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devnmon · 6 months

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The Staring Contest // D.D.

Summary: Daryl tries to convince you to rest in bed with him, but when you refuse, he finds another way to try and convince you.

Warnings: suggestive content, 18+ | wc: 2.5k

Daryl was bent over his bike in the garage of your shared home, tightening a bolt on his bike for what seemed like the 10th time of the day. He hadn’t realized time passed as swiftly as it had, noticing the light from outside had dwindled down to darkness.

There were two things Daryl looked forward to when the day came to an end: relaxing for the night, and falling asleep next to you.

His fatigue from working throughout the hours only sparked one thought: where the hell were you?

All desire to finish tinkering on his bike washed from his muscles. Finding you in the home you two shared was the only thing he could think about now.

His tools clinked together as he shoved them away in a random drawer of the workbench he’d been using, before turning to leave the garage.

It was nighttime, which meant you wouldn’t have watch shifts or be caught up doing anything else around the community for the rest of the night. Daryl wondered what kept you away from him for so long, recalling the very moments you’d search for him endlessly on days you were apart for even more than an hour. He knew in his heart, no matter how long each of you spent separated, that you never stopped thought about him throughout the day. His earth-like scent, and the way your skin littered with goosebumps every time he was in the room was so familiar and safe.

I keep you in the front of my mind, always, you've told him before.

Daryl sauntered into the kitchen, immediately spotting you at the table, nose stuffed in a textbook. His steps were silent as always, which was normal for Daryl. On a day to day basis, he was able to enter a room silently and unnoticed, unless he made it known.

But somehow, you always knew when he was around.

“Hi, Dare,” you spoke, without looking back at him.

"Oh, hey, sunshine. What's gotcha down here this late?"

“Just trying to memorize what we need for the garden, so I can help Maggie tomorrow. Wanna know these by heart so I don't have to keep looking back in here. Ugh... this small text is giving me a headache already…”

You didn't have to turn around to know Daryl was right behind you. His voice drifted, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, sensing him step closer to you.

You gasped lightly at Daryl’s presence surrounding you, his warm breath brushing the back of your neck.

“My girl,” he whispered in your ear, “Smartest in the whole world. D'ya know that's so sexy t'me?”

A chill ran up your spine from his gravel tone of voice. It was intoxicating, almost enough to pull your thoughts away from the very interesting plant content.

“Daryl, you’re distracting me.” you chuckled, still staring down at the textbook in front of you.

“Mm.. why don’tcha drop that book an’ come t’bed with me.. It's late, babe.”

“Cause if I don’t know this information, our crops won’t do as well and-”

Your breath hitched as his hands had traveled up your back, massaging your shoulders, thumbs pressing into your stiff muscles.

“Yer tense..” he picked up the soft sigh you let out, and continued, “Like that?”

You sighed, “Yeah… takes the stress out of memorizing all these facts just a little bit.”

Daryl could feel the heat rushing over your skin in waves, realizing so obviously that he was the cause of it.

“I could help ya take out more’a that tension. Happen t’know a few ways, babe..” he pressed a kiss behind your ear, beard hairs tickling your skin.

“N-No.. no, I can’t. I’ve gotta be at Maggie’s early to help her and.." his hands continued, "Oh god that feels good, keep going..”

In your train of thought, you’d forgotten how firm Daryl’s hands were; how they could always bring you pleasure, no matter how he did it. The paired silence between you two continued for a few minutes with his hands and fingers firmly pressing into your back, until his southern drawl broke the silence, focus breaking once he realized your attention wasn’t pivoting from the book.

“Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I’m gettin’ jealous of yer damn book right 'bout now.”

Finally looking up from the pages beneath your eyes, you chuckled. The obvious boyish smirk on your boyfriend’s face was evident as you turned your head.

“You’re telling me you're getting jealous over some plants? I hate to break it to you, but I’m not sure anything in this world gets to take your place.” You stated, almost turning back to the book for a second, before cupping his cheek to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“You gon’ lose sleep over this? Some silly plants?” He murmured, close enough for you to hear him.

“Hey!” you poked at his chest lightly, “Those silly plants are what’s gonna help Alexandria and Hilltop thrive. It’s not my fault I was blessed with a green thumb. Now, can you please go get some rest? For me?”

He shook his head lightly, scrunching his nose at the idea of not having your full attention. Daryl knew what you were doing for the community was important. He knew that.

But maybe in those end-of-day moments of alone time with you, was when he decided to be selfish.

His intimate time with you was one of his favorite times of day; lips pressed to some part of your body in absolute worship, even if there would be a mark the next morning. Perhaps in favor of a mark being there.

“Nah. Nothin’ better than watchin’ my girl be a genius. Even if I’ll be damn tired t’morrow.” The slight groan in his voice hints towards the fact that he’s probably, definitely been up for way too long hunting and running around Alexandria all day. Straining all those precious muscles of his.

“You’re cute when you're being stubborn. You need to get some rest, too. Can’t have those bags under your pretty eyes.”

“Oh, my eyes’re pretty, now? Saw you avoidin’ em when you kissed me b'fore. Tha’s how I know ya get distracted when ya look at me..”

Of course you got distracted looking at him. He was so perfectly Daryl with that mop of wavy brown hair, piercing eyes that shone as the sea does, and his rugged figure.

“Tell ya what, you win a starin’ contest with me, an’ I’ll go to bed so you can study. But if I win, you gotta drop the books an’ come to bed with me.”

It was then Daryl’s hands left your shoulders, thus your aches returned. He took a seat backwards on a chair across from where you sat you, while you glanced up at him.

“Now Daryl, you’re just being silly. What are we, teenagers?”

Being around you certainly made Daryl feel like a teenager, even in his aged life, which brought a smile to your face.

“If ya don’t wanna see my eyes, jus’ keep starin at that book, I guess.”

You scoffed under your breath, still staring at the book. Only his soft breathing could be heard from across the table. He could’ve sworn you were blushing, but your head was tilted downwards too much to be certain.

“Look at me, sunshine,” he drawled, while you sat too flustered to face him, “C’mon..”

Your eyes trailed up the leather on Daryl's figure, then the tips of his brown hair, the scar across his left cheek, meeting his blues softly. He’d registered the rose tint on the apples of your cheeks immediately afterward.

"Mhm.. So, staring contest?” he lowered his head, making sure you kept eye contact with him.

“I don’t get what the point of this is…” you replied pointedly, shaking your head, a bit amused with the whole thing.

“Point is… ya do this with me or else I’m gonna drag your butt upstairs to bed."

“What’re you gonna do if I refuse?”

You knew Daryl was absolutely capable of carrying you upstairs. There was no doubt about it, he was strong enough to lift you and it wouldn't take much effort on his part.

"When's the last time you weren't workin' yourself overtime for this place, huh? I think you're the one who deserves rest, sunshine." His arms crossed against his chest, muscles practically bulging from under the cloth of his shirt.

"So do you, Daryl. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

The archer sat in silence for a moment, knowing you were right, putting up a stubborn front.

"Fine. I'll participate in your little staring contest. What happens when I win, again?" You both know what'll happen, and Daryl scoffs.

Placing the book down in front of you, your arms rest on the table and he leans in a little further. His scent of pine surrounds your senses, faltering your gaze from him for a minute.

"This ain't gonna work if you don't look at me, sweetheart." It's like you can hear the shit eating grin on his face, and when you look up again, it seemed you were right.

"Let's get this on with, shall we? First one that blinks, loses." You tilt your head in the same fashion as his, lowering your voice a bit.

"Gladly. Ready whenever you are, sunshine." Daryl's drawl had gone from his normal volume to a gravel one. You can tell he tried to throw you off track with it, but nonetheless, the staring contest was on.

Your eyes met his, deep and dark in the lighting. How did everything about him compliment those damn irises of his? Just one glimpse of his gorgeous aura from across the table had you pulling away from your book for more.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Your nose scrunches as the words come out in almost a whisper, delicate with the way you're letting your thoughts drift from just his eyes.

"Hun, you're not much better. Gorgeous, but stubborn as all hell. Think ya might be more stubborn than me." You hear the chuckle, and it takes almost all of your stamina not to steal a glance at his lips. If you did, there was no way you'd be able to contain your eyelids.

You know exactly what he's doing, playing on the way you melt at his every compliment. But you focus on his eyes and what you can see of him in your peripherals. His broad shoulders are scrunched, eyes studying your face.

"Are you trying to intimidate me? Cause it's not going to work.."

"Dunno, think I have a couple ways. You jus' keep on starin' at me."

You huffed a breath and continued looking into Daryl's eyes. He was intimidating enough that you had to find other things to think about rather than his. Because they were so... tantalizing. Electrifying. A simple glance of his would usually bring you, figuratively yet literally, to your knees. Ones that were met from across courtyards of Alexandria, or from the corner of a room during a community meeting. How you were able to hold off on crumbling under that same look now? You had no clue.

To your concern, you hadn't realized the falling of your mind into such deep thoughts about the archer. Your eyes focused back on the wisp of his eyelashes, before realizing his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Giving his features a once-over, you peeked at the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Are you smirking?" Your arms folded across the table and inched closer to him.

"What else am I supposed t'do? You're too pretty. Happens when I look at’cha for a long time." His elbows propped up his chin in those rough palms of his, and began inching closer as well.

“Speak for yourself, handsome.” It was almost a whisper, but still the tones of your voice caught him off guard. Daryl’s eyes dropped from yours, swiftly to your lips and back up.

“Wish you’d just let me win so I could kiss ya right now.” His deft fingers tapped on the wooden table now, eyelids heavy with impatience and a sultry gaze being shot your way. You want him to lean towards you, within just the proximity to plant your lips on his, but he sits back in his chair instead.

You whisper, “You make me wanna go back to my books and leave you hanging on this damn contest.”

Daryl shrugs, “Ya blink, ya lose. Them’s the rules.”

“I’m not breaking.. do with that what you will, pretty boy.”

“Mhm..." Daryl chuckled to himself for a moment, then stood from his seat. Whatever composure you were trying to keep from showing while gazing at him only overwhelmed you as he rose from the table. No matter how hard he tried, Daryl came off as intimidating, especially when he stood over you, like he was doing right now.

"We're having a contest here.." you began, "Or does you leaving the table mean you forfeit?"

Daryl's fingers dragged along the table, slowly stepping towards you with the same intimidating glare.

"Nope." He stepped behind you, grabbing your chair with both hands to pull it out from the table.

"Daryl- what're you doing?" You giggled, letting the book of plants fall onto the floor, while you were dragged backwards by Daryl's strength.

"If you're not gonna let me win, I'm just gonna have to take you myself." let go of the chair, and immediately knelt down to grasp your body from your seat.

"Hey!" Daryl's large, warm hands grasped your body, while you wrapped your hands around him in surprise. Upon your hands grasping at him, he got a face full of your chest, which he didn't mind at all.

Grunting at your weight in his arms, you turned to him, spotting the faint blush on his cheeks at the view he was currently getting. You chuckled, getting flustered yourself, but still pressed against him. He began towards the stairs, with you easily grasped in his arms. It was during these rare moments that you realized just how strong Daryl was, how easily he could pick you up and carry you without breaking a sweat.

"This what you're gonna do every time you can't convince me?" Your arms wrapped around his neck now, watching his face while he walked. You pressed a few light kisses to his neck in response.

"Nah, I'll let ya win sometimes. But this, you're gonna wanna be there for." The smirk on his face created a warm feeling inside your chest, one you wanted to give him, too.

Daryl continued up the stairs, down the hall towards the bedroom you shared with him. Your arms wrapped around the nape of Daryl's neck, lips peppering kisses across the expanses of his chest. Once he'd walked to the bedroom door, he kicked it open and made his way towards the bed.

He softly placed you down on the edge of the mattress, waving you to lay back on the bed with his hand. Daryl kicked off his boots, undoing his belt before crawling towards you on the duvet.

In a moment he hovered over you, smirk lingering on his lips like liquor.

"Now, I dare ya, take your eyes off me. See what happens."

You were in for an especially long night.

A/N: Thanks for reading:) If you enjoyed this fic, please show support by reblogging!

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devnmon · 5 days

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too sweet. || a.m.

a/n: heyy ok i know you guys have probably seen enough of the fics with hozier songs but i also love him and when i heard this track the minute it was released, i was like oh yeah this is arthur morgan core. if ur bothered by me writing this then i say that is simply your problem ngl. in the case that you are reading this, it's just a silly little blurb that sums up arthur morgan in the eyes of the song too sweet by hozier !

wc: 632 | warnings: mentions of smut (that's all)

Arthur Morgan was never an early bird. In fact he despised it. Most times he did was only during a hunt, when he woke smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze. You– you were different; completely rising before the sun rose like clockwork. While you always told him never to stay up till the sunrise, he did, arrogantly, anyways.

He was amazed at how you were so easily able to exist in a world that fought against you– not only in the gang, but as a woman. Drunk on life you seemed to be, Arthur would say, while he took his whiskey neat. In his bed at 3am many nights, he took pride in getting to lay next to you when the slower moments came to pass.

You kissed him in the early mornings when you rose, lips still tasting of the previous night's wine. The sweet morning greeting of your lips had him praying for you to lay with him longer. Arthur was lovesick and kept you wherever he went; whether that meant drawings of your from across camp, or your name written with a heart next to his on a different page. On the off chance he gets back to camp early in the mornings before you wake, he leaves you the most exquisite trinkets for you to remember him by.

It's not often he must stay out of camp for longer than a couple days, but when he does, he returns with a heartfelt apology that takes place in your shared bedroll, begging you to accept his apology with every praise. Your touch has been ingrained into his mind, body. and soul, and yet– it burns his skin every time. Each press of your lips and swipe of your tongue over his skin.

He's so goddamned lucky you've let him at your body long enough to know how well his melds with yours like putty. You're the cream he voids from his coffee– because you're too sweet for him. You're too sweet with your sweet lips like heaven's gate, and Arthur is marveled at how you let him of all men kiss you.

The natural beauty you walked around with every day made Arthur seethe with envy at the fact that other men would gaze upon what was his. Most times when you clock his jealous stares and frustrated grunts, it's instinct when you immediately reassure him that you're not going anywhere.

His frustration is released among his true aim towards the spots on your body that make you mewl and call out his name like a mantra. It boosts his ego through the roof like a rocket when you respond and intertwine your soul even more with his.

When he's free from the constant back and forth from camp and jobs, there's a rare moment where Arthur dedicates two or three days to only you. He whisks you away to an expensive hotel, and uses his every power to bring you a new kind of ecstasy when he shares the bed with you. Arthur never wants you to think he doesn't have time to spend on you; he proves that any moment he can.

At that point, he'd gladly die between your thighs just to hear the wanton noises of carnal desire you feel for him and only him. He's seen so much pain in the world, that he's astonished someone like you can be beautiful and perfect so naturally.

You're the sun he wakes to every morning, the contrast of the heat during the cool rainy nights. As sweet as wine and the grapes it has been made from; he'd wait forever to taste your kiss again as long as you were there to ease the aches and pains.

Until then... he'll take his whiskey neat.

#ryesff #devnmonwrites #devnmon writes #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan blurb #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction

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devnmon · 1 year

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You Deserve the World

Originally written by @avanatural; credit to her for the idea and inspiring me as well.

Summary: Daryl's been insecure about his age starting to show, and is worried he'll lose you. You show him every way he won't.

warnings: comfort, (a lil angst), fluff, implied smut.

wc: 3.4k

Daryl's back ached.

He slid the bow from his back and dropped it onto a wooden side table, letting it clatter loudly. His vest was the next thing pulled off his body, left on the chair beside his bow. Unbuttoning his shirt, the cotton tightened around his biceps, until he finally ripped it from his torso and left the shirt on the ground behind him.

Now freed from the confines of his tight clothing, his arms stretched out, muscles flexing in the process. Daryl glanced around the room per usual, until his eyes came across the mirror in the corner of your room. Slowly, he sauntered towards it, pushing his shoulders down as he approached.

The archer studied himself intently. All of his features remained as they were - same cerulean eyes, distinctive birthmarks, scar crossing over his left eyebrow and part of his cheek, and his rounded nose. Daryl couldn't help the fact of time passing, and he definitely couldn't help the fact that aging was catching up with him. A few new lines on his face became more prominent, and the bags under his eyes from minimal sleep only bore into him further.

He tried to force a smile, but stopped before the realization of wrinkles and other lines made him even more self-conscious. Daryl grunted to himself, before running a hand through the tousled hickory of his hair. Sunlight hit the crown of his head, illuminating its unwashed state, along with the few grey hairs that managed to show themselves. The hairs of his beard were the first on him to become grey without him knowing.

Aging was an aspect of life he couldn't get used to. He didn't want to get used to it either. Though it was only a part of growing older with time. Not only did he grow accustomed to working out more often in order to stay on top of his game, but his hunting agility was having a lower success rate each time he was out there.

On the contrary, he'd been worried about keeping up with his partner.

You, the one of his dreams. If his aging continued at the rate it began, he was worried that you'd grow tired of his older features and desire someone younger than him. Someone better than him.

Daryl knew you were popular amongst the men of Alexandria, those better options only poking at the back of his throat as if it were bile waiting to give. Being in a constant state of hyperawareness whenever you two were out in the community had exhausted him to his core.

Every time one of Deanna's sons or any of the other guys in the community even caught a glance of you from across the courtyard, Daryl wanted to pummel them into the ground, but push you into their arms from his all the same.

Although Daryl felt this way, he realized the strength of your bond with him went deeper than just physical attraction. The two of you cared deeply for one another, and you always tried to clear his mind of any negative thoughts.

You're enough the way you are, my love. I don't want you any other way than that.

With a deep breath, Daryl decided to push the nagging thoughts from his mind and trudge over to the dresser. He fidgeted with the button of his jeans, pulling them off his legs and ending up next to the shirt he'd tossed as well.

There was conveniently another mirror in the corner, one that took the full image of him into account. It was noticeable to him when he'd noticed movement from out of his peripheral vision. It would have only taken a glance to the left before seeing his figure in full length. Stood in only a pair of boxers, his hands sifted through one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of black jeans. A glance downward at his body stopped his movements, and the pair of pants fell from his grip.

Despite everything telling him not to, his eyes drifted to the left. Once the full image of him in the mirror hit his eyes, the disgusting thoughts he had a moment before busted down the door in his mind. Daryl stepped in front of the mirror, jeans left on the dresser.

Cerulean eyes raked over every inch of his body as harmful thoughts flooded his head again. His thighs weren't as taught as they once were, his pecs weren’t as defined. His fingertips grazed over the expanse of his belly, where some scars lay not as prominent as others. Eyebrows furrowed and a scowl made its way onto his face.

His partner was perfect to him, and he wanted to be perfect to them, too.

As if you'd read his mind, you came walking into the room, same smile on your face that made Daryl want to live forever. He hadn't noticed you at first, standing against the doorway. You tilted your head to the side, taking in the view of him in only boxers, hands tracing his stomach.

"Checking yourself out?" you chuckled softly, picking up a book on a dresser near the door.

Daryl's eyes locked on his reflection, his button nose scrunching up.

When he didn't reply with one of his quips or side comments like you were expecting, you took notice of the furrowed eyebrows and slouched state.

You'd noticed something different in Daryl these days. One look at the displeasure on his face, and you realized something was up. More solo hunts, fewer intimate moments in the bedroom.

Daryl, of all people, was insecure about how he looked.

Your lip caught between your teeth, dropping the book back onto the dresser. "Daryl, are you alright?" Shuffling over to him, you placed a hand on his shoulder. The contact made his muscles flex, the warmth of your palm against him growing his enamor for you.

Daryl sighed, knowing he'd been brushing you off every time you asked him if he was okay. His avoidance level had dwindled down to nothing, not wanting to push you away any more than he already had. You were his person, the one he could always confide in, and you listened every single time.

"Do you- Do you think I'm gettin' old?" he questioned under his breath, eyes still unwavering from the mirror.

Your chest tightened at the mere suggestion of his aging. To you, Daryl was the most perfect anyone could ever be- his aura, his personality, his appearance, his quips, even his idiosyncrasies, but most of all, his heart.

"No, I don't," you replied honestly, "You been thinkin' about that a lot, huh?"

Daryl's shoulders stiffened as he finally ripped his eyes away from the view of the mirror, turning completely to face you. Reaching out to cup his cheek in a loving touch, he leaned into it and closed his eyes.

"What made you think about that?" you inquired, letting go of his cheek and trailing your fingers over the soft hairs that adorned his face.

Daryl's eyes opened again, lines on his face reappearing in the furrowed state of his eyebrows. "I know the way those pricks in the town look at ya.. Younger guys."

Your gaze shifted back and forth from his sapphire eyes, the realization hitting you. "Is this about Spencer?"

When you'd first gotten to Alexandria, your relationship with Daryl was just beginning. You hadn't told the rest of your group about it yet, but from the first time you saw the older Monroe, he had his eye on you. He'd admittedly been attractive to you at first, but he had absolutely nothing on your Daryl.

Spencer had pulled you aside the night of Deanna's party, asking you questions about yourself and wanting to get to know you better. His motives seemed innocent but there was a slight glint of mischief in his eye. When he suggested something more perverted, you knew he only saw you as a one night stand and nothing more. You explained to him that you weren't interested, on account of being taken by a different, better man.

Spencer Monroe could never compare to Daryl Dixon.

"He didn't want me like you want me. I could never want that asshole, and I don't." If Daryl knew the things Spencer said about him after you told him you were taken, he would have pummeled his face into the ground.

"I'm way older than you," Daryl mumbled, "One day ya might wanna take him up on that, or any of 'em."

"You really think I want them? That they're better than you?" you questioned, your hand grabbing his.

"Don't ya think so?"

You scoffed, "What could any one of them give me? I know for a fact that they couldn't be as good to me as you are. I'm a damn lucky person to have you. I scored you, Daryl Dixon. Not the other way around. You always had my back, every time I've needed you."

"'Course I do, an' you always got mine, too. I jus' don't see why," He shook his head, "You don't gotta settle for me-"

"You know what? Enough, look into the mirror right here," you stated, grasping his shoulders and turning him to see his figure. "Let's start with your shoulders." You gave them a slight squeeze, flesh emerging from between your fingers. "They're so big and broad, and I'm obsessed with them."

Your statement made a corner of Daryl's mouth jolt upwards, forming just the tiniest bit of smile on his face. His mind brought him back to the memories of you gripping them when intertwined in a hug or kiss, but especially when you were making love.

You shuffled to stand next to him, affectionately running your fingers down his thick forearm. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, you took his hand in yours. "These hands and arms of yours are so strong, especially when you're holding me close, when you touch me. You know I appreciate how handy you are, especially when you're using that crossbow of yours, and working on your bike or cars."

Daryl hummed, intertwining his fingers with yours.

Smiling at his reflection, you continued, "I adore your stomach, know that? You're all muscle and firm where it matters most, but the softness of your stomach doesn't compare to the rest of you. I find that so incredibly sexy, know that?"

"Ya really like that?" Daryl questioned with disbelief, locking his eyes with yours in the reflection.

You nodded, leaning your cheek against his arm before placing a soft kiss on his bicep. "Yeah, I do." You already knew the tension in his body was starting to dissipate. "You wanna know what else I think?"

"Mhm," He replied almost instantly. Daryl felt selfish asking for your compliments, but he knew you'd give them to him every time he asked. It was simply too fulfilling to pass up.

"Your thighs are perfect, and they're such a strong part of you. I love sitting on them in your lap. And this?" You dropped his hand from yours, sliding it behind him to lightly squeeze his butt. He jolted slightly at the contact and smirked. "This is firm and so cute. A lot perkier than mine, too."

Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but your hands began to play with the hem of his boxers near his crotch, silencing him. "I assume this morning is a good example of what I think about this?"

His smirk widened, filling him with satisfaction of the fact that he could still make you feel good in bed.

"Don't even get me started on your pretty face," You shifted, cupping his cheeks with your hands again. Your eyes trailed over his face, taking in his intoxicating features. "Your eyes are so deep, like the ocean. When you look at me, I forget what I'm going to say most times."

Daryl shifted closer, purposely to make you flustered. His eyes met yours in the playful way he'd done a thousand times before, and you recognized the expression immediately.

"Don't do that to me now.." You said, rolling your eyes.

A hearty chuckle erupted from him at your flustered state, wrinkles around his eyes emerging once again.

"Your lips are so damn tempting, pretty and pink like they were made for mine," you went on, "You have perfect teeth and whenever you smile at me, my heart jumps a mile high. I'm also jealous of your birthmark, and how it gets to go everywhere with you on that handsome face of yours. But this..." you took a moment to run your hands along the wispy hairs of his chin and jaw, "is my favorite thing to feel when we kiss."

"Oh, really?" He questioned, that signature smirk of his growing inch by inch, "Guess I better kiss ya more often."

You beamed at his words, a blush rushing onto your cheeks as you let go of his face. "I'm such a lucky woman to have you, such an attractive man, by my side. You say guys notice me, but you aren't aware of just how many women practically drool over you when you're around the town. Warms my heart and makes me jealous at the same time," you confessed.

Daryl's head tilted to the side, "You got nothin' to worry about, sunshine."

"Well, neither do you, got that?"

He sighed, meeting your gaze with enamor filled eyes, another smirk tugging at his lips, "Yes, ma'am."

Daryl leaned down to your face and attached his lips to yours. His kiss was soft and slow, a low hum escaping you. His toned arms surrounded your waist, pulling you in close to his chest.

Your hands flew up around his neck, toying with the long strands, "I'm obsessed with your hair, too." You told him after pulling back from the kiss.

His grasp only tightened around you, arms flexing around your waist, bodies pressed together. Your foreheads slightly touched as you talked quietly.

"I gotta few gray hairs..." He retorted, those large hands of his snaking behind to your lower back.

"Yes.. and? You'd look so hot with gray hair."

"You sayin' ya wanna grow old with me, hun?" He inquired, hands squeezing around your butt now.

You grinned up at him through your lashes, "Of course. That is, if we live long enough to do so."

Daryl sighed, "Sounds good to me, darlin'. Now, I believe you were talkin' about my hair.."

You took the opening to run your hands through his bangs, pushing back the strands of hair that framed his face. "I love your long hair, It's so pretty and wavy, for a man like you. I'd love to braid it sometime, if you'd let me. Don't think a guy like Spencer could pull it off as well as you do."

"You love playin' with my hair, don't ya?" He questioned, voice lowering. His large palms rested comfortably on your behind. Daryl enjoyed touching your butt, even when it wasn't in a sexual way. Because of you, he craved intimacy in its most raw form, and with you, it came even easier.

"Absolutely," you responded, taking away what little distance was left between them and rejoining your lips with his. Daryl picked up on the change in tension between you two and grasped at your behind a lot firmer than before, using his strong grip to push his crotch against yours.

You mewled into his mouth when she felt the tent in his boxers against you, but you weren't done yet. You placed your hands on his broad chest, and pulled back.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, eyes darkened with lust.

Your fingers found the tattoos on his chest, the heart and other small ones littered across his collarbones. "I have more to say, that's all."

"An' what's that?"

"Your body isn't the only thing about you that makes me crazy for you."

The thought of you worrying about him in this state made his heart race, since he hadn't been thinking very highly of himself. The truth was, Daryl had been thinking that way his entire life, and couldn't help it. Brought up by people who only put him down and made him think so little of himself, he weighed his decisions with every one he made. When he met you, though, was the first time in his life he'd witnessed genuine love and support. You managed to bring him back from those moments every single time he got trapped in one.

You knew he deserved to be loved the way he was, with nothing standing in the way between you and his true self. In this world, he deserved to be given the same amount of love and support that Daryl gave to everyone in the community.

Just hearing about what you thought of him, in every way possible, kept him going in the darkest of times.

"Daryl, there's never been anyone in my life like you, you're so good to me," you said, tone in your voice filled with disbelief. "You think anyone else could treat me the same way you do? Those pricks only want to get in my pants, and dropped me like a fly when they realized I wasn't interested. But you, you became my best friend before anything. You became the one person in my life who knew me. Like, really knew me. And then I just.. fell for you in the process. I'm the luckiest person in the world to have you."

You could've sworn a blush crept its way onto his cheeks, but he dropped his head before you could see better. Two of your fingers looped under his chin and lifted it again. "Don't ever hang your head, Daryl Dixon. You are the best man I know. I've never met anybody as caring as you. I see it in everything you do, the way you care about Rick, about that little girl, Jude? It warms my heart to see. You deserve the world, Daryl."

Daryl knew every word out of your mouth was true. He knew you would never lie to him, and even then, you were terrible at it. The minute you got lost in his ocean eyes, every little fib crumbled to nothing. Like all things, Daryl was better at expressing himself with actions, and not many words. He pulled you into another kiss, and it took your breath away. His strong arms hooked under your thighs, scooping your body up into his arms. A squeal threatened to leave your chest, but it only got swallowed by the archer's lips on yours.

Without restraint, he carried you over to your bed, one you both shared on many occasions, letting his weight fall back on top of it. You giggled as you landed on top of him, taking his pretty face into your hands again and slipped your lips between his. He groaned, hands attaching to your waist as you attempted to deepen the kiss.

Daryl slid his tongue across your bottom lip, making you moan into his kiss. In response, he opened his mouth to you, tongue gliding across yours with desire. A moment passed before Daryl pushed you over onto the bed, now hovering over you.

All the kissing made you hot, and pretty soon your hands were clawing at Daryl's boxers, chuckling at you as he pushed them down his legs, leaving him bare between you both.

"Hey, now. Tha's not fair at all, is it?" Daryl questioned, very upset with the fact that you couldn't be more clothed. His hands immediately went for your shirt, tugging it over your head. Your pants and underwear followed, placing hungry kisses along the expanses of your skin. There was something different about Daryl now, he hadn't resumed the usual acts of self-consciousness he had recently been taking part in.

Though his hand reached out to turn the lamp in your room off, he felt a restraint when his fingers met the button. Since the days of his insecurities, he felt safe in the darkness while making love to you. It meant security, and kept him from the nervousness that came with the thought of being judged by you.

But now, he didn't have a reason to hide anything from you anymore. His hand resumed his loving touches on your skin. You loved all of him, every single part. There wasn't anything luckier than that.

"How 'bout I leave this on?" he declared, locking his eyes with yours.

"I'd like that."

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon/you #daryl dixon & reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #ryesff #devnmon writes #devnmonwrites #daryl x you #daryl dixon x female reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x y/n

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devnmon · 9 months

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Hidden Comforts (Under the Covers)

Summary: Winter in the prison keeps Daryl awake for days, and it seems his only solution for rest is seeking you out in the dead of night.

a/n: yep. it’s me, devnmon, writing yet another daryl fic after months of not writing. here’s one of my favorite trope(s), tweaked a bit for the likes of this fic: the one bed trope. lots of cute pining from both sides, shyness and uncertainty for the like of the masses. i hope u guys will survive as this is the softest shit i’ve ever fucking wrote. enjoy <3 [credit 2 cafekitsune for dividers]

warnings: none

wc: 2k

Windows froze solid shook against the wind and ice raining down from the sky, along with inches upon inches of snow to make the prison courtyard a white frontier. The only thing this kind of weather helped was depleting the amount of walkers around, ones who hadn’t frozen solid against a tree or upright in the ice.

Among the cold walls of the prison, a shiver of slight wind continuously fled through the building. There were god knows how many cracks in the foundation, windows that were void of panes, not to mention the ginormous hole in one of the halls that had been sealed off from the otherwise livable quarters. All the rebuilding of your home, yet the frigid temperatures persisted.

It was cold enough outside, your group couldn’t help the breeze finding its way in above all they’ve done to patch the place up. There was no way of setting a fire for just a smidge of warmth, either. So, the remaining members of your group were left to the clothes on their backs, and whatever they’d scavenged from the cells to help fend off the frozen temperatures.

Outside, the wind rapped against windows and a shiver ran through your body. You’d been hunched over in your cell, layers upon layers of clothing attempted to clothe yourself from the weather. It did nothing to help the cold from seeping to your core. Your teeth chittered against one another, a hand wrapping around the wool blanket from your mattress to cover your body with it.

From a distance, you heard footsteps down the hall. Probably just Rick or Daryl making their rounds in the cell blocks to see how everyone was holding up during the storm. It was hard for everyone, especially the new people taken in from Woodbury and Judith, Rick’s infant daughter, to deal with this discomfort of winter.

Thudding of feet on the stone flooring became louder minute by minute, knowing now that it had to be one of the two men, now, leaders of your group of survivors you called family. You weren’t as advanced as Daryl was with his tracking, so you really couldn’t tell which one of the men it was. Though, as the steps became louder, it came to your attention the distinct sound of heeled boots, as well as metal clinking on his belt. It was only a moment before you heard the sound of the sheet blocking your cell doorway being pulled back.

“Hey. How you holdin’ up?”

Hesitating on movement at first, you sighed, then turned toward the southern voice in the doorway. Rick stood in the hallway, hand on his hip, the other holding the curtain back.

“Hey, Rick. I’m... hanging in there… best I can. Not much I can do to change how fucking cold it is but… how’s everyone else doing?”

You hear him respond from the hall, “They’re managing. Carl was askin’ about you though, wanted to make sure you were okay. He’s spending the night with Judith.”

“Mm, okay. I’ll check in with him later… or tomorrow. Whenever I’m not freezing my ass off..” Chuckling, you shift the blanket tighter around you.

“Right, well don’t freeze to death tonight, ‘kay? We need you,” He says, beginning to drop the curtain until he pulls it back open and says, “Daryl was askin’ about you earlier.”

“Daryl was? What- what did he say?” You double blinked in surprise at such an idea.

You had just recently become close with him, but it would be a lie if you said you weren’t holding back some teeny tiny feelings for him. A teeny tiny crush that made being in the mere presence of him overwhelming. Your palms always began sweating whenever he got close to you, making your voice shake and train of thought lost in the way he held himself. Daryl was intimidating, but you knew he was kind, and even quite funny amidst the struggles he’s been through.

“Somethin’ about him not being able to sleep in this cold. Was wondering the same about you. He’ll probably be up all night...” Rick scratched the back of his head.

“Poor guy... I mean I thought he was a night owl, but I couldn’t imagine not being able to sleep at all.” You stated, concern for him growing.

“He’s had it rough. But I don’t think he’ll put his head down even if he got within an inch of being tired. Would you check on him if you get the chance?”

“Sure. You should go get some rest yourself. You definitely need it.”

“Yeah, I’ll try. Have a good night.” You smile at him this time as he drops the sheet fully this time, the clicking of his heeled boots drifting away.

What kept you awake for the next half hour was the thought of what went on behind those pretty eyes of his, always considering everyone around him while not thinking of himself at all. You sigh, I wish I could make things better for you. Show you how much love you deserve. Fuck…

You drift off after that, succumbing to fatigue that had your eyelids feeling a hundred pounds heavy.

A couple hours pass before slight stirring outside your small room catches your observant ear. It was far past midnight yet, late enough for everyone with a normal sleep schedule to be out like a light.

You lay in bed, eyes still closed, thinking, who the hell is up at this hour?

The footsteps fade to nothing, thinking whoever it was went back to sleep, perhaps to use the bathroom or something. Then you heard someone clear their throat from the hall, sounding right outside your sheet. It’s then your eyes shot open, peering over to the entrance of the room. You’re about to call out, but remember the dozens of sleeping individuals in the other cells. So you wait.

Sure enough, you hear a sigh still outside of your room, patiently waiting for some, if any, response.

You hear a faint call out of your name, given by someone with a low, surly voice. It takes a minute to register in your head as to who it was, and then you remember what Rick told you earlier.

“Daryl? That you?” Rubbing your eyes from sleep, you sit up.

“Yeah, ‘s me.” You hear his faint footsteps approach slowly, his silhouette painting a dark figure against the white of your sheet. His hand lifts it, peering in with curiosity.

“Come- come in. You don’t have to stay out there.” You state, waving him into the cell, noticing his poncho thrown over his usual leather jacket and shirt. When he’s fully in the room, you notice the dark circles lingering under his blues, proving Rick’s knowledge of the man was true.

“I didn’t wake ya, did I? Shit- couldn’t sleep. Been up forever.”

Shaking your head, you give a small smile, “No, don’t worry. I got some sleep but the cold wasn’t really helping.”

He nods, chewing the inner side of his lip.

“What’s up, Daryl?”

“I just- Ya know this weather, there ain’t a smidge of heat in this damn prison. No matter how many blankets I got.” He half chuckles, but you can tell it’s more of a scoff. Daryl’s wringing his hands within each other and pacing across the floor.

“I know, feels like I’m wearing ten layers of clothes just to not freeze to death. It’s fucking awful. Like I’ve never seen…” You stop for a moment, taking in his stressed state before he glances at you, “Uh.. never seen Georgia of all places have harsh snow like this. Lived here all my life and it’s never been this bad.”

“Yeah, me too. Except that was when we had electricity, and fuckin- road pavers or some shit. I don’t fuckin’ know.” Daryl picks up the chuckle you let out at his words, and you’re nodding when he looks over again.

“Hey, listen. It’s late and I know you didn’t come all the way from the perch to talk to me about the weather.. so really, what’s on your mind?”

Daryl’s pacing halts abruptly, knowing you can read him like a book. It feels as though his stomach turns inside out when he thinks about what he really wants to say. “I uh… I’ve been up for probably two, no, three days now, haven’t been able to sleep since the cold. And… fuck.“

“You know you can tell me anything.” He huffs out a breath and nods to himself, almost like he’d been trying to hype himself up for wanted, no, needed to say. His hesitation had already made you anxious and you wanted to pick his brain to ease all his worries. But you stayed silent and let him speak.

“Okay, listen. I’m damn freezing… and uh, I know you run warm. Like a damn furnace in the summer. But I was wonderin’ if… You wouldn’t mind if I… um, lay with ya?”

You hold off on responding for a moment as his words turn the gears in your head. Daryl wanted to… lay in bed? With you? Just the idea of his body that close to you made your hands sweat. Your eyes darted around swiftly, before you responded.

“Like, in- in my bed? With me?”

“Uh, yeah. Feels like that’s the only way I’m gonna be able to get some shuteye.” His eyebrows furrowed, and you noticed his fidgeting hands. Your silence made him immediately think it was a shit idea and he should’ve just kept it to himself. Should’ve just suffered through the fatigue and gone back to his perch. He began to realize you were about to deny him. What was he thinking?

“Daryl, this bed is not big enough for the two of us.” You chuckled playfully and watched his stern face drop.

“Oh, alrigh’. Sorry t’bother ya.” He began to turn his broad shoulders toward the door.

“But…”

He froze in his steps, turning back.

“Your warmth and rest is more important to me. So, get your ass over here.” A small smile formed on your tired face, painting the tips of his ears red. Daryl kicked off his shoes by the doorway and padded over to your bed. Once you moved to lay down on your side, you lay your head on the edge of your pillow, inviting him to share the blanket with you, your arm out in a welcoming embrace.

Daryl, still caught off guard with the fact that you were letting him be this close to you, kept his poncho on and crawled in next to you on the creaky mattress. He wasn’t surprised at the warmth radiating off you once he fully laid down next to you. The second he looked up at your face, the realization that your faces were inches away made his eyes widen.

“Glad you’re not one to shy away in close quarters..” You giggle, gazing at his facial features for the first time, and this is as close as the two of you have ever been. A corner of his mouth quirks upwards, the smallest inkling of a smile on his face.

“This tiny ass bed is somehow more comfy than mine. Maybe ‘cause you’re here..” You could tell Daryl’s fatigue was catching up with him, as his words slurred, and his eyes began to flutter closed. A piece of his hair falls in front of his eyes, and you move your hand up to move it from covering his eyelids. Once your fingertip ghosts over his face, he flinched, only slightly for a moment and remembered you’re there. He knows you’d never hurt him, leaning into your movement, his shoulders easing up their tightness.

“Shh.. get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Your voice is low and soft, it right about lulls him to sleep.

“M’kay, sunshine.” Daryl scoots in, pressing an inch or so closer to you. You don’t realize at first, but his right hand lays directly on top of yours. His warm hand caresses your palm, slightly moving your fingers to intertwine in his. You cup his cheek, and lightly press a kiss to his forehead. He grumbles to himself a bit more, till you sense he’s fallen asleep, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as well.

He's warm and familiar, safe and closer than ever. You wanted to breathe in the scent of his leather jacket and never let go.

Seems like you were just what he needed for a good night’s rest.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #devnmonwrites #ryesff #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon

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devnmon · 2 months

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐜𝐬 ♡

𝐩𝐨𝐯 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧. [𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] 𝐬𝐟𝐰/𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐱𝐱

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟗/𝟏𝟗𝟎𝟕 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 [𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐝𝐫𝟏 𝐲𝐞𝐭]

First off, John is one to not realize his feelings for you until a certain point. He's oblivious to his OWN feelings. That's how long he's liked you. Perhaps you were captured by one of the local gangs or got severely hurt... his heart dropped when he found out. John is a real overthinker... so obviously his mind went right to the worst case scenarios. Though, when Arthur got back to camp with you in tow, he was so damn grateful.

He's taught you to ride a horse, but absolutely flushes when you clutch onto his waist tighter than usual when he picks up speed on the back of his.

His morning voice is almost too sexy to reply to the g'morning he sends your way as he huddles over the campfire, coffee in hand.

John doesn't understand why out of all the more honorable men in the world, you chose him to love and care for with your whole heart.

He's the first to initiate hand holding, especially in public– oh my god. Maybe there's a random man in the bar looking your way... and John, well he just couldn't take someone thinking you were up for grabs. You feel his grip around your hand as his fingers intertwine with yours, the glare he held as cold as ice watching the man turn away from you.

John is reallyyyyyy fucking good at five finger fillet. You're surprised he's not lost all his fingers with the way he moves his knife so swiftly. It's one of the things that made you realize your feelings towards him.

John started crushing on you after you stitched up his face in Colter. Checking his scars every day to make sure they weren't getting infected; the close proximity was just another factor that made his heart race around you.

He becomes comfortable with touch as he falls for you. At first it's just a touch on the arm that has sparks flying, then you're touching his shoulder or back– his cheeks all but flush bright red every time. [Arthur teases him about it. It's adorable.]

John often takes you on rides outside of camp just to get some air from everyone. He really appreciates having alone time where the two of you can talk and bond and wink wink ;))

He also lets you wear his hat when the both of you go out riding together. John tries to get you your own but you think his suits you just fine.

When you tell him 'i love you' for the first time, it takes him a minute to register it. But when he does, he goes "say it again" and just kisses you before saying it back.

Calls you "Miss" around camp, but in private he prefers to call you honey and sweetheart. He feels like calling you your name is something to be kept private too. John Marston is a sucker for closeness with you.

Sometimes you catch him staring from across camp, and you tried so damn hard to hide your smirk from Sadie and the other girls... that you had to excuse yourself from the group.

He cannot be normal or stay still when your hands are on him. You're laying on his bedroll with him, lightly tracing your hands up and down his body and he's all but begging for you to keep going until you can't.

John can never have you close enough; being too close isn't a thing for him. If he could be glued to you, he would.

John would love to learn to cook together. He gets his kicks out of placing his hands on your waist while you're preparing the food, feeding him bits and pieces of veggies you're chopping up.

NSFW

Here's the thing about John. He's suchh a touched starved boy that he absolutely cannot get enough of you from the time you get together. And obviously he's grabby too. Loves putting his hands everywhere on you. Like– everywhere. So much so that he leaves marks mostly every time he gets more than half an hour with you.

His love language is words of affirmation, so of course he basks in the glory when you say "you feel so good" or "right there" . Basically amps him up x10000.

Also John is a cocky little shit and mocks your cries in the bedroom. Then he'll go "Yeah? What ya screamin' my name for? Feels good huh?".

You don't know where he's learned it, but John has such a talented tongue– like, toe curling, back-arching, messy and desperate to please you without ever coming up for air.

John loses all ounce of shame in bed with you. He knows how to please you and if he's letting you be in control... he will beg and pleadddd for you. Like I said– no shame.

Loves when you pull his hair. The first time you did it he went "Atta girl..." with a groan– and you all but came right then and there from the gravel in his voice.

Is such a praiser;; gets off on hearing you whimper underneath him. Stuff like "doin' good for me, doll" and "such a mess for me, huh? look at you..." GOD.

That's another thing with John, he's always on top. Prefers missionary to observe the way you sing for him– and he's smitten all over again.

You're able to convince him to let you be on top– to ride him like the cowboy he is. He even puts his hat on you [mid ride might i say].

Is also a definite cuddler afterwards, he loves hearing your heartbeat steady while he’s pressed up against your back. He’ll suggest the two of you get cleaned up before you fall asleep.

a/n: heyy so i know this is not a lot of hcs but they're the best i got for rn while i ponder on how to write my silly little drabbles :))) stay tuned for those heheh

#john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x you #john marston x female reader #john marston hcs #rdr2 hcs #rdr2 john marston #red dead redemption 2 #john marston fanfiction #john marston fic #john marston fanfic #rdr2 spoilers #dividers by saradika-graphics #dividers by cafekitsune #devnmonwrites #devnmon writes

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devnmon · 12 days

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Reason on the Common Tongue (of you lovin' me)

Dutch Van Der Linde x F!Reader

Summary: You’ve taken another man in camp out for drinks while Dutch was busy and unwilling to take the night off. Who’s to say he’s forgotten where you’d gone by the time you return?

warnings: oral (f&m receiving, sir kink, rough!dutch, dom/sub roles, unprotected piv, orgasm denial, cumming inside (not recommended for irl experiences), sweet aftercare <3

a/n: anyone else insane about dutch van der linde? just me???? anyways just wanted to say this is filthy and also one of my favorite things i’ve written. i say that everytime i write something new but i truly love this fic. [who would have known this was going to be my first fic for rdr2.] also huge shoutout & credit to my moot jay @bandittlikemee for everything she’s done to help me write this fic. youre truly a genius bestie! also this is set in the clemen's point camp!

Dutch Van Der Linde was a busy man. So much so that he didn’t have time to get up to ludicrous activities such as drinking the night away in the Rhodes saloon. It was another sweltering night in Clemen’s Point; nothing exciting had happened for a few days on account of lying low to skip out on any facetime with the Pinkertons. Since you’d been itching to get out of camp, and your ever-so-important leader wouldn’t spend a singular night with his partner drinking and dancing, you offered the trip up to a familiar gunslinger instead.

With a wave towards his tent, the two of you were off to the local saloon on the back of Arthur’s horse. It was long after dark before the two of you returned; you had been more indulgent than your companion, practically making Arthur carry you out to his horse before you got too inebriated on the drink. Being swept off your feet like Arthur had done felt like flying, especially when he sped up his horse on the ride back to camp.

“Whoo! That was one fun night, Mister Morgan. Even if you didn’t let me out on the dance floor.”

“Don’t you dare get sick on this horse b’fore we get back to camp.”

“I ain’t drunk!” you called out.

“Yeah, and I ain’t a gunslinger.” Arthur joked.

You both boasted with laughter and quips during the ride back into camp, fairly shortened by Arthur’s ability to ride a horse, and soon enough you were entering the clearing.

Dutch, spending his night nursing a cigar, perked up once he heard your familiar laughter in his ears. He knew the minute you’d left camp with Arthur, it was a mistake. Were you to blame? Or was he? Surely you could’ve known all he was combatting at the moment; the leader of a powerful gang, the Van Der Linde’s, had more on his plate than you could even fathom. Moves, and countermoves, he’d say. All in good time, Dutch has a plan.

To find out you’d left camp with Arthur of all men, his son, whom he’d raised since just a boy– was he a fool to you? Did you underestimate all he was capable of? Did you think him a fool?

He’d show you, indeed he was not.

Dutch took another deep inhale of his cigar, the tobacco filling his mind with a haze of your figure. Then he’d remembered who you’d been spending the time with. Another laugh escaped your lips, louder than usual, and his dark eyes found you sat on the back of Arthur’s horse, reaching toward the cowboy for assistance in getting down. He can’t help but glue his eyes to your waist, accompanied by Arthur’s hands for what seems to be a moment longer than he’d like.

Sat in silence, he's almost as red as his vest when you approach the tent.

“Hey, baby. Wish you came with us t’night. I almost punched a man for makin’ a crude comment toward me. You would’a loved to see it, the guy basically pissed himself when Arthur threatened ‘im.” You're slurring your words while babbling on incoherently; your balance is shoddy at best, and he doesn't even say anything until you mention his right-hand man.

"Have fun drinking with Arthur, dear? Was he able to... satisfy you?"

"Mhm, Arthur was very kind to me tonight." To even suggest you'd be satisfied being in the company of anyone else but him makes Dutch furious.

"Did he... rustle your feathers, dearest?" With the way he punctuated his words, you're a bit confused by what he means, since the drink's gone to your head.

"What'dya mean?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him by chance he'd forget Arthur was by your side all night instead of him. Dare you poke the bear.

"Did he–" he let out a breath of smoke, "Was he such good company that you'd forgotten about me? Your leader?" The grumble in his voice fans the flames in your chest; if you weren’t warm from the alcohol, you certainly were now.

Your glazed eyes make out the vision of Dutch, his silhouette darkened by one lamp still lit. When he starts sauntering towards you, step by slow step, you know he's not amused by all this Arthur talk.

"Mm, no, never." Your intoxication doesn't help you sound convincing, though sober you knows Dutch loves the reassurance.

"Sounds like you're lying to me, my love."

He flicks his cigar out of the tent and watches as you stumble to sit down in a chair facing him. Then your mind pulls you back to the events at the saloon– drinking with Arthur and watching him dance drunkenly to the piano– you're giggling at the image. But Dutch.. he's not finding this funny.

"What’s laughable, right now, dear? "He asks, accentuating the h sound while tilting his head at you down with his dark eyes.

"Jus'... Arthur was so fun to be with t'night. An’ I missed you... wish you'd come with us, handsome."

"Well I had to tend to more pressing matters, my darling. You'd only understand if you weren't so piss drunk right now. Maybe I ought to teach you a lesson about what company you should be keeping."

Dutch takes a seat on his cot, his right hand tapping the corresponding thigh. As if instinctual, you lunge yourself over to him and take your rightful seat.

Dutch has always been intimidating, it was one of the reasons you've become enamored with him. But when he narrows his eyes and guides them down your face and figure, close up? you're blushing out of being perceived by such a man of power in this world.

"What're you giggling about now?" he inquires, holding your head with his palm so you'll make eye contact.

"You're jus' so handsome, Mister Van der Linde. My sweetest, the most dashing man I've met."

"You, my dear, are adorable,” he began, and with a click of his tongue, he continued, “But, I still don't believe you. How ‘bout you… make it up to me, hm?"

At that point, you can already feel him hardening under you in his lap, and you clench around nothing. For the first time tonight, your voice shakes.

“What.. would you have me do?” You swallow nervously, wavering your eyes from his for a moment; he ordered your gaze be brought back to his immediately with the clearing of his throat. As if to check you for disobedience.

“On your knees… now.” Dutch’s voice lowered, his words putting a spell on you once spoken. Sliding down to your knees, your hands glided over his thighs for just a moment, letting the friction spike his legs with another level of desire to show you who you belong to.

“Don’t tease me, darling… lest I have to remind you why you’re on your knees for me.” Dutch’s eyes darkened once you were firmly on your knees, tongue darting out to wet your lips. It was as if a Greek god asked you to bow down to him and solely him– Dutch’s physique and natural manliness only contributed to that image of him in your mind.

Your hands reached for the button of his pants, pulling them down his muscular thighs to see his growing hardness underneath the cloth. For a minute, your palm brushed against his girth, earning a grumble from the man above you. It wasn’t lost on him the way you were acting, all innocent like you weren’t aware of the way you were making him burn for your touch.

Once your hands had them down far enough, the dark tuft of hair from his mound came into the light, which opened your eyes wide upon pulling it all the way off. Dutch’s length sprung upwards and caught your eye, especially frustrated and swollen, much like his growing displeasure with your actions. Freed from the confines of his pants and undergarments, his cock stood tall, lying well past his navel against that black vest of his.

As your grip surrounds his base, Dutch clears his throat once more whilst observing every move you made. Your thumb runs along the prominent vein sticking out and moving your hand up his length. He’s certain you aren’t aware just how vexed you had gotten him.

“Get to it.” he spat, enunciating every part of his words with that sharp wit and tongue. Without another second to spare, you licked the pearling precum resting on his tip, before enveloping it with your lips. Luckily for you, he filled your mouth quite nicely, his fingers running through your hair to grip tightly at the back of your head. Tongue running down the underside as you began to ravish him with your lips, he took the advantage to push you down a couple inches more.

With his tip almost nudging the back of your throat, you push down another inch or so and bobbing up and down on him to your heart’s content. The alcohol-buzzed vision of him, burning brighter with each inch you took further past your lips. Dutch rolled his shoulders and neck out in a slow motion, locking those gluttonous eyes of his back onto you with a smirk.

You came up for air with a pop of your lips, his erection shining under the warm light from your saliva.

“So big…” you whispered, stroking him with your hand and going back down for another taste. This time, Dutch was not simply fooling around; his hand forced you down rougher this time, the back of your throat welcoming him once again. It was ravishing to be put under the control of a man such as Dutch; the power he held over you was maddening and traveled to your head every so often. With the tip kissing the back of your throat after each shove down his length, your eyes begin to well up.

“Takin’ me so deep, love, you’ve got tears in your eyes. Now I have truly seen it all.” Releasing his hard grip for a moment, you come off his cock and wipe them away like they aren’t anything special.

“I’d do much more for you, sir.” You choke out, lips swollen from just his cock, and you press a kiss to his tip before sticking out your tongue and swallowing him whole again. The hand that was once gripping your hair was cupping your cheek, the other had undone two of his vest buttons, leaving his broad torso on display in just that white and blue striped shirt.

This time Dutch chuckles in that deep gravel of his, surging your heat with a plethora of warmth. His chest broadens with every exhale of fervent breath, the slow burn of dissatisfaction eating him up inside. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead, the knot in his groin tugging at him ever so slightly.

You let his length fill your throat wantonly, pushing yourself down enough to take every inch. Your nose became buried in the dark patch of curls he’d kept tidy, clearing his throat once more while relishing in the warmth of your tongue against him.

“You’re gonna taste me for days, sweetheart. Gonna – fuck – gonna remind you who you belong to. Make it so you don’t forget this time.” Dutch’s right hand combed through your hair, controlling your mouth’s movements down his shaft, saliva messily covering his skin. A particular thrust of your head in his grip pushes your nose into his curls, making you gag around him. It’s not much to remind him why you were his, the raw class he omitted an infectious disease; it just so happened to be you found under his spell.

Repeatedly, your head moved up and down his cock, Dutch gripping your hair and taking what he deserved. After all, you did take another man out to drink. How dare you not bask in the appreciation of his company otherwise? Dutch had no discretion– no temper to waste on explaining himself to you. You should have known he’d get mad.

On spur of the moment, his controlling movements halted and your tongue swirled around his tip. A feral growl erupted from his chest, painting your cheeks pink before releasing him to catch your breath.

“Mmmph, Dutch…” comes out as a whine, shifting the weight you’d been sitting on.

“What now, dearest? I don’t think you deserve to complain after what you’ve done.” His words manifest a wave of arousal scorching your skin and mind– Dutch was torturous in that regard. When he clicked his tongue, you knew there was only a matter of time until he truly took control. This was only the beginning of a very long night.

Dutch had a way of changing the temperature of a room with one fell swoop. To you, it was a life altering experience being under his discipline, especially in this setting.

Another whine escaped you, words eventually choked out, “I’m sorry, Dutch…”

He solely chuckled, sitting up and raising your chin with his index finger.

“That’s funny, my dear. You didn’t seem sorry when you stormed off and took Mister Morgan as company.” He sneered, the permanent smirk on his face, becoming bigger by the second. You clung to his words like water coating a piece of cloth, soaking up every syllable for a smidge of satisfaction.

“Please, I’m so…” you trailed off, your thoughts whisked away when you heard him chuckling.

“You’re sorry?”

Nodding almost instantaneously, he clicked his tongue.

“Fine. As much as I’d love to fill that sweet mouth of yours all night long, I’m itching for a taste of your perfect cunt. Come here.”

Two fingers motioned you towards him, tongue sticking out to wet his lips, while inclining his head at the vision of you still kneeling for him. Dutch didn’t miss the slightly pained sound as you relieved the weight on your knees, knowing they’d most likely be bruised tomorrow. He took incredible amounts of pride seeing himself in the bruises, teeth marks, and spend he left behind on your saccharine skin.

Your swollen lips wet from your tongue, sensitive thanks to the friction against his length moments ago. Still shy of that dark gaze when he too stood, a forefinger and thumb brought you right back to him.

“I need you to know…” he spoke breathlessly, crushing your lips to his in one motion. Dazed by his sudden affection and the thick tension in the room, you drowned in his taste.

Unbound by any other attachments, your soul was his.

Dutch’s lips pressed against yours were fervent and skillful, a new taste of himself on you. By the third peck, Dutch had forced his tongue into your mouth, venom coating your mouth. Intoxicating.

His right hand finds your waist, pulse hammering in your chest as that broad figure of his flooded your visual field up close.

“... that your actions have consequences.” His grip tightened around your jaw, tobacco on his breath as he spoke.

“Just because I don’t wish to accompany you to the town saloon for a drink does not mean you’re permitted to take the next desperate fella in company who’d so easily strike you from my arms.” That slight growl in his voice paired with the liquor in your system triggered the heat at the apex of your thighs to burn hotter.

“Arthur ain’t like that–” you slurred, getting cut off by a hiccup; a clear sign you were still not understanding how gravely Dutch was taking your little excursion out of camp. His voice was nothing but otherworldly, smooth and rich with charisma and magnetism. No surprise you obeyed his every word without question.

“I don’t remember asking for excuses,” he spat, smirking, “Let’s get you out of this dress..”

Those calloused yet talented hands of your leader find the back zipper quite easily, wasting no time by pulling it down your shoulders roughly. The fabric was tight, but with the level of Dutch’s strength, you wouldn’t put it past him to create a few rips. His movements were followed accordingly, still ravaged with the current indignation he held upon you.

Once you met his eye, seeming to shrink a bit more when looking up to him, that foreboding glare into you was similar to putting a flame near a stick of dynamite. There was no telling when he (or you) would explode. That dashing face of his created another spark inside you, one bold enough to pull his lips to yours once again. A hand grasped the back of your neck tenderly, the first soft action Dutch made upon your skin.

Don’t fall into his touch… you tell yourself. But the drink was too strong, and his venom made its way into your bloodstream. There was no turning back.

Aphotic, tantalizing eyes studied you, the only way you could sense his willingness to please after the fury that still embodied him.

“Satiate me...” he beckoned, walking you backwards to his cot where your knees met the side. Adhering to his plea, your back found the fabric and sighed amongst the sight of him above you. His hands never left your body, sliding down your back to the side of your leg, then moving to your inner thigh with the slightest touch before gripping it with his broad palm.

Suddenly the thin chemise was much too hot against your skin.

“Dutch, please…” you begged once again.

“Ah ah… that’s Mister Van Der Linde to you, my sweetness. You’ll receive the right to say my name when you’ve earned it.” His voice was like honey, eager fingers tugging at the white cloth. Dutch didn’t need permission, he gladly took what he believed to be his, no matter the cost. You swallowed thickly at the cool air prickling your skin with the tensity and vigor the man before you withheld.

“Yes, sir, Mister Van Der Linde…” you professed, breathlessly.

Dutch’s cock twitched upon the sir that fell from your lips. He chuckled, tightening his grip on your undergarment and dragging it down your skin. Your chest was exposed to him first, keen skin still layered with sweat and goosebumps while your nipples hardened against the nighttime air. You were just as he expected, breathing heavily and quivering under the first touch of his fingertips. Impatient, the garment was dragged down your legs by the older man and discarded on the floor.

Dutch’s hands parted your quivering thighs, calloused palms from years of using a gun gripping around you firmly. You could practically feel the flame of his gaze make its way up to the tuft of hair making an appearance from between your legs. He slid both palms up your legs, parting them accordingly so that your slick caught the light. Focused on his face, you notice his walnut eyes catch yours, immediately heating your cheeks.

It was meant to be; Dutch was your siren, luring you in with each word he manifested, every spill of his cherry wine words onto a white tablecloth. His mouth neared the thick curls protecting your supple skin from harm, a similar style in which Dutch protected his people.

“Such a divine sight laid out for me like this. I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to, have you come back to me.” The baritone and rumble in his voice was like nothing you’d ever heard before. He was quite honestly a man starved, no matter how angered he was at what you’d done.

Before you knew it, Dutch’s nose was poking your clit the slightest bit, meanwhile he’d pressed his tongue through your folds and covered himself in your taste. You gasped, your breath coming in ragged bursts as everything you’ve ever felt for Dutch comes flooding back in the blink of an eye. Each stroke of his tongue was another day you’d spent by his side, loyal to no other.

Your leader, your lover, your siren.

Nothing else filled your senses, except for Dutch Van Der Linde.

Those dark brown eyes were lidded against the lack of light, his tongue skillfully drinking in your sweet nectar as if it was his last meal. You danced across his taste buds and he groaned, the vibration sending your hips rolling against his mouth out of impulse. Exhaling sharply and continuing to breathe shakily, the tip of Dutch’s tongue circled around your sensitive clit.

“Fuck– sir… oh god,” He pressed a chaste kiss to your clit, breath hitching in anticipation. The flat of his tongue ran kitten licks up your folds, each movement sending a jolt coursing through you. Before you could protest, he ended another stripe up your cunt with a tantalizing drag against your sensitive bundle of nerves. It was particularly frustrating when he hummed against you once more.

“Hope this is reminding you,” he swallowed, “of where your loyalties lie. To whatever man you can get your hands on? Or me, your leader? The sole individual responsible for keeping this entire group pieced together?”

It was a no-brainer.

“You– fuck… My loyalty lies with you, Mister Van der Linde. I promise… never to take another man in company… again.” You breathed, in disbelief at how composed he was; you were a downright panting mess, but a goddamned sight laid out like this for him.

Upon your hips stuttering against his tongue, Dutch shifted closer to your core, hooking his large biceps around each of your thighs and gripped with his overpowering strength. The cool gold of his rings was a contrast to how hot your skin ran under his touch. That tongue of his circled around your clit repeatedly, until he pulled away to admire the mess he’d made of you in such short time.

“Fuck– oh god…” your nails ran through his jet black hair to grip at the back of his head. Dutch’s mouth worshiped each part of you equally, sticking his tongue inside you every so often; it was driving you mad.

Thinking himself clever, he pulled his right arm from gripping around your thigh. His rings ran across the vast expanse of your skin, trailing the chilled metal close to where you were most sensitive.

His amber eyes glanced upward, past the natural curves of your breasts to your fully blissed out expression; your eyes were scrunched together, mouth hanging open with bated breath. The haze of intoxication still coursing through you sent ripples of pleasure surging up your spine.

“I’ve decided to let you redeem yourself, my love. What would you say to that?” Dutch inquired, using that philosophical tone of voice he’s picked up from reading and quoting Evelyn Miller often.

“I’d do… anything to have you. To please you, to bring you bliss, sir.” Your breath quivers at the point of offering yourself to him in a plea to finally satisfy you.

“I’m not quite sure if you’re deserving of it– just yet, that is.” Maintaining eye contact with you, Dutch stood himself up to undo the buttons down his shirt and let it lay open under his red-backed vest.

“Been… been so good for you, sir. Please,” you implored him an inch further, watching his broad chest heave with deep breaths. His hand adorned with two thick gold rings heads straight for the belt buckle around his waist.

“Have you understood, yet, my darling? How I must be torturous? For it is the only way you’ll learn never to disobey, betray, leave me?” Dutch’s prophetic stance above you was truly enticing, the vibrato of his words coaxing another whimper from you.

“I’ve… understood, sir,” you eyed the belt coming undone within his skilled fingers and exhaled in relief.

“You’re going to have to do better than that to convince me. Speak, girl.” The astounding heat, not only flowing through your veins like hot magma, but also flooding your head and hazing your mind with him. Interested in what you had to say, he waited for your response and discarded his belt.

“Sir, I’m a fool… a fool thinking anyone else could satisfy me in the ways you do.” your voice quivered, breathing heavily and watching his hickory eyes study you. His black pants found themselves in a pile along with everything else he’d discarded from your body and his. “My leader, no one else can replace you, you’re the only man made to save people in the ways you did… even me. We’re– I’m so lucky to have you. And I’m– I apologize deeply for my actions, sir.”

He’d be hard pressed to admit the praise wasn’t intoxicating him at this moment, a growl erupting from his chest among his length stood tall against his exposed torso.

“Well, isn’t that nice. An admittance of your mistakes. Such a lovely difference from the snark I’d been given earlier. Hopefully you’ll learn your lesson.” He gripped the base of his cock and crawled above your supple figure on his cot, noticing your sharp inhale once he was fully perched above you. Dutch’s free hand parts your thighs, making room for his tip to slide through your folds, stopping below the little bundle of nerves that ached for any kind of stimulation.

It was easy for him to pick up on your sharp, quickened breaths upon his close proximity, scrunching your eyes shut to avoid that beckoning gaze of his.

“If this is going to work, my love, you must look. Observe how I split you open, how you take my cock, how I fuck you.” He snarled, pecking the side of your face with open-mouthed kisses. Your eyes fluttered open as if second nature, meeting his gaze while pushing himself completely inside of you.

His length filled you to the hilt, every ridge and groove of him welcomed by your warmth. Dutch breathed a moment with you, smashing his lips against yours to swallow the whimpers you omitted. Your hands ran up his chest, dragging your fingers through the thick chest hair to Dutch’s broad shoulders. He shrugged off the shirt and vest upon your hands sneaking under the cloth, leaving him fully bare to you.

The first drag of his cock against your insides manifested another filthy moan to secrete from your lips while he pushed back in.

“Sir–” you gasped, his natural musk clouding your senses. Dutch thrusted into you deeper, kissing that special spot inside of you to send you seeing stars. Quick as light, his thrusts picked up pace, setting a steady rhythm with his hips.

“Say my name.” Dutch’s voice in your ear echoed through your head like a mantra, the only thing bombarding your senses being him.

“Oh god, Dutch–” you choked out, his name on your tongue only spurring him on more to push deeper.

“Yes, that’s it, again.” he spoke between thrusts, clenching around him while pulling groans of his pleasure into the air. His cock has molded to your walls, relentlessly beating such a punishing pace.

“Dutch… ah-!” His name in your throat like a jewel only spurred him on more, humming approvingly and latching onto your neck with the sweet sucking of his lips. There was absolutely no chance of Dutch letting you get off easy without any showable marks. He had an inkling all the men in camp would think twice before making any advancing remarks toward you– lest they forget who you belong to.

A glance downward had you turning lightheaded– did he really always look that dashing? You’d become tantalized watching his girth disappear and reappear at least a dozen times before his fingers brought your gaze back to him. Each thrust of his hips was dizzying, picking up the familiar groans in your ear once again.

In this moment, you were completely and utterly his, transcending into a place of physical surrender and letting the world fall away. A particularly rough thrust had you calling out for him again, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat.

“Got myself such a good little whore, ain’t that right? One who knows her place is with me– your only leader.” You could scarcely manage a nod upon reveling in the touches he gave you.

Dutch was maddening, luring a groan from him once he saw how far gone you were. It was immensely overstimulating the minute Dutch’s right ringed hand dragged up your torso to the pebbled nipples standing upright from stimulation. Goosebumps expelled across your skin as the knot in your stomach began to tighten, walls fluttering around his length aimlessly. He leaned down again to the side of your face, breathing heavily above you. Slowing to deliver deep and agonizing thrusts, Dutch only drew out your orgasm further, as if he read your state of overstimulation like an open book. His fingers twisting your nipples, those smacks of his hips against yours– your sheer bliss in the center of it all.

Your hand fisted his dark waves at the nape of his neck, another grumble aligned with his thrusts. His pace wasn’t as merciful as you hoped it would be, the sting of his precise and rough thrusts pricking tears in your eyes the same as before. You were at such a heightened state that you weren’t able to control what left your mouth anymore.

“Daddy… I-I’m gettin’ close..” you whimper, running your other hand up his bicep to grip desperately. He felt the pride well in his chest upon his skill to pleasure you like this while also making you cry. To see you in such desperate of situations fueled his ego like a bonfire.

“Oh, are you, my love?” he began, snaking his hand down to your navel and pressing his hand against it. The tip of his cock poked just the slightest bit against his palm. “Feel how deep I am inside you, darling, and know that nobody could fill you the way I do.”

Dutch’s deft fingers moved downward to rub at your clit, throbbing incessantly upon his first touch. The whimper you let out was like music to his ears, filthy and drenched in content of being pleasured by him.

By the expression on his face– he’s impressed at how well you held back from letting yourself go. It’s Dutch’s realization then that you’d always known you were his to touch and please like this, more than any other before. Dutch Van Der Linde is the object of all your desires; continuing to orchestrate bliss under any means possible.

Every ridge and vein of him massages you in such a euphoric way, and it’s not too hard for you to be sent over the edge. It’s as if every inch of you explodes in that moment, allowing each morsel of stimulation; his fingers twisting your nipples and on your clit, the sensation of him throbbing inside you, and the sound of his voice in your ears; come together to send you gasping and moaning over his cock once again.

You can’t hear much else other than the wet slide of him inside you, walls slick as his once steady rhythm grows erratic, forcing his thrusts to become harder and harder. An ache like this would always have a way of satisfying you in more ways than most. Dutch’s groans became visceral as he thrust one more time into you until he too was sent keening over the edge. His hips stuttered, white ropes of seed coating your walls while riding out your high to the sounds of Dutch’s melody of sweet groans and praises.

Both of you breathed heavily as the moment passed, your grip on one another grounding you back to Earth.

“Now, say ‘thank you, daddy’.” he snarled in your ear, keeping himself sheathed inside you while moving his hips the slightest bit.

“Thank you, daddy..” You swallowed, breathless upon his capability to have just come down from his high and keep that cocky attitude.

“Well, what are you thanking me for, doll? Be specific.” Dutch cupped your cheek, his thumb running along your skin lightly.

“For… reminding me who I belong to. You.” Your lips crashed against his once again, the passion and heat of the moment still rung in the air.

“That’s right, my darling.” He pulled out of you, lying beside you with a smug grin on his face. The two of you laid in the warmth your body heat offered, catching your breath. Cool air continued to seep into the tent, a drastic difference than the heat you two shared. Dutch was the first one to break the silence, your alcohol dazed mind still fluttering from such intense contact.

“Oh, my darling, are you alright? You were ravishing tonight.” You glanced over, his forehead glowing with sweat in the warm lantern light.

“Yeah, I’m good, baby. After all that, ’m glowin’. You sure know how to make a woman stay loyal.” you smirked at him, struck by his handsome face in the light.

“I’m sure,” he chuckled, “Hope I wasn’t too hard on your precious body, my love. The last thing I would want is to injure you or push a boundary I should not have. Tell me.. dearest.” Dutch sat up, grabbing your hand with one of his, caressing your wrist with his thumb. His hair was disheveled in the most perfect way, afterglow still apparent on his cheeks.

Warmly, you beamed at him, “Of course you weren’t, not if I made you mad in the first place. Not at all…”

Your words brought a smile out in him, and you caught it just before he pulled you in closer to an embrace. That skin on skin contact fueled every desire for him you had since meeting him. When he noticed and made you his– that was the real luck of the draw. So many women chased after Dutch Van Der Linde as a dream, something to grasp onto as an escape from their lives. But for you, it was all so very real.

“You are mine, my love. Don’t ever forget it again.” Dutch’s voice tickled your ears once more, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before grabbing a nearby blanket to cover your body from the chill of night.

“How could I, my leader? No one could possibly compare to the man before me. I love you.” You sweetly spoke to him, one of your palms lying against his chest lovingly.

“I love you too, my sweetness. I’m so overjoyed to hear you’re loyal to the right man.” He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your cheek and letting his forearm wrap around your waist.

“That I am.” you replied, laying your head on his chest with content, sleep overcoming you from the exhaustion and haze your body had been through with the night’s events. Warm and safe in his arms, your heart was Dutch Van Der Linde’s.

#signed rye #ryesff #devnmonwrites #devnmon writes #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde smut #dutch van der linde #dutch rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #dividers by benkeibear #dividers by peachesboard #dividers by rookthornesartistry

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devnmon · 2 months

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dating sadie adler, kisser of women hcs ♡

obviously i had to do this for my bbg sadie. she deserves MORE appreciation and if nobody will write for her I WILL!!!! i gladly will. i love her, so enjoy these! luv u all!

[also just pretend this is historically accurate bye!]

Sadie is a very intelligent woman... she knows how to hunt, how to use a gun, who knows what else is in that brain of hers. She must have so many hidden talents and skills, and you intend to find out what.

Though her addition to the group was somewhat abrupt, you and Abigail do your best to make her feel welcome. You aren't sure if Sadie feels the comfort that you hope your words provide to her at first. Once the group moves to Clemens Point, you find she's coming out of her shell little by little. You see it in her pristine new outfit when she returns from a run with Arthur, and the way she holds herself is much different than before.

This new version of Sadie Adler was fiery, confident and stickin' it to the man– you quickly found out not to get on her bad side. Though you think you'd let her do anything to you if it were the right situation.

The minute Sadie realizes what she's feeling for you is more than platonic... it takes her back a step. She never thought she'd find someone other than Jake to want in that way– but here you are. You're always at her side, perfect to her, and she will protect you like her life depends on it. When she silently swallows her feelings and pretends she doesn't care, you notice.

You all but have to drag her out of camp in the middle of the night to get a minute alone with her; otherwise there's prying eyes and others whose attention you really didn't wish to grab.

Once the two of you are alone you'll go off on how she's been avoiding you at every turn, rambling on and on like you'd done something wrong. "What happened to you?" you'd ask. She sighs and goes "You happened to me."

"I've been a fool. Do you hate me? What have I done?" statements flow from her when she notices you're silent, staring while she stutters over confessing her feelings. It's at that point you shut her up by kissing her and you can almost hear the sparks flying from the two of you. There's a big ass smile on her face afterwards and she kisses you in between her smiles. Sadie Adler is a smitten fool for you.

She's observant, patient and good with her hands. That is: she teaches you how to shoot a rifle, since you're more comfortable to ask her. She gladly shows you, and when you think you've got it, her arms surround you from behind to adjust your aim– and you're blushing. After she takes her hands away, you're flustered by the loss and silently begging for her to put them back.

Will match outfits with you nonchalantly as a statement to your relationship with her. Like say you're wearing an outfit with blue or white, she'll wear a blue scarf and her white shirt to match you. She'll even give you a piece of her jewelry to wear in that instance, or get you a piece of your own to match hers. Sadie's sentimental & cute like that!!!

Sadie will also leave you notes secretly, to which you fawn over every time. She also definitely gushes over the ones you leave her, when you compare her to the sweet flowers you pick for her. [Arthur noticed how hard she was blushing one time and got curious, she's had to read your notes in private ever since!]

Definitely gets veryyy touchy and affectionate when she's had a few drinks. She's slurring out "Heyyy pretty girlll I know where you can find a nice place to stay for the night..." in your ear and you have to excuse yourselves in *attempt* to get her to sleep.

Sadie is definitely the type to say "i owe you a hundred kisses" if you had a bet with her about something. Usually it was silly, harmless contests that either of you could compete against each other in playfully.

Sadie also introduced you to pranks, which she loves to pull on the other guys. One time the two of you messed with Arthur, sending him silly letters from someone named "Hugh Janus". The two of you tried to hold in your laughs when he got frustrated and yelled out "WHO THE HELL IS HUGH JANUS??" in camp unprompted.

Sadie is a huge cuddler at night, intertwining her whole body with yours to keep warm, especially when it gets chilly at night. There's not a smidge of space to have for yourself, it's shared with her always. Other examples of this are her linking her pinkie finger with yours when you're standing around the group. She loves physical touch so much that she'll do anything to have her skin on yours no matter what; if it's riding on the back of the same horse, or pouring her a drink, she's making some sort of contact. It's her way to say "I'm here & I love you". She's such a sweetheart to you.

NSFW

Yeah Sadie is a top this Sadie is a top that... may I suggest... she's a switch. On rare occasions, Sadie Loves being on her knees for you. She's a real freak like that. She'll beg and beg and beg until you cave and give her what she wants: you.

“Please, stop teasin’ me, just give me what I want. You know I’ll return the favor, sweet girl.” Her raspy voice, her gentle commands, her pretty thighs spread for you..

But when she's in control? Oh it's absoluuutely over for you. She'll praise you constantly cause she knows it's what you want to hear. “Doin’ so good for me, pretty girl. C’mon, let me hear you, use your words. I know you can.. Such a good girl.”

Her soft little whimpers & pleas as she climbs higher & higher. she’s so desperate for release & your touch, she’s basically sobbing for it. her eyes never leave you once she hears the same needy whine come from your side of the room, wanting to watch you come undone from the sight of her spread out for you.

You can't tell me she doesn't get off on you pulling her hair when it's in a messy braid. You love to run your fingers through it and grip, but it's too hot out for that. Plus she thinks it's easier for her braid to be pulled, and fucking loves it.

Her skilled hands could make you a whimpering mess, easily. She knows her way around, and boy if she isn't good at what she does.

"There you go, you got it, takin me so well..." in that accent of hers.. You'll fold every time. “Oh, look at you, pretty girl. Fallin’ apart for me so easily. D'ya know how whipped you got me?" Yeah, she's a lady who knows how to rive you crazy.

Then again... she's a goddamn tease. Especially if you've been bratty? Oh it's over for you. She feels your body up and down, making you work for any other sensual touches by begging. It's music to her ears. She lovesss to make you work for it.

She'll take her time for however long edging you with her fingers, then her tongue, and once you've had about two orgasms from just that, she sticks her strap inside you and gets another.

For aftercare, she'll ask you if you're feeling alright and lay with you after she cleans you up. Usually the both of you fall asleep afterwards, or take a bath or a shower before you do. Her brown eyes shine in the light while she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses your cheeks while you lie together.

#signed rye #sadie adler #sadie adler x afab reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #devnmonwrites #ryesff #red dead redemption 2 #dividers by cafekitsune #dividers by plutism

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devnmon · 2 months

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red dead redemption 2 masterlist

Arthur Morgan

Snuggles at Horseshoe Overlook

Braids

too sweet.

[new!] sfw/nsfw dating honey boy arthur morgan hcs

John Marston

Birdwatching

[new!] sfw/nsfw dating golden boy marston hcs

Sadie Adler

Blind.

[new!] sfw/nsfw dating sadie adler hcs

Dutch Van Der Linde

Reason on the Common Tongue (of you lovin’ me)

all works coming soon xx

#devnmonwrites #devnmon writes #ryesff #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler x female reader #john marston x reader #john marston x fem reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #sadie adler x fem reader #dividers by cafekitsune #softcowboi on pinterest for john/arthur photos #sadie pic from itsdoritoz on pinterest #john marston fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic

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devnmon · 2 years

Text

Just a Picture

Summary: Daryl takes a polaroid of you to keep

Established relationship fluff | Suggestive content | 18+

Word count: 1.2k

—

Daryl wouldn't admit it, but he had a bad habit of staring. Mostly at you, only during the moments he was supposed to be doing something else more important.

It was especially inconvenient to him in moments like these, where you were doing something innocent, such as sleeping next to him. Daryl's eyes opened to see you were still fast asleep, your body draped under his forearm.

With a steady hand that did its best not to wake you, Daryl moved out from under the covers. His hand darted to the object next to him on the nightstand. Rising quickly, he turned around to stand above you and-

Click!

One sudden flash had shaken you from sleep, and your rest-worn eyes opened to Daryl, who was standing at the side of the bed, holding a... camera?

"Hey there, sleepyhead." Daryl’s low drawl hits your ears as you sit up, pulling the covers over your chest.

"Hi, handsome. Whatcha got there?" gesturing to the object in his hand.

"Camera. Borrowed it from Glenn."

The film compartment then spit out the picture he apparently had just snapped of you. Daryl watched intently as the photo in his hand developed, to reveal your sleeping figure.

"Let me see that.." You sat up, reaching for the photo. Daryl pulled away, not allowing you to.

He picked up on the fact that you'd just plainly assumed you would look bad in the first picture he took.

As if you would look anything except perfect to him?

"No way. Yer just gonna tell me to throw it out, an' I aint. 'Sides, it's mine."

Daryl placed the camera down on the bedside table. His eyes then fell on the markings that littered your collarbones and neck from hours before.

You were laid down in his bed, after the events following what was way too much teasing. He tried to combat the warm feeling now spreading in his jeans by choking down his spit at the sight of you dressed in the bed sheets.

"Well... what are you gonna do with it, huh, stud?" you smirked at Daryl, whose mind was probably now racing with ideas.

He could confirm, it was.

Daryl couldn’t say any of those ideas out loud, though.

"Keepin' it.. for when I'm outside the walls. Reminder of what a special person I got in my life. Plus, it's more than just a picture to me." You scoffed at Daryl's cheesiness to hide the fact that what he said painted a blush on your cheeks.

"You're not even gonna let me see the only photo you have of me?"

"Nah, said it's mine. So deal with it, woman." He bent down over the bed to kiss you, his beard hairs wisping against your cheeks. Daryl wasn't upset with the fact that he caught an eyeful of your chest while doing so.

"Well, fine, you can keep me in the pocket of your jeans. But I'll always be right here, waiting for you.”

How awfully sweet of you, to love him with such an angelic and delicate hand; sickeningly charming and if Daryl ever had to go without it, he would rather burn. You reached up for his collar, letting the sheet against your chest fall. Hands eagerly grabbed at each other to take in the feeling of him close again.

Pressed lips against his, he leaned over you again. Daryl wanted to deepen the kiss he shared with you, but it took all of his self control to pull away.

The pouted look that Daryl saw form as he separated from you almost made him want to say fuck the guard shift.

Punctual, never late, always-on-time Daryl Dixon wanted to actually skip his shift for more time in bed with you.

"Watch duty?" Still pouting, wishing and hoping that Daryl would ditch his shift for another hour in your arms.

"Yeah. but don't worry, I've got a picture of ya to keep me company."

"I know that, Daryl. But you can't kiss a picture, certainly not the way you kiss me."

He pauses, because no, he definitely can't do that.

"You can't feel any of the things you do to me with just a picture, Daryl."

You were right, without the real thing he couldn't pull those breathy, pitched moans from your chest every time his fingers slipped between your legs. He definitely couldn't watch almost methodically at the way he fully and perfectly slots into you each time, paired with the feeling of your walls around him.

Daryl's mind sure as hell raced now with the images of making love to you, ones that always lessen his self control. Your eyes met him now, the sheet falling lower on your body, revealing your annoyingly beautiful and unclothed figure to him. The minute he loosens his resolve completely, Daryl's hands and mouth pave the way to a familiar path of your skin and body all over him.

"I guess yer right, but I'm definitely feelin somethin' now, sunshine. Ya gonna come help me out?"

Daryl didn't have to say anything more as you shared a glance at his straining boxers. He wants you to initiate the flurry of hands and lips that he so desperately craves.

He especially craves it after reminders of what a damn good feeling you give him each time the softness of your hands and lips return to his skin.

"I thought you had to go on your watch shift, Mister Dixon."

In the act of egging him on even more, you spoke in a low voice and ran your hands up and down the sides of your frame. Daryl's eyes watched your hands move over each inch of your skin, appreciating how it erupted in goosebumps. Your soft skin soaked in the anticipation of what was to come.

As if the portrait of you in his bed wasn't distracting enough, you'd rolled over onto your stomach; Daryl could now see the dimples on your back, ones he'd gripped to take you in places other than his bed. It was almost dismaying, the way those images flood his brain.

An expletive drops from Daryl as his teeth hooked atop his lip.

You can't look at him like that and think that he doesn't want to forget the whole world and let it burn as he lights up your body with bliss.

Daryl ponders for a moment, and realizes: he would let the world burn.

His head cocks to the side, and Daryl's mind had been swayed.

"What watch shift?"

As those words fell from him, he dutifully stripped from the clothes he'd returned to his back. Daryl had gotten the best view of you the whole time you'd been convincing him to come back to bed, so to be rid of his boxers at that point, he'd been grateful.

Daryl's work-weathered hands now caressed the skin of your thighs as his mouth trailed kisses and the feeling of his tongue from the top of your pelvis up to your neck.

His form of making love was intoxicating. It ran through your veins like the most potent drug. Maybe it was the fact that he gave you all of him every time, just as you'd begged him through sultry moans before.

He knows the path of your body well, and to have dove right back in it was better than any picture he could have of you.

a/n: likes + reblogs are appreciated!! it lets me know how much everyone enjoys my writing & sharing to others is a generous thing to do. much love & thanks :)

#devnmonwrites #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction

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devnmon · 1 year

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Season One: Written in My Stars

Daryl Dixon x Reader Slowburn

↠ Series Masterlist | Playlist ↠ Era: The Quarry ↠ Summary: A man named Daryl's world changes drastically when a virus wipes out half the world's population. Coming from a history of trauma and unrequited love, Daryl Dixon copes through the end of the world by writing in a leather-bound journal, as he tries to find tranquil in a world that is everything but. When his plans with his older brother go out the window, he finds himself conflicted as to whether or not he'd be better off alone. How can the end of the world make a man like Daryl feel things for a person, for people, he never thought he would? ↠ Warnings: typical twd gore/violence, mentions of past abuse, scary situations and trauma, [smut eventually... it's going to be a while], Daryl being shy but also an asshole...

Chapters

Chapter One, Days Gone Bye

Chapter Two, A Familiar Notion

Chapter Three, Long Winded Safe Haven

Chapter Four, Bellwood Quarry

Chapter Five, An Almost New Day

Chapter Six, Tell it to The Frogs

Chapter Seven, The Return To Atlanta

Chapter Eight, The Overnight Reckoning

Chapter Nine, TS-19

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devnmon · 1 year

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Rush.

Summary: The hot water floods not only your skin, but your head with thoughts of the man you loved.

A/n: Wrote this after a long day of missing Daryl and being so head over heels for him... anyway enjoy my brainrotted thoughts.

wc: 560

It was the hot water, and it was him.

Each droplet traveled the expanses of your skin from the moment it left the head of the shower. The sound of rushing water and warmth behind closed lids was only a reminder of him further. Within the water was heat, one that burned in your heart for him the way his burned for you. Your fingertips scraped through the grime and dirt thick in your hair, almost the same way he did for you the first time you convinced him this place was safe. That this place was home, Alexandria.

What was once a calm and peaceful place for you, could never be made the same without him. Through the river of water covering your face, you felt him. You always felt him, more when you knew he was around somewhere nearby, but even more when his presence escaped you. Every second your eyes remained closed was a second more you wished with your whole heart that he was there. Standing opposite you, just watching you wash the buildup on your skin, the stress, the sweat, all of it-- he would study you washing yourself clean.

He only wished bathing came easy to him like it did for you.

The only thing that remained, in his eyes, was your perfect self. Your only wish bouncing about in that head of yours was that you'd open your eyes and see him. That your heartache would be cured just by seeing the archer, his face, hearing his voice, feeling his hands caress the canvas of your skin.

Each and every droplet of water descending down your back was, to you, each kiss he'd planted on your body, running a shiver up your spine. Goosebumps were only ever evident in his presence, raising the delicate hairs that grew over your skin. In him, you found home. A safeness you had only felt in dreams of someplace safe to spend the rest of your life with him.

But in a moment, your eyes open, the lonely ache returning at the sight of a wall of blue tile. When the drop in your stomach returned, it only returned in a way the every day dirt and blood returned under your fingernails. A breath you hadn't realized you were holding withdrew from your chest, the next inhale finding a strong shudder before a lump formed in the back of your throat.

The state of vulnerability hits you when you realize just how alone you are. He's not there. He isn't even in the walls of Alexandria. You have no idea where he is, and that tears up any feeling of security you had into shreds.

Two years gone-- away from you. Two years looking for his best friend, his brother. Two years without his kisses, his voice, his touch. Two years without his strong arms around you, the gravel of his voice whispering he loved you and that he'd rather die before losing you.

But this, this felt worse than losing him.

The water still trickled down your back, cold now from how long it's been running. You still couldn't get the thought of him out of your mind. Like he'd been tattooed on the expanses of your skin and stuck into the ridges of your brain.

This feeling would never go away, and neither would he.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #devnmonwrites #ryesff #daryl brainrot has caused me to write this out of pain and anguish #i miss him so bad can you tell #enjoy this blurb filled with my thoughts in the shower yesterday #yes my own experiences influence my fic writing yes im mentally ill. next.#rush.

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devnmon · 2 months

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save who you can save // t.s.

A prequel to Long Long Time, detailing the first time the two met.

pairing: smuggler!reader x tess servopolous slowburn

Summary: One of your smuggling deals goes wrong– almost deathly wrong. A stranger decides you're worth saving.

word count: 12k

warnings: descriptions of several injuries, reader gets beaten up, non-sexual nudity, tw for random guys in the qz, physical assault, mentions of blood, death, drugs, and typical tlouverse violence... reader is mid 20's, tess is early 40's, tess gives reader stitches (but it's ok they're unconscious), mentions of tess's past, tess and joel aren't a thing in this, but he is an asshole for the better part of the fic [lowkey enemies to friends w/ joel]. pining (a lot of mutual pining oh my god guys.) also pls don't come at me for inaccurate qz stuff, this is fanfic. nonbinary pronouns used the reader is afab! also this fic starts in readers pov and ends in tess's and i just realized that so don't hate me for it! xx

a/n: happy valentines day GAY PEOPLE. this is for you guys. and all the tess fic lovers. here is my prequel of Long Long Time that i wrote a little over a year ago when tlou hbo came out. i pour my heart into each and every fic i write. this is my child, be kind with her. i hope you all enjoy and don't forget to reblog to support your favorite creators!!

That day she found you, beaten and bloody with several injuries, was the day she had quite genuinely saved your life.

You never should’ve made this deal.

Becoming a smuggler required more skill, more cunning –more than you had. Somehow, you’ve ended up right where you never thought you’d be: on the sour end of an unstable client.

You knew your stock wasn’t as satisfying as the client demanded, but the amount of ration cards seemed too good to be true. It happened to be– regrettably you’d been a fool to try and weasel out of the deal without repercussions. Nothing was ever that easy in this world.

The first thing you felt was the end of a very sharp knife pressing into your back. Then you heard his voice in your ear, speaking punctually.

“Where do you think you’re going? Nobody gets past me. Not even you. I let you think you’re good at sneaking around. But I see everything.”

Your breath hitched as his grip pulled you backwards into the alley. Once you turned away from the main road, you were met with another man, one you knew accompanied another man you dealt with often. He was dressed the same, and had that classic sketchy-guy look that told you exactly who’d approached you this hostile.

It was a particularly unstable client, one you hesitated to continue business with due to his poor self-control. He was a junkie through and through, just a man too weak to settle into this world, needing a constant escape. You had unfortunately promised him a supply you didn’t have, and things escalated too far soon after.

There was no reason to call for help either; it would be that easy for him to rat you out to FEDRA for selling pills. Even if those same soldiers were frequent customers of yours. Your voice had gone hoarse and the cut on your lip swelled enough to make it hard to speak.

You couldn’t decide what was worse, the fact that you never saw this coming, or that nobody would be coming to your rescue.

Crack.

Your shoulder was slammed into the wall with enough force that you toppled to the floor. Followed by multiple kicks to the stomach and sides, with not even a second’s notice. Your lunch felt closer to coming up with every rough kick of their boots into your torso.

The amount of stock wasn’t nearly as close to what the client demanded, but his ration cards seemed too good to be true. To be fair, you weren’t cut out to be a smuggler; you were a fool to try and weasel out of the deal without repercussions. It was never that easy in this world.

Your knuckles scraped against the blacktop like sandpaper while attempting to stand, painted crimson while your skin ripped. When your vision went double, then triple, squeezing your eyes shut alleviated the pain for just a moment.

Other than the blood you felt gushing from your hands, the throbbing in your head and torso made it difficult to move without immense pain. Weakened by several blows to the stomach, your legs finally gave out. Your ankle twisted the wrong way as you fell, while your palm caught on a sharp piece of rock, scraping it enough to burn. You were damned if you tried to yell for help.

You huff a breath, before a sharp pain stopped you short, coughing up blood that pooled in your chest. On all fours like a dog you were, with the two men standing above you muttering to themselves.

Mercy, they called this having mercy on you.

Some form of laceration cut deep enough to drip red hot blood down your forehead, and there was no doubt you had several more covering your body by the way everything burned. It dripped down your face and made everything blurry.

Coughing hoarsely, you somehow found the strength to pull yourself off from the prone position, finding a wall to sit up against. Each time you moved, it felt as if your body was getting ripped apart. Your bones felt like glass, your skin like paper. Blood gushed from a slash on your arm, and your stomach had taken one too many blows to pull yourself to your feet.

How the fuck did this happen?

You had been traveling through the QZ during late afternoon, around the central hob of trading. In the midst of the zone's chaos, you ducked into an alley as a shortcut, which was your first mistake. Minutes later, you had been roughly attacked from behind, and thrown against the wall with one motion.

“You got our pills, bitch?” Two sets of feet pointed toward you while weakened.

“I need more time,” you breathed, convincing yourself more so than the man in front of you, “My dealer’s stingy with his supply. I can get it out of him, though. Soon.” Your arms raised at your sides, knowing how many people secretly carried knives around the QZ. There was no way you were taking that chance.

A pair of hands grabbed the collar of your shirt, lifting you up so you could hear them clearly.

“We want the rest of our pills. And a pack of cigs. End of the day tomorrow. Or you’re all the way dead. You hear me?”

The other man approached, unsheathing his blade and immediately pressed it to your cheek, standing not even a foot from your body. His blade was forced onto your skin so hard that it drew blood, and you called out in pain.

“End of day tomorrow. The usual spot.” The one holding your collar said pointedly.

A fast nod of your head paired with the incessant throbbing of his words within your mind had you struggling to comprehend anything. He released your collar, which resulted in you toppling onto the ground once more. The blood you coughed up afterwards stained your shirt, wiping it away with the sleeve of your flannel.

You’d survived the chaos of outbreak day, almost running yourself into the ground trying to escape everything. That was the day you knew this would be a life of running, until you arrived in Boston.

You weren’t sure about the Quarantine Zone at first. But then you saw a bed and pillow to sleep on every night. No more camouflaging yourself in the backseat of a car or suffering drastic temperatures and hoping you wake up not frozen to death the next day.

To be fair, you tried to sign up for work shifts, but manual labor was never for you– especially not when it was shoveling shit, or transferring corpses to burn in fire pits. That kind of work was not how you intended to live out the rest of your life.

That was when you landed on smuggling, since people had to be desperate for some kind of relief after taking orders from soldier douchebags all day. You probably would’ve been better off in the academy, not taking shit from a weasel of a dealer whose name you forgot, but whose ponytail you remembered. You’d gone from risking your life every day in the open world, dodging the swarms of runners underground to being forced into risking your life trying to make the junkies and downright miserable people of the QZ happy.

Now, you’ve accepted that you were going to slowly bleed to death in this alley. Part of you wanted to resist, but the idea of not having to deal with anything like this ever again. It would just be that much easier to close your eyes and succumb.

You whimpered at the pain running through your leg, a patch of maroon seeping through your jeans. Too weak to put pressure on any of your own wounds, you let your eyes close in defeat. The voice at the back of your head protested, wanting you to get up and fight for your life. But you just couldn’t.

Eventually the air got cooler which you noted meant the sun had gone down, and you were in and out of consciousness. Warily, you opened your one good eye, spotting the patch of blood that had spread further from the gash on your leg. The sight made you queasy, so you closed your eye again and went back to unconsciousness for a while. It was the lone way everything stopped hurting, and bliss once you floated into it.

“Psst. You alive?” The words rang sharp in your head with an ache so bad you couldn’t focus. The nudge at your foot woke you a bit, pulling you to consciousness slightly. No reply earned you a slightly harder kick to the leg, which shot another stinging pain up your leg. You groaned and your body moved a bit.

Is someone there?

Footsteps crunched against the blacktop, getting slightly louder.

Fuck, please don’t hurt me, please, please..

“I’m just gonna check your pulse, so if you can hear me, don’t freak out.” Your head moved an inch weakly, unsure about this person being so close to you. A low groan of discomfort came from your chest, alerting the woman you were conscious.

“Hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you. Just needed to know if you were alive.” The voice was low, and it sounded feminine through the ringing in your ear.

“H-help… me…” You managed to speak, your mouth and tongue tasting like iron.

The woman went silent for a moment, taking a look over the state of your injuries.

“You’re pretty fucked up, honey. God, what piece of shit did this to you?” She picked up on the multiple gashes on your body, staining your clothes, and your shoulder was visibly out of place.

You decided to open your eyes to see who was crouched next to you. It was no use, your vision was still spinning from earlier. Sharp pains drummed against your head and obscured your ability to see. The one sole thing you could make out was someone with long, light colored hair and a dark pink shirt, but you kept looking around to see if your vision would come back.

“Shit. I’ve gotta get you out of here. Just- just hold on. Name’s Tess, what’s yours?” You picked up on her moving about, unzipping what you assumed was her pack.

You mumbled again, still unable to speak clearly.

“Right, dumb question. So, I’ve gotta stop your bleeding, and your shoulder looks dislocated. I can only do one of those things right now, and then we can get you someplace safe. That means I’m gonna have to put pressure on your leg. Okay?” Her words came out matter-of-factly, and she seemed like a true survivor of this world.

You begin to protest, moving slightly away from her and moaning with distrust.

“Look, I promise, I will get you out of here. But I can’t have you leaving a blood trail through the streets. Alright?” She asked, and you hesitated for a moment, but nodded slightly.

“Okay, this is going to hurt, but I need you to keep it quiet so it doesn’t attract soldiers. Can you do that?”

Immediately, you shook your head no, and you heard the woman mumble to herself while she shuffled through her bag.

“Here, bite down on this. It’s a clean rag, and I promise that if you scream, it’ll be a hell of a lot quieter than if you didn’t have it.” She raised the rag up to your lips and waited for you to open your mouth. Somehow you trusted her to let her put it in. If this were some other old injury, you wouldn’t be giving an inch. But you happened to be on the brink of death right now, and you realized she’s probably saving your life.

“I’m gonna put pressure on your cut now.” You heard her rearrange herself to be crouched over on the other side of you. With both her hands, she pressed down firmly on your wound. The stinging pain that died down earlier came right back when her hands made contact. She noticed your wound gushing through the first bandage in her hand. You groaned loudly into the cloth, grateful for its existence.

“I know it hurts…” The woman spoke again, “Just hang in there. I’m gonna wrap your wound, and then once we’re safe, I can stitch it up.”

You begin to protest, borderline trusting the woman in front of you. Then you realized, she was the only one here.

"Look, I need to get you out of here. Need to get us out of here. Soldiers are gonna be swarming the streets all night, and it's almost sundown. I can take you to my place, and I’ll have a better chance to take care of you there. I know you probably don’t trust me, but it's the least I can do."

Considering the current situation, you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Do what you… h-have to..” you muttered weakly.

The pressure on your wound had lightened, while one of her hands rested on it as she used the other to grab for her bag again. She met your eye level for a moment, glancing up to survey your state. She went back to wrap some gauze around your thigh, tying it tighter than you would’ve liked, even though you knew it would help your wound begin to heal.

“Okay, I think the bleeding stopped. You poor thing, let’s get you out of here.” You watched her zip up her pack and shrug it onto her back, while grabbing yours with her other hand.

“It’s probably gonna hurt a lot if you try to stand, but we gotta get you up one way or another.” You felt her at your side, slipping your left arm around her shoulder. She had already noticed the sharp inhales you were taking upon moving from your spot.

“Here, lean on me. I’ll carry you. Just keep breathing, honey.”

The minute she began to lift you was when you knew something was really wrong with your other arm. It tingled all over and your shoulder ached something awful.

“‘M t-tryin’– it hurts…” had been uttered under your breath with another whine of sharp pain as your body moved with hers.

“I know. Shhh, Shh. Hey, Just put one foot in front of the other. You’ve got this.” Something about her voice was calming you, and it almost made up for all the pain. The two of you begin walking, slowly at first, testing out your strength for the journey. It took a minute of tripping over your own feet to steady yourself.

“Promise we’re gonna get you fixed up, brand new.” She muttered under her breath, low enough so other people nearby didn’t hear.

Somehow her words kept you going, limp after limp. Tess made sure you knew when you had to take a step up or down, and kept you going the whole time.

“Yeah, you got it. We’re halfway there. Keep it up, doin’ great.” Her words reverberated in your head with an echo. You couldn’t see where you were stepping for the majority, but you trusted her to guide you. Another few minutes of walking had your body much more worn out than normal. Once she stopped at the side of a building, her arm went to push the door open.

“Here we are.” Tess kicked it shut behind you two, and balanced you against her body. The interior was warm on your skin, but somehow your body still shivered to its core. Inside, you could hear people shifting around, but the sounds blended together amongst your attempt to stay upright.

“I’m s-so cold…”

The strength in your body was draining with every step you took; you were ready to collapse.

“I know, but you gotta keep your eyes open a little longer. We need to get you up these stairs. Then we’re home free.”

You didn’t protest as she brought you closer, inching up each step carefully in order to not strain yourself. Your legs ached with every step, persevering to make it all the way.

The last step up the top stair drained the last of your stamina, evident by the way your fingers throbbed with each beat of your heart. You were out of it more intensely than when you had been outside. Your whole body was sensitive with some form of pain you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Tess led you down the short hallway, stopping in front of her door. She fumbled with her keys, although the jingling chain sounded more like glass breaking in your head. The door flew open, and she brought you inside, tossing your pack to the side while tossing her keys in another direction.

“Alright, let’s set you down on the couch. Should be more comfortable than the damn ground.” Tess scoffed as she brought you over, keeping an eye on your limp. She turned you to the right, your bad arm on the outside of the couch as you were lowered down onto the cushions. When your feet were finally off the ground and your back rested against the pillows, it made a world of a difference.

“Fuck… I’m so tired. Everything hurts.” You stifled a groan, but Tess saw how much pain you were in. Your eyes scrunched together every time you tried to move and there were multiple patches of blood seeping through your shirt.

“I know. But I can’t leave your shoulder the way it is.”

“My shoulder?” You hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about, your arms felt fine.

No, it’s definitely the shock you’re in.

“It’s dislocated. Pretty swollen already, you must be in shock. And I already told you that I’d have to pop it back in. Before we left, you don’t remember?”

“No…” You mumbled, trying to recall; your memory was so groggy; you couldn’t remember half the day.

“Shit, you probably have a concussion too.” Tess reached to the back of her jeans, pulling out the same rag as before. “But I’ve gotta set your shoulder before it’s permanently damaged. It’s probably been way too long already.”

“How d’you know all this? Were you a doctor or something? Before?” Tess turned to face you, and you were able to focus on the features of her face for a moment. Her eyes were a light hazel color, and you could see little strands of grey peeking through her light brown hair.

“Or something… I did a lot to survive after the outbreak. Learned a lot more to survive the hard times.” Her words trailed off, and she went to grab something from another part of the room. Tess had collected an old shirt of hers, and came back over to you.

“Okay, so… I’m not good with pain clearly. Hope you still have that rag. Cause I’m gonna yell… or pass out. Either way, it’s gonna hurt a shit ton, and I’m gonna need it.”

Without a doubt, Tess pulled the rag from her back pocket for you.

“Got it right here. Kept it out of my pack cause I knew you’d need it again. This is gonna hurt a lot more than just some pressure on your cut.” She began tying the t-shirt together in a specific way, but you weren’t sure what she was doing with it.

“Shit. I know… I know. Just do it.” You groaned, feeling a slight tingling sensation in your left hand shooting upwards to your shoulder.

Tess set the now tied shirt onto the floor, as she kneeled down next to you. With one hand, she held the rag up to your mouth, and you bit down on it. Among the various other pains in your body, your shoulder was the worst of all. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself enough, Tess met your eye once she had leaned down in front of you.

“Ready?”

Wordlessly, you nodded your head. You were trying to keep calm, but the shock was wearing off and your pain came flooding back. One of Tess’s hands grasped your forearm, though you could barely feel her grip.

“Okay. One, two…”

Crack went your shoulder back into its socket with one swift motion. Just as she thought, you went groaning into the rag once again. Tess took her hands away and grabbed the makeshift sling she had tied together earlier.

“Does that feel better?” She asked, watching you spit out the rag. You took another deep breath in and out, surveying the current feeling in your arm.

“Yeah.” You weren’t sure if you believed it yourself, but for now you decided to. “Pain’s still there, but it definitely feels different. Better than before.”

“Good. Here, you’ve gotta wear your arm in this sling while it heals.” Tess lifted the tied up sling over your head, and it slipped on easily on once she had it situated the right way.

“Could I get those pills now? The idea of any kind of grace from the amount of pain I was just in sounds like a dream.” You tried to laugh, but a cough came up instead.

“Yeah. I’ve got Oxy, Hydro, Morphine…” She trailed off, not even knowing if you knew what she was talking about.

“Honestly, whatever you think will be best. I honestly don’t know anything about dosages very well, and I trust you. Besides, I just wanna knock out for the night. I’m fucking exhausted.” Your words slurred a bit, due to your swollen lip, but Tess heard you well enough.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Instead of trying to keep your eyes open, you shut them again in an attempt to alleviate the pain in your head, but it pounded nonstop. You listened to Tess’s boots on the wooden floor walking around to ground yourself. A couple minutes later, she returned to where you lay on the couch.

You peeked your eyes open, and she’d crouched down with two pills in one hand and a cup of water in the other.

“Got you water to wash it down with, if you want.” Her cupped hand held two of the white pills and you raised your good arm to grab them. Patient as she was, you moved slowly.

There was no indication of any burdensome look on her face, which was odd– no one had ever been this kind to you before. You didn’t know how to feel about it.

Slipping the pills between your lips, you grabbed for the cup of water. It began to slip out of your hand the minute Tess loosened her grip.

“Here, let me. You’re gonna be really weak for a while, so just close your eyes and relax.” She said, to which she brought the cup to your lips with no hesitation.

“Now, while those pills kick in, I’ll see what I can do for your gashes and other injuries. All I want you to focus on is getting some sleep. You’re safe. I promise.” She touched your hand softly, then stood up and walked off to leave you space to rest.

Once you closed your eyes, you felt the exhaustion wash over you, though it finally felt good to rest again. A few minutes passed, and the groggy effect of the pills began to set in. You were out in no time.

In the meantime, Tess darted back and forth gathering supplies to fix you up; she’d sterilized a needle and thread to stitch up your leg, and took the last of her ace bandages out from her pack to use for your ankle. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the countertop, and brought what she needed over to you, couchside.

Before Tess took the needle and thread between her fingers, she cut away the area of denim that was ripped from your gash.

“Sorry, kid. I’ll get you some new pants.” To be fair, those jeans of yours were filthy with dirt and muck stains you’d never be able to wash out. Not to mention the blood that spread had well enough to become a large patch. She attempted to wipe up the dried viscera around your cut best she could, dabbing with the alcohol lightly to sanitize it. She’d counted on you being unconscious from the pills to start stitching up your gash. Hands steady, she looped the needle and thread through your cut, pulling it closed with each tie.

Though it wasn’t the most ideal situation for something like this, Tess had the experience. Stitching up cut after cut on the road for god knows how long, trying to keep moving forward, but somehow someone always got hurt. People kept dying, or turning– and that wasn’t even the worst part. Upon making it to Boston, she learned what it was to be calm under situations like this. To become cold. It got the best of her, more often than not; any idea of the old her was lost to dreams of the world before. She never looked back, never slowed down, never took even a moment for herself. Her routine was based strictly around finding the best way to get by in the QZ. The constant eye of FEDRA’s guards and firefly bombings were enough, let alone the mile-long lines for rations that were barely ever in. It was too much to subject herself to being controlled by an invasive military, especially after all she’d done to survive. Each person Tess left behind etched a sliver of her humanity off, chipping away the heartfulness she once carried with pride.

Save who you can save, the last words whispered to her by someone that sacrificed themselves so she could make it to Boston. Everything blurred together sometime after getting admitted into the city; by then, she’d worn down that kind version of herself into the ground. Possibly that same place where she heard those words before. Quickly, she gained a reputation with Joel by her side in the smuggling business of the zone. It paid well– better than hard labor all day for a cruel amount of flimsy ration cards, just to repeat the same thing over the next day. There was a respectable line Tess drew between the things she’d done in the name of survival, and things she strongly disliked doing.

Tess’s time in the QZ had only reinforced that rigid outer shell of hers, confident the softer, weaker person inside her was left behind for good.

She’d almost made it through the day without finding any trouble, but her path through the streets was detoured by FEDRA vehicles and it happened to be the quickest route back to her place. Tess’s steps were quick, aiming to make a b-line straight back.

Then her eyes caught the image of your thoroughly beaten self, and attempted to shut down the itch in the back of her throat she couldn’t quite scratch.

Just keep walking, she’d told herself. But her subconscious knew better. Then those words echoed lightly through her head.

Tess, save who you can save…

“Shit…”

She thought she’d forgotten them all. But time never does. Those poor souls lost to hordes of runners, clickers, stalkers– each one shoved down so deep inside, and the outside shell of her was simple glass.

Keep walking, just keep walking…. No–

She truly tried to keep going, but each step gnawed into her further. Remembrance of the ones she’d lost shattered the glass holding her back, and glued her feet to the ground in place. A quick curse had Tess looking back over her right shoulder, catching a glimpse of your unmoving body. She’d figured if this were a trap, others would’ve already surrounded her.

A deep sigh came from her exhale of a tightly held breath; her heart pounding against the inside of her chest, as if something about to burst. Any second thought of moving further had vanished, her feet pivoting against the concrete, toward the stagnant body lying soundless against the brick wall.

Darkness swallowed every corner of that alley; Tess was fortunate to even have seen you at all.

It wasn’t often she found herself stopping for anyone that needed help, let alone in the QZ. Underneath the swollen and crimson stained injuries, she saw a young individual subdued and unconscious from their injuries. That was the moment she’d called out to you.

Tess shook those pre-Boston nightmares from her mind, putting all of her focus onto fixing up your ankle. With the discoloration of bruises that covered your ankle, it baffled her how you were even able to trek as far as you had gone. Her eyebrows furrowed relentlessly, each one of your injuries more surprising than the last.

“Jesus, kid. What the hell did you get yourself into?” She muttered to herself, before grabbing the roll of bandages from her pack. Tess was so focused on getting your ankle wrapped, that she hadn’t heard the creak of the wooden floor from behind her.

“Tess… what’re you doin’?”

Unbothered by the voice, her hands kept working. Though, she knew she’d woken her roommate from his slumber. Joel Miller hadn’t thought this was what he’d be seeing at almost two in the morning.

“Wrapping an ankle, the hell do you think I’m doing?”

“Tess. who the fuck is this?” By the tone of his voice, she knew he was pissed. She dare not poke the bear this late.

“It’s uh… well, no. I don’t know. They couldn’t speak when I found them.” She’d finished securing the bandage around your ankle, and placed it back down on the couch.

“Do you even know their name?” Joel stepped towards Tess, his brow furrowed.

“Joel… they were lying beat up and bloody in an alley. I wasn’t gonna take the chance and leave them there to die.” She reached for the other pillow on the couch, and placed it delicately for your ankle to rest on.

“Well, did you even check their pack for weapons?”

Tess huffed a breath, and stood up straight, turning to the man.

“I was a little preoccupied making sure they weren’t bleeding out. Besides, they didn’t have any on their body. But if you insist…”

She took the moment now to move towards your pack she’d thrown into a corner earlier, taking out a notebook, some ration cards, and a couple bags of pills.

“What the fuck? Tess, this could be a setup.” Joel muttered, the tone of his voice unsettled by the situation.

“What? No. No fucking way, Joel. I’m telling you, they would’ve died out there if it wasn’t for me.”

“You’ve gotta stop tryin’ to save people that ain’t worth it. That’s how we’re still alive, why we’re here and the dead ain’t.”

“No, I don’t believe you. They’re unconscious and didn’t even see you, by the way. I think you’re fine.” Tess shook her head while she spoke.

“Well, it’s our business that goes to shit if you’re wrong.” Joel spat, beginning to walk back to his door.

“I don’t really give a shit. Not tonight. What I do care about is making sure this person stays alive. I couldn’t care less about distributing pills to junkies.”

She did care about the smuggling, just not as much as she did about keeping you alive for the night.

“Yeah, whatever.”

His door shut and locked, leaving Tess alone with you for the night. She collected herself after that conversation, preparing anything she might need throughout the night to treat you. Just in case.

Her muscles finally relaxed the minute she’d sat down in a chair adjacent to her couch. While she draped a blanket over her legs, Tess took one last look at you, studying your rising chest and calm features.

You’re gonna be alright.

Beams of sunlight painted the walls with a glowing warmth, cast across the older woman’s skin. Morning broke early, waking Tess before either of the habitants that resided in the Boston apartment. She’d always been a light sleeper, despite that it was loud most hours in the walls of the QZ. Living in Detroit her whole life had certainly accustomed her to it.

Her hazel eyes opened against the light, finding themselves staring upwards at the ceiling. Tess had woken up several times throughout the night, which had become a normal occurrence for her. Events from last night flashed through her mind as she rose from her slumber. Her slumped position resulted with an uncomfortable spot in her neck from the chair she’d been in all night. Tess sat up as best she could, grasping the nape of her neck for comfort. No matter how many times she tried to get rid of the pain, nothing relieved her. Defeated by the lack of sleep, she rose from the chair and looked over at you still asleep on the couch.

Rays of sunlight happened to catch right over your face, peeking through the blinds as they awoke you from rest. Yesterday had become a blur quicker than light.

Where am I? What happened to me? It hurts everywhere…

You shifted lightly with a groan, eyes still closed. A headache pinged at the sides of your temples, and you took a sharp breath out of reflex. You weren’t able to move your body freely; exhaustion had drained you enough. Out of the blue, you heard a female voice echoing in your ears. Your one good eye opened, and it took a minute to adjust to the light, along with any blurriness.

“Hey, you with me?” Her voice called out to you, unintelligible at first, but once you focused on the words more, you understood.

“Where… where am I?” You mumbled, attempting to lift yourself up. You didn’t know what was worse; not knowing where you were, or not being able to lift your body normally.

“Don’t try to sit up. You’re safe, but you’re too weak to sit up right now. I saved you last night, patched you up. Remember? My name’s Tess.”

“Not really…” you sighed, accepting your weakened state.

Tess knew it would take more than just one night to gain your trust; she also knew Joel wouldn’t be as patient. She crouched down by the side of the couch where you were, getting closer to make sure you heard her.

“So, I pulled you out of that alley last night, patched you up and kept you safe the past twelve hours. I think that warrants me your name.”

Your eyes glanced over her figure, the image of Tess still fuzzy. Considering all the factors, and the fact that you were still alive, you gave in and told her your name. Tess nodded contently and spoke again.

“Well, you probably have a concussion. But I cleaned and bandaged up everything else I could. Your left arm was dislocated, but I popped it back in last night. That’s why it’s in the sling. Don’t try to move it much, it’ll take a while to heal. As for your ankle, it’s twisted pretty bad. Bruised, too. You’re gonna be off your feet for a while.” Surveying the bumps and bruises you’d received, she set other supplies to the side on the floor.

You glanced down at your body, pulling back the blanket over your legs to find your stained jeans and the stitched up gash, with other bandaging around your ankle.

“You saved me? And bandaged me up?” You speak clearly for the first time, and Tess stopped in her movement.

“Yeah. You’re lucky to be alive. I wasn’t gonna let you die out there.”

“What..” you swallowed, “What happened to me?”

“From the looks of it, you were on the bad side of a shitty deal gone wrong. Like I said, you’re lucky to be alive.” Her tone was calm, and impressive to see in a situation that was anything but.

“You went through my pack?”

“I found you in an alley. Almost dead. Can you blame me?”

“Guess not…” you said, sighing and trying to sit up. With one arm in a sling, you were having trouble moving without anything hurting. The pills were wearing off little by little as time passed.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that. You’re gonna be couch bound for a while.”

“What? No way. I need to… I have business and shit I need to get done–”

“Don’t play coy. We know you’re a smuggler.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, pacing in small circles.

“Well, you went through my bag. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. Wait, did you say we?”

Before Tess could respond, a gray haired man emerged from behind her, jutting into the conversation.

“You’re real cocky for someone that almost ended up dead from one of your clients. For all I know, this whole thing is a setup for you to rob us, kill us, or somethin’ else. But I ain’t gonna take that chance. Not now, not ever. Are we clear?” His southern accent came out as he spoke, and it wasn’t often you heard a voice like his among the Boston streets. It was intimidating enough; you didn’t trust him.

“Yeah– okay, dude. Jesus, I don’t even know who you are. I didn’t know you guys were smugglers!” your voice strained while you lift your arm to gesture.

“Joel, I was the one that brought them here. Like you said, this is on me. And I’ve got it. Walk it off, Texas.”

The man named Joel walked backwards, dark eyes trained on you until the moment he turned around and left. He shut the front door in haste.

“Is he always that tense?” You ask, taking a deep breath.

“No. It’s not every day I bring anyone back to this apartment. Let alone someone who looked half dead, like yourself. No offense.”

“Yeah… Why did you save me, by the way? You could’ve just left me there. But you didn’t.”

“I told you… I wasn’t going to let you die. I thought you were dead at first, but I took the chance and saved your damn life. Is that what you wanna hear?” Your vision was still a little blurry, but you could focus on the woman’s features much more easily up close. You finally made out the face of your savior, Tess was a woman with light brown hair, longer than her shoulders but not too long. Her eyes were green, and there were lines on her face from time passing. With her stern voice, you wouldn’t know her face would look as calm.

“Well, thank you.” You admitted, half ashamed you even thought about staying there to die in the first place.

“You’re welcome.”

Just as the silence settled, your body became aware of every injury you’d received. A sound of discomfort slipped past your lips, furrowing your eyebrows together.

“Are you in pain? What hurts?” Tess began looking over the stitches she’d done the night before.

With a groan, you replied, “Everything…”

“Alright, I can give you a couple more pills for the pain. Uh wait– do you need to use the bathroom? I assume it’s been a while…”

“Oh, yeah. I think in my near death I’d been.. You know, going without the ability to control it.”

“Right… Well, I can get you a clean pair of clothes, but it won’t do any good if you’re wearing your own body fluids. Do you– would you like a bath?”

Immediately insecure, you realized how filthy you must’ve become, spending most of yesterday soaked in your own blood and urine. Quickly, you nodded while looking down, shame washing over you.

“Okay, Joel’s not gonna be back for a few hours. I can spare you some new clothes and underwear, but your boots I can just clean off later. I’ll re-wrap your injuries after, too. For now, we’ve gotta get you cleaned up.”

She lifted you from the couch dutifully and slung you over her shoulder to head towards the bathroom. Tess recognized your sounds of discomfort, a string of sharp breaths and muffled groans you thought she didn’t hear.

“Almost there. Here we go.” Her hip pushed the door open, sitting you on the chair next to the tub. Once the water was on and flowing, Tess found the right temperature and began filling the tub. She made her way back to you, and began to untie your boots, placing them off to the side. She took off your button down shirt, which revealed more black and blue bruising across your back and shoulder. You hissed a breath as she pulled the sleeve down off your left arm. Before moving further, Tess looked toward you with kind eyes.

“It’s okay. Don’t feel ashamed. It’s just hard now. But you’ll be alright… Can I continue?” Her hand rested on your good shoulder patiently. You nodded silently, realizing the intimacy of the situation and looked down at the floor.

Slowly, cautiously, and gently, she undressed you while the tub filled beside you both. Not only was your body covered in bruises and scrapes, but dried blood and other viscera had caked on a few layers. The bandages from last night were discarded to the side, fresh ones in the other room for when you were clean. She saw your reaction as you entered the water, your face contorted in both pain and pleasure while you sat. The warmth of the liquid against your torso was another level of soothing, flooding your skin with goosebumps and washing off some of the dried blood upon submerging yourself into the tub. Tess grabbed a washcloth and bar of soap, lathering it up before wiping it across your back.

“I don’t know how to thank you. This is…”

“You don’t have to say anything. And you don’t have to thank me. Please– please don’t thank me.” Tess knew this wouldn’t make up for the numerous people she’d left behind– left to die so she could persevere ahead. But all she had to do was goddamn try.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, sighing while she kept cleaning off your body. Her hands were soft against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Though she was doing something as intimate as washing you, it didn’t bother you as much as it would have on any other occasion. She carefully avoided running over your scrapes and other open wounds, yet still washing them lightly with the soap and water. Before long, the water had become a dark brown color from how much had washed off of you. Tess began to drain the tub, keeping the faucet running as it drained.

“Mind if I wash your hair?”

It was just a simple question, but it sparked your anxiety a bit more than when she undressed you earlier.

“Uh.. sure.”

Tess washed out the tub with a bucket while you sat in it. She lathered some shampoo between her palms, rubbing it across your scalp with gentle fingers.

You couldn’t deny, Tess’s hands were calloused and rough, but they felt like heaven against your scalp. Rubbing the pads of her fingers into your head was somehow better than all the times you’d done it yourself. Eyebrows furrowed against the sensation, and you groaned lowly. You somehow alerted Tess, wondering if she’d pressed too firmly on your head.

“What happened? Does it hurt? Sorry if I’m going too hard–”

“No, it’s great. Keep going.” You breathed.

“Okay..” she chuckled a bit before continuing, then used the bucket to wash the rest out from your locks before applying conditioner. One of her hands grabbed the brush on the floor, slowly untangling the mess of knots in your hair. The warm water calmed you like nothing you’d experienced before, at least not since after the world fell. Appreciation flowed through you, and the comfortable silence reinforced that all the more. It was a safe feeling, one you shared with this kind, and beautiful woman. She’d washed the leftover soap and conditioner off your body, and began to towel dry your skin in a gentle manner.

“Here, wrap yourself in this. I’ll be right back with the clothes.” Quick footsteps brought her to the pile of clothes she’d attained over the months on the run. She’d returned to the bathroom with a few things in hand, and approached you. Carefully, she stood you from the tub and stepped back onto the floor while wiping the remaining water droplets off your back.

“Thanks..” you shivered a bit against the cold air, wanting to be clothed and back under the thick blanket. The socks she slipped over your feet helped warm you, while carefully slipping on the rest of her clothes. Tess even brought a spare sports bra for you to borrow for the time being. Something about the way she moved so calmly, spoke with such a soothing voice that made this whole situation seem lighter. On any other day, you’d be stressing about finding the right pills for a client or risking your life outside the walls. Her soft movements sparked something inside you with a new kind of warmth, and it almost atoned for everything you’d been through the past 12 hours.

Once you were dressed, Tess towel dried your hair and began to tie up another sling for your arm.

“When you’re back on the couch, I’m gonna put some ice on your ankle. It’ll help with the swelling and probably some of the pain.” You nodded silently, taken back constantly by her kindness.

“If you’re in pain, I could give you another dose of pain meds. But it depends on if you want to eat something beforehand. It’s been since yesterday since you ate anything, probably for the both of us. I can fix you something to eat, though.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You weren’t completely sure what you were doing here still, your mind foggy from the night before. The way your injuries burned and ached against one another had you aching for some kind of relief– any kind at this point. How you got yourself here, you weren’t sure of either.

Not much later, Tess came over with something suitable for you to eat, before giving you a couple more pills for the pain. Again you fell drowsy from the pain medication, resting the day away. With you resting calmly on the couch, Tess did her best to stay awake until Joel returned, running on less than five hours of sleep. It felt like ages before he came through the apartment door once again.

“Hey, can you… keep an eye on them, please… I barely got any shuteye last night.”

“I just got back–”

“Joel, please.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t hurt them, Miller. Seriously. Or I’ll hurt you.” She mumbled under her breath, trudging to the door.

“I’ve got it. Just go.”

With that, Tess collapsed on her mattress, not even bothering to pull the sheet over her, before drifting off to sleep the minute her eyelids fluttered shut.

On the couch, you woke to a silent morning; no movement could be heard amongst the apartment. Your eyelids fluttered open, turning your head to look for Tess; instead you were met with the dark eyes of Joel Miller. His figure sat across from you, adjusting the gun in his hand so you could see it well.

“You try anything funny, you get a bullet.” Joel raised his hand to gesture with the weapon. He noticed the bags under your eyes were dark and sunken in, making you appear more dead than alive at the moment, despite all the bandages.

“You wouldn’t shoot me here. It’d be too loud and soldiers would be here quicker than light.” You rasped, coughing lightly from your dry throat.

“Wanna bet?” He leaned in with a menacing glare. You kept eye contact with him as he began to stand, the intimidation not making a dent in you. It was enough to make Joel second guess his opinion of you for a moment.

“Joel, stand down.” Tess called from the other side of the room. You called her name from the couch, and she quickly replied.

“I’m here. Do you need anything?” She came into eyesight now, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and casually wearing a sweatshirt. Tess gave Joel a look, motioning for him to leave the room.

“Yeah. I need to get out of here and home.” Your eyes watched the older man get up, watching as Tess approached, “My client’s probably freaking the fuck out and wreaking havoc across the QZ looking for me.”

“About that…” She strolled over to where you were, taking a seat, “You need to tell me who did this to you.”

“What? N-No… I can’t. He’s my client. I can deal with him.” You shot up in your seat, groaning slightly.

“Oh right. Like that worked out so well last time?” Joel spoke, walking away. Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at what Tess was suggesting.

“Trust me, kid. You’ll thank me later.” She added.

“I’m already thanking you later. I’ll probably be owing you for the rest of my life.”

“No, kid–”

“Don’t call me kid. I’m grown. I can take care of myself.”

“Okay, you’re gonna have to prove it, then. You still need time to heal.” Tess insisted you lay down again, but her words flew in one ear and out the other.

“I need to not be couch bound and sleeping through the day! I need to have a life, some kind of life in this shit hole of a city! Don’t you get it?” Your voice was rising, straining against the irritation.

“I do, trust me. I do. It’s why we got into that business, too. But hun, you didn’t deserve what happened to you. I hope you know that. Now, I’d like to know…” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to look you in the eye.

“Let it go. It doesn’t matter!”

“Yes it does. Who did this to you?” Her voice spoke pointedly, holding strong eye contact with you. Your eyes closed for a second, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“His info is on the third page in my notebook. You’ll know it’s him cause his orders take up almost the whole fucking page.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as Tess stepped toward your pack, rummaging through it until she found the notepad. Pocketing it, she walked over to Joel’s door, ajar, and spoke.

“Texas, make our guest something to eat. I have some business to attend to.” She turned toward the door, exiting the apartment with your notebook in hand.

“Wait, Tess!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears; she was already down the hallway and gone. Once the man emerged from his bedroom, you shared a plain look as he made his way to the kitchen. Before reaching for the cupboard doors, he grabbed the bottle of amber liquor and poured some into a glass.

“Pour me a glass of that, please.”

“Are you even old enough?”

“Are you kidding? I’m 25. Now can you pour me a damn drink already?”

Silently, Joel rolled his eyes and poured some into a glass for you. It was his peace offering before he went back to find something for you to eat. You ended up sharing some soup and crackers with Joel for dinner, awaiting the older woman’s return afterwards.

An hour or two passed before Tess made her way back. You were resting on the couch when the door opened. She took a sharp breath in upon entering, and let the door slam behind her louder than usual. It gained your attention and Joel’s, looking toward the door. You heard her hiss a breath, while she shook out her fist.

“Shit, Tess. What did you do?” She walked further into the apartment, the light glimmering against the fresh blood across her lip.

“Took care of that client of yours.” She muffled a groan, stretching out her fist while her knuckles bled.

“Did you kill him? The fuck–” You began to try and stand on your good foot, but stumbled before you could get any closer to her.

“What? No, I didn’t kill him. Just taught him a lesson. That smug fucker. I don’t know why you did business with him. He’s a bad junkie. You never do business with a bad junkie.” She sat down near you again, noticing the empty whiskey glass nearby on the floor.

“He was my most frequent customer. Shady as hell, if I’m honest, he kinda scared me. That’s how I knew it was him when I got attacked.

“That’s naïve of you. Why would you ever do something that risky by yourself?”

“I… didn’t have anyone else who was willing to risk their lives sneaking around the QZ. So I said fuck it.”

“Well, I still think you’re a dumbass. You’re just lucky you’re staying out of the smuggling market for a while.”

“No, I told you I can’t. I need to–”

“You need to rest and heal. I swear to god, if I hear one more word about you getting on your feet before you’re a hundred percent, I swear I’ll chain you to the couch.”

“Jesus, fine. I won’t go back out there. Throw my entire business away just to wait till these injuries kill me in the middle of the night, I guess.”

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. The only reason I’m being an asshole about this is because I want you to survive. I didn’t pull you off the street to let you go back to that shitty situation.” Her words were honest, even if you didn’t believe them.

“Well, thanks. I guess.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” She shrugged your thanks off and went about her business.

The future weeks proved to be the longest haul you thought you’d ever been in. It consisted of a lot of reading, sleeping, and wishing you could be on your feet. You ended up asking Tess to take a trip to your place and retrieve some of your things; you were tired of having to put her out of her own clothes to wear. Plus it would just be more comfortable for you. Tess checked your injuries daily, reapplying bandages and cleaning on a steady schedule. She would not let you die from infections after doing all she could to save your life that night.

The two older individuals went about their days more regularly once you were out of the woods with all of your injuries. Tess helped you to and from the table so you could join them for meals, otherwise spending the day rereading old books and magazines while trying to find other things to do than just sit around and rot. You were grateful for Tess saving your life, but this healing process was a bitch.

Standing wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, especially having been off your feet for days on end. Much less the blood loss you’d experienced, it was humbling to not be able to get around on your own. Slowly as the first week passed, Tess helped you get back on your feet bit by bit. You had enough strength after another week to stand on your own.

One day, the smuggling duo was planning a run while surveying a map they’d drawn up. You nonchalantly watched, sitting in a chair neary. They hadn’t noticed you, until you mentioned a route they hadn’t heard of, and her attention turned to you, impressed with your knowledge and jotted the trail down for later.

“Wait, question. Do you guys know Robert?” Your arms crossed over your chest.

Both Joel and Tess turned towards you now, their eyes widened and faces grim.

“Why?” Joel asked with a stern voice.

“He’s one of the guys that uses that route. At least, his guys do. So be careful.”

“You’re telling me you used to run with Robert?”

“Only for a little. Seemed like he wanted more than just business… with me. But I got out of there before it was too late.” Tess scoffed, a smirk forming on her face.

“Tell you what. You wanna keep smuggling, you join us when you’re fully healed.”

Joel turned to her, but she shot him a look and turned back to the map silently.

“You’re sure?” You asked, sitting up.

“I’m sure. Not gonna let you put yourself in danger again when you could have us at your side.” She looked back down at the map and continued jotting in her notes.

“Okay, cool.” You smiled to yourself, thinking Tess didn’t see, but she glanced up for a moment after she heard your words. She noticed the eagerness in your eyes and felt her heart skip a beat.

So, it wasn’t all for nothing, you thought.

You weren’t given a second chance to live just to lose what got you through the days and weeks on your own. This gave you another opportunity to survive with individuals by your side; you wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Caring came far too easy for Tess. She'd seem cold on the outside, and sure, she was a reserved person. But to see you so overjoyed about being able to continue smuggling, she couldn’t help but have a little warm feeling in her chest.

She thought the first time would be the only time a spark would flicker inside her. But then you were laughing at something idiotic one night, and she felt it again. The tensions between you and Joel had broken– finally. For the first time in a while, Tess saw multiple things looking up: you were recovering on a steady pace, and on an even better note, becoming a friend to her. She read you books, mostly classics from what she’d traded for. Ultimately grateful, you listened intently to every word she read, while trying to not fall asleep from her soothing voice.

Under all the scratches and bruises, Tess saw your kindness and personality reveal with everyday that passed. She became privy to the way you saw the world with a gentle hand, reinforcing that spark in her chest. Yet that same spark came with guilt; she knew it wasn’t fair to fall for you after all you’d been through. She wasn’t sure if you’d ever trust someone like that again. So that spark was only kept as embers, in a lockbox on a very high, very dusty shelf in her mind.

Another week of healing went by, and you were finally able to stop wearing your arm in a sling. You spent the day traveling back to your place to grab some things you’d need for the next few days. Tess insisted you stay in the apartment with her and Joel while you healed. You hadn’t been home since the day you were attacked, other than the days Tess was kind enough to retrieve some things for you.

As of present day, you had gained the ability to walk on your ankle back after almost a month of being off it. The first thought in your head the morning of was that a trip outside the walls of the apartment. You also knew others might want to pay you a visit if you returned back by yourself, which is when you mentioned the idea to Tess.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not going alone. I’ll come with. When do we leave?”

“Right now.” You grinned at her with content before you went to grab your pack.

The two of you flew down the steps and out the door, Tess following behind you with caution. Your first step into the outside air was something you missed within almost a month of being indoors. While it wasn’t exactly sunny, the cool air was refreshing against your skin and differed greatly from the apartment.

“Don’t run off now.” the older woman muttered, shutting the door behind her. Just from the way you moved, Tess could tell you were in need of something like this. You looked around at the same old streets of the QZ like it was something completely new. She felt lucky to be the one seeing this part of you, the healed and healthy part.

“C’mon, I’ll lead the way.” You turned back to her, noticing her hazel eyes trained in your direction, then shifted to the path in front of you. A few minutes of walking passed, and you’d picked up some pairs of eyes looking your way from people on the surrounding streets. It was more of a side eye glance than a stare, but still you noticed it. After being terrified to leave the four walls of the apartment, being perceived was a bit more intimidating than you thought it’d be. You slowed your steps, letting Tess catch up with you.

“Um, Tess?” You mumbled, glancing back towards her.

“What’s up?”

“All these people keep staring...”

Tess surveyed the area before noticing something you hadn’t, and she chuckled.

“They’re not looking at you, they’re staring at me.” You did a quick glance back and forth, fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Let’s keep going.” You turned back after nodding to her, hiding the tiny smile that snuck its way onto your lips. It was almost like walking with a scary dog at your side, except said scary dog was the taller woman trailing behind you.

From the way multiple pairs of eyes shot in her direction, some glazed over, some didn’t notice as you passed by. Other pairs of eyes widened as they fell on the figure of the woman behind you. You don’t know how she’s done it, but Tess Servopolous has the Boston QZ wrapped around her finger. It seemed everyone–including Joel Miller himself– had themselves under her spell. They did whatever she wanted the moment she asked. There was no second guessing her, and when she said to do something, you were damn well to do it. You learned the hard way during your healing process, stubborn and complaining that you couldn’t get around on your own.

One night when you were bickering, she’d tried to convince you that you weren’t ready to try and walk on your bad ankle yet. Stubborn and impatient, you kept talking back to her.

“Don’t even try to get up.”

You’d been overstressing yourself about getting back on your feet, so as to find another way to keep smuggling.

“Watch me.” You had hoisted yourself off the couch halfway, then used the last of your stamina to pull yourself the rest of the way up. The first step you took was with your good foot, but the minute you stepped with the other, you groaned and stumbled from the pain, landing on the ground.

“I told you…” Tess was at your side before you could attempt to move yourself back to the couch.

Gentle and slow, her hands around your body were familiar as if you’d known them to be the hands of a long time lover. They were just Tess’s hands, but to you, they couldn’t hurt or kill any more than they could wash over your injuries with a soft touch. When you got a better look at her for the first time, you saw the kindness in her eyes, and her heart in the actions she took towards you.

Common human decency was to take care of someone injured or sick, but you felt something different in the way she tended to you. It was in the way she used her hand to lift up your chin to check how your cuts were healing. Especially when she inspected the one on your lip for a bit too long, claiming it was healing fast and that you shouldn’t try to open it again. All you could hear when she spoke was your own heart beating in your ears, lost in the hazel of her eyes. She’d even found you a cane, but you paid it no mind and kept letting her help you instead.

“I’d hate to feel like a burden…”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind taking care of you.” A warmth flushed through your cheeks when her words hit your ears.

You could tell somewhere deep down, Tess used to care for people as easy as breathing. From the way she knew so much about patching others up, she wanted to keep people going, no matter the circumstances, you knew she cared much more than she showed.

Being on your feet again, outside those same bland apartment walls brought a new feeling you weren’t able to identify. It was different not walking alone for once in the streets, always having to glance over your shoulder just in case. Now when you looked over your shoulder, you saw Tess, and you hoped she’d stay in your life for longer than just when you were healing from your injuries. She meant too much to you to just forget about after she’d been by your side the whole time.

The route to your apartment wasn’t far from where Tess lived, and you were there within no time. It was a bit overwhelming once you came up to the door, fidgeting with the keyring until it clicked into the lock.

“Well, here we are.” You opened the door, stepping into the stale air of your place. Things were as you’d left them, with a few odds and ends out of order from when Tess had stopped by for some of your toiletries. All your knickknacks were scattered about, some across the countertops and any spare surface you could find. Some, if not most, were collected on the road, and others were from your home when you first fled.

“Nice place you got here.”

“You should know, being the only person to be here besides me in the past few weeks.” you chuckle, shoving your keys back in your jeans pocket. They actually happened to be Tess’s, but you couldn’t tell the difference anymore. She didn’t mind either.

She’d been contemplating a lot on the walk over, worried about what might happen when you were fully healed. Tess knew there was a problem when her heart warmed at the sight of you sleeping peacefully on the couch, then remembered what you’d been through and wanted to burn the whole QZ down.

It was almost gone when you started to heal, until she couldn’t sleep thinking about what could happen to you when you went back out there. A wave of restlessness washed over her, and it’d been very hard to accept the fact that you could end up right back where she found you.

“Guess you’re right.” Tess muttered, stepping into the cool air of the apartment.

“I’ll be a minute, gonna grab some clothes and then we can head back.” You spoke, her eyes trailing down your back as you walked into the other room. Silently, she moved about the main room, her eyes catching all the different little objects around the space. Tess didn’t know how you had time to collect all these different things– from shells to rocks to other small toys and charms that lay about– there was no shortage of oddities. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of your open bedroom door. Timidly, she peeked inside to see you rustling through a few drawers and shoving clothes into a backpack.

“Nice… room. Cozy.” You glanced up at her for a moment while folding the clothes to put in your bag.

“Thanks, I tried to make it as home-y as possible. Makes up for the whole quarantine zone thing.”

“I get it.” Tess chewed the inside of her lip nervously, stepping into the room slightly, leaning one of her arms against the doorframe.

“Do you? That place of yours is barely decorated.” You snarked, trying to cover up how aware you were of how domestic she looked standing in your bedroom doorway. She was perfect with the light beams of sunlight peeking over her shoulder.

“Guess stuff like that doesn’t really matter to me.”

But she wanted it to matter; she wanted it to matter to her so desperately. For you, she’d do anything– put up with whatever you threw at her, because she cared. There wasn’t a way to tell when Tess noticed this fire burning inside her, lit aflame by your out righteousness.

She pined to see reminders of you every day when she wakes up. To see you when she opened her eyes in the morning. You’d simply been indented into her mind, and refused to give way.

“Y’know, you’re still welcome at my place after you get back on your feet. Seriously. My place is yours.” Tess took a step into your room nervously.

“Oh, well thanks. That means a lot. I mean… I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me. It’s not like we won’t see each other ever again. I’ll probably spend most nights at your place when we start working together.”

I would never want to stop coming around you either way…

On the instance of becoming friends with the woman who saved your life, it occurred to you quite rapidly that the feelings you had for her weren’t just appreciation. It shouldn’t have been that easy to realize you wanted her… to be entranced with her in a way so distracting. Some days you weren’t sure if you were actually feeling better on account of listening to every groove of her voice streak through your mind with no return. You could hardly believe she was standing in your apartment as of today, let alone sharing a space so intimate as your bedroom.

“Besides… It's your apartment. You must both want your respective space back.”

Tess sighed, masking the pit in her stomach when she thought about you on your own again. God forbid you ended up right where she found you; that would be a gut wrenching nightmare. It was already hard enough seeing you beaten up and barely hanging on to life. To even ponder the idea that it could happen again? She’d take absolutely no chances.

Getting protective when you’ve known them for three weeks, Tess? Pretty weak to let someone in while you couldn’t protect the rest of them.

“Even when you do start working with us, you’ll be right between me and Joel. That way you’ll always have one of us on your six, watching your back. We’ll have your back.” She started with a small smile, while simultaneously ignoring the voice in her head. You met her eye and nodded with a smile, zipping your bag shut.

“Very considerate of you, Tess. But if you don’t teach me how to hold my own, I’ll start practicing on Joel.” You slung your bag across your shoulder, watching as Tess followed you out.

“Oh, I’ll definitely teach you. Joel will just have to be fine with being the dummy.” She followed with a chuckle, taking another look at the interior of your bedroom like she would never see it again.

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll still be on your couch tonight.” You said, before walking out the door and locking it behind Tess.

The only epiphany Tess had that day was that she never wanted you to leave. Never wanted to lose sight of you, never wanted to be without you, could never even imagine losing you. Tess had stuffed all those warm feelings down in a tight little box that sat on a dusty shelf in the back of her mind. When she would revisit the idea of actually having a chance with you, she was unsure. But she’d do her damndest in the meantime to shove away those pesky butterflies in her stomach.

It would be a long, long time before she revisited that box again.

a/n: i linked it at the top but i will link it here as well, this is a prequel to another one of my fics called long long time. You can find that fic here and all my other tess fics here!

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devnmon · 1 year

Text

Tell it To the Frogs

Chapter Six: Written in My Stars

gif by @userpascals

Summary: Daryl hunts squirrel and a deer in the forest, staying awake till morning deep in the woods. As he returns to camp, he finds the deer he'd been tracking gnawed on by a walker. He receives more upsetting news when he gets back to camp. It's only a matter of time before he's rushing to the playing field.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter Warnings: description of walkers/dead animals, typical twd gore scenes and mentions

wc: 7k

A/n: Wow I didn't realize this chapter would be so much longer than the first couple... This one is based on episode 3 of TWD, if u know u know. Either way I hope you all enjoy & happy reading!

Though Daryl had no sense of time by a clock these days, he could figure out how many hours of daylight he had left just by using his fingers and the position of the sun in the sky. It's one of the first skills daryl forced himself to learn from one of Merle's old survival textbooks, engraining it in his brain when he was young, in case he ever got lost.

It was about noon now, as the sun's light shone brightly across the leaves grown on the very tops of the trees, covering the forest floor in a cool shade. Daryl appreciated the difference in air temperature, the back of his neck already burnt from days before.

Amongst the trees and wild animals was where daryl truly enjoyed his alone time. Though he was attempting to focus his mind and body on the hunt, he couldn't help but notice how much he wished you'd been there to keep him company. Maybe one day you'd like to do that with him, if he ever got lucky enough.

Daryl strolled amongst the high grass, enjoying the peace but also wishing you were at his side, telling a joke or talking about how terrible his brother is. He scratched his head awkwardly at how much his thoughts of you bombarded the ones he was trying to have about the hunt he was on.

Pulling himself back to concentrate on the task at hand, he realized the forest he inhabited at the moment might be home to other unfriendly dead folks. Since his days of hunting with Merle, Daryl has been able to tell the difference between the sounds of animal, human, and now, walker tracks. It was another key aspect of hunting he picked up in order to learn the skills of hunting proficiently.

Daryl currently hiked up a steep hill that overlooked a section of the forest grounds with strong visibility. He scanned the area, squatting at the top and looking down below. His eyes studied the below ground, watching for any animals that could be rustling about in the surrounding areas. He peers through the scope of his crossbow, singling in on a large bush on the right side of the open area.

He'd noticed the leaves shake a minute or so ago, and focused in on it, waiting to see if anything made its way into the open. Once the leaves rustled again, he lightly gasped to himself, watching as the animal finally showed itself.

Appearing out of the wood was a large deer, one he'd been searching the forest to bring back for the group. Daryl's eyes widened as the opportunity washed over him, peering through the scope of his bow. The deer trembled in place, almost as if it had been spooked by something before coming into the clearing.

He'd been seconds away from plunging an arrow through the deer's body, when the bush it stood in front of rustled once more. The deer reacted strikingly, as it took off running through the open forest area. he hadn't realized within the deer getting scared off that he shot the arrow into the its backside.

To try and catch up with it before he lost the animal within the thicker part of the woods, Daryl trampled down the hill he'd been observing from as carefully as he was able to, without completely sliding down it. Passing by the same area in which he'd watched the deer exit from, his bow stayed drawn in order to catch (or put down) whatever came from the thick brush next.

Daryl crouched behind a lower part of the forest, as the bush rustled intensely, before the shape of something emerging from it came into the light. He watched as a walker stumbled out from the bush, realizing it was the thing chasing the deer.

"Damn.." He muttered lowly, standing up slightly to grab its attention. The walker groaned endlessly, his finger released the trigger as it turned to face him, arrow plunging through its skull and toppling to the ground.

"Let's hope ya don't have any friends taggin' along behind.." He muttered again, pulling his arrow from the walker's skull and heading off in the opposite direction to find the deer.

After about a half hour of exploration passed as he searched the area he'd seen the deer head through, deciding then that he'd just have to be more patient.

Instead of him finding the deer, he was going to let the deer find him.

Daryl took hold of all the energy brewing inside him for this hunt and put it into hunting squirrel in the meantime. Every time he came out here to hunt was when he felt the most like himself. He didn't understand it, but he guessed it was because he liked to be alone. Daryl was always good at catching squirrel, matter of fact it was his favorite thing to catch. Not really his favorite thing to eat though, he much rather preferred venison over squirrel. But it didn't matter that much to him, after all it was slim pickings in the forest and world these days. There were times where was grateful to be able to catch anything at all to hold him over during the nights.

Daryl always planned his hunts; whether it be when he was going, how long he was going to be out for, what he was going to catch, how much of it he was going to catch, or what portion he was going to keep for himself, he really took inventory with these kinds of things.

Considering the close knit group at camp were the only ones he'd have to provide for, he decided on about 10 squirrels, adding five extra to keep for himself. With that amount of meat, he would have provided enough food to last a week, probably longer if the camp's rations were a little more controlled.

By the time Daryl knew he had about three hours of sunlight left, he'd caught half of the squirrels he needed to meet his quota, then ended up impaling two of them on one arrow.

"That's a damn lucky shot.." Daryl muttered as he chuckled to himself, plucking the arrow from the tree it shot into.

He'd been tying the squirrels onto a string from a while ago, and each one he caught from then on ended up there too. as for now he was at ten, but with the lack of movement in the trees and on the forest floor, Daryl would have to hit his quota of squirrels by tomorrow. Though he did snag about two more before the sun went fully down.

Daryl wished he'd caught that deer so he could get back to camp earlier than he'd expected. He decided to settle down and make a campfire to cook his squirrel.

Since Daryl grew up in the woods half of his childhood, he'd always have an easy and enjoyable time cooking his food over the warmth of a campfire. At this moment, he sat on the stump of a log after tying off a small area for his camp with wires and tin cans in case of walkers or stray animals. He sat with a large piece of wood in his hand, cutting it into a tinder stick. They were used, he read in Merle's survival textbook once again, for starting campfires, ones that lasted long, burning strong and well. then he'd collected some dry leaves and branches from the ground, and put his soon-to-be-lit campfire together.

Soon enough, the flames burned brightly in front of the hunter's face, warming him within the cool evening air. He removed two of the squirrels for preparation, one for now and one for later on in the night.

Guess I'll just have to catch more squirrel before I go back to camp...

Though his quota had gone up again, he was sure there would be simple early-morning catches for him to replace the two he was sacrificing tonight.

Daryl hadn't planned on sleeping during this hunt, since there wasn't a place to stay, plus it was just easier for him to stay awake until his outing was finished. On previous hunts of his, there were times he'd fall asleep from closing his eyes for the slightest moment, the next thing he knew, hours passed and the sun had risen.

But that was back in the old world, when there was no imminent possibility of life-and-death danger roaming the woods at any point in time. Though, it's not like Daryl got a normal amount of sleep on a normal-person basis, anyways.

So, Daryl cooked his food as he would any other time, adding some of the ingredients still in his pack from when he'd been on the road. He thought it was funny, how fast life in this world moves. Not even three days ago he was on a much different path, pondering if each day was going to be their last. Thankfully, that hadn't been true. By some luck, he'd found people who were kind enough to give him and his brother a chance to survive.

They had made it alright so far, why not keep going?

That night, Daryl stayed at the campsite well after he'd finished his first squirrel. Keeping the embers of his fire burning ever so slightly was how he spent his time, to have a tiny sliver of light and warmth amongst the chilled night sky. Owls and other nocturnal animals echoed in the dark, pitter patter of smaller woodland animals scurrying across the forest floor.

Daryl wasn't startled by these noises, since he knew the difference between each pair of scurrying feet patterns rustling the surrounded brush he'd been intently concentrating on.

It was silent for a while before it dawned on him that he'd spent what felt like forever hunched over the lingering warmth of embers burning out into ash, any light and heat dwindling away to nothing. Daryl only grunted in frustration at the pile of ashes that was once his blazing campfire.

He rose from the stump his bottom had become numb from, making him groan in pain a little bit as his hand went to rub some feeling back into it. He straightened his back all the way for the first time as well, the pain only hurting for a second or two before it felt good as he stretched his arms out by his sides.

Daryl could see pretty well in the dark, but clicked his flashlight on anyways as he stepped outside the sectioned-off campsite. The weight of his bow and pack on Daryl's shoulders had started to ache from its constant weight on his back muscles. Daryl hadn't taken off his pack in a while, the effect of its weight showing itself with those same aches. He decided to peer into the scope of his bow, the flashlight helping with visibility of where he was looking.

The minute he peered through the scope, he saw another squirrel, taking that as his sign to focus on meeting his self-drawn quota of how many he'd bring back for camp, the archer hunted until the sun shone across the forest once again.

Daryl stopped in his tracks the minute his eyes spotted a bright orange and pink sunrise that was broadening the horizon with each minute that passed. One thing Daryl did when he was out here was enjoy all the beauty of nature. He watched until the colors dissipated and the sky returned to its blue hue.

Only slightly drowsy at this point, Daryl pulled the last of his squirrels together around the string tied over his shoulder. He resumed his steps again, gaze drifting away from the horizon as he began to trample through the forest until its areas became familiar again.

Slowly, he recognized the surrounding area of the camp, feeling a bit foolish after going in one big circle.

Leaves rustled in front of him again, freezing in his tracks as he drew his crossbow, ready to fire. The particular bush in question shook a bit more, until the figure of an animal darted out of it, speeding right past Daryl, the exact way he'd been walking. realization washed over him, taking off in a sprint after it.

He followed its tracks into the brush once again, on its tail ever so diligently. It wasn't until he saw it dart into another bush, catching the figure of a walker headed into that same area.

The archer hadn't realized how close he'd gotten to camp again, since the next sound that echoed out were the screams of little kids. Frightened calls for their parents echoed out, high-pitched voices sending a chill up Daryl's spine. In spur of the moment, he shuffled into the clearing, trying to eye around the thick brush that just so happened to be near the entrance to camp.

As he walked closer, the deer on the ground came into view, arrow still sticking out of its backside. Daryl must have accidentally stepped on a stick as he came into the clearing, because the minute his eyes raised from the carcass, he also spotted a small group of the men from camp standing within the clearing, all looking at Daryl as if they'd mistaken him for a walker.

"Son of a bitch..." Daryl stepped further into the clearing, nearing the animal carcass and lifeless walker, "That's my deer!"

The sight of his deer's untimely death was horrific to the naked eye, and disappointed him in a way that brought a pit-in-his-stomach reaction. The remnants of one walker's meal lay half chomped on, its bodily fluids seeping into the dirt.

Daryl's frustration seeped to his core, his whole hunt wasted since losing the deer to a damn geek. His gaze faltered for a moment, until the only thing Daryl could feel now was the taste in the back of his throat, his anger taking control over his words.

"Look at it.. all gnawed on by this... filthy, disease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard!"

Daryl kicked angrily at the already dead corpse, as if it was going to do anything about the fact that it had already gnawed on the deer. The only option now was to see if he could manage with what he had, and save the parts of the deer that weren't bitten.

"Calm down, son. That's not helping." Dale's voice was the only thing he didn't need to hear right now, already in a heightened state of aggravation.

Daryl had done his best to go out and hunt for the group that had so willingly let him in, and this is what he gets? No, Dale didn't understand that the only thing Daryl could do at this point was yell.

It couldn't get much worse than this.

"What do you know about it old man?! Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'?" Daryl took a breath and walked over to the deer, yanking his arrows from it, "I've been trackin' this deer for miles. Was gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison."

"What do ya think? You think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?" Daryl pointed to the part of the carcass that was free of walker bites. Still bent over the animal, he glanced up at the group of men, realizing Amy and Andrea stood a few feet behind them.

"I would not risk that.." Shane said, the shotgun he'd been holding draped over his shoulders.

"That's a damn shame.. Well I got some squirrel- about a dozen or so. That'll have to do." He adjusted the string of tiny woodland animals hanging from his shoulder.

All the men did was stare at Daryl until he continued speaking. His eyes shifted from Glenn, Shane, T-dog and Dale to the other man standing in the group. There was something about him that Daryl recognized, but he didn't know him from the world before.

He did a double take and then it hit him.

It was the sheriff. The guy from the road. Shot the kid walker. He looked different without his deputy uniform on, that Daryl almost didn't recognize him.

What a world of coincidences.

Looking down at the still corpse of the walker they cut the head off of, its head reanimated instantly, cracking its mouth open as if it hadn't been decapitated from its body. The men let out groans of disgust as Daryl stepped towards it.

"Oh, God..." Amy and Andrea ran in aversion to the decapitated walker head that had come alive again.

"Come on people, what the hell?" Daryl aimed his bow at the head, shooting it swiftly with an arrow. "It's gotta be the brain. don't y'all know nothin'?"

He trailed off back to camp, leaving the deer and walker corpses to the men behind him. There was one man he hadn't recognized among the group, but figured his introduction to him wouldn't be far behind. As it washed over him that the group was back, Daryl figured Merle would have been looking for him by now.

Sauntering towards the main part of camp, the clearing where everyone lingered in their respective areas, his eyes darted around different areas of the camp for his brother.

"Merle!"

There was surprisingly, no answer. It only startled him slightly.

He half expected his brother to appear from the doorway of Dale's van, watching some of the group crowded around the outside of it, huddling with concerned looks on their faces.

Daryl called out again for his brother.

"Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!" Daryl placed the crossbow against some rocks and wood on the ground, and sauntered closer to the small group.

Though it wasn't until Shane called his name from behind where he walked that a slight twinge of worry started to settle in him.

"Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you." Hearing Shane's voice call his name, he turned to face him, left hand gripping the string with squirrels still on his shoulder.

"'Bout what?" He watched the officer stroll past him, signaling him to follow.

"About Merle. There was a- a problem in Atlanta." Shane hesitates to get the sentence out, wishing Daryl wouldn't react the same way his brother had, the past few days of them at the camp.

Silence rang out after Hhane's words ran him over like a strong blow to his stomach, a deep unsettling pit Daryl hadn't experienced in what felt like forever.

It had truly been the worst at this point.

My brother's dead, he thought, the harsh reality of his world currently crashing down on him. On the other hand, Daryl hadn't even been given the details of what had occurred.

"Is he dead?" His eyes squinting at Shane, waiting for him to rip the bandage off already.

"We're not sure." His voice was uncertain, which just made Daryl sweat with anticipation.

Not sure?

What the hell did he mean, not sure? The uncertainty that washed over him coated his hands and chest with a sting of unwanted panic that stood out when he clenched his fists at his sides.

Why was he hearing this from Shane, and not one of the people that was there?

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl walked past Shane, not giving him the opportunity to speak again, before the unknown guy from earlier started walking towards him. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans, finding something familiar about his face that he couldn't quite figure out yet.

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." The man in the white shirt spoke calmly as he approached Daryl.

"Who are you?"

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes, you got somethin' you wanna tell me?!" Daryl didn't want this conversation to be any longer than it had to. He wished the man in front of him would spit out what he needed to say already.

"Your brother was a danger to us all. So, I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there."

The sweat coating his skin dripped down the side of his temple, his pacing speeding up, as he'd walked away from the guy in front of him, before he ended up hitting him. Daryl didn't know what to think, the situation before him almost too aggravating to think straight.

He definitely wasn't in a moment like this.

"Hold on. Lemme process this. You sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?!"

Rick confirms what he's said is true, and the impact of his statement washes over Daryl like a bucket of cold water being dumped on him.

It wasn't a moment later that Daryl's eyebrows furrowed, heart starting to race again.

Within the extremes of his anger, Daryl always threw things at the people who'd annoyed him. Sometimes it was a clump of dirt, other times it was whatever was in front of him, or what he had on hand.

This time, it was the string on his shoulder with the dead squirrels attached. As it went flying, Rick dodged the foreign object being thrown at him, backing up out of his reach before Daryl got the chance to take another swing at him. With the force of his body being thrown forward, he grunted, only to be intercepted and tackled to the ground by Shane. His body weight on top of Daryl's made him really thankful he wasn't the one Merle had got knocked out on top of a few days prior.

The next thing Daryl knew, his anger took over his actions, since his anger grew so intensely. though Rick and Shane restricted his body, and next thing he knew, he was yelling out whatever came to mind.

"You'd best let me go!" Aggravation seeped from his voice, not appreciating the familiar feeling of his body being restricted once again in a different way than before.

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't."

Shane denied him the release of his arms from around his head, mockery in his voice pissing him off to another level. The arms around his head were wrapped in a way that wasn't made legal by law enforcement. He knows this only because he's been forced to the ground by many cops, none that had him in a chokehold, though. Shane was previously an officer as well, which just made it worse.

"Chokehold's illegal." Daryl grunted out, Shane's forearms still wrapped around his neck and head. His temple throbbed now, with the man's voice echoing in his mind.

"File a complaint. Come on, man. We keep this up all day."

As he beckoned Daryl to back down from any violence, he was pushed to sit on the ground as the two men stood above him. Looking up to see Rick crouched nearby, he now spoke with a lowered voice and more serious tone.

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?"

Daryl had been too worked up to speak in the moment, causing Rick to repeat himself.

"Do you think we can manage that?"

Daryl's silence gave Shane the signal to release him from the headlock.

Rick lowered his head so Daryl could hear him, and maybe, take what he said seriously.

"What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others." Rick says, in an attempt to let Daryl know how serious he was about trying to keep the group safe.

Daryl heard T-dog speak again, as he'd been admitting something on the lines of having the key to the handcuffs getting dropped down a drain, of all places.

his gaze faltered downwards, pulling his chin towards his chest, forearms shaking as he attempted to pick himself up off the ground already like a man.

though he wasn't present, his brother's words lingered in his mind, his thoughts, and all the decisions he made.

Astounded by what he's heard out of the people in his group, Daryl pulls himself up from his crouched stance, beginning to rise as Rick pivoted out of his way.

His lips pull together into a straight line, posture stiffening as he heads past the others. Trudging past T-dog, he can't help himself as he blurts out, "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't."

Though, he spoke once more, trying to give Daryl the benefit of the doubt that his brother was still alive.

"It's gotta count for something," Rick spoke again, mindful of his words in attempt to not heighten the state of the man in front of him.

Daryl bowed his head, looking to his feet as tears sprung a leak in his eyes. Instead of allowing himself the moment to feel his emotions, he blinks them away and said his piece before walking the other direction.

"Hell with all y'all. Just tell me where is.. so's I can go get him." Daryl felt his voice wavering, the back of his throat dry and lungs out of breath. He was exhausted, but denial was only poking him in the side and motivating him to do whatever it took to get his brother back.

The guys conversation continues, until Daryl hears that Rick's joining him on his trip into the city, and he isn't sure if he feels good about it. This particular guy was the same one who had a part to play in Merle being stranded out in the city, which didn't sit right with him at all.

He watches the two deputies bicker from the campfire, their conversation carrying over to where he sat. Rick treads back into the main campsite, as Shane follows, desperately trying to understand the decisions his friend is making.

"Could you throw me a bone here man? Just tell me why? Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon..."

"Hey. Choose your words more carefully." Daryl stood nearby, overhearing Shane's remark about his brother.

"No, I did. Douchebag's what I meant." Shane said, glancing over to Daryl before turning back to Rick, "...Merle Dixon- That guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"So you and Daryl? That's your big plan?"

The way Lori spoke agitated him, the woman's words not only sounding like she didn't believe they could do it, but undermining both of their intelligence. He only glared over to where she sat, everyone else turning a listening ear at the sheriff. Rick peered over to Glenn, a nonverbal questioning as to if he would join him into the city again.

"Oh, come on.." Glenn retorted, but quickly agreed after Rick gave him a bunch of reasons why he'd be helpful in Atlanta.

Apparently the dark haired man Daryl met three days ago in the woods had an extensive knowledge of the city streets in the brain buried under that baseball cap of his.

"That's just great. Now you're gonna risk three men, huh?" Shane's nostrils flared in annoyance, hands running through his hair as he sauntered away from the conversation before circling back.

All this time the guys have been going back and forth, you'd just been observing from afar, trying to figure out if they'd solve their problem anytime today. You hadn't seen Shane risking his life for this group, so his complaining was unjustified to you.

"Four." T-dog spoke up, the irony of him being he was the one that admitted to dropping the handcuff key.

Daryl scoffed, mumbling, "My day just gets better and better, don't it?"

His hands busied with cleaning off each of his arrows using the red rag he'd kept in the back pocket of his pants.

Sitting by the sidelines while Shane only ordered everyone around and tell people what they could and couldn't do. It was outrageous hearing all this talk come from a man who hadn't done at least as half as much as the rest of you did for the camp.

"Shane, I don't ever see you risking your life for the group, so what do you care if they head out to the city again? They're a smart group of men, they can do it. Do you expect us all to sit here with our thumbs up our asses all day and night? At least they want to do something to fix the situation!"

Daryl turned around to glance back at you, your eyes meeting his for a split second, then turn back to Shane and Rick.

Lori only glared at you but at this point you didn't care, if Daryl had gotten this upset about finding out his brother had been stranded, you thought they should do the right thing and go with him to get the man back. Even if you didn't care for him.

Merle was the last person you wanted back in the camp, since the peace without his presence in camp has been very soothing. On the other hand, you understood where Daryl was coming from, since the experience of something similar had happened to you.

Listening still, you stood behind daryl, sat on a log, also tuning in to Shane rambling on about Rick and how he was 'putting everyone in danger', like rick had no clue what leaving the camp meant to the rest of the group.

Daryl's impatient with the situation at hand, but wants to see where it goes before he collects his things and heads out.

Shane isn't on board with the plan until Rick mentions the bag of guns he'd dropped on the street the day Glenn found him. He describes in detail the list of guns he'd taken from the police station, before he'd been swarmed by walkers on the street.

You overhear Lori criticize her husband's choice of leaving the camp not even a day after getting there. The only thought running through your head was the fact that rick was responsible for Daryl's brother getting left out there, and he said himself he "couldn't let a man die."

You'd been drifting away from the conversation ever since Rick and Shane went back and forth at each other once again. So, you decided to actually drift away from the group to be alone.

Everyone began splitting off in their separate directions to collect their things for the run, after the conversation was over. Though, Daryl recognizes you further away from the group.

Rising from his seat, he plans to head back to his tent to write in his journal before he leaves, but his feet bring him to where you had wandered instead.

He spots you poking at the remnants of whatever lay in a pan over the campfire, observing as you scoop it up with a fork and shovel it into your mouth.

Daryl decides to approach you, since he doesn't want to be one of those guys that never talked to people. He also didn't want to be one that stared out of shyness and intimidation.

As he got closer to the campfire, he saw you sat with a book in your hands, your face reacting to the text as you read. It was funny, you hadn't noticed the man stood in front of you now, your eyes focused on the content of the book grasped between your palms.

Daryl studied your figure, shoulders relaxing as he stood with his gaze fixed on you. A moment passed before he'd had been pulled out of his ogling. Luckily, you still hadn't noticed him standing there. He cleared his throat as calm as possible to get your attention without startling you.

Your eyes glanced up from the book, brightening as the look of Daryl before you pulled your attention from the book fully.

"Oh hey, Daryl. Sorry, I was just.. reading."

Just reading?? Where did your social skills disappear to?

You wanted to apologize profusely to Daryl for not realizing he'd been standing there, not even knowing how long he'd been standing there, waiting to grab your attention.

It was cute how he didn't interrupt your reading, but some part of you wanted him to be the reason you did put the book down.

Daryl didn't mind though, he found it endearing how you couldn't tear your eyes away, as if even your peripheral vision was focused in on the story in that book, and nothing else.

It's the little things, this is the apocalypse after all.

In the back of his brain, there was a slight twinge of jealousy that made him want to be the object of your attention, in a similar way the book you clutched in your hands had it at the moment.

Daryl only nodded his head, brain void of any clear sentence after watching you read, until you spoke again.

"How was your hunt? Other than your deer.. which I'm sorry about, by the way." Your head tilted to the side, eyebrows raising in concern, since you overheard how upset he'd been over it earlier.

[Subconsciously, Daryl appreciated you asking about the hunt, and not about his brother. Then again, you probably would ask about him eventually.

"Oh yeah, the deer.. Don't think there was anythin' I could do about that, but thanks. Just caught a bunch of squirrel for stew."

His eyes softened as you looked up, brows furrowing before you spoke.

"Um.. squirrel stew?" You hesitated, disbelief in the words coming out of the archer's mouth. Daryl's head shook with disbelief, eyes widening a bit as he looked at you.

"Never had it?"

"No.. and I'm not sure if I want to.." Your nose wrinkled at the thought of eating those cute woodland creatures, ones you'd enjoyed seeing scurry around before the world ended. There was a slight laugh that came with your words, reassuring Daryl that you weren't making fun of him.

"Trust me, the way I make it, tastes just like-"

"If you say it tastes like chicken, Dixon..." Your hand raised in the air, pausing him from continuing his sentence. A laugh emerged from your chest at his absurd suggestion that squirrel would taste even remotely close to any other meat. A small smile cracked across his face, appreciating the fact that you were calming him from the state he'd been in earlier.

"Alright, it don't really taste like chicken. But it's real good if it's made right. And I just happen to do it up that exact way." His hands attached to his hips matter-of-factly.

"Well, I guess when you make that stew, you'll have to save a bowl for me." You closed the book, tagging your page and putting it down next to you.

"Nah. It's best when it's fresh, promise you'll get the first bowl when I get to makin' it. Maybe it'll change your mind about it.."

The banter between you both made you chuckle, nodding at his statement with a small smile. "Yeah, okay."

It warmed your heart to see Daryl so comfortable within the camp already, since his day hadn't gotten off to a great start. You hoped he wouldn't stop being so anytime soon.

Truth be told, he couldn't hold back the shy smile that weaved its way onto his face, but when Daryl fully felt it spread, you broke your eye contact with him for the first time.

"Question, do you know how long the group's been back?" Daryl asked, out of curiosity, since your answer would give him an idea of how long his brother's been out there.

"I think they got back late yesterday, Glenn apparently saved him from being swarmed by Geeks.. He was surrounded in a tank in the middle of Atlanta. I heard from him that Rick had been looking for his wife and son, imagine my surprise when they ended up in our group. Of all places.. " You chuckled at the amazing coincidence, "I saw him run up and hug them both yesterday.. It almost brought me to tears. I haven't seen anything like that in so long.."

You trailed off, smile dropping when you realize Daryl's listening to you go on about someone else's family, the day after he'd lost his.

"Sorry. I know you're going through something with your family and-"

"Nah, don' worry about me. I'm glad you told me 'bout Rick. Makes him seem more human an' less 'asshole that chained my brother to a roof'.."

You chuckled again, and Daryl actually smiled that time.

The sweet moment between the two of you settled, realization setting in his brain again: he's wasted so much time at camp, thinking his brother could be hurt, or worse out there on a rooftop in the city. He'd better get moving with the thing she had to get done before leaving.

Oh, how he would love to sit next to you and talk for hours..

"Hey look, I gotta go do some stuff before i leave for the city. It was nice talkin' with ya after the mornin' I had, so thanks."

You nodded again, appreciating Daryl for coming up to you and stealing your attention away from that damn book.

His grin lingers as he walks away from you, cheeks hurting by the time he gets back to his tent. Unzipping it, he steps inside and sits on the cot. Immediately, the pain in his feet withdraws as he kicks them up after taking his boots off.

His pack drops off of his back now, hand reaching inside for the familiar leather book. The pen topples out of the page Daryl had last written on.

"Alright, let's see here..."

The pen clicked, scribbling of ink onto paper scratched out a few words, and before he knew it, Daryl had written a whole paragraph.

Day four

The group made it back from the city later in the day, without Merle. Don't know exactly what went down, but some guy named Rick Grimes said he was a danger to the group an’ that he had to leave him behind. Told me he handcuffed him to some rooftop in the city. Found out just as I got back from hunting. Almost had a deer but a geek got to it first. Other than that shit I talked to Y/n after it all.. like the easiest thing in the damn world. Merle would call me a pussy if he knew I wrote in this damn journal. Anyway, goin' out as soon as possible with Rick an a few others to get Merle back.

The journal closes, Daryl's hand aching the slightest bit after he finished writing. He lay in the peacefulness of his tent for a few more minutes, then headed back out to camp. He grabbed his pack again, and another shirt, and reached for his bow before he remembered he'd left by the campfire.

Collecting his bow from where he'd left it earlier, he joins Glenn and T-dog over by the truck. It seemed they were the only ones ready to head out, as Daryl turns his head to see where Rick had gone.

Daryl watches Jim, Dale and Rick discuss from afar, pacing impatiently in the back of the truck. He grows tired of just watching them converse far enough away for him to be out of ear shot.

As he turns to Glenn in the driver's seat, Daryl presses his heel to the horn a few times.

"C'mon, let's go!" Their conversation breaks, Dale handing a pair of bolt cutters to Rick, finally heading towards the truck.

As Rick gets in the front seat, he loads his pistol. Daryl pulls the back door to the truck shut, the engine starting. Glenn put the truck in drive, and they were pulling out of the quarry.

The truck rumbled on top of the road, Daryl staring down T-dog in the back, as if that was going to be any type of useful. He sat across from him, with Glenn and Rick in the front seats.

"He'd better be okay. It's my only word on the matter."

"I told you, the geeks can't get at him. Only thing that's gonna get through that door is us." T-dog panted as he explained, once again.

Daryl wiped the corner of his mouth, listening to T-dog explain himself once again. Turning off the truck, Glenn peered behind him to the other two men.

"We walk from here."

The four men made it through a hole in a fence one by one, Rick breaking the silence to ask a question about the plan.

"Merle first, or the guns?"

"Merle! We ain't even having this conversation!" Daryl retorted quickly, not only knowing that it was quicker, but also due to the fact that he just wanted his brother back.

"We are." Rick turned to Glenn saying it's his call, since being the only one who knows the geography of the city.

To Daryl's surprise, Glenn mentions the words 'Merle first, guns second', and the rest of it is history.

They all scramble up the stairs of the building Merle had been chained on, energy straining low as the steps felt never ending.

7th floor, 8th floor... Damn how many levels does this place have?

Daryl's internal monologue of worry about his brother only made him that more eager to kick this damn door open already.

The guys paused as T-dog clipped the chain with his bolt cutters in one swift motion, Daryl growing impatient and using his foot to kick the door open as soon as it'd been freed from the chains. He darted out onto the rooftop, calling out Merle's name, hoping and praying his brother's voice would ring in his ears once again.

Though, there was no response to his call.

He ran frantically over to where the guys had said he'd been chained up, only to find a pair handcuffs dangling from around the metal rod.

What Daryl saw lying a foot away from the handcuffs was his brother's severed hand, and a hacksaw covered in blood.

"No.. No!"

Daryl looked back at the men of his group, despair in his voice and tears in his eyes, his cries of frustration and agony the only thing to be heard as they echoed throughout the city.

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devnmon · 6 months

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Emily Prentiss Masterlist

updated: 10/26/2023

The Round Room, 1:45 a.m.

Summary: You find Emily among the last of the individuals in the BAU building at night. What happens afterwards is a venture in itself.

wc: 2.2k

Cold.

Summary: Emily comes up with something new for you two to try.

wc: 3.4k

This post serves as a statement that claims all works on this blog as my own. Any gifs or dividers I use are not mine, but all the collages I make and use on my posts are mine! Please do not steal or repost.

#devnmonwrites #ryesff #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #dividers from cafekitsune

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devnmon · 1 year

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TS-19

Chapter Nine: Written in My Stars

Summary: After a long day's ride, sanctuary is discovered. But not all is what it seems in their newly found safe haven.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter Warnings: descriptions of walkers/dead bodies, mentions of blood & needles, suggestive content, mentions of death, suicide, and lotsss of angst.

wc: 10.2k

A/n: This is the longest chapter of all s1 ahaha.. afraid to say they're just gonna get longer as I go on writing this fic. But... as season 1 concludes I'm ready to dive into writing season two when my semester ends, so it'll be a while before that happens. Enjoy this last chapter <33

The light penetrated your vision as it poured out from the large doorway. Gasps of disbelief were heard as Rick raced up to the entrance. The glass doors were heavy but when you pushed them open, a blast of cool air flooded your body.

"Hello?" Rick called into the building, the others spreading out as you all advanced into the building.

Upon first look, it was ominous. For one, the place was completely clean. There was no debris on the floor, no stench of rotting corpses, dead or alive, no blood anywhere to be seen. The high ceilings and windows only intimidated you further. Almost hidden behind Daryl's large figure, you followed him inside, bow drawn.

"Watch for walkers," someone spoke. There wasn't a chance your group would take a step further inside if even one of those dead freaks showed their faces. Where there's one, there's always more, and you knew the group wouldn't take that chance.

Frantic faces glanced about, searching for any sign to retreat out of the building.

How could this place still be standing?

Something was off about it, but you weren't sure what yet.

The unfamiliarity with what you'd seen in this building, versus what the outside world looked like, was unsettling. It concerned you more than the door even opening in the first place.

Clicking of a shotgun sounded from not too far away, your heart skipping a beat at the abrupt noise.

"Anybody infected?" A voice called out, holding a shotgun from down the hall. You didn't see the figure until you moved further into the lobby.

Holy shit. Maybe this is hope, you thought.

"One of our group was. He didn't make it." The sheriff stated, still holding his shotgun out as well.

"Do you see that guy?" you asked Daryl, walking to the side of him.

"Mhm.. don't know what he's got in store for us. But it'll do for now, that's for damn sure." He turned back to you, voice low but still in a mode of suspicion. You shot him a small smile and he turned back.

The man stepped closer, look on his face nervous, but you could tell he didn't want to have to shoot. None of you were infected, which changed his facial tone as he spoke again.

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"A chance," Rick replied, out of breath from his yelling before.

"That's asking an awful lot these days."

Silence rang out as the unknown man's eyes trailed over every single one of you.

"You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."

Rick nodded fervently, "We can do that."

"Once this door closes, it stays closed," The man said, walking towards Rick, his guard completely down at the moment. He rushed back with him, grabbing whatever bags were left in the vehicles, and entered the building again. As everyone rushes in, the blonde man swipes a keycard at the front entrance and states a command like he would to an assistant.

"Vi, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here."

Who the hell is Vi?, you thought.

"Rick Grimes." The sheriff introduces himself to the blonde man.

"Dr. Edwin Jenner," he replied with shifty eyes.

Definitely suspicious, you thought to yourself. Shifty eyes, untrustworthiness, yeah. This guy's gonna have to convince me.

Jenner led you all to an elevator, where he let you all squeeze in, before pressing the lowest button of all levels.

Daryl, being the curious man he is, spoke up as the elevator ride turned to a cramped and silent one, "Doctors always go around packin' heat like that?"

He didn't trust good things like this often, always thought it was too good to be true. Though, Daryl was on his guard, ready to pierce an arrow through Jenner's skull if there was any sign of trouble.

"Well, there were plenty left lying around. Familiarized myself," he replied, looking back at all of you, "But you look harmless enough," he said, as he looked at Carl, "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

The boy smiled at his joke, making you smile a bit too. When you looked over at Daryl, his face was stoic, a version of his own mistrust his shield for the moment.

After piling out of the elevator, Jenner had you all walking down a long hallway. The place seemed like a maze, infinite doors and hallways you couldn't count. You and Daryl trailed behind everyone else, continuously marveling at the state of the place.

"Are we underground?" You asked, chest starting to tighten.

"You claustrophobic?" Jenner questioned, turning around as he walked ahead of the group.

"A little."

"Try not to think about it." He stated, turning back around.

Try not to think about it my ass, you thought, scoffing and continuing to walk with the group. The long hallway led to a massive room, filled with computers and one large screen on the wall.

"Vi, bring up the lights in the big room." Jenner's voice echoed out eerily, the clutter in the room not enough to mask the extensive shape of it.

There's that name again, Vi.

Daryl trudged into the room with you by his side, nervous at what was to come or what Jenner had in store for you all. As if on command, the room lit up with a ring of light hovering above all the computers.

"Welcome to Zone 5."

"Where is everybody? The other doctors? The staff?" Rick questioned, expecting more than just one man to be working at such an extensive place.

"I'm it. It's just me here." A moment of silence rang out as loud as the door opening had been, Lori breaking it with another question.

"What about the person you were speaking with? Vi?"

"Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them, welcome."

The computer spoke, as if it had a mind of it's own.

Hello guests. Welcome.

You followed the Doctor down another hallway, as he brought you all to another room, one that looked like some sort of conference hall. Everyone took a seat against the wall or in one of the chairs.

"Sit tight, I'll be back with the equipment for everyone's blood tests." Jenner stated, before walking into another room off the one you were already all in.

"Ah shit, I hate needles," Daryl stated, taking a seat on one of the chairs. You scoffed at the irony of his statement.

"You're telling me big, bad Daryl Dixon is afraid of a little needle?" You inquired, turning to him as your weight flopped on the chair next to him.

"Didn't say I was scared, jus' said I didn't like 'em." He played with the strings of his bow as he replied. Sure, he'd been around needles before. But not in a medical context.

"Well, it's not that bad. Just a pinch, and if you're that bothered by it, don't look. That's what I do."

"You tellin' me you're scared of needles?" Daryl scoffed, realizing you two were more alike than he thought.

"All my life I've hated them, not shots at the doctor's, just whenever I needed an IV or blood drawn."

"Uh huh, we're the same then." He said, shrugging as he threw his head back on one of the seats.

"Guess we are." You sighed, doing the same.

Jenner came back into the room with several vials as well as other things he needed to take everyone's blood properly. He sat in the front of the room, as everyone watched the other's blood be taken. You went before Daryl, but he sat by your side, back turned to Jenner as he went on with drawing your blood. Once he finished, you turned to Daryl with a soft smile.

"See? Not so bad." He only grunted in response, taking the seat you'd been in a moment before.

A couple other group members took their turns, but when Andrea was in the seat, she had relentless questions.

"So, what's the point? If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever," Andrea stated from her seat across Jenner, as the vial filled.

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you all in here. Let me at least be thorough." As soon as he was done, Jenner watched Andrea's light headed state take over, becoming light headed easily after barely any food. "Is she okay?"

"We haven't eaten in days, none of us have." Jacqui replied while helping Andrea sit. The look on his face had enough concern to fill an entire stadium, but he knew how to fix it.

Next thing you knew, you had been brought to a dining hall, sat next to the members of your group, shoveling food and booze into your mouth like there was no tomorrow.

A fit of laughter broke out amongst the people around you, relishing in the wine rushing through your system. Each bite of food was like heaven, filled with flavor and warmth that made you forget how abhorrent the world was outside the walls of the building. The euphoric tone it set for the group had Jacqui throwing her head back in a fit of laughter. You all seemed to be enjoying yourselves, food and drink coursing through your systems.

Your heart felt as full and content as it had once been, a long time before the world fell. It was a genuine, innocent time, one that couldn't be replicated or replaced. You were happy to just be caught in another moment like that after an extensive period without it.

When another fit of laughter broke out, it had been from Carl's reaction to the taste of wine. It brought tears to your eyes with how hard you were chuckling, smile lines beginning to ache from how big you had beamed from across the table.

Daryl noticed the shine from your smile from his seat, as he sat chugging the rest of his wine down.

You were chuckling loud enough for him to hear; he hadn't gotten to hear you laugh, genuinely and completely, ever. This was the first time he'd been lucky enough to do so. He stumbled, getting up to grab a fresh bottle.

"Why don't you stick to soda pop there, bud." Shane spoke.

"Not you Glenn," Daryl retorted, after grabbing another red wine bottle, walking back over to the table.

"What?" The dark haired man replied, cheesing so hard due to the buzz of alcohol in his system that his cheeks hurt.

"Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get." He smirked, sitting back down at his seat. You burst out in a fit of drunken giggles yourself at Daryl's words. The alcohol in your system might have been distracting you from the horrors you'd seen the past few days, but to know you were there with these people you trusted made every torment wash away.

As you giggled to yourself, your eyes subconsciously found Daryl, sat across the table. His arms were poking out of that yellow plaid shirt, vest adorning his shoulders. His bicep muscles flex, moving ever so slightly, shaking your thoughts when you notice the group's conversation had died down a little.

Though Daryl's indulging himself thoroughly, he isn't blind to how Rick's gaze trails over to Jenner, sitting quietly and watching everyone around him in a corner. A moment later, Rick is clinking his glass and standing up.

"It seems to me, we haven't thanked our host properly."

"He is more than just our host," T-dog replied, raising his wine glass in a toast, causing you all to raise your glasses with him.

"Hear, hear!" Dale exclaims. The clinking of wine glasses overtook the man's words, as the others expressed their appreciation for him.

"Here's to you, doc. Booyah!" Daryl blurted out, the liquor in his system clearly taking over the usual grumpy attitude he always puts up.

It's got you giggling at him, again.

The laughter settles, and Shane starts to speak again. "So, when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc? All the uh- the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"

Though, Rick is quick to retort, not wanting to ruin the wholesome moment the group had going.

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

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

His persistence pisses you off slightly, but the alcohol in your system is too overtaking to have the strength to snap back at him.

Jenner goes on to explain that the rampage of dead walking corpses drove some to up and leave the facility. They hadn't been thinking straight, just wanted to get home to their friends or loved ones and spend whatever time they had left with them. On the off chance that those people didn't leave, some couldn't face the outside world, dead people walking and whatnot. The sheer brutality of it all. Some chose to opt out, as he'd said, taking their own lives in the hallways to avoid letting the terror that walked the streets into their minds. He'd only stayed in hopes of doing some good with what work he continued.

Silence rang out in fault of Shane, for bringing it up during a nice moment.

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man."

You all cleaned up the space after eating, then ended up following Jenner down yet another hallway, one filled with rooms available to get some rest in.

If i have to sleep on another cot, I'd just die.

"The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage, if you'd like."

Oh, great.

The alcohol is running through your system at such a fast rate that your brain doesn't pick up anything else that Jenner says, until he mentions the showers.

"If you shower, go easy on the hot water."

"Hot water?" Glenn repeats, an overjoyed smile on his face now.

"That's what the man said.." T-dog replied, smiling as well.

He meets your eyes, his bright facial expression turning yours into one as you realize how long it's been since you've taken a shower.

"Oh, hell yeah."

Just the first glance at the shower stall makes a chill run up your spine. After all this time with your guard up in the world you lived in, letting it down for something as simple as a shower made you shudder. The clothes on your body felt welded to your skin, soaked with sweat and dirt and who knows what else, like a filthy dish towel.

In such a way, you hadn't removed your clothing to relax with something like this in so long. To be this unguarded again after so long intimidated you a bit. There was nothing comparable to the vulnerability of a shower.

Every birthmark, scar and mark on your body was still painted on your skin, only covered from a layer of grime, sweat and dirt that built up from the wear and tear of the outside world.

A rush of clean, fresh water fills the room, with the shower turning on. Mist floats onto skin with warm droplets, like spritz of a water spray. It's almost anticipatory, the image of you holding the shower curtain back. To have something this humane after so long felt unbelievable.

A hopeful tone is set as you enter the shower, stepping in with the water beginning to heat up. It hits your feet first, warming them so, that it tickles a bit. With just the flow of water, your mask of filth begins to wash from your skin.

The several months old nail polish was still coated over your toes, realizing how long it's lasted.

You step further under the flow of water, just the aroma of it closing your eyes in relaxation. With your head under the water, you stood silently for a few minutes in the peacefulness of it all. The liquid runs hot, goosebumps rising over your body at the contact. It's warm, familiar, something you haven't known since the world fell. Like a hug from a close relative. Safe.

Having something like this back after so long without it made the moment even more euphoric, as if you'd never be without it again.

When your eyes shoot open, droplets trailing down your lashes, you look to the couple of bottles placed on the shelf. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and an unused razor.

Even before the apocalypse, you hadn't found the desire for relentless hair removal in your top priorities. Sure, you shaved a few parts of your body, armpits and face at times, but didn't bother with your legs or anywhere else. Especially not when there were other things that deserved more attention in these times.

You weren't especially girly, either. Didn't grow fond of dresses or skirts, not even wedding gowns stood out to you. You'd been a tomboy all your life, no reason to change now.

Pouring some of the shampoo into your palms, you massaged it through the crown of your hair thoroughly, the contact of your fingers scratching your scalp heavenly. The shampoo and conditioner both were refreshing to the smell, its lathery substance washing from your hair. A lack of dirt and grime on your skin lifted your mood, still a little tipsy from your wine at dinner, but nonetheless it made you feel completely clean for once. Who knew if you'd have the chance to be this tidy again one day.

Raking fingers through your hair, you wrapped your body up in the one clean towel and changed into your other clothes for the night, a pair of sweatpants and big t-shirt. You packed up the filthy clothing from before and balled it up, throwing it in a different compartment of your duffel. Passing the others in their rooms from the hall, you'd been about to enter the room you were to share with Andrea for the night, only to walk in upon Dale sat beside her next to the toilet.

She'd gotten sick from all she drank, and he'd been comforting her.

"Hey, everything alright?" Dale turned to you at the sound of your voice, look of concern in his eye.

"She drank too much, got sick. On top of everything that she's gone through, overcompensating on the wine wasn't the best idea."

A groan comes from Andrea at his words, still knelt over with her hair pulled back. You refrained from speaking as Dale shook his head.

"Okay.. I'll just find somewhere else to stay, then. Feel better, Drea."

Walking back into the hallway, you tried to find another place to hole up for the night, duffel bag in hand. It wasn't till you reached the end of the hallway, that you spotted Daryl sitting in one of the rooms alone, fiddling with his crossbow. His muscles contracted with every movement, biceps unveiled as they had always been. His shoulders and neck were tense, you noticed, and his eyebrows were furrowed

What's causing your tense state, huh?

He hadn't looked up from his task, whatever it had been, until you knocked lightly at the door.

"Hey, Daryl?"

He finally looked up at the voice coming from the doorway, eyebrows releasing from their furrowed state as he met your eye.

"Oh, hey. wh'sup?" He slurred, still under the influence from wine he'd drank.

"I was supposed to stay with Andrea tonight, but she isn't feeling the best. Could I possibly bunk with you for the night? I'd like some company when I sleep. Don't wanna be alone." You leaned against the door now, droplets from your hair wetting your shirt just the slightest. Daryl was quiet for a minute, noticing the cleanliness of your skin and hair. It was a different look for you, one that showed you to him in a new light.

Chewing on his lip, he nodded with a low mhm, then continued working on his bow.

Walking into the room, you were suddenly hit with an awful scent that made you grimace. Placing your things down, you sat on one of the chairs in the room, while Daryl sat on a cot he'd taken from storage, shirt unbuttoned a bit as his angel wing vest hung on the back of a chair.

"Did you get a chance to shower yet?"

Daryl glanced up again.

It wasn't that he hadn't gotten the chance, it was that he didn't think he needed it. After all the time spent in the woods, covered in filth, he grew accustomed to it. It was comfortable for him, and he couldn't find anything else more safe. The energy of washing all the evidence of survival off his skin- he didn't have that. Daryl didn't want to lose that proof of survival, either. It was easier than wanting to clean himself. So he just didn't.

"Nah, let y'all go first. There prob'ly ain't no hot water left, neither."

Gaze back to his bow again.

Although his eyes wanted to trail back onto your figure, clean and freshly smelling as opposed to his, dirty and filth-ridden.

There's no way she'd go for you, baby brother.

Shaking his head lightly at the thought, he placed his bow down on the floor.

Your head tilted at his action, compassion in your eyes that he couldn't see you had for him.

"Well, I'm not gonna go to sleep until you shower." You said pointedly, getting him to look at you again. There was a smug look on your face, like you knew how to get under his skin.

"Don't. Ya need rest."

"C'mon! Take advantage of the hot water and soap like you did those two bottles of wine, Dixon."

"You're funny, but still no." He rummaged through his bag as if looking for something that wasn't there.

What is it with him? Why is he so stubborn that he's missing out on things that are good for him? Make him feel better?

You sighed, feeling the leather behind you on the chair, an idea popping into your head. Daryl was searching through his bag, so you grabbed the vest from the back of the chair. It was heavier than you thought it'd be, and stunk like cigarettes and motor oil. But it smelled like Daryl.

"Okay, well I didn't wanna have to resort to this." You stood, pulling his attention from the pack, "You've lost vest privileges, Mister Dixon."

"I've lost wha'?"

A confused look on his face turned to an annoyed one as you slipped the vest over your shoulders.

"Cut that shit, give it back. Now." He started to saunter towards you, but you stepped back slightly.

"It was on my chair, and until you shower, it's mine. I'm not staying in here all night if you're gonna stink up the place."

"Then go find somewhere else to sleep!" He yelled, throwing his arm in the air.

"Can't, rooms are all booked. No vacancy! Guess you're gonna have to listen to me after all."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "Don't do that. Seriously- y/n, give it back." He advanced closer to you, not threateningly, but starting to get irritated with you.

"Shower, and you get your precious vest back. Easy as pie." Shrugging, you inspected the vest as it weighed your shoulders down a bit.

"Nah. An' I don't even like pie."

"Ugh, you're so stubborn! Just listen to me, Daryl, a shower can do wonders for relaxation. You certainly need it."

He scoffed, "I am relaxed," eyebrows raising at your words, stepping back from you just an inch or so. His buff arms crossed over his chest, biceps flexing.

"Really? Cause the tension in your shoulders says otherwise." One of your hands rested on your hip now, the other clutching his vest in your grip.

"Stop it. Gimme-" Your hand yanked the vest away from his grasp as he leaned forward again, arm out to grab it from you.

"Daryl, is this about something else? You can tell me, you know." You met his eye, pausing him in his tracks. You knew there was something else, something he wouldn't let come to light, but he couldn't hide it now. Not after you specifically called him out for it. His gaze dropped to the floor before sighing and looking back at you.

"Don't you think this place is for real?" He took a seat on the cot again, shifting his weight and sitting hunched over his legs.

"How do you mean?" You asked, sitting down as well, dropping the vest back onto your chair.

"Like, do ya think we could survive in this place. I mean, there ain't no other doctors here, just Jenner, and I don't think he was tellin' us the whole truth. There's gotta be more to this whole place. I jus'.. don't trust him."

"Yeah, I wanna believe that we can. Daryl, I don't think he's gonna stab us in our sleep, if that's what you're assuming," you chuckled, "He's been kind and let us in, given us food, water, soap, alcohol? Why would he-"

"Exactly. He's given us all this stuff, even a place to sleep. Why would he waste all that shit on us? Cause Rick said we were desperate? Nah. There's gotta be more to it. We're nothin' special."

Nothing special? Me saving you from certain death was nothing?

"We're not?" You repeated, taken aback a little at his statement, "Cause I-I don't think people who are nothin' special survive a horde of walkers, let alone travel all the way here on basically nothing for a slim chance at survival."

How could he just push aside everything the group has been through? Did joining the camp really mean nothing to him? Did-

Did meeting you mean nothing to him?

"I didn't mean it like that. Ain't no society, no 'thing' to be anymore. We're all nobody. Shit went down the drain... day I saw a walker for the first time. Tha's when I knew we were never comin' back from it."

"Daryl, you can't think like that. You're not nobody to me, you're my friend. That makes you somebody. It makes me somebody, makes Rick somebody, Dale, Lori, Carl, even Glenn. This group makes us all somebody to each other, and if that's all we have, then so be it. We can make it through. No matter how long we're alive for. But we've gotta do it together."

Daryl sighed, sitting back against the wall. He went silent, contemplating everything you'd said, and his blue eyes glanced at you before sitting up again.

"Alright," he drawled, "Now, what's a man gotta do to get his vest back?"

A genuine laugh came from you, optimism light in the air for both of you, when he seemed to chuckle as well.

"Well, for starters, you can take that shower.." You mentioned again, a part of you wanting to see what Daryl looked like when he didn't have dirt and sweat plastered across his skin. You wanted to see how his biceps flexed every time he moved, wanted to feel them twitch as he lifted something heavy.

Woah. Has he always been so handsome?

Daryl scoffed, the slightest twinge of a smile making itself apparent on the apples of his cheeks.

"Fine."

He strode out of the room silently, giving you a few moments alone to collect your thoughts and get ready for bed.

Daryl walked down the hallway, passing each of the rooms everyone had settled in for the night. Once he found the showers, he slipped in and kicked off his boots at the door. Dirt cluttered out of the soles of his shoes, not realizing he'd been wearing them for so long.

He met his gaze in the mirror, shying away from his face to the dirt covering his arms and neck. To be quite honest, he did feel disgusting. But he owed it to you for convincing him to even think about showering, let alone doing it again after so long.

Slowly, he undid every button of his sleeveless flannel, tossing it onto the chair in the shower hall. He didn't dare turn around to look at his back, or memories from decades ago would come back to bite him in the ass.

He couldn't. Not now.

To pull himself away from going there, he thought about you, the soft image of you in your sweatpants and t-shirt, damp hair as well as your face illuminated by the lamp light. From what you looked like at camp, till now, was a way different image of you.

You seemed calm, content, okay, given the circumstances.

How he wished he could do the same.

Daryl found comfort in you, tried to hold onto it as best he could, without getting attached. If he did that, it would be over for him. He'd be pining away for the rest of his life.

There was just too much up in the air about Jenner for him to think straight, which almost pulled his focus from you, but he didn't.

Jus' relax for the night, dumbass. Worry 'bout that shit tomorrow.

He began undoing his pants, dropping them to the floor along with his belt. All his thinking about you made his boxers tighten, not becoming apparent to him until he looked down.

Fuckin' serious righ' now?

Stood in only his boxers now, he turned the shower head on. Daryl tried to ignore the confines of his boxers becoming tighter, and only when the water was hot enough did he strip himself from them, and step into the shower.

A low groan left him as the hot water covered the expanses of his body, trickling down the front of his torso, dampening his skin and the wiry hairs on his chest. When he pooled some of the shampoo in his hands and began washing it through his short hair, he squeezed his eyes shut, those pesky thoughts about you and your soft gaze only making it harder to focus on something that wasn't you.

The soft scent of his shampoo, how the water felt against his back.

Nope, nothing was stronger to distract him from the horrors of the outside world, other than you. His thoughts shifted from what you looked like in those clothes, to what you looked like without them. Though he hasn't seen all of your skin, he wished he'd have the privilege to see it one day. To have you in his bed, doing sinful things to make you feel good. To have you call out for him in the name of your pleasure.

Daryl.. Daryl... Daryl...

Your voice was the sweetest of all; behind your spitfire demeanor was that kind-hearted person he met in the woods that day. He knew from the day he saw you that he thought you were beautiful. Perfect, even. Like no one he's ever met before. Especially not someone he knew because of his brother.

How, he thought, how could someone like you become a person in his life? He thought he sure as hell didn't deserve it, someone kind willing to talk to him, be around him, listen to him talk?

Can't get attached.

The left over suds of shampoo trailed down his body, reminding him of the reason his boxers were tight. His gaze finally trailed down there, now apparent of how caught in a daze he's been over you.

Can't walk back in there with a hard-on, either... man, fuck it.

Daryl decided to indulge himself just this once.

Once, and it'll never happen again, he told himself.

The satisfaction washed over him when he'd finished entertaining himself over filthy thoughts of you. When that was gone, guilt came creeping over him like a devil on his shoulder.

Got no fuckin' right, thinkin' 'bout her like that. I got a better chance gettin' to the moon than ever gettin' them. She don't want some redneck trash deadbeat Dixon.

As he turned the water off, he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel hanging on the wall. He dried himself accordingly, draping it over his shoulders as he pulled on his dirty clothes he'd tossed to the side before. Steam from the hot shower clouded the mirror, walking up to it again.

He looked different, soaking wet hair, face bare of dirt or sweat or walker blood. All of the sudden, he felt his eyelids droop just the slightest bit.

Guess the shower did somethin' right, can't wait to hit the sack now.

He trudged back to the room he shared with you, where he saw you sat with a book in your hands. First glance at you like that made his heart drop, thinking you'd found his journal, was reading all of his intimate thoughts, broken his trust. But no.

You'd picked out one of the books in the recreational room, which Jenner mentioned was full of games and books for anybody's use. Once you'd spotted the shelf of classic literature, you couldn't help yourself.

The place had every story you could imagine, Emma by Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, even The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Safe to say you grabbed a couple of the ones you were familiar with, and one or two you hadn't read. You started with Of Mice and Men, but stopped when you remembered the ending.

Although once you picked up The Great Gatsby, you couldn't put it down. It was one of those novels that made you want to live in the 1920's, just for the fashion. Flappers and the massive growth in modernization always fascinated you. Prohibition, though, never seemed ideal.

Before you headed back to your room, you thought on what Daryl had said about not trusting Jenner. He was right, in a sense. Jenner wasn't telling the whole truth, and there was no knowing what else he'd been hiding about the place. It all seemed eerie, but you remembered to bring it back up to Daryl before you both fell asleep.

You'd been reading silently, when you heard the familiar thump of Daryl's boots down the hall. Everyone else had turned in for the night, hallway dimly lit by other sources.

"Welcome back, wow you smell exquisite." You laughed, peeking up from the book in your hands.

"Pfft, stop." Daryl sat back onto his cot, blanket splayed across it. He hadn't known how to start conversations properly, especially not after doing what he just had in the shower. Thinking about you in a way he shouldn't have.

His flannel was unbuttoned, tiniest sliver of his torso visible, falling further apart as he leaned back. It began to pull back further, but you stopped looking before getting caught.

Get your head out of the gutter.

"Feeling relaxed, now?"

He chewed on his lip silently, giving you a low mhm, as he shoved off his boots onto the ground, kicking his feet up on the cot. The hairs on his chest were slight, but still visible.

"So, I've been thinking about what you said. About Jenner." You closed the book over on your thumb, Daryl lifting his head from the pillow.

"You were right, we can't trust him. He's shady, and probably hiding more things than we thought. We gotta grill him for info, tomorrow or something. It's the only way we'll get the truth. You know?"

"Don't know if Rick would be cool with it.. much less anyone else. But we are gonna find out what he ain't tellin' us. I can promise ya that."

"Good enough for me," you said, standing up and placing the book on the couch, "Alright, well I'm gonna go brush my teeth. Carol stopped by while you were in the shower and gave you and me toothbrushes and toothpaste. Swear I've never been so ecstatic in my life."

You chuckled before leaving the room, slight smile on Daryl's face, one you couldn't see. One he wished for you to see. One he grew a liking to plastering across his face because of you.

Groaning, he laid back on his cot, before realizing he hadn't journaled yet today. A hand darted out to his pack, shifting through his belongings to find another shirt for him to wear, and his journal.

Day nine

Somehow we made it to the CDC. It looked like another dead end at first, bodies scattered all over the place. Some doctor let us in, Jenner. Y/n rode with me the whole way on my bike. I think she sees me, like really sees me. Strange, feelin' like someone cares about me for who I am. Never expected that from anyone, not even her. She's stupid to care about me, and I aint no good, neither. Spent the night eatin' real dinner and drinkin' real booze with the group. Thought the night would conclude with me passin out drunk. Then y/n asked to stay with me. She would'a stayed with Andrea, but since she wasn't in the best place, she came to me instead. Even convinced me to shower. Weird how much she affects me already. Rubbed one out jus' thinkin' about her. Fuckin' dumb thing to do. I ain't got no right feelin' that way about her. She's a friend, never gon' be anythin' more.

With that, he closed the journal, tossing it back into his bag and replacing his older shirt on his body with a somewhat clean one before you came back. Daryl attempted to get himself to actually relax, and once his head hit the pillow, the same fatigue that washed over him in the bathroom returned to his head.

Though he was laying to face the wall, he heard the slight pitter patter of your feet approaching the room from down the hall. You entered silently, closing the door and shutting off the light.

Silence was present in the room, and he thought you'd passed out, until you heard you speak.

"You're a good man Daryl. You may not see it, but I do. I don't know what you've been through, but whatever walls you put up, you'd better think about taking them down."

That was the last thing he heard before drifting blissfully off to sleep.

The next thing Daryl could focus on was a splitting headache, one he'd gotten from his lovely two bottle of wine drunk. Relentlessly, he tried to make it go away, but sleep didn't come as easily as it once had. His instinct was to get up and turn on the light, but paused when he remembered you were in the room with him. If he turned the light on, you'd wake up and lose some of your rest that you very much needed.

Daryl's hand darted out from the covers to his pack, grabbing the flashlight and his journal from it as he stood from the cot. Cracking the door open, there was a small source of light coming from down the hall. Once he clicked his flashlight on, he began striding down the hall.

He came across the rec room, void of any people. One of the clocks read 4am, which meant he'd been asleep for about 4 hours at most. Once he sat, he opened another page to his journal and started a new entry.

Day eleven

It's 4 am. Only know cause there's a clock in this rec room. Had to take a walk. Made me feel like shit for leaving y/n alone when she asked for company while she slept. I'm gon' go back, just needed a minute to clear my head. I don't completely trust Jenner, he's hiding something. Definitely more to what he told us. I've been tryin to keep these people safe best I can, so if there is something else goin on here, I've gotta find out. Don't wanna lose any more people. Can't. Won't. Them undead pricks won't stop me. Won't stop us. I'll do whatever it takes, for this group.

Once he'd finished, he shut the book and headed back to the room to find you still asleep on the couch. Sleep washed over him a while after he laid down again.

The rough knock on the door was loud enough to shake you from your slumber, reading the clock in the room that said 8:45. Daryl snored lightly from across the room, chest lifting with each breath. He looked peaceful, laying under the covers of his cot like it was the best sleep he'd gotten in years.

You wondered what it would be like to actually wake up next to him in the mornings, brush the hair from his face and leave a soft kiss on his cheek before rising for the day.

But you couldn't, and you thought you never would.

You rose silently, letting the archer catch a few more minutes of rest while you put on clothes for the day, and slipped your boots on again, brushing your fingers through your hair to calm some of your bedhead. The mirror on the wall helped, as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You remembered to pack both toothbrushes and toothpaste from the previous night, before walking over to Daryl, fast asleep on his cot.

"Hey, psst. Daryl," You poked his chest once, twice, three times before his eyes fluttered open.

"Wha-"

"C'mon, they're making breakfast. I can smell that bacon from all the way in here. Maybe we can find out what Jenner's keeping a secret today, too."

He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, still half asleep. You glanced at him from where you stood by the mirror, he looked adorable, even in his drowsy state. You noticed the darker color shirt he was wearing, the top buttons undone, chest hairs visible. You could've sworn you saw a tattoo poking out from his left pec.

Before you could stare any more, his eyes opened fully, pulling himself off the cot. His pants were unbuttoned, a sliver of his boxers visible as he stood. You tore your eyes away from him, although you wanted to look more.

Daryl cleared his throat, buttoning his pants as you combed your hair in the mirror. He walked towards you, turning back to him.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The door opened, light beaming from the hallway. Some of the group had already exited their rooms, hearing their chatter from down the hall. The two of you walked into the room you had all ate in the night before, smell of bacon and eggs filling the place.

"Eggs, powdered, but I do 'em good." You hear T-dog say, walking over with a pan in his hand. "Protein helps the hangover."

Glenn, on the other hand, is sat upright, head in his hands, groaning loudly for everyone to hear.

"Morning, everyone." You stated, taking a seat next to the dark haired man, Daryl sitting next to you. A few others said good morning back, others too caught up in their hangovers to speak. Rick looked about as bad as Shane did, but not as terrible as Glenn looked.

Lori glanced up at you, her eyes shifting to Daryl as you took a plate and served yourself, "Eventful night?"

"What? No- I just read some books and went to sleep." You chuckled, trying to break the awkward tension floating in the room.

Rick picked up a pill bottle from the table, asking Lori about it, responding with, "Jenner thought we could use it. Some of us, at least."

"Ugh, don't ever, ever, ever let me drink again."

The group conversed lightly as everyone woke up, sipping their coffee and eating their meal. You stood to grab some coffee as Jenner walked in.

"Morning."

"Hey, doc."

You saw Andrea nod to Dale, turning towards Jenner in his chair.

"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing-"

"But you will anyways."

"We didn't come here for the eggs," Andrea states.

Jenner brought you to the same big room again, standing in front of the screens while he spoke a command to the computer: Give me playback of TS-19.

Displayed on the monitor was the playback he requested, closing in on an internal view of a brain, along with other pieces of data. Jenner demonstrates that the lights flowing through a much closer-up image, was someone's life; their experiences, memories, thoughts- it was everything. He continued rambling on about the test subject, someone who was infected by a bite, but volunteered to have the process recorded for research.

Scanning to the first event per his request, the playback began to display the doctor's research, as the lights in the brain began to flicker rapidly, fading to darkness quickly after. Solemn expressions plagued the room upon hearing Jenner's analyzation of the infection's course.

A moment later, he scans to the second event, playing back on the monitor the same as it had before.

What Jenner calls resurrection points reveals itself to be that moment of reanimation you'd watched in Amy, two days prior, not to mention the individuals you saw on the road before finding your group.

The same brain flickers with red light, hearing that it restarts the brain stem, only lasting a few seconds before its termination occurred. You and Daryl shared a confused look, silence ringing out loud enough to hear a pin drop.

Andrea puts two and two together and questions Jenner yet again, only this time it's on account of not having a clue as to what the virus is.

"There has to be somebody who knows something. Somebody, somewhere.."

"I've been in the dark for almost a month, but I hear France was the longest to hold out. But that's as far as I know."

That was the moment your heart dropped. You inhaled sharply, losing the grasp you had on any hope left.

"Man, I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk, again."

At that point, you might as well have joined him, if there really was nothing left anywhere in the world. It was all gone.

Your vision filtered out of focus, room beginning to spin as you lost any strength you had in your legs, as your body hit the cold marble floor.

It felt as if a moment passed where your eyes were fluttering open, attempting to push yourself up with the help of your forearms. Your head pounded, each voice muffled as you went to grasp at your head that was now throbbing in agony.

As the aching settled a moment later, you were finally able to clear your foggy vision on the person crouching before you, Daryl.

"You alright?"

"I- uh, what happened?"

"You fainted, sure ya not still drunk?"

"N-No, just-"

The recollection of what you had just been told by Jenner became apparent in your mind, the horror flooding through your head once more.

"There's nothing left, is there?" Your voice weakened, not sure whether to be bothered with the way four of the group's men just ran out of the larger room in a panic.

"C'mon, lemme get ya back to the room, 'kay?"

Nodding, he pulled you up, draping your arm across his shoulder with your head still pounding. Daryl brings you to the couch you'd slept on the night before, as he lets you sit down on it.

"You think Jenner was serious? About there being nothing-" You inhaled again, unsettled feeling coating your stomach at the thought.

Daryl stood chewing on his thumb, now pacing back and forth, "Ain't sure, 'specially not with the way he went quiet." His pacing became aggressive, grabbing the bottle of whiskey on the ground that he'd apparently put near his cot the night before.

Your conversation was cut short after hearing a commotion about the air shutting off in the rooms.

Why is the air off?

What's going on?

Voices echoed from outside the room, Daryl peeking out of it with the bottle still in his hand. Jenner was the one being questioned relentlessly by the members of your group as he treaded down the hallway.

Why's everything bein' turned off?, you hear Daryl say as Jenner walks right by him and swoops the bottle of liquor from him, taking a swig. He follows Jenner out the door, quickly rising from the couch to follow him and the rest of your group on the quest for answers.

Energy use is being prioritized, he replied, admitting to not having any control over the building's programming. Zone 5 is shutting itself down.

Daryl's frustrated state grows with annoyance, fed up with the doctor's vague answers and wanting some real ones.

"Hey, what the hell that mean, huh? Man, I'm talkin' to you! What'd you mean it's shuttin' itself down? How can a building do anything?"

"You'd be surprised."

Another vague answer.

The computers were programmed to be the very last thing kept running until the power grid shut down completely, beginning at the half hour mark of a digital clock with large red numbers, counting down the minutes.

What the fuck... what happens at zero..

"Let me tell you something-" Shane bolts towards Jenner but Rick stops him before he can get any closer to the doctor.

"To hell with it, Shane. Lori, get our things- everybody, get your stuff, we're getting out of here, now!"

That was the sign you'd been scared of getting, one that meant retreat in the most devastating way. Heart racing, you all turned for the door, until a loud alarm sounded out, startling you even more.

Thirty minutes to decontamination, the computer played out.

"Doc, what's going on here?" Daryl yelled, straining his own throat at the looming unknown of what was to come in those thirty minutes.

Suddenly, the hallway you'd been heading towards was being blockaded by an automated door, and by the looks of it, there was no getting through it.

"Did he just lock us in?" Glenn spoke, "He just locked us in!"

Anger overtook Daryl in a wave, throwing himself towards Jenner with every intention of beating his face into the ground, only to be ripped away from the chance, getting pushed away from him getting any closer.

"I told you, once that door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that."

"It's better this way."

"What is? What happens in 28 minutes?!" Rick questioned incessantly, standing a few feet away from the doctor.

Jenner had gone off on one of his rambling tangents again, only this time it was in a fit of rage, attempting to make the group realize why this place was built the way it was.

"In the event of a catastrophic power failure, H.I.T's are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T's?"

"Vi define-"

H.I.T's: high-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives.

It continued on to state how they'd be set off as the timer runs out, lighting the air on fire with its two step process. Gasps of horror and cries filled the air as the computer had all but handed you each a death sentence on a silver platter.

A chill rushed down your spine at the realization: every single one of you was going to die.

No chance of survival desired by the effect the explosives had promised. They would set the air on fire.

Some of the group clutched their loved ones in their arms desperately, while others only stood around, any hope they still held washing away from their expressions.

We're all going to die here, you thought. There's nothing left, anywhere. We were doomed from the start. How could we be so stupid? So ignorant? So filled with hope and determination to make the world better for us, to survive, when there's nothing out there that could fix this? Nothing that could make it better?

Any hope you'd still clung onto was pooling out of your body in a pile of unseen ambitions and delusions you'd foolishly looked forward to for the future.

Daryl's anger only burned, a forest fire that only grew larger with every time he yelled out for the doctor to open the door. You sat crouched against a wall, huddled with the rest of your group that wasn't doing everything they could to release the door.

We're fucked. We're so fucked.

"You should've left well enough alone. It would've been so much easier." Jenner stated, the men still throwing themselves at the door.

No, no, no. This doesn't make anything easier.

"Easier for who?" Lori spoke, offended with his words that were so clear of an attempt to pull you all back from this realization.

"All of you. You know what's out there-a short, brutal life, and an agonizing death."

His words, although speaking from a scientist's point of view, began to sink in, but not in a way that sent death to your door terrifyingly.

The words of your group members were muffled, focusing on your heart beating so infuriatingly fast, until you heard: Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher.

The next words you heard were the heated ones coming from a familiar voice.

"Well, your head ain't!"

You glanced up from your lap, viewing how Daryl threw himself at the doctor, once more getting pushed away from the man before inciting violence on him.

There's always hope, you heard Rick say, Maybe not here, but somebody, somewhere-

No, there's not. Not anymore, you mumbled to yourself.

Within his rage, Daryl managed to take a few deep breaths, eyes trailing over to where you sat. His focus changed from the situation at hand to the frail state of your body, legs pulled to your chest and hands shaking with every move they made.

"What part of everything is gone do you not understand?"

This is our extinction event.

After an outburst from Shane resulting in him shooting several of the computers, then Jenner, with a shotgun, you only felt more despair fill your chest. It made you raise from the floor in fear of getting run over. The state of everything had already converted people to such evil, why would you want to live in a world like that?

"I think you're lying."

"What?"

"You're lying about no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest, or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You stayed when others ran. Why?"

"Not because I wanted to. I made a promise," Jenner stood from his chair at Rick's questioning, pointing to the monitor, "To her. My wife. She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could i say no?"

Bang.

Daryl was at the indestructible door again, sending blows down on it with an axe.

"She was dying."

Bang.

"It should've been me on that table."

Bang.

"I wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world."

Bang.

"Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. She was an Einstein. Me, I'm just Edwin Jenner."

"Your wife didn't have a choice. You do. That's- that's all we want- a choice, a chance."

"Let us keep tryin' as long as we can," Lori stated, with Carl in her arms. The tone in her voice made you break a little, but there was no changing what your fate had decided.

"I told you, topside's locked down. I can't open those." Jenner walked past Rick and the others to another computer, swiping a keycard and pressing a few buttons on a pad with numbers.

Just like that, the door opened.

Daryl was the first one to yell out, being he was closest to the door.

"C'mon!" He started out the door, but entered again when he realized you hadn't followed.

You felt empty, the fight for hope dwindled to just ashes, somewhat like and end to the blazing fire of life, living, surviving. The whole world was gone, and there was nothing to be done about it. All the feeling from your chest faded away.

"I'm grateful."

"The day will come when you won't be."

Gasps and desperate yells sounded out from the group, alerting the group of their one passageway out of the building. While everyone grabbed onto each other, you stood in place.

Glancing around the room through tear-brimmed eyes, you noticed not everyone had bolted out the door, either.

Jacqui and Andrea stayed in place as well.

"Y/n! What're you doing? Let's go!" He bolted towards you, only watching as he approached with a solemn face.

"I-I can't. You go."

"Wha- n-no. I ain't lettin' ya. 'M not just leavin' you here."

"Yes, you are, Daryl."

She's not in her right mind, the coercion of Jenner's words had gotten to you, he thought.

"Hey! we've got four minutes left! C'mon!" Glenn yelled out, still stood by the door with Carl and a few others, as Lori pulled Rick out the door.

T-dog tried to bring Jacqui with him, only to be shoved away.

"No, I'm staying. I'm staying, sweetie. I'm not ending up like Jim and Amy. There's no time to argue, and no point if you wanna get out."

"Just go." You whispered, walking a few steps from Daryl.

How could he tell you why you dying would be the worst thing that would happen to him? It would rip him apart, piece by piece until he only became a shell of himself.

"I can't, you know I can't. I'm not leavin' you here." He only followed after you, not having the right words to say to you in a hopeless time like this. "You were the one that told me there was hope, remember?"

"Daryl-" you started again, kicking at the debris on the ground.

"Nah. Listen to me. I ain't goin' if it's not with you."

"You're insane," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest.

"And you're not? Come on, there's always somethin' to fight for. Just gotta find it. How can ya if you ain't with us? We're gonna do it, make the world better. If we can't do anythin' about the geeks, we can only do it in spite of 'em."

Your eyes glimmered with fear, but he could've sworn he saw a light of hope, so he continued.

"You can find somethin' new to fight for, I swear on my fuckin' life. I can't-" Daryl sighed, "I can't lose you. I won't. You mean too much to me. You're my only friend, the hell 'm I gonna do with you gone? If you're not around, I got nothing to fight for. Nothin'."

Daryl's voice broke amidst the other conversations.

That was the moment his eyes met yours, flicking to light the fire of survival in you once again. Tear filled eyes met his, pulling him in for an embrace, and against his skin, you whispered.

"Okay. Let's go."

With that, you both ran for the doorway, pushing the ticking clock of death away with every patter of your footsteps. Eventually, you'd gotten to the front of the building, where the rest of your group was figuring out how to exit the building. Glenn spotted you and Daryl coming closer towards them all, a slight smile on his face.

Their methods of getting the window's glass to break had failed, until Carol rushed towards Rick, pulling something from her bag.

A grenade.

Once he got close enough to the glass, he pulled the pin, urging everyone to step back to be guarded from the blast. You all but threw yourself far enough away, hearing the effect of the blast shatter the glass with a loud boom.

You all dashed out of the window, spotting the vehicles down the road from where you'd parked them. Walkers had heard the blast and began to approach, only to be taken down by bullets from your group. Once you reached Daryl's bike, you looked back at the building one last time, before it was blown to pieces.

Two figures emerged from the broken window, Andrea and Dale.

You heard Lori yell from the RV to get down, both you and Daryl crouching behind the Winnebago before the blast rang out.

All you heard a few seconds later was the massive explosion of the building, along with a wave of heat that radiated all the way over to you all. Daryl panted, looking at you before hopping on his bike, starting the engine. Hopping on behind him, the engines of each vehicle sounded out, as they began to drive away.

You clutched onto Daryl's torso as the bike engine began, shuddering breaths filling your chest. Before he began driving, you tapped his shoulder.

"Daryl, thank you for getting me out of there. You're right, I do have something to fight for."

His eyes lightened, nodding before pulling his weight off the ground and driving the bike away from all the wreckage.

You'd found something- better yet someone to fight for, and it happened to be the very archer your arms wrapped around.

You chose to fight for him, of all things.

Just as hard, he'd chosen to fight for you.

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