughout series) When the world ended, everything good died along with it. At least, that's what Daryl Dixon thought. But then he met a stranger in the woods and his entire world turned upside down.

A/N: HOLY MOLY. I can't believe it's here! I've been working on this story since October and I'm so excited for y'all to finally read it. This story is absolutely my favorite of all time and it's 20,835 words of pure Daryl POV (which is just *chef kiss*) — that being said, it’s also a slow burn...and I mean an entirely self-indulgent SLOWWWW burn. So strap in, y’all.

PSA: There are mentions of 'Dog' in this story that are sort of non-canon, especially now that we've seen a backstory as to how Daryl actually found him in the show...so for the sake of the story, let's just pretend 10.18 doesn't exist :)

Anywho, please be sure to share your thoughts with me afterward!

Happy reading!

xx Jess

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The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky alight with brilliant orange and yellow rays.

Daryl tilted his head back, glancing up at the shifting colors as night drew near. The air was crisp, a welcomed change from the usual summer heat. The streets of Alexandria were fairly empty, most already settling into their respective homes before nightfall. Though the unusual silence was near deafening, the archer paid it no mind.

He appreciated the quiet these days.

The grass poked and prodded beneath where he sat, but he simply shifted, drawing one knee to his chest, the other leg splayed out in front of him. He picked absently at one of the holes in his worn jeans, tugging at the string hanging off the fabric.

And then he thought of her.

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath Daryl’s boots as he traversed through the otherwise silent woods.

The farm was destroyed, winter was approaching, and there seemed to be an ever-looming pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He pushed away any inkling of weakness, forging ahead with determined strides. His people were waiting for him, hunkering down in an abandoned diner less than a mile East, hoping he’d bring back something to dull the growing ache inside all of them.

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

The thought had come so naturally it nearly took him off guard. The feeling of community, of belonging, was something he’d never felt in his entire life. It was a strange notion, but that drive, that need he felt to provide, pushed him further out into the forest.

The archer kept his footsteps light, practically imperceptible, listening for noises only a seasoned hunter could distinguish. When a twig suddenly snapped off to his left, he froze, scanning the stillness around him. He raised his crossbow, the weight familiar in his grasp as he took a small step in the direction the noise had come from.

A moment later, Daryl spotted it — a lone raccoon just a few yards ahead.

The archer felt a rush of adrenaline, a tingling sensation in his fingertips as they hovered over the trigger. He exhaled a soft breath, focusing all his attention on the animal. But with his concentration elsewhere, it wasn’t until after he’d pulled the trigger that he’d realized he was no longer alone in the woods.

Daryl spun around, coming face to face with an incredibly grotesque-looking walker, teeth bared, arms outstretched, launching itself towards him. The archer braced his arm against the biter’s throat just in time, grunting under its weight as he stumbled backward.

“Shit,” he snarled through gritted teeth, tossing his unloaded weapon aside as he fought against the attack. Using his free hand, he reached for the hunting knife secured on his belt, grabbing onto the hilt.

But before he could yank it out, the world began tilting rapidly around him.

Daryl’s back slammed against the harsh wooded ground, his foot tangled up in an exposed root. He spat another vicious curse as the walker thrashed on top of him, snapping its mangled jaw closer and closer, growling in starved desperation.

Then suddenly, it stilled.

The archer froze, his gaze locked on the unexpected sight of one of his arrows now embedded through the biter’s temple. He snapped out of his reverie, shoving the dead off his chest and scrambling back to his feet.

And then he saw her.

She stood just a few feet away, her rapid breathing mirroring his own, looking as though she was seconds away from passing out. Her hair was matted by a mixture of blood and dirt, her clothes were torn and ratted, her wide eyes seemingly too big for her gaunt features. She had a nasty cut across her temple, blood dripping down the side of her face, past her neck, pooling at the collar of her shirt.

Daryl’s eyes bounced back up to meet hers — his guarded and calloused, hers unsure and fatigued.

“I’m assuming — this — is yours?” she spoke between heaving breaths, tossing something in his direction, the motion causing her to sway unsteadily.

Daryl glanced down, spotting the raccoon he’d shot earlier now lying at his feet — but the arrow he’d used to kill it was no longer there.

Now, it was lodged through the skull of the walker that’d attacked him.

The archer focused back on the stranger — but before he could respond, her skin was suddenly paling, her body crumpling to the ground like a paper doll.

Daryl stared down at her unmoving form in bewilderment. He could tell by the shallow rise and fall of her chest that she was at least breathing. The cut on her temple was still bleeding, the wound looking fairly recent — his best guess was a concussion or exhaustion. Most likely both.

He took a small step forward, almost hesitantly. But when his approach didn’t stir the stranger, he found himself facing an unforeseen decision.

He could leave her — he should leave her. She wasn’t his responsibility. She was a complete stranger. She chose to intervene, not him. She made that choice. Not him. Her.

Though as he turned to leave, as he scooped up the limp raccoon and shoved it into his bag, as he grabbed his strewn crossbow and strapped it across his back, one thing became startlingly clear.

He couldn’t do it — he couldn’t just walk away.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

He could’ve sworn that day in the woods was an entire lifetime ago.

Rick had nearly lost his damn mind when he’d returned to the diner with not only a small woodland creature in his pack, but a stranger slung over his shoulder.

“Is she dead?” Carl pressed nosily, hovering by the booth where the stranger was now laid out, still unconscious.

Lori quickly intervened, moving forward with one hand on her protruding belly, the other grabbing onto Carl’s shoulder. “Step back, baby. Give Hershel some space to work, okay?” she cautioned, pulling the inquisitive boy away.

“Oh, it’s quite alright — I’m just about done here anyways,” Hershel drawled, setting aside the blood-soaked cloth he’d been using to tend to the stranger’s head wound.

Daryl watched the exchange from across the room, arms folded tight against his chest, ignoring the stares coming from other group members.

The front door of the diner suddenly swung open as Rick marched through. He shot the archer a disapproving look before addressing the others. “I think we’re okay,” he finally spoke, re-holstering his pistol. “If Daryl had been followed here, I’m sure we would’ve known by now. We’ll keep somebody on watch — jus’ as a precaution — an’ get back on the road first thing.”

The archer gnawed on the inside of his cheek as the rest of the group began whispering amongst themselves, clearly distressed about the possible danger his decision may have put them in.

Rick approached a moment later, his steadfast strides immediately setting Daryl on edge. “Can I speak with you?” the sheriff hissed, glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Lori’s worried gaze. “In private?” he added in a hushed tone before turning around and storming back outside.

Daryl scoffed under his breath, pushing away from the counter he’d been leaning against and stalking after Rick.

The archer yanked the door open, the cool air biting at his skin as he followed suit. He spotted Rick pacing back and forth across the parking lot, surveying the surrounding woods warily before spinning around and facing him head-on.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” Rick demanded, taking a step forward.

Daryl fought back the instinctual urge to be on the attack. Instead, he took a breath. “What was I supposed ta’ do, man? Jus’ leave her out there?” he countered, eyes narrowing.

“You don’t bring her here,” the sheriff snapped before pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to collect himself. “We — we have ta’ look after our own, Daryl — you know that. We have no idea who she is, where she came from, who she’s with,” he specified sharply before shaking his head. “That’s jus' not a risk I’m willin’ ta’ take. Are you?”

Daryl held Rick’s gaze for a long moment before looking away, glancing towards the tree line. The sheriff had a point, he couldn’t deny that. But there was something inside him, a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that said otherwise.

Rick slowly nodded, interpreting Daryl’s silence as an answer. “When she wakes, she’s gone,” he finally resolved, stepping past the archer and back towards the diner without another word.

But Daryl couldn’t let it go. “Hey,” he called after Rick, the sheriff’s strides halting mid-pace as he glanced back, the harshness in his features fading, unveiling a man with nothing but the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Back when Carl got shot, if Hershel had turned us away, what’d ya think would’a happened?”

Rick paused before exhaling a long, heavy breath, some of the fight leaving him with it. “That’s not — it’s not the same —”

“It is,” Daryl interjected. “It’s the same damn thing.”

The air grew quiet as Rick’s shoulders sagged, one hand resting against his hip. “My family…” he suddenly murmured, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t risk it.”

Daryl nodded once. “I get it. After everythin’ with Shane an’ Randall, losin’ the farm the way we did, I get it, man,” he rasped, regarding him earnestly. “But m’ tellin’ ya…this’s the wrong call, Rick.”

The diner door suddenly flung open, interrupting the conversation and revealing a flustered-looking Glenn.

“Uh, hey guys,” he interrupted, sending the pair an awkward wave. “Just wanted to let you know that she’s, uh — she’s awake.”

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

“And kinda freaking out,” Glenn quickly tacked on at the end.

Daryl didn’t hesitate. He stormed past Rick and back into the diner, making a beeline towards the small crowd that had gathered around her.

“— okay, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” Lori spoke softly, holding her hands out in front of her as though approaching a caged animal.

The archer pushed through the group, spotting the stranger a moment later.

She was still sitting in the booth he’d initially laid her out in — though now she was huddled away from everyone, back pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest in a cowering stance. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, clearly confused and disoriented and overwhelmed.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to understand why, but he felt a wave of outrage course through him.

“C’mon, people. She ain’t a fuckin’ zoo animal,” the archer growled abruptly, taking a defensive stance in front of the booth and motioning for the rest of the group to move back. “Give the girl some damn space.”

The archer waited until everyone stepped away before turning back around and glancing down at the stranger. He was surprised to see her eyes trained on him — even more surprised at the flush of heat that spread across his chest. He held her gaze a second longer before Rick appeared, parting through the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea.

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

Rick came to a slow halt in front of her. “What’s your name?” he finally asked, his tone measured and firm.

The stranger did another sweep of the room, as though surveying just how much possible danger she was in. But when her eyes flashed up towards the archer once again, some of her unease faded. “Y/N,” she spoke hesitantly.

Rick nodded slowly before extending his arm. “Rick Grimes.”

Y/N looked at the gesture cautiously. Still, she reached out and took his hand in hers.

She appeared composed but Daryl noticed the slight tremble in her grip.

After a brief shake, Rick grabbed an empty chair and sat down at the end of the booth, resting his forearms against the table. “So, Y/N,” he began, giving the archer a look of resolve. “What happened ta’ you?”

The time after the farm fell was foggy, each day blurring into the next, suffocated by a heaviness the unknown inherently brought. But that day, the day he met her, ran stark against the rest.

Y/N had told her story like Rick asked her to do. She spoke of the small group she’d been staying with and the refuge they’d built, ultimately destroyed by the dead. Everybody had scattered — and if they hadn’t…

Any previous hesitancies the group held melted into understanding and sympathy almost immediately.

Daryl had known Y/N would be accepted into the group. Rick had hardened since the farm, but he wasn’t heartless. He wouldn’t be able to turn her away, just as the archer hadn’t been able to leave her out in those woods.

Spending the winter season on the run had been difficult for everyone — constantly running from the dead, cold and bitter nights, supplies growing scarce. The road was unforgiving, proving time and time again how completely fucked this new world was, how things would never return to the way they were, how this was now the new way of life.

Though for Daryl, if he was being honest, it wasn’t all bad — not in comparison to what his old life had given him.

He’d choose a lifetime of running over the stench of whiskey and the sting of belt buckles any day.

The only other person who’d appeared unaffected was Y/N. Besides showcasing a natural skillset in survival, she’d found her place amongst the group with ease — so effortlessly that Daryl hadn’t been able to recall what life looked like before her. She exuded a warmth that people were drawn towards — that the rest of the group clung to during the darkest of days.

But not Daryl.

He’d kept her at a distance, kept her at arm’s length because he refused to let her in as everyone else had.

Little did he know.

Daryl swiped at the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

The Georgian heat was nearly suffocating, blanketing over his body and setting his skin ablaze. He pushed away the discomfort, bending down and grabbing the ankles of one of the many walkers spread out across the prison’s courtyard. He’d lost track of how many bodies he’d dragged out, his group working tirelessly to clean out their newfound home.

The archer had just pulled the limp body through one of the fences, nearing the pickup truck used for disposal, when he heard someone approach.

“Need a hand?”

Daryl stilled — he glanced up, his eyes locking with Y/N’s, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a thin sheen of sweat laid out across her forehead. One hand rested on her hip, the other hovered near her face, blocking the sun rays. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past her elbows, streaks of dirt and blood visible against her exposed skin.

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

The intrusive thought caught the archer completely off guard. He quickly turned his attention downward, grunting a half-assed ‘nah’ before continuing his trek to the pickup truck, determined to preserve some space between them.

But instead of leaving, as he’d assumed she would, Y/N remained rooted in place.

Daryl faltered, the expression that flickered across her face hinting that maybe she hadn’t come to just ‘lend a helping hand’. She had something on her mind — he could tell by the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing absently as she shifted her weight back and forth.

The archer dropped his hold from around the walker’s ankles and straightened. “What?” he demanded gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him.

Y/N’s eyes found his as she took a small step forward — Daryl fought back the urge to back up. “I, uh —” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side as though fumbling for the right words. “Just — thank you.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he huffed.

Y/N’s head cocked to the side, seemingly surprised. “I — I don’t know,” she murmured, a soft, sort of bewildered laugh slipping past her lips. “For bringing me here, for introducing me to your people — for everything, I guess,” she expressed sincerely. “You could’ve just left me out in those woods that day — most people would’ve.”

The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling incredibly exposed for some strange reason. “Was nothin’,” he finally grunted, ignoring the prickle of heat at the tips of his ears.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Y/N replied indignantly, like she was offended at the notion that he didn’t deserve her gratitude. “You saved my life.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than for this interaction to be over with — because once that happened, he could go back to maintaining his distance, he could go back to allowing the air between them to be just that. “Figured I owed ya,” he finally mustered, recalling the first day they’d met.

Y/N’s lips curled up into a megawatt smile and Daryl could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything so damn captivating in his entire life. “Okay,” she grinned, sticking her hand out in front of her. “We’ll call it even then.”

The archer glanced down at the gesture before warily reaching forward, taking her hand in his, and shaking once, twice, three times. Her grip was firm and she didn’t seem to mind the grime coating his skin.

When she pulled away, Daryl felt the empty spaces she’d filled set ablaze.

Y/N shot him one last smile before turning around and heading back towards the courtyard. But she’d only made it a few feet when she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure you eat something, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response — instead, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a look in mock-seriousness as if to say ‘I’m watching you’. Then her face broke out into another grin before she sent him a small wave — and she was gone.

Daryl watched her leave, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form.

He tried to ignore the mess his mind was becoming, littered with confusion and insecurity, the nagging voice that lingered telling him he’d never be good enough, strong enough, brave enough for anything other than what he’d always known.

He wouldn’t let her in — he couldn’t let her in.

But as he bent down, grasping onto either ankle of the walker at his feet, he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips he swore had everything to do with the Georgian heat and nothing to do with her.

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

He shifted from where he sat, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the pack of cigarettes he kept there.

The package was falling apart, half-crushed, half-wrinkled from everyday wear and tear, but the archer slipped one of the few remaining cigarettes out anyway and caught it between his lips.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that keeping Y/N at arm’s length was a futile attempt — he’d been naive to think it was possible in the first place.

Before he knew it, she’d wormed her way into the forefronts of his mind and found herself a nice, cozy corner to call home. She’d done it as effortlessly as the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. It just happened — no rhyme or reason, no explanation or logic. It just happened.

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

The archer ignored Glenn’s shout, marching further into the woods and approaching a snide-looking Merle. “C’mon, bro,” the younger brother grunted, worried if they didn’t leave right then and there, he’d change his mind and return to the prison with the others.

Merle’s booming laugh sounded, drawing Daryl from his thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man sneered, tossing an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Looks like somebody decided ta’ grow himself a big ole’ pair a’ cojones while I was gone,” he snarked, pushing Daryl forward and falling in step beside him.

The archer pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort and focusing ahead.

“Hey, wait up!”

The voice that sounded halted Daryl in his tracks. He spun around, spotting Y/N making her way through the forest, her strides long and determined as she headed straight towards him.

“Well, would ya look a’ that,” Merle quipped under his breath, leering at her approach, his tone sending a swell of aggravation through the younger brother.

“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Daryl quickly waved him off, ignoring the prickle of heat creeping up his neck as he trudged towards her.

Y/N came to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching his for a long moment.

She seemed to have something to say, a reason for chasing after him — but it was as though she couldn’t get the words together. She glanced down, shaking her head slowly before taking a deep breath. When she looked back up, Daryl noticed a resignation in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, her troubled expression sending a pang of guilt through him.

Daryl looked away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure — he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

He shifted his weight, focusing back on her. “Ya watch out for yourself, ya hear me?” he rumbled, pushing away the unexpected worry gnawing at him.

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, her defeated expression damn near changing his mind altogether. “I will,” she murmured, a bittersweet smile ghosting across her features.

Daryl held her gaze a moment longer before nodding once, turning without another word.

But he’d barely taken a step when he suddenly felt her grab his wrist and twist him back around.

Before he knew what was happening, Y/N was hugging him. She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, leaving Daryl completely and utterly dumbfounded. His arms hung limply at his sides, caught off guard by the surprising gesture. Though as soon as it’d begun, it ended. Y/N unwound herself from around his body and took a step back, a pink tinge to her cheeks he hadn’t noticed earlier.

She whispered a somber goodbye — though Daryl couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears — and then she was gone.

The archer fought back the urge to follow, telling himself over and over again that he was making the right decision — he was choosing blood, he was choosing family, he was choosing —

“Hey! Where’s my hug at, sweet cheeks?” Merle’s suddenly hollered, calling after Y/N.

She didn’t look back and Daryl fought back the impulse to start swinging.

But Merle just laughed, the noise loud and boisterous as he sauntered forward. “Damn, lil’ brother. Didn’t think ya had it in ya! I was startin’ ta’ think ya played for the other fuckin’ team’,” he jeered, clapping the archer on the back with more force than necessary.

Daryl’s entire body tensed up, his darkened gaze snapping towards his brother. He noticed then that Merle was also watching Y/N — though his eye line was fixated on one specific part of her body…

“Let’s go,” the archer spat under his breath as he spun around and stormed off, his hands balling into fists.

He had to walk away. Otherwise, he’d lose it — he’d give in to instinct, he’d allow the rage coursing through him to take over, and all of this would’ve been for nothing.

So he took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched fists, and dismissed any lingering thoughts of her.

Daryl scoffed at the memory, an unlit cigarette still caught between his teeth.

He pulled out his lighter and flicked his thumb against the wheel, sparking a small flame before inhaling a deep breath. The familiar taste of nicotine and ash filled his senses as he drew smoke into his lungs, immediately feeling a rush of calm flow through him.

Daryl existed in the quiet, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He pulled his legs towards his chest, resting his elbows atop his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. He watched the lit cigarette butt dim and dance between his fingertips, the embers burning off and drifting into the grass.

It’d only taken a single day for the archer to come to his senses — to realize the mistake he’d made in leaving with his brother. And if he was being honest, it’d had nothing to do with Merle. He couldn’t blame his brother because his brother hadn’t changed — his brother was still the same brash, volatile, ill-tempered redneck he’d known his whole life.

No, it was him — he was the one who had changed.

“Would ya slow yer damn roll? I ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be, ya know!” Merle bellowed from somewhere behind Daryl, clearly struggling to keep up with the younger brother’s pace.

But the archer didn’t slow, his strides matching the beat of his pounding heart. He ducked under tree branches and side-stepped exposed roots, the prison growing nearer with each step he took.

It wasn’t until Daryl heard a sudden thud, followed by a viciously snarled curse, that he slowed. He spun around, spotting Merle pushing up off the forest floor.

“Ya good?” Daryl called out, crossing back and reaching down, offering his hand.

But Merle just swatted him away, his expression twisting in contempt as he staggered back to his feet. “Lemme ask ya somethin’,” he growled. “How the hell ya think this’s gonna go, huh? Ya think those assholes are jus’ gonna forget ‘bout everythin’ that happened? Ya think we’re jus’ gonna hug it out an’ sing ‘round the campfire like some kinda damn afternoon special?”

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Ya —”

“This ‘bout that skirt from yesterday? Huh? That it?” Merle steamrolled over his attempt to interrupt, taking a step forward, the brothers now toe to toe.

Daryl felt a prickle of heat flush the back of his neck, his chest tightening. Merle was just trying to get a rise out of him — he knew that deep down — but damn, was it working. “It ain’t ‘bout her,” the archer growled defensively, fixing him with a glare. “It’s ‘bout survival, ’bout rebuildin’ — ‘bout tryin’ ta’ make somethin’ outta this shit world. It can’t jus’ be us out here, man — not anymore.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, did Officer Friendly force-feed ya that bullshit?”

Daryl stiffened before huffing a breath and waving his brother off. He turned away, determined to continue his trek back home before it was too late — but he’d only made it a couple of feet when Merle called after him once more.

“It ain’t ever gonna work,” the older brother voiced, his usually brash tone dimming into something surprisingly vulnerable. “It — it jus’ ain’t. Not after everythin’ — not after what I did.”

The archer glanced back, watching Merle’s notorious bravado finally melt away, replaced with something he could’ve sworn looked like guilt. “We ain’t dead yet, man,” Daryl rumbled simply. “Still time ta’ make shit right.”

Merle considered his words for a long moment — but before he could respond, the sound of barraging gunfire exploded through the air.

Daryl’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, feeling his stomach drop when he realized where exactly it was coming from.

He took off into a sprint, Merle’s pounding footsteps echoing directly behind him.

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

In his defense, it hadn’t been deliberate. When Merle had questioned his intentions, alluding to the idea that Y/N was the main reason for his urgency to return home, the archer had denied it.

He hadn’t known it back then, but the truth became startlingly clear once he’d made it back to the prison, marched up the pathway leading to cellblock C, and laid eyes on her.

Daryl found Y/N crouched down beside Axel’s unmoving form, one hand resting on his shoulder.

His steps faltered, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he couldn’t help himself. The Governor had attacked the prison, his people were shaken, and damn it, he just needed to make sure she was okay.

She stood a moment later, turning to rejoin the rest of the group huddled by the fence, her despondent expression filling his bones with a red-hot rage.

But then her eyes met his.

Y/N’s footsteps stilled, her gaze widening in disbelief as she looked at him. A heartbeat passed between them before Daryl noticed how she was holding herself — hunched over slightly, one hand wrapped around the opposite arm, blood seeping out from between her fingertips.

He crossed to her in three long strides, ignoring the heat that flushed his chest the closer he neared.

Instead, he focused on the wound — that he could deal with, that made sense.

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

“Daryl,” she breathed in disbelief, her voice thick as though the word had gotten tangled somewhere in her throat.

His name sounded like honey the way it rolled off her tongue.

He shrugged off his crossbow and tossed it aside, wordlessly reaching forward and pulling her hand away from the injury. He examined the laceration carefully — which upon closer inspection appeared to be a gunshot wound — though luckily enough, the bullet seemed to have only grazed the side of her arm.

The archer reached into his back pocket, grabbed the red rag he kept there, and gently pressed it against the wound. “Jus’ keep pressure on it, alright?” he rasped, guiding Y/N’s limp hand to rest over the cloth, stalling the blood flow.

He glanced down at her, doing a slight double-take when he realized she was watching him, a slightly strained smile pulling at her lips. “You came back,” she whispered, her eyes warm despite the blood splattered across her cheek, the pallor in her complexion.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, incredibly aware of how little space remained between them. He managed a stiff nod in response, his voice suddenly lost.

But Y/N’s smile merely grew, like the first hint of sunshine after a devastating storm.

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

The archer inhaled another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke spilling past his lips and disappearing into the growing night.

Returning to the prison had given Daryl a sense of purpose, a sense of hope — he was back where he belonged and the threat of the Governor just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

Daryl stormed across the field that led to the prison’s courtyard, shoulders set, fists balled, eyes rimmed red.

The Governor would pay — he’d pay for what he’d done.

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

The archer’s footsteps faltered, only briefly, when he spotted Y/N pacing back and forth behind the gate. Her head snapped towards him as he approached, her worried expression melting into relief as she quickly pulled the gate open for him.

“You okay?” she called to him, brow furrowing as she craned her neck, now looking behind him. “Where’s Merle?”

Daryl kept his gaze forward, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he marched past her without a second glance. “Dead,” he grunted, ignoring the prickling sensation growing behind his eyes.

“What?” he heard her exclaim, though he didn’t turn around — he kept his momentum pushing ahead, hellbent on going after the Governor and taking him down once and for all.

No matter what the cost.

He stalked towards where he’d parked his motorcycle, slinging his crossbow over his back and mounting the bike in one swift motion.

But Y/N was just as quick.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she jogged towards him, planting herself in front of the bike, an alarmed look in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Daryl felt a swell of anger wash over him, an unusual feeling when directed towards her. “Move,” he growled, using his heel to knock the bike’s kickstand up.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, his intent becomingly startling clear. “No.”

He was caught off guard by her protest, though snapped out of it just as soon — his scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, seeing nothing but redness and fury and Merle’s reanimated corpse flickering through his mind. “Move, damn it,” he snarled once more.

But Y/N stood her ground regardless of the wariness in her gaze. “No.”

The archer’s rage churned inside him, his grip white-knuckled around the throttle. “Ya —”

“Please, don’t do this,” she interrupted his brusque retort, shaking her head. “I promise — I promise — he’ll get what’s coming to him, but Daryl…this is not the way.”

He knew deep down she was right, but he didn’t want to hear it — he didn’t want to hear ration or reason or the pity in her voice.

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, emotion clouding her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry about Merle. I’m —”

Something inside the archer snapped. “Ya know what, ya can drop the damn act,” he hissed, springing off the bike and shoving it to the ground with a deafening crash. He ignored the way Y/N flinched as he barreled towards her like a surging storm. “Ya can stop pretendin’ like anyone in this fuckin’ place gave a single shit ‘bout my brother!” he fired back, his voice rising. “Or me, for that matter!”

Y/N recoiled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m —” she started, shrinking under his heated approach. “I didn’t —”

“Forget it,” the archer spat, unable to stop the fervor spewing out of him. “Ya don’t know shit.”

A beat of silence passed as they stared one another down — but the more the quiet stretched on, the more a different emotion began to seep through the archer.

Guilt.

Unable to watch the hurt settling across Y/N’s features, Daryl turned away, allowing his brewing vehemence to carry him across the courtyard and to the doors leading into cellblock C. He paused at the doorway, unable to stop himself from looking back.

He watched Y/N’s head lower, her shoulders drop, before she slowly reached down, grabbing his toppled motorcycle by the handlebars and propping it upright.

The archer swallowed his remorse, buried his instincts, and stalked inside.

Daryl hissed a breath as the burnt end of the cigarette singed his fingertip. He stubbed the flame out against the heel of his boot, flicking the butt away into the grass.

Still, to this day, he felt bad about losing his temper. The anger had clearly been misdirected, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it — Y/N had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite the aftermath of his outburst weighing heavily on him, he’d kept his distance from her throughout the days that followed.

Old habits die hard.

Daryl woke with a start, his eyes snapping open, chasing away lingering images of the nightmare he’d found himself immersed in.

Sleep had never been kind to him, even before everything went to shit — tonight was no different.

He could still see flashes of redness and death, smell the scent of rotting corpses and bloodshed, hear the sounds of tormented screams and anguished whimpers —

Daryl’s thoughts faltered as he quickly pushed up onto his elbows, straining his ears.

He realized then that the whimpering wasn’t coming from just his imagination. No, it was real — and it was coming from somewhere inside the cellblock.

The archer sprang up, untangling himself from the bed sheet coiled at his feet before shuffling towards the doorway. He paused there, his senses on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened carefully.

When another soft cry sounded, he moved from the entryway, slowly slinking past cell after cell and following the noise.

It wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside Y/N’s cell.

Daryl peered into the shadowed room, just barely able to make out the shape of her beneath the covers. She murmured something jumbled and incoherent, her words muffled as though her face was pressed into the pillow. She tossed and turned for a moment before finally settling.

When she remained still, the archer nearly left for his own cell.

But then he heard a quietly gasped sob and began moving forward before he could think twice.

Daryl crouched down beside Y/N’s bedside, turning on the lantern she’d left sitting on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted before focusing on her.

She was curled up, covers drawn to her chin, faint tear tracks marking the sides of her face. Her brow was knitted, causing lines to form across her forehead — he fought back the urge to reach out and smooth them away.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleep was unkind to.

Another soft whimper blew past her lips and Daryl reached for her, gently shaking her shoulder.

Y/N immediately jolted awake, shooting upright, disoriented and alarmed as her bleary eyes darted around the cell.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl quickly rasped, holding his hands out in front of him. “It’s alright.”

“What — what happened?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep, her wide gaze finally settling on him.

The archer shook his head, pulling back slightly, second-guessing his decision to wake her. “Nothin’ — nothin’, alright? We’re okay.”

“What —” she sounded, a bewildered look flitting across her face as she settled her hand against her undoubtedly racing heart. “Are you okay?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed at her question, confused as to why that would be her next question and not ‘what the fuck are you doing in my cell?’ Regardless, he nodded once. “Yeah,” the archer brushed off her concern, sitting back on his haunches. “Ya — uh, ya were cryin’,” he revealed hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he watched for her reaction.

Y/N straightened, the top bunk just grazing the crown of her head as she dabbed her fingertip at the corner of her eye, appearing almost embarrassed suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered, wiping away the tears that’d formed.

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Ya alright?” he rasped after a long moment.

She quickly nodded her head, waving off his worry. “Oh, no — yeah, no, I’m fine,” she replied flippantly, shooting the archer a tight-lipped smile.

Despite Daryl seeing right through her bullshit, he didn’t push.

Instead, he nodded once and clambered back to his feet.

But he’d just barely turned to leave when Y/N spoke up once more. “Hey, Daryl?”

The archer faltered, glancing back at her. “Yeah?”

Her demeanor appeared collected, though he could see her hands twisting nervously around the sheet splayed out across his lap. “I —” she paused, seemingly working up the nerve to say what was next. “Are we okay?”

Daryl felt his chest tighten, the heaviness that’d grown between them splintering in that moment. There was something about her words, the smallness in her voice, that had him kicking himself for being so damn stubborn, for not making things right sooner.

She raked a hand through her tousled hair. “I just — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I mean, I wasn’t trying to —”

“Stop,” Daryl cut off her rambling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was actin’ like an asshole,” he grumbled admittedly, the shame he’d buried creeping back in.

The tension in Y/N’s features softened as she regarded him. “It’s okay.”

For some reason, her easy forgiveness made Daryl’s insides churn.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he shot back sharply, almost wishing she’d curse him out instead. “Wasn’t right ta’ take that shit out on ya.”

“You were grieving,” she justified, her explanation simple and understanding.

Daryl worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching as he stared at the far wall of her cell, his gaze darkening — he didn’t deserve her compassion. “Well, ya probably stopped me from doin’ somethin’ real stupid,” he muttered dryly.

She merely shrugged, still completely unfazed. “Grief makes us do stupid things,” she murmured, defending him yet again. “I am sorry about your brother, you know,” she whispered a moment later, the sincerity in her voice knocking down the wall Daryl had worked so hard to keep between them.

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Merle was no hero,” he finally rumbled. “But he died tryin’ ta’ make shit right,” he mustered, his eyes finding hers amidst the shadows of her cell.

Y/N shot him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”

Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling as though his heart was moments away from bursting out of his chest. It was as though the cell was shrinking around him, the walls closing in — and the only thing keeping him above the surface was her.

“Get some sleep,” he managed gruffly, turning to leave once more.

“Daryl?”

The archer stilled. “Hm?” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

“Can you stay?” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it entirely. “Just a little longer?”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, feeling the overwhelming urge to run, to retreat to his own cell and pretend he hadn’t heard her.

But the slight tremble in her voice, something others surely would’ve missed, pulled him right back in.

The air thickened as he walked towards her, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for it while he still had the chance. Y/N watched him approach, slightly wide-eyed, his steps faltering the closer he neared. She maneuvered slightly on the bed, moving towards the wall as though making room for him beside her.

Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”

“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.

He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.

She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.

They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.

It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.

Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.

Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.

And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.

She became his solace.

Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.

“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.

The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.

“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.

Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.

Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.

Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”

Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.

“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”

Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”

Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.

Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.

The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.

Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”

“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.

Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.

When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.

“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”

Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”

“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”

The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.

A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.

But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.

The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.

Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.

Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?

Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.

Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.

“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.

“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.

The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.

Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”

With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.

He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?

He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

The archer felt his throat constrict.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.

Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.

Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.

He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.

He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.

They’d move on to her.

Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.

A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.

He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.

Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.

Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.

And then he saw her.

She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.

Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.

His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.

It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.

The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.

Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.

The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.

He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.

Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.

Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.

But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.

And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.

The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.

And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.

Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.

He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.

But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.

The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.

Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.

The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.

The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.

Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.

Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.

But hers?

She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.

He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.

Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.

He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.

“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.

The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.

He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.

“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.

He never got to thank her.

When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.

And he never got to thank her.

“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.

The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.

But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.

Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”

Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.

He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.

But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.

Not from her.

“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.

A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.

Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.

A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.

Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than before.

And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.

Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.

The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.

Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.

He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.

She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.

Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”

Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”

The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[littlemessyjessi]

Filth, you say? 👀 Might I then raise you these theories in regards to the Bangtan boys: Yoongi and Jin are the best at giving head. Tongue technology and lips from the gods, can't beat it. Jin's more of the "everything is hot all over and he's eating you like you're ambrosia, feels like you're floating and why don't we do this all the time always??" type, whereas Yoongi is the "holyshitwhatthefuck, grabbing at the sheets, it's too much and not enough and oh-oh-OH" type. Jin is the one to call you princess and help you fall apart, and Yoongi is the one to call you 'kitty' or 'kitten' and edge you till you cry only to make you explode. Taehyung would stretch you open with his fingers until your head spins. I don't think I need to explain that one, but: long fingers and a master at picking up micro-signals. Knows exactly where all the proper androgynous zones are and finds them almost immediately. Boy needs to make sure you're ready to take him and is convinced it'll help with his breeding kink further activities later. And speaking of Tae, he and Namjoon are definitely the most, ahem, naturally well endowed. Tae's aware of it and a little smug, Namjoon is absolutely oblivious to how big it *actually* is. Like, he's aware that he's proportionate but he cannot wrap his head around how that means that he's *huge* to the layperson. But once he's aware, get ready for the "Shhh. I know, baby, I know. Just a little more." Yeeeeesh. Jimin, despite arguably being on the lower end of the size spectrum (which I say with love because HELLO, bias) is definitely the champion in terms of technique in the sack. Man is *versatile* and to get you to the moon and back in any position, unquestionably. Definitely one of those "if you haven't cum at least four times, I haven't done my job" types. Will praise and wants to BE praised until the end of time. 10/10 dirty talk that could have you finishing without even being touched. And Jungkook, sweet bunny, has the most stamina out of all of the boys for obvious reasons. Definitely can get you at least twice before sorting himself out once. Any position you have ever fantasized about is possible because he can hold or support anyone in *any* way. Standing? Against the wall? You quite literally upside down? Just say the word, he's got you.

Hoseok, meanwhile? That man will blindside you with how good and how thorough he is. That man can learn choreography in ten minutes; do you really think he won't have your body down to a science in no time flat? His hips were enchanted by an incubus and I will not be convinced otherwise. They'll be snapping into you until you see stars and then those freaking *hands* will get to work. You're going to need to stretch to keep up with him. *ahem* Anyway, I'll step off the soapbox now, haha. 💜

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Well, i-

I mean, well, i...

Like oh got damn!

So first of all, with that Jin and Yoongi.

Like, you tryin to kill me?!

And then Taehyung on his bullshit?

And Joon with his naturally stud like self?

Like, boo, imma gonna die.

And jimin.... like my GAWD!

And Jungkookie?! Like, i-i-i.....!!!!!!

Thank you for that delicious meal!!!!

NOW.... let the mother of beasts feed you.

Let's start with Seokjin.

That mf likes choking? You have no idea. He will gag himself to the point of tears on the strap and then beg you to absolutely destroy him.

🖤

Yoongi? Oh he will bring you to tears alright. He will edge as the day as long.... and loves/hates when you strap him to a chair and edge him with a handjob from heaven until he is actually crying.

🧡

Hoseok may be a quick learner but take away his senses and he is putty in your hands. Gag him, put headphones on him, blind fold him, let the only thing he has be whatever physical touch you give him and the scent arousal in the air. He will fucking explode.

💚

Namjoon might be oblivious to his hotness but once he's aware of how hot you find him it's on. He went hesistate to spit in your mouth or have you lick the sweat from his body. Y'all get nasty.

💛

Jimin may be sweet but he's also switchy and I fully believe he'd be the one to go primal. He'd hunt you down like a lithe leopard in the jungle and pin you to the bed. I know he has the voice of an angel but you look up his growls and his morning voice. Even better .... satoori. Just saying.

💜

Taehyung

Let's touch on that breeding kink shall we? When I say pinned to the bed, I mean pinned to the bed. He is glued to you and cockwarming is definitely a thing with him.

🖤

Oh Kookie. Let me just put this simply. Feeder. Yes, yes and yes. And body worship. Both into giving and receiving. If you think for one second that you downing that entire pizza and laying there with the soft tum out in need of rubs isnt going to illicit a reaction from him? Biiiiish you got another thing coming. He'll be on you like a mosquito on a naked leg in Louisiana in June.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Has your mother fed you well, my darling?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hey loves! Thanks for checking out my work! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did please be sure to let me know in the comments! I love hearing from you! It makes my day to know what you think!

If you want to read more of my work, check out the Navi link in my bio! All of my kpop content is on Masterlist 2.0! Happy reading!

Love, K

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[writingonesdreams]

Flash fiction friday

For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

A mind mage tries to make a revenge driven boy to open up to her. By force if necessary.

Meeting of the minds

"You went through my memories." Sonny accused her. His eyes turned bloody red colour and his body went dangerously still.

Mae tensed up involuntarily, but managed to keep her voice steady.

"Yes. Because you found out a secret that turned your world upside down, and yet you can't bring yourself to share it with anyone. You push them all away."

"People like you are the reason. So much for trusting you."

"You were dying to tell somebody, but your own stubbornness made you incapable of doing so. I did you a favour."

He laughed hoarsely, amazement fighting denial with a note of desperation at the edges. She felt sorry for him. The things she found out about what happened to his family were terrible. His City was so afraid of their rare powers, they were mistreating and isolating them in fear. When they tried to rise up against the City council, they were killed. 

And Sonny’s brother took the blame to protect their family name. He took upon himself how their clan would be remembered and gave up any relationship with his younger brother in the process.

Sonny found out only after his death. That was three days ago. 

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, folding into himself. 

Mae breathed out in relief at the sight. If he decided to fight her, mind magic or not, he would have killed her in a blink. 

“Come with me. Don’t trust a person who would turn your grief against you, like Vain. You don’t know what he will gain from this.”

“Because you are doing it for such selfless reasons.”

“No. I’m very much in this for my own gain as well. But I’ll tell you what it is. You can be sure of what I’m doing won’t hurt anybody.” Mae put her hands on her hips and fixed his glowing red eyes with her intense stare. “Everything has a price. It’s better to know what it is upfront, instead of having it bite you later.”

“Alright. What do you want?”

“I need you to come back to the City and convince them to help mine.”

Another laugh. “Oh, and why would they listen to me? I put my revenge against my brother-” his voice broke and he coughed before continuing. “I put my interests before theirs for years. Why should they listen?”

“They will want you back.”

“Ha. But I don’t want to go back. In fact, I’m pretty sure I would rather destroy them with the power they would accept me back for.”

“Look, you are feeling betrayed right now. Because you trusted them. You trusted the greater good of the City and the council and how they managed powered exceptional people like you. I never believed institutions or authorities have good intentions. That they won’t go corrupt even if they did. But I believe in people. In individuals doing the right thing. And I’m in a harder position than you. I have no allies, no cards and a lot to lose, while you have chosen to see nothing of what you have for something you have already lost.” 

She took a deep breath and continued more gently.

“I won’t pretend that I know how you feel. Nor that I have your best intentions in mind. But I know what happened to you and how you think. So what about you helped me and in the meantime saw the City, the people that live and fight for it right now, with the good and the bad and the gray and made your decision about its corruption and destruction after?"

Sonny directed his carmine eyes at her again. Her heart was drumming painfully against her ribcage. This was her only chance. The only way to get help from a City as mighty and out of reach as his. 

“Fine,” he said after what felt like an eternity. “I will help you, just to see if they are capable of helping someone in need. Of doing anything good. With eyes unclouded by hatred as much as I can.” 

Mae’s legs were shaking from the tension. She wanted to fall over then and there. 

"I met them, you know. Your friends. Ren and Kai and Lory. They never gave up on you.” That was her last card. She saved it up for last resort. Now she wanted to give it to him in thanks.

Sonny threw her an agonized look and turned his back to her.

“You will have to help me. I don’t...I don’t know how to tell them. If I even should tell them. If I want to-” his voice broke again.

Mae’s heart flooded with sadness and sympathy for him. She wished she could come closer and touch him, comfort him somehow, but she knew touching his mind had been enough of pushing his boundaries for one day. 

She knew what that admission cost him. It was her after all, who forced him to open up. Still, it was the right thing to do. One day he would manage to do this on his own and to his true friends. 

“Yes, I will,” she promised.

Maybe one day, she would count as a friend to him as well. 

[fruitcoops]

Hi, Eve

Rose here from yesterday, thank you very much for the Birthday message, I wasn't expecting you to read it let alone reply but I was looking for Coops kids Birthday fluff specifically. It doesn't matter if you don't have time however as I don't want to be a bother.

Hello Rose, and happy (belated) 20th birthday! Sorry for the wait--I really wanted to get this one right to celebrate such an important number. I hope your day was absolutely fantastic! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is an OC

Combined with asks for Sirius lightly making fun of Remus' accent and Remus yelling at a game show (@nazar4114)

“Medusa!” Stella shouted with all the force in her thirteen-year-old lungs. Remus leaned forward on the couch. “Medusa!”

The front door opened with a creak. “I’m h—”

“Yes!” they cheered in unison as Nicole answered correctly. Remus turned and gave Stella a double high-five, feeling his heart squeeze at the vivid joy on her round face. “Good guess.”

“I knew she was gonna get it,” Stella said with a pump of her fist as she turned back to the show and folded her legs underneath her.

“Gonna,” a familiar deep voice mimicked from the doorway. Paper bags rustled before footsteps stopped behind the couch; Remus tilted his chin up without sparing a glance, and Sirius pressed a laugh-laced kiss to his cheek before dropping one on Stella’s head as well. “You sound too much like your dad.”

“Love you, too,” Remus said wryly.

“I’ll take ‘Myths and Moths’ for 400, please.” Nicole’s voice snapped his attention back to the screen, and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Daily Double!” the automated voice announced. Stella gasped; Remus bit his lower lip. “This mythical shield was wielded by Athena, and is sometimes said to be made of goat skin.”

“Aegis,” Stella whispered, then raised her voice. “It’s the Aegis, Nicole. You know this.”

“We know you do,” Remus said, scooting forward. “You just guessed whose head is on it.”

Nicole’s buzzer went off with two seconds to spare. “What is the Aegis?”

“Hell yeah!” Stella whooped.

Remus turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse you.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you two going to do this the whole afternoon?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, obviously amused. “We might need to get the neighbors some noise-cancelling headphones.”

Stella blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes as she flopped her head back. “It’s almost final Jeopardy, papa. We have, like, ten minutes.”

Sirius blinked at her, then shook his head. “I swear you two share genes.”

“Ope, you caught me,” Remus said over the noise of the commercial break. “When I was 20 and had literally never left Wisconsin, I went and had a secret kid in Maine who looks terribly like you just so that someone would watch Jeopardy reruns with me thirteen years later. Oops.”

“It’s the truth,” Stella said with great gravity. “I remember.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t keep a smile down. He had never been able to hide around Stella, not once in the three years since they had adopted her. It was one of the things Remus loved most about him. “By the way, nobody under the age of fourteen is allowed in the kitchen for the next…hour. Ish.”

Stella squirmed around until she could rest her arms on the back of the couch. “What if I get thirsty?”

“I’m sure you can invoke birthday privileges and ask your dad to get something for you.”

“Birthday privileges?” Remus scoffed. “Nobody in this house has a birthday today. Yours was last month, and mine’s in March.”

“It’s my birthday,” Stella said.

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Your birthday is in June.”

“It’s today.”

“Or maybe July?”

“It’s today, in December, when there’s snow,” she insisted, throwing herself back against the pillows. “Come on, dad, that’s not funny anymore.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody too old to find their poor old dad amusing now? Can you go back to being twelve so somebody will laugh at my jokes again? I know, I know, we're super lame compared to all your friends’ parents—”

“So lame,” Sirius agreed from the kitchen.

“—but I like to think we get one more year of pre-teen cuteness before the teen angst takes over.”

Stella sat up again with a groan. Looking at her, Remus saw a mix of himself and Sirius that had always baffled him, considering they had adopted her comparatively late in her life; beneath it was something uniquely Stella. Maybe it was her double-jointed elbows, or the board-straightness of her hair next to their curls, but there was no mistaking that she was her own person through and through. He loved that about her. “I’m not going to be a terrible teenager.”

Sirius poked his head around the edge of the kitchen—his nose was adorned with a smudge of flour. “Can I record that for future use?”

“Non.”

“Ooo, using the French,” Remus hissed. “That transformation is already beginning.”

“It’s not like you were bad teenagers, right?” She settled upside-down on the couch with her flamingo-patterned socks high in the air.

“I almost convinced Grandma to let me dye my hair blue, but otherwise I was pretty good.”

“I was terrible,” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t talk to anybody for a solid three years.”

Stella frowned. “How? I think I’d die if I did that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Remus stage-whispered.

“I heard that.”

Stella suppressed her laughter as best she could, but she was about as good at hiding her emotions around them as Sirius was. She didn’t really giggle—the amount her voice had deepened over the past three years always gave Remus whiplash—but her laugh had the same cadence as it did the first day they heard it. While Stella had been quiet at first, it only took love and time to bring her out of her shell. Within a year she settled into their lives like she was always meant to be there.

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “This is my last year before high school.”

“Does it feel different?”

“Not really.” She paused, then shrugged. “And a little. I don’t feel older. It just feels like there’s stuff I won’t get to do anymore.”

“And a lot more you will get to do.” Sirius left his dishtowel on the counter before joining them on Stella’s other side. “You can drive soon, you’ll get a longer curfew, you get more freedom…”

“I guess.”

“What are you going to miss?” Remus asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. It was a basic Lions FAN jersey; he was fairly sure she bought it to be ironic. That, and she only wore one of theirs if she was upset with the other, or if one needed a boost at a game.

“I dunno.” A few beats of silence passed. “My classmates. My team. It feels like everything’s going to turn upside down.”

“You can still keep in touch with your friends, and I bet your team won’t be too different,” Sirius said quietly. “Even if it does, that doesn’t mean you have to give all of them up. People change in different ways. They come and go on their own time.”

“There’s going to be a lot of upside-downs over the next couple years, kid.” Remus offered her a smile. “But you’re going to be just fine.”

“You two sound like such dads right now.”

“This might shock you, but that’s because we are.”

The corner of her mouth tugged up and she lolled her head to the side to look at Sirius. “Is the cake done?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“Will you watch final Jeopardy with us?”

“What’s the category?”

“US Presidents.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose, but nodded. She grinned and turned herself upright to snuggle against his arm. “You just enjoy watching me lose.”

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

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“On three,” Remus said, raising his phone camera. “One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday to you,” over a dozen voices sang. They were off-tempo and so out of key the composer was probably spinning in his grave, but Stella’s clear joy didn’t waver for a millisecond even as her cheeks reddened. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Stella, happy birthday to you!”

Finn, of course, dragged out the last note. So did Leo, Logan, Kasey, James, Lily, and Talker in varying degrees of awful harmony attempts. It was terrible, and beautiful. “Make a wish,” Sirius said softly as he set the cake down and stepped back. His eyes were the brightest quicksilver Remus had seen in many moons.

Stella closed her eyes, took a breath, and blew as hard as she could—the entire room erupted into cheers when all the candles went out. She was laughing and blushing at the same time when Remus turned the lights back on, though the humor won out in the end and she helped pass plates of cake to her many aunts and uncles. Like every year prior, Regulus managed to smear a bit of frosting on her chin, only to immediately deny it with great offense when she noticed. It was becoming a bit of a tradition—one that Remus never grew tired of.

I know what I would wish for, Remus thought as he looked around the table at their patchwork family. Celeste, Dumo, and his own parents had no doubt spoiled their first grandchild with ‘cusp of adulthood’ gifts, and Natalie and Lily would certainly steal her away after cake for some girl time. Finn and Logan would remain the fun uncles while Leo and Regulus kept their thrones as the cool uncles; Stella would interrogate Jules on the intricacies of high school for at least an hour before they destroyed everyone in a snowball fight. The world they built together had a place for everyone.

I would wish for this. This, for us, forever. It wasn’t a bad eternity to imagine.

[otonymous]

Glutton For Your Flavour (Obey Me: Beelzebub - NSFW)

Description: You’re about to become Beel’s next meal Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Lesson 5 of MS (hard).  Please note potential trigger warnings: dub-con (as an inadvertent result of somnambulism), cunnilingus in two flavours (soft and rough), squirting and overstimulation, slight size kink, very faint hints of tetraphilia, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blasphemy, slight fear (monstrous descriptions) Word Count: ~2900 words (~14 mins of smut & shenanigans) Author’s Notes:  My very first fic for the Obey Me fandom!  I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve recently started playing this game and the story and its characters are so amusing I had to write about it.  This piece may not be to everyone’s taste, so please, please, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and skip if it’s not your cup of tea.  That being said, hope you all enjoy the read! 💕😆

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

“Bad luck to be sharing a room with Beel, but what can ya do after he destroyed yours while destroying the kitchen, and all for a dumb custard!  Be careful — he might mistake you for a snack and eat ya in the middle of the night, hahaha!”

Mmm.

The scene fragments, Mammon’s face wavering as his voice grows faint, consciousness seeping into dark corners like sunlight cutting through fog.  And when you open your eyes, you can’t quite place where you are for a moment, straddling the line between dreamscape and reality.

Ahh…

You sigh.  There it was again, the sensation so pleasant it had roused you from the deepest slumber.

Further blinking off the haze of sleep, you take in your surroundings: a large bed lying empty across from yours in a room almost cavernous in size and just as dark save for a candle burning low on a desk, the glow of its flame orange like the hair that was currently brushing soft against your inner thighs—

“BEEL?!  WHAT THE HELL?!”  

“So tasty…not…enough…need more…want to…eat…zzz….”

Eyes still closed, the demon’s face is shiny even in the dark, slick from cheek to chin with what must’ve been a copious amount of his saliva and your arousal, you blush to realize.  And when he doesn’t budge even after a swift kick to the face, you are ashamed to find the Lord of Flies’ show of strength sending yet another throb to your already pulsing clit.

He does wake though, Beelzebub’s amethyst eyes opening wide before he falls backwards onto the cold stone floor to realize what he had inadvertently done in his sleep.  And as the always-famished sixth born looks from the shredded remnants of your panties to the pool of wetness on the sheets where his chin had rested, he becomes even more tongue-tied than usual.

“I…uh…I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to…I dreamt I smelled something delicious and I was so hungry…and somehow I’m here, on the floor…I don’t even know…I-I’m so sorry!”

His cheeks grow so flushed they remind you of the red spider sandwiches he packed away during dinner, stuffing them two by two into his mouth until Satan smacked his hand away for trying to take more from his plate.  The expression on his face is so full of remorse that even if you were angry, you’d be inclined to forgive the demon who was currently grovelling at the foot of your bed, swearing he would hand himself over to Lucifer and Diavolo first thing in the morning to be strung up and hung upside down for a fortnight, even (gulp) forgoing food for a day or two.

“Beelzebub…Beel…BEEL!”  You shout, interrupting his self-inflicted tirade.  “It’s okay, you didn’t mean it.  You were sleepwalking.  You don’t have to go to Lucifer and Diavolo about this.”

“No, I have to.  My behaviour was inexcusable—”

“BEEL!  Let’s…just…try to go back to sleep, okay?  We have our midterm in Devildom law tomorrow morning and I really don’t feel like failing just because I didn’t get enough shut eye.  So please, can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Those orange brows are still furrowed when Beel finally lifts his head and nods.  But then his gaze is falling again on the wet sheets and the shiver than runs through that larger-than-life body seems to send another wave of anxiety through the demon.  He makes a mad dash for the door, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen and “you can have the room tonight” before it slams shut behind him.

He doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

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

The exam was so disastrous even Mammon didn’t bother sneaking another peek at your paper after the first two questions.  And even if you had somehow managed to get back to sleep after last night’s ordeal, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you were still distracted by the memory of Beel’s mouth on your pussy:

His long tongue, serpentine as it delved deep between swollen folds to taste you with gusto.  

The way he rolled your clit between those plush, soft lips before sucking it into his hot mouth, over and over again.  

The throbbing between your legs that refused to cease long after the Avatar of Gluttony had left the room you were temporarily sharing, sleep only forthcoming once you had succumbed and reached beneath the sheets to finish the job he had started, your moans licentious even to your ears as you pretended your fingers were his.

It was a pale imitation, of course.  That much you could see for yourself, stealing a glance at Beel seated two rows down — quill twirling between long, dexterous digits when he wasn’t putting ink to parchment.

But those gigantic hands were just a small part of what made Beel demonically attractive, as if the word “small” could be applied to him at all: tall and built, there were times when even you envied the ease with which he maintained that perfect physique despite his penchant for shovelling enough food to feed all three realms into his mouth on the regular.

The same mouth which brought you so much pleasure the night before.

Ahem.

Clearing your throat, you pretend not to see the smirk that spreads across Asmo’s delicate face, hoping the lusty demon sitting just to your left wouldn’t pick up on the very secret thoughts you were having about his brother.

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

[Private Chatroom]: Satan, Levi, Mammon, Asmo

Satan: This is going to sound crazy, but doesn’t it seem like Beel’s…hungrier than usual?  Is that even possible?

Levi: OMFG!  You should’ve seen the state of the kitchen this morning after Beel decided to camp out there overnight!  It was a total war zone, like that epic battle scene in Vol. 5 of TSL lololol.  Soooo good XDDDDD

Mammon:  Hey!  He’s gonna eat us outta house and home at this rate!  Shouldn’t we stop him?

Satan: You do it, Mammon.  Aren’t you always saying that there’s nothing The Great Mammon can’t do?

Mammon: …..

Asmo: Please, as if anyone — angel or demon — could come between Beel and a meal.  

Satan: Why was he camping out there in the first place?  Was there something wrong with his room?  I don’t remember him complaining about anything since he got shacked up with the exchange student.

Levi: Not like he could, seeing as it was his fault to begin with and a direct order from Lucifer.

Asmo: Maybe we should ask her.  I’m sure she knows something about what’s inciting his hunger judging by the way she kept staring at him in class today fufufu 😏  She almost failed her midterm because of it, isn’t that right, Mammon?

Mammon: ‼️‼️

[Mammon has left the chat]

Levi: He is sooooo transparent LMFAOOOO

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

Gasp!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you try to contain your shock at the sight that greets you when you peek around the corner into the kitchen:

Curved, ebony horns sitting majestically atop a head of disheveled orange hair.  Thick, corded muscles that ripple across a broad back — readily apparently because the creature bent over a mountain of food on the ground was wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms, loose and slung so low over narrow hips that the sharp V defining his groin is visible even from the distance at which you stood.  

Because this wasn’t quite what you were expecting to find when you made your way to the kitchen in the middle of the night to search for Beel, thinking to approach him about the peculiarity of his recent behaviour: the way he now ate constantly and was less satiated than before, the fact that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you even though you shared a room.

In fact, he hadn’t said so much as another word to you after he gave you two dozen of his prized custards the morning after the incident, apologizing again until you had to be the one to make him swear he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Lucifer.  The demon even made a beeline for the door as soon as he saw you emerge from the bathroom tonight, fresh from a shower.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he was headed.

Even still, you tried to focus on your textbook, reading the same line over and over again as you waited for Beel to return so you could have a proper conversation with the demon you made a pact with.  And when you could wait no longer, you made your way towards his favourite room in the House of Lamentation — silently, so as not to draw the attention of the eldest sibling.

But the growls coming from the direction of the open fridge this time sounded like Cerberus himself, enough so that you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to take another step forwards or back.  

You had never seen Beel like this before, tearing into whatever he could get his hands on with a savagery that made your heart stop.  Teeth, lips and tongue devoured without second thought in a way that was simultaneously terrifying and…

Throb.

…arousing.

Suddenly, he stills, throwing his head back to sniff the air once…twice…and in a flash, he is upon you, towering over your head as he rises to full height — bigger and taller and much more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him before.

You should have been scared.  Any person in their right mind would have if they found themselves cornered by a demon of Beelzebub’s calibre.  But the hands that balled into trembling fists at his sides made you feel oddly secure, your deepest instincts telling you that not all was as it seemed.

“You need to leave.  Now…please.”

“What’s going on with you, Beel?  I just want to help—”  You reach for his arm.  He jumps back as if burned.

“I SAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE!  I-I…can’t hold back…for…much longer!”

Handsome face screwed up as if in pain, Beel turns to put as much distance as possible between the two of you, squatting on his haunches with his head in his hands when he murmurs:

“I…I don’t know what’s going on with me.  This has never happened before.  I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been.  I eat and eat and eat and it still isn't enough.  The last time I felt satisfied was when…when…”

His voice dies down to a whisper.

“…when I tasted you.”

Throb.

Putting out a hand, you steady yourself against the wall, knees suddenly weak at Beelzebub’s admission.  Or perhaps it was due to relief, the tension that had been steadily building in your strained relationship with the demon released to know that you weren’t the only one who desired to revisit that night’s events.

So you gather your courage, stepping softly towards the demon who crouched on the ground next to the lit fireplace, the heat radiating from the hearth warming the flesh you had deliberately left bare when you lift the hem of your night gown to expose yourself to Beel.

“What are you doing?!  I told you, I can barely hold back—”

“Then don’t.  I don’t mind, Beel.  I…I like it too.”

Amethyst eyes darken as they look up into yours, orange flames reflecting off pupils blown wide.  And when he speaks next, the deepness of his voice echoes in your body, as if its source were to be found within your own soul.

“Ask and ye shall receive.  I won’t touch you until you do.”

Nipples hardening beneath your gown, the rush of heat that floods your core makes you shudder when you say,

“Please, Beelzebub…I want you to eat my pussy.”

Back hitting solid wood, you barely have time to gasp before you are pulled to the edge of a long table in the centre of the kitchen, a long tongue running up the insides of each thigh in turn before they’re propped up onto broad shoulders, Beel’s breath blowing hot on the space in between.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back.  I’m just…so famished, so desperate to taste you again—”

His words cut off in a low growl as he presses his lips to your folds, saliva dripping from his mouth mixing with the juices that already painted a glistening sheen on pink flesh.  You fight to bite back a moan at the vehemence of his hunger, the sheer greed of his tongue — flicking at your clit until your back arched off the table, heralding the arrival of the cream that leaked only to be swept up by Beel licking from end to end of that swollen seam.  And when that still wasn’t enough, you nearly swooned to feel that serpentine tongue penetrate, reaching depths that surely only a demon would be able to achieve as Beel sought out more of your flavour.

He buries his face deeper into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as arousal smeared over the entirely of his visage.  The vibrations of his voice further stimulates your locus of pleasure, punctuating the lewd, wet sounds when he says:

“You smell so delicious.  All the time.  And tonight, when you stepped out of the shower…I couldn’t take it, not with the way your scent flooded my senses.  I had to leave or else…this would happen.”

“Oh Beel…you should’ve told me sooner.”  

Mind lost in a haze of lust and body boneless from riding out wave after climatic wave, you reach down a trembling hand without thinking, fingers innocently tracing along the smooth ridges of the onyx horns that lay against your abdomen.

Suddenly, his breath hitches at your touch and the Sixth Prince of Hell is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan loud and deep enough to reverberate off stone walls, clattering stacks of dishes in cupboards and making you come once more — legs convulsing upon his shoulders as you feel a preponderance of fluid gush forth from your body right into Beel’s waiting mouth.

The pleasure was such that you’ve never known before, so good that surely, it must be bad in some way, shape or form.  But you hadn’t the energy to ponder further.  

No, the only thing you’re aware of when your vision goes black is that Beel’s mouth is still on you, feasting upon a pussy that continued to respond to the teasing movements of his lips and tongue even as you ceased to think.

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Cheddar.  Pickles.  Ketchup and mustard.

The smell is what rouses you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you awoke in your own bed: mountains of cheeseburgers arranged on platters filling up every available surface in the room you shared with Beel.

“You can sleep for longer if you want.  I told Lucifer you’d be skipping class today because you’re not feeling well.  Are you…feeling well?”

Beelzebub lifts his head from where it’d been resting at the side of your bed, the rest of his body laid out on the floor as if he were guarding you like an oversized dog.  Those puppy dog eyes, full of concern, didn’t help his case either.

“I’m fine, Beel.  Better than fine, actually.  I feel fantastic!”  You smile, moving to sit up in bed.  The demon springs from the ground, putting an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up, and your heart can’t help but warm at how protective he was being.

He breathes, relief flooding those handsome features.  “I’m glad.  I was afraid I lost control last night and had to carry you back.  You were just…so tasty and…satisfying…”  

Those amethyst eyes glint as they travel to the apex of your thighs, and all of a sudden, he is grabbing at those human world cheeseburgers, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

“Have some,” he says between bites.  “They’re my favourite and I thought you might like them too.  Besides, you need to eat if you’re gonna keep up your energy.”

You reach towards the nearest platter, taking one for yourself.  “Energy for what?”

Beel looks at you, expression completely serious when he says, “For the next round tonight.”

Throb.

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

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