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#absolutely destroyed over this idea give me a moment . this is brilliant
konako · 7 months
Note
For that movie ask 3, 5 and 10 please and thank you. :3
YAYYY! Thank you for that opportunity!
3 — Post a screenshot and ramble on about why this one frame visually appeals to you (colors, blocking, expression, set decoration whatever).
(first of all, what a wonderful question, I love it)
And here.
(Also, sorry, I didn't hold back. You precisely said "ramble")
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From Kajillionaire. It's not exactly an impressive frame. Nothing really stands out visually, (the character almost seems awkwardly placed in the frame, small and crooked) but—but— this reaction!
Look. Let me explain: The entire movie relies on your ability to empathise with Old Dolio. This is an odd little film with an unusual story structure, a strange protagonist, a lovably weird plot and not so lovably weird characters.
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But the emotional core of this thing relies on your ability to feel what Old Dolio is feeling. And let me tell you, I do. Her entire character, every little beat of her emotional journey is so powerful to me; this movie clawed my heart out and played with it, in the simplest of ways.
This frame right there is intense. It's a moment in the movie where, after a potentially traumatic event takes place, Old Dolio witnesses her mother being kind/comforting towards another person, (practically a stranger) — when, in her experience, her mother and father have never offered her an ounce of comfort or affection. At the same time, her mother is explaining to said stranger why Old Dolio is different from them, what she lacks and how she fails to live up to their expectations. In a way, rationalizing why Old Dolio has been given such cold, distant treatment. Parallel to that, it's the first time where Old Dolio gets to hear what her mother thinks and feels about her, and why she's apparently unworthy of the most basic kind of affection.
But, blah blah, that's the background to the shot.
What matters is that the editor chose to linger on Old Dolio's (Evan Rachel Wood's) reaction shot. Noticeably so. It even breaks the rhythm of the cuts a bit, as up until then they've been steady and predictable, roughly all the same length. Not this one. I believe it's supposed to stand out and call attention to itself. It's a shot considerably longer than the rest; a long beat, holding for enough time that we get to see each part of Old Dolio's heart breaking, every step of that painful interaction.
And holding on her reaction shot is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, because this is her journey, her experience of life, her struggles and attempts to live a better, more fulfilling existence. This is her story and it's important that we feel what she feels. And how much of it she feels it, everything bleeding through her expression.
The choice to show the reaction instead of the action (the actor delivering the line), it's what makes it so intense to me. It doesn't matter what Old Dolio's mother is saying and whether it makes any rational sense or not; it matters that we see and feel how that affirmation affects Old Dolio. We see how that impacts her and we are impacted in return.
Ugh, brilliant! Kudos to the director, the editor and, of course, Evan Rachel Wood. Marvelous shot! Absolutely destroyed me, have never been the same ever since. Would watch it again!
(And at last, for you to get a better idea of how damaged and beaten down Old Dolio is, by this strange and cold upbringing, let me show you a clip, from earlier in that same scene.)
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5 — A character who deserves their own spin-off.
Not technically a movie, but I'm contractually obligated to mention: The Trio. Because I'd give an arm and a leg for a Once Upon a Time in Oz spin-off, where we'd get to see Ruby, Dorothy and Mulan have their gay adventures, being feral gay messes, running around helping people, having problems, going through all wacky time-bending, world-changing, realm-jumping drama and selective amnesia over and over again, like The Straights in the main show. sigh
I also wouldn't mind getting to know I little more of Nix, com Guns Akimbo. She was easily the highlight of the movie for me, and I'd sit through three hours of mindless slaughter and quirkiness, with her in the lead. (She has that kind of dark backstory that gets glossed over by the main narrative that makes you go: Ummm? Excuse me? Can you elaborate on that????)
10 —A remake you wish would happen for whatever reason.
Does it count as a remake? Or a reboot? Or... a revisiting?? I want more of Guillermo Del Toro's Hellboy Universe. I want the original cast back, continuing their stories or even gaslighting us into a soft-reboot, I don't care. I want Selma Blair, Ron Perlman, Doug Jones together again. (and I understand that it's over and we'll never have that and the good times are long gone, but..... please?)
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daylander1000 · 11 months
Note
Thank you so much for posting these chapters. I have no idea what you were talking about when you said we should keep our expectations low. This was absolute perfection and surpassed any expectations I ever had. Rhaena and Beala’s Picknick was so beautifully written, you wrote Beala perfectly and I loved her spontaneous haircut moment which will explain whatever that was that she had on her hair in the last dinner episode. You created such chemistry between them and really brought across the feel of how they have grown estranged yet are still familiar with each other. I loved everything they said about Deamon, that was such an accurate portrayal of his motivations. My favorite part of their dialogue was Rheana roasting the Strong boys like grilled chickpeas like Jesus Christ that was so satisfying to read thank you for including that. On another note their conversation made me cry when they talked about Leana and again, you really understood the assignment. Her letters were so heartbreaking to read and everything the twins went through because of the blacks made me so angry. Them plotting together was awesome and the plans they came up with seemed very logical and plausible. I officially became a Beala fan the moment she said she planned on killing Daemon. I would pay so much money to see that.
Maegora the cat was so cool and Rheana’s take on how the blacks younger dragons are stunted was so good.
And oh my god AEMOND!!! Adult Aemond is so amazing and I loved how you showed how different he is from Daemon through Beala’s eyes ( I hate it when people compare them ). I swear, your take on Aemonds character is better than any other I have ever seen. Your Aemond is canon now. I love him. He seems to human and I just love him and Rheana together. He’s such a sweetie and you actually give him a personality unlike most fanfic writers. Him telling Beala what helps Helaena with her moonblood was so sweet I love love love him. He would be such a good husband to Rhaena, please let them marry and band together with Beala, Veamond and Leanor and the greens against Deamon and the blacks.
Honestly, I will probably reread these chapters a dozen times over, if this were a book these chapters would be the ones I’d annotate with with five different colors because they’re brilliant in so many different ways. There were so many phrases that made me giggle or want to cry and they were all so wonderful.
You absolutely DESTROYED team black in these chapters. My brain is now filled with Aemond and Rhaena and all I want is to see them talk and be happy together. Thank you so much 💚💚💚
Thank you!!!
Idk, I kinda hate it still, but it's there. Lol thank you (and everyone) for reading! It is zero fun to just have chapters in draft mode that no one's read. Idk, it's like, I get ambitious sometimes and start things on impulse, and then I have Editor Me who's just like "This is shit!!! Delete!!!" so yeah, the feedback is really nice. Thanks for staying with it after a 3-month wait and for reading a 20k conversation with no complaints 😹
Team Black is fine! I have destroyed no one. Lololol. 😅 I didn't want to make Rhaena a "hater," but they went out of their way to have Rhaena voice that she felt neglected. Are we assuming that her relationship with Daemon improved with the addition of a stepmother and five boys? They went out of their way to have Laena say out loud that she was a placeholder wife, that she was unhappy in Pentos, and they sat down and agreed that "kill this bitch with fire and have celebratory funeral sex on her grave while the ashes are warm" was how they were going to treat Laena. It's too in-your-face to ignore, and in light of that, I just couldn't write Baela as "Yay, lemme go risk my life fighting for my stepmother. Marrying Jace is peak goals." I was literally unable to write that. I want to do happy shipping, but it's also a fix-it fic.
Daenerys, Sansa, Arya, Brienne, Asha, Cersei, Catelyn, Margaery and Olenna didn't exist and do schemes and burn shit down just for Rhaena and Baela to stand in the background like invisible elevator bellboy people saying “Wine, my queen," while being married off to randos. Nope.
I just want them to be on the same page when it comes to destroying their enemies. If their in-canon enemies happen to be the bulk of the characters on Team Black then 🤷🏾‍♀️ 😂 Rhaena's just sort of giving Baela the hard sales pitch to join a side that's not Team Black or Team Green but a third, secret two-woman operation like
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Thank you for liking my version of Aemond!😊 He's a ton of fun to write.
To be fair, he doesn't have a ton of personality in the show. He and Aegon have a little bit more meat on them than the other kids, but they're mostly just there. Like 90% of these hotd characters are just 1-d stick figures with wigs on imo. It took me three months to figure out a personality for Baela that made sense. 😭 Like, on one hand, you're doing a fanfic and anything goes, but on the other hand, like I'm always worrying about what's ooc?
I'm going with "Teenage boy who was raised by a knight templar and his sister-mother. Used to be a nerd. Had a glow-up but is still a nerd. Wants to be a jock but doesn't really like sports. Is considering his career options."
I have no idea why the Daemon comparisons are so popular. All the Targaryen men have the same "Draco in leather pants" look. Daemon's been living his life one 10-year exile at a time and Aemond's a post time-skip baby. The first time he's even meeting his uncle is during his eye-gouging incident.
I mean, is this the face of someone looking for a role model to emulate or someone making a kill list?
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Daemon actually did very little during that scene. He's really just standing there spectating for the most part. And then he and Rhaenyra exile themselves to Dragonstone for 6+ more years. Why would Aemond care about Daemon?
I honestly just think Martin and the writers (and half of the fandom, I guess) believe that Daemon is so cool that all the young kids in Westeros have Morally Grey Rogue Prince™ collectible action figures, (dead wives sold separately).
I sort of assume it's just a thing from F&B where Daemon wasn't banished from King's Landing and was around doing a ton of cool shit while Aemond was growing up???
In swhhw, Aemond's only interest in Daemon is killing him.
I wanted Rhaena to sort of just have a hypersensitive "I'm allergic to Targ bullshit" reaction to Aemond because she's been on Dragonstone for years and needs time to decompress, while Baela has the more objective stance, while Aemond's mostly just sort of offended that she's comparing him to her deadbeat hobo dad.
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wandaromanova · 3 years
Text
Wake-Up Call
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
(18+ Only) Warnings: oral sex (r and nat both receiving), fingering, mommy kink, edging, praise kink, degradation, face-sitting/riding
A/N: hello! here’s some nat smut for you whores. happy reading <3
anon requested: hii, could u do a natasha x reader where the reader has to get up for a mission but doesn’t want to because they are tired, but natasha fucks them awake-?
Summary: Natasha comes up with the perfect wake-up call for her girlfriend.
Word Count: 2K
| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |
please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3
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Natasha awoke to the annoying sound of an alarm disrupted her sleep. She groggily opened her eyes, the sunlight from outside blinding her momentarily.
She unraveled her arm that had been wrapped around you before turning off the object that disturbed her peaceful rest.
She turned back around and rested her head on a perched-up elbow as she stared down at you. She absolutely loved waking up to you every morning.
Little snores would escape your lips as you breathed steadily. She’d watch as your chest rose and fell, feeling so grateful to be living through this moment with you, even if you weren’t awake to experience them.
The way that your hair framed your face so perfectly, even if it was a mess, you were still absolutely perfect to Natasha.
Due to her dark past, the redhead never believed that she could ever be worthy of anything good, but then she met you.
You were the light in the darkness that was her life. All of her mistakes didn’t haunt her anymore, because they led her to you and there was no other place she’d ever want to be than lying right beside you.
Your arm was still wrapped tightly around her waist, completely knocked out. The alarm never seemed to wake you up, Natasha always being the one to turn off the clock and stir you awake.
“Baby, you need to get up. You have that mission in a few hours.” Natasha whispered as she placed soft kisses onto your closed eyelids, shaking your body softly with her other hand.
Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of your girlfriend’s voice and the annoying shakes of your body.
“No. More sleep.” You grumbled out, closing your eyes once more, and rolled over onto your other side, your back faced to the redhead.
Oddly enough, Natasha didn’t try to wake you again. If you weren’t so clouded by your sleepiness, you would’ve questioned this. However, you were most definitely plagued by your exhaustion and elected to ignore it.
A smirk crossed Natasha’s face and a mischievous glint was evident in her eyes as she came up with a brilliant idea, well to her, it was brilliant.
She waited until your breathing evened out, an indication that you had fallen back into your slumber, before she slid down the bed slowly, trying not to disturb you.
She softly grabbed one of your legs and turned you over onto your back. The redhead waited for a second when she noticed your eyes moving beneath their lids, but smiled when you remained asleep.
Your legs were wide open as Natasha settled, laying between your legs. If you didn’t want to wake up, she’d find a way to make you.
Natasha placed one of her hands between your legs and rubbed her digits onto your clothed center slowly. She looked up and watched as your body subconsciously reacted to her touch.
A small whine escaped your lips at the pressure and your hips rose slightly.
Natasha loved that she had control over you, no matter what state you were in.
Natasha slide your shorts off of your body and moaned at the sight of a damp wet spot in the center of your underwear.
“God, baby. You’re already soaked and mommy hasn’t even done anything yet. Such a desperate whore for me.”
Natasha mumbled to herself, considering you couldn’t hear her.
The redhead couldn’t help herself and licked a long stripe on your pussy over your underwear. A moan left your throat at the feeling, but somehow, you were still dead asleep.
Natasha couldn’t resist anymore. She wanted to taste you, no, she needed to taste you.
She tore off the final piece of clothing that kept her from devouring you, flinging your underwear to some part of the room, she didn’t care where it landed.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
“God, such a pretty pussy. Such a good girl for mommy.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Natasha latched her lips onto your clit, sucking gently as her tongue rapidly flicked across the sensitive nub.
Your hips rolled against her face and Natasha used one of her hands to hold them down.
Natasha’s other hand went to your entrance. She moaned onto your clit as your arousal coated her fingers before shoving two fingers into your cunt.
She pumped her fingers in and out of you quickly, sucking harshly onto your clit as if her life depended on it.
Finally, you woke up. A gasp escaped your mouth as you were overwhelmed by pleasure.
Your eyes shot down to Natasha’s, her eyes trained onto yours as she fucked you. You immediately placed your hands into her hair and lifted your hips frantically, practically riding her face.
“Fuck mommy. That feels so good. Please.” You moaned out, your eyes closing shut as your head flew back when Natasha curled her fingers inside of you, expertly hitting your sweet spot.
Natasha let go of your clit with a pop, her fingers never slowing.
“Please, what? Mommy needs to know what you want so she can give it to you, precious.”
Natasha cooed as she sped up the pace of her fingers. Your eyes shot open as her digits pounded into your pussy.
“I- I need to cum mommy, please. You fuck me so good, so so good.” You moaned out as Natasha’s lips attached themselves to your clit.
You prepared yourself for the intense orgasm, but Natasha had other plans.
Right when you were on the brink of release, Natasha pulled her fingers out of your entrance and removed her mouth from your aching clit.
You stared at her in disbelief as she pulled your hands out of her hair and crawled up your body.
“You don’t get to cum until mommy does, sweetheart.” Natasha placed a quick kiss on your lips before placing her legs on either side of your head.
Her hands firmly gripped the headboard at the feeling of your arms wrapping around her thighs.
Natasha slowly lowered herself onto your face, making sure that she didn’t put all of her weight on you.
A whorish moan surpassed the redhead’s lips when you kitten-licked her clit.
“Stop the teasing and get to work, slut, or else you won’t cum until you get back from your mission.”
After the words left her mouth, you quickly got to work. You sucked on her nub, flicking your tongue against her clit as fast as you could.
Natasha’s moans only spurred you on as you trailed your tongue down to her entrance and abruptly shoved it into her pussy.
An animalistic growl left Natasha’s throat as your tongue hit all of her sweet spots, you knew every spot inside of her that could have her trembling in seconds.
Natasha removed one of her hands from the headboard and tightly gripped your hair as she began to bounce on you, bounce on your face.
You moaned out, resulting in a loud scream from Natasha as the vibration added to her pleasure.
“You’re nothing but mommy’s little fucktoy. You’re just something for mommy to use when she needs to get off. That tongue was made to be buried inside of me, baby.”
Natasha grunted out as she alternated between rocking back and forth on your tongue and bouncing like her life depended on it.
Each time Natasha would grind down onto your tongue, your nose would rub her clit, and the pleasure was almost too much for her to handle.
You could tell she was close, her walls clenching tighter around your tongue.
You slid your hands until they reached the flesh of her ass and helped her grind onto you even harder.
Natasha moaned carelessly as she fully dropped onto your face, making it hard for you to breathe.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
“Make mommy cum if you want to breathe, whore.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
You began to rock Natasha’s hips faster, desperate to have her falling apart on your face. You tongue-fucked her as fast as you possibly could, making sure to hit her sweet spot with each thrust.
Finally, Natasha let out a strained scream as her orgasm ripped through her body.
You slurped up her cum, not wanting a single drop to be wasted.
Natasha let out little whimpers and mewls, slowly rocking into your face as she came down from her high.
The redhead lifted herself off of your face and you let out heavy breaths, finally being able to breathe.
If you were being honest though, you couldn’t have thought of a better way to die. You would happily die from being suffocated by your girlfriend’s pussy.
Natasha made her way down your body, leaving a trail of saliva and dark marks across your neck, chest, and abdomen, before sucking on your inner thighs.
“Please fuck me mommy. I want you to destroy me. Please use me. Please.” You begged and Natasha let out a dark chuckle at the sound of your pleas.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to sleep instead? I could stop now and leave you to get some more rest, isn’t that what you wanted?”
Natasha teased as one of her hands came up to your pussy, running her digits through your slit.
“No! No that’s not what I want. I want your fingers in me and your tongue in me. I just want any part of you in me all the time. Please fuck me hard, mommy.”
You were caught by surprise when Natasha abruptly shoved three fingers into your pussy, relentlessly pounding her digits into your cunt.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
The sound of your arousal squelching only turned you on even more.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
“God, pretty girl. You know the right things to say to drive mommy mad.”
Natasha growled before latching onto your clit, sucking as hard as she could as her warm tongue rubbed figure eights into your nub.
Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets tightly. Your body was dripping in sweat, your body heating up from your pent-up orgasm and the pleasure taking over your senses.
Your hands flew into Natasha’s hair when her fingers began to pound against your g-spot. You began to rock your hips against her face once more, but this time, you were practically bouncing on her fingers, desperately craving your release.
“Mommy, please, can I cum now? I’ve been a good girl, I’m your good girl, mommy.” You begged Natasha to let you cum.
Natasha removed her mouth from your nub and you let out an angry puff of air when she withdrew her fingers from your cunt.
“Don’t give me attitude, slut. Mommy just wants to have all of your sweet cum in her mouth, baby. Cum on mommy’s tongue like the needy slut you are.”
Before you could react, Natasha’s warm tongue pushed its way into your cunt. Your back arched high off of the bed as she wasted no time, absolutely fucking the shit out of you.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
She had always been amazing with her tongue.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
It didn’t take long for you to cum, not when she had her tongue buried deep inside of you while she moaned against you.
“Mommy, fuck!” You cried out as your vision faded to black for a few seconds. Natasha watched as you were completely overpowered by the pleasure.
Your breasts that were covered in her marks, stood proudly. Your body glistened with a sheen of sweat. You were trembling beneath her and Natasha felt an immense amount of pride.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
She was the only one who could turn you into a fucked out mess.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Natasha waited until you calmed down a bit before moving away from your cunt. Her face was covered in your cum and you moaned out, beckoning her up to your face.
She crawled up your body and honestly, she almost came when you licked your cum off of her cheeks and nose before placing a wet kiss on her lips.
You pulled away when air became an issue, Natasha was laid flat on top of you, her chest pressed firmly against yours.
“Can that be my wake-up call every morning?” You joked, but you weren’t really joking. Natasha knew this and couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
“That could be arranged, moya lyubov (my love).”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
───────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────────
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crossbowking · 3 years
Text
Honey & Whiskey
Summary: (Set throughout series) When the world ended, everything good died along with it. At least, that's what Daryl Dixon thought. But then he met a stranger in the woods and his entire world turned upside down.
A/N: HOLY MOLY. I can't believe it's here! I've been working on this story since October and I'm so excited for y'all to finally read it. This story is absolutely my favorite of all time and it's 20,835 words of pure Daryl POV (which is just *chef kiss*) — that being said, it’s also a slow burn...and I mean an entirely self-indulgent SLOWWWW burn. So strap in, y’all.
PSA: There are mentions of 'Dog' in this story that are sort of non-canon, especially now that we've seen a backstory as to how Daryl actually found him in the show...so for the sake of the story, let's just pretend 10.18 doesn't exist :)
Anywho, please be sure to share your thoughts with me afterward!
Happy reading!
xx Jess
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The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky alight with brilliant orange and yellow rays.
Daryl tilted his head back, glancing up at the shifting colors as night drew near. The air was crisp, a welcomed change from the usual summer heat. The streets of Alexandria were fairly empty, most already settling into their respective homes before nightfall. Though the unusual silence was near deafening, the archer paid it no mind.
He appreciated the quiet these days.
The grass poked and prodded beneath where he sat, but he simply shifted, drawing one knee to his chest, the other leg splayed out in front of him. He picked absently at one of the holes in his worn jeans, tugging at the string hanging off the fabric.
And then he thought of her.
Leaves and twigs crunched beneath Daryl’s boots as he traversed through the otherwise silent woods.
The farm was destroyed, winter was approaching, and there seemed to be an ever-looming pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He pushed away any inkling of weakness, forging ahead with determined strides. His people were waiting for him, hunkering down in an abandoned diner less than a mile East, hoping he’d bring back something to dull the growing ache inside all of them.
Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.
The thought had come so naturally it nearly took him off guard. The feeling of community, of belonging, was something he’d never felt in his entire life. It was a strange notion, but that drive, that need he felt to provide, pushed him further out into the forest.
The archer kept his footsteps light, practically imperceptible, listening for noises only a seasoned hunter could distinguish. When a twig suddenly snapped off to his left, he froze, scanning the stillness around him. He raised his crossbow, the weight familiar in his grasp as he took a small step in the direction the noise had come from.
A moment later, Daryl spotted it — a lone raccoon just a few yards ahead.
The archer felt a rush of adrenaline, a tingling sensation in his fingertips as they hovered over the trigger. He exhaled a soft breath, focusing all his attention on the animal. But with his concentration elsewhere, it wasn’t until after he’d pulled the trigger that he’d realized he was no longer alone in the woods.
Daryl spun around, coming face to face with an incredibly grotesque-looking walker, teeth bared, arms outstretched, launching itself towards him. The archer braced his arm against the biter’s throat just in time, grunting under its weight as he stumbled backward.
“Shit,” he snarled through gritted teeth, tossing his unloaded weapon aside as he fought against the attack. Using his free hand, he reached for the hunting knife secured on his belt, grabbing onto the hilt.
But before he could yank it out, the world began tilting rapidly around him.
Daryl’s back slammed against the harsh wooded ground, his foot tangled up in an exposed root. He spat another vicious curse as the walker thrashed on top of him, snapping its mangled jaw closer and closer, growling in starved desperation.
Then suddenly, it stilled.
The archer froze, his gaze locked on the unexpected sight of one of his arrows now embedded through the biter’s temple. He snapped out of his reverie, shoving the dead off his chest and scrambling back to his feet.
And then he saw her.
She stood just a few feet away, her rapid breathing mirroring his own, looking as though she was seconds away from passing out. Her hair was matted by a mixture of blood and dirt, her clothes were torn and ratted, her wide eyes seemingly too big for her gaunt features. She had a nasty cut across her temple, blood dripping down the side of her face, past her neck, pooling at the collar of her shirt.
Daryl’s eyes bounced back up to meet hers — his guarded and calloused, hers unsure and fatigued.
“I’m assuming — this — is yours?” she spoke between heaving breaths, tossing something in his direction, the motion causing her to sway unsteadily.
Daryl glanced down, spotting the raccoon he’d shot earlier now lying at his feet — but the arrow he’d used to kill it was no longer there.
Now, it was lodged through the skull of the walker that’d attacked him.
The archer focused back on the stranger — but before he could respond, her skin was suddenly paling, her body crumpling to the ground like a paper doll.
Daryl stared down at her unmoving form in bewilderment. He could tell by the shallow rise and fall of her chest that she was at least breathing. The cut on her temple was still bleeding, the wound looking fairly recent — his best guess was a concussion or exhaustion. Most likely both.
He took a small step forward, almost hesitantly. But when his approach didn’t stir the stranger, he found himself facing an unforeseen decision.
He could leave her — he should leave her. She wasn’t his responsibility. She was a complete stranger. She chose to intervene, not him. She made that choice. Not him. Her.
Though as he turned to leave, as he scooped up the limp raccoon and shoved it into his bag, as he grabbed his strewn crossbow and strapped it across his back, one thing became startlingly clear.
He couldn’t do it — he couldn’t just walk away.
Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”
He could’ve sworn that day in the woods was an entire lifetime ago.
Rick had nearly lost his damn mind when he’d returned to the diner with not only a small woodland creature in his pack, but a stranger slung over his shoulder.
“Is she dead?” Carl pressed nosily, hovering by the booth where the stranger was now laid out, still unconscious.
Lori quickly intervened, moving forward with one hand on her protruding belly, the other grabbing onto Carl’s shoulder. “Step back, baby. Give Hershel some space to work, okay?” she cautioned, pulling the inquisitive boy away.
“Oh, it’s quite alright — I’m just about done here anyways,” Hershel drawled, setting aside the blood-soaked cloth he’d been using to tend to the stranger’s head wound.
Daryl watched the exchange from across the room, arms folded tight against his chest, ignoring the stares coming from other group members.
The front door of the diner suddenly swung open as Rick marched through. He shot the archer a disapproving look before addressing the others. “I think we’re okay,” he finally spoke, re-holstering his pistol. “If Daryl had been followed here, I’m sure we would’ve known by now. We’ll keep somebody on watch — jus’ as a precaution — an’ get back on the road first thing.”
The archer gnawed on the inside of his cheek as the rest of the group began whispering amongst themselves, clearly distressed about the possible danger his decision may have put them in.
Rick approached a moment later, his steadfast strides immediately setting Daryl on edge. “Can I speak with you?” the sheriff hissed, glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Lori’s worried gaze. “In private?” he added in a hushed tone before turning around and storming back outside.
Daryl scoffed under his breath, pushing away from the counter he’d been leaning against and stalking after Rick.
The archer yanked the door open, the cool air biting at his skin as he followed suit. He spotted Rick pacing back and forth across the parking lot, surveying the surrounding woods warily before spinning around and facing him head-on.
“What the hell were you thinkin’?” Rick demanded, taking a step forward.
Daryl fought back the instinctual urge to be on the attack. Instead, he took a breath. “What was I supposed ta’ do, man? Jus’ leave her out there?” he countered, eyes narrowing.
“You don’t bring her here,” the sheriff snapped before pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to collect himself. “We — we have ta’ look after our own, Daryl — you know that. We have no idea who she is, where she came from, who she’s with,” he specified sharply before shaking his head. “That’s jus' not a risk I’m willin’ ta’ take. Are you?”
Daryl held Rick’s gaze for a long moment before looking away, glancing towards the tree line. The sheriff had a point, he couldn’t deny that. But there was something inside him, a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that said otherwise.
Rick slowly nodded, interpreting Daryl’s silence as an answer. “When she wakes, she’s gone,” he finally resolved, stepping past the archer and back towards the diner without another word.
But Daryl couldn’t let it go. “Hey,” he called after Rick, the sheriff’s strides halting mid-pace as he glanced back, the harshness in his features fading, unveiling a man with nothing but the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Back when Carl got shot, if Hershel had turned us away, what’d ya think would’a happened?”
Rick paused before exhaling a long, heavy breath, some of the fight leaving him with it. “That’s not — it’s not the same —”
“It is,” Daryl interjected. “It’s the same damn thing.”
The air grew quiet as Rick’s shoulders sagged, one hand resting against his hip. “My family…” he suddenly murmured, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t risk it.”
Daryl nodded once. “I get it. After everythin’ with Shane an’ Randall, losin’ the farm the way we did, I get it, man,” he rasped, regarding him earnestly. “But m’ tellin’ ya…this’s the wrong call, Rick.”
The diner door suddenly flung open, interrupting the conversation and revealing a flustered-looking Glenn.
“Uh, hey guys,” he interrupted, sending the pair an awkward wave. “Just wanted to let you know that she’s, uh — she’s awake.”
Rick and Daryl shared a look.
“And kinda freaking out,” Glenn quickly tacked on at the end.
Daryl didn’t hesitate. He stormed past Rick and back into the diner, making a beeline towards the small crowd that had gathered around her.
“— okay, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” Lori spoke softly, holding her hands out in front of her as though approaching a caged animal.
The archer pushed through the group, spotting the stranger a moment later.
She was still sitting in the booth he’d initially laid her out in — though now she was huddled away from everyone, back pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest in a cowering stance. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, clearly confused and disoriented and overwhelmed.
Daryl couldn’t even begin to understand why, but he felt a wave of outrage course through him.
“C’mon, people. She ain’t a fuckin’ zoo animal,” the archer growled abruptly, taking a defensive stance in front of the booth and motioning for the rest of the group to move back. “Give the girl some damn space.”
The archer waited until everyone stepped away before turning back around and glancing down at the stranger. He was surprised to see her eyes trained on him — even more surprised at the flush of heat that spread across his chest. He held her gaze a second longer before Rick appeared, parting through the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea.
The stranger shrunk away.
Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.
Rick came to a slow halt in front of her. “What’s your name?” he finally asked, his tone measured and firm.
The stranger did another sweep of the room, as though surveying just how much possible danger she was in. But when her eyes flashed up towards the archer once again, some of her unease faded. “Y/N,” she spoke hesitantly.
Rick nodded slowly before extending his arm. “Rick Grimes.”
Y/N looked at the gesture cautiously. Still, she reached out and took his hand in hers.
She appeared composed but Daryl noticed the slight tremble in her grip.
After a brief shake, Rick grabbed an empty chair and sat down at the end of the booth, resting his forearms against the table. “So, Y/N,” he began, giving the archer a look of resolve. “What happened ta’ you?”
The time after the farm fell was foggy, each day blurring into the next, suffocated by a heaviness the unknown inherently brought. But that day, the day he met her, ran stark against the rest.
Y/N had told her story like Rick asked her to do. She spoke of the small group she’d been staying with and the refuge they’d built, ultimately destroyed by the dead. Everybody had scattered — and if they hadn’t…
Any previous hesitancies the group held melted into understanding and sympathy almost immediately.
Daryl had known Y/N would be accepted into the group. Rick had hardened since the farm, but he wasn’t heartless. He wouldn’t be able to turn her away, just as the archer hadn’t been able to leave her out in those woods.
Spending the winter season on the run had been difficult for everyone — constantly running from the dead, cold and bitter nights, supplies growing scarce. The road was unforgiving, proving time and time again how completely fucked this new world was, how things would never return to the way they were, how this was now the new way of life.
Though for Daryl, if he was being honest, it wasn’t all bad — not in comparison to what his old life had given him.
He’d choose a lifetime of running over the stench of whiskey and the sting of belt buckles any day.
The only other person who’d appeared unaffected was Y/N. Besides showcasing a natural skillset in survival, she’d found her place amongst the group with ease — so effortlessly that Daryl hadn’t been able to recall what life looked like before her. She exuded a warmth that people were drawn towards — that the rest of the group clung to during the darkest of days.
But not Daryl.
He’d kept her at a distance, kept her at arm’s length because he refused to let her in as everyone else had.
Little did he know.
Daryl swiped at the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.
The Georgian heat was nearly suffocating, blanketing over his body and setting his skin ablaze. He pushed away the discomfort, bending down and grabbing the ankles of one of the many walkers spread out across the prison’s courtyard. He’d lost track of how many bodies he’d dragged out, his group working tirelessly to clean out their newfound home.
The archer had just pulled the limp body through one of the fences, nearing the pickup truck used for disposal, when he heard someone approach.
“Need a hand?”
Daryl stilled — he glanced up, his eyes locking with Y/N’s, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a thin sheen of sweat laid out across her forehead. One hand rested on her hip, the other hovered near her face, blocking the sun rays. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past her elbows, streaks of dirt and blood visible against her exposed skin.
He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.
The intrusive thought caught the archer completely off guard. He quickly turned his attention downward, grunting a half-assed ‘nah’ before continuing his trek to the pickup truck, determined to preserve some space between them.
But instead of leaving, as he’d assumed she would, Y/N remained rooted in place.
Daryl faltered, the expression that flickered across her face hinting that maybe she hadn’t come to just ‘lend a helping hand’. She had something on her mind — he could tell by the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing absently as she shifted her weight back and forth.
The archer dropped his hold from around the walker’s ankles and straightened. “What?” he demanded gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him.
Y/N’s eyes found his as she took a small step forward — Daryl fought back the urge to back up. “I, uh —” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side as though fumbling for the right words. “Just — thank you.”
Daryl’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he huffed.
Y/N’s head cocked to the side, seemingly surprised. “I — I don’t know,” she murmured, a soft, sort of bewildered laugh slipping past her lips. “For bringing me here, for introducing me to your people — for everything, I guess,” she expressed sincerely. “You could’ve just left me out in those woods that day — most people would’ve.”
The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling incredibly exposed for some strange reason. “Was nothin’,” he finally grunted, ignoring the prickle of heat at the tips of his ears.
“It wasn’t nothing,” Y/N replied indignantly, like she was offended at the notion that he didn’t deserve her gratitude. “You saved my life.”
Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than for this interaction to be over with — because once that happened, he could go back to maintaining his distance, he could go back to allowing the air between them to be just that. “Figured I owed ya,” he finally mustered, recalling the first day they’d met.
Y/N’s lips curled up into a megawatt smile and Daryl could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything so damn captivating in his entire life. “Okay,” she grinned, sticking her hand out in front of her. “We’ll call it even then.”
The archer glanced down at the gesture before warily reaching forward, taking her hand in his, and shaking once, twice, three times. Her grip was firm and she didn’t seem to mind the grime coating his skin.
When she pulled away, Daryl felt the empty spaces she’d filled set ablaze.
Y/N shot him one last smile before turning around and heading back towards the courtyard. But she’d only made it a few feet when she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure you eat something, okay?”
She didn’t wait for a response — instead, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a look in mock-seriousness as if to say ‘I’m watching you’. Then her face broke out into another grin before she sent him a small wave — and she was gone.
Daryl watched her leave, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form.
He tried to ignore the mess his mind was becoming, littered with confusion and insecurity, the nagging voice that lingered telling him he’d never be good enough, strong enough, brave enough for anything other than what he’d always known.
He wouldn’t let her in — he couldn’t let her in.
But as he bent down, grasping onto either ankle of the walker at his feet, he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips he swore had everything to do with the Georgian heat and nothing to do with her.
A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.
He shifted from where he sat, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the pack of cigarettes he kept there.
The package was falling apart, half-crushed, half-wrinkled from everyday wear and tear, but the archer slipped one of the few remaining cigarettes out anyway and caught it between his lips.
It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that keeping Y/N at arm’s length was a futile attempt — he’d been naive to think it was possible in the first place.
Before he knew it, she’d wormed her way into the forefronts of his mind and found herself a nice, cozy corner to call home. She’d done it as effortlessly as the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. It just happened — no rhyme or reason, no explanation or logic. It just happened.
Which made leaving that much harder.
“Daryl!”
The archer ignored Glenn’s shout, marching further into the woods and approaching a snide-looking Merle. “C’mon, bro,” the younger brother grunted, worried if they didn’t leave right then and there, he’d change his mind and return to the prison with the others.
Merle’s booming laugh sounded, drawing Daryl from his thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man sneered, tossing an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Looks like somebody decided ta’ grow himself a big ole’ pair a’ cojones while I was gone,” he snarked, pushing Daryl forward and falling in step beside him.
The archer pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort and focusing ahead.
“Hey, wait up!”
The voice that sounded halted Daryl in his tracks. He spun around, spotting Y/N making her way through the forest, her strides long and determined as she headed straight towards him.
“Well, would ya look a’ that,” Merle quipped under his breath, leering at her approach, his tone sending a swell of aggravation through the younger brother.
“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Daryl quickly waved him off, ignoring the prickle of heat creeping up his neck as he trudged towards her.
Y/N came to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching his for a long moment.
She seemed to have something to say, a reason for chasing after him — but it was as though she couldn’t get the words together. She glanced down, shaking her head slowly before taking a deep breath. When she looked back up, Daryl noticed a resignation in her gaze that wasn’t there before.
“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, her troubled expression sending a pang of guilt through him.
Daryl looked away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure — he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
He shifted his weight, focusing back on her. “Ya watch out for yourself, ya hear me?” he rumbled, pushing away the unexpected worry gnawing at him.
Y/N’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, her defeated expression damn near changing his mind altogether. “I will,” she murmured, a bittersweet smile ghosting across her features.
Daryl held her gaze a moment longer before nodding once, turning without another word.
But he’d barely taken a step when he suddenly felt her grab his wrist and twist him back around.
Before he knew what was happening, Y/N was hugging him. She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, leaving Daryl completely and utterly dumbfounded. His arms hung limply at his sides, caught off guard by the surprising gesture. Though as soon as it’d begun, it ended. Y/N unwound herself from around his body and took a step back, a pink tinge to her cheeks he hadn’t noticed earlier.
She whispered a somber goodbye — though Daryl couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears — and then she was gone.
The archer fought back the urge to follow, telling himself over and over again that he was making the right decision — he was choosing blood, he was choosing family, he was choosing —
“Hey! Where’s my hug at, sweet cheeks?” Merle’s suddenly hollered, calling after Y/N.
She didn’t look back and Daryl fought back the impulse to start swinging.
But Merle just laughed, the noise loud and boisterous as he sauntered forward. “Damn, lil’ brother. Didn’t think ya had it in ya! I was startin’ ta’ think ya played for the other fuckin’ team’,” he jeered, clapping the archer on the back with more force than necessary.
Daryl’s entire body tensed up, his darkened gaze snapping towards his brother. He noticed then that Merle was also watching Y/N — though his eye line was fixated on one specific part of her body…
“Let’s go,” the archer spat under his breath as he spun around and stormed off, his hands balling into fists.
He had to walk away. Otherwise, he’d lose it — he’d give in to instinct, he’d allow the rage coursing through him to take over, and all of this would’ve been for nothing.
So he took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched fists, and dismissed any lingering thoughts of her.
Daryl scoffed at the memory, an unlit cigarette still caught between his teeth.
He pulled out his lighter and flicked his thumb against the wheel, sparking a small flame before inhaling a deep breath. The familiar taste of nicotine and ash filled his senses as he drew smoke into his lungs, immediately feeling a rush of calm flow through him.
Daryl existed in the quiet, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He pulled his legs towards his chest, resting his elbows atop his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. He watched the lit cigarette butt dim and dance between his fingertips, the embers burning off and drifting into the grass.
It’d only taken a single day for the archer to come to his senses — to realize the mistake he’d made in leaving with his brother. And if he was being honest, it’d had nothing to do with Merle. He couldn’t blame his brother because his brother hadn’t changed — his brother was still the same brash, volatile, ill-tempered redneck he’d known his whole life.
No, it was him — he was the one who had changed.
“Would ya slow yer damn roll? I ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be, ya know!” Merle bellowed from somewhere behind Daryl, clearly struggling to keep up with the younger brother’s pace.
But the archer didn’t slow, his strides matching the beat of his pounding heart. He ducked under tree branches and side-stepped exposed roots, the prison growing nearer with each step he took.
It wasn’t until Daryl heard a sudden thud, followed by a viciously snarled curse, that he slowed. He spun around, spotting Merle pushing up off the forest floor.
“Ya good?” Daryl called out, crossing back and reaching down, offering his hand.
But Merle just swatted him away, his expression twisting in contempt as he staggered back to his feet. “Lemme ask ya somethin’,” he growled. “How the hell ya think this’s gonna go, huh? Ya think those assholes are jus’ gonna forget ‘bout everythin’ that happened? Ya think we’re jus’ gonna hug it out an’ sing ‘round the campfire like some kinda damn afternoon special?”
The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Ya —”
“This ‘bout that skirt from yesterday? Huh? That it?” Merle steamrolled over his attempt to interrupt, taking a step forward, the brothers now toe to toe.
Daryl felt a prickle of heat flush the back of his neck, his chest tightening. Merle was just trying to get a rise out of him — he knew that deep down — but damn, was it working. “It ain’t ‘bout her,” the archer growled defensively, fixing him with a glare. “It’s ‘bout survival, ’bout rebuildin’ — ‘bout tryin’ ta’ make somethin’ outta this shit world. It can’t jus’ be us out here, man — not anymore.”
Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, did Officer Friendly force-feed ya that bullshit?”
Daryl stiffened before huffing a breath and waving his brother off. He turned away, determined to continue his trek back home before it was too late — but he’d only made it a couple of feet when Merle called after him once more.
“It ain’t ever gonna work,” the older brother voiced, his usually brash tone dimming into something surprisingly vulnerable. “It — it jus’ ain’t. Not after everythin’ — not after what I did.”
The archer glanced back, watching Merle’s notorious bravado finally melt away, replaced with something he could’ve sworn looked like guilt. “We ain’t dead yet, man,” Daryl rumbled simply. “Still time ta’ make shit right.”
Merle considered his words for a long moment — but before he could respond, the sound of barraging gunfire exploded through the air.
Daryl’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, feeling his stomach drop when he realized where exactly it was coming from.
He took off into a sprint, Merle’s pounding footsteps echoing directly behind him.
Daryl lied to his brother that day.
In his defense, it hadn’t been deliberate. When Merle had questioned his intentions, alluding to the idea that Y/N was the main reason for his urgency to return home, the archer had denied it.
He hadn’t known it back then, but the truth became startlingly clear once he’d made it back to the prison, marched up the pathway leading to cellblock C, and laid eyes on her.
Daryl found Y/N crouched down beside Axel’s unmoving form, one hand resting on his shoulder.
His steps faltered, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he couldn’t help himself. The Governor had attacked the prison, his people were shaken, and damn it, he just needed to make sure she was okay.
She stood a moment later, turning to rejoin the rest of the group huddled by the fence, her despondent expression filling his bones with a red-hot rage.
But then her eyes met his.
Y/N’s footsteps stilled, her gaze widening in disbelief as she looked at him. A heartbeat passed between them before Daryl noticed how she was holding herself — hunched over slightly, one hand wrapped around the opposite arm, blood seeping out from between her fingertips.
He crossed to her in three long strides, ignoring the heat that flushed his chest the closer he neared.
Instead, he focused on the wound — that he could deal with, that made sense.
Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.
“Daryl,” she breathed in disbelief, her voice thick as though the word had gotten tangled somewhere in her throat.
His name sounded like honey the way it rolled off her tongue.
He shrugged off his crossbow and tossed it aside, wordlessly reaching forward and pulling her hand away from the injury. He examined the laceration carefully — which upon closer inspection appeared to be a gunshot wound — though luckily enough, the bullet seemed to have only grazed the side of her arm.
The archer reached into his back pocket, grabbed the red rag he kept there, and gently pressed it against the wound. “Jus’ keep pressure on it, alright?” he rasped, guiding Y/N’s limp hand to rest over the cloth, stalling the blood flow.
He glanced down at her, doing a slight double-take when he realized she was watching him, a slightly strained smile pulling at her lips. “You came back,” she whispered, her eyes warm despite the blood splattered across her cheek, the pallor in her complexion.
Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, incredibly aware of how little space remained between them. He managed a stiff nod in response, his voice suddenly lost.
But Y/N’s smile merely grew, like the first hint of sunshine after a devastating storm.
And the tightness in his chest finally faded.
The archer inhaled another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke spilling past his lips and disappearing into the growing night.
Returning to the prison had given Daryl a sense of purpose, a sense of hope — he was back where he belonged and the threat of the Governor just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.
And then his big brother went and got himself killed.
Daryl stormed across the field that led to the prison’s courtyard, shoulders set, fists balled, eyes rimmed red.
The Governor would pay — he’d pay for what he’d done.
To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.
He’d pay for what he did to Merle.
The archer’s footsteps faltered, only briefly, when he spotted Y/N pacing back and forth behind the gate. Her head snapped towards him as he approached, her worried expression melting into relief as she quickly pulled the gate open for him.
“You okay?” she called to him, brow furrowing as she craned her neck, now looking behind him. “Where’s Merle?”
Daryl kept his gaze forward, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he marched past her without a second glance. “Dead,” he grunted, ignoring the prickling sensation growing behind his eyes.
“What?” he heard her exclaim, though he didn’t turn around — he kept his momentum pushing ahead, hellbent on going after the Governor and taking him down once and for all.
No matter what the cost.
He stalked towards where he’d parked his motorcycle, slinging his crossbow over his back and mounting the bike in one swift motion.
But Y/N was just as quick.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she jogged towards him, planting herself in front of the bike, an alarmed look in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”
Daryl felt a swell of anger wash over him, an unusual feeling when directed towards her. “Move,” he growled, using his heel to knock the bike’s kickstand up.
Y/N’s brow furrowed, his intent becomingly startling clear. “No.”
He was caught off guard by her protest, though snapped out of it just as soon — his scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, seeing nothing but redness and fury and Merle’s reanimated corpse flickering through his mind. “Move, damn it,” he snarled once more.
But Y/N stood her ground regardless of the wariness in her gaze. “No.”
The archer’s rage churned inside him, his grip white-knuckled around the throttle. “Ya —”
“Please, don’t do this,” she interrupted his brusque retort, shaking her head. “I promise — I promise — he’ll get what’s coming to him, but Daryl…this is not the way.”
He knew deep down she was right, but he didn’t want to hear it — he didn’t want to hear ration or reason or the pity in her voice.
He didn’t want to hear any of it.
“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, emotion clouding her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry about Merle. I’m —”
Something inside the archer snapped. “Ya know what, ya can drop the damn act,” he hissed, springing off the bike and shoving it to the ground with a deafening crash. He ignored the way Y/N flinched as he barreled towards her like a surging storm. “Ya can stop pretendin’ like anyone in this fuckin’ place gave a single shit ‘bout my brother!” he fired back, his voice rising. “Or me, for that matter!”
Y/N recoiled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m —” she started, shrinking under his heated approach. “I didn’t —”
“Forget it,” the archer spat, unable to stop the fervor spewing out of him. “Ya don’t know shit.”
A beat of silence passed as they stared one another down — but the more the quiet stretched on, the more a different emotion began to seep through the archer.
Guilt.
Unable to watch the hurt settling across Y/N’s features, Daryl turned away, allowing his brewing vehemence to carry him across the courtyard and to the doors leading into cellblock C. He paused at the doorway, unable to stop himself from looking back.
He watched Y/N’s head lower, her shoulders drop, before she slowly reached down, grabbing his toppled motorcycle by the handlebars and propping it upright.
The archer swallowed his remorse, buried his instincts, and stalked inside.
Daryl hissed a breath as the burnt end of the cigarette singed his fingertip. He stubbed the flame out against the heel of his boot, flicking the butt away into the grass.
Still, to this day, he felt bad about losing his temper. The anger had clearly been misdirected, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it — Y/N had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Despite the aftermath of his outburst weighing heavily on him, he’d kept his distance from her throughout the days that followed.
Old habits die hard.
Daryl woke with a start, his eyes snapping open, chasing away lingering images of the nightmare he’d found himself immersed in.
Sleep had never been kind to him, even before everything went to shit — tonight was no different.
He could still see flashes of redness and death, smell the scent of rotting corpses and bloodshed, hear the sounds of tormented screams and anguished whimpers —
Daryl’s thoughts faltered as he quickly pushed up onto his elbows, straining his ears.
He realized then that the whimpering wasn’t coming from just his imagination. No, it was real — and it was coming from somewhere inside the cellblock.
The archer sprang up, untangling himself from the bed sheet coiled at his feet before shuffling towards the doorway. He paused there, his senses on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened carefully.
When another soft cry sounded, he moved from the entryway, slowly slinking past cell after cell and following the noise.
It wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside Y/N’s cell.
Daryl peered into the shadowed room, just barely able to make out the shape of her beneath the covers. She murmured something jumbled and incoherent, her words muffled as though her face was pressed into the pillow. She tossed and turned for a moment before finally settling.
When she remained still, the archer nearly left for his own cell.
But then he heard a quietly gasped sob and began moving forward before he could think twice.
Daryl crouched down beside Y/N’s bedside, turning on the lantern she’d left sitting on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted before focusing on her.
She was curled up, covers drawn to her chin, faint tear tracks marking the sides of her face. Her brow was knitted, causing lines to form across her forehead — he fought back the urge to reach out and smooth them away.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleep was unkind to.
Another soft whimper blew past her lips and Daryl reached for her, gently shaking her shoulder.
Y/N immediately jolted awake, shooting upright, disoriented and alarmed as her bleary eyes darted around the cell.
“Hey, hey,” Daryl quickly rasped, holding his hands out in front of him. “It’s alright.”
“What — what happened?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep, her wide gaze finally settling on him.
The archer shook his head, pulling back slightly, second-guessing his decision to wake her. “Nothin’ — nothin’, alright? We’re okay.”
“What —” she sounded, a bewildered look flitting across her face as she settled her hand against her undoubtedly racing heart. “Are you okay?”
Daryl’s brow furrowed at her question, confused as to why that would be her next question and not ‘what the fuck are you doing in my cell?’ Regardless, he nodded once. “Yeah,” the archer brushed off her concern, sitting back on his haunches. “Ya — uh, ya were cryin’,” he revealed hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he watched for her reaction.
Y/N straightened, the top bunk just grazing the crown of her head as she dabbed her fingertip at the corner of her eye, appearing almost embarrassed suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered, wiping away the tears that’d formed.
Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Ya alright?” he rasped after a long moment.
She quickly nodded her head, waving off his worry. “Oh, no — yeah, no, I’m fine,” she replied flippantly, shooting the archer a tight-lipped smile.
Despite Daryl seeing right through her bullshit, he didn’t push.
Instead, he nodded once and clambered back to his feet.
But he’d just barely turned to leave when Y/N spoke up once more. “Hey, Daryl?”
The archer faltered, glancing back at her. “Yeah?”
Her demeanor appeared collected, though he could see her hands twisting nervously around the sheet splayed out across his lap. “I —” she paused, seemingly working up the nerve to say what was next. “Are we okay?”
Daryl felt his chest tighten, the heaviness that’d grown between them splintering in that moment. There was something about her words, the smallness in her voice, that had him kicking himself for being so damn stubborn, for not making things right sooner.
She raked a hand through her tousled hair. “I just — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I mean, I wasn’t trying to —”
“Stop,” Daryl cut off her rambling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was actin’ like an asshole,” he grumbled admittedly, the shame he’d buried creeping back in.
The tension in Y/N’s features softened as she regarded him. “It’s okay.”
For some reason, her easy forgiveness made Daryl’s insides churn.
“Nah, it ain’t,” he shot back sharply, almost wishing she’d curse him out instead. “Wasn’t right ta’ take that shit out on ya.”
“You were grieving,” she justified, her explanation simple and understanding.
Daryl worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching as he stared at the far wall of her cell, his gaze darkening — he didn’t deserve her compassion. “Well, ya probably stopped me from doin’ somethin’ real stupid,” he muttered dryly.
She merely shrugged, still completely unfazed. “Grief makes us do stupid things,” she murmured, defending him yet again. “I am sorry about your brother, you know,” she whispered a moment later, the sincerity in her voice knocking down the wall Daryl had worked so hard to keep between them.
He nodded slowly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Merle was no hero,” he finally rumbled. “But he died tryin’ ta’ make shit right,” he mustered, his eyes finding hers amidst the shadows of her cell.
Y/N shot him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”
Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling as though his heart was moments away from bursting out of his chest. It was as though the cell was shrinking around him, the walls closing in — and the only thing keeping him above the surface was her.
“Get some sleep,” he managed gruffly, turning to leave once more.
“Daryl?”
The archer stilled. “Hm?” he sounded, not trusting his voice.
“Can you stay?” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it entirely. “Just a little longer?”
Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, feeling the overwhelming urge to run, to retreat to his own cell and pretend he hadn’t heard her.
But the slight tremble in her voice, something others surely would’ve missed, pulled him right back in.
The air thickened as he walked towards her, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for it while he still had the chance. Y/N watched him approach, slightly wide-eyed, his steps faltering the closer he neared. She maneuvered slightly on the bed, moving towards the wall as though making room for him beside her.
Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.
Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”
“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.
He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.
He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.
She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.
Not even sleep could take him from her.
Everything changed after that night.
After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.
They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.
It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.
Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.
Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.
And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.
She became his solace.
Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.
“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.
Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.
She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.
The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.
“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”
He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.
Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.
Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.
“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.
Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”
Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.
“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”
“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.
“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”
Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”
Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.
Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.
“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.
The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”
She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.
Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.
Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.
“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”
Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.
“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”
He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.
“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”
“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”
Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”
“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.
She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.
Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.
When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.
“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”
Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”
“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”
The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”
“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.
“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.
“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.
Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.
“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.
A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.
But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.
The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.
Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.
Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?
Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.
Then the prison fell.
And destroyed everything good along with it.
“Do you miss her?”
Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.
Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.
“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”
Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.
He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.
“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.
The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.
Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”
With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.
Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.
He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?
He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.
Daryl wasn’t a religious man.
But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.
The archer felt his throat constrict.
He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.
Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.
Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.
Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.
He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.
He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.
They’d move on to her.
Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.
A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.
He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.
Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.
Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.
He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.
And then he saw her.
She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.
Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.
His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.
It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.
The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.
Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.
The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.
And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.
Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.
He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.
Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.
Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.
He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”
Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.
But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.
And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.
The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.
With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.
The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.
And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.
Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.
He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.
But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.
The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.
Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.
Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.
The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.
Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.
The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.
Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.
Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.
But hers?
She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.
He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.
“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.
Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.
He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.
“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.
The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.
He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.
“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”
It was Daryl’s turn to look away.
He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.
He never got to thank her.
When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.
And he never got to thank her.
“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”
Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.
When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.
She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.
The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.
But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.
Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”
Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.
He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.
But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.
Not from her.
“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.
A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.
Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.
A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.
There had to be something else, something more.
The world couldn’t be all bad.
Not the same world that’d given him her.
Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.
His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.
Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.
It was better than before.
And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.
Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.
The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.
“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.
Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.
He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.
She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.
Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”
Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.
Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”
The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.
Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”
He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.
“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”
Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.
A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”
The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.
“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.
He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…
Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.
That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.
“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.
A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”
The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.
Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.
He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.
“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”
He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.
Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”
The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.
A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.
He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.
Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”
Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.
He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.
He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.
So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.
It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.
But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.
Not against her.
Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.
And then the screaming started.
He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.
The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —
Just let her be okay.
When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.
He’d made peace with his decision.
And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —
Just let her be okay.
For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.
He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.
He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.
Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.
Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.
“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.
The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.
His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.
Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.
Just let her be okay.
Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.
The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.
The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.
“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.
Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.
Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”
Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.
And Daryl had seen enough.
He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.
She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.
The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.
And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.
Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.
Still, neither spoke.
Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.
Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.
She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.
The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.
He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.
Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.
So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.
After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.
He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.
Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.
The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.
He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.
After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.
But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.
Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.
Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.
Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.
But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.
He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.
It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.
But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.
Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.
Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.
Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.
And in its place…her.
Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.
A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.
He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.
But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.
“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.
“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.
Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.
Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.
He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.
Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.
The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.
The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.
And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.
Daryl flushed at the memory.
She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.
He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.
And now?
The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.
Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.
“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.
“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.
“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.
The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.
Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.
And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.
The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.
Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.
She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.
But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.
Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.
“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.
“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.
Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”
“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.
Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.
Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?
He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.
Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.
“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”
The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.
He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.
“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.
The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.
Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.
“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."
But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.
He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.
Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.
Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”
Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.
Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.
Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”
The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.
A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.
“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.
“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”
Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.
In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.
“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.
Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.
There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.
The only thing he could do was just be there.
Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.
Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.
And then she squeezed back.
The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.
Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.
Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.
But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.
She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.
Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.
He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.
Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.
Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.
He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.
He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.
It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.
They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.
But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.
It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.
Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.
Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.
She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.
Daryl huffed a breath.
“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.
The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.
He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.
Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.
But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.
“I love you.”
The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.
But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.
He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.
Except that didn’t happen.
Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.
Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.
Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.
The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.
Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.
Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.
He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.
She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.
Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.
Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.
Then sleep came for him as well.
Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.
Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.
But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.
A love that came without warning.
“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.
Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”
Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.
“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”
The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.
Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.
Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.
Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.
It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.
“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.
“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.
Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.
“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”
Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”
The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.
He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.
“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.
Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”
The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”
The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”
“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”
Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”
“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”
The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.
“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.
Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.
Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”
“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.
Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.
It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.
Then he spotted a man.
The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.
Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.
“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.
“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”
Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.
A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.
“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.
The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”
“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”
The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”
Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”
Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.
Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.
It was as though everything happened in slow motion.
The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…
A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.
When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.
But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.
Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.
“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.
“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.
Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”
“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”
The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.
“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”
Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.
The archer spun around.
And that was when he saw her.
Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.
“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.
His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.
Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.
“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.
Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.
Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.
And if they didn’t…
No.
No, he couldn’t go there.
Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.
His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.
“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”
Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.
“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.
But luck was not seeming to be on their side.
Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.
She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.
“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”
Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.
He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.
He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.
She was gone.
His girl was gone.
And his entire world came crashing down around him.
Daryl forced his eyes open.
His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.
His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.
Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…
But it was too late.
They were too late.
Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.
“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.
Then he broke.
And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.
The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.
He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.
Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”
The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.
It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.
“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.
Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.
For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.
Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.
It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…
Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.
After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.
Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.
The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.
He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.
Daryl left him that way.
It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.
He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.
Not a single day went by without the thought of her.
She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.
Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.
The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.
It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.
Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.
Someday, he’d find his way home again.
Fin.
A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol
So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.
Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)
What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)
I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.
After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.
And I think that's sorta beautiful.
P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!
P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!
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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)
Monday     Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday
Spotify Playlist (collaborative)
Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia
Word count: 5,138
After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.
After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today. 
As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.” 
“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”
You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”
You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”
He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?” 
Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”
While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him. 
“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”
That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”
“Do you have any blackmail?”
Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.” 
“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”
You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice. 
“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”
“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”
“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”
“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”
“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”
“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”
“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”
The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit. 
By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat. 
Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up. 
After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.
Hales : )
(Y/n), I’m omw to your house
Gonna give you a ride to the school
(Y/n)
Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive
Hales : )
Don’t care
Omw, be there in like 7 mins
You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat
(Y/n)
I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one
She’s gonna give me a ride home too
Dadza
Alright, thank her for me
Tell her I said good luck too!
Uncle Schlatty Patty
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do
Dadza
(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do
Uncle Schlatty Patty
Fuck you I’m a good influence
Dadza
You’re really not
Wilby
^^^^
Technology Sword
^
Uncle Schlatty Patty
Fuck all of you 
You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.
“Coat.”
You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”
“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”
Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”
“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”
Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back. 
“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”
“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face. 
“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”
You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”
You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”
The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable. 
Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time. 
When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team. 
The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.
“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”
“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”
“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”
“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”
The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike.  “HALEY NOW!” 
You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!” 
“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”
“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”
“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”
You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them. 
The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black. 
“...(y……”
“..(y/n)......”
“(Y/n).”
You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.
“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.
“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.
“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?
“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.
“Who th f-fuck… why?”
“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.
“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”
“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”
“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”
“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”
Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”
“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”
Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.
“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”
“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”
“Good, what month are we in right now?”
“Nov-November?”
“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”
“S’my dad Phillip.”
“That’s your dad Philza.”
The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop. 
“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”
Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.
“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”
“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.
She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them. 
“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against. 
“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.
“Tech?”
“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”
When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym. 
“S’better.”
“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”
“Wilbs-”
“Focus on walking.”
You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”
You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”
When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.” 
You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle? 
After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”
“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.
“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”
They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you? 
“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up. 
“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”
“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”
“Mm. Makes sense.”
“Let’s get you in the car hun.”
As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner. 
When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”
“Car.”
After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you. 
“(Y/n), what do you remember?”
You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”
You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”
“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”
“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”
After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.
“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”
“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”
As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.
For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.” 
“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”
The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”
“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”
“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”
You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.
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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years
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Do you think you could write a piece about Harry and y/n having sex but she’s like really short and Harry is like throwing her around and just manhandling her and fucking destroying her guts but also make kinda fluffy pls😔👉👈
Welcome Home
Anonymous Said: Hi I’ve discovered this blog recently and can I please just take a moment to say Wow... you’re writing is amazing and your ideas and concepts are brilliant. I’m not sure if your taking requests or concepts but here’s an idea. SNL pilot Harry like with the grey hair and all coming home to his wife who misses him dearly after awhile followed by you know what. And if you could include size kink (I really liked that concept)
A/N: I’m so sorry it’s so late guys! Since I’ve been writing for a year now, I figured that I’d give an ‘Au’ a try. When I got this request, I was completely floored. Like holy shit, sexy ass older pilot!Harry, and small!Y/n. All of this is perfection and I love this so much! Enjoy🙃
4.7k words
Harry loved his job. He considered himself to be pretty lucky to have the ability to travel the world and see places he’d only dreamt of growing up. Even though he wasn’t in those places for an extended amount of time, simply being there was more than enough for Harry and it made him want to go back and explore. If he was lucky, he’d have multiple flights to the same place or longer layover in these But what Harry loved most about his job was the fact that he got to do it all with the love of his life. 
When you two first met, Harry’d been a pilot for some years and you were just hired for your job as a flight attendant. You knew that it wasn’t the most glamorous profession int the world, but you wanted to dip your toes into the pool of world travel, and this was the route you were taking to start. Before your first flight you’d asked around about the pilots for your flight and you were met with the same response each time. Everyone said that Harry was one of the nicest people in the world and was pretty good looking too, but his copilot was the person you were advised to try your best to avoid. Luckily, you only had to interact with Harry. Both you and Harry hated to say it and be all cliché, but from the moment you two laid eyes on and interacted with each other you both were hooked. Even though the both of you could’ve really used the entirety of your breaks to get some sleep, you and Harry couldn’t stop talking to each other. From that point on, the two of you became inseparable. During layovers that were more than just a couple hours and Harry had some spare time outside of his duties as pilot, the two of you would spend time together. You two were so caught up in each other and being together that you’d swap flights and breaks with the other flight attendants so that you and Harry could be together. And Harry did the same. He’d always put in a word with the people who made the schedules to ensure that he was flying the flights you were on or he’d try to get you on his flights. 
After constantly being on flights together and even running into each other during your times off, you and Harry were pretty convinced that you two should give a relationship a try. Even though there was a significant risk involved with starting a relationship with someone who was pretty much your boss and/or employee, you and Harry were willing to take that risk. And you two never looked back. In fact, disclosing you guys’ relationship made things way easier for you and Harry; you two were almost always on the same flights together. Now, you two are happily married and traveling the world together about 99% of the time. You both absolutely hated when the 1% times came around. You two became so used to being on the same flights that when you weren’t, you and Harry were a bit sad and even a little homesick believe it or not. This time unfortunately was Harry’s turn to fly without you. There wasn’t a moment on his trip that Harry didn’t miss you. He was focused on his job but he was still thinking about you. He was constantly wondering about what you were doing at home. When he took his break he just laid there and the cuddles and kisses he’d get if you were there with him. He also missed listening to your passenger horror stories and pushing you to just keep going. And on top of all that, Harry missed all the times you two would try to quietly go at it in the bathroom or crew resting area depending on whether or not you two were the only ones on break. Even though he was able to talk to you during his layover, he was counting the days and eventually hours until he came back home to you. As soon as he landed on the tarmac at the airport, Harry was on a mission to get home. After following all the necessary after flight procedure and filling out all of the necessary paperwork, Harry threw his bag into his car and sped home to you.
Surprisingly, Harry was able to get home and not get a ticket. He quickly pulls into the driveway and carries himself and his bag into the house. When he walks through the front door, Harry could immediately feel your presence. He could feel your warmth radiating through the entire house. All he had to do now as find you. Before checking upstairs, he makes his way around the main level of the house to look for you. As he exits the kitchen and makes his way down the hall, Harry could hear your soft hums getting louder and louder. When he reaches the laundry room, he sees you standing at the folding in the corner. Simply seeing you bought a big smile to his face. He then wastes no time coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your smaller body. 
“Honey I’m home.” Harry happily coos in your ear before pressing a soft kiss below it. When he does this, you turn around in his arms to get a better look at him. 
“Welcome home.” You whisper back to him, lifting yourself up onto your tips of your toes to bring your lips to his. As soon as your lips connect, the both of you release sighs of content. You two were back together. It doesn’t take long for Harry’s arms to tighten around your body and hoist you up onto the table behind you. The kiss lasts a little longer before you pull away from his lips. 
“How was your long haul without me?” You hum, sliding your hands up the lapels of his jacket.
“It was hell.” Harry says pointedly. 
“It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Was thinking about you the whole time.” Harry frowns a little at you to emphasize his point. 
“I missed you too baby.” You coo softly to him. You then reach up and pull the captains hat off of his head, sitting it down next to you before pushing your hands through his greying curls. When you two first met, he had some grey hairs here and there. But now they had taken over just about all of his head; and you were very into it. “Any annoying kids or weird old ladies?” You ask him. 
 “For the kids, I wouldn’t know. I like to stay in the front of the plane or the crew area.” Harry begins truthfully. “But as for the old ladies, they always want to break off a piece of this.” He continues smugly.
“Why would they want you? Do they wanna swap arthritis creams or something?” You joke with a laugh, watching his face fall in the process. 
“I will have you know that I’m considered a silver fox. And you know it.” Harry defends, slightly tilting his head up away from you. When he says this all you could do was pucker your lips and bite the inside of them because what he said was in fact true. You just couldn’t let him know that. “Now what’d you get into while I was gone?” Harry asks curiously with a smirk from his previous victory. 
“Did some stuff around the house and I did a little missing you retail therapy.” You reply happily. 
“So I take it that the credit card bill this month is gonna be a little higher than normal?” Harry asks suspiciously. 
“Just a little.” You whisper trying to undermine your shopping spree. 
“A little?” Harry asks you again, already knowing that you’re undermining how much you actually spent. 
“Mhm.” You mumble, nodding your head sweetly in the process. 
“You’re too cute and pretty for your own good.” Harry chuckles and shakes his head down at you. 
“You love it though.” You hum happily up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 
“I do.” Harry sighs contently. This is what he missed. He missed being in your arms and just loving on you. He loved seeing your smile and feeing your small arms wrap around him. “I actually bought you a couple things.” Harry whispers, tightening his grip around your back. 
“Is it more skimpy lingerie?” You question him, making sure to spread a wide smirk across your face. Instead of readily replying to you, Harry simply unwraps one of his arms from around your back and he brings it up to the front of your dress. Since the front of your dress was loosely wrapped around your body to keep it closed, Harry as able to simply pluck back the top a little to get a good look at your body beneath the fabric. 
“Well I guess this is my cue to stop buying the lingerie, since you’re not even wearing it.” Harry points out, looking down into your dress to find your bare, supple breasts resting on your chest. It took a lot of self control for Harry in that moment to not stick his hand down your dress to take your plushy flesh into his hand.
“Well I thought it was for our sexy times or when I send you pictures while you’re on a trip and on your break or stuck in a hotel room without me.” You explain to him. You even throw in a little pout; you wanted to keep your fancy and very pretty lingerie flow going. “But I am wearing one of the pairs of  panties you picked up in Italy if you wanna see how some of your purchases look on me.” You whisper lowly to him. You then use your arms that are hooked around his neck to pull his head down closer to yours. Harry was already a bit hard from finally being home with you. Now he was getting even harder from your words. 
“Is it bad that I’ve only been home for 20 minuets and I’m already thinking about completely ravishing you?” Harry mumbles against your pillow soft lips. “Just so pretty baby.” Harry grumbles frustratedly before bringing his mouth the rest of the way to yours while pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He couldn’t believe that he, a man who turned 40 a couple months prior, was getting all riled up and turned on the same way he did 20 plus years ago. That was just the age defying effect you had on him. 
“No, not at all.” You begin as you pull away from the short lived yet beyond passionate kiss, slowly bringing your left hand up the back of his neck to his hair. “In fact, every time I see you in your head to toe pilots get up, I’m always fighting the strong urge to fall to my knees and take your cock down my throat.” You bluntly continue, your voice filled with a very nonchalant and teasing tone. 
When this statement left your mouth, Harry was a little bit taken aback. But at the same time he wasn’t. After slowly building up your friendship that in no time blossomed into a more romantic relationship together, Harry was able to slowly show you the ropes so to speak and teach you just about everything you knew when it came to the bedroom and a happy and healthy relationship. When you two progressed to the more intimate stage of your budding relationship, you were pretty inexperienced. You didn’t know your way around the bedroom at all. You we’re still a virgin and you didn’t even know the ins and outs of making out with someone. All you knew was that this smart, extremely kind, absolutely gorgeous, and just overall stunning human being, older man who just so happened to be the pilot on your flight had taken a strong interest in you. And luckily for you, your lack of experience was the least of his concerns. It was like you hit the jackpot with him. Fast forward to now when you two are a married couple, you’ve taken all of the tips and tricks he’s taught over time and you’re running with it. Harry wasn’t the only who had the ability to do things to your body that would make your toes to curl, your entire body to go numb, and cause your mind to deem it all indescribable. You also had the ability to turn Harry into a pleasured, borderline incoherent, and moaning mess; something that most women in his past who were his age or slightly older weren’t even able to do. So it wasn’t a complete surprise that those words came from your mouth.
“Who knew that my pretty little wife had such a filthy mouth.” Harry gasps with a condescending tone.
“Well I’m not a prudish old man like you.” You simply reply. This was the button in Harry that you loved to push. 
“I don’t know where you’re getting that from but I’m far from prudish and I’m definitely not an old man.” Harry says matter of factly. “If I remember it correctly, I made you wear vibrating panties for the entirety of an 18 hour flight.” Harry recalls, making his point against being called prudish. 
“Everyone uses those. Especially older men.” You smugly whisper back, pushing even harder on this button of his. 
Harry knew exactly what you were doing. He knew that you were pushing his button so that he’d unleash everything he had built up over the course of his trip into you. It didn’t take much for him to realize that you wanted him to really make up for not being with you for almost a week. The both of you were itching to feel and be around each other again. After you and Harry made it past the learning and teaching phase of you guys’ sex life, the two of you acquired a constant hunger for one another. When you and Harry had some time off, the sex would be nonstop. Whether it was cockwarming or full on sex where you’re riding his cock or he was slamming himself deep into your pussy, you and Harry were always looking for ways to be around each other like this. And it was exactly the same when you two were on the job. Even though you two didn’t have the freedom to go at it whenever you wanted, you and Harry still found ways to be with each other. For some reason, seeing each other dressed in your uniforms was a bit of a turn on. It didn’t help that the both of you were borderline thrill seekers and loved the rush that came along with trying to be quiet as you both were experiencing some of the best pleasure you’d ever felt.
“Well do all older men pound and shove their cocks into their girlfriends, and now wives tight little cunts over and over again until she’s begging and crying for him to slow down and let them cum? Because if not, I’ve got countless stories about me doing that to you in the cramped bathroom on a flight, in restaurant bathrooms, dressing rooms, upstairs, on the couch, the kitchen counter, right here on this table, and many other places.” Even though you acted confident and enjoyed battling Harry for dominance, you were able to easily fall into a more submissive role. The way he’s calmly able to say the filthiest things made your body quake and your panties become even more soaked than they already were. You were never going to be able to forget about all of those times. How and why would you ever forget the times where he’s hoisted you up against a door or a wall, or pushed you down against the counter, tightly wrapped a hand around your mouth to keep you quiet, and deliciously slammed his cock up into you? If you focused in on those memories, you could remember and almost feel him inside you.
That’s what you wanted right now. You wanted him to pound into you so hard that you’d a sore, moaning mess and you wanted to make up for the time you two weren’t together. This was the first time in a good while that you weren’t scheduled for a flight with Harry and you really missed him. And his cock. So if you had to push one of his buttons to really get what you both wanted, you were going to do it. 
“Well I think you guys can do that,” You begin, pausing to run your hands down from his neck and across the expanse of his broad shoulders. “I just think that you may need a little help if you know what I mean.” You finish. When you say this, Harry knows exactly what you were implying and he wasn’t having any of it. 
“You and this pretty little body of yours is gonna get it.” Harry growls before yanking you up from the table and pulling you into his body. He quietly marches you both up the stairs and to your shared bedroom. When he reaches the foot of the bed, he releases his once tight grip on your body and drops you down onto the bed. He continues to go about everything silently, shoving his jacket off of his shoulders and working on his tie and shirt.
“You look really hot in that uniform just so you know.” You admire from the bed below him. You watch him chuckle at your statement as he shrugs his shirt and undone tie off his body. You were really turned on right now. Like the sight of his bare, toned and tattooed chest and arms was a sight you could stare at forever. Add onto that the fact that he was mad and taking control over you and you were setup to be a complete mess. And your panties could definitely attest to that. You were completely drenched and dying to feel him against and inside you. 
“You don’t have to butter me up baby.” Harry begins as he undoes his shoes. “M’still gonna take care of you and that smart mouth of yours.” Harry guarantees, shoving his shoes and socks off his feet and standing back up to work on his pants. “Gonna make sure you know what I can do to you.” Harry finishes, finally undoing his belt and shoving his pants along with his boxers down his legs. When you see his thick and very hard cock, you couldn’t stop a moan or two from escaping your mouth. “I take it someone needs my cock.” Harry chuckles at your desperation for his cock. He planned on showing you just how much you needed him. He then comes closer to the edge of the bed and in one swift motion, Harry pulls you up from your lying position and flips you onto your front. He masterfully undoes the tie on the back of your dress and he flips you back onto your back. He tugs at the fabric, opening your dress and exposing your partially naked body to him. He takes a moment to admire your body and all he could do is bite his lip. He couldn’t believe that he managed to be away from this for nearly an entire week. 
Harry quickly snaps out of his trance when he feels his cock twitch slightly and he leans down to scoop you up into his arms. When he does this, Harry keeps you low in his grip so that you’d be right against his cock. He keeps one arm securely around your body and pulls your arms from the dress. Once it’s completely off of you, he drops it into the pile of his clothes and drops you back onto the bed. Before crawling up and on top of you, Harry uses your claves to push you a little higher up onto the bed and to flip you back onto your stomach. When he does this, you really know you’re in for it. Whenever you were in this position Harry really made sure to slam into you and make you scream. When he crawls up and is on top of you from behind, he wastes no time in ripping the barely there panties off your body. For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry didn’t snap the delicate undergarment in half. Once they’re out of the way, Harry has complete access to your body.
“Gonna be a good girl and take daddy’s cock?” Harry asks, squeezing the flesh of your ass before raising it up just to crash it back down.
“Mhm.” You whimper, really feeling the sting from the sudden slap.
“Use your words.” Harry demands, raising his hand back up to deliver another slap to your backside. 
“Yes daddy.” You cry out to him, this time feeling not only the sting of his slaps but also feeling of your juices dripping onto the sheets.
“Good girl.” Harry hums at your response. He then straddles your thighs, wanting to keep you in place when he pushes into you. He lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you, and he grips onto his cock to give himself a good squeeze, resulting in him letting out a loud grumble behind you (that went straight to your clit). He tightly grips onto the flesh of one of your cheeks and he pulls your ass apart to get a better view of you. When he sees your puckered hole, Harry gets a little idea. In the process of lining himself up with your entrance, Harry uses his cock to put a little pressure on your tighter hole. When he does this, words begin to pour out of your mouth. 
“M’too tight daddy.” You rush out to him, trying to stop his actions. Harry knew that you were too tight for him at the moment, but he just liked to work you up a little and hear you beg.
“Don’t worry baby. When were done, daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready for his cock.” He promises, lowering his cock from your second hole down to the first. When you feel his thick head nudging at your entrance, your moans got louder. You needed him to be inside you already. 
“Want your big cock daddy.” You beg. You try to move back against him but he’s practically sitting on your thighs, which is pinning you to the bed. 
“Whats the magic word?” Harry teases.
“Please daddy?” And with that, Harry is finally sinking his cock into you. When you feel his cock stretching you to fit all of him, your mind goes blank. All you could come up with was strings of loud moans and feeling good. You felt full agains which was all you really wanted. As he continues to sheath his cock with your walls, Harry’s hand leaves his shaft and goes right to your other cheek. He pulls your ass completely apart and watches as his cock disappears into you.
“That’s it, take this cock sweetheart.” Harry pants in amazement. He was still in awe at how a small woman like you was able to take every last inch of his manhood. Once he’s fully inside, Harry’s eyes trail up your body to find you resting your cheek against the sheets with your mouth wide open. Thats what he wanted to see. Keeping his hands on your ass, Harry lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you and goes straight into slamming in and out of your tight and very wet pussy. As he does this, your entire body quakes at the amazing sensation of him fucking you. Feeling him pound into your stomach as he called you his sweet girl and his pretty little wife was beyond extraordinary. You could feel the familiar tight and warm knot beginning to form in the pit of your stomach already.
As Harry fucks into you, he’s beyond turned on. The way you’re pinned below him as he shoves his cock deep into you along with you pitifully whimpering, moaning, and crying at how good he felt was really doing things to Harry. He never wanted to be away from you ever again. He wanted to feel you every single day.
After fucking into you from behind for a good while and feeling the tight burning sensation forming in the pit of his stomach as well, Harry figures that he’s going to cum soon and he wants to watch your face twist as he does. He then proceeds to stop thrusting all together and pull out of you, which causes you to grumble, resulting in you receiving a hard “shut up” slap to your ass. He then gets lifts himself off of you and flips tugs you onto your back. He knocks your legs apart and gets in between them before slamming his cock back into you.
“Like this baby. Like it when daddy takes control of this tight little cunt of yours?” He pants, continuing to slam his his cock into you. You were too caught up in how good he was making you feel that you couldn’t even form a worded response. All you could do was thrash your head against the bed in agreement. When he sees this, a very wide smirk rises to his face. This is exactly what he missed and wanted to see. You taking all of his cock while you’re quivering and barely holding on. As he continues, Harry can feel the warmth from the pit of his stomach spreading to his entire body, signifying to him that his release was getting extremely close. Judging by the way your once tight grip on the sheets has gone loose, your pitiful whimpers, and the way you’re tightening up around him you’re feeling the exact same way. To make you cum around his cock, with him following right behind you Harry only has to do two things. First, he brings his palm to your lower stomach and presses it into you; putting pressure on the warm knot that was about to explode and allowing him to feel his cock moving inside you. He then comes down, bringing his mouth to your ear to whisper one thing into your ear. “Not too bad for an old man right?” Harry hums patronizingly into your ear. He wanted you to eat your words. And you were. His words, the pressure from his hand, and his cock causes you to burst at the seams around him. You let out a mixture of gasps and whimpers as you completely let go around Harry’s cock. When he feels your walls contracting around him, Harry lets go as well. He releases every last drop of the sexual frustration he’d been carrying around all week; and it felt so good. He loved painting your walls with his cum.
Once the both of you are done and it’s safe to pull out, Harry’s slowly pulls his sopping wet cock from your cunt and collapses onto the bed next to you. 
“Harry, I can’t feel my legs.” You whimper after a couple minuets of silence. 
“M’surprised you’re not used to it by now.” Harry hums smugly. Once he says this, a temporary lull fell over you two. You and Harry were very anxious to go at it again, but you two were holding off to see who would initiate round two. 
“Did you take something before you came in the house?” You whisper over to him, deciding that you needed to be the one to initiate round two.
“Do I need to come over there and shove my cock down that pretty throat of yours for you to get the point?” Harry chuckles at your persistence. 
“Only if you want to.” You whisper sweetly. 
“Oh I want to, and don’t you doubt that.” Harry says matter of factly. 
“Well can we cuddle first? Haven’t cuddled since the night before you left.”
“Anything you want.” Harry coos before moving closer to your limp body. 
Masterlist
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capricorn-stark · 3 years
Text
Headphones
pairing: dick grayson x reader, established relationship, fluff
warning: mild language, yet another late night idea that came to me from absolutely nowhere
a/n: IM ALIVE!!!!
The music in your headphones were blasting at levels that you knew would make you deaf a little too early in life, but personally, you were enjoying yourself a little too much to really care.
After all, didn’t everyone tell you to live life in the moment? Sure, usually they weren’t implying that you needed to destroy your health and hearing in order to accomplish that, but anyways - you were enjoying your little session of listening to music and casually tapping through your phone.
Or you were, until someone had the audacity to take your headphones right off of your head.
Your reaction of hey! was met with an obnoxious laugh from Dick as he slid them over his own ears, much to your chagrin. 
“This is what you were listening to?” he asked, avoiding your attempts at smacking him to get the headphones back with perfect ease. “This is why you were ignoring me while I was tryna talk to you for the past five minutes-”
“You weren’t even here!” You protested loudly as you were forced to actually set your phone down and think about moving from the couch to get them. You could never get a break these days. “I literally didn’t even see you!”
“I was right over there across from the armchair!” he insisted in return, and you finally let out a very deep sigh as you pushed yourself out of your seat. You would return, after you took your rightful property back from your jerk of a boyfriend you totally hadn’t ignored. On purpose. “I was trying to talk to you about going out, ‘cus I got a day off tomorrow-” Dick laughed and dodged another one of your attempts to steal them back. “-and I thought you’d be into the idea, but I guess not-”
“I am into the idea!” Attempting to yank his arm down with just your incredible brute strength and sheer power clearly wasn’t working. The guy’s biceps were made of steel or something. Little perks of being an acrobat. “Just not while you steal my stuff-”
“What’s mine is yours and what’s yours in mine, babe,” he told you with infuriating serenity as he evaded yet another one of your brilliant tactics to grab them back. “And sharing is caring - you have some interesting songs in this playlist.” 
“We can’t all listen to 80′s boybands, can we-” 
“That’s what Babs thinks I listen to!” he protested with a groan, grin breaking for just a second as he pressed a hand to his head. Alas, he didn’t break long enough for you to get them, blocking your hands just before you could touch the headphones. Victory had been so close, yet so far away. “Ha, nice try - and for the record, I don’t know why she thinks 80′s boybands are the music to my soul-” 
“I heard you listening to New Kids on the Block last week!”
“It was a moment of weakness!” he repeated insistently for the five-hundredth time since the incident had taken place, groaning yet again while his face flushed pink. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”
“Dick, I’ve seen your 80′s boyband playlist on Spotify, you don’t have to keep denying it,” you deadpanned, actually pausing from your endeavor for a second to give him a disbelieving look. 
“What?” Clearly, this was news to him, because he paused from trying to dart away from you as well. “When?” 
“You made it a public playlist.” 
“What?” The shock in his voice and the way his eyes widened actually made you almost laugh. “No way - there’s no way I - dammit!” 
You had managed to back him all the way up to the side of the sofa, surprising him with a push that landed him smack on his back across it, allowing you to let out a triumphant laugh of victory before climbed over him and took back what was rightfully yours. The headphones were still blaring when you moved to set them over your ears, scrambling back up before he could get you back for it.
“So long, Gray - hey!” He yanked you right back on top of him before you could make your grand exit, laughing his ass off while you attempted to scowl and push your hair out of your face. “Seriously? You couldn’t just let me have this one?” 
“Nope,” he answered with a cheeky grin, hands still resting against your hips as he tugged you forward into a kiss. You couldn’t try to stay mad at him after that, and you knew he knew that as well as you did. “But maybe next time, babe. Y’know, you really almost had me there for a sec.”
“I did have you,” you corrected with a grin yourself as you turned off your music, letting the headphones fall around your neck. “I totally had you, you just got lucky right now.” 
“Oh yeah? Is that what you really think?” 
“Yes.”
“Then you’re right, you did have me,” he admitted, causing you to laugh again. “Hey, I can admit defeat! I’m a great sport like that.” 
“Sure you are.” 
“I am!” He rested one arm behind his head, making himself a little more comfortable as he looked up at you again. “And how about that date night tomorrow? If you’re still listening to me, that is-”
“I am listening,” you insisted with a groan, eliciting a grin from him. “And sure. I guess I could hang out with you since I don’t have anything else to do-”
“Else to do - like what? Ignoring your other boyfriends?”
“Exactly.” He was laughing again when he pulled you in for another kiss.
“Got it, thanks for making room for me in your oh-so busy schedule. Tomorrow it is.” You hummed in response, brushing his hair out of his face as you looked back at him with a slight smile.
 “It’s a date.” 
tag list: @cipheress-to-k-pop 
if you’d like to be added to my taglist, just send me a message and i’ll keep you posted!
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balillee · 3 years
Text
my unpopular dsmp opinions, some of which genuinely should be popular
c!dream has crossed the moral event horizon and is irredeemable. once you cross that threshold, you're no longer a 'morally grey' character.
pre-recorded, heavily produced lore killed the lore. it was cool, sure, but you completely misunderstand the magic that the smp had when people watched it initially. the story is improv and that's how we like it. we can tell the cc's have lost interest in it, you can admit that to us, we'll understand, just stop lying to me.
c!dream's pov isn't necessary to understand his character or his motivations. if you've watched literally any c!primeboys stream he's basically spelled it out for you.
i don't understand how fans can dislike l'manberg or have claimed to be against it since the beginning. i honestly don't get it. what's so bad about wanting your own spot where you make your own rules and skirt accountability that has been used to technically oppress you before - and, before someone who never saw the earlier streams tries to disagree with this, the og l'manberg crew were imprisoned for shit that everyone else on the server was practically encouraged to do. also, what do you have against fun and happiness?
i think some of you forget that 'hybrids' aren't a thing, discounting c!ranboo. there's no piglin hybrids, c!techno is just a pig. there's no avian hybrids, c!phil is just a man with wings. there's no creeper hybrids, c!sam is just a creeper who's indecently exposed from the hips down. canonically there's no hybrids, and therefore no hybrid discrimination. people ran with that concept too much.
the loss and the fanon rewriting of the early lore up until pogtopia has ruined fandom perception of c!dream and the og l'manberg boys. c!tommy is more morally white than you think he is, and c!dream has always been a villain - he massacres and he kills and he destroys and he schemes and he always has broken his own rules. no wonder the boys wanted their own space after how they were treated.
i think ranboo oftentimes forgets his own lore. he brings stuff up that c!ranboo may have done, such as exploding the community house to frame c!tommy, holding onto Cat, and it goes absolutely nowhere. we've gotten all of these developments in his story but they have never been expanded on, and we're nowhere closer to figuring out his relationship to c!dream and what his other side is and honestly i see no hope that we'll be any closer to knowing even by the end of the year.
your characters don't all have to be morally grey for the story itself to be morally grey. this is fiction - some people can be nothing but evil and others can be nothing but good. being purely good or evil doesn't mean that you're one dimensional, either.
c!dream apologists have ruined c!dream for me. he's not a good person. how about you let me enjoy a villain for who he actually is, rather for than your percieved woobified ragdoll you pass off as c!dream.
the story was better when there was a central writer. it was brilliant back when wilbur wrote it to be that the environment drives the characters and the story, and it was really good in early s2 up until techno's execution day when it was more character driven. since then, the amount of autonomy people have over their characters without any central 'director', as it were, has been a detriment to the story overall. there needs to still be one overarching figure or director or writer.
not everyone is a main character. just because they have a pov, doesn't mean they're a main character. some characters have such little impact on the overall plot and describing everyone as a main character oversaturates the story and makes some characters seem more important than they are.
the egg lore had so much potential up until it didn't. all that built up threat that we were expecting and we still don't even know what the egg wants really other than just controlling people. does it hatch?
genuinely, if there's no major plot developments by the end of the year (and let's be honest, it's a very big possibility at this point), a few of the more prominent members of the server should do a podcast style stream talking about where the story would have gone, because at least then we would have gotten somewhat closer to a conclusion.
c!techno is a villain and an asshole and a bad person. he stops caring for people once their interests don't align with his or if they look at him funny. he makes meta-jokes about his own tyrannical and oppressive nature. stop taking that away from him. he's a bad person. cc!techno does a fabulous job portraying that in a comedic manner and the balancing of him being a deeply flawed person with deeply flawed morals and ideas with his comedically-portrayed stubbornness and lack of willingness to hear out opposing viewpoints is incredible. i want to like characters who are arseholes for the sake of being arseholes, and who refuse to take into account the hurt they've caused either out of self-righteousness or because they don't care, so let me. he's the anti-peacemaker, LET ME HIM ENJOY HIM FOR THAT!!!!
i think tommy and wilbur's way of doing lore is my favourite. relies heavily on improv, voice acting, sprite acting and facial expressions. really shows off the acting props and they pull off the emotional moments well for the insanity of the creative medium.
i'm not a fan of fan-music. i find songs about media i'm into difficult to listen to. coincidentally i'm also not a fan of shit like slam poetry or live music/musicals/pantomimes.
the death of l'manberg killed people's motivation to go on the server casually. i've talked about it more in depth before, but destroying what was a central, driving environment for the story killed momentum and motivation. imagine in an episode of she-ra, the princess alliance just nuke the freight zone and all of the members of the horde just have to deal with it. that would be shit.
until season 3 has some momentum, i'm counting the end of the smp as january 20th. that had a conclusion. season 3 has... whores, technoblade and tommyinnit. that's about it.
i wasn't a fan of the development of c!tubbo joining las nevadas. i preferred snowchester and the walled city conflict. give c!tubbo some backbone and some badassery. also tubbo where's the fucking nuke bro if you're shelving that plotline just tell us on like an alt stream what the plan was i beg
add like 2 or 3 new people to the server so that michael mcchill has someone to talk to and so that there's something always happening on the server. it gives the og's more motivation to return if things are happening in and out of canon and it'll help with momentum, and who knows? maybe they can write their own story/stories.
i really think that c!sam is an underrated character. he's multilayered, extremely interesting, and the dichotomy of his loyalty to his job and how far down the rabbithole that's taken him versus the genuine love he has for his friends that drives him to do what he does out of wanting to do right by them is brilliant. i don't talk about c!sam enough.
STOP HAVING FUCKING VILLAIN ARCS!!! I'M FUCKIN SICK OF IT!!!! i want to see more characters who see everyone else being absolute selfish, abhorrent cunts and go 'if nobody else is going to be a good person, i fucking will'. GIVE ME SOME MORAL WHITENESS!!! IT'S INTERESTING AND MORALLY GOOD CHARACTERS ARE FUN!!!
let tommyinnit build cobblestone towers. everyone bullied him too much for how ugly they were and the one he built outside of the prison looked genuinely really nice. it gives the boy something to do.
i'm a fan of the revive book and the canon lives system. don't ask me why, but i think it might just be the morbidity of it. it adds to c!dream's god complex persona, and i think the fragility of death itself is a really fun concept. not enough fan cc's have made connections with that and c!mumza, and it could make for cool fanfic.
ranboo your house is fucking ugly. it's an eyesore
c!niki, and to some extent now c!jack and c!fundy, are boring me and ruining my mood. i think c!jack is the closest to being an actually interesting sympathetic villain, mainly because nobody else seems to realise that c!niki is a villain. not a good one imo, but she's a villain. c!jack just has the problem of starting a new project over and over and over and over again and because of the slow in momentum for the primary cast, there hasn't been a lot of recent development for him.
not really a dream smp opinion, but if philza went full geordie accent, i would love it. i want him to, in canon, say shit like 'me n ye' instead of 'me and you' and use geordie dialect. i want him to be physically unintelligible because it's funny.
i don't really know what's up with c!foolish but i think he's a dumbass. he had a while to think about c!q's proposal and then changed his mind about joining the guy to admitted to letting him die just because. moron
i wish there was more c!eret lore. i wish he was an actual king with an actual kingdom and actual subjects and royal advisors. c!eret is far too fucking cool to be the king of nothing and nobody. fatten up the kingdom and the castle with people who work with c!eret, and don't just make it tyrannical and dictator-y to prove the point of the server's 'anarchists'. make it a healthy working environment, please - if you want moral greyness, have 'anarchists' who claim to care about the welfare of the server oppose a kingdom of happy people under a fair and just ruler because their ideologies clash.
the server needs more characters who oppose anarchy in more peaceful ways, or passively wish for systems to be a part of. i think a chaos vs order conflict ending only in mutual understanding where everyone understands that they should just leave each other alone would slot nicely into the story that's been created so far.
you need to have watched all of the previous arcs to understand the story. i've seen people argue that they don't need to know about earlier lore to understand the prison, but that's the equivalent of only watching the final season of pretty little liars and expecting to understand the context of what's going on.
some characters aren't that morally grey. some characters, take c!tommy for example, are definitely on the whiter side for the morality scale, he's just an asshole. he's abrasive and rude and a dickhead but he also doesn't agree with terrorism, he's patriotic, he strives for a better world, he's apologetic, but he's also a fucking BITCH.
you can add onto this if you want, but not if you're a c!dream apologist. nobody likes your opinions
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karanna1 · 3 years
Text
AU - Lena Luthor Saves Krypton
Lena is somehow sent back in time and finds herself on Krypton 30 years before the planet explodes. Kara doesn’t exist yet. Krypton has no idea what’s about to happen to them.
Lena realizes that with her knowledge of what’s to come and intellect to devise a solution, she can do two things. One, she can save an entire species from near extinction. Two, she can save Kara from ever having to experience the pain of losing her family, her home, and being abandoned. Kara could live a happy life and never know the burden of Supergirl or being the last daughter of Krypton.
So instead of trying to find a way back to Earth, back to her own time, she settles into life on Krypton, becomes fluent in Kryptonese, and sets about with a spectacularly single-minded focus of changing the future - to save this dying world (and Kara).
She succeeds...mostly. They can’t fix the damage that’s already been done to the planet. Their sun will die and destroy Krypton still, but with Lena’s help they’re able to locate a barren planet in another system that has a white star. It’s brand new, strong, and will live for untold trillions of years (provided Kryptonians didn’t try to harness its power again).
They terraform the planet and create “New Krypton” using the dome concept that Zor-El invented fused with Coluan bottling technology. All Kryptonians are instantly transported to their new home that’s identical to the old one save for one difference - the white sun grants them god-like powers that are beyond what Lena ever saw Kara and Clark capable of on Earth. Kryptonians are overwhelmed en masse by these powers. Some go power mad and attempt coups and form radical sects. Others realize the gift they’ve been given and, with Lena’s guidance, Kryptonian society develops under a new mission - to travel the galaxy and offer help to all those in need. Not just offering knowledge and technology this time, but themselves with their newfound powers.
Lena keeps her distance from the House of El as much as she can. It’s nearly impossible considering their standing with the Kryptonian High Council. Lena has to work very closely with the Council. Jor-El and his brother, Zor-El, are brilliant scientists and statesmen. Alura In-Ze is a rising star in the judicial system. Her marriage to Zor-El, second born son of the House of El, caused quite a few waves, but when Lara Lor-Van, a brilliant biologist and prominent noble of the House of Van, agrees to marry Jor-El, it’s all anyone can talk about. All 4 of them live very public lives due to their professions, their positions on the High Council, and their nobility.
They’re ever so fascinated by Lena Luthor, the human from Earth that appeared one day to save their entire planet. Their savior. The one their people have named “The New Dawn”. Lena wants nothing to do with the House of El. It’s too much. She can’t bear to be so close to Kara’s family without Kara. It feels wrong. Unfortunately, with how much Lena tries to avoid them, the 4 nobles think they’ve done something to offend her, and constantly attempt ways to make amends. It only makes Lena’s life that much more difficult.
But she still knows the exact date and time that Kara Zor-El steps into existence. Later, she will know the moment Kal-El is born (mostly because Lara’s natural birth is all anyone can talk about).
Lena meets Kara on New Krypton entirely by accident one day when Zor-El brings his brilliant young daughter, a prodigy in the Science Guild, to see Krypton’s finest laboratory entirely unannounced. The same laboratory that Lena founded and runs. She’s stricken, having tried to avoid this moment for as long as she could, knowing that eventually she’d have to see Kara as child, which would spell the end of every fanciful dream or slightest hope she had of a chance that someday she would find Kara, her best friend, again. Seeing the reality both warms her heart and breaks it all the same. This bouncing bundle of joy and inquisitiveness has the same blinding smile, in all its purity, with that same head of golden hair.
“You’re THE Lena Luthor?”
She kneels before her so they’re at eye level. “I suppose I am. And you’re THE Kara Zor-El?”
The ten year old gasps. “You know who I am?”
“Of course. I know all the important people. And you are a very important person, Kara.”
“I am?”
Zor-El interjects. “I’ve told Lena all about you, my dear. I’m sure she’s grown tired of my endless babbling about my wonderful daughter and her keen scientific mind.”
“Not at all,” Lena replies a bit flatly and tries to tune him out as she focuses on the young girl who will one day be a most extraordinary woman. “Do you enjoy the Science Guild, Kara?”
“Yes! I love to learn new things. As many things as I can! Sometimes father asks me to work with him in his laboratory at home and I help him with his projects!”
“That does sound like fun. I enjoy creating things as well.”
“You’re the most brilliant bio-engineer on Krypton! I’ve read all about you! You saved us.”
Lena shies away from the praise and instead fumbles her way forward, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Zor-El, whom she’d never given the time of day until he walked in with his daughter.
“Tell me, Kara, do you like other subjects besides science?”
Kara fidgets, a little confused. “Well, I don’t...they don’t give you much time for other subjects. I-I do try to read about other things like art and history when I have free time, but I’m not really allowed—“
“She’s a hard worker and a wonderful student,” Zor-El interrupts again.
Lena ignores him. “Do you enjoy writing, Kara?”
“Writing?”
“Creation comes in many forms. I enjoy being able to create things with my hands. Machines. Technology. Things to help people. Science is my passion, but there are many other ways to help people. Ways that I’m not very good at, but others are. Writing takes a curious mind, creativity, and a way with words. I believe you might have a gift for that.”
“A gift for words?” Her little brow crinkles as she considers it.
Lena nods. “A writer can do a great many things that a scientist cannot. They are equally as powerful and important. What matters is doing what you love most, what inspires you most. You’re going to do great things one day, Kara. Maybe with the Science Guild, maybe with something else... The future is limitless for you.”
“You really think I could be that important someday?”
“You already are.” Lena smiles and breathes deeply. “Do you know what your name means where I come from?”
She shakes her head. “I have read about Earth. It’s very far away and my Aunt Astra says their civilization is primitive and filled with savages. They have my name there too?”
“Daughter, do not speak—“
Lena waves off Zor-El’s warning without looking at him.
“That’s not an unfair assessment of Earth compared to Krypton, but I do believe humanity would surprise a great many Kryptonians, including your Aunt. In my native language, Kara means ‘beloved friend’.”
Kara beams in a way that is so achingly familiar. It’s like an echo in Lena’s memory. Not exact, not complete, but the beginning of what it will become.
“I like that. Does that mean I’m your friend?”
Lena feels it in that moment. The melting warmth simultaneous with the absolute shattering of what was left of her heart.
“I will always be your friend, darling. Always.”
Kara leaves with her father and Lena’s coworkers are concerned when she goes off planet for an impromptu holiday without notice. She returns two months later and picks up as if she never left.
It’s around that time that one of the people she’s befriended in her years on Krypton remarks at how ageless she seems for a human that supposedly has a short life span. It sparks Lena’s curiosity. Indeed, it’s been nearly 30 years since she traveled back in time and found herself on a new planet. Yet you’d be hard pressed to find a single physical difference. Kryptonians aged slowly under a red star, and even slower still under the white star, but Lena was human. Her body wasn’t designed to accommodate solar radiation the way Kryptonians did. She was over 50 years old now, yet she still didn’t look a day over 28.
More years pass and New Krypton thrives. The galaxy is brought together through New Krypton’s diplomacy and thousands of planets and species are united under a banner of peace. There are always dissenters, but happiness and prosperity is widespread. Lena finds joy in friendships and attempts romantic relationships, but nothing ever really takes. Still, she’s content. She misses Earth, of course, and hopes to return one day before she dies, whenever that will be, but she’s found peace in knowing that she is able to be the one thing she’s always wanted - a force for good.
She’s at dinner with coworkers one night when Lara and Jor-El spot her. She sighs and straightens, preparing for their next attempt to get in her good graces.
“Do they never desist?” One of them mutters next to her ear. “Surely they’re intelligent enough to know when they’re not wanted?”
“Don’t be unkind, but help me keep it short if it goes on too long.”
“Lena! It’s wonderful to see you,” Lara says.
“You as well. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you.”
Lena’s table has gone conspicuously, and therefore awkwardly, silent.
Lara and Jor-El look around at the group uncomfortably.
“We were wondering...well, our niece is being inducted to the—“
“The Science Council as First Order,” Lena finishes for her. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s a great honor. I’m sure the House of El is quite proud.”
“Indeed we are,” Jor-El jumps in. “She’s a most remarkable young woman and we couldn’t be prouder of who she’s become.”
“We are holding a celebration to mark the occasion and were wondering if you might honor us by attending? It will be quite the event.” Lara does a slight eyeroll. “Jor is insisting on all the fantastical things.”
Jor-El nods enthusiastically. “My brother isn’t one for celebrations so I’ve taken up the mantle. Kara deserves all the praise she’s earned with her hard work and dedication.”
“You’ll have to forgive my mate’s enthusiasm. He’s quite invested in Kara since she can share his passion for his life’s work while our son is—“
“Disgustingly hopeless,” Jor-El grumbles.
“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “A great disappointment he’s been then?”
“Goodness no!” Lara shakes her head and shoots a warning look at her husband. “Kal is a fine boy. Just...a little lost.”
“Perhaps he is simply in need of a different path than the one his father has in mind,” Lena finds the words tumbling out of her mouth without thinking twice. The couple stares at her agape, but she continues without care. “I can certainly sympathize with the need to step out of the shadow of a family’s overbearing legacy.” She sighs. “While I thank you for considering me, it’s simply not possible with my days usually booked from dawn to dusk. Besides, parties have never been altogether pleasant endeavors for me.”
The disappointment on their faces isn’t what changes her mind. It’s that as soon as she says the words, she regrets it. She’s, of course, kept up with Kara’s doings and was concerned when she heard about the recent move in the Science Guild. Was journalism just a secondary passion since she couldn’t truly use her mind on Earth the way she could on Krypton? Or was this a woman just following in her family’s footsteps because she believed it was the right thing to do? Lena hadn’t seen or spoken to Kara in 16 years. Not since the day Zor-El brought her to the lab.
In the end, it’s Lena’s concern and curiosity for Kara’s well being that wins out. Though she very well knows that the woman that existed in another life, on another planet, is not the woman who lives here now on New Krypton. Even if she shared the same name and the same face...maybe even the same bright eyes and sunny smile. Even then.
“Send me the invitation. I’ll see what I can do,” Lena says, to the surprise of everyone at her table, including the two standing next to it.
They nod, stunned but pleased, and say their goodbyes quickly, walking away.
Lena’s coworkers all turn to her in surprise, but she refuses to answer their questions and excuses herself early for the evening.
She doesn’t show for the celebration. She torments herself for a week coming up to it and can’t bring herself to go. The fear of the past and her memories being trod upon are too strong. But somehow she finds herself in the Starling Grove anyway, just as it comes to an end. The evening is late and guests slowly make their exit after the long day of partying. Lena practically sneaks in, staying in shadows, not knowing what she hopes to find or what she could see that would make all her fears come true.
Is it any wonder that fate would intervene? That there would be no circumstance in which Lena could fly so close to the sun and not be touched?
“If avoiding people is your specialty, you’re very skilled at it.”
It’s almost terrifying to hear her voice again. It’s a different language being spoken, but the voice is the same. As if it’d been snatched from the deepest recesses of Lena’s memories, of a different life and a different world, and brought to the present in flesh and blood with a bolt of lightning.
She turns and it’s Kara smiling at her. Not the sunny smile. The soft, tender, reassuring one. The one that she used to share with Lena when she had one of her harder days. Kara was no longer the small and precocious child she met all those years ago, the one that she could almost convince herself was a complete stranger and that there was no connection between the child and the woman she knew. But that was gone now. The Kara standing before her was the same one she’d left behind on Earth. The one she’d given up in order to save her. The one who walked into her office so many years ago, trailing behind her cousin, and Lena knew she was done for. 
Her eyes were so blue as she looked at her...bluer than Lena remembered and it seemed so impossible. Perhaps it wasn’t real. Perhaps she was dreaming. But she wasn’t...was she?
“My skills must be rusty since you were able to catch me.”
Kara put a finger to her smiling lips. “Shh. Finding people is one of my untold gifts.”
“I imagine you have a lot of those.”
Kara looks pleasantly flustered and she stammers over her words in a way that Lena knows so well that the sound of it squeezes her heart in a vise like grip.
She’s not the same person. She’s not your Kara. Your Kara doesn’t exist anymore. Over and over she repeats this in her head.
“Wait...” Kara finally collects herself and peers at Lena more closely. “You’re-you’re Lena Luthor! My Uncle said you might be here, but I never thought...”
“On my home world, they like to say it’s fashionable to be late. However, tonight was just a tad bit too far. I...I simply wanted to stop by and wish you well. A-and to congratulate you on your achievement.”
Did she manage to say that with any passing conviction?
“Thank you. That means a great deal coming from someone like you.”
“Are you happy?” She blurts before her good sense can kick in. “This life...does it make you happy?”
Kara looks at her oddly for a long moment, clearly thrown, but not put off. Lena doesn’t know what else to say that could fix her blunder. 
“Yes,” she says, a serene smile creeps across her face. “I’m very happy. I love my family and my friends. I enjoy my work. I hope to have a family of my own one day, but I don’t mind waiting for the right person. Everyone always wants to rush me into something, telling me that I shouldn’t be alone, but I don’t mind it. When it’s right, I know that it will be worth the wait.”
Lena’s heart stutters and freezes. “I-I’m glad to hear that. Truly. I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time though. I’m sure you have somewhere to be and it’s late so I really should be going anyway.”
“Oh! Um. Yes, of course.” She looks disappointed, but Lena can’t think about that. “Thank you for being here.”
Her legs feel as though they’re weighted with cement as she walks away. Her mind screams at her to run, but her body doesn’t seem to get the message. She doesn’t want to leave Kara’s side. Not like this. Not after she’s found her again.
But it’s not her. Not really.
“My Lady?”
She turns around at once. Kara stands there, fiddling with her hands, her head tilted to the side.
“Apologies. I-I remember reading that you never liked that title. You prefer...what was it...” She closes her eyes as she searches for it. “Oh!” Her eyes fly open again. “Miss Luthor. I should have addressed you as ‘Miss Luthor’, yes?”
The ‘Miss’ was heavily accented and sounded nothing like how she used to say it, but it still tore Lena apart.
“I never forgot what you said.”
The voice in Lena’s head screams again for her to run, but instead she draws closer. She needs to hear it. 
Her Kara.
No, it’s not her.
“What did I say?”
“I was a little girl. My father brought me to your lab to show me around.”
“I remember.”
Don’t let her do this. Don’t let her pull you in again. You can’t. For both of your sakes, you can’t.
“You talked about different ways of creating. Of passion. It’s silly, I know, and I’m sure you say it to all the children who read about you in school and have a serious case of hero worship, but...you told me I was important.”
“You are.” 
It’s a reflex. She can’t help it.
“And you said that I had a gift for words. I never understood why you would say that. How you could know...”
Lena chuckles awkwardly. “Looks like I was off the mark since you’ve just joined the Science Council.”
“But you weren’t.”
Lena’s breath hitches.
“I’ve never told anyone else this...” 
Kara steps closer, sharing a secret that Lena doesn’t know she deserves to hear. She wonders if she still knows how to breathe with Kara being this close after so long...so many years gone... 
“I started writing that day. That very night I went home and I tried it. I never stopped. I’ve never been happier than when I’m writing. Imagining stories or just writing my thoughts, putting memories into words, keeping a record of each day and what I’ve done, who I’ve seen, what my first thought is in the morning and my last thought at night. All of it.”
Kara was so close. She could smell her. Nothing like what she remembered. It was something altogether new and still...still... Lena’s heart beat so loudly, she was sure every Kryptonian within miles was wondering what that raucous drumming noise was. What must Kara think? Surely she could hear it. Lena was embarrassing herself.
“You inspired me.”
Lena doesn’t know how she manages it, but she somehow strings together coherent words. 
“But you continued to pursue...”
“The Science Guild, yes. I’m very good there. It comes easily. It makes my family proud.”
“It’s not your passion though.”
Kara shakes her head gently.
“What stops you?”
“Well, what if I’m not really good at writing after all? I’ve never told anyone about it. I’ve never let them read anything... What if I make a terrible mistake and humiliate myself and my family?”
“Following your heart isn’t a mistake.”
“That’s not a very Kryptonian sentiment.”
“No, but it is a human one.” Lena sighs. “I tried so hard, for so long, not to listen to mine. But it won out every time. Despite all the pain it brought me...I remind myself that it’s what brought me here. To this planet. To this time. To do good. To be good. Following your heart is the most terrifying notion, but in my experience, it has also led me to the greatest moments of joy and love that I’ve ever known.”
Kara stares at her in wonderment. Her long blonde locks flow over her shoulders. Her dress is white and flowing, almost luminescent under the glow of the evening flowers blooming in the garden. It became quickly apparent how very alone they were, the last guests and servers from the party were gone. The torches were still lit, but it was their own world.
Wasn’t it always?
It’s not her.
“I don’t think I could be as brave as you.”
“You have always been brave and I know that you are capable of the most extraordinary amount of courage...courage and boundless hope. You are the one who inspires me, Kara. You always have.”
“Me?” She replies in the softest utterance. “But I haven’t done anything nearly as incredible as you.”
“The kind of person you are is far more important than any sum of career achievements. Don’t let fear make you hide in the shadows, Kara. Step into the sun. You’ve always belonged there.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“When will you step out of the shadows, Miss Luthor?”
A voice calls for Kara in the distance. It’s jarring and breaks the spell that seemed to lock them together in time suspended.
They step away, now acutely aware of how close they’d been this whole time.
Kara blushes and opens her mouth to say something, but Lena can’t bear to hear it.
“Goodnight, Kara Zor-El. I hope you enjoyed your party.”
Another voice joins the first. Two people are calling for her now. Kara seems frustrated and turns back, yelling to them that she’d be there soon.
She turns back. “I—“
But Lena’s gone.
She leaves New Krypton again. Journeys to other planets under the guise of a holiday and scientific exploration. She wonders if now is the time to return to Earth. She can’t even call it home anymore, but it’s home...isn’t it? 45 years could be enough to make New Krypton home and maybe it was. Maybe it was more of a home than Earth. But New Krypton had spectres walking among the living. Lena’s past had caught up to her here as well. She was no longer alone. Would Earth be any better with a reminder at every street corner? A certain smell. A park bench. A pair of glasses. Food. All of the food on Earth. She would never truly escape there either. It has to be a different planet. Not New Krypton, not Earth, something else entirely. 
She searches across galaxies for it. Finally, one appeals to her. She can see herself settling down there. She can make a new life for herself...again. She returns to Krypton with determination. She resigns from her position, ignores the High Council’s pleas, ignores their more pointed demands, and even their attempted orders when it appeared that nothing else was working. She packs her things and bids farewell to her friends. They’ll visit now and again, but soon she won’t be seeing them at all. It doesn’t bother her all that much. She’d find replacements eventually. No one had ever been like... Well, she’d never let anyone get close enough to try.
She was walking out of her building for the last time, her luggage already sent ahead, and was headed to the transport when she heard her voice again on the wind, calling her name. Of course she would hear her now. This was exactly why she needed to leave this place. The sooner the better to end this torment.
The transport doors were nearly closed when a hand shot between them. The metal alloys were crushed in a powerful grip and the doors were jerkily pried open again.
Kara stood in front of her. Her hair windswept, almost what it used to look like when she would fly to Lena at breaking speed to rescue her. Did she fly here? Was she really here?
“Kara?”
“Lena, don’t go.”
“What are y—?”
“That’s government property!” someone shouts at Kara from further away. 
A Kelex zooms in beside her. “And you were flying within city limits which is strictly prohibited. Unfortunately, Lady Kara, this means we must place you under arrest.”
A patrolman, the one who shouted, walks up behind Kara, nodding his head in agreement.
“Arrest?” She rolls her eyes at the Kelex and turns to the patrolman. “The doors were an accident and sorry about the flying thing. I’ll pay the fines. I doubt Alura In-Ze will take kindly to you dragging someone in for petty infarctions, let alone that someone being her daughter.”
Lena finds herself walking out of the transport, entirely of her own volition, and watches it leave without her. Kara is arguing with the patrolman over what her fines should be, but suddenly Lena feels someone take her hand. She looks down and sees that indeed there is another hand holding hers. She drags her gaze up to find those blue eyes again. A ghost. A spectre. Everything she was trying to escape.
“I’m sorry to just...burst in on you like this. But you’ve been gone for months and I only just heard that you’d come back, planning to leave New Krypton for good. I didn’t...”
���You didn’t what?”
“I don’t know.” Her brow furrows in frustration. “I didn’t plan this. I just...when I heard, I felt like I had to stop you.”
Lena pulls her hand away and crosses her arms. She needs to get ahold of herself. This was all so out of control.
“Why?”
Kara is just as bewildered as she is. “Well, I...I’m not sure. But we’ve only just started.”
“What?”
“Don’t you feel it? I know you must.”
She swallows thickly. “Kara, I...”
“I think there’s a lot you haven’t told me. A lot that I hope you will tell me. You promised me once that you would always be my friend. Please, Lena. We both know that this...it’s not supposed to end here.”
“When is it supposed to end?”
“I hope not for very long time.”
“I’ve lived a lifetime already.”
Kara grins. “Then what’s one more? Should be easy if you’ve already done it.”
Lena shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Somehow I do...and I don’t. I know it’s strange. I know what I sound like. But I think you understand. Don’t you?”
“Kara...”
“Are you hungry?” She interrupts. “I’m famished. The flying thing is really fun, but I always get so hungry after. How about it?”
“I’m supposed to be boarding a ship in 20 minutes.”
“We can eat fast!”
“I know you can eat fast, that’s not the point,” she mutters. “I have to go.”
“But you see? You say things like that. Like it’s normal to just know these things about me, but it’s not. How do you know? We’ve only met twice and both times it feels as though you know everything about me.”
“Everything?” She scoffs. “No. Never.”
“Well, the important things anyway.”
Lena falters.
“Please? Just...for a little while? There’s always another ship if you really must go.”
No.
No, I’ve been through this before. I saved you. I saved your people. You’re happy. I don’t belong here. I’ve never belonged. This is your world. I don’t belong anywhere. I did what was right. I helped people. I still help people. But I won’t do this again.
“I’m pretty sure you know that a Kryptonian can tell when you’re lying. The white star brought us untold abilities. And the longer I’ve lived here, under this new sun, I’ve discovered more abilities. Would you like to know about them?”
Lena can only stare.
“If I’m close enough...and I concentrate hard enough...I can feel what you’re feeling. It’s not mind reading exactly, but something deeper. I can feel you right now.” She swallows hard. “What have I done to cause you such pain, Lena? I never thought that... If you have to go, I won’t stop you. I just thought...” She sighs defeatedly. “I don’t know what I thought. But it wasn’t this. It wasn’t pain. Or anger. Or betrayal.”
Lena’s eyes widen at the same time as Kara’s. She seemed to realize it only as she spoke the word aloud.
“Betrayal?” Kara whispers, half to herself. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand.”
“You’re lying.”
“Stop it.”
“I can’t! Tell me what’s happening. How can you be so angry with me, but also feel...like this...when we don’t even know each other?”
“But we do.” 
At last she admits it. 
In the quietest whisper. 
“We did. Once. In another life.”
Kara nods slowly. “Where?”
“On Earth.”
“I’ve never been to Earth.”
“Not in this time. But in another...you were Earth’s Champion. Our Protector. The Paragon of Hope.”
“As you are the Protector of Krypton? Our Salvation. The New Dawn.”
Lena shrinks uncomfortably under the titles.
“Will you tell me more?”
“You believe me?”
“Of course I do. You’re Lena Luthor. Also, with my powers I can sense you’re telling the truth, so...” She shrugs lightly at that, a sheepish smile.
“Right. Well, I admit I’m still a bit resentful that after everything I’ve been through, I still didn’t get even a hint of those powers.”
Kara takes her hand again, tentatively this time. She probably thinks Lena will pull away.
She doesn’t.
“There’s been a rumor for ages that you’re immortal. Are you saying that’s not true? From what I’ve read, humans have a shorter life span than us. Your species only live about 85 years or so.”
“I’ve heard the rumor and, yes, the average human lifespan is shorter than a Kryptonian’s.”
“You look pretty darn good for your age if you’re preparing to join Rao in a few cycles.”
Lena has to laugh. She lets Kara lead her away from the platform and down to the street. They walk hand in hand.
“So you’re not immortal?”
“It remains to be seen.”
“Then maybe our white sun did give you a hint of something after all.”
“Maybe. I have yet to ascertain the cause.”
“I could help you with your study, should you choose to explore it further.”
“You want to study me?”
Kara blushes. “I...I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant—“
“I know what you meant.”
Silence falls between them.
“You’re still holding my hand.”
“You’re still letting me.”
“It’s strange.” She stares. “You’re different. You’re so different than you were before, a completely different person, but somehow...when I look at you, you’re exactly who you’ve always been.”
“Are you different now too?”
“Yes.” She shrugs. “I think so anyway.”
“But we’ve still found each other. That means something.”
“Are you sure you want to hear this? You might be angry with me. I...I made choices that changed your life. A great number of lives.”
“I want to hear everything. But even if I do get angry, I won’t leave. I promise.”
Lena starts at that. How could she know exactly—? The realization hits her. 
“My fears...you feel them right now, don’t you?”
Kara nods. “I won’t betray you, Lena. Whatever mistakes I’ve made before...in that other life...I won’t make them again.”
“You’ll make other mistakes.”
“Of course!” She laughs. “I’m gifted, but hardly perfect. You’ll make mistakes too, even if you are the Great New Dawn.”
“Two prodigies...” Lena raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know how people stand us. We must be insufferable to be around.”
“I can’t be held accountable for the jealousy of others.”
Lena chuckles. “Good to know you’re as competitive as ever.”
“And you? Are you competitive as well?”
“On occasion...when it comes to the right things.”
Kara grins. “Tell me more about Earth.”
“Earth or...you on Earth?”
“Both. Or just one. Whatever you like. We have all the time we need. We’ll get to it eventually.”
“Kara?”
“Yes?”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
“You’re not afraid?”
“Of losing you? Yes, I’m afraid. I thought I did when you left me in the Grove that night.”
“It’s different this time though.”
“Different how?”
“You were afraid before. O-on Earth. So you lied to me. Hid things from me. You were afraid I’d reject you.”
“So I lost you anyway?”
“For a while.”
“I know who I am and I want to share all of that with you. I’m afraid I’ll lose you if I don’t. Do you think that means I learned my lesson with a second chance?”
“Even though you don’t remember the first?”
Kara tilts her head thoughtfully.  “Are you familiar with the theological concept of reincarnation?”
Lena nods.
“Many species and cultures detail it differently, but the belief that a soul does not reside in an afterlife fascinates me. The idea that one could instead be reborn and is destined to learn new lessons with each life that it failed to learn in the last. Maybe we found a way to do that without needing to die at all.”
“Are you sure you’re the First Order of the Science Council? Because that sounds an awful lot like preaching I’ve heard from the Religious Guild. You’re in the wrong profession.”
Kara rolls her eyes. “If anything, I should have joined the Artisans. But it’s too late for that.”
Lena’s quiet for a moment. They’re walking along streets she’s never seen before and doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.
“I think I’m learning...” she says softly, “that it’s never too late. If you want something enough, it’s never too late.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Lena looks around. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No, I thought you did.”
“No. I guess we’re lost then.”
Kara shrugs with a charming, sunny smile that lights her whole face. It’s the one that Lena hasn’t seen in over 40 years and it takes her breath away.
“Oh well.” Kara squeezes Lena’s hand happily. “I suppose we’ll find our way together.”
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theshelbyclan · 4 years
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Family Secrets
Summary: Polly finally lets slip what the real Shelby curse is and as the youngest Shelby, with a little encouragement from John, you feel obligated to use it to your own advantage
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(Gif by @mistress-gif​) A/N: I wrote this one when I couldn’t sleep, a long time ago, fuelled by my own frustration of being picked on as the youngest. This has been a headcanon of mine for ages and I finally put it to paper. I never had any intention of posting it, but because I’ve reached the 500 followers mark, I decided to share. It’s short, fluffy and a lot lighter than the actual series. Enjoy!
Words: 3220
*** 
“Give me the fucking book, John!” you bellowed through the kitchen. Your aunt was adamant that you’d all eat together, one day a week, on Sunday. These dinners were great and important, but they always ended in chaos. Tommy usually left early to get on with work, so he was never part of the sibling banter that ensued.
You had just finished eating and while Aunt Polly was busy clearing the dishes, you thought you could read a little. How wrong you were.
Holding the book out of your reach, the most annoying brother in the world was grinning broadly at you. “I will punch you in the fucking throat…” you threatened. This only made John laugh harder and he threw the book over your head towards Arthur who caught it nimbly. “How about me, little sister,” Arthur said playfully, “Are you going to cut me?” With a sigh you turned around and made another failed attempt at grabbing the book. Arthur threw the book back at John and a little game had started that you had no energy for. Still, you wanted that fucking book. “Forget the book, Y/N,” Ada commented from behind her own book, “Let them have their fun.”
But you were too stubborn for your own good, “I’ll be damned if I let them win…” which gave rise to more laughter from your brothers. So you grabbed the nearest tea towel and threw it in Arthur’s face. Before he could remove it, you pounced and actually felt the book beneath your fingers now. Polly paused her work and watched the scene with interest, partially because it was sweet, in a very Shelby manner, and partially because she wanted to put a stop to it before her kitchen got destroyed. You were so close, but Arthur grabbed you around your waist and managed to get the book back to John. Now you were well and truly stuck. “Right, what now?” he teased in a low voice. “Get the fuck off!” you screamed, when John walked over to you and dangled the book in front of you. Stretching out your arms as much as you could, you could almost reach it. But John, evil as he was, used his other hand to tickle your ribs and you immediately crumpled down in Arthur’s arms. The second brother soon joined in and now you were being attacked by two pairs of hands. You dissolved in a mess of giggles within seconds and there was nothing you could do. Sliding down onto the floor, with very little hope of rescue from your sister or aunt, you were at their mercy completely. And then, like some miracle, Ada intervened. She grabbed John by the collar and pulled him back. You gasped for breath as soon as you could. “She’s had enough, John,” Ada said sternly, “Back off, or you’re next.” Arthur looked down on you with a huge grin on his face, “Ada, we both know she can take much more than that…” “Noo!” you whined and without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you rolled away on your stomach across the kitchen until you bumped into your aunt. “Should’ve punched him in the throat,” she said softly to you. “Don’t be a baby!” John called out, “It’s your own fault.” “How the fuck is it my fault?” you replied indignantly from the floor. “For being so fucking sensitive,” John grinned. Arthur joined in, “That’s right. Just turn it off.” You rolled your eyes almost audibly. 
John scoffed and pushed Ada away, “You’re fourteen now, Y/N. Time to learn.”
Polly turned around swiftly, “Oh, like you ever did!”
“What?” your head shot up.
Ada looked at you with a smirk, “What, you thought you were the only one?”
As you got to your feet, Polly helped you up and said meaningfully, “That’s the real family curse, sweetheart.”
Years of them pinning you down and teasing you bubbled up in frustration, “Are you saying that I’ve been going through torture for all these years, thinking that it was just me, when all this time…”
Arthur shrugged, “You’re the youngest and smallest. Comes with the territory.” 
“Besides, we’re stronger,” John added smugly. He was right of course, which made it all the more annoying.
Polly threw down the washing cloth and theatrically said, “Welcome to the Shelby family, feared by all in Birmingham and where everyone is ticklish as fuck!” Your entire worldview had been altered in seconds. Apparently this wasn’t news to your siblings, because they all looked completely unimpressed by this bit of information, while you stood there with your mouth hanging open in surprise. After thinking about all of this for a while, you asked, “Even Tommy?” “When we were kids we used to make fun of him,” John recalled with a glint in his eyes, “It’s just his ribs, but if you poke him suddenly, he literally jumps.” “He went absolutely feral,” Arthur nodded. An idea was taking shape in your head, “Would that still work, you think?” “You’ll only get yourself killed,” Ada commented in her usual bored tone of voice. “Do it!” John urged, “Come Ada, you know she’ll get away with it.” You and John had always been the most mischievous in the family and you shared a look with a similar twinkle in your eyes. You finally knew something Tommy didn’t know. This was your one chance to catch Thomas Shelby by surprise. ***
For the next couple of days, you tried to get your brother alone. It was strange, because on the one hand you couldn’t wait to try out your plan. Envisioning how he would react was brilliant already, but the feeling of power you had was even greater. However, you also feared his reaction. Thomas Shelby was a busy man and he had very little time for anyone these days. When he did spend time with you, it was short and it often involved him reprimanding you. In all honesty, you were a little scared of him, but not scared enough to let a prank like this one go to waste. You’d deal with the consequences, whatever they were.
John might’ve been even more excited than you were and whenever Tommy left to go somewhere on his own, he motioned you frantically to follow him. Finding the right time proved almost impossible though. So you decided just to get on with it. This was the day you would find out if your brother shared the family curse. Unfortunately, he’d been in a bad mood all day. He’d called a family meeting at breakfast and had left quickly after that. They’d all reconvene in the evening. Dodging all your other responsibilities, you shadowed Tommy for most of the day, but he had one business meeting after the other. His mood was getting darker and darker, and you began to wonder if you were actually suicidal. But then, unexpectedly, you found yourself alone with him outside. “Y/N,” he said strictly, “Tell me what’s going on.” You’d come outside for some peace, because today was one of the busiest days at the shop and you’d had enough of the noise. Outside, you planned on reading your book and you’d forgotten about Tommy for a minute. Until he had appeared suddenly. “Nothing,” you said, looking up.
“Then why have you been following me all day, eh?” He sounded annoyed almost and all courage left you.
Improvising quickly, you said, “Missed you at dinner last Sunday.” “I was there,” he lit a cigarette and sat down next to you on the stone steps.
“For five whole minutes…”
“There was business to attend to.” “And there’s family to attend to as well,” you replied, without missing a beat. Silently, he side-eyed you and a small smirk played around his lips, “You’re right, I’ll do better next week. Am I forgiven?” “No,” you feigned anger. He turned his head towards you and he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back.
The bond you had with Tommy was a complicated one. In many ways you were very similar, but the war had changed him the most. Sometimes you felt like you’d lost him completely, when you thought of how you used to talk and laugh with him when you were younger. These moments were so rare now. And these exact thoughts did the trick and you decided that you had to be the one to make that old Tommy come back, if only a little. So you said a silent prayer, decided not to overthink it and poked him in the ribs once. The effect was immediate. Thomas Shelby shot up and nearly rocketed himself off the steps. With a wild look of betrayal he turned his eyes on you and you almost burst out laughing.   “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked innocently.
He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and sat back down. Apparently, we’re pretending this never happened, you thought. 
A few seconds of awkward silence later, you poked him again. This time, a small yelp escaped him. The most feared gangster in Birmingham yelped, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing any longer. 
As you were still trying to regain composure, Tommy pointed at you with a menacing finger, “Do that again and you will not live to tell the fucking tale.” You could only snort in reply. He was trying so hard to act all scary and while that had an effect on most people, you just couldn’t be bothered right now: It was too funny. Besides, you thought you could detect just a hint of mirth behind those pale blue eyes and decided to risk everything on just that.
“I mean it, Y/N,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows, “Do it again, I fucking dare you, and see what happens.” So you did it again. 
In a flash, he was up and dove for you. But you were faster and jumped out of the way. Like the two of you were a part of a bad play, you started circling each other around the small yard. Neither said a word and seconds felt like hours. Then Arthur called from inside the house, “Tom!”
“You called a family meeting,” you reminded him, while relaxing a little at the prospect of escape.
Tommy’s eyes stayed on you and he cleared his throat again, “Fuck, alright. You’re coming with me.” And he lifted you up and threw you over one shoulder. Your shrieks filled the house as he walked through the betting den, over to the table where the family was already gathered, with you still on his shoulder. Without blinking, the leader of the Peaky Blinders announced, “Right, well you’re all here. Let’s talk business quickly…” Aunt Polly pointed vaguely at your arse, which was sticking up in the air, “You do realise you have my niece in your arms?” “Well aware, Poll,” Tommy continued, like it was the most normal thing in the world, “Business! We’ve done well this week. John’s shown me the books and we’re making more money than ever. Next week, we’re buying a new horse and I’m going to race her.” Flabbergasted, the family stared at Tommy. You could see the million questions on their faces, but they decided to wait until he was done talking. You had also refrained from protesting by now. “Poll, as treasurer I need your permission to buy the horse.” She blinked a few times and mumbled, “Buy the horse. Y/N‘s still…” Tommy held up a hand, “Not finished,” and everyone closed their mouths again, “John, I need you to talk to that old widow down the road. She’s recently lost her son and she should become part of our fund. Arthur, for fucks sake, get the books from the Garrison in order.” “It’s those bloody numbers, Tom…” Arthur grumbled in reply. “Are we all clear on what to do?” Tommy finished off in a hurry. When no one replied, he answered for them, “Good!” With this he plucked you down from his shoulder and held you in his arms bridal style. With a grave and business-like tone he announced, “As you all know, this is Y/N Shelby, youngest member of the family. While we were away in France, she kept the fort and she has often provided us with some relief in times of stress ever since we’ve come back. But not anymore.” John started to get nervous and looked from you to Tommy. Had they gone too far this time? But then he saw Arthur grinning and even Ada had a small smile on her face, so he knew Tommy was only playing. “Gentlemen,” Tommy continued, “This is the day that Y/N Shelby dies. Say goodbye to your sister.”
And that’s when you decided not to await your fate, so you made a sudden movement and jumped out of Tommy’s arms. Dashing past the table, you sought refuge behind Polly’s back. 
“Told you this would happen, Y/N,” Ada said, not helping at all.
For some reason, Polly got up and left the room, while stating triumphantly, “The secret’s out, Thomas. Deal with it.” Now you just had an empty chair for protection. Tommy pointed at you directly and practically growled, “And it’s going back in.” With three of the largest steps he was at your side once again.
So you held up your hands, “Okay, wait, I can explain.”
“Too late, little sister,” Tommy said in a low voice, “These are family secrets that are not spoken of.”
“You’re such a drama queen, Tommy,” your sister commented, while getting up to leave. And all you could think was: why would you leave me alone with these mad bastards?
You really should’ve known better but decided to go for the cocky approach, “There’s no point in trying to scare me now, Tommy, knowing what I know.” You raised your eyebrows in an attempt to show him you were still in control. You weren’t. In a flash he’d tackled you to the floor and had you pinned down, while whispering ominously, “You picked the wrong brother to fuck with, Y/N Shelby.”
And for the second time in a week, you cursed your own sensitive skin as dexterous hands attacked your sides. Incapable of little but laughing and screaming, you flailed around hopelessly. Tommy’s face was slowly softening into a smile as well.
“Tommy!” you pleaded between giggles, “It was John, not me!” “Was it now?” he taunted without stilling his fingers, “And who was the fool to listen to his ideas, eh?” He moved up to your ribs, which made the pitch of your laughter increase. “Toohoohoom! Wait!”
Now, it was no secret that your major weakness in life was your sensitivity. Usually it was John who took the most advantage of it, being the mad joker that he was, but he often got Finn or Arthur to join in. Arthur on his own could be absolutely brutal, which was due to his strength as well, so there was no hope for you at all. Ada didn’t bother much, but when she did, she was merciless, much like Polly. But Tommy, he was a whole other story. You didn’t have many moments like this with him anymore, but when he did play and did get his hands on you, it was hell. He knew exactly how to reduce you to a small heap of giggles, pleading for your life and regretting all life choices up to that point. And this was happening right now. His smile was widening and he shook his head, “You thought you could beat me, eh?” “Yeheeeheees,” you admitted. Then he stopped for a second, allowing you to breathe, “Alright, you little devil, I’ll give you one a chance to speak.”
Residual giggles were pouring from your mouth, “Never… listen… to… John.” Tommy looked up at his younger brother who was showing zero remorse on his face, and he nodded slowly, “Good. What else?” “I’ve learned that Thomas Shelby sounds like a girl when…” but you never got to finish that sentence, as he continued his assault.
“Wrong answer. And you are way to ticklish to have an attitude like that, Y/N,” he said calmly. 
As he dragged your arms up and dug his hands under your arms, you squeezed your eyes shut, “NOOOO, I’M SOOHOORYYY!” “Are you?” he asked, now smiling broadly at your reaction, “Then tell me what you’ve fucking learned from this, eh?” “YOU DON’T FUCK WITH THE PEAKY BLINDERS!” you managed to shout out between laughs. “That’s right,” Arthur commented, watching the scene while sitting back in his chair, “Finally, she gets it.” Tommy paused and looked at both of his brothers, as if he was waiting for their verdict. “Nah,” John decided to cause more trouble, “I don’t think she has…” Still struggling unsuccessfully to get out of Tommy’s grasp, you shouted, “John, shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God…” Tommy rolled his eyes and interrupted you, “Get her, boys,” he called out, “Let’s teach our sister some respect for her brothers.” So now there were three brothers trying to keep you in place, while you were being tickled from all sides. Why did you listen to John? Why did you not know better than to challenge Tommy? Spluttering, kicking and fighting like crazy, you managed to kick them a little bit at least, but the fact that they were all grinning down on you still meant that it didn’t help much. 
Tears leaking out of your eyes, you shrieked, “YOOOUAAHAHAH AHAHAHALL SUAHAHACK!”
Then Tommy stopped them and crossed his arms in front of him. The amusement was twinkling in his eyes, “Had enough?” “Yep,” you said quickly, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Whatever Polly has told you,” he widened his eyes and brought his face close to yours, “Family secrets are not spoken of.” “Fine!” you called out, “They’re not spoken of.” His smile grew again, “Remember this, Y/N. And remember this was nothing compared to what we can do and what I will do, if you ever feel the need to cross Thomas fucking Shelby again.” You got up, again, and brushed yourself off while sending a death-stare to each of your brothers. But when Tommy smiled at you, there was a certain warmth to it that you hadn’t seen in ages.
“Wankers…” you mumbled carefully. Tommy smirked slightly, “You brought this upon yourself, Y/N. Now you know what happens…” “…when you fuck with the Peaky Blinders. Bladibladibla…” you finished his sentence. Making your way to the door, you turned back for a moment, “To be fair, Tommy, I did just saw you jump up about a foot because you’re actually fucking ticklish. So much for the whole gangster act, I should say.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed, John burst out laughing and Arthur managed to shout out a quick “Oi!” And before anyone could react, you sprinted away. Somehow, this still felt like a victory. Sure, you were the youngest and probably the most sensitive in the family, but you had discovered your own weapon now. John would be next, just for setting you up. Arthur would involve more planning. But finding Tommy’s weakness, that was the real triumph. Behind you, you could hear Tommy sit down and sigh, “Well, boys, we’re well and truly fucked now…”
And you grinned to yourself. The game was on.
***
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therealvinelle · 3 years
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Hello! Why do you think Carlisle likes Aro? (Love your meta btw!)
This blog lasted 25 days before becoming an Aro/Carlisle blog. The sanity was nice while it lasted, I suppose.
Oh well, I embrace my trash ship.
(Anon is referring to this post)
(This one is also relevant)
So, while on Aro’s end it was a case of “did the gods just give me my very own Enkidu?”, for Carlisle we must look at the circumstances. The Carlisle Cullen who walked into Volterra is not the Carlisle Cullen who works at Forks General.
Carlisle was a demon-hunting priest who brought his religion into his new life. Having no idea what he’d just become, apart from the obvious things like “I desperately want to kill people for their blood” and “I sparkle?!”, many of the things that are obvious to us would not be at all obvious to him. His only experience with other demons was the slum-dweller that killed him. It was brutal, and three other people from his parish were murdered as well. He’d been able to track the vampire down, something I can only take that to mean that the vampire used his parish for hunting grounds. He’s so horrified by what he’s become that he tries to destroy himself. This fails, and instead he finds a way out that lets him live without having to kill, and with that comes to the realization that vampires retain their souls (which is for another post).
My point being, Carlisle wakes up as a demon, and has no way of knowing how any of this works, nor of how to explain the fact that he is able to retain his soul. It’s telling that even after centuries of being a vampire he still thought something might be fundamentally different about him, as he chose to turn Edward by simulating his own transformation, even though it meant more pain for Edward. In other words, Carlisle was not guaranteed that his experience was universal. By the time we meet him in canon he’s wonderfully friendly to everybody regardless of what they eat, but I strongly doubt he got from point “Demons are monsters and I’ll rally a mob to lynch them!” to “Vampires are people who sadly eat other people.” right away.
So, you have freshly immortal Carlisle Cullen wandering around Europe with no way of knowing that other vampires are as (for lack of a better word) human as he is. How can they be, when they choose to eat people? (My personal headcanon is that he went by a Persephone theory, and figured that by resisting human blood he’d remained a man.)
It was this Carlisle who met Aro and the other Volturi. According to Edward (I unfortunately don’t have Twilight with me so I can’t quote his exact words), they were the ones who showed him that vampires can in fact be sophisticated.
Sophisticated. Not just as in Aro, Marcus, and Caius eat their virgins with some fava beans and a nice chianti, but as in they’re civilized and intelligent beings. Carlisle was no longer a one lone freak who somehow retained his soul while everyone else went full Buffy vampire, or any other such theory. I can’t even imagine the impact that must have had on a young Carlisle who would have been even lonelier than the Carlisle who found Edward in Chicago. That Carlisle at least had friends, this younger version had absolutely nobody.
Aro changed that.
More than being sophisticated, Aro turned out to be a kindred spirit, an absolutely brilliant mind and a generous host. Carlisle chose to live with him for decades, leaving only because of their dietary differences. And even if people disagree with me with all of the above, I don’t think anyone can argue that this one isn’t huge.
Of all the people Carlisle knows in canon, Aro is the only one he stayed with just for Aro’s own sake. Carlisle loves the Cullens dearly, but the cornerstone holding them together is their shared diet, and the fact that Carlisle turned four of them, the other two joined. He did not happen upon them and then like them so much that he decided to move in. As for his other friends, he cares for them all, but he didn’t share decades of his life with them.
Regardless of how we’re interpreting their relationship (as in, platonic, UST, or raging homosexual affair), I don’t think anyone can dispute that Carlisle and Aro are each other’s best friends.
But beyond proving that vampires aren’t all sewer-dwelling, priest-eating rascals, what exactly made Aro so special?
I’ll just list his qualities in no particular order.
Sophistication This guy is a lover of the arts and of knowledge. His gallery and library must have been the most extensive and diverse in the world, and it probably still is. I can’t even begin to imagine the wealth of knowledge and treasures that Aro must have collected over the years. If the Holy Grail exists within the world of Twilight, Aro has it. Where I’m headed with this, is that not only would Aro’s collection be the coolest thing ever to Carlisle, but also that this was a time when the number of books and an art collection was a sign of high class, of intellectualism, of all things fine and noble that was considered virtuous. Aro acts very much like wealthy European nobility, he even lives in Italy, the cultural epicenter of the Western world of old. He physically could not have been more impressive to Carlisle.
Kind of a continuation of the previous point: Aro is from Ancient Greece (well, he’s Myceanaean, but same difference to a “You predate Homer?!” starstruck Carlisle). Ancient Greece was the ultimate, perfect, civilization to Europe, and Carlisle got to Volterra just ahead of the Enlightenment. This alone would have made him so unbelievably cool to Carlisle.
Nerd I think this one speaks for itself. Carlisle is an unbelievable nerd, an inquisitive mind who’ll study anything and everything, and in Aro he found someone who also has an inquisitive mind and will study anything and everything. They’re both very intelligent. Carlisle went from being that sad whale that sings on a frequency no other whales can hear, to having someone who just got it.
His gift So you’re all gonna have to stay with me on this one. Aro’s gift is one most people would find very invasive, which as I touched upon in one of the posts linked above must be very isolating. And yet we know from canon that Carlisle has no problem at all with Edward reading his mind all the time, and more, if Aro reading his mind was a problem then Aro and Marcus would both have known, and I doubt their friendship would have worked out. So, I think that Carlisle not only didn’t mind having his every thought read, but that this was an actively good thing. Because what is less lonely than the company of one who knows you as intimately as you know yourself? To be friends with Aro is to be truly understood, known more deeply than anyone else can ever know you. And to someone who seeks companionship as much as Carlisle does, I imagine this is an extremely attractive feature.
Offer of friendship Carlisle would have been hopelessly lonely when he met Aro. And as no one else is mentioned as being close to him, Jane hadn’t even met him which I find pretty telling of how he interacted (or didn’t interact) with the Guard, and he wouldn’t yet have any of his other friends that he later made, he only had Aro.
He enforcers a law that keeps the known world from descending into chaos Human civilization wouldn’t last a day without the Volturi. There would be nothing stopping vampires from taking out entire villages in one go, immortal children would be everywhere, and the newborn armies would spread like wildfire. In the world of Twilight, the Volturi are a necessary evil. And Aro is their leader. The fact that he not only keeps the world together, an ungrateful task with no end in sight, but had the idea to create a law in the first place would make him all the more amazing to Carlisle.
And I’m sure there’s more that is currently slipping my mind.
Just, Aro is on every level the most impressive, awe-inspiring, and dare I say dazzling, that anyone can be to Carlisle. And he came into Carlisle’s life at the best possible moment. If he’d agreed to do the animal diet, Carlisle would have stayed. If he wanted to seduce Carlisle, I think he’d succeed. I also think that their time together was far more formative for the person Carlisle became than anyone gives Aro credit for.
(And if Carlisle had never found anyone who’d share the diet, he would eventually have returned. I imagine Aro thought the same, but that’s for another post.)
Oh, and last bit - in Breaking Dawn we get this beautiful moment where Carlisle learns that Aro robbed the British royal family, and he just goes, “yup, that’s my guy”. Even after Eclipse, he remains fond of Aro. I mean, there’s also the fact that he’s been lugging around this giant painting for centuries, even at a time when he didn’t have a house and I can only speculate as to where he was keeping it.
Of course, over the course of Eclipse and Breaking Dawn everything goes to hell, but that’s for another post.
TL;DR, Carlisle went from a priest’s son to living with an evil vampire overlord for decades because he’s just that great, in the present he keeps a giant painting of him in his office. I feel it’s safe to assume he likes the man.
(Edited on the 13th of April to fix some phrasing and add a link)
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princessbatears · 3 years
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I'm a storyteller both by trade and by hobby, and I understand a lot about how effective television storytelling works, in particular. My background has given me a different perspective than most people with regards to the finale, particularly what happens between Din and Grogu. Normally, I don’t get involved in fandom discussions, but I was encouraged to share my take on this. Spoilers below the cut in case I miss some tags, lol.
When I watched the episode this morning, I wasn't prepared for what happened. Like many of us, I expected a terrible cliffhanger or a neat conclusion like we got in the last season. Instead, Din encouraged his son to become a Jedi, leaving himself (and the rest of us) more than a little devastated. It was brutal. But also brilliant. Din and Grogu's individual and family arcs in this season came to a close in a way more beautiful than I could have expected. At the beginning of the season, Din kept Grogu at his side and protected him, but he was determined to pass him off to a Jedi. In part, this was because he believed it was Grogu's own good, but also because he wasn't ready to accept his fatherhood. We see this in the episode with Ahsoka. Even though he didn't want to say goodbye, he was willing to thrust Grogu upon her. When Ahsoka refused, Din was genuinely relieved and finally admitted to himself that he loved him and wanted him to stay a part of his life. That was further confirmed by the lengths he went to in order to get him back from Gideon.
Meanwhile, Grogu's gone through his own arc. We learned from Ahsoka that he hid his powers out of fear. We also learned that he's very afraid of being separated from Din, who he sees as his family. It's completely understandable. He's young and been through a lot. But that fear also makes it harder for him to train, so Ahsoka rejects him. Grogu himself continues to be a little reluctant to use his powers, needing encouragement from Din (unless it's to steal cookies). When he's captured, he fights the best he can to get away, but that fighting doesn't end up doing him much good because he can't control himself. It's my impression that, by the end of the season, Grogu's realized that he needs to be able to master his powers, not just to protect himself, but to protect Din, too. He's finally ready to step into his strength and become all that he can be, which is why he decides to go with Luke.
Din did not want Grogu to go. Everything in his being screamed that. He even say to Luke, "He doesn't want to go with you." However, when Luke explains what's going on, Din realizes that he must put Grogu's needs before his own. It's in Grogu's best interest to be nurtured in the ways of the Force, as he's always suspected, but now letting Grogu looks different than it did before. It wasn't Din rejecting his love for his son or pushing the responsibility of him onto someone else. He even did several things differently from when he tried to give Grogu to Ahsoka. First, he promises they'll see each other again. Personally, I don't think this is the end of them being together, even though Din says Grogu belongs with Luke (also more on that soon). Second, Din tells him not to be afraid. He wants Grogu to become confident in himself and all he can be. Third, he takes off his helmet to show his boy his face and let him touch him. While this is a huge sacrifice on his part because others also see his face, it is proof to Grogu that they are family and that they will always be family. Fourth, Din sets Grogu down on the floor and lets him walk to Luke. This is vitally important. In the past, he's tried to physically hand him over. This time, he lets Grogu make his own decision once and for all. Grogu walks over to look and asks to be picked up, indicating he truly wants to be trained. Din recognized him as an autonomous being with his own will, and respected and encouraged that, like a good father does. Was it easy? Absolutely not, but it was the right thing to do.
I'm not sure what Season 3 will look like as far as Din and Grogu's relationship goes. Maybe Grogu won't feature as prominently, maybe there will be a time jump, maybe something will happen and Luke will bring him back? I have no idea. None of us do. However, what I do know is that heart of the show is the relationship between Din and Grogu. I believe Filoni and Favreau know this, as does Disney. Grogu has made Disney actually relevant again, he's made them an insane amount of money, and I don't think they're going to let that cash cow go any time soon. So, everybody, please don't despair. It's going to be okay! ❤️
I'd also like to take a moment to discuss Luke. My feelings on this have evolved as I'm processed the episode over the last few hours. Initially, I wasn't very happy. I felt like a lot of people do. Why does it always have to be Skywalkers? Why couldn't it be somebody—anybody—else? Why did that have to do that weird CGI thing with his face that wigs me out? (That, admittedly, I'm still not a fan of, lol.) But with some time, I've realized that Luke makes sense. There's the inescapable fact that Star Wars is about the Skywalkers. They're the central characters of this universe. If Movies 6-9 hadn't been as godawful as they were, I think many of us wouldn't resent this fact so much. We're jaded, understandably. However, I don't believe it's fair to judge The Mandalorian's choice to include him based on other creators screwing him up in a future timeline. So far, Favreau and Filoni have been nothing but respectful of the Star Wars universe and its characters, and I'm choosing to trust them with this. But that aside, Luke is likely the only Jedi in the whole galaxy who would take Grogu as an Apprentice. Ahsoka didn't want him, too scarred by her own experiences and traumas. She also comes with the baggage the Temple placed upon its students, which was, if you have any "dark" qualities, you're untrainable. Meanwhile, in the original trilogy, Luke learned how to become a Jedi even though his legacy was those "dark" qualities. He overcame his own anger and fear and started new Jedi traditions. He's the perfect person at this point in his life to teach Grogu how to master his powers. He is obviously aware of how important Grogu is to Din and he'll take good care of him until the family can be reunited.
Personally, I loved this finale, especially the last few minutes. They absolutely destroyed me on a human level, but excited me as a writer and storyteller. By shaking the show up like this, it keeps the audience on their toes and reminds us that anything can happen. Din and Grogu's relationship is why people are so invested and throwing this huge kink that creates a massive conflict that the audience is desperate to have resolved. Aside from one of them actually dying (which would have me throw the show in the garbage), very little else could create such a reaction, which is the whole point. I can't wait to see what the creatives throw at us next year! 😃
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stardustprompts · 3 years
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the dragon republic - r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   drugs , suicide mention , illness , addiction , death , murder , nsfw  , language
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‘I’m telling you, you’re not in any state to be useful.’
‘get out of bed and stop being such a brat.
‘you will learn to control yourself, and you will start protecting them.’
‘you think you’re on the brink of madness, you think that this moment is going to be when you finally snap, but it’s not.’
‘eventually you learn to exist on the precipice of insanity.’
‘it should have been you. you should have died.’
‘revolution is fine in theory. but nobody wants to die.’
‘you can stop pretending to be my friend, because I know that’s all you came for.’
‘you’re dead. I saw you die.’
‘all you want is to get your revenge. but you could be so much more. do so much more. you could change history.’
‘can’t I be happy? I’ve missed you.’
‘of course you’re in on this madness. what did I expect?’
‘you’re frightened all the time. you think everyone’s out to get you, and you want them to be out to get you because then that’ll give you an excuse to hurt them.’
‘fuck your pain.’
‘you asked how large my sorrow is, and I answered, like a river in spring flowing east.’
‘if you just keep breathing, I’ll tell you a story.’
‘you spend your whole life chasing after some illusion you think is real, only to realize you’re a damned fool, and that if you reach any further, you’ll drown.’
‘you don’t have to suffer alone, you know.’
‘you’re so strong. whatever you’re seeing, whatever you’re feeling, it’s not as strong as you are.’
‘she thinks it’s funny to watch her prey squirm before she kills it.’
‘she knows what drives men, and she takes their deepest desire and makes them believe that she is the only thing that can give it to them.’
‘I don’t need your fake sympathy.’
‘I know nothing. I help no one. let’s leave it at that, shall we?’
‘you are my greatest weapon. do not disappoint.’
‘you’ve been feeling the pull, haven’t you? it’s consuming you. your mind is not your own.’
‘does it ever bother you? that you are only a pale imitation of ____?’
‘are you insane? you want to live, you fucking hide.’
‘I know you’ll fight her to the end. but I hope you realize you’re going to go mad trying.’
‘I would never lie to you.’
‘I mean, sometimes I think maybe I can stop, maybe I can just run away. but what I’ve seen—-what I’ve done—- I can’t come back from that.’
‘when you have the power that you do, your life is not your own.’
‘people will seek to use you or destroy you.’
‘you can’t do it alone. I’m all you got. you have to trust me.’
‘you don’t know how to fix me, do you? you never did.’
‘good men are dead because of you. I hope you know.’
‘I saw how you were hurting. that looked like torture. I thought you might be relieved.’
‘you’re always talking about ____ like he was some great hero. but he wasn’t.’
‘I’d die before I let anyone hurt you’
‘you can’t keep me safe, so you might as well let me fight.’
‘I like you better. aren’t you flattered?’
‘how does it feel getting a taste of your own medicine?’
‘it’s like I’m frozen in one moment. and no one knows it because everyone else moved on except me.’
‘I can’t figure out who’s right or wrong, and I’m the smart one, I’m always supposed to have the right answer, but I don’t.’
‘I just wanted it to be over. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to hurt them, not really, I just wanted it to end.’
‘I suppose it’s not easy going to war against friends.’
‘___ made her choice. she just happened to be dead fucking wrong.’
‘he’s still grieving. and there’s nothing you can do to make that hurt less.’
‘you know what your problem is? you have no impulse control. absolutely zero. none.’
‘you have to fight for something, you can’t just—just live your life like a fucking coward.’
‘it’s not about who you are, it’s about how they see you. and once you’re mud in this country, you’re always mud.’
‘I stuck with you because we thought we’d stay together. we’re always supposed to be together.’
‘it sounds like you’re saying that people have to die for progress.’
‘war’s different when you’re not struggling for survival.’
‘your secret is safe from ___, if that what you’re asking. but I don’t understand why you’re lying to me.’
‘I’m not stupid. I know what I saw.’
‘don’t sentence us to death just because you’ve been humiliated.’
‘she’s telling the truth. you’re just not listening because you’re terrified that someone else is right.’
‘cant give orders for shit, but you love taking them.’
‘I realized that he’d gone crazy and that something had broken and that that path was just going to lead to his death.’
‘did you think he’d fall in love with you if you just did what he asked?’
‘don’t lie to me. I know what you’ve done.’
‘we  /  I don’t need your permission to exist.’
‘you’re little children, grasping in a void that you don’t understand for toys that don’t belong to you.’
‘he dared to threaten us  /  me. he deserved what he got.’
‘would a simple thank-you suffice? or did you also want a hug?’
‘you think it makes you strong, but it’s going to destroy you.’
‘I didn’t think it was worth scaring you when I couldn’t do anything about it.’
‘you weren’t going to tell me I was going mad!’
‘she promises you peace when you know you ought to be fighting a war. that’s worse.’
‘no one has to die. you can have everything back. everyone. no one has to go.’
‘he only has as much power as you give him.’
‘you can tell me everything I hate about myself, but I already know. you can’t say anything to hurt me more.’
‘I loved an idea of you. I was infatuated with you. I wanted to be you.’
‘I loved you too. do you believe that?’
‘it’s alright to cry. I know what you saw.’
‘our dead don’t leave us. they’ll haunt you as long as you let them.’
‘that boy is a disease on your mind. forget him.’
‘he was brilliant. he was different. you’d have never met anyone like him.’
‘this is why we are polite to our allies.’
‘we’re soldiers. we’re always about to die.’
‘I want it more than anything. but I can’t ask you to do this for me.’
‘you are going to kill him. and then nothing will save you.’
‘if you love him, then you can trust yourself to protect him.’
‘you have the same eyes. angry. desperate. you’ve seen too much. you hate too much.’
‘all we have is this story unfolding, and in the script of this world, nothing’s going to bring ___ back to life.’
‘I can’t look at you and not see him.’
‘we’re fighting for something good. something worth fighting for.’
‘I have to do this. otherwise I have nothing.’
‘i’m going to tell you a story. I want you to just listen. and I want you to believe me. please.’
‘I don’t think I can die. i’ve tried.’
‘when you have this much power and this much is at stake you don’t fucking run from it.’
‘I’m scared for you. for both of us. I can’t help that.’
‘if you stay here you’ll die for nothing.’
‘you’re my sister. how could I not remember you?’
‘holy shit. you’re going to die. we’re all going to die.’
‘you never think, do you? you always just pick whatever fights you want, whenever you want, and fuck the consequences—-’
‘if you die, I die.’
‘we’ll keep surviving until we’re safe and the world can’t touch us. one enemy at a time, agreed?’
‘you don’t know anything going into a battle. you only know the stakes.’
‘I had a dream. you died.’
‘I just want to make things right between us. what’s that going to take?’
‘I really am sorry. please, I don’t want us to end like this.’
‘please—- you have more enemies than you think you do—-’
‘you taught me the meaning of fear. nothing more.’
‘I know what kind of person you are— you betray those who help you and you throw lives away like they’re nothing.’
‘we are precisely the same, you and I.’
‘we’ve acquired more power than any mortal should have the right to, which means we have to make the decisions no one else can.’
‘the world is our chessboard. it’s not our fault if the pieces get broken.’
‘would you really do things differently, if you had another chance?’
‘tell me you wouldn’t have given up everything. tell me you wouldn’t sacrifice everything and everyone you knew for the power to take back your country.’
‘you don’t understand the stakes, because you don’t know the meaning of true fear. you don’t know how much worse it could have been.’
‘I’m sorry I hurt you. but I had a plan to protect my people, and you simply got in the way.’
‘____ discards allies without blinking when they are no longer convenient, and if you don’t believe me when I say you’re next, then you’re a fool.’
‘you need me far more than you need them.’
‘you think that he’s invincible, but he is more fragile than you think.’
‘I know that he’d throw himself off a cliff for you. please stop trying to break him.’
‘a puppet to the end. when are you going to learn?’
‘I know what you told him. now I want you to tell me the truth.’
‘have you ever considered being less of a pretentious fuck?’
‘do you have any idea how much trouble you are?’
‘do you want someone to rearrange your face? because I’ll do it for free.’
‘I just don’t want the world to break you.’
‘don’t you dare puke on me.’
‘if you’re trying to drown me, then you’re being a little obvious about it.’
‘why do you always think someone’s trying to kill you?’
‘I feared you, I hated you, and that never really went away.’
‘you can’t beat that thing. you have no idea what you’re up against.’
‘this is what happens when men are fool enough to toy with heaven.’
‘chaos is clever. it can disguise itself as rational and benevolent. it can make us merciful. but in the end, it must always be hunted down and destroyed.’
‘if you’re going to kill us all then you’ll have to kill him, too.’
‘he’s not the one we’re trying to save.’
‘you’ll be alright. it’s not as bad as you think it is.’
‘I’m supposed to be a soldier! what the fuck am I supposed to do now?’
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k-s-morgan · 3 years
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Hello! I came upon your Black Butler fic Those Gentle Slopes that Lead to Hell by accident a few weeks ago, and I just wanted to let you know I adore it. I first watched the anime when I was 13 (over 10 years ago now), and have since long fallen out of the fandom. Your story made me remember just exactly what I used to love so much about Black Butler and the dynamic between Ciel and Sebastian, so I wanted to thank you for that. If I'm not mistaken, I read that you plan to follow the anime in your story, including season 2. It made me curious what your thoughts are on season 2? Personally I rather disliked it when it came out, but I haven't rewatched it since. If you don't mind, I am curious to know your thoughts about it since you are able to put them so eloquently! Anyway, I am very curious to read how you will continue your story and how you will use the storyline of season 2 in it, I am sure that whatever you have in mind will be brilliant!
Once again thank you for your work, I really love it!
Hi! Thank you so much for your words, I’m so happy you liked this story! I have a lot of passion for it. And yes, I plan on following S2 - I absolutely love this season and consider it a love letter from Sebastian to Ciel! It has ellipses and missing words, sometimes missing sentences; some pages were left intentionally blank, but ultimately, it’s all about feelings. The whole premise is basically Alois wishing for Claude to destroy Sebastian, and Claude deciding to do that by taking Ciel from him. It’s pretty huge when you think about it. In addition, there is Sebastian wanting to prolong their contract and re-structuring everyone’s lives to accommodate Ciel’s amnesia, giving him another chance at revenge; being unable to kill him even after Ciel becomes a demon. 
There were some elements I disliked, like heavy and inappropriate sexualization of Hannah - many characters suffer from it, but sometimes it felt like they created her for this very purpose. S1 was more dignified in this regard. But all in all, I enjoyed the season a lot.
I like Claude as a contrast to Sebastian. From how I see it, he is an actual normal demon: he’s cold, shallow, with no morality or interests other than eating something & getting power. Claude doesn’t care about Alois, he’s really just fulfilling his duties. Sebastian is actually living a life of a butler, going out of his way to please Ciel and earn his favor. Claude kills Alois without a second thought; Sebastian cannot bring himself to kill Ciel no matter how many times he has a chance to do so.
I’m in love with the ending. It’s fascinating that Sebastian actually allows Ciel to become a demon. He was told clearly that the moment Ciel wakes up, he’ll do it soulless. Rather than killing him on sight, Sebastian cradles him in his arms and waits. He attacks afterward, when it can’t actually hurt Ciel. Instead of still killing him, Sebastian goes along with the charade and keeps doing his butler duties. Demons can kill their masters without serious repercussions, we saw that on the example of Claude and Alois. Sebastian has every right to kill Ciel - more than that, he’s in direct proximity to the sword that can help him with this. And yet, he stays.
Ciel acts like he’s in control, Sebastian acts like he has to obey him, but they both know it’s a charade. It’s so palpable in the moment where Sebastian pretends to make tea and Ciel pretends to drink it. They try to stick to their routine desperately because they feel lost, confused, and scared. Ciel knows what could happen to him any moment - he saw what became of Alois. He could also tell Sebastian to leave him and start navigating his new life by himself, unburdened by anyone and anything. And yet he not only keeps Sebastian close, he actually makes an emphasis on Sebastian having to stay with him for all eternity! And Sebastian acts all miserable when he can make a decision to kill Ciel any moment, putting an end to their contract once and for all.   Sebastian knows he doesn’t have to do anything anymore, but he can’t bring himself to kill Ciel to terminate their bond. He can’t face the idea of being invested in someone so much either, though, because this is it - he told himself countless excuses before to prolong the contract, but now there are no lies left. So he’s miserable and lost, going through motions and unable to make a decision, incapable of admitting he needs Ciel yet equally incapable of killing him. It’s such an open ending, but I find it extremely beautiful. 
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maxwell-grant · 3 years
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Would you consider Hugo Strange a pulp villain?
Yes. And I would argue that he didn't really stop being one even after his revival.
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"Professor Hugo Strange, the most dangerous man in the world! Scientist, philosopher and a criminal genius - little is known of him, yet this man is undoubtly the greatest organizer of crime in the world! - Bruce Wayne, Detective Comics #36
Hugo Strange was created with the intention of being Batman's arch-enemy right from the start, introduced as such by Bruce when he figures out he's responsible for the G-man assassination, pretty explicitly intended to be Batman's Moriarty and with even an equivalent demise. He was big enough to tower over his henchmen and fistfight Batman, he had a uniquely deformed skull, he was both a charismatic but threatening crimelord as well as a mad scientist plotting to TAKE OVER THE WORLD, and I've heard before the argument that the Monster Men were taken from a Doc Savage novel released earlier the same year called The World's Fair Goblin that revolves around a giant mutated man doing crimes under command by the story's villain
That poor devil, Maximus, was a Fair visitor himself, once. He was given injections of thyroxine and adrenalin—and changed rapidly into a pituitary giant. But, in the experiment, his will power was destroyed. Now he only follows the directions of that masked devil who has him hypnotized
He said, "The Man of Tomorrow stuff was merely publicity to draw the Fair crowds—and a shield to cover your own experiments. But the masked surgeon cashed in on it. Obviously he is mad enough to really believe a superman can be created." - The World's Fair Goblin
(Considering Lester Dent had taken potshots at Superman explicitly in "Whisker of Hercules", it's not unlikely that this is an explicit reference)
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Although there's really no overlap in the stories besides that, as The World's Fair Goblin only had one giant where as Hugo mutated a couple dozen mentally ill patients to create monsters and then used them to go on mass murdering rampages, because Batman has always been over-the-top. But, yeah, original form Hugo was a pretty cut and dry pulp villain, like most of Batman's villains who debuted prior to 1940. Which is part of why he only had about 3 appearences before they killed him off.
By this point, Batman was in the process of moving away from his pulp knock-off origins into more of his own character, with the introduction of Robin and Dick Tracy cartoon villains that would set the tone for the rest of Batman in the Golden Age, and with the debut of Joker and Catwoman in Batman #1, Hugo was already obsolete as an arch-enemy, and was killed off the following appearence.
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Of course, if you know Hugo Strange, you likely already know this, and that he was then revived in the 70s by Marshall Rogers with a brilliant take that stuck to the character's origins as a brilliant crimelord and scientific genius, but also added to him a specifically twisted psychological bent of being obsessed with Batman and becoming Batman, a villain of unshakeable will and even a twisted sense of honor and ethics, refusing to divulge Batman's secret identity even while beaten to death.
And from that moment onwards Hugo would go on to have some of the most consistently brilliant appearences out of any Batman villain (at least until the 2010s) and would secure himself as a mainstay, albeit a very obscure one, figure of Batman, the kind of villain whose plots can range from Born Again-esque subtle destructions of a person's life to a rampage of mutant kaijus on downtown Gotham, and like many of the best Batman villains, it all comes back to a central obsession and psychological edge upon Batman, and the weaponizing and destruction of anything that stands in his way.
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You could argue Hugo Strange used to be a cut and dry pulp villain who was eventually reimagined as a Batman Villain, and it would even be somewhat fitting of his in-universe trajectory as a man who started out a career as a figure of prestige and respect, effortlessly able to blend in society, until his repeated encounters with Batman and, most importantly, his gradually increasing obsession with becoming Batman, gradually destroyed him until he's no longer the one ruling the madhouse, but instead trapped in it.
But the reason why I'd argue Hugo Strange is still a Pulp Villain is because his reinventions didn't shed away what he used to be, they merely returned him to his true origins. Because Hugo, you see, is not just a Mad Scientist or Mad Psychologist, Batman's got those by the dozens. Hugo is of a particularly nasty kind of Pulp Villain, who came to existence around the same time as the Mad Scientist if not slightly earlier, an archetype Jess Nevins has named The Evil Surgeon
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Medicine has arguably thrown up more serial killers than all the other professions put together, with nursing a close second - Herbert Kinnel, former chairman of the British Medical Association
The Evil Surgeon came to existence as a pop culture archetype in the late 19th century, as the result of serial killers like Jack the Ripper and H.H Holmes making the news, with Doctor Quartz from Nick Carter being first and foremost among these, as the main arch-enemy of the most published character worldwide at the time.
He would be followed years later by H.G Wells's Doctor Moreau, and the likes of Dr Caresco and Professor Tornada, the stars of novels created by André Couvreur, who was himself a medical doctor and used these novels to both condemn the characters as well as give serious consideration to the ideas they explored, and depicted Dr Caresco's over-the-top exploits harkening back to stories about Marquis de Sade (the origin of the term "sadist"). These would be followed by characters like Grigorii Trirodov, Dr Cornelius Kramm, Dr Gogol from Mad Love, currently the most famous example of this seems to be Hannibal Lecter. And Hugo has been operating much more along the lines of those characters in the last decades, than the typical mad scientists he was once designed in reference to.
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Of course there's a massive overlap between the two and room to dispute whether they even constitute separate archetypes, they practically came to existence together following the footsteps of Victor Frankenstein, who really isn't a true example of a Mad Scientist in the original novel, and wasn't even a real doctor, but Frankenstein's reputation undeniably is the oldest cultural touchstone we can point to as an influence in the archetype, even if said archetype would only truly take form in pulp magazines and serials.
What I'd argue defines the Evil Surgeon as an archetype specifically, is that they are specifically centered around the violation and destruction of the human body and function more as murderers with budgets, than supervillains in labcoats. Mad Scientists are generally more centered around plots closer to sci-fi/fantasy inventions like sentient robots and immortality potions used for large scale global domination, where as Evil Surgeons are more preoccupied with wielding psychology and torture and criminal resources to get away with destroying minds on more individual scales, or turning cities into slaughterhouses for them to work in.
They aren't quite full blown slasher villains, like Zsasz or Professor Pyg, instead they usually tend to be quite good at passing off as respectable, mentally sound figures of moral standing, and usually possess a sense of purpose towards their work, a goal they are working for by piling corpses atop each other and moving resources to achieve, even if said goal is a purely selfish fulfillment of their own desires. It's quite common for these characters to acquire large bases for them to operate in, even islands specifically.
In Caresco Surhomme, Caresco has taken control of the Pacific island of Eucrasia. Caresco applies his surgical methods to the inhabitants of the island, altering them to better do their jobs. The captain of the plane which brings outsiders to Eucrasia is a limbless trunk with telescopic vision. Even the island itself is in the shape of a human body. The natives of Eucrasia are addicted to various sensual pleasures and generally submit to Caresco’s rule, for fear that he will castrate them or worse.
On Eucrasia, Caresco makes use of “omnium,” a mysterious and unexplained power source, to create: a machine capable of stripping the years from human bodies and reversing the aging process, a fast underground train system, food pills, omnium-powered diving suits, and so on. Caresco is given to such things as collecting the spleens of all those he operates on - Jess Nevins, The Encyclopedia of Pulp Heroes
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So, yes, I absolutely would argue Hugo Strange is still a Pulp Villain. Pulp villains do come in many different forms other than the Fu Manchus and Fantomases that are most commonly imitated, pulp was the breeding ground of the supervillain as a concept after all, where they got to star in their own magazines time and time again. Hugo started off as a fairly generic one, and when he's written poorly, he tends to be brought onboard of a story purely because it calls for a mad scientist.
But Strange came back from death as something much, much worse than just a crimelord and mad scientist, a much more rare and much nastier type of villain that, much like Hugo himself, may lie dormant, but refuses to stay dead for long.
"Quincy. My servant. My friend," Hugo said. "We don't have much time."
Quincy was crying again, with joy. "How, master, how did you-?"
The therapy, Quincy realized. The hypnosis. The drugs.
"Stay with me master, please!" Quincy tried to grab hold a phantom hand.
"I cannot." Strange said, looking benevolently down at Quincy, stroking his hair with a touch the prisoner couldn't feel. "But there is one last service you can perform me."
"Anything, Hugo, please."
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"First, remove the sheet from your bed, Quincy. And tie it to the light-fixture on the ceiling."
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Can I request the hostage prompt with whirl,cygate and megatron with a human so
Ohoho I've been waiting to do this one... Hope everyone enjoys some silliness mixed with sweetness!
Part One: You're Here!
Part Two: Here!
Whirl
·You've always had a kind of strength Whirl recognized and admired, it's one of the reasons he fell for you in the first place, but even you aren't sure what exactly gives you the fuel to snap with enough force that it freezes your captor at their active communication station. Maybe you're just tired of being chained up, but their arrogant demeanor is more than likely what pushed you over the edge, specifically with that last taunt at Whirl that used "Cyclops" as the punchline for the millionth time. Swears are beautifully melded into an avalanche of fury that starts with you demanding this lazy idiot think of a better insult for your partner than something involving his looks, because "You think YOU'RE hot shit?! There's corpses in here with more charisma than you!"
·Fear doesn't even register as you keep on tearing apart your captor in every way you can. Nothing is off limits with all the taunting Whirl has been forced to endure on the other end of the communication line, and thus you bring out every below the belt insult you can think of. The bad bot's jaw is slack as you continue, looking to their dazed face and declaring "Not to mention you're dumb enough to go after MY mech, you think a loser like you is gonna stand a chance against WHIRL?! Just last week he tossed a combiner off a bridge because he called me "fleshy", what do you think he's gonna do to YOU?!"
· The communicator is still running when your kidnapper leaves it to try and intimidate you into silence, a move that makes you laugh in exasperated dismissal. "Oh, now you're gonna THREATEN me, really? Did I not make myself clear? You've pissed off the deadliest mech in the universe, and he's got the entirety of the Lost Light helping him search, your next few hours would be a lot better spent deciding how you want what's gonna be left of you interred!" Though you're not even knee height compared to your captor, he actually seems to flinch at your words, especially with you raging so close to his gobsmacked face. The rush of finally shutting him up spurs you to continue your roasting with increasingly petty and crude comments on your partner's significantly superior looks.
·In a stroke of fantastic fortune or misfortune depending on your perspective, a tactical explosion tears into the underground base just as you start to elaborate on Whirl's many other impressive skills. Bots rain in to overwhelm your kidnapper and his automated defenses in a coordinated ambush, one quickly ruined when your absolutely giddy paramour rushes forth without a care to take out the captor in a flying jump kick with a howling battle cry. Rather than eviscerate his now vulnerable enemy, Whirl leaves the crumpled kidnapper where he lies, heedless to the battle still raging all around as his optic sparkles as he beholds you. Like a damsel being swept off their feet you're plucked from your chains and pulled into his careful claws.
·All but gushing with euphoria, he explains that your brilliant distraction tactic gave them the ability to trace your location, and that he heard every word of your spark warming defense on his behalf. You can hear the unhindered adoration in his voice, but you also get a chance to see it as he practically dances through the combat with you held in one arm. By the time your kidnapper is the only one left, he looks lovingly into your eyes and primes his gun with a tender whisper. "Want me to kill this glitch just for you, babe?" The other bots quickly interfere to insist on taking him in for a proper trial, something you're quite alright with as you explain all you really want is to get some rest. Whirl insists on carrying you all the way to bed, whispering sweet nothing's and more or less being the most affectionate anyone has ever seen him.
·Afterwards you're told what it was like on the other end of the communication line. He'd been inconsolable at your kidnapping, and it had taken multiple bots to prevent him from tearing apart the ship as the messages came in. But the moment you'd started shouting? He'd been initially frozen like the rest of them, but had eventually leaned in beside the communicator to listen, his optic getting mistier at every passing curse word yelled on his behalf. Some described his demeanor as that of a lovestruck teen listening to their crush sing a love ballad, though they emphasize his emotional reaction to hearing you was undoubtedly genuine, as it was probably the first time he'd ever been defended so passionately by anyone. The endless doting on you he engages in afterwards leaves you little doubt this is true.
Cygate
·Having two loving partners has always been a blessing, which is probably why you're so easily driven to a blind rage in the face of your captor's endless attempts to mock both of them through the brief communications he sends to the crew, which are also made more unbearable by his ever increasing list of demands for your return. At his latest taunting of their "freakish" romance, you hit your boiling point. The communicator is still running when you lay into the callous bot for having the audacity to insult anyone's choices when he's set himself up in a literal evil lair. "There's body parts just thrown around like confetti in here, and you LIVE like this?! Do you think you get to decide who's weird in this scenario?! At least those two were decent enough to have each other as roommates, you couldn't convince anything living to shack up with your creepy ass!"
·At the total silence you somehow find the fury to keep going, but harder and faster this time, your self restraint little more than a memory as you dangle from the chains keeping you still. "Is it a jealousy thing?! Are you just that peeved off you're single? That you had to steal me to cut them down from three to two? Bad news dumbass; they're STILL beating you on the dating front!" It's not helping your situation, but tearing in to the jerk who's dragged you into a cave and spent so long bullying your partners feels too good for you to stop, especially with the stupid look of indignation and confusion twisting his expression. Not to mention he gives you plenty to rip into even as he tries in vain to make you shut up.
·"You think you scare me?! Do you even know who I'm dating?! Do you think they'll let you get away with this stunt?! One of them can destroy your stupid face with one punch, the other is Cyclonus, and you've gone and pissed them both off!" While it may be a little underwhelming to threaten the guy with what others will do to him, you're hardly in a mood to complain when his expression briefly gives way to one of horrified realization. Yet that hardly calms you down in any significant way. Did he drag you to some nowhere planet and chain you to a wall without even bothering to consider the consequences?! Your back is killing you and the bots have been enduring his incoherent demands for hours, and perhaps you could forgive that if not for all his haughty taunting, which drives you to once again begin raging.
·"Did you even have a plan?! Do you actually have any idea what you're up against, or did you just think you'd swipe a human and earn an easy paycheck? Because if you had even an inkling of what my mechs are capable of, you'd be headed for the nearest space bridge and warping as FAR away from here as physics allow!" While it's a new level of ridiculous, even for your crazy life, the absurdities of the nonexistent plan simply make you see red. It's one thing to be kidnapped by someone who at least has goals, but to be chained up in a cave by some idiot who doesn't have any plans beyond profit and bragging? That'd be enough to tick you off in itself, but the additional insults he's levied at your partners bring your tirade into molten levels of anger that seem absolutely bottomless.
·You're practically red in the eyes when the whole place quakes, and by the time you realize your captor is booking it he's already made it to the door, though his escape ends there when it opens to reveal the bots you've been wanting to see more than anything. A single strike from Cyclonus sends the kidnapper clear across the room, and he's followed by a battle ready Tailgate roaring out his fury as the security systems come on. The chaos of automatic turrets does nothing to distract you from the little blue bot pummeling your captor, and it only makes the arrival of a familiar purple mech that much more heroic as he snaps your chains and pulls you into his arms. The battle is little more than a formality before the barely conscious villain is cuffed and prepared for transport to trial, something your two partners are only willing to allow under the threat of personally hunting him down if he tries to escape justice. Before even leaving the cave you're smushed in the middle of a passionate hug.
·Tailgate alternates between ecstatic buzzing and relieved weeping at your rescue, while Cyclonus never loses a soft smile but keeps finding opportunities to hold and touch you as if he needs to be reassured you're here. It's heartwarming, but according to the rest of the crew it all started at your unplanned radio takeover. No bot had been prepared to hear their favorite human erupt in such unbridled rage, but those two had been shocked in the most wonderful meaning of the word, their expressions reflecting awe like no other until the ship had actually arrived at your location. Cyclonus had actually gone slack jawed while Tailgate had threatened to faint in his arms, but joy had painted their reactions more and more as time had gone on. The tiny powerhouse and the colossal mech out of time were still effusive in their praise every time you three were together, neither having ever known someone could truly love the two of them so completely.
Megatron
·Knowing that Megatron has a sizable target on his back and a lot to be criticized for doesn't make enduring your captor any easier, which is probably why you end up reaching a boiling point after a few hours of listening to the bot who's tied you up try to claim some kind of moral high ground. A tiny human being protective of a titanic gladiator may be illogical, but you can't seem to care when you finally hit your limit, the chains keeping you in place rattling from your sheer force of rage. Because seriously, so long as we're criticizing people for immoral actions, can you cut in about the time some raging jerk tied you up just to taunt another bot and get some cash on the side? Your simple but glaring barb immediately gets the attention of the much larger alien as they stare at you in shock.
·At his bafflement you become entirely unhinged. "Really? What, do you need me to spell out the irony of all this?! You're calling MY MECH a monster, but I don't see him running many evil lairs at the moment, do you?! Kind of rich, you claiming the high ground while I'm literally CHAINED TO THE WALL and our only present company is CORPSES, don't you think?!" The various and still unexplained dead bodies dotting the cave remain as the only audience you know of while the communicator is abandoned, your captor leaving it behind so he can approach and try to growl out some kind of intimidation. It has no effect beyond making you more furious than ever before. Had the chains not been holding you down, you'd have certainly tried to swing at his stupid face while you snapped.
·"Are you trying to scare me? You, a two bit kidnapper who holed himself up in a cave, and I'm supposed to be impressed?! I'm DATING Megatron! One look at a bot that terrifies the galaxy and I decided I wanted a piece of him!" You're almost proud as you declare your undying love for your gigantic partner, something that has earned you a lot of grief from others but has made you happier than you've ever been in your entire life. While you ordinarily don't attempt to argue on his behalf, per his request, it's impossible not to just grill a jerk who thinks he has the high ground to criticize literally anyone. Plus your open and passionate fondness for the former warlord seems to be scaring your captor more than the mech himself ever could, something that brings a devilish twinkle to your eye as you continue to threateningly gush over the bot you adore, if only to pay this jerk back for all the gloating he made said mech endure.
·You're absolutely effusive as you passionately and quite aggressively go on about what a gentlemech you're dating, with ample divertions to the many ways his incredible strength and size are used for much more protective and noble purposes, like holding you close or crushing bad guys. It isn't long before you're spinning a terrifying yarn about the time you were caught in a firefight and he tore a hunk of the wall clean off to shield you from the danger before proceeding to beat the attacking forces with the corpse of their leader. The kidnapper is actually backing away slowly, which turns to backing away quickly as you begin to describe Megatron's romantic poetry skills and how some of his greatest talents lie not on the battlefield but in the bedroom, by which point he's preparing his security systems to cover his escape.
·Perfect timing, from your perspective, makes the sudden explosion of every door a beautiful and inspiring sight. In what has to be the most well coordinated ambush of all time, your friends of the Lost Light storm the cave and annihilate the resistance so fast you only have to blink before a very restrained Megatron is cuffing your petrified kidnapper and tossing him to Magnus so he can be taken into custody. When he turns to you he's actually smiling, and there's a lot behind the expression. Relief, gratitude, exhaustion, and a million other emotions swarm in his optics as the chains keeping you bound crumble like dust in his grip, and you're lifted in his cupped hands like a priceless treasure. Though he's mostly quiet for some time after, you can hear how absolutely smitten he is with you every time he speaks, and the lovestruck look of pure affection never seems to leave his face, which you see often as he appears terrified to lose you.
·A couple of other bots feel compelled to tell you; he was on the warpath when he found you missing, and many had been taking bets on how little would be left of your kidnapper once the former Decepticon got his hands on him. Yet, as soon as he'd overheard you, something about his whole demeanor had changed in an instant. He hadn't just softened, he'd been visibly moved by the passion of your defense and the fire of your love for him. The very idea that he could be defended had been unthinkable in his mind. Yet you'd faced a much larger foe without fear because you'd been so angry on his behalf, what could he possibly have done to deserve such a thing? His gratitude is apparent every moment the two of you spend together, from his rather out of character cuddling to his impressive increase in poems written to describe his adoration of you. Though it isn't at all necessary, you do enjoy having been able to let him know how deeply you cherish him.
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