#We took turns drawing all the hunters and guessing which ones they were

[ryles-comfort-room]

if anybody ever feels beat down by all the ”lmfao dream stan” shit online, lemme tell you something sweet

i work at a day camp, kids from kindergarden to middle school, and by god do they love him. In the most joyful, unbothered, youthful way.

we were doodling on a rainy indoor day, I drew Dream, and immediately 3 different kids went ”YOU KNOW DREAM??” and went into heated discussion on the coolest manhunt moments or best hunter. The fact that a COUNCILLOR was talking to them about mcyt and Dream himself lit these kids up so much.

so if online shit is holding you down, just remember that for every useless twitter cancelation theres at least one kid drawing the super cool minecraft guy at camp somewhere and theyre loving it <3

#Dreamwastaken #bro these kids are melting my heart #I draw Dream for them and they go wild #We took turns drawing all the hunters and guessing which ones they were #Hhhhhhhh <3 Dream ily and so do these kids #You’re their hero #Ryles rambles

[strawheart-pirate]

One Bed, Two Sinners

Zoro x afab!Reader

This is my Secret Santa for @eelnoise ! Merry belated christmas, Zi! I hope you enjoy! Love you 💚

Words: 3518 CW: N!SFW / pre relationship / nightmares / comfort / kissing / smut / oral (f receiving) / piv sex / no pronouns or nicknames used

You were aboard the Polar Tang, on your way to Wano, when you anchored at a small island. Robin, Usopp, Franky, Zoro and you decide to stay in a hotel for at least one night instead of sleeping in the already cramped Polar Tang. Nothing goes as expected, and as nightmares plague your sleep, Zoro can't find it in himself to see you suffer. Will he succeed and turn your nightmares into the sweetest of dreams?

Half of the Straw Hat crew, including you, were aboard the Polar Tang on its way to Wano. When Trafalgar Law commanded to anchor for the night at a small island to get some air and supplies, you finally see your chance to sleep in a comfortable bed. No offense, the makeshift beds in one of the Polar Tang’s storage rooms are better than nothing. But escaping the cramped conditions and having a real bed for just one night was far too tempting for all of you, so the five of you decided to check into a nearby hotel. You waited outside while Robin talked to the receptionist, and once she returned, she handed each of you your key cards.

"They only had three rooms left, which means we have to pair up. I'll share a room with Franky and you could draw straws? Winner gets a room to themselves?" Robin suggested.

"Yeah, sounds fair." You said and Usopp and Zoro nodded. Franky prepared the straws and offered them to you. "Ladies first."

You hesitated for a moment before grabbing your straw. After you'd chosen yours, Zoro and Usopp chose theirs and on the count of three you all pulled your straws up.

"Yes! Finally a peaceful night!" Usopp chimed. He had drawn the shortest straw and won the game.

Zoro accepted the news with a neutral face without showing any emotion and you smiled, seeing Usopp so happy was just precious and you were happy for him. Well, until you remembered that you'd be sharing a room with Zoro. Pirate hunter Zoro, your crush for at least a year. It was only after you were all separated by Kuma that you realized your feelings. You missed everyone, but you missed him more. In a different way. And those first little feelings only intensified when you saw what a man he had become after the two years of separation. He was so much more. More handsome, more strong, more muscular. More of everything.

Unfortunately, he was not the least bit aware of you. So you kept to yourself, dreaming from afar and just being happy to be part of the same crew. You took a few deep breaths and calmed your mind as the five of you went to your rooms. It was just one night, and it's not like you need to cuddle up. The bed is big enough with two blankets and two pillows and you wouldn't even notice him. With a fluid motion, you used your card to open the door and stepped into your room.

Your smile immediately disappeared and all your worries returned. One bed. There was only one bed in the huge ass room. A single-sized bed with just one pillow and one blanket. Your eyelids twitched. Zoro pushed past you as he entered the room, his shoulder brushing yours lightly.

"Don't worry, I'll just sleep on the floor." Zoro said in his usual careless voice and sat down on the floor, right next to the door.

"No... This must be a mistake, they must have mixed up something... I guess Usopp has our room?" You felt nervous. This must be a mistake, this cannot be... You were about to go out the door again and ask Usopp, when Zoro stopped you.

"Don't. He's probably asleep by now. And like I said, I don't mind." He said with a calm voice.

"But I feel really bad being the only one who has the comfort of a bed..." I tried one last time without giving myself away. Was he for real? Even the makeshift beds in the Polar Tang were more comfortable than the floor.

"It's okay, I'm used to it. Just sleep." He said, his eyes already closed as he sat next to the door with his back to the wall and his arms crossed.

You sighed defeated. You knew he was stubborn and had his pride and there was nothing you could do to change his mind. So you went to the bathroom, changed into some more comfortable clothes and went to bed.

"Okay. Night, Zoro." You turned your back to him, getting only a light snore as an answer, and turned off the light, ready to fall asleep. You still felt bad leaving him on the floor, but there was no solution to your problem. There was no bigger bed, no second blanket, no extra pillow. You pushed those thoughts aside. It took a while, but you managed to fall asleep to Zoro's soft, rhythmic breathing.

---

It was in the middle of the night when Zoro sensed that something was wrong. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on his surroundings, letting his haki search the entire hotel when he heard the soft whimper. When he was sure that there was nothing that could be a threat to the crew, he opened his eyes and looked at you. You were shivering and whimpering. Probably a nightmare... He guessed and thought for a moment what to do. He couldn't just walk over and wake you up. His options were limited. A silent 'please....' escaped your curled up form and he sighed. He just couldn't leave you like this.

"Hey..." He spoke at a low volume. "Hey, Y/N."

He waited a moment to see if he was successful, but then you whimpered again.

"Wake up." This time he tried a bit louder, but still softly, because he didn't want to frighten you in any way.

Again he wasn't successful. He groaned and finally stood up. Silently, he placed a chair under the doorknob for extra security. He walked over to you and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, wake up. It's just a nightmare." He tried a third time, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder.

The touch seemed to startle you, because you turned to face him, your hands clawing into his arm.

He took in your pained expression. There was sweat on your forehead and your knuckles were white from how hard you clawed into his skin. In another setting, your grip on him would have brought him to his knees, but right now he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. Cursing under his breath, he turned on the soft light of the lamp on the bedside table and lay down beside you. He scooped your trembling form into his arms. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, he watched as you finally began to calm down. With a gentle movement, he wiped the sweat from your face and laid his head on top of yours, cradling you in his arms, hopefully bringing you the most comfort.

His plan finally seemed to work as your grip on his arm loosened and you stopped shaking. He looked down at you and found a delicate little smile on your lips. All right, it was time for him to get up, but he just couldn't. The way your body felt in his arms, the way your hips pressed against his and how warm you were had him under a spell he couldn't break. He knew he should go, but he was being selfish. Your whole being had fascinated him since you joined the Straw Hats, but he never had the courage to tell you how he felt. He would look like a creep if you woke up now. But the way you felt in his hands when he finally got to hold you like he had dreamed of so many times... His body reacted to yours and his breathing was slightly labored as he looked down at you, just as you opened your eyes. He froze. Shit…

---

When you opened your eyes, you found the reason for the warmth you felt right above you. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were fixed on you with an intense gaze.

"Zoro?" You whispered. When did he join you in bed?

"You had a nightmare. Are you feeling better now?" He asked, his voice an octave lower than usual and his arms not moving. He seemed frozen.

"Yes... thank you..." You replied softly, noticing the way he was holding you, the impressive size of his arms and chest, and even the reaction of his body in his pants. A slight blush made its way to your face and you shifted in his arms. Your attempt to free your body from his hard-on failed miserably and you pressed even harder against him. Zoro hissed through clenched teeth and unfroze.

"...Yeah, I'll take my leave..." Zoro dropped you as if you burned him and sat up, freeing himself from the temptation to make you his in an instant. Your hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he knew that whatever you said next would decide your future.

"Stay..." You asked him softly and heard a slight moan from the greenette. "Please..."

"Do you even know what you are asking of me?" Zoro asked as he turned to you.

The way you looked at him told him all he needed to know. He got back into bed and crawled on top of you. Slowly, gracefully, like a predator. And you were his prey, looking at him wide-eyed and frozen in the heavy anticipation of what was to come. His piercing eyes felt like they were holding you in place and you bit your lip as he looked down at you, his hands beside your head.

It was only a second, but it felt like an eternity. You looked into each other's eyes with burning desire and in the blink of an eye, Zoro quickly pressed his lips to yours, stealing a needy kiss. He wrapped an arm around you and grabbed your side hard as he slipped his tongue past your lips for a much more passionate kiss. And you responded with a passion that nearly knocked him off his feet. All those repressed feelings surfaced and you couldn't get enough of him. It was not enough... not fast enough, not deep enough, too many clothes, too little skin on skin, you wanted more and so did he. Sharing wet kisses as your tongues entwined and tasted each other, you quickly pulled off his shirt and he pulled you into a sitting position to make short work of your clothes.

As soon as he had freed your torso of all clothing, he laid you back down and kissed your neck and collarbone like a desperate man. He was not rough, but eager as he made sure to taste every inch of your skin and memorize your sweet spots. You could only moan from the intensity and your hands made sure to explore every inch of his impressive frame you could reach. You traced every muscle on his large chest and shoulders, making him tremble at your touch. He kissed his way down your body, taking his time at your breasts, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples before sucking on them. His hands remained on your soft chest, kneading it ever so gently as he kissed his way south, leaving a wet trail of his saliva glistening in the dim light of the room.

He pulled on your panties and looked up at you, giving you the choice of continuing or not. You nodded slightly, not trusting your voice, and looked at him with slightly parted lips. He smiled, proud that he had such an effect on you, and quickly removed your panties, leaving you naked in front of him. He took a moment to admire your body as he ran his finger along the trail of saliva before reaching your folds and slowly trailing his fingers down each side of your clit. You let out a small gasp and your eyes widened as you saw Zoro stand up. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed before sitting down in front of it. This took you by surprise and your eyes flickered with curiosity as he smiled mischievously just before burying his face between your thighs.

He licked slowly from your cunt to your clit and a deep growl rumbled in his chest. "So sweet..." He whispered and his hot breath fanned your folds as your taste exploded on his tongue, setting his taste buds on fire. You were already dripping wet and tasted like heaven to him and he wasted no time in devouring you like his last meal. His tongue swirled around your clit before he sucked on it, making you twitch as you let out a soft moan. His eyes were glued to you, noticing every little movement or the way you bit your lips, and your sweet moans were music to his ears. He flicked your knob repeatedly, mercilessly, making you squirm on the mattress. His arms wrapped around your legs, holding your hips in place as his fingers dug into your soft flesh. The spot was sensitive and you gasped. Zoro's mouth worked wonders on you, the constant licking and flicking of his tongue, the frequent sucking with his soft lips, the gentle scratching of his teeth over your sensitive knob. Everything he did brought you closer and closer to the edge and your moans became louder and louder. He loved every single sound you made, every wriggle and when your hands grabbed the sheets in sheer bliss. He wanted to savor this moment as long as possible, but his restrained cock throbbed in his pants and he needed you.

He released your hips with one hand and licked two of his fingers before sliding them through your folds and slowly pushing them inside you. He made sure to stimulate your clit as his fingers explored your insides, caressing your velvety walls until he found the spongy sweet spot inside of you. He drew gentle circles with his fingers and watched as you responded to his movements with a shiver down your spine. You were so close, he could see it in the way you shivered and squirmed. He put his other hand flat on your belly to hold you down as he applied more pressure to the spot inside you. The licking and sucking on your knob increased and you couldn't last much longer. "Zoro!" You moaned as you let go and your orgasm washed over you like a wave. He watched as you trembled and shook, your thighs pressing against his head, holding him in place as he kept going to make sure you rode out your high completely. Ecstasy coursed through your veins, and as his tongue became a painful torment on your clit from the overstimulation, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head away. He let go and immediately pulled his fingers back. As he looked at you, he grinned like a madman who had just tasted heaven, his lower face glistening with your juices. You were panting heavily from the pleasure you had just felt and your cunt still clenched around nothing, feeling the afterglow intensely.

"That was an impressive performance." He smirked and crawled on top of you. His lips captured yours, giving you a taste of your own juices as he kissed you. You hummed, his lips desirous yet gentle, giving you time to cool down after your high before you dive into another round of pleasure. You ran your hands down his sides, feeling every curve of his ribs and muscles until your hands reached his waistband. You palmed the bulge in his pants as Zoro pushed his tongue into your mouth, making the kiss more passionate as he sensed you were ready to go again. Your fingers were quick, opening his pants in no time and freeing his cock. You couldn't see it yet, but you felt it. It was thick and girthy. A prominent vein ran from top to bottom. Its head was massive and the slit at the top leaked pre-cum. You dipped your finger in the sticky fluid and swirled it around his tip, making him growl into your open-mouthed kiss.

He pulled away and stripped off all his clothes, giving you the opportunity to admire his body. You knew his impressive chest from all the times he displayed it openly, but what took your breath away was his waist. The slender, defined part of his torso that only made his chest look even wider. His cock twitched as he noticed your ravenous eyes on him and with steady movements he made his way back on top of you, his muscles beautifully illuminated as they shifted with his movements.

He ran his hand over your curves and you spread your legs to welcome him between your thighs. He grinned, but his eyes looked at you with a gentle expression. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." You whispered softly, ready for him and for this.

He propped himself up with one arm while his other hand aligned his member with your entrance. He rubbed the head over your slick folds a few times before pushing the head inside. Although you had seen and felt it in your hands before, you were still surprised and gasped at the thickness. Zoro kissed your lips tenderly, distracting and relaxing you as he pushed deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. "Shit..." He hissed through gritted teeth as he threw his head back. You were so tight around his length, testing his patience as he wanted nothing more than to rut relentlessly into you. You whimpered as you felt like you were being split in half. Taking deep breaths, you slowly adjusted to his size and finally gave him a sign that it was safe to move.

He started slowly, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls and your warmth around him. "Zoro... mhh..." You moaned as he placed both hands beside you again, picking up the pace and stopping the teasing. His length was so deep inside you, kissing your insides, and you gripped his biceps tightly as the knot in your stomach tightened with each thrust. Your mouth hung open and your breathing was labored, but you had the most mesmerizing view. Your gaze was fixed on the muscles in his chest as they twitched with each thrust, giving you quite a show of that 110cm chest. Zoro went down on his elbows, breaking your view of his chest, and looked deep into your eyes. His angle changed and he was now deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot every time. Sweat formed on his forehead and his earrings jingled as his thrusts became stronger and more intense. You moaned louder, not able to keep it together anymore which earned you a satisfied growl from Zoro, who loved your sounds. Your legs trembled slightly which was a clear sign that you were close to your climax. "Zoro, I'm close..." You whispered between moans and Zoro responded with an open-mouthed kiss before he pushed himself up onto his knees.

He folded your legs against your chest and pulled you back onto his dick as he changed position. You grabbed the sheets for support as you began to tremble underneath him from the way his tip kissed your cervix deep inside you. "Come for me..." He pressed through his clenched teeth, his voice dripping with desire, and you gladly complied. His next thrust pushed you over the edge and the knot in your stomach exploded, making you see stars. You moaned his name as he pounded mercilessly into you, making sure to fuck you through your high. Your walls squeezed him tight and he growled deep as you pushed him over the edge with you. His thrust became sloppier as he shot his seed deep into you, making sure to fill you to the brim. Ecstasy ran through both of you, igniting a feeling of utter satisfaction deep inside you as your climax slowly faded. You were both panting heavily and he collapsed on top of you, making sure not to suffocate you with his weight as your insides and his dick still twitched from the pleasure, but the exhaustion mixed into your systems.

After a moment, he rolled off of you and gently pulled you into his arms, stroking your hair from your sweaty forehead. You snuggled against him and rested your head on his chest, enjoying how his sculptured chest felt like it was made for you. You both enjoyed the afterglow as you shared gentle touches and light kisses. There was no need to speak as your actions spoke louder than any words could have.

But there was one last thing burning in your mind, a fear that he would leave your side when you fell asleep and that this was all just a dream. So before you could fall asleep in his arms, you had to know, and you chose your words carefully.

"Will you stay with me?"

There was no hesitation from Zoro and you could hear a light chuckle rumbling in his chest.

He pressed another affectionate kiss to your temple and wrapped you a little tighter into his arms.

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©Strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #afab reader #oneshot #fan fiction #smut #one piece smut #roronoa zoro smut #x reader #strawheart-pirate.writing

[starneteyam]

Hey I was wondering if you can make a fanfic about neteyam x reader, I want the fl who is strong and independent, i want a enemies to lovers trope or rivals to lovers trope honestly any of those two, and I would like the reader to be a Omaticayan

ENEMIES TO LOVERS ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x Omaticaya! Fem! Reader

🖇️ tags. Enemies to lovers, fluff

🎥 In which you’re holding a grudge against Neteyam over something that happened years ago, but he’s head over heels over you and is desperate for you to be his mate

A/N Hey! I’m back, starting off strong with some enemies to lovers 😛 Sorry if this isn’t what you meant! WE LOVE PATIENT NETEYAM <3

NETEYAM WOULD NEVER leave you alone. It was like he was determined to make you annoyed by being around him. You couldn’t help but think he was an asshole, but you had a proper reason to think so. When you were younger, you had been known as the best hunter of your clan. You were proud of it, and so were your parents. It was your soul pride that you were the best hunter. Until, Neteyam started hunting.

He quickly became the best, as if he were born with the gift of drawing an arrow. You were humiliated. Without hunting, you were nothing, just another N’avi. At first, you were learning to accept the fact that Neteyam was just naturally better. That was, until he said one sentence to you, the only sentence he had said to you up until then. “Sorry, I guess I’m just better.” Neteyam was a child, he was immature, but still, those words made you despise him. You hadn’t talked to him since, and you figured he even forgot about you — that he didn’t even know who you were.

Growing older, you started to be known for another thing — your beauty. You were becoming of age and it was time for you to find your mate, and Neteyam was caught in this trap of yours. Of course, Neteyam didn’t know who you were, he was far too important to know a nobody like you. But you knew him, you had him engraved into your brain, burning with hatred.

Neteyam first saw you in the forest, when you were walking with your bow and arrows, just to do some target practice. He was immediately entranced by your beauty, and by the time he noticed, he was already talking to you. “What are you doing?” He asked, jogging to catch up to you. You looked over your shoulder, and your subconscious smile turned into a scowl as soon as you recognized him, rolling your eyes.

“Go away, son of Olo’eyktan.” He wasn’t bothered by your words. Rather, he ignored them. “You know me?” His ears flickered in somewhat joy, and you let out a sigh. “Everybody knows who you are, idiot.” You mumbled the last word under your breath, but it still made it to his ears. He took no offense. He continued to follow you in silence, so, aggravated, you turned and dropped your arms by your side. “What do you want?”

Neteyam looked like an idiot in front of you. A big, stupid smile on his face, like he didn’t care about how you talked to him, but was just happy about that fact that you were talking to him at all. “I want to get to know you.” He said in all honestly, eyes shining as he looked down at you. “Well, I don’t.” You spat, crossing your arms. He ears slowly lowered, flattening against his head. “Why? Are you… are you already promised?” He asked.

You grit your teeth. Must he humiliate you even more? “No, but I do not want to be promised to you.” You pressed your finger against his chest, before turning and continuing into the forest. He smiled as he ran after you. “Well, I will make you want to be promised to me.” You scoffed at this. You scoffed at his words, his confidence, and his determination. Still, he chased after you.

Days went on just like that, where he bothered you from day to night, every single day. You ignored him a lot, and obliviously showed that you were not interested, and that you rather disliked him, yet, he still tried. Most days, he would follow you to your aiming range, and just sit near and watch in silence, like today. You could feel his stare burning holes into the side of your head. Irritated, you dropped your bow and looked at him.

“Why, Neteyam? You are clearly getting nowhere with me, so why are you trying so hard?” You huffed, crossing your arms. He stood up, walking up to you, nothing but adoration in his eyes. “Because you are kind.” He said softly. You scoffed. “When have I ever been kind to you? Are you alright in the head?” You wanted to laugh at his idiocy. He shook his head.

“No, you are kind. You could push me away, but you don’t. You let me get close, you let me be around you,” He said slowly, the words sinking into your heart. “And you act like you don’t, but I know you listen to me.” You furrowed your eyebrows. Why was he being so nice to you? Even after you’ve ignored him, called him names, belittled him, he was here, standing in front of you and calling you kind. You frowned, starting to slowly feel like an asshole yourself.

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked, his voice quiet. You were now avoiding his eyes, feeling pathetic. You hated him over something small and trivial, over some words that held absolutely zero meaning. You were so filled with pride and hatred that you couldn’t see the loving, gentle, patient man standing in front of you. You stayed silent, feeling more ashamed as the question repeated in your mind. He let out a breath through his nose, before cupping your face.

“You act like you can’t stand me, but you don’t push me away. That’s why I try, because I know there is something there.” He tried. You stayed silent, nibbling on your bottom lip. He frowned. “I want to respect you, so please, make a choice. If you really dislike me, push me away, tell me to stop. But if I have a chance, even just a tiny chance, tell me.” His eyebrows were furrowed. He hated that he had to give an ultimatum. He hated that there might be a chance that you might push him away, and that you could be somebody else’s.

There was a suffocating silence, before you raised your hand to grab his that was cupping your face. His tail whipped between his legs as his eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, ma Neteyam. I was cruel to you, and yet, you call me kind.” You let out a small laugh. “If anybody, you’re the one who’s kind.” Neteyam was holding his breath with anticipation. What were you saying? What did this mean?

“I see you.” You said in a whispered voice, closing your eyes and leaning into his palm. Neteyam’s heart was beating so loudly in his ears that he nearly missed what you had said. He let out the breath he had been holding, collapsing into your touch as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, taking you by surprise. “Thank you for not pushing me away.” He mumbled. You laughed, arms enveloping around him as you pet his head.

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

#avatar way of water #fanfiction #neteyam #avatar #fanfic #neteyam fluff #neteyam x reader #avatar twow #avatar twow neteyam x reader #awow #awow neteyam #neteyam oneshot #neteyam fanfic #neteyam avatar #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x reader fluff #avatar neteyam #avatar fanfic #avatar oneshot #avatar x reader #avatar fanfiction #neteyam awow #awow x reader #oneshot #one shot #neteyam x female reader #avatar neteyam x reader #avatar wow #neteyam one shot

[delulu4dean]

No Doctors (Sam and Dean Winchester x sibling!reader)

Warnings: needles I guess

Parings: sam Winchester X sibling!reader, Dean Winchester x sibling!reader

Prompt: you’re a hunter scared of needles idk I went to urgent care the other day and I hate needles.

Word Count: 1,044

Sam, Dean, and you, their younger, nineteen year old half sibling have seen a lot, obviously. Hunters? You see vampires, werewolves, ghosts. But as a Winchester you see so much more. The three of you have saved the world quite a few times. It is safe to say not much phases the Winchesters.

But you, Y/N Winchester has one big fear, needles. When Sam injected Demon Dean with human blood, you could not watch. It wasn’t because of your big brother’s yells of pain, but because you cannot even look at a needle. So when Sam and Dean told you that you HAD to see a doctor, you put it off until it was too late. Now your legs were covered in red spots. The spots were not inflamed or itching. They looked like bleeding under the skin, which means its less like a rash. Google did not help ease Sam and Dean’s worries about you.

“Y/N damn it, we have to rule out anything serious,” Dean told you.

“I am fine,” you insisted.

“Google says you have one week to live,” your older brother furrowed his eyebrows, showing you his google search on his smart phone.

“Google is not a doctor,” you rolled your eyes.

“That is why we have to take you to a doctor. Right Sam?”

Sam nods in agreement.

“Look, if Cas was here, he could figure it out, but he isn’t. We are going to urgent care,” Dean demanded. “Now get your ass to my car.”

You looked over to Sam and back to Dean, fear in your eyes. You knew what this meant, bloodwork. You could not do bloodwork. Just seeing a needle makes you sick to your stomach. The last time you had bloodwork done, you threw up. When you had to get your Covid vaccines, you took your brothers with you. It worked because they ended up getting theirs as well, but when it came to your turn, your brothers had to distract you so you didnt see the needle. You held Dean’s hands and almost broke his fingers as the needle went into your flesh.

“Dean, doctors are scary. All they do is poke at you with needles,” you frowned at your older brother.

“Sam and I will both be there by your side,” Dean insisted.

And so here you are now. The walking to the lab with your brothers at your side. You look for all possible exists to run out of here, but you know its no use. Dean would drag you back if he has to. The lab nurse sits you down in the chair and looks for a good vein. Shit. It’s going to happen. Your eyes follow her hands as she pulls out all the tubes that will be soon filled with your blood. The things is you’re not grossed out by the idea of seeing your own blood, its kind of cool actually. But knowing how it gets in there is too much.

You see her take out the needle and your instincts kick in. You jump out of your seat before your brothers push you back. Dean holds you down on the chair and you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that kid,” Dean sighs, a guilty expression coming across his face. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am fine! And when we find out that nothing is wrong you’re going to be sorry,” you spit.

Sam holds the hand of the arm that the nurse will draw blood from, not just to keep it steady, but to calm you down.

“You are a fighter, you are strong, you got this,” Sam tells you. “Just don’t look, and then you won’t feel it, okay?” You nod at Sam. “Attagirl. Now don’t look at me, or else you’ll see the needle too. Look at Dean.”

“Yeah, look at me,” Dean cuts in. You look up at your eldest brother. “Good job.”

“I’m not a child,” you remind Dean.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a kid compared to Sam and I,” Dean chuckles.

“Well yeah, Sam is old and you’re ancient,” you tease.

“Ancient?” Dean fakes an offended expression.

“Yeah. So ancient that when the Egyptians built the pyramids, they looked at you and said ‘Wow that man is ancient.’”

Sam laughs but plays it off as a cough when Dean shoots a look at him. You feel a cotton ball on your arm as the nurse wraps the bandage on your arm.

“All done,” she smiles. “You can go to the waiting room and as soon as we get your results, you’ll be notified.”

You’re surprised and relieved to find out its done and over with. And you didn’t feel a thing.

“You did it kid,” Dean smiles at you.

“We are proud of you,” Sam ruffles your hair.

“I’m almost twenty don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” you get up and push past your brothers.

They follow you into the waiting room and sit by your side. Sam wraps an arm around you while you’re all pouty and embarrassed.

“We aren’t babying you or anything,” Sam sighs. “You have a genuine fear, and you faced it. We know you’re an adult. You are capable of doing a lot, you are a badass hunter. A Winchester.”

You nod, not so confidently. You and your brothers watch the TV in the waiting room where some old cowboy movie is playing. Dean is loving it, but you just want to get your results and go back home. After twenty minutes, a doctor comes out with a clipboard.

“You are fine, your blood came back clean. And over the counter rash cream should be able to help. You are free to go home,” she tells you.

Dean scoffs, and Sam looks confused. To be fair, you don’t understand either, you know its not a rash, it doesn’t look like a rash. But it can’t be what Dean looked up either if the bloodwork came back clean so its clearly nothing serious. As the doctor walks away, you glare at your older brothers.

“See, I knew bloodwork was a waste of time.”

Dean shrugs as Sam says, “Better safe than sorry.”

#dean winchester x sister!reader #dean X sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #supernatural #dean Winchester X sibling!reader #sam Winchester X sibling!reader

[inksandpensblog]

The Box

I'm finally watching the episode! These are my stream-of-consciousness thoughts through my initial viewing. This isn't thought-out refined analysis, these are just the thoughts as I have them the moment they appear in my head.

They're getting better at the 3d running/walking animation.

Green being the one to notice details, like in The Village.

Civilization!

Green only drew one but then he just has three more? Cartoon magic or stickfigure magic? Or just saving time on a meta level.

This looks like a nice little toh that's a white-filled head, they're ALL white-filled heads (all look like freehanded circles though)

For a given value of "white," I guess, but they're all very light colors. And they all have head accessories. Interesting...

Okay it's kinda funny that nobody would talk to them and the truck is right there. Did they think the color quartet were giving handouts or something? None of them stopped to listen long enough XD

Ooh, so these are some kind of simulation chambers? Looks like they've simulated a desktop art program.

Hmm, so Orange's ability to just have whatever he wants manifest into existence with the stroke of a pencil is unique to him; these guys try the same motions and all they get are regular lines. (Also if Orange can do all that outside then why are they doing these experiments in the simulation chamber? Is it just for safety or can they not do it outside? Shady could use his toolbar outside just fine...)

Orange's drawings were alive, almost from the first line it seems. Before they even took their shape. These ones aren't.

I don't like how coldly they're treating my boy :(

you.

and then they don't even interact?? okay, so...Victim is pretty single-mindedly focused on whatever is about to happen with Chosen, and whatever it is doesn't involve Orange so Orange is irrelevant to him rn. Why bind him then? Where's he going? :(

he went in. by himself. I'm...not sure how to feel about that. surprised? it's not like the thing had a door. though looking at that control-display, it does look like there's something within the chamber itself that's also containing Chosen. Or is that just the bounding box? I think it's a bounding box actually. So this is also a simulation chamber. (this is giving me all sorts of questions about how the artboard recognizes the toolbar icons as graphics while the tools still retain their functions as tools and I'm gonna stop before I spiral)

oh, it did have a door

WAITAMINUTE why is Victim's bounding box 2d and Chosen's 3d???

...oh. so...Chosen's fire registers as a separate graphic from him, then. good to know??

wait what the- just altering the visual is enough to affect his ability in producing that power??

why did we just cut to the hunter sharpening their spear? don't like that. not while you're stealing all my boy's natural defenses.

that one lingering second after Chosen's lasers die out but before he turns around to face Victim is haunting. Bro's been trapped and depowered again.

Okay nitpick but Victim's head isn't changing shape every frame and it's driving me up the wall. Did he have some work done between the last installment and this one?

I can't tell if I'm supposed to laugh or not at Chosen just standing there and tanking all of Victim's hits, and honestly I like that I can't tell, the dissonance is fun. But putting that aside...Chosen just let the dude have at him like it was no big deal. He didn't actually fight back until he decided he'd had enough. I suppose he could've just been confused about why this guy was attacking him...but he doesn't even block or dodge. He doesn't defend himself, his hands aren't even up, he's not even really in a fighting stance, and it takes him a bit to even retaliate. Even after the first one, his body language is just "bruh why." Which. Is an interesting attitude to have when he's trapped and depowered and being punched by a stranger.

Chosen finally counters, and it cuts to the control panel outside, looks like they're about to raise some setting. I've gotta take a break for a meeting, here's my thought: Victim never left the art program, in AvA1. In a very literal sense, he spent his whole life in it. It's where he found all the things that enabled him to fight back. In a weird way, it makes sense that this is where he's powerful, that this is where he's comfortable fighting. (and I know my personal headcanons are about to get blown outta the water but I'm really glad that I was on the right track in regard to this idea. though something I hadn't ever imagined was that he'd rely on other people to supply those advantages instead of obtaining them himself)

Meeting over, back to the episode! (I wonder if the title of this episode refers to the white chamber Chosen is in or the actual bounding box. Given that the mere appearance of a bounding box in Wanted was enough for many of us to clue in to Victim's involvement, even before he appeared in-person at the end of the episode, I'm leaning that direction. Amazing that it only happened once in the series before Wanted and it was already enough of a legacy to make him recognizable. I'm now realizing that in AvA2 the first thing Chosen did even before attacking the cursor was destroy the bounding box. Also realizing that the bounding boxes in this chamber aren't visible, unlike in the test-chambers in the previous scenes.)

interesting...each of Vicitm's limbs are separate graphics with their own bounding boxes, which is how they looked in the Bloop animation course that Alan made, but it isn't how he was in AvA1. Though he was recognized as a single graphic just a few scenes ago, so that might not mean anything.

why, stop, dude we get it you're strong now you've proved your point stop beating him up-

oh good Chosen's still got his own strength, he's fighting ba- what- okay what, can't take what you dish out??

Ooh, I don't think we've seen Chosen actually throw fire like that (instead of just blasting and halting blasts) since the early episodes.

okay, nice to know that Victim actually can dodge on his own

...don't like how little time it took Chosen to start feeling exhaustion...

...don't like how much trepidation the lasso is giving me. that feels like one of the crueler things to use against Chosen; not because we've seen it used against him before (only Victim and Orange have used it themselves, and only Victim has had it used against him, and good grief Orange and Chosen still don't know how Victim is connected to Alan-) but just because...I really don't want him bound and leashed again, he's been through enough of that. still, I had predicted that we'd see him using the lasso at some point in AvA6. I'm not happy I was right. (man, back before we knew Victim would make a proper return to the series I used to love the idea of him using it again. it's like the clearest example of him outwitting the animator and taking his tools for his own use.)

NOT THE NECK- they've never gone there, I don't like this-

oh what they actually- I was not expecting that. whips haven't appeared in the series before. oh I really don't like this.

God he's crawling back- why-

I had to pause. either the group outside just did something with the controls that Victim wasn't anticipating, or...Chosen felt threatened enough to turn his powers on himself and encase himself in ice as a defense. fuck. someone get him out of there. no flight, can't fight, man was pushed far enough he literally resorted to freeze. The Chosen One. I don't think that's ever happened before.

Fuck, that's just too much, I can't even bring myself to feel excited about seeing the duplicates again. though it is good to know that my headcanon about him needing to be in an art program in order to duplicate himself ended up being accurate. we'll see if my headcanon about it being one Victim with five bodies (as opposed to being five Victims) holds up. if they even have a way to show any difference.

[sighs, pulls AvA1 up in another tab] yep, they're all there. lasso, hammer, extended thumbtack (though it doesn't look like a thumbtack here, which is interesting), whatever that chain-accordion thing is, and the ninja star. why are you doing this? man literally froze himself immobile to get you to stop torturing him, just leave him be.

...haHAHAHA! Oh that felt good, that made me smile. Hopefully this means Chosen has recuperated a bit.

the animation of Victim on fire was so nice I completely missed Chosen breaking the ice XD going back to catch that made me realize that the other Victim duplicates literally just...stood and watched the one burning...

don't let yourself get backed into a corner-

OH he escaped the hold, nice-

I didn't realize until the lasso came back that he'd gotten rid of it when he broke the ice :( but before that he actually uses his fire-breath again, which is always nice to see. interesting to see it concentrated in a thin stream instead of just roaring out like usual.

oh yikes why- him on fire-

...don't do it, man...

OH HE OWNED THAT, LET'S GO!!! Great thinking, Chosen! (heh, nothing about this situation remotely resembles that time Chosen grabbed the cursor and forced it to click him free, but I was reminded of it nonetheless. something about the tool being turned against the user, but in such a different way than Victim does it.)

OH HE- ...oh...I was gonna say oh he learned, he adapted enough that he predicted them flipping his fire and he used that- but then they just nullified it immediately...

Victim don't snap the rope like that, we don't need any more implications we already know you're planning to put him in a world of hurt, why can't you just leave him alone now, what are you trying to prove

hh, back to Orange I guess...

MATH SPOTTED, MATH SPOTTED-

oh! they're bringing him to the- okay that makes sense, if it only works when he does it then obviously the next step to figuring it out is gonna involve him.

wait was he- could he not move when the bounding box was picked up?? (also neat that he immediately got worried once he realized he's in a bounding box, dunno if that's because of what happened in the last episode or if it's just because...he spends a lot of time in an art program so he'd naturally be familiar with what they can do and what it means to be inside one)

...well, nice that they at least get his attention before picking him up

oh now you're being friendly, sure. yeah Orange ain't having it.

okay, [picks up pencil] [instant notetaking] was funny XD

aaw, it's swimming around him

oh it knows what the eraser means

...wait it wasn't an electric eel in the last episode-

hexagons- and the power flickered

okay Orange stumbling around trying to stay out of its way makes it clear that he isn't controlling this thing once he's finished drawing it, it's acting on its own. it...it really feels distressed.

hah, they're all cowering. losers.

oh, back to this.

...did you have to make it so personal, Victim?

a chair

...okay not sure why that happened, could Chosen not just...lean forward? I rewound to watch it again and realized he's exhausted again after the slow-mo ends (is that from the slow-mo itself or just his exertion from the fight before the slow-mo?) and he...doesn't even struggle when Victim lifts him by hand with a lasso to the neck. is...is he just ragdolling now? is he at the point where that's his best option for minimizing conflict?

...he is. he's ragdolling. fuck. (damn you cc!Alan for introducing ragdolling in a comedic short-)

...no? no what?? no, he doesn't know anything about the animator? (which we know isn't true, but why would he deny that?) or no, he isn't going to answer?

don't tie him up, please...

oh now he starts struggling?

...back to ragdolling. good grief, the way they animate his legs just swinging even though they can still touch the floor...

...heh, I appreciate his spirit, especially at this point, but...Chosen you kinda just put yourself in a worse position.

...oh, what is that? I don't think we've seen anything like that before. It's got the floppy disk that's used as the "save" icon in many applications, but it looks kinda like a headset.

...a VR headset specifically, I guess.

OH WHAT- okay rad animation, but WHAT

...oh fuck, I've always wondered if there was a way to see the data that would be a stick's memory. FUCK what are they gonna use this for

wait they're bring Orange here?! Or are they just passing on their way back to the cell? but why are they going back to the cell, was the eel too much for them??

...wait, what? signal lost, I assume because Chosen dislodged it enough to disconnect, and then...instead of picking up where it left off it jumps all the way back to Showdown?? was...was Showdown just on Chosen's mind? or is this the memory of him recalling it right before flying to alanspc to entreat Orange's aid? ...or...are memories from beyond the sky-barrier not compatible? that doesn't make sense...

what's with everyone's reactions to Second's powers?

...I forgot Orange's cell is in here. whoops.

oh this is how he finds out??

hands first ("I did that??") and then his eyes ("Chosen was right??")

...and of course. I expected they'd lock him down with extra security as soon as they realized, but. poor guy.

(dammit I purposefully refrained from making a "dark mode" joke, you didn't have to go and put it on the damn control screen)

...and even after that (which, judging by Victim's reaction, even he hadn't known about Second's powers), the animator is still Victim's priority.

oh, this isn't just any clip of the cursor's involvement in Showdown, this is specifically while Yellow was rendering the cursor in.

and then they immediately pan to Yellow which means that observation is actually gonna be relevant, FUCK-

OH FUCK THE WANTED POSTERS

("earnings growth," so they actually do have a business element to them)

aaand the security cameras caught them peeking out of the truck, they literally just started printing the posters and they've already located Yellow-

that fight is mesmerizing. we haven't seen one like this before, as far as direction and setting. plus it's really interesting to see how the four respond. I might look deeper into that later. also that was a cool transition.

and Yellow is dragged off. The story has never had one of the quartet singled out in-universe by the plot like this before. they aren't even apprehending the others.

...of all the sticks to have a lighter, I never thought it would be Victim.

to be continued. good grief.

I have to eat before work so I'll think on all this and say more later.

#animator vs animation #ava the box #animator vs animation spoilers #ava6 spoilers #ava 6 spoilers

[zoeykallus]

Hi! I see you take requests for one shots! Could you do an echo x reader (fluff only) where the reader helps echo through a panic attack on the battlefield and echo ends up telling her about his feelings? Thanks!

Aloha! Well yes, I did, still do, and they keep coming in, so I'm a little slow to catch on, very sorry about that. But now you finally get your ask/request done 😊 Also, I'm assuming you mean TBB Echo, so that's what I'm going with. If you were thinking of pre Citadel Echo, let me know and I'll write something new.

Echo x Reader One-Shot - Always

Warnings: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Tension/Fluff/Mention And Description Of A Panic Attack

_______________

It's nothing new, enemy fire, a tense situation, jumping from cover to cover. But something is different for Echo today. He climbs a ridge to survey the battlefield when a blaster shot hits his right prosthetic leg, right in the knee joint. He pulls himself up just in time. "Kriffin hell!" growls Echo, cursing. You hear his curse over the comm in his helmet and ask anxiously from your cover, "Echo? Are you okay?" He doesn't answer right away. Echo tries to stand up, but his prosthetic leg refuses to serve him. The leg remains stiff and cannot be bent, the joint fused together from the blaster shot. Echo tries to get up again and again, although the rational part of his mind knows that the prosthesis is simply broken. Cold sweat breaks out, his heart beats up to his throat, his breathing gets faster and faster, his muscles tense up, his body feels heavy as lead and immobile all at once. "Echo? Answer me!" Tech checks his new gadget, a small monitor built into his bracer connected to all the batchers, there he can see the vital signs of all the team members. "Sharply elevated pulse, frantic breathing, muscle tension, I think Echo is having a panic attack," he finally informs you. You bite your tongue to suppress the curse that automatically wants to come out of your mouth. "Cover me for a moment," you murmur to Tech and Wrecker, who were with you and Echo. "We've got your back, ad'ika!", Wrecker assures you and resolutely blasts two more droids. Ducked, you run to the rocky ridge and begin to climb, you must now fully rely on Tech and Wrecker to really have your back, draw their fire and make sure no one shoots you in the back. You are not disappointed, yet your heart races, and you feel adrenaline flood your system as you reach the top. At the top you see Echo lying there on his back, he moves a little, but very stiffly and by now you can hear his frantic breathing over the comm. "Echo, I'm here, everything's fine," you say as your gaze flies hastily over his body, searching for wounds.

You discover the fused joint on his prosthetic leg and guess what happened. Echo was hit, which is scary enough in itself, but when he could no longer move freely as a result, panic set in, and now he was lying here. As he tries to take off his helmet with a shaking hand, you stop him. "No, don't take off your helmet, we are still on the battlefield". You try to tell him as gently as you can and take his hand off his helmet, but you have to push through. A stray or even aimed blaster shot could be much more dangerous or even deadly without a helmet. "I can't move," Echo finally croaks tensely. "Yes you can, Echo, it's just the prosthetic that got hit, until it's replaced or repaired you'll need a support, but you have no injury," you say patiently, holding his hand. He's shaking, and you can still hear his uneasy breathing over the comm. "Echo, listen to my voice, okay? Focus on my words and look at me." He takes two deeper, slower breaths, trying to catch himself, and you see his head turn a little to look at you. Even though you can't see his face right now, his visor is pointing right at you. You would like to show him your face, but the Safety 1x1 that Hunter taught you took precedence. One of the first rules regarding armor and general protective clothing, never take off your helmet in combat, only if there is no other way at all. But he knows your helmet, he knows your voice, Echo decorated your helmet with you, so he has a familiar image in front of him. "You'll be fine, I'm sure Tech can fix it or replace it. You just got scared, it happens to all of us. But now you have to pull yourself together, the battle isn't over yet. Besides, you promised me that we would cook your famous stew together tonight". You deliberately refrained from titling it panic attack or panic in general. The word itself could have a violent effect opposite to the desired result. Some words can have a very strange power over a person.

Echo continues to breathe deeply, in and out. It takes a long moment, but finally he replies, "I haven't forgotten, I intend to keep my promise, Mesh'la." Relief floods through you. "Very good, then let's shoot the clankers down there, so we can get home".

Back on Ord Mantell: Your helmet tucked under your arm, you enter Tech's small workshop, where he is busy fitting Echo's new prosthetic leg. "Hey guys," you say cheerfully. "Hello ad'ika," Tech says kindly, though without looking up from his work on the prosthetic. Echo looks up at you from his seated position. "Hey lifesaver," he says with a wry smile. "Now, don't exaggerate," you say with a soft laugh. Tech says matter-of-factly, "I don't think Echo is exaggerating, he was in an awkward position, a panic attack in the middle of combat is a death sentence for most soldiers." Echo and you look at Tech with furrowed brows, actually you should be used to his straightforward manner by now. "How's it looking?" you ask to change the subject, "Can you handle it with the new prosthetics?" "Of course," Tech replies almost indignantly. When he finishes and Echo gets up to test the prosthesis, everything seems to work right off the bat. "Thanks Tech, I owe you one," Echo says. "Don't mention it," Tech says, "I still have to help Crosshair with his rifle, I guess it got damaged during Hunter and Crosshair's little trip together." You raise your eyebrows, "They're both okay though?" "Yeah, no injuries, Crosshair's just a little whiny about his beloved rifle" Tech noted. Tech retreats to find Crosshair, along with his toolbox, and for the moment you are alone with Echo in the small workshop. He seems strangely nervous all of a sudden. He clears his throat and finally says, "There's something I'd like to tell you." Astonished, you look at him, "Oh yeah?" "Yes. Today has made me realize that I shouldn't wait any longer to do this. The way we live, any day can be the last and I don't want to end up regretting not addressing certain things" "Oh."l Echo moves closer to you until he is standing relatively close to you.

"None of the others could have gotten me out of that stupor today as easily as you did. I know they all would have tried, but.... Well, so what I'm saying is..." Echo pauses for quite a while, licks his lips nervously, and finally says, "I've developed feelings for you. Something I never really expected. I was born a soldier, or created, depending on how you want to look at it, I've lived as a soldier, and it never occurred to me to be anything else or expect more out of life." Your heart beats faster, and you know you are staring wide-eyed at him right now, but you can't help it. Echo continues, "But then you stumbled into our lives, you stayed, and I got to know you and by now I feel there is more to life than just being a soldier. I'd like to explore with you what exactly it all is. Does that make any sense?" For a moment, you just stare at him. He laughs nervously, avoids your gaze, and scratches the back of his neck. "Oh god, I'm really bad at this, in my head it all sounded completely different". You smile at him silently, giving him time to collect himself. Finally, he says laughing softly, "Okay, simply put, I have a crush on you". He looks from one point to another, avoiding your gaze, until he suddenly feels your lips on his cheek. Echo quietly says, placing his hand on your hip, "However, I have no idea where we go from here. Are we going out together? Should I buy flowers? Shall we go out to eat? Should I learn to dance? Do I kiss you now?" Smiling, you lean your forehead against his as he leans toward you, and you say, "How about we go to my apartment, you cook the stew with me as promised, and then we'll see?" He breathes a sigh of relief as he replies, "Sounds wonderful." "Then I'll see you at my place in an hour?" "All right," Echo says with a grin. As you're about to walk out, you turn around again and say, "Oh and Echo, take your toothbrush with you, just in case" Echo blinks, his cheeks flush a little, finally he nods with a shy but mischievous smile, "Got it. Oh, and thanks for coming to my rescue"

You smile and say, “Always”

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@taskfork-archive

@cpnt616

@starwarsnerd111

#tbb echo #echo tbb #echo x reader #echo fanfic #clone trooper echo #echo #bad batch echo #the bad batch echo #echo bad batch #sw the bad batch #tbb #ct 1409 #echo x you #tbb echo x reader #echo romance #echo x reader romance #bad batch x reader #clones #star wars #x reader #star wars x reader #bad batch #the bad batch #tbb x reader #tw panic attack

[immajustvibehere]

Low honour Arthur "not too fast. I ain't had a good look at ya"

Captured & Captivated

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

oneshot: low honor Arthur, bounty hunting

warnings: nudity, suggestive, mentions of sexual themes

summary: You get caught by a bounty hunter. After some consideration, he is ready to grant you your freedom...in exchange for a little strip show.

2700 words, 15 minutes reading time

The moment you heard some twigs break you knew it was too late. No matter how fast you tried to jump up and draw, the cold grip of someone's gun hit your temple with such force that you barely caught the shadow of the man who had ambushed you. You were out even before your body slumped to the ground. As consciousness and the events that had caused you to lose it slowly started to return to you, you not only felt your throbbing head but also a dull nausea that left you wondering what you had gotten yourself into. You opened your eyes to find yourself thrown over the back of a horse, your head dangerously dangling around with your gaze on the floor. Uncomfortably close to two very strong, brown hindlegs of a stallion. Having a visual to pair with the sickening motion of a trot didn't help at all, you feared of losing balance and slipping off. The realisation that your hands and legs were tied didn't do anything to relief this anxiety.

"Good. Yer awake", a voice drawled almost enthusiastically. "That you?", the man who you couldn't quite see – since turning your head so far up would definitely lead to you falling off the horse – asked, before he dangled a bounty poster in front of your face.

"No", you spit, almost chocking on your lie.

"Huh", the piece of paper disappeared from your field of view, "Looks an awful lot like ya though. Guess it's close enough to fool the law, don'tcha think?" The man was clearly amused. And he was right. The drawing had a striking similarity to you. Well, it was you after all. They hadn’t even bothered to draw a worse picture, no. It had every little detail of your goddamn face. You'd pay decent money to just have it changed magically right now. But you had bigger problems now, though your head with a pretty sum on it was the reason you were having those problems in the first place.  

"Sir? Can we stop?", you pleaded after the horse had crossed a rocky path. You felt sick. Certainly, you would throw up any second now and you weren't so sure if this gentleman would take kindly to you throwing up all over his horse. However, you waited in vain for an answer.

"Sir, I'm going to be sick!", you tried to announce. He only clicked his tongue and took his time to think of a reply. "We won't stop." "I'm not kidding. I feel real sick and I'd hate to get my lunch on your horse just in case it decides to throw me of if I do so if we could just-", you babbled on quickly in the hopes it would annoy the man enough to finally stop. Instead, you just heard him mumble a "Shut up" before his flat hand met your face and you were unconscious yet again.

You woke up to the crackling of a fire and its warmth on your face. Ropes cut into your skin as you became aware that bark was uncomfortably pressing itself into your back. You were tied to a tree, right opposite of a campfire. Finally, your eyes had adjusted to the dark of the night and you could look at the man who you had to thank for the ordeal. He sat only a few feet away from you, some sort of notebook open on his one thigh, the other one was momentarily used as a table for a can of beans which he slowly spooned into his mouth.

"You're no bounty hunter, sir, are you?", you asked after a couple of moments passed without the man noticing your waking up.

"Not normally, no", he answered without looking up.

"Why not letting me go? Twenty dollars sure aren't worth the trouble", you tried your sweetest voice. You knew that pretty much anybody would go through a hell lot of trouble for twenty dollars, but you were ready to try every trick in the book to get out of this. You'd cry and beg and promise because any humiliation would be better than rotting in jail.

"Seein' as you threw up all over my horse, I'd like to have those 20 dollars", the man stated, now finally looking up. His expression was cold. You could tell he wasn't having a good time.

"I'm sorry. But I did warn you", you tried a desperate smile.

The man considered you for a while. He simply sat there, looking you up and down like he was searching for something specific, yet, he didn't seem to know what exactly it was he was looking for. Then he fumbled with a pack of cigarettes, fiddling one out.

"What did ya do anyway? Ya got a pretty face for a criminal, too pretty if yer ask me", he mumbled, rolling the cigarette between his fingers before he put it to his mouth, now searching his pockets for some matches.

"Did do nothing. I was framed for stealing though", you said. Your feet awkwardly shuffled in the dry earth; your position was rather uncomfortable.  

"So...", the man started with a deep voice, pausing to light his cigarette, "What would you offer me if I let ya go?"

There was this look again. While he was lazily smoking, he had leant back until his back touched the fallen trunk that was behind him, his eyes roaming your body like it was his - in a sense it very much was at the moment. Now it was your move to offer something for your freedom. You didn't have much, that's for sure. Your belongings were barely worth twenty dollars and you carried nothing on you that was of significant value. You sighed. Not because you didn't have anything materialistic to offer, but because you knew that's not what he was after.

"What are you suggesting, sir?", you asked, uncertainty and insecurity in your voice spurring on the cowboy in front of you.

"Strip for me and I'll let ya go", his eye-contact was making your knees tremble. (Or was it just due to the unbeneficial position he had tied you to the tree?). It didn't sound like a suggestion or offer, rather like a threat. And yet, you released a breath…you had expected worse. When you formed the words "What?" he simply clicked with his tongue and grumbled a "Ya heard me girl."

You nodded. At first a bit hesitantly, then strongly. To hell with it, stripping was better than hanging. "Okay. Okay yeah, I'll do it", you hoped that your nervousness wasn't too obvious. You felt like it made you fragile, like you exposed your weakness. Striping? No problem?! You'll get off some clothes. Don't even have to pretend that there's someone there looking. It'll be fine. Better than rotting in jail. Still, you swallowed huge when the man stood up and approached you. He appeared so determined, looking down on you like you were a scared rabbit.

With a sharp knife he sliced clean through the ropes. You looked down to your wrist in which the rope had painfully cut, the man still in front of you, when the knife was suddenly pushed into the bark next to your head. It made you yelp, you couldn't help it.

"If ya try to run, yer dead. Understood?", he warned, leaving the knife where it was, turning his back towards you and walking back to his spot. It was just for a second that you looked to the knife next to your head, just for a moment that you considered just taking it and...maybe attack him? It was stupid the longer you thought about it, you had no chance against a brawny fellow like that. Also, when you looked at him again, he sat there, his revolver resting on his thigh, pointing towards you. You knew he had read your thoughts.

A bit hurriedly you got out of your boots and started to unbutton your blouse when his voice made you pause. "Slow down, girl. Take yer time. Ya better make it worth the twenty bucks", he took a long drag from his cigarette after he had finished his command. Your face dropped. In no way was simply stripping off your clothes worth twenty bucks, and for sure this gentleman wouldn't be pleased with your body...not twenty dollars like pleased. Ugly was not one of the attributes you would use to describe yourself, but neither was particularly pretty or even...worth paying for to see naked. When the man in front of you saw you pondering, something in his expression shifted. It was only for a mere second that he slightly scrunched his nose and raised his eyebrows, only an inch that he moved his suddenly restless body on the ground. But you caught it. Caught this short moment where it honestly looked like he was stressing about having expressed some doubts about the way you look. Like he hadn't been ignorantly staring at you most of the time you were out, like he hadn't given your appearance a whole side in his journal.

"I'm not good at this kinda stuff, mister", you admitted anxiously, your hands still on your buttons where they had been when he had urged you to slow down.

His voice suddenly was raspy, not like the low growl and drawl from before, but as if he had choked on his own saliva. "Don' worry, darlin'. I'm easily satisfied", he smiled. Warmly. The second he saw you gaining back just a bit of your confidence, his warmth was all gone. He shifted, leaning back on the trunk and watched you like a hawk, his eyes yet again cold with not a hint of a smile on his face. But for you, that was fine. You realised that he is a human too, even though he might not seem very happy about exposing himself.

Your eyes fell on an opened bottle of whiskey. You nodded towards it: "I might perform better after a drink", you suggested sweetly. "Sure", the man shrugged, back with his low Southern drawl. He didn't care if you drank some of his whiskey, he'd invite you to chuck down the whole thing, as long as he could stare at you doing so, especially with the few top buttons of your blouse open.

When you bent forward you had already decided to make this into a game for you. The gun was still pointing in your direction and a man twice your size was watching you like a prison guard, so you might as well try your best to secure your freedom. Bending down, you exposed a bit more of your cleavage and taking up the bottle carefully, you let a drop of alcohol escape your mouth just to catch it with your finger and lick it off. This earned you an audible grunt from the gentleman in front of you.

With a smile you turned around, showing him your back and steadily exposing your shoulders. You unbuttoned the rest of the blouse, letting it slide to the ground. The cold night air hit your skin and made your hair stand up. For a second, you thought you'd shiver, but a step closer to the fire prevented you from cooling down too much. You turned around again, watching the face of the man as he gawked at you slowly raising your skirt. Firstly, you only showed an ankle, then you raised it more until almost all of your lower leg was exposed. The man in front of you was transfixed on the little patch of skin on your leg, so he hadn't realised that your other hand had been busy with loosening the strings of your skirt and when it suddenly completely dropped into the dirt you could see his surprise.

The cowboy took a deep breath. One of his hands wandered towards the pistol, gripping it until his knuckles went white, maybe to divert your attention away from the bulge that was growing in his crotch, which he palmed with his other hand.

"You want me to-", you started.

"Sure", came his answer.

As slowly as you could possibly managed you got out of your tank top. Just like that, you were left half-naked and feeling a bit awkward. You began walking towards the man, keeping your distance, and circling him twice. You felt ridiculous, telling yourself this wasn’t exactly seductive, but he seemed to like it. His eyes never left you. This time, without asking, you got out of your panties.

A quiet whistle of appreciation came from the man and it conjured a smile to your face. For a second you had forgotten that you were stripping for your life, it felt strangely wholesome and safe. But when a gust of wind hit you, it made you shiver violently.

"Sir- May I-"

"Not too fast. I ain't had a good look at ya", his voice was low and considering. So you remained still a moment, before you took up the bottle again, deciding to let the alcohol warm you from inside.

"Mhh, gimme that, would ya?", with his pistol he pointed at your blouse and tank top. You were a bit confused but picked it up and brought it to him. Approaching, he didn't even bother trying to look you in the eye when there was so much else to be looked at. You handed him your clothes, which he took and after a second of hesitation threw into the fire.

Your cry got stuck in your throat. The warm chuckle of the man and the crackle of your clothes burning was all that could be heard.

"Alright, then...", the man announced, flicking his cigarette away, "yer free to go."

"Wai- what? You just....you just burned my clothes? What do you mean I'm free to go? How am I supposed to go? Naked?!"

"Yer still got yer skirt."

"Yes but?!"

Suddenly, the man stood up. The figure you had looked down to for the last five minutes grew in front of you like a mountain.  

"Go. I give ya yer freedom. Walk off! And look pretty doin' it", with his head he nodded towards the dark outline of the open country. There was nothing out there except a chilly night, wild animals and starvation.

"You're kidding, right?", you asked, "I'm gonna die out there. I'm like…a served table, easy food”, you heard him whisper a 'that's for sure' under his breath "and not just for the animals! I'm gonna freeze to death."

"Not my problem, darlin'", he smiled dismissingly, turning away from you to stir the fire, "Thanks for the show, though."

You stormed off, quickly slipping into your underwear and skirt, crossing your arms in front of your naked breast and walking off. You didn't walk far, just behind some trees where the light of his fire wouldn't reach you. You should just wait until he falls asleep, rob him, maybe kill him, take his horse and ride of like nothing ever happened. You were still mulling over your plan, trying to keep feeling in your hands by blowing hot air into your palm when you heard his raised voice from the fire.

"Ya know, ya can always come back and join me by the fire. I'll keep ya warm. If...yer not havin' some funny business on your mind...", he offered.

No way he knew you were still there. And yet…what were your options? If he knew you were close, he wouldn't go to sleep any time soon and you'd freeze and...god damn it. With tilt head he watched you leaving the shadows. He hadn't seen you for maybe a couple of minutes but the joy he felt when his eyes found your bare skin again was indescribable. You didn't hesitate to sit as closely to the fire as possible, right next to the whiskey bottle.

"Have any plans so I won't freeze to death? Got any spare clothes?"

"I'm sure we'll think of s'mthin'", he teased.  

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

[soft--dragon]

Bomb Disarming

I adore Wrecker and Omega's dynamic so I had to write something for them!! :D Hope you enjoy! <3

THIS IS ALL PLATONIC, GET AWAY YA NASTY SHIPPERS

Word Count: 2,388

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Travelling to new planet systems always seemed to take longer than wanted, and this one was especially bad. It was going to take so long in fact, that Tech had ended up switching the ship to autopilot and left the cockpit to tinker with a new project. Hunter and Echo were somewhere in the Havoc Marauder, either discussing new jobs from Cid or talking plans about ration stockage and fuel supplies.

Those types of serious conversations were something Wrecker would rather leave to the two leaders of the team, it was way too boring to force himself to be interested in those topics. Though, he was almost considering going to see what they were talking about just to save himself from going stir crazy. He was in the cockpit with Omega, sat back in the comfy chairs and desperately wishing something interesting would just happen already. He’d even take being knocked out of hyperspace by a Purrgil or something.  

Another minute passed before Wrecker decided it was official; he was going to die of boredom. Bam. Straight on the floor, flatlined with a sheet thrown over his corpse. Murdered by boredom instead of on the battlefield, what a sad way to go. 

By the looks of things, Omega wasn’t far off either. The kid was turning aimlessly in her chair, trying to twirl one of Tech’s tools between her fingers like Hunter did with his knives. She was getting pretty accurate with the timing of the spins, but they weren’t very smooth, the pattern of switching the tool to each finger was stilted. Though she didn’t seem to care about the tacky display, instead staring at the streaks of blue and white outside the glass of the ship with a glazed look in her brown eyes.

Two death counts from boredom in one day. Truly a pity. 

Wrecker groaned, sitting up and rolling his shoulders back, causing them to click loudly. Omega didn’t even spare him a glance at the movements, her focus still the shifting blue hues outside. Damn, she was zoned out. 

The larger clone hummed deeply, foot tapping the floor in thought as he tried to come up with a way to entertain the pair of them. They still had over an hour of travel left and Wrecker wanted to bash a few more heads in before he took his trip to the afterlife, thank you very much, so the boredom would have to go. His gaze flicked to the tool Omega was still spinning slowly, it was a smaller set of clipping shears Tech used on finicky wires in the more delicate parts of his projects, and quite similar to what they used to cut wires of bombs.

Wrecker’s eyebrows shot up as an idea hit him faster than a bullet train.

“Hey kid!” He exclaimed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to be at Omega’s height level.

Omega gave a start at the sudden burst of noise which caused the tool in her hand to clatter to the floor. She ripped her gaze from the window and stared up at her brother in alarm. “What? What is it?” She asked, her accented voice filled with concern.

Wrecker grinned at her, scooping the discarded clipping shears on the ground and holding them up clearly. “Why don’t we go through bomb disarming again? We haven’t done it in a bit!”

Omega blinked owlishly, eyes flicking between the tool and his face in bewilderment. “On the ship?” Her question was a mix of slight levity and confusion. “I don’t think Hunter would like that very much.”

Wrecker’s excitement deflated slightly. She did have a pretty valid point. They were running low on smoke bombs as is, and the idea of the ship filling with the thick fog with no way to filter it out probably wasn’t a smart idea. 

“Ah,” he grunted, lowering the shears slightly. “I guess that’s true.”

Omega nodded quietly and went to look back out the window, her knees drawing to her chest and arms wrapping around them. She looked smaller than usual in that position, and her childish features just looked so sad. Wrecker frowned. He didn’t like Omega being sad. 

“We don’t have to use an actual bomb,” he said slowly, his brain trying to come up with an alternative quickly.

“Mm?” Hummed Omega to show she was listening, half lidded eyes drifting over the hyperspace streaks.

“...We could use my hand instead?”

Omega lifted her head, eyebrows furrowing as she stared straight forwards. She then turned to look at him slowly, one eyebrow quirked in puzzlement. “...You want me to use those shears on your fingers?” 

Wrecker barked a laugh, shaking his head and tossing the shears to the side which caused them to clatter noisily on the dashboard. “No no, the idea was that you’ll use your fingers like shears to ‘cut’ my fingers which will be the wires. The palm of my hand will be the actual bomb, and your goal is to cut the right wires to stop it from detonating. Make sense?”

Omega’s gaze dropped to his hand that was being held up to be a demonstration alongside Wrecker’s explanation. Slowly, her legs unfurled from her chest and she sat forward on her chair. 

“...Okay, that sounds like it could be good practice.”

“Atta girl,” Wrecker praised, ruffling her curls and smiling when she leant up into his large palm. “Do you need reminding of which wires are which?”

“I think I remember… provided you’ve got them in the same order as a smoke bomb and you’re not gonna pull anything?”

“Course not, kid. Now, you’ve got a time limit of ten seconds before it explodes, ya ready?”

Omega leant forward more, using her index and middle fingers to make a pair of scissors on her right hand and studying Wrecker’s ‘bomb’. “Ready.”

Wrecker had spread his fingers with his palm facing upwards, trying to make it easy for Omega to remember the correct method. “Alright. Beep!” 

With Wrecker’s noise indicating the ‘bomb’s’ activation, Omega quickly set to work, half listening to his countdown. “The conductor feeds the coil expander… this connects to the transmitter… the detonator links to…” 

As she mumbled, she used her finger shears to cut at Wrecker’s fingers, the older clone folding the digits inwards to show the break. She’d ‘cut’ three of Wrecker’s fingers, and was now stalling between his middle and ring fingers, face pinching as she tried to recall the last step. 

“I- I don’t know which one to do-”

“Better hurry, kid! Five… four…”

Omega bit her lip anxiously, then on impulse, pinched Wrecker’s ring finger between her shears. 

“BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.”

Kriff. Wrong one. 

“KABOOM!” Wrecker yelled, sweeping Omega off her chair into his arms, wiggling his fingers into her sides quickly. 

Omega squealed loudly, kicking out on instinct and breaking into fits of laughter. “AHA! W-Wrehehecker!” 

“You failed to disarm the worst kind of bomb there is, Omega, now you’re suffering the consequences!”

Still giggling, Omega pressed out, “Smoke bohombs arehen’t the wohorst!”

“Oh no, this was very different from a regular ol smoke bomb, kiddo,” Wrecker chuckled, “it was a tickle bomb!” 

He blew a raspberry into Omega’s cheek, fingers worming against her stomach to produce high pitched, childish laughter. 

“YOHOU LIHIAR!” Omega gasped, squirming in Wrecker’s unrelenting hold. “Yohou shahid ihit wahas aha smohoke bohomb!” 

Far too smug about his ploy, Wrecker chuckled evilly. “Oh I didn’t lie, I said the wires were in the same order as a smoke bomb, I never said it was one.” He lay Omega over his lap and raised his hands above her, wiggling his fingers tauntingly. The effect was immediate. 

Omega tried to curl up in the limited space, giggling more at the ‘threat’ before her. “W-Wrehehecker!” she squeaked.

“Yeah? That’s my name, Omega.” He held them for a moment longer to build suspense, then suddenly dropped them to just ghost over Omega’s torso, delighting in the squeal that burst from the blonde clone. Her eyes had clamped shut in preparation for the onslaught, only for Wrecker to raise his hands in the air again, still wiggling.

Cracking an eye open, Omega whined at falling for the fake-out. “Wrehehehecker!”

“Still my name. You sure we shouldn’t call you Echo, now?”

Once more, Wrecker’s hands plunged down towards Omega, another shriek bursting from the kid that was followed by bright giggles. The sensations of wiggling fingers never touched down, and Omega didn’t even need to open her eyes this time to know she’d been tricked again.

“Nohot fahair!”

“Not fair? Oh, I’ll show you ‘not fair’, kid.”

Wrecker snaked an arm under her back to tickle her right side and used the other to poke along her left ribs quickly, leaving her no escape route from the gentle attack. Omega squealed and shrieked, her hands smacking at Wrecker’s to try and deter him, but the bigger clone was secure in his path.

These tactics were ones he often used on his brothers’, and he was pleased to see it was just as effective on his sister too. Omega was a bundle of bright giggles and a smile close to literal sunshine, the child was just as ticklish as the rest it would seem.

“Wrecker, I hope you don’t plan on killing Omega, do you?”

The slightly nasally voice made Wrecker look at the doorway where Tech was standing, discreetly putting away a holo-pad that no doubt was filled to the storage limit with photos now. 

“Nah, she disarmed a bomb incorrectly and it exploded,” he explained, grinning up at his younger brother. “She’s facing the aftermath.”

“Ah, I see.” Tech’s lips twitched subtly and he cleared his throat. “I’m looking for my clipping shears, have you seen them?” 

“Dashboard.”

“Thank you.”

“T-Tehehech hehehelp!” Omega squeaked, reaching out for the bespeckled clone, only to shriek and throw her head back in new bouts of laughter as Wrecker had quickly swept his fingers into the new weak spots. She clamped her arms down to try and stop the wiggling digits, but it only served to trap them in the sensitive hollows, leaving her spluttering and giggling hysterically. 

“I’m afraid I cannot help you, Omega,” Tech answered, amusement evident in his voice as he shifted towards the dashboard to retrieve his tool, pocketing it for the time being. “I am not one to stand in the way of a lesson, especially one as important as bomb disarmament.” 

“Trahahitor!” 

“Now now, there’s no need for insults. You’ll get the right wires next time, I’m sure.” Tech ruffled Omega’s hair in passing, a smile on his face that was a mix of fond and mischievous. He then glanced at the bigger clone with an equally fond smile. “Though Wrecker, remember that her stamina is not the same as ours, you may want to ease up soon.”

Wrecker sent a grin towards his brother. “Yeh, that’s a good point,” he agreed and slid his hands out from underneath Omega’s tightly pressed arms. A giggly squeal slipped from the girl and melted both of the hearts of the male clones instantly. 

She brought her arms down to protect her torso, grinning up at Wrecker with mirthful anticipation, giggles still tumbling from her mouth. Wrecker chuckled at her flighty behaviour, raising his hands in what would be a peaceful action though it only caused Omega to giggle harder and curl in on herself. 

“N-Nohoho nohot thahat agahain!” she whined, eyeing Wrecker’s fingers through squinted eyes. 

“Used the ‘hang and drop’ tactic on her too, I see?” Tech observed, his smile softer than Wrecker had ever seen it. “You really wanted to make her learn the importance of bomb disarming.”

“Of course, we don’t want a lack of bomb knowledge to cause her to be partially blind in one eye, right? That position is already filled.”  

Tech flicked his gaze from Omega to Wrecker, eyes trailing over the scarring running over the left side of Wrecker’s face. He softened a bit more, reaching over to gently rest a hand on his shoulder. “You’re being a good teacher,” he said quietly. “She’ll be a natural in no time.” 

Wrecker smiled up at him warmly, giving a one shouldered shrug to lean up into the palm. “Thanks Tech.”

“Of course.” Tech removed his hand, making for the door only to pause in front of it. “Omega, I expect you to drink some water after your lesson, you’ll be dehydrated from all your laughing.”

Omega grinned and gave a small salute from where she was still lying on her back on Wrecker’s legs. “Sir, yes, sir,” she chirped, the lingering titters fading out.

Tech gave a nod, giving a smile in return and then stepped from the room, the doors sliding closed behind him. The silence hung in the air for a moment, interrupted occasionally by Omega’s small giggles that crept back into her chest. It was only when she had calmed down fully that Wrecker leant over to the storage cabinet by the piloting chair to pluck out a bottle of water. He handed it to Omega who sat up in his lap to take a swig, humming appreciatively of the cooling effect. 

Wrecker let her rest for another minute or two before gently nudging his chin against her hair. “You up to trying again?” He asked.

Omega blinked up at him in surprise, cocking her head slightly. “Oh, I can do the  disarmament again?” 

“Of course, the only way to get it right is practice.” Carefully, Wrecker picked her up again and set Omega back on her chair. He cracked his knuckles then held a hand upright, fingers splayed. “You got your clipping shears ready?”

Omega sat forward and propped her hand up to have her index and middle fingers positioned again. “Yup,” she said, then suspiciously leant back. “...If I get this wrong again…”

“You already know what’ll happen,” Wrecker chuckled. “Gotta have some consequence right? Otherwise it’ll be pretty ineffective to help you learn.”

Omega rolled her eyes, smiling up at her brother. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It…it is kinda fun.”

Wrecker visibly brightened at her words. “Good! Cause we still have forty minutes to kill, kid.”

Cracking her knuckles, Omega grinned, a flame of determination flaring up inside her. “Bring it.”

#my fanfic #lee!omega #ler!wrecker #bad batch tickle #the bad batch #tickle fic #fanfic #star wars tickle #star wars #wrecker is a massive sweetheart #it is 3am rn #dear lord my life has been taken over by a hyperfixation again #tech shows up but he's just there to be a menace /affectionate

[shimmeringweeds]

(Written between s2 episodes 9 and 10)

"The foundation of the game is mutual trust, fairness, and equality."

Part 3 of my "this game and its rules" theory: Part 1. Part 2.

This theory will be much less put together, as I feel I am not seeing the whole picture here, but maybe another set of eyes can spot what I've missed. I want to put this out there before episode 10 destroys everything.

Li Tianchen is a complicated character. He is a someone we inherently cannot trust. I'm sure I'm not the only one who found it comedic how quickly Li Tianchen took total control over the interrogation (CXS never stood a chance, the Coca-Cola tactic was brilliant.)

Why come in disguise as his sister? To gain sympathies, I suppose.

So then, did Li Tianchen know about the photograph?

Let's break the scene down:

-Li Tianchen introduces himself as LiTianxi. Cheng Xiaoshi is visibly taken aback. 1pt to LTC.

-Li Tianchen gives Cheng Xiaoshi a choice. Turn over all listening devices. Cheng Xiaoshi lies = feeling of unease. "The foundation of cooperation is mutual trust" says LTC. Minus 1pt to CXS. He's already in the negatives.

-Interrogation begins. Cheng Xiaoshi asks, "Why did you come and what do you know?" -

-Li Tianchen repeats, "The foundation of the game is mutual trust, fairness and equality. Did you forget this so soon?"

A connection is made in Cheng Xiaoshi's mind, this is Red Eyes! He then says:

"Why did you turn out like this?"

The conversation went directly from "The foundation of the game..." to "Why did you turn out like this." YEAH. That's one way to be suspicious CXS! -1pt

Cheng Xiaoshi knows about LTX's past and recognized her name. Li Tianchen doesn't know that Cheng Xiaoshi knows this. He is guessing based on Cheng Xiaoshi's reactions. (CXS wears his heart on his sleeve and I love him for it.)

Li Tianchen calls him on it, "How did you know?" The ball is back in LTC's court. + 1pt.

Cheng Xiaoshi tries to take the ball back. But the revelation that this is red eyes is too much. He cannot lie. So he speaks the truth and the ball stays firmly in LTC's court for the rest of the match.

The following Coca-Cola chugging relaxes the mood (+1pt LTC) and the sympathy building begins.

This plan of Li Tianchen's really hinges on building sympathy. He can't just grab CXS and go. He has to make him go "willingly" in order to not draw attention. This game is of mutual trust.

Li Tianchen needs (or at least wants) Cheng Xiaoshi to trust him.

Cheng Xiaoshi reaches out in a moment of sympathy... and gets possessed. Match won.

There is no evidence that Li Tianchen knew about the photograph before Cheng Xiaoshi willingly confirms it. But if Cheng Xiaoshi hasn't seen the photograph, then isn't this plan way more risky? Did LiTianchen really take that risk?

I know a lot of people are thinking that Li Tianxi is the one who delivers the photograph. That's very difficult to refute. But I cannot think of a reality where Li Tianchen doesn't know that the photograph was given. That was played.

Food for thought: the twin that delivered the photograph, and the twin that took the phone. (please note: the yellow on the jacket in relation to color of the hoodie. Thin as ice, this one. But I can't stop thinking on it.) EDIT: lmao I went a took color samples in procreate. Both hoodies are purple/red. Color theory can you believe.

I really, really believe that Li Tianchen is crying out for help as much as Li Tianxi is seems to be. Everything he does is to protect his sister. He's a hunter yes, but--

"Some (predators) are born as bloodthirsty beasts. But some are special and learn to evolve. They evolve, and they grow. Until one day in this jungle of men, they become...a hunter. So which one of those do you want to be in the future?"

vs. the English dub which chooses to take things a little farther....

"Someone to kill and eat everything. Not everyone stays the same as they were born. Some people will evolve, become something new. They're the ones who hunt predators. They learn to fight and protect. What kind of person do you want to be when you grow up?"

Li Tianchen is a hunter, a provider, a protector.

So who is Li Tianxi?

#I have so many little noncoherent thoughts that don't deserve a whole post #Like the gossipy neighbor “recognizing” QJ? #or LM abducting Emma for “his money” - the same money found in CB's home? #or “CXS” apologizing for the tracking device vs. “LL” and “CB” apologizing before death #im screaming #link click #时光代理人 #shiguang dailiren #link click spoilers #my lc theories

[starwarstbbfan]

THE BAD BATCH: THE RUNAWAY

Chapter 53 - Forgiveness and a Promotion

Hope ya'll like this chapter!! The beginning and ending are kinda sad, but there's some happy moments in between and funny moments as well!

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

When Tech, Hunter, and Wrecker got back, they didn't expect to find Crosshair brooding in the cockpit, waiting impatiently for his brothers to come back and Callista nowhere in sight. Hunter didn't bother hiding his exasperation.

"How on earth did you get out?" Hunter demanded, flabbergasted that his master plan had failed. It was foolproof, he'd been sure of it. Now the Sergeant was embarrassed. But if Crosshair thought Hunter was an idiot, it wasn't for the half-baked plan of his, it was for what being locked in a dark room did to Calli and despite being frustrated with the teen, he was more furious with his brothers for putting her through that. He hated seeing his siblings suffer and had an especially soft spot for Calli (though if anyone said as much, he'd deny it).

Standing up, Crosshair took two large steps that put him right in front of Hunter and Crosshair was thankful he had a few inches on his brother which allowed him to slightly tower ober the Sergeant, who's shoulder he shoved harshly while half yelling "You're all di'kuts!". Hunter sighed and nodded, expecting a reaction like this from his brother, and also still being annoyed that it didn't work.

"Yeah, I guess it was too much to hope that locking you two in a room would solve everything." He said and Crosshair snarled.

"That's not what I'm angry about." Crosshair said, visibly shaking with rage. Hunter noticed this, along with Tech and Wrecker, and the atmosphere changed instantly as they took Crosshair's behavior more seriously. This wasn't the normal cranky Crosshair; something was obviously wrong. The Sergeant's eyes did a quick search of the room before landing back on his brother, his expression serious.

"Where's Calli?" For a brief moment Hunter feared that his brother had actually committed homicide. Crosshair wasn't capable of killing someone in cold blood, was he? At least not one of their own? Crosshair jabbed his thumb in the direction of the bunks.

"In the room, recovering from the anxiety attack you caused by locking us in the dark and then leaving!" Recognition dawned on Tech's features, his quick and brilliant mind able to put two and two together about what Crosshair said, and then guilt was quick to follow as he looked away in shame, while Hunter and Wrecker remained confused. The former was also relieved to know that his brother hadn't murdered Calli - honestly, he felt that Calli would have a better chance at murdering the sniper as opposed to the other way around. But he'd of course never say that to Crosshair. Still, it didn't quite register what the sniper was saying.

"I don't... I don't understand how that could have made Calli panic." Hunter said flatly and Crosshair folded his arms and gave Hunter a cryptic look.

"Think. Think real hard, Hunter." Crosshair watched as the cogs turned in the Sergeant's head, but after a few tense seconds his brother merely shook his head, not coming up with anything. Crosshair was merciful enough to give him a hint to jog his memory, "Where did we rescue Calli - the second time?" Eyebrows drawing together, Hunter still didn't understand... at first. But when it hit him, his face then mirrored Tech's reaction only a minute before that, then his eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, becoming guilt-ridden.

"Kriff." He swore under his breath, yet everyone heard, and Crosshair let out a harsh scoff, also nodding.

"Kriff is right! How could it not have occurred to you -" Crosshair chastised, then his heated gaze was directed to Tech, who stood behind the Sergeant, on his right. "-or you! You're supposed to be the smartest one here!" Tech tried to defend himself.

"I apologize that it did not occur to me-"

"Oh, shut it!" Tech's mouth clamped shut, and his lips were now pressed into a thin line as he again felt shame for hurting Calli. As did Wrecker. Hunter did too, but when Crosshair snapped at Tech, he felt the need to defend his youngest brother.

"Hey, he made a mistake - " Hunter paused, then sighed and corrected himself, "-no, I did. It was my idea and I made Tech and Wrecker follow along with it. It was a spur of the moment decision, and I didn't think it through all the way. But how was I supposed to know it would backfire? Calli never talks about her time on Kamino, so none of us have an exact list of what might trigger her and what won't." Crosshair was now glaring daggers at Hunter as a fresh wave of anger overtook him.

"If you're putting the blame on Calli-"

"I'm not." Hunter asserted, his temper becoming short, and he matched Crosshair's glare with a hard stare of his own while saying the next couple sentences, "You need to calm down and stop putting words in my mouth. I'll talk to Calli and fix this."

"You better. Because if the long necks get even the slightest suspicion that Calli is unstable, they'll put her out of commission. She might not be experimented on, but we all know she'd be miserable being a maintenance clone like 99 was or something equally as demeaning. It'll kill her, maybe not physically but her spirit will. Do you want that for her?" Up until now Hunter had been cool and collected, but Crosshair's insinuation that he didn't care about Calli's well being struck a nerve and his hands tightened into fists.

"Do you really think I'd let her go back to Kamino? I'd do everything in my power to keep her here with us. Quit jumping to conclusions." Hunter was on the verge of shouting and drew in a long breath to calm himself, "I understand you're upset but turning on us won't help the situation. This conversation is over." Hunter turned to the two clones behind him, "Tech, Wrecker, get this ship flying so we can make it to the rendezvous on time." The pair nodded and Hunter then faced Crosshair once more, "You go find somewhere to cool off. I'll go talk to Calli." Crosshair was still beyond furious, but he stiffly nodded, wanting to be away from his brothers for the time being.

"Yes, Sergeant." Crosshair spat out, wanting to get the last word in and he harshly bumped shoulders with Hunter on his way out of the room, not even bothering to ask what Hunter had meant by making it to a rendezvous

Unbeknownst to the four bickering brothers, Calli had been eavesdropping on the conversation, Crosshair's yelling drawing her out of the room. She remained hidden in the hallway and heard the last ¾ of the conversation, which included Crosshair defending her. Hearing him talk so emotionally and passionately about how being shipped back to Kamino would ruin her life and challenging Hunter - it basically screamed 'I care about this girl so much and don't want her to be taken away'. It was touching yet made Calli feel conflicted. A part of her wanted to push his harsh comments away and forgive Crosshair, but there was still a small part that wanted to continue being mad at him. But her internal war was cut short when Hunter ended the conversation and she darted back to the bunk room she shared with Hunter and Crosshair, not wanting to be caught.

Truth be told, Calli didn't feel like talking so upon reaching the room she dashed for her bed, slipping under the thin scratchy blanket and pulling it over her body while getting on her left side that allowed her to face away from the door. Her eyes barely closed when Hunter's footsteps entered the room, and she leveled her breathing so as to give the impression that she was sleeping and hoping that the Sergeant would leave her be.

"I know you're awake. Your heart's beating like you just ran a marathon." Curse his enhanced senses. Opening her eyes, Calli rolled them in annoyance and shifted to where she was laying on her back, yet she refused to look at Hunter, instead opting to stare at the roof of her bunk. She heard Hunter sigh and knew he was having trouble coming up with something to say. Secretly Calli enjoyed it, as a sort of pay back for putting her through what they did, though she also wished Cross hadn't said anything.

Hunter hesitated at first to talk, his eyes dadting this way and that as he wracked his brain for the right words to say. When they landed briefly on his bunk, a scowl made its way to his face when he saw a certain feline currently conked out on his bed, splayed out on his back and a faint snoring could be heard coming from the small creature. The poor thing must have been wiped out after the long hike, even if for the final hour or so he hung out on Wrecker's shoulder, taking in the sights. Hunter had been the one to suggest they bring him along, if anything to try and spend some time with the little monster and they could get to know each other because frankly he was tired of being hissed at everytime he dared be in the same room as the tooka. He was made to feel like an imposter when in fact it was Scruffy who imposed! The sheer entitlement baffled Hunter, but for Calli's sake he set his feelings aside and the cat and the Sergeant had seemed to reach a mutual understanding that for the foreseeable future they'd be roommates. Yet here was the result. Hunter bristled at the thought of cat fur being all over his sheets and blanket, and had to physically restrain himself from shouting at the cat to get off.

Focus on something else Hunter told himself and that brought him back to the other problem. Calli had yet to say anything so Hunter guessed he'd have to do the talking.

"Look, I know you heard all that. Let's just get this all out in the open." Hunter started, and he ran a tired hand down his face as he tried to think of the most diplomatic way to say the next part. He decided that point blank would probably be the only way to do it, "I'm tired of all the drama. I thought that locking the two of you up was the only way to get things back to normal. I didn't know it'd trigger you and cause you to have an anxiety attack. The was stupid on my part and I'm sorry - really really really sorry." Calli hummed.

"Three really's? Wow, I didn't even get one from Crosshair. You must feel pretty bad." Calli finally looked at Hunter and his guilty expression and nod backed up that statement. The corner of her mouth quirked up, showing that she wasn't angry at the Sergeant and silently telling him that it was ok and she wasn't mad at him. He'd been right in saying she never disclosed much info about those few weeks she was held captive and experimented on by the Kaminoans. It gave off the impression that maybe she wasn't as affected by what had happened, when in reality it kept her up on nights, either by nightmares or the anxious voice in her head that never seemed to shut up and it was harder to ignore at night when it was quiet. Hunter had no way of knowing, therefore Calli couldn't stay mad at him or Tech or Wrecker. She just wished the anxiety would go away. What Crosshair said about her being shipped back hit close to home, as it was one of her biggest fears. Hunter could sense something was still on her mind and took a tentative step closer to her bunk, and she looked up at him with an expression that was hard to read.

"What is it?" Hunter asked with a soft tone that surprised him, wondering if she'd confide in him or just clam up. It was always uncertain as to what she'd do. Sometimes she talked, other times not.

"Do you really think the Kaminoans would have me shipped back if they think I'm unstable or unfit for duty?" Calli asked in a small voice, and just saying that sent a chill down her spine. Hunter immediately shook his head.

"No, because I won't let that happen." Calli smiled wryly at him.

"What, are you gonna fight all the Kaminoans by yourself?" She joked and Hunter nodded, completely serious as he answered.

"If it comes down to it, yeah." Calli was taken aback by his determination to protect her, even more so as he continued. "No one is ever going to take you away from this squad. You belong here, don't ever let anyone make you think otherwise." Calli almost smiled at this declaration, but that stupid anxiety voice still put doubt in her mind.

"Even though I refuse to kill another living being?" She asked and Hunter's anger briefly flared - not at Calli but at Crosshair - and he went over and sat on the edge of Calli's bunk, looking at her with the gentlest expression he could muster himself to put on his face.

"Others might think it's a weakness, but I think you're stronger than everyone - even us - because of that." Callis head tilted, wondering how Hunter could possibly see it as that way and the Sergeant explained, "It's easy to blindly kill the enemy and forget them, in fact it's expected of us. But the fact that you don't, it makes you more unique than you already are. It gives you the upper hand in a way, because you think differently and do the unexpected. It's definitely given us the element of surprise, and you've really changed this squad's way of doing things - for the better. Our 100% success rate wouldn't be possible without you, and I'm not the only one who thinks that." Calli's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out in a few hours." Hunter said mysteriously, making Calli squint her eyes at the man, but he didn't say anything else on the subject save for that she needed to be wearing her armor and looking presentable when they landed, which only furthered her curiosity.

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A few hours later...

Calli walked into the lounge, fully donned with her gear, helmet tucked under her right arm. Her hair was parted and put into two neat braids that were pinned up around the crown of her head.

She'd been perplexed when on finding her armor in the storage room, it had apparently been scrubbed and polished. It didn't take Calli long to figure out who had done it. Crosshair. The others didn't bother to clean their armor, the sniper being the only one who cared enough about his appearance to do it and a couple times he'd offered to do hers. Calli had never taken him up on the offer, but apparently, he felt guilty enough to do it as a surprise for her. It also might have something to do with whatever Hunter had planned. He hasn't given her any hints as to what it was, save for that it required them to leave the planet they were on.

Hunter met Calli in the middle of the room and made sure her posture was right and watched with puzzlement as the Sergeant did a once over of her appearance while tapping his chin. He then reached his other hand out and brushed an imaginary spot of dirt off her right shoulder pad. Calli knew it had to be in Hunter's imagination because Crosshair would never miss a spot.

"What are you doing?" Calli questioned, being slightly creeped out by the man's peculiar behavior.

"Just making sure your armor is clean." Hunter said simply, not really offering a good explanation and keeping Calli in the dark. Once the imaginary stain was gone and after finding no other invisible blemishes Hunter nodded with approval and patted both her shoulders while Calli remained in her spot, unable to comprehend what was going on. Since when did he care whether or not her armor was spotless? It was armor for force's sake and supposed to be dirty- a symbol of the hard work they did. By now Calli was far beyond being a simple "shiny", and each new dent or scratch was proof of that. It could go for a fresh coat of paint though; the stripes and other decals being scraped off little by little from normal wear and tear.

"You're kinda scaring me." Calli told him, finally finding her voice. Hunter frowned and tried to look innocent.

"Why? Can't a big brother make sure his little sister is looking her best?" He asked and Calli blinked.

"I guess... but the big brother is being weirdly vague about what is going on and it's really irritating the little sister."

"I don't want to spoil the surprise."

"I don't like surprises though." Calli countered.

"Well..." Hunter shrugged, "... tough." Calli clicked her tongue, begrudgingly accepting that she wasn't going to get anything out of Hunter, and she spun on her heels and headed for the cockpit where the others were.

Crosshair immediately was on edge when Calli entered the room and she hesitated at the threshold but decided that she'd had enough of the drama as well. So, she squared her shoulders and walked the rest of the way in, stopping beside the chair the sniper occupied and looking down at him expectantly.

Sensing her presence, Crosshair turned and looked up at the female clone with a raised eyebrow, and he was surprisingly nervous. He half expected her to strangle him.

"Get up." Calli ordered, and at first Crosshair wasn't going to, but he figured what the heck and did as tell. If he got punched or slapped, well worse things could happen. Without any warning Calli wrapped her arms around his middle (she couldn't quite reach his shoulders) in a hug. Much like when Calli hugged him after her emotional reunion with Boba, Crosshair tensed up from the contact, mostly because he wasn't expecting it. Last time they talked, Calli made it obvious she was still very much angry with him and now a few hours later she's hugging him? Is this what Tech calls 'mood swings'? "Thanks for cleaning my armor." Calli said just loud enough for him to hear.

Despite his confusion, Crosshair's demeanor softened as he came to the conclusion that this was Calli's way of saying she forgave him and he patted her back a few times and then Calli backed away, knowing that he wasn't a big fan of contact, but she just felt the need to hug him. Secretly she felt Crosshair's hugs were the best out of the four boys.

Calli gave Crosshair a small smile while tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear and Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the small spot that had been hidden behind the wisp of hair. Crosshair tittered and licked his thumb and much to Calli's horror he tried to rub off the spot on her face like a mother would. She dodged his hand with wide eyes and asked what the heck he was doing.

"Were you eating space waffles while getting ready?" he asked, ignoring her question and Calli - still very much horrified by what Crosshair tried to do - nodded reluctantly and he clicked his tongue again and shook his head in disapproval, "Don't you look in the mirror when you get ready? You've got a spot of syrup on your face." Crosshair tried again to wipe the spot off, but Calli caught his wrist.

"Ok, now you're acting weird like Hunter!" With a roll of his eyes, Crosshair freed his wrist and backed off, but suggested she go wipe the syrup off. Calli scoffed, then subtly grabbed her helmet and used the visor as a mirror as she cleaned her face.

What the heck is going on? Calli wondered.

A little while later they came out of hyperspace and through the viewport Calli saw that they were approaching a group of Republic Cruisers. Calli looked at her brothers, and she noticed that all of them had small smirks on their faces. The mystery was driving her crazy!

Despite the many questions she fired at the group while the ship landed and when they exited the vessel into the hangar, all she got were cryptic replies that offered little information.

The group got the usual stares as they made their way through the hanger - never leaving it Calli noticed. Calli was practically bursting with curiosity as to what was going on!

After going past a LAAT Gunship that had blast marks all over it, obviously it had recently been used in battle, the group stopped and from her spot Calli couldn't see what was in front of them that made them stop. The boys parted so Calli could make her way so she could, and she stopped short upon seeing two rows of clones about a hundred feet ahead, ten on each side, standing at attention with their helmets tucked under their arms.

At the end of the row facing the path created by the clones are General's Skywalker and Kenobi, and on either side their respective superiors were Captain Rex and Commander Cody. All of them had small smiles on their faces and when Calli looked back at her team she saw that they too had similar expressions, even Crosshair, though his was almost nonexistent but you could see more of the emotion in his eyes. They were all looking at her with... pride?

"What-What's going on?" Calli asked, glancing back at the group of regs and Jedi, and a pit of anxiety forming in her stomach. She had no idea what was happening and why all these people were here.

"Why don't you go find out?" Hunter told her, gently nudging her in that direction. Calli looked wide eyed at the Sergeant, resembling a small child looking fearfully at a parent when they were asked to do something that was out of their comfort zone. She almost asked if they'd come with her but knew it would be silly so with all the courage she could muster Calli left the comfort of having her squad at her side and began walking to the awaiting party of soldiers.

Calli kept her head lowered as she passed all the regs, doing her best to keep her nerves in check. But as she grew closer to the Jedi and high-ranking clones, she couldn't help but be slightly ill at ease, as she didn't know what this whole situation was about.

After what felt like an eternity, Calli stopped ten feet in front of the Jedi, Cody, and Rex, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't shaking in her boots a little bit. She was too anxious to even acknowledge the fact that this is the first time she'd seen Obi-Wan since becoming a soldier, the last time they met being after the Bad Batch had rescued her from Kamino. Glancing over her shoulder at her squadmates she saw Wrecker give her an encouraging thumbs up (it did little to soothe her nerves though).

She turns back to the front when someone clears their throat. Skywalker stepped forward and Calli sensed that he was nervous, but she wasn't sure why.

"Scar, we were informed of your brave actions on Naboo that included saving Senator Amidala's life. She brought it to our attention, and we all agree that such sacrifice deserves to be rewarded. We present to you the Medallion of Honor for your bravery." Rex opened the box he'd been holding, revealing a small, shiny golden colored medal. Anakin removed it from the case and walked up to Calli, who remained stiff and rigid as Anakin put the metal on her chest plate. After giving her a kind smile and pat on the shoulder, Skywalker stepped back in line with the others. Snapping out of the shocked state she'd been in, Calli felt it was her turn to say something.

"T-Thank you, sir. I'm honored."

"You earned it." Cody told her and then Obi-Wan spoke up.

"Scar, you've shown great skill and have accomplished much in your short career in this army. It is with pleasure that we also promote you to ARC Trooper." Calli's mouth opened, closed, then opened again, and said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Shut the hanger door." Calli exclaimed, and immediately she regretted it after from the raised eyebrows her superiors gave her and some amused snickering from some of the regs behind her. Her face was now burning, and she fidgeted in her spot, internally yelling at herself for blurting such a thing out. "Uh, I - I mean, thank you, again. I'll try and live up to the title." She said, hoping to retain some of her dignity. Fortunately, she seemed to say the right thing as the men all smiled with approval and then began clapping along with all the regs and the Bad Batch. Wrecker of course added in some whooping and hollering before bounding over and plucking Calli off the ground and setting her on his shoulder, chanting her name over and over and some of the regs even joined in.

Wrecker declared that a celebration was in order, which resulted in them going to the cafeteria as they didn't have much in the way of celebratory food and beverages on the Havoc Marauder. Of course, there wasn't a lot that the cafeteria had to offer either, but there was a hidden stash of alcohol that was saved for special occasions such as this - hey the clones liked to party when it was possible.

At first Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair weren't going to go as they didn't feel comfortable being around the regs, but Wrecker guilted them into going, saying that they didn't have too many occasions to celebrate, and this was a big deal for their youngest squadmate. Only when they heard the promise of alcohol did they finally cave in and go. They mainly hung out at a table in the far corner of the room, Wrecker and Calli being the only one's brave enough to mingle with the other clones and Jedi.

Like the last time she hung out with regs, Calli eventually roped a few of them into a little arm-wrestling competition. She loved seeing their faces when she beat them thanks to her enhanced strength which of course no one but her squad knew about. After beating reg number five, Calli took a break to go find Rex, the competition reminding her of when she did it with Fives at 79's. Calli wanted to see him again, remembering the fun time they had together. Well, the few fuzzy memories she had were pleasant, as she'd been drunk but that's not important.

She found him out in the hallway, taking a breather from all the festivities.

"Rex!" Calli called out, then she quickly corrected herself, "Uh, I mean Captain Rex sorry." The blond clone gave her a small smile and nodded in greeting.

"Enjoying the party?" He asked. Calli chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah. Um, I was wondering, I haven't seen Fives around. Was he transferred to another battalion or...?" Rex's expression fell at the mention of him, which didn't sit well with Calli. When he hesitated to respond and didn't meet her eyes, it made Calli nervous.

"He uh, he's... gone." All the air left Calli's lungs when Rex uttered these words. Gone? That can't be...

"What?" she whispered, not being able to process this new information. Calli turned away from the reg and pressed a hand to her forehead while taking a few breaths to calm herself down. It didn't help much and when she faced Rex once more the questions spilled out of her mouth, "H-How did he - when did he?" Calli was unable to finish a single sentence and clamped her mouth shut while rubbing a hand down her face. Rex was reluctant to answer, mainly because he didn't have all the answers himself. There were a lot of mysteries surrounding his brother's death and he was still processing it himself. But he couldn't leave Scar hanging since obviously this news affected her greatly.

"Fives was uh, kind of lost it mentally and it ended up getting him killed." He was lying - or at the very least not telling her the full truth. Calli was very good at reading people and thanks to her enhanced senses she could hear Rex's heart rate increase when he told her this.

Before Calli could question the captain further, they were joined by a third person.

"Is everything alright?" Obi-Wan asked, sensing the tension in the air. Rex straightened up while clearing his throat, secretly glad that the Jedi Master interrupted their conversation.

"Perfectly so, General." Rex answered, then he made an excuse to leave. Now it was just Calli and Obi-Wan, the former looking down at her boots as sorrow filled her entire being for the loss of a friend. Sure, she only knew him for a few hours (and quite frankly she didn't remember most of that time), but it had been fun and when you're in the middle of fighting in a war it's rare that you have those fun moments. Point blank, Calli was devastated.

"Are you alright?" Obi-wan asked with concern, and Calli had forgotten he was there. She gave a half shrug in response, the will to speak temporarily gone. Thankfully, she didn't need to explain what had happened because obi-wan had caught the tail end of the conversation and knew they had been talking about Fives. While he didn't know the trooper very well, he had been saddened by the news of his death and knew the strong bond all clones shared so when one of them died it affected the rest greatly. Through the force he could feel all the emotions Calli was experiencing, and he felt bad for the young clone and decided to offer some words of comfort. "I understand your pain. I've lost many friends in this war, and it's painful every time." Calli couldn't help but let out a bitter scoff.

"I thought Jedi didn't have friends. Something about 'no attachments' right?" Obi-Wan wasn't put off by her abrasiveness as he knew she was hurting, and nodded, agreeing with her.

"You are right about that." He said and Calli was surprised that he agreed with her yet remained silent, "But that doesn't mean we don't care about other living beings and when their life is cut short and you can't do anything to save them, it does hurt. Only we don't let our emotions get the better of us. We mourn the loss, but also celebrate them and let their memory live on." Obi-Wan placed a comforting hand on Calli's shoulder and she looked at the hand then up at the Master Jedi, who gave her a kind smile," I suggest you do the same. Fives wouldn't want you to give into despair, he'd want you to continue fighting. And I'm sure he'd be very proud of what you've accomplished."

Calli was still very sad about Fives' death, but she surprisingly found some comfort from the man's words even if she didn't quite agree with all of it. At one point in her life, she'd been all for not forming attachments, believing it to only be a one-way ticket to being betrayed or hurt. But she wasn't like that now, slowly coming out of her shell and allowing others to get close to her.

Despite her quote unquote despair, Calli gave Obi-wan a grateful nod, silently telling him she'd taken his words to heart.

The sounds of people laughing, and such drifted out into the hall and Calli wiped the single tear that had fallen off her cheek and squared her shoulders while drawing in a deep breath to center herself and suppress the negative emotions, at least for the next few hours. She'd probably hide away in her bunk for the next couple days as she properly mourned Fives, but then Calli would do as Obi-Wan said and remember him and the good time they shared.

Fives would forever hold a special place in her heart. Always.

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Oh Fives, you deserved so much better!! 🥲

I'm happy to announce that the next few chapters will be the Bad Batch arc of the clone wars and you know what that means! The Bad Batch is about to get a new member!!!

~B.C.

Link to a pic of Calli's new armor.

#star wars the bad batch #star wars #star wars bad batch #star wars tbb #crosshair tbb #hunter tbb #tech tbb #wrecker tbb #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch #clone oc #clone trooper oc #arc trooper oc #arc trooper calli #star wars clone wars #callistafett #calli tbb #captain rex #commander cody #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi

[cross-my-heartt]

And a little addendum: Do you think the other members of the Batch were able to see the grabbling hook attachment? Yes, it was night but Tipoca City burned pretty bright… Did they took aim at him despite it? And they also aimed at him in the training room just following Hunters lead (Cross wasn't a danger at this moment and tried to proof before that he wants to protect them ie shooting his squad. What is your opinion on these actions? (Okay, I stop making myself cry about that two episodes 😞)

Ok this took me a while to think about but I think I have something of an explanation after rewatching those scenes again.

I think they did see it because it was bright enough for them to see each other (they could see Crosshair well enough to aim at him) and he would have had to take that attachment out of his pack which would have been conspicuous.

Before I go on, I'll say that I'm not all too happy about how they treat him but I'll try and give them a good excuse. I certainly don't think they took into consideration how it would affect Crosshair because from his pov it's all pretty hurtful. A few well placed words could have softened the blow but I guess the batch were never too emotionally intelligent - that's Omega's thing.

To start with the training room, one thing to note is that at the moment of aiming at him, Hunter still believes Crosshair has his chip and he's right in fearing that the chip could kick in any moment. They know the chips can be faulty and activate unexpectedly from their experience with Wrecker.

After that we can't be sure if Hunter believes that Crosshair doesn't have his chip anymore. I think he has his doubts since he didn't see a scar in which case they should have dragged him onto the Marauder kicking and screaming if you ask me. Then there's the fact that Crosshair refused to say when he took the chip out. The audience assumes that it was after Bracca and the writers have encouraged that interpretation but the batch can't know for sure.

In Hunter's eyes, there's a chance Crosshair's actions on Bracca were his own and that makes him pretty dangerous even though the whole engine scene seemed like a plan to draw them out rather than kill them and he missed so many shots but I'll stop myself here. And again Hunter can't be sure about that.

So chipped or dechipped I think it's justified to think Crosshair can still potentially be dangerous.

One important detail, I believe, is that Hunter takes away Crosshair's rifle and pack after he stuns him. And Crosshair only gets his hands on them once he acts to save Omega which would explain the timing of them aiming at him. He didn't have his weapons before that, now he does. So they do it to disarm him.

Again, it's justified if they think there's still a chip in his head that can go haywire or if they don't know just how much of the Crosshair that was hostile towards them was himself.

My problem with this whole situation is how they handle the time in between those two scenes. If they think he still has a faulty mind control device in his head they could be more careful, more sympathetic. (ps Hunter sees Crosshair clutch his head just before they have the chip conversation)

If they do think he's turned they could be trying harder to figure out what went wrong or to convince him he's wrong. They know he feels hurt and betrayed because he's outright told them at this point, in pretty straight terms too. Yet they don't try to apologize, convince him it was a tough decision to make or try and reason with him that he's making the wrong choice because he's affected.

This refusal to talk paired with their suspicious treatment looks very bad from Crosshair's pov. All in all the few things they say aren't helpful. Is it because they're angry? Because his taunting is getting to them? Or maybe they're defensive because they're seeing the truth in some of what he says?

I don't know. But they're not handling it well and that's a hill I'm willing to die on.

It's pretty painful when you think that this whole tragedy could have been avoided with better communication.

Also because I'm mean, here's a screenshot of Crosshair when he sees Hunter aim at him in the training room:

(there's a tendency in the fandom to portray Crosshair as this mean, aloof and indignant guy but I think we forget how often he just looks lost and hurt)

So yeah these are my thoughts. I went a bit overboard but these are some good questions that are worth thinking about!

#tbb crosshair #the bad batch #tbb #star wars #my meta #I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts on this btw #as always my opinions lean in Crosshair's favor #he's someone I'm deeply attached to #but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear other perspectives

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S PRICE - CHAPTER 64

*Warning: Adult Content*   

Rejoining the others, they find Alpha Dane Hunter and his sister Freya Hunter have the situation in hand. 

Aengus is locked in a pair of irons, chained to a point of his own star, a rag bound over his mouth and guarded by Freya. 

Nearby, Dane tends to Mathilda's injuries with the first-aid kit he keeps in his car. 

For her part, Mathilda kneels in the grass by Penelope's body and holds her daughter's hand, seeming hardly aware of the man taping gauze to the side of her head. 

She's lost both her children in roughly the span of a week, Noah Hunter reflects but while he'd have hardly guess she even knew Brutus or Penelope, she weeps. 

Aileen sits at the corpse's other side, also in tears, while August stands a few feet away, hugging himself and looking miserable.

"Poor Penelope," Noah murmurs as they approach. "I know you think she was as bad as the rest but... I think she deserved better."

Ambrose Thorne squeezes Noah’s hand but holds his peace. 

Spotting them, Dane leaves off his ministrations and strides straight for Julian, catching him in his arms. 

Then the two speak soft and close and Noah hears Dane say something like, ‘shouldn't have’ as he touches Julian Hart's pointed ears. 

Julian shrugs self-consciously and mutters ‘Would have had to, anyway’ and the two embrace again. 

A low whistle draws Noah’s attention away from them and he cringes as he turns to find Freya taking in the view. 

Ambrose is still on full display. 

Noah know she's filing away all sorts of information for his future torment but when my sister turns her attention his way, her expression carries only concern.

"You okay, little brother?" she asks. 

He’s a year her senior but she's been calling him that since she outgrew him at age nine. 

"What happened? We heard that howl and then your man there took off like a bat outta hell."

As Julian and Dane join them, they quickly recount their misadventures with Thomas.

"A Lycan?" Freya gapes. "Holy shit, Nono. Good thing you had a dragon on your side."

"Good thing he had a Fae, more like it," Ambrose allows. "It was fair Julian who finished the beast."

Freya and Dane both stare, one with surprised admiration, the other with undisguised fear but Julian merely shrugs.

"I snuck up on him and stabbed him in the back. No big deal."

Julian shrugs again, looking uncomfortable. 

"Hey, what's Pack for?" he says but then he meets Noah’s eyes and goes slightly pink.

Noah blinks and then nods an assurance that he understands. 

Julian would risked his life to fight at his side, as Noah had once fought at his, refusing to let him face danger alone. 

If any part of Noah had not yet forgiven Julian for betraying his trust, he forgave him now. 

They were Pack and that made them brothers, even if they didn't always get along.

"So... What now?" Dane asks, indicating Aengus and the relics, which still rest in a pile on the altar at the center of the seal. 

Ambrose sighs and runs his hands through his long, soot-streaked hair.

"I've an idea," he says, "but it's not my choice alone to make."

He nods towards Mathilda, Aileen and August.

"It's the only sure end to all of this but it's for them to decide."

"Decide what?" Mathilda asks, looking up at them with weary, grief-reddened eyes. "What is there to decide? You must destroy the relics. Aengus must pay for what he's done."

Blood and tears streak her face, her hair is a mess, her clothes are torn and half her head is wrapped in bandages. 

She looks more human than Noah has seen her yet and he likes her better for it.

"I agree," Ambrose says, "Of course. But Ainach did not lie, to take one Gift, he must take all. Furthermore, there must be an exchange. In taking the Gifts, Ainach shall return your mortality."

"So, we will die," Mathilda states, sounding not at all distressed by the idea. "So be it, then."

Ambrose, though, shakes his head. 

"No. Time stopped for you and the others, save Aengus, of course, the day you made those deals. When you lose your Gift, that clock will start again. You will have whatever remains to you of your natural lives, during which you will age and grow old, as you should have long ago and then, yes, you will die. What you do with the time between now and then is up to you."

There's silence for a moment and then Aileen speaks.

"It's more than we deserve," she says. "I don't object."

August, to Noah’s surprise, nods as well. 

"I don't know if I can change but if you give me a chance to try, I'll take it."

Mathilda sniffs and wipes at her eyes. 

She still kneels by Penelope and now she carefully arranges her daughter's hands over her unmoving breast and leans to kiss her death-paled brow.

"My poor Nellie," she murmurs, getting to her feet. "If any of us deserved such a chance, it was she."

Noah hears the echo of his earlier words and swallow the ache in his throat as he understands that what Penelope had said was true, the Oakfields and Thornes hadn't set out to be awful. 

Even Aengus had good intentions once, though he'd used them to pave his own road to hell.

"What you're offering is a Gift in its own way, though what happens to us hardly matters now," Mathilda continues. "As long as this is done, and over for good, then I don't care. Do as you will."

Aengus makes a strangled noise of protest and pulls at his bonds but Ambrose only shakes his head at him. 

Then Ambrose turns to Noah.

"Little wolf," he says, taking Noah’s hands in his, "How do I love you so? We've not known each other long but I know well enough I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Just as sweet raspberries were my favorite treat as a lad, picked ripe from the banks of the River Tay and are my favorite still  and shall be my favorite, I'll wager, for as long as I live, so I know that my love for you shall remain as fresh as that very first, tart taste of pleasure. And I know that you would say the same," he continues cutting off my attempt to speak, "But you must understand that while my love for you is constant, I, as you know me, am not."

"Ambrose..."

"Just let me finish," he says, cutting me off. "I know you would give yourself as my anchor and my heart, willingly, readily because it is your nature to give what others need. I'm asking you to wait. Let me do this and then... Well, then it shall be your choice. You shall see me as I am, Noah Hunter and then, if you still want me, I am yours."

Noah raises his eyes, sees the open, honest pain in Ambrose’s eyes and nods.

"Alright, Ambrose Thorne," he says, trusting what he sees in his eyes. "Do what you must. Then, dragon or man, you'll know what it is to belong to a Wolf."

Ambrose nods, his eyes flaring with a heat of love and desire that sears Noah to the bone and kisses him so he tastes fire on his tongue. 

Then he pushes Noah gently to the edge of the seal, where Freya wraps him in her arms, before turning his attention to the relics piled at the center of the nine-pointed star. 

The dragon's shape is reptilian, gracile and thin, with four limbs, a long tail, enormous wings and a mouth full of bladed teeth. 

He looks down on them with catlike eyes of yellow flame as he writhes in coils of fire and smoke. 

As terrifying as he is, Noah understands that he isn't really there, not physically, anyway. 

What he’s seeing is a projection of Ambrose's soul, just as he might see a wolf, if he really looked at Noah, which he's opened as a kind of window to that other realm, where Ainach's greater nature resides. 

So, Noah lowers his gaze and focus on the man himself, wreathed in flame, naked, inhuman and wild and meet his eyes through a veil of fire. 

Noah loves him, still and offers him what he can in a smile. 

Something in his expression eases, then and as he lets his head fall back, his dragon-fire flares and in that burst of incandescence, the relics are consumed. 

As they burn, spectral mists emerge from each and take shape at the empty points of the star. 

Noah sees a man with curling auburn air, much like Ambrose's own, whom he assumes is his grandfather, Rowan Oakfield. 

Beside him, Brutus stands with his blustery expression gentled to a bewildered calm and then there is Thaddeus, looking about him as though lost in a wood.

Finally, there are two more, Penelope, who smiles with restored innocence and a beautiful young man with dark, long-lashed eyes, a slightly curved nose and toasted brown skin, Jack, who would have been Shanti's human brother and Aengus' son. 

At last, only one relic remains, a gold watch with a broken face. 

As Ambrose's hand hovers over it, he hesitates and lifts his gaze to each of his living relatives and to the shades of those who have died. 

His eyes land on his cousin, last and Jack's shade gives him a wink and the crooked, knowing smile of a partner in crime. 

He was Ambrose's only friend, his hero and Noah realizes, with a twist of irrational jealousy, probably his first love, as well.

Ambrose returns Jack's smile, then shifts his gaze to Noah who offers him a smile of his own. 

Jack might be the best memory he has of his past but Noah is his present and he hopes his future happiness. 

As Ambrose’s eyes lock with Noah’s, his expression shifts from nostalgic fondness to pure desire and he ignites, releases his full fire and turns Aengus' relic to ash. 

In the air above, Ainach's form spreads wings that cover half the sky and burns with a brightness that makes Noah shield his eyes. 

Then, like a burst firework, or the petals of flowers falling in a spring breeze, he comes apart. 

The deals are undone and he is free. 

The Oakfields and Thornes too, are free.

Aengus shrieks as his body falls to blackened ash and dust, as it should have long ago and the gathered shades rush towards him as one and carry him off into the night air, where all dissolve as mist below the glare of the moon. 

Then Ambrose's fire dims and diminishes to the glow of coals, gleaming along his veins and in the depths of his eyes, as the living heave a sigh of relief,and at last the night is still. 

Ambrose still looks a little wild and a little lost as Noah goes to him, drawn by instinct like a moth to his flame.

"Hey," Noah whisper’s carefully joining his hands with Ambrose’s. "It's over now. It's okay."

“Over?" he echoes soundlessly, looking about him at Aileen, Mathilda and August where they kneel in the grass around the points of the star and at the lumpy remains of Aengus' blackened bones and empty clothes. 

Noah nods as Ambrose completes the circuit and meets his eyes again and then he slumps, exhausted and Noah barely catches him before he falls. 

Then a much larger arm than Noah’s slips around Ambrose's shoulders and takes his weight.

"Hell of a show," Dane says. "You okay?"

"I think so," Noah answers, though he watches with concern as fire continues to flicker fitfully beneath Ambrose's skin. "The others?"

“Seem to be," Dane grunts, nodding towards Mathilda.

"I'm all right," she says, climbing to her feet, "Though I don't feel much different, to be honest."

"I do," Aileen says, dusting grass from her knees. "I feel better, I think."

"Me, too. Better," August echoes, blinking through a watery smile.

"Ambrose?" Noah asks, as he hasn't answered, though he's regained his balance and shifted away from Dane to lean on Noah once more, his arms at his waist.

"I'm all burnt out, little wolf," Ambrose whispers raggedly, kissing the side of Noah’s head. "But I'll be alright, with a bit of rest, I think."

Fire continues to flicker in his veins, though and Noah’s not completely reassured. 

As he examines him, Freya walks over to kick at Aengus' remains with the toe of her boot. 

"What now?" she asks, directing her question at Dane. "We got three bodies on our hands. Your cop friends gonna be cool with this?"

Dane shrugs. 

"We'll tell the truth, mostly. Though..." he looks at Mathilda and the others, "...we'll need some help."

"We will take care of it," Mathilda says, surprising me. "We will say that the man, Thom, killed Penelope before attacking me." She touches the side of her bandaged head. "And that August killed him to save me."

Dane nods.

"Chief Coleridge knows not to ask too many questions," he says. "It should work. As for the rest of us..."

Dane’s eyes to go Julian, who has wandered off a bit and stands staring up at the moon, clearly inhuman and looking as if he hardly belongs in this world.

"Well, I guess I understand why Shanti saw us at the Standing Stones tonight," he sighs, watching as Julian hums to himself and literally reaches for the stars.

"What? Why?" Freya asks, glancing around for some new threat.

"Because tonight time is steady between many worlds," Shanti herself answers, emerging from the shadows at the edge of the yard and making us all jump. "What passes in one realm shall pass in another, equally, it is one reason Aengus chose it for his ritual. Things are in rare balance, tonight."

"Wait... are you saying Juju's gotta go to Faerie-land, now?" Freya asks.

Dane nods unhappily. 

"Using his Fae abilities, on top of it being the full moon... He can't stay like this. Not here, anyway. He needs his own kind," he adds, grudgingly.

Noah looks at Julian, at the way he shimmers with ethereal light and realize that Dane is right. 

"At least one of you won't have to bear being apart longer than the other," Noah says, taking a bit more of Ambrose's weight as he leans on him. 

Shanti smiles. 

"Is it not better, after all, when there is a burden to bear, to share it equally?"

Noah agrees but also feels a little thrill of unease because while it seems she's speaking to Julian and Dane, her eyes are on Ambrose and him.

[cryptidofthekeys]

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately? 

❌ What's a trope you will never write? 

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

<3 - Mitch

I absolutely do listen to music when im writing most of the time! The music choice is all dependent on what im writing at the moment,, if its fluff I pick relatively calm, relaxed, or cute music ...if its angst I pick m u c h darker ones,, also unrelated bc i havent played this while writing, I’ve been playing that new fetch song that came out from kyle allen music, I fucking LOVE that song, it scratches so many itches in my brain

a trope I would never write? ...Mmm that’s a hard one tbh,, there’s not many tropes I won’t write- I guess if uh it counts as a trope the only thing I feel hella uncomfy writing would be anything amnesia related but thats all I can think of

and . . . . :) o h, one of the questions I was so looking forward too... I’m feeling HELLA generous too tonight so fuck it, you get sneak peeks of t h r e e stories! I’m going to be giving just the LAST paragraph of each that was written sooo!!

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First up that im most excited about personally is JLOT Chapter 3: Eventually everyone had finished their drawings and it was time to present them to Sun which Virgil didn’t know they’d be doing, he looked at his drawing and felt a little… Nervous, the thing was… In his spare time, Virgil was technically an artist, he loved to draw things, granted he was definitely better at the more… Digital stuff rather than traditional …Also better with literally everything else BUT crayons, he looked down at the drawing he made, it was just a picture of Sun, how he used to look actually…

------

Blue pupils in the whites, fully yellow with no paint missing, he was grinning of course but even though he used to be able to make facial expressions, he was still usually grinning if Virgil was being honest, he also put a bunch of stars, and little squiggles around Sun …And maybe an accidental heart that he quickly corrected into stars out of embarrassment. Virgil was tempted to draw Moon as well but he didn’t figure Sun would like that so he decided against it.

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Team Hell No - Horror Movie Night: “Whatever! Finish the damn horror movie yourself, you prick! I’m going to bed!” He yelled and that’s when Kane’s laughter died down a little, Daniel turned and started walking toward the bedroom, Kane calling out “Oh c’mon Daniel! It was just a harmless little scare! I was just messing with you! …Daniel! Come back!” He called out the other’s name but then the bedroom door slammed shut and that caused the man to groan and then sigh …Okay… Maybe…Maybe he did push it that time, maybe he pushed it a little TOO much tonight…

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Annnnd finally... IWTDFD Chapter 2: “(Y/N)!!” They both screamed, scaring you out of your hysterics, before they both took a deep breath, Steph holding her hands out in front of her “Now, look, you didn’t even let us finish…” She saw you were about to speak again and held a finger up “Ah- ah ah! Ah, no, let us finish…” Hunter nodded “You are going to be in a match with Kane, but look, we’re not going to send you out there just by yourself, we aren’t stupid (Y/N), we know what we’re doing” Stephanie then spoke up “So please, just, trust us, trust us and let us help you because I know as well as you do that you want to put a stop to this, you want to live your life in piece so trust us”

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I was feeling hella generous tonight but I also must warn in case of excitement,, I got me some yugioh dvds coming in like the next week so consider this a heads up to all my friends/followers for my story content gfldkfgjdls it might come to a halt when these arrive bc I WILL let my brain be consumed by the media

#Chase Answers #thank you friendo Mitch <3 #i was so looking forward to the wip question fkdlfjgdksl so yeah those are only three btw #I got like other stories im writing right now buuut those are... well they wont be posted #so I figured showing them would be a waste of time

[thefreakishmuffin]

Let’s examine the dynamic between Hunter and Luz, Part 2

Whoop this is gonna be a long one as well...

Note that some of this may drift a little bit away from analyzing solely Hunter and Luz’s dynamic, but I promise I’ll always circle back to it.

Link to part 1 is right here

Last we left off, Luz and Hunter have decided to join forces in a truce to thwart Kikimora’s plans to give Emperor Belos the palismen herself. On a wall, Luz draws a fire glyph and an ice glyph and connects them together. Intrigued, Hunter states that he’s never seen a spell like this before, and asks what it will do. Luz begins explaining how it’ll work, only for Hunter to pick up on what she’s doing halfway through and finish the explanation for her. Luz looks at him, thoroughly surprised that he has such knowledge.

Hunter apologizes for interrupting and states that he read about a similar spell in a book about Wild Magic, which happens to be a book Luz has read as well. Hunter seems surprised in turn when realizing him and Luz share a common interest in Wild Magic. He starts to have what I call a “nerd moment”, where he’s starting to get really excited about what he’s talking about. He mentions that these glyphs look very similar to magic that was once practiced back in the Savage Ages. He seems almost thrilled to be talking to someone else who’s interested in Wild Magic, which is something he can’t talk freely about in the Emperors Coven, lest he receive abuse from Belos. 

However, his smile fades and he cuts himself off, saying that information on Wild Magic is restricted for a reason, and that Luz ought to stop messing around with it before she gets hurt. 

And here is something that strikes me as interesting; Hunter’s family is supposedly gone because of Wild Magic. So if that’s the case, then why is he so fascinated with Wild Magic himself, to the point where it’s something he even greatly enjoys studying and talking about? I can’t really think of any other good reason for this, other than the idea that when Belos mentioned their family, he was really talking about his own family, since it’s alluded that Hunter was likely “adopted” to Belos’ family in a way.

After Hunter tells Luz to stop messing with Wild Magic, Luz tells him that, outside of Lilith, she’s never talked to anyone from the Emperors Coven before. And asks what made him want to join? Hunter looks genuinely surprised. It doesn’t seem like he’s ever been asked this question before. Looking away from Luz, perhaps in a sense of shame, he admits that he’s a powerless witch, and that most of his ancestors were. He never felt like he’d ever have a future in their world. That is until Belos found him and took him in, and gave him a staff with artificial magic, telling Hunter that the Titan had “big plans” for him. 

Let’s go over a little analysis here. Hunter says that Belos found him. This is the statement that leads many of us to believe that the two of them aren’t actually blood-related. However, to me it still seems odd that Hunter would call Belos his uncle. Perhaps Belos wanted Hunter to call him uncle? Maybe, but it still seems odd to me for Belos to take in this random young boy as his family. Especially when Belos refers to their family as being the same thing. Part of me believes that perhaps Belos is his biological uncle, but he was estranged from the family. Either way, it’s an interesting bit. 

And we also have a better understanding as to why Hunter stays in the Emperor’s Coven (besides everything I went over in my post analyzing his dynamic with Emperor Belos). The Emperor gave him a purpose in his life, giving him magic when he never had any. Giving him a title, and making him important. This all likely seemed wonderful to Hunter at first, but as we see later on it comes with a definite price. 

Alright back to Hunter’s dynamic with Luz...

Luz listens to what Hunter has to say, and she sits beside him saying, “It must be nice to have your future planned out for you.” To which Hunter responds, “At least you get to plan your own.” It’s this exchange right here that really shows how Hunter feels about his situation. He wants to be free to decide what he wants to do with his life, but he’s now found himself bound to the Emperor’s Cult Coven, tied to a future he’s not sure he even wants. More than anything, Hunter wants to be free. This is the deepest desire of his heart.

And how do I know this? Because right after he speaks right here, Little Rascal, the red cardinal palisman, shows up and comes right to him. Palisman are drawn toward like-minded souls, and the palisman at Hexside chose someone after they shared their deepest wish. This palisman wants freedom, just like Hunter, and this is why he chooses to become his palisman at the end of the episode. (Not to mention Rascal was trying to run away and ‘be free’ at the beginning of the episode).

Okay, again, back to Hunter and Luz’s dynamic...

After their little conversation, Luz and Hunter team up and Luz prepares to cast the spell. Tough hesitant at first, gives Hunter his staff. He asks if she’s sure, and she puts her trust in him. He takes back his staff and Luz activates the glyphs. The plan goes well and Kikimora’s hand dragon falls from the sky, both with her and the palismen as well. But as soon as Luz goes to make sure the palismen are okay, Hunter is ready to betray her, activating his staff and pointing it right at her. 

Luz, however, isn’t angry with him. She’s clearly not happy with him here, but she’s not angry. But rather hurt and disappointed. She asks Hunter if he’s really willing to give up innocents to Belos. Luz then delivers this important and impactful line to Hunter: “I thought that maybe you were a good guy. But I guess I was wrong. You’re not my friend. You’re just the Golden Guard.”

That last comment seems to deeply hurt him. The idea of just being the Golden Guard and losing himself to that false identity is a scary thing for him to think about. So, in that moment, he lowers his staff, removes his mask, and finally reveals his true name to Luz. Hunter did this because he finally got to connect with someone for probably the first time in his life. And I mean really connect with someone. He was starting to feel like someone saw him for him, and not the Golden Guard. So when Luz said that he’s just the Golden Guard, he was hurt, and immediately decided to try and change that. he didn’t want the one person he’s been able to connect with to know him as a title. He wanted her to know him as a person. And what better way to do that than start by telling someone your name?

Luz gasps when Hunter reveals to her his real name. But why? Was it because she saw the good in him, and maybe thought he was having a change of heart? Or was it because he was suddenly sharing such a personal piece of himself? I’m not quite sure on that part. 

But this moment is cut short when a very disoriented Kikimora tries to attack Luz and Hunter. Hunter is quick to defend Luz, once again showing great fighting skill, and allows a now conflicted and troubled Luz to get away. Both of them are now not sure what to make of the other. Are they friends now? Are they still enemies? Neither one of them seems entirely sure. 

And the last bit I want to touch upon here is how at the end of the episode where Kikimora asks Hunter how he survived the ship crash. He simply tells her he was helped by local travelers. Notice how he consciously chooses not to rat out Luz. Just a few hours ago he was ready to arrest her and even threatened her life, but now he’s making an effort to defend and keep her safe. 

These two characters are some of the most interesting in the entire series so far, and the dynamic between these two is only going to get more and more interesting the more time goes on, and the more often they are able to meet.

#toh #the owl house #toh luz #the owl house luz #toh hunter #the owl house hunter #toh hunting palismen #toh speculation #toh theory #the owl house speculation #the owl house theory #toh analysis #the owl house analysis #toh golden luz #the owl house golden luz #luz x hunter #toh luz x hunter #the owl house luz x hunter #character dynamics #character analysis #toh season 2 #the owl house season 2 #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers

[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

Masterlist

Tip Jar

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!

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #reader insert #crossbowking #norman reedus #honey & whiskey #long reads #oneshot #fanfic #twd fic #twd x reader #twd one shot #daryl one shot #fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #x reader #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead one shot

[sundaysundaes]

Thirst

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 3.8k | Vampire AU

Summary: You have walked the earth for more than a hundred years but your eternity finally means something the second you meet a human boy with smiles brighter than the sun.

Warnings: Vampire!Reader X Human!Hyuck, unprotected sex, blood sucking

“Wait, ah…” 

You pull back at the sound of his voice, fingers squeezing his upper arm. “Nervous?”

Donghyuck throws his head back and runs a hand over his face. He averts his gaze, slightly hiding behind his lean fingers. “Of course, I’m nervous,” he confesses, the tip of his ears turning scarlet. “I have a cute girl sitting on my lap, about to drink blood from my neck—how could I not be nervous?”

You reach out to him, gently running your fingertips at the side of his throat, and see him swallow hard at your touch. You can hear his heartbeat soaring, which only fuels your thirst for his blood. It has been days since you last drank from him and the flame in your throat is scorching. You know that if you don’t do something about it fast, you’ll lose what’s left of your humanity.

“Hyuck…” You plead, gripping against the collar of his black shirt. “I’m… I really need to drink…”

All the anxiety on his face is replaced instantly with concern. “Shit, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, unfastening two of his top buttons to reveal more of his collarbones. The previous bite marks have begun to fade on his skin, appearing almost as faint as the little mole he has on his Adam’s apple. He’s beautiful, so beautiful, that if your mind wasn’t too clouded with the thoughts of consuming human blood, you would praise and cherish every little detail of his features with your lips.

Donghyuck closes his eyes, eyebrows adjoined in the middle in anticipation of your bite. His hand is fisting his collar, slowly tugging it down to reveal more sun-kissed skin to your glowing eyes. “H-have it your way.”

The way he’s reacting like a child curling up in fear of a syringe being plunged into their skin, makes you feel contrite but there’s no other option but to consume what he offers. Otherwise, your thirst for blood will drive you to the brink of your sanity, forcing you to do something even more terrible to him.

You try your best to divert your attention and focus more on trying to comfort him, even when your entire body nearly blazes in flame. Softly, you brush your lips against the column of his throat.

Donghyuck shivers, his breathing tatters. “Don’t—“ He curls his fingers, nails sinking into his palms when he feels your mouth move to lay wet kisses down his chest. “Don’t do that, please.”

“I’m trying to calm you down.”

“Well, you’re doing the opposite 'cause then I’ll be nervous for an entirely different reason.” Donghyuck brings the back of his hand to his mouth, murmuring the words against his skin. But despite the heat that warms his cheeks, he does seem a bit more relaxed, slightly smiling sheepishly at you over his flirtatious words. “I’m fine, just do it.”

You nod, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. Caught off guard, the blush blooms a little wider on his face but he tenderly strokes your cheek. “We’ll do that again after you’re finished,” he promises, “A lot of that.” His hooded eyes are captivated with the way your lips glisten under the slide of his thumb. “Right here.”  

You smile in return. Landing yet another soft kiss to his jaw this time, you extend your fangs and make your mark.

Donghyuck winces away from the pain of your cuspids puncturing the skin under his jaw, right between the earlobe and the collarbone. His hand immediately finds your shoulder, fingers twisting against the fabric of your dress. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes shut close as he endures the pain, but in the next few seconds, his breathing gradually becomes slower.

His head swirls as the rush of endorphin fills his system, elevating him with bliss. He slides his hand down from your shoulder to your arm, resting it on the dip of your waist. You can hear him curse under his breath but he slowly relaxes, his body reclining with you pressed tightly against his chest.

“You’re not so gentle today, are you?” He chuckles softly, slurring a little bit as his thoughts become hazy with ecstasy. “You don’t usually bite me like that.”

You can’t respond, too busy drowning in the pleasantness of his blood.

“So serious.” He quietly laughs. “Well, I guess, it has been a while since we did this so you must be very thirsty.” His free hand slips around your neck, tangling your locks around his fingers. He lets his lips brush against your strands as he murmurs, “I’m sorry… It must have been painful.”

It was painful. So painful that you were about to lose your mind, but with Donghyuck’s arms wrapped around your body protectively, his warm skin under your fingertips, and his sweet, sweet blood on your tongue, every pain, every suffering, every torture you’ve experienced vanishes into a blur.

“Calm down,” he whispers, his honeyed voice soothes you more than anything else in the world. “You don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

And as he relishes the feeling of your tongue on his skin, your teeth sinking to draw even more blood, he closes his eyes again, and witnesses a flashback behind his eyelids.

Eight years-old Lee Donghyuck stood on the frozen ground with his tiny gloves covering his trembling fingers. Smokes of warm breaths were clouding over his mouth. His teeth chattered from the cold; a weird, repetitive melody to his ears. And although his tears were no longer falling, his reddened cheeks were still lined with them. 

“Jaeminnie…” He sniffed, one arm hugging himself by the waist while the other one moved to rub his puffy eyes. “Jaeminnie, where are you…?”

His warm chocolate brown beanie was no longer covering his head—a small reminder of how he had previously tripped himself and scraped his knee on the way down. It hurt. His trousers were ripped open from the fall, enough to show the small bleeding wound on his right knee. Kissed by the cold, his ears were red to the tips, freezing. 

He was alone. And lost. And no matter how much he called out for Jaemin’s name over and over again, no one ever came to reply.

Losing strength, Donghyuck fell to his knees. His gloved covered fingers sank into the five centimeters deep white snow and he began to cry, as loudly as he could, just like how he usually did at nights when he was too scared of the monster lurking under his bed.

He cried, and he cried, and he cried, and then he stopped.

He was not alone.

Donghyuck had his gaze on you; his big, watery, round eyes blinking in surprise. Your dress was tainted with splotches of red, fresh liquid that dripped from your chin as you just feasted upon a human. Turning around to look at him, Donghyuck noticed something peculiar.

Your eyes were glowing, strikingly so. Even in the darkness, even when the moon didn’t set afoot to shine that night in the silenced forest, Donghyuck saw them shining like the stars. And they were brighter, much brighter than anything he had ever witnessed.

The little boy stopped crying and gazed back at you. But no matter how cold your eyes were as they raked in his features, Donghyuck was not as much afraid as he was curious of why you could stand in the middle of December, wearing nothing but a sleeveless knee-high summer dress. And he was still starstruck with your glowing topaz eyes.

When he reached out a hand, you took a step back by instinct. Humans made you nervous, especially after your last encounter with the hunters. The memory of one of them nearly driving a stake into your heart made you more cautious than ever, even when your opponent was only a child.

Donghyuck stood up and dared himself to take another step and this time you bared your teeth in response. Your natural human face suddenly dispersed into a form of fear the second Donghyuck saw your teeth.

They were fangs, small but sharp enough to tear skin apart. You snarled, like a beast in a corner, ready to pounce when threatened. 

But Donghyuck’s fear only lasted for a minute, while his curiosity and admiration lasted forever.

“You…” Donghyuck spoke, his voice quivered from the cold and perhaps, excitement. Blood was still dripping from the corner of your mouth and he saw a long cut, spreading from your right palm to her wrist. “Are you hurt? You’re bleeding…”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, blinking twice before your shoulders began to loosen.

“If you’re hurt, I have band-aids,” Donghyuck said, immediately shoving his small hand inside his pocket to grab two blue band-aids with soccer balls printed on them. He showed them to you, his teeth still chattering from the cold. “See?”

You examined him more, looking for any kind of sign that he might be a threat to your existence but it was no use. Donghyuck was as harmless as he was adorable. He didn’t even have the strength to keep his little, stubby fingers steady from the cold.

“Why are you crying?” You asked instead, standing a little better in a less offensive stance. 

Donghyuck finally remembered. “Nana… Jaeminnie’s gone… He fought with his brother so we went out here to have some time for ourselves but… But we got separated and now he’s gone...”

“In the woods like this?” You wiped the blood off your mouth with the back of your hand. “What, do you want to die? It’s not safe.”

“N-no—I don’t want to die… I didn’t mean it to be like this.” The little boy shook his head. “I was just trying to help… Jaeminnie looked sad and I wanted to help…”

You fell quiet for a moment, noticing how Donghyuck’s eyes had turned watery once again. You retracted your hands, no longer had your claws out to defend yourself. “Maybe your friend’s already gone home first.” 

“Y-you think?” Donghyuck’s eyes grew hopeful and that was when you realized that the boy was not crying because he was lost in the woods late at night, nor was he crying because he thought his friend abandoned him. Donghyuck was crying because he was worried sick about him. “W-well, if he’s home then that’s great… I really hope he’s with his family again… Fighting is bad…”

So frail, you thought, humans are so frail. Leave them and they cry. Break them and they die.

You sighed. You couldn’t find the heart to leave him alone.“Come with me,” you said, “I’ll help you find your way out of the woods. You can check whether he’s home or not after that.”

And Donghyuck was not one to think twice when people offered him help. With a bright smile, he let his little feet carry him closer to your spot. “I’m Donghyuck,” he said, smiling brightly as he stood beside you. “And you are?”

You glanced at him, noticing how his bangs were fluttering from the winter breeze. His nose was red and his skin, although it was slightly tanned, was thin and easy for you to sink your teeth into if you wanted to. 

You told him your name and you had to repeat it twice until he could pronounce it correctly. He smiled even warmer. “Your name is pretty. Just like you, Noona!”

Noona? You almost snorted. When was the last time someone ever called you that?

But you kept yourself in silence and although you appeared cold, Donghyuck managed to find your charm in his own way. 

“Can I hold your hand on the way out, Noona?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, brat.”

Twenty years-old Lee Donghyuck smiles at the memory, even when he’s somewhat dazed from the chemical of your saliva. He embraces you tighter, sighing close to your ear, “It took a while before you warmed up to me. I’m just so glad you accept me the way I am.”

That’s my line. You close your eyes, fingers curling against the back of his shirt. You can faintly hear his heartbeat growing slower and during the time you begin to worry, Donghyuck caresses your cheek.  

“Can we…” He breathes heavily. “Stop for a moment?” His head swirls, always an aftereffect from having his blood sucked more than he can contain. But even then, he still smiles like always.

“Oh…” Embarrassed and startled, you pull away, immediately wiping the trace of blood on the corner of your lips with the back of your hand. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Umm…” Donghyuck witnesses your fangs before they’re fully retracted, as you turn away, shy and ashamed, hiding the only thing that distinguishes you from a normal human. 

Donghyuck smiles wider, and wider, until he produces this little chuckle that always sends a trickle of warmth and desire through your soundless heart. “You’re adorable, come here,” he says, hugging you from behind and tugging you closer to his chest, your intertwined hands lying idly on your lap.

After years have passed by since your first encounter, Donghyuck has become stronger and taller, with broader shoulders and veiny muscles appearing along his wrists. You, in return, stay as young as always, never changing. But like this, sitting above his thighs and curling up to his chest, you look like a normal girl, perhaps even a few months younger than he is.

“Hyuck...” 

“Hmm?”

“Did it... hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

You don’t indulge him with his jokes. “When I bit you, did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but I like it.” He grins, placing his chin on your shoulder. "Seems like I’ve developed a kink for it.” When you don’t mirror his laugh, he embraces you tighter. “I’m fine,” he whispers to your ear, tickling you with his warm breath. “Just a little low on blood, but come on, it’s nothing new.”

You don’t say anything but Donghyuck understands how guilt is gnawing at you from the inside. “Hey,” he gently turns your body around until he has his eyes peering into yours. You’re reluctant, not sure how to face him with the look of guilt on your face. “I said I’m fine. Can’t you see?” he coos, smiling with his chocolate brown eyes turning crescents. “Don’t look like that. You know I don’t like it when you’re blaming yourself for drinking my blood.”

“But it’s…” You nibble on your lower lip. “It’s not right.”

“You’re just filling your needs,” Donghyuck corrects you. “What’s wrong with it? I do it all the time. Think about this as your late-night snack.”

“Hyuck, I’m snacking on your blood.”

“And yet you’re the one who complains about it. You see how weird that is?” You shoot him a glare but Donghyuck counters back with a pout—a habit from his childhood days that somehow only occurs more often now that he’s an adult. “Look, I volunteered to do this. I want you to drink my blood.” He swats the bangs out of your eyes, leaning close. “I’ll be pissed-off if you drink from someone else, actually. You’re supposed to be mine, just as much as I am yours.”

It’s funny how you’re superior than him in terms of experience, strength, and possibly anything else, but he shamelessly talks like he owns you. And you don’t mind, not at all, because after living behind the shadows for so long, it’s nice to have someone as bright as the sun holding you captive under his light.

You trail your fingers through the blood on his neck, painting his skin with crimson. “I’ve made a mess,” you mumble to yourself and Donghyuck stiffens, even stops breathing for a second. You dip your head into the crook of his neck, darting out your tongue to wipe the rest of his blood away, slowly and gently so you won’t scrape his skin with your fangs.

“Don’t hold back.” He holds you closer until your teeth are grazing against the supple skin. “It’s okay if you want to do it again.”

The temptation is too much, too strong, and you can’t find the will or strength to decline. “T-then... Just a little more.”

Donghyuck’s ragged breathing devolves into soft moans that ring in your ears, and you want him so desperately in every sense of the word. “Fuck, it’s so weird that it feels this good,” he sighs, the back of his head pressed against the wall behind him. “Do I taste this good to you too?”

You hum, squeezing his shoulder.

He smiles between deep sighs. “Then, I guess, we’re both each other’s drugs.”

You only take a sip of his blood and lick the rest until nothing seeps out from his wound. Donghyuck is in a haze, eyes nearly closed when he smiles softly. “Are you done?”

You nod, wiping your mouth clean. “Thank you.”

“You’re being too formal.” He titters. “But you’re welcome. Anytime you want.”

You don’t really blush, not when you’ve lived for more than a century, but Donghyuck has his way to break into your facade and knows when he’s succeeding. He says there’s just something in the way you avert your gaze, the way you lick your lips nervously, or the way you put a hand on his chest as if you were about to push him away, but at the same time, making sure that he stayed near.

Donghyuck understands all that. He knows you like the back of his hand. 

“Listen to me,” Donghyuck says, cupping your face with both hands so he can stare directly into your glowing eyes. “If you ever crave for blood, you come to me, okay? I won’t let you starve. I won’t let you die. You can drink from me, as much as you want. I want you to.”

You’re surprised at the sudden pressure on his words and Donghyuck’s hands are hot, nearly scorching compared to your icy cold skin but they’re comfortable. He reminds you of the sun, of its heat on your skin during the day, reminding you how good your life was as a human.

“But I’m not even alive, Hyuck,” you say, smiling weakly as you lean more into his touch.

“Scientifically, no.” He shifts closer to press his forehead against yours, his heat seeping through your skin. “But to me, you’re much more alive—and you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever known.”

You want to meet his eyes, but his stare is directed to your lips. “Is that a compliment or a white lie?” You whisper, and his eyes grow half-lidded when he sees you moving your lips to form a sentence.

“It’s the truth.” Donghyuck swallows the soft noise you make directly with his mouth, lips slanting against yours perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. He groans from the back of his throat when he tastes a hint of his blood on your tongue, kissing you deeper with more passion.

Being with Donghyuck is suffocating and it’s funny because you don’t even need to breathe to live. It’s suffocating in the sense of how desperate his kisses are, how there is only one innocent kiss at the beginning that only lasts for a few seconds and then vanishes entirely, changing into hard, bruising, deep ones that feel possessive and dominating.

But being with him is also comforting. He gives you solace you don’t know you need. His touch, a stark contrast to his kisses, is gentle, almost silky smooth whenever his hands glide on your skin. He’s the only one who knows how to make you laugh, even when you can hardly remember how or the sound that you make when you do. His laughter is contagious, his protested whines are both annoying and endearing. He’s the fire that keeps you alive.

“Hyuck—” You circle your fingers around his wrist, feeling the heartbeat that faintly beats under the skin. “Wait, you’re losing a lot of blood—”

“I don’t care,” he gasps against your mouth, yanking his hand from your hold so he can cup your cheek. “I’m fine, so let’s just—“ You let him overpower you for once to do as he pleases and he pushes you down to the carpeted floor, crawling on top of your body. “I want you—for two weeks, I’ve been—I’ve missed you—”

Donghyuck is adorable when he wants something so desperately, like the way he furrows his eyebrows as he runs his fingers on his keyboards. The way he’s shouting a train of expletives at his computer screen before he leaps out of his chair, punching the air when he finally completes the mission. 

Donghyuck is captivating when he desires to achieve something in his life, like the way he practices dancing over and over again to earn a scholarship to college. Or the way he told you he loved you a few months ago, and no matter how many times you said no, telling how ridiculous of him to even think about being with a vampire, he never relented. 

And Donghyuck is beautiful—so out worldly beautiful—when he wants you.

It’s beautiful, the little moan that escapes his lips when you touch him back. Even the slightest touch at the right spot can make him shiver and he blushes when you notice him react that way, immediately saying, “It’s just cold here, okay? And your ice-cold skin isn’t helping.” 

It’s beautiful, the way a bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he’s sheathed deep inside you, not quite moving yet as he tries to catch his breath, his cheeks flushed. “You’re driving me insane,” he confesses, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, grazing his lips against your skin as he sighs. “Can we stay like this forever?”

It’s beautiful, the way he laughs when you answer him with, “Actually yes, we can, if you’re willing to be turned into a vampire.” The appalled look on his face only stays for a split second before he beams at you, his smile bright enough to replace the sun. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he giggles, taking your earlobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Any man would be happy to sacrifice their souls to be able to make love to you for eternity. Including me.” And as he moves back to your lips, he adds, “Especially me.”

It’s beautiful, the way he throws his head back in pleasure at the feeling of you clenching around him. The way he murmurs expletives while biting his lip as he brings his eyes down to you. His expression is erotic, his voice obscene, his lips are parted and bruised. His hands are on your knees as he spreads your legs apart, pushing himself deeper inside. “I can never get enough of you. I—“ He flinches when his thrust hits your sweet spot and you squeeze harder around him in response.

It’s beautiful, the way he rambles when the sensation becomes too much. “The way you feel around me—” He places open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hips moving frantically at a faster pace. “Y-your entire existence—” His hand heads over to your breast, his thumb sliding over your nub. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And it’s fucking beautiful, the way he says your name in a soft gasp as he comes inside you, his arms trembling when he places them on the floor on each side of your head to keep him from collapsing on top of you. His temple is pressed against your collarbone and he quivers when you kiss his hair. His lips immediately chase after yours when his name escapes your mouth, and he kisses you again, and again, as if he hasn’t been kissing you a thousand times already.

“Stay with me,” he begs, his hooded eyes nearly hidden behind the bangs that are damp from his sweat. “I’ll keep you alive—as alive as you make me feel so please just…”

Don’t leave me.

***

#fullsunnet #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct fluff #haechan x reader #haechan drabbles #nct timestamps #haechan timestamps #nct u #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #lee donghyuck #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #i don't know what the fuck did i just write #wrote this in like an hour or two???? #i'm sorry you had to read this #mine #sundaysundaes