#waiting for lori to wake up so they can back me up here

[sipsteainanxiety]

hhhh i am ignoring any and everything i am in a happy little bubble writing my happy little fics for bkg who is thriving and healthy <3 nothing is wrong <3

#go to sleep shay it's late o'clock #if yall dont tag leaks ill scream #i mean what? <3 #bnha manga leaks #mha manga leaks #tagging those just in case i guess #fr tho... i have not seen them and i wont bc again #i am not caught up w the manga and have no idea whats going on #but i doubt hori would let anything BAD bad happen to bkg #hes a coward smh #everything is fine<3 #my friend pointed out tht its a shounen #like come ON #hori would never!!!! #waiting for lori to wake up so they can back me up here #call me delusional all u want </3 at least im .. happy???? #???? #its 5 am i dont have the time for this i need to sleep

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 10 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Ahhhh, my babies, we've finally reached the chapter I've been itching to tell you about for ages! And I cannot WAIT to hear what you think about it!

We left off in Chapter 9 with poor Lori fighting physical exhaustion and a gamut of feelings for Elvis (who's being a stubborn idiot), and when they arrived home to Graceland, their frustrations came to a head. Elvis finally confronted her about her past and a terrified Lori didn't take it well.

Now in Elvis' perspective, we pick up immediately after her collapse. He is mortified and lovesick and convinced that he's harmed her beyond repair. Oh, Elvis. 💔

Like I said, I can't wait to hear your screams about the twists in this chapter, so please don't hold back! 😁 I hope you enjoy!

Much Love! xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: Please scroll to the end only if you need them--I don't want to spoil anything for those who hate spoilers!

Broken Glass Chapter 10

Shit shit shit shit, Elvis chants in his head as you vomit violently onto the pavement, go grey as a ghost, and your terrified eyes roll back into your head. His lean arms wrap around you quickly when you collapse, keeping you from falling into your own sick or hitting your head on the ground.

“Shit,” he curses, out loud this time, following your center of gravity and scooping you up into his arms. “Lori! Come on, darlin’, wake up f’me,” he pleads softly.

Your body seems awfully tiny and much too light for someone who’s presence he can never truly ignore, even when he wants to. His heart slams in his chest, his blood already up from his temper, though it fizzled out the moment you started shivering and sobbing and apologizing like he was sending you to the gallows. The look of resigned fear on your face was enough to give him nightmares and that was before you’d lost consciousness.

He is no stranger to fainting women, it being a staple of his fame since almost the beginning. While he never could quite understand why he of all people caused such a reaction in young ladies, he was always as calm and gentle as he could be. It was his fault they got overexcited, after all—they couldn’t control it just as much as he couldn’t.

But this was different.

You certainly hadn’t passed out because you were overcome by the joy of his presence. Instead, you look like death, and he’s not remotely calm about it.

“What the hell happened? What’d you do to her?” Gene asks accusatorily, running up behind him, followed by the rest of the guys in various states of concern.

“What’d I do…? Shut yer damn mouth ‘fore ya catch flies, ya idiot, and go call the doctor,” Elvis huffs back, hoisting you up into his arms, swinging around, and hightailing it towards the house.

The fear that lances through him at your pallor and lifelessness hits like a knife. The seed of anger he’s held on to so tightly this last week withers at the thought he’s done real damage here.

This is my fault.

He’s not exactly sure how but he knows. He only had to take one look at your face when he called you out to understand you hadn’t meant to hurt him and your past scared you enough to risk the lie. Stupidly, he’d wanted the satisfaction of confronting your wrongdoing, for you to have a smidge of the hurt he was feeling.

But he never wanted this.

How could he have missed something was wrong? You are so damn strong, meeting every challenge thrown your way that he never considered you might be unwell. Selfish idiot, he chastises himself.

He comes close to kicking down the door to his home, but Charlie scoots around him fast enough to open it before he resorts to property damage.

“Come on, Little Bird, wake up for me,” he murmurs softly as he oh so gently sets you on the long sofa. He hates the boneless way you settle, eyes closed and completely unconscious. Nerves shudder down his spine and he doesn’t bother to hide them.

“Did someone call the damn doctor?” he yells at Charlie.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s on his way.” Charlie has the sense to look worried, unlike his idiot cousin who peers over his shoulder.

“Wipe that dumbass look offa your face and go get her some water!” Elvis snaps at Gene, who looks at him wide eyed for a moment before disappearing.

Brushing a lock of hair off your forehead, he holds and rubs your cold little hand in his as he quietly talks to you.

“I’m sorry, Lo, I-I-I shouldn’t’ve come atchu like that. I-I realize now that, um, maybe you had your reasons f’not telling me ‘bout your past. I jus’ thought you knew you could trust me, and-and it hurt that you din’t and sometimes I just get so mad I can’t see straight but I shouldn’t take it out on you…” he rambles quietly, “Please jus’ wake up, now, you gotta wake up, honey. I can’t do this without ya.” The admission falls breathlessly from his lips, soft as snowfall.

His heart plummets when he thinks about all the ways he’s taken his anger out on you this past week—ignoring you, throwing girls in your face, making snide comments—and his ego wants nothing more to justify his actions, but in truth, you were right. He had been playing mind games and not communicating why he was upset. He should have just asked you about it right after Frank spilled the beans instead of punishing you for something you didn’t even know he’d found out.

Lord, his mama would have his hide for such childish behavior.

Shame flames his cheeks and worries surround him like a dark cloud until the doctor shows up. You still haven’t so much as stirred and it has him nibbling at his nails—a nervous old habit he’s never quite been able to kick.

When Dr. Shaw arrives, Elvis shoos away the audience of men who’ve crowded the living room when he wasn’t looking. At least they all have the sense to look concerned.

“What happened?” Dr. Shaw asks, setting his bag down next to the couch.

“I-I-I don’t know exactly, one minute she was fine, well maybe not fine cuz we were in a bit of a disagreement, ya see, and well, she, maybe she was worked up? One minute she was standing there and the next she lost her lunch on the pavement and passed out,” he says, unsure if he’s making any sense.

“Did she hit her head?” The doctor asks, examining your hairline.

“Naw, I caught her before she hit the ground.” His leg jiggles uncontrollably, wondering if you’re okay, wondering what he could’ve done differently.

Dr. Shaw looks at Elvis over his glasses, taking in his nervousness. “Has she been ill otherwise?”

Elvis blinks. “Um, I-I-I’m not sure.”

The doctor is one of the only people who knows about his illness, who you really are and what you are doing here, so it’s unsurprising he looks a bit incredulous. “Elvis, you’re spending all of your time with this young woman, and you don’t know if she’s been ill or not?”

More shame bleeds through his chest and settles like a stone in his stomach. His face flushes red hot and the temperature in the room seems to have gone up without him noticing.

“Um, no, I-I guess not, sir,” he mumbles.

He knows his faults, and generally being uncaring isn’t one of them. But these past few weeks, he’s been thinking mostly about himself. His feelings. How your secret affected him. Not how it affected you, or why you might need to hide it. You’d tried your best to take care of him, apparently to the detriment of yourself.

No, he’d been mighty careless with you, and spitefully so.

Dr. Shaw gives him a pursed-lip look.

“I, well, now I know the new hours are keepin’ her busy, what with how I gotta live and all. I-I-I guess she’s seemed tired?” Elvis adds, desperate to fill the silence.

He doesn’t feel he can share all the other pieces, like how you’d been on the run from your mafia fiancé who’d…

Oh, Lord.

Dread rolls in his stomach when he realizes his misstep.

The nightmares. You quivering in terror on the bathroom floor. The bruises. Bruises he’d seen staining your body in places no bruise should ever be. The way you’d flinched when he touched you roughly.

Your fiancé had done that to you. That man was the reason you fled New York.

How stupid he was for not putting it all together sooner. Your fiancé hurt you, and you tried to escape the only way you could.

And Elvis was so afraid of loving you, so consumed by his own feelings, he punished you for it. Just another man in your life punishing you for something that wasn’t your fault.

Fuck.

His gut rolls, leaving him queasy. Through his horror, he wonders if you’ll ever be able to forgive him. If you even should.

Your little moan steals his attention as you stir slightly on the sofa.

“Lori?” he asks, jumping to, wanting you so badly to wake up so he can apologize, so he can make it up to you. “Please, baby, you gotta wake up now. The doc is here.” He grabs your hand and doesn’t even care how desperate he sounds.

“Mmm?” Your eyes flutter open and his heart swells to see those crystal blues start to focus.

“What happened?” you moan quietly, rubbing your eyes.

“You, uh, you got sick, darlin’ and then fainted,” he coos but there is an edge of disappointment in it, in himself.

Your eyes narrow and then widen with what he assumes is your memory coming back. He watches the trepidation and embarrassment fill your eyes. You slide your hand out of his, shirking back from him, and his heart crumbles a little.

I did this.

“Dolores, can you tell me what happened? How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.

Your attention pulls away from Elvis, your trepidation clouded by your struggle to focus.

“Oh, I’m sure I’m fine, probably just carsick from the bus ride,” you say, voice wavering, unconvincingly trying to blow off the concern.

“You’re not fuckin’ fine,” Elvis snaps before he can stop himself.

Your eyes widen and Dr. Shaw clears his throat.

“Excuse my language,” he apologizes, then tries to continue more gently, “but you’re not. You’re always gettin’ on me about not tellin’ you what’s what, so now you better answer the doctor’s questions truthfully, honey.”

There’s a beaten, submissive look in your eye that nearly breaks his heart. You turn your attention back to Shaw.

“I’ve had an ongoing headache for days…weeks, maybe? And I am exhausted,” you admit quietly. “Carsick on the rides. It’s probably just a virus. Nothing a l-little rest won’t cure.”

Dr. Shaw purses his lips. “I’d still like to do an examination and some tests. Is there somewhere more private we can go?”

“Upstairs.” Elvis jumps up, eager to be helpful and expend some of the nervous energy coursing through him. He extends his hand to help you off the couch, but you shrink back from him. Stomach churning with guilt, he watches as you warily push yourself off the couch to standing.

You wobble and sway on your feet, and his instinct kicks in as he immediately swoops his arm under you and lifts.

“Elvis, stop, I can get up the stairs by myself,” you protest halfheartedly, but by the way your body sags against him, he doesn’t believe you.

“Hush.”

Scowling, you don’t fight anymore, your eyes getting a dim and faraway look when your head plops on his shoulder with defeat. It’s worrisome.

By the time he maneuvers you up the stairs and into the bedroom, his growing unease has taken root. And it grows more when he sets you on the bed and you look like a shadow of your usual self. Like darkness is trying to swallow you whole and you are letting it.

He looks at Shaw, his eyes trying to convey the deep concern he now feels for your wellbeing, the concern that should’ve been there for weeks if not for his head being wedged so far up his own ass he refused to see what was right in front of him.

“Thank you, Elvis,” Shaw says, “Now, I’ll need some privacy to do the examination.” The doctor nods his head towards the door, dismissing him.

“Aw, hell no. I’m not leavin’ her like this.” He shakes his head stubbornly. The thought of her alone with any man but him suddenly makes his skin crawl, even though he’s known Shaw for years.

“Elvis, I’ve got her. Go. I’ll be down to update you in a bit.” Shaw’s voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for question.

Elvis clenches his fists, his nostrils flaring.

Breathe. In, out.

It’s your voice saying it. He looks to you, sitting stock still against the pillows, staring into space, and realizes your voice is only in his head. It’s both heart-wrenching and comforting.

Finally, he nods curtly, then leaves his—our—room, shutting the door quietly behind him, resisting the urge to leave it open just a crack in order to listen in, to make sure no harm comes to you. But even in his current state, he knows that is overstepping. He forces himself to walk down the stairs, his mind churning.

After pacing the length of the house multiple times, beating himself up for his poor treatment of you, furious at your former fiancé for hurting you, and tying himself into knots with worst-case scenarios, he eventually finds himself at the piano. The only thing that ever truly quiets his mind is music. His fingers fly over the keys and he pours it all into the spirituals coming to him from deep within his soul.

God loves him best when he sings. Maybe He’ll hear his pleas for forgiveness, his prayers for healing—not for himself, but for you.

Lost in the music, he’s not sure how long he sings, but stops abruptly when Dr. Shaw appears in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doc says.

Elvis waves his arm dismissively. “How is she?”

Shaw hesitates. “It could just be a virus, but I took some blood and urine to test.”

There’s something he’s not saying, Elvis can tell. “And?”

Another pause. “I’m a little concerned about her…state of mind. I know I’ve only met her once or twice, but she seems withdrawn, almost traumatized. You said there was an argument?” He looks at Elvis with an undercurrent of judgement.

Heat blazes across Elvis’ cheeks, while guilt stabs in his belly. “I-I-I…yes, sir, but I’d never hurt her! And I-I don’t think…I-I mean, I don’t know…I think something happened t’her before we met,” he eventually gets out. It’s not his place to share your secrets, but damn if he’s going to let this doctor think he’s hurt you physically.

Dr. Shaw’s eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t press. He looks over Elvis with pursed lips and a watchful eye before his gaze softens.

“Can I go up and see her?” Elvis asks, almost desperately.

Shaw nods. “But she needs to rest. Stay off her feet. Eat well, if she can, and drink plenty of fluids.” Not run around after your ass, is the unspoken instruction. “Make sure she’s doing those things but…I wouldn’t press her.”

“Yessir.”

There’s tension hanging in the air before the subject is changed. “How are you feeling? Do we to have someone else step in until Ms. Cannava is well?”

Elvis grimaces, shaking his head. The last thing he needs is someone else poking around in his business, in your business. “I’m alright, sir. Probably could use a little R & R myself.”

Shaw looks at him with a critical eye. “Alright, son. Let’s keep it low-key, shall we? I’ll be back tomorrow to check in and hopefully we’ll have some answers.”

And with that, Elvis sees the doctor out.

He lasts approximately 90 seconds before he runs to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and takes the stairs quickly enough that he spills half the glass before he makes it to his room.

“Knock, knock,” he says gently, opening the door. You are laying on your side now, away from him, curled in on yourself on top of the covers and the sight nearly does him in for how vulnerable you look.

“Doc said you need plenty of fluids, so I brought you some water,” he rambles, coming around and setting the glass on the stand next to the bed. “Can I getchu anythin’ else?”

You blink slowly, but don’t respond otherwise. His stomach drops. It’s unnerving, the way you’re staring through him at the wall, vacant and broken.

He can’t have done this, right? Not like this. There’s got to be more to this than a silly fight.

You’re a fuckin’ asshole, the voice in his head berates. He wants to disagree but can’t. But this isn’t the time for him to feel sorry for himself. Standing here being useless isn’t helping anyone.

What would Little Bird do? The thought snaps him into action. “Imma gonna just take off these shoes a’ yours, okay?” he says gently, not wanting to startle you. With care, he takes off your heels one by one, setting them on the carpet at the end of the bed. He wants you to be comfortable but hesitates to undress you, unsure if that would be crossing a line. But he can’t well leave you to sleep in the clothes you wore on the bus for near a day.

After a minute of indecision, he plows forward. “Alright, honey, I’m just going to help you out of these clothes, just down to your slip, okay? Nothin’ more, don’t you worry.”

You don’t fight him at all, wordlessly allowing him to move you upright and undo your blouse. There’s certainly nothing untoward about the way his fingers manage the buttons or how they unzip your skirt. It’s not the way he ever wanted to be doing these things, though, he thinks as he strips your clothes and pulls down the spread on the bed. You have no outward reaction to him lying you down and pulling the covers up over your body, other than letting your eyes fall closed.

He thinks back to the care you’ve shown him when he’s been such in a state, and it’s what gets him through the feeling of helplessness churning in his gut.

Once you are tucked in, he grabs his own pajamas. He’s got no urge to leave you or deal with the idiots downstairs. No, even though his mind is going, he joins you in the bed, attempting to read the book on his nightstand while worry nags at him. Eventually, his eyes droop closed and the darkness takes him, too.

*

You are a bit more responsive the next day, eating a bite of the toast and jam he’d brought up for you, but you stay in bed, eerily quiet and entirely too withdrawn for his liking. He does his damnedest to follow Dr. Shaw’s instructions and leave you be, but it’s nearly impossible for him to not check on you multiple times an hour.

Honestly, he’s not sure you even register his presence half the time and fuck if that doesn’t stab him straight through the heart.

Charlie and the other boys do their best to distract him, but he’s got no humor for the usual fun and games. No, he’s much too wrapped up in his own head, vacillating from wanting to punch his way through the wall and being so lovesick he feels nauseous. The only thing keeping him from totally spiraling is the fact you are still here and alive and in his bed. He hasn’t lost you yet, he doesn’t think.

He can’t lose you.

By the time Dr. Shaw arrives in the evening, Elvis is about ready to jump down his throat with questions. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Let’s go upstairs, son,” Dr. Shaw says, in a somewhat ominous tone. If the doc wants him there for the conversation, the news can’t be good.

Elvis’ heart knocks against his ribs with each step closer he gets to you. You can’t be sick. He’s only just found you and Lord, does he need you more than he needs air. If he’s learned nothing else, it’s that.

Fidgeting, he lets the doctor in the room, following close behind.

“How are you feeling today, Lori?” Dr. Shaw asks, sitting near you on the edge of the bed.

Your usually bright and savvy eyes seem dull as you take the effort to focus on the doctor and his question. “I’m tired,” you whisper sluggishly, shrugging.

“Well, I think we have an answer as to the reason for that,” Shaw says kindly, then motions to him. “Elvis, why don’t you sit?” He gets up from the bed, offering Elvis his spot.

Oh, God, it’s that bad. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance, but he swallows the bile down, sinking onto the bed near your legs.

Dr. Shaw clears his throat. “Ahem, well, Lori, the good news is I don’t think you are sick in the real sense of the word.”

A wave of elation hits Elvis. Thank you, Jesus.

“You are, however, pregnant.”

The crest hits, disbelief slamming into him, taking his breath away in a whoosh.

“How’s that possible?” It falls out of his mouth immediately and without thinking, imbued with much too much innocence after his jaw hits the floor.

A deeply biological sense of panic washes over him then because it is most unmarried men’s nightmare, especially a man like him, to be blindsided by news like this. But his biology and his brain aren’t on the same level because it takes him longer than it should to reconcile there is absolutely no way this child is his.  

This isn’t technically his mess.

But the doctor doesn’t know that and peers over his spectacles with a raised eyebrow. “I trust I don’t have to give you a talk about the birds and the bees, Elvis.”

A flush of heat hits his cheeks and he shakes his head. “No, sir.”

All at once, the gravity of the situation sinks in. The bruises. Your fiancé. That fuckin’ monster. The slightly judgmental way Shaw is looking at Elvis because in the doc’s mind, Elvis is the one who got you in trouble.

Shit.

Finally, his head turns to you. Your olive skin is deathly pale, your icy eyes more intense than usual and shining with unshed tears as you stare straight ahead. Your fingers twist around and around themselves, something he’s noticed you do when you are nervous.

Elvis lightly places his hand on your shin and your eyes whip to his for the first time in over a day. At least you don’t flinch at his touch this time. Instead, his touch seems to ground you and he watches carefully as you come back into yourself and out of wherever your head has held you prisoner since he yelled at you yesterday.

Dr. Shaw looks at the both of you before continuing. “It’s very early days, my guess is—”

“Four weeks,” you finish, the pain of knowing exactly how long etched in your features. It makes his heart ache for you, and more than anything he wants to find the man who did this to you and make him regret he was ever born. But now isn’t the time for all that.

Four weeks is the same amount of time you’ve known each other, meaning this happened after he’d already met you.

How?

“Yes, and anything can happen in these early days, as you well know. I know this is a…delicate situation.” There is unspoken subtext in the doctor’s words, and while Elvis is piecing it out, you seem to understand immediately. The look you give him is heavy and filled with words you cannot say out loud yet. The silence sits heavy between you two.

The doctor takes his cue. “You two have a lot to talk about. Why don’t I come back tomorrow to do your exam and get you set up with what you’ll need going forward? Keep your activity light for now.”

You nod. “Thank you, Dr. Shaw,” you whisper.

Elvis stares at you, trying to psychically glean what you are thinking, but your eyes have shuttered and his own thoughts are going a mile a minute. It’s hard to focus until after he sees the doctor to the door.

“Doc, this probably goes without saying, but we need to keep a lid on this,” Elvis says quietly. He’s too much in shock to understand all the ramifications just yet, but he knows this world is unkind to unmarried young ladies who find themselves in the family way, even if it wasn’t their fault.

He’s got to protect you.

“Of course, Elvis. The same discretion I apply to you will apply to her, don’t worry son,” the man says, patting his back in solidarity.

He ignores the concerned and curious looks from the guys in the living room as he takes the stairs two at a time, his anxiety rising the more he’s away from you.

Skidding through the door, he grinds to a halt when he sees the empty bed. Frantically, he looks around the room, finding you in the closet.

“Little Bird, what’re you doin’?” he says, watching in disbelief as you start pulling clothes and throwing them on the bed before dragging your suitcase, which had only been put away yesterday, back out into the room.

“I have to go,” you say, deliberately not looking at him as you rummage in the closet.

“Go?” he asks stupidly. “Go where?”

“I don’t know…maybe out West somewhere. Canada, maybe,” you mumble, as if this a normal conversation.

His pulse thunders in his head. “What…no, why do you think you’re goin’ anywhere in your condition?”

“I’m not an invalid, Elvis, I’m pregnant,” you scoff. “I’m—” your breath hitches for a moment, your shaking hand revealing your true feelings no matter how calm you are trying to appear. “This isn’t on you, and I know you were getting ready to let me go because I lied to you, which I’ve accepted, but I had no idea…I should’ve known. And I thought I’d have more time to get ready…”

His mouth might be catching flies for how dumbfounded he feels as he tries to follow your rambling train of thought. You scurry into the bathroom and rustle around before returning with some of your things, which you dump haphazardly into the suitcase.

“I know you were getting ready to let me go…” circles round in his head a few times before it hits.

You’re running. And you seem to think it’s what he wants.

“Stop.” The command is low and firm.

You freeze in the closet for a moment before grabbing another armful of dresses, ones he bought you even though you insisted you didn’t need anything.

“Dolores, stop this right now and sit yer ass down, goddammit!” he raises his voice, pointing to the bed.

Finally halting, he watches a shudder run through you before you defeatedly sit on the very edge of the bed, your arms full of clothes. Refusing to look at him. He can’t tell if you are more afraid or ashamed, but either makes his heart crumble and the thought of you leaving has him wanting to break in two.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, desperately wanting to take your hands in his own but not wanting to overstep in your fragile state. He softens his voice like he’s going to sing a lullaby.

“Little Bird, I don’t want you to go. Why would you say that?” It comes out too pleadingly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

You blink rapidly, once, twice, processing his words, the unemotional mask you are trying so hard to keep on your face cracking. “You…you were so angry I lied and have every right to be! I thought you’d want me gone as soon as you found someone new,” you whisper.

“Honey, no—”

“And now, as if Gianni hadn’t already done his worst, now I’m…I’m pregnant.” Your voice chokes and the façade finally collapses as sobs wrack your shoulders.

Elvis can’t stand it any longer, sinking onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You go stiff for a second, resisting, but he squeezes, and you relent, your head falling on his shoulder, tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Every quiet sob coming from you breaks his heart a little. He still doesn’t know you like he wants to but knows without a doubt you didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. You don’t deserve to bear the consequences of an evil man’s actions.

Gianni.

That was the name you said. Rage simmers deep in his stomach, but now is not the time to plot that asshole’s demise, no matter how much he wants to. Right now, Elvis has to make sure you don’t do something stupid, like leave him and run to Canada.

His shirt soaks with your tears. The damp sticks to his skin and should be uncomfortable yet it’s not. It’s proof you are here, with him, and he holds onto that.

“Breathe, baby. Just like you showed me—in, out, in, out,” he coos.

Sobs turn to sniffles. Your body shivers but fights for those slower breaths, your grip on him loosening as you seem to calm. He is lulled, too, his racing mind given reprieve for a moment, distracted by your presence in his arms.

Heavy silence fills the space.

“I have to go,” you whisper, sounding pragmatic and defeated, but calm. Peeling yourself from the cocoon of his arms, you stand abruptly.

He grabs you gently by the wrist, turning you back to him. “Din’t you hear me, lil’ one? I don’t want you to go. I-I’m sorry I been such an ass. I-I-I shoulda just asked ya what happened instead o-of punishing ya for somethin’ I din’t understand.” Desperation he’s unaccustomed to feeling leeches into his voice.

He looks up into your shining eyes, hating the warring resignation on your pretty features.

“Elvis…” you begin, stepping away, “you have every right to be angry but—"

“No, n-no…I mean, yeah, I was, but that doesn’t matter now. Please, Little Bird.”

You pause. “I need to leave.” You start putting things in your suitcase, much slower this time.

His heart cracks a little more with every beat. “No, Lori. You…listen, I-I-I’ll be a much better patient, I promise. I’ll stick to your diet and routine and all that shit.” He tries to make light but your face fixes in a determined scowl.  

You just shake your head resolutely.

Finally, he grasps your hands. “Honey, ain’t you hearin’ me? I’m sorry, so fuckin’ sorry, an’ I don’t admit that very often cuz I’m a stubborn ol’ goat, but I’m sayin’ it now. I don’t want you to go. So, stop this nonsense and talk to me!”

Quiet tears streak down your cheeks and you try to blink them away as you look down at him.

“I hear you. But you don’t understand—you’re not thinking, Elvis. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go to save you,” you plead.

“What?” He can’t hide his confusion.

“I already put a target on your back. And if Gianni finds out I’m…he’s coming after me. Whether today or tomorrow or a year from now, I feel it in my bones, and I’ve put you right in the crossfire.”

“I can take care of myself,” he bristles.

You shake your head. “It’s not just that. Once the press gets wind of this—” you motion to your belly “—it won’t be good for either of us. If I go now and disappear, you’ll have a chance.” Your sentence ends in a whisper.

He blinks once, twice, trying to absorb what you’re saying. But all the logic in the world doesn’t change his heart. It doesn’t change how much he…

“I need you,” he admits, staring right into your eyes, unwaveringly.

Your lip quivers. “I can’t.” You look away before speaking again. “I’m sure Colonel can find you someone else who can fulfill your needs.”

Fuck. He’s losing you; you are slipping right through his fingers. Frustration fills him with frantic desperation.

“You ain’t gettin’ it, Dolores. I don’t need some other nurse, I need you, goddammit!”

His voice is loud in the small space, echoing briefly before the sound gets sucked into the sound proofing.

“Elvis…” you whisper, eyes going wide with questions he can’t answer, not now.

“Listen—jus’ listen to me, okay? There’s gotta be somethin’, cuz I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you out there by yourself to get hurt by those goons. I’ll fend ‘em off myself.” His brain whirls, trying to see his way through the problem.

“No, Elvis, you don’t understand! This isn’t the movies! Gianni, my father, the famiglia—those ‘goons’—they are dangerous. Lethal. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. And if Frank knows I left, it means even if they can’t get to you physically, they can do worse to your reputation and your career—everything you’re working so hard to keep.”

Your face blanches and your entire body goes tense. “And if Gianni finds out I’m pregnant with his child, even you might not be safe from him. Oh, Madone, I should have never come here.” Green tinges your face and you bolt for the bathroom.

His heart races, slamming against his ribcage again and again. You paint a bleak picture, and your fear is contagious. But the fear of never seeing you again, of you being out there alone and in danger, strikes not only dread in his heart, but a protective fervor he’s never quite felt before.

An idea comes to him then in a flash, and the sound of your retching snaps him into action. Whether it’s terror or the baby, or both, it has you so in knots you are sick, and he can’t have that.

A few weeks ago, he may have been able to tell himself it’s because you are a good nurse, that he doesn’t want to train some new girl when you already know what you are doing, and that’s why he’s about to do something either wildly clever or wildly stupid. But he’d be lying.

He feels like he’s buzzing from the inside out with nerves, almost like the feeling he gets when doing a live show. It’s equally terrifying and exhilarating and addicting and maybe it’s God’s way of letting him know he’s on the right path.

Barely aware of how he got there, he’s in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and crouching down next to you by the toilet. Not how he ever imagined this would go, but here he is anyway, brushing the hair off your cheeks. He’s so far gone for you, the sick doesn’t even phase him as he wipes your face.

None of it phases him enough to let you go.

You don’t want to look at him, he can tell, but you finally do, your ice blue irises vibrant against your bloodshot eyes, looking defeated and scared and miserable. But still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“Marry me.”

He says it with a quiet confidence only he could muster, despite the pounding of his heart.

You blink in shock, straightening. “W-what?”

“Marry me.”

“Elvis, you can’t be—”

He holds up his hand, halting her reply. “And before you say no, hear me out.”

Your mouth snaps shut in bewilderment.

“Doc said it was early. So, if we get married real soon—love-at-first-sight and all that—it’s still plausible to those without details everything is on the up and up, right?”

Your eyes narrow a little as you work through it. “I…I suppose so, if all goes well.”

A thought comes to him suddenly, threatening to ruin his plan, but he has to say it or he won’t forgive himself for not giving you the out. “I shoulda asked…I-I mean…there are other ways to solve this, less legal ones, but I’d pay for it if that’s what you want. I wouldn’t blame ya, considerin’ the circumstances,” he says almost bashfully.

It takes you a second to glean his meaning, your face going more ashen than it was already. “Oh. Oh, no. I…I’m Catholic. I don’t…that’s not an option for me.”

“Okay.” He nods, knowing he needs to continue, “T-There’s also adoption. I won’t force you to raise this baby, even if it looks bad for me…I-I-I would never do that to ya.”  

Your eyes fill with tears again, a gamut of emotions running through them. “I don’t think I want that either,” you say quietly.

The weight of that settles between them for a moment before he clears his throat. “Alrighty. I hate to ask this, but you said ‘four weeks’ earlier…so did he hurt you after we met? How—how long were y’all together?” It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth to ask, but he needs to know in order to make this work.

Your eyes close painfully. When you open them, there is resolve there, covering your suffering. “We weren’t. Not really. Gianni set his sights on me a long time ago, and my father…well, Gianni’s family is powerful, and Pop knew a marriage between us would raise his status in the famiglia. My mother didn’t want it, but when she died…well, I had to help raise my brothers, and I was too young, anyway. Then, I escaped by going to nursing school and managed to avoid him for a while, but…,” you take a deep, shuddering breath to keep going. “…but the day after we met in the hospital, he cornered me after my shift. He, um, proposed, and I froze. I didn’t say yes, but I-I was paralyzed, and he took that as acceptance. Then he brought me home to an empty house and…stole what he thought was already his.”

Elvis squeezes his fists so hard his knuckles go white. He has never been a particularly violent man, not finding pleasure in it like some men. Even in his bouts of bad temper, his anger is usually taken out on inanimate objects rather than people, but right now the rage he feels at Gianni is downright murderous. He’d like to rip this man’s heart out of his chest for what he’s done to you.

He swallows the bitter pill of his rage, though, tempered by the anguish in your eyes. A single tear streaks down your cheek and before he can stop himself, he’s cupping your face and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Never again, Little Bird. As long as I have breath in my lungs, nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

You suck in air sharply, then your body shudders on your exhale.

“You can’t promise that,” you whisper tearfully. “I can’t ask you to promise that.”

“Well, I am, and you know better than anybody I don’ take kindly to bein’ told what to do or not do, so you better save us all the trouble and jus’ accept it,” he says, and while there is humor in it, he’s never been more serious.

He fights every instinct in him that wants to kiss your lips, instead pressing his own to your forehead, wishing he could give you some semblance of peace. Pulling back before he does something stupid, he gently wipes your tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. You let him, and he supposes that’s enough for right now.

“Does anyone know what he did, besides me?” he asks, hating that he must.

“No, not unless Gianni told someone. I didn’t even tell anyone he’d proposed. I just went to work and then Colonel offered me this job and I realized it was my only chance to escape. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brothers in person. I’m so sorry I lied and put you in this position,” you say, voice cracking with emotion.

“You were jus’ tryin’ to survive, honey. No one can fault you for that. I’m glad you got away.” And he is, he thinks, as he smooths your hair. He nearly gets trapped in the blue of your mournful eyes before he snaps himself out of it. He’s got to focus.

“The timeline works out, then, darlin’. Even if people believe we did the deed before marriage, there’s no reason for them to think it’s anyone’s but mine. Gettin’ married cements it, ‘specially with this new, a-dult image Colonel is tryin’ to push of me.”

Colonel is gonna hate this.

“Colonel is never—” you start, seemingly on the same wavelength.

“I know, which means there’s gotta be no doubt in anyone’s mind this baby is mine.”

Your eyes go wide in understanding. You haven’t said yes yet, but he knows how logical and practical you are. He’s got to make you see this is the only way.

“Will Colonel believe it, though? He knows we—I—didn’t take to this arrangement so easily in the beginning.”

“We gotta make him. And I think you continue to underestimate my powers of seduction,” he jokes, wiggling his brow, trying to lighten the increasingly heavy mood.

You sigh. “Be serious, Elvis.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter what really happened, honey, it matters what people think happened. And I’m bein’ honest when I say it won’t take much for most to believe we fell in love and you fell into my arms. Or vice versa. My, um, reputation’s gonna work in our favor.” Heat flames his cheeks, which he knows is silly, but he plays it off with a smirk.

Your eyebrow quirks, but you leave it at that.

He rambles on, “And I don’t know this, um, family of yours, but I’m guessin’ even Gianni is gonna have a hard time provin’ anythin’ if you’re married to one of the most famous men in the world. I can’t imagine even the mob will try an’ steal ya out from under me, so to speak. Not with our ‘love story’ pasted across the world in black and white for all to see. It keeps you and the baby safe.”

You go quiet and still, and he can see the wheels in your head turning. “I…okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’re on to something,” you finally relent.

His heart jumps and he can’t help the proud grin spreading across his face from your almost-praise.

“But Elvis, this is too much to ask of you. This is your life. I know you had no plans to get married, at least anytime soon—”

“Plans change,” he throws back, quickly and a little too adamantly.

“Not like this.”

“Things changed the minute I got this diagnosis, honey,” he adds soberly.

You go quiet, as though with everything going on you forgot what you were doing here in the first place.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” you apologize.

Elvis shrugs it off. But he doesn’t want your pity. No, he wants you safe, and he wants you to stay. And he’s man enough to admit this isn’t all for your benefit. He’s being selfish here, too, because, somehow, you’ve wrapped yourself around his heart and the idea of you ever leaving him fills him with despair.

You continue, “I hear what you’re saying, I do, but, Elvis, I’m afraid you’re not thinking this through entirely. You’re offering to raise another man’s child as your own, offering to marry someone who you don’t love…there’s no going back from that, especially when there’s a child involved.”

He swallows thickly, but not because he’s in doubt. Anything but. The image in his head of you smiling and laughing as he plays with the baby, of early morning whispers of love and sharing a bed in more than just name, of you helping fill the rooms of this damn mansion he bought for his mama with gorgeous blue-eyed children…it is so enticing and so close he can’t bear to think what might happen if you don’t say yes.

I love you.

And even if you can only give your trust in him to keep you safe and help raise your child and nothing else, he would still rather have you at his side and love you in secret than not have you at all.

God, how I love you.

If he let the words fall out of his mouth right now, would you agree, or would they send you running?

He can’t chance it. Not with the state you’re in now. So he steels himself instead, using the charm God gave him to get you to understand.

“Honey, I know what you’re sayin’, and it don’t change a thing.”

Those eyes of yours go wide, and he can tell there’s something you’re debating on sharing. A few moments pass while he lets you deliberate.

“Elvis, you need to know before…,” you trail off. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “This is it for me. Maybe it’s old fashioned, but with my beliefs, even in this insane situation, this wouldn’t be temporary. Gianni, my father…it’s possible they’ll never stop trying to get to me. And in my world, marriage is forever. Divorce is not an option. I…I can’t bear to think I’m the one ever keeping you from true happiness, from a love and children of your own. Instead, you’re getting a sullied wife who shackled you in a moment of need and who you’ll come to regret. I can’t have you regret me, Elvis.” Tears pool in your eyes and if he wasn’t already on his knees, he thinks this would have brought him there.

This is a tipping point, just like the moment the doctor handed him his diagnosis. Nothing will be the same after today, for either of you. God has a plan, he’d thought when you’d shown back up in his hospital room at just the right moment, and it hits him now—he swears on his dear mama—it was all leading to this.

“There’s no me without you anymore, darlin’. Who else is gonna take care of me? Who else can I trust with my life? I’m helping you and your baby, yes, but you’re keeping me alive, too. And you aren’t ‘sullied’,” he says with more conviction than he’s said anything before, his voice trembling with all the words he cannot say to you yet. He can only pray you see him, too.

The welling tears in your eyes overflow once more, and it cuts him to not know what you’re thinking, to think he’s the one making you cry this time.

“Don’t be sad, honey, please,” he whispers, begs. “I can’t bear to make you cry.” Unable to stop himself, he brushes your cheeks with his fingers, cupping one in his hand.

The way you lean into him is so slight he might be imagining it, but it’s enough to give him an ounce of hope, one he latches onto immediately.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, not about you anyway. I’m crying because I can’t believe you’re willing to do this for me. You hardly know me,” you weep.

“I know enough.” And I’d do anything for you.

You close your eyes, dark lashes clumped with tears fanning across your cheeks. “Can you…can you give me a minute?” you say, not unkindly.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, o-of course,” he stutters, his heart fluttering nervously as he stands. Holding out his hand, he helps you up off the floor, making sure you’re steady on your feet before letting go. “I-I’ll be in there, when you’re ready.”

The door to the bathroom shuts behind him and he hears the faucet running. Waiting has never been his strong suit, which he’s brutally reminded of as the minutes tick by. He tries to sit on the bed, but he can’t keep still and jumps up immediately, running a hand through his hair while pacing the room.

But as much as he should be doubting his decisions, he’s not. He should be questioning his damn sanity, proposing to you like that—a woman he’s known all of a month who comes with more baggage than an airliner—but honestly, he’s never felt so sure of something in his life.

Sure, Elvis from five weeks ago may have sent him to the looney bin for offering to marry a girl and raise another (apparently very dangerous) man’s child, but that Elvis hadn’t been handed a death sentence and a ticking clock. That Elvis didn’t know his Little Bird.

That Elvis didn’t love her.

Hell, he’s much more worried you’ll leave out of some hairbrained thought he’s better off without you and get caught by Gianni, who he’s absolutely certain will hurt you in ways you never thought possible if he catches you.

No, Elvis isn’t scared you’ll say yes—he’s terrified you won’t.

He can’t begin to think of the despair he’ll feel if you disappear. Selfishly, he’s not sure he can stand to take another heartbreak, not now. It would be a cruel joke for God to put you in his life and then rip you away just when he needs you the most.

It makes him think of his mama and the gaping wound of her loss that’s only begun to heal. All Mama ever wanted for him was to be settled and happy, with a good woman by his side. He hadn’t understood why at the time. He’d wanted to focus on his career, to be free, to enjoy his youth and all the perks of his fame. But God humbled him right quick, first by sending him off to the Army, then by taking his mama. Since then, he’d spent too much time falling into the arms of woman after woman both drowning his sorrows and in the hopes he’d find the one to magically fill the void left in his heart.  

Yet all of it led a path straight to you. And there’s something serendipitous about it he can’t ignore, no matter how batty it all might seem.

So, he best convince you to stay.

After what seems like an eternity, the bathroom door swings open. Your color is still drawn and sallow, the dark circles under your deep-set eyes more pronounced than usual, but you are hauntingly beautiful. Silent, you glide your way towards him slowly, your face shuttered in that way of yours, giving nothing away. His blood thunders in his ears and he hopes you cannot hear it.

You stop before him, mere inches away. Anticipation itches under his skin as his pulse ratchets up. He jumps when you place your palm flat on his chest, right over his heart, the way he knows you do to ground yourself.

Well, hell, there’s no hiding now, not when he knows you can feel just how fast you have his heart beating. You’re probably counting his pulse and getting ready to tell him to relax.

But you don’t. You don’t speak at all. You stare at your hand over his heart and wait, but he’s not sure what for. It’s not until his lungs scream for air that he realizes he’s holding his breath. He feels like he’s going to float away and finds himself shakily breathing in. He knows you feel it. His hand covers yours, anchoring him to you, trying to prove he means everything he’s told you and so much more he can’t yet say.

Finally, your eyes raise up to meet his so intensely he might have been knocked off his feet if he wasn’t locked onto your hand so tightly, feeling his heart thrum against your palm.

“Lori—”

Your finger shushes him, pulling against the fullness of his lips. The touch is electric, zinging through every nerve in his body and buzzing around his chest. He doesn’t understand what’s happening until you’re on your tiptoes, your cold little hand pulling down on his jaw.

The two of you have kissed before, of course, but always for an audience, and even then, you’ve never once initiated it. So, when your lips meet his so softly, he’s taken aback with disbelief.

You don’t waver, however, through the milliseconds it takes him to recover his wits, waiting patiently until every sense in his body hums to life all at once. His heart swells and his belly tingles and then he’s kissing you back, as gently as he can, swearing he won’t be careless with you again.

He wants to devour you but doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to ruin this blissful, unbelievable little moment where your lips are pressed so chastely against his own, using them to say all the things neither of you can seem to say out loud.

The sliver of logic still left in his brain tries to convince him this slice of vulnerability you’re sharing with him is likely nothing more than a show of gratitude, but his aching heart can’t tell the difference.

So there’s no helping the way his other hand falls to your waist, cinching there, pulling you closer. Your minty breath puffs against him in surprise, then he’s gently chasing your mouth with his, unable to stop himself—the hope of it all, of what could be, is too consuming. He can’t stop the way it blossoms through him, opening pieces of him he didn’t know existed.

It’s dangerous, this hope, but Lord have mercy, he can’t bring himself to care about the risks. Not when you’re in his arms like this. Not when he needs you like he needs oxygen.

This little kiss is like heaven, he realizes, because you are giving it freely. It’s not for show; it’s not begrudging or afraid. No, a kiss like this from you means only one thing:

It’s an answer.

A promise.

Or it’s a goodbye, you idiot.

The horror of that possibility squeezes his throat, threatening to choke him, but he pushes it away fiercely.

When the sweet kiss breaks, he finds himself winded even though he shouldn’t be, his head bowed and pressing into yours. He threads his fingers through yours over his wildly beating heart. Anything to keep you tethered to him.

Not one kiss out of the hundreds he’s had in his life has ever knocked him flat quite like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Elvis. You are offering me so much—too much—and I don’t know how much I can give you in return…I—,” you whisper, voice wavering.

“You’re enough,” he manages to get out, not wanting to hear the rest. And it’s true. God help him, it’s true.

You breathe in a little gasp of air, one that makes his heart flip. Then your crystal eyes raise to meet his.

“Then, yes, Elvis Presley, I’ll marry you.”

 *

TW: physical illness (fainting, vomiting), dissociation, Gianni and references to previous sexual assault, lots of cussing, unplanned pregnancy due to sexual assault, brief allusions to abortion

*

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! It means the world! 💗

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#oooh can't wait to hear those screams 🤭 #broken glass #broken glass ch 10 #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley fic #elvis x dolores #italian mafia #elvis 1960 #post army elvis #elvis fic #angst #slow burn

[honeysuckleharringtons]

"All The Time" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: When Y/N stays late to help Steve with some laundry, it gets them both thinking about forever, thinking about if life was like this all the time.

Pairing: single dad!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,096

Content Warning: mentions of swearing, very mild swearing, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: extremely domestic Fluff

Extra Notes: EVERYONE'S FAVORITE DAD AND DAUGHTER ARE BACK!!!!!

Based On the Prompt: "Stained Clothes" from this year's @domaystic prompts

Originally Written: 05/07/2023

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold

honeysuckleharringtons masterlist can be found here!

single dad!steve masterlist can be found here!

"Lori, Y/N, I'm home!" Steve called, slipping his shoes off by the door.

YtN rounded the corner with a sleepy Lori in her arms, resting her head on her chest. "Hi," she said with apprehension in her voice.

"Hi, Daddy," Lori yawned, holding her arms out toward Steve.

Steve chuckled, taking his daughter from Y/N. "Did you have fun with Y/N today?"

Lori nodded tiredly against his chest. "Mhm. We went to the park and I got to pet a dog."

"That sounds fun," he smiled, rubbing soft circles on her back. "You ready for bed, Lori-girl?"

Lori nodded again, letting out a quiet yawn. She held tight to his shoulders as he stepped toward her bedroom. Steve turned his head toward Y/N, mouthing, "You okay?"

Y/N shook her head lightly, waving her hand toward the bedroom. "I'm fine. You go," she mouthed back.

Steve took Lori into the bedroom, setting her lightly on the bed and then headed toward the bookshelf. He figured it wouldn't take long to get her to sleep—considering she was already having trouble keeping her eyes open—but grabbed her copy of Goodnight Moon regardless.

"Y/N let me get ice cream from the ice cream truck today," Lori said through yawns.

Steve chuckled, kissing her forehead as he sat down beside her. "That sounds fun. What flavor did you get?"

"Vanilla," she answered, her eyes slowly closing.

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "You didn't get chocolate like usual?"

"Well, you weren't there," Lori paused to yawn, "so I got your favorite since you couldn't."

Steve's heart felt like it would melt as he leaned over and kissed her hair. "That's very sweet of you."

He barely had a chance to crack open the book before he heard quiet snores beside him. He pulled himself out of the bed as swiftly as possible, knowing any sudden movement might wake his daughter. Steve planted a soft kiss on her head one last time, whispering, "Good night, Lori-girl," before heading back to the living room to find a fretting Y/N.

"She hates me, doesn't she?" Y/N asked, looking up at Steve.

He chuckled, sitting down beside her. "Why would she hate you? She got ice cream and she pet a dog. If anything, she probably likes you more than me."

"She got grass stains on her favorite dress," she admitted. "I tried to tell her not to wear it in case she spilled food on it or something, but she insisted."

"Y/N, it's okay," Steve reassured her, patting her knee. "It's nothing a little peroxide and vinegar won't fix."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I got it. Unless…" he trailed off, leaning in to kiss the pout off Y/N's lips, "you want to help?"

"It would make me feel better," she admitted.

Soon enough, the two stood in the kitchen, hovering over a small bowl of vinegar and peroxide. Y/N wasn't sure how these two items were going to remove the giant, green stain on Lori's white dress, but she trusted Steve's judgment.

Steve scrubbed at the stain as hard as he could without fraying the fabric. "You know," he said, "stuff like this is a lot more bearable when you're around."

Y/N felt butterflies go off in her stomach, a red tint appearing on her cheeks that Steve took pride in seeing. Any time he made her laugh or blush was a win in his book. "You really think that?"

Steve nodded, giving her a soft smile. "I love being around you. I can't wait until we do stuff like this all the time. Getting stains out of Lori's clothes at 9:00 p.m. Eating boxed mac and cheese and watching the nightly news. The little things."

"Stevie," she teased, "Who knew you were such a sap?"

"For you? Of course, I am," he replied, poking Y/N in the ribs and eliciting a laugh from her.

A comfortable silence came over the room as Steve finished scrubbing the dress, handing it off to Y/N so she could soak it in the sink.

A flurry of thoughts overtook Y/N's mind as she finally processed Steve's words. All the time. He wanted her around all the time.

"Hey, Steve?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Yeah?" he asked, drying his hands off while moving closer to her.

"What did you mean earlier? By 'all the time,' I mean."

Steve moved to stand behind her, his hands settling on her hips as he kissed her head. "Just what it sounds like. You and me and Lori. All the time. The three of us."

She turned to face him, her hands flying up to hold his cheeks. "You really mean that?" Y/N let out a laugh as water dripped down Steve's face, though she couldn't quite bring herself to care.

"Hell yeah, I do," he answered without a second thought. "I mean, yeah, it's hard right now. We're at that age where most people move in together when it gets serious. I don't know how well that would go over with Lori, since she's always had a harder time with change. But, if it's okay with you, you could always try staying over one night. We could see how she does with the change. Ease her into it a little bit without any serious damage."

Every word that came out of Steve's mouth was laced with love and adoration, Y/N was convinced. She could've sworn she saw his eyes go heart shaped. Her heart flipped with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, but the excitement was winning. "You mean that too?"

Steve scoffed lightly. "Does this look like the face of a liar to you?"

"I've had men lie to me in the past. You definitely wouldn't be the first."

His heart panged at the thought of any man ever hurting her like that. "I want forever with you. I really do. I…"

Y/N knew what he was going to say, but she stayed silent anyway. She knew this was probably hard for him, since he hadn't said the L-word to anyone since Margaret, so she gave him all the time he needed.

"I love you," he finally said, leaning down to kiss her. To anyone else, the kiss might've been bad. The room smelled like vinegar and Steve's lips were probably the most chapped they'd ever been, but to them, it was the sweetest kiss they'd experienced since they started dating.

"I love you too, Steve. And you know what?" Y/N said, giving him another peck, "Forever with you sounds amazing to me."

GUYS THEY'RE BACK 🥹

okay, maybe they aren't back back but i am happy to announce that i wrote some more single dad!steve content for you guys!!

i have like three other Steve and Lori wips that i just can't seem to finish. but i truly do miss writing them and i hope to write some more for you guys soon!

also yes this was supposed to be posted yesterday but tumblr ate it and i had a migraine so i just gave up 🤣

anyway, thank you guys for reading today's domaystic fic!! hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hereiamhereigo @mcueveryday

#imagine #imagines #blurb #blurbs #one shot #one shots #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington one shots #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #dad!steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things one shot #stranger things one shots #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #domaystic2023 #honeysuckleharringtons domaystic2023 #honeysuckleharringtons

[daryandricky]

SWEAR

Chapter 2 INCAPACITATED

Rick Grimes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shane tells reader that Rick didn't make it after the hospital was overrun, causing reader to travel with her former military brother to find somewhere safe.

Summary of chapter: Dylan (readers brother) comes to town to see Rick and to support reader. However, reader can tell that he is hiding something, and when he finally unveils the truth, it's too late.

Warnings: Swearing, torture, pregnancy, basic walking dead shit.

masterlist

August 4th, 2010

It has been exactly two weeks since Rick was shot. You rarely left Rick's side, only leaving when Shane or Lori forced you, or when the chair that the hospital room provided, became too uncomfortable, leaving you with knots in your back. However, Shane was being the hugest pain for you. Ever since you told him that you were pregnant, the man would not leave you alone. Oh, you need to use the restroom? So does Lori, she'll go with you. Oh, you're hungry? Stay here and I'll run down to the cafeteria and get ya something. He was constantly breathing down your neck, and you couldn't go anywhere without him being two feet behind you.

Yes, you acknowledge that he is just trying to protect you and be there for you when your husband was incapable of doing so, but god, did you want to wring the man's neck.

Shane was currently in the cafeteria grabbing lunch for you and Lori. You let go of Rick's hand, sighing as you lean back in your chair, resting your hands on your stomach. You haven't gotten your bump yet, but it comforts you to know that you still have a part of Rick with you in these uncertain times. You look over at Lori who is currently reading the book you brought with you every day, but you could never get past the first page before your mind started to drift off.

"Was he like this with you?"

"Hmm?" Lori asks, looking up from the book to you, confused.

"Was Shane this bat-shit and controlling when you were pregnant with Carl?" You ask, turning your nose up in disgust as you mention Shane.

"Oh, he was so much worse. When I was nearing nine months, the idiot wouldn't even let me feed myself." Lori laughs.

You gasp, and eventually you erupt into giggles. Covering your mouth with your hand, you look over at Lori to see her laughing too. Once it dies down, Lori looks over at you with a sympathetic smile and grabs your hand. "Don't worry Rick will be here for you and the baby in no time."

"Yeah." You whisper, and slightly nod your head. You fidget with your hands as your gaze moves to your sleeping husband. Your eyes well up with tears, but you force them to go back down. "Have you thought of any na-" Lori begins before she is cut off by Shane entering the room, arms filled with to go boxes and a bouquet of flowers.

"You would not believe the amount of people here today. Jesus Christ. Took me 40 minutes just to get through the line to order. Grabbed these while I was waiting for the food to be done." Shane says showing you and Lori the bouquet before handing the food to you. Shane stands above Rick, smiling weakly. "Hey man, you need to wake up, got some people who would like to say hi." Shane says, not really expecting a response.

Rick's eyes flutter the tiniest bit causing Shane to gasp and look at you. "Did you see that? His eyelids moved!"

You smile at Shane sadly and run your fingers through your husband's hair. "He does that a lot. Doctor said it's normal and that it doesn't really indicate any sign of progress."

Eventually Lori and Shane go home, leaving you alone with your husband and your thoughts. You smile fondly as you think about the first time you had kissed Rick. Your brother was in the police academy with Shane and Rick, and the three of them became a close-knit group. However, not long after graduating, your brother, Dylan, decided that being a police officer wasn't really what he wanted. So, the only rational thing for him to do would be joining the military. You despised this idea, as there was a current war in Yemen. Your mother wasn't too particular to the idea either, as your father was a marine before he was killed in action. Never less, she took it upon herself to throw a going away party before your brother went off to boot camp.

Dylan is introducing you to a few of his fellow academy buddies, before he drags you over to two loners leaning up against the side of the house, drinking beer. You've met one of them a few times, Rick. It was easy to talk to him, and you enjoyed his presence. Rick always seemed to strike up a conversation with you rather than anybody else, and it filled your stomach with butterflies at the thought that he might like you as well. Both Rick, and the new guy are extremely handsome, which effectively makes you blush. They see you and your brother making your way over there, and they smile happily as they do one of those bro handshakes. The one with dark hair starts making conversation with Dylan, both of them completely ignoring your presence. You smile at Rick and do a shy wave, nervous as he was already looking at you.

He grins "Want to go somewhere quieter?" He silently says, not really wanting Shane and Dylan to join the two of you. You nod your head and lead the way to your favorite tree along the fence line in your childhood backyard. You pat the tree, looking up at it with a faint smile. "This is Delilah."

"Ah, well Delilah, it's very nice to meet you." Rick says as he grabs a branch and shakes it. You giggle and lightly smack his arm. "Are you always an asshat?" You ask smiling as you sit down, leaning against the tree. "Only when I'm talking to pretty girls." Rick grunts as he plops down next to you.

You blush as you look up at him, biting the inside of your lip. Rick's eyes drift down to your lips, his face tinted red as well. "So, why Delilah? Seems like an out there name for a child to come up with." Rick asks.

"Well, before my dad died, every single holiday without fail, he would get me a bouquet of Dahlias." You smile sadly. "The best part though," you say laughing a little, "was that he insisted that they were called "Delilahs" you say, doing air quotes. "My mom is the definition of grammar police, so they always bickered back and forth on the right way to say it. I think my mom gave up in the end, because she eventually started calling them Delilahs too." You say smiling, pulling on the strands of grass next to your feet.

Rick looks down at you fondly, a light smile playing on his lips. "Well, I think Delilah sounds a hell of a lot prettier than Dahlia." He says before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in to whisper into your ear. "Gonna have to agree with dear old dad on that one." He moves his head so that his face is mere inches from your own. You watch as his eyes flicker down to your mouth, before slowly leaning in and pressing his-

Your thoughts are cut off when you see someone out of the corner of your eye enter the room. You turn to greet the person, expecting it to be Shane or a nurse doing rounds. Instead, you are met with the sight of your brother.

“Dyl? What are you doing here?” You ask confused as you get out of your seat to give him a hug. After your mom died of breast cancer and your brother went off to the army, your sole family was Rick. You guys talked, sure, but it was never enough. It was hard to find a good time to call him, with him consistently leaving the country and when he was home at his base in Virginia, he was too exhausted for a phone call. So, this was a pleasant surprise, and you were overjoyed to see your brother in person after 2 years.

“After you called me, I decided that it might be good for me to get away for a bit. Check on my little sister and best friend.” He says hugging you tightly, as he looks over your head at Rick sleeping. You look up at him and beam.

"Thank you." You whisper as you bury yourself into his arms.

Dylan’s been staying with you for about five days now, and there was something off to say the least. He was jittery, always staring into space like his mind was somewhere else, and whenever you tried to have a conversation with him, it would take him a few minutes to register that you were talking to him.

You’re standing in your underwear and bra in front of the mirror, examining your belly. You frown, as there is barely a difference. You turn sideways, looking at your stomach from a different angle and you trace the outline with the tips of your fingers. Frustrated, you sigh before grabbing a pair of pants and one of Rick’s t-shirts, sliding it over your head. It still smelt like him. You walk over to your dresser, grabbing a pair of socks. The blue present sitting on top, basically mocking you, reminding you of what robbed Rick. You slam the drawer closed and grab the present. You start to smooth out the dent from when you threw it, but it was still very noticeable. Tears well in your eyes as you beat yourself up over ruining the gift. “Why’d I do that? Oh my god I’m such an idiot.” You whisper to yourself.

"Fuck fuck fuck Fuck FUCK!" You hear Dylan saying to himself in the living room. You walk out of your bedroom cautiously and see Dylan pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, "It's too late. God damn it. Fuck!"

"Dylan?" You ask nervously. "What's going on?"

Dylan flings his head in your direction, caught off guard that he hadn't noticed you yet. He sighs before pointing at the tv. Too worried about Dylan you failed to notice the message that the television was broadcasting.

"STATE OF GEORGIA: ALL COUNTIES ARE NOW UNDER STATE STAY AT HOME ORDER. A VIRUS IS SPREADING RAPIDLY. STAY HOME AND DO NOT ENGAGE WITH OTHERS OUTSIDE. LOCK YOUR DOORS AND STAY SAFE." The message says before repeating itself.

You feel the blood drain from your face. "What the fuck does "don't engage with others" and "lock your doors" mean?" You ask confused and scared.

Dylan looks at you pale, "I lied okay. I didn't just come here because Rick was shot."

"Dylan will you please just tell me what the fuck is going on right now?"

Dylan sighs and sits rigid on the couch. He glares at you and points for you to sit. You do as he says, not wanting to get on his bad side. He rubs his hands down his face and says, "I promise you that everything I'm about to tell you is true, and that I only came here to protect you, ok?" Dylan asks, waiting for your confirmation before continuing. You nod your head, and your body tenses at his seriousness.

"I was recently sent on a mission to Russia." He starts. You look at him confused, as there has been no news about the United States having any business with Russia. "It was chow time," You roll your eyes at his military slang. "when there was a breach in the south wall. So, me and some of the guys went to check it out." He looks you dead in the eyes before continuing, "and y/n, I don't know how else to describe these people but as zombies." You scoff. "Har har, so funny Dylan."

Dylan scowls at you, "I'm not lying y/n! I saw these things tear up people, eat them, I saw them kill my friends! I saw- I saw my girlfriend get bit and watched her slowly turn into one of those things." Dylan whispers the last part as he looks down at his hands. You look at him confused, he's never mentioned a girlfriend before, and by the gravity of his tone, you could tell that Dylan was, in fact, telling the truth. You scooch closer to Dylan and grab his hands, asking him to continue.

"I- I was one of the last ones standing, so, I left. I knew it was only a matter of time before it spread here. I snuck onto a cargo plane and made my way back. I didn't think it was going to happen this fast, I just wanted to protect you y/n." Dylan says tearfully as he looks into your eyes.

"We'll be okay." You say smiling at Dylan, trying to make him feel better. "We'll lock our doors like it said, and just wait for this whole thing to blow over." Dylan shakes his head at you, biting his cheek.

"There's no "blowing over" y/n. This is it. We need to go somewhere safe. We need to get to my base in Virginia. They'll protect us. We'll be safe from those things." Dylan pleads with you.

You scrunch up your face, puzzled by what Dylan said.

"What about Rick, we can't leave him in that hospital, he won't stand a chance in there." You say as your stomach turns into knots at the thought of actually loosing Rick.

"We can't take him." Dylan says simply, avoiding your gaze.

"And why the hell not?" You ask fuming.

"Y/n, he's in a fucking coma! What would you like me to do? Drag his ass through 4 states? Huh? Doesn't sound very reasonable to me!" Dylan angrily yells.

"I'm not going with you." You whisper as you lay your hands on your stomach, staring daggers into the hardwood floor.

"Why? Y/n you won't make it five fucking minutes in that shit out there, let alone protecting a shell of a man in a hospital that's bound to get overrun with those pieces of shit!"

"I'm pregnant." You murmur.

Dylan takes a deep breath. "Then I'm asking you one more time, to please come with me. You don't want to raise a child on your own, let alone with those things trying to kill you. It'll be safe on the base. Please."

You look at Dylan with tears in your eyes. "Can we go say bye to him one last time?"

Dylan nods his head before standing up and heading to the guest bedroom. "We're leaving in 2 hours. Pack a bag."

You sat there frozen for you don't know how long, before you decided to begin packing. You don't even know where to start as you look at the clothes in your closet. You grab a few outfits and are about to go to the bathroom to get toiletries, when the sight of Rick's clothes stops you in your tracks. You grab his favorite worn in hoodie, a couple shirts for you to sleep in and a pair of his boxers. You finish packing your necessities before you head over to your dresser to grab some of the picture frames and albums, when the gift, once again catches your attention. You sigh and place it neatly in the center of the dresser. Maybe. You give it one last look before grabbing your bag to leave.

Dylan is already waiting for you in the drivers seat of your Subaru. He locks eyes with you and points at his wrist impatiently, even though he doesn't wear a watch.

You've just closed the trunk after loading your bag in, when you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and see Shane's name flashing across the screen.

"Hey Shane, we're just lea-" Shane cuts you off.

"Don't come to the hospital y/n. There's something wrong with these people." He sighs "I- I don't, it's not safe you need to leave. I can come pick you and Dylan up and the five of us can try to find somewhere, I don't know."

"Shane, what about Rick? Is he?" You ask not wanting to finish the sentence.

"When I got here there these psychos everywhere. I tried to make it to Rick's room but there were too many of them. There's no way that Rick would have survived th-" The phone goes dead. You look at the screen to see that the call was disconnected. You try to call him back, but you are only sent to his voicemail. Dylan honks the horn, looking pissed off.

"Shit." You say to yourself. You climb into the passenger seat and stare out the window. Is he dead too? You ask yourself.

"Who was that?"

"Shane." You whisper, before turning to look at your brother.

"Is he ok?"

"I don't know" You mumble. "Can't go to the hospital."

"What?" Dylan asks.

"It's overrun like you said. Too late." You say as tears pool in your eyes. Dylan gives you a sympathetic look before squeezing your hand.

You've been driving for about an hour and half when traffic came to a halt on the highway. You and Dylan have been stuck in the same spot for about 15 minutes now, and you both are filled with dread. Dylan's knuckles are white as his fingers grip the steering wheel. And then you see it.

You see why Dylan was so afraid. Why he begged you to come with him. Why Shane told you to leave.

A woman, not much older than you, was running in between the cars, trying to get away from the herd of, like Dylan said, zombies. You gasp as you watch one bite her arm, causing more to attack her, and drag the poor woman to the ground. You hear Dylan lock the doors, and you look at him with a scared expression. He raises his pointer finger to his lips, silently asking you to be quiet. All you can do is nod your head, as you are lost for words.

You close your eyes trying to put your mind on something else, when a body slams into your door, causing you to jolt in your seat. Your eyes pop open as you look out your window to see a man clawing and biting at the glass, smearing blood. You exhale a shaky breath and tighten your hold on Dylan's hand.

Soon, the herd has made their way past your car, and you look at Dylan with wide eyes. "You weren't joking."

Dylan shakes his head. "I'm going to look around, see if there's a way I can maneuver the car to get out of here."

He sighs as he gets back in the driver's seat. "The other cars are too close to us, and with the cement barrier, we can't get out."

"So what do you want us to do?"

"Walk."

"Walk?" You asked shocked. "You want to walk all the way to fucking Virginia?"

Dylan thinks for a moment before nodding his head. "What else are we supposed to do? Just wait here and die? I'll protect you and the baby, y/n. Maybe we'll find another car along the way."

You sigh, and nod your head, realizing his statement is true.

"Since when do you know how to hot wire a car?"

Dylan grins at you and hops out, getting your bags out and hands you yours. You sling it on and Dylan asks "You ready?" you let out a nervous laugh and with wide eyes you say, "Yeah, lets get the show on the road."

#rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #twd rick #twd x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #imagines #oneshots #fanfic #andrew lincoln

[ourtearsofrain]

Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 7

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka, (barely a mention of) Josh Kiszka x Male O.C.

Genre: angst (live laugh love Danny’s inner monologue), fluff (Sam and Danny really aren’t keeping their feelings for each other on the down low)

Word Count:  3k

Warnings: Danny’s anxious inner monologue, oiud and alcohol consumption

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July 15th, 7:27 AM

Danny’s ripped from sleep by a pillow smacking him square in the face, shooting up in his bed still half-asleep to see Josh standing beside it with a mischievous grin, pillow in hand. “What the fuck man? What was that for? And how did you get in here?”

“Lori let me in.”

“Ok? That doesn’t answer my other two questions.” He drags his hand down his face, trying to piece together any reason for Josh to be in his room at almost 7:30 in the morning. “And don’t call my mom Lori, it’s weird.”

“Only weird if you make it weird, Danny boy. Anyways, I’m here because you’re going camping with us. Today. For a week and a half. We leave in an hour so get to packing.” Josh throws the pillow back at Danny, turning to leave without any more explanation.

“Wait what- who is ‘we’? And why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? You really expect me to pack for that long in an hour?”

“Yes. And ‘we’ is Jake and I, we only decided we were doing this at like three in the morning so just be glad I didn’t wake you up then.”

“You and Jake? Will- will Sam be there?” Danny prays to any being that would hear his pleas that Josh wouldn’t see the blush settling across his cheeks in the semi-darkness of the room, embarrassed that he was already getting so worked up at the thought of the man.

“Yeah, Jake’s getting him up now.” A sly smile works its way onto his lips, and Danny prepares himself for the teasing he knows must be coming. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t- I don’t care if he’s there or not just, y’know, wanted to know.” Smooth. You played that one off really well, Danny. Great fucking job.

“Alright. Also just a heads up, we can’t find the big tent so you and him are sharing a double. See you in a few.” Josh closes the door behind himself as he leaves, not allowing Danny a chance to respond.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Danny scrambles out of his bed in near panic, setting in on packing whatever he could find in the limited time he had been given. It’s just camping with the twins. And Sam. For a week and a half. Where you’ll be sharing a tent with Sam. It’s fine. This is fine.

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10:57 AM

“Why can’t I get any bars here?” Sam whines the second he steps out of Josh’s car, holding his phone in the air in any attempt to get service.

“Probably because there’s no cell service here. We’re all unplugging for the week, turn your phone off so it doesn’t die in case we need it in an emergency.” Jake answers him as he closes his door, making his way to the trunk to begin unloading the rest of their camping gear and bags.

Sam lowers his phone in defeat, turning it off as Jake had said as he grumbles to himself. “Wouldn’t do us any good in an emergency if we don’t have service.”

Josh slaps him on the back lightly as he joins the others at the trunk, immediately throwing two large camp chairs into his arms. “Oh, cheer up, you get to spend the week with the best big brothers in the world. And Danny, of course. With our amazing company, you won’t even need your phone.”

“What if I wanted to text my friends? What about that, huh?”

Jake glances over at his younger brother, confusion written across his face as his brows furrow. “You have friends? Like, present company excluded?”

“If my arms weren’t full, I would flip you off.”

Josh bumps Sam’s shoulder as he passes him, already on his second trip from the car to where they were setting up camp. “Hey, less talking, more unloading. The sooner we get set up, the sooner we can go on a hike.”

Sam trails after Josh with a groan, dropping the chairs in a pile next to the ones his brother had already set up. “Ugh, it’s only 11 AM and we’ve been up since 7:30. This is supposed to be a vacation, can I at least take a nap first?”

“Hike first, nap later.”

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6:11 PM

It had taken the group two hours to completely set up their secluded camp site, choosing to spend the rest of the day hiking around the Kiszka’s private property in the forested mountains of Michigan, finally returning to their camp site after Sam had begun to complain every five minutes about how long their hike was becoming. He flops down into one of the four camp chairs set around their firepit as Danny starts piling small branches to start a fire. “Can I take a nap now?”

“If you take a nap now, might as well go to sleep, Sammy.”

“Oh, shut up.” Despite his best efforts, Sam can’t keep a smile from creeping onto his face, painfully aware that if the comment had come from anyone other than Danny, he would have snapped back with something in annoyance.

“Why don’t you make me, Kiszka?” Sam’s head snaps towards the man at his tone, the smirk on his face only fueling the butterflies beginning to flutter in his stomach.

“Oh, you’re on.” Before he can think to stop himself, Sam springs out of his chair, closing the distance between them and tackling him around the middle. Sam lands on top of him as Danny falls flat on his back, taking advantage of his surprise to get the upper hand momentarily.

Danny grins up at him, allowing Sam to hold onto what little advantage he had for a moment longer. “You really don’t want to start this.”

“Oh, I think I do. I always won when we wrestled in high school. What? You afraid of losing again, Wagner?” Before he knows it, Danny completely flips their positions, pinning Sam to the ground by his wrists as he sits on him.

“I’m a lot stronger than I was when I was 15. And you always won because you’d give me wet willies so I’d lose my focus.” He sees Sam’s eyes go wide, feeling his heartbeat speed up below his hands as he realizes that he was fully straddling Sam.

“…You two ok?” Both men whip their heads towards Josh to see him awkwardly watching their interaction, having returned with matches and lighter fluid to start their fire.

Danny scrambles off Sam, putting as much distance between them without raising any further suspicions. “Yep, fine. Sam thought he could still best me in wrestling so I uh- proved him wrong?” He didn’t mean for his sentence to turn into a question as he tried to find any explanation for why he had been on top of Sam, despite his explanation being the truth.

“Ooookay, well uh, Jake’s getting the veggie dogs from the cooler now, you two should find us some sticks to roast them on.

“Yeah, yep, can do. I’m gonna go uh… do that.” Sam glances at Danny once before turning abruptly and walking straight into the woods, pretending to be completely focused on his task as his mind wandered back to the feeling of Danny on top of him.

“I’ll go do that too.” Danny turns in the opposite direction that Sam had gone, trying to escape Josh before he started questioning him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t leave fast enough, Josh’s curiosity getting the best of him now that Sam was out of earshot.

“Not you, Sam can find them.” Shit. Danny turns back to him slowly, already dreading the conversation before him. “So, what was that really?”

“Wrestling, like I said.”

“Right. So, we’re just gonna ignore the fact that you’re getting hard over having Sam pinned to the ground by his wrists as you straddled him?”

FUCK. Danny glances down, immediately moving to adjust his shorts and tie his flannel around his waist even though Josh had already made it extremely clear that he knew. “Listen, I-”

“Nope, please don’t pull an excuse out of your ass.” Josh’s voice is steady and calm as he crouches next to the firepit, pouring the lighter fluid over the wood before striking a match and tossing it onto the pile. “You like him, don’t you.”

“Of course I like him, he’s my friend.”

Josh deadpans at him, his face going blank before he cocks an eyebrow at him. “We both know that’s not what I meant. C’mon Danny, I’m your best friend, I won’t tell Sam if you like him like that.”

“Fine.” Danny lets out a sigh of defeat as he makes his way to Josh’s side, panic creeping into him that Sam was still close enough to hear. “Yes, I like Sam like that. I have for years. He’s made it clear that there’s no chance for that though, so can we please move on and forget about what you saw?”

“I wouldn’t say there’s no chance.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Josh shrugs as he pokes at the fire with a nearby stick, pretending to act as if he knew nothing more than what Danny had confessed to him. “I’m just saying you should try to make a move, see how he reacts.”

“Nope, not doing that. We just fixed this, Josh, I’m not ruining it again.”

Josh smiles at the thought, remembering when Sam had said almost the exact same thing just days before. “Just trust me, alright?” Their conversation is cut off as Sam returns with six large sticks, plopping down into one of the camping chairs again as he sets in on sharpening the ends.

“What are we talking about?”

Josh shoots Danny a secretive smile before getting up to help his brother. “Nothing. Need any help?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam moves past the suspicious comment despite his mind catching on whatever they could have possibly been talking about before his arrival. Josh wouldn’t have told Danny about their conversation from the other night, right? “Just don’t let Jake near any knives when he gets back, I still don’t have the tip of my thumb from when we were kids.”

“What did you think was going to happen, it magically grow back?” Josh snorts.

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping so.”

“That’s not how that works, Sammy.”

“I mean like, lizards can regrow whole limbs.”

“Are you a lizard?”

“…no.”

“Exactly.” As the brothers begin arguing lightheartedly, Danny tunes them out as he pokes at the fire, his focus on Josh’s words before Sam had interrupted them. Would it really be so stupid to try again? It’s been a few years, maybe his feelings have changed. No, that’s fucking stupid. We’re just friends, why can’t I just leave it at that? I finally have him back, I can’t risk losing him again.

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10:42 PM

“Josh, just how much weed did you bring?” Sam questions his older brother as he removes the half-smoked joint from between his lips, surprised at how generous Josh had been with giving each of them a whole joint, as if he wasn’t worried about running out before the trip ended.

He offers a lopsided smile at him, his eyes nearly closed from both the amount of weed he had smoked in the last few hours and the fire burning bright between them. “Enough for it to be incredibly illegal even if we divided it between the four of us.”

“Yeah, but this is private property though.”

“And?” Jake cuts in, looking up from the guitar he was absentmindedly strumming.

“That changes things, right?”

“That doesn’t change jack shit, Sammy.”

“I have a medical card so that might help? Depending on how much he brought.” Danny pipes up despite the amusement he was getting from watching the brother’s bicker.

“See! Danny has a plan.” Sam says triumphantly before turning back to the man beside him in confusion. “Wait, why do you have a medical card?”

“Chronic pain management. Playing golf for years like I did nearly tore my left rotar cuff, which I still have issues with and let me tell you, it’s a bitch when it flares up. Josh’s boyfriend, Austin, has one for his Ehlers Danlos pain management and helped me through the process.”

“Huh.” Sam considers this for a moment, his expression still tinted with confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me.”

“Never asked.” He shrugs before taking a sip of his White Claw, tearing his eyes from Sam to instead stare at the fire before him.

“Well, in honor of Daniel possibly having our backs in the off chance that cops show up, he gets to play the next song.” Jake stands clumsily, teetering past the fire to hand Danny his guitar before quickly finding his seat again and half-collapsing onto the canvas.

“What should I play?” He moves the guitar in his lap as his fret hand comes to rest on the top of the neck, his other hand resting against the worn pickguard.

“Whatever you want, your choice.” Danny thinks for a moment before a song pops into his mind, smiling wide before beginning to whistle as he strums.

“Alabama, Arkansas; I do love my ma and pa, not the way that I do love you. Well, holy, moly, me oh my. You’re the apple of my eye, Girl, I’ve never loved one like you.”  As Danny finishes the first two parts of the first verse, he turns to the man beside him, hoping he would understand his cue in their inebriated states. “Sammy!”

He blinks for a moment before he gets it, sitting up straighter in his seat as he tries to catch up. “Man, oh, man, you’re my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness. There ain’t nothing that I need!” Josh lets out a whoop as they find the flow of it, the reason for his grin only known by him.

“Well, hot and heavy pumpkin pie. Chocolate candy, Jesus Christ.”

“There ain’t nothing please me more than you. Oh, home, let me come home. Home is whenever I’m with you.”

They continue this way until they reach the bridge, Danny yelling Josh’s name to ask him to whistle as the two men spoke through the song. “Sam?”

“Daniel Wagner.”

“Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?”

“I sure do, you came jumping out after me!”

“Well, you fell on the concrete and nearly broke your ass, and you were bleeding all over the place. And I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?”

“Yes, I do.” Sam smiles wide, warmth blossoming in his chest despite knowing they were just saying the lyrics to the song.

“Well, there’s something I never told you that night.”

“What didn’t you tell me?”

“While you were sitting in the back seat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you. And I never told you ‘til just now!”

Sam misses his next spoken cue as well as the intro to the chorus as tears come to his eyes, wishing deep down that Danny was actually saying those words to him, that he meant it from his heart. Danny continues the chorus alone, his brows furrowing slightly at the absence of Sam’s voice. “Home, let me come home. Home is whenever I’m with you. Oh, home, let me come home. Home is where I’m alone with you.”

His hand stills on the guitar, cutting it off as he sang unaccompanied. “Home, let me come home. Home is wherever I’m with you.” There’s a beat of silence where Danny worries that Sam wouldn’t continue, his heart sinking until the other man takes a deep breath, fixing him with an almost pained smile before singing again.

“Oh, home, yes, I am home; home is when I’m alone with you.” Danny chooses to ignore the small crack in his voice, smiling back at Sam as he resumes playing, singing through the outro with him until they come to its close.

“ENCORE! ENCOREEE!” Josh shoots out of his seat, clapping enthusiastically as Danny allowed himself one more moment to gaze at Sam, his mind still wandering back to the words they had sung to each other.

“Thanks, but I think I’m done for the night. It’s your turn, Josh.” Danny hands the guitar off to him, smiling with the knowledge that he was the only one out of the four of them who didn’t know how to play the guitar.

“Low blow, Danny. Low blow.” He feigns a look of hurt before passing the guitar back to Jake. “It’s fine though, that’s why I keep Jakey around to play while I serenade people with my voice.”

“More like scream at people.” Jake shoots back, dodging the swat Josh sends his way the best he could with the guitar and his proximity to the fire. Danny’s focus goes back to Sam as the twins squabble, thinking that he saw tears in his eyes in the dim light of the fire.

“Hey.” He reaches out, gently tapping the arm of his camp chair to capture his attention before continuing quietly. “You ok?”

“Mhm.” His response comes immediately as he sits up in his seat straighter, wiping his eyes as discreetly as he could. “The uh, smoke just got in my eyes.”

“Alright, just wanted to check.” He settles back into his seat, only half believing Sam’s excuse about the smoke. Why would he be crying? Was it the song? Did I do something wrong again? No, it’s probably just from being around his brothers again. At everything being the way it used to be. It wouldn’t be because of me, it can’t be.

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taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @sanguinebats @theres-a-tvjoe @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @currentlyfangirling10

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #daniel gvf #sam gvf #sanny gvf #greta van angst #greta van fluff #sam kiszka x danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny wagner

[zillobeastbait]

Sick day

Sick Day Daryl’s Daughter Daryl Dixon x Daughter!Reader Words 1174 Warnings/Notes: Sick, passing out, none other than the show

not my image

You wake up one morning feeling dizzy and nauseous. You roll over and look to see if Daryl is still in bed or if he’s already out and about. You see his pillow and pile of blankets but not him. “Daryl?” you call out, hoping he’s somewhere near the tent. When you get no response you decide to get up and look to see if he’s in the camp or out hunting. You climb out of your tent and realize you are more dizzy than you thought and your head hurts like hell. “Daryl?” you call out again, this time holding your hand up to your head. You get no response and try to walk farther towards the rest of the camp but your head is spinning and you can barely stand up right. “Y/n? Are you ok?” you hear someone say before you fall to the ground and pass out.

“Someone needs to get Daryl, now!” Lori says with a firm tone, and one of the people goes running off. Lori is still holding the girl from when she caught her, breaking her fall moments ago. “What happened?” a young Carl comes running up beside his mother. “We don’t know right now but I need you to wait by the rest of the group. That goes for the rest of you too.” Lori waves them all away with her hand. “She could be sick and we don’t want everyone else to get sick as well.” As everyone is walking away Lori picks up the young girl and brings her back to Daryl’s tent where she had been staying. She puts the girl on her cot and checks her head and neck for a fever. That's when she felt that she was burning up. Just as Lori was about to leave and see if they had found Daryl yet he came running up to the tent. “Where is she? Is she ok?” He seemed frantic and worried. “She's right here, Daryl. She is burning up and probably has a fever, which means she might be throwing up and coughing a lot later.” Lori tries explaining to him but he doesn't seem to be listening as he sits down and feels her for himself. “Daryl, are you listening? You're going to need to keep an eye on her.” “Yea, I hear ya.” “Ok, let me know when she’s up and I’ll heat up some soup for her. Don’t let her eat sweets or drink any pop or anything.” “Alright, I got it, will you just let me sit with her?” Daryl said it a little louder than he meant to, and probably a little too harsh, but he really just wanted to make sure that his girl was ok.

When you wake up the first thing you feel is Daryl’s hand in yours. You slowly open your eyes and it feels like the sun is too bright and the world is spinning. “D-Dary-l?” You croak the words out, and it takes all of your strength to do so. “Hey, it's ok kid, I got ya, you're ok.” he shoots up so he's right up next to the bed. “E-Everything h-hurts.” you take long and deep breaths after talking. “It’s gonna be ok kid, don’t waste your energy talkin’. I got you.” Daryl moves one of his hands up to brush your hair out of your face. He keeps it on your head after, moving his thumb over your forehead. He keeps his other hand interlocked with yours. You look into his eyes for a while before drifting off to sleep.

It’s been an hour before you wake back up. “Hey kid, how ya’ feelin’?” Daryl smiles at you from his spot on his cot. “Not any better.” you let out a couple coughs before continuing. “Can I have some food?” “Oh right, Lori told me to tell her when you woke up, I’ll be right back.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head before unzipping and stepping out of the tent. “Alright.” you reply, although it’s more for yourself since he can’t even hear you.

Daryl returns a couple minutes later. “Lori is gonna make you some soup. Said it’s got healthy stuff in it.” He smiles as he says healthy stuff. You smirk back. He always jokes with you about how you two eat things differently or act differently from everyone else. “Can you read me my book while we wait? Please?” You're still smiling and it melts his heart that little bit more every time. “I guess, which one do you want?” He always pretends to be grumpy about doing things for you. Things that “show his emotions” as you like to call it. “Y-you pick.” you let out a couple more coughs before settling down facing him. He only gets about halfway through when Lori knocks on your tent. “Hang on.” Daryl sets the book down next to you and clears everything off your foldable table before quickly opening the tent and taking the soup from her. “Thank you, Lori.” He gives her a quick nod. “I appreciate it.” She gives him a smile before looking down at you. “And how are you doing? Feeling any better?” She smiles at you. You just shake your head no in response and turn back to face the rather large bowl of soup. “Alright well I’ll leave you two alone then. Get some rest y/n.” Lori looks up and exchanges a nod with Daryl one last time before zipping the tent back up and leaving. “Can you sit up? To eat?” Daryl kneels by your bed again to help you sit up if you need. You simply shake your head no and struggle a little but sit up as much as you can. “Here.” Daryl holds the pot by the handle and gets a spoonful. You expect him to hand it to you but instead he brings it up to his mouth and blows on it. He then takes the whole thing into his mouth. He sits and chews for a moment before nodding his head slightly and getting another spoonful. He brings it back up to his mouth and blows before bringing it up to yours. You take a bite and chew. You smile at the warmth in your scratchy raw throat. He repeats this process with you over and over again. Eventually you finish the soup and he sets the pot back down. “Want me to finish the book?” he reaches over and grabs it, holding it up in front of you. You just nod yes and he gives you a little smile before starting to read again. You lay back down and let Daryl’s voice carry you to sleep. Once Daryl saw that she was asleep he carefully pulled the blankets up to her shoulders and tucked her in. He sat there for a moment after. Just watching her and thinking. Eventually he gets up and lays in his own cot, ready to get some sleep himself.

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Commissions: Open

#the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfic #twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #fanfiction #jowrites #daryl x daughter

[eggcompany]

Kill a Dixon Part 1

A call in about a public sexual assault. That’s how Shane’s journey began to help one twenty year old Daryl Dixon. Daryl’s just a young man struggling to make it in the world without being alone. Kind Lori Grimes and compassionate Officer Grimes help him with a roof and long talks.

Officer Walsh really had a soft spot in his heart for the kid. And One Miss Lori Grimes would feel a twinge of motherly affections toward him too.

Shane hated calls like this. Any rapes really pissed him off. But public raping? Gang rape? Public gang rape in the park public bathrooms, some kid handcuffed, beat up, and blacked out. 

Shane expected a druggy, maybe someone strung out or a town prostitute that mixed up with some bad guys. 

When he walked into the nasty old bathroom to wait on an ambulance he didn't expect to see a skinny light headed man- boy kneeling limply on the floor with his wrists cuffed to a pipe above his head. He was naked, all bruised and red. He had what looked like hickies all over his neck and shoulders and collarbones but also hand shaped bruises around his neck and bruises formed around his ribs and scratches running down his thighs. He had a bruise on his cheek too but no black eye. Shane then did notice he still had on a pair of unlaced brown work boots. Probably had his clothes cut off of him. 

He quickly walked over and knelt down in front of the lifeless form. 

"Hey, hey buddy, I've got an ambulance on the way but let's get you out of these. Hey man are you alright? Can you wake up? Wake up for me now." Shane said quietly in his Emergency Hurt Children voice. He looked over the boy and held his bloody wrist in his hand for a second and felt a strong pulse. 

He looked at the cuffs and noticed they looked like cheap ones you could get at a sex shop maybe. He was sure he had a needle or a paperclip in his truck. 

"I'm gonna go get a clip from my truck to get these unlocked. I'll be right back. I'll be right back, I'm not leaving." The officer said even though the boy was still unresponsive. Shane could see him breathing though and he seemed to still have good color in his face. 

He quickly dashed back to his truck and looked around till he found a stack of papers he was working on while on patrol. He snatched a paperclip off of a few of the papers and dashed back to where the boy was shifting slightly. 

He knelt back in front of the boy and quickly used the paperclip to work open the cuffs while speaking calmingly to him. 

"Hey buddy, I'm Officer Walsh. I've got an ambulance on the way. We're just gonna wait here till they come. Can you tell me your name?" Shane said and pulled the boy's hands down. The young man blinked, groaned, and wrapped his arms around his middle, leaning forward. 

"Daryl. Aint need no ambulance. Need my jeans and a shirt." The boy grumbled with a thick southern accent as he moves to grab the side of the sink and pull himself up. He fails though and ends up slipping back down to his knees moaning in pain. 

Shane shushes him and holds his hands out to help the boy- Daryl- up. 

"Hey, Daryl, Let's take this easy now. You're in shock, you need to at least get checked out at the hospital. We'll get your report figured ou-"

"I said I don't need a damn ambulance. I need my fuckin' jeans and a shirt. Don't need any fuckin' hand outs." Daryl said and pushed himself up to stand. He turned a sickly green color and quickly bent over the sink to puke. 

"Alright. Alright man, let me go get some clothes out of my truck. I'll see what I've got." Sahen said as he stood next to the boy and looked over at him again. He seemed to have just thrown up what looked like bile, sperm, and probably piss. Shane shook his head as he jogged back to the truck to snag the pack of clothes he always carried. People are so fucked up. He was glad he always had some extra clothes, it was just in case he got into some really nasty shit to save a kid or cat or got shit thrown at him by crackheads. 

He grabbed the small green bag from under the driver's seat and jogged back to where Daryl was still retching. He looked so weak. Shaking like a leaf, naked, cold, covered in bruises and dried ejaculate with tears and snot running down his face from dry heaving. 

"I've got some extras. I don't know if they'll fit you but if you're so adimate about it..." Shane said and handed over the bag. He heard sirens in the distance. Maybe if the ambulance got here, then the boy would see reason. 

Daryl grabbed the bag and ripped open the zipper and grabbed the pair of jeans that were folded on top. 

"I already said I don't need no handouts. I can take care of myself, pig." Daryl said and pulled the jeans on over his work boots. They were at least three sizes too big. 

"Hey, there's no reason for that. I'm just trying to help you Daryl. Now the ambulance is already gonna be here any second and you look like you might have a fractured rib, bruised at least. Let them take you to the hospital and the hospital can file a report. They can at least give you some he-"

"Look officer dumbass, I just need to go home. I don't need you or them damn doctors help." Daryl said and pulled on the t-shirt that also hung over his thin body. The jeans kept falling down and Shane was going to offer some zip ties to hold them up but Daryl was already cutting the bottom hem off to use as a belt. 

"Look, man, if you're strung out or anything else it won't matter. I just want you to get checked out. Broken bones, STDs, diseases, that's all I'll care about. If you got something nasty then the hospital can give you some medicine. Hell if you're on anything else." Shane said as the ambulance pulled in. Daryl was about to storm off but he fell down to his knees. 

Soon Daryl was in the back of the ambulance fighting off the EMTs. Shane had already told them everything he knew. And they left for the hospital. 

Shane had done everything he could. There wasn't anything at the scene and well this county didn't care much about boys ending up like this. He found out later that it had been Daryl Dixon so the county was really against investigating it given the Dixon clan were all druggy criminals. Shane though... Shaen called the hospital the next morning but earned the news that Daryl had signed himself out right after they had gotten blood drawn from him. 

Sighing as he got dressed, he needed groceries and had the night patrol again, he decided maybe he'd keep an eye out for a guy in jeans too big and a hoodie, the hospital said he'd taken a hoodie from another patient.

Sure enough limping down the road walking toward the druggy, dirty outskirts of town, hood pulled over his head was one Daryl Dixon. Shane turned around and drove beside him real slow. 

"Hey! Daryl! Hey man, c'mon come talk to me for a second." Shane hollered out his passenger side window. He rolled beside the boy who kept his head down and hands shoved into the hoodie pockets. 

"C'mon 'm just checking up on ya as a friend. No badge, just me." Shane said and Daryl huffed and walked off the road onto the grass beside it. 

"Just wanna make sure you're alright. Called the hospital. Heard what kinda hell you raised." Shane said again. He had called. He had been told that 'That little creatin yelled every curse at us and halfway wrestled the EMTs out of the ambulance. We had to sedate him just to get some blood. There's no way we'll get him into x-ray.' He wasn't surprised. 

Daryl kept walking, a little faster over the cold morning dew. 

"I read up on your file." Shane finally yelled and stopped fully. The younger man also stopped. 

Daryl took a big breath and stomped over to the stopped vehicle. 

"Yeah? Read 'bout old parking tickets? Or did you rather read 'bout how many times I left that hospital before. Just like I already told you- I don't need no damn handouts." The man said and turned and started walking off again. 

Shane nodded. He'd read about the eleven times Daryl had signed himself out since he turned eighteen. Two years and nearly six hospital visits a year. Every time he was found unconscious somewhere. Drugs, beaten up, dumped out of a car, and the last four times have all been the same. Locked to pipe or wall or tree and raped. Public, all public. And every time they try to file a police report or get him into rehab or try to get the police involved, he denies. Worse, the cops can charge him with public nudity.

Shane also looked into the family the kid lived with. Daddy, Will, Dixon was a bastard. Domestic violence, drugs, every charge possible related to drinking or being drunk, and child endangerment. And a brother, Merle, who Shane had seen in the precinct many times but was lucky enough never to have dealt with. He had a wrap sheet a mile long too. 

But Daryl? Daryl didn’t do much more than poach. He had been forgiven for dozens of poachings. From a decade ago and from the past year. Probably had to hunt to eat by the looks of it. He seemed to be the only Dixon that didn’t have some sort of drinking habit or drug addiction. 

“They said you didn’t even shower. You even got hot water at home? I know I do. Shower, bath tub, hot food. Now how ‘bout you come talk to me, get in the truck, and we can figure something out.” Shane offered and kept a slow roll next to the kid. Daryl stopped. Kept his eyes down and thought. 

“What’d you want in return?” He yelled back as another car went around the officer waving. Shane chuckled and shook his head, looking up at the squinting blue eyes. 

“Conversation ‘bout what happened. And let me take a look at your ribs. Ain’t no nurse but I’d prefer knowing that they aint broke.” Shane said sincerely and Daryl looked over at him. Sharp blue eyes stared at him for a moment. He snarled and rolled his eyes and walked up to the vehicle. 

“You got any cokes at your house?” He asked as he hauled himself into the sheriff's vehicle. Shane smiled and pulled onto the highway listening for Daryl to buckle his seat belt.

#egg_company #fanfic #fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #good shane walsh #shane walsh #rick grimes #lori grimes #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead

[pidge-poetry]

ALBUM REVIEW: Foals - Life Is Yours

9/10 June 15, 2022 | Lori Gava | Album Reviews

The Oxford, UK band Foals has undergone some epic changes over the last three years. During that period, the band has experienced heady highs and painful lows. Their 2019 release of the two-parter Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost hit number 1 on the charts, supported by a wildly successful tour, providing a mountaintop experience for the band.

Foals would see the band lose two of their founding members as both resigned from the band. Back in 2018 bassist Walter Gervers would leave to start a family, and keyboardist Edwin Congreave would leave to finish an Economics degree. The results of these changes displayed a band continuing as a trio to tighten up to their musical constructs.

Foals would continue to work on the next release throughout lockdown, not knowing if or when they would be able to tour live to support their efforts. On June 17, the band triumphantly releases Life Is Yours, their seventh studio album, and a celebration of life-affirmation as the world emerges from lockdown. The release is loaded with rambunctious roof-lifting music that challenges the listener to dance along.

Foals on Life Is Yours delivers an amalgam of sunny, motorik, disco/house-influenced music, combined with the proprietary Foals sound of driving guitars and math rock synths. The band looks forward but harkens back to their earlier releases, Antidotes and Total Life Forever. The change in the lineup seems to allow the band to find a new way to express themselves. The heavy mood of their last studio release, Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost, is lifted in a glorious pop party as only Foals can present.

The band leaves no doubt this is a party affair with the opening eponymous selection, "Life is Yours", which bursts open with a pop punch as their distinctive guitar sonic takes centre stage reassuring the Foals faithful that the elements that made them so alluring are still present. They declare that it is time to put the pandemic behind us, using an addictive funky bass to create a great summer song that will explode live.

The band continues as they began with "Wake Me Up", another energy-packed track that segues perfectly with the opener. The song asks us to come dance with them in the streets as the lockdowns become a thing of memory. The sing-along chorus is a panacea to the last two years of dread. "2 am" slows down the euphoria by looking at the changes in relationships. It is here in particular but also throughout the album that the remaining band members seem to show a wistfulness at the departure of their friends and bandmates.

"2001" delivers some serious dance-inducing disco bass as it extols the wonders of summertime, "Blue tongues and candy floss". Again, this brilliant marriage of sonics from Foals' Total Life Forever album mixed with pop and disco elements produces a winning track. "Flutter" goes back to the band's math rock days, adding falsetto vocals from lead singer Yannis Philippakis to create another outstanding track. "Looking High" is a personal favourite. The beautiful structure of the song allows for a swirling feeling yet never loses the dance beat. The lyrics in the song keep it from being too lightweight as the narrator seems to be looking high and low for the life prior to lockdown. The track continues to build and build to an explosive finale which is classic Foals.

"Under the Radar" channels, Devo and the Talking Heads producing a track filled with pleasing Post Punk and New Wave elements. "Crest of the Wave" switches to a melancholy vibe as this mellow floating track unspools. Here Philippakis' vocals take front and centre as the song provides foam-flecked sunny nostalgia with the almost mournful lyric "I'll always be waiting for the crest of the wave". "The Sound" is Foals providing a fantastic blue-eyed soul offering. The drums, funky bass with adamant keyboards delivers a straightforward punch. The final track, "Wild Green", is a mesmerizing combination of motorik, and techno dollops of goodness. The energy and intricacy of the selection is noteworthy as the momentum builds and builds to a dramatic explosion as that distinctive Foals guitar guides thru cacophony and then nothingness.

Life Is Yours is a worthy addition to the Foals discography and will please fans as they revel in the release's goodness. Few bands could take the body blow of losing two founding members and not flounder a bit on a new release. The remaining members took the losses in their stride, developing a new way of expressing themselves without losing the central core of what has always made them so alluring.

Their goal with Life Is Yours was to celebrate the world's reawakening, successfully pulling it off. As the world awakens from the nightmare of the pandemic, many have come to appreciate the bands that are acknowledging and moving on from the pandemic. With Life is Yours, Foals produces a very straightforward celebration of returning to making music.

Foals never disappoint with brilliant releases that cause listeners to look forward to their next offerings. Life Is Yours is destined to be a very successful album for Foals.

Read the review on xsnoize.com

#foals #liy era #life is yours #album review #interviews

[yannadere]

daryl dixon, shane walsh and glenn rhee (separate) reacting to their s/o getting bit

cw: loss, depression, unhealthy coping, suicide, angst, hurt/comfort

Daryl Dixon:

you're scared to tell him

he's lost so much even before the apocalypse, you don't want to hurt him

trying to distance yourself from daryl doesn't work at all

he just gets worried, which comes across as him being angry, and he clings to you

poor bby has abandonment issues

it's a few days after you get bit when you finally tell him, you already feel your health deteriorating but you hold up for him

you tell him when he's getting ready to settle for the night

bc evenings with you are when he's the most calm

"hey, daryl?" you mumble, and he hums softly, eyes still closed. "hey, look at me. i have to tell you something." you sigh, nudging his arm with your uninjured hand. "what?" he groans, finally looking at you. "i.. my hand isn't just cut, daryl..." you sigh, unraveling the bandages. "what'dya mean?" daryl's brows furrow, eyes falling onto the bandages as they fall.

his blood goes cold, and he sits up suddenly and grabs your wrist to observe the nasty bite on the side of your hand, between your thumb and forefinger. "damn it, why didn't you tell me?!" he snaps, stopping to take a breath as you flinch back slightly. "c'mere..." he sighs, pulling you into a tight hug. "i'm so sorry..." you whisper clutching his shirt tightly. "sh, it's okay... i... when you go, i'll be here."

"daryl... you shouldn't have to do that..." you close your eyes, tears slowly falling. "nah. it's fine. i... i wanna do it. i don't trust anyone else to. not even you." he holds you tighter, kissing your neck gently.

"i'm so sorry, daryl... i was being stupid, i-" he silences you, moving away and pressing his forehead against yours. "don't blame yourself. i knew something like this would happen eventually... i put merle down, had a feeling either of us would go next." he gently cups your face with his hands, wiping your cheeks and nuzzling his nose against yours affectionately.

"i don't want to put you through this, daryl." you cry, going to leave when he pulls you back. "don't leave... please don't leave..." daryl begs, pulling you back to him and letting your body fall limp against his. you let out a small sob, wrapping your arms around his middle as your head rests on his shoulder, tears dampening his shirt.

"it'll be okay. i'll take care of it. for now, get some rest. i'll be here when you wake up." he kisses your cheek, waiting for you to calm down. you sniffle, holding him tightly. "i'm so sorry..!" you repeat the words over and over, and he closes his eyes, trying not to cry himself.

"shh... please... don't be sorry." his voice wavers and he hates it. "just sleep, darlin'... i'm right here." you whimper before falling quiet, resting your hand on his jaw and nuzzling into his neck. "i love you, okay..? i didn't want it to be this way." you breathe out, letting him lean onto you slightly. "i know. i know. just sleep for me, darling." he sniffles, cradling you close as you fall asleep slowly, knowing it would be the last time.

you fall asleep in his arms, but he can't bring himself to harm you

so, he tells rick, who's also upset upon the news

however his best friend's distress makes it even worse

so, rick does it for him as the others try to comfort daryl

after your death, he becomes reckless and depressed, not eating or drinking at all and becoming skinny and malnourished

he shoots openly at walkers, and when his ammo's out he takes out his anger on other walkers in other ways

whether it's stabbing them, bludgeoning them, or just hitting their bodies after they fall.

rick decides to put him under close watch to ensure he doesn't harm himself

but daryl's rather experienced in sneaking out/away, and he visits your grave often

unfortunately one morning, rick finds him at your grave with a bullet in his head

he's buried next to you, as rick knows it's what daryl craved

to be with you again.

Shane Walsh:

you got bit on the way back from gathering medical supplies for carl

and with shane you knew there was no way he would take well at any time of the day

so you decide to rip the bandaid off and talk to him an hour after your own little grieving session.

you approach him when he's talking to the small group, asking him for a private talk, saying it's important

so, of course, he's worried, as are the group

you take him behind the barn and hug him

he's genuinely confused as to why you're acting like this

deadass asks you if you're expecting or smth

you hate to break his heart

"so why did you bring me back here?" shane asks, crossing his arms and cocking a hip. "shane... i'm sorry." you sigh, pulling the collar of your shirt to reveal the bloody bite on your shoulder.

he's speechless, blinking a few times before almost collapsing. you yelp, catching your boyfriend quickly, but fall under his weight. on the floor behind the barn, shane closes his eyes, crying as he holds you tight. "shane... don't cry. it's okay..." you try your best to smile, cupping his face and wiping his tears.

"this isn't okay..! baby, you're not okay!" he sobs, cupping the back of your head and pulling you closer. "shane- baby, stop crying... it's okay." you sniffle, smiling through your own tears as you kiss his jaw lovingly

shane tries to gather himself, but his whole world feels like it's collapsing. "shh, shh... c'mon, let's get you some water." you grab his hands, trying to pull him up. slowly easing him onto his feet, you help shane back to the house. rick spots you two immediately, stumbling to help you both. "shane-?"

"rick..!" shane is clearly distraught, and his best friend latches onto him quickly to try and calm him down. "shshsh- hey, look at me." rick soothes, and you stand back slightly, trying to calm your nerves. "what happened?" rick demands, eyes steeling as he stares at you. "rick- it's not-" you try to explain what happened, when shane answers for you. "they got bit! my baby got bit..!" shane sobs, knees feeling weak as he almost collapses again.

rick processes the information, looking at you in shock. lori overhears, muttering a fast "oh my god..!" as she approaches the three of you. "how did this happen?!" rick asks, trying to support shane fully. "i was in a rush, i got grabbed and..." you trail off, moving over to comfort shane who can't calm down at all.

"he needs to sit down..." you say softly, glancing at hershel who was observing from his porch. "come, sit him down inside. i'll get him some water." hershel guides you and you help shane in with the aid of rick. flopping down onto a couch, shane can't seem to catch his breath, so you crouch in front of him to cup his face, whispering comforting words to him. "baby... i'm so sorry, it should of been me..!" shane cries, and you hush him quickly. "don't you dare say that, shane walsh." you scold, pulling him into a tight hug.

"never blame yourself for my death. i wouldn't rest easy if you did." you sigh, smoothing his hair and kissing his temple. rick stands anxiously nearby, and you sense his worry. "sit, rick. relax... i've got this." you nod at him, and he nods stiffly, taking a seat of his own when lori pipes up. "when do you think you'll turn?" she asks, and you freeze. "lori-!" "i'm just thinking ahead, rick!"

shane becomes more distraught by her words, clinging onto you tightly. "shh, it's okay... i'm here, bubs." you sigh, cradling him impossibly closer. "the hell's goin' on?" maggie asks, confused as ever. "not now, please..." rick sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "right..." she mumbles, leaving as hershel comes back with some water. "here, drink some of this, son." he nods, giving the glass to you so shane could take it.

after taking a few sips, shane goes back to codding you, slowly winding down. "there you go, just breathe." you smile, kissing him gently. "i'm sorry i couldn't protect you..!" shane hiccups, nuzzling your neck. "shh. don't say that..!" you sigh, holding him tighter. your boyfriend whines softly, and rick closes his eyes with a pained sigh.

you last a few more days before turning, spending your time slowly becoming more sick with shane next to you all the while.

when you turn, shane is devastated, holding your head as you stare up at him with discoloured eyes

he ignores how you try to bite him after a few minutes of your brain losing all memory of him, and his tears drip down onto your face

rick walks in, and sighs. he knew it would happen eventually... everyone did.

shane holds you for a few minutes. you were slowly gaining strength but he was always stronger.

the room is silent except for you little noises, and shane finally accepts this fate when rick puts a hand on his shoulder.

"let me do it..." his best friend gruffly says, and shane shakes his head. "leave 'em be, rick... just for a little while longer..." shane begs, and rick sighs, looking away briefly.

"you know i can't do that. if you or anyone get bit-" "rick, i am asking you nicely. leave."

he spends a few days with you in walker form, and it scares everyone. lori tries to convince him that you're not there anymore, a hollow vessel of what you once were but he wont buy it.

he loves you too much to believe anything like that, or hurt you. to him, you're still his darling, his everything who held him when times got tough.

you scratch at his arms, not even breaking skin due to your blunt nails, and he doesn't mind.

finally, with a few kisses around your pale, sunken face, and a final kiss to your lips that he forced closed- shane raises his gun.

he hesitates, letting you get the jump on him, but he grabs your jaw before you can do anything

the sudden commotion makes rick fly in, only to see you lifeless once more in shane's arms.

Glenn Rhee:

unlike the other two, he watches you get bit.

he's completely distraught as the rest of the group fight off the walkers whilst he makes his way to you

he rams the zombie with all his strength, knocking it down before shooting it

you've collapsed, sat back against the car door as blood seeps from your cheek, whimpering in pain and holding the gash with your blood-soaked hands.

he's crying before he knows it, dropping down next to you and carefully covering your cheek with his shaky hands.

he tries to reassure you, and himself, that you'll be fine and won't get infected,

but the sad look in your eyes confirm that you're not making it to the date he wanted to take you on tomorrow

as you slowly bleed out, he tries to tell you stories, to keep himself calm as you slowly die.

"hey, remember when..?" you're not paying attention, just admiring him as you move your hands to cup his face.

"i love you.." you croak with a small smile, and he smiles sadly, sobbing all the while.

the others have to watch, all waiting for the inevitable

"please don't leave me... please, i need you." glenn pleads, and you smile sadly.

he's pressing kisses to your forehead as you hold him close, your blood staining his hands, arms and shirt

"baby...?" glenn mumbles softly, sitting with you leant against him. "i'm still here, darling..." you whisper, gripping his shirt tightly. "i'm gonna miss you..." glenn sniffles, kissing the top of your head gently. "me too. i'll always be with you, okay. when i go, i don't want you to be sad. i want you to keep going, to find happiness again, even if it means finding love in another. i want the best for you." you smile, despite the ache in your cheek.

glenn breathes out as his eyes close, his tears still falling. "i could never replace you like that..." he whimpers, fingers curling into your hair as he holds you closer. "baby, don't cry... don't cry, because i'll cry." you try to laugh, and glenn laughs too, gently rubbing your uninjured cheek.

"glenn, we've got to, y'know..." rosita sighs, but glenn shakes his head. "no! we don't kill the living..!" glenn protests, his hold turning protective. "right, right... okay." she fakes surrender, walking away.

when you pass, glenn just knows. he doesn't even look at you. he can't bring himself to.

however, when you turn, he doesn't even bother to restrain you, just holding you close as you bite into his neck.

abraham shouts in alarm, shooting you instantly, and glenn cries as you fall, cupping your face and leaning down to press his forehead against you.

the group is distraught, but glenn just lets everything happen, telling them to leave him be, move on.

abraham gives him a spare pistol, and glenn takes it with a nod.

the group leaves, and glenn knows what he has to do. so, he opens the car door, slipping you into the car easily

he gets in himself, closing the door so walkers wouldn't chew on you or him.

alas, glenn admires the gun before pressing it to his chin.

#tw su*cide #cw angst #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd rick #twd shane #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh #glenn rhee x reader #glenn rhee #twd glenn #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Broken Trust

Summary: Y/N Walsh meets Daryl Dixon while working as an undercover Police Officer. But, when Daryl finds out the truth about you, you’re forced to move back to King County.

While on duty, a bullet puts you and Rick Grimes in hospital and when you wake up, the whole world has changed.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language, alcohol

Previous chapter

Chapter 10-

Dr Edwin Jenner was the man running the CDC, he made you all submit to a blood test if you wanted to come in.

So, you all agreed and after Andrea nearly passed out after her blood test due to not eating anything, Dr Jenner took you all to the kitchen and you were now sitting around the large table, bowls and plates stacked with food and bottles of wine covering the table top as you ate and drank together.

You knew everyone had a little bit too much to drink by now, but you were not about to stop Dale from giving everyone another round as he made his way around the table with another bottle of wine, topping up everyone's glasses.

"You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France." Dale said, as he finished filling up your glass.

You looked over at Carl across the table who was sitting between his parents causing you to chuckle.

The day Lori lets Carl drink, would be the day pigs fly.

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then." She responded and you just rolled your eyes.

She was always a sticker for the rules even as kids. She was a good mother, but you sometimes wished she let loose sometimes.

"What's it going to hurt? Come on." Rick responded, looking over at his wife.

"Alright." She finally said and your eyes widen in shock as you glanced over at you brother beside you who seemed to be as shocked as you were.

Dale grinned, pouring a little bit into Carls plastic cup as you watched the boy take a sip.

"Ew! That tastes nasty!" He exclaimed, pulling a disgusted face as he poked his tongue out causing everyone to laugh. 

"That's my boy." Lori responded grabbing his cup and pouring the wine into her glass.

"Better stick to soda pop there, bud." Shane said as Rick handed Carl a can of soda instead.

"Not you, Glenn. Keep drinking little man. I wanna see how red your face can get." Daryl said as he leant over the table and picked up one of the bottles of wine causing the others to all laugh as you stared at Daryl.

He had a golden Desert Eagle handgun tucked into he front of his pants where his shirt had ridded up a little, exposing some of his skin and you quickly looked away.

What the hell are you doing, Y/N?

Shaking your head at yourself you took a drink from your glass and leant back in chair. You've defiantly had more wine than you probably should, you didn't even like wine that much anyway, but it was there and hell, you wanted to get drunk.

"It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly." Rick suddenly spoke up and you glanced over at Dr Jenner who was sitting at the other table silently.

"He is more than just our host." T-Dog added, standing up and holding his glass of wine to the sky. "Hear hear!" He shouted as the others all mimicked him, raising their glasses and you did the same.

"Booyah!" Daryl shouted, raising his bottle of wine, not even bothering to pour it into a glass as he took a drink.

Still the same old Dixon.

"So, when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc? All the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?' Shane suddenly questioned from beside you causing everyone to stop celebrating as they looked between Shane and the doctor as you elbowed your brother.

He couldn't have waited a couple hours before asking?

"We're celebrating, Shane. Don't need to do this now." Rick responded.

"Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move, supposed to find all the answers. Instead we found him. Found one man. Why?" 

"Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left. Went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted... But, many couldn't face walking out the door. They opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time." Dr Jenner explained and for a moment nobody said anything as they stared at him in shock before you broke the silence.

"You didn't leave. Why?" You asked, a small part of you hoping that he was close to finding a cure for all of this, but deep down you knew that was impossible.

"I just kept working. Hoping to do some good." He answered with a shrug as the room fell into awkward silence as you all stared at the doctor, not really sure what to do or say next.

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man." Glenn muttered from across the table.

"Yes, he is. You get used to it, now I need a refill." You announced, trying to lighten the mood as you filled up your glass again before passing the bottle around the table for the others and a few minutes later, you were sitting back and chatting away again.

An hour later, the group of you were well and truly drunk.

A few more so than others as you walked down the hallway following Dr Jenner as he showed you all were you could sleep and were the showers were.

Showers, with hot water.

It was like you had died and gone to heaven. You had shelter, alcohol, beds and showers. What more could a girl want?

Everyone had somehow managed to pick their bedrooms and you made sure to pick the one furthest away from Shane because you knew when he was drunk, he snored like a freight train.

Their were only two showers in the large communal bathroom, so you had to wait a while before it was your turn, but you didn't mind.

You ended up back in the kitchen, sitting on one of the benches with a bottle of Jack Daniels that you recently discovered on one of the top shelves in the kitchen.

If you knew that was there the whole time, you wouldn't have been drinking that awful wine, but better late than never.

Glenn and Daryl were still in the kitchen with you, either waiting for a shower or just bored. You weren't sure which, but it didn't matter as you sat back and watched Glenn struggle to pour himself another glass of wine, spilling most of it on over the table causing you and Daryl to laugh as you watched him.

"A shower is free, y'all." Shane's voice shouted from down the hallway as Glenn quickly looked up, waiting to see who was going to go.

"Go for it, Glenn." You said, nodding towards the door.

"Thank you!" He shouted, although he did not need to shout since he was just across the room.

You just chuckled, watching him stagger out the door before you realised that you had just made a big mistake.

Now it was just you and Daryl alone in the room.

That was a bad idea.

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes as Daryl sat on one of the chairs with his legs resting up on the table, nursing his soon to be empty bottle of wine while you sat on the bench top fiddling with your now half empty bottle of jack.

"Are you just going to keep ignoring me?" You suddenly questioned, glancing over at Daryl who refused to look at you.

"Yep." He muttered, taking a swig from his bottle causing you to roll your eyes.

It had been over five years. Yes, he thought you betrayed and used him, but it was years ago and the world had literally died, couldn't you move on?

"What do you want me to say to you, Daryl? It's been over five years-"

"Ya used me! Ya lied to me 'n you're a fuckin' cop!" He snapped, slamming his bottle of wine down on the table with a thud as he stood up causing you to flinch at his unexpected outburst as you stared at him, not knowing what to say. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He muttered, staring at you for a few seconds before he began to walk off.

"Daryl, wait." You quickly said, just as he reached the door and stopped, but didn't look back at you. "I didn't want to hurt you, it wasn't my intention. Yes, I was an uncover cop, but I never used you. I loved you, Daryl."

"If ya loved me then why didn't ya tell me the truth?" He questioned, slowly turning around to face you.

"I couldn't, I was afraid that you'd react like this." You answered truthfully causing Daryl scoff, shaking his head before walking out the room.

You stood there in the middle of the kitchen for a few minutes, trying to figure out what the hell just happened before Carol appeared.

"Hey, one of the showers are free- what happened?" She asked, walking into the room as she took in the tears in your eyes.

"Nothing. I've just had way to much to drink. I'm gonna have a shower and go to bed."

You didn't give her a chance to respond before you walked past her, out the kitchen and made your way towards the showers.

You walked into the room, noticing someone was in the shower to the left as you walked into the cubical to the right that Carol had just came out of and didn't waste anytime as you stripped off your clothes.

You figured it was probably Glenn still in the other shower as you finished pulling your clothes off before you turned on the taps. Instant hot water began to flow causing you to sigh in relief as you got under the stream.

At least this time you weren't having a shower at the station with Rick, Morgan and his son literal a few metres away from you. This time you had privacy and you were the last one to have a shower which meant you could take as long as you wanted.

You weren't sure how long you spent under the water, but when you finally turned the tap off, you came to a quick realisation that you had forgotten to grab a towel before you walked in here.

Shit.

You stood there for a few seconds trying to figure out what to do as you stared at your deputy uniform on the ground before the shower beside you turned off and an idea clicked.

"Umm, Glenn. I forgot to grab a towel, can you throw it over for me?"

You stared up at the ceiling as you waited for him to respond, but he never said anything before a towel was thrown over the side of your cubical.

"Thanks." You responded as you began to dry yourself with the towel before you realised that you left your bag in your bedroom that contained all your clean clothes.

Drunk you was clearly very forgetful. Did you forget to anything else too?

You figured everyone would already be in bed and your bedroom was just two doors down the hall. 

So, you wrapped your towel around your body, securing it tightly before you grabbing your dirty clothes from the ground.

Once you had everything, you opened the door to your shower cubical only to come face to face with Daryl fucking Dixon as he stepped out the shower next to yours.

The two of you practically walked straight into each other causing you drop the bottle of Jack still in your hand as the glass smashed onto the ground, alcohol spilling everywhere and up onto your legs as glass scattering over the floor.

You didn't say anything to Daryl as you put your dirty clothes back down and crouched down as you began to pick up the glass pieces, not wanting Carl or Sophia to walk in here and get glass on their feet.

"Ya gonna cut yourself." Daryl muttered from somewhere in the room.

You ignored him, not even looking at him as you continued to pick up the pieces. But, of course, he was right because not a second later one of the pieces sliced your palm.

"Shit." You winced under your breath, blood trickling down your hand.

You continued picking up the pieces before Daryl suddenly crouched down beside you.

"I got it. Go back in the shower, wash the wound and the alcohol off your legs."

You lifted your head to look at him, but he wasn't looking at you as he began to take over from picking up the pieces.

Wait, was he actually being nice to you?

You stared at him for a moment before walking back into the shower, not bothering to close the door since you were just going to wash your hand and legs as you turned the water back on.

You lifted your legs under the water, trying not to get your towel wet as you swapped legs, getting the whiskey off your skin before you held your hand under the water and watched as the blood tripped from your palm.

It was only a small cut, didn't even need a Band-Aid, but like a paper cut, it stung like a bitch.

"M'sorry for what I said earlier." Daryl mumbled from somewhere behind you as you kept your hand under the water, your back facing him.

"Don't. You have every right to be angry, you have every right to hate me."

Suddenly, Daryl's hand was on your shoulder and you turned around, your eyes locking with his ocean blue ones.

"I don't hate ya."

It was only then did you realise just how close the two of you were. Your faces inches apart and before you even knew what was happening, his lips were pressed against yours.

He must have had a fair bit to drink because you were almost certain that if Daryl was sober, he wouldn't even be in the same room as you, let alone actually kissing you.

You began to kiss him back, getting lost in the moment before your drunk brain began to catch up with what was happening and you knew you should put a stop to this.

Daryl wouldn't want this.

He was drunk, you were slightly drunk.

He'd wake up and hate you even more if you let this happen.

"We can't do this." You whispered against his lips, pulling away slightly.

"Tell me to leave 'n I will." Daryl responded as he took a step to the side, so he wasn't blocking the door, but you didn't say anything as you stared at him.

You weren't sure who had made the first move, for all you know it could've been you who had leant forward, but you were kissing him again.

It must have been the alcohol in your system giving you confidence because the next thing you knew, you were fiddling for the buttons to his flannel and he wasn't even trying to stop you as his hands cupped the side of your face, kissing deeply.

You managed to undo the buttons of his flannel, exposing his toned stomach as you pulled the sleeveless shirt the rest of the way off his body.

Your hands instantly began trailing over the familiar scars across his chest as you kissed him while he began to undo his belt and before you knew what was happening, he had pulled the towel off you, exposing your naked body.

Daryl took a moment, taking in your frame before froze, his fingers tracing over the freshly scarred skin on your stomach from the bullet wound.

His expression turned into confusion as he stared at it, clearly realising that it never used to be there.

You didn't wait for him to ask, instead you grabbed his hand and pulled him backwards until you were both standing under the shower as the water poured down your bodies before his lips found yours and he kissed you again.

His hands traced over your bare back as he began to place a trail of kissed down your neck. 

Oh, you were so going to regret this in morning, but right now? You were going to have fun. 

-

MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #twd #The Walking Dead #AMC The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #Norman Reedus #Shane Walsh #Rick Grimes

[crossbowking]

Honey & Whiskey

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

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

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

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

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

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

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

He appreciated the quiet these days.

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

And then he thought of her.

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

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

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then suddenly, it stilled.

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

And then he saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not Daryl.

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

Little did he know.

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

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

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

“Need a hand?”

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

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

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

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

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

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

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

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

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

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

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

“Hey, wait up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

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

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

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

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

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

But then her eyes met his.

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

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

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

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

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

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

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

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

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

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

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

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

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

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

No matter what the cost.

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

But Y/N was just as quick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Old habits die hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daryl?”

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”

“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.

He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.

She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.

They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.

It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.

Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.

Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.

And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.

She became his solace.

Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.

“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.

The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.

“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.

Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.

Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.

Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”

Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.

“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”

Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”

Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.

Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.

The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.

Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”

“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.

Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.

When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.

“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”

Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”

“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”

The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.

A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.

But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.

The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.

Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.

Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?

Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.

Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.

“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.

“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.

The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.

Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”

With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.

He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?

He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

The archer felt his throat constrict.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.

Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.

Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.

He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.

He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.

They’d move on to her.

Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.

A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.

He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.

Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.

Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.

And then he saw her.

She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.

Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.

His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.

It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.

The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.

Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.

The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.

He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.

Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.

Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.

But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.

And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.

The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.

And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.

Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.

He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.

But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.

The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.

Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.

The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.

The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.

Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.

Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.

But hers?

She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.

He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.

Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.

He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.

“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.

The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.

He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.

“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.

He never got to thank her.

When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.

And he never got to thank her.

“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.

The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.

But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.

Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”

Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.

He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.

But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.

Not from her.

“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.

A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.

Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.

A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.

Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than before.

And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.

Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.

The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.

Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.

He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.

She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.

Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”

Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”

The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

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

[thatrandomwriter]

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

*

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

*

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

#the walking dead #twd #merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #t dog #oneshot #imagine #rick grimes #reader insert

[byronictrash]

some stuff that would be different  in my version of hbo supernatural (season 1)

or the world if sam winchester were a trans girl

based on that post (by me)

 PILOT

the flashback of mary dying/house burning is pretty similar to the canon

we get to see some of sam and jess’ routine while top of the world - carpenters plays (yes thats a bcs reference, leave me alone). they wake up together, eat breakfast, go to the campus, have their respectives classes, lunch with their friends, go back to their apartment, watch something on tv and later order some pizza or chinese food for dinner.

sam never came out to dean because she didn’t think it would do any good, besides that she didn't really think they would see each other again

no need to say dean looked pretty confused meeting sam wearing a silk nightgown when he broke into her apartment

“dude why are you wearing women's clothes?” “‘uh, it's more comfortable” “and why is your hair so long?” “i’m letting it grow to donate to the cancer hospital”

jess knew that sam didn’t come out to her dad but considering the way sam talked about how close she and dean were, she thought sam would have came out to her brother so she looked very confused watching dean calling sam brother/dude/guy/jess’ boyfriend and sam just acting normal

cis play throughout the episode but still the elephant in the room

when dean is driving her back to the apartment she comes out to him. he doesn’t get it at first so sam has to explain like he’s five (“wait so you’re saying you’re a girl” “yes” “but you said jessica is your girlfriend” “she is” “so why did you became a girl if you’re not gay?” “*sights* i AM gay dean, i’m literally a lesbian”)

they exchange numbers, dean ask her to call after the interview to tell him how it went, sam asks him to update her about the search for dad etc. everything looks* great

everything looked* great because in the next minute all sam can see is jess pinned on the ceiling and their house on fire

PHANTOM TRAVELER

in the moment they find they’re facing a demon, dean would recognize, verbally, that sam's a better demonologist than him (“it looks like sulfur residue, your department” “uh?” “sammy both of us know you’re the demon nerd here, my latin sucks”)

when they’re exorcising the demon and he starts describing how jess died, it’s much more graphic and gory. sam almost throws up

also when sam is reading the rituale romanum, her nose starts to bleed. dean asks later what was that and sam says it was the high pressure but she knows it wasn’t, because everytime she says sacred words she feels some physical discomfort.

SKIN

the friend of sam that was being incriminated of murder his girlfriend would be gay (we would see on screen the difference of the policce threatment with queer people and with cishet people)

HOOK MAN

in the moment they see that the case is in a religious small town in Iowa, sam puts her cisplay outfit

lots of flashbacks addressing their religious trauma. sam blessing the water, even though there’re already stocked enough, even though it made her dizzy, because she knew there was something wrong with her and these little rituals were the only thing that helped her feel less wrong, less dirty. dean on the other hand, tended towards the Epicurean paradox (“oh fuck it sam, just think for a minute if god exists and it’s all love and goodness, why would he created the evil we face every day?”

a scene of sam praying???? i mean sam winchester is the second most catholic character in media after matt murdock and i dont remember one (1) scene of sam praying in cw canon????

lori being much more comfortable with sam cause she feel more connected with the good christian “boy” than the bad boy with a leather jacket and sharp tongue

so there is that moment that lori flirts with sam, but she rejects her cause a) her girlfriend just died and b) lori was saying stuff like “you’re so kind, it’s hard to find boys like that nowadays” (kind of a deal break). after trying to kiss sam and she deviates, lori asks if is sam “a homossexual” and she is taken by surprise and just starts babbling “uh no exactly, i mean yeah but not like that i mean..”

HOME

dean hyperventilates in the moment they park in front of the house

sam and dean having a little argument about how unfair was this demand from dad (and dean) for sam to have the same grieving relationship with mary that they have (“how can you say that? she was our mom!” “dean i know it and i love her for it. I'm only saying that i was a 6 months old baby! i don’t have any memory of her face other than photos”)

when mary shows up, her ghost is not in that whole madonna-martyr looking, but has burned skin, charred hair and her nightgown is glued on her body

she looks at sam up and down, smiles foundly and says “when i was pregnant of you, i knew i was going to have a daughter”

ASYLUM

“for the last time dean, i’m not psychic, i just have those weird dreams” “whatever samantha spellman, you’ll be reading my tarot later anyway”

while being ghost-headed, sam throws at dean how she hates the condescending way that dean treats her (“why are we here? because dad said so and you have to follow his order like a little soldier? well that’s you, not me anymore! i think with my own head, that’s why i left, to live a normal life, until you show up, pull me back into it and treat me like a pet again”)

FAITH

dean tries to kill himself after finding out he only has weeks to live because “ i don’t want to be a dead weight holding you back”

more!!! religious!!! trauma!!! flashbacks!!!

reverend roy and his flock’s bigotry shows up in a “hate the sin, not the sinner” way. they're all very polite and gentle with sam, however, calls her “son/brother/male pronouns in general” in the most condescending friendly tone.

NIGHTMARE

a bunch of flashbacks of john A+ parenting, calling sam a bunch of slurs everytime she does something vaguely feminine or is simply being a kid afraid of monsters

when they discovered that max was psychic sam says they cannot kill him cause “wtf dean we’re not killing a human being”

while max is describing the series of abuses he suffered from his dad, all that sam could think was a mix of “wow this is literally me” and “no no no, dad didn’t hit me in that way, besides he was doing his best, if he made a mistake he was trying to get it right etc etc”

SHADOW

some sibling teasing!!!! (“i’m telling you dean, there’s something wicked about this girl that i can’t catch” “hmmm i bet you’d like to” “i’m serious!” “maybe she’s not a sus, you just got a thing for her” “fuck off, just check if there’s really any meg masters from andover” “sure, what about you?” “i’m gonna watch meg” “WO-HOOO!! that’s my little sister!!!!! filling my heart with pride!!”)

 in the moment john sees sam in a dress, he doesn’t say anything. however, he suddenly stops calling sam sam and starts calling her strictly samuel.

HELL HOUSE

“i thought the legend said that mordechai only goes after chicks” “it does” “that explain why he went after you”

PROVENANCE

sarah is a lesbian!!!

“we can use the provenance to track the pieces history” “uhum, sarah totally knows it” “yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all on a cocktail napkin” “i guess she’s not so much into guys” “and how could you know?” “cause it wasn’t my ass she was checking out”

DEVIL’S TRAP

when sam starts to read the exorcism, meg laughs and says “oh really sam, don’t you think it is better dean to recite this whole little poem? you know how you feel when you talk some latin out loud”

sam’s nose in fact bleeds this time, again. bobby asks her “the hell was that, kid?” and this time she blames the dry weather

the first red flag that john is not john is the fact that after being rescued he only refers to sam as samantha, no sam nor samuel, samantha season 2  season 3

#hbo supernatural #trans sam winchester #supernatural #samjess #transfem sam #lesbian sam winchester #kripke era #spn s1 #headcanon #mine

[itzyourgirlnat]

A lot can happen in one night (part 3)

part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5, part 6

‘How is it that you’re here?’ Lena asked, finally letting go of Lori.

‘Well, the semester ended so I thought I could come visit’ she replied.

‘It’s not that I’m not happy to have you back but, weren’t you gonna go with your friends to Italy?’ Lena asked.

‘Oh, well yeah. I was, but at the end some couldn’t go and stuff so we decided to do that another time’ she said scratching the back of her head.

‘It’s okay, what matters is that you’re home now’ Kara replied, really excited, hugging her daughter once more.

While Kara and Lena were making dinner you and Lori went to your rooms to change into more comfortable clothes. You were in your room choosing what to wear when Lori opened the door.

‘There’s something called knocking you know?’ you said not looking at her

‘Come on, with your super hearing you knew I was coming’ she replied

You chuckled.

‘So, how are you?’ she asked, walking towards you.

‘Fine, why wouldn’t I?’ you said, picking up a sweater.

‘Well I don't know, maybe because you were just assigned the role of the protector of Krypton and all that shit’ Lori replied.

You laughed. She sat on the bed and geastured you to do the same, you obeyed. She then placed her arm over your shoulders and brought you close.

‘You can be mad about it’ she said ‘You don’t have to be okay with it’

‘I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it’ you replied

It was silent for a few minutes, you really enjoyed being with your sister. You always admired her and she was always there for you. She was a complete idiot and really annoying, but she had always been by your side.

‘How are you? I assume you haven’t told them’ you said, breaking the silence.

‘Better, and no, I haven’t told them’

‘But, at some point you will, right?’

Before she could answer, Kara called you both to dinner.

Once Lori made it to college, it didn’t take her long to make friends. It was great to meet new people that had the same interests as her, and both Lena and Kara were really happy for her. It all seemed perfect until she met him. You weren’t sure of when or how it happened. The only thing you knew is that one night you couldn’t sleep. So you decided to surprise Lori by visiting her. So without your moms noticing you flew towards her student’s residence. Once you arrived you knocked on the door, it wasn’t very late there so she shouldn’t be asleep yet. Gabi, her roommate, opened the door.

‘Hey Y/N, how did you get here? It's pretty late’ they said while letting you come in.

‘Oh well I- my mom actually had a meeting in town so I came with her, is Lori here?’ you said nervously sweating, you had always hated lying.

Gabi laughed.

‘No, she’s still in her lab I think’ they replied

‘Her lab?’

‘Yeah, wait she didn’t tell you?’

You looked at them, completely lost. Lori didn’t have her own lab, did she? No, there was no way. If she had one she would have told you.

‘It’s not far from here, if you want I could give you the address, but it’s already getting dark outside so, do you want me to call your moms to see if it's ok with them?’

‘NONONO’ you panicked

Gabi looked at you really confused but the last thing you needed was your moms waking up in the middle of the night and finding out that you had flown to another country without letting them know in the middle of a school night.

‘They are both pretty busy right now, so it’ll be better if you give me the address and I text them once I get there’ You replied

After a bit of convincing Gabi gave you the address. You then flew for a few minutes and ended up in front of a little building that wasn’t very far away from Lori’s dorm. It was now late in the night there. So it will soon be morning in National city, you have to hurry. You looked around until you found an open door. You entered,everything was dark, everything but the stairs that lead to the basement. You walked down the stairs and found yourself in a huge lab. It was similar to the ones in L-Corp, except that this one was way bigger and with more equipment.

‘Y/N?!’ Lori said

‘Hi’

‘What are you doing here?’ she said, stressed walking towards you

‘I came to visit you. Why didn’t you tell me you had a lab?!’ you replied

‘It’s not mine. Do moms know that you’re here?’

‘Umm no’

She then grabbed you by the shoulders and led you towards the stairs.

‘You have to leave’

‘What? I just got here’

‘You can’t be here’

You got out of her arms and crossed your arms, letting her know that you were not gonna make it that easy for her.

‘Who’s lab is it? And what are you doing that I can’t see?’ you said

Before Lori could answer he walked in through a door that was in front of both of you.

Your uncle, Lex Luthor. You had never seen him in person. Both Kara and Lena wanted to keep you both as away from him as possible, they did that for very good reasons but somehow he was standing in front of both of you, wearing a lab coat and protection glasses.

‘Well well well. It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N Luthor-Danvers’ he said, smirking.

You grabbed Lori’s hand and brought her close to you.

‘Lori, what is going on?’ you said looking at her

She looked at you and then at Lex.

‘There’s no need to panic. We are all family after all’ he said ‘ Since this is the first time we met let me officially present myself’ he walked towards you and he moved his hand for you to shake it. You didn’t.

‘Y/N right? Your sister told me a lot about you’

‘Y/N it' s ok’ Lori said. ‘He’s just helping me with a project’

You froze. What was happening? Lori knew all that Lex had done. She knew everything. She knew that he couldn’t be trusted and that he should be in prison right now. So, why on earth did it seem as if she was ok with him being here.

‘Shouldn’t you be in jail?’ You finally said

Lori looked at you as if you had just said something extremely rude and not the truth. Lex however laughed

‘I should. However, I’m just making an effort to spend some time with my niece’ he said. ‘You definitely look more like the Kryptonian than your sister’ he said, clearly not happy with it. ‘Except for the eyebrows and the face shape’ he said walking closer to you.

He was right, you had always been more like Kara and Lori more like Lena. The eyebrows however, were a Luthor feature that you both had.

‘What do you need him for?’ you said ignoring him and looking at your sister.

‘I already told you, for a project’

‘For college?’

‘Not exactly’

‘Then why don't you ask mom? She’ll be happy to help you and she’s not...a crazy criminal’ you said

‘Well some may disagree with that last part’ Lex announced

‘Y/N is already late, why don’t you go home and get some rest’ Lori said

‘Only if you come with me’ you said

Lori looked at Lex. They stayed like that for a few seconds almost as if they were communicating. He then nodded and left towards a table on the other side of the room. Lori grabbed your hand and guided you once more towards the stairs. You were both soon enough outside of the building and just as you were about to speak once more she did.

‘Y/N look, I know what you think of him. I know what he did and I know that I can’t trust him’

‘Then why are you working with him?!’

She took a deep breath

‘Because he is helping me’

‘With what?’

‘That’s not the point. What matters is that I’m fine alright?’ She caressed your cheek. ‘I know what I’m doing’

‘Why did you hide this from me?’

‘You know mom and mommy would never be ok with it’

‘The have good reasons for it’

‘I know, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I have this under control’

You then hugged her.

‘Can you do me a favor?’ she asked

You nodded.

‘Don’t tell them, or anyone’

‘Lori’

‘I know, but please we're just investigating nothing else. Besides I’ll keep you updated so you know that everything is fine. Once we finish I’ll tell them, but I wanna be the one who tells them. Could you do that?’

‘You’ll call me everyday’

‘I will’

That was almost three months ago. Lori called you everyday. According to her they had made great discoveries and there didn’t seem to be any problems between them. That’s why you stopped worrying, your sister was not an idiot. If something had happened she would have told you. She had promised. However, you continued to visit her more often, just to make sure, you never found anything that could make you complain any more or tell your moms, so you didn't.

‘Guys come on dinner’s ready’ Kara shouted

‘Come on. let’s go before mom gets hysterical’ Lori said.

You chuckled and nodded. You went downstairs and as you did Lena trapped you in a hug. She was holding you strongly as if you were gonna disappear if she let you go.

‘Your mom told me what happened. It’ll be ok baby. We’ll find a way out’ Lena said, not letting go of you. She then kissed your forehead and smiled at you.

‘I hate to break this beautiful moment but, can we please eat? I’m starving,’ Kara said, making you all chuckle.

‘Alright, alright we’re coming’ Lena said.

You were soon all sat together. Nothing much happened during dinner there was the typical small talk and then your moms interrogated Lori about her college life. After dinner both Lori and you were extremely tired so you quickly went to sleep.

Half an hour later Kara entered her bedroom and Lena did the same a few minutes later after leaving the bathroom.

‘They are both asleep’ Kara said while changing into her pajamas.

‘Good, they had a rough day, especially Y/N’ said Lena while lying on the bed.

‘I’ll start training her tomorrow’ Kara said. ‘ Whatever the threat is that she has to deal with, she will be as prepared as possible’

She then laid next to her wife.

‘Good’ Lena replied but she soon started to silently cry. Kara responded quickly and immediately hugged her.

‘She’ll be ok’ Kara said ‘We’ll do everything we can to protect her’

‘What if it isn’t enough? When we found out Y/N had powers we agreed that she wouldn’t fight or use them seriously until she was old enough and she had total control over them. But, now... she’s just a kid’ Lena replied, fighting back the tears.

‘I know, but we didn’t know that anything like this could happen. Hell, we didn’t even know that the Protector of Krypton existed!’

It was Lena who hugged Kara now.

‘How are you feeling about it?’ Lena asked.

‘I don’t know, on one hand, I’m proud of her, you know? She was chosen to protect all of us-’

‘all the kryptonians’ Lena interrupted

‘Well yes. But since you’re the mother of two kryptonians you’re part of us now. I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re kind of stuck with me’ she said, making Lena laugh.

‘As long as I’m stuck with you and not anyone else I’ll be okay about it’ She replied. Slowly she leaned to kiss her wife. Even if they had kissed a thousand times already, it always felt like the first time. None of them could ever get used to each other’s touch and it always surprised them and made them love each other more if that was possible.

‘But I’m also scared, I’m scared that she won’t be able to carry the responsibility and I’m mad that this will stop her from having a normal life. Lena, she’s basically obligated to be a hero now, to wear a suit. It makes me furious because I did choose to be a hero, but even if I chose it, it was really hard sometimes. However, I was the one who made that decision, Y/N on the other hand didn’t. The decision was made for her and, three days ago she didn’t even wanna wear a suit. All she wanted was to be normal and now she won’t’

‘ You know, she was never gonna have a normal life. As much as we may not like it, you’re Supergirl and I'm Luthor, our daughters were basically created in a lab and were proof that two women could have kids without the need of a male. But none of that matters, we can’t change who we are and neither can they. The only thing we can do is help them as much as we can and guide them the best we can’

Kara was speechless. Even if Lena sometimes doubted it, in the eyes of Kara (and everyone else) she was an incredible mother.

‘You’re amazing’ she said

Lena chuckled.

‘You are pretty good too, miss Luthor-Danvers’ she replied

They were about to fall asleep when Lena got a text.

‘Ignore it’ Kara mumbled. Lena grabbed her phone and was about to silence it when she read the message. She quickly sat but was still looking at the phone.

‘What is it?’ Kara asked not moving . Lena didn’t respond, that is what made Kara sat worried. ‘Lena, what is it?’

Lena looked at her wife and then at the phone once more.

‘Lena, please, you’re scaring me’

‘It’s my brother’

‘Lex? What happened?’ Kara asked, getting anxious since every time there was news about Lex her family ended up at risk.

‘He got out of prison’

‘WHAT?!’ Kara screamed, she was about to get out of the bed when her phone started ringing.

‘Alex, what is it?’ she said

‘ Kara, I know it’s late but you must all come to the DEO now’ Alex said

‘What all of us? Why? Alex, what is going on?’

‘I’m not sure, we haven’t made it to the DEO yet. Just, please go to the DEO. I’ll see you there’

‘Okay okay, be careful. I’ll see you there’

‘Kara what is it?’ Lena asked, very worried.

‘We have to go the DEO now’ she said getting up, grabbing some clothes and giving them to Lena

‘The DEO why?’ Lena said while getting dressed

‘I’m not sure, but something is happening’ Kara got dressed. ‘I’ll go wake up the girls’

‘The girls? Kara, Kara hey, stop’ Lena answered grabbing her wife’s hand. ‘What is happening?’

‘I don’t know, but Alex said that something was going on and that we all had to go to the DEO now’

‘Okay, okay’

Lena took a few breaths

‘You wake up Lori and I wake up Y/N after grabbing a few things’ Lena announced

‘I’m up’ you said entering the room. The both looked at you, surprised. ‘What? I couldn’t sleep’

‘Yeah and you guys were pretty loud’ Lori said walking next to you.

Five minutes later you four were leaving your home in Lena’s car. Once you got to the streets you could finally see what was going on. There were some orange lights in the sky and, if your sight didn’t fail you, you could have sworn you had seen a spaceship. The roads were a mess, there were many cars on the road full of families like yours that were trying to get to a safe place. That’s when Alex called Kara again.

‘Alex you’re on speaker, we're driving to the DEO, what is it?’ your mom said

‘Kara, look I’m not sure of what is happening cause I just got to the DEO, but we need Supergirl. We need everyone to go to the emergency shelters as soon as possible. The police is doing their best but people listen to Supergirl’

‘Okay got it. I’ll take as much people as I can’

‘Alex, do we have to go to the shelters too?’ Lena asked

‘No, you guys come here. Lena, I-I think your brother has something to do with whatever is happening’

Everyone in the car froze. Lena looked at Kara and you looked at Lori.

‘We’ll be there in five’ Lena said, everyone could tell how angry she was. It made sense however, it had taken a lot of effort to make people forgive the Luthor name and she was not about to let her brother ruin everything she had accomplished.

It was definitely going to be a long night.

************************************************************************

Hi guys, sorry this took so long to post but I was out for a couple of days and couldn't write. Anyways here is part 3. Btw sorry of there are any grammar mistakes english isn't my first language.

@trikruismybitch you asked me to tag you and here it is. If anyone else wants to be tagged just let me know and I'll do it :)

Have a great day and feel free to send me any suggestions of all kinds. (I'll do them as soon as I can) :)

#kara danvers #lena luthor x daughter! reader #lena luthor #kara danvers x lena luthor x reader #kara x lena #karlena #supercorp x reader #supercorp imagine #supergirl cw #supercorp daughter #kara danvers x daughter!reader #supercorp x daughter!reader #lori luthor #alex danvers #married supercorp #supercorp parents #supercorp family #supercorp wifes

[solinarimoon]

Fireflies, Embers, and Ash

Fireflies, Embers, and Ash

A/N:  This is my entry for @lauwrite1225 500 follower challenge!  Congratulations on such a great milestone!  You’re work is superb and you deserve all the praise and followers! I split the lines for my song up a little bit, so I hope you like it!  My lyrics are from Forest Fire by Brighton. The lyrics will be in bold.  I haven’t actually listened to the song at all yet, so now that I’ve written this using just the words from my lines I am going to listen to the whole thing! Also, I changed the season of when the events in this story take place to fit the aesthetic in my mind.  

Warnings:  Rape trauma in line with what a slave would endure in the eights/ninth centuries.

Word Count: 1477

She stumbles along the cold, hard floor of the forest.  Her feet bare and her toes numb.   Ash streaked tears smear her pallid face and her eyes sting from the suffocating air.  The moonlight is eclipsed by the haze of smoke.  Embers from the flames float down like rain mingling with the gently falling snow. 

The woman wanders.  She does not know where. What she does know is that Beamfleot is burning.  The nightmare of her capture was alight in flames and she was free once more.

A crash of boots traipsing through the woods to her right startles her.  She stands, stock still.  A doe frozen in fear.

A man, a Dane, steps into the light of the flames filtering through the trees.  He is followed closely by another man, one hard to distinguish.  He may be Dane or Saxon.  But her eyes stay fixated on the Dane, his hammer of Thor and his warrior’s look.

“Sihtric, what in the bloody hell are we looking for in these frozen woods?” The Dane’s companion, now recognizable with his Irish brogue, complains. 

The Dane slows his strides to come to a stop as he spies the woman.  

“We should be back on the clearin’ helping Uhtred and clearing the field…”

But the words are stilled as Finan glances at Sihtric and then follows his gaze.

The woman still stands frozen.  Tall and willowy, in a linen shift, she is poised to run.  Her foot takes a step back, but she is stopped at a word.

“Don’t!” The Dane entreats her. “We will not harm you.”

She says nothing.  She does not run.  She does not relax.  

But she does not run.

Sihtric can see the fear and panic rising in the woman.  

He raises his hands.  A gesture of calm.  Trying to show they are no threat.

“You were at Beamfleot? A prisoner?” he questions.

The only answer the woman gives is in the stiffening of her jaw.

Sihtric takes in the woman’s appearance.  Her torn and ragged shift.  Dirty with soot and grime.  Feet bare and hair a wild mat of knots.  Her face...her eyes haunted and scared.

Finan takes a step forward, raising his hands mimicking Sihtric’s, “Lady, we mean you no harm.  But you must come with us.”  He stops, Sihtric’s hand on his arm.

They look to see the women’s posture shifted, poised to run again.

“She does not trust us, Finan.”

Sihtric brings his hand back from Finan’s arm, but his eyes never leave the woman.

He is transfixed by her fragility.  

“We must get her to Thyra.  She will be able to help her where we can not.”

Recognition dawns on Finan’s face. 

“Aye, Sihtric, but Thyra is in Winchester.”

“But Beocca is here,” Sihtric remembers.  

“Lady,” Sihtric called across the distance, “we have just defeated the Danes at Beamfleot.  You are safe and you are free.  We are Lord Uhtred’s men. We have rescued Lady Aethelflaed and,”

Sihtric stops short when he notices the woman’s recognition of Aethelflaed’s name.

“The lady is in the clearing behind us. Safe with her father and his army.”

The woman watches as Sihtric struggles to find his next words. She stares as his jaw works and he licks his lips. 

“You will freeze out here,” he settles on. 

“Follow us back, keep your distance if you must, but come back with us and we will find you aid. I have seen what can happen to Saxon slave women. You will not be harmed by us.”

Sihtric’s words fade to a low whisper that still carries on the wind towards her ears. 

She watches as he slides a long knife out from a sheath at his back to lay on the ground at his feet. 

The embers still fall and the snow still drifts through the trees.

Slowly, Sihtric and Finan back away, turn, and head towards the field.

Several heartbeats follow before the woman takes slow steps forward.

Shaking fingers pick up the knife and feet numb with cold, she follows the warriors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loris walks slowly in the cool Autumn air.  Her feet know this path.  They travel there often.  In the quiet hours of the night.

A field on the edge of Coccham that is still littered with fireflies late in the season.

Resting her arms atop a fence rail, Loris gazes at the scene.  Something so calm and serene, yet with it bringing images she no longer wishes to remember.

“Could you not sleep, Loris?”

His words startle her out of her thoughts.

“Sihtric,” She gasps while turning to find him standing several feet from her.

He chuckles in that way she loves.  Deep in his chest and ever so familiar. Comforting.

“I am sorry to startle you, Loris.  May I join you?”

She turns her body round to gaze at the field once more, “of course you can, Sihtric.  I would be glad for the company.”

After a moment, she can feel his presence coming closer.  He perches his arms on the railing, following her stare.  Long minutes pass in a comfortable silence.

“What has kept you from sleep?”  His voice is hushed.  Soft.

Loris sighs. “A desire to keep my dreams at bay.”  Her feet shift in the grass as she turns to look at him. “But I find myself coming here and all it does is remind me…”

Patiently, Sihtric watches as Loris bows her head then turns to gaze at the fireflies dancing once more.

“I am happy here. In Coccham.  I have friends, a job. It is simple but I enjoy it.  And still there are nights where my mind takes me back to Beamfleot.  In my dreams, in my mind I never left. I am trapped there.  Terrified and broken.” Loris breathes in the fresh night air, pausing as she wipes away stray hairs from her face before she continues, “The fireflies are like the embers from the flames, drifting down from the sky that night.  I keep imagining those flames that did rise and blackened up the sky.”  

His voice stays low and calm.  Soothing as he remembers, “The light that showed you barefoot in the snow.”  

Loris turns her face only enough to notice Sihtric is watching her now, waiting for her to go on.

“Then the fire started building up inside, exploding, blinding lights. Now,”  Sihtric watches as Loris squints her eyes shut and purses her lips.  “I'm the one left screaming through the night. In my dreams I scream, I fight, I try to run but it is all for naught.  They trap me in the fires with them.  Pawing at me and forcing themselves on me while the world burns.” Her breaths have begun to go erratic and a terror is rising in her voice.

“Hey, hey, Loris.  It is all just dreams.” Sihtric reaches his broad hand out to rub soothing circles across the woman’s shoulders. “Finan and I found you in the forest. Amongst the ash and the snow.  Scared but alive.  You are alive.  And you survived.”

When his words do not succeed in soothing the young woman, he shifts to a different tactic.

“I used to have nightmares too at times.”

Loris opens her eyes but does not turn to meet his face.

“Of my time spent being my father’s hound and of how he treated my mother.  Then after his death they grew worse.  But, upon waking, I would find something, anything to focus my eyes on and to ground myself.  In the truth of the moment.  So, look out at the field Loris.  Focus on the light of the fireflies.  They are real and so are you.  Here in this moment, safe.”

While listening to him, Loris’ breathing had slowed.  Sihtric watches as the tension lessons on her brow and the line of her jaw softens.

“I know you are no Christian, Sihtric.  But in my prayers, I thank our God that it was you who found me in those woods.”

Sensing that his words had worked to calm her mind some, Sihtric brings his hand back from her shoulder to rest on the fence, arm touching hers.

Slowly, he weaves his fingers into hers and whispers, “I never told you or Finan what brought me into the woods that night.  But it was a Raven.”

“A raven?”

“Yes. To a Dane, a raven can be a messenger, a sort of protector and helper.  I was drawn to follow it.  And it led me to you.” Sihtric stares at her hand in his, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her skin.

Slowly, Loris steps closer to him and rests her head against his arm.

“Whether it was the work of your gods or mine, I do not care.  I am thankful for you all the same.”

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[wolfieslae]

"liam saved theo from his never ending nightmare so theo saved liam from himself"

it’s no surprise to anyone, i’m a tiny bit obsessed with thiam.

when theo first arrived to the show i liked him already, i felt like he was an interesting character with an interesting backstory, i wanted to learn more. the more i did the worst it got but i kept thinking he was interesting and i liked seeing how he was able to plan his take on the pack. he managed to insert himself in the life of the characters and turned it around, when his plan failed, he still got his pack but ended up killing them all, i admit, kinda real bad, and then he got drag down to hell.

during the fifth season we found out that when he was ten he was manipulated into thinking his older sister – tara – wanted him to have her heart, because his had a genetic disorder. he believed the dread doctors when they told him they could make him better and he killed his own sister – taking her heart. he then left with them and was raised by them, raised believing that power was all that mattered and that he would be nothing and no one without it.

in season six episode six liam and hayden decided to bring him back because they needed his help with a supernatural creature in town, while hayden was more resistant, liam did not hesitate to smash kira’s sword into the ground and free theo, saving him from his never ending nightmare at the same time.

very rapidly we understood that whatever power theo might have stolen from his chimera pack – more specifically josh – he wasn’t in possession of them anymore, he was back to "classic theo" part coyote and part wolf. after he helped with the ghost rider, liam and hayden locked theo in the holding cell at the sheriff station. theo wanted out and liam wanted answer, they made a deal and liam broke the sword and with it any chance of theo going back to hell, his never ending nightmare.

when they needed him more, liam and stilinski broke theo out of jail but unfortunately the sheriff was taken and only theo and liam were left, leaving them no choice but to work together to flee the ghost riders. they – liam – had one goal, lure them away from scott, lydia and malia who were trying to get stiles back.

the both of them ended up at the hospital where, and i quote, liam said "when the ghost riders find us, i’m not gonna do anything for you, i’m not gonna help you, i’m not gonna save you, i’m gonna do exactly what you’d do to me, i’m gonna use you as bait". we all know he did not keep that promise, in fact, while fighting with a ghost rider, he pointed a gun at the one theo was fighting and shot, saving his life in the process. to "pay him back" and maybe prove that he wasn’t as bad as liam made him out to be, theo offered himself as bait.

while we all thought he had been taken in the hunt, we found out he hadn’t when out of nowhere he came back and saved liam from one of the ghost riders at the school, leaving liam able to get on with his god awful – but working – plan to get into the hunt.

while theo later on fought at the side of scott, malia and peter, he was forgotten and left alone. obligated to live in his car.

we found that out on season six episode twelve, where i noticed that the deputies coming to wake him up seemed to always wear a different uniform, did theo move around? or is the beacon county just, that big?

he was shot and didn’t come back until three episodes later (not gonna lie, these were the three most stressful weeks of my life).

when in episode twelve we found out he was living in his car, we also found out that he might have been the first target for the anuk-ite. thankfully, theo caught the spider early and got rid of it before it took his body and with it, his life.

when he came back in episode fifteen, he was hang up and tied to an electric fence in gerard and monroe’s headquarters. along with two other werewolves. when he thought he was free, he ended not being and was taken into custody.

during episode fifteen, when nolan was caught trying to sneak into the sheriff station liam automatically recognized him as the one who tried to make him shift in front of the whole school by beating him up. by scott’s reaction we understand that he might not have told him. but some of the shots during this scene were interesting, showing liam on the first plan with a close-shot accompanied by a blurry theo in the back. we understand why in the next scene that they share, in the bathroom.

theo confronts liam about what is happening, saying he will not risk his freedom. while liam first manages to stay calm during the discussion, he looses control when talking about brett and lori’s death. he punches theo before heading out and saying "i’m still working on my anger".

while we don’t know what happens between episode fifteen and episode sixteen, we understand that something might have clicked in liam’s brain, because, while he reacted poorly, theo seemed to be the only one noticing that something was wrong with liam. could this be why he brought him with him at the zoo? maybe.

it could also be because theo seems to be able to handle liam. theo has a past and liam knows it, theo doesn’t shy away in front of danger and maybe this is what liam needs at the moment? someone who will not hesitate to get in the way to stop him from doing something stupid?

there is also a line in this episode where theo says "i’m not dying out here because you want pay back against a kid who kicked your ass" and while i have no recollection of anyone explaining to theo what happened in the prior episodes with nolan and liam, maybe someone did between episode fifteen and sixteen, liam perhaps?

the car conversation is also interesting because now theo knows how bad liam has it with his anger, and the fear the anuk-ite brings is not helping "people only feel one emotion at a time liam". he also knows liam needs help "you brought me here because that thing that came out of the wild hunt is affecting you too" at this moment theo has already made up his mind, whether liam wants his help or not, he is going to get it.

and funny enough, liam doesn’t seem that resilient – oh he is yes – but not so much because deep down he knows he needs it, he also knows that whatever technique theo uses, it seems to be working because in episode seventeen, during the locker-room scene, liam calms down a bit too quickly for my liking (wrong i absolutely loved that).

theo uses reversed psychology and makes it to seem like liam would turn into a murderer, into someone like him "i’m the one with experience here", theo even uses "we" so that liam can feel more of a "bad person" because of what he might do. but in the end, it works and liam calms down.

now here is my favorite part, right after that liam asks theo "why do you keep trying to save me" and while theo answers something so dumb i don’t even want to mention it, i know it’s because liam saved him first and now theo feels obligated to return the favor (well, he does seem to enjoy it anyways).

theo can be seen in the next episode, number eighteen, right at the beginning, in the animal clinic with scott, liam and mason.

mason agrees with theo and liam doesn’t seem to like it, everything he says to or about theo seems to come out as an insult, but why? they seemed to be getting along well in the prior episode? finishing each other sentences when showing the dead bodies gabe brought them to to scott and malia? maybe because he’s starting to realize he might need theo more than he thought? and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it?

either way, theo and mason are sent to the tunnels to find aaron. they are both clearly uncomfortable being with each other but theo even more because the tunnels are where everything started and he surely does not want to stay or be here at all.

mason ends up hurt, and theo decides to try and take his pain away. first of all, great decision, it shows that he is trying to change, that he at least knows he can do it at some point and wants to. unfortunately he isn’t able "you can’t take pain if you don’t care". theo still decides to stay with mason while waiting for help.

the next time we see theo, it’s at the beginning of episode twenty, the finale. he is in his car, driving to somewhere on the phone with scott.

here are some details that don’t sit right with me. their phone call lasted twenty six seconds. there is no way theo answered the phone, got in his car, and drove to what seems to be the highway in twenty six seconds, so where was he going? was he leaving town because of what had happened with mason in the tunnels or liam’s sneaky comments at the clinic? because even after all his efforts, he is still not being accepted and knows he probably never will? probably. but i’m glad scott called and asked for his help.

he got to the hospital and saved liam’s ass – again might i add.

then, there is what is for me, their most important scene, for their relationship but also for their own character’s arc.

the elevator scene.

where they promise each other they weren’t gonna die for each other. where they lie their ass off.

i have a theory about this scene. remember the look? yes that one, the famous look down. based on my calculations, it is way too low to be directed to liam’s lips as people believe it to be, no, i think it’s directed to his chest, most importantly, his heart. because liam lied, and theo heard it. now of course theo lied too but he’s a professional he knows how to keep his heart steady.

and of course liam knows that theo knows because the look gives it away, which is why he accepts to fight with him (and damn, they make a pretty good team! i mean, that back roll? come on!) and i think in that moment they understood that no matter what, they can’t hide from this anymore, whatever this is (my money’s on anchor with a touch of love).

but in that moment i knew. i knew that because liam allowed himself to get help from theo, allowed himself to be anchored by theo, he anchored theo too. he gave him a reason and the opportunity to stay on the right path, on the path to redemption. and in that moment theo realized that he mattered, that he had a purpose.

can we also quickly talk about the small shot of theo flinching at the sound of the gun going off? when has he ever done that? he was literally raised by the dread doctors, he’s not afraid of anything, but not knowing if liam was on the other end of that gun shot scared him.

now we all know that part of why theo was able to take gabe’s pain was because he saw himself in him, the kid who trusted the wrong people and suffered the consequences, just like he did. but part of why he was able to care was because liam cared. liam gave theo a reason to care.

and this is why i love them so much. because their relationship, again, whatever it is, is special. it’s unlike any we’ve ever seen in the show. it’s important because it takes into consideration who they are on their own. it doesn’t exist just to add a relationship or a story-line to the show, it exists to fit on their own story-line, to make them better people.

as the title says, liam saved theo from his never ending nightmare so theo saved liam from himself (and fell in love with him in the process).

they are so important to me because i like when relationships have meaning, and theirs seems to be just that, meaningful.

#thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #two idiots in love #teen wolf #anchors #season 6 #thiam is the best dynamic ever don’t change my mind #please don’t make me flop #i love them