#slam my walker on the ground

[ozzgin]

Baldur's Gate 3 Monster Headcanons

I have some companion headcanons I’m working on, but please tell me I’m not the only one howling for some monster content. NSFW under the cut because I’m about to be quite shameless. Hear me out, I’m on my knees. I’m talking about…

Being passed around by a pack of feral gnolls that have tracked you down by scent and just trashed apart anyone else that stood in their way. Having to hold onto their manes because otherwise you’d be slammed into the ground from their aggressive handling. You can tell they enjoy toying with you from the occasional hyena screech that escapes their drooling snouts. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t kill their scrumptious darling, but you’re sturdy enough to bear a little biting and scratching, aren’t you?

Being ravaged by a reanimated hook horror in the hollow colds of the Underdark. You had hoped you could use it in the upcoming battle, except it took a sudden and unstoppable interest in you instead. You can only dig your hands into the harsh rocky ground, your whimpers and its guttural clicking being the only sounds echoing across this cavernous place. Your flesh hurts from being held down by its sharp appendages, but other things are currently overwhelming your senses.

Feeling the cool and moist texture of the Myconid hands exploring your body, too curious about the ways of a flesh-walker and tongue-talker. The Kin Spirit that protected their circle and exterminated all threats. You have been generously rewarded for your brave deeds; nonetheless this final parting gift also satisfies their interest of getting to know a physical being to such personal degree. A fascinating sight, witnessing your reactions, as their deep unnerving voice commands you into obedience.

Squirming under the slithering tentacles of an illithid having his way with you, paralyzed under his low jarring voice reverberating against the walls of your skull. Although as he makes his way inside of you, you begin to realize you were never really under his control. The only thing keeping you in place was the dizzying pleasure. You can almost sense him smirk against your skin once the truth settles in. You're almost tempted to beg for more, but as you open your mouth you remember he has already read your innermost thoughts and desires.

Being pinned against the wall by the colossal Minotaur that suddenly rushed through the opened gates of the Outpost. You were taken by surprise and couldn’t even draw your weapon or cast a spell. Your arms are limp under the iron grip of his massive clawed hand and your plan to escape was interrupted by the feeling of your clothes being torn to shreds. It seems that killing you wasn’t his intent. The hot breath tickles your bare skin and you pray whatever is about to enter you won’t split your insides.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 monsters #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #monster smut #monster x reader #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia #illithid #minotaur #gnoll #hook horror #myconid

[sodosshame]

Don’t Leave Me Again.

⚠️Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault, Violence, Blood, Swearing.

Description: You and the group are on a run and stop overnight to rest, but a stranger somehow makes their way in.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

A/N: Please make sure you read the warnings, it’s not too graphic but I don’t want to trigger anyone. Stay safe! And thank you for all the love recently<3 - dixonsarrows

Crash.

I wake up quickly, my heart beating loudly in my chest. Slowly, I stand up and make my way to the door of the room, making sure to not stand on anyone. I poke my head around the door, peaking out.

All of a sudden, I feel someone grab my shoulder and I go to scream but feel a hand slap over my mouth. I look up at the man. A stranger.

How the fuck did he get in here? Where’s Daryl? He’s supposed to be on watch.

I struggle in his grip, trying to work my way out of it. My body thuds against the floor as the man throws me to the ground, still holding his hand over my mouth and the other pinning me down and straddling me with his legs either side. I whimper, trying to make any sound to wake the others.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. I was just gonna rob your group, but after seeing your pretty face..”

The man paused for a second, licking his lips.

“I’m gonna get something else I want.”

With that, he puts a hand around my throat and reaches into his pocket, grabbing a cloth which he then ties around my face, making it into a gag, so I still couldn’t talk. Attempting to scream into the gag, I reach my hand up to try and punch him in the face. He quickly pulls a knife to my throat.

“I said shut up. You try anything and I’ll slit your fucking throat.” He muttered, his voice laced with venom.

The man briefly lifts his hips up to attempt to unzip his pants and I take the opportunity to lift up my knee and whack him in the balls, making him fall to the side.

“Fuckin’ bitch, you’re gonna get it now.” He grunts, attempting to get on top of me once again.

Luckily, I was already knelt on one knee, so I somehow manage to shove him away and stand up. Before I know it though, he’s got me pinned against the wall, one hand around my throat and the other still clutching the knife. Struggling to breath, I attempt to knee him in the balls again; but this time he only moves slightly to the side, but enough for me to bring my hand up grabbing the knife by the blade. I wince as I feel it digging into my hand. In a split second, I whack my head against his, causing him to stumble back and let go of my neck, his grip loosening enough on the knife for me to grab it- flicking it round so the handle is in my hand.

Using all my body weight, I slam him against the wall and on instinct, I plunge the knife into his neck, taking it out and doing the same thing again- blood splattering all over me and up the wall. He slumps to the floor and I stumble back, dropping the knife and slowly bringing my hands up to untie the gag.

“Y/N? What the fuck ‘appended?” I hear Daryl’s panicked voice along with his thumping footsteps.

I can’t move, my feet stuck in place and my eyes stuck on the man I just stabbed. The man. Not a walker. But a man.

I feel Daryl’s hands on to tops of my arms and I jump, looking up at him.

“I- He was gonna-”

He pulls me into a tight hug. His strong arms wrapping around my currently fragile body.

“‘s’okay. Ya did what ya had to.” He mumbled against my hair, not letting go of me.

“I- I killed him.” I mumbled, feeling completely numb.

“He was gonna r-” I can’t even finish the sentence as I attempt to swallow the sob I feel rising in my throat.

“Don’t ya dare feel guilty about killin’ that motherfucker, Y/N. Ya had to, alrigh’?” He says as he pulls away, holding me at arms length to study me.

Scanning my body for any marks, his eyes land on bleeding hand. He pulls out a handkerchief from his back pocket and gently wraps it around my hand- enough to stop the bleeding with it not causing more pain.

“W-where was y-you, Daryl?” I mumble, trying to stop my voice shaking.

“‘m’so sorry, Y/N. I was patrollin’ round, I never even realised. Shit, I’m sorry.” He responded, bring his hand up to rest on my cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear.

Suddenly, I hear the door the room behind us open, Rick’s voice ringing out.

“What happened? Is everyon-” He started.

“How tha fuck did none of ya wake up?! Y/N almost got fuckin’ killed!” Daryl suddenly yelled, taking his hands from me and pointing accusingly at Rick.

“You were the one on watch-”

“STOP.” I yelled, interrupting the soon-to-be argument.

“Just stop. I- I handled it.” My voice reduces to a whisper at the end of my sentence.

Reaching my arm out, I tug on Daryl’s sleeve, trying to get him closer to me. I hear him sigh as he steps back towards me and embraces me in a hug once again, gently kissing the top of my head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, darlin’.” He mumbles quietly, his hand rubbing circles on my back.

“J-just.. please don’t leave me again.” I mutter, my voice breaking.

“‘M’kay.” He responds, hugging me tighter.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead daryl #protective!daryl

[slxsherr]

Too Much!!

part II of Everybody Talks!!

pairing: cinephile!charlie walker x melophile!fem!reader

summary: charlie does a favor for you, taking you up on your promise of returning the favor.

wc: 1132

warnings: fem!reader, cursing/swearing, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex (p in v), oral sex (f! receiving), virginity loss, premature ejaculation, overstimulation, creampie

“No fucking way,” Charlie says, leaving the classroom quickly, leaving you to stumble after him on wobbly legs sore from sitting on your knees.

“Come on, Charlie. Please? It’ll be just one night,” you follow him, begging despite the ache in your jaw.

“Yeah, but if I let you go then all of your little followers are gonna wanna come too. It’s my film festival, I’m not gonna let it be ruined by a bunch of music nerds,” Charlie says, rejecting your request to attend Stab-A-Thon once more. 

“I will not tell anyone where it is or let anyone follow me. Please, let me go and I will do anything you want,” you reassure him, holding onto his arm to keep him from walking away. 

“Why do you wanna go so bad?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Does it matter?” You shoot back.

“Whatever. But you can’t go back on your word,” he says, wrenching his arm out of your grip to leave.

Charlie and Robbie plan their final Stab-A-Thon, and Charlie forces himself to send you an invite once all the preparations are made. He’s still not sure why you want to go, you’ve never wanted to in the past, but he didn’t think you’d wanna come just to flirt with some guy. It’s disgusting, watching you fawn over the unknown partygoer.

Not even Kirby’s half-hearted compliments can distract him from you, from how your hand trails from his bicep to rest on his shoulder, from how you laugh and smile at whatever dumb joke he made, from how angry he feels that it’s not him you’re gushing over. What makes that guy so interesting? So funny? So deserving of your affection?

He’s a little tipsy, on his second drink of the night, the first movie just about to end. Still watching you instead of the movie, he waits until the guy walks off to presumably refill your drinks, two cups in hand as he heads towards the coolers. While he’s gone, Charlie walks up to you, deciding he wants his favor returned now. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Charlie asks, taking the guy’s place in front of you.

“Yes, very much. Thank you for the invite,” you say, looking behind him.

“Do you remember your promise?” He asks, irritated by your inattention. 

“Of course. Why? Finally know what you want?” You ask, now focused on him.

“Yes,” he answers, savoring your attention. 

“Tell me tomorrow, and I’ll make it happen,” you say, moving to walk around him, but he stops you. 

“No, it has to be tonight,” he says, pulling you out of the farmhouse to one of the smaller, private abandoned structures on the property.

“Fine. What do you want?” You ask, following him away from the party.

“I wanna fuck you,” he says, pushing you into the withering shack. 

“And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” You ask, turning around to watch him enter after you, slamming the decrepit door shut. 

“No,” he says, approaching you slowly, not quite sure what to do now that he’s alone with you. 

“Alright then, let’s be quick. I wanna be back in time for the second movie,” you say, pulling him towards you until your back meets the wall. 

“Why? I thought you hated movies,” he says, breathing heavier as you palm him over his jeans. 

“I don’t hate movies, I just love pressing your buttons,” you say, guiding his hands to your chest. 

“You really do,” he says, thinking of the guy he just stole you away from. 

“So are we gonna keep talking or are you gonna fuck me?” You ask, your hand squeezing his cock teasingly. 

He whirls you around until you’re facing the wall, shoving you forward until you must brace yourself with your arms. You lean forward, pushing out your ass for him, not expecting him to lick you over your panties when he flips your skirt up. They fall to the ground easily once he pulls them past your knees, licking your cunt messily, hands holding your hips still as you try to jerk away from the wet muscle.

“Charlie,” his name leaves your lips in a whine. 

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, you wanted this over quickly,” he says, standing up and unbuttoning his jeans. “You wanna get back to the movie and that fucking asshole,” he says, his jeans and boxers pushed down his knees. 

“Just fuck me,” you beg, pushing back against him as he holds the thick tip of his dick at your entrance. 

He gives no verbal response, only thrusting into you until his hip bones are flush against your ass. Stilling for a moment, his head spins as he experiences the tight heat of a pussy for the first time, and he realizes he may have overestimated his endurance. His hands grip your hips firmly, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up with bruises in the morning. 

With the way he has you bent over, you feel like you’re being split apart. It’s a pleasant ache, sending white hot pleasure through your very bones. You’re grinding back against him greedily, urging him to move already. 

“Charlie, please,” you moan sweetly, pushing back until you feel his hip bones digging into your skin.

“Fuck,” he groans, finally moving. 

He curses as he fucks you, from the pleasure and for his overconfidence. Embarrassingly close to cumming, he reaches one hand around in front of you to swipe his fingers over your folds. His movements are clumsy, he’s not quite sure what he’s looking for, but eventually he finds the small bud. Rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl, your legs begin to shake from the stimulation, clenching tighter around him.

“Did you just–” you begin to ask, feeling your walls flood with warmth.

“Shut up and take it,” he interrupts you, grunting with every thrust. 

Despite his premature ejaculation, he doesn’t stop. It’d be way too embarrassing if he didn’t make you cum, and he’s not gonna let you hold that over him. So, he rubs his cock raw inside your pussy, too fucked out from his self-inflicted overstimulation to hear the whimpers leaving his mouth. 

It’s sinful, the noises he makes as he’s slumped over you. He’s all you can feel, around you, inside you, he’s all you can hear, moaning right next to your ear, dick pushing out the cum he’s already released inside you. You squeal when his movements become desperate, milking his cock as you cum, and he has to bite your shoulder to suppress the cry he lets out as reaches his second orgasm. 

“Still wanna go back and watch the movie?” He asks, catching his breath. 

“Only if you watch it with me,” you answer, teasing lilt in your voice.

#charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x reader smut #charlie walker smut #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker fic #charlie walker imagine #charlie walker x you #charlie walker x y/n #charlie walker x you smut #charlie walker x y/n smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #slasher x reader #slasher smut #scream x reader #scream smut #scream 4 #scream franchise #scream movie

[itsgrimeytime]

The Lover || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

1...

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

The Sequel to The Nurse (my series masterlist)

Summary: A long time ago, you were Rick Grimes's nurse. Now, you loved him, and he loved you. Or at least that's where you left it off. With Judith safe in your arms and Rick distinctly not by your side, you could only hope his feelings stayed the same because they sure as hell did for you.

TWs: blood, inhumane rage (you're kinda crazy in this one ngl), threatening someone's life, vague mention of murder, blades, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: heyyy, it's finally here!!! it's going to be less of Rick in this one for obvious reasons. At least for now. Looked it up and it took 10 days to get to Alexandria for the main group, so I'm going to be writing those for these first few chapters. Thanks for reading!!!]]

It had been two days since the prison -you could only count by the sun setting and the nightfall. You were running on autopilot, step after step; periodically feeding Judith because she wasn't crying anymore. You hadn't had any run-ins, not yet.

Your hand clenched against your side -tight on your axe. It was still the same fire-axe that you'd gotten at the hospital -blood ingrained in the blade and handle from your entire journey. You weren't sure it would wash off at this point.

It felt like a part of you now. Always there, familiar.

Like Rick had, or Carl, or Judith, or anyone at the prison-

You swallowed, they're alive. You know it.

You didn't, but it helped to think so.

If they get hurt, they've got Hershel, they'll survive, you assured, trying not to let the guilt bubble into your stomach.

Judith fussed a little then -the gentle pull of her eyebrows and squirming in her makeshift carrier. Your hand immediately came to soothe, smoothing against her head -gently whispering to shush her.

You were hidden away in a shack -somewhere along the road. It provided shelter, and that was enough for now. Pulling out a can of... something, you couldn't remember, you stabbed your knife through and opened it up. You'd been rationing, only eating when necessary; in the case that Judith's formula ran out, you wanted to keep her fed.

The first thing you'd noticed was the snap of a branch, just a single branch. It singled out in the night. Walkers would break more than one, you remembered.

Judith was asleep on your chest, you didn't dare move her; she was safer with you than without you. You knew that well.

Carefully, you put the can by your side, gently as if to not make any other sounds that would bring attention to you. You or Judith. All that you were running on was adrenaline, and just the urge to protect, protect, protect-

If whoever this was tried to lay a hand on Judith-

You carefully stood up, pulling your axe off the ground with you. Swinging it around in your hands, it was so familiar now. Attached to you. You weren't sure how to feel about it, but you couldn't really feel anything now -your mind was focused. Shelter, food, water, and Judith.

There was nothing else in this world for you. Not now.

With a breath, you slammed the door open -axe at the ready. You didn't catch on anyone at first, but then you heard it again and spun on your feet. You eyes settled on someone.

Their hands were shaking, but they held a gun to you -metal tip pointing and glinting in the sun. Your jaw tightened, as you gnawed on your lip, hands solid on your axe.

"Drop it," they spoke, but their voice was shaky. You could physically see their hands shake, something in your stomach steeled, "-or I'll-"

"I wouldn't," you remarked, bitterly -not an ounce of anything but anger melding along your words.

They pressed their lips together, seeming to gain a little more confidence, "I have a gun, I will shoot-"

You spoke again, tone sharp -something flashing behind your eyes.

"I wouldn't."

Protect, protect, protect-

They stared at you, something smoothing through their eyes. Something flashing, their lip trembling ever so slightly. You didn't flinch.

"What, all you have is an axe-"

"Did you know-" you hummed carefully stepping toward them, voice measured and careful, "-there are 1.5 gallons of blood in the human body?"

They snapped their lips shut, as you roamed closer, pressing the blade into their space. Tantalizingly close to their neck.

"And it only takes one little slice to lose it all?"

They froze for a moment, just one second. And you reacted instinctively, elbowing the gun out of their hands. It flew off into the bushes (snaps of branches telling you it did), but you kept your eyes solely on them. Lips pressed into a thin line.

"Look," they retracted, something pleading in their eyes, "-all I want is some food. I just- I haven't eaten in days."

You stared at them, axe still close to their neck -the vein that would do the job. You knew that, you'd read it in textbooks, seen bloody hands try to apply pressure, but it was too quick. Too fast.

"You threatened to kill my baby," you tsked, jutting the axe forward a little more. It was just a hair away and something in you was angry, so angry. Just an inch, just an inch, just an inch-

Protect, protect, protect-

"I wasn't going to! Not really, I just-" their eyes sunk to the blade, teary now, "-Please, I... I don't want to die like this-"

Protect, protect, protect-

You took a heavy breath in, eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching your axe so tight your knuckles were white. Something in you recentering, coming back to earth.

You pulled back the axe, but didn't let up your stare, growling, "If you ever try and hurt her again, I'll snap your spine myself."

They swallowed, blearily.

Motioning to the shack, you spoke -sharply, "There's some leftovers in there, take them."

They scrambled then, for the can, but you took pause a second. Carefully putting your axe back in place, you asked, "Have you seen a man and a kid? The kid, he... he wears a sheriff's hat."

The person seemed confused, maybe from so blatant of a switch, with the can gathered up in their hands. Still, they pressed their lips together, and answered, "I haven't."

Your heart stung, and you swallowed, nodding. With a breath, you set off to start walking again, it was morning -you needed to be productive in the daylight. But they stopped you.

"For your good, and the kid's," they warned, "-don't go to Terminus."

"Terminus?" You questioned.

"You're heading that way," they continued, eyes portraying a seriousness, "-they say it's a safe place. It's not. Don't go there."

"And," you breathed out, "-where should I go?"

They seemed to pause, scanning you over, "I don't know for sure, but I hear there's a place called Alexandria. It's good there, safe. Safe enough for a baby."

Your eyes darted down to Judith, still sleeping soundly against your chest. Your hand came up to rub against her hair -smoothing it down in place. She was your whole world now. If it was safe for her, it's where you'll go.

"Why aren't you there?" You questioned, "-If it's safe?"

"Looking for someone," they answered -briskly.

"Me too," you took a shaky breath in, your hands were shaking by your sides, "-I'm sorry about-"

They shook their head, cutting off your words, "It's your kid, I'd do the same."

You nodded once solidly, "Thanks."

They didn't say a word, and you decidedly moved forward. Keep moving.

They're alive, they're alive, they're alive-

You ended up near a few stores -walkers roaming around the strip.

You'd been keeping your eye out for signs, you saw them a lot. Different places offering safe havens, you hadn't seen one for Alexandria yet though. Had seen one for Terminus, and you had the brief thought that maybe Rick had been there. Were they okay? Did they come back from it?

You swallowed, not wasting time thinking about it. You couldn't, not anymore. You had Judith, you'd focus on Judith.

Inhaling, you roamed along the strip, pulling your axe into your hand again at the few walkers who roamed nearby. There wasn't enough that it was concerning, but you still didn't like them being anywhere near you. Especially with Judith held to your chest.

Quickly disposing of the one right by the door (lodging the blade through its head), you slowly made your way inside. It had a glass exterior, but all of it was smashed; it cracked under your feet, as you kept a hand on the back of Judith's head -just in case. The store, what looked to be some sort of convenience store, was raided pretty heavily only a few cans of what looked like alphabet soup on the food shelf.

Without hesitation, you took off your pack and shoved the cans into it. You didn't have much space, not with all of Jude's stuff, but you worked with what you had. Only finding two water bottles, you stashed one away for bottles and the other brought to your lips, before shoving it away.

You went through a few shops like that, some novelty shops with little trinkets and toys (you took just one for Judith), some snack shops where the aisles were completely cleaned out. And then, you stumbled upon a clothing store.

You stared at it, a little dumbfounded.

It was relatively untouched, sans the broken glass along the front. You figured that clothes were that important in the grand scheme of the apocalypse, so maybe it had just never been raided. Wanting to, one, get out of these clothes and, two, get some extra fabric for bandages, you neatly stepped inside.

You ended up finding an assortment of clothes, and for once you actually got to pick. Grabbing a bag off the floor that could hang across your chest, you filled it with fabric (including little onesies you'd found). And right then and there, you stripped down, slipping both new clothes on you and Judith.

It was refreshing, not really like a shower would be at this point but... close enough.

Slowly exiting, you took out two more walkers and continued out of the street -generally in the same direction the stranger had provided you with. You were just going by roads and by paths. Assumedly, if this place was safe, it would be some kind of substantial building.

Like the prison was, your mind chimed. You bit back the bile in your throat.

It went on that until night fell, there was no shelter nearby, so you continued on foot. Not that you'd sleep anyway, especially with Judith. You couldn't chance a wink.

It was the early morning then, and you felt the heaviness in your eyes. But you'd experienced much, much worse. You were kind of running a little on the adrenaline of everything. That being said, you had slept a little.

You'd found a house, boarded up. For safety reasons, you walked all the way up the stairs to the furthest bedroom and locked the door. You woke up to Judith crying and hadn't slept since.

What you hadn't expected, was to see two men walking along the road -crisply dressed and oddly clean. You hid behind a tree, peeking out at the two of them -they were talking about something.

"I think we'll give it another few days."

"How many?"

"Maybe two," one of the men spoke, "-we have to get back to Alexandria at some point-"

You stilled, hands brushing up against the bark of the tree. It scraped your fingers a moment.

You tailed them for a bit, watching what weapons they had (if they did) and figuring out what they were doing in general. They seemed to be limited to this area, like they were expecting something or maybe watching something, you didn't really know. They didn't say much.

You waited for them to completely let their guard down. Realistically, you could've taken them, probably. But you didn't chance anything, not with Judith; if you died, she would have nobody. Or at least, right now she would.

It was later in the day, lunch maybe based on the fact that they were eating. One's back to you, you realize this to be the perfect moment. You could take a hostage and demand answers.

Gently kissing Judith's head, you took a deep breath.

And you acted instinctively, pulling out your axe, and jumping behind him. With one fluid move, you pulled your axe in front of his neck. The vein, the vein, the vein-

The other man jumped, "Shit-"

"Don't move," you warned, and the man stalled in place -hands gently raised in the air.

He looked so unaffected from the world, how was he even-

"What do you want from us?" He nearly pleaded, and something in your resolve faltered but you stayed firm, "-Food? Weapons? We- Shit, take it all-"

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to control your emotion. Judith, Judith, Judith-

"Where is Alexandria?"

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader #the lover

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Crimson Fangs Sing Me Lullabies

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Ten years is a long time to be alone.

WORD COUNT: 18.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, gore, canon typical violence, stitches & needles, death, fluff, puppy love type stuff, mutual pining, Hesh being adorable, Ghosts timeline

A/N: Back to my roots with 30+ page works.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He vividly remembered the moment Riley had alerted him on that rainy Tuesday afternoon. It was when the sky was pelting against his soaked beanie and the abandoned houses of South California were utterly silent—as still as the heart in his breast. The ground under his feet was soft, grass giving way to slopping mud that caked up to his ankles in thick mounds of flooded earth.  

Hesh had only been out for a swift survey of the area, taking Riley for backup as Logan stayed at camp to pack and hide any trace of two individuals from inside Fort Santa Monica snooping around. Seeing as Federation Soldiers frequented the area, any piece of them that was left in No Man’s Land was subject to identification. Nothing from a broken branch or a boot track could be out of order; certainly not when the two brothers were here to scout possible weak points in enemy territory. Try and find ways to slip in a fire team—give ‘em all a good scare and wipe another point off the map. 

But Riley was along because not only was he Hesh’s responsibility, but the German Shepherd’s instincts were far superior than a soldier’s ever could be. For only 14 months, the dog was making quite the name for himself around the Fort.

A chilled wind whips down the street, the overgrown road filled with rusting cars and trash which flutters in retaliation of being disturbed all across the asphalt. Rain comes down sideways in great roars. Whatever the dog had honed in on, it was loud enough to be heard over the noise of nature.

“Riley,” Hesh calls, calm and collected, to the animal that was intently staring at a large home; hackles tense and tail pointed high. Blue was the color, hiding peeling white trim behind suffocating ivy. A large portion of the left side was ripped away to show its insides like a dead deer would, which had most likely happened when the earthquakes had been rampant during the first few years after ODIN was fired. Tectonic plates shifting and the like. Green eyes narrow. “Go on boy, search.”  

If there were Federation Soldiers this close to camp then it needed to be taken care of—quickly and quietly. No time to get Logan. 

Sharp ears perk and the lithe dog shifts its haunches, raised neck fur accented by a low growl. Paws pad over the ground and twin footfalls follow swiftly after, the body of a Honey Badger Assault Rifle pointed down but ready to aim at a moment's notice.

But nothing could have prepared Hesh for what he found that day. 

—

You press to the oozing wound with a futile hope that it would stop gushing, breathing so loud it can be heard over the deluge outside this shitty excuse of a shelter. Your arm was splattering blood all over the damaged hardwood of the first house you could stumble into, feet flinching back until your spine hits a dresser in the upstairs bedroom. 

Dust lives on every surface; flies through the air as you string curses under your breath with stuttering sobs. You’d hoped that there was a medical kit stashed away here somewhere—something to scavenge that could fix the knife slice that was making you dizzy. 

T…there was just too much blood.

But after the loud slamming of cupboards and the destruction of more than a few rusty door hinges, it hit you like a bullet to the chest as your clothes stuck to you like a second skin. Everything had been picked over. 

No medicine in the bathrooms, no rags in the kitchen, and no hope of bottled water to clean the wound out. Nothing. 

“No, no, no.” You force the black dots away from your eyes, vision blurry with tears as you press harder to the gash. It squelches and more scarlet hits the floor. “It can’t end like this. Not like this.” 

All that you had were the clothes on your back and the sparse materials in your backpack that amounted to an empty water skin, a blanket, and the pages of an old book. 

Blood pooled on the ground, and you realized far later that the only reason you had heard the noise downstairs was because of the steadying way you had bitten your lip; a sob cut short. Your body stilled like you were caught in a bear trap. 

It had been a soft whistle, barely heard over the sheets of rain hitting the broken roof. Water lightly taps your head in an uneven pattern as it leaks through the frame like an ant tunnel. Blinking as a few more tears are forced down your cheeks, you slowly turn to the door that hangs off one hinge. 

Small brown eyes are already locked onto you.

Its pupils are so tiny you wondered if the German Shepherd was half snake—they seemed almost slitted as you gaped at its presence. The army green vest that was wrapped around its frame only served to make you more afraid. 

Dogs were not your friends. Not in this day and age. Certainly not the ones that belonged to the soldiers that had cut your arm open not an hour earlier in the woods. That’s what they did, then? They sicked a dog on you? 

You swallow down a gulp and stand paralyzed as the beast’s lips curled back; its tail puffing up and wagging with aggression. Your breast filled with the constant drumming of a panicking heart.

“G—” voice small, weak, you try to appease the thing with a forced smile as your brows bunch in. This demon doesn’t even blink. “Good doggy.”

You stumble backward only a single shaky step, and then it lunges. 

The dog runs at you with a gnashing of teeth and a shredding snarl on its lapping tongue. Sharp barks meet your ear-piercing scream as they echo off the termite-eaten walls. Rushing back, you feel saliva splatter against your face; a sharp snapping flash just inches from your nose. Your back slams into the far wall with a resounding crash.

“Riley!” A masculine voice yells out, followed by feet rushing up the creaking stairs, but you don’t even hear it before fuzzy neck fur is gripped in your hands. Paws dig into your stomach. Worse, fangs graze your neck as ears stay stapled to an angular head; bobbing back and forth with intent to rip your flesh out. 

You could smell its damn breath.

Straining, every bit of adrenaline-laced strength builds as a split-second to act takes form. You plant your shaking legs and shove with your shoulders—racing away before the loud thump of the Shepherd’s form hitting the floor is registered. Its vibrating growl of hatred echoes off your brain along with its skidding claws. You stagger quickly into the bathroom and slam the thin wood with a loud yell of fear, finding the rusted lock before flicking it with a floundering grip.

The barrier shakes not a second later with the force of a vehicle as you balk back from it with a horrible fear in your breast.

What would it feel like to be mauled to death? You swallow through a closed throat, seeing the door almost cave with the force behind thrown at it; eyes wide and snapping to the tiny box you’d caged yourself into. Oh, fuck me.

“Riley!” Again that voice, closer. There’s a pause in the attack, but the deep barking continues. Eyes flinching, you shake wildly and notice the under-sink cupboard not a moment later with a prey-like haze over your thoughts. “Easy, boy, easy!”

Stumbling, you whip open the small enclosed area and do what you can to shove yourself into it—legs pressed tight to your chest and grunts falling from your lips as you try and maneuver past pipes. Your arm feels like there are a million knives stabbing one after the other, but you don’t for one second dare to stop what you’re doing. Letting the tiny door shut with a bounce of wood, you get totally swallowed by darkness. 

You realize quickly that the barking has entirely stopped. 

“Shit,” hand going to capture your mouth, your fingers press tightly to hide even the sounds of your ragged breathing, dealing with both the hunched-over nature of your spine and the knowledge of someone outside the door. 

Someone who was probably going to kill you. 

Silence lingers, but before long there’s a commotion of a hand that begins to jimmy the door knob. Your ears twitch, blood draining little by little from your head. 

Don’t open the door. Please, don’t open the door. 

The door is shoved open with a shoulder, a brief grunt echoing off the air as the thing slams to the wall. Soon after, the clatter tells you that it falls off of its rusty hinges along with the muffled curse of annoyance.

Measured footsteps make you stare, wide-eyed, at the tiny crack in the side of the wood ahead of you, light from outside dim but enough for you to notice shadows as they slink past. A sigh.

“Clear.” Weight shifts, and you hear a defining click of a safety. You press on your mouth harder. “What was all the ruckus about, boy? Another raccoon give you the slip?” 

Claws pad over broken tile and you hear a nose twitching as distinctly as you can hear your own pulse in your ears. This man that was talking….he didn’t sound like the normal soldiers you’d encountered. There wasn’t an accent to his American English, in fact, he sounded native to the region. Deep of voice and lax in phonics. 

But you had more pressing matters than a man’s speech pattern. A bark rips through the bathroom, and you hear a soft chuckle as your body spasms. 

“It’s not going to be in the cupboard. C’mon, Bud, we need to get back to Logan. Time’s ticking.” More snarling barks, getting higher in octave. The door rattles as you choke back screams as dog feet scratch with aggression, making the barrier bounce with every punch. “Hey, Riley! Enough!” 

A bulky shadow snatches a limb out, grabbing the handle on the back of the dog’s vest, but it’s a bit too late for that. White fangs capture the jutting edge of the frame and rip it off its holding with a raging of metal and splintered wood. You yell between your fingers and try to force yourself away—to try and disappear into a shattered bit of drywall that groaned as you put weight on it. 

Feet kicking out, the dripping wound on your arm makes you wrench the other hand to grip at it, a vain attempt to protect your weak area at the moment. It burns like you’ve just flayed the skin from your bone, peeling the flesh like a person would do to a raw steak. 

And then the dog is reeled back with a sharp yell, “Riley, stand down!”

At once all barking and drool-dripping snarls come to a halt. Panting, you look out to the half-body of the man and into the dead eyes of Riley—a beast that glares at you despite not being able to as his front legs are held off the ground by his vest similar to a kangaroo. It is like staring into the color of dead earth and waiting for it to swallow you whole. 

You wonder if you can die with a still pounding pulse, or if your soul can dip into the very confines of your intestines until you bleed it out. With black dots at the sides of your vision, as Riley is lowered to the ground and left to stand still, you decide that, yes, that could very well happen. 

There’s a large exhalation of air from the top, not-visible, image of the man and although you don’t want to look away from the small-eyed dog, eyes drift slowly to stare. 

Large toned thighs covered in green and brown camo tucked into muddy boots; straps and holsters that drip water with the subtle shifting of hips. Yet it’s almost immediately that those legs bend as a broad chest comes into view followed by a pale, square face. 

You blink quickly, dispelling tears from your lashes mixing with rainwater as it flows down from your forehead when green eyes meet yours—wide and strangely…curious? Brunette hair is trapped by a beanie, and the beginning of stubble spread out down his cheeks, jaw, and chin. Gray sweatshirt, combat vest, patches…your eyes struggle to take it all in but ultimately the large rifle sitting against his chest paints a clear enough picture, even if this man was completely different from the other soldiers you’d encountered out here. 

Shaking, you curl in tighter and hunch your shoulders, hiding away your arm.

Hesh doesn’t know what to think. 

He looks you over with a blatant expression of shock, Riley still on high alert beside him as one of his knees connects with the cracked floor. Lips slightly parting, the man’s head slightly pulls back, trying to understand what the hell he’s looking at. 

A… civilian? This far out in No Man’s Land? How was that even possible—Federation control was practically assured in this area and they shot on sight. Clearing his throat, Hesh sees your water-wet body jerk back, impulsive fear stuck over your head. He quickly raises his hands, dropping his rifle to let it hang from its strap with a clenching jaw as Riley huffs.

“It’s alright, Ma’am.” He coughs awkwardly, watching you incredibly closely. Still not sure how to handle this. “Erm…” A glance is sent to the far wall, “My name is Lieutenant David Walker with the United States Special Forces, you’re going to have to tell me what you’re doing out here. It’s not safe.” 

Firm, yet you notice the words are also subdued as the tension in the air somewhat lessons—like a mother scolding a child that she doesn’t want to start bawling. Your eyes waft away from him back to Riley, though the knowledge that the man was in the Special Forces was startling. You had thought everyone else was dead, most of all the remnants of the military. 

When did this happen? 

Riley still stands as still as anything, watching with his lips curling every so often. Hesh notices your terrified gaze and commands the dog with an easy comment, “Hey, Riley, away Bud.”

The beast pads off with one last long stare, back into the bedroom where you hear the thud of a fuzzy backside hitting the floor and a canid grunt. Immediately a great sigh exits your mouth, crumpled lungs wheezing. The man’s Adam’s Apple bobs as he lowers his arms, lips peeling into a languid frown when his head tilts.

“Sorry about him,” Hesh says, and your shy gaze stops on his neck. Green eyes narrow on you. “Riley’s trained to flush out Feds—not that good at rolling out the welcome committee. ‘Specially out here. He means well.” 

Your lips stay shut, shifting the bloody mess of your arm closer to you. If he was going to kill you, you think, he would have done it already. 

This Lieutenant David Walker wasn’t wearing the dark coloring of the other soldiers in the forest or the towns—wasn’t wearing the patch of twelve yellow stars set into the black void of a rhombus outlined with red. 

He wasn’t part of the group hunting you down. 

Hesh sighs deeply, sparing more glances around the broken-down house and the beautiful woman hiding away in the bathroom cabinet. Even with all of his burning questions, it wasn’t safe to be here. Logan was expecting him back. 

Itching at the back of his neck, the large man mutters, “Well, I guess you’re just going to have to come with us then.” Hesh wasn’t about to leave you here alone. 

Civilians were meant to be behind the Wall, and however you managed to end up outside, he needed to get you back not only for his own consciousness but because you looked like you needed a good meal and a warm bed. 

How long has this girl been out here? He asks himself internally. 

A gloved hand slowly extends out to you and you level on it with a stiff twitch of your feet, eyes glinting.

“Got yourself pretty much folded in half in there, Ma’am.” Hesh chuckles, trying to put you at ease as you just watch like a deer in headlights. “Can’t be too comfortable, huh? How about I bring you back to camp and I can sift ‘round in my packs—see if I can’t find something for you to eat, yeah?” 

It was like coaxing a wild animal from a cage. A chained fox ready to bite its own leg off for the simple release of freedom that it would bring soon after. Hesh couldn’t blame you, Riley usually had that effect on people. 

The dog wasn’t trained to be a pet, after all. 

At the prospect of food, your ears perked. If this person had food, they had to have bandages as well—medical supplies. You glance quickly down at your arm, seeing how the blood had drenched your abdomen from where it flooded out into the lines of textile and thin your lips. It didn’t look good; if it was left untreated…

Green eyes flutter to stare at where you had briefly peeked at. 

“Shit,” Hesh starts, sucking down a breath. His fingers curl from where they still wait for your hand in his. Looking at you as your heart skips a beat from the concerned comment and the unwavering way he stares. “Riley didn’t get you, did he? Let me take a look.”

David moves closer, head partially going under the counter to carefully touch you on the shoulder, shifting your arm from the top. If it was a simpler time, you would have laughed at the sight of such a built and tall man trying to stick his upper half into such a confined place. 

His fingers dig into your flesh and with a hesitant line on your forehead, you slightly present your cut as he sends you a tiny smile in reassurance. 

He…doesn’t look malicious. Maybe I can… 

You blink away black dots and shiver as fingers close around your wrist. Holding back a gasp, Hesh’s eyes widened at the gushing slice; immediately clocking it as a wound from a large and serrated knife. 

Federation? Many of the others from the recon units come back with similar wounds courtesy of the certain blades that the Feds used. 

Digits go to dig around in his medical pouch as your eyes flutter, seeing the heavy frown on David’s face and the lines on his forehead. Ears twitching at the sound of shifting paws, your body quivers. Green quickly glances up as your hand clenches; making more blood fall out to the wood. 

“He won’t do anything,” Hesh assures you, “not without my order. You just need to focus on me, alright? I’m going to wrap this up to help stop the bleeding.” A roll of bandages escapes his pack, and he gets to work tying off a tourniquet above your elbow. “Can you tell me your name, Doll?” 

Your nerves are alight from the rough scape of his gloves along your skin, but you whisper out your title with a stuttering voice. More hushed than a breeze on a humid summer’s day. Speaking after all that screaming hurt your vocal cords. It confuses you that you aren't more afraid of this man—the hard yet sparking eyes.

Hesh sends a quick glance and smiles. 

“Well, we’ll have you all fixed up soon. Promise.” He decided fairly promptly that it would be counter-intuitive to ask you so many questions in No Man’s Land; he’d wait for all of them to be back in the Fort and his father’s opinion. 

Elias Walker was sure to be intrigued by this.

Flinching when David carefully pours water on the wound to clean it out, more wrappings come after to press the torn edges of the injury close together, white rapidly becoming red. But the bleeding would stop soon, as the tight bite of the tourniquet cuts off the flow and leaves your arm completely numb. 

Hesh licks his lips and releases your hand, moving back to rest on the ends of his feet to let his limbs hang off his knees. Looking you over one last time, the man wonders if you were a scavenger. A drifter, maybe? There was a score around the Wall, but they all got caught eventually. 

But none of them were this far out, this afraid.

“C’mon,” David stands, one hand resting atop the counter and the other still extended into the cabinet for you. “We need to get going so we can make it back before dark. Or until the storm gets worse. I’d hate to catch a cold.” 

You stare and push down your fear, injured hand held to you as the other slowly drifts forward. Hesitating over his expectant palm you bite your lip before letting his grip encompass yours. Firmly, fingers tighten over your skin and you shiver at the prospect of touch. 

As gently as he’s able, Hesh helps you out from your hidey-hole, stabilizing you with a hand to the small of your back as you pop to full height. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, watching you stumble as he holds tight. The dog stands from the bedroom, ears erect, but the Lieutenant doesn’t even look. “Riley, stay.” 

Your eyes purposefully never stray to the canine. 

The grip over yours squeezes before it’s gone, and a part of you blinks at the sudden sweep of coldness that returns to you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, sliding your vision to the still form at your side as the house creaks and groans; rain followed by a deep rumble of far-off thunder. Hesh’s lips pull up, huffing out a single, dismissive, chuckle yet his heart jumps with pride.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man’s limbs rest on his weapon, loose. “Least I could do for lettin’ Riley scare you like that.” A beanie tilts as his rugged head nods to the doorway. “Follow me, Ma’am.” 

You stare at the back of his head as he slips past you, walking past the broken door. Blinking after, you stuff your hands into your pockets and quickly catch up with a few strides; feeling light-headed from the leaving adrenaline in your blood. Not fully convinced you trusted him, David had the one beneficial factor of being in the American military that made you go along. 

Why would someone impersonate them? It didn’t make sense, and thus, he had to be telling the truth. 

But you really didn’t like being near Riley. 

Tail still stiff, the dog stays on David’s right while you keep to the left, if not slightly behind. Brown eyes glare and rage, and you hunch your shoulders in mute retaliation, fixing the position of your backpack after it was smashed between the wall and your body. 

“So,” Hesh tries to break the tension, carefully going back down the stairs and looking back. You perk. “How long have you been out here, if you don’t mind me asking? Don’t get many civvies in No Man’s Land.” 

His boots thump while your shoes lightly press, descending back to flat ground. 

“I…” You lick your lips, “I don’t know.” Brows peeling back, Riley exits the house first, Hesh pausing for a millisecond before humming leisurely and going after—not without a narrowed look of confusion directed at you first. 

“Alright.” He coincides. Maybe you were just in shock. “No worries.”

No Man’s Land? Silently, you dig into the back of David’s head when he leaves the shelter of the house, getting soaked by rain as nitrogen fills your nostrils. What’s that? 

Feet traveling out through rubble, you side-step wood and drywall, breathing in the outside air as you soon feel the water wet down your head and clothes once more, shivering at the constant slap to your scalp and cheeks. 

Shuffling after David, you see him call above the storm with one hand to his chest, speaking into a radio.

“Logan, I’m coming to you! I’ve got an injured Civvy with me—knife wound. It’ll need stitches.” There’s a murmur from the other end, but you hear none of it above the rain; Riley peels out ahead, taking point with a constant pattern that leaves the dog coming back after a moment or two into a heel position. “Affirm. Hold down the camp until I get back. We’ll need to move ASAP.”

Digging into the collar of your shirt, you stay in Hesh’s footprints, shoes getting even more mud-cased all along the old material as you all turn into the treeline, forsaking the dead neighborhood to go back to its rotting. 

You only send one glance behind before it’s swallowed by bushes and downed logs.

The cover of the branches offers some reprieve from the downpour, but only to a point where you still were left floundering over the rugged terrain while David walked it like a pro. 

Hesh was constantly looking over his shoulder at you—slowing his pace when you got too far behind him and Riley. At your almost frigid shivers, his lungs built in a low sigh. 

“Here,” he says, firmly, and plucks the beanie off his head to wring it out. Water pools to the soggy ground as your legs slow, constantly blinking eyes looking up from the rocks you were currently intent on not tripping over. “Sorry, it’s not much. Logan’s got a spare blanket he can lend you later.” 

Pausing, your fingers inside of your pockets twitch at the outstretched article, lashes fluttering as a raindrop bounces off your nose. Cleaning your throat when Hesh prompts you with a small, “Go on,” and a motion of his hand, you take the offering slowly. 

Slipping it on, you pull the thing far over your ears, hating how your hair feels under it but not willing to take it off once the pounding on your skull ceases. 

“Better?” David asks, tilting his head as his short brunette locks get weighed down to his forehead. 

You nod wordlessly, attempting a small flinching smile in gratitude. Hesh delays his turning feet for a moment, seeing that with a barely-there flush to his pale cheeks. Clearing his throat once more, the Lieutenant clicks his tongue for Riley to continue, and offers you a hand over the rocks. 

Up and over, he helps you all along the way, suddenly not caring about how long it might take to get back to camp.

Walking beside you, you take glances at David, wondering aloud, “Who’s Logan?” 

He smiles, green roving over the terrain and now on even higher alert now that there’s someone else with him for the trip back. Riley sniffs along the badly flattened trail, though still takes time to stare back at you with distrust. 

“My brother,” Hesh pushes his hair back, expelling water like a rag, “Riley and I went out to scout territory while he stayed behind. Erm,” the brunette chuckles and another wave of thunder rolls overhead. “Don’t think too much about it if he’s a bit quiet when you meet. Logan doesn’t talk much.” 

“I won’t mind,” you also chuckle, though yours is more forced; subdued. It was easy to speak to Hesh, even if your arm was pulsing and your heart was rampaging.

The Lieutenant sends you an appreciative side-eye, smiling slightly, “Good. I’d hate for you to think he was being—”

Riley halts with a huff. 

Attention shaping forward, David steps in front of you with a quick foot, and your frozen view of the western cluster of trees is blocked by a broad back. 

“Riley’s got something.” He speaks low, deathly serious. “Keep behind me.”

You suck down stiff oxygen, body weary as you peek over to stare at the dog and his vest as it shifts when he moves. The large white lettering of ‘Beware of Dog’ on the side catches your optics like a knife in the dark. 

Hesh takes slow steps ahead, knowing you’re behind him by the way your breath stutters and brushes the back of his neck. His vision bores into the treeline, peeling back bark like the books of a page, his heart a steady bump in his chest. 

Riley continues to alert, paws shimmying and fur caked in mud as his tail begins to go wild. 

David levels his rifle to the shadows dancing, clicking off the safety with a thumb before his cheek finds the stock, staring through the scope with deep-set brows. The man waits for the beast to engage first. 

With the minutes ticking and the rain drowning everyone, you find every swaying branch and twitching leaf to be as anxiety-inducing as a typhoon; still, Hesh stays unperturbed in front of you. About to open your mouth and utter a confused plea to keep going, Riley suddenly rushes.

Pushing headlong into the treeline growls akin to a demon echoing off the atoms of the air when the puffy tail disappears. There’s a moment of strained silence right after where your legs are itching for you to run, but David stays and so that means you will too. He’s really your only chance for survival at this point.

“C’mon boy,” the brunette mutters, hips shifting weight. 

It’s only when pained screams enter the air that the two of you really tense up, a loud, panicked thing that bounces off your eardrums over and over again. You gasp and take a step back, and that’s when two black-armored individuals burst from the bushes, yelling behind them and pivoting to try and shoot an enraged Riley with blood dripping from his maw.

Hesh dispatches them with only four bullets—two for each as their exposed necks explode into crimson. Snapping your gaze away you swallow tersely, blinking as if to dispel the image from your mind. You had seen people die before, in painful and gruesome ways, but that didn’t mean you had ever gotten used to it. Lowering his gun, Hesh tilts his head at the two Federation soldiers, the third taken out by Riley before he drove the others to him. 

“Good, boy!” David praises, oblivious to your plight, and the dog trots over with a lolling tongue, eyes bright. His gloved hand pats Riley’s side a few times, ruffling the fur atop his head as paws tippy-tap before shifting to look back at you. He double-takes, gaze widening with a frozen smile. 

Green blinks at your nervous expression and your body that had backed up a good five feet with your hands stuffed into your pockets. His petting hand pauses and Riley barks. Hesh watches you flinch at the sound and tenses. 

Awkwardly standing up to his full height, his fingers itch at his stubble.

“I…” David pauses, not sure what to say to you. Shaking his head, the man grunts out, “Camp’s this way, Ma’am.” A finger points down the trail and you nod quickly, still not looking anywhere near the bodies or Riley. Or him, for that matter. 

“Okay.” Sharing a look with the dog at his side, he thinks his lips and pauses before he takes off down the grass, concern and apprehension stuck in his veins. Not knowing why, he begins to feel a bit strained.

You stay well behind him all the way back to Logan, thinking and worrying.

I don’t know this man, you tell yourself, arms wrapped around your middle and beanie heavy atop your scalp. Even if he’s nice—even if he says he’s in the military, I don’t know what he could do. I have to remember that. 

And that damn dog. 

You can’t get its eyes off of you—constantly watching and tense as if you’d bolt and he would get the chance to pounce on you. It didn’t trust you and that sentiment was entirely mutual. Pulling your injured arm closer, the image of flashing fangs is playing in your mind as you and David get closer to a dense cropping of stones and deep foliage; now it was worse. Now Riley had congealed blood dripping off his chin, all fur up to his eyes deep red and stained. Rabid looking. 

He was one minute away from ripping my throat out back in that house. 

You shiver, but not from the cold. If not for the kind way Hesh had wrapped your arm and the promise of further help and food, you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t try to bolt. 

People haven’t exactly been kind to you out here—not for many years.

Your eyes whip away from Riley and stay on David’s boots until the man pushes through one last bush, holding it back for you as you shuffle past with a silent nod of appreciation. The presence of another man immediately makes itself known when you stare into the remnants of a campsite. 

Grass trampled to form a semi-circle, a stuffed backpack rests against a large boulder and, in the middle of the area, sits a small pit for a fire. The dig-out ground is now flooded over by the rain, creating a concoction of mud and brown water. A large overhang stemming from two gigantic rocks gives a small reprieve, though there’s little room for more than two people, and if the rain slants the other way it would end up being completely useless. 

But the figure standing under it is taking what little cover it offers. Shifting with a similar outfit to David and blinking at you with brown eyes. Quickly, he lowers his gun when Hesh calls out, “Woah, Logan—it’s me!”

Blonde hair lays flat over the brother’s head, and you instantly see the resemblance between the two in the same shape of their jaws; the angle of their twin noses. But Logan did seem to be the younger of the two, though not by more than one or two years. 

David saunters forward, hips swaying, and pats you lightly on the shoulder before looking back to send you a soft smile of reassurance. Water flows off his chin. 

“Now, let's get that arm looked at.” He walks under the overhang and bumps forearms with Logan, who continues to watch you carefully. Riley trots up and the blonde rubs his head when David bends down to grab his backpack. 

You awkwardly shuffle, still out in the rain with a cautious feeling in the back of your chest. If you could peel back your skin, you would see an amalgamation of alarm bells strung up by cords of hesitance. Who was to say these men were any different than the black-clothed ones? Could you know their character based on a simple tourniquet and a soggy beanie? 

Brows tight, your shifting feet slosh through a puddle. Did you have a choice? 

Hesh calls over the rain, peeling out a large medical bag from his pack—the white cross capturing your vision. “C’mere! We need to get that stitched up.”

Sighing deeply, you walk until the rock stops the sky’s tears, fingers twitching in your pockets and feeling quite tired. 

“Logan,” the Lieutenant orders and the blonde takes his eyes from you slowly, his stubbled skin sporting a scar up the right side of his jaw. Riley looks up at him when the pets stop. “Give her your spare blanket, would you?” Green flickers to your arm before they go to your face. “Feelin’ alright about needles, Ma’am? It won’t feel that great, but I promise I know how to stitch a straight line.” 

You watch Logan jumble through his own belongings, shivering and hearing the snap of latex gloves from David’s side. They both worked like a well-oiled machine, with gears and pins moving in stupendous arks of shared understanding. If you were being honest, it almost overwhelmed you when a heavy fabric was dropped over your shoulders. 

Fingers go to keep the blanket over your form as a small protein bar was held loosely in your face from Logan’s hands. Brown eyes blink when you carefully take the item, whispering out a small, “Thank you, Logan.” 

The silent man studies your expression before he nods firmly, backing up and taking Riley with him out into the rain with a whistle to allow you more room. You respond to Hesh as he waves you over with a hand.

“I don’t mind needles,” you admit and David listens, patting the rock beside him on the ground for you to sit on. Doing that, you unwrap your bar and hunch deeper into the blanket. “It’s the blood that bothers me.” 

You get a silent side-eye and a gentle hum in understanding. 

“I’ll be done before you know it,” Hesh offers a twitch of his lips, going to lightly twist your arm so that the stained bandage can be unwrapped and laid to the side. “Then when you’re back in the Fort I can get you home to your family. I’m sure someone’s pretty worried about you right now, huh?” 

Your face scrunches, confusion taking hold as you’re just about to bring the protein bar to your lips. Fort? Family? What was this guy talking about? 

Not noticing your look, Hesh, sets off to work, one thumb caressing your numb forearm as he sews your flesh back together. At some point, you turn away, content to bite your lip at the pain and glare into the stone beside you rather than see the crimson slosh down your arm. David wipes at it every so often, seeing the curved needle slowly bring the ragged ends of skin to a neat line. 

He does his best to move as fast as he’s able, careful not to dig too deep and cause you more stress.

You eat your bar with a ravaging hunger, done with it almost immediately and licking the remnants off of your fingers. Hesh chuckles deeply, but a part of him is concerned at the sight.

You had said you didn’t know how long you’d been out here—how were you getting food? The wildlife? You didn’t seem the type to go hunting; didn’t even carry a gun unless it was in your backpack. David doubted that, though.

“Hell, the only person I’ve seen devour those things like that is Logan.” He comments, cutting off the last suture with the small scissors from the pack. You turn to watch his face, seeing the concentrated lines above his eyebrows and the way his tongue lightly pushes out of the side of his mouth until he licks his lips. “Don’t know how he does it—they’re more bland than his cooking.” 

You huff slightly at that, embarrassment heating your cheeks as the needle stops its up-and-down motion. Hesh finishes up with one last look over, tilting his head to the side. 

“You seem pretty close,” whispering, you glance at the figure in the rain, the yellow ball being tossed absentmindedly to Riley before it’s dropped at Logan’s feet as he walks the perimeter. 

Hesh smiles, “Definitely. Couldn’t imagine my life without him.” Fresh gauze is spread and taped down, new bandages unfurled. “Feeling alright? You’re doing great.” 

Your eyes blink at him, slipping over his handsome features and the way his hand holds you so softly even if he is quite large. The cold didn’t seem to bother him at all. You clear your throat and nod shakily.

“Isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched up.” Muttering out your confession your fingers twitch as David tightly wraps your wound up, securing the end and unwrapping the tourniquet at your elbow when he’s done. 

“Really?” The brunette frowns. “Sorry, that must have been tough.” 

You flex your hand, closing and opening your grip as his own travels to the marks the ruthless tourniquet had made on your skin. Freezing your eyes lay stuck to his fingers as the tips of them brush the indents, imaginary pricks under the skin forming as blood begins to flow properly again. 

Hesh doesn’t know what overcame him to do so, slowly pressing into the flesh with a low grunt stuck in his throat. Maybe it was some ill-placed concern for you—some guilt left over for how Riley had treated you before he had shown up. The fear in your eyes when he had killed those Feds.

But you…he wanted to help you.

Unexplainable actions make your heart thump, blood rushing to your head as your limb shakes at the contact. 

Quickly, green orbs pull far open, realization dawning. Clearing his throat, David swiftly moves his hand back to his knee, not meeting your eyes as a red flush makes everything from his nose to his ears pink. Your lips part at the sight in shock, jaw loosening. 

“Well,” he says loudly, moving back to stand and taking off the latex, “that’s that. You’re all set to go.” 

Without meaning to, a small giggle escapes your mouth as you rest your opposite hand on your arm. If anything that makes Hesh all the more flustered, quickly picking up all of his supplies and zipping up the medical kit with a racing pulse. 

Running a hard hand over the back of his neck, you see David call Riley and Logan back as his cheeks go back to their normal color. Your vision narrows on him, trying to understand this individual like how you could understand the thunder that rips the sky or the blanket over your shoulders. You swipe at the last dredges of rainwater on your nose, seeing the two brothers converse in hushed voices. Riley continues to watch you, shaking off inside the overhang and huffing.

It was quite obvious the dog held a grudge for you shoving him to the ground. Warming glee leaving you, you frown at the canine and shift your eyes to the outside world; the downpour is softer on your eyes than feral brown. 

You only turn back when your name is brought up. 

Hesh stares at you, serious, as Logan goes to swing his pack over his shoulder. “We need to start moving soon. It’s bad enough to be in No Man’s Land but to be this deep in Federation territory is worse. Do you have enough energy to keep going?”  

“I…” your lips stutter, taken aback, “Yeah, I should be alright.” If the terrain was anything like it was getting out of that town, I’m not going to make it a mile. Pulling the blanket tighter to you, you ask, “How far away are we?” 

Wherever they were going, it sounded like a good idea to tag along as long as they were allowing it. 

Hesh shares a stiff glance with Logan. 

“Full day of hard hiking, give or take. Terrain’s changed so much it’s a gamble every time.” Your face blanks, throat closing.

“Okay, sure.” You don’t know when you had come to care whether these men left you behind or not, but Hesh’s caring attitude had struck something in your chest like a drum. 

Now that you had someone to talk to out here, someone to caress your wounds, it felt vile to stake out on your own again. Running from soldiers with yellow stars and black rhombus patches outlined in red. This pair wasn’t so bad, at least from what you knew as of now.

David’s lips tighten, eyes sliding half-closed to narrow on you. Green meets brown, seemingly telepathically communicating in that way only siblings can. 

Hesh nods his head, slapping Logan on the shoulder firmly as he calls Riley to a heel position.

“C’mere, boy, we’re leaving.” The dog lopes over as the brunette stops in front of you with a smirk. A silent Logan huffs a chuckle from his position, shaking his head to himself. You look up in confusion, a slow death seeping into you as a teasing expression makes Hesh’s face shift. His arms cross over his chest.

“How do you feel about piggyback rides, Sweetheart?” 

—

You yelp, gripping tighter around David’s neck as the ground nearly gives way, his handle on your hips increasing. His mouth releases a grunt though he quickly rights himself so he doesn’t send the both of you careening over the edge of this rocky hill.

“Easy,” he huffs, looking behind at you as the slowing rain falls on everyone. A brow raises, puffs of breath escaping Hesh’s mouth as he begins to continue on. “Or you’ll choke me out before we make it back.” 

You cringe and loosen your hold, muttering, “Sorry, David.” 

“Hesh’ is fine,” he laughs, turning back, “Only person that calls me David is my old man. And don’t worry about it.” Eyes twinkle. “There are worse ways to die than being choked by a pretty girl.” 

You heat, sputtering for a minute as the joke registers; glaring at his head below your chin. 

“Well then, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I just yanked you off this cliff? Pretty girl and all.”

The deal had been you would keep up with Logan and Hesh as long as you could, from then on the Lieutenant would so graciously allow himself to be the pack mule while Logan and Riley protected the both of you. In all fairness you had done better than expected—David had called you stubborn and practically forced you onto his back when you started dry-heaving on the side of the trail. 

Over the walk, you had gotten into a habit of softly arguing with the man, Logan sending back amused glances every once and a while. It felt good to speak to people again.

“Hm,” Hesh huffs through his nose, sidestepping a boulder and carefully finding footholds in the ascending ground. Riley barks from the top of the hill as if telling him to hurry up. “Y’know I don’t have an answer for that right now. Would you be throttling me on the way down or no?” 

“Depends,” you deadpan, not looking at the edge that the man walks confidently, shivering but still keeping Logan’s blanket over your shoulders.

Hesh blinks water from his eyes, glancing over his shoulder. “On what?”

“On if I can get to you before Riley chomps my hands off.” A loud bark of laughter springs from his chest, unexpected but pure. It echoes off the cliffs and the trees, and you have to laugh slightly with him. You feel his hold squeeze your thighs, hiking you a bit farther up as he makes it to the top, Logan looks at him with a slightly parted mouth before his gaze slides to you. 

You swore there was a spark of thankfulness in his expression, but he’s turning and whistling for Riley a second later. 

“Shit, that’s a fair point.” Hesh chuckles, and you notice his shiver when the cold wind whips past. 

Cheeks burning, you move your hands making the man under you make a noise of confusion. Ignoring it, you peel at the blanket around you and place it above the both of your heads, blocking out the water even if the fabric was already soaking. You rest your elbows on his shoulders and sigh, looking at your bandaged arm for any blood. 

Dark, yes, but all the red fluid was dried. It was seemingly all good. 

Hesh feels his lips pull in a heart-felt smile, stubbled cheeks gaining a sheen as you hide his head from the rain. He didn’t need you to, of course, but the action came from a place of genuine care. It felt…nice. 

“That’s kind of you, Ma’am. Thanks.” Green peaks slightly up, and you turn away so you don’t meet his eye, cheeks burning.

“Least I could do.” Your mouth mutters. “Thanks for not letting Riley eat me alive…and the stitches.” 

Hesh grunts softly, still smiling. 

“Well, I’m not one to let my dog rip apart civilians. Least of all ones that need help.” He keeps a close gaze on Logan and the canine, watching the treeline and the rustling bushes from the blanket edge. “It’s a good thing I found you when I did—wound like that’s a nasty thing to treat half passed out.” He dares to push, “How’d you get it if you don’t mind tellin’ me?” 

You noticed how he would try to ask unassuming questions in hopes you would be able to explain yourself but in reality, you were just as confused. The military was still functioning? You had no idea, stuck in the same areas for…a long, long, time. 

It made you afraid. How…how many years had passed from when the sky had erupted with fire, beams of pure light slamming into the earth. You try not to dwell on it. 

Holding the blanket edge tighter, you wiggle your chilly nose to push back sniffles and explain to the best of your ability. Hesh had called those men Federation Soldiers, and you had heard of that title before the world had fallen apart like a toy castle under the fist of a child. 

Federation…You speak slowly, thoughtful of your words.

“I was running,” David slows a bit, putting distance between the others as he watches Riley sniff an old rusted bucket stuck in the middle of a Black Sage bush. His lips thinned, and a tense feeling in his gut was forming. “I don’t know for how long or where I was going, but I knew that if I didn’t run, I would die.” Your arm was throbbing, but you only look at it and continue. “I bumped right into one of those men when I was trying to see through the rain.”

Voice dipping slightly, you hold back a squeak of surprise when David’s thumbs start moving back and forth slowly over your thigh. Blinking down at the top of his head, you pause and speak through a hitch of breath—the man mistaking it for upset and feeling his eyes crease. 

“...He swiped at me with a knife and I raised my hand up to block it. I,” you stare over at Riley as he runs next to Logan, that brown and black coat soaking wet. “I thought they had sent a dog after me when I saw yours in the house.” 

Hesh tilts his chin to the ground, lungs breathing down a sigh through his nose. Walking around the form of an abandoned and rotting side table, the Lieutenant tries not to imagine how scared you must have been in that instant. 

He moves his head and you look into the expression of a soldier who takes his job very seriously. At the intensity that lives behind his eyes—at close range—you see flecks of bark and mossy dirt; a delicate and almost pretty curve of lashes. You’re entranced by a rugged beauty as you sigh. 

“That’s never going to happen again.” Skin heating, you see his gaze search your face, hold firm. “I said I would get you home,” he declares, letting a small smirk peel his lips. “And I’m not one to go back on my word, you hear?” 

Your chest tightens. You don’t have the heart to tell him whatever place he’s bringing you isn’t your home, but you feel light at the statement anyways. The insinuation was enough.

“Okay,” you mutter, and you both stare a moment longer. 

Nodding subtly, David studies the dirt and grime on your cheeks, the weather on the epidermis in what could have been sun exposure or simple blemishes. Your expression turns shy at the blatant staring, and you move your head back just as Hesh chuckles deeply, blood pumping. Walking faster, the Lieutenant rejoins the other two with an alert eye and a soft smile as a thankful feeling grows for the blanket over his head and the woman holding away the downpour. 

He decided then and there that nothing bad would ever happen to you as long as he was around.

It’s an incredibly long walk, but when you see the Wall for the first time, you nearly fall right off of Hesh’s back. The rain had stopped by now, though the air was still moist and the sun low—giving the world a shivering temperature. 

But the Wall. 

Hesh had called it Liberty Wall in a passing comment as he had let you slide from his hold, your feet stumbling not from fatigue but from sheer amazement. It was…gigantic. Falling to pieces, sure, but nonetheless a great achievement.

“There she is,” David sighed, stretching out his arms and groaning as Logan radios in from where you all stand along the ridge. Riley lies panting at Hesh’s feet. “Good to see ‘er again, huh? Been outside for too long, I’m about ready to eat a whole plate from the mess hall—and that’s really saying something.” 

About to chuckle to himself, eyes narrow in confusion at the realization of your blank expression behind him, frozen body with wide-open lids and parted mouth. Hesh’s brows crease. 

“Hey...you alright?” Clearing your throat, you notice the twin brown and green gazes on you with a quick swivel of your head. 

The brothers share a look.

“Mhm,” you bite your lip, hands descending into your pockets as you shuffle, shoulders rolling under the straps of your backpack. 

Hesh crosses his arms as the radio on Logan’s chest statics with a garbled voice, “Affirmative. You’re all clear to proceed, Sergeant. Good to have you both of you boys back so soon—Riley too.” 

It was becoming even more clear that you needed to be brought to Fort Santa Monica and to their father. You had met Federation soldiers, were in No Man’s Land for who knows how long, and acted as if you’d never seen possibly the most recognizable landmark that had been made during the last ten years since ODIN. 

“Logan,” Hesh turns to his brother but keeps his eyes on you, “radio into dad, yeah? Tell him we’re back and going to be showing up at HQ. Ask for an empty room.”

You stare along the barrier, mind running back to all the events that had happened since the moment the world had changed, wondering. Thinking. 

If this had been here the whole time… Faces flash over the back of your eyes like a layered movie before you push them back. The trail that Hesh and Logan had taken to get here was probably only known to the likes of them—no one else, or you would have traveled it ages ago. The dark-clad soldiers were so numerous that you’d never even thought to take the main road up North, nor the woods. They were everywhere all the time.

A hand grips your upper arm and you flinch, focusing back as Hesh’s strong jaw comes into view. He flattens his lips in a still-line smile of comfort.

“Let’s get you inside, Ma’am.” His hand carefully presses down farther on his hat atop your head, pulling it over your ears once more. “Find you some less soggy clothes.”

“What about you?” You ask without really knowing what you mean, finding some strange sense of comfort when David was near to you. 

The man chuckles, heart jumping, beginning to guide you down the slope and watching you closely in case you trip. Riley keeps on his right, neck hair still bristled whenever he looks your way. 

“What about me?” He asks, cheekily.

“You just carried me more than halfway here,” you shiver and dig deeper into Logan’s blanket, “and you’re just as soaked—I don’t want you to get a cold because of me, Hesh.” 

The sentiment was true. David was feeling worn out, and some of the liquid dripping down his face was undoubtedly sweat, but seeing that adorably concerned expression was almost enough to make him forget the aches in his shoulders and thighs. He blushes and turns his gaze ahead, clearing his throat. 

“Ah,” the man shakes his head, “don’t worry about that. Could’ve been worse.” He smirks, “could have had to carry Logan.” 

You laugh quietly at him as everyone makes their way down into a large, underbridge, area made of concrete; heading quickly to a checkpoint in front of a large pair of black-steel doors built into the Wall. 

“I don’t think it would be that bad. Funny to watch, at least.” Staring at the back of the younger brother, Riley suddenly comes up from behind you, seemingly intent on getting there first. His ear brushes your swaying hand and the next thing you know, Hesh is shoving you to his opposite side as savage barks make you yelp. 

“Woah, Riley!” David hollers and your heart jerks to a ravaging pace, air trapped in your throat as you’re kept close to a strong chest by an arm around your shoulder. “Holy Hell, stand down!” 

Logan by now had turned and was jogging over, grabbing the dog by the vest and peeling him back across the concrete. Panting, you watch with shaking limbs and look down at your fingers. 

Nothing more than a large scratch across the top of your left hand, but it was irritated. You sink deeper into Hesh’s side and cover it against your chest. Green eyes jump back and forth from you to the raging canine, Logan’s grim-set face glaring down at the furry beast, putting Riley into a sit with a gloved hand to his behind. David smushes you closer and after a minute of more barking, the dog falls silent, though still glares at you violently. 

You struggle to take down air, face scrunched like crumpled paper. This dog… 

Hesh glares and clenches his jaw at Riley, for the first time in his life entirely frustrated with the animal. 

Guiding you forward quickly, the brunette doesn’t move his grip, scowling over his shoulder before bee-lining to the entrance. He speaks in clipped sentences to the guards who all know him and his brother well. 

“Take us to HQ.” You’re ushered into the back of an armored truck, Hesh taking your right side and telling Logan to stay with Riley in the next vehicle of the convoy. 

Blinking quickly, you swallow down saliva and hold your hand tighter, shivering and staring at the floor. 

“Let me see,” muttering, Hesh reaches out. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault…Christ, I swear he’s never like this.”

You shakily put your hand in his, the large mark aggressive looking but barely bleeding. But you remember the pressure of Riley’s fangs vividly as they slid past your flesh like soap.

“Ah, shit,” the man huffs, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” His thumb runs over the mark lightly, gritting his teeth and sending you a stiff glance. Your vision tilts as you look away, but the slide of his hold was addictive; the small twitches of his fingers and the warmth they bring. 

“Y’know,” you attempt a small, wobbly, chuff, “he looks a lot cuddlier than he is.” 

Still tense and feeling guilty, Hesh pushes forward a dull twitch of his lips; blaming himself. Maybe the dog needed more socialization if this was how he was going to act around injured civilians when they barely brush against him. 

“Yeah, I suppose.” Still holding your hand, he squeezes before stuttering nerves release you—hesitation to let you go bunching his knuckles for a second more. He liked the feeling of you in his hold, liked how your tension slowly leaked away when his attention was on you. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?” 

You feel the slight pulse in your hand, sighing before shaking your head.

“No, not really.”

“‘Not really’ isn’t givin’ me the reassurance I’m lookin’ for, Ma’am.” Shuffling out of the blanket, you place the water-heavy fabric in the seat beside you as the car flies over the ground, speeding you into safety.

“I think it would be worse if I lied.” Itching at his chin, Hesh huffs and nods, his large body so close to yours that his shoulder bumped yours with every movement of the vehicle. 

Your heart is steadily calming, and you rub at your face. The feeling wasn’t bad, and you almost find yourself leaning into him and putting your head in the slot of his neck.

Stop that.

“Guess so, but it would make me feel less like an ass.” Smiling, you raise a brow and view the way his chest beats quickly through his clothes, bouncing his vest up and down with adrenaline. Green narrows at you and your face heats. “But, no, honesty would probably be best, Sweetheart. I’d hate for you to be hurting and not tell me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smirk, swiping fatigue from your eyes as you yawn. “You’re very nice, Hesh—your brother too. Not what I would expect.” 

Wide lids side-eye you, lips parted. There’s a second of still silence as you slouch back against the seat, placing your stitched arm over your abdomen and pulling Hesh’s hat farther down your head; even if it was wet, it had gained a semblance of a precious gift. Like a present on a holiday, one you shake because you’re so excited to open it you have to stimulate your mind with its hidden contents. 

David blinks quickly, looking away to stare out the window and see the dark sky outside and the shadows it leaves as the twenty-minute drive to Fort Santa Monica truly begins. He lets you rest your eyes, but the comment has genuinely struck him.

Nice was not on the list of what most people called him. Stubborn—a natural-born leader, ruthless, and prey driven. But…nice. He clears his throat quietly and watches the raindrops sneak down the glass. 

“You’re not too bad yourself, Ma’am.”

—

You’re sitting in a large room filled with screens playing black and white video footage, pulling at the collar of a two-size-to-big sweatshirt and shifting in large camo pants. They had taken your backpack. In front of you, the face of an older man was simply watching you as you looked around with fatigued wonder. Desks with stacks of papers; large computer data storage boxes, the entire works. One of the upsides to this, you blinked at a water dispenser and realized, was that the lights were dim in here and you were finally somewhere that had AC. 

Inside your head, you were at a standstill. Part of you thought this was a dream, was this really all here the entire time, and you and the others just—

“I think we can start with names.” Your eyes whip forward, finding Elias Walker’s cold brown stare and graying hair as he stands across from the table you’re sitting at; your feet shuffle under the wood.

Hesh and Logan are by the door, the younger leaning on the wall petting Riley and the older keeping his arms crossed and fingers loose on the collar of his vest. Green softens when you look over slightly, a comforting smile finding your vision. He nods.

No need to be worried, he seems to say, I’m right here with you.

Over your head, the damp beanie was still there, now only slightly water-logged. You pull it down over your ears with a slow grip and listen. 

“You can call me Elias, and those are my boys you met,” a pale hand is moved in explanation. He grunts, “I’d imagine you’re all acquainted well enough.” 

You nod giving your name and mutter, “Nice to meet you.” 

Elias crosses his arms over his chest—it’s not hard to see how all of these men are related, though Hesh is more of a carbon copy of the father. The older man has a calm but stern look on his face as he frowns.

“And what was it that drove a civilian down into Federation-occupied land? Past the Wall?” You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, licking your lips. Elias wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Better yet, how exactly did you make it outside—only way out is through the checkpoint.” Brown darkens, “else there’s a breach I don’t know about.” 

You struggle to answer, not sure if you know how to formulate a sentence that would make any sense. But this was starting to make you nervous. The unyielding intensity, Riley glaring at you, your blatant tiredness. Shock was settling but you didn’t know how to explain.

“How…” speech falters, and Hesh watches closely, frowning but knowing that you had to show them how you had gotten beyond the barrier. It was a massive security breach—it was a miracle you were even alive, really. “How long has it been since that wall was built?”

Elias stills. By the entrance, Hesh’s expression freezes. It’s as if the very air flips at the bare insinuation you offer forward. 

Shifting his hips, the older man’s muscles tense, as if he’s thinking over something very important. “Ten years since ODIN struck. Work on the Wall started right after.” A silent pause. Expectant. You feel your face drain of blood; a blank horror. 

Ten…ten years? It was silly, but your mind quickly went to your age—adding the numbers together and the time you missed. Ten years of hiding; of watching rare acquaintances die, scavenging for supplies. Ten years and this entire time you would have been able to live normally had the Federation camps moved just a tiny bit Eastward to open a path for you. 

“I…” You clear your throat, forcing out a blatantly fake laugh through a whimper, “Wow. That’s something, huh?” 

“You mean to tell me you’ve never left No Man’s Land?” Elias leans forward, placing his hands on the table and closing in. He doesn’t look angry, but his tone is disbelieving. Accusing. “That’s impossible.” 

“Dad,” Hesh steps forward, holding out a hand in front of him and glancing at your numb face—the sway of oblivion. 

“Ten years,” you whisper, staring off into Elias’s tense neck. “But she died just a week ago. All this time we could have…” David turns his head to you sharply. 

It’s like time stands still in that room—a void completely separate from all else besides a brewing acceptance. No one knows who you’re talking about, but the context is little needed for the way you spoke. Obviously, you had lost someone terribly important to you and Hesh understood that the reason you had probably made it so far was because of whoever they had been. You weren’t exactly the perfect image of a natural survivalist—not helpless, no, just not like the Lieutenant of Sergeant. Certainly not like their father.

“Shit,” a hand is lightly placed over your mouth, stomach bunching in your abdomen. 

“Let’s do this another time,” David interferes, and his father throws him a sharp glance. “It’s late, Dad. Everyone needs some rest; we can pick it back up in the morning—first light.” His mouth quirks in a stiff smile, and Logan backs him up silently.

Elias stands back up to his full height, crossing his arms loosely, and you’re stuck in the well that makes up your consciousness, descending bucket being fruitlessly dragged back up by a rusty handle only to fail halfway in the air as the rope bunches. The father sighs deeply and shakes his head, giving in to his son after a clench of his jaw. But it was obvious you posed no great threat.

“Alright.” Hesh nods and walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder as you look up at him slowly. He plasters a small smile on his face. It looked incredibly kind—the strong set of his eyebrows now soft. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Fingers squeeze into your flesh. “There’s a pretty good barracks building a five-minute walk from here—doesn’t smell like the others and you’ll get a room all to yourself.” Elias watches, face losing a part of that tense edge. He shares a glance with Logan and turns to resume his work. “That sound good? I swear I won’t put you up in building three.” You stare and he acts like he’s sharing some big secret as he lets you stand up. “Ant problem.” 

You spare a tiny, broken, chuff of a laugh and his face brightens. A small win.

“You coming, Logan?” The Lieutenant asks, but the blonde is already shaking his head ‘no,’ pointing to the back exit to the shooting ranges. He was a night owl, through and through, and hasn’t changed a bit since they were kids. “Sounds good. I’ll take Riley.” 

“You boys take it easy,” Elias says over his shoulder, and you stay at Hesh’s side as he leads you out of the room, whistling for the dog to come to a heel which the canine does with a lolling tongue and sharp ears.

“You too, old man. Don’t worry about us.” 

“I always do.” The door closes and once again you three are walking together—Hesh more present with using his own body as a barrier between your form and Riley with his right hand near the dog’s vest handle. 

“I think my dad came off a little heavy, sorry about that.” David’s voice brings you back, pulling that bucket a little farther up from the pit below. “It’s just…”

The sentence falls.

You bite your lip and say, “It’s just his job. Even when I think about it,” the man still hasn’t released your shoulder, but instead moves his hand to the span of your shoulder blades. You try not to shiver and fail when he listens as if you’re the most viable source of news ever created. “It does sound a little...insane.” For lack of a better word. 

David chuffs, tilting his head and scrunching one eye. “Maybe just a little.”

The man feels you shaking and he doesn’t think you notice. Eyes wide and fingers twitching from where you keep them. The noise probably doesn’t help.

Buzzing lights and conversations only a door away as the two walk down the hallway and make it to the stairs to lead down to the main floor. From there the sounds were more barking dogs, vehicles, and gunfire from the training grounds. 

This was a military base, after all, and it never really went to sleep. It must be grating to hear after the utter silence of No Man’s Land.

“...But you wouldn’t be the first, believe it or not.” David tries to keep your mind off it, keep your attention on him…but he was curious; desperately so. Yet still, he didn’t want to rush you. You looked so overwhelmed it made his chest squeeze. “Heard a few reports from Dallas before it fell—a family that had lived in a man-made bunker and were found by patrols five years in when they were out scavenging.” 

“Really?” Your lashes caress your cheeks, and a small smile comes to you. You wonder how this man can make you feel so comforted; at ease despite the dog at his side and the various intimidating-looking gear strapped to him. Hesh was good-natured, it almost seemed impossible to imagine him a hardened soldier like you knew he really was. Kind, if not a bit mischievous and blunt. “That sounds more interesting than what I lived like.”

“Well, I doubt that.” Lips perk in a smirk. “Anyone with brains knows that time spent outside the Wall is always interesting.” 

“We just moved around a lot,” you admit, “those soldiers were always changing camps so we never stayed long anywhere.” 

“Hm,” Hesh makes a sound in the back of his throat, nodding. “Could’ve guessed that. Bastards jump around like cockroaches—can never get a good hit on ‘em.” He doesn’t press. 

“Really?” You feel more present now, itching at your cheek before looking at Riley as he lopes along and watches the roads from where you walk on the sidewalk. “What about the pattern?” 

David blinks his green eyes at you, face creasing. 

“Pattern?” 

“Yeah, they shift in a hexagon pattern every month. I had a map with it marked so I knew where to set camp.” Breath stills and Hesh stares at you, shocked, but his tone changes to a serious rush. He turns you slightly towards him with two hands on your arms.

“Would…you be able to mark those points again? If you had another map.” You lick your lips, cheeks going hot as you stutter, and feel his hands press into you. His chest was incredibly close to you, body heat leaking into your bones. Riley glares.

“Y-yeah, I think so.” David studies your face, searching for any hesitance. He pauses, green glimmering. There’s a moment when you notice the fast blinking on his face, the slight flush to his stubbled jaw as he clenches it, and are reminded of the caressing thumb that had dug into your inner elbow. 

Delicate stitches. 

The world blurs like a reflection in unknown water. Ripples that distort the streetlights into the shadows on his face and create soft waves of old scars and pale flesh in their warm illumination. Hesh’s breath hitches.

“G-good.” And he’s releasing you quickly as you wonder if being found by him was truly the best thing that could have happened. You spare a glance at Riley with racing blood, trying to stop the smile that insists to form for no reason. The dog cocks its head. “We’ll…get on that tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Whispers dance on airwaves as David keeps his eyes forward. Clearing his throat as you clock that tick and pull his beanie off. You bump your elbow to his side and he snaps his neck back over like a line with a hook. “You should have this back.”

You both walk slowly, side by side down a back street, and spare each other quick glances with flaming faces.

“No, that’s alright,” Hesh utters, rubbing at his neck and avoiding looking at you head-on. Your fingers brush the fabric and your expression softens. “I have a whole bunch in my room, don’t worry about it. I’d…” he chuckles to dispel the strange tension in his shoulders. “I want you to have it. Don’t want you cold.”

Your eyes crinkle, and the man swallows.

“So you think that your hat will help with that?” Teasing, you take it back anyways and situate it back on your head, shyly putting your hands into your pockets. “What? Is it special?”

“Woah,” Hesh, smirks with a raise of a hand, pointing lightly at you. “Hey now, Sweetheart, don’t disrespect my beanies like that—they’ll save your life.” 

Laughs bounce off the street. 

“I guess I’ll have to keep a close eye on it then,” Riley huffs and Hesh pats his neck firmly, giving him attention. “For my safety.”

“Damn right.” Your heart hurts from how fast it’s beating, that great muscle like a large drum that echoes in your ears. Skin tingles with an undeniable tension in the air.

The barracks building comes into view. 

It’s nothing extravagant, but the thought of a soft bed and a pillow not filled with mold was addicting. Your eyes blink along the structure as Hesh leads you in, keeping the door open for you as he tells Riley to sit at the entrance. The dog does so, though obviously with disapproval—grunting in that lupine way as the barrier separates him and his handler.

“He really does not like me,” you mutter out, raising a brow and catching back up to David who waits a few more feet into the building. 

The brunette sighs.

“He does tend to hold grudges. Once he wouldn’t play fetch with Logan for two days because he forgot to give him his dinner.” 

“Hell,” your brows raise up, “my odds are in the ground.”

“Probably, Ma’am.” You elbow his side again and he chuckles, bumping his shoulder into you as his hands sway at his sides. “Ah, don’t hold it too close, Riley’s just a special case. My father trained him so he’s all business.” A smirk, “Nothing like me.” 

You stop as Hesh does—in front of a nice-looking wooden door.

“Here.” He points to the handle and you grasp it, twisting and pushing past. 

You enter a tiny but clean room smelling like linen and golden light. Delicately, as if the world would break apart if you touched anything you stare at the lamp on the nightstand, the curtain over the window; the…comfort. The sight of an extra blanket on the end of the bed almost made you cry. 

“Now,” Hesh slides past you as your lip quivers, wide eyes looking around. “No one else can access these barracks without an ID, so there’s nothing that should go…wrong…” 

He trails off when he sees your face.

“Hey,” David takes a step forward. “What’s wrong?” His eyes slip around, looking for what might have upset you as he comes back to you.

“Nothing,” fingers lightly rest on your collarbone as you shake your head; vision going blurry at the man’s worried face. “Nothing’s wrong, Hesh, I promise. Just…” you laugh wetly, and a tear drops down your chin. “I forgot what it was like to have an extra blanket.”

It was more than that, but the statement was all you could describe right now without making a complete fool of yourself. David’s breath stills, hand stuck an inch from your arm. 

He watches the tears fall from you and, without thinking, he reaches up the back of his pointer finger and brushes it along the flesh; creating a line of fire up until he completely swipes it away. After a second of quivering silence, the air flimsy as your lungs jump, he finds no fear or discomfort in your expression and does this again—wiping away any trace of past hurts. 

Blinking, you tilt your head forward and bump it into his chest. Startled slightly, Hesh grunts, but his hand finds the back of your head above his beanie and cups it, staring down at you with hot cheeks and a thick throat. 

“I…” he begins but can’t find the words. You made him want to skin his hands of calluses so that the roughness of his touch was foreign to you. 

You only deserved warm flesh and extra blankets. As much food as you could eat—soft mattresses and even softer clothes. So short of a time he had known you, but not a second more did he want you to suffer. 

Ten years. He can’t even imagine it, and yet here you are in his arms. Kind. Unbroken.

Hesh’s head stutters, hesitating, before his neck bends and he presses his face into the top of your head, closing his sad eyes and running his other hand up and down your back. 

Sniffling, you melt even more into him.

“She died a week before you found me—my friend. She was with me since the beginning.” The hitched voice that comes out of you is so quiet that the brunette has to strain his ears to listen but listen to you he does. Silent as a bug and tightening his hold so you hear his strong heartbeat rampaging in his chest. 

Logan and him did this a lot when their mother died. Just hugged and held each other as if their lives depended on it. He doesn't know why, but he knows it has to be the same for you as well.

“Infection. She fell,” your voice cuts out, “fell on a rusty nail. She’s the only reason I made it this far.”

“Where were you?” Hesh asks, lungs aching for you. “When ODIN struck—in town?” 

You return to that time, hand sliding up to wrap around his waist to ground yourself. David lets you, increasing the pressure of his gentle hand on your spine. “Hiking. It…it was a family vacation.”

His jaw clenched tight. A swelling hatred strangles his neck, a feeling that makes his eyes slip back open—forests burning in his iris’ in great waves of an inferno. He had never wanted to charge out into San Diego more than at this very moment.

A family vacation had turned into a decade of surviving. Hesh didn’t have the heart to ask about where your family was now. He already knew the answer.

“Everything just…fell apart.” Your ribs hide your fast-paced lungs, your sniffling nose stuck deep into fabric.

“I know,” the man grunts, “I know it did, I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say. He knows. David pulls you back by the shoulders after a moment and slightly moves his head down to look at you head-on. “But you’re here now, okay? Behind the Wall. You made it. And I’m gonna make sure that you’re never alone like that again.” He attempts a smile as you see his concerned expression, shining with sincerity and honor. “I’d stake Riley on it.”

The wet giggle that exits you is automatic, and Hesh chuckles right back; put at ease and ears bouncing with that sound that he commits instantaneously to memory. 

“That’s counterintuitive, Hesh. I don’t want your dog.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I never break my word, huh?” Perhaps why he was so good at this, comforting people, was because of Logan. Only two years apart, but he’d taken the big brother role easily—loved it, in fact. It made him feel good to see people smile.

But it made him feel on the moon when it was you.

You watch his green eyes slip over your face, thumb going to wipe away the last drops on your under eye as a deep heat starts smoking inside of you. David speaks lowly, compassion so visible you find you want to gaze upon his face for hours; mapping lines and piecing together what made this man…him. 

“Feeling better?” Smiling softly, you find yourself leaning into his hands on your face. The brunette smiles back and chuckles. It wouldn’t be so bad, you decide, to stick by his side—even if Riley was less than approving.

“Feeling better.”

You sleep that night with an extra blanket wrapped around your body and a dark beanie on your head; taking in the scent from the fibers of thistle and dog hair. You’d never smelt something more comforting.

—

A week passes with a flurry of activity. You find out that Los Angeles is still habitable—in fact, there’s a stable economy in the city and people are thriving. Fort Santa Monica is home to not only a handful of civilians from before the war but also an incredibly large amount of military personnel all under Elias Walker's command. 

Hesh had taken you out on the third day for a ‘tour’ as he called it, but it was also due to the fact that you’d been too afraid to leave your room when not called upon. There were so many…noises…again. People laughing, happy conversations, and greetings thrown your way.

“Word got out about the girl that lived in No Man’s Land,” David had teased as you awkwardly waved at a woman in fatigues that had slapped your shoulder and invited you out for drinks with her friends. You had politely declined. “Everyone’s eager, seems.” 

“I think I forgot how to properly speak to people,” you had sent a frown and a huff his way, keeping close to him as he led you on with a wave of his hand and a deep chuckle. 

But in all this time you had earned yourself a big reputation for being the woman who handed over intel that others had only just begun to unravel. Federation base locations. Patterns on movement—irreplaceable data.

Which was why you’d been asked, rather told, by Hesh that you’d be going to the bar with him and Logan for drinks. On the house. 

You’d quickly found it to be a strange affair.

“Not feelin’ up to it, Sweetheart?” your eyes lift from where you’d been swirling your still-full glass of amber liquid. “I know it can be a little loud—I’m sorry. Merrick’s a giggly drunk.”

Green eyes stare at you with pity, throat bobbing as a beer bottle sits on Hesh’s lips; the last dregs going down before he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. 

“If you wanna leave I’ll walk you back, okay?”

“No,” you wave a hand, touched but hesitant, “that’s alright. I’m fine, really.”

The lieutenant smirks and tilts his head—raising a dark brow in disbelief. The two of you had gotten close over the days; he had told you early on that you were easy to read for him.

“Don’t make that face at me, David.” You glare, pointing from your seat at the bar top. Hesh rolls his eyes and shakes his head as if disappointed.

“Whoa, first name—that’s illegal.” 

Your lips pull up in a sharp smile, leaning over the table as the music from the building plays in your ears; warm light on your cheeks and nose. “David, David, David!” 

“Hey! Quit it!” You’d grown fond of him in a way you can’t describe. So short of time and yet you both still get giddy when you see one another—hearts hammering. Even now as the laughter spills from both of your lips and people in the bar spare knowing glances, you don’t address it. 

“But really,” Hesh levels and you watch him spread his hands in surrender, beer bottle still shimmering in one hand, “whenever you want to go, just ask.”

“Hesh!” A call bounces from the far corner and you both look over, startled, to Ajax at the pool table. “Get over here so I can wipe the floor with you!” 

There’s a bout of laughter from the other bar patrons, bets being placed loudly. 

“Hey, it won’t be that easy—you’re on!” Hesh is off with a rush, patting your shoulder as he passes. You watch after with a wide smile and a raised brow, muttering to yourself.

“He’s unbelievable.” You can’t deny the loftiness that you feel when he looks happy like that. Really happy. It’s nearly a curse to try and think about what he would have become if the Federation hadn’t fired ODIN. He would have been in the military still, no doubt, but not quite the same. 

Hell, what would you have been like, even?

A shadow slips into the chair next to yours, and you look over, content. “Hey, Logan.”

The younger brother nods to you, sipping from his glass of water, a greeting smile on his square jaw. True to the brunette’s word, he was very quiet, but you didn’t find it in a disrespectful way. Logan carried himself with a subdued power, and the dichotomy between Hesh and him was laughable when you really thought about it; polar opposites.

You didn’t mind in the slightest.

Holding an easy conversation with nods or tiny comments back, you spoke with him for about twenty minutes while Hesh and Ajax called each other names and threw baseless threats through smirking lips like toddlers. At one point a very drunk Petty Officer Second Class, Thomas A. Merrick, had to drag a laughing Ajax off the pool table while you and Logan watched with exasperated glances. 

But the air was easy and the drink was flowing—soldiers from all over the Fort were here tonight. For you, though most just came for a good sip of alcohol and you didn’t blame them. You just did what was right, nothing more. 

“I think I’m gonna head out,” you tap a fist to Logan’s shoulder and he looks at you, sparing a quick glance at Hesh. You smile. “Nah, I think he’s going to be at it for a while. I’ll just walk back by myself—I’ve got my keycard, so I’m all good.”

A yell of victory rings from the corner before a loud exclamation of, “Rematch, right now! Your foot hit one of the balls to the left when you were climbing it!”

“It did not!” Logan stares blankly behind you and you laugh, slipping past. 

“Tell Hesh I said to have a good night!” You call over your shoulder, catching adoring brown eyes following you out and a mock salute from his water glass. 

Riley sits outside, resting his eyes, but when the door closes behind you the canine springs to his feet. The week hadn’t soured your relationship, but it definitely didn’t make it better either. Frowning, you pause in the night and look at the empty food dish and the filled water cup set out by Hesh for him.

“Tough luck, bud?” A muzzle lightly curls, but at least he wasn’t barking at you. Ears stand alert and ready. “Look,” you level, pulling Hesh’s beanie farther down your head as those beady eyes glare. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, okay? It’s not like I want you to hate me—I was protecting myself. You,” your finger points, and a lupine huff warns you, “came at me.” You point to your chest. “Remember?” 

It was comedic the way Riley yawned harshly at that moment, and you scoff.

“Who am I kidding, you’re hopeless just like your handler. I shouldn’t even be doing this,” reaching into your jacket pocket, you produce a small, soggy, napkin. Bending down, Riley growls low in his gut, but you ignore him. Not to say that the sound didn’t make your lips thin, though.

Unraveling the knot you’d tied in the bar, you look down at tiny cubes of medium-rare steak and sigh. “Look if this doesn’t work, I’ll give up.”

Flattening out the napkin, you pick up a piece and turn your vision upwards to an intently watching dog. At the sight of the food in between your thumb and first finger, the dog’s mouth gradually opens, tongue beginning to lull. A black nose twitches quickly. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you grumble, “Hesh said you were a food fiend.” 

Tossing one of the pieces on the ground, you let him sniff it before his teeth flash and he grabs it quickly, tossing it up and munching on it. When Riley’s done he looks back at you expectantly, shoulders less wound up but still uneasy. 

“Well,” you push the rest forward before standing, “go on then. Don’t let me stop you.” 

Shaking your head to yourself, you leave him behind and set off down the street, mumbling, “You can’t say I never did anything for you…” 

You hear the sniffing before the clammer of biting teeth, happy pants, and tapping feet. Huffing, you can’t deny the slight jump that affects your heart. You’d have to tell Hesh about the progress tomorrow. 

Your cheeks heat, smiling to yourself as you think about the brunette. His hands always seemed to be on you one way or another and during the last two days he’d been holding onto you for longer; firm touches that he had to blink himself back to the present to take away. The actions made your skin tingle and more than once you’d caught your gaze lingering on his visage—his body. As if trying to will him back to you when he had to leave. 

But the staring was mutual. You had sworn at one point you had seen him more intent to fuzzily look at your moving lips than to focus on what you were explaining. Fingers absentmindedly tapping on a desk and humming at every word from you. The look had been…your body shivers warmly in remembrance, staring giddily at your shoes. 

You continue down the street, circles of light from the lamps hitting you one by one as you glide under them like a moth. Humming a light tune, you take the route that Hesh had brought you down the first time, imagining his hands on you and his lips on yours. 

When you giggle silently and chastise yourself for thinking like that, you hear the last whispers of a distant conversation that lead you to pause.

Your face freezes, smile stuck as your legs stall. It was Spanish wafting over the air, hushed and harsh. That wouldn’t be alarming, many people here spoke the language fluently as it was the native one of the entirety of the Federation—it was needed for intelligence gathering, or at least that was what Hesh had explained. No use going into No Man’s Land if you can’t understand the driving force occupying it. 

But this was hushed arguing, not some common conversation. It didn’t sound normal and the scuffling feet over the concrete gave you pause. The night suddenly became very cold. Backing up a step as you stare in the general direction of the increasing footfalls, the sudden sight of three heavily armed men as they round a corner with strong eyes. 

Your vision finds them immediately—and they do the same for you. It was instinctual, then, when your suddenly fevered face snapped to their patches. 

Gold stars and a black rhombus. Red outlined. Your expression utterly drops. 

There’s a single instance where no one moves, neither you nor those three Federation soldiers that now stare right back with an equal amount of shock. 

“Eh,” you make a sound in the confines of your throat and all hell breaks loose.

Jolting away, shouts ring out as hands snatch at your limbs, and you can’t even begin to think about how these people got into the Wall undetected. 

Everyone’s at the fucking bar!

Yelling loudly, you dash to the side, a quick swipe going above your head as the beanie is wrenched off of you instead of your hair. Not bothering to fight for it, though a large part of you wanted to, your feet take you anywhere but here. 

Roaring in anger, the soldiers pursued with rampaging boots and vitriolic order. Why they don’t shoot you is a wonder. Maybe it was because they wanted to try and salvage what they’d already lost. 

The screams escape you as you dash backward, retracing your steps but it isn’t going to be long before they catch you—true to that idea, just as the words exit your mouth, a harsh hand captures the back of your neck. 

“David!” The other winds around your mouth, muffled screams stuck behind gloves. Legs and arms striking out, your body is dragged into a back alley; the others all join to force you to submission. 

Your boot connects with someone’s kneecap, and a hoarse yell echoes as you rage with a frenzied pulse. Wide eyes look this way and that, sweat forming on your brow as a punch finds your gut and a resounding insult flies to your ears. 

Going slack for a moment, the violent white that bursts behind your vision leaves your straining muscles useless and you try to breathe behind the unrelenting hand over your mouth and nose. Like a shot deer, your dragging legs give out; coughing and gasping for air. 

Pain shoots down your chest with ruthless efficiency. 

You suppose in that moment of ringing ears, that it was chance that you heard the dull shunk of a knife being taken from a sheath. It wasn’t chance, though, when your desperate teeth snapped into the heavy hand, ignoring pain and the tears smeared over your face.

With a sharp cry, the hand loosens enough for you to get the last word, a brief moment of clear realization, “Riley,” you scream with little breath but sufficient volume, “Come!” 

The knife descended on you, but you jerked your shoulder to the side, head ripped back to bare your neck to the silent moonlight as the hand recovered your face. Black dots swirl, shadows lingering like phantoms in the recesses of your mind and spilling demons from your eyes. Hatred flares in you, but not as much as fear does. That silver blade connects with the meat of your neck and shoulder junction, tearing past muscle and tissue to rent a large slash open to the air. 

Your legs kick before arms wrap around them—more quickly called orders and insults directed at the one who had missed your neck peeling back the drums inside of your ear. Thick, hot, blood stains your clothes; the copper scent gets stuck in your nose as you gag and try to force your lungs to function with nothing to suck down. Darkness seeps deeper, and the knife is brought up once more, the tip digging into your cheek with a firm bite when you try to flinch away.

That’s when a guttural and vociferous yowl exudes from the chest of a rampaging canine as it bursts from around the corner of the alley, white teeth glinting and eyes red. 

Riley has the man with the knife by the neck in two seconds flat, reaming him back and clinging to his spine with only his fangs on his nape. Multiple wet crunches echo for but a moment, a small sliver in time, but then the loud pained bellows that follow after drown out all else. Like a bomb had been dropped, the man Riley keeps ripping apart falls sideways, hands reaching behind his head to try and pry the dog off. In a fit of fear and stupefaction at the turn of events the remaining men release you, tossing your body to the side and into the adjacent wall in panic. 

Hands reach for guns but it’s already too late. Riley has ripped the entire back of the man’s head off in a flurry of fur and jerking maw—flesh peeling back in long strings into a waiting mouth as the screams continue. Now, though, they come from only the remaining soldiers as you watch with mute horror; gripping your leaking cut and vision fuzzy from the blow that your head had taken from slamming into the wall. Lack of oxygen. 

With all the ruckus, it was only customary that the streets were soon awake with confusion and rising tension. You swore you heard your name being called streets over, hurried yelling as the lights flicker on from the building across the road.

But Riley. Christ, Riley. 

The second man’s pistol was stopped from rising any farther as fast fangs found a wrist, the shot bouncing off the ground as you balked back against the wall and cried out. Across the Fort, the yelling starts up. Louder now. That remaining soldier unaffected thus far by the feral rage is snapping into a ready stance—shaking as the barrel is leveled with the dog’s skull as sharp points go for the kill once again. 

“Riley!” You snag out a leg and rip it back, curling your foot around his ankle. Black clothes hit the ground hard, as the man inside went with them. 

It carried on just the same. 

Panting you stare into the blood-dripping muzzle that now turns your way, three opened necks pooling to the ground and twitching. Gargling gasps dribble like glasswork exploding in kilns; such a vulgar, primal, sound. But you only stare at the beady brown eyes as they seem to bite you as well. Framed with crimson, whiskers droopy as droplets hit your knee and rancid breath slides over your stalled face.

“Please…” you mutter, bruised head turning to the side, eyes clenched shut. Licking lips resonate and you clench your hands as you finally hear the frantic calling of your name coming down the road. Fast-moving shadows.

Hesh.  

Riley breathes on you, but before your swallowing throat can call out the brunette in fear of what the dog will do, a wet tongue licks a long stripe over your cheek. Eyes bugging, you snap your head back up, jaw slackened and brain struggling to calm down. 

The dog watches with a slow tilt of his head, tail lowly swishing. 

“What the fuck,” gasping wetly, the hand on your wound lessens, hot fluid gushing between fingers. 

Riley huffs, feet shifting. 

Laughing slightly in anxious confusion, your free hand lightly raises. Soft fur conforms to you, letting your digits weave through the locks. Riley licks his lips once more and sits on his fluffy behind, ears sharply up and twitching. 

Hesh nearly runs past the sight, heart too fast for his chest and teeth clenched tight together. His mind was as sober as it could be—a deep sense of unease clawing in his gut. 

He’s heard the screaming; the gunshot. When he’d run out of the bar after doing a quick headcount for you and being unable to place your form, Riley had already been gone. A trail of dust and a floating napkin were the only indicators. But the fear was worse than that.

Where had you gone? Were you in danger? No thought was behind his sprinting, just a flushed face and a deep need to keep you safe. He’d promised you. 

No one had been able to stop his senseless searching as he took off at a racer’s pace, looking down alleyways and carrying the pistol in his right grip until his knuckles had gone white and see-through. Like a loyal hound, Hesh was intent to find you. Even if it turned out to be nothing. 

And then the real screams started, and so he screamed too—your name.

But now he slams a hand into the concrete wall and reels himself back, a hunched shadow stiff in the side of his green vision before he can fully pass the alleyway entrance. 

“Holy…” Hesh trails harshly, gaze going wide. 

You were there surrounded by three Federation soldier’s bodies and while that was alarming, there was only so much you could do when you were a corpse. Riley held in your arms was something that Hesh couldn’t begin to explain. 

But the shock was short-lived.

“Sweetheart!” He called, boots propelling him forward as he slid to one knee in front of you, hands pushing past fur and muscle to bring yours forward by your shoulders. A handgun is placed into the back of his belt. “Woah, woah, hey. Tell me what happened. Where does it hurt?” 

Staring into your eyes you immediately relax at the presence of the man, his large body seeming to shield you away while sending glances around the area; not liking the thought of more attackers. 

“Hesh,” you breathe, massive weight coming off of you even as you bite your lip in a pained whimper. 

“I’m here. I’m right here.” Hands travel over your body, gliding over bumps and bruises quickly and efficiently. “What the fuck…” he growls deeply. “It’s all gonna be okay.” 

A swift glance is sent to the canine who watches blankly. 

“Good job, boy.” You stare blurrily into Hesh’s neck as he carefully peels back your hand, face scrunching and body pulling together as sparks of agony alight as the gaping cut meets the breeze. 

“I,” stuttering, you ignore his harsh inhale, the ripping of his shirt as he presses the tattered cloth to your neck. You shiver. “I lost your beanie.”

Fearful green eyes lock on your as the calls from the rest of the soldiers from the bar finally make an appearance. How fast had Hesh been running to find you? 

“Hey, don’t even worry about it,” his palm encapsulates your cheek like a prized family heirloom, keeping your face pointed toward him as you shiver. The soft scraping of his hard calluses itches your flesh. A strained smile graces his lips, “I’ll give you another one.” He looks the rest of you over and grits his teeth. 

He doesn’t care about the dead soldiers—the possibility of a breach. Suddenly, all of his priorities had shifted in the short span of a week, horrible loyalty rearing its head.

“I need you to stand up for me, Sweetheart, okay? I’ll be right here, I just need you on your feet. I know you can do it.” You nod shakily, pulling strength from his resolve as his arm pulls you to his chest like it had when you’d first hugged; using his muscles to drag you up a second after checking to see if you weren’t in too much pain. 

Standing now, his grip stays around you, propping you up into the crook of his arm and increasingly looking more and more worried. 

When you flinch and whine, he looks about ready to burn down cities to bring you comfort. 

“Riley, come on!” Hesh calls, then softer, “I know it hurts, but you’re doing great. Keep at it just a little longer.” 

He moves you quickly, and the pounding in the back of your head threatens to drown out everything—your neck and ribs barely made a dent like that did. A pan being hit with a spoon. Nails on a chalkboard.

“Logan!” David yells, and he feels incredibly warm. Riley brushes your staggering legs, keeping close and looking up at you. Leaning in more heavily, you gaze up into Hesh’s frowning face, his continued glances, and the furrow in his brow. 

You wonder how you’d never noticed how truly handsome he was before. Hesh had a strong face—good bones and a soft nature to his skin besides the stubble. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. You blink up at him and he spares a stiff smile, mostly dragging you down the alley. 

Other feet pound the ground near the entrance.

“What’s that look for? Huh? Makin’ me nervous over here.” His fingers squeeze your shoulder. “Got something on my face?” 

“You’re kind, Hesh.” You whisper, blinking and stumbling before he grunts, twisting his grip to bring you up into a bridle hold. “Far kinder than you should be.”

His heart breaks.

Clenching your teeth, you bury your head into his neck before the brunette starts to run again. He pounds past Logan and a group of armed soldiers, who slide to a quick stop. Hesh only spares his wide-eyed brother a single, horror-stricken, look on the way through. Riley follows.

“Just keep talking.” He pleads, your dead weight in his grip worse than anything he’d ever experienced. “Y’know, you keep ending up in my arms.” He rounds corners, heading to the MTF with a bursting pulse. Hesh keeps looking down at you, pressing your head closer with a hand as if he could bleed himself to give you strength. “I think I should get my own plaque—Pack Mule. What do you think?” 

Laugh, please, laugh. Please, I need to hear it.

You laugh slightly, ear ringing to his blood flow. You want to melt into him, let him keep holding you like this and keeping you to him like a stuffed animal. His breath on your cheek, his glassy eyes and bitten lips. 

You’d known he was good from the moment you had seen him standing and gaping at your form in that bathroom cabinet, willing to treat your wound without even knowing if you were armed.

He’s good.

Hesh sprints past an entrance, shoulder slamming into a glass door as it’s thrown to the side. 

“Nurse!”

You don’t know why, but hearing his voice crack like that made you want to sob.

—

The soft antibacterial whip made you glower and flinch back, frowning straight into Hesh’s serious face.

“If you clean it anymore my skin will fall off.” You shoo his hand away from your shoulder, pulling the hospital gown back up in the process. 

“Just making sure it’s healing,” he looks up at you from his chair as you sit on the end of the bed. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Says the man who’s been here every day and leaves Riley to watch the door when he has to go to the bathroom.”

“Hey,” Hesh blushes, pulling back to slouch and crossing his arms. “It’s called being cautious. We still don’t know where the breach is.” 

You stare with a soft smile, exasperation in your eyes. 

“David,” he raises a brow at the title, “I’m okay.” 

Moving your hand from your lap, you absentmindedly pet the dog that sleeps on the hospital bed, itching behind Riley’s ears. Hesh watches, moments passing as the small tension seeps out little by little. He glances at the outline of stitches that he has to place bandages on soon but quickly looks away, frowning to himself. 

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“When I heard your voice from the alleyway entrance, I knew I would be just fine.” Green slowly slides back, gaze softening considerably as he watches your expression. A low grunt is forced out, a rubbing of a hand on his neck. “You promised, didn’t you?” Your head tilts. “You haven’t broken it.”

“No, I haven’t,” Hesh breathes, standing, “and I don’t intend to.” 

You smile, face hot as his vision blinks to the upturn of your lips. “Hey,” Riley stirs next to you, “at least I know I won him over.” Your hand pats the dog’s head. 

The brunette stares and a moment passes before he whispers, “knew you would.”

Blinking, you turn to find the most delicate expression on David's face and your breath hitches in your chest. He swallows but doesn’t hesitate. The words had been eating at him for a while, and as he was never one to shy away from speaking his mind, it was like torture to keep this from you. But now…now events have forced him into the spotlight. He can’t forgo this anymore, he can’t lie and say he hadn’t been sneaking glances or daydreaming about you. Your smile, your voice—even the way you walked or how your eyes lit up when you were passionate about something. 

It was just right, and seeing you like this now only strengthened that. Hesh had felt fear like he had when he was carrying you a total of a mere handful in his entire life. 

He mutters, “I knew from the second I found you out in No Man’s Land that you were special.”

Not believing your ears, you stop your petting. Wide eyes like dinner plates and a half-parted mouth. 

Was he…?

“I knew when you made me laugh when I was carrying you through the hills,” Hesh takes a step closer and grabs you lightly by the chin, tilting it up with a finger. His face was adorably burning, but you short-circuit at the words that continue to flow with candor. Your heart skips beats and with a clammy hand, you reach up to brush his wrist. Shivering, confidence builds. “I knew when I hugged you the first night you were here and,” he looked down, “I…I knew you were special when I felt my heart bursting out of my chest when I found you in that alley.” 

“Hesh,” you whisper, and you realize you close the two of you had become, breath mixing like a cocktail of glorious infection and stolen words. 

“If I hadn’t gotten there on time…” 

“Hesh.”

“...Even if I’ve only known you for a short while, Sweetheart, I can’t stop thinking the same thing every time I see you.” You stare, eyes wet, and suddenly no longer aware of where your head is anymore. 

His lips brush yours, but all you care about are those green eyes; digging, drilling past membranes and thoughts more effectively than any blade. You’re entranced, wholeheartedly frozen just for him—just as he is for you. 

It’s nothing but a whisper now. You feel the words more than hear them. His thumb tightens on your chin, and you don’t pull back as you steal his warmth. His kindness. 

His loyalty.

“...that even if I hadn’t entered that house on that rainy Tuesday,” he shutters, “I’d still be looking for you everywhere I went.” 

When his lips meet yours, you capture his soul, dragging him down into the depths of your lungs and breathing hope back into him. You smile through it, bandaged and stitched but happier than you’d been in a long time. 

Pulling back from a soft and delicate meeting of flesh, both faces are heated, burning under the pigments. There’s a moment of sanctity—holy silence one would find in a church during high mass—as you stare at one another. Hesh’s fingers run small movements on your skin. You beam and he says in a whisper, “Hey…I guess that means I did something right.”

“You’re lucky you’re perfect, David.”

“I could say the same about you, Sweetheart.” You giggle and drag him back in as Riley snoozes on, legs kicking in a silent dream. 

When the nurses come to check on you in four hours, they’ll find the bed occupied by three forms. 

A soldier, a patient, and a dog. All curled up in a pile of multiple blankets and hard pillows—arms wrapped around one another with the man pressing the woman’s face deep into his chest; even breaths of a soft sleep that sing like rare lullabies. All, in their own way, seem to have heavy smiles stuck into the lines of their faces.

They leave them be.

TAGS:

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#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod ghosts #david hesh walker #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #female reader #hesh walker #hesh walker x reader #logan walker #riley the dog #hesh walker x female reader #david walker #cod ghosts x reader

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - insanity comes and goes

Hands stuffed in your pocket, you grinned a little bit at the man who was stood in front of you, bat over his shoulder while his people fixed their guns in you.

“So, (Y/N), are you gonna tell me why you’re skulking around home? How’d you get so far?”

“Why would I do that? Takes all the fun out of the game Negan.”

He hummed a little, walking over and he looked at you, reaching up to brush some hair from your face.

“Why not join me? You could have anything you ever wanted here, that prick can barely offer you any food. You tell me what he’s planning and I’ll let you keep your shit, and give you more.”

This had been his play the entire time, Negan was sure that he could turn you against Rick and the others and use you as a double agent.

The issue with that is that was boring, and you didn’t feel like selling out your friends just for some stuff that didn’t even matter in this world anymore.

You smirked a little, and in a swift motion took the bat from his hands.

“Give Lucille back!” He roared.

“Aw is this special to you? You want it back you big baby?”

You raised your brows in suggestion then you moved your hand, flinging the bay across the fence, out into all of the walkers.

“Oops.”

He stormed over, grabbing you by the collar he landed a punch on your face, and he slammed you against the fence.

He sneered, clenching his jaw.

“Whatever game you’re fucking playing, I’m done with it. I’m going to have tour god damn bones sent back to the prick…”

“And I’m gonna haunt your ass until you go insane.” You smirked.

You tossed you aside, and you heard a loud bang before everything went black.

“Get me Lucille!” He snapped.

He looked down at your body, bullet in your head, and he walked past you over to his men and back inside.

He ordered somebody to take your body and throw it to the walkers, and he began gathering a company to pay Alexandria a visit, less than impressed with your visit.

He walked outside, and he was stopped by Simon.

“She’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone? She wasn’t exactly fucking going anywhere Simon!”

“She’s gone Negan, someone came outside to move the body and it’s not there, there isn’t even a blood trail.”

Negan yelled, slamming his fist into the side of the truck.

“Then they find it!”

He got into the truck, balling his hands into fists in pure rage.

He stayed silent as they made their way to the community, and the gates were opened when they arrived.

“Rick!” He roared.

Said man came jogging over, slowly down to a walk.

“That bitch of a friend of yours, you send her to my home?”

“Who?” Rick asked confused.

“(Y/N), because I hate to break it to you but I put a bullet in the middle of her pretty little head, but now her body is missing, so how many did you send?”

“I never sent anyone.”

Negan grabbed Rick by the back of his shirt, dragging him towards his house and the people followed to see what was going on.

He tossed Rick to the ground and Negan took his gun, aiming it at Carl.

“You tell me the truth, or I put a bullet in your goddamn son too.”

“Oo scary.” You mocked.

“What the fuck?”

Negan turned around to see you sitting on the curb, and you grinned, offering him a little wave.

“Holy crap, now either you’re dead and I’m seeing shit, or there’s more than one of you.”

You hummed a little bit.

“No, just want. I don’t think poor Rick here could handle more than one of me, I annoy him enough.”

“Now I remember watching a bullet go through your brain.”

“Oh yeah? What it look like? Was there a lotta blood? Cause that’s always a fun way to die.”

“Let’s fucking find out!”

Negan took Rick’s gun and aimed it at you, pulling the trigger and a few people screamed.

Negan looked around at them all, noticing the lack of horror or sadness on their faces.

“Come on! What’s wrong with your people I just killed your friend!”

You pushed yourself up, rubbing your forehead, and you looked at your blood on the floor.

“Damn, that is a lot of blood.”

“What the fuck?!”

Negan walked over, shooting your again, and he grabbed his bat, hitting you a few times for good measure.

Your blood splattered his clothes and the ground, and he just stood there looking at you, watching you.

“(Y/N)s just going to wake up again.” Carl called.

Negan looked to him, and Carl shrugged a little bit.

“Apparently out of all the people in the world, death just don’t like me.” You said.

You sat up, wiping the blood from your eyes and you watched Negan spun around with a mortified look on his face.

He’d seen some shit, and done some shit, but this? This was something different compared to anything he had ever seen or done.

“What the shit is wrong with you? Why won’t you die?!”

He swung his bat again, this time keeping an eye on you, and he could see the blood stop flowing from your wound, and you grinned a little bit.

“Please keep going, maybe I can actually get a good night sleep for once.”

He took a few steps away from you, and you sat in your own blood, just grinning from ear to ear at him.

“I told you I’d haunt your ass…”

Negan looked to Rick.

“Tell me this shit ain’t real.”

“No, it’s real. Apparently there’s just no getting rid of (Y/N) at this point.” Rick sighed.

You pushed yourself up, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Nope, you’re stuck with my ass until you die!” You beamed.

“This is fucking insane. You’re fucking insane.” Negan said.

You gave a half shrug.

“Maybe just a lot, yeah. Sanity comes and goes.”

You took a step forward and he subconsciously took one back.

The problem with being human was that no matter how big and tough you acted, if you saw something that wasn’t natural, your immediate response is to stay away from it.

So Negan pulled Rick in front of him and you stopped walking.

“What the actual fuck…? Now I got some psychos in my lot, but you? You’re a whole new level of fucked.”

“I know! It’s great!” You laughed.

You bent down, picking up a tree branch and you looked at Negan.

“So, who do you think will win? Me or you? Cause I’m kinda wondering how long it’ll take me to beat the shit outta you with this branch before it breaks.”

“You come any closer and I’ll paint the ground with his blood.”

You hummed.

“Yeah, okay.”

You tossed the stick aside.

“Oh by the way Negan, you should probably evacuate your base.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I maybe have rigged some explosives. I was bored waiting for you.”

Some of his men began running back to their cars and trucks.

“You should probably find them before someone triggers one.” You smirked.

He clenched his jaw, pushing Rick to the ground.

“Run…” you whispered.

You grabbed the stick and ran after them all, yelling as they jumped into their vehicles to try and get away from you.

It made you laugh loudly and you swung it at the door of Negans truck.

“You fucked it Negan! You can’t kill me but I can kill the shit out of you!”

He stuck his middle finger up at you as he drove away and you grinned proudly at Rick and a Michonne.

Daryl put his arm around your shoulders.

“See, this is why we need a crazy immortal son of a bitch.” He said.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“Well, at least that’ll make him rethink his next plans for a while.” Michonne said.

And it did.

Negan was now rethinking what he had been doing there.

People were a resource, he didn’t want to kill them, and apparently no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t kill you.

So he had to find a way to get around that if he wanted to keep doing what he was doing, but a voice in the back of his head was also warning him not to cross paths with you again.

But he wasn’t one to back down from a fight, and this just made things a whole lot more interesting

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead imagine #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #twd imagine #Negan smith #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #Negan smith imagine

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Blood, childbirth, character death

Chapter: 3.03

“Come on, you can do it.”

Jace wraps his small hands around your fingers and manages to take a few steps in front of you before stumbling forward, but you use your hand to break his fall, so your hands are between his knees and the ground below. Jace repeats this action a few times until he becomes too tired and curls into your arms.

Carl claps his hands and says, “Well done, little guy.”

“Wow, big day for the both of us,” Hershel chuckles. “Give it a few days, and me and Jace will be racing each other in the yard.”

Hershel had adapted quickly to his leg amputation and learned how to walk with crutches. He looks great considering how much trauma his body had gone through a few days prior. Hershel really was a strong man. “You’re looking great; it’s good to see you up and about.”

“Well, Beth told me you helped her alter my trousers; I just wanted to say thank you in person.” Now leaning against the wall beside where you’re sitting on the ground, Hershel uses one of the crutches to point at a folded-up piece of paper falling out of your pocket. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” you say as you stand and shove the paper back into your pocket. “Me and Daryl are going on a supply run later; I was just making a list so I don’t forget anything.”

Carl cocks his head to the side. “I thought my dad said we had plenty of food.”

“I need more baby supplies, not just for Jace but also for your new brother or sister as well.” You didn’t want to embarrass your nephew by explaining that your breast milk was drying up. Daryl had overheard you telling Maggie at breakfast and immediately offered to accompany you. Changing the subject, you look to Hershel and ask, “So, how far have you walked now?”

“Only up and down this cell block so far, but I'm going for a stroll outside. Care to join?”

—

“Can I hold him?”

“Sure,” you smile down at Jace, who was trying his hardest to fight sleep. His eyelids would flutter shut, then he'd force them, then he’d whine and open them again. When Beth holds him, he beams up at her before his eyes betray him and close again. “You’re really good with him.”

Beth was only sixteen, and regardless of losing so many people at such a young age, kindness radiated from her. Beth would make such a good mom someday. You smile, noticing the proud look on Maggie, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn’s faces as they watch Hershel walk outside for the first time with his crutches.

Carl raises his gun. “Walkers!”

“Everybody, get inside now!”

You cover Beth as she runs to safety. Hershel hits a walker with his crouch and makes it into the small, fenced-off area with his daughter and Jace. The undead continue to close in on you, their hands reaching out to grab hold of your clothing and pull you down, but you manage to dodge their grasp and continue to fight, the bullets you fire landing in their rotting bodies. Rick, Daryl, and Glenn sprint to the prison yard, but you didn’t have time to wait for them.

“Lily, quick!” Maggie waves you over to join her, Carl, and Lori as they go into the prison.

You narrowly avoid walkers while getting to the doorway. But you’re unable to close the door behind you, knowing Jace is on the other side of the yard. But when you look back, you see that your brother has reached them and is taking the dead out one by one. Knowing your son is safe, you slam the door shut.

As you run from the walkers already in the prison, your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up with the others. You swear you can feel the hot breath of the undead on your heels, and when you glance back, you see Shane. Except it couldn't be him; his body is still on the farm. The walkers' moans and groans grow louder as they close in on you.

“Aunt Lily! In here!”

You run to the cell block Carl, Lori, and Maggie are in. Soon as your nephew slams the gated door shut, while catching your breath, you notice Lori crouching over in pain, her hand pressing against her back. “Somethings wrong.”

“Are you bit?” Carl asks, panicked.

“No, no, the baby is coming.”

A deafening alarm starts to blast through the prison. You clap your hands over your ears. “We need to move; that damn thing will draw every walker right to us.”

—

You manage to make it to the boiler room without coming into contact with many walkers. You help Lori stand; her screams of pain fill the air. She lets out a deep breath. “The baby is coming, now!”

While Maggie helps Lori lay down and take her pants off, you go to Carl, who is terrified and crying. You gently squeeze his shoulders. “Carl, keep an eye on the door for us, just not, okay?”

His voice is filled with fear and uncertainty. “Is my mom going to make it?”

Unable to respond, you kiss him on the forehead and turn him to face the door. He didn’t need to see his mom give birth.

When you hear Maggie saying, “Okay, it’s time,”

You go over to where Lori is standing, gripping tightly onto the metal poles tightly as she starts to push. You're not sure how to help, you let Lori squeeze your hand so tightly that it will probably bruise as she tries to push again.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Maggie says. Maggie holds up her blood-coated hands. “Somethings wrong.”

—

“Mom, look at me. Look at me. Keep your eyes open.”

As you watch Carl cry, your heart breaks not only for Lori but also because you know he’s about to witness his mother dying. Tears stream down your face as the realization sinks in that she was going to die during childbirth.

“I know what it means, and I’m not losing my baby.” She looks directly at Maggie and says, “You’ve got to cut me open.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“You won’t survive.”

“My baby has to survive, please. My baby... for all of us. Please! Maggie! Please!”

“Carl? Baby, I don’t want you to be scared, okay? This is what I want; this is right. Now you... you take care of your daddy for me, all right? And your little brother or sister, you take care.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Carl weeps.

Lori breathes through the pain and says, “You’re going to be fine. You are going to beat this world. I know you will. You are smart, and you are strong, so brave, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Maggie holds onto you while sobbing; she wasn’t ready to perform a C-section with Carl’s knife. The baby was breech, and this was the only way to save them. Lori knew that and was saying goodbye. When she meets your gaze, you immediately crumble. No matter how much she hurt you in the past, you never wanted this.

When you kneel beside her, Lori wipes your tears away. “Lily, when this is all over, you need to do what we talked about; it can’t be Rick.”

“No, no, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can; you need to. And promise me you will love this baby as if it were your own, and you'll take care of Rick and Carl for me. They will need you.”

Kissing the back of her hand, you nod, tears obscuring your vision.

Carl hands Maggie the knife.

All three of them were being so brave. Hershel had taught his daughter the basics of a c-section, so Maggie would take the lead. “Carl, baby, turn around.” Through your blurred vision, you see him still watching. “You don’t want to remember your mom like this; please turn around or close your eyes.”

When Maggie makes the first cut, Lori screams out in agony, and Carl begs for the brunette to stop. Lori suddenly goes still; you weren’t sure if she had bled out or passed out due to the shock of the pain.

“Lily, give me your hand. Lily please.” Maggie places your hand on Lori's stomach, where she needs it. “Keep that site clean, okay? If I cut too deep, I’m going to cut the baby.”

Everything that happens next feels like a blur. The alarms have been cut, and the room remains silent except for the distant growling of walkers. Behind you, Carl froze, unable to talk or move.

“I can see the ear. I’ll hold this open, and you pull the baby.”

You follow Maggie’s instructions and pull the baby out. “It’s a girl.” When the baby doesn’t make a sound, you turn her over and rub and pat her back until her cries fill the room. You sob, “She’s breathing; she’s breathing.”

After Maggie cuts the umbilical cord, Carl takes off his jacket and gives it to you to wrap the baby in.

“We can’t stay long,” you whisper to Maggie. “The walkers will smell the blood.”

“I can’t leave my mom like this; she’ll turn.”

“He’s right,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut, and when you open them again, Carl is pointing a gun at his mom's head. “No, no, no!”

He pulls the trigger.

—

The closer you get to exit, the louder Jace’s cries become, which is a relief knowing you’d see him any second, but it didn’t change the massive gaping wound in your heart. Lori was gone. If it wasn’t for the newborn baby in your arms, you would have thought everything that just happened was a horrid hallucination.

Your voice breaks as soon as you see your brother. “Rick…Rick…”

Upon hearing your voice, he smiles for a split second, but the horror etched onto your face and the baby in your arms, and immediately knows that his wife didn't make it.

“Wh-wheres Lori? Where is she?”

You try to answer him, but only a sob comes out.

When Rick tries to go up the staircase you just came from, Maggie stops him. “No,” she says, grabbing his arm. “Rick, no!”

If he saw Lori as you left her, it would completely break him. Rick looks to Carl, hoping his son can reassure him that Lori isn’t dead. “No…no…no.” He cries, “No, no, no!”

Your heart breaks for the innocent baby screaming in your arms, as well as your brother and nephew. She was born into a world that is so cruel and full of darkness and death. You start to shake, your body wracked with sobs, as the guilt of not being able to save Lori sinks in.

Daryl hands Jace to Beth and comes over to you, his eyes full of concern. He wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder. Softly, he asks, “What is it?”

“A girl,” you say, your voice wavering. “She’s—she’s dead. Lori’s dead. The baby… she was the wrong way.”

Holding you tighter Daryl whispers, “There was nothing you could have done.”

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #Daryl Dixon/reader #tomorrow’s promise #tomorrow’s promise 3.03 #the walking dead rewrite #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixion/reader #daryl dixion fanfic

[redcoralpot]

Can you do Daryl finding out reader is trans? Early season 4, perhaps? :3

Attentu - Daryl Dixon x FTM Reader

Your wish is my command!!

Warnings: Gore, murder, violence, blood, cussing, mentions of transphobia and death, and addictions.

Word Count: 2.6K

You eagerly join in on the medical supply run, despite the group's awful luck. A confession from Bob has you feeling quite guilty about a personal matter...

-

It was dead.

You threw the car battery to the side, sick of the luck your supply group had. Daryl was on the other side of the room, shuffling through drawers in an attempt to obtain the right part. For an auto repair shop, it was horribly disorganized.

“Got anything?” you called over, impatient.

A grin took over your face as he tossed the find at you, catching it in a firm grip, “Nah.”

The car was not in terrible shape, not really. Some rust here and there, with paint scratched off from long road adventures before the outbreak. Your father had a similar car when you were just a child, and he was insistent that he passed on his knowledge, despite your mother’s constant objections. It was not fit for someone like you; that your hands should never be calloused from the tough ground nor covered in grease, she said. He always ended up laughing in her face.

So as he would have it, the two of you got in all sorts of trouble. Hijacking cars, picking locks, prying cabinets open with a pocket knife; all things he said would come in handy one day. Daryl seemed like he had the same type of upbringing, all rough and tumble, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him. That, or he was just really damn good with surviving.

Daryl’s footsteps creaked as he led the way out of the building, shining his flashlight on any possible threats around. Someone had to, as you weren’t keen to look after Bob found an old walker stuck under a desk, ending that misery. It was the only one left. One by one, you circled out of the building, with Bob’s silent trepidation behind you as you arrived back at the car. Daryl opened its hood again, and you both set to work.

His voice was muffled around his cigarette, “You never told us about the group you were with, before.”

You glanced up as Bob replied, “Which one?”

“You know,” he continued, when Daryl gave him a look, “when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking.”

“Why’s that?’

“I was done being a witness. It happened two times, two different groups.”

…

“I was the last one standing, like God intended for me to see it over and over; a curse,” he shook his head, pursing his lips, “but, when it’s just you out there with the quiet, I used to drink a bottle of just 'bout anything just so I could sleep at night.”

“The run to the big spot, I only did it for me.”

You froze, a jug of clear liquid still in your hands. Daryl took it from you, completely unfazed, and managed to get a swig out of it.

He licked his lips, “You gotta keep busy somehow.”

“No, I did it so I could get me a bottle, a bottle of anything. That’s what got Zack killed.”

“That’s bullshit,” Daryl peered at him, “why don’t you get in there and try the engine? Should be the red and green wires, it ain’t rocket science.”

Even as Bob walked away, you stayed silent. Your fingers burned as you rigged the working car battery back in, but never as much as your thoughts. The other man nudged you, urging you to take your hands off as the engine roared in front of you. He clapped his hands and brought them up to his mouth; a sharp whistle rang through the air. Bob’s alcohol troubles seemed to be forgotten by Daryl, since he gave you a rusty smile while you slammed down the hood.

“Nobody coulda’ known, and you ain’t gonna be standing alone. Not anymore,” he reassured Bob.

You huffed, swinging a few plastic bags of gas in the back seats, ducking to join them. Tyreese and Michonne got the rest and the three of you squeezed together with the luggage, closing the door. With that, you left the burdensome place behind.

The ride to the college was short, but Bob still parked a little ways out, and the group set off to walk the rest of the distance. You passed most of the buildings on campus; dull brick that plants jumped at the opportunity to outgrow after a year of inactivity.

“Looks like the building we want is up ahead,” Tyreese stated.

For the first time since Bob’s confession, you spoke, “Are we splitting up? We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Is that safe?” Michonne questioned, and Daryl eyed you.

“I know I can cover myself, if I end up alone.”

The brunette scoffed, and you shifted a glare at him, “You know I can, too. You’ve seen me.”

“I think,” Bob uttered, “it’s a good idea.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, I’ll shoot if I run into any trouble. Meet me back at the car.”

Outside of the Learning Resource Center, you split from the group, sneaking close to the ground. You heard the rest shuffle in the opposite direction with a soft “C’mon, c’mon.”, and let out a shaky breath. Two pairs, then three pairs of footsteps faded away.

The lights of the wing flickered and let out fading sparks as you padded along, dust pillowing up from wherever you stepped. God, the outbreak sure did a number on this place. Shadows grew as abundantly as the plants, but never dulled the smears of blood along the walls, floor, and shattered glass. It cracked and snapped under you, somewhere behind you, and you hissed as you looked at the walls alongside you. There were several doorways leading to different rooms, most likely supply closets or classrooms. Carefully, you dipped yourself into the nearest doorway, a heavy feeling on your back. Your heart pumped wildly in your chest and your stomach had a sick pit of anxiety as you thumbed through the biggest drawers. There were plenty of jars, containers, and vials, but none of them had what you needed. You read all the labels once, twice, the text in messy handwriting or tiny fonts.

Testosterone, in its liquid form made for injections, should be a clear liquid. You knew that much from what your provider told you, and from your own studies. Any colored liquids, or any with particles floating inside, you discarded from your search immediately. You were taking too long, you started to think, or were you? You didn’t know if you were gone for ten or if you have been here for thirty.

Once again, you slid back into the trashed hallway, trying to make your way towards the next doorway. The only things you could hear were your quick breaths and a creak, most likely from the forgotten building. A set pattern was in your mind as you dove into the room, and the haze of adrenaline made it hard to think. Walkers, as the prison liked to call them, were not your biggest concern. Even before the outbreak, it was dangerous for you to step outside; to live your life. If you passed by the wrong person, your face would be on the hot topic of the community for the week after. Getting caught was not an option.

You blinked, trying to clear the thumping in your ears. The vial’s label looked like a foreign language, though you knew it wasn’t, so you peered closer at it. A gust of hot air hit your neck, and again. Hot air. This place was cold.

Your fingers scrambled for the knife at your side, it was there, wasn’t it? You slashed before you could think. Hair scratched your fingers; your knife dug into a warm crevice. The hot air turned into a raw, groaning noise. The hot air stopped. 

You pushed the body to the ground and your blade was released. The blood trickled hot down your wrist. Instead of the red you expected, it was a sludgy, filthy brown. It dripped in slow droplets on the floor beside your shoes. This was the first opportunity to look at the thing, and what a sight it was.

The knife had caved in a part of its skull, which itself was like a rotten, stomped on pumpkin. It oozed and dripped the same muck over the tile, muddying the disfigured face underneath. It made Osbourne’s stage trick look like simple child’s play to anyone who witnessed the act. Its eyes were still open; bulging out in that manic, hungry way only a madman got before the outbreak. You looked away from the mess, your breakfast seizing in your throat, and you busied yourself with getting more testosterone vials in your bag. The most important thing was that it was not human, not anymore.

Stuffing your full hand in your bag, you made a beeline for the doorway.

You should have learned your lesson.

A weight tumbled over you and knocked you to the floor, breathless. It screeched, rabid, like some sort of fucked up dog. If a dog hadn’t eaten for a month, that is. It stunk, too. It stunk so bad that you thought you might die from suffocation first.

It clawed at you, gnashing its yellow teeth. Your hands were pinned underneath the mass and you heard your knife land across the floor with a clang. This was going to be it. The end. It’s funny, isn’t it? Dying searching for your lifeline. You almost giggled at the irony.

The teeth were close to your neck, aiming to kill. To eat until you were nothing but an unrecognizable pile of flesh and bones. You had to do something, and soon. The only part of your body you could move were your legs, and you tensed them up. You were going to survive this, you were going to get back to that car. 

Three.

You struggled to prop your shoulder up, knocking the danger away from your neck. Its eyes were bloodshot and cloudy. As empty as a corpse.

Two.

The walker got more desperate to bite you, wiggling around harshly on top of you. You tried your best to keep your face far away from its own, but it successfully nipped the edge of your nose. This was going to hurt.

One.

Its final noise was a gurgling one, close to your ear. The weight flopped to your right side, stilling its frugal attempt to destroy you.

“You got yourself covered, huh,” a voice remarked.

You wheezed, “Christ.”

“What were you doin’?”

“Shit.”

Daryl stepped over you, pulling his arrow out of the corpse, “I’m serious.”

You finally got your legs under you, and the first thing you did was back a good distance away from him. There was no getting out of this, you both knew that Daryl would know if you lied to him. Yet, he was one of the last people in the prison you felt comfortable telling. Daryl was a classic redneck, with a bigot older brother and a taste for mysteriousness. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up like a wildfire. You would have much rather told Carol or even Michonne, if you had to choose. 

“You know what Bob said.”

“Yeah,” he stated, “but you ain’t an alcoholic. I know that much.”

“I’m not, but that wasn’t the point. I only came on this run for one thing, and it isn’t medicine. It’s testosterone.”

“Why do you need that? You’re strong enough without that steroid shit.”

“I don’t get as much as you do naturally.”

“So a medical condition?”

“Kind of.”

“Even if it was, that don’t explain why you had to sneak away from the group to get it. What’re you hiding?”

“I’m transgender, Daryl. I wasn’t born a boy like you,” you murmured.

There was a parade of footsteps down the hallway, and Tyreese burst through the door, the others close behind. He looked spooked, with sweat dripping down his disheveled face. Michonne and, speaking of the devil, Bob looked no better off.

He exclaimed, “Jesus, there you two are. We gotta go, now.”

“What, why?”

“Walkers. Tons of ‘em. Let’s go!”

You gladly took this chance, shoving past Daryl to dart out into the hallway with the others. Everyone else was rushing, but it was a minute before you also heard footsteps behind you. The infected corpses swarmed the building, even though it wasn’t like that before, and it made you wonder what the hell released them. Your group ran up the stairs with walkers not too far behind, and those trapped banged on whatever surface they could reach. 

“There was a ledge near the fire escape,” Michonne hissed, “we can go through there.”

No one responded unless a quick nod could be considered one, and you were off. Michonne went first, then Tyreese, you, and finally Daryl. Your legs were shaking, and you paid Bob a glance. He tensed up, seemingly trying to gauge the distance, before jumping. He was barely right, and landed a little too close to the edge, teetering off. His arms flailed and an army of bodies from below swarmed up to grab his heavy bag. You rushed to catch him, attempting to pull the man up, but he refused to let his backpack go. 

Finally, you ripped both the man and his bag away from the grasp of the walkers, panting, “What the fuck were you doing? What’s in that bag that could possibly be so important?”

“He’s right.” Daryl took the bag from Bob, zipping it open.

Bob rushed to stop him, but it was too late. Daryl dropped the backpack as quick as he picked it up, and he seized Bob by the collar.

“If I ever catch you puttin’ a bottle before a need, I’ll feed you to the walkers myself. You hear me?”

You froze as Daryl let the shorter man down, pushing him as he did so. Everyone else shot him a disappointed look or a glare, and Michonne waved her hand. You were all to keep moving; the run was over, and on an especially sour note.

The group arrived back to the prison safe and sound, the most daring of injuries being bruises, or small cuts. Tyreese and Michonne left to do their own activities, while Bob left to lick his wounds. This retired Daryl and yourself alone, to an awkward silence. With nothing else to do, you picked at a particularly nasty cut on your forearm. It was starting to look infected.

You cleared your throat, “Do you have anything left in your bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I use some?”

“Nah.” Daryl tossed you his bag.

Carefully, you peeked inside. There wasn’t much left, some disinfectant spray and vials of a clear liquid. No, that couldn’t be, could it?

Testosterone. At least three good vials of it.

You raised them up to your face, not believing your eyes, “Daryl, where the hell did you get these?”

“Grabbed them from that drawer you found the others in,” he refused to make eye contact, “after you left.”

“Why?”

“You might’ve needed more than you got.”

That… meant a lot to you. You had expected him to at the very least ignore you, or even worse, disgusted by you. What were the chances he would grab extras for you, just in case? Instead of yelling or hitting or kicking you out of his life, Daryl did that. If you were being honest, this was one of the weirdest coming out stories to date, but nothing can really beat zombies being included.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Nah. I’m a little confused, though.”

“On the topic?”

Daryl sighed, “Yeah. Wasn’t educated that much.”

“Well, if you want, I could help with that.”

Just for a second, he looked you in the eyes. In that moment, you didn’t see hate, anger, or anything negative. Only a sharp, beautiful glimpse of curiosity.

“Yeah.”

-

#x male reader #male reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #gay #lgbtq #transgender #male y/n #michonne #tyreese #bob twd #coming out #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x male reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #trans ftm #ftm reader #trans male reader

[thechaoticdruid]

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts (1)

Pairing: Astarion x F!Tav

Plot: Tav and Astarion have been settling in to life in the Underdark, trying their damnedest to find a good lead on the Ring of the Sun Walker when suddenly a distress message from an old friend lands them in a place they certainly did not see coming. An extravagant soiree hosted by a very eccentric stranger!

Content/Warnings: First chapter focuses on Tav and Astarion's life so far. Chubby Tav, Tav uses She/her pronouns, Violence and slight gore, brief nudity, suggestive content, mentions of Astarion's trauma, descriptions of a panic attack, Tav based on my own (human druid) Tav. Possible smut in future chapters. Grammar/spelling mistakes are possible. Ooc moments are possible, slight angst, comfort, fluff.

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The dark cold caverns of the Underdark were definitely not anyone's first vacation destination. They were perilous, full of several bloodthirsty beasts just waiting to tear even the most skilled of adventurers apart.  

“HEY ASSHAT! OVER HERE DUMBASS! LOOK AT MEEEE!” A young human woman shouted, waving her arms around like a complete fool.

She stuck her tongue and blew a raspberry up at a massive figure. A towering green humanoid with multiple limbs and multiple heads, only wearing a loin cloth and what appeared to be a belt made of human skulls. 

The human was short, chubby, dressed in a red cloak embroidered with little wolves on it and druidic armor tucked underneath.  She continued to mock the beast pointing two middle fingers at it. The beast growled and began to charge towards the much smaller human female.

“That's it, dumb fuck! Come to Tav!” The druid smirked, getting into a fighting stance and she looked up above.  A flaming arrow came down fast, hitting the beast in one of its foreheads.

It let out a loud low growl of pain, almost immediately shouting something in its strange native tongue. Tav couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was saying, but she was pretty sure it was far from intelligent.  Tav glanced back towards the origin of the arrow with a smile seeing her ivory haired elven lover perched up upon a high cliff. 

“Excellent aim as always, my Star!” Tav cheered. 

“Hells Teeth Tav! Get out of the way!” Her lover exclaimed. The monster lunged over for Tav, seeming to recover from its wound rather quickly before going in to grab the human female in one of its huge hands, attempting to crush her. 

Tav simply smirked before suddenly changing her shape, taking the form of a large owlbear and sinking her claws into the beast's arm before leaping away, using her wings to glide a good distance between her and the monstrosity.

The elf huffed as he reached back, grabbing for another fire arrow only to realize he had used the last one. Looks like he'd have to improvise.

“Ignis.” He recited the incantation before shooting a firebolt right at the creature’s main face, setting it ablaze and allowing Tav to get in some slashes across its lower body. The beast flailed and screamed, kicking Tav in the face and knocking her down into the ground with powerful force before charging towards the elf's advantage point.

“Shit.” The silver haired male cursed before beginning to make a run for it, only to have the ground crumble beneath him.

“Astarion!” Tav screamed, now returned to her human form, pure horror in her eyes as she saw the giant beast slam its body into the ledge her beloved had been standing on. He let out a shout as he began to fall, so close to hitting the ground before a black blur flew over and took hold of the back of his doublet.  Tav growled in anger before conjuring a thorn covered vine using her magic before lassoing it around the monster’s throat. 

Astarion blinked noticing he hadn't hit the ground, the sound of flapping wings and huffing could be heard above him.

“Ugh ... .Star, you're so heavy!” A little voice said before suddenly Astarion was gently placed on his feet. He looked back to see a black fluffy tressym huffing before slowly landing on the ground, very winded from having to hold up the elf with her tiny body.   

“Darling, where in the hells have you been?” Astarion stared down at the little black tressym as she caught her breath. 

“I tried to go catch that half-elf trader before he got too far! I think he conned us on that sun walker map!” The tressym exclaimed.

“You think?” Astarion rolled his eyes before gesturing to gigantic green humanoid.

“FUCK MEEEEEE!!!!!” Tav screamed as she was yanked up from the ground by the enormous creature as it yanked its neck hard, pulling both Tav and her vine lasso and slinging them around. 

“Tav!” Astarion quickly dashed over as Tav went flying through the air. He swiftly leaped up and caught her before tumbling down with her on top of him. “My darling, are you alright?” He asked, voice full of concern. Tav immediately got up off the elven male seemingly ignoring him. 

“I'm gonna kick some green prick’s ass!” She shouted before running back towards the beast.

Astarion huffed in annoyance, his love could be so difficult at times. It excited him back when they had first met. Her eagerness to rush into danger and slaughter her foes without a second thought truly got him going, but now that he had come to care for her so deeply things were different. He was terrified of anything happening to her. Astarion let out a sigh before drawing his bow and notching an arrow, aiming at the head he had previously been able to set ablaze.  His arrow was able to tear right through the beast, leaving blood to pour from its skull. Its other heads roared in pain as the creature flailed its arms around frantically.

Tav then suddenly remembered something she had hidden in her pack and given the creature’s distraction, now was the perfect opportunity to use it. She quickly pulled out a scroll of fireball before reciting the incantation and firing right at the monster, setting its entire body aflame. The beast twitched and spasmed, crying out in pure agony before eventually falling flat on its back, body burnt to a crisp as the life depleted from its eyes. Tav took a deep breath before running up and kicking what was left of the charred corpse.

“Take that you big green bitch!” She huffed. Astarion wiped some sweat from his brow before letting out a sigh of relief as he watched his lover take out her frustration on the carcass. 

“Goods gods. A dire-troll…” The winged cat exclaimed as she scurried over towards the couple. 

“Oh…So that's what this thing was? I had no idea those were in the Underdark.” Tav blinked before looking over at their feline companion. “Did you have luck spying on that merchant, Maddie?” 

“I believe he was making his way back to the Myconid colony. Considering we were almost killed following this map he gave us I think it's safe to assume we got scammed.” Maddie stated.

“You're right. Nothing out here but a dead end and a dead troll.” Tav sighed, stretching her arms behind her head. 

“I told you I thought he was a rogue. Why didn't you tell me you suspected he was scamming us?” Astarion asked.

“I didn't want to crush your hopes of finding the ring of the sunwalker.” Tav sighed.

“Darling, we were both almost literally crushed today.” Astarion crossed his arms. “Perhaps we should forget about feelings if there's a chance we're walking into certain death, hm?” 

“Sorry….” Tav looked down, hanging her head in shame before feeling Astarion's cool hands cup her face and make her look at him. 

“I'm not angry at you, I just don't want you getting hurt on my behalf, love.” He said before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We will find this magic sun ring in time, but you must be by my side when we do.”  He looked down at her fondly, eyes round and full of love. Tav couldn't help but give in to the smile that was creeping its way across her face as she glanced back up at her love. Maddie then suddenly cleared her throat as she looked up at her humanoid companions.

“I do hate to interrupt this beautiful moment my friends, but there is the matter of the man who conned us out of 1000 gold pieces for that map.” The tressym exclaimed, tapping a paw against the ground.

“Right. That bastard owes us money.” Tav said as she pulled away from her partner. “Hmm…You know Astarion, we could always invite him out for bite ...if you have the appetite, my Star.” 

“Oh my love, you know I simply adore it when you treat me to dinner.” Astarion flicked his tongue over his fangs, a sadistic grin making its way onto his face. “I'm salivating just thinking about it.~” 

“I always make sure to take good care of my man.” Tav boasted with a smug grin, giving her vampiric love a wink. “Come on Maddie, let's go pay this con man a visit.

“Yes, of course Tav.” Maddie said before hopping up onto Tav's shoulder and hitching a ride on her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they tracked down the merchant who scammed them, took back their gold and allowed Astarion to have a nice little treat, the trio returned to their current abode to rest up after a tiring day of adventuring in the Underdark.  Tav and Astarion had taken up residence in the old abandoned Arcane Tower after getting assistance repairing it from the Kuo-Toa. Conveniently the fish folk had still believed Tav to be some god of murder and were easily convinced to build her a palace for her and her murderous bride (which was what they referred to Astarion as).

It was less building a palace and more so just doing renovations on the tower to make it more homey as Astarion put it. Once they returned home, Tav went down to the basement with Maddie trailing after her. Since her and her former companions had cured themselves of their tadpoles and defeated a threat to all of Faerûn she'd began to take up some wizard skills, studying the weave and expanding her abilities.

She'd honestly always wanted to be a wizard, but when you grow up in a family full of druids, in a village full of druids you don't exactly have that many options. Tav opened up one of her journals, sketching a little doodle of the dire-troll she fought today before looking through one of the magical tomes Gale had sent to her from Waterdeep. She studied the pages, taking in the different techniques and incantations for fire spells. These definitely would have been hells of a lot more help earlier today. Maddie leapt up on the desk Tav sat at in the basement, stretching out her wings before letting out a yawn and taking a seat next to Tav. 

“Star was asking for you Tav.” The little feline spoke up in her sweet high sounding voice. “He said he patched up the tear in your cloak.” 

“Tell him I said thanks, but I'm busy right now.” Tav muttered, trying to concentrate on reading the current page she was on. 

“He also said something about gagging you and tying you up if you keep ruining the clothes he makes you?” The tressym tilted her head innocently, a bit confused by Astarion's threat.

“Oh well, that's nice.” Tav said, barely paying any attention.  She was too invested in the tome to even hear the noise of the elevator coming down, followed light footsteps moving across the stairs.

“Darling, just what exactly are you doing down here?” Astarion suddenly took a step behind her, causing Tav to jump.

“AH! Hells Astarion!” She said, turning back to see him, crossing his arms. 

“I thought I told that cat to fetch you…” Astarion huffed and glanced over at Maddie with a raised brow.

“I'm a tressym!” Maddie pouted, ears shooting straight back. Astarion ignored her offended demeanor and focused solely on Tav.

“I'm trying to study…You know wizard stuff…” Tav sighed before looking up at her needy vampire boyfriend.  

“And you can't just read this upstairs? With me?” Astarion stepped over to Tav before suddenly planting himself on her lap and snaking his arms around her shoulders. If it wasn't for Tav’s well filled out form he probably would have squished her. The position honestly looked a little funny given he was taller than her.  

“Not when you do stuff like this.” Tav pouted, a blush spreading across her face as he sat on her lap, muscular ass pressed down on her thigh. “I know you don't have much to do when we're here but I need to study. This could be so useful for when we're out there searching for that ring!” Tav gave him a small smile. 

“You already know enough magic as it is, you're a druid for gods sake. I don't see the point in forcing yourself to do this unnecessary work.” Astarion huffed. 

“Please Star this is important to me. Just give me a little longer. Then we can do whatever you want.” Tav hummed, looking back at him with puppy dog eyes. 

“Oh alright. You have twenty minutes. Then you and I are getting a bath.” He smirked before planting a kiss on her cheek and getting up. Tav continued on with her studies before eventually getting up and joining her lover in a hot bath he'd prepared for the two of them. Tav stripped down her armor and undergarments before exposing her thick curvaceous form and getting into the tub beside him. All the stretch marks, creases, lumps and imperfections were completely on show for the vampire to see.

It had honestly taken a long time before she had become confident enough to expose herself in front of him so casually, but she'd come so far.  Not too long ago she'd thought of herself unworthy of having a lover.  Funny how things could change so drastically.  Astarion at times practically worshipped this body she loathed so greatly.

Tav still didn't understand it.

“You know you could probably try finding a hobby, Star. Something besides killing, and me…” Tav hummed a bit as her elven lover washed her messy locks. “You're very good at sewing. Why not try that? The cloak you made for me is gorgeous.” 

“And yet you ripped it.” Astarion rolled his eyes as Tav sat between his legs.

“Technically the troll ripped it.” Tav sassed, before wincing at a slight tug on her hair. 

“Yes well who's fault is that now is it?” Astarion smirked. 

“You fixed it though, didn't you?” Tav grinned, turning back to look at him,“see this is a perfect hobby.”

“You just want me to be your personal seamstress don't you?” Astarion booped Tav's nose playfully.

“Would that be so terrible?” Tav tilted her head.

“Maybe not…I will admit I do rather like dressing you up…. Almost as much as I like undressing you.” He growled in her ear before planting a kiss on her neck. Tav couldn't help but giggle, feeling him wrap his arms around her ribs, pulling her back against his chest before resting his chin on top of her head with a sigh. “This is nice…” He hummed, resting his eyes. Tav let out a peaceful sigh before relaxing against him.

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Peace never truly lasts. Eventually there's always something that comes along to throw one’s world back into chaos.  

Tav and Astarion had gone to bed, all snuggled up in their elegant silky sheets Tav had been able to purchase. She used funds she'd made while writing her popular book series ‘Blood-Mage’ (a ridiculously smutty novel featuring a handsome young sorcerer named Garrett Delarous who ends up forced to team up with Vampire Lord Arian Arcane to save the world or something…).

Tav laid there, bloodshot eyes staring at the ceiling while Astarion tranced beside her, arms wrapped around her plush waist as his head rested against her chest.  Usually Astarion’s embrace was enough to keep her anxiety fueled insomnia away but tonight her mind would not still. Too many thoughts ran a muck in her head, never calming down. It was almost maddening. 

Eventually she shut her eyes, trying her damndest to relax and drift away. She did a little exercise where she'd picture herself sleeping in her mind, thinking of the cool feeling of the sheets, the softness of her mattress and the comfort of her lover's arms.  Tav was so, so very close to drifting away, but then the worse happened.

“No! G-Get away!” A voice whimpered out beside her, sending Tav on high alert. Astarion had jerked away from her. “Master please! No more!” 

“Astarion.” Tav sat up and looked over at her panicked love.  She moved quickly to shake him awake, fearful he may hurt himself in his unconscious state with his thrashing.

“GET THE HELLS AWAY FROM ME!” He hissed, fangs barred as he dug his nails into the bed. Astarion was wide awake now, breathing quickly, frantically. His eyes were filled with terror as tears formed in the corners. 

“My love…. It's me….Tav…” Tav said calmly getting off the bed to give him space. “No one is going to hurt you. You're safe.”

“I….I saw him again….” The elf shakily choked out. “He was reciting poetry…as he carved it into my flesh...” Astarion took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure but he still shook like a leaf. “I'll never get rid of that fucking bastard!” 

“Cazador is dead, Astarion. He will never hurt you again.” Tav said calmly. “I will never let anyone hurt you again…” 

“You can't promise that Tav.” Astarion huffed, “he still lives in my head.”  The druid slowly moved towards him, heart aching as she noticed a tear running down his cheek.  

“You're so strong my love. I know you can overcome these demons, but I'm also here when you need me.” Tav said, slowly taking a seat back on the bed. She moved her hand towards him slightly, but not too close, just close enough for him to grab if need be. It took a few more moments before Astarion glanced back over at Tav, slowly intertwining his hand with hers and giving it a squeeze. “If you want to talk about it I will listen.” Tav said. 

“I don't…” Astarion said simply. 

“Well then I won't pry…” Tav gave him a sad smile. Astarion turned towards her before pulling her close and burying his face into her neck, arms slipping around her waist. She shushed him, rubbing circles on his back in a soothing manor. 

Astarion's old master was dead and gone, but he was certainly not forgotten. Tav knew better than most that the scars of the mind were far worse than the scars of the body.  All she could really do now was stay by her lover's side and whisper sweet nothings into his pointed ears.  

Eventually the two gave up on sleep for a bit. Tav had Astarion sit in one of their armchairs adorned in his eccentric silky red night robe as she scampered over to their cooking pot in only a tank and boxers. She grabbed one of the blood bank jars they kept stored away before pouring some into a mug and heating it over the fire just enough so it would appear fresh. She took the mug back over to Astarion once it was ready and gave it to him.  

“Thank you darling. I.. I'm sorry I must have woken you.” He muttered before sipping from his cup. 

“No. I actually haven't been able to sleep myself. My mind just won't settle down I suppose.” Tav hummed. 

“Were you thinking about the drow again?” Astarion asked. 

“Oh no…I..for once it wasn't him…Just a lot on my mind…Nothing important really.” 

“Tav! Astarion!” Suddenly Maddie's small voice called out as she came up the elevator and into their room.  “There is something very important you guys need to see in the basement!!!” The little black tressym flapped her wings in a panic before galloping over to them. The vampire and druid looked at each other before following their furry and feathered friend downstairs before eventually being met with a familiar face. 

Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep…or his projection self anyway. 

“Good evening, I come with an urgent message from Professor Gale of Waterdeep. He is in grave danger and is in dire need of your help.” The projection said.

“What? Can't the wizard take care of himself for one evening!” Astarion let out a frustrated sigh before crossing his arms.

“What happened!? Where's Gale?” Tav asked.

“The details of his predicament have been left enclosed in an envelope on your desk.” 

Tav hummed in confusion before walking over to her desk and tearing the envelope open. She expected a letter or maybe some cryptic message entailing that Gale was being held hostage in some dungeon somewhere, but no, all that stood out was an invitation to a formal extravagant soiree being thrown by some noble in Waterdeep. 

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Note From TheChaoticDruid: THIS IS THE SURPRISE I'D BEEN TEASING A WHILE BACK! I honestly wanted to do a fic like this ever since I'd seen people asking for a fancy party type of quest in BG3 and I was like yeah.....I want that too! Imma have to do some research for the next bit so don't expect super fast updates, but it will be continued.

Hope you enjoyed! And to all the people who recognize Maddie, you get this cookie 🫴🍪. Y'all are the real ones. 😎

~Druid

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion my beloved #bg3 tav #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion #astarion x chubby tav #astarion x chubby reader #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #oc tressym Maddie #My tav #druid tav #human tav #chubby tav #bg3 x chubby tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #wicked eyes and wicked hearts #DAI homage

[gothushi]

simon walker sub headcanons

im literally in my element i love writing sub men🫶🏻 cw for impact play, gun play, pegging. ill elaborate on any of these if asked:D totally forgot the time change was tonight so it might be 4am… i’m a bit delirious

he literally adores you. you are genuinely his angel and he’d do anything for you. bat your eyelashes in a pretty pout or stare him down with lidded eyes and he’s saying yes immediately

speaking of, when the circumstances are right it takes one look from you to have him sinking to his knees before you

gets really whiny. whines a lot, whether he’s begging, complaining, just overall making noises

puppy eyes for days. it’s really hard to say no to him

likes being slapped, hard. will literally beg and beg or be a brat until your palm finally meets his cheek and he’ll whine and grin up at you to plead for more

tug his hair, dig your nails into his skin, down his back, his front, on his thighs (bonus if you have longer nails/acrylics and make him bleed. he obviously gets babied after as you put neosporin on the cuts and he’s just laying there like purring with happiness)

if we’re talking about brendan era, and you know he’s a cop, he’ll let you play with his gun. unload it, hold the cold barrel under his chin while you ride him, to the back of his head whilst you peg him, it makes him flush hot red down to his chest and makes his dick throb. he gets off on the power play of it

likes you marking him, (just like the scratches) he’ll allow you to mark up his chest, thighs, hips

PLEASE leave hickies on his hip bones, inner thighs, it makes him squirm and his eyes teary. tie his hands above his head so he has to whimper and whine whilst you spread his knees apart and mark all up his thighs, ignoring his leaking cock

never ignore him affection wise as a punishment, it will genuinely hurt his feelings. he needs to feel loved and wanted, even if he wants to be treated nasty

he craves filthy, sweaty, drooling, messy sex just as much as he craves lit candles and massages and slow needy lovemaking

if you make him ride you, he will probably cry about it. he’s fit obviously, but it makes his thighs ache so good, his core burn, he isn’t used to doing this a lot. but he looooves the soreness it leaves for a day after, whilst he’s out and about working with that dull ache in his ass and leg muscles

if you have a deeper dynamic together, he likes kneeling at your feet on a pillow with his head laid out on your thighs, sometimes hugging your leg. it grounds him and lets him just relax and not think for a while. if there’s no deeper dynamic outside of sex, let him lay down on your chest or in your lap and play with his hair

i said this before ill mention it again, yk how he was panting when brendan slammed him against the wall? yeah. that. lots of that when you’re fucking him. panting, whining, whimpering, acting like a feral little animal

cums a lot. like. a lot. he can’t help it. he’s messy

loves kissing whilst you’re fucking. drooling all over your chins, biting at your lower lip, gasping, the whole nine yards

oh, call him a pervert. that gets him aching in his jeans and blushing all red

#neil newbon #neil newbon x reader #simon walker #simon walker x reader #sub!simon walker

[multiplefandomwritings]

the pain comes in waves

pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

warnings: mention of injury and blood, canon typical violence, swearing, angst

summary: on the way back from a supply one, something goes terribly wrong.  

notes: feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests!

disclaimer: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 3.8k

Pain crashed over your body in a wave so powerful it knocked you down. For a moment you thought that you had overlooked a walker crawling on the ground, giving it the perfect opportunity to slam its teeth into your left leg.

You had walked through the forest on your way back from a run to a town nearby. It had been empty, no walkers, no human, not even animals around. It was peaceful and quiet and for a moment you considered staying overnight. But you couldn´t. The rest of the group would be worried sick, they probably already were. You had taking longer than anticipated, stumbling into the town. And through a miracle, it was not raided yet. You took as much stuff with you as you could, remembering the exact location so that you and the others could return. You felt like a pirate who had just dug up a chest full of treasures.

You made your way back, hastily, so that the night would not stretch out its fingers after you. Darkness was dangerous, and the thought of being alone here in the darkness scared you, even though you would never admit it.

The pain was blinding, and you had to blink a few times before you understood what happened. The wave of pain, your walk suddenly stopped in its track, had planted you on the ground, falling backwards, landing on your back hard. It had knocked all the air out of your lungs.

You looked down at your leg and realized that it was engulfed in the spikes of a bear trap, four of the eight metal teeth buried deep in your flesh. You groaned. This was bad. For a moment, you laid back and looked towards the sky. It was blue and beautiful, sunshine falling on your face, and you scoffed slightly. It was warm, but not too hot since a little breeze softly caressed your skin and the branches of the surrounding trees slightly quivered.

It was spring, your favorite season, and you debated whether it was okay to just die here, surrounded by green trees, blooming flowers, the blue sky above you and the sound of water flowing steadily in the little creek next to you.

You closed your eyes for a moment and inhaled. It was not. Your duffel bag, that laid a few inches to your right, was full of stuff the people, your family and friends, needed. You propped yourself up on your elbows and thanked your father that he had been an avid hunter. He had showed you how a bear trap worked when you were just a kid.

You closed your eyes, just for another moment, thinking back to different days. You still remembered the day everything went to shit so vividly. It was a normal evening for you. You had just come home after work, and since you were hungry and tired, you decided to order a pizza.

You had kicked off your shoes straight after entering your apartment, checking the news on your phone. Apparently, a new kind of drug was around, turning people crazy. You shook your head, and searched for a contact on your phone. When you found it, you called the person. Like always, he picked up almost immediately. “Hey Glenn. You workin´ today?” “Hey, yup, I am. The same as usual?” You laughed. “Yes Glenn, thank you! See you in a bit.”

Glenn was a friend of yours, and your life saver. You had met him on your first day here, when you had ordered a pizza. You thought he was cute, and the two of you exchanged numbers that day. You even went on a couple of dates, only to mutually realize that you were better of as friends.

Sometime later, frantic knocking on your door. “Open the fucking door, Y/N!!” You stumbled towards the door, and before you even opened it at all, Glenn pushed himself him, slamming the door shut. “Y/N, I think the fucking world is ending!” You had turned on the TV, both shocked at the picture and the news of the dead now walking the earth. Videos of people biting each other, frantically shouting, people dying. Until suddenly, the power went out.

This moment felt like a lifetime agon. It could have happened last week, or five years ago. Time was not a concept anymore; it was a phenomenon. Glenn and you had stopped function upon seeing these images. Then, autopilot had started in you, and you had gathered your black compound bow, and other items you had deemed helpful. You had snuck out of the apartment building, with nothing more than a big backpack full of clothes, and a few memories of your past life.

Both of your families had lived far away from you, and you knew there was not a slight chance of ever finding them again when you saw the state the world was in. There was only one person you were close with around, and that was your dad. The two of you had jumped into your blue Honda Civic, somehow avoiding the… dead people roaming the streets.

Your dad lived in the forest, outside of Atlanta, and he was still alive when you arrived. He had lots of weapons, being an avid hunter, and for a while life was good. Until it was not anymore, and the forest had suddenly crawled with walkers. You had lost your dad that day. The only thing that you were able to keep of him, apart from a few weapons that did not mean anything, were his hunting knife and one of his flannels.

You and Glenn ran through the forest hand in hand, he pulled you with him, as silent tears streamed down your face, blinding your view. You were alone with Glenn, running, your lungs burning, until suddenly there was another face, a living face. You found yourself looking at a man wearing a leather vest, aiming his crossbow at the two of you. It did not bother you. He could have shot you right there and then, you would not have cared.

“Why ya runnin´ around like tha`?” His accent was thick, indicating that he had lived his whole life in the Southern warmth. Glenn started rambling, while you were silent. You starred holes in the air, almost apathic, yet you were very aware of your surroundings. You took a shaking breath, knowing that you needed to continue. Suddenly, you lifted your bow, grabbed an arrow, and aimed at the man’s head. He was fast, but you were faster. Before he could aim at you, you shoot the walker that had tumbled in your direction, your arrow sticking out of its skull as it fell on the ground.

Daryl didn´t want to admit it, but you had intrigued him. You had looked so weak, so fragile and he had already loathed taking another useless person back to camp. But suddenly you had shot a walker far behind him, even though you still had tears in your eyes.

In a life before this hell, you would have most likely never looked at a man like Daryl Dixon, and he would have hated you. You were one of these perfect, fragile ladies that looked at him with disgust if they even looked at him. You had the perfect life your mum and stepfather always wanted you to have. You had gone to a prestige university, with other rich kids that were just like you. Despite they were not. You hated it there, but you were too caught up trying to be the person your mum wanted you to be that you would have never thought saying this out loud.

In a sense, the apocalypse that freed you from your shitty life, and you could be the person you really were. Fierce, and strong, and a fighter. The only time you had felt like that before the end of the normal world was when you visited your dad. He took you for who you were, and even though he did not have a villa where you could live, or the same amount of money your mother had, but his old, creaky couch felt more than home than your mother’s house ever did. And he took you hunting, taught you how to defend yourself and he sparked the love for archery in you.

And he taught you how to set up and open a beartrap. You opened your eyes and started to hastily pull the lash with your shaking fingers. The tremble only increased when you heard the rattling breath of a walker close by. Before you were able to open the trap, it stumbled over to you and fell right on top of you. The movement twisted your leg, the spikes digging deeper in your flesh. Desperately did you try to pry the walker off you, holding it away as far as possible with one of your arms, while you were trying to reach your weapon.

Back at the prison, Daryl stared to feel uneasy. You were supposed to be back a while ago. And while you were not the most punctual person – it was the apocalypse after all, and who knew what time it was anyway? – you were always, always back at least two hours before the sun set. Some found that weird, but Daryl knew you. You were afraid of being out there alone in the dark, and you would rather leave two hours early than the possibility occurring that you wouldn’t be back before dark.

He nervously chewed on one of his nails, his eyes darting around. Maybe you were back, and he just didn’t notice? But you always, and by that he meant every single time, made sure to look for him straight after returning. It had become a habit after you had become the second hunter at the camp. While most of the time the two of you went together to look out for each other, every time one of you went out alone, either of you made sure to let the other know when you were back. Since moving into the prison, and taking care of the many people from Woodbury, you needed more food, which resulted in Daryl and you going alone more often. Yet, you always let each other know when you were back.

You had somehow managed to hold the walker off and grabbed a stone laying close to you, smashing its skull in. One good thing did come from the encounter – the rush of adrenaline had the pain disappear for a while. You used the momentum and pried the trap open. The moment the metal spikes were removed from the wounds, blood started to gush out. You took off your belt and tied it tightly above your knee to stop as much blood flow as possibly.

You exhaled sharply when you somehow pushed yourself up. The pain was excruciating, almost unbearable. You had never felt such a thing before. Grabbing the duffel bag, you rushed through the items you had found, pulling out one of the orange medicine boxes – and thanked the Earth that you had found painkillers. You took quite a few, possibly too many, but you had to get back. The others needed you and the items in your bag. You swallowed the pills, looked for a stick that could support you while walking, and then you started your journey back to the prison.

Daryl walked around the yard like a caged animal. The sun was almost setting, and you still were not back. It was maddening how helpless he felt. Ever since he noticed that you were not yet back a few hours before, he had found himself in a downwards spiral. What if there were still some crazy Woodbury people out there that were like the governor, and what if they had hurt you, or worse, killed you? Or what if a horde had met you somewhere on the way? What if, what if, what if? Daryl wanted to scream, he wanted to run out in the woods and look for you, but he knew that would not help. You could be God knows where and they could not spare to lose another hunter. And so, Daryl could only wait and hope that you would be back in one piece.

Someone you managed to drag yourself further one step at a time. The pain was intense, even after the many pills, your vision was blurry from the blood loss. You knew that you couldn´t take a break, because if you would have, you would have possible just stayed there until a walker came by to chew on you. It was almost dark now, and you still had quite some way before you. You needed medical attention, but that had to wait until the morning. Suddenly, you remembered the little hut Daryl and you had stopped somewhere around here a few weeks ago. Hastily, you made your way there, knowing it was your only chance to stay alive for the coming night.

When the sun started to set, Daryl did not know what to do with him anymore. He had not attended the shared dinner, so Carol grabbed a bowl for him and walked over to the place where Daryl sat. She had a bright smile on her face which dropped when she saw the pure panic in Daryl’s eyes. Carol sat the place down on a nearby table and rushed over to the man. “Daryl, what is wrong?” “She hasn´t come back, Carol! Y/n… She´s still out ther´ and she´s afrai´ of the dar´ and I oughta go wit´ ´er, but she went alon´, because she´s selfless like tha´ and what if somethin´ happened to ´er?” The woman frowned at the man in front of her, who seemed like he would fall apart any minute.  

Carol didn’t know what to say, so she just stepped forward and engulfed the man in a hug. When they parted, she looked at him. “Daryl, listen to me! Y/N is one of the strongest people I know, even if she ran into trouble, she knows how to get out of critical situations! So far, she always came back. “But what if this time is different? What if she never comes back, and my stupid ass never told her tha´ I loved ´er?”

You had luckily found the cabin, slamming the door shut and with the last amount of strength in your body, you pushed some piece of furniture in front of it. You knew that you would not be able to stay awake and alert tonight, and that you needed the rest. Hence, you barricaded the door to ensure no unwanted visitors would stumble upon you tonight. Sitting down on the field bed that was on the room, you pulled out some medical supplies and looked at the wounds on your legs. Your stomach turned when your eyes fell on deep gashes, and you knew you had to do something. Suddenly, you remembered Daryls brother and how he survived cutting his own hand off by cauterizing the wound.

You swallowed, hard. You knew that if you kept these wounds opened, you would be either dead in the morning or too weak to continue walking, which would lead to you dying either way. So, you grabbed some firewood and turned on the oven in the little cabin. After the fire was big enough, you pulled your knives out and starred at them. You knew that you had to do this two times, and you weren´t exactly sure how you would manage one time without falling unconscious.

You heated up two of your knives, pulled the belt tighter one more time and bit down on a piece of closing. Sounds would attract walkers, and you were too weak to fight them. Grabbing the knife, you decided it was now or never, and then you pressed down hard. A whimper left your mouth none the less, the pain being excruciating, your eyes fell shut. Yet, you kept going another time before wrapping the wounds in bandages. You fell asleep soon after, not being sure if you were going to wake up in the next morning.

Daryl had spent the entire night on watch, despite everyone telling him to get some rest. But he couldn’t. If you were to come back, he would be the first person you were to see. He would engulf you in the biggest hug, no matter who would be there and he would just fucking tell you how much you meant to him. He was devasted, and a wreck. Carol had stayed him the most night, followed by Rick. They did not want their friend to be alone, so they kept him company, starring in the dark to see if they could spot you among the walkers that were lazily wandering the field.

When you woke up, you felt a tiny tad better. The wounds still hurt, but the dizziness was almost gone. You pushed yourself out of bed and realized it still hurt like shit, but it was bearable. You collected all your belongings, pushed the piece of furniture out of the way and continued your journey towards the prison. It must be early in the morning since it was still rather dark. Since you were still limping, you figured that you would arrive at the prison by sunrise. With the prospect of proper medical attention, a warm bed and finally being able to see Daryl again, you made your way towards the prison.

The sun slowly started to creep into the day, and you were still not back. Carol had just convinced Daryl to step of the tower to at least eat a few bites for breakfast, when Glenn shouted down. “It´s Y/N, she is back!” Daryl was sure he had never run faster in his life than in this moment. Almost flying towards the gate that was being pulled open by Maggie and Rick, he ran out onto the field and straight towards you. You looked like hell, your clothes dirty and full of blood. He opened it was just walker blood, but when his look fell onto your limping leg, he knew some of it was yours too.

You had barely stepped out of the trees and onto the grass when you heard shouting from the prison. The gate opened and you could see Daryl running towards you. Despite the pain, you limped faster in his direction. When he reached you, he engulfed you in a tight hug, before looking at you. You could see the worry in his eyes, and you softly smiled at him. The sudden feeling of safety made all the adrenaline leave your body and your legs gave out under you, as you fell unconscious.

Daryl had picked you up and rushed you inside the prison, making his way through the crowd that was forming and brought you straight to Hershel. He stayed by your side the whole time, even though Rick and Carol had to push him back a few times so that Hershel could do his work properly. Everyone gasped when Hershel exposed your leg. It didn’t look good. It was swollen and red and the burns looked terribly painful. Everyone wondered how you made it back alive.

First, Hershel didn’t think that he would be able to save your leg, but amidst the chaos of the duffel bag, he found valuable medicine and medical supplies. So, he was able to save your leg and stabilized you, but you just wouldn’t wake up. It had been two days since you had returned, and yet you still were sound asleep. Hershel argued that you possibly just needed the rest, but Daryl couldn´t bear it. You had come back to him, but the possibility that you wouldn’t wake up again was still there.

Daryl had become intolerable, he didn’t talk, and if he did, he snapped. He had spent day and night next to you, holding your hand, changing your bandages, and taking care of you. Today, Carol decided that it had been enough. He needed rest, or at least distraction, and the people needed food. Daryl left for the woods, only when Carol promised that she wouldn’t leave your side.

The warm sun was shining on your face when you slowly opened your eyes. Carol noticed the commotion in the bed and looked down, finding you with open eyes. “Thank God, Y/N. Welcome back in the world of the living!” “What happened?”, you asked confused, and Carol told you everything that had happened since you collapsed in the arms of the gruff hunter.

After Hershel checked up on you, you declared that you needed some fresh air, and some sun on your face. With Carol on your left and Maggie on your right side supporting you, you limped out of the cellblock and to the courtyard. They sat you down in a comfortable chair, and after a while everyone came to talk to you and express, how happy they were to see you well.

When Daryl passed the gate and stepped into the courtyard, he heard a laugh and a voice he would always recognize. He sped up his steps and suddenly, he saw you, sitting in a chair, enjoying the sun. As if you sensed his presence, you looked up and your eyes met his. He dropped his kills on the next table, as he walked over to you. You lifted yourself up, and the group of people surrounding you left to give the two of your privacy.

You tumbled a few steps in his directions, your leg still unsteady, barely holding your weight. But before you could fall, he wrapped his arms around your waist and engulfed you in a tight hug. Once he let go, Daryl helped you to a bench close by and the two of you sat down. There was no distance between you, his arm was brushing against his body, and suddenly, he took of your hands in his.

“Don’t eve´ do that again!”, the man besides you said, holding your hand tighter, “I wouldn't've known what to do if ya aint came back!” You sighed. “Daryl, I can´t promise you that this will never happen again. This world is dangerous and we could die every day.” He nodded. “I kno`. That´s also why I need to talk to ya. At first, I was scare´ to fall in love with ya, because I know I couldn’t live with myself if anything happene´ to ya. But a while ago I realized that it was kinda too late for that – I fell in love with ya, y/n and I wante´ to tell ya for a long time, just never really had the balls…” You squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “I like you too, Daryl.”

You rested his head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around you. It was a silent promise that from now on, the two of you would protect each other, no matter what.

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl imagines #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd #glenn rhee #the walking dead imagine #carol peletier #rick grimes #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader

[hockybish]

Turning

l Brock Faber l Brock Faber x Dancer l masterlist l

"Five, six, seven, eight." Maggie Walker counted out loud to herself as she spun around.

"Knock, Knock" A voice called into the studio she was renting. Brock popped his head in. "Hey Mags" he smiled.

Maggie ignored that man standing in doorway, continuing to work on the big turn sequence, it needed to be perfect. She needed to be perfect. She wasn't going to be the one that messed up by falling out of a turn or hesitating on the aerial. The dance team had a legacy to uphold.

"Hello? Maggie? I brought dinner, you want some?" Brock interrupted her concentration by holding up a bag full of their favorite foods from Chipotle.

"What you and Sammy not want to cook again?" She chirped noticing what he had brought along to share with her.

"Something like that or maybe we don't have any clean dishes." He joked along with her. He started to unpack the bag. Setting up a makeshift picnic on the side of the room. He looked up at her when he was finished expecting her to come eat.

"You go ahead start eating. Gotta keep working on this." Maggie began again.

She pliéed deep, pushing off the floor, going into the same turn she been working on. She went into that side aerial. She must have place her foot in the wrong spot because instead of flipping over she slipped and fell.

It was whatever. Maggie got back up, prepping to do the sequence one more time. The result same as before. She hesitated before the flip and help. Slamming her fist on the ground in frustration.

"Take a break Margret Walker. Eat something, you can try again afterwards" The rookie defenseman rushed over to help the dancer up.

Maggie nodded letting Brock guide her to the food that for sure had cold by now. Nonetheless she still began to eat the chicken, rice, bean, cheese and salsa burrito bowl. She used a chip to scoop up a chunk of the mixture for a bit of added crunch.

"Feel better?" Maggie nodded with a toothy smile. She made sure not to eat too much of the filling meal, she had to get back to work and she had a late night class to teach.

The elite dancer got into place. She taking a deep breath, she pliéed and began to spin but it was short lived. She started felling the nerves again. Getting into her head, Maggie lost count and fell out.

"Do you think you could count for me?" Brock agreed and Maggie instructed him on the tempo.

Maggie got back into her starting position as Brock started to count. "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight" Split jump down to a roll, formation change, roll again, pirouette á la seconde times 10, aerial into three more pirouette á la secondes, and finishing off with two regular pirouettes.

"I got it!" "You did it!" The two friends cheered jumping towards each other in excitement. They ended closer than they thought with their noses practically touching and his hands on her waist.

Brock's eyes were focused on her lips. He felt as though he should kiss her. It's not like her hasn't ever thought about it before. It was more that, her brother's one of his good friends and teammates. And you don't date your teammates sisters. But she was so pretty and funny, kind and -

"Oh my god, is that the time? I'm gonna be late for class." Maggie slipped away, hurriedly collecting her things. Her feet were out the door before she turn back to him. Standing on her tip toes she kissed him.

Pulling back she grinned at him "We'll finish this later"

#brock faber #brock faber x oc #brock faber x dancer #brock faber x walker!sister #brock faber x reader #nhl blurb #nhl imagine

[sexualtensiongrowing21]

Prompt//Get locked in somewhere together.

Liam Dunbar X OFC Lahey

TW: None?

Word count: 1469

Clara and Liam never got along. Since the first time that they met at school, they have despised each other. Clara thought Liam to be arrogant and hot headed while Liam thought Clara to be stuck up and a know-it-all.

They have been arguing back and forth for the past ten minutes and the rest of the pack is sick of it. Liam just brought Theo back insisting that he can help with The Wild Hunt, while Clara thinks that they should send him back to the Skin Walkers. While some of the pack agree with Clara, she is being harsher than needed.

“Are you really that dumb?! I mean, is there honestly nothing in that head of yours!?” Clara shouts while waving her hands around.

Liam's face is getting redder by the second. Everyone knows he wouldn't hurt her… again… But they can tell he's getting angrier and angrier by the second. “Well tell me what your great idea is, huh?” He steps closer to her “Just stand around while people get taken?!”

Clara doesn't back down and gets in his face “Of course not! But we should at least try and come up with something better. I mean, how could you be such a dumbass Dunbar?!”

Liam opens his mouth to respond but before he is able to get anything out Scotts steps in between them. “Okay. Okay. You guys are done.” Scott looks to Clara and points upstairs “You, go sit in my room. Take a minute to calm down.”

Clara sends one last glare at the werewolf and stomps up the stairs and slams the door. Taking a minute to cool off as her heart hammers in her chest, she decides to head to Scott's bathroom and splash some water on her face. Letting the cool water calm her down, her breathing and her heartbeat slows.

The door opens and Liam is pushed through, while the door slams shut behind him. He immediately turns around and starts shaking the door knob.

“This isn't funny Scott! Let me out!” he yells banging on the door. Clara leans against the bathroom counter and crosses her arms over her chest.

Scotts voice is muffled through the door “No. You two need to figure out how to get along. Me and the rest of the pack are sick of listening to you two bitch at each other all the time. Figure it out.” With that, Liam heard Scotts footsteps growing quieter and there was no longer a heartbeat to be heard.

Silence overtakes the room. The only noise to be heard is the sound of the bathroom fan that seems to be broken. After ten minutes Liam stops banging on the door and sits on the ground with his back leaning against the bathtub.

“This is all your fault, you know.” Clara states but doesn't look at the young werewolf in front of her.

Liam scoffed while picking at the lint off of his leans. “You're the one being a bitch. I don't even know why you're part of the pack.”

Claras nostrils flare. She was part of the pack because of her brother Isaac. When he was bit, he begged Derek to take his sister with them. She didn't want the bite, but Isaac couldn't leave her alone. They only had each other, so from then on she has been part of the pack. Helping in any way a human could.

It was Clara's turn to scoff. “You're right. I'm just a human, but how many times has this human saved your ass? Too many to count.” Liam rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. It's true. Clara has saved him on multiple occasions. Clara was just a human, but her fighting skills amaze him. She can definitely hold her own during a fight. He just can't stand how she constantly has to be better than him, and how low she clearly thinks of him.

They have been sitting on the bathroom floor for an hour without speaking a word. Clara starts thinking about how when Liam is quiet he is actually pretty cute. She has always noticed how attractive he was. He is amazing at lacrosse. Watching him play is truly entertaining. They have gym together and sometimes he will do that thing where guys lift their shirt up to wipe the sweat off of their face, exposing their stomach. She cant lie and say she has caught herself staring a time or two, but then he opens his mouth and ruins it. He always has to be so cocky.

Liam knows that she is looking at him. He can always feel when her eyes are on him. She tries to hide it, but with being a werewolf he can sense it. Claras looks always make him nervous, though he will never admit it. She is beautiful and smart as hell. How could anyone not be nervous around her? When they were first introduced by their friend Mason, Liam couldn't stop staring. He was mesmerized. All he wanted to do was talk to her, but she didn't seem interested so instead he did what he always does. Act cocky. Needless to say, she wasn't a fan. From then on the two couldn't stand each other.

His butt getting sore from the hard ground, Liam stands up to stretch. His shirt rose some in the process.

Catching Clara's eyes he smirks. “Like what you see Lahey?” She presses her lips into a thin line. “Until you opened your mouth.” She spits and stands up while glaring at him. She wouldn't admit it, but sitting on the ground while he was standing above her was a little intimidating.

“You know what your problem is? You think you’re so much better than everyone.” Claras mouth gapes open. “I do not.” She whines while crossing her arms across her chest. This causes her breasts to press together and Liam struggles not to let his eyes wander, as she will definitely notice.

“You do. You always have to know everything and you're always correcting people.” He's towering over her now and she's backed up against the counter again. “Did it ever occur to you that I try so hard to know everything because I'm not supernatural like the rest of you and want to help!?” She exclaims, face hard as he takes in her words. No.. That never occurred to him before. He just thought she wanted to be smarter than everyone else.

As if calculating her words his head tips side to side slightly. Then a thought pops into his head. “Well, how come you hate me then? Since we met you decide you hate me.“ Deciding to tell the truth she looks up at him “Because. I hate cocky assholes. And you Liam are a cocky asshole. ” She yells at him, throwing her hands in the air.

“So you hate me?” He asks with the slightest hint of sadness, lacing his cocky tone. “Yes.” Her heart rate picked up and he heard it.

“You're lying, Lahey.” Liam responds with a smirk. The same smirk that she hates that she loves. “In fact, I think that you like me.” He presses closer to her, his nose centimeters from hers.

“I do not.” Clara breaths out.

“You're forgetting one little detail. I can tell when you're lying.” He looks from her eyes to her mouth and back.

Lips barely touching hers he hesitates for a moment. Giving her the choice to push him away. But she doesn't. Instead she throws her arms around his neck and pulls him as close as he can be, crashes her lips to his. He's quick to drop his hands around the back of her thighs and lift her up on the counter stepping in between her legs. She lets a squeal of surprise out when she's lifted.

Their kiss is heated. Hungry. Her fingers scrape his scalp pulling on the longer hairs on the back of his neck, as his hand wanders along her thighs and back up to her waist. Every inch of them is connected.

As soon as his hips come into contact with hers she lets out a little moan. But before they can go any further the bathroom door swings open. They pull away in surprise to see Scott standing at the door with a cocky smirk.

Clara is straightening her shirt and patting down her hair and Liam combs through his. Both of them flush from the heat of their activities.

“You two figure out your differences?” Scott asks with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Both teens nod their heads. Too embarrassed to speak.

“Good.” Scott nods his head and walks away from the door frame. “Malia! You owe me $30!” He shouts leaving the two stunned teenagers behind.

*If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!*

My asks are open for requests!

Masterlist

#liam dunbar #Liam Dunbar imagines #Teenwolf imagine #teenwolf fanfiction #imagines #teenwolf #dylan sprayberry #liam dunbar fluff #fluff #dylan sprayberry imagine

[ashtheketchum]

A new family Part 10

A/N: This is the final part of this story! But I'm already working on a few scenarios and other little stories with Daryl! (Pic from Pinterest!)

Warnings: Mention of rape, mention of abuse, mention of death

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Masterlist!

________________________________________

PoV (Y/N):

We ran out of the lab until we were at the glass walls that would lead us outside. Again we tried to open those doors, but this time I helped. I took a metal bar and hit the glass. Daryl hit it with an ax, Tdog hit it with a chair, and Shane also hit the glass a few times. But nothing helped. "Rick, I have something that might help…" Carol suddenly shouted. We immediately looked at Carol, who handed Rick a grenade. Rick looked at her quietly for a moment before I ran past him. “Do it now, Rick!” And immediately the police officer at the time responded by placing the grenade there. "Everyone down!" Daryl shouted and we all laid on the floor. I laid over (D/N) and pressed us both firmly to the ground.

After just a few seconds, the grenade exploded and the glass wall shattered. I stayed still for a moment before (D/N) climbed up and pulled me up. “Come on, Mom…!” Before I could react, someone grabbed (D/N) and pulled me up.Daryl held (D/N) tightly against his chest and he brought us both out. Since there were still a lot of walkers out there, he pushed (D/N) into my arms and he cleared a path for us, just like Rick and Shane. We ran as fast as we could to our cars. "Mom, where's Dale!?" I heard (D/N) ask. "I don't know, sweetie…"

“Ge´ in the car, now!” Daryl shouted and he staggered us towards him. I hesitated for a moment before running over to him and pushing (D/N) inside. I climbed after her, then Daryl and he pushed us both as deep as he could. He lay protectively on top of us when we suddenly heard the huge explosion. The cars jolted and we felt a brief wave of heat before everything became quiet.

When we sat up again, we saw that the entire CDC was engulfed in flames. Black smoke rose into the air and the walkers moved towards the fire. (D/N) also looked out the window before gently shaking my shoulder. "Mom! There are Dale and Andrea!” She then exclaimed with relief. I immediately smiled happy when I saw the two of them running towards us. They got into the RV before Daryl then exhaled loudly and rubbed his face. "We have ta ge´ outta here…" And with those words, Daryl climbed into the driver's seat, I sat between him and (D/N) again.

We drove further and further away from the city before we had to take a break. It was far away from the city, but closer to the forest. Daryl stopped the car before looking at me and (D/N). I stared out the window as (D/N) looked away from Daryl. “Are ya okay…?” He then asked. He no longer seemed aggressive, but more concerned and gentle. But (D/N) didn't want to talk to him, she didn't make a sound. "Yeah… we're just… in shock…" So I answered quietly. "I'm going to Sophia and Carl." (D/N) said suddenly before running out of the car.

She slammed the door and ran to the RV, which was only four meters away. "He, don' just run away!" Daryl shouted, but before he could get out I grabbed his arm. (D/N) got into the RV before Daryl then looked at me confused. "You scared her…" I murmured quietly. "Wha´? She should be afraid of tha´ crazy doc, no´ me!” "You hurt her and reminded her of her father! I am her mother and I protect her, even from you!” I then snapped. Daryl looked at me in shock for a moment before looking out again.

There was a brief silence between us, but I hadn't released my grip on his arm. Daryl didn't scream, he wasn't angry, he wasn't annoyed. He was just quiet. "Wha´ do ya mean by tha´? Why did I remind her of her old men?” The archer then asked. I swallowed hard before exhaling loudly. "Your actions at the CDC… the aggressive behavior, the way you pushed her… everything reminded her of her father…" Daryl only now seemed to realize what he had done. He wanted to get out, but I grabbed his other hand. He immediately jumped and looked at me in shock. "Leave her alone for a while… she wants to calm down… it was all too much…" I then asked him.

My eyes looked pleadingly at Daryl and luckily he listened to me. He relaxed for a moment before withdrawing his hands and rubbing them over his face. "Wha´ did her old men do…? Wha´ did he do to ya to make her happy she killed him?” I stayed quiet again. Why did I hesitate? Her father was a terrible person. But somehow I couldn't let go. I kept thinking about him. "Her father… was a terrible person… I… was in the same situation as Carol… we were beaten every day, locked in, not given anything to eat… and he raped me…" I then murmured quietly.

Daryl remained silent, but I could see that he looked a little angrier now. "When the walkers came… he ate our supplies and kept sending us out to find more food…" I now looked Daryl deep in the eyes. But my eyes showed no remorse. Just sadness and fear. "We then left him to the walkers and fled… before he could even follow us, he was torn apart by the walkers. I saw it. And (D/N) heard it…" Daryl looked at me quietly before exhaling loudly. He looked out the car window before looking back at me. "How´d she react?" "Not the way she put it at the CDC…" I couldn't say anything more.

Daryl remained silent before placing his hand on the back of my head and pulling me closer to him. He put my head on his shoulder and kissed my head. "Tha´ sucks…" I had to smile for a moment, Daryl really wasn't good with words. But who could blame him? How else would you have reacted in such a situation? I wouldn't know it myself. "Give her some time… and then apologize… Please…" I murmured quietly before looking up at him.

His blue eyes looked at me uncertainly for a moment before he nodded. "I'll do it…" he just mumbled quietly. I smiled softly before gently pressing my lips to his. The redneck flinched briefly, but then kissed me back gently. I closed my eyes and melted into the kiss. When we leaned away, Daryl immediately looked away and I could see a slight blush on his cheeks. "Let's get outta tha´ car and hear wha´ Rick says…" He just mumbled before getting out.

PoV Daryl:

After Rick told us what we were going to do, we went back to the cars. (Y/N) walks up to me and taps me gently. She pulls me a little closer to her and whispers something in my ear. When she was finished, she broke away and then went to Lori and Rick and talked to both of them. I looked after her uncertainly before looking at (D/N), who was sitting with Carl and Sophia. I took a deep breath before I walked up to her and knelt down in front of her. Carl and Sophia looked at me briefly before getting up and walking away. (D/N) stayed still, but looked at the ground.

I cleared my throat briefly before looking away. " He... We have ta drive on straigh´ away… you wanna ride the motorcycle with me?" I then asked her. (D/N) looked at me uncertainly for a moment, her gaze briefly went to Merle's motorcycle and then to my face. She tugged at her shirt before looking back down. "I could show ya how fast tha´ motorcycle can go… and maybe I'll show ya a few tricks while huntin´…" I then murmured quietly. Now she looked up again and her eyes sparkled briefly. I gave her a brief, strained smile before she stood up and nodded. "Okay…" She then said quietly.

I stood up again and placed my hand on her head. I ruffled her hair firmly before leading her to the motorcycle. We put it out and I put her on it. "Wait a minute, where do you want to go!?" I suddenly heard someone calling. (D/N) and I watched (Y/N) as she walked towards us and looked at us suspiciously. She also crossed her arms. "Daryl wants to show me how to hunt and we wanted to ride motorcycles." (D/N) then said happily. It was good to hear her happy again.

(Y/N) opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, she looked at me sternly and I pressed my lips into a line. "Ya mean´ I should apologize ta her with things I'm good at…" "I didn't mean anything like that." Her voice was stern and I looked back briefly at (D/N). The little girl looked at me pleadingly before looking down. "Well… okay, we'll go hunt a bit and I'll show ya at another time, ´kay?" I then suggested.

"Good." "Come on!" (Y/N) and (D/N) uttered at the same time. (Y/N) turned around and then went to Dale and Tdog to discuss the next step with them. My gaze stayed on her all the while before I heard (D/N) call my name. "Daryl!" "Hm?" I just grumbled quietly. "Why did you give up so quickly?” She then whimpered loudly. I had to snort in amusement for a moment before I lifted her off the motorcycle and stroked her head. "´Re ya crazy? I’m no´ arguing with yar mom when it’s about yar life.”

Even though (D/N) was pouting, I could see that she had to hold back her laughter. "Wha´?" “You’re a afraid of her.” She then laughed quietly. I hissed briefly before flicking her forehead. "No´ true. I just respect yar mom…" After I said this, I looked back at (Y/N) who was talking to Lori. I had to smile for a moment before I felt (D/N) grin at me. God, I couldn't be mad at either of them, but at the same time I could knock the grins off both of their faces. "…okay, maybe I'm a lil´ scared…but don' tell her anythin´, otherwise she'll allow herself to do too much." I then whispered quietly to (D/N). "I say nothing. Now let’s go hunting!” And with these words she ran towards the forest.

I chuckled briefly before stopping and running after her. "He, kid! Don’ just run awa´ like tha´! Damn it!” I then shouted after her, with my crossbow in my hand.

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Im so happy your write for Hesh!!! Could I request Hesh and reader who was training to be a ballerina before ODIN and became a nurse because she wanting to help others? I love writing so much!!!!

Dancing With Scalpels

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: It's strange, maybe you'll have to thank Hesh's dog for breaking his ankle - otherwise, you'd have never met him.

WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Broken bone, mentions of death, but mostly fluff

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You hum as you organize your desk, taking up papers in your hands and sliding them under the metal holder of your clipboard with a clack of material. The medical ward was slow today, and while that was a good thing, it left you with little to do besides paperwork and re-cleaning your space. 

Glancing over your own handwriting as you carefully place the clipboard back down on your desk, you sigh and stretch your arms above your head. You listen to your bones crack before dropping them, eyes sliding around until they finally land on the picture, which sits on the tabletop like a silent reminder. 

It’s been about five years since ODIN struck, since the world shifted and broke, but you still find it in yourself to look back on the past with fondness. The images of your troupe, all dressed up in flowy finery and posing in your pointe shoes, were a deep comfort to you. 

Most of them were dead you knew, yet in that image, they still lived and breathed—had the sway of their feet and the grace of their arms to display to an awaiting crowd. Their smiles had never faded. As you stare at that picture, bodies trapped in time, you hear the stomp of booted feet coming in from your open door; ears perking and attention zapped away. 

The soft smile on your lips disappears, a sheen of professionalism coming back like a curtain over a stage. You blink and latch onto the shadow of a man who limps slowly into the view of the opening. He’s about to pass by, a large grimace on his stubbled face, before you call to him.

“Sir?” Your feet take you out from the desk, quickly skirting around the chair before you’re about three feet from the tall individual. “Are you alright?”

The man is in his late twenties, burly and strong with wide shoulders and the tapered waist of an athletic build. He’s wearing recon gear atop a gray jacket, staps and guards interlocked like the fingers of lovers while he struggles to properly place his left foot on the floor. 

Wisps of brown hair stick out from under a black beanie. It looks like he’d stopped at the armory first, coming here after dropping off his weapons. 

The stranger’s green eyes blink at you, the tightness of hidden pain stuck in the lines near his pulled lips. His strong jaw works, pulling a nonchalant smile that looks more like a poorly done wince. 

“Hey,” he clears his throat and has his hands clenched at his side. “Sorry about barging in, there any nurses available right now?” 

“You’re looking at one,” you tilt your head to motion inside of your room, hand coming up to rest on the wooden frame of the door. “Do you need help walking?” 

“Nah,” a wiry chuckle, gloved hand waving in dismissal. “I got here alright, I think a few more steps won't—” 

His limp foot catches on his good one as he turns, and with a panicked widening of his gaze, the brunette stumbles as a sharp noise of alarm echoes. Your eyes widen. Before he can slam his face into the ground and create more problems, you dash forward and loop your arms around his waist, his gear digging into your scrubs. You grunt and take the full weight of him for a moment before the injured man snaps out a hand to the doorframe and quickly struggles back to his feet. 

You stare and watch his cheeks go red, his eyes darting away with an embarrassed chuckle. 

“Ah…sorry about that, Sweetheart.” You huff and cross your arms. 

“Quite the show for ‘I think I’ll be just fine.’” A flash of a smirk goes across his square jaw.

“Well, maybe your beauty just made me lightheaded.” At your unimpressed stare, he shakes his head and questions, “That bad?”

“Very,” you joke, smiling and rolling your eyes. “C’mon, let’s get you looked at before you end up breaking your nose, Soldier.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Ma’am.” You hook an arm around his waist and let him lean on you, his limb resting along the span of your shoulders and his injured leg weakly trying to help you along. Halfway to the examination table, he grunts out, “Name’s Hesh by the way—don’t think we’ve met before.”

You smile and say your name. “Transferred in from Dallas two weeks ago. Was told you needed more nurses here after a Federation attack near the Wall.”

“Then you were told correct, thanks for stepping up.” He’s set down with a huff and a grimace, his eyes swimming with annoyance at his leg. “Damn thing.” 

You turn and wash your hands in the sink, slipping on sterile gloves as Hesh undoes his laces. 

“Sorry for droppin’ in like this, I tried to play it off but I think it’s broken.” You look over your shoulder and tense—the pale skin of his ankle was a deep black and blue, and the foot was somewhat twisted to the side. 

“Well, shit,” you curse and Hesh blinks up at you sheepishly, sending a stiff smile. “It’s good you came by when you did. What happened?”

The man’s hand goes to run over the back of his neck. He seems highly embarrassed about something.

“Ah, well,” he plays off a small twitch of his lips, “Riley, my K-9, he, uh…he managed to dart after a hostile before I could see him. Shoved me right to my ass and down a ravine in the process, actually.” 

You have to put your wrist to your mouth to stifle a giggle, kneeling down to gently grab onto the affected limb. 

Hesh takes in a tiny breath as you gently move the appendage, grumbling through a strained smile. “That funny, Doll?”

“Well,” you easily detail, “all I’ll say is that I’m sure it was something to see firsthand.”

“Tell that to Logan, my brother wouldn’t shut his mouth about it all while draggin’ me back. You try listenin’ to him while you’re half passed out—that was even worse than the pain.” You hum, chuckling.

This Hesh character was quite the casual talker, conversation with him came easily. You touch the skin of his ankle and quietly apologize when he hisses, noticing the swelling of flesh and sighing. Moving it from side to side and asking him if he’d broken his ankle before.

He answered in an affirmative—playing football in high school.

“Sorry to say this, but you’re right, Hesh, definitely broken. I don’t need to see an X-ray to know that.” He groans lowly. “Let’s get this all sorted and get you out of here, hm?” 

There’s a long sigh. 

“...Yes, Ma’am.”

Over the course of hours, you take various X-rays and scans, looking for the point of most contention and finding it in the form of a break in the lower tibia; it was clean, luckily for him. No bone shards or anything of that sort.

“I’m beggin’ to know if I need surgery, Sweetheart.” Green eyes lock with yours as you push him back into your office, the wheelchair squeaking under him. You smile gently at a few other nurses who pass—they nod back with a teasing smile at the man below you. “I’m on the edge of my seat, here.”

“I’m not the doctor, Hesh,” you chuckle, tilting your head. “I legally can’t tell you that.”

“Legally?” His brow raises. “C’mon, the world fell apart—there’s no Risk Management anymore.”

“Are you sure Riley didn’t intentionally push you over the edge of that ravine?” Your eyes narrow, a joke in your eye. 

A slow smile grows on Hesh’s lips. “That hurt, Ma’am.” 

You scoff and shake your head, wheeling him into the previous room and leaving him to go to the paperwork on your desk. Grabbing it, you open your top drawer and deposit it away for another time. Gliding up beside you, Hesh sighs and glances around as you tidy up. 

His eyes find the framed picture on your desk. 

“Whoa,” the brunette utters, locking onto your form in the middle of the group. You blink and look to the side, noticing his staring. Face going hot, you raise a brow in question. “That you?” 

Hesh wheels slightly closer, leaning forward but respectfully not touching any of your things. You restrain a wide smile at his intrigue. 

“Why else would I have a framed picture of ballerinas on my desk, Hesh? Of course, it’s me.” You pick up the frame and tilt it his way, resting your hip on the side of your desk as he takes it gently, delicate with your belongings. “Two years before ODIN—we were in Europe for a competition.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, sliding you an awed glance. “You must be really good.”

“Was,” you laugh, shrugging. Hesh confusingly looks up while you explain the best you can. “It’s been so long, plus I gave it up when everything went down; went to get my qualifications to be a nurse and help out.” Hesh looks a bit sad at that, sneaking a glance back down at your bright smile in the picture. 

“Looked like you loved it,” he commented, handing the frame back after a moment of thought. “I’m sorry.” 

You’re slightly taken aback by the apology, oddly touched by his sudden seriousness about this. After a slow inhale, you hum. “It’s alright, Hesh. That’s just life—it’ll take us places even if we want to go or not. We just have to make the best of it.” 

“You’re happy, though, Sweetheart,” he asks, eyes not faltering, “right?” 

It’s not a feeling of uncertainty that makes you hesitate, it’s the way he asks you so genuinely; honest with his intentions. Rarely have you had people—soldier or civilian—come in here and speak to you like this. You stare with slightly-parted lips.

A bashful smile blooms on your lips. 

“When I’m helping patients like you, Hesh, yes. Yes, I’m happy.” The man stares a moment longer before he clears his throat and glances down, contact broken; a crimson sheen infects his face. 

“Good. That’s good.” Even if he’s not looking at you, a grin still twitches his lips; making your face go heated and warm with something else entirely. Hands stuttering over your frame, you put it down where it was and lick your lips, smiling at the tabletop. 

When the doctor comes in, you let Hesh speak and pipe in with anything you needed to include, the air suddenly tinged with something between you and the soldier that you can’t put words to. It’s so potent even the doctor sends you a raised brow on the walk out. You avert your eyes and itch at your cheek. 

“Least I’ll be able to get back out in the field quicker,” Hesh sighs, taking off his beanie for a moment before itching at the top of his head. “If I’d of had to go under, Logan would never let me hear the end of it.”

“You and your brother sound like you’re constantly nagging at each other,” you huff. 

“Shit, what else are we good for?” The both of you share a laugh, eyes crinkling. There’s a moment of intimate silence before Hesh splays his hands and speaks.

“I’m gettin’ a splint, then?” You internally curse yourself as Hesh’s lids narrow on you, head tilting with a deep smirk. The trance is broken.

“Until the swelling goes down,” your head nods, fingers motioning to his ankle. “Then a cast for twelve to sixteen weeks.” 

“Hm,” Hesh looks away and thins his lips, seriousness slipping back into his expression. 

Staring, you ask carefully, concerned, “Hesh?”

“No,” he shakes his head, the smirk coming back as if it never left, “No, it’s just that’s a long time to not be able to take you out, is all.”

Your face blanks, heart all but stopping in your chest. The man watches you closely, slowly slipping his beanie back on his head with an innocent smile.

“Too forward?”

“N-no,” you stutter, face heating to an alarming degree. “No, I think that one was just right.” 

Shaking your head quickly you brush down your top and listen to Hesh’s bright chuckles as you gather your bearings. It’s after you sigh and look back into those greens that you laugh and utter, “I think I’d be willing to wait.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your face can’t stop smiling at the teasing tilt to his words. “Now, I’d hate to make you sit around that long, Sweetheart.” “Hesh, I’m agreeing to go out on a date with you, take it or leave it,” you huff in exasperation, staring at him with a loose expression. 

His eyes lighten, the stain of happiness leaking through.

“You proud of yourself?” 

Hesh looks smug, but promptly states, “Didn’t think I’d get this far, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your loud laugh.

As promised, fifteen months later, there’s a knock on your office door—you stand and think nothing, opening the barrier only to find a large bouquet of flowers and the man holding them up to you. 

Your face softens and Hesh returns a warm hum of greeting. 

“Hope you’ll forgive me for bein’ late, Doll,” his eyes crinkle. “Was learnin’ how to dance. C’mon, I got some moves to show off—we’ll get you back in those pointe shoes in no time.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod ghosts x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty x you #x female reader #cod fanfiction #hesh walker x female reader #hesh walker x reader #david hesh walker #hesh walker #david walker #call of duty x reader #cod x female reader #x fem!reader

[calmcoldevening]

Hi! I read your (Yandere) Chris Walker x reader and it's so cute! The bit where he tries to cool off when he is angry in order not to scare reader in particular caught my attention. Could you please do some hurt/comfort where he accidentally snaps at reader and yells at her (something like him saying "What?!" in a particularly loud voice), so she tears up and he apologizes right after? Thank you!

Chris Walker x reader

Tw: a little violence, blood, murderer, hurt/comfort, a little yell at you

Chris was never angry, no. He always tried to stay collected and calm, even when life, if the old days could be called that, turned into hell, he still tried to stay calm and follow security protocols. So it seemed to him. But due to the constant stress and torture of doctors, his psyche was definitely shaken, giving a crack to sanity.

A man couldn't even think that he could hurt you, not you. You were his joy of life, his sunshine.

You wandered around an abandoned hospital together, which was filled from head to toe with psychopaths. He was trying to find a way to get you out of here as soon as possible. In this darkness, his flower can die.

You tried to snuggle as tightly as possible against a strong male body, hoping to find solace in it from all this horror and immorality. Everything around you seemed like a real nightmare, and only Chris was keeping you from fainting from an overabundance of stress right now. You looked around the country, trying to protect yourself and your loved one from any danger.

In the distance, you saw strange flickering dots, and the next moment a massive, blood-covered body rushed at you from the darkness. You wanted to scream, but you were abruptly thrown aside. You rolled down the wall with your back, covering your mouth with your hand and trying not to cry. Less than five minutes later, Chris's rough hand slammed the scoundrel's skull against the next wall with special cruelty, the brains leaked out of the cracked skull with an unpleasant slippery sound and smeared on the dirty tile. The victim's biological fluids were mixed on the coke into a disgusting mess, staining the already ugly carpet. The cracking of bones did not stop for some time, until Chris was convinced that the man's head looked more like an ugly plasticine than a human head. The corpse fell limply to the ground.

Chris stood over this semblance of a man, if you could call it that now, and breathed heavily. Hot breathing was coming out of his mouth, and his fists were clenched tightly. His nostrils flared, and his artificial smile seemed even more frightening in the dark.

The man turned in your direction. He seemed to scan the darkness in front of him for a few moments, and then unerringly grabbed your wrist. The grip was painful, as if he was deliberately trying to break your bones. Your hand burned unpleasantly, and your fingertips were already starting to go numb. You bit your lower lip almost to the point of bleeding, trying to distract yourself from the pain, and almost plaintively muttered his name.

"Chris..."

He didn't hear.

"Chris.. p-please, you're hurting m-me," you mumbled more insistently this time, to which a muffled growl is heard in response.

"What?!"

He looks down at you with his empty milky eyes full of anger. He squeezes your hand a little harder, and you scream. Finally, the gears in his head turn, and he quickly lets go of your wrist.

Chris didn't understand how it happened. In an instant, one of these moral freaks ran towards you, and a difficult white lightning flashed before Walker's eyes. His mind went blank, and the next moment he realized that he was squeezing your wrist with force.

" God.. sorry, sorry.." he muttered dully, stepping back and brushing his massive body against some shelf.

Chris felt terrible. He tried to protect you, but in the end he made it worse. His thoughts raced madly through his skull as he tried to stop all these surging feelings. He's dangerous to you... He hurted you, and now you're probably afraid of him... No, no, he can't let you be afraid, he just wanted to protect you, he didn't want to hurt you.

Your soft touch on his chest pulls him out of his thoughts. Chris looks at you wearily, at your tear-stained face and swollen red eyes. His hand involuntarily reaches out to your face, stroking your cheek.

"Little pig.. sorry..."

He takes a cautious step forward, hoping not to scare you any more, and scoops you up in his arms. The man hugs you tightly to him, gently cradling you in his arms. He whispers tender words in your ear, showering your face and neck with warm kisses.

"..never again."

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