#still think they should have kept the survey open longer though

[standfortheangels]

Well. I was going to share a link to the survey the wip blog put up yesterday, but, apparently it's already closed.

I guess maybe they were planning to take a certain number of responses and just got there fast? People do have a lot to say right now.

Anyway. One of the questions was "if you could change one thing about tumblr, what would it be?" and I wanted to share my answer.

Go back to a more user-controlled experience, like the userbase are begging for.

Big changes are being made without us having a choice. (Like the dashboard layout "experiments". I didn't have experimental features/Tumblr labs turned on, I shouldn't have my whole dash changed for an experiment! Though I think a change That Big should have had a pop-up like 'would you like to participate in this trial?' anyway. Let people choose!

Recently it feels like when users don't like a change, we're ignored or get a response of 'but our way is better'. Even recent changes that are supposed to be optional aren't really. You can 'opt out' of Tumblr Live but it'll come back every week. The "for you" tab can be clicked off of, but new users can't choose "following" as their default tab. Stuff like that makes it feel like even if something is technically optional, we're being constantly pushed towards one option.

Blogs opening on the dashboard instead of their own pages takes away from the variety and customisation of people's blogs, as does turning the chatboxes into one consistent design instead of matching the users' blog colours. It's like we've been in our own clothes for years, and now we're being put in a uniform. You can wear your own clothes at home (your blog page) where very few people will ever go, but at school you look like everyone else. But this place wasn't school. It was the graffitied skate park under a bridge, and an anime convention, a cottage garden, it felt like the site had these different locations, and the way communities designed their blogs added to that feeling massively. And it was freeing, and beautiful.

[dyaz-stories]

put your arms around me and i'm home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: In the dead of winter, you have to do a run to go get fuel for your generator. Things go wrong, but fortunately, Hyun-Su is here to save you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings & tags: canon-typical violence, gore, monsters, hyun-su and reader get injured, reader briefly thinks hyun-su is dead, monster!hyun-su makes a brief appearance, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets one!, angst, hurt/comfort, season 2 canon compliant.

previous · next

A/N: this can be read on its own, but there is another one-shot, if you're interested! for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman.

You’re not one to get caught off guard, not usually. You’ve always been cautious, measured, far-sighted. It had been an advantage back in high school, and you’re pretty sure it’s what kept you alive thus far.

Yet, in this new world that you never asked to be a part of, unforeseen complications were the norm. You could plan, and plan, and plan ahead, but here you were, freezing in your living room, because the biting cold of the lasting winter meant that you’d run out of fuel for your small generator, and everything else you used to generate electricity wasn’t functioning the way it should.

If you didn’t want to freeze to death, you had to act, and act quick.

You’d already held out a few more days than was reasonable, hoping that the weather would clear and your solar panels would be useful again, or — but you hadn’t dared to voice that thought — that Hyun-Su would come by, and you could ask for his help. He’d offered before, after all, even if he had always kept you at arm’s length whenever you’d returned the favor.

But things were dire now, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you’re kneeling in your living-room, preparing yourself for a hazardous trip in the outside, shivering as you do. Things are dangerous enough on a good day, but the snow that’s been continuously falling only makes you dread it more. It swallows sounds, means you’ll leave tracks behind you, and you’ll consume twice as much energy just to move around.

The last thing you pack is a map, which you make sure to keep available, though you hope you won’t need it in between breaks.

You’re heading for a four-stories parking lot, where you hope you’ll find fuel in one of the cars, but that’s not the dangerous part. What’s risky is that monsters love these kinds of places, with all their nooks and crannies, all the dark places to hide, and fear already has your heart beating twice as fast as usual before you’ve even opened your door.

Still, you take a steadying breath, haul the backpack over on your shoulders, and exit the house without making a sound.

Everything is quiet outside. Snow is falling gently, and the sight would be heart-warming, if it wasn’t for all the overturned cars, the gaping hole torn into the building opposite from yours by one of those missiles a few months ago, and the worrying fresh footprints going towards the river. The snow also covers the decomposing bodies, and you can only hope that you don’t accidentally step on one as you start walking.

At least it fills your tracks behind you. By the time you’ve reached the other side of the street, which was one once an impossible task due to how bad traffic you used to be, nothing leads back to your door, and you leave with, at least, the reassurance that home will still be here waiting for you when you come back.

If you come back.

There’s comfort in knowing that you’d planned well, this time, to get to the parking lot. You get to your destination with only expected complications. You spot the monsters before they spot you. You have to reroute twice, but that had been accounted for, and you don’t even have to pull out your map. You reach the building right before noon, and after surveying it for a few minutes, you let yourself in before you can chicken out.

In the dark, you make your way to the first floor, where you will be able to have the greyish light of the day, instead of having to use precious batteries for your flashlight.

It’s not long before you’ve picked out the car, a familial minivan with an untouched baby seat in the back. You try not to think about the people it belonged to as you kneel by the side and prepare to siphon the tank. You make quick work of preparing it, with the tanks and hoses you’d brought for that purpose.

Maybe it’s your confidence that’s to blame for what happens next, or maybe it’s another one of these unforeseeable accidents. Either way, you catch movement from the corner of your eye and you jerk your head back as a reflex, but you’re not fast enough and unnaturally long claws dig into your cheek.

You manage not to scream despite the pain, scramble back and away from the van. There, standing on the roof, is a creature. Though it stands on two legs, there is nothing human about it anymore. The side of its face are sagging and drooping like it’s centuries old, covering where you assume its shoulders would be. It brings its claws to its lips, and your realize with horror that your blood is dripping from them.

Bleeding, in this world, might as well be a death sentence. You don’t bother wasting energy in stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“Younnnnng,” the monster screeches. “Give— meeeeee…”

It at least snaps you out of the stupor, and you grab your bat, unwilling to go down without a fight.

But it’s not much of a fight, not when the scent and the noise are waking up all the other creatures hibernating around here.

You swing wildly as the thing, and manage to send it tumbling back. It’s only a short respite though, considering pain is only ever short lived for them, while blood is dripping down your chin and onto the concrete.

You throw your backpack on your shoulders with trembling hands and grab the first cannister that you’ve filled, abandoning the rest behind to start sprinting towards the exit.

You already know you won’t make it. You know you’ll have to run through the pitch dark ground floor, which is no doubt filled with more of those nightmares, and that the chances you’ll make it out on the other side are slim to none.

But you owe it to yourself fight until the very end.

As it stands, you don’t even make it to the downward slope that leads there. There’s the sound of something charging towards you, and then the— the head, it has to be, of a bull-like thing catches you in the ribs, and sends you flying into a car. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, your vision goes blurry, your head starts reeling. You’re aware of the thing crashing into a concrete pillar. It at least stays there, struggling to pull itself out, but that’s barely any relief, because soon enough the first creature is calling out to you again, stretching out a skeletal arm towards you.

“Younnnnnng… Give meeeee…”

It kicks you in the ribs, and you roll onto your back, only to be met with the horrifying sight of its arm in the air, claws out and ready, preparing to cut your throat open.

You refuse to close your eyes.

And then, just as you think everything lost, someone steps in between you and the monster, blocking its arm with your very own baseball bat. You stare blankly at the large back, the unkept black hair, as the man forces it to step back and kicks it in the chest.

Then Hyun-Su turns around, and holds his hand out towards you.

He looks nothing like what you’re used to. He’s usually so lost, so hesitant, when he comes to you. Now he’s focused, purposeful, and in many ways, he reminds you of the boy you once knew, the captain of the football team who would without fail lead his team to victory.

“Let’s go,” he urges you, and when you weakly take his hand, he pulls you to your feet effortlessly.

You wheeze as the two of you run to hide behind a car. You press your free hand against your ribs, hoping to lessen the pain — it doesn’t work, of course.

“It’s going to find me,” you mumble to Hyun-Su as he keeps an eye on the thing. “It can— It can smell my blood.”

Hyun-Su’s head snaps towards you, and his expression darkens at the sight of the wound on your cheek. He lifts his hand halfway, as if to touch it, then lets it fall down again.

“You should—” Your voice breaks. “You should go. If it can find me… It’s not the only one.”

A strange expression that you can’t quite decipher passes on his face, before he shakes his head firmly.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The relief you feel when he says those words is immediately overshadowed by embarrassment. You shouldn’t be happy. He needs to go, or he will die here with you, and what would the point be in that?

“What— What are you even doing here? How—”

You don’t know if he doesn’t answer on purpose, or if he hears a sound that takes his attention away from you.

“Can you run?” he asks you, glancing over the car.

Your body’s going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears out, but for now you give him a decided nod.

“Do you trust me?”

You should probably take your time to answer him, actually think about the question.

“Yes,” you answer instead, like it’s a reflex.

He exhales quietly, squeezes your hand in his.

“Then run.”

Then he’s pulling with him, running at full speed towards the open wall of the parking lot. Fear spikes through you. Even though you’re only on the first floor, it’s still too high to land comfortably. That fear is completely erased by the sight that greets you, briefly, of monsters stumbling and climbing all over each other to make their way up from the ground floor. There is a whole swarm of them teeming here already, and you can’t think of any other way to make it out alive — frankly, you have a hard time believing that this will work. But you cling to your faith in Hyun-Su like your life depends on it, because it does, and when he yells for you to jump, you do it without question.

While you’re flailing in the air, you feel him pulling you towards him. Strong arms wrap around you, and keep you caged and safe. You hit the ground brutally, rolling on the floor until you land on top of him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, painfully pushing you onto your elbows. “Hyun-Su, are— are you okay?”

The obvious answer to the question is ‘no’, and yet Hyun-Su doesn’t look worse for wear as he sits up, his eyes instead going over your body to make sure you weren’t too badly injured.

If you shiver when his hands run up and down your arms, it isn’t because of the cold.

“Let’s move,” he says, letting go of you all too quickly.

But, by the time you’re both on your feet, monsters attracted by the smell of your blood have started falling from the parking lot. The two of you sprint, but you’re no match for them and you know it. You regain the tiniest hope when you make it past a corner, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the snow will swallow your smell if you hide well enough — and then something wraps around your ankle.

In a second, you’re torn out of Hyun-Su’s grasp, and when you manage to roll onto your back to see who your assailant is, all you can do is let out an inhumane scream.

This particular monster has eight legs, like a spider, and its somewhat human torso  and head is completed by two long mandibles instead of a jaw. You manage to grab a knife from your pocket, but by the time you can cut its— web, you suppose, it’s charging towards you at full speed, and it’s close, too close for you to even get on your feet before—

When it attacks you, the first thing you see is what you first identify as a black wing, before you realize that it��s made out of a complex mix of flesh, bone and other materials that you can’t quite recognize, instead of feathers.

The wing pushes the creature back, and then Hyun-Su’s back is in front of you once more.

It’s his, you realize, brain awfully slow all of sudden. The wing. It’s attached to his shoulder, and all you can do is stare in confusion and horror. It flutters as he turns around to look at you.

You’re not fully in control when you scramble back, whole body shaking — because of the second near-death experience in ten minutes or because you’re terrified, you don’t know. What you do know is how hurt he looks, and how he turns his head the other way to face the monsters that are still coming after the two of you.

“You should run,” he says, low enough that you could miss it. He sounds hollow again. “Don’t turn around.”

You shake your head quietly, try to form some words. They all fail you. You don’t— you have no clue what’s happening. All that you know is that Hyun-Su is a monster and that he’s just used that to save your life.

The wave of monsters reach him just a few seconds later, before you’ve managed to decide anything. He pushes them back with practiced ease, one by one. You hate that you’re just sitting here, unable to move, as he fights for your life, yet your body just refuses to answer to you, even if you’re begging it to react.

Soon, the spider is the last one standing — or rather, the last one who hasn’t yet decided that you’d make a fairly meager lunch, considering how hard it is to get to you. It keeps attacking, and Hyun-Su keeps pushing it back, again, and again, until the creature manages to ensnare him in its web. Hyun-Su writhes, manages to pull his wing free, but it’s clear that he’s now at a disadvantage, and the mandibles click threateningly as the monster gets closer and closer to him.

Finally, your body agrees to react.

You run.

You don’t go very far though. You find the cannister you’d dropped and then you’re rushing back to throw the gasoline at the creature, half emptying it. The monster wasn’t paying attention to you, too busy trying to bite Hyun-Su’s head off, but its head snaps towards you when the liquid reaches it. It lets out a threatening hiss, which you ignore.

Instead, you find the lighter in your pocket.

Aim.

And throw.

The screams start right away, but it drops Hyun-Su, at least, as it tries to escape the fire.

For a second, you think you’ve made it — you’ve both made it, that is. Hyun-Su pulls himself to his feet. The wing flutters again, slowly starts to retreat back into his body to go back to a human arm.

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

And then one of the spider’s limb pierces through his chest. It’s not even calculated this time — just a movement it’s making as it tries to free itself from the flames that are consuming it.

You hear yourself scream. You don’t remember asking your body to move, this time, but you know that a second later you’re reaching Hyun-Su as he falls to his knees, and your arms are around him while you cradle him, pulling his head into your lap. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his, as one of your hands tries, and fails, to apply pressure to the gaping wound, even if you know there is no point.

“No,” you beg. “No, no, no, no… Please, please, someone, please…”

You don’t know how many times you say it, how long you stay there. Snow starts to cover both his body and yours, and you realize you have a decision to make, if you don’t want to freeze to death. You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

Until Hyun-Su’s lifeless body arches in your arms with a gasp.

When his eyes open, they’re a clear, cold, uncanny blue.

You don’t dare to do anything then �� not to let go of him, not to move away, not to break eye contact. It makes no sense, but you’re afraid that the slightest movement would have him gone again.

Slowly, his lips curve into a smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You’ve seen him smile, bright and sincere, and more recently, soft and subdued. But this amused, flirtatious smirk, that is completely new.

“You’re still here,” he comments, casually getting up, like nothing happen, like he can’t feel pain, like there isn’t a hole in his chest.

Even his voice is different. There’s a drawl to it, light and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Hyun-Su?” you say, unsure of what’s happening. He was dead a minute ago. Then again, now that he’s breathing again, your brain is able to form the thought that he is a monster. An abnormal one, sure, and you don’t know enough to draw any conclusion, but it could be an explanation.

The smirk widens.

“Close enough,” he answers. “Are you scared?”

You’re not sure. You think you’re too emotionally exhausted to be scared.

“Should I be?” you ask. Maybe you shouldn’t trust this version of him to tell you the truth, and yet— All your senses are telling you that this is still Hyun-Su. And you don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you. Ever.

“It would break him if you got hurt,” not-Hyun-Su says, tilting his head. He lifts his index finger to tilt your head up. “I don’t want him broken.”

“Is he—” You interrupt yourself, unsure of what even is happening right now. But before you can start asking for answers, there is something you need to know. “Is Hyun-Su okay right now?”

He scoffs.

“He’s taking a break,” he replies. “He’s worked hard.” A beat while he seems to think about it. “Also, he thinks you hate him now.”

“I could never hate him,” you say, too easily, because it’s just the truth.

“Well, he is a monster,” not-Hyun-Su says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just stating a fact. You suppose he’s not wrong, and yet…

“The people I loved all turned into monsters,” you whisper quietly. Your mother, before you even made it home. Your best friend, who begged for death so she wouldn’t hurt others. Your father, who disappeared to protect you. You miss them all so much it sometimes feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, and you’d give anything to have them back. So, if there is any way that you can still have Hyun-Su… “As long— as long as he’s not trying to kill me, does it really matter?”

The man watches you with interest, tilting his head to the side. It’s interesting. You haven’t been hurt by this world the way others have. Monsters caused death and destruction, but you watched half-monsters doing their very best to avoid hurting others, not unlike what Hyun-Su is doing right now.

The monster in him wonders what it would take, to destroy that ill-placed trust in others around you. The rest of him… is far too intrigued to give in. He grabs your chin between his thumb and his index finger, pulls your face closer to his.

“Doesn’t it?” he echoes your words. “What if I do hurt you?”

You swallow, call back the images of Hyun-Su easily taking out these monsters earlier. But you can’t forget that he’d been doing it to protect you.

“Y–You won’t,” you reply, even if your stutter betrays your lack of confidence.

It’s a leap of faith, but it seems to amuse him.

“For now,” he says, before his eyes roll into his head and Hyun-Su collapses in your arms.

You stumble back, barely manage to keep him up, before he seems to regain some control over his limbs and starts coughing. Even then, you don’t let go of him. You wrap both of your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder, and keep him there, against you.

Hyun-Su remains still for a while, breathing pained and ragged. The snow is still falling, but his body is warm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I am,” you answer. “Thanks to you.”

He lets out a pained sigh.

“Did he— Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, barely moving away so you can look at him. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes — black again, you note — fixedly in the other direction.

Like he can’t bear to know which emotion is on your face right now.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you say quietly. “I thought— I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg, voice so low and broken you don’t think he’d hear if he wasn’t inches from you.

Hyun-Su’s body starts shaking against yours. Finally, finally, he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his head in your neck, and wet tears roll down your collarbone. In the freezing cold weather, they feel burning hot.

“Don’t hate me,” he begs in response, crying in your arms, fingers digging to the fabric of your clothes in a desperate attempt to keep you there, against him — even if there is no need for that right now.

You wish you could tell him that he just saved your life, that he’s been a guiding light in your cold, dark life this past few months, that you love him more than words can say. But that would take too long, and the situation calls for something shorter, more direct, and just as meaningful.

“You’re the only good thing about this world,” you say instead, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Under the snow, for long minutes, Hyun-Su holds you like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you eventually detach from each other, he keeps your hand in his the whole walk home.

i hope you liked this installment! i'm probably going to write something much softer next, still for this couple (but it's hyun-su so it's still going to be angsty). if you're enjoying this, please let me know your thoughts, reblog or send in an ask. hearing from readers is so motivating and makes me want to keep writing!

next part

[m-jelly]

Hi Jelly! I love your works! I've read some of your ao3 fics and I adore your tumblr blog here! May I request for an angst canon fic? The reader is secretly a titan-shifter who has been in a strong relationship for years and engaged to Levi for a few months, everyone including Levi is not aware she was from Marley. She has been a traitor to Marley since she left and stayed in survey corps. The reader decided to tell Levi the truth, hoping for him to understand but once she revealed her secret, somewhat all of Levi's love and care for her are gone. He clearly loathes, blames or maybe insults her. Levi was so blinded for anger and rage that he did not realized he was hurting for hurting her. By then, came with the retaking of wall maria, the reader begs Levi to forgive her, and Levi's last words for her was so hurtful before leaving her and she was crushed with a stone that the beast titan thrown. Levi did not realized until the end of the battle where they had to roam around to find possible surviving soldiers and he finally sees the reader's torn limbs crushed without the actual body of the reader (he recognized it as hers since the proposal ring is still kept intact with her finger). Levi assumes the reader is dead and was so heartbroken , devastated and regrets how he treated her, he became more of a broken man without her. Since the reader was a shifter, she did not actually died but rather was taken by Pieck and Zeke at that time where they found her crushed with torn limbs, they took her to Marley again and gave her a second chance to side with them, reader wanted to go back to Levi but never dared to because she thought he doesn't love her anymore. Many years later they met again when Paradis infiltrated the Marley, Levi sees the reader alive and well that he breaks down in front of the squad. It's up to you Jelly if they should reunite and be happy again for the ending. I hope this is not so confusing and I apologize for the long detail of the ask! Thank you ♡♡

First off, thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a supporter of my stuff on here and on Ao3. It means a lot that my drabbles and crazy mind are entertaining to people <3 As for the request, I am happy to do this <3

Forgiveness is hard.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: Canon world, hurt, anger, lashing out, Levi is too harsh, time skips, titan shifter reader, heartbreak, hurt, eventual comfort, being in love is rough, happy ending.

Concept: You and Levi have been together for a while and are now newly engaged to each other. Something has been eating away at you. You confess to Levi that you are a titan shifter hoping you can talk it out, but it only ends in him lashing out at you. Soon after your fight, you retake wall Maria. You beg Levi to forgive you, but he doesn't want to listen. After the battle, Levi searches the ruins to find your arm lying on the floor coming out from under a boulder. Levi is crushed thinking the love of his life is dead and the last words you heard were his wicked ones. You're not dead though. Zeke and Pieck found you and moved you to Marely. They force you to fight with them, or they kill Levi. Years later, Levi goes with the scouts to Marley only to see you walking the streets looking as beautiful as the day he met you. He decides to take action and not lose you again.

You sat on Levi's desk as nerves filled you. You knew you had to tell Levi the truth. Your secret had been eating away inside you couldn't lie to him any longer. You loved him with all your heart and soul. He was your life and you couldn't wait to marry him.

You played with your engagement ring to ease your anxiety, but you were wound up still. You jumped when the door opened and Levi said your name softly. You smiled at him as he walked closer to you. You gasped when his soft lips connected with yours. You were the one who kissed first most of the time, so these rare occasions were precious to you.

Levi tapped the skin between your brows. "You're frowning like you can't shit. What troubles you my darling?"

You sighed. "Levi, I have a confession to make."

Levi cupped your face and smiled. "You're pregnant?"

You blushed bright red. "N-No."

"Oh...well then what's wrong?"

You gulped hard. "Levi."

He kissed you and hummed. "No matter what it is, I love you and I'm here for you."

You shook your head. "I don't think that's true."

"It is."

You sniffed, then locked eyes with Levi. "I'm not from here. I'm from Marley where that ape guy Zeke is from. I'm also a titan-shifter."

Levi clenched his jaw, then stepped back from you and spoke in a deep tone. "What?"

"I left Marley because I didn't believe in their way of life." You welled up. "I was forced to be a shifter. I didn't want to be. I believe in what you scouts fight for. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I love you and I was so scared of telling you, but know I am on your side and the scouts. I promise you."

Levi shook on the spot as rage filled him. "So, you're telling me I've been fucking a disgusting piece of shit titan all this time?" His voice was low and deep.

You welled up and clutched your chest. "Levi?"

He paced on backwards and forwards. "You come here to my home and you use me!"

You jumped at his tone. "I-I wasn't using you. I'm not using you! I swear Levi. I love you."

"You disgust me! You are your people." He walked up to you and grabbed your neck. "I lost my whole squad because of you shifters. I lost two best friends because of a titan no doubt sent by you dirty monsters."

You gasped and held his wrist. "Levi, you're hurting me."

He slammed your back against the table. "You don't get the right to talk!"

You sniffed as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I'm sorry." You lightly touched his cheek. "I love you. I never lied about loving you."

Levi let you go and stumbled back. "Don't touch me. I don't want you near me."

You stood up and lightly touched your neck. "Levi."

His voice was strained. "Don't. Just get out. I don't want to see your disgusting lying face in here."

You shook, then walked to his door. "I love you, Levi." You went to your room and worked hard to train for the retaking of Wall Maria.

You hadn't spoken to Levi in a week, mainly because he refused to see you or talk to you. You hurt inside because of all the names Levi had called you because you believed them. You thought Levi was correct in the things he called you. You couldn't stand yourself, even more now that you knew how Levi saw you.

You noticed Levi was prepping, so you thought you'd have one last shot. You walked closer to him and smiled a little. "Hi, Levi. Can we talk?" You waited, but he didn't say anything. "It's driving me crazy not hearing your voice. I can't eat or sleep. I'm going insane. Levi. Tell me what I have to do to get you to forgive me."

Levi clenched up, then looked back at you. "Why would I want anything to do with Titan scum like you? Just touching you I'd have to scrub my body raw to get rid of the filth that comes off you."

"Levi, I love you."

He turned and glared at you. "Titans don't have hearts! You couldn't possibly love anyone or anything. You're a disgusting beast that just takes from everyone and everything around you!"

You backed up a little. "You...you don't mean that, do you?"

"Just do your fucking job and leave me alone." Levi walked away from you and left you crying.

You hugged yourself tightly, then followed the group and got on your horse. You barely heard Erwin's screams of battle. You just did as everyone else did. You rode your horse forwards and avoided the rocks coming towards you. You looked up and locked eyes with the beast titan. You knew in that moment Zeke recognised you. Before you could do something, the boulder flew towards you.

Levi went out with the remaining few of the team to search for survivors. He wasn't expecting much because Floch said Erwin was the only survivor of the frontal assault. He was tired and hurt from losing Erwin. He stopped when something seemed familiar. His heart dropped as his body went cold. He jumped off his horse and walked across the muddy and blood-soaked ground.

Levi stopped in front of a huge boulder to see an arm sticking out from under. He knelt down and forgot all about the mud. He reached out with a shaking hand towards the arm. He lightly touched the palm facing up, then grabbed the ring and slipped it off. He looked at the ring and recognised it as his engagement ring to you.

He squeezed the ring tightly in his hand. He shook on the floor, then looked up at the sky and screamed to the heavens as tears poured down his cheeks. He screamed and screamed until his voice cracked and he had nothing left to let out. He'd lost everything all due to his words.

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

You gasped and sat up in bed, then you looked down at your hands as you shook. "I was dead. I was dead."

"Not dead." You looked up to see Pieck partly lying on your bed. She smiled at you. "Welcome home, you sly thing you." She crawled closer, then hugged you. "I missed you so, so much." She pulled back "I'm glad Zeke spotted you in the battle. I carried you back."

You groaned. "I hope not in your mouth."

She lay across your legs. "Would it upset you if I say yes?"

You sighed as you ruffled your hair. "There's nothing I can do about it now. So, am I going to be executed or something?"

"No." She smiled at you. "Zeke wants to give you another chance." She kicked her legs a little. "You know how he feels about you." She giggled and sat up. "You still don't feel the same, huh?"

You put your head in your hands. "You should have just killed me." You welled up and cried.

Pieck gasped, then hugged you. "You poor thing. Who hurt you?"

You spent the next two weeks crying on and off as you lay in the bed, then you finally agreed to helping and taking the second chance. You were empty and sad the whole time and just worked with Zeke. You missed Levi with everything in you, but you knew you could never go back to him because he could never love a monster like you.

As you walked through town one day trying to get away from Zeke for once, you couldn't stop thinking about Levi. You loved him still and wanted a future together. You wanted to be wrapped up in his arms and hear him moan your name against your ear. You wanted to hear him say he loved you. You let out a long sigh and stopped by a stall and noticed a group of people in suits and hats down the road, they looked out of place, but you couldn't see their faces fully.

Levi groaned and put his hands in his pockets as the scouts became too hyper over the food. He glanced the road and felt his heart stop. He thought he was seeing things, but there you were alive stood at a stall buying some sweets. Levi clutched his necklace with your engagment ring on as he said your name.

Hange frowned at Levi's words. "Levi?"

He saw you walking away. "I have to go Hange. I'll be right back."

"Sure."

Levi ran through the street and moved people out of his way. He skidded on his heels as he turned the corner and ran down the road and saw you getting closer. He reached out for you and grabbed your wrist, then yanked you into an alleyway. He slammed you against the wall and looked at you to see he was right, you were alive.

You held your breath as you stared at Levi. "Le-Levi? Wh-what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here. It's not safe! If your cover is blown."

He pressed you against the wall and kissed you. He nipped your lip, then pushed his tongue into your warm mouth. He moaned as his tongue moved with yours. He felt his heart and voices in his head calm. He could feel you were crying, but he was also. He pressed his knee against the wall between your legs as his fingers tangled in your hair. He smiled when you gripped his clothes and held him close to you.

Levi pulled back a little, then lightly kissed your lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't apologise enough to you." He panted and hugged you. "I love you. I've always loved you. I'm so sorry."

You saw the tears running down his cheeks and felt moved. You clung to Levi tightly and held him. "I love you too. I missed you, but I thought you hated me."

"Never. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I'm sorry."

You whined. "I just want to go home. I want to go home with you."

"We will. I promise."

[folklorelise]

Squad Leader Mom gets badly injured.

After Kuchel’s birth, Levi and you had an agreement. There would be no expedition until Kuchel had her first birthday. You did not want to leave your new-born either yet. For an entire year, you would move between your parents’ house and the survey corps headquarters. It was tiring, but you quickly got used to this lifestyle.

Kuchel’s first birthday was spent at the survey corps headquarters with your parents and your brother there as well. (it will probably be in another story) When the day of your comeback arrived, your parents came to take care of Kuchel.

“Be careful out there.” your mother told you.

“I will, don’t worry about me!”

Everyone was getting ready, putting on their gear, preparing their horse. You were so excited about this that you were one of the first ones to be ready to leave. Your squad quickly joined you.

“Squad leader Y/N! It’s really great to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back.”

The night before, Levi told you that since it had been a while since you were outside, you would have to stay close to him and his squad.

“I already talked about it with Erwin.” Levi told you after Kuchel fell asleep.

“Levi I–.”

“I just don’t want–.” Levi paused. “I want to be able to protect you if it’s needed. Which I hope it won’t happen.”

“It won’t.”

When the gate opened, and your horse started to gallop, your heart started to race. It had been a year since you went outside the walls. Thankfully, a week before the expedition, Levi made you get used to riding a horse and using your gear which made you more comfortable. However, your mind kept thinking about Kuchel – you were starting to get worried. Fortunately, the situation outside was not a getting too problematic. There were only a few titans. The night came rather quickly since it was winter, so everyone had to set up their tents.

“Mom, Armin and I are going to bring some wood.” Jean screamed before leaving.

“How are you?” Levi asked you once you were both in your tent.

“Mmh… not so great.” you tried to laugh, “I thought it would be easier.”

“I know. Leaving Kuchel the first time was terrible.” Levi admitted to you. “You just have to think about the moment you’re going to get back and hold her again.”

“I like that thought.” you put your head on his shoulder.

“Are you going to stay at home after that?”

“I like my job; I just have to get used to this.”

The rest of the cadets were sitting in circle outside, waiting for Jean and Armin to get back, but after thirty minutes of waiting, they were still not back. Then very soon, Levi and you joined the cadets.

“What if they’re lost?” you asked.

“Maybe we should go and look for them?” Sasha suggested.

“I’ll go.” Mikasa stood up.

“No, sit down.” you said which she did. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll come with you.” Levi said.

“Should we tell Erwin first?” Sasha asked.

“You go and tell Erwin that Levi and I went looking for them and that there is no need for any of you to come after us. If Jean and Armin come back, you just wait for us.” you told them putting on your ODM gear.

“Be careful!” Connie shouted when Levi and you walked away into the thick forest.

As Levi and you took Jean and Armin’s path, you quickly grabbed his hand.

“We should split up. We will find them more quickly.” you said.

“No. I’m not leaving you alone there.”

“Levi it’s fine. I promise.”

“Y/N…” Levi sighed.

“Pinkie promise then?” Levi started at you, but still shook your pinkie with his.

Levi then went to the opposite side of yours. You were screaming their names, but there was no answer. You quickly went on a high tree so you would see better thanks to the full moon.  After a few minutes of intense research, you finally found two silhouettes standing on a lower tree. You rested a minute without moving so you could catch your breath. But when you saw a titan rising up from the bottom of their tree, you immediately flew toward them.

Armin and Jean were slightly injured, and they did not have their gear on — they climb the tree when some titans started to show up. As the night came, titans started to disappear, but they were lost so they stayed on their tree. The titan beneath Jean and Armin started to shake the tree, trying to make them fell down – it was an abnormal one. It moved quickly.

When you saw the titan raising its arm toward Armin, you did not think twice and instantly flew where he was and pushed him out of the way – the titan grabbed you instead of Armin.

“MOM!” Armin yelled horrified.

The titan threw you away. Your body was thrown away against a tree, yet you were still awake when your body met the ground. The abnormal titan stared at where your body was, and it suddenly started to run toward you. You could only watch it run to you without moving, so you closed your eyes, ready to go. But nothing happened.

After Levi and you went separate ways, he searched the surroundings swiftly and then went back where you went earlier. When he saw from afar a body being thrown away, he used a lot of his gas to get to there as quickly as possible and killed the titan. Levi looked up on the tree and when he only saw Jean and Armin trying to get down, he knew whose body was lying not too far from he was. Levi dropped his swords and run to you.

You were really glad to see Levi. When he kneeled down, you could see that he was trying to hold back his tears.

“Y/N, hey.” Levi sobbed, putting his hands around your face, “It’s ok, I’m here.”

You wanted to tell him that it was ok too, but the only sound that you could make was coughing.

“Don’t try to talk.” Levi warned you.

“Mom? Mom!” Jean was the first on to arrive.

“I’m so sorry mom.” Armin cried when he saw you.

“Jean, help me get Y/N’s gear off and you’ll take it to get back and get help.” Levi ordered.

“Mom,” Jean kneeled down before leaving, “please don’t leave. I’ll be back really quickly ok?”

When he saw you nodding slightly, he flew off where you and Levi came from. Levi put his cloak around your head which was bleeding. He had put your head on his knees so you would be more comfortable. Armin was holding your hand, still crying. You squeezed his hand as hard as you can before you felt like passing out.

“Mom?” Armin called you when he felt your falling out of his. “Mom! Wake up!”

——————————

When Jean arrived at the spot, he run to where the commander was.

“Commander Erwin! You– you have to follow me!” Jean sobbed.

“Kirstein, Sasha already told–.”

“NO!” Jean yelled.

“Jean! Calm down.” Hange stood up. “Why–.”

“Mom. It’s mom, and she’s…” Jean mumbled.

“What happened to mom?” Eren asked with the rest of the cadets around him.

“She’s hurt… there was a titan and– and he just– he grabbed mom…” Jean explained still crying.

Erwin and Hange put on their gear right away, as well as your squad and the cadets. Jean showed them the way, and when they arrived Hange was the first one to be next to you. They quickly took out the emergency kit and cleaned your wound and sutured it.

“She’s still breathing which is good.” Hange declared out loud. “But we have to bring her back now.” Hange turned their head to face Levi. “You did a great job – putting pressure on her head so she would not bleed out – it was great.”

With the help of Erwin, they all gently put your body on the trolley.

“Are we all going to go back?” Mikasa asked.

“None of you will be able to continue in these conditions.” Erwin stated. “Neither can I so yes, we’re all going back with Y/N.”

On the way home, Levi constantly had his hand on your chest to make sure your heart was beating. The minute the trolley went inside the gates, the medical squad took you in charge.

Levi, Hange, Erwin and the kids were all waiting at the mess hall together. The doctor’s first news was that you had a violent concussion, as well as a few broken ribs. Your left leg was in bad shape — they were still operating.

Your parents were immediately informed about the situation and came with Kuchel as soon as possible. When they arrived, Levi took Kuchel in his arms and hugged her tightly. When Kuchel saw the cadets crying, she started to cry too.

“Ma-ma?” Kuchel cried.

——————————

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a house you did not recognise.

“Is there anyone here?” you asked. When you opened the door, it brought you on a vast field full of colourful flowers. You could not find anyone, but after walking around for a bit, you finally found someone sitting on the grass.

You quietly walked toward the person and sat down.

“I have been waiting for you.” the woman told you.

“Do I know you?” you asked.

“We’ve never met.”

“You look familiar though.”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Mh… I think…”

“You had an accident remember?” the woman tried to help you remember.

“Right. The titan. Wait, am I dead?” you panicked. “I can’t be! I’m not dead right?” you turned to face her, but she only stared at you. “I can’t be!” you repeated yelling.

“Why?”

“I can’t– Levi is probably worried sick now! I can’t leave him. I can’t.” you started to cry. “And then there’s Kuchel and the kids. What am I supposed to do now?”

The woman suddenly stood up and took you in her arms, trying to calm you down.

“I don’t have an answer for you, I’m sorry.” she told you. “Let’s go back to the house, ok?”

Once you were in your bed, you closed your eye for what it seemed like a second, but when you opened your eyes again, it was already morning. The longer you stayed here, the more suspicious you got. That woman who helped you was acting weird around you – always dodging your questions. Instead, she would ask a lot of questions about Levi and Kuchel, without any reasons, but you were glad to talk about it.

As time passed, you felt weaker and weaker. You could not run anymore; you could barely wake up in the morning.

“Am I dying again?” you asked her.

“No, quite the opposite actually.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your body is getting healthier, so you’re going to go back soon.”

“Where?”

“To Levi.”

“So, I’m leaving you?” you asked to be sure.

“Yes.” she smiled.

“Does that mean you’re finally going to tell me who you are? And why you have been obsessed with Levi and–.” you then stopped and realised, “You’re– you’re Levi’s mother, right?” you guessed, “I thought you looked familiar on the first day because you look exactly like Levi.”

“I am.” Kuchel smiled at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“You had to rest.”

“But this is all probably just happening in my head.” you said. “Right?” but she did not answer.

“It might be.” she nodded, “I want you to know one thing before you go. I want to thank you for everything you did for my son. Levi was everything to me,” tears appeared in her eyes, “and now that I know he has someone like you, to love him, I can rest in peace.”

You did not know what to answer so you just went and wrapped her around your arms.

“Thank you for taking care of my Levi.” Kuchel thanked you again, “and for naming your child after me. You are just too pure for this world.” she backed away, “There’s someone else who would like to see you if it’s ok with you.”

“Oh. Mh… sure.” You agreed seeing another woman walking toward you.

“This is Eren’s mother.” Kuchel whispered before leaving you alone with her.

“Y/N, it’s really nice to meet you.” Carla greeted you smiling.

“Hi.” you answered timidly. “It’s–.”

“Thank you. I was really worried Eren would have to grew up lonely, without a motherly presence around him, but seeing you with him makes me feel better. I know you have your own child now, but–.”

“I love Eren.” you reassured her. “I love all of them as if they were my own. You don’t have to be worried anymore.”

Then, you suddenly felt your strength leaving you body and collapse on the floor.

——————————

Levi never left you. He would occasionally leave to shower, eat, feed Kuchel and put her to sleep, but as soon as it was over, he would rush back to you.

“Levi you should sleep a little bit.” Erwin said during one of his visits.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see her lying on the ground, with her blood everywhere. Except in my dreams, she is not alive. I can’t sleep like that. I– I can’t sleep without her.” Levi explained.

“I’m sure she’s going to wake up soon.” Erwin tried to comfort Levi.

The cadets were lifeless too. None of them wanted to get up in the morning, a lot of them could not sleep at night either.

“I can’t lose another mom.” Eren told Mikasa one night.

“You won’t. We won’t.”

Armin stayed at the library very often. It was the place where you first talked to each other – where you two bonded together. Jean would just overwork himself, trying not to think about you. Which was not successful – he would secretly visit you every time Levi went to put Kuchel to bed.

“Please wake up soon, because I miss you a lot.” Jean would tell you every night.

Connie would help Sasha taking care of Kuchel when Levi could not. Hange and Erwin stayed with Levi most of the time. Your parents and your brother visited when they could, helping as much as they could, but everyone just wanted you to wake up.

Mikasa tried to be strong for her friends – she would be comforting them if they cried or if they needed to talk. But she did not talk to anyone. Two weeks after the accident, during dinner, Mikasa broke down crying without any reason.

“Mikasa! Are you ok?” Sasha quickly took her outside, with the rest of her friends following them.

No one knew what to do. So, they just all sat around her, waiting for Mikasa to calm down on her own.

“Don’t follow me.” Mikasa said when she stood up.

She rapidly walked to your room and sat next to you.

“I miss you, mom.” Mikasa sobbed quietly. “I really miss you a lot.”

Mikasa stopped her crying when she saw Levi with Kuchel entering the room.

“It’s ok.” Levi said. “You can cry.”

“I’m fine.” Mikasa responded.

“Do you want me to leave you alone for another minute?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Most nights, Levi would just rest his head on your bed, and hold your hand and then talk to you.

“Kuchel comes sometimes to see you because she misses you. I do too. A lot.”

“This week I slept for five hours in total, which is better than last week.”

“Please wake up. I miss your voice, and I feel like I’m going to get crazy talking alone.”

“Please, don’t leave me alone.”

——————————

You spent three weeks without waking up. When you first opened your eyes, it was night. And it was one of those rare nights where Levi would be asleep. You could see how tired Levi was with the dark bags under his eyes. You really wanted to let him sleep but you were also really thirsty.

“Levi.” you grunted which just made him turn his head around. Then you tried to shake him a little, but you did not have any strength in you. Then you suddenly started to cough loudly which immediately woke up Levi.

“Y/N?” Levi asked astonished. “Am I dreaming again?”

“No. Please,” you continued to talk with a low voice, “I want water.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back, just don’t go back to sleep ok.”

“Ok.”

Levi came out of his room and took a deep breath before going to take a glass of water. After drinking water and eating the food you parents recently brought, you felt so much better.

“Do you want some?” you asked Levi.

“I’m ok.”

“You should sleep more, you look tired.” You told him once you were done eating.

“Are you sure you’re fine? I can go and wake up the doctor.” Levi asked you again ignoring your statement.

“Levi, I’m fine. You on the other side–.” but you stopped when you saw Levi started to cry again.

Levi quickly lay down next to you, hiding his face in your chest.

“Let’s sleep and talk in the morning ok?” you said.

In the morning, Levi was the first one to wake up. He thought that he dreamt about last night, but you quickly woke up after he did. Levi helped you take a real shower, and changed you before letting you lay down on your own bed. It was more comfortable than the one in the medical spot.

When Levi went to lay next to you, his bedroom door flew open with Jean out of breath.

“Mom she disappe–.” but stopped instantly after seeing you. “Mom?”

“Jean!” you opened your arms so he could hug you.

“You’re here! You’re– you’re really here, awake, alive!” Jean shouted happily. “I have to go and tell the others!”

“Where’s Kuchel?” you suddenly asked Levi.

“She’s still sleeping, she never wakes up early.”

Your conversation was cut short when all the cadets barged in. There was a lot of crying. Very soon after, Hange and Erwin also came in.

“I’m so glad to see you again.” Hange hugged you.

“It’s good to you too. Erwin come give me a hug too!”

After a morning of catching up with everyone, you and Levi went to see Kuchel. She was already up when you entered the room.

“Hello.” you picked Kuchel up.

“Ma-ma!” Kuchel laughed.

“Oh, I missed you so much.” you hold her tightly.

After seeing Kuchel, you had to leave and meet your doctor to check on you. But Levi decided to bring Kuchel with you because as she saw you leaving, she started to cry.

“She definitely won’t be leaving you any time soon.”

The doctor advised you to continue to rest for another month before going back to any kind of activities. For dinner, the kids insisted on eating with you which you agreed to obviously.

“You should eat more.” Mikasa told you, giving you half of her meal.

“Here, you should take my bread too.” Connie said.

After a lively dinner, the kids spent the evening playing with Kuchel while Levi and you just sat there and watched them.

“Aren’t you tired?” Levi asked you.

“No. Stop worrying about me. I would tell you if I was tired.” you said taking his hand.

“Mom, can we sleep over tonight please?” Eren asked.

“No.” Levi answered.

“Of course you can, just bring your sleeping bags and join us in our bedroom.” You quickly added.

“Why?” Levi complained.

“I can’t say no to them.”

“I can.”

“Just this once, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

At night, everyone fell asleep rather quickly except for you. You tried to close your eyes and sleep, but you could not.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Levi whispered.

“Sorry, I can sleep elsewhere if–.”

“No, if you’re not there I won’t sleep. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you want to go and take a walk outside?”

“You should sleep instead of doing this.”

“I won’t be able to sleep now that I know you can’t.”

Levi put on his long coat and you did the same before leaving quietly the room. You both sat down outside on the grass.

“I–.” you started, “I almost died.” you said out loud laughing dryly.

“Y/N, if you want to cry, it’s ok. I’ll be here.”

“N– no.” but then immediately started to cry uncontrollably.

Levi immediately took you in his arms and let you cry for as long as you needed. You calmed down after fifteen minutes of crying but stayed in Levi’s arms.

“Are you feeling better now?” Levi asked you.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s ok too. Do you want to go back and try to sleep?”

“Yes.”

Levi took your hand and you both walked back to your bedroom. Once you were both comfortably set in bed you put your head on his chest.

“I love you Levi Ackerman.” you said looking at him blush slightly.

“I… love you… too.” Levi responded trying to avoid your gaze.

“Ew my parents are being disgustingly in love.” Jean commented looking away.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Levi asked him.

“I was thirsty but I’m not anymore.”

“Goodnight Jean.” you told him before closing your eyes.

“Goodnight mom.”

After that incident, the kids started to be more and more protective of you outside the walls, by always being behind you. Levi would never be too far away as well. Eren was always ready to transform into a titan to protect you. But nothing too bad happened after this.

—————————

—————————

I have a tiny part 2 where Levi gets nightmares about that incident, but never talks about it sigh Y/N. Reader eventually found out and Levi finally talks about it. It would probably be short though.

Have a nice day!! And remember, you are incredible!

MASTERLIST

[itsthe-neo-zone]

[03:18PM] ~ Park Jongseong x Reader, Apocalypse au

You didn’t want to live with the misery of regretting everything.

But that all went out the window as soon as the apocalypse began.

2 weeks, it’s been 13 whole days and 12 nights since the whole world decided to end itself.

The reason? An outbreak, a malicious deadly disease terraforming the earth in its own way. Killing everyone and everything with it. And when you say terraforming you mean turning us all against each other.

You regretted waking up that Wednesday morning, regretted getting out of bed, not hugging your mother in your arms longer and giving your family a proper farewell.

You were in school when it happened your district sounding the sirens, mid-week morning meaning you were in the dinner halls, you heard the sirens and all hell broke loose, the diners small tv monitor picked up an emergency broadcast.

Shaking your head subconsciously you drifted your mind away from what happened. It had been difficult thinking the past few days, even eating was becoming a luxury at times.

Like now, you’ve been wandering empty suburb streets looking for something to sustain yourself, where you were looked to be like a neighbouring district, but you weren’t sure, the sign posts were all ripped down to make any form of defence weapon, supplies were scarce at this point.

The scent on you was horrid but not as putrid as the stench of rotting corpses filing the earth. You stopped turning to look around you. The street was dusted with ruined houses all damaged and crumbled to the grounds.

Maybe you could crash into an abandoned one, maybe there was food and maybe you’d finally be able to use an actual bathroom. Your stomach grumbled with delight at the thought of food.

As you were about to pull the rusting metal rod in your hand towards the nearest property you heard a shrieking ear deafening pop,

The blood hit your brain, adrenaline began quickly building up inside you, like a band slowly stretching about to snap, your heart rattling in your chest. It tightened slightly. You swayed slightly from the shock of adrenaline hitting your numb body.

You swiftly turned to see nothing behind you but a pelleted bullet, someone around you had a weapon, and their target? You.

You began seeing the blurred edges of your sight return a sign to take response. Fight or flight. You chose the latter feeling weaker than expected. Heading outwards past the last few properties your best hope was to lose your hunter out in the wilderness.

Brushing past leaves twigs and the thicket of the edges of the lush greenery you low down once you’re no longer hearing bullets trailing after you. It was quiet

Almost too quiet to be normal. You push yourself up against a tree, straining your breath to regulate faster than it should. You regretted being stupid to do that too as you felt the persisting tickle at the back of your throat.

It let a much needed cough to begin crawling up your oesophagus. Shutting your eyes for a moment you stiffened your lips slightly holding it back. Why now of all times, you’d been surviving fine…

You could hear a slight crunch of foliage under careful feet, slowly creeping up on you.

You’d be done for this time if they did have a weapon. Trembling fingers dug into the metallic rod in your palms, they’d make indents from how hard you were gripping.

Feeling your chest tighten a little. The metal was starting to feel slippery in between clammy fingers but you held it to your face keeping your stance ready.

You were scared, no, terrified even. But that didn’t mean you were going to give up so easily. You wanted to survive, you had to.

Ironic.

A few weeks you were ready to give up on life itself.

As you sighed, you prepared to turn and show yourself but as you made a move you felt something restrict your breath and pull you away from the edge of the tree. You didn’t have your hand on your mouth though.

It was a foreign feeling but it was something you greeted with open arms, it was warm, and you forgot the caress of another on your cold stiff body.

Caress of another? It wasn’t my hands.

Gunshots sounded across the clearing you hid from. Disturbing screeches of birds fleeted from above. A harsh thump fell to the floor. A limp body.

But it wasn’t yours. You still had a chance.

Eyes widening, you registered the figure behind you keeping you hold in a strong grip.

The surging boost of energy you had left pushed you to kick with your feet. Backwards tripping up your attacker. The gunshots stopped but you were sure it was them, not just one but 2, maybe more…

The figure fell back unable to balance themselves but you were pulled back, you pushed yourself out of their hold, they pulled away regained their stance before attacking you from your side,

the male twisted his arm around your head and the other at your waist holding your arms down. He was agile and had strength but you managed to be faster. Quickly thinking, you moved.

Digging your elbow into their side hitting them right beneath their rib cage.

Bingo,

you heard a slight grunt they pushed away from you trying to recover.

You turned grabbing the rod, eyes shaking to survey the sight before you. It was just one, you swing your arms back getting ready to attack.

“Stop!” A strained call out towards your direction, but you faltered, it wasn’t for you? He directed it behind you falling back slightly. You turned to see another male.

Eyes trained like he was about to pounce on his prey. What was more horrifying was the gun now in his hold pointed directly at you.

“Don’t, Jake, she’s harmless.”

His arms stayed firmly ahead of him holding the weapon. “Harmless my ass, you were about to lose your head,” his fingers wavered.

“Just listen to me.” The guy stood up. You noticed the tattered and beaten up clothes they wore, rips and smears all over each article. Dried blood splattered across parts of their body. Judging by the colour it wasn’t from today.  

The combat boots the two wore made you think twice about setting down your weapon as you remained in your stance.

But their eyes and faces showed different,

They were anxious, in pain, alert like you.

“Idiot.” He dropped his arms. Mumbling before walking towards the other who was now slowly guiding himself down by supporting himself on the tree.

His face was etched with strain. And for a second you felt a pang of regret. You shrugged the feeling away watching the two converse.

“Are you survivors?” you swayed slightly, pressing forward kept your feet stable you regrated the shakiness your voice had, first people you spoke to in a while and you sound like you were about to cry.

“Just barely,” one huffed, “As I said he was about to lose his head.” The one named Jake turned from tending to his friend and shot you a dirty glare.

Jakes eyes were intense and focused, he didn’t flit nor shy away. Pressing further. You subconsciously step back, eyes looking past him and towards his friend.

“I had to protect myself.” You pull your arms downwards stepping out of the position and lowering your guard slightly.

“Mhm, sure.” He muttered. He turned back lifting the others shirt. A long tear in the seamless skin ran down the males side. It wasn’t bleeding, it looked like it was an old scar. Just barely healed.

“You’re, fine,”

“She had, shit, every right to do that.” The other caught his breath then spoke.

“Right.” Jake pressed his lips into a thin line. It looked like he wasn’t having any of that, his jaw clenched, he was stopping himself from speaking any further.

Standing up and walking past you. He glanced at you up and down before moving back to the clearing.

“Sorry about that,” the boy sitting at the bottom of the tree pushed himself to try getting to his feet, you stared cautiously your fingers tingling to help him, so now you were starting to get your humanity back? Where was this feeling a few days ago?

The fliting sound of slipping feet against the rough terrain is what brought your focus back as you moved to assist him. He groaned.

His eyes caught yours, cautious and foreign, was this just the way he looked at people him or was he anxious to be around you.  

“I’ll … uh.” Your hand waivered, before holding his free arm. “I’ll help you.”

“Um… Thanks.” He nodded clenching his jaw he pushed himself up with your help.

“I’m jay.” His lips pressed into a thin line the edges pushing upwards slightly as he nodded, he stayed silent for a second. You figured out this was an introduction a few seconds late, sucking in a quick breath you mumbled.

“Ah i- yeah…. I’m _____ .” your face tensed up. Jay flashed you a lopsided smile.

“Sorry about earlier, I had to make sure you didn’t interfere while Jake finished up with—uh…”

“Were you the—” you paused. How were you going to ask him if he was the one that was chasing you. How do you word that without sounding weird. “the… I was—”

“You mean the gunshots?” he mumbled.

You quickly nodded giving yourself a mini headache at the fast movement.

“No, we were… in the distance, yeah, when we heard the sound. Just me and Jake.” He lead you to the clearing.

You were slowly introduced into the new space, you watched Jake push the body dressed in black to the side. There was someone following you his face hidden beneath the mask.

“Found all this.” He kicked at the floor with his foot. “shit thing is he’s probably a trained assassin.” He nodded towards the pile of weaponry. “All in his bag, some on him,”

Jake stood up facing Jay. “We need to fucking leave, where there’s one there’s always more.” He lifted a few small items. Something that looked like a smaller loaded gun, testing its scope he tucked it into his pocket.

“Here, take that.” He threw a shielded knife at jay and grabbed a larger gun and handed it to the male next to you.

“lets go.” He walked past Jay and farther out.

As Jay turned he caught your eyes, he saw the anxious glimmer, the shiver you tried to hid and the fact that your fingers were digging in to your palm.

“Our chances of survival are bigger…” he stated. It cut you out of the worry trail your brain was starting to follow,

“Together than apart.”

You caught his eyes. Jay was trying to be as friendly as he could, you could see a glimmer of hope, something you lost within the first 3 days.

“Are you-, I’m sorry I’m a bit confused right— shit, I’ll just ask… are you asking me to…”

“You should come with us.” You silently thanked him for putting you out of your misery. Shocked he was asking you this. And relieved to have met people you could somewhat trust.

“What?”

“HEY! Hurry up if you want to fucking live dude!” Jake was already way ahead.

“Gimme a second!” he sighed, calling out.  

“I was wondering if you wanted to join us. That is if you’re not with anyone right now.”

You could almost cry from the surge of relief you felt. It was almost draining the life out of you fending for yourself. And night-time was when it got its worst alone. No more going crazy talking to yourself.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You voiced out, he smirked, hearing your voice so relieved.

“Glad to hear.” He nodded towards the direction they were headed. Leading you further ahead.

“Do you know how to wield a gun?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll teach you don’t worry.”

~~~

(thinking of truning this idea into a fic what do you think?)

Seola - It’s the neo zone © All rights reserved.

[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!

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo 2

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

First Chapter

Warnings: 18+ Oral M receiving, daddy kink, someone walks in

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Two

The light streaming in through the window woke you up. You curled up in the soft silk sheets, listening to Hannibal’s hums coming from the bathroom. Deciding there wasn’t much more to do than doze, you did just that, taking your time to enjoy your Monday morning. His bed was much softer than the hand me down one you kept at home. You really could lay here forever.

It wasn’t until the bed dipped that you opened your eyes. He was all ready dressed and groomed to the nines. The navy sweater and grey trousers seemed as homey as the man allowed himself to be.

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted.

“Good morning, darling.” Hannibal cupped your face gently, smiling when you leaned into his touch. “It’s marvelous to see you so relaxed, it’s not a sight I get to see often. You’re divine.”

“Devine,” you scoffed in disbelief, “I haven’t had a glimpse of it yet, but I’m sure I look nothing less than a wreck.”

Hannibal’s thumb stroked your jaw, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “When it’s my fault you look so utterly debauched, I can’t lie and say my pride doesn’t play a factor.”

“There it is,” you couldn’t help rolling your eyes as you dropped a kiss to his hand, “Always taking pride in everything you do. However, much to your dismay, I’m going to have to destroy your masterpiece. A shower does sound perfect right now.”

“Of course, I took the liberty of running a bath for you.”

“Sweet man,” you smiled fondly at him.

Bringing you closer he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. As always, he left you wanting more. This time though, you didn’t chase after him. The night of fun was done. All that was left was the goodbye to wrap up the event completely. Some part of you wanted to push that time back.

You hummed lightly, “You enjoy making it hard to not miss you.”

“All the sweeter when we reunite.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He tapped your cheek playfully, “Take your bath. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”

Getting out of bed, you stretched. Hannibal’s fingertips ghosted along your spine. “From the looks of it, you’d be happier to help.”

“Simply admiring… You truly are a thing of beauty.” he squeezed your hip before taking his hands away, “I’ll leave some of my things for you to wear on the bed.”

Walking into the bathroom, you were taken by the soft scent of nearly familiar perfumes you’d wear, his cologne lingered ever so slightly. A perfect mix of the two. Looking in the mirror, you surveyed the wreckage. Runny mascara, smudged over lipstick, and rather large hickies scattered across your body did make you look like the definition of debauched. The neck didn’t have as much damage, but covering the few there would still be a pain. So much for keeping things hidden from others. Grabbing the pack of makeup wipes on the counter, you started cleaning up knowing you’d find it to be too much of a chore after the bath.

It was welcoming when you finally got into the still warm bath. Hot water made you relax further as your body let go of the last bit of tension it held. The products seemed to match the ones you usually used, if not make yours seem like cheap dupes. Your lip quirked at that realization, the gentleman seemed to have had ulterior motives after all.

You took your time washing up, deciding time to relax was sparse so you may as well take advantage of the small time frame you did have. A soft knock at the door pulled you back to the present. “Afraid I drowned?” You asked teasingly as the door opened.

Hannibal offered a quiet chuckle as he walked over and perched on the side of the tub, “Asleep more like.”

You didn’t bother hiding yourself. He’d probably be able to draw you from memory by now if you were being honest. “I do have a question.”

“What is it, darling?”

You gestured to the soaps, “Did you have any plans in particular for our night?”

“Not exactly. The night ended perfectly- you wouldn’t mind me saying-” Hannibal tapped your chin affectionately when you smiled, “but there wasn’t anything other than pure intentions when I purchased them. The scent reminded me of you and I thought if you drank too much or there was a storm, those kinds of things, it would be good to have something for you to use. Sending you out into possible dangers was never something left to chance. You’d be safer with me.”

“Ever the good host,” you said, taking his word for it, “Thank you for thinking of me, Hannibal.”

“Always.” Hannibal rolled up his sleeves, moving to sit behind you. “Lean back for me.”

You turned to look at him questioningly, “What are you doing?”

“I find it very important to take care of my partners just as much after. You didn’t give me much of a chance last night. While I’m here, I may as well make myself useful.”

Allowing him to turn you forward again before he grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. You sighed heavily as he massaged the shampoo in, his fingers working magic. “You took care of me,” you argued, “Asked me what I wanted and gave it to me. I didn’t want anything else.”

“It’s just as much for me as it is for you,” he stated, running some water through your hair, “I like to make sure nothing was too much or that you’re not telling me if it was.”

“I’m as good as I’ve been in a long time. Really. If I hadn’t wanted something to happen I would have stopped you. Though, if I had known things would have ended like this I would have stopped by when we had more time. Testing before winter break would have been all that much easier.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t be of service earlier,” he mused. “A difficult time that must have been for my sweet girl. Poor thing.”

The urge to sink into the water was strong as you felt the smallest bit of pride at the endearment paired with an equally small bout of jealousy that you shared it with his other partners. It was snuffed out quickly. Perhaps you’d entertain this for a while, but it wouldn’t last. He liked a life that was above and usually too stiff compared to your own. The pair of you weren’t meant to work long term and that was fine. A simple passing thing between friends was the most this would be.

-

Things went back to business as usual after that night. There weren't any intense feelings or need for Hannibal. There wouldn’t be any time to entertain the idea even if they had popped up. Not with this insane work piled on top of you and the final test you needed to study up on. The most you had seen him was in passing or when he’d drop off a meal every so often. Though you wouldn’t lie and say your mind hadn’t found itself wandering every so often.

There was nothing you could do about that, so instead you took shifts, grading work then studying. Rinse and repeating the cycle as long as you could handle it. Your head was pounding before you knew it, but all of this needed to be done. A little bit longer, you reminded yourself as you took a couple headache pills.

The buzzing of your phone vibrating on the desk startled you. “Hi, dad,” you sighed, stuck with this particular pain.

“Hey, pretty girl, how have you been?”

Pretty girl, you scoffed inwardly. You had to give him credit- at least he was pretending to be interested this time. That was rare. “Nothing much. Work. School. The usual. It’s been heavy lately.”

“Yeah, of course, things get like that. So listen, your mom and I are running real low late-“

“I already told you I wasn’t any good for money. I’m barely making ends meet as it is… I already sent you the last $600 I could,” you rested your head in your hands, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what the fuck do we send you to that school for,” he shouted, “It’s a waste of time. You’re not gonna make anything of yourself. All you do is waste fucking time. Everything we do for you and you just take it all for granted. What type of selfish bitch of a kid doesn’t try to help out her parents?”

“Yeah, dad, I take everything for granted. Putting myself through school should have been a breeze. Juggling school and two jobs? Simple fucking shit right? You should know, right? Wait… you couldn’t even raise your kid could you?” You snapped the stress getting to you. “Why the hell do you always do this to me?”

No response. He hung up. The truth of the matter seemingly too much for him. No. That was too much credit. He knew you wouldn’t send him anything. Try again some other time. Sighing you set the phone down. Your throat felt like it was closing and your head was pounding. A couple tears fell, soon followed by a quiet sob. You didn’t want anyone to see, but the stress was getting to you. Try as you might, you weren’t made of stone.

You hadn’t noticed when Hannibal had walked in for a usual evening check up. “Darling girl,” his accented voice was laced with worry as he walked toward you, “What’s wrong?” Hannibal crouched near your chair as he wiped away your tears.

“Everything went to my head. It’s nothing. I’m okay,” you swallowed thickly, as you attempted to stop the crying and sniffling, not meeting his eye just yet.

Hannibal grabbed your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “Nothing more?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, giving him a slight smile, “Just school and a headache. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it.”

He looked you over, not believing you but unwilling in prodding you further. “It seems a break is in order.”

“I can’t, Hannibal,” You gestured to the papers and books around the desk, “The sooner I’m done with all this the better. I just want to go home.”

Hannibal started to pick up your things, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer this time. “We’ll go to my office, you’ll eat, I’ll grade the work and ask you questions. Follow me.” Before you can get a word in, he turned heel, leaving you to quickly scramble behind him.

The office had the same comforting feel his home did. Though you weren’t sure many besides you felt comfort in his presence. Hannibal Lecter was by all means an intimidating man, even when you did feel like you were close to him. Closer now, you corrected thinking about the fading bruises under your shirt and the sweater he had let you borrow that you had yet to return. Still there was something about his presence that invoked a feeling of calm in you, even with that spike of something questionable. He seemed to always have all the answers and knew exactly what to do with any situation.

“Here,” Hannibal placed a Tupperware and drink on your side of the desk, “You really shouldn’t be spreading yourself so thin, love. It isn’t good for such a delicate thing.”

“I’m hardly delicate.” You grabbed the food giving him a grateful smile. “I’ve got it all handled. It’s just finals and everything stacked up. The future. I stumbled a bit, is all.”

Hannibal sat on his side and started shuffling through your papers. “Nonetheless, I wish you didn’t strain yourself so much.”

“Not all our days can be a nice weekend together,” you pecked at the salad, as much as you wanted to grab some papers off the stack you knew he would never allow it, “Life is still as frustrating as ever.”

“What did they say?” Hannibal asked, nipping the problem at the bud. If you wouldn’t start the conversation he would.

You sighed, “Something along the lines of ‘waste of time’ and ‘selfish bitch’ really wasn't the worst thing he's ever said. I was just already at my endpoint. I’m pretty sure if I dropped my pen I would have had a similar reaction.”

“Being at your end doesn’t justify mistreatment.”

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I don’t have it in me to argue anymore. Deaf ears and all that. What’s the point?”

“The point is making it known that you won’t tolerate that behavior.”

“I’m just tired and disappointed. A part of me is considering just going into the world on my own. The only family that really cares has passed on, what’s the point of hoping my parents would ever consider changing.” You coughed lightly, clearing your throat. This was too much of a therapy session for your taste. “I’ve already made it up in my head that I’m going to wait a year before getting back in school. You know, save any penny I can. These past four years even with aid and scholarship money has been hell. I’m going to be 24 and there’s still just so much to do.”

“I can’t say I envy you,” Hannibal shook his head, “The uncertainty in those years is unmatched.”

“It’s hard to imagine you uncertain of anything. You seem to always know exactly what to do.”

Hannibal scoffed lightly, “Only because time has granted me certain wisdoms. When I was younger I was lucky enough to appeal to someone with my artistic talent and stories of my past. Though I’d like to think it was the former that earned me my scholarship. I may not have had the exact struggles you did, but we’ve all been through situations we needed to push past. It comes in time. Once you get there, you’ll go through life with grace.”

“Well, I don’t have any reservations about using my past. Would you be my mentor?” You joked, for the most part.

“A five year forward request,” he mused, “Are you certain you’d enjoy me that much as a mentor?”

“Someone is gonna have to teach me the ropes,” you shrugged, “We’re more than comfortable with each other and I already know how pleasurable time with you can be, why not learn a couple of things from your infinite wisdom?”

His lip quirked, “Glad to know your thoughts are nothing less than wholesome.”

“Only the purest.”

You ate your dinner as he asked questions. It was a bit unfair, probably, you knew he had helped form the test. Then again, you knew your boss and it was more than likely all of Hannibal’s work. So this little run was sure to be a preview of what to expect. Still, the questions he asked were far from simple, despite how much you studied. Sometimes a raised brow would tell you, you needed to think again. Other times you’d get a soft praise thrown your way that would immediately make you think of when he was against you.

“A few more for me, darling girl. You’re doing so well.”

Your face heated up as you remembered the exact moment he said something nearly identical.

Hannibal looked at you over a paper, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re looking a bit distracted, are you alright?”

“You know what you did, jerk.”

“Do I?” He laughed.

You shook your head, “You’re unbelievable.”

Hannibal continued grading, rattling off questions off the top of his head. You mind however, wandered. Answering his questions absentmindedly, more preoccupied with memories than the matter at hand. The way his hands felt. His breath against your chest as he chased his high. The gentleness the morning after as he helped you into his clothes, giving you a last kiss before breakfast. A lingering regret at not getting to thank him back properly. He would be the perfect distraction now that you thought of it.

“I won’t help you if you prefer to daydream.”

“I wouldn’t be daydreaming if you didn’t decide to help me in the first place.”

“Touché.”

“Think I’m all done studying. I’m tired of it,” you sighed, stretching, “I want to do something else.”

Hannibal looked at you, brow raised. “What’s that sweet girl?”

You shook off some nerves. As much as the two of you had already done, he was still an intimidating man. His eyes followed as you stood and walked around the desk. Hannibal brought your hand up to his lips. You trailed it along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that just started coming in, buying yourself some time to steady yourself. A raised brow questioned what you’d do next, but otherwise he leaned into your touch.

“I wanted to thank you for everything. For how good you are to me.”

“I don’t expect anything in return,” he assured.

“Yeah, I know,” you sunk to your knees in front of him, tracing your fingertips up and down his thigh slowly, looking up at him, “but I want to take care of you too.”

He toyed with a strand of your hair, looking almost bored as he leaned back in his chair. “That isn’t necessary, little one, I enjoyed watching you.” Still there was a glint of something in his eye that told you he was interested, merely teasing with the show he just wanted something more from you.

You bit your lip, pondering at what he had deemed missing. The title. A thing that had slipped past your lips embarrassingly but one he had used with stupor throughout the night. Hands settling on his knees, you pushed them apart so you could settle there more comfortably. A pout, “Please, daddy, I’ve wanted to since we met.”

“Always an eager plaything,” he sighed checking the clock on the wall, “I suppose daddy can make some time for his girl.”

That was enough for you to start undoing his belt. Despite the bored act, his half hard cock betrayed him and told you exactly how much he had been interested. You palmed him through his boxers, he didn’t give you the pleasure of hearing anything from him, but that’s alright you didn’t mind earning it. Once you were satisfied with how hard he was, you pulled him out of the boxers. Leaning back on your knees you took it in, unsure if you could fit the length of it in completely.

Hannibal took in your hesitation. Using a finger he tilted your head up to look at him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t okay with it now. A change of mind is more than alright.”

“No. It’s not that I want to,” you licked your lips, as if to prove how okay you were you wrapped your hand around him, thumb tracing a prominent vein, “I was just wondering if it would fit all the way in.”

He let out an amused huff, shaking his head, “I’m sure you’ll try your best, ridiculous girl.”

Leaning in you pressed a kiss to the head. Just a little more time to work up the courage. You kissed along the shaft, mapping out every vein. Your tongue traced its way back up, catching a taste of precome that had beaded on the head. An encouraging hand threaded itself in your hair, never pushing for more than you were willing to give.

A knock at the door, interrupts the scene.

“A moment,” Hannibal calls out to the person. “Get under the desk,” he said as he started to hide away any evidence that he was with anyone. Your appearance wasn’t completely ruined, not to his taste at least, but the messed up lipstick and slightly ruined hair wouldn’t take much mental work for someone to come to the correct conclusion.

Taking his instruction you got under the desk as he fixed his own appearance, suit jacket over his arm to hide himself. Walking over to the door, “Mr. Henderson,” he greeted, pleasantly, “Please, come in.”

“Hannibal, sorry about stopping by so late,” you heard the door close as the two walked over.

“Nonsense. If anything, the company is welcomed.” Hannibal took his seat, pulling his chair in close, to make sure you were hidden away.

“I was actually going to see if I could convince you to stay.”

Mischief sparked as you grew bored with their droning conversation. Thankfully he had decided to get rid of his belt fully. It didn’t take much to free him again. He spread his legs, attempting to give you the most space possible under the cramped desk. You pumped him in your hand, getting him back to how you had him. The other hand tugged softly at his balls. You wouldn’t be able to put him in your mouth properly with this angle. Instead you satisfied yourself with sucking on the sides of his cock.

“The students adore you,” the other man countered whatever Hannibal had said, “Honestly your classes are killing Jacob’s with every exam.”

“I take great pride in my students. They are an extension of myself. How well they do is a direct reflection of my skill as a teacher,” he sighed, “I have a couple of people in mind that could fill my roll, I’ll ask people to see who’s interested.”

“Still Jacob’s is slacking too much, I may take away his student aid privileges. I see her around here more often than I ever see him.”

You gave a particularly hard suck to a seemingly sensitive spot as his hips had stuttered ever so slightly. No evidence of any misconduct came from his voice as he said, “Oh her? She is a very good girl. Motivated. Never complains about a thing.”

You felt Hannibal throb against your mouth. Taking a break you leaned your head on Hannibal’s thigh, as fun as it would to mess with him more, you knew he took great pride in his social image. Besides, you had wanted Hannibal’s full attention anyway. His hand came down to your hair, subtly showing that he was still paying attention to you to the best of his abilities.

They talked a while longer, before Henderson finally left. Hannibal had pulled out a stack of papers, motioning like he was going to work on grading, and politely asked him to lock the door as he left. When it was clear he pushed his chair away from the desk. You made your way out smiling at him.

“Someone seems very happy with themselves.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“But did you ask permission?” Hannibal asked as worked himself lazily.

You faltered slightly under his gaze, “Well...no.”

“And do you think you deserve any type of reward for that stunt?”

“...I hope so.”

“I’ll forgive it,” he decided, “only because you’re so eager and we never set ground rules. But now it’s on my terms.”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded obediently, not wanting to receive one of Hannibal's punishments just yet.

Hannibal used your hair to pull you closer. You stumbled on your knees catching yourself on his thighs. “Since you were so unsure if you could fit in daddy earlier, after that little stunt, I’m sure you’re feeling better now. Aren’t you?”

The hand in your hair pushed you down. You closed your mouth around the tip. Hannibal groaned quietly, letting you work your way down. Bobbing your head you took more of him deeper every time, but those last two inches were proving difficult. Gripping your hair, he pulled you off of him.

His breath was coming in quick pants, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you need help, darling?”

“I can’t fit it daddy.” It came out in a breathless whine.

“Yes, you can. Be a good little mouth and let me do the work.”

Again he pushed you onto his cock. This time he took control. His hand kept you in place as he thrusted his hips up. Without the hesitation you had, he fit himself in quickly. Grinding into your mouth he let you choke around it for a while before pulling you up for air.

“See?” He choked out as he used you again, “Fucking perfect mouth… Daddy’s good girl… taking care of me like she asked.”

His grunted praises and moans were enough to excuse the tear prickling your eyes. Over and over he used your mouth to it’s extent. Seeming to enjoy it most when you did choke on him. Hannibal stopped before he came. Pulling you up off the floor and onto his lap. Wiping away the stray tears that had fallen.

“You’re too good for me.” He kissed your cheek.

“You haven’t finished.” You caught your breath as you curled into his chest. His cologne comforted you. The increasingly familiar scent carved a special place in you.

“I’ll finish later,” he promised, dropping another kiss onto your head, “At the moment, I want to make sure you’re alright. I got carried away.”

“I’m not porcelain, Hannibal,” you intertwined your fingers with his, “I like it when you’re in charge… It gives me a chance to not think of anything.”

“Even so these situations require a lot of trust from your partner.”

You shrugged, as you decided to be honest, “At the moment you seem to be the only person I trust. Besides, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“I can’t see you ever doing that.”

That night Hannibal had taken you home. You received the same treatment you had received the first night you stayed at his house. Mostly you thought it was an apology of some sort for treating you roughly in his office. By some good grace both of you had classes later in the day, allowing you to enjoy the softer side of Hannibal in the morning again.

A new sweater of his joined the one that resides on your futon. You hadn’t thought twice about packing them away when you emptied your apartment out.

-

Life in New York was eventful to say the least. Different but fun. It had been six months since you had graduated. Your friend from high school shared an even shabbier apartment together. You made a couple friends. Picked up jobs at a bar and a bookstore.

“You’re not any fun,” Alex complained as she adjusted her makeup, “You never want to go out with me.”

“I’m tired,” you complained. “Anyway, why would I want to go to a bar when I work at one?”

“To wreak hell on someone that’s stuck in your usual gig.”

“Have fun with the guys.”

She attempted to pull you off the couch a couple more times to no avail. In truth you were happy to have a moment of peace. All honesty she was the driving force in you actually living your life and not just working the entire time. You really did love her for all of that and the experiences you had. However there were times for breaks to be had from everything. And tonight was one of them.

You showered, got dressed in a sweater and shorts, heated up some leftovers. Throwing on a bad 80’s horror flick, you spent your night in splendor. A break was rare and you were gonna use your relaxation time to its extent. Sleep overtook you sometime in the night, only to be woken up by the annoying shrill sound of your phone.

“Al, baby, I love you so damn much, but if you’re gonna bitch at me about not going out tonight. I just might be tempted to murder you,” you muttered sleepily, “I could get away with it.”

“Sweet girl, is that any way to speak to your friends?” A voice you hadn’t heard in a while asked, disappointment clear in his tone.

“Hannibal,” you said lamely, slightly ashamed that that was the first thing he heard from you in months. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. It’s… It’s been a while.”

“It has been,” he agreed, “In fact, I called to ask if you would like to come to a dinner party.”

You looked at the clock, noting just how late it had been. “You called at two in the morning to ask me to a dinner party?”

“I’ve been busy and you didn’t leave an address for an invitation. It was… spur of the moment.”

“I missed you too,” you sighed, deciding to be the one to voice it, “Yeah, I’d love to go over.”

“Are you planning on staying with me?”

You sighed dramatically, “Suppose I can give a lonely old man some company. What, you couldn’t find anyone as entertaining as me in Baltimore?”

“I’ve got specific tastes.”

“Is that right?”

Alex walked in, the last part of the conversation hitting her ears and the alcohol in her system making her louder. “Is that the daddy? Does he know he’s ruined men for you? Ugh, can you get him over here to loosen you up? I’d appreciate it that so much.”

“I never said ruined, I just sa-“ you realized Hannibal was still on the phone, “Just please, go take a shower, I’ll make you anything you want to eat if you promise to stay quiet.”

Surprisingly she complied, only saying egg sandwich with cheese and bacon in response.

“Ruined?”

“Couldn’t let that skate by?”

“You’re the one talking about me.”

You coughed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve got specific taste too. Just something happened with someone and I don’t know, I couldn’t get into it that same way. Like with you. They needed me to tell them exactly how… It was just awkward. It wasn’t satisfying. They were nice though.”

“You compare my experience to their experience inexperience,” he deduced. “You enjoy knowing I’ve got everything under control.”

You tried to shake away the blush. “So it seems we’re stuck in similar positions.”

“We are.”

“Hannibal,” you heard someone call out, “When were you thinking of joining us? We didn’t bother you so much you had to leave us that long.”

He asked him for a moment.

“Seems like someone wants your attention,” you commented.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. Just friends having fun right? It would be hypocritical considering I just told you of my night with someone else. As long as it’s nothing serious with whoever that was, we’re fine.”

“They’re nothing. Someone’s too loud nephew. In fact I think he’s rather rude. You know I can’t stand people like that.”

“You’ll survive. Get home safe.”

“I’ll send you the directions in a moment. Have a goodnight little one.”

“‘Night daddy,” the long unused term of endearment fell from your lips easily.

“‘Night daddy,” Alex sighed dreamily from the bathroom door, “God, is the dick really that good? How could it be?”

You hung up the phone. “Can you please not do that next time? He’s really particular about things.”

She raised her hands up in defense. “Whoa, there. He can handle a little joke at his expense when he’s already been down your throat. Now where’s my sandwich?”

“I’m serious Al.” You sighed when you got up from the couch to get to work on your promise. “He makes me feel like I need to be all proper.”

“You’re fine, doll. A dime if I’ve ever seen one. I’m not gonna ruin this for you, if he randomly decided to call you this late,” she took a seat on the counter, taking the water you handed her gratefully, “Do you want that to be a long term thing?”

“Nah,” you threw the bread into the toaster, “I couldn’t live his life. Sure, I like him and I do think he’s fun to hang around. But it just feels like something that will simmer down eventually. We’ll probably meet up a couple more times and it’ll be done. It’s not like we do anything more than end up in bed and sweet talk.”

“I’m telling you, we’d be set if you asked him to be your sugar daddy. Please ask him to take care of you and be his call girl.”

“How about you?” You asked, changing the topic, “Any pretty girls?”

“This one chick at work,” she shook her head, “Fucking goddess of a woman, LN, I’m telling you. I got it bad. She’s got me waiting for her with her coffee orders in the morning like some kind of obedient little puppy.”

“You know her coffee order.”

“Exactly!”

“How’s the commitment issues?”

“I’m gonna have to fucking work through them. Unlike someone, I think I wanna try out the long term thing.”

“Hey!” You cracked the eggs into the oil, “I’m just not up for it right now.”

“Work him out of your system. We’re supposed to be having fun this year.”

You sighed, “I’m trying.”

“I’m telling you we find you a decent lay. You won’t need to be fucking around with that guy.” Your phone chimed. Alex grabbed it off the counter. “The devil works fast doesn’t he? Address and day of the party. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Says he’ll buy you a cute little number.”

“No, tell him I got it.”

“Thank you, daddy. I’ll make it worth your wild. Wink. Send.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I still think he’s ugly,” she shrugged, tossing your phone over, “May as well get a cute dress out of sleeping with him.”

“He’s not ugly. I’ve seen the people you’ve brought home,” You scoffed, handing over the plate.

“Reggie is a fun time! Fuck I miss Reggie.”

“Work chick,” you reminded her.

“Right right.” She argued before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Fine, we’ve both had our questionable older partner moments. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not.”

“Still never called her mommy and that’s a win in my books.”

“I should have never told you that,” you laughed, “I fucking hate you man.”

She pinched your cheek affectionately, “You had your chance to get rid of me. The return policy ran out. You’re stuck. Congratulations.”

“How long until you expire?”

Alex pretended to count it through. “We’re looking at at least 50 years more, if we’re lucky.”

You hummed, “Are you accounting for possible sickness or accidents?”

“I’m immortal for 50 years in between. No arguments at this time please.”

Next Chapter

Tag list: @charc0al-grey

[secretariatess]

I See Fire Part 2

So here is part 2 of I See Fire.  Here is part 1.

This is the second part of an Inklings Challenge story, but since I didn’t finish the story by the challenge’s deadline, I added it as part of my NaNo project.  So it’s way past deadline, but I’m tagging it with both given its connection.

This part is longer than the part 1, but it is also the final part.  I take no responsibilities for inconsistencies because I said so.

So enjoy, and please don’t be afraid to tell me what you think.  Story after break.

           Sequioa stepped through a cluster of ferns and stopped short, gasping sharply.  Turning back to the others, he said grimly, “It’s not pretty.”

           Everblue leaned to the side to see past Great Oak.  She caught a glimpse of what was ahead between Sequoia and the trees next to him: Multiple rotting tree carcasses.

           Her breath caught in her throat as she processed what she was seeing. Without much thought, she slowly stepped forward, past Great Oak and Ceylon, past Sequoia, and into the little space.

           It had very clearly been a nymph cluster.  Thick trunks had fallen over, unable to bear up their own weight anymore.  Trunks of younger nymphs had gaping holes in their blackening bark, revealing soft insides already inhabited by fungi.  It was evident by all the remains that the only cause of this was the blight.  Everblue scanned the area, desperately searching for one that was still alive, no matter how far away into the illness it may be.  But the only living trees were the quiet ones.

           She sank to her knees, not wanting to believe what she was seeing.  She wanted to call out, to unmute her voice and call out to receive a response from someone possibly hidden.  But she knew, deep down she knew that no one would respond.

           Oh, who had known that the Thicket had suffered so badly?

           She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Sequoia ask softly, “Are you alright?”

           For a moment she didn’t answer.  The answer was that she wasn’t.  She wasn’t alright, and she could never be alright knowing about this.  The Lumberhome had loses, but they had yet to see any of their clusters so thoroughly wiped out.

           But instead of telling him that, she said, “Don’t touch any of them. I don’t want you getting sick.”

           She surprised herself with how steadily she said it, despite the feeling that she was going to choke at any moment.  She looked behind her to see if Ceylon and Great Oak had heard her.

           They had slowly stepped into the space behind Sequoia, mouths open as they stared at the horror before them.  The sight before them had put them at a loss for words.

           Sequoia said nothing.  He stayed where he was, hand still on her shoulder, until she moved out of her position.

           Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet.  When she was fully upright, she swayed slightly.

           Sequoia made sure she was steady before saying to them all, “I believe my suspicions are correct and that the blight lives here.”

           Everblue hugged herself, a part of her mind wanting to look as though the blight would come stepping out of the woods at that moment and the other part of her brain telling her not to in case it did.

           “Unfortunately, this might be a common sight for us,” Sequioa said with a note of bitterness.  “So we should prepare ourselves for coming across this again.”  Looking over the rotting trees with a pained expression, he finished, “But we should remember our goal in coming here is to end it.”  He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. Then he gestured for them to follow him, deeper into the Thicket.

           Slowly, the three followed suit, Ceylon and Great Oak still surveying their surroundings.  Everblue kept her head down, feeling her eyes watering up.

           It was irrational, deep down she knew, but she couldn’t but think if she had been there, perhaps she could have done something.  Was it really only last night that they were celebrating Sequoia’s victory over the Charu clan?  Was it really only last night that she and Laughingleaves were hanging out in the trees, giggling and tossing leaves?  And that entire time, an entire nymph cluster in the Thicket was already dead, forgotten. Perhaps even more clusters.

           It was sickening to know that they were so happy and celebratory not even thirty hours ago, and the Thicket still suffered.

           Even after they left the horror, none of them spoke.  All of them were too caught up in the thoughts regarding it. Wondering if the Thicket had been wiped out and all that remained were the quiet trees.  Wondering if they were too late to save anyone.

           While she was watching her footing, Everblue was not paying attention to where she was actually headed, trusting in her perception of the others around her to guide her to their undetermined location.  When Sequoia called out sharply, she jumped and looked up.  Before she could focus on her surroundings, Great Oak grabbed around the waist and tossed her to the side, knocking her into Ceylon and causing them both to crash to the ground.  Great Oak stumbled and fell the opposite way he had thrown Everblue.  Where he was only seconds before, a streak of brown landed, flattening on the ground before them.  As Sequoia rushed over, copper dagger out, the brown mass began rising up, taking a shape like theirs as it did so.

           It was a solid, and at the same it wasn’t.  Shadowlike, its form was fluid, features and details shifting as it moved. Two eyes opened, revealing a blackness Everblue had never encountered before, and never wished encounter again.  It turned to face Sequoia, a line forming underneath the eyes and splitting into a grin.

           Great Oak and Ceylon scrambled to their feet, reaching for the daggers and picks they had been given.  Unfortunately, it made them look woefully unprepared for this horror now before them.

           Everblue scooted herself backwards and out of the way of possible fighting. Her heart pounded inside her, her mind racing to find an answer to the question of what she should do.

           The nymphs with their pitiful excuses for weapons must have been just as a ridiculous sight for the creature before them, as its grin deepened.  “What do you think you’re going to do?” it taunted.  “Poke me? I can do much worse than that.”  It didn’t allow them time for a response. It began rising even more from the ground, using an unknown source from the very Thicket itself to make itself grow. In a matter of seconds, it towered over Sequoia, towering over even Great Oak, bending over to peer at their faces. It reached out a jagged hand towards Sequoia, its mouth opening either to taunt some more or to eat him.

           Sequoia didn’t give it a chance to do either.  Scowling, Sequioa jabbed his dagger into the oncoming hand.  Great Oak seized the opportunity to do the same.

           The creature shrieked, in rage, surprise, or pain, Everblue couldn’t tell.  Possibly all three.  It pulled back its hand, inspecting it while the shriek faded. Emitting a growling sound, it said, “If that is how you’re going to be . . . .”

           It flung its hand out again, this time so fast, Great Oak and Sequoia had no time to react.  With its other hand, which now resembled a claw, it slashed down at them.  Ceylon launched himself at the claw, wrapping his arms around the wrist and hacking away with his little pick.  Sequoia and Great Oak struggled to their feet to subdue the other arm and attack.

           The creature was distracted by their attempts and paid no attention to Everblue, even having its back to her.  Something her head clicked and she dropped to the ground, crawling her way closer to it.

           She had no idea if the sudden idea that came to her would actually work, but she couldn’t just watch the others attempt to fight off the thing without doing something. She didn’t want to wait and see if there was anything left of them for her heal.

           She came within arm’s length of it, and for a dizzying moment was paralyzed as she realized just how big it was.  Even from where she was originally standing, it was enormous.  But now that she could touch it, she felt a lot more vulnerable, a lot more open to attack.

           She fought back the desire to turn and flee, to let the others handle it. She took one of the waterskins and opened it, checking to make sure the creature was still too preoccupied with the fight.  With shaking hands, she reached out and began pouring.

           The cry was deafening.  It pulled away from the four of them, backing into some of the trees nearby.  It twisted around, still screeching in pain, trying to find the source of its pain.  Previously, the wounds inflicted by the daggers and picks had left no visible mark. But now a ghastly gloop dripped from holes on its arms and hands.  The creature also began shrinking in size.  It spotted Everblue on the ground, waterskin in hand.  It extended its bleeding hand, reaching right for her.  Ceylon jumped in the way, thrusting his pick into the hand.

           Fueled by its wrath at having been damaged so, it changed course and instead wrapped its claws around Ceylon, choking him.

           “Ceylon!” Everblue cried, leaping to her feet and about the splash the remains of the water on the claws.

           But she didn’t get a chance.  It released him as quickly as it gripped him, leaving behind a sulfuric smell.  Ceylon gasped for air, rubbing his throat.

           Forced to leave both its initial targets alone, it instead lashed out at Great Oak and Sequoia.  Great Oak push Sequoia behind him and braced himself for impact.  Sequoia threw his dagger at the head of the creature, now the size of the average nymph.  The damage was done simultaneously: The claws raked themselves across Great Oak’s face and torso, knocking him to the ground, and clipped Sequoia’s side and causing him to double over.  Sequoia’s dagger landed squarely in the middle of the creature’s head, planting itself into the tree behind it.

           The creature let out one last deafening shriek before sliding down the trunk, leaving the dagger where it was.  It collapsed fully to the ground and disappeared underneath the dead leaves, the rustling the only indication of its retreat.

           Everblue didn’t waste time with seeing where it went.  She immediately rushed to Great Oak’s side.  The cuts themselves did not look deep.  However, the barkskin around the injuries were already showing signs of the blight- it bubbled, bulged, and blackened.  She pulled mosscloth out of the pouch she carried and poured water from the river on, praying that it would stop the infection as she dabbed it on.  The expression on Great Oak’s face told her that he was in a good deal of pain, but was doing everything in his power to restrain himself from crying out.

           To her immense relief, the places where the water touched stopped bubbling and bulging and the black stopped spreading.  Great Oak’s expression of pain lessened, though it was clear he was still hurt.

           “I’ll give you something for the pain in a minute,” she told him gently. She looked up at Sequoia, who had now straightened himself but was still clutching his side where he had been scratched. “I need to see your injury.”

           Gingerly, he removed his hand for her to inspect it.  The very tips of the broken barkskin were blackened, but it was not yet showing signs of bubbling.

           She reached for some more mosscloth, but Sequoia held up his hand.  She gave him an indignant look.

           “Don’t worry about me; save it for someone else,” he said.

           “You received a wound directly from the blight,” she chided him.  “You’ve already been infected. You need to let me take care of that.”

           He shook his head.  “You said infection is slower for those who are coniferous. Make sure you have some more for Great Oak, and check Ceylon.”

           She looked over at Ceylon who quickly raised his hands.  “I am fine. My throat still feels a little, ah, crushed, but it didn’t cut me.”

           Everblue took a step in his direction to make sure that was actually the case.  When she didn’t see any indication of the blight, she turned back to Sequoia to demand that he let her heal him.

           However, she was startled by the sudden presence of a Pixie, floating next to Sequioa’s head.  Sequoia saw her looking above his shoulder and turned to see the Pixie, jolting back in surprise.

           “Forgive me,” the Pixie said, seeing the startled reactions.  “I did not mean to scare you. I heard the noises and came to see what was going on.”

           “Hey, hey, there’s something living!” Ceylon said with joyful relief.

           The Pixie gave him a pained smile.  “For now.”  She gave the group a sweeping look.

           Everblue remembered Great Oak was still in pain and dropped to her knees, pulling out a pain killer mixture and handing it to him.  Wincing, he pushed himself into a sitting position and accepted the offering.

           “Why are you here?” the Pixie asked.  Everblue noticed that the Pixie sounded defeated.  “You should go back to where you came from. It’s not safe for you.”

           “Because of the blight?” Sequoia surmised.

           The Pixie nodded.  “Sounds like you encountered it. Whatever degree you’ve been facing it out there, I assure you, it’s much worse here.”

           “Are there any nymphs left?” Everblue asked, her mind forcefully reminding her of the dreadful sight of the cluster carcasses.

           “Yes,” the Pixie said mournfully.  “But there isn’t a healthy one among them.”

           Sequoia glanced down at Everblue, his eyes alighting on the second waterskin still full of water.  “We may have something to help with that,” he said.  “It won’t cure it, not as far as we know, but it can at the very least slow it down.”

           The Pixie looked at him doubtfully.

           “We’re here to eradicate the blight,” Ceylon said.  “It seems we may have discovered one of its weaknesses. If we can slow down the infection those who are still alive have, we might be able to kill the blight before they succumb to it.”

           Sequoia nodded in agreement.

           The Pixie surveyed them all carefully.  Then, “You’re going on a suicide mission. There is no way this doesn’t end badly. But if you’re going to refuse to leave, and actually have something that has a possibility of helping, I guess at this point, you really can’t do anymore damage.”

           She twisted in the air and headed deeper in.  Sequoia and Ceylon helped Great Oak to his feet and helped him walk after the Pixie.  Everblue walked in front of them, glancing behind her every so often she felt as though she had developed a tick.

           The Pixie brought them to another nymph cluster, sectioned off from the rest of the forest by curtains of leaves from willows.

           It was not a mass of carcasses like the previous cluster they had encountered, but that didn’t mean it was a prettier or more welcoming sight.

           Every tree in the cluster had branches covered in giant bulbs characteristic of the blight.  Their bark was patchy, and their leaves were dark brown and curled up, leaving very few, if any, green or any color associated with autumn.  Trees that had succumbed had fallen over, some resting against the trunks of the still living ones.  Among the trees, nestled in the roots, were the spirit manifestations, their barkskin in various stages of bubbling and blackening.  Some looked ready to fade away.  There were a couple of nymphs moving around, checking on the ones lying down.  They were accompanied by Pixies, who flitted around the entire cluster and doing what they could to comfort and console the dying nymphs.

           Absolutely devastating.  But she could do something about it.

           Disregarding safety for herself and not bothering to wait for explanation or instruction, Everblue went to the closest nymph to her and knelt down.  She pulled out more mosscloth and wet it with the water from the second skin.  She was highly aware of the fact that she was doing nothing more experimenting, but the success it had with Great Oak was encouragement enough.  She washed the points of highest disease and areas that were open to infection before moving on to the next one.

           As she was washing the second, she heard two nymphs approach her.  One was Sequoia, and the other was one of the Thicket nymphs still able to stand.

           “Is there anything we can help you with?” Sequoia asked her.

           “I will need a lot more mosscloth,” she said, not taking her eyes off her work. “If there is any more that can be found, I would prefer to use fresh for each nymph, and not reuse it.”  She paused to finish up what she was doing, then straightened.  Turning to the Thicket nymph, she asked, “Are there any caretakers left?”

           He shook his head.  “They were some of the first to go. We think the blight may have targeted them.”

           Everblue grimaced.  “I see. Perhaps there are still caretaker packs around, then? They might contain some useful tools, such as pain killers.”

           “I – I will see if I can find any,” he said.  His voice was weary and his entire frame drooped.  His eyes were half opened, and the entirety of his body was covered in bubbled and black spots.

           She shook her head.  “No, I would rather you rest. If the Pixies know where the packs might be, they can direct Sequoia.”

           Sequoia nodded his agreement.

           Some of the Pixies overhead and came over to give Sequoia various directions on where the packs might be found.  As Sequoia went on the hunt, Everblue turned her medical attention to the nymph she told to rest.

           He watched her in silence for a few minutes before realizing that there had been no introduction.  “My name is Sweettears, by the way.”

           “Everblue.”

           There was a pause.  “Why are you here? Surely you’re not from the Thicket.”

           She shook her head.  “I’m from the Lumberhome.” She gestured over to Great Oak and Ceylon, who seemed to be having a conversation with the Pixie that brought them to the cluster.  “They’re from the Towers and the Wild, and Sequoia’s, well, Sequoia.”

           “Oh!”  It was barely a verbalization, but there was recognition when she mentioned Sequoia.  “I know that name.”  He stared off into space.  When he came back, he said, “I don’t know why.”

           Perhaps reminding Sweettears of the pain the Chura clan caused wasn’t the way to go.  “We’re here to get rid of the blight that’s causing all this,” she said.

           “Good luck,” he sighed.  “We’ve tried everything we could think of. I don’t think it’s possible.”

           “Well, I wouldn’t say that just yet.”

           “No, you don’t understand,” Sweettears said.  “We’ve tried fighting it. We’ve tried burning it. We’ve tried calling for help. But it’s too strong. Burning the dead and leaf litter in the beginning slowed things, but if we didn’t get to it quickly enough, it . . . that thing . . . it feeds off all of that. It would get stronger. Fire wouldn’t kill it- it didn’t even catch fire. It just seemed to weaken it. And it’s . . . it’s smart. It cut us off at the river. Wouldn’t let us contact the Orchard. It seemed to know who the caretakers were, and go after them. Once it attacks you, it doesn’t matter how many preventative measures you’ve taken. You’re infected after that, and pretty soon, everyone else around you is also.”

           Everblue didn’t respond.  She didn’t have much of a rebuttal to it.  She had, after all, witnessed the blight get weaker, certainly.  But it was not dead.  The copper had just hurt it.

           She finished with Sweettears, told him to rest some more, and moved on to the next nymph.  As she carried about, the fight replayed in her mind.  How it reacted to being slashed at, but was not impacted until she had poured the water onto it.

           Sweettears had mentioned that it fed off the leaf litter and the dead.  They had been fighting on piles of leaf litter. Perhaps it was not so affected because it healed itself with what was available?  And in some way copper infused water prevented it from feeding correctly?

           But even then, it did not die.

           Sequoia eventually returned, a couple of caretaker packs in hand.  She took them with a nod of her head and dug through them.  They were lacking in items, but they did have a few pain killer mixtures left.  No mosscloth, though.

           “I apologize for taking so long,” Sequoia said.  “The Pixies and I were essentially guessing at where the caretakers might’ve stored their packs. How are things looking?”

           She finished dabbing the last of the water she had and sighed in despair.  “I’ve just run out of water, and there are still more who are suffering. Even if we were to retrieve more water, I believe at least three will not make in the time it takes us to get back.”  She bit her lip and swallowed hard.

           “Where is Ceylon and Great Oak?” Sequoia asked.

           She gestured back in the direction to where they started.  “Ceylon was still with Great Oak, last I knew. Great Oak needed to rest.”

           “Let’s go back to them, and figure out a course of action,” Sequoia suggested. “Even if we can’t save everyone in time, it’s clear we need to get back to the river and get more water.”

           He helped her to her feet and the two of them headed back to the others.

           Great Oak was where they had left them, sitting with his back leaned up against a tree.  His head was bowed and his eyes were closed.  Ceylon stood over to him, an unreadable expression on his face.  When he saw them approached, Ceylon searched their expressions.

           “What are we doing next?” he asked.

           “We need to get back to the river,” Sequoia said.  “There are still those who need Everblue’s attention, but we’re out of water. I don’t think it’s a wise idea to just have one of us head out there, knowing that the blight is still alive.”

           Ceylon frowned.  “I was talking with Ha’lia, the Pixie, and she was telling me that nothing they did against the blight actually had a permanent effect. They tried burning it, since that would slow infection when they burned leaf litter, carcasses, and anything infected, but it only seemed to weaken it.”

           Everblue gestured in the direction of Sweettears.  “I was told the same thing. Also that it’s been feeding off the leaf litter and the dead.”

           Sequoia furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin, considering the new information. “Well, one possible way to defeat it is to cut off its food source and maybe try to drown it in the river. But all it has to do is infect new victims, and we’re right back to where we started. That besides, it will take more time than we have.”

           Sequoia’s assessment reminded Everblue of another part of the fight.  Frowning, she turned to Ceylon.  “Why did the blight let go of you so quickly?”

           Ceylon blinked at her in confusion.  “I’m- I’m not sure,” he confessed.  “I do remember an odd smell, though. I don’t know if that was just me.”

           She remembered that smell too.  At the time, she thought nothing of it.  Perhaps it was just how the blight itself smelled.  But it reminded her of burning.

           Burning . . .

           “What was it that Autabella gave you again?” she asked, more sharply than she meant.

           Still looking at her in confusion, Ceylon held up the yellow crystal tied around his neck.  “This? I think she called it brimstone.”

           A look of realization dawned on Sequoia’s face.  “Brimstone’s used by the Fairies for burning,” he said in a quiet voice. Everblue could have imagined it, but it almost sounded like there was a touch of sadness.

           Ceylon’s eyes widened.  “Autabella said they have a lot of these, because the Fairies would give them it in return for the fruits!”

           “And the Orchard has been experiencing low infection rates,” Everblue finished.

           They stared at each other, amazed at what they had just pieced together.

           “Perhaps their attempts at burning it didn’t do more than weaken it because they really just were burning its food source,” Everblue said.  She began pacing, trying to work it all out.  “I think that’s why it was weakened in our fight against it; the copper infused water somehow impacted how it fed, so it couldn’t heal itself after that. But if the blight can’t touch brimstone when it’s not burning, then perhaps in order to set the blight on fire, we need to burn it with brimstone?”

           “I think at the very least, we should try it,” Sequoia said.

           “I think we should give it a feast, then,” Ceylon said.  “Go back to the cluster we found, gather all of the leaf litter we can find, and pile it all together. And see if we can lure it to the cluster. Then set the brimstone on fire and burn it.”

           “That’s a very large fire. We’ll need a way of putting it out,” Everblue pointed out.  “Or it will burn the entire Thicket. We wouldn’t exactly be near the river.”

           “Start throwing dirt on it,” Ceylon said casually.  “We do it all the time in the Wild when our bonfires start getting out of hand.”

           Everblue stared at him blankly.  Something in the casualness with which he stated that suggested the bonfires were not set for practical purposes.

           Sequoia was either unbothered by the very subtle suggestion, or he didn’t notice it, for he brushed by it with no reaction.  “Then it sounds like we have a plan.”

           Everblue slowly turned her blank stare to Sequoia, now very concerned that she was the only one with the appropriate response to Ceylon’s remark.

           Sequoia was oblivious to this as well.  He said to her, “Make sure you bring the waterskins. We can collect water while we’re over there.”

           She continued to stare at him, not blinking.

           Ceylon crouched down next to Great Oak.  “We’re going to go and take care of this blight. So hold on.”  He patted Great Oak’s shoulder.  “It’s almost over.”  She stood back up and he and Sequoia headed out, Everblue still trying to process the bonfire line.

             Somehow, she had gathered herself enough to follow them back out towards the first cluster.  Coming back to the decimated cluster, the reality of the situation took hold of her, and she put the Wild’s bonfires out of her mind.  The three set to work moving the carcasses they could into a single pile.  No care was taken to reduce risk of infection.

           It was all or nothing now.

           Ceylon and Sequoia handled most of the heavy lifting, and Everblue used what she could find to rake up the leaf litter.  It was slow work, and the dark sky that was present when they arrived was already lightening before they were even halfway finished.

           As the first rays of dawn pierced where they could through the leaves, Everblue stopped long enough regain control of herself.  Spending so long around the carcasses, especially the young ones, caused her throat to tighten, and she had reached a point where she was on the verge of tears.  She looked up to see how the other two were doing.

           They were placing a particularly large rotting trunk on the top of the pile when she noticed movement behind them.  Her stomach dropped as recognized it to be the blight taking shape.

           “Behind you!” she cried, jabbing a finger in the direction of the blight.

           Ceylon and Sequoia whirled around.  In the blink of an eye, the blight coiled itself then leapt through the air.  The two nymphs jumped out of the way, and the blight landed straight into the pile, landing in a form that made it look like it was on four legs.  When it made contact with the dead, it began growing in size.  Its mouth gaped open, silently laughing at them.

           Ceylon rushed to Everblue’s side, ripping the brimstone off his neck.  “Quick, light it!” he said urgently.

           She plunged her hand into her pouch, wishing she had been better prepared as her fingers searched for her flint and steel kit.  The blight whipped out an arm and knocked Ceylon and Everblue back, just as she grasped the kit.  She was thrown into a tree, the impact knocking the flintstone from her hand. Gasping, she blurrily saw the yellow crystal Ceylon had been holding flying up in the air before landing on the ground and disappearing underneath unraked leaves.

           The blight coiled back, readying itself to launch again, its focus on Everblue. Panicking, she began feeling the ground around her, desperately hoping to get her hands on the kit before it pounced.

           It was too late.  The blight was already in the air and she had found nothing.  Mouth open, she watched in slow motion as it descended on her.

           It extended its reach towards her, its claws mere centimeters from her face when the blight was knocked out of the air by a dark blur.  Ceylon and the blight rolled onto a cleared patch, Ceylon gaining the upper hand and pinning to the ground.  He pulled out his small copper pick and aggressively jabbing the blight with it.  Screeching in annoyance, the blight threw Ceylon off it, clawing his face as it did so. He went flying into a tree before crashing to the ground.  He made a couple of attempts to stand up, but his limbs were shaking too much.

           The blight morphed itself into a standing position, heading back to Everblue.

           Everblue backed herself up into a tree, trying to push herself into a standing position.  A noise to her side made her look around, for one frightful moment believing that another blight creature had shown up.

           It was Sequoia.  In one hand, he held the brimstone.  In the other, he held the kit.  He extracted the steel from the kit and struck it against the brimstone.  It only took a couple of tries before it caught fire.

           The blight looked from Everblue to Sequoia, hesitating when it saw Sequoia holding a ball of fire.  Even with impending doom bearing down on them, Everblue found herself distracted by Sequoia’s recklessness in holding fire.

           “So long,” Sequoia said in a low voice.  He then lobbed the burning brimstone at the blight.

           The brimstone landed at the blight’s foot.  The blight looked down at it, then back at Sequoia.  It opened its mouth and the most awful laugh erupted from its throat.

           “You think that can kill me? You fool. Fire does nothing.”  It moved forward, leering at both of them.

           Then it froze.

           It looked back down at the fire, its soulless black eyes widening in horror as it saw the fire catching onto it and begin away at it.  It did not even have time to let out a scream of pain.  As soon as the fire had tasted the blight, it wanted more.  In seconds, the blight was ablaze, arms reaching to the sky as though there was something up there that could save it.  If it made any noise, any cry, it was drowned out by the fire’s happy crackling.

           Almost as quickly as it had flared up, the blaze died down until was just a flame on the brimstone again.  All evidence of the blight had completely vanished, as though it had never existed.

           Trembling, Everblue slowly walked to the brimstone, not fully believing what she had just witnessed.  A groan reminded her of Ceylon.  She rushed past the brimstone to his side.  She helped him into a sitting position and inspected the wounds on his face.

           Evidence of the disease had already surfaced, but unlike when Great Oak had been injured, there was no rapid spread.  It was as though she had dabbed the copper infused water onto it.

           She heard Sequoia walk up behind her.  “Is there anything more that can be done?” he asked tentatively.

           She looked up into his face.  It was lined with worry, a concern that their work had only been to prevent others from infection, and not able to save the others.

           “You tell me,” she said, as steadily as she could.  “When the rot was killed, did the disease react to treatments?”

           Sequoia fell silent.

           Not sure she wanted the answer, she said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone, “If what was causing it to accelerate and act abnormally, I think it will be alright. It won’t be fun for the infected, especially the deeply infected, as it will require pruning and grooming. But what is cut away will heal, and what is cut off will be burned. Knowing what we know, we can see about distributing the river’s water around and asking if the Orchard will give up their brimstones to ensure everything that burns is fully cleansed.”

           The worry in Sequoia’s face softened, and his shoulders relaxed.

           “Comforting,” Ceylon said, wincing in pain.

           Everblue gave him a sympathetic look.  “I’m sorry. But at least we can treat pain!”

              The next couple of days kept Everblue constantly on her feet.  With no blight to prevent anyone from the Thicket from getting help, the nymphs from the Orchard were alerted to the situation, and they immediately sent aid.  Several Orchard caretakers worked alongside Everblue, cutting away infected parts and sending them off to be burned in brimstone fires.  The caretaker’s efforts so far seemed effective, as the blight showed no signs of spreading after being cut away.

           On the evening of the second day, she and the other caretakers had discovered a second surviving cluster and had worked through half of the infected. Great Oak had remained at the previous one, waiting to recover enough from the pruning before making any attempt to return to the Towers.  Ceylon worked through his own treatment, determined to see the last of the disease in the Thicket.  Sequoia had followed the caretakers, working to remove leaf litter and the carcasses.

        ��  After finishing a particularly difficult pruning job, Everblue sat back on her heels and allowed her a bit of a rest.  She glanced around, feeling a small sense of peace, an understanding that everything was going to be alright.  There was still a lot to do and a lot of ground to cover, but already the Thicket didn’t seem so oppressively silent as when she first stepped into its depths. As she made to stand, she noticed Sequoia quietly slip away out of the cluster.

           A little puzzled, she decided to follow him.  She was curious to see where he was going, but there was a part of her that was concerned something was wrong.

           She followed him at a distance, not entirely sure if she wanted her presence known just yet.  After they had walked for about a quarter of an hour, she realized that they were headed to center of the forest, where Sequoia’s tree stood alone, perched on a hill.

           Of course.  It had been such a long time since Sequoia had been in his tree.  The exhaustion had to be almost unbearable by now.

           Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed that he had stopped.  He had turned around, looking surprised to see her there.

           She froze, not entirely sure what to say.  Was she encroaching on time he wanted to himself?  Would he be upset with her?

           “Why did you follow me?” he asked.  There was no trace of anger in his voice.  It was a genuine question, but there was an underlying note that told Everblue her first instinct was right: Something was wrong.

           “I wanted to make sure everything was alright,” she said, taking a few steps forward.  “Something seemed off.”

           His expression said that he had wished she didn’t follow him, but like his tone, it was lacking in anger.

           She took a few more steps.  “Is everything alright?”

           He didn’t answer.  Instead, he turned away and continued on.

           Having not received any rebuke or instruction to turn back, she continued to follow him, leaving her question to hang in the air until he was ready to answer.

           It was not until they had left the Thicket and branches above them thinned out enough to show the starry sky and bright moon that he spoke.

           “I would have continued helping, but I don’t have any time left,” he said.

           She nodded, understanding.  It had been at least two weeks by her calculations that he had been up this way. Just the few days away from her tree, she could feel the pull to return.  To sleep for a few days, perhaps.

           It was a while before he spoke again.  “I appreciate you coming with me. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I’m realizing just how awful it would be if I was left with what’s going on in my head.”

           She drew level with him, looking at him in confusion.  While his appearance was still young, there was a shadow over his face that made him seem older than even Great Oak.   His shoulders drooped with an unseen burden.

           “While I was held captive by the Charu tribe, I found out what they wanted us for,” he said heavily.  “They were seeking to make an eternal fire. Nymph wood, they found out somehow, could burn for years, about equal to the nymph’s age. Provided the wood was healthy.”  He came to a stop.

           Everblue’s stomach twisted at the thought of it.  Having only experience in burning diseased wood, she had not known that, and would have been just fine never knowing that.

           “Which is, of course, why they never went those who were sick.”

           “But that’s over now,” she said comfortingly, resting a hand on his arm. “They’re not going to do that anymore.”

           He gave her a pained expression.  “I know,” he said quietly.  “I know.”

           They stood where they were, no sound except the wind and the crickets.

           Without warning, Sequoia doubled over, gasping in pain.

           “Sequoia!” Everblue gasped.  It was in that moment she remembered that Sequoia had been wounded by the blight, and had been infected.  “Hang on, I can help you!”

           “No,” he said, panting heavily.

           “If I cut away the infected part, it’ll be so much better,” she told him.

           “It’s not that.”  He straightened up, his breathing labored.  “It won’t affect anything. It’s too minor.”

           She gave him a critical look.  “Just because the spread has slowed doesn’t mean it should be ignored.”

           “No. No, Everblue, it won’t matter.”  He took a deep breath and continued walking.

           Something told her she was beginning to understand, but she didn’t want to. She pushed the idea out of her head, because there was no way Sequoia was saying what she thought he was saying.

           “Please,” she begged him in a whisper.  “Please let me take care of it.”

           They had come out of the trees and began climbing the hill.  A thud resounded throughout the forest and Sequoia doubled over again.

           Taking several deep breaths, he said, “It doesn’t get any better.”

           “Sequoia, please . . . .”

           He straightened again, but not fully.  “Being over three thousand years old, I can provide with centuries of fire, and they wouldn’t have to step foot in this Forest for a long time.”

           “Sequoia, no.”

           He gave her a small smile, still going up the hill.  Halfway up, there was another thud, and Sequoia dropped to his knees. Everblue dropped down beside him, wanting to help him with the suffering, but not knowing how.  All the pain killers in the world wouldn’t help him.

           Panting, he told her, “I thought I was going to make it up there, before I fell, but I don’t think I can make it. Perhaps it’s best that I don’t.” Gingerly, he twisted himself around to face the Forest and sat.

           Everblue sat next to him and he leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder.

           “I asked them to just give me enough time to try and take of the blight,” he said.

           Another thud.  Another painful gasp.

           At this point, she noticed that his breathing was labored.

           “This used to be full of sequoia trees,” he said.  “Back when I was about your age. Both nymph and quiet.”

           Another thud. Another gasp.

           “But then they were all gone, and I was the only one left,” he continued.  “I was alone for so long, all I could really remember about myself was that I was a sequoia.”  He paused as there was another thud.  “There weren’t even any Fairy tribes nearby. They preferred forests of quiet trees, not big open grasslands. But what was it, a couple hundred years ago? Maybe three or four? I noticed things were changing.”

           Thud.

           “Whether it was the wind, or animal that got lost, or something, but seeds started appearing around the place. And there were saplings.”

           Thud.

           Thud.

           Thud.

           “And before I knew it, it was full grown forest.”

           Thud.

           “You are all . . . still so young. I couldn’t let you all get cut down in your youth.”

           Thud.

           He let out a long, pained sigh.  “I could’ve done with a less painful way,” he admitted.  “But understand, I don’t fear the fire. If it weren’t for fire, I wouldn’t have been planted in the first place.”

           Thud.

           “I don’t regret this. I’d choose this again. If that’s what it takes to save you all.”

           Thud.

           “If the heat from their fire doesn’t kill them all, by the time they’re done with me, this Forest will have grown so much, learned so much, and have so much of an impact that they wouldn’t dare try cutting it down again.”

           She didn’t want to think about that.  That was a time that wasn’t now.  That brought no comfort.

           Thud.

           She swallowed hard.

           “It’ll be alright,” he said softly.  “Maybe not right now, but it will be.”

           There was one more thud.  It was followed by loed creaking groan.  Unbidden, her mind imagined the tall, beautiful tree she was so used to see on the top of the hill falling down.  Just as crash echoed throughout the Forest, she felt the weight on her shoulder vanished. She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, hoping that if she kept them closed long enough, she would open them to find Sequoia still there.

           She didn’t open them until she heard the noises at the top of the hill fade away.

           And she was so very alone.

           Wiping away her tears, she got to her feet and looked up the hill.  Without Sequoia’s branches blocking out a portion of the sky, it looked so empty at the top.  A part of her wanted to flee.  Back to her tree.  To be comforted by its presence.  Perhaps she could wake up and find that the whole thing never happened.  Or wake up to a time where she could prevent it from happening.

           But the other part of her coaxed her forward.  To climb the rest of the hill and see what was left.

           Slowly, she made her way up.

           All that remained of Sequoia was the stump the Charu left behind.  It was massive.  She had yet to see any tree that come close to even half its width. She touched it, not sure if she should feel awe or sorrow.  She sank to her knees, pressing herself up close to the roots and hugging herself. It was several minutes before she realized that she was sitting on something that made her uncomfortable. She shifted herself and pulled out the offending object.

           It was a cone, still sealed.

           It must have fallen while they were cutting him down.

           She cradled it, taking comfort in its presence.

           “You are going to be so big,” she told it.

           Then she stood up, cone still in her arms, and headed back down the hill.

[levisgirll]

Hi! Can you do a headcanon of Levi being jealous/posessive when someone tries to flirt with his crush?

𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 (𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

text: Hello anon! Thank you so much for the request🥺 Of course I can! and I hope you like what I wrote💞 (also I’m sorry this took some time! this week and last week was just so stressful ahhh) incoming some cute jelly levi boi, I also realized now we need more of this- ALSO will be using this fact stated by Isayama about levi getting jealous which is he wouldn’t get jealous over his lover because he would trust them, although if he were to be jealous he’d stay low about it then by time explode. in this case it would be his crush and not lover as requested! (incoming some real cute fluff and levi being a cutie who is a bit jealous <3)

synopsis: Levi Ackerman isn’t the one who would get easily affected by others, he wouldn’t care most of the time what people would do and say to him. But....he has a crush on y/n for the longest time now and it seems his feelings is growing too with time. He notices some scouts trying to tease and flirt with his crush, he starts to feel something about it and pushes the thought away, but the feeling is still present. One day, something happens and he can’t take it anymore and becomes a bit possessive and clingy towards y/n!

fluff, aot world, headcanon fanfic ♡ —

You let out a long sigh as you were heading back to the survey crops headquarters from your training. Today was a really busy and stressful day as you had to train a lot and also manage to keep up with everyone.

You joined not long ago and you still were trying to fit in, learn new skills from others, and kept on training to catch up with others. Many saw you as a really hard worker.

But, you recently been getting some help and advice from Captain Levi! The strongest solider that everyone talks about and with that, you both got close and Levi seemed to like your attitude, and would usually ask you for your opinion on things.

Everyone was quite shocked how Levi seem to show a little bit of interest in you and even spoke to you. Y/N was different, unique more like it and how they never gave up and still kept on going amazed Levi. He was a bit worried about you though cause you could be reckless, but he had your back always watching without you even noticing. Later then, he realized after sorting out this emotions and feelings he had....he actually had a crush on you instead!

It was a fact that Y/N was quite attractive and good looking, everyone had eyes on Y/N and Levi would sometimes be quite annoyed and pissed about how some guys who seemed to have bad intentions always trying to get a chance to talk to you and get you alone but Y/N would usually avoid them and leave the scene before it happens.

You were just such a likeable person though! Who wouldn't like you? and many tried to make a move on you but you made the scouts that you were hard to read. But instead for one guy.

A scout was keeping his eyes on you for a while, and with his friends telling him that 'he would never get a chance with y/n' made him take the bet and go for it.

"Hey there! I see you training hard? My name is Roy, nice to meet you" He said with a big smile and gave you a little wave while coming up to you. You were setting up your ODM gear and glance at him. "Oh, I see it's Y/N." You said normally, but you weren't going to lie, the guy did look kind of cute but you had a gut feeling something was up.

"Of course, you are the great Y/N everyone talks about." He said with a smirk, "You look so much prettier." You were taken aback by the comment and thanked him, it was not everyday you would hear this comment and someone saying that bluntly.

"Haha, you don't have to be shy! It's the truth so own it. Anyways, I'll see you later yeah? Bye!" He shouted out and ran back to his friends, and you stood there quite shy.

You did not notice that Levi was actually standing near the entrance of the headquarters and watched the whole thing. You could tell by his gaze towards Roy he was...glaring at him? "Tch." He scoffed and walked away from the training area, looking rather pissed but you managed to go over to him and caught up with Levi. There your bright energy opened up, and you gave Levi a bright big smile that you would only usually do for him. "Hi Captain Levi! How was your weekend? I haven't seen you for a while." Y/N said in a cheerful tone, they looked rather happy to see Levi and that made him relax and warmed his heart since his crush has always greeted him this way. "Hey Y/N, it was alright I guess. And Oi, didn't I tell you to just call me Levi? Drop the captain, don't wanna hear that from you." He said and crossing his arms and looking slightly away to hide his faint little blush on his cheeks.

He observed you for a while, and he realized that you were the only one who would talk to Levi like this and he was the only man you ever showed your cute and gentle side to! And the same goes to him, you were the only one who he showed his soft and nice side by his small actions and words. So, he felt really lucky and somehow was assured and felt trusted that you might not be interested in anyone else, and maybe....just maybe he had a chance!

"My bad, Levi" Y/N said after a small giggle which was one of his favorite sounds, hearing his crush laugh a little was one of the main things he wanted to achieve. "I'm going to do hand-to-hand combat training later. Could you perhaps train m-" Before Y/N was going to finish talking, Levi cut them off and said "Yea sure, don't ask me and just tell me what it is and I'll help you train."

Levi didn't notice, but he was becoming rather tender and considerate only to Y/N these days which not only shocked them but also made them happy. "Thanks Levi, you are the best! I'll see you later!" Y/N waved at Levi with a joyful expression and ran off. After that small interaction and chat, it seemed like all Levi's worries and stress was relieved and he gave a small smile. Not only that, but also another feeling he had earlier was gone, but he couldn't figure just what was that feeling from earlier?

Later on, training for hand to hand combat has started and you were there, ready and waiting for none other than Levi to show up. But, someone else showed up instead of him. "So we meet again, Y/N." You turned around and it was Roy, he looked rather excited and he was checking you up with a gaze that made you slightly uncomfortable. "Um...yea cause we still have training?" You gave him a confused look and raised your eyebrow at him 'Just what does this guy want...' you wondered.

"You aren't pair up with anyone, so let's train together!" He said cheerfully and was in his fighting stance, all ready without you even having the time to respond to his offer.

"W-Wait...I'm waiting for Levi to train me!" You finally said in a stuttering tone. "Levi? Ha....since when did you start calling him that? Anyways, I don't see him? So, train with me instead sweetheart." He gave you a flirtatious smile, and you sighed and brought out the wooden dagger which you took your stance and took charge at him. He somehow let you take the hit and you looked up at him "Wow, you are good!". He was not taking you seriously, and was playing around with you, teasing you more like it. While you were training with Roy, without any warning he made you trip and you fell on the ground which you felt your knee starting to hurt. "Oh no. Are you okay?" Roy said and bent down, to check your knee. You felt it was done on purpose just to get you off guard, and so he can get closer to you.

With your surprise, he brought his hand out and pushed your hair back and behind your ear and then touched your cheek which made your eyes wide "No one should be allowed to look that good. How do you do it?"

"Huh...what do you mean?" Y/N said, all confused and tried to get up but Roy's grip made you not get up so easily. "Say, tell me how are you still Single?"

Before you could respond, someone quickly grabbed Roy by his wrist and pulled him up quickly. "You....The fuck do you think you are doing?" It was....Levi! He gave a death glare to Roy who now seemed to have been displeased. "I'm helping them up...What do you think you are doing holding me like this?"

"Did I ask you a question? It a command, answer it. What. Were. you trying to do." Levi said now in a very serious tone that gave off a scary vibe and everyone had stopped their training and were all frightened. Levi was not dumb, he clearly knew what Roy was up to, seductively flirting with you which he ignored before he knew you would not respond to it but.... he then purposely made you trip which he noticed and was not able to hold it in any longer.

"Do you want me to fucking break your leg to answer me?" Levi was being impatient and without any hesitation and not giving Roy any time to respond, he knee kicked him right up his chin and that made him fall down on his knees and covered his nose which was now bleeding. "You little shit, and you dare even question me after disrespecting Y/N? You have a death wish for sure."

Levi was about to kick him when Y/N quickly held on his arm and pulled Levi a bit back, holding on to his arm. "Stop! That's enough Levi. Don't bother with him, I'm fine now!" Y/N said, trying to calm Levi down and reassure him.

He stayed silent, and looked back at Roy, deciding on what to do. "Hm...Alright. I'm only stopping cause of Y/N." Levi took Y/N's hand which shocked everyone in the training area, including Roy and Levi turned around while saying in a cold tone. "Roy, you have cleaning duty for all the toilets at the HQ for a month and it better be fucking clean or I will make you redo it. You are nothing but a piece of trash so be useful and clean them."

Levi still, holding your hand tightly, pulled you and you both were walking away from the training area, away from everyone else. Y/N was blushing now and was looking at Levi's back head where they clearly saw his neat underhair cut. 'Levi why did he do this....' You wondered and Levi then stopped walking when you both reached near the stable. "Are you...hurt?" He said, turning around to look at you with a slight worried expression. "N-No, and thanks for back there." Y/N said, blushing even harder and looked down. "But, why..." They finally said looking directly at his grey eyes which soften, this was a question that kept killing Y/N's curiosity.

He stayed quiet, and looked away from your gaze. He seemed to refuse to respond. 'Wait....don't tell me!' Y/N then jolted their head up which caught Levi by surprise (worried if they noticed-) and they immediately said in a hyper tone.

Y/N: "Oh Levi....were you-"

Levi: "No."

Y/N: "You sure? Cause I swear you-"

"Shut it. I was just being annoyed by him, alright?" He would say and ruffle your hair gently. He wanted to hold you, hug you. You were just too adorable to him! But he knew he couldn't do any of that.

"Weird...I don't recall saying anything about that. But you just proved to me you were actually jealous!" Y/N said, and let out a happy and cheerful laugh. He would not admit it, but he felt embarrassed right now.

"Tch, brat are you gonna actually keep saying it now?" He said with a slight blush and turned around, "Well...Not till you be honest with yourself." Y/N told Levi in a shy tone, and still with a smile that was too big it hurted their cheeks, they were just too happy to see Levi like this!

You weren't going to lie, but seeing Levi jealous really made you feel something and so did he!

He took your hand gently and caressed your hand with his thumb. "If you want to know....come to my office?" Levi, was now a blushing mess, he was being nervous but he knew that at some point he had to let his feeling out because it was not an easy one to handle despite him being emotional he was able to control that but this was a special case and today proved that to him. He had to let you know.

You both went to Levi's office, and he pulled you closer and looked at your eyes which was filled with lust and love just for you "Please....Could I?" Levi said softly which had a little bit of nervous and tense tone. You then realized and confirmed, you both did actually shared the same feelings and behind closed doors while the evening was approaching you both slowly started to kiss each other even though you both were new to this sort of thing you took it slowly, and kept trying it again and again, till you both got the hang of it. Levi did that just to show that he wanted to make you his starting tonight and not having anyone else flirt with you anymore and that that he was capable of being romantic to u too! You never saw him this clingy, it was super cute.

With your reassurance and talk with Levi, your words would comfort him and calm him down and he then started to trust you even more which he was since the beginning but now that he got your approval he never felt such a lucky man.

Now, no scout with bad intentions ever dared to come up to you and Levi does not take it lightly next time if he even sees someone checking you up, or making you uncomfortable. With this, he promised to protect you from any harm and swore to that, he wanted to be your protector.

So poor them who ever tried to flirt with you and poor Roy stuck with a broken nose and having cleaning toilets duty!

But thanks to Roy, Levi finally was able to explain and show/say his true feelings to Y/N and now he can keep Y/N close to him only and cherish and protect them without any hesitation. He truly did value and care for Y/N.

This was actually so fun to write up ahhh and I find Levi acting sort of like this when he explodes at the person trying to flirt with his crush and the one responsible making him jealous! (I don’t think he would explode or lash out on his crush/lover, he is too mature for a situation where someone flirts with them, he would lash out on whoever is hitting on them instead of his lover ofc) I hope you enjoyed this anon and sorry this was late but hope you enjoyed it and if you did or anyone else please leave a like or a reblog!🥺 ♡♡♡

[shurisneakers]

shut in [epilogue]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, ptsd, swearing

Word count: 4k

A/N: annnnd we’re done :)) thank you to my resident bully @midnightsunfae for really getting this fic off the ground and helping with the planning. ily upo and thank you to everyone who’s read this series over the 5 months it’s been going on. it’s meant the absolute world to me :’)

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, an indicator of the nervousness that was building to a crescendo in your chest.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, hand placed gently on your forearm.

You nodded, eyes downcast. If you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to find it in yourself to follow through with it.

“I am,” you said quietly, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat.

“Okay,” he confirmed, letting his arm drop gently.

Ten minutes to go. You took a sip of water nervously. The glass had already found itself shifting back and forth on the table in search of the perfect place. It was a fruitless quest anyway.

The door was painted a dark green, steps leading up to it from the pavement.

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” you asked quietly, standing a stair below him in apprehension. Neither of you had contacted him or sent a message, just showed up at his place exhausted and covered in a thin layer of dirt.

“I know he won’t.” Sam raised his fist to knock thrice, a pause before knocking two more times.

A code.

He turned around slightly, checking to see if you were fine. The longer you stood out there, the more afraid you were of someone spotting the both of you, putting an end to your life before it even began. You had a feeling that paranoia would continue for a long time.

The door swung open, revealing a tall man with blonde hair leaning against the doorway with one arm. There was a nick above his eyebrow, an old scar that hadn’t faded over time. Even though his other hand was concealed behind the door, you could tell that he was holding something by the way his muscles were clenched. Years of training wouldn’t disappear overnight.

"Sam." Surprise overtook his face in a second. "You're alive."

"Don't sound so happy, I can't handle it." Sam rolled his eyes, an affectionate smile on his face. "This is Y/N, we need a place to stay."

“It’s just been a while since I heard from you, man. Coming from a hit?” Riley didn’t think twice about moving aside, scrutinising dried blood on your person as you walk past. “Nice to meet you, I’m Riley.”

It was a cane in his hand. Sam’s mention of his limp flashed in your mind.

You gave him a small wave and a quiet re-introduction of yourself, following Sam into the house.

“You could say that.” Sam paused, a hand on Riley’s shoulder as he says something out of your ear shot to him.

Riley’s face turned stoic immediately, a nod of his head and a deep exhale soon following. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” You pressed your lips together in a straight line with a corner quirked upwards, a half smile of sorts.

“Bathroom’s down the hall, to the right.” He pointed out the direction. “I’m getting you some food. Gumbo still your thing, Wilson?”

“Anything other than peanut butter.”

Riley was a blessing you could have never prepared for; knowing exactly what you both would need and anticipating emotions you had no idea you’d be feeling. For someone who had guests show up completely uninvited to crash on his couch, he was ready as ever, given that he had been through the same thing a while ago.

It was difficult. Fuck that, it was one of the hardest things to go; not pretending like everything around you would fall into soon and that you would be fine because you had to. You had worked too damn hard for you not to be.

But you knew things weren’t going to be fine right off the bat and it would be foolish to think it was.

“Sam, look at me,” you commanded gently, but there was an edge of firmness to your tone. You were sitting on the bench near the entrance of the park.

“I’m sorry, things were going good and I thought-” He shook his face that was hiding in his palm, elbows resting on his knees.

His attacks didn’t come nearly as frequently as yours. It was easy to think that he had no trauma just because he learnt how to deal with it better.

“Look at me, Sammy.” It was just a walk in the park, a stroll that should have lasted twenty minutes tops. You had been on that trail before for the same purpose but something triggered him today, someone’s gaze who lingered too long on the both of you.

He clenched his fists, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Breathe with me.” You exaggerated the movements to have him follow, a system the both of you had come up with when anxiety attacks used to hit at random. A temporary solution to an aftermath that would go on for hours, days even.

It took him a few staggered breaths to get there, finally falling into routine with you. He could feel his heartbeat slow to what it was but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t subside for a while.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you reassured, still making sure he was breathing with you. You were nervous too and your eyes were still darting about to survey your surroundings, but he needed you at that moment. “We’re safe. We’re okay.”

“No one’s here,” he mumbles, interlacing your fingers and bringing it to his forehead to lean against your hand.

“We’re okay,” you repeated, giving him the space he needed. “We’re okay.”

“Will someone be joining you?” The waiter prodded softly. If it wasn’t your incessant tapping at the table, the clammy palms and constant checking of your watch was a clear giveaway that you could use a bit of kindness that day.

“Yeah, any minute now.” You smiled at her. She simply nodded, refilling your glass of water before leaving you alone.

You looked at your watch and sighed.

Seven minutes.

Things were fine. Things were good.

Sam and you were… undefined. Labels almost seemed too constrictive for now and it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t know what the other felt. It was kind. It was soft. Sometimes you kissed his cheek when the sunlight bounced off his face while he watered the succulents and the smile he gave you was addictive. Other times he snaked an arm around your waist and leaned his head on your shoulder while you watched the street from the kitchen window.

It made you happy, and so you tried to force away the stem of doubt that creeped into your heart.

Riley had introduced the concept of movie nights and the occasional mob movie would make it in there just to poke fun at. He showed you around the city, inviting you to go grocery shopping with him at the farmers market, the best places to get a glimpse of the music scene or to subtly point out potential date night spots.

He was a genuinely nice guy, and if you thought Sam was fun to hang out with, you were not prepared for the both of them together. You could tell why Sam adored him.

“Y/N, I don’t know how you stayed with him for all that time and didn’t murder him in his sleep.” Riley glared at Sam who had once again left his collection of music CDs strewn around on a couch. It was all in jest; it was well known that Sam found an anchor in music that kept him up late at night for a sense of calm.

“It was a close call sometimes,” you added playfully, giving Sam a grin.

“You weren’t exactly easy to survive with either.” He scoffed. “How many times did we watch Megamind in a row? Eight?”

“You wouldn’t stop watching Die Hard,” you accused, arms crossed over your chest. “It was payback.”

“You made the rule saying we couldn’t watch things more than twice in a row and you broke it first.”

“I’m gonna go,” Riley interjected. “But y’all keep at this. I heard it’s good for your soul.”

“Stay there,” Sam demanded, pointing to where he was standing a second ago. “You’re gonna be play judge since you started this shit.”

“I really don’t want to.” He shook his head, staying put nonetheless, amusement clear as day on his face.

“The laundry.”

“The dishes.”

You both narrowed your eyes at each other. His argument didn’t hold a match to yours.

“You know what, I was wrong,” Riley announced to no one in particular. “I’m pretty sure you guys would kill each other under any other circumstance.”

The smile on your face faltered but you straightened it back out with a clearing of your throat before firing a comeback.

It was barely a second, almost unnoticeable. But Sam caught it.

Four minutes.

Almost time.

The tapping became more intense, and the rate at which you pulled out your phone to check the time increased.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. How were you supposed to behave with him after all this time?

Something was wrong. Something was off.

Sam wasn’t blind to it. He could see it under the smile you eased into at game night, the complaining when too much food was ordered for three people to eat, the good natured teasing when he rolled over to your side of the bed at night to steal your blanket.

Something was eating at you, gnawing at you from the inside.

His suspicion was confirmed when you whispered at 2am one night to what you thought was an asleep partner that you wanted to move out. Find a place of your own.

His stomach dropped instantly but he didn’t so much as move a muscle.

“I need to get out. I need to have a life,” you sniffed, doing your best not to wake him up as you traced circles into his skin lightly. “I don’t know what it’s like to be independent. I won’t know unless I figure it out myself.”

The air had a chill to it and it was one of the times you had asked him to sleep in the guest bedroom with you instead of on his own, knowing that it was one of those nights where you could use a little extra warmth.

“Even when we were in there I couldn’t stop thinking about whether this thing between us was just because we were forced to stay together. You said it wasn’t, and I know that but I can’t help but think-” Your voice cracked. “Would you come back to me if things were different?”

He didn’t answer, even though he knew what he wanted to say with all the certainty in the world. Your fingers continued to draw on his skin. He continued to let you.

Sam didn’t even bring up the conversation that morning, or that week. Instead, he held you a bit closer whenever he could and gave you the space to hopefully open up to him on your own time, letting you know that he’d be there to listen.

It took a while. You both were in the middle of watching a movie that wasn’t Die Hard when you told him that you needed to talk to him about something. The hesitancy in your voice and the fixation your fingers had with the hem of your sweater was painful to witness.

He understood, of course. He always did. That you needed to experience what it was like to live, not survive. That decades of living with other kids, living under an abuser, living in a safehouse for months, was restrictive and suffocating and you needed to find what made you happy.

And so did he. It was something both of you had to do eventually, exit the bubble you had been staying in under such ardent protection for those two months.

Riley was wonderfully supportive of it, vowing to find you the best apartment that New Orleans had to offer. You didn’t doubt it.

His place had been colourful and bright and everything you could have asked for after the monotone walls you were used to. But it wasn’t yours.

A few weeks later you had moved out. Sam left a lingering kiss on your forehead, a sign to say that he’d be here whenever, whatever.

You made a Shakira joke. He laughed.

A completely fresh new start. If you failed now, it was all on you.

And what a terrifying thought that was.

It had been four months since you had left Riley’s apartment behind.

Four months since you had seen either of them.

The cafe was starting to feel too small for this event. Too intimate, too-

When the bell above the cafe chimes, something at the back of your mind instantly wakes up, sending you on high alert.

“Y/N?” he called out from behind you.

You knew he’d be early.

“Sam.” You breathed out, standing up to face him.

Video calls didn’t do him any justice. He had a particular glow to him, an aura of confidence that wasn’t there the last time you saw him. His beard was neatly trimmed and the smile that tugged at his lips the minute you caught his eye was beautiful.

You didn’t realise how different he looked until the time apart. Months of makeshift workouts and peanut butter as your only source of protein had done a number on him. You remembered him being leaner, and what you now realised was the constant burden of fatigue on his face.

“You look good.” An understatement escaped you, but he did.

He had a deep blue shirt on that hugged him in all the right places. Months of seeing him only black and grey had you damn near drooling when he wore other colours after you got out.

Not that you were staring, but his biceps had definitely made a wonderful return.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sam sent you a smile that instantly put you at ease. “Independence looks good on you, sweetheart.”

You gave a small laugh, gesturing for him to take a seat. Should you have hugged him? Shook his hand? Kissed hi-

“It’s been a while,” he politely interrupted your overthinking. “How are things going?”

You let out a small breath. It was a big question, one that you had answered over text and call a few times but it was different now. He was in front of you now and you couldn’t bullshit the way you used to on call occasionally.

“Weird,” you admitted. “I don’t know what to do with myself now that I have all this time.”

“It takes some gettin’ used to.” He nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair.

A lot of your time went into trying new hobbies. Knitting, pottery, drawing- anything that you could get your hands on. Things didn’t always catch on, some discarded just after the first week. Others stuck, bringing you bits of triumph every time you moved forward with your newfound skill.

“You still seein’ your therapist?” He flashed a smile at the waitress who filled his glass of water.

Ah, yes. Dr. Bishop had been one of the first people you sought out.

“Yeah.” You took a sip of water. “See her weekly.”

You still had money left over from all the hit jobs that you had done. As much as you wanted to leave every inkling of that life behind, you needed the cash to live. You had enough for the time being, but you knew that eventually you had to start working; if not for the money then for the peace of mind.

“How’s that goin’?”

“She thinks I talk in elaborate metaphors. The gang’s what I call my toxic family, he was my abusive father, stuff like that.”

There were moments where you thought you saw someone you knew standing at a corner, vendors giving you icy looks from across the street, footsteps outside your door that seemed too damn loud. But nothing ever came of it.

“Thanks for the tip, by the way.” You extended a smile to him in appreciation for the idea.

“Worked with my therapist, figured it would be the same with yours.” He shrugged casually. It wasn’t like you wanted to lie to her, and you weren’t. But some things were better left in the dark.

“But I think it’s helping.” You exhaled deeply, eyes downcast. “The nightmares are reducing.”

“That’s a lot of progress.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward in pride.

Several feelings erupted from that look, some that you’d spend the whole day revelling in if you didn’t force yourself to move on.

“How about you?” you diverted the subject back to him. “How’s Riley?”

“He says he misses ya.” Sam laughed. “Says he can’t handle me alone, that he needs you back to save him.”

“What have you been doing to that poor man?” you teased, easing back into your seat. “He was fine when I left him.”

“He’s got a fancy new job now and it’s been going to his head. Needed a little humbling.”

“You’re not going too hard on him, are you?” Even though you knew he wasn’t, it was fun to make sure.

“Nah, I’d say it’s just about the right amount.” Sam grinned and you felt the familiar flutter return to your stomach. “I’ve been doing good. Working on getting my license.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that going?” You were thrilled when he said he was going to look into becoming a youth counselor, knowing that it was something he had been genuinely wanting to do for ages.

“With my background, or lack of it, it’s a little trickier than I thought it would be,” he divulges a bit more seriously. “Riley’s been pulling a few strings and I got a few contacts but it’s gonna take some more time.”

You bit your lip, worry rising for him. He deserved it, he earned it. It fucking sucked that it wasn’t going to be an easy, direct path.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said quietly, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his in reassurance.

The contact brings with it a small spark. You wondered if he still felt it.

“Yeah. We will.” He sent you a soft smile at your action, not making any effort to move it. “You been on any dates lately?”

You let out a snort at that. “Loads. Have fellas lining up at every corner for me.”

“I bet.” He’s more bold, a bit more open than he was in the first month when you both got out. “How many of them do I have to fight off?”

“I’d say six as a rough estimate.” Your expression mimicked one of consideration. “I hope you’ve been getting your hours in at the gym.”

“I’ll kick it up a notch,” he promised, hands raised in surrender.

“You better. We’re supposed to go for laser-tag.” A dumb callback to a joke he made on one of your last days there.

“Or paintball.” He remembered. It made you unnecessarily giddy. “I added an escape room to the list too.”

“Hilarious,” you fired at him, rolling your eyes slightly but the happiness on your face proved otherwise.

His laughter died down eventually, paving the way for the comfortable silence that lingered between you both. Your eyes fell down to where your hand still held his, biting your lip to conceal a smile.

“Y/N,” he called out, pulling your gaze back to his. “Jokes aside… how are you?”

You let out a breath at his question. You knew it was coming.

“Riley found me an apartment,” you murmured.

Sam looked up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“It’s a nice place. Lots of sunlight. Quiet too.” You toyed with your fingers. “But it’s about an hour away. More if you consider traffic.”

Sam set his phone down gently on the bedside table, indicating that you had his full attention.

“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you, because I’m not. I wouldn’t, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupted calmly, twisting his body to face you. “I don’t think you’re abandoning me. If this is what you need, then you should do it.”

“I don’t know if this is what I need. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ve never been-” the frustration in your voice only increased as you went on. “-I don’t even know if this is going to work. What if I hate it?”

“Finding out what you hate is just as important as what you like, I think.” He watched you toy with the fidget square he had gotten you. “And you know that if you don’t feel like it, then you can come back here at any moment.”

“I know.” It was a comforting thought. A safety net.

“But would this make you happy?��� That caught you by surprise.

It wasn’t something you had thought of. You thought of the negative consequences, the devastating effects it could have on you, how it could be the worst possible decision you’d ever make.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, a new anxiety setting in. “I guess we’ll see.”

You liked the neighbours who played the piano way too loud at 2am, the really terrible coffee at the therapist’s office and the feeling the paper plane on your dresser gave you when you occasionally looked at it.

You didn’t like how hot the apartment could get, especially during the afternoon, or the guy who sold magazines down the street who cursed at everyone for no reason, or the gentrified Indian food they served at the mall.

But Sam was right. Figuring out what you didn’t like was just as beautiful a journey as figuring out what you did.

“I’m happy.” You breathed out. “Or I'm working towards being happy. But it’s there.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Simply slipped his palm under yours to lift your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m proud of you.”

If anyone could feel the heat that rose to your face they would probably think you had a fever.

The fear that you had, the one of what things would be like if you weren’t forced to survive in a confined space together, had begun to fade the minute he called out your name that day.

It was Sam. Your Sam.

You shake yourself out of your train of thought with a small smile, making a move to gather up your belongings without letting go of his hand for a second.

“Well, c’mon then. Those paintballs aren’t going to shoot themselves.”

“Are you saying this is a date?” There was a smirk on his face that wasn’t there a minute ago.

“Would you still consider it one once I annihilate you?” You tilted your head in a challenge.

“That would never happen, first of all.” He scoffed. “Second… I was thinking that maybe we could do something normal for a change.”

That had you more interested than the prospect of adventure sports. You had enough of it for a lifetime, frankly speaking.

“Lead the way, Cinnamon.” He only rolled his eyes at the nickname, sending you a vaguely threatening look. You just laughed.

“This place got good coffee?” He looked around at the establishment and its patrons.

“One of the best.”

“Then I don’t see why we have to go anywhere else,” he offered and you nodded, relaxing back into your place with the same sense of warmth in your heart that only intensified with his proposal.

He raised his hand up to flag the server, the same girl who had been helping you out since you got there, asking for two menus.

The smile he sent her was infectious. It was good.

“Sam,” you began quietly. “I missed you.”

His eyes softened, the sunlight reflecting in it making it shine like dravite. “I missed you, too.”

“Ready to order?” The waitress stands beside you with a notepad.

He looked at you and you nodded with a smile.

Things were different. You were different.

And he still came back to you.

--fin--

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

thank you so much for reading!

[alrightberries]

glimpse of me and you

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff. ❈ word count: 2.6k

❈ summary: It’s your first day out of the Underground District and on the surface. Levi helps you get settled.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity.

a/n: i would like to confess that i was in A Mood.

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

i. morning

The first thing you noticed was that it was bright. Too bright.

Not the kind of brightness you saw in the warm glowing lamps that littered the Underground District, but the kind that made your eyes squint and feel sore- like they were going to pop out of your head any time soon. Your hand slips out of Levi’s to block out the light hurting your irises.

He stops walking up the staircase and turns to look at you.

“Here.” He murmurs. He places down the boxes he was holding and takes off his green Survey Corps cape, draping it around your shoulders and clasping it at the front before drawing the hood over your face. The sunlight is no longer as harsh.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod.

“Much. Thank you, Levi.”

He hums in acknowledgement, one hand picking up the boxes with your luggage and the other one slipping through yours to slowly lead you up the staircase once more. He could tell from how you squeezed his hand and kept taking deep breaths behind him that you were nervous. He couldn’t blame you, either. He remembers being the same with Isabel and Farlan two years ago.

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since he was captured and taken to the surface. Since last saw your face and heard his name slip from your lips.

It took the better part of two years to barely scrape up enough money to buy you citizenship, but as he leads you through the stairway with your warm hand in his, he knows he wouldn’t hesitate do it all again.

For you.

“It’s going to be brighter once we reach the surface.” He says. The last step of the stairway was nearing. “I know you won’t, but close your eyes if you have to. You might get disoriented if you don’t.”

True to his words, you did end up getting disoriented because you refused to close your eyes. But really now, how could you? 26 years you’ve waited for this day to come. And you would be damned if you didn’t take everything in the second you set foot above ground for the first time.

As you reached the surface, Levi notices you flinching, turning your head away from the light and gritting your teeth once you set foot on the cobble stoned streets above. Despite your clear discomfort at the brightness, you made no move to close your eyes. In fact, you even braved to let them roam around.

“Stubborn dumbass.” He scolds quietly.

He leads you a little ways off from the exit of the stairway to put your stuff in the small wagon in front of you. The small wagon was drawn by a gorgeous black horse, and you realize that this was probably the beloved mare Levi spoke of in his letters.

“Is this Estreya?” You ask. Levi hums in agreement and takes the last box you were holding to place it with the rest of your luggage with a low grunt.

When he looks back at you he notices your eyes are still squinted, but your teeth were no longer gritted. The hood was still drawn over your face and one of your hands was still shielding your eyes from the burning light. You weren’t even going to lie, you were half terrified that your eyes were going to melt from how hot the sun was.

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

You scoff. “Yeah, because horses are really common in the Underground.”

He doesn’t reply to your quip. Though the way his eyebrows relax and his lips twitch up in the slightest doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Ride the wagon. You’ll fall on your ass if you try to go on horseback.”

“If you say so, Captain Levi.” 

It was now his turn to grit his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t have told you about his promotion.

“Tch, just get on. Or I’ll leave you stranded in Wall Sina.”

ii. noon

The wagon ride to Wall Rose was something you could only describe as ethereal.

You hadn’t the faintest idea the sky was so big and blue, and how fluffy the clouds seemed to be. The sky seemed to stretch for miles and miles, and knowing that there wasn’t a ceiling above you almost made you want to cry.

Wall Sina was beautiful, as well. Especially the market. The market you passed by almost made you want to stop the wagon and drag Levi from stall to stall to see what they had. They housed probably the most vibrant colored fruits and vegetables you’ve ever seen, and the smell of freshly baked bread made your mouth water. Not to mention, the air didn’t smell like moisture or piss or shit. 

“Don’t get any ideas.” He says, noticing your longing stare at the colorful tents. “You look like you’re about to jump off the wagon.”

“Will you leave me stranded if I do?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Undoubtedly, though, your favorite view from the ride would be what Levi called “the suburbs.”

The tallness of the trees. The freshness of the air. The sounds of ruffling leaves. Birds and critters running around the ground and flying through the sky. The beautiful greens and blues were the biggest contrast to the drab grays and blacks you typically saw in the Underground District, and now you understood why Levi was so hellbent on taking you to the surface and never looking back.

“We’re almost there.” You hear him call out from in front of you.

Your eyes stop wandering around what Levi called a “valley”. You look past his figure sitting on the horse, spotting a castle made of bricks. It looked small from this distance but the closer you got, the more you realized that distance could be deceiving.

“Is that the Survey Corps’ base?” 

“No, it’s a fucking circus.” He replies sarcastically.

“What’s a circus?”

“It’s— nevermind.”

iii. afternoon

When you got to Levi’s private quarters, you didn’t hesitate to ask for a spare towel so you could take a shower.

You didn’t even bother kissing him or unpacking your things or… making up for lost time, if you will. Instead you made a beeline for the private bathroom connected to his bedroom and spent a good hour inside, talking to him through the door about how you’ve been looking forward to taking a proper shower all week. Levi had to drag you out and stop you from wasting more of the Survey Corps’ water reservoir.

“So, let me get this straight.” You mutter. 

You were sitting on his bed and he was sitting on a chair across from you. Your hair was still damp and your upper half was clad in a spare Survey Corps button down, while your bottom half was clad in nothing but your underwear.

Levi had complained that your clothes from the Underground were too dirty and would have to be washed. You called him rude, only relenting when he offered to do your laundry. But he wasn’t about to complain about the extra chores when it gave him this view.

“You’ve been captain for an entire year and only bothered to tell last week?”

“Yes.” Came his stoic reply.

“But why?!”

“I’m not hearing the end of this any time soon, am I?”

Before you could respond, Levi hears loud banging from his office door (which you noticed was connected to his bedroom) and he sighs as he wordlessly covers your bare legs with a blanket. Confused eyes met his, and all he could do was shrug as he heard the office door breakdown. The loud banging was now being directed at the bedroom door, the only thing separating you from what you assumed was some rabid raccoon.

“Levi motherfucking Ackerman!” You hear someone shriek from the other side of the wood. Okay, so maybe it’s not a rabid raccoon. “Open this door right this instant!”

You hear the lock clicking and the knob turning rapidly. Despite knowing you should probably be scared, you can’t help but smile at Levi’s clear irritation. It wasn’t the genuine kind of irritation. It was the kind he showed to Isabel— the one where he pretends to be annoyed but secretly enjoys their company.

“It’s not locked, four-eyes.” He replies.

Ah, so this must be the Hange he’s been complaining about.

“Then why can’t I open it?!”

“It’s push, not pull.”

Immediately, the banging stops, and silence takes over the room. But the silence is short lived when Hange suddenly kicks the door open and you jump from surprise. 

“Don’t think that I wouldn’t find out about you bringing a civilian to the base, Ackerman!” Hange points an accusing finger at Levi’s bored face. 

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. Considering I asked you to sign the authorization letter.”

The soldier ignores Levi’s quip and quickly makes their way over to you, sitting down next to your side and extending a hand.

“The name’s Hange Zoe, Section Commander of the Survey Corps. And you are?”

You warily accept their offer of a handshake. Your eyes briefly flit over to where Levi was still sat, relaxing a bit when he nods to your silent question of whether or not it was safe.

“Y/N.” You give them a polite smile. 

“When Moblit told me Levi brought a civilian to the base, I was ecstatic!” 

What the fuck is a Moblit? You wonder.

Your hands were still joined, and you weren’t sure if prolonged and drawn out handshakes were a custom of the surface. Not wanting to be rude, you continued to shake Hange’s hand, nodding along as they continued on.

“I didn’t peg shorty as the type to play boyfriend.”

“Neither did I.” You chuckled. “But he’s been more than wonderful. He’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Levi bites back the smile teasing his lips.

“Stop shaking Hange's hand. You’ll catch rabies or some shit.”

iv. evening

It was nearing six o’clock when Levi finally convinced Hange to go away, but only with the promise that he would introduce you to his squadron later at dinner. Normally he’d detest the idea of sharing intimate details about his personal life, but as he listens to you ask question after question about the surface, he deems the small sacrifice was more than worth this small moment with you.

“You said the surface was going to be hot. Why is it so cold now?” You ask, settling into the bed. Levi lifts up the blanket and begins to lie down beside you.

“Because it’s almost night.” He says simply. “It’s hot in the day and cold in the night.”

“Is it always like that?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It depends on the season.”

He feels you shift closer to him, lifting his arm up and placing it around your waist as your head rests on his chest. He takes a deep breath, and the smell that was so uniquely you fills up his lungs. He almost hums in delight because it’s been two years; he hasn’t had this in two years, and no force on earth could ever take it away from him again.

“Season?” You murmur, sleepy eyes staring into his. 

Levi immediately knows that you’re a bedtime story away from snoozing, and he figures the fatigue is to be expected. You were, after all, being introduced to too many things at once. And judging by the bags under your eyes, you were probably too happy about going to the surface to get any sleep last night.

“Yeah. There are four seasons above ground: winter, summer, spring, and fall. Right now, it’s spring.”

“Will you tell me about the seasons?” 

He feels you shift, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“You missed.”

You smile. A hand gently reaches out to grasp his chin, pulling his face towards yours to give him a gentle kiss. When you try to pull away, Levi pulls you back in.

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.” He muses as your lips broke apart. The arm wrapped around your waist holds onto you a little tighter as you relax to his side once again, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His thumb rubs small, gentle circles into your arm.

“The flowers bloom in spring. Everything blooms.” He explains. “In fall, the temperature gets colder so the leaves start changing colors.”

“What colors do they become?”

“Mostly brown or orange.”

You nod.

“In winter, that’s when things start getting really cold. Colder than the Underground. Snow starts falling and everything gets covered in it. It’s annoying.”

“But don’t you use winter as an excuse to... y’know, convince your bosses to spend more money on tea leaves?”

It was now his turn to nod, and you merely let out a chuckle. He feels your breath fanning against his neck and he doesn’t stop his head from lulling into yours. He really did miss having you in his arms.

“Figures.” You yawn. “You’re obsessed with that stuff.”

He feels a sleepy kiss press against his collarbones, and he places a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs. “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“But you haven’t told me about summer yet.”

A small smile makes its way to his lips, and Levi was thankful that you couldn’t see. He’d never hear the end of your teasing if you did.

“If I tell you, will you stop annoying me?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay.”

v. midnight

The first thing Levi notices is that it was dark. Too dark. 

A brief glimpse out his open window confirms his suspicions that it was, indeed, night time. He probably slept through dinner.

The second thing Levi notices is that his entire right side was numb and there was a heavy weight on his body, some of it crushing his arm. He hears your sleepy voice mumble his name in your sleep, and he relaxes once he remembers the events of today.

He kept his promise.

You had an entire future ahead of you, and Levi’s heart warms at the thought. Sure, you were a civilian who couldn’t stay in the Survey Corps base forever; and he should probably start helping you job hunt so you could both start saving up for a new house. He’d fight you tooth and nail if you tried to join the military though, and something tells him you probably wouldn’t listen.

But he kept his promise. And that’s all that mattered for now.

He hears you shift in his arms before taking a sharp inhale, and your eyes sleepily open. They glance around the room, trying to remember where you were, before landing on him. A small smile teases your lips, adoration blossoming in your heart at the man in front of you.

“What time is it?” You softly ask. One of your hands reaches out to rub your eyes before he feels a warm palm come to rest on his stomach.

“Late.” He replies. His free hand lands on your soft cheek, and he tilts your head down so he can kiss your forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

You only nod, too tired to argue. You break free from his grasp and Levi is momentarily disappointed when you turn the other way. But then your hand reaches out behind you to sling his arm over your waist, and he shifts closer when he realizes you wanted to spoon.

“So I don’t kill your arm.” You explain quietly.

Levi presses his chest to your back and his leg wraps around yours. His nose is buried into the crown of your hair and he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale and close his eyes. Your hand intertwines with the one slung around your waist, and he feels you lift up your conjoined hands to place a kiss to his knuckles.

“I love you, Levi.”

This time, Levi doesn’t bother to hide his smile. It wasn’t the first time you’ve said I love you, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. But it would never cease to amaze Levi how just three short words could turn his stoic and uninterested demeanor into one of smiles that reached his eyes. 

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.”

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[buckyownsmylife]

Fast and Slow - Harry Styles smut

The one where your dom lent you to Harry and he’s very eager to have you.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (m), p in v, overstimulation, sex bench, sex fluids, cursing, bdsm, restraints, sharing kink?, Harry is a soft dom and calls you “little one” a lot.

A/N: Day 12 of kinktober and the prompts were being lent to another dom and “say my name + louder”. I’m actually really proud of this one because I managed to incorporate another prompt that I never thought I’d be able to use on my fics, so I guess this idea of doing kinktober to explore some kinks is really working for me. As always (for kinktober fics), unrevised because I literally just finished it and I’m already dead inside.

Harry’s P.O.V.

I did my best to close the door behind me making as little noise as possible. Still, I noticed by the way her muscles tensed up that she’d heard me approach, and the anticipation was visibly affecting her.

Clicking my tongue, I allowed myself this first moment to explore her naked body with my eyes as she remained knelt by the foot of the bed, her head lowered to avoid meeting my gaze. She’d followed my orders perfectly, as I’d come to expect by what her dom explained of her, and I could feel my cock already hardening on my pants, the only piece of clothing I still wore.

There was nothing I appreciated more than a good, obedient little girl. I already knew she’d be perfect for me. But I’d known that long before, the first time I laid my eyes on her, even. It was an immediate attraction, one that I couldn’t act on simply because she already belonged to someone else.

So when her dom announced that they were up to experiment with sharing, I was quick to jump on the opportunity to have her, at least for one night. “You really are beautiful, aren’t you?” I asked, running a single finger under her chin so I could raise her eyes to meet mine, and I lost my breath at that simple connection. 

She just had this thing about her, such sensuality seemed to lie just beneath the surface of her gaze. I felt it deep in my bones every time we were out for drinks and I had the hardest time trying to keep my hands to myself, trying to remember that she was with my friend. 

And as much as the outings proved difficult to me, I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Not when my friendship with her dom meant that I got to see her at least once a week. Not when it allowed me the chance of being here with her, in this situation.

Well, first things first, I knew we had communicated pretty extensively prior to this session, but I felt like I should run over the most basic rule once more. Even though all I wanted to do was to jam my cock in her pretty little throat.

“What’s your safe word?” I asked, still holding her jaw so she’d look me in the eyes and see just how seriously I actually took this. I thought I saw the shadow of a smile pass over her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and she was back to the picture perfect submissive front.

“Red for stopping, yellow for slowing down and three taps when I need to stop and can’t speak.” I did smile at her answer, satisfied at how thorough she’d been. It was clear too, by the way she ran over her words and the glint in her eye, that she was just as eager as I was to get this started.

I wouldn’t keep her waiting much longer. We did have only one night, after all. “Good job, little one.” I acknowledged as I straightened up, keeping my crotch on her eye level before nodding to her. “Take me off my trousers.” 

Her hands trembled slightly as she worked on my belt before going for the zipper, but it was clear by the way she bit on her lower lip that it was from excitement. I licked my lips at the prospect of the night that we had ahead of us, knowing she was right in getting anxious for it. I had a lot planned for us.

I watched with clear amusement as her breath bitched at the sight of my cock, almost hard already, and it was obvious that she was entranced by it. “Go ahead,” I signaled, once again nodding towards her. “Lick it. Give it a taste.”

She looked up at me with those bright, wide eyes and I had to bite on my inner cheek to contain a groan of desire that threatened to make its way into our one-person conversation. But then, she stuck out her tongue, running it over the length of my member and I was a goner, a loud moan escaping my lips.

I’d always been a vocal person in bed.

“Okay, stop. Hands behind your back. Open your mouth for me.” Her mouth fell open to obey my request easily, her tongue sticking out once more like she couldn’t get enough of my taste already. It was hard to keep the smile off my face, and I could see that she appreciated the sight of my dimples as she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

Once, she’d been wine drunk in one of our friendly outings, and she admitted she thought they were extremely cute. I’d started to smile even more around her after that, always keeping an attentive eye to watch her fascination with my dimples whenever they appeared.

“‘M gonna fuck your face now, okay, love?” She nodded, mouth still open, eyes connected to mine. I had to chuckle at the pure image of compliant enthusiasm that she portrayed. I, too, couldn’t wait to have her mouth wrapped around my cock.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

His hand curled around my nape and he pulled me to meet his member by it, the other one coming to cradle my cheek as he slowly penetrated my open mouth. The hiss he let out as he fed me inch by inch of his beautiful cock was like music to my ears. 

God, he was beautiful. I couldn’t believe he actually wanted to dom me and now here I was, with his cock halfway down my throat. I felt so unbelievably lucky, and even more incredibly horny. How could it be that he didn’t have a sub anymore? I would drop to my knees instantly, any time he asked me to.

I knew I should feel bad about thinking like that when it was only a loan - I was with another dom, I wouldn’t be with Harry again after tonight. But I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t how I felt. 

Specially when he threw his head back after I managed to swallow his entire length, his curls bouncing from the action and the sweetest little moans escaping from his beautiful pink lips. God, he was beautiful.

“Fuck, you’re precious,” he complimented, suddenly looking down at me with those incredible green eyes. A shiver ran down my spine at the connection, and the most predatory smirk painted his lips, making me whine around the cock on my lips. “Ready?” He asked, running his thumb over my cheekbones, his hands making my already hot face feel even warmer. When I managed to slightly nod, he did too, immediately pulling almost completely out of my mouth before thrusting back in.

The instinctive reaction to gag was undeniable, but despite the tears that immediately appeared on my eyes, I forced myself to breathe deeply through my nose and focus on the symphony that Harry was creating, with his moans and gasps and the wet sounds of gurgling and spit from his thrusts.

“You’re a little cockslut, aren’t you, sweetheart? So eager to please, I could see it in your eyes just how much you wanted my cock, huh?” I moaned around his member at the dirty words he so effortlessly threw around. I’d never thought Harry would be this vocal during sex, but god if it didn’t make me horny. In fact, I was so fucking wet that it was dripping down onto the floor of his bedroom, running down my thighs and ankles.

It was so damn filthy, and I loved every second of it. He pulled me by my hair so I could lick his balls while I gathered my breath, and I immediately put one in my mouth, rolling it before doing the same with the other. By the way he whined, I could see he loved it.

“Come back here, I wanna cum down your throat.” The prospect was one that I very much ached for, since my pussy was throbbing at the perspective. I didn’t even feel any hurt from the way he forcefully thrusted into my mouth before he started to roughly facefuck me, I was just too ecstatic about bringing him this much pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum, love. I’m cumming.” I loved that he kept the same nickname that he usually called me in social situations. It had always made me feel tingly, but when he was filling my mouth with his warm liquid, it was a different experience entirely.

Harry’s P.O.V.

It took a lot of strength and control not to fall down on my knees after cumming on her lips. She made me weak, it was ridiculous and dangerous but I was already addicted to the feeling.

I took some minutes to catch my breath before offering my hand to help her up, and when she accepted it, I couldn’t help but to trail my eyes down her body, appreciating each inch of skin available for my gaze to explore. But there was another way in which I wanted to survey her body.

“Come here, little one.” I took her to the edge of the room where I’d prepared the sex bench, observing her reactions to see how she would take it. She didn’t look like she recognized it, but she also didn’t seem repelled by it, which I took as a win.

“I take it you haven’t used this before.” She nodded, glancing at me before averting her eyes. “You can look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetheart.” The look of surprise she gave me left me with an unpleasant feeling. I knew it was common in bdsm, especially with more stricter doms, to train their subs so that they’re always visibly submissive. But the idea of someone missing the chance of having her beautiful eyes on them left me in despair. It left me feeling like she wasn’t properly appreciated, and that didn’t sit well with me at all.

“Are you comfortable with exploring this with me?” When she immediately nodded, an easy smile appeared on my lips, and I allowed her to see it flourish. “Then hop on it, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you spread open for my viewing pleasure.”

She bit her lip at my admission, and I helped her settle on the bench before strapping the restraints over her ankles and arms. Then, after a quick caress of her cheek, I assumed my position behind her, biting my own lip at the sight that welcomed me.

Her wetness was already dripping over her pussy lips, and I instinctively raised my hand to open her for me, checking her weeping hole before quickly plunging two fingers inside of her, making her gasp.

“You’re drenched, love.” She agreed with me, albeit a little breathlessly, and I chuckled before wrapping my lips around the two fingers that had been inside of her, tasting her wetness. She was so sweet, it tasted heavenly in my mouth.

Humming in appreciation, I collected some more of her juices before sticking my fingers inside of her again, this time in search of her sweet spot. When I heard her gasp again, I knew I’d reached my goal.

“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” I asked, thrusting my fingers in and out of her, making sure to hit that special spongy place every time my digits were deep within her pussy.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out at the feeling of Harry’s fingers inside of me, after spending so long with this burning arousal inside of me, taking care of him without being touched. He fucked me so furiously, it barely seemed like he retreated his fingers at all, and soon enough, I was cumming with his digits pressing inside that spot that had my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my legs spasming as I felt the urge to close them, stop him from continuing to stimulate me, but I couldn’t. Not when I was tied to this bench, vulnerable to whatever wish he wanted to express with my body.

I finally understood the reason for the chair.

When he didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of me, another orgasm quickly rolled in, making me spasm against the leather seat, begging him for something - to keep fucking me or to stop, I couldn’t say. 

Still, it seemed like he knew just what I wanted to say, or at the very least, what I needed in that moment, because even though he didn’t remove his fingers - or even stopped moving whatsoever - he drastically slowed down the movement, opting to insert them in me at a snail’s pace.

“You like it here, don’t you?” He asked, clearly laughing at my agony, and if I could, I would have laughed too. “You know, I like having you here, like this, too. It’s been so long since I had a sub, I didn’t remember how much I missed it until I saw you knelt down by my bed.”

I was trying very hard to focus on what he was saying, but it was getting harder by the second, since despite the brutality of the last two orgasms he collected from me, the calm pace with which he kept on fucking me with my fingers was very quickly reigniting the fire of desire within me.

“Of course, it could just be you. You know, I had no idea you were into this kind of thing, when we met. If I’d known…” He didn’t continue, but I understood what he wanted to say nonetheless. If we’d known about this aspect of our personalities, perhaps I’d be his sub now.

The idea of being Harry’s, of having this every single day paired with the feeling of his digits still pressing against my sweet spot incited another release from me, and now I could hear just how wet I’d become.

“Feeling a tad overstimulated, love?” He teased, finally pulling his fingers from me and granting me some relief. I heard a sucking sound that brought shivers down my spine at the realisation that he had sucked my wetness from his digits, but before I could focus too much on that, I felt the blunt head of his cock against my hole, just slightly rubbing it in. 

“Think you can handle just one more orgasm? Wanna feel you clench around my cock, sweetheart. Think you can do this for me?” I don’t think I’d ever nodded as quickly for anything in my entire life, but I felt plenty compensated for my enthusiasm when I felt him pushing inside of me, stretching me open to accept his long cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he finally bottomed out, the position I was in due to the sex bench assuring that he was perfectly nested against my sweet spot and I think the sensation was overwhelming for him too, by the way he inadvertently jerked his hips, hitting my g-spot after he was finally completely in.

I didn’t think I could feel better than I felt in that moment, impaled on his cock, but that was before he started thrusting in and out of me. The overstimulation had my nerves on fire, every single one of my cells screaming out for me, as I was too, and then his voice pierced through my senses, begging me to say his name, scream his name, until I did just so, exactly when I felt that warm pit of arousal explode inside of me.

“Louder,” he ordered, his fingers burying themselves on the flesh of my ass, and I couldn’t disobey him. All I knew was his name, all I could do was to scream it from the top of my lungs, desperate to release some of the astounding sensations I felt travel through me.

Harry moaned my name when he came, too. It was the first thing I remember focusing on when I stopped hearing the beat of my own heart on my ears, followed suit by the feeling of his warm cum dripping from my abused pussy lips and running down my legs. 

He scooped some of it up, careful not to overwhelm me, before feeding it to me, and I was more than glad to wrap my lips around his fingers and suck them just how I’d done to his cock.

“You know…” He started after he’d released me and helped me put on a robe, and was now massaging some lotion on my wrists. He looked nervous, almost unsure of himself, and the idea made me curious. “Call me crazy all you want, we can pretend I never even asked it after you get out of here.”

He took a deep breath before continuing and I felt my heartbeat pick up as I realised what he could be about to ask. “Would you consider becoming mine? My sub, I mean? We can talk to…”

I interrupted him by throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulder as I buried my face on his neck. “I’d love to, Harry.” He didn’t immediately react, but then, I felt him reciprocate my hug before feeling his warm hands rubbing over my back.

“I’d love to too, sweetheart.”

[solomonish]

You Burned So Brightly (Simeon x Reader)

Simeon has fallen, and he left his memories in the Realm that cast him down. They sent him straight back to you, but nothing is ever that easy.

ao3 link: here!

With a single, brilliant streak of light across the Devildom sky, the battles that were on the brink of becoming a second war came to a halt. Smoke curled up in the distance, light and airy like nothing you've ever seen before. The demons near the impact seemed to itch, the holy energy burning off into the air burning their skin. In the middle of a small crater, barely bigger in diameter than the fallen angel was in height, Simeon struggled to bring himself to his knees. As you stood before the impact site, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Lucifer near your side, you did your best to avoid cringing at Simeon's groans of pain.

Diavolo called for his attention, his authoritative voice only engaged for the sake of the surrounding, curious citizens. After a moment, Simeon forced his head up, clear blue eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes fell to you last, and though he held his gaze for a long time, recognition never flashed within him.

Simeon had fallen, and he left his memories in the Celestial Realm.

---

Barbatos led you to the room where Simeon was staying, informing you of any progress he and Diavolo had made and updating you on their search for a suitable place for him to live. Vaguely, you heard Barbatos ask if you agreed that a nice, cozy area on the outskirts of town would be nice, preferably something with enough yard space for a small garden. You hummed in agreement, and even though the both of you knew you had no say in the matter, Barbatos still gave you a displeased glance. He knew you weren't listening.

He stopped outside the door, hand faltering before the doorknob when you called out to him. Green eyes as impassive as always, he turned towards you fully and let his hand fall to his side. Before speaking, you glanced at his eyebrows and nearly sighed in relief to see his eyebrows weren't furrowed in the slightest. Despite the side-eyes and rather tense atmosphere, he wasn't truly mad at you.

Keeping your voice low, you asked, "Does he remember any of the exchange program?"

Barbatis kept his expression flat, but he did jut his chin just a hint, the closest thing you would get to a frown. "Bits and pieces. Nothing new."

"Why does he still only remember things in fragments?"

There was a pause. This was information you were permitted to know; but just because Barbatos was allowed to tell you did not mean he should. Still, you were notorious for snooping around and getting what you wanted anyway. "We believe he had too much sensitive information about the Celestial Realm, but the job was done in haste to bring the battles to a close."

"Oh." You didn't have any expectations set for his response, but you still felt a heavy stone, similar to disappointment, settle in your stomach. Perhaps dread was more appropriate - though anymore, your gut was always tied in knots and your emotions were just as jumbled. "Does it hurt him?"

"Physically? No," Barbatos answered, reaching for the doorknob again. You opened your mouth to ask for more details, but Barbatos gave you a look that said, clearly, you'll see. Shutting your mouth, you squared your shoulders and allowed him to open the door.

The room, grand yet somehow seeming plain for a palace's guest room, looked the same as it had all the times before. None of the chairs moved from their expertly-placed positions in the room, having been unoccupied for the entirety of Simeon's stay. Each book was nestled into its place in its case, and not a single gap ruined the uniform, brick-like image of the surrounding bookshelves. Even the bedsheets, still perfectly tucked beneath the mattress, looked unused, the only crinkles in the sheets coming from directly beneath the occupant.

Simeon sat in the middle of the bed, knees drawn to his chest and arms resting atop them. You could see his blue eyes surveying the room, a change from the past days but not exactly an improvement. The aura surrounding him was menacing, and if you strained your ears you could almost hear a low growl. Despite sitting in one spot for days like a scared animal, Simeon never felt more like a predator.

"Hello, Simeon," You said. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but Barbatos' hand on your shoulder stopped you. When you turned to look at him, he was already shaking his head. This was as close to Simeon as you would be allowed to get.

"You're back," Simeon noted, his voice devoid of any fondness. It was still the same pitch as before, but it no longer sounded like a delicate tune carried on the warm summer breeze. Instead, it felt more like a warning shot, sharp and threatening yet drawing no blood. He sounded dangerous.

"I am. I was hoping you might remember something new, but...it seems that's not the case."

Simeon looked you up and down before scoffing. "What makes you think you're so memorable?"

Not wanting to anger him, you chuckled in response, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as it felt. Simeon's eyes never left your form, and you missed the way his pupils widened, almost like a cat's.

You could hear him murmur under his breath, "Perhaps I could recognize you by the way you taste…" It was a poor attempt at intimidation, but it was intimidation nonetheless. When you looked up at Simeon, his pupils were blown wide, making his eyes almost entirely black. Instinctively you stepped back, watching as Simeon unfolded himself for the first time in days.

Barbatos' grip on your shoulder tightened right as Simeon pounced, pushing you behind him as he chanted some spell you'd never heard before. Though the attack seemed to move in slow motion, he ushered you out all too quickly, slamming the door shut and locking it physically before casting another spell. Right as he finished speaking, something solid slammed against the door, and you could hear Simeon snarling on the other side.

"He's reconciling," Barbatos explained vaguely. "He's not used to craving human souls, or to the shifting energies inside him. Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Good. Come with me. We'll have to report what happened."

Though you didn't want to, you followed Barbatos again down the hall, this time taking care to trail a bit behind in your own petty act of defiance.

You knew, at least for a while, that you would not be seeing Simeon again.

---

When you were permitted to visit him again, you were relieved. Whatever rehabilitation efforts Diavolo and Barbatos were working on took longer than you thought, and days stretched into weeks until you were wondering if they were losing hope in his recovery as you were. Of course, the pair had more information than you did, but in a situation that seemed as dire as this, your worry was warranted.

The hallway you walked countless times before was the same as always, yet you found yourself surveying the walls. Barbatos was not relaying any information to you this time, which was strange; clearly, if you were allowed to see Simeon again, progress had been made and there was information to give. But you were eager to get in the room, so you didn’t waste time with questions that would be answered firsthand and allowed Barbatos to open the door for you anyway.

Stepping into the guest room, it finally looked more lived in than the last time. The desk on the opposite wall, surrounded by bookcases, had a few papers and pens scattered around it, something like an outline lying face-up in the middle. A few books had been removed from the shelves, their neighbors slumping over in the void they left. Simeon was in one of the plush armchairs in the room, a book in his hands with his eyebrows furrowed. His posture was slumped, nothing like the practiced perfection he had as an angel.

You took a few steps into the room, noticing how Simeon stiffened yet did not take his eyes away from the book in his hands. Barbatos stepped into the room, the door shutting with a click. He made no effort to be within arm’s reach of you, but you could still feel his protective presence over your shoulder.

Barbatos cleared his throat, and Simeon begrudgingly put his book down, eyes falling immediately to you. “Simeon, as I’m sure you can see, MC has arrived to see you again.”

Simeon looked blatantly unamused. “So you have,” He murmured, pushing on the arms of the chair to straighten his posture. You sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, eyeing the space between the two of you.

You could feel the lapse in his memories as if it was a palpable tension in the air. The way Simeon held you in his gaze, distrusting, wondering why a human was so interested in him and why you were not a welcome meal was enough to send shivers down your spine. Fighting the urge, you turned to take in the room, hoping for something interesting to comment on. “I see you’re outlining something. Could you have remembered something for the next installment of TSL?”

“Those books…” Simeon was eyeing the outline on the desk, but he trailed off and darted his eyes back to you distrustfully before he could continue. You felt something left unsaid, but had no idea what it could be.

“We’ve tried using them to jog his memory,” Barbatos explained. “It didn’t work.”

Though Simeon masterfully used clear inspirations from real life, such caricatures of the brothers and their lives must have been a difficult idea to unlearn. Briefly, you wondered if you had been made into a character in the series yet. Part of you hoped you weren’t. It would probably be better if you built your relationship with him from the ground up - no matter how long it may take or how painful it may be.

For once, Simeon appeared bashful, averting his gaze again. “I do remember some of the plot points, though,” he murmured. “I just don’t know what they mean.”

Before anybody could stop you, you reached out and placed a hand on Simeon’s knee. His body was cold like the brothers’, enough to seep through his clothes and draw your attention. You missed the comforting warmth he used to carry. You missed when he would look at you and you didn’t feel like he hated you, too.

“Maybe they don’t mean anything anymore,” You offered, ignoring Barbatos’ piercing stare. Whether he was warning you to keep your hand away or keep your thoughts to yourself, you didn’t know, but you didn’t pay attention to either warning. “Maybe now they’re just stories, and life gets to be something else.”

When you contacted Diavolo about seeing Simeon again, he warned you the meeting would not be long. Still, the way Barbatos ushered you out felt as though he were cutting your time short as punishment for potentially risking their endeavors to restore Simeon’s memories. Before he shut the door on you, you looked back to see Simeon staring at his knee, thinking over what you said. No lecture came from Baratos, but if it had, it wouldn’t have mattered.

From that day on, Simeon started venturing out of his room.

You heard from Lucifer one night, having pestered him after another night of returning home late from the castle, that Simeon had taken to wandering the halls by himself. He never took anything, never seemed to intend to cause problems, and instead took his time taking in every painting. Every time one of the staff members went to check on him and found his room empty, the entire castle went on lockdown, yet when Simeon was made aware of this he merely seemed amused. You asked why nobody was locking the door, and Lucifer gave you an exasperated expression. Like a pet rat, Simeon kept finding ways to unlock the door so he could roam. Perhaps that was why Barbatos seemed to be having such a hard time recently.

With his newfound desire to adapt - and the trust that, in the backwards fashion you came to expect from the Devildom, came from him being alone in the castle without ruining something, even if his escape was counterintuitive to building trust in him - Little Ds were used to tend to him when higher-ranking demons were busy. The only time somebody checked in on him was to evaluate his mental state and to safeguard your visits. Those, too, were slowly becoming less formal, and soon you were going to the castle and simply being pointed in the direction to his room, rather than being led.

You knocked on his door, unsurprised to hear silence on the other end. However, this was the first time it happened and you were alone. Though you were trusted and respected (among the nobility, anyway) in the Devildom, wandering aimlessly around the castle didn’t seem like the smartest idea. A small pattering of footsteps behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see a Little D standing behind you. His horns were curled like Satan’s, his eyes burning green as if a fire was lit behind them. You smiled at him, and he only tilted his head - as much as he could, anyway.

“Have you seen Simeon?” You asked him, hoping he’d be one of the easy-going ones. After studying you for a moment, the Little D only nodded. Talkative, no, but you were right on him being relaxed. Following his lead, you soon found yourself in one of the smaller sections of the castle garden. The Little D floated over the twisting roots and vines underfoot, sparing you no time to step over and around the obstacles. By the time you found him again, he was waiting impatiently at an opening between a line of small trees, leading to a courtyard with an overgrown fountain in the middle. He left in the middle of your breathless thanks, which you finished in a sigh.

Simeon heard and turned towards you, his attention pulled from one of the broken busts on a pedestal. “Hello. If I had known I’d have a visitor today, I would have waited for you.”

His greetings were slowly becoming more friendly, you noticed. Smiling at him, you made your way over to him, thankful for the worn stone beneath your feet instead of the purposeful overgrowth behind you. “What are you doing out here?”

Simeon shrugged. “I’ve grown tired of the same hallways and that room.”

“Not willing to explore different hallways? I hear they get pretty exciting in the east wing.”

He smirked at that. “Even I know not to venture there. I have no interest in pushing my luck.”

Turning back to the bust, you watched him grip his chin thoughtfully. You wondered if that was a trait of all wrath demons, considering their lord, or if it was merely an impulse based on him being well-read. In this moment, he looked startlingly like Satan, a fact that both calmed you and worried you. Satan was a good influence for him, sure - but the more he influenced Simeon, the less like himself Simeon would turn out to be.

“You’re thinking pretty loudly over there,” Simeon said, and for a moment, you thought you heard that gentleness that you were used to. “Would you like to share your thoughts?”

“I was just thinking about how Satan has been helping your transition,” You answered in an obvious half-truth. “Has he lent you any good books?”

“All of his recommendations seemed a bit on the nose for my situation,” Simeon answered bluntly. You laughed, short and unexpected. He smiled. “But I do appreciate the help.”

“Do you need the books in the same way he does?” You asked. Simeon stiffened slightly, the only indication that he was uncomfortable. But, for you, he didn’t deny you an answer.

“I don’t remember much about who I was before. I know how angels were supposed to be, but none of it feels like me. The only thing that feels like me is this wrath, but even then, it isn’t as strong as his, I’m sure.”

You had nothing to say to that, instead turning to examine the bust. The features were worn down, much like the rest of the details. Instead, it was a vague person-shape, the head misshapen from what used to be the hair and arms missing since the beginning. Beside, Simeon murmured under his breath, “Even though I’m reconstructing where he was constructing, I can’t help but feel we might end up more similar than either of us expect.”

Simmering just beneath his words, you thought you could hear just a tinge of...something. Regret? Sorrow? Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was falling into the same line of thinking you often found Satan grappling with, wondering if a personality crafted as a wall was hardly a personality at all. You would assure Simeon as often as you assured Satan if he needed it, but you also knew that this was different. Simeon had you around before he decided who to become, and you knew the person he used to be. If it was what he wanted, you could - you would - help him down a similar path.

But you knew better than to say so. Instead, you stared at the faceless bust before you and gave him the space to figure it out for himself.

---

The memories taken from Simeon were officially gone, Diavolo and Barbatos decided, at least gone enough that they could not reach them without risking Simeon’s wellbeing. Though there was now an extra layer of animosity between them, they still considered him a friend (if not a former one) and had no desire to hurt him. Besides, the battles were over. There was no need to send a message of power via an ex-angel the Celestial Realm no longer cared about. With no need to keep him close in the castle, and a hesitant trust in his adjustment to the Devildom, Diavolo offered him a modest home on the outskirts with a small yard, just like he was considering before. It was close to the castle, though not close enough that the wealthier inhabitants would cause a fuss about favoritism. Even though the exterior was dark, you were pleased to see it resembled a cottage more than its neighbors. Beside you, Satan commented about how charming and quaint it was - you agreed without really hearing him.

As Satan knocked on the door, you drummed your fingers nervously on the vase in your hands. Barbatos mentioned something about Simeon liking to garden, but did he even remember? You knew he wouldn’t remember the time he first encountered the plant in your hands. It was a type of Tiny Venus Flytrap, one that needed to feed constantly on a microorganism in the air. It was constantly opening and closing its leaves, and Simeon spent at least half an hour cooing over one when he first saw it. You remembered the melodious chuckle that kept ringing through the greenhouse, and a sudden twinge of pain struck through you when you realized he wouldn’t.

As if on cue, Simeon opened the door, looking perturbed at the interruption but softening when he saw you and Satan in the doorway. “Oh, I forgot you were coming over today,” He said, stepping aside to let the two of you in. Though you didn’t think Simeon would lie about such a thing, the cleanliness of the house and the tea brewing in the kitchen planted a small seed of doubt in your mind.

“We thought we’d offer you a few housewarming gifts,” Satan responded. The smile he gave was easy, expertly hiding how just minutes before he had nearly knocked down a wall in the House of Lamentation and was more than willing to use the trip as an excuse to escape his brothers. Simeon chuckled, no doubt catching a hint of the hidden meanings behind his words. At least his perceptiveness wasn’t affected by his fall.

“Oh? Gifts?”

“Yeah. Your bookshelves look bare, so I thought you’d like a headstart on your collection.”

“Thank you,” Simeon answered, reaching for the box in Satan’s hands. You watched his entire body crumple for a moment, unsuspecting of the weight in his hands. He recovered quickly, but not before huffing out, “Oh, there’s quite a lot in here, huh?”

Satan didn’t seem bothered by his breathlessness - if anything, he looked amused. You almost reached out to help, but remembered your own human strength wouldn’t do much. Plus, you still had a fragile vase in your hands. Simeon placed the box on the ground, opening the flaps and peering inside. He wasn’t able to hide the beginning of a frown when he saw copies of his own books on top, and quickly moved those out of the way. He seemed much more pleased with the other options.

“Thank you. I suppose I won’t have to spend a long time finding my own additions to these shelves,” Adding a good-natured chuckle to the end of his sentence, Simeon turned towards you. “What do you have there?”

“Oh! It’s a Tiny Venus Flytrap. You-” Stopping short, you glanced at the copies of TSL on the floor and cleared your throat. “You don’t have to feed it much. Just put it in a window that gets a lot of moonlight and water once during each waxing gibbous.”

Curiously, Simeon reached for the plant and cradled it in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over the glazed vase, the blue so dark it nearly looked like black ink. Tentatively, he put his finger on one of the leaves and let out a boyish giggle as it closed around him. You laughed too, pleased to see history repeating itself.

“This is absolutely darling, MC. Thank you,” He didn’t meet your eyes, still entranced by the movement of the leaves. When you looked at Satan, he was giving you a mischievous look. On the way to the house, you told him about your plan to try and jog Simeon’s memories, and he had been hesitant to say that your plan would work. If it didn’t, you certainly succeeded in testing to see if part of the old Simeon was still around.

The tea kettle whistled in the kitchen, and Simeon finally snapped his head up from his new pet plant. “I’ll put this little guy in the kitchen window, seeing as it gets the most moonlight,” He explained, scurrying over with the same dainty walk he had before. You watched him carefully as he adjusted his plant, giving it an affectionate pat before tending to the tea. As he pulled out a budget tea set you’ve definitely seen in the bargain shop before, you tried to hide the guilt on your face. Back at the House of Lamentation, in a box beneath your bed, was Simeon’s old set, still in pristine condition in its white and gold glory. You were glad you decided against bringing that as a gift - looking around at your dark surroundings, it didn’t seem like it would fit in.

You could hold on to your little memories for a while longer, you thought. Simeon didn’t seem to be making use of anything regarding his past anyway.

---

When Simeon opened the door after summoning you to his house, you weren’t expecting his new outfit.

Diavolo had him fitted in some black, plain clothes - something to cover him without drawing too much attention to him. However, now that he had enough time to get used to his surroundings and accept his new life as a demon, he also had enough time to craft a new look for himself.

You weren’t expecting that to include a dark, cool-colored, patterned button down, tucked into black pants with most of the buttons undone.

Nearly choking on your own spit the moment he opened the door, you allowed him to usher you in and rub your back hesitantly. After he thought you had collected yourself - and yes, at that point you stopped choking, but you were still reeling at the image of his chest (did some part of him really need to be exposed at all times?) - he asked, “Do you not like my clothes?”

His voice sounded just as devastatingly sad as a demon. “N-no, they’re fine! I just…” You began gesturing towards his exposed chest and even his midriff before getting embarrassed and dropping your hand. “I wasn’t expecting all that.”

“Oh, here,” Simeone buttoned up three buttons, which did absolutely nothing, and opened the back door to his small yard. “Thanks for agreeing to help me.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, eyes still on his chest as you walked outside.

The Devildom was known for its warm temperatures, and as you helped him prepare the dirt you quickly found your school shirt uncomfortable as it stuck to your skin. Before long, you slipped it off, thankful for the tank top you decided to wear beneath it, and got back to work. The two of you engaged in an easy conversation, but every so often you’d realize Simeon’s eyes stayed on you for a moment too long. Normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself some irresistible temptation, but he was new to being a demon. Any time he’d reach towards you to help you or borrow a tool, you had to fight the urge to flinch. By the time he offered you a break, you had nearly jumped out of your skin too many times to count.

Spent from the labor, you stayed on the grass while he went to get a drink, coming back with a large glass of water that you graciously accepted. As you drank, he watched you intently - or, more specifically, he watched your left shoulder.

“Uh, are you okay?” You asked cautiously. “You’ve been staring a lot.”

He looked genuinely surprised to have been caught. “Have I? I apologize.” His eyes ran over your pact marks where they peeked out from beneath your shirt before falling on your shoulder again. “What’s that scar?”

“Hm?” Glancing down at your shoulder, you could barely make out the shape of an eye scarred on your skin. Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed it before he brought it up. After all, the mark that had been there was purposely difficult to see when he made the vow of protection, so you hadn’t even noticed when it turned to scar tissue. Still, the thought saddened you, and you reach to cover it with your opposite hand. “Oh, that. You gave it to me.”

“I did?” His eyes widened, and he started to toy with one of the buttons attached to his shirt. “I’m- I’m so sorry, MC, I don’t remember-”

“No no no, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean-” He stood up abruptly, not allowing you to finish. His expression was dark, a cross between furious and devastated, and he turned to head back inside. You could imagine his footsteps searing the dry Devildom grass as he stalked away.

“Feel free to let yourself out. Thank you for your help.” He left you sitting in his yard, and you rubbed your scar aimlessly. Though it was just a phantom feeling, it seemed to throb in pain just from his reaction.

---

Simeon offered to walk you home after an RAD party after Diavolo asked all the brothers to stay back for student council business. After months of slowly building your relationship back up again, he was finally comfortable being around you, confident in his ability to reign in his wrath (or at least his speed so he could run far from you if he needed to.) He purposely shortened his strides, the walk taking a much longer time than it normally did. In his company, though, with his easy laughter and your banter, you didn’t mind one bit.

It wasn’t until you finally reached the gates to the house that he let his expression somber. “Hey, MC?” He asked tentatively, as if worried he was intruding. “I know you aren’t supposed to tell me much about my old life, but…” His eyes fell to your scar, which your outfit did nothing to hide.

“Simeon, it’s not like that. You didn’t carve it into me, or anything.”

“Then how did I scar you?”

You sighed. “It used to be an angelic pact. You would-” Did he know about his prophetic abilities as an angel? After clicking your tongue in thought, you corrected yourself. “You were just trying to protect me. We didn’t know this would happen.”

If Simeon cared about your hesitation and how obviously you were hiding information, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked, “Did it hurt, then? When it turned from a promise into a wound?”

Yes, you wanted to say. Just minutes before you heard that he fell, you felt the pain in your shoulder, but you were too busy tending the wounds of others to really pay attention to the pain. You had forgotten about it until Simeon noticed the scar all that time ago, and ever since you had convinced yourself that it throbbed, wanting to turn back into the vow it could never be.

Instead, you smiled at him. “No. I forgot about it until you said something, remember?”

But your smile was too thin, and it betrayed you.

---

You were not supposed to be doing this. However, you had turned your phone off, so the brothers couldn’t talk you out of something so stupid.

You and Simeon hunkered down in the Botanical Gardens long after close, figuring it was a random enough spot that nobody would find you for a while. Hunkered between your favorite type of flytraps, you let Simeon ask you the questions he’s been dying to find answers for since he fell. Each question you answered, telling him about the exchange program and his roommates and all of the memories you held in your heart, safekeeping for the day you could give them back to him.

After all, the way Luke’s face crumpled when he realized that Simeon truly didn’t remember him was something you wanted to avoid seeing again altogether.

There were parts you didn’t know the details of, bits of information that made Simeon’s expression darken, but he urged you to continue, desperate to learn about the voids inside of him he could never figure out how to fill. It wasn’t until you could hear people outside, too close to finding you for you to escape, that you stopped, and even by then your throat was dry and sore.

Before you left to give yourselves up, Simeon reached out and grabbed your hand. There was a serious look in his eyes, and you gulped. “Make a pact with me.”

“What?” You asked. “Simeon, you’re still-”

“I know. But we’re starting to cause trouble, and-” He looked to your arm, where one of the brothers’ marks slipped out from beneath your t-shirt sleeve. “I don’t want them to use their pacts over me. And I trust that you won’t use me just because I haven’t made a true pact before.”

Well, that last part was a given. Maybe it was the sound of Mammon’s voice getting closer, or maybe it was the intensity of his gaze - either way, you fell to your knees so you could be level with him again and nodded. There was an uncomfortable warmth on your shoulder, something that started off soothing but became too hot and prickled at your skin. Before you could look at the mark, Simeon reached for your face and pulled you in, kissing you with a heat he never had during the program and before his fall. Mammon and Leviathan chose this moment to burst in, their shouts falling at the image before them.

Leviathan was the first to speak, grumbling about gross normies in a tone that was clearly giving way to his sin. Mammon came to his senses a few moments later, yelling at Simeon about keeping his hands off. He reached for your arm, pulling you away roughly before shouting directly in your ear, “Hey! What’s the deal with this?”

He was pointing at your exposed left shoulder, where, over the scar, a dark pact mark sat. You were slightly unsettled at how foreboding it looked when you knew it was a twisted distortion of some angelic imagery, but one look at Simeon’s please cheshire grin eased your worries.

---

“So, about those battles…” Simeon trailed off. You were at his house, reading some books in his collection but really just using the trip as an excuse to lay with your head in Simeon’s lap. In one hand, he held a copy of his books, trying to regain some of his memories through their words again. The other was carding through your hair, distracting you from your own book - something random you had plucked off the shelves, eager to get to your spot on the couch.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you anything about that.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell me a lot of things, and yet…” He flicked your left shoulder. You sighed, resting your open book on your chest.

“What do you want to know?” He opened his mouth, but you interrupted him before he could get anything out. “Be specific. I can’t give you the full history of everything. I don’t even know if I know the full history of everything.”

Simeon smiled, tapping his fingers on you mindlessly. “Can you tell me about the battle I fell from?” He noticed how your smile faltered, and when you looked away, he reached to guide your eyes back to his. “Is something wrong?”

You unfurled his fingers and pressed his palm to your cheek, nuzzling into it. “It was over me.”

“Oh.” His voice got significantly smaller, and he asked, “What did you do…?”

“I wasn’t just me!” Playfully, you swatted at his arm, half hoping to dispel the awkwardness hovering in the air. Settling down, you clarified, “It was more...what we did.”

Simeon filled in some of the gaps himself. “I was in love with you.”

“I know, right? You have no taste.” He flicked your nose this time, and you stuck your tongue out at him. “Wait, was?!”

“Stay on topic, little lamb,” He urged gently. When you looked up at him, silently indicating for him to continue his questions, he asked, “So, what, did I lose? Was I condemned for fighting against the Celestial Realm?” That would be a noble fall, he decided. He could make peace with that.

But your face fell again, and your voice got serious. “Simeon...you were fighting against me. You were fighting for the Celestial Realm.”

“What?” Truly aghast, he placed his hand on your cheek again, applying no force but keeping your gaze on his as if you’d stop talking if you looked away. “Why?”

Part of you didn’t know, and that part would never know. Not if Simeon really never regained his memories, anyway. Dejectedly, you shrugged and answered, “I don’t know for sure. But I think you were trying to fight for the fate of my soul. You thought you were fighting for me.”

“How can you know?” You hated the way his voice shook, but didn’t draw any attention to it. “How can you know what I was thinking when I don’t even know?”

“Because I trust you, Simeon. I trusted you then and I trust you now.”

He nodded, but you could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t entirely convinced. Perhaps Diavolo and Baratos were on to something when they warned you not to indulge his questions. His hand went back to slowly messing with your hair, but there was a reluctance to it that told he was only trying to ease your own worries. You could guess what he was thinking - you were probably thinking the same thing, torn apart by a relationship that only seemed to exist to defy every rule that ever existed.

Wherever you went and whatever you did, if he was to follow you and love you, it felt like you would never know peace.

But if you already fought each other, fought for each other, what else was there that you couldn’t handle?

[fangirleaconmigo]

Hi! If your prompts are still open, would you consider perhaps Jaskel with them being soulmates? Hope you have a good day!

Hello dear! Once again, after saying I would answer these with 500-1000 words, I've written a full story arc of about 7500 words. Typical!

I started with this: In the books, Jaskier is extremely famous. What would the repercussions of fame be in a 'first words of your soulmate written on your arm' AU? How would people manipulate or weaponize it to get a piece of you?

What would it mean for a witcher, when so many 'first words' said to you are invectives?

And how would Jaskier and Eskel, with existences that seem at complete odds, navigate the cruelties of such a world, and fall in love?

Content Warnings: Brief references to past manipulative or coerced sex. Brief references of past self harm (to get rid of a soulmate mark). But it is a fully happy ending with loads of comfort.

It's Hard to be the Bard it's also hard to be the witcher, but that doesn't rhyme

As a rule, Eskel liked to keep things simple. Philosophy was for mages, who had nothing to do but plot and scheme. Ruminating never once helped a witcher.

However, there were occasional moments when he let himself drop down into his thoughts, despite his propensity for reigning in that sort of thing. And Eskel was right in the thick of one such moment.

He was in a Verden tavern, watching a man with a lute.

The man sang as he stepped playfully around the tables, soaking up the enthusiastic attention. He didn’t avoid the intense gaze of the crowd. He looked each of his admirers directly in the eyes. He drank it in like a desert flower soaked up the only rain of the season.

The man with the lute was handsome. Charming. He had a spare but lilting voice. Townspeople crowded in, hanging on his every note. Men sighed. Women cried.

But Eskel wasn’t thinking admiring thoughts. He was bewildered. Slightly perturbed. What did it feel like to be this man? To not pull away from such intense, focused attention? What was it like to have people habitually look at you with admiration instead of fear? To be the recipient of fevered lust instead of disgust?

Eskel couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He wondered if two people with such diametrically opposed experiences of living in the world could even be thought of as belonging to the same species.

But the longer Eskel looked, the more interesting the man became. It was like moving closer to a painting and picking out the red and white strokes that combined to make the pink. The singer had a fair youthful face that contrasted with his filthy mouth. He wore the most elegant ensemble Eskel had ever seen in an ordinary tavern, but his doublet lay open rakishly and an obscene thatch of chest hair peeked out.

On closer inspection, he was gorgeous.

Then suddenly, the man was looking him in the eye. He locked into Eskel’s gaze before the witcher could avert his eyes. Eskel froze, fingers hovering over the handle of his mug. He waited for the man to look away to more pleasing vistas. But instead, this confounding man broke easily into a wide, wild grin. Even the warbling lusty note he held couldn’t dim its shine.

Eskel smiled back, with no thought to what his own face looked like.

And then the man with the lute winked at him.

That small gesture sent a thrill of excitement up Eskel’s spine. But that was only the beginning. The spirit and the spark Eskel now saw in the man’s eyes grabbed him by the heart and screamed “Pay attention. This is important.” It was a chain reaction, like one of Lambert’s experiments. It ignited a buzz, which transformed into a lightness of being.

It was infatuation.

Eskel hadn’t felt that in ages. Maybe not since he was a youngling. He couldn’t help it. He chuckled.

Well look at that, you’re still alive, old man. He murmured to himself.

He knew that the wink was the totality of the connection he would have with this man. So he tucked it away in some recess that he could visit later. He would think of it again when he was alone and the world was quiet. No one could judge him for it, because no one would know.

A voice cleared.

The alderman had arrived. This was the part Eskel had been dreading.

“Eskel.” He said Eskel’s name the way one would point out a rotten fleck of cheese. Eskel had made an effort to bathe after his messy hunt and before meeting this man. He had used a fragrant soap and scrubbed until his skin was pink. He had flattened and spit down his hair until it gleamed. He had shaved around his scars so that he didn’t have scattered sparse hair on his cheeks.

He knew it wouldn’t matter. And it didn’t. But he had tried.

“Carlen,” he answered evenly. He kept his voice low, as was his habit. He had been told it sounded like barking dogs.

The alderman didn’t deign to sit. He stood beside the table and dropped a bag of coins. Even looking at it, Eskel knew it wasn’t enough. He picked up the bag and Carlen cocked an eyebrow.

“You don't trust me, witcher?”

He said it like it was absurd. Topsy turvy. Backwards.

“Just business,” said Eskel. He dumped the coins and looked up at Carlen. “This is half of what we agreed to.”

“I gave the rest to the other witcher,” Carlen insisted.

“Lambert took half. I get half.”

“He took more.”

No he fucking didn’t. Eskel knew Lambert would never short him. Carlen was a lying piece of shit.

Eskel hadn’t even responded when Carlen spoke again. “Don’t get upset!” he said theatrically, looking around at the tavern. Eskel instinctively surveyed the place too. The singer had finished his set and was putting away his lute. He was crouched on the ground. A ribbon tied his trousers together at the back. Even in his irritated state, Eskel noted the ridiculous, adorable bow.

“We all know how witchers get,” Carlen said to the tavern, which was now silent other than clinking of glasses. “We wouldn't want any trouble.”

Eskel knew what this was. It was a threat. Carlen was gambling that he could turn the crowd against him if he pressed. Eskel turned back to Carlen, calculating his risk. Calculating how much money he absolutely needed...how much was non negotiable to let him survive to the next job.

Eskel opened his mouth but then startled because suddenly, the singer was right next to him, a vision in teal. How had he moved that quickly? He positioned himself right between Carlen and Eskel. He took up space like a man who had never had to shrink to be found palatable. He placed his hands on his hips like he was a man who belonged anywhere he chose to be. He tipped his head back to look down his nose at the alderman.

“Carlen,” he said imperiously. “Surely you aren’t trying to cheat the man.”

Carlen shrunk backwards. “Oh well hello, Viscount Julian.”

Viscount. What was a viscount doing performing in a tavern? Eskel figured this Viscount Julian should be in court somewhere or enjoying his land. Of course the tavern was packed with an adoring crowd. Maybe he just liked the attention.

“Don’t hello Viscount Julian me,” he sniffed in Carlen’s direction. “Pay the man what you’ve promised him. Do you want witchers to deny us their services? Are you prepared to do battle with a beastie? Well I can’t imagine that,” he cackled mockingly. “You’d piss yourself the minute you were in any real danger.”

Carlen’s eyes hardened, but he was clearly outranked. “No, no, of course no. A mere misunderstanding.”

“I would hope so,” snorted Julian. He picked at his doublet, straightening the buttons, as though Carlen was beneath his notice.

Usually an outsized air of entitlement like that grated on Eskel’s nerves. But it wasn’t so bad when it was deployed in his defense. Most people assumed he didn’t need defending. And he didn’t need it, strictly speaking. But secretly, he liked it.

Julian looked at Carlen again but gestured at Eskel. “After all, how often do we get such brave, handsome men in this godforsaken town? Valiant men who have quite literally slayed monsters, like heroes of old. And that smell of--” Julian sniffed the air, “orange blossoms.”

Eskel’s heart sank as soon as he heard the word handsome, and it kept plummeting like a stone at the words ‘valiant’ and ‘hero’. This was all bullshit. Another performance. He knew he wasn’t handsome. He knew that for a fact. And no one thought that witchers were valiant. Useful maybe. But this was all way too over the top to be true.

Viscount Julian was mocking him.

Wasn’t he?

There had been times when women in taverns would dare each other to go talk to the monstrous man in the corner, as a test of courage. They thought Eskel couldn’t hear them chatter to each other before sending one over to say hello. It always made him feel sour inside. Humiliated.

This had to be the same.

Eskel clenched his fists, bunching up the knees of his trousers. His heart rebelled. This man had smiled at him so brightly. It had felt real. It had felt so real.

There was only one way to find out whether Viscount Julian was mocking him. He had to ask.

“Did Lambert put you up to this?” asked Eskel.

Lambert had been in here collecting his pay on the contract just before Eskel. He might still be around. Eskel leaned back to sweep his eyes around the tavern. He searched for Lambert’s smirking face. He didn’t find it.

He looked back at Julian, and was startled to see a stark transformation. Julian’s face had fallen. It had gone completely slack. It had just been full of verve and charm for Eskel, and righteous disdain for Carlen. Now he looked hurt, and stunned, as though Eskel had just slapped him flat across the face. Carlen didn’t notice, he was busy pulling out more coins.

Eskel panicked and ran through what he had just said. In retrospect it didn't make sense, of course. Lambert wouldn't have put Julian up to this. If Lambert had wanted Carlen put in his place he would have done it himself. And he wouldn’t have gotten anyone to mock Eskel’s looks. Lambert was an asshole but he wasn’t cruel. There was a difference.

But in the moment, Eskel had just instinctively grasped for someone to blame for a trick on him, and had come up with Lambert out of rote habit. And now Julian was standing before him, his eyes hardened into little blue points of wounded betrayal.

And Eskel had no idea why.

“Here you go, sir witcher,” smiled Carlen falsely. Eskel looked back at the alderman to gather his coins. The man dropped a second bag into his hands and turned on his heel. The doors of the tavern clattered in his wake. Eskel turned back to Julian, but he was gone.

He was up front again. A smile was back on his face, but it was brittle. It was nothing like before. The barkeep cupped his hands around his mouth and exhorted the crowd to “give a hand to Jaskier!”

Jaskier. Must be a stage name.

The crowd went absolutely wild. Eskel picked out squeals and shrieks from people who Jaskier honored with a wink. But it looked forced. Eskel felt slightly ill. He felt responsible for this reversal of moods. He shifted in his chair and drummed his fingers on the surface.

Eskel didn’t know why he cared so much, why his mind churned and guilt settled on him like a shroud. Geralt and Lambert always told him that he cared too much what other people thought of him. He knew they would advise him to leave the tavern. He had his money. And he hadn’t said anything rude or disrespectful. He had nothing to apologize for.

And yet.

Eskel hadn’t been offered a friendly expression all spring. Then, when he was greeted with a joyous open smile, Eskel had chased it away. Worse yet, he didn’t even know how he had done it. It irked him. He wasn’t going to be able to leave here until he found out. He lifted a finger to call over the server. His appetite had mostly withered, but he needed a reason to be at the table for the rest of the evening. The server ignored him. After a long wait, the proprietor himself came out to serve him. The server must have refused to help him. It was fine.

Eskel ordered his supper, then sat there as dusk settled outside. He nursed his pint. He clanged a spoon around in his soup. And he trained his witcher hearing on Jaskier, who sat with his back to him across the tavern at the bar.

Over the next hour, people approached Jaskier in an unrelenting stream. Apparently, he was a singer of some renown. Some people asked him for a song. Others wanted good wishes for their families. Some told him their personal problems in lurid detail. Some grabbed him and kissed his cheek. Others propositioned him in such obscene terms that Eskel’s ears turned pink. He wasn’t shy about sex, but he was uncomfortable with aggressive, public propositions.

Jaskier responded to them all in a practiced, cheerful tone. He laughed and squirmed subtly away from caresses. He smiled into cheek kisses. But Eskel could tell that by comparison to his earlier vivacity, this was pure performance. His mood was sour, but he was hiding it remarkably well. And he was throwing back pint after pint, growing intoxicated.

A protective instinct bloomed in Eskel, but he resisted it. Jaskier clearly liked fame, he must know how to handle it even when drunk.

Eskel watched carefully as the next man approached Jaskier. He had a doublet and trousers on that were similar to the outfit Jaskier wore. He smiled lasciviously. Then he said something quietly in Jaskier’s ear that made Eskel’s hair stand on end.

“Did Lambert put you up to this?”

Jaskier exploded. He slammed his stein down on the bar. “Put me up to what?? Who would put me up to sitting on my ass drinking ale? It doesn’t even make sense! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The tavern fell silent and tense.

Jaskier hopped down from the stool and almost stumbled forward onto his face. An empathy response made Eskel jerk forward but he stopped himself. He was too far away, even if Jaskier wanted his help. The man who had spoken tried to steady him but Jaskier yanked his arm away. He grabbed his lute and pulled it over his shoulder. Then he rushed towards the exit. As Jaskier passed Eskel on the way to the door, he kept his eyes trained forward, steadfastly avoiding looking at him.

Jaskier burst out the door and into the night. Several people jumped from their seats and followed him, whispering frantically to one other.

Eskel desperately wanted to know why that man had said what he said. He almost moved to go ask. But then he nervously glanced at the door. Those overbearing people were stalking Jaskier in his vulnerable drunken state. Alright, Eskel was stalking him too. But he was keeping a respectful distance.

Eskel pushed to his feet. He dropped a sufficient amount of coin onto the table and followed the trickle of people outside. Verden was no backwater, so the streets were wide and lined with shops all closed up for the night. The mercantile district was built close to the banks of the Yaruga so the air smelled of wet earth, fish, and tar.

He spotted Jaskier headed north in the direction of the docks. It was a bad idea. Generally, when one was drunk, one should avoid large bodies of water.

Eskel walked down the cobblestone street, keeping to the shadows. It was quieter outside and his ear rang slightly, adjusting from the loud noise of the tavern.

Two young men who had been tailing Jaskier, reached him and touched his shoulder to get his attention. Eskel was close enough that he could see Jaskier turn around. The streetlamp shone warm gold on one side of Jaskier’s face and the moon lit him soft and gray on the other. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. His eyes were watery and his mouth was set in a grim line.

Eskel’s pulse quickened when he heard one of the men lean in and ask, “Did Lambert put you up to this?”

Jaskier flipped them off and took off further down the street.

The men gave up their mission, and turned back, only for Eskel to emerge from the shadows, glowering down at them. One of the men shrieked like a frightened child.

“Why did you say that to him?” gritted out Eskel.

The two men skittered backwards, eyes wide, stammering apologies. “I’m not the only one who’s tried it,” said one man, his round face pinched in fear.

“It can’t hurt to try,” said the other, holding tight to his hat as they scattered away.

What in the fuck did that mean? There were three more people behind Eskel who had come out of the tavern to follow Jaskier. He whirled around, stepped towards them, and growled. They all yelped and retreated.

Eskel surveyed the empty street in satisfaction. Then he hurried to recapture Jaskier. He calculated how close he needed to be to pull Jaskier out of the water if he pitched off the side of the pier.

But thankfully, Jaskier found a seat on a wide, squat, wooden beam safely away from the edge of the pier. He lowered himself carefully and raised his face to inhale the soft breeze cooling his face. The lapping of water and the chirp of crickets soon swallowed every other noise.

Eskel drew closer, debating what to do. Then he came to a decision. He approached and knelt beside Jaskier.

“Hello,” said Eskel gently.

Jaskier turned slowly to look at him. His bleary eyes focused, lit up briefly, then extinguished.

“Fuck off.”

There was no fire behind it. He sounded drained. He didn’t slur, but his words were fuzzy. Slippery. He looked back at the water and inhaled, as though he meant to block Eskel out of his mind.

“My name is Eskel.”

Jaskier rubbed his face then dropped his hands heavily back in his lap. “Th-blazes do you want, Eskel?” His face looked drawn, all efforts at jolliness had vanished. Eskel wanted to touch him to comfort him, but he knew it wouldn't be welcome.

“Why are people saying that to you? About Lambert?” he asked.

Jaskier chuckled bitterly. “You tell me. You said it too.” He stood up and walked to the edge of the pier. Eskel almost stood up, in order to be at the ready if Jaskier fell. But then he heard the telltale sound of him pissing in the water.

Jaskier returned to his seat on the beam and settled in, looking out over the water once again.

“Yes, but I know why I said it,” insisted Eskel, picking the conversation up where he left off. “I have a brother named Lambert. He likes to play tricks sometimes. What I want to know is, why did the others say it?”

Jaskier picked up a bottle sitting on the docks between his feet. Eskel hadn’t noticed it there before. Jaskier pulled out the cork and took a sip. Then he lowered it and licked his lips. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it's true.”

Jaskier’s shoulders shook. He was giggling. But it wasn’t a nice giggle. It was bitter. “I really thought you were different. For just a moment.”

Eskel had thought the same about Jaskier. It had felt awful when that belief turned to ash, when he thought Jaskier was mocking him. He replied softly, “you don’t even know me.”

It was quiet now. The sounds that were left of the town were far away. There was only the ripples of water and the rustle of reeds. Each time they spoke, their voices broke the silence like a pebble in still water. It made their conversation feel intimate. Eskel supposed that should have been weird. They didn't know each other, and Jaskier didn’t trust him. But oddly, that was exactly how it felt. Intimate.

Jaskier shrugged. Eskel thought that meant “fine, don’t believe me,” and that the line of inquiry was dead. He opened his mouth to try a different tack.

But Jaskier cut in. “It was your smile,” he said. The words sounded like truth dragged up from the depths of his soul. “It was...utterly sincere.” Jaskier paused and pondered, his lips frozen mid utterance. Eskel waited until he continued. “I could feel it. I was drawn to it. And when Carlen came in, I saw you were a witcher.” He lifted the palms of his hands and shrugged. “So you were also brave, and a man who didn’t deal in bullshit. I admired you straight away.”

Eskel flushed. He had a hard time with compliments. But this was even worse, because Jaskier was using the past tense. These nice words were things Jaskier used to think of him.

Jaskier fiddled with the cork he had pulled from the bottle. “And when Carlen tried to cheat you, you were humble. Quiet. Like you didn’t want to be too big or too much. The fucker instantly took advantage of that. And it did silence you.”

Eskel couldn’t protest, because it was true.

“I relate to that,” said Jaskier. “Being afraid of being too much. Perhaps for different reasons. But I do. It was a small thing. But I connected with you.”

He threw the cork out into the water with a flick of his wrist. It made a soft plunk when it hit the surface, and it bobbed downstream. Jaskier took another sip and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Plus, you’re handsome. It made me stupid.”

He really did think Eskel was handsome, after all.

The wooden beams were digging bruises into Eskel’s knees, so he sat back and crossed his legs. Jaskier glanced at him, watching him getting comfortable. He raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t ask him to leave.

“Why did the others repeat my words?” He had to persist until he got an answer.

Jasker snorted. “It’s a trick.” He held out his arm in the moonlight and shoved up his sleeve. Up his forearm ran the neat line of his soulmate words in stark black against his pale skin.

It sounded absurd, but Eskel often forgot about the existence of soulmate words. He had gotten so practiced at blocking them out...pretending that they didn’t exist.

Lots of people didn’t put stock in them anyway. Believing in soulmate words was a leap of faith, like spending all season tilling new ground, or trying for a child. You hoped for the best. But sometimes the winter was harsh. Or the baby had a head too large for birth. Or you had terrible soulmate words. Words that were common. Words that were cruel. Or worst of all, words that were both common and cruel.

It was a mess, bordering on a clusterfuck. But now, looking at Jaskier’s forearm, Eskel was flooded with emotions so potent he had to concentrate on pulling in breath to slow his pulse. On Jaskier’s forearm sat the following words:

Did Lambert put you up to this.

Eskel’s heart pounded. His hand came up to his own arm, covered by his sleeve. He was almost a hundred years old. He hadn’t thought of his own soulmate words in decades. He had practically forgotten they existed. But now he made the connection.

His spirit eased. A fear he had been guarding and allowing to fester ever since he was twenty one, began to slip away.

Jaskier pulled his sleeve back down. “See, you seem genuinely surprised.” He shook his head slowly, eyes hollow. “And something inside me still fights to believe you.”

The light went on and Eskel understood. He hadn’t been overheard. Jaskier’s fans had already known the words on his forearm. The man in the bar, the people chasing Jaskier in the street, they had all been trying to trick Jaskier into believing they were his soulmate. Eskel had trundled right into an existing situation like a bull in a china shop.

“So, your fans have seen your words, I take it.”

“Fine,” said Jaskier. “If you want to play this, I’ll play it.”

He turned around and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. The full force of his expressive doe eyes looked straight into Eskel. Fuck. He was even more beautiful under the stars. Eskel wanted to touch him. He didn’t.

“Tell me,” said Eskel.

“I have never been in a hurry to find my soulmate,” began Jaskier. He had the air of man who was going to tell a story with a beginning, middle and end. Eskel settled in. He was curious. Jaskier’s life sat in the starkest contrast to his own. He wanted to know what it was like, living under such different conditions.

“I wanted to fuck my way across the continent,” Jaskier continued, though he spoke softly now. “I wanted to enjoy every flavor of person. Life is short. And I do love the attention. But--” he raised a finger and tilted his head, “I am still a hopeless romantic. And people have found a way to---” his breathing stuttered, “--use it against me.” The last few words were so quiet, even sitting this close to him Eskel might not have heard were he not a witcher.

At some point this had shifted from shoving his story defiantly at Eskel, to telling it sincerely.

“How?” asked Eskel.

Jaskier lowered his eyes, seeming to build courage. It plucked at Eskel’s heartstrings. “Well, first it was my lyrics. You know how your words don’t come in until you’re twenty one? I was famous by eighteen. So I was out in the world, meeting new people every day, I had no idea what my words would be. So it was easy for them to write my lyrics on their arms. Ink them. Paint them.”

“Your lyrics? Of the songs you sing?”

“Yes,” Jaskier rubbed his forearm absently. “When I walk into a tavern or entertainment hall and begin a song, technically, those are the first words I say to the entire room of people. And there’s no instructional pamphlet. No rule book. Does singing count? It doesn’t. But I didn’t know.”

“So they would ink your lyrics on and claim they were you soulmates because you said those words to them.”

“Yes. And since I didn’t have words of my own yet, I had no way of knowing if it was true.”

“I see,” said Eskel.

“Do you?” Jaskier’s voice turned metallic, rage simmering below. The rage wasn’t for Eskel. It was directed at some memory. “Because the first time a man claimed to be my soulmate, I believed him. He had my lyrics on his arm. He said that I had locked eyes with him across the room when I’d sung them. I was young. Stupid.”

“Trusting.”

“Seeing my lyrics, words I had composed from my heart, on his arm, moved me. I thought it so romantic,” he said, in a tone mocking his past self. “It wasn’t until we were somewhere private, I was divested of my clothes, and I’d--submitted to him that my fingers slid down the sweat on his arms and the words smeared.”

The full reality of what that moment must have been like, dawned on Eskel. “What a piece of shit.”

“The soulmarks were fake.” His voice grew thick with the threat of tears. His vulnerability was almost painful to look at. But Eskel wouldn’t turn away if he didn’t. “The man had lied. Tricked me. I felt like an imbecile. Like an idiot. I may be a slut, but I still like to make my own decisions about who I have sex with, and under honest circumstances.”

Eskel ached in sympathy. He didn’t want to ask how far the tryst had gone before Jaskier knew he’d been lied to. He didn’t want to ask how he’d responded, whether he pretended he hadn’t seen and finished? Or whether he had pulled away and fled.

“Am I boring you yet?” asked Jaskier.

“No.”

Jaskier slid his hands through his fringe and tucked it behind his ear. “I thought I had learned my lesson. So when my words were ready to appear, just before my birthday, I had my mother sew loops onto my sleeves to hide my soulmate words. I didn’t want anyone to learn them and try again to take advantage of me. But one day, the string caught and rode up. Someone saw my words, and I didn’t realize it.”

“Fuck,” whispered Eskel.

“They had my lyrics. I had their words. I thought...I thought I’d found the one again. I fell right into bed with another liar. Another trick.” Jaskier’s throat closed and he fell silent.

“I’m sorry,” said Eskel. “I’m a witcher. People reject us. Hate us. But to have people use your body, to take a piece of it whether you want to give it or not...I don’t know what’s worse.”

“It’s not all bad,” said Jaskier, forcing some levity into his voice. “Most of the time I love fame. Wouldn’t choose anything else. But no rose is without its thorns.”

“I suppose so,” said Eskel. “But you don’t deserve that. No one does.”

“I was stupid.”

“You were brave.”

Jaskier looked doubtful.

“It’s brave to hope in the face of cruelty,” said Eskel. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jaskier fiddled with his fingers. “Some of my fans are lovely, though. The first man who lied to me? He boasted all over town that he had taken me. That he had tricked me into fucking him. It didn’t go as well as he hoped. Not everyone admired him for it. In fact, a gaggle of adolescent girls, they call themselves Jaskier’s Angels,” a smile curled on his lips, the first real one to occupy his face since Eskel had spoken his soulmate words, “cornered him in an alley and thrashed him with sticks until he cried.

Eskel chuckled. Jaskier joined in. Soon they were both giggling. It wasn’t funny. But they laughed anyway. And it helped. Jaskier sat up and grabbed the bottle again. He chugged it this time.

“I have learned, Eskel,” he said loudly with sharp corners in his voice, as though telling not only Eskel, but the Yaruga itself, “That a pedestal is not love.”

Chug.

“It is just something to fall off of.”

Chug.

“I have learned, Eskel, that someone can be on you, and in you, all without ever fucking seeing you at all.”

Chug.

“I have learned, Eskel, that someone can have your name endlessly on their lips and never care to know who you really are.”

Chug.

Then he swept the bottle to the side in a grand gesture, looking at Eskel, increasingly unsteady. Then he sat in silence, again looking at the water, as the alcohol hit his system.

Eskel swallowed hard. The loneliness that dripped from Jaskier was so thick it felt corporeal. He knew exactly how that felt. He ached to do something, anything to assuage even a bit of it. To reassure him.

He settled for reassuring Jaskier about him. “If you want to check on my story,” he said, “you can ask Carlen. He paid my brother Lambert for the job and made a receipt in the town ledger. I’m a lot of things. But I don’t force people or lie to them for sex. I would never--”

He knew it sounded false. He stopped, letting the words trickle away. Jaskier didn’t respond. They sat in silence as Jaskier downed the rest of the bottle. Eskel watched his throat bob, and vowed to stay and make sure Jaskier got back somewhere safe.

“Where do you live?” he asked. Jaskier didn’t answer. He finished the bottle. Then he turned to face Eskel once again. He hadn't heard his question.

“S-sorry,” he croaked. “I s’pose I'm having....a bit of a night.”

And then he leaned over and vomited into the Yaruga.

Shortly thereafter, he laid down on the slats of the pier for a nice nap.

Eskel carried a snoring Jaskier back to the tavern, bridal style. His sweaty body curled against Eskel’s chest, tranquil and without defense. His fingers pinched periodically at the fabric of Eskel’s shirt. The lute dangled over his shoulder, gently thumping against him as he walked. The proprietor showed them to a modest room upstairs. Eskel settled Jaskier down on the cozy bed with a creak. He took off his shoes and stockings for him, but left the rest. Then he pulled the quilt over him and tucked it against his sides.

He was careful not to touch Jaskier unnecessarily, but he watched him sleep for a few moments. It was good to see him like that. Peaceful. Chest rising and falling.

He found a chair and pulled it out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

And he took up watch.

----

The next morning, by the time Jaskier stumbled downstairs to try to pay for his room, Eskel was already gone, heading north on his horse Scorpion. Pines towered above him and the wind was at his back.

He had slipped away as soon as he’d heard Jaskier groan himself awake. He didn’t know how much Jaskier would remember of the previous night. But he would always remember it. He would remember sitting on a creaking dock, listening to Jaskier entrust him with his story. It had been so different from his own, yet he had recognized himself in it. He knew what it was like not to be able to trust. He knew what it was like for people to see you as an object, not a person.

He had wanted to stay longer, maybe for breakfast. But if Eskel had stayed he would have been weak. He would have been selfish. He took a less traveled, dirt road out of town. Not that he thought in a million years that Jaskier would try to follow him. But he took precautions as a rule.

Still, he couldn’t help that his heart leapt to his throat in joy when about five miles out, he heard hooves pounding up the road behind him and Jaskier’s voice shouting his name. “Eskel! Eskel please! I’m still dehydrated. Don’t make me chase you anymore! Have mercy! Stop in the name of Viscount Julian!”

Eskel pulled Scorpion to a stop and turned around, a laugh burbling from his throat. Jaskier looked absolutely ridiculous and splotchy. He was disheveled. But the bright light was back in his eyes. He was smiling from ear to ear.

“I caught you!” He chortled when he was close enough for their horses to eye each other warily.

“Jaskier, what are you doing here? You look...”

“Like shit?” asked Jaskier, panting and running his hands through his hair. In the morning light, the firmness of his muscles, the broadness of his shoulders, were more apparent. Eskel’s body warmed, and he reminded himself that he couldn’t have this man. He shouldn’t.

“Let’s get down so we don’t have to yell at each other,” Jaskier suggested.

The both slid from their saddles and stood in front of one another. Eskel had no idea where this was going, but the full body relief he felt to be standing close to Jaskier again took him by surprise. “I was going to say, you look better. You look happier,” he said.

“Yes,” conceded Jaskier, shading his eyes from the sun. “Last night was rough. But sometimes you need to cleanse your demons with whinging and whiskey.”

Eskel chuckled. “I get that. Have done it more than once.”

Jaskier smiled and it was the first time Eskel had seen him look...shy. If you’d asked him when he’d first laid eyes on Jaskier whether the man was even capable of looking shy he would have said no.

Be strong, you ridiculous witcher, Eskel thought to himself.

“I also benefited greatly from a patient ear,” Jaskier continued. “I benefited from the kindness of a man who carried me back to a room, then apparently sat outside my door all night and chased away several fans who wanted to wake me.”

Eskel’s had frightened a few people away. It had felt sort of good, actually.

“And you paid for my room out of your hard earned coin.”

Eskel felt awkward being at the receiving end of all this gratitude. He liked it, but it made his insides squirm. So he changed the subject. “Did you go by Carlen’s house?”

“I did. On my way here. I hope you don’t take it as an insult.”

“I’m grateful you did. I don’t want any doubt left between us.”

Jaskier stepped closer, and Eskel’s heart thumped in his chest. He could usually hear the other person’s heart and gauge it, but Jaskier was still out of breath from the ride, so his heart was already thudding. But his intentions were clear when he reached out and took Eskel’s hand.

Eskel let him. He revelled in the curl of Jaskier’s fingers around his own. His eyes even fluttered closed momentarily when Jaskeir squeezed him. He wanted this touch. He wanted more.

“Eskel, I think you are the best man I’ve ever met.”

There was no way Eskel could process that fully. He squeezed Jaskier’s hand. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You couldn’t have known,” replied Jaskier. “You innocently stumbled into my mess.”

Their clasped hands swung between them. Scorpion whinnied. Jaskier’s horse moseyed to the edge of the trail and sniffed around.

“What does your arm say, Eskel?” challenged Jaskier.

Eskel’s smile melted into concern. “Jaskier,” he pleaded. “You don't want to know. I’m not right for you. My life is hard and cold. I move from place to place, and sometimes I don’t even know when the next coin will come.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what is right for me?” Jaskier asked. His voice was gentle but there was the slightest edge.

Eskel thought about Diedre, and how he had tried to protect her from herself by keeping her out of his life, and how disastrous the consequences had been. He realized that this was similar. The thought that he was repeating a mistake distressed him greatly. Perhaps he needed to stop protecting people and start trusting them. Perhaps he needed to have a little faith.

Eskel looked above Jaskier’s shoulder, towards the horizon. He slowly pulled up his sleeve, turning his arm so that Jaskier could see his soulmark words.

Jaskier’s lips moved as he read them.

Fuck off.

They were the first words that Jaskier had properly said to him. Jaskier ran his finger over the bumps of scar tissue surrounding them. “What happened?” He looked into Eskel’s eyes with naked concern.

Eskel didn’t like talking about it, but Jaskier had shared his story. It was Eskel’s turn.

“People tell witchers to fuck off pretty regularly. And it would be weird to offer yourself up as a soulmate when they do.”

“Oh,” said Jaskier. His shoulders slumped, looking distressed at the thought. "You deserve so much better than that, dear man."

This kindness caused Eskel to pry his heart open just a little bit more.

“Every day I am outside of Kaer Morhen, I have to prove that I’m a person, and not a monster. Trying to destroy the marks was my way of rebelling against a destiny that wanted me to hate myself. Against accepting a soul mate who I would have to convince not to hate me.”

Jaskier’s face pinched in sympathetic pain. He pulled Eskel’s forearm closer and pressed a kiss to the ridge of the burn scars running along the words. Eskel melted.

“I stopped when I got these,” he pointed to the scars on his face. “After that, I didn’t have the stomach for more scars. So I just tried to forget.”

Jaskier chewed his lip. His hand was warm and comforting in Eskel’s palm. “You know that’s not the reason I told you to fuck off,” he said. “It had nothing to do with you being a witcher.”

“I know,” said Eskel. “You thought I was trying to take advantage of you, like the others.”

“You have my deepest apologies, darling Eskel,” said Jaskier.

“You didn’t know. You stumbled innocently into my mess.” He repeated the same sentiment that Jaskier had offered him. “This might be weird, but I was relieved when you said my soulmark words. I had always assumed it would be the words of someone disgusted by me. Someone I would have to convince that I am a person. But it wasn't that after all. You and I, we just...had a bit of a misunderstanding.”

Jaskier reached for Eskel’s other hand. “Can we begin again? Shall I beg? I’m willing to beg.”

They stood clasping hands as though they were about to dance in the middle of the dusty trail. When Eskel didn’t answer him, he pressed again.

“I always pictured myself being dashing and romantic,” Jaskier said plaintively, “if I ever met my soulmate. I’m a poet, for fuck’s sake. I can do better than fuck off. If you give me a chance, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll write you a hundred poems.”

Eskel released Jaskier’s hands and took a step backwards, giving him an out if he wanted it.

“Jaskier, this life is bloody and dangerous. The life span is short. The food on the road is shit. The monsters are absolute cunts.”

Jaskier closed the distance between them, grasping his hands again. Butterflies fluttered through Eskel’s stomach.

“I’m hardier than I may seem,” he insisted. “And I happen to be looking for a change of scenery.”

“What about your music?” asked Eskel.

“Adventures and brave deeds make the best ballads.”

Eskel chuckled. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Yes. I hope you aren’t used to winning arguments.” Jaskier grinned mischievously, and it was obscenely endearing. There was so much more to this man than first met the eye.

Yes, he had been imperious and entitled. But he had weaponized it to defend Eskel. And Jaskier’s breakdown by the docks had shown how trusting he still was, under it all. It was resilience. It was courage. It was hope. Eskel remembered hope.

“There are no beautiful boys and girls here,” he said.

“I am looking at the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."

Eskel blushed and smothered a smile. But he wouldn’t be dissuaded yet. He had to be sure that Jaskier knew what this would mean. “But every night you play, you get your choice of the partner. You can have anyone. You can taste any flavor.”

“But I am ready for something more. Something better. Someone better.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“I want to find out,” said Jaskier. “Please, Eskel. Grant me the chance to find out.”

The sincerity of his pleading gave Eskel the courage to drop the last of his defenses. He allowed hope to rush in like the tide. He pulled Jaskier against him and cupped his face in his hands.

And he kissed him.

Jaskier whimpered in delight and melted against him, fingers sliding up to rest against his neck. It was a kiss of promise. It was the beginning of a journey.

Eskel drank in his eager lips and the press of his warm, enthusiastic body. Then he pulled back to look at Jaskier closely, a smile tugging at his lips once more.

“Very well, Viscount Julian,” he said with a teasing flourish. “Would you like to crawl around in the brush with me and be menaced by a bloodthirsty bruxa? Because that is what comes next.”

“I would,” said Jaskier. “I do”

“Don’t you want to go back to get your things?”

“I’ll buy more. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Pieces of Eskel mended at that. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier and held him for several long moments, feeling their hearts beating against one another. Jaskier rested his head on his shoulder with a sigh, and ran his fingers up and down Eskel’s back.

Then they mounted their horses and rode off together, towards the first adventure of many.

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Three- Picnics

If you want to read it on ao3 (now as one singular fic because I am a dum dum) you can do that here

When Hero suggested that the five of them get together and have a picnic, Basil was nervous, but excited. There was a part of him that would always be afraid, but more than anything he wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. A picnic could be the start of that.

But Basil should have known that things could never go back to the way they used to be.

“Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.”- Kate DiCamillo

Basil wasn’t really sure what to expect when their group decided to get together for a picnic again like they used to, but his first inclination wouldn’t have been that there would be a fist fight about to break out.

After the fight, and the hospital, and everything that came after, things had gotten surprisingly calm and quiet. The guilt that had eaten his insides for all those years was gone, and in its place was peace. Yes, he still felt awful about what they had done, but the secret was over, and he no longer had to hold all of that pain by himself.

Their friends had accepted the truth at varied rates, and Basil was sure it would take a long time before they ever even came close to forgiving him or Sunny. Aubrey was still quick to anger, Hero was still avoidant of the pain, but things had changed. Something about those last few days Sunny had spent with them in Faraway had changed them all, made everyone more open to trying with each other again. Even after they learned everything.

It felt good to be friends again, to be able to look at their faces without the self loathing threatening to crush him. He would take whatever halted measures of friendship they would give, if it only meant not being alone again. So when Hero suggested a picnic, Basil eagerly agreed without thinking twice.

He should have thought twice.

The planning had gone perfectly fine. Kel was a hundred percent on board, and he had even offered to help with making the food. The other boy seemed most pleased that it was Hero specifically who was extending the branch out. Basil knew that, of all of them, Hero was probably going to have the most mixed emotions about what he and Sunny had done. Still, Hero was Hero. Even if he hated them both, he would never reveal it.

Aubrey had seemed unsure, but Kel’s enthusiasm and the promise of getting Sunny back to join them had her agreeing. Basil knew she and Sunny talked on the phone pretty often, maybe even more than Sunny and himself. Aubrey was trying hard to make up for the last four years, and she spent most of her time with Basil or by herself. She said it was to ‘figure things out’ and he didn’t pry. He knew how hard it was to accept things in your past that you didn’t want to think about or the parts of yourself that you didn’t like all that much.

Then there was Sunny. They had all crowded together around Kel’s home phone to talk to Sunny about their idea. He had agreed to come and made plans to sleep at Kel and Hero’s house the night of their picnic. Logically it would have made more sense for him to stay with Basil, there was more room at Basil’s house, but it went unspoken between them why Kel and Hero had extended the offer instead. He would catch the train in and out and be back by dinner the next day, it wasn’t a far journey. None of them had seen Sunny since the hospital, at least not in person, and Basil wondered what it might be like to lay eyes on the other boy now.

The day came and they had split into natural groups. Most of the preparations were already done, but there were a few things to finish up on the morning of. Hero would take care of finishing the food, Aubrey would set up in their spot in the park, and Basil and Kel were going to go pick up Sunny from the train station.

Everything was good. The day was bright and warm with not a single cloud in the sky, Sunny’s train had arrived right on time, and Sunny had even greeted them both with quick but tight hugs and a small smile. He was still wearing an eyepatch (and apparently would always be from now on) but he looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the greying pallor of his skin had vanished. He held himself a little straighter, spoke a little more, and the air of fear that seemed to surround Sunny had dissipated into nothing.

Kel had grabbed both of their hands and swung them through the air as they walked towards the park, chattering about what he and Hero had planned for that day. Basil was content to let Kel do most of the talking and shared a secret amused look behind his back with Sunny. This was something that had happened all the time when they were kids, and the nostalgia of it was easy to fall into.

When they got to the park and saw Aubrey, things were awkward for all of two seconds before she punched Sunny gently on the arm and ruffled his hair, bringing them over to the set up she had created. The picnic blanket was a checkered blue, not red, but it was soft. There was the scent of flowers in the air from the bushes nearby in bloom, and a breeze twirled the pinwheels clustered in the distance. It felt so blissfully...normal. Like they could just fall right back into step where they left off all those years ago.

Basil should have hit himself over the head for thinking that.

It started so innocently. They were waiting for Hero to arrive and sighing about how nice their little corner of the world was, when Aubrey made an offhand comment about her friends potentially joining them next time. Before Basil could even really process what her words, Kel had said no. He hadn’t said it in a joking way or to tease her. Kel had snapped, and the tension in his shoulder and the hardness of his eyes told them all that he was deadly serious.

It was jarring. Of all of them, Kel had always been the friendliest. Hero may have been the most popular, but Kel wasn’t far behind his brother in natural charm. He was sweet and sincere, and almost always willing to get to know people. It wasn’t like him to shut down so quickly or with such force. Kel’s face was stormy and he was avoiding eye contact with all of them, keeping those hard eyes locked with the ground. Aubrey seemed livid, but she sat stony and silent, waiting for more of an explanation. The one that came only made things worse.

“I just don’t see why you would even wanna be around them anymore,”

Aubrey, loyal beyond words, had swooped in to defend the rest of her gang, claiming that they were good people who were great friends. This had only made Kel scoff, which infuriated her even more. Basil was used to Aubrey and Kel getting into arguments, he was even okay with the escalated fight that had happened at the dock (seeing as he blamed himself for causing it), but this was unlike any of those.

Normally it was Kel who kept fairly cool during these things, and Aubrey that went ballistic. Yes, Kel fought right back with her and gave as good as he got, but he had always seemed calm and collected, mostly joking around and poking fun at how red Aubrey’s face would get.

Now it was his cheeks that were tinged, and his throat that was raw from screaming, in a way that Basil had never seen before. He stayed silent and tried to keep himself small, hands clasping together over his chest as he tried to remember the deep breathing techniques Polly had been teaching him. They didn’t seem to be working. A quick glance to the side showed Sunny in a similar state of distress, watching their friends argue with a wide eye and clear panic etched into his features.

Aubrey and Kel’s argument devolved fast, going from something that held worth to just being insults hurled back and forth. They began to advance on each other, clearly done with words and moving past to blows, but a voice cut through, breaking the intensity that had caught them all firmly in its grip.

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned around simultaneously, varying stages of guilt evident on everyone’s faces. Hero emerged from the brush, carrying a large wooden picnic basket on one arm, his mouth turned downwards.

He surveyed the moment and sighed, a tired sound that betrayed a weight that they all knew Hero carried but refused to let them bear with him. The eldest walked over and gently placed the basket down on the blanket, glancing at each of them in turn.

“You okay, Sunny?” Hero asked, and Sunny nodded. He seemed calmer now that someone was intervening, but fear was still there. Hero patted him once on the top of his head and peered around the youngest. “Basil?”

Basil nodded too, his own words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Something had been squeezing him too tight to breathe, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it was still pretty bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle though, and Basil knew that Hero needed to be focusing on the other two right now. With both of them checked on, Hero stood at his full height and stared at the others.

“Explain,”

Both teens burst into words, voices raising as they tried to shout over each other and interject to disprove what the other had just claimed. Hero listened to the cacophony for a moment and then raised his hands, yelling over them to quiet down. Once it was settled again, Hero turned to Aubrey.

“Aubrey, you go first. You can talk with no interruptions. Then Kel is going to talk with no interruptions, and we’re all going to listen to each other. I want each of you to explain to me why you’re fighting, okay?” Both teens nodded, and Hero sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit back down as well. They did, and then Aubrey began to talk.

“Out of nowhere Kel starts going off about my friends and talking bad about them for no reason,” Kel made a noise here and Hero looked at him. The younger brother rolled his eyes but stayed silent, and Hero waved a hand at Aubrey to continue, “I don’t get why he’s so angry, but I don’t care. He had no right to say all of those things. That’s why they don’t like you, you just assume the worst of them.”

Kel shot a harsh glare towards the girl, something fiery and fueled with a deep rage that was completely out of character for him. Then when he spoke, the oddities only continued.

“I didn’t start ‘out of nowhere’. You started this by saying you wanted us all to hang out with them. Like we’re all pals. Did you forget that the only thing you did when you spent time with them was bully people and act like none of us mattered to you? You keep talking about how you wanna change, but you don’t. You just want to act like nothing you did mattered. They bullied m- Basil for years! If you’re really our- his friend I don’t know why you don’t want to protect Basil from those guys,” Kel finished his speech with a huff, crossing his arms and curling in on himself.

“I apologized to Basil plenty already!” Aubrey replied, a glance to Hero when she began. When he didn’t interrupt her, she kept going, “He forgave me, and now we’re trying to get past it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe we should listen to what Basil thinks?” Hero suggested, trying to keep the conversation from riding off the rails as it had before, “If you’re both so worried about him, it seems like his opinion would be the most important thing here,”

Then all eyes were on him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Basil twisted his fingers in his lap and laughed nervously, his mouth filling with cotton as both sides of the argument clearly looked for his backing.

“I-I don’t know?” He finally replied, the words sounding small and useless, only making everyone madder, “I wouldn’t mind trying I guess. Seeing if if it works out, ya know?”

Hero perked up here, shooting Basil a grateful smile. Aubrey seemed vindicated and her anger began to melt. The tension eased out of the air, and Basil breathed out. It was all going to be okay now. It was just a regular Kel and Aubrey fight. They would hug the way Hero always forced them to at the end of their arguments, and then the five of them could enjoy the afternoon together.

“Kel, if Basil is okay with it then it’s fine. Why don’t you two hug and make up and then-”

“What if I’m not okay with it, Hero?!” Kel exploded, cutting his brother off, “What about that?!”

Stunned silence coupled with an even stronger tension surrounding the group. Kel and Aubrey fighting he could understand, even Kel and Aubrey dragging Hero in to play referee he could understand, but never before had Basil seen Kel yell at Hero. Kel worshipped the ground Hero walked on, his big brother could do no wrong, and Basil had never seen any evidence that he ever had.

But Kel wasn’t done yet, and he continued his yelling. It was like something had cut into him with those words, and now that something, dark and black, was finally getting a chance to leak out of Kel. Basil knew all about Somethings. About how painful it was to live with them, about how they always eventually burst out and demanded to be seen. He just had never thought Kel might have a Something too.

“It isn’t fair that they get to spend years being terrible people. and then just act like they never did any of it. It isn’t fair that I have to just pretend like they weren’t awful to me. Like I didn’t spend most afternoons crying on my walk home because of them. Like I didn’t have to second guess everything single thing I did because they made me think that I was a bully.”

Basil had remembered hearing them calling Kel that before, and it had confused him then too. Kel had never done anything like bullying to anyone, but Basil had dismissed it. It seemed so ridiculous to him, he thought Kel would have just let it go too. Apparently not

“All I’ve ever done is try to help. I smiled and laughed and pretended like nothing bothered me because that’s what everyone else needed. And what did that get me? A bat to the face and being told by my own bullies that I was the one messing with them. They’re the bullies. Mean, angry bullies who I never did anything to. Except try to be friends with you.” Kel finally pulled his eyes to Aubrey with this final word, cutting his furious ranting off with a half laugh half sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and put his arms on top of them. He wasn’t crying, but the pain in his eyes was enough to make Basil’s own chest ache in sympathy.

“And then you let them call me a bully. When I didn’t do anything except try to help.”

Kel dropped his head against his knees, hiding and breathing harshly. His shoulders rose and fell. Up and down and up and down as he panted with exertion from his outburst of emotion. None of them made a sound. Basil wouldn’t have known what to say after that, and he was sure no one else did either. They also couldn’t have been prepared for the final blow that was about to be dealt.

“You all just wanna pretend like none of it ever happened...like all that time didn’t matter.” Kel’s voice was muffled, but the words hit all of them like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t just about this one fight, it wasn’t even just about Aubrey’s friends. It was bigger, stretching out for years and years of suffering that had never been addressed. Basil’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the others were in a similar state of shock. He looked down at his interlocked fingers, his stomach twisting up in knots.

It was so easy to forget with Kel. It was so simple to just get lost in his happy go lucky personality and his endless bounds of optimism. He always had time for them all, always willing to go that extra mile to help out his friends when they needed him.

He hadn’t given up on them. He hadn’t stopped knocking on Sunny’s door, even when he never answered. He hadn’t stopped saying hi to Basil, even when he didn’t say hi back. He hadn’t stopped encouraging Hero, even when Hero had no encouragement left to offer in return. He had even still looked for the good in Aubrey, when she had nothing good to say about him. That was just who Kel was, someone who kept trying.

But Basil knew better than any of them that a person could only be pushed so far before there was a part of them that was cracked and bleeding and needed others to heal it. Kel was a nice person, a happy person, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments of doubt. The times where he needed to rely on them instead of the other way around. He never pushed, so no one ever was forced to notice all the bad thoughts and emotions piling up under that sweet sunshine smile. It was just easy to forget that those things existed behind his joy and his upbeat attitude.

They were the people who should have remembered to look. They were the ones who should have known. They had all wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the truth was they couldn’t.

There was no way to erase four years, no way to let go of what had happened to Mari. It existed, it was real, and all of them had tried to ignore it. All except for Kel, who had done everything he could to hold them all together without so much as a complaint. He was right, instead of acknowledging his sacrifices, they had acted like none of it had ever happened. That was what was unchallenging, that was what took no effort. But that was also what was killing Kel inside.

He didn’t know what they could say that would even start to mend four years of their friend trying and failing and continuing to try against all hope. What could a person say to that kind of dedication? What kind of thanks could be given to someone who took on that burden without a word until it had nearly crushed him?

It turned out that Basil didn’t need to know the answer. There was someone else who did.

Aubrey rose up from her spot across from Kel on the picnic blanket and plopped down next to him, turning her head away from the other boy. Her hand moved to his, settling on his elbow and grabbing his attention. Kel raised his head, staring silently at her as she looked at him from the side.

Basil didn’t know what conversation the two of them had without words, but he suspected he would never know. Things like that were only ever meant for two people, and even asking about it was treading on something sacred. Whatever it was, it was enough for Kel to uncurl from the position he had put himself in. He sat on his knees facing Aubrey, and she turned to do the same. She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze fully.

“I’m sorry,”

It wasn’t much, when it came down to it. It wasn’t a long speech filled with tears and impassioned pleas. Aubrey wasn’t on her knees begging for forgiveness, or making promises to be better. She hadn’t even said it in a special tone or in a whisper meant just for the two of them. It was an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't really much, but it felt so big. They were all touched by her words, all impacted by the enormity of such a small but profound statement. Sunny edged closer and leaned against Basil, and the weight against his side was warm and grounding. He looked down at the top of Sunny’s head, and the vines looping around his spine eased away once more.

When he turned back, Aubrey and Kel were hugging, sitting up on their knees and clutching hard to one another. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it wasn’t something he had ever seen. Basil has only ever seen them giving each other quick little hugs, or the awkward side squeezes Hero demanded after their fights. But this wasn’t either of those. It was genuine and real, and they both seemed a little reluctant when they pulled apart.

Hero, ever the older brother, beamed and pulled the basket to the center of their group, changing the subject to the food that he and Kel made. To anyone outside of their group, it might have seemed like a callous way to change the subject, but the other four were grateful for something to switch their minds to.

With the moment over, Aubrey went back to her usual brusque, digging into the basket and pulling out a sandwich and bottle of water. She grabbed the food and Sunny’s hand, dragging him over to one of the corners and demanding to hear about his new house. Sunny obliged her, talking about his room and the renovation plans his mother had begun.

Kel drifted over to Hero, falling against his brother’s side and leaning his head against Hero’s shoulder. Basil didn’t interrupt, but he watched Hero wrap Kel in his arms and whisper in his ear, something that had to be comforting given how Kel nodded and snuggled closer to his brother. Hero squeezed Kel and turned to Basil.

“How’s the new garden coming along?”

[persephonesfill]

How did Steve feel the first time he got to hold Tony in his arms without it being a “carrying him away from/during a battle” type situation? Maybe it’s even still platonically, but imagine those giant arms around that compact form and Steve’s heart just going “oh”

anon the implications of this ask are *chef's kiss*

just the pining. the security. the size difference.

just—

The first time Steve holds Tony in his arms, he barely even registers it, too focused on getting a vulnerable Tony out of the way of gunfire.

Tony's begging for Steve to leave him behind, to find the others and get the hell out of there. As if that were possible. Steve's lost a lot in his short life; friends, family, a lover, He'll be damned if he loses another. Instead of saying as much, Steve just laughs, a bit hysterical, and says "In your dreams, Stark. Can't get rid of me that easily."

The second time is purely a coincidence.

Tony had missed lunch and their daily team dinner. Steve knew he shouldn't have been too worried. Tony kept food in his workshop for nights like this when the call of invention is too strong to ignore. It's not enough, though, not to Steve. Tony's a grown man; he can take care of himself. That doesn't stop Steve from wanting to do it for him, to pick up where Tony slacks like a...friend should. He supposes that they're friends now. He has his own personal entry code to Tony's workshop, which he uses whenever he wants, it seems. Tony never turns him away, anyway.

Steve punches in said code with his knuckles, his other hand too busy balancing a plate of spaghetti. He makes himself known, knocking on the door frame, and walks in, his footsteps purposefully loud. Tony hates when people sneak up on him.

He doesn't know what to expect as Tony's workshop comes into view. Every time Steve enters, it's like he's seeing it for the first time, power tools and inventions in their infancy strewn about like a child just got done playing with his toys. There's nothing cold about Tony's workshop. If anything, it's filled with life. He stops to say hi to DUM-E and U, who roll up to him, waving their arms in what he assumes is excitement. DUM-E grabs him by the sleeve, rolling in the direction of Tony's main work table.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he chuckles. When he sees Tony slumped over, his blood runs cold, and Steve nearly drops the plate he had brought down for Tony. His first instinct is poison, but how? Who could have slipped in and out of Tony's workshop unnoticed? Bullet then? Was he stabbed? Why wasn't Tony moving—

Tony let out a snore, turning his head in his sleep to get more comfortable. Steve mentally breathes a sigh of relief. He's only a little embarrassed. The only ones who saw his freak out were the bots and JARVIS, and they'd never tell anyone. They like Steve too much. Maybe it was a little silly of him to panic, but being friends with Tony Stark meant heart attacks on the daily. The man's lack of self-preservation was truly astounding. Not that Steve had room to talk.

He debates waking Tony up but decides against it. Tony barely gets enough sleep as is, and Steve's not about to stop him. He sets the plate of spaghetti down on Tony's table, where he'll be able to see it when he wakes up. There, he's done his duty as captain of their little team, and the others are probably wondering what's taking him so long. But as he turns to leave, he finds that he can't. Not while Tony's using a wrench as a pillow, sitting on a stool with absolutely no back support. He makes his mind when Tony snores again.

It's nothing for Steve to pick Tony up, who only shifts in Steve's grasp before settling. Steve lays him down face up on the navy blue sofa he called home whenever he came down to visit Tony. Tony stops snoring now that he's sleeping like a normal human being, and the knot of tension in Steve's chest loosens just a little. The next morning, Tony stumbles down to join the other Avengers for breakfast. He looks like he got a full night's rest, his hair flying every which way, the bags under his eyes a little less defined. Steve makes fun of his snoring, and Tony vehemently denies it.

"Lies," Tony sputters, a flush pinking his cheeks. "Nothing but lies fall from your mouth, Rogers."

Steve is only a little in love with him. In a friendly way. He's screwed.

The third time he holds Tony has to be a conspiracy.

It's movie night because they have those now, and their little group is bigger than normal. Pepper, Rhodey, and Sam have all made an appearance. Pepper and Rhodey were at the tower for Stark Industries business and stayed around longer than necessary to check in on Tony, much to his visible delight. Sam had come to visit Steve (and check out the tower. Steve was sure any day now, Sam would accept their offer and officially join the team) and had a few more days before it was time for him to go back to D.C.

Natasha and Clint had bullied Tony into letting them host movie night in Tony's penthouse, and they had held them there ever since. The downside to that was there was only so much seating available. At first, there had only been a sofa, more for aesthetics than comfort, but with the advent of their movie nights, Tony had swapped the sofa out for something a little softer and an armchair and loveseat to match. Enough to fit six people, not nine.

Sam and Rhodey claim seats next to each other on the sofa, Pepper and Nat sitting on the opposite end. Steve's sitting in his usual armchair that may or may not have his name stitched on it because Tony thinks he's a comedian. Thor and Bruce take up their usual spot at the loveseat, Thor's arm slung around Bruce's shoulders. Clint sits at the foot of the sofa, Natasha's hand carding through his hair absentmindedly as she says something to Pepper that has her laughing.

Tony's the last to arrive like always, holding his own bowl of popcorn because he's the only one who prefers caramel corn over kettle corn like a heathen. His eyes go wide as he surveys the room, sees that there are no seats open.

Natasha opens her mouth first, and Steve just about dies when she says, "I'm sure Steve can make some room. Right, Steve?" Her smile is saccharine, and yet Steve still feels like she's threatening his life.

He doesn't want to protest and demand that Tony sit on the floor like Clint because one, that would hurt Tony's feelings, and that's the last thing he wants to do. And two...he kind of wants Tony to sit with him. Even if the thought on Tony's thighs touching his makes him want to scream. In a good way, though.

Steve just nods, not trusting his voice, and Tony makes his way over and sits down stiffly next to Steve. It's a tight fit. Tony's thigh presses right against his own. Steve can feel the heat of Tony's skin through his pants. JARVIS dims the lights and starts one of the movies on Natasha's list of Necessary Pop Culture she had created for Thor and Steve. Tonight, it's Legally Blonde, with Elle Woods in all of her pink glory, gracing their screen.

Had it not been for the serum, he's sure he wouldn't have been able to pay attention to the movie (which he's enjoying so far, Elle's likable and relatable; Steve knows all too well what it's like to be judged based off his appearance) and the feeling of Tony's body pressed against his own. He's hyper-aware of Tony's presence. His heart rate accelerates every time Steve shifts to get more comfortable, his thigh rubbing against Tony's. He can smell the remnants of Tony's cologne, something bright and uplifting just like its wearer.

About halfway through the movie, he grows tired of Tony's unending stiffness. He just wants Tony to be comfortable. He says so, leaning close to Tony to whisper in his ear. "I'm not gonna bite."

Tony shivers, and Steve wants to hit himself. So much for not making Tony comfortable. But then, Tony does the unthinkable. He takes a deep breath and slowly sinks into Steve's side. Steve freezes like a deer staring up the barrel of a shotgun.

"Oh, God," Tony whispers. "I'm sorry I can move—"

"No!" Steve whisper-yells, his hands wrapping around Tony and—

Tony's sitting sideways on Steve's lap, his legs draped over the armrest. Steve's arms are wrapped around Tony's waist like a seatbelt. Tony's not screaming, which is a good sign in Steve's eyes. Even without enhanced senses, he's sure Tony can hear how loud his heart is beating in his chest.

"Is this fine?" Steve asks when Tony shows no signs of moving.

"Yeah. You're good," Tony says and finally relaxes in Steve's grasp.

And it feels good. Too good. It's cheesy, but it's almost like Tony was made to fit into Steve's arms, his head slotting into place underneath Steve's chin. Tony's hair is soft, softer than he thought, against Steve's neck.

It doesn't hit Steve until later that Natasha probably organized the whole thing from the start.

He'll thank her later. Right now, he's got his hands full, and he's in no rush to let go.