#it's not nearly as exciting as taking a dog for a walk cause they may only want to stay within a foot of your front door

[thesnowqueen]

this one person at work was telling me how one of her cats got pregnant and then she had like 6 kittens she needed to find homes for. and she was also telling me how another kitten was the sweetest thing and had a such a big personality and then the kitten got hit by a car and she was really sad. it took all of my willpower to not snap and go "that's why you shouldn't let your cats go outside, dumbass"

[circeyoru]

The Black Leash = Requested

[Alastor x High-ranked Hellborn Contractor!Reader]

The Request

When you went on your duties as one of the rare high ranking hellborns, Alastor saw this as his chance to leave your side and look for somewhere to be safe. Where better than the hotel the foolish Princess of Hell was promoting. It was perfect

Until you caught wind of his location

You had Alastor for 7 years, no one in Hell knew what happened to him. That was false. No one in the Pride ring knew where he was and what he was doing because he wasn’t in Pride ring. You as a Hellborn have the privilege to travel between rings. Alastor took your deal and now his soul was yours, so you could bring him away from Pride

Now your part of the deal was to give him souls, and you did when you brought him to the other rings. But he never said how you give him souls. He was on your leash, he could only have souls when you have no need for them, he took what you didn’t want. He acted like your bodyguard and executioner to the demons that disrespected you

So it caused you quite the disappointment when he went back to his home ring and to the side of the Princess just to avoid you. He should have said he wanted a break, you’d give him! You nearly laughed your head off when you heard where Alastor went, oh, it was his bad luck

No questions asked, you arrived in front of the hotel and prepared yourself before making your presence known to its residence and staff

“A good day to you, Your Highness.” You greeted with a bow of your head to show respect. However powerful and feared you may be, the sunshine and rainbows delusional demon was still the Princess of Hell and the King of Hell, Lucifer’s beloved daughter

You were immediately brought into a bone-crushing hug and squeals of excitement. Charlie chanted your name with glee as she spin you around, only stopping when her girlfriend came over to calm the princess down

Charlie immediately introduced you to Vaggie, claiming with pride that this little demon was the love of her life. You congratulated her and aggressively threatened suggested that if Vaggie was to break dear Charlie’s heart, you’d be hunting her down throughout the rings of Hell. Charlie quickly explained that you were an old friend of her father’s and you have been around when Charlie grew up so you were like family

The sweet girl was honestly Alastor’s worst ally because the second demon she introduced to you was none other than the Radio Demon. Your smile grew as you said Alastor’s name when Charlie was about to. Spotting the nervousness of the demon dressed in red

“You can say this fellow has other jobs before joining your hotel, Princess.” You spoke, momentarily taking your eyes off of Alastor to give him some air, less he faints from shock

When Charlie was about to introduce you to the rest of her newly made friends, Alastor was quick to interjet, claiming that it hardly was important. You glared over to him, making him shut his mouth as you dared him to interrupt Charlie again. Where, oh, where was his manners?

Seeing the tension, Charlie opted to show you around but you declined, saying she was needed elsewhere more important than to show an old acquaintance like you around. You made sure Alastor heard it loud and clear. Alastor stepped up to ‘show you around’ as the host and the two of you disappeared deeper into the hotel

“Quite the lovely place, the Princess built.” You admired the decor, leisurely walking around and taking your time with each step you took. At a peculiar hallway, you saw the past with smokey figures and heard an interesting conversation that involved your deer. You grinned at the freedom Alastor seemed to be taking advantage of

“You are close with the royalties?” Alastor spoke more as a question of confirmation than a statement. Him obediently following behind you, just as a dog on a leash should

“Yeah.” You gave him a lazy smile. “You’re aware I have connections, but you didn’t seem to think I would have closer connections with the royal family. Why I wonder. But it’s okay. I don’t mind. It made it all easier to find out where you are and what you are doing.”

Alastor’s smile tightened. He really thought he found his way out when he became a valued demon to Charlie why helping out at the hotel with all of his present abilities. Trivial as it may be, it slowly made Charlie and the rest of them more reliant on him. If he were to disappear, he’d be missed in some way that could be beneficial to him

“Helping out for entertainment, huh. A unique answer but not from you.” You looked over over to Alastor who seemed to be deep in thought. You cooed as you comforted him for his failed escape plan, you reminded him of your abilities of visions capable of seeing the past and future. You were like an oracle. You saw everything that Alastor did before your arrival

Transparent chains turned black as they formed around Alastor’s neck, pulling him to the ground and made him on his hands and knees. You relished the look of restraint on his face and the way those cute ears of his pinned back

“Since you like to help out in this hotel, why not go all out. You are to protect this hotel and its residence with everything you can.” Your open palm appeared a red and green soul, it was like an energy ball but there was a tail on top of it. “Should this hotel or dare I say the Princess fall, the same will happen to your precious soul.” You grinned, “Is the order heard?”

Alastor bite down his pride, bowing his head to you as he acknowledged it, “Yes. Crystal clear. My Liege.”

The Radio Demon nearly had his heart ripped out when Mimzy returned to the hotel once more, behind her was some demons she pissed off. She couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer can she? What’s more it was an Overlord that she meddled with. Alastor had wanted to ignore it, since if he didn’t know, even you wouldn’t judge it on him, but he couldn’t lie, there was no room for it with your powers

Not to mention you were right by him, it was just one of your spontaneous visits to the hotel for Charlie and him. He bowed his head like clockwork and asked for you to let him use a bit for power for this ordeal. You waved your hand and allowed it

Oh, and he did not disappoint. Not only did he leave the Overlord in a wrecked stated, but he also devoured Mimzy to proved that he was loyal to the hotel’s safety. You had seen what Mimzy did before and was aggressive towards any mention of it, Husk being no help when he kept telling you all the things Mimzy did and the reputation she had

Perhaps Alastor allowed it before because he was yet to be under your control, but not anymore would you allow Alastor to use his powers for something so trivial. No, Alastor’s powers were much more useful elsewhere

You purposefully disappeared when Alastor was near death with his battle against the first man, Adam. You wanted to give him a taste of his medicine. To see that weaken state of Alastor calling out for you, knowing that you were watching and listening. It was enough for you to heal him up good as new

“I hope you learnt your lesson, your punishment for disappearing from my sight was long overdue. My deer.”

As always, Alastor bowed his head, his eyes closing from your faint and soft brushes through his hair, “I apologize, My Liege.”

Note: Hope you guys like this, I'm not satisafied with it, but it is what it is. (╯︿╰；)

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[ruified]

❝ a much needed 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 ˎˊ˗ — pt. 2

warnings: fluff, skk, dazai typical suicide mention . characters: pm! dazai, chuuya, mentioned mori . synopsis: the two boys settle in at the bath house and attempt to relax in each other's company . a/n: here's part 1, this one is so much longer but it's so cute i promise . ao3 link too !!

The two boys settle into the room they were meant to sleep in after they had checked in. Dazai immediately takes one of the futons and drags it across the room, placing it in the opposite corner before returning to the center of the room. “Dogs sleep in the corner.” He states, as if it were a known fact, while pointing to the lonely futon placed where the light barely reached it.

Chuuya’s face contorts in disgust and anger, his voice dropping to a near growl. “As if I’m sleeping in the corner, asshole!” He stomps over to the futon and pulls it out of the corner, sliding it to the center of the room. 

Dazai’s brows furrow. “Why are you so close to me now?”

“Cause your futon is in the middle of the room, I’m close to you no matter where I sleep, you selfish asshole.” Chuuya spits back. He sighs heavily then turns his back to the other boy. Chuuya finds a closet and drops his belongings on the floor inside. He strips himself of his hat and jacket, hangs them up respectively, and switches his shoes out for slippers provided by the staff. 

Chuuya throws an extra pair of slippers and a robe at Dazai, who somehow manages to catch it despite not looking as if he was paying attention. “Get changed. The boss sent us here to relax, so we might as well.” With a robe of his own in his hands, Chuuya slams the closet door shut and gets changed.

Dazai blinks once, then twice, and groans loudly. He falls to the floor, pouting and crossing his legs. Rather begrudgingly, he gets changed out of his “work” attire and into the robe and slippers. He glances at the closet door, Chuuya was taking forever in his opinion. “How long does it take you to put on a robe?”

As if on command, the door to the closet slides open and reveals Chuuya. He’s glaring at Dazai while tying his hair up again. “Have you ever heard of something called patience?” Chuuya begins taking large strides towards Dazai, his hands coming down to his own hips. “What? You excited or something?”

Dazai pauses and shrugs. “Excited is a strong word, however, I would like to relax.” He smiles cheekily and pivots himself towards the doorway on the ball of his foot. “Come now, Chuuya. You may be my dog, but that doesn’t mean I’m too fond of you smelling like one.” With that, Dazai started parading out of the shared room, leading the way to the baths. Chuuya groaned and rolled his eyes, deciding that sometimes it’s best to pick and choose your battles, this was just one of their many.

With Chuuya in tow, Dazai enters the male’s bath area with a dramatic wave of his arms and a sigh of relief. Chuuya walks in behind him, unphased by the boy’s actions, holding a basket with towels and soaps for the two of them. The red-headed boy surveys the surroundings, there’s very few other people here which may be for the best. 

Chuuya walks straight for the bath and peels off his robe. He slips into the water without hesitation, not reacting to the temperature of the water other than a sigh of content. The young man props his arms up on the ledge behind him and leans back. Dazai approaches the bath as well but stands there outside of it, looking hesitant. He crouches down near the edge of the back and peers in at Chuuya, watching with big, empty eyes in a nearly childlike manner. 

Chuuya approaches the edge where the young man is and raises a brow, a rather judgemental look on his face. “Why aren’t you getting in?” This earns a dramatic sigh from the boy still wrapped in bandages. “Because now the water is all dirty from you being in it.” 

The shorter of the two narrows his eyes and shoots a sharp glare at Dazai. “Shut it with the excuses, freak.” Chuuya sighs and shakes his head, he leans in and drops his voice to something quieter. “You scared of the water or something?” He sounds genuine as he speaks, as if it’s a real concern of his. This makes Dazai shake his head vigorously. “I have no issues with water!” 

Suddenly, a hand a bit smaller than his and with a much stronger grip is on Dazai’s hand—it’s Chuuya’s. He’s pulled forward, almost stumbling in. “Hey-!”

“Just get in already. It’s not like anyone’s gonna look at you funny or somethin’, we’re, like, some of the few people here.” 

Dazai sits down and considers Chuuya’s claim, dipping his legs into the water in the meantime. He sighs in an exasperated tone and removes his own robe, quickly sliding himself into the bath next to Chuuya. He sits in the bath so that his shoulders are even covered by the water, only his head poking out. Then Chuuya gives him this weird look.

“You’re still wearing those in the bath? How the hell do you expect to get clean with those on?” Under the water’s surface, Chuuya tugs gently at the bandages on Dazai’s wrist, who quickly moves away, causing the water to stir. “Yes, they’re practically part of me, you wouldn’t understand.” The boy waves his hand dismissively. 

Chuuya sighs softly and, for once, he doesn’t sound annoyed with him. He looks Dazai in the eye and speaks in a slightly softer tone. “No one’s gonna look at you funny or anything, and if they do…” A pause to consider how he wants to offer some form of ‘support’. “I’ll tell ‘em to mind their business. Anyways, you shouldn’t be worried about what anyone else thinks if that’s why you won’t take off the bandages.”

Dazai stares at Chuuya for a moment then looks away suddenly, dipping down further into the water. “You have no idea what you’re even talking about.” 

Then, the redhead backs off and sits back, soaking in the water in silence. They sit there for about 5 minutes, staring at nothing in particular, letting the water embrace them warmly. Out of the corner of his eye, Chuuya notices a flash of pale skin. He turns his head towards his partner and quickly takes note of the pile of unfurled bandages on the tiled floor beside the bath. He decides not to comment on it.

Dazai stares at his vague reflection in the water’s surface, his face distorting as ripples pulsate through it. He sighs and puts his hand over his reflection and disperses it. He switches his attention to the boy sitting next to him, a face expressing nothing in particular, and speaks in a monotone voice. “It’s getting too hot.”

Chuuya, who was resting his eyes, looks at Dazai now. Dazai’s body is starting to look pretty red, it’s getting to his face, it’s a bit concerning how quickly he’s reacting to the heat. “Already? It hasn’t even been 10 minutes.”

Dazai sinks deeper into the water with a slight pout pulling his bottom lip down. Then he sighs dismissively. “I guess this isn’t such a bad way to drown…” That grabs Chuuya’s attention. He grabs Dazai by the arm and pulls him up out of the water, standing himself upright as well. “I don’t wanna be involved in your fuckin suicide, let’s just go wash up instead.” 

Dazai whines as Chuuya drags him away from the sweet, tender kiss of death at the hands of the heated tub, kicking his feet like a child while protesting. They arrive at the showers just a few paces away from the bath and Chuuya sits Dazai down in front of a detachable shower head. He grabs the shower head and stands in behind the boy, nudging his shoulder. “Tilt your head back.” 

Dazai blinks a few times in confusion then complies, tilting his chin up just before the shower head turns on and the warm water rains down on his scalp. Fingertips begin to rub against the roots of his hair, massaging his skin rather pleasantly. He smirks and attempts to look up at Chuuya. “What a good dog you are, washing my hair for me without even being asked! Maybe I should give you a reward?” 

Chuuya scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t want your praise or whatever.” There’s a small giggle that comes from Dazai before he taps his feet against the tiled floor. “Chuuya must love me so much.” He asserts in a sing-song tone. This comment earns a tug on his hair from Chuuya and a small growl-like sound. “Shut the hell up, you weirdo.” Dazai winces and starts to pout, staring at the tiled floor beneath his feet instead. 

Chuuya grabs Dazai’s chin and tilts his head back rather forcefully. He then rinses the dark curls, shaking them with his fingers to make sure the water gets everywhere—Dazai’s hair is especially thick, so it was quite a bit of work to wash. 

The smaller young man gets a hold of body wash and lathers it onto his hands. He goes to begin washing the other boy’s back but stops, hesitating. He’s never seen Dazai’s bare back like this, something inside him is telling him he should be very careful with Dazai when it comes to this. He exhales and steadily puts his hands on Dazai’s shoulder blades. He waits for a reaction before he moves on, but Dazai just sits there, unmoving. His back feels a bit tense and stiff, so Chuuya starts by sort of massaging him. He makes sure to be gentle with Dazai, but, unfortunately, he’s rather heavy handed and not completely aware of his own strength.

Dazai groans loudly—it’s almost more of a whine. “Ow, Chuuya, that hurts!” To which the redhead rolls his eyes. “Well you’ve got a lotta knots in your muscles so it’s not gonna be exactly comfortable.” He leans forward towards Dazai’s ear and speaks a bit softer. “You’ll feel better later, just trust me.” Earning a scoff from the boy desperately in need of a massage and some relaxation. 

Chuuya continues to wash Dazai’s back and work out the knots and tense muscles. Finally, he steps back with a sigh and sits down at the faucet next to his peer. “There, wash up the rest of the way by yourself, I gotta wash myself.” Chuuya starts running the water and putting shampoo in his hair, meanwhile, Dazai hesitantly starts washing himself, slowly but surely. 

The two boys finish their baths and return to their room. While waiting for dinner, Chuuya runs out to go get new bandages for Dazai, leaving the boy alone in the tatami-matted room to stare at the ceiling and the lights. He finds himself getting lost in the patterns above, sinking into an endless array of geometrics that aim to swallow him whole. He’s going numb, the world is silent and yet so loud at the same time, he can hear nothing but everything at the same time. He can hear the electricity running throughout the room and with each second that ticks by the louder the humming gets, similar to thousands of wasps lying in wait. Suddenly, he can feel the heat of the lights too, but the floor is so cold and the walls appear to be moving in on him. Everything is happening so fast—

Someone is kneeling next to his head now. Dazai turns and sees familiar copper hair and brownish-blue eyes looking back at him. He wants to get closer but he knows better. “You okay there? You look like you saw a ghost…” There’s concern in Chuuya’s voice, even if it’s not noticeable to anyone else other than Dazai. He rolls closer to the other boy and presses his forehead against a warm leg. 

“Chuuya kept me in the bath for too long and now I’m dizzy.” Dazai mumbles his woes into Chuuya’s skin while the latter simply shakes his head. “You just need to drink some water. Dinner should be here soon and they’ll bring water with that.” Chuuya doesn’t push Dazai away or anything, in fact, he carefully rests his hand atop the boy’s head and strokes the dark curls. It seems to relax Dazai as his shoulders fall and he leans more on the ginger boy. 

Dinner does soon come, it’s curry, and the boys eat at a small table in their room while watching a movie. A few times Dazai attempts to take some from Chuuya’s plate, defending himself by claiming that the food on the other plate tastes better, which Chuuya doesn’t buy. They bicker about who gets what food while their legs are intertwined beneath the table they share. 

A couple of hours pass, they watch a movie and Dazai watches Chuuya play a racing game on the handheld console Dazai carries with him. Soon, though, the two boys find themselves getting tired, their heads feeling heavy from weeks of inadequate rest. The redheaded boy is the first to go lay on his futon and tuck himself in.

“Don’t you even think about waking me up.” A warning spat at the freshly-bandaged boy, but it falls on deaf ears as he sits on his own futon, legs crossed, staring at the ceiling. Without saying another word, the smaller boy rolls over and attempts to sleep, leaving Dazai alone in the dark. 

Quietly, Dazai drags his futon closer to Chuuya—with the excuse of trying to bother the boy more and entertain himself, of course. However, he finds that he’s pulled his futon up to be flush with Chuuya’s… he shrugs it off and lays down regardless. 

“What do you want, mackerel?” Chuuya loudly whispers to his partner. “Nothing!” A voice sings back, making the ginger roll his eyes and bury himself further into his blankets.

Dazai stares at Chuuya’s back for a bit then absentmindedly reaches out and touches the copper waves in front of him, gently twirling the hair between his fingers. He must be tired because he presses those strands of hair to his lips quietly. Then he does something even more outrageous: he presses his forehead against the other boy’s back and lets his eyes drift shut. 

Minutes pass by, neither of them move, until the boy with brownish-blue eyes sighs and flips over in his futon to face Dazai. He extends his arms out as an invitation and looks at the other with furrowed brows, thankful that it was too dark to see his full expression. Dazai moves closer slowly and opens his mouth to say something, but Chuuya pulls him into a hug, laying the brunette’s head on his chest. “Not a word or I'll kick you.” 

“Chuuya is so mean…”

“Just sleep, idiot.” His voice sounds softer at that moment. Soft enough to cradle Dazai and make him feel… safe? His eyes close once again and his breathing steadies as he holds the boy he hates close, his face buried in said boy’s chest. Chuuya strokes his back slowly, though he'd never admit to that, Dazai begins to fall asleep. 

Dazai had never fallen asleep so well before, and he stayed asleep all night, safe in Chuuya’s embrace.

[lilith-little-world]

The Oracle|| Concept Oneshot 4 pt.2

Okay I know this is slightly later than I usually post but I got busy since I went out for nearly the whole day. So I wrote a longer oneshot.

This is for WhiteWings, who requested a continuation, or how Wukong and the reader first met. Since I have no idea what was considered their first meeting I decided to do a continuation.

Remember you can always send in questions or request anytime! Also extremely suggestive themes and grammar errors. Grammarly keeps dying on me.

The door squeaks open loudly. Announcing your presence as you walk in with shopping bags in your arms. You scurried your way to the large wardrobe that sits beside the large bed. Put the bags down on your bed ready to put them away.

“Didn't I tell you, this will be fun? You need to trust me more.”

Wukong hums and puts the rest of your bags down. Finally resting on the bed.

“I guess it was alright, but you didn't need to buy me any clothes. I got a huge wardrobe at home.”

You pull out a peach colored shirt, it was simple but what made you decide to buy it was because of the tightness around the pecs. Wukong had such a muscular body underneath his baggy clothes. You started to separate the clothes. One folded nicely in a pile waiting to be put away and the other put in a bag for the uninterested simian to take home.

“And you only wear that outfit everyday cause?”

“-Cause I like it, there's nothing more to say on the matter.”

“Do you at least wash it?”

“There's nothing more to say- HEY!”

You crawl over the bed and sit right next to him. Leaning close to the neck just before making a quick turn to his shoulder, bringing the fabric up to your nose. Ready to react negatively to a foul smell. Instead the pleasant smell of peaches and cream hits. It was a delightful scent that you had to sniff again, there was something else in the mix you can't pinpoint sadly. Wukong stays still, not daring to move. You hardly ever get this close to him. He was nervous about your reaction but sighs out in relief when you take another long sniff. Wukong couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. Something in his brain clicks, happy that you enjoy his smell as he enjoyed yours. Not even realizing his tail was hitting the bed like an excited dog.

“Enjoying yourself?”

He rests his head on yours. Enjoying the rare moment between the both. Nearly getting lost in the moment he started to purr. 

“Yeah, you don't stink. I'm surprised, I thought you never showered. How do you get a smell like that!?” 

“Excuse me?! I do shower, I may be an animal but I am civilized!” 

You take in another whiff. There were the peaches and cream but there was something earthy. Grass? Dirt? No, maybe wet rocks by the river bank? Oh-

“You smell like clay from the riverside.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this, but get away from me.”

Wukong pushes you off of him. You fall back, not even putting any effort into stopping.

“I didn't mean it in a bad way, anyway it's only natural for you to smell like that.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care, hun.”

“I kind of like it though.”

Silence filled the room. 

“You do?” Wukong crawls to sit beside your head like a curious puppy.

“Yeah, it's not a bad smell, so I like it.” Shrugging, you didn't really care. Since the peaches and cream smell overpowered any other scent. It wasn't really a big deal to you, nevertheless for Wukong, it was another story.

There was a sudden switch with him. He immediately got on top of you. Bringing him close to you, hands beside your head and his knees separating yours. His eyes hold an emotion you hardly saw from him, pupils dilated, as it bore into you. Recognizing this look from earlier before. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots on where this may lead.

“You're getting easier to mess with you recently.”

“Say the word and I’ll stop, peaches.” His expression was intense, filled with strong emotions. 

“I never said I didn’t like it or to stop?” a smirk reaches your face, getting excited.

“Oh really? Then you wouldn’t mind if I..” He brought his head down to your neck. Giving light kisses, before taking a nibble. You couldn’t stop yourself taking an audible gasp.

“Y-you’re really teasing me right now? Here I thought you were being serious.”

“Oh I am, but you have a bad habit of teasing me out in public. Don’t think I had forgotten that stunt you pulled at the cafe.” Wukong bites your shoulder harshly, showing how he didn’t appreciate that trick.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted to-“ You lean in close to his ear. “Spend all night within your arms.” 

“Playing innocent, all while seducing me huh? I wonder how long it will be until your little act breaks.”

He went back sucking on your neck. A gasp escapes from your lips, hands clinging to his back. Wukong groans from the action. He was about to take it further.

Until a loud knock on the door stops you both. 

You glance at the door and at Wukong. He gave you the same look. 

“Maybe if we stay quiet, they'll leave-” You whispered before a familiar voice spoke.

“I know you two are in there, hurry up and open the door.” 

Wukong got off of you and huffed. You quickly fix yourself up and try to look decent. You went to open the door and see why the hell he came over here.

“Macaque, what brings you here?”

He brought the almond colored dog up to your face. She barks excitedly to have finally found you. You raise an eyebrow at the dark fur simian standing in front of you.

“I thought Mk and the others were watching her?”

He puts the dog down as she rushes into the room.

“Well, I just saw her running around the streets looking for you.” He waltzes right into the room, noticing a very annoyed Wukong.

“What got you pissed off now?” 

“Well seeing you is a good enough reason for me.”

“You two stop it! No fighting, I would like to have this room in one piece.” 

You close the door and look at the two demons ready to fight. The small dog jumps on the bed ready to play. 

“Y/n, you can honestly do so much better than this guy.” Macaque states. His eyes never left Wukong's glare.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but there's no one better than me!”

“Oh, classic Wukong! Still as egotistical and narcissistic as ever. Good to know you’ll never change.”

“Ugh- Y/n, tell me why did you befriend this demon again? Just say the word and I’ll send him back to hell.”

“Alright, that’s enough! I’m going to kick both of you out if you don’t stop arguing! Don't fucking test me.” 

They stayed silent and refused to look at each other. You sigh.

‘Better than having them argue.’

“Macaque, thank you for bringing Almond here.” 

“Hm? Oh, don't even mention it. I know this fluff ball means a lot to you.” He smiles softly at you before petting the dog. Wukong mumbles something under his breath. Which made Macaque twitch. You were going to call him out until there was another knock on the door.

“Looks like they finally came to tell you the news.” 

You roll your eyes at Macaque's statement and open the door. Everyone was huddled together as Mk and Mei were tearing up.

“We are so sorry!” Mk fell down to the ground and sobs.

“We didn't mean for this to happen! We swear!” Mei copies Mk actions. They clung to your legs, weeping. You just glance at the rest of the group, they all give you a nervous look.

“Look, we lost focus for a second and your pet managed to run off. We spent all day looking for her I swear-” Pigsy explains but Tang finishes for him.

“We couldn't find her sadly, we are truly sorry Y/n. We never meant this to happen.”

“Yeah, and they even dragged me along on their useless search.” Redson came to view. 

“-But we brought some food and tea, so that it might cheer you up.” Sandy adds, Mo meows on his shoulder.

You would have been upset, if hadn't been Macaque.

“Come on guys get up from the ground. You guys don't have to worry about anything.”

You open the door and shuffle to the side to reveal the dog sitting on your bed. Mk and Mei shot up and ran to the dog, hugging her. They sobbed even harder.

“Whoa calm down.” Macaque moved away from the bed as Mk and Mei were sprawled all over the bed.

“Don’t ever disappear like that again.” Mei chokes out.

Wukong pats Mk’s back trying to get him to calm down. You glance back at the others by the door, ready to explain.

“Macaque found and returned her back to me just minutes before you guys arrived.”

“So we spent all day searching for nothing?!” Redson says annoyed.

You glance at the large bowl that Pigsy holds.

“Do you think you have enough for everyone?” 

“Oh definitely, there's enough to last a whole week for you.”

“Well, then why don't you come in and eat? Just place that at the small table over there.”

“What?!” Wukong shouts.

“You don't have to do this.” Pigsy says softly, ignoring Wukong.

“No she does not, but it'll be rude to reject her offer, so start serving noodles.” Tang walks in a chipper mood and heads straight to the kitchen to get the bowls ready. 

“Come on pal, there's no harm in sharing a moment with friends.” Sandy walks in and places a teapot on the table. Tang already setting everything up.

“Alright, alright, hope you're hungry, kid.” Pigsy finally enters and starts serving everyone noodles.

Redson was the last person to come in. His mood sours when he glances around the room.

“I thought when my parents gave you an increase on that weekly allowance, you would have chosen better accommodations.”

You nervously laugh.

“Yeah I tried looking but I got used to this place. I promise to find a new house just give me some time. Anyways I can always crash at your place. Your parents love hanging out with me for some reason.”

Redson rolls his eyes but smiles.

“Ah yes, what do you call yourself again?”

“I'm your sort-of-auntie! So go get a bowl of noodles and eat. Can't have my sort-of-nephew going hungry when I'm around.”

“Strange last time I checked I was the one buying and getting food so you don't get hungry.” He walks away with a chuckle.

“Baaaabe.” Wukong clings to you. Nearly dragging you to the ground from how heavy he was.

“Whaaaat?”

“Tell me you're joking right.”

“Nah, stop being horny and get a bowl of noodles.”

He whines, stating how you don't love him before heading to the table. You just laugh and follow along.

“Hey Macaque, are you up to telling one of your stories?” You ask sitting on your bed eating. The others soon followed. 

“Oh, can you please, your shadow play is the best.” Mei says.

“Yeah you somehow make the story come to life.” Mk adds, trying to encourage the demon.

“Heh, alright, if you guys really want to hear it.” 

The room goes dark catching everyone's attention. Wukong just scoffs, which earns a quick jab from you. 

“Which story are you going to tell?” Tang asks.

“Hmmm, have you heard the tale of Chang’e?”

“Which one? There's multiple versions of it.” Redson asks.

“Well, I have my own version I like to tell.”

Shadows of people form on the walls. Telling a small story. You lean into Wukong as he wraps his arm around you. After the story was done, Mk couldn't stop himself from asking for another. The night went on with Macaque telling stories that slowly derailed to watching a series on the tv. 

It left a warm feeling in your chest to see everyone getting along. Since originally it took so long for them to even see eye to eye. You worked hard for this and you would do anything to keep it like this. A sigh escapes from you as Wukong arms tighten.

Hopefully, it stays like this.

______________________________

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Remember don't be afraid to send in questions or requests! Love you guys!

[frizz-writing]

Eddie x Fem!Reader

(Chap 1) (Chap 2)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Some kissing

Summary: Eddie brings you a gift and you learn that he's horrible at hiding surprises and his emotions.

You're quietly eating breakfast in your empty kitchen, so focused on watching the clock that the sound of someone suddenly laying on their car horn makes you jump. You lean back in your chair to peer out of the window and see a van parked in your driveway with a very familiar face sitting behind the wheel. When Eddie notices your face in the window, he sits back in his seat and excitedly waves you out. You quickly finish the last little bit of your food and grab your bag to go see what he wants. 

You pause to lock the door behind you and he groans. "Come on, you're so slow. I'm withering away." Eddie complains jokingly with his head and arms hanging limply out of the window. "I'm coming, Munson." You reply, shaking your head with a smile. You reach the passenger side and put your bag on the floorboard before getting in. 

Eddie turns around in his seat and quickly grabs something from the backseat. He turns back to you with something folded in his lap. "So I know I said I'd see you at lunch, but.. I'm horrible with surprises." He says while bouncing his knee. You notice that he's trying and failing to hold back his excitement. He lets a smile slip through before he quickly holds the bundle of cloth next to his face, letting it unfurl. "Soooo, whatcha think?" He asks, peeking at you from around the side of the shirt. 

It looks exactly like the Hellfire Club shirt he has on but it's lacking the design. "It's a..uh…nice shirt?" You say, very confused about why he's so excited. "What?" He asks, equally confused. He sticks his neck out and looks at the side of the fabric facing you before looking at the side closest to him. "Ah shit, it's backwards. God damn it," He mutters under his breath as he fumbles with it. "Okay there."

It unfurls again but this time you immediately notice the bold devil head floating in the center. Just seeing it makes your heart swell and a large smile appears on your face. "Y/n," Eddie begins in a voice reminiscent of a king during a knighting ceremony, "It is my honor to present you with your very own, one of a kind, official Hellfire Club uniform. May you wear it proudly." He says as he hands it to you. 

You take a moment to appreciate all the details, even down to the lines on the dice floating at top. You trace the lettering with your index finger, nearly overflowing with pride over your new possession. You glance at Eddie and notice that he's been watching your hands. Hoping you know what he's thinking about, you walk your fingers across the center console. His breath hitches as they draw nearer and he lets all his breath out in a relaxed sigh when you gently interlock them with his. 

Eddie looks up and meets your gaze with soft, puppy dog eyes. "Y'know, you sure know how to melt a guy's heart, y/n." He says barely above a whisper and you feel a blush rush to your cheeks. His head falls forward causing your foreheads to press together. You look into each other's eyes for a moment before he draws in a long, slow breath and reaches up to lightly touch your face. "So uh, kinda wanna kiss you right now. Is that too fast? Should I like take it down a-" You lean forward and answer his question for him, pressing your lips to his. 

At first he freezes, taken back by your boldness, but the tension is quickly broken by him sliding his fingers into your hair and pulling you closer into the kiss. One leads into another, already feeling like you've done this 100 times before. It feels natural, like you two were meant to end up here. He gives you one more kiss before pulling away to look at you. "You're stunning." He says, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. "Look who's talking." You reply, prompting him to pull you into a tight embrace.

He takes a moment to just hold you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. The steady, calming sound of his heart beat makes you tired instantly. You can feel your eyelids getting heavy and they start to fall. 

Eddie's body shifts, "Oh shit! We're gonna be late!" He exclaims. Pulling back, you notice the 7:58 displayed on the radio, 2 minutes before school starts. "Shiiiiit." Eddie says while shifting the van into gear and screeching off. "I'm sure no one's gonna say anything about this. Nope, not a word from any teacher about how I'm gonna be a dropout." He states sarcastically. 

The tires scream as Eddie steps on the brake to stop in a parking spot. He misjudged it and ended up straddling two spaces, but he doesn't seem to care. You two jump out the van simultaneously and start running up to the doors. He reaches them first and throws them open and you follow close behind. You keep running until just before the window into his first class and he comes screeching to a halt, grabbing your waist as you go by.

He presses his lips to yours. The kiss ends with a loud, exaggerated "mwah" and him chuckling. You stand stunned as he opens the door to his class. "See you later, y/n! Hellfire tonight! I'll bring your shirt!" He reminds you. "Mhm, Hellfire, I'll be there." You say, slightly dazed. He looks back with a grin as the door closes and you're left to collect your thoughts in the hallway. 

You shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind and start walking in the direction of your class, no longer concerned about being late. The only thing on your mind is making it to the Hellfire meeting tonight.

[autixel]

Chapter 2.

Alrighty so I woke up, got dressed, hygiene, basic morning routine you get the jist. I didn't describe myself so I may as well now. Dark and wavy muted purple hair. Fair skin, borderline pale. Small stature. Average teenager, except for thing-that-shall-not-be-named. I didn't want to look in the mirror anymore. Next thing I knew I was in the lab looking at Epsilon.

“...So?”

“Eagle is underway.”

“How much time?”

“About fourteen minutes remaining.”

Eagle was out of the tube and in a cradle, their eyes were closed in sleep. I guess technically it was birth. As I gazed upon the sculpt of their bones and flesh I got lost in thought. Fourteen minutes was probably a lie, this was complicated. And could very likely take hours or days to complete. But one line took priority, in particular they could help us, with our cause, with mine especially. I could destroy them. I felt the fire start along the edges of my thoughts. With that I snapped out of it, my hand was in a death grip on the robot’s arm. Epsilon was to my left and staring at me.

“Ah, yes.”

It was weird, taking my hand off the bucket of bolts, my hand felt like it was molded to the curve of their wrist. Part of my brain wanted to freak out over it, but another didn’t. I looked back at Epsilon, their voice box said,

“Your therapy appointment is in ten minutes, please make your way to the physical therapy building. One of the dogs is to escort you.”

The dogs are security guards for the family, me, Alles, Lueja, and any other members of our guild while on the grounds. Most of the time I am accompanied by Border, a robot that Alles had built for me when I was five years old. I call her BC, it just felt right.

A different dog greeted me in the hall, I got excited over nothing. If I remembered correctly this was Corgi, a short thing, even shorter than me. He said in a chipper voice,

"Good morning, I'm here to get you to the docta'."

I nodded, and we walked. He made for some mildly okay company when silent.

The appointment went smoothly, I did some stretches and some motor control exercises. Corgi gave emotional support. We were done after a couple hours. Next thing in the to-do list was lunch. I forgot about breakfast, so I was a starved man. I needed to know what happened so I tried to arrange a lunch with Alles. I called him first.

"Speaking."

"Can we talk about the heist? Over food?"

He paused.

"Yes, meet me in my office after you get us food."

I hung up and did precisely that. His office was characteristically cold and unwelcoming. It's a sterile kind of unwelcome where this would be a place for people to come and meet with him. This was the cover office, the true office? I forgot what it looked like, it's been a long time.

He was eating, well I say that but it's more he has food that's basically decor, a sandwich of what appears to be a meat and cheese with some veg variety. He didn't look at me, just continued working on his computer. He asked,

"Well?"

"You know why I am here."

I wasn't going to bring up the fact that he already had food in front of him.

"Sure, but what are you going to ask?"

Douchebag.

"Uh, I guess tell me how the heist started?"

He turned to fully look at me.

"It first started with you and Lueja coming to me and asking for my help on your job."

He took a bite of his previously untouched sandwich. Stalling.

"Your target was one of the Order's sunglasses. I forget specifically why you wanted them but I digress. We spend weeks planning. You say that for old times sake we should just go, the three of us, no robos. I thought this was dumb but Lueja took your side. On that night you went through the service halls while Lueja waited for me to get to security. Even though I had told you to stay put until I gave an all clear."

I held back on a scowl.

"I believe you nearly made it to the target, but there must've been another layer of security I didn't notice because I accidentally triggered the alarms."

I immediately got a flashback.

•

"Alright you two, you know the plan, I'll take care of video and audio. Mordi, stay here."

Then he left.

I'm not that irresponsible, and I shot daggers into his skull via my eyes. This was bogus and I'm pretty good at stealth so I went on with my part when Lueja wasn't looking.

If I get the glasses then it's smooth sailing. If I don't, probably no harm no foul. I had to be careful with the bots here. They fire with the intent to kill.

It was hard to not think about a brighter future, and what I'd do after this if I was successful. If I did this right then I could be free of everyone. To get that future I had to focus on now, get the glasses and get out.

Then the alarm sounded. And the walls opened. What appeared to be an entire fleet of robots swarmed in front of me, preventing me from my goal. Bleeding witches. I ran, I ran as fast as I could. I was getting pelted by lasers. Then I remembered. I turned back on them, and indulged my defect.

The first went up in a blaze. I kept bringing the heat on them and soon enough the bright green fire caught on the walls, then moved up to the ceiling, and that's when things started to break. The fire wouldn't hurt me but the falling building would. I ran more, more robots came, I melted them to scrap.

Turn, bots, flame, run. The building felt like a labyrinth. Damn the fire because the thing just kept spreading. I found an exit. Unfortunately Alles was out there watching me run out. He had a trail of blood running down his face. I doubted that I looked better. The building suddenly exploded and what happened next was weird.

I felt my body burn, I felt my own fire against it. I felt the building crumble onto me, and disintegrate.

I don't know how long I was there.

•

Next thing I remembered is waking up in the forest. I remembered thinking that Lueja was acting differently. Then my memory goes to yesterday.

"You okay? You spaced out for a second."

"Yeah, yeah, uh, how did you trigger the system?"

"I'm not quite certain, maybe they had infrared monitoring. It's also likely that they have multiple security rooms."

"Why didn't you know for certain?"

His left eye twitched.

"Because it was you two's forsaken plan. I got roped into it."

"Okay, I see my misunderstanding. You were there as I ran out, what happened while I was gone?"

While he talked I got a weird feeling, nothing inherently bad just like there was something behind a veil.

"When the building exploded Lueja got a brick to the head."

Yikes.

"I could see you running out, but then the building collapsed on you and Lueja wouldn't wake up. I carried her into the forest, then went back for you. You weren't covered in cohesive building pieces, it was ash. But it wasn't just ash, there were also flecks of metal. You managed to break metal into smithereens. I also carried you to Lueja, but when I got there it was like an entirely different person. She attacked me. Nearly killed me…"

Then he pointed to a scar on his neck, it was damn close to an artery.

"… It was a close fight, but I was able to safely knock her out."

I stared at him, Lueja was the best human operative we had, that must've been scary as hell.

"Then I called for help. We got you both into the infirmary and here we are. Now my question is, why did you start the fire?"

"An army of bots started swarming me and I needed to defend myself. I had no weapons so I don't know what you want from me."

"You put us all at risk of death."

"You tripped the alarms!"

He scowled at me, I stared back. After some time I faltered and looked away. He sat back in his chair.

"Is that it?"

I got up and out of the chair, never taking my eyes off the floor. I debated on whether or not to say anything, I said hesitant,

"Yes."

And then I left with Corgi coming up beside me.

"That was sunny."

I don't understand why I got so upset but I did. I meant to just say something calm and reasonable but my words came out hard.

"Will you be quiet?"

And the constant green light I've been seeing since I was little grew brighter. And the area it cast on expanded. Corgi stood there, and for the first time said nothing. My face was so tense, it hurt. He gave a short nod. Then I walked, I didn’t know where, I didn’t really care. I just wanted to have something that wouldn’t remind me of my problems. I went to the main garden.

It was beautiful, a perfect blend of technology and nature. I let my hands trail over the soft foliage, it gave under me like the tides and the sand beneath the waves. Or maybe it wasn’t, I’ve never been to the beach. I found a suitable bench, it was just a block of concrete on supports. Corgi stood beside me as I made myself relax. So many annoyances in such little time. I felt a little tingly sensation of a bug crawling on my skin. I torched it with a yelp. Whoops. I turned to Corgi to find some humor in the situation, but he only met my eyes with a semblance of what looked like fear? In a split second he returned to a stoic face. Something to think about later.

“I’ve never seen your powers in action.”

“Not every day you see a defected, eh?”

He merely shrugged, diverting my question. It was weird seeing the robots act so human. By all accounts Corgi should take that as a literal question, and not for the civil discourse of organic life-forms. Ah, crap I forgot to ask Alles about the robots’ change in demeanor. Add to to-do list.

I sat and watched the plants sway with the breeze. I am calm.

•

The market is bustling today, colorful awnings and merchandise on tables as far as the streets would allow. Along with the Rachtskah’s day celebratory decorations being built for tomorrow night

My mother trails slightly behind me, she’s a bit slower than I am.

“Wendare, you silly boy, wait for your poor mother.”

And I do.

“What’s on the list again?”

“Let’s see, we need eggs, cheese, bread, cabbage, and today we can get some beef.”

My smile widens, tomorrow is a special day, Rachtskah’s day, a biannual celebration where the town gets together to feast. It’s a big deal to say the least. Each family does Rachtskah’s day differently, but mine makes food to give to our neighbors. This year is no deviation from the status quo as we’re doing the regular smoked beef and broth.

Hours later we're at home and it's dark out, prepping our meat, vegetables, and dough. Everything is going smoothly. Then a gunshot from far away. To the east. Where the forest starts thickening. Where I've never been allowed to explore. Mother scoffs.

"I'll support your education and career but I draw the line at working for the Kelgerins."

The Kelgerins were a rich family that owned a robot production company. Blandly named Kelgerin Robotics. There were Erna and Siernen, they started the whole thing. Then there were their four children. Lueja, Alles, Kailuen, and Morkla Kelgerin. The reason why I know all of this is because I had to do a presentation on a career field that was important to our society for school. Lueja and Alles took over the business and I couldn't find anything on Morkla and Kailuen beside the fact that they're direct family members. There were rumors of a fifth secret member, but that got stamped out soon after.

I'm honestly surprised that I still remember that stuff, I even remember how I felt. Staring and scrolling through the internet for information on their lives. Not easy when they're private people. Mother thinks they're suspicious. I don't care anymore and I don't want to think about it, I had dreams about that presentation. Like, did you know that Morkla and Kailuen are fraternal twins? And that Alles showed great talent in making robots until he took over the company at fourteen? And that the Kelgerins were founded here in my homeland? Because I want to forget all of that useless information.

On a more relevant topic I helped and finished food preparations. In the mirror of the shared bathroom I did my hygiene ritual. I was short, had light brown hair and dark brown eyes. I am Wendare and I am thirteen years old. I smiled at my reflection, the handsome devil he was. And once I was in bed, I slept with little issues.

•

After a day of processing Eagle was finished transferring. At first they were a bit disoriented. I can't blame them, dying and then waking in a cyborg body must not have been easy. I should know, becoming defected was not pleasant. With the help of one of our robot training employees, named Johan, I got Eagle functional. Which was no small feat. From my robotic friends I've heard that one difficulty in the beginning is dealing with passage of time. Since they live at high processing speeds, they feel every microsecond if they aren't aware of the processing speed they're at. This isn't an issue for older robots since they've adjusted to perceive reality at the paces needed. Newer robots don't yet have that skill. The biological aspect didn't help either, since we couldn't guarantee how Eagle may handle the idea that they died and are now in a different body. Getting a robot to start actively engaging with reality is difficult enough, one with the experimental properties of Eagle is virtually unpredictable. To combat this I have one of the resident robots accompany them, especially when Johan and I aren't available. We have them doing activities that we can easily supervise and introduce more things in a controlled environment. More robots, more sounds, more things in general. They took to it with stride. Learning the capabilities of their vessel and how to control it was a big part. Eagle got me a few times while trying to control their claws. Johan nearly fainted when the scratches sealed back up in less than a minute. There was one time when Johan started falling and Eagle yanked him back up and off the floor. Then they looked at me and said, "... Oops." Amazing. I had to hold back from bending over in laughter. Each day I feel better about making them. In total, getting Eagle introduced to their new life took about a month and a half. Now they were much more capable and in control. I watched as Eagle ran the obstacle course. They were fast, agile, and powerful; certainly a sight to see. Other progress was that they were well received within the robots when they debuted a week ago. Another step forward in my plan.

They were talking with Wolf about the mistakes and timing of the latest run. We modified the course from other winged robots in order to accommodate for the difference. The whole thing was making it up as we went along.

Eagle wasn't the only thing on my plate though. What happened almost eight months ago did matter. The failed heist was about getting a certain pair of glasses. The value of these glasses is about what group it's a trait of, the Umbral Society. It's an exclusive alliance between powerful beings of Aeswor that is a symbol of status and rank unlike others. So this makes the rare time when they're accepting members crucial to say the least. Not to mention the rumors of what members gain in there.

Naturally we have to have a spot.

Ideally it would be Wolf who would help us, but his talents are needed in administration. Our second best, Fox, will be used instead. I'll have to ask Alles about sending a second operative. Every day my life circles back to him, I'm sick of it.

I've been walking a lot, moving limbs a lot. I've been active in trying not to overwork or exhaust myself but still pushing. Not in any more pain than usual. All these things you tell your therapist. The validity however is debatable. I'm bored with this, I want to just be done with therapy so I can fully get back to work.

I've been called to attend the briefing of Fox's mission. It's early afternoon. Lueja's office. I'm standing in a corner, Lueja is at the desk, Alles is leaning against a bookshelf, and Fox stands straight in the center of the room.

"Here is the building, specific room is here, expect the usual deterrents. We have new equipment for you."

Lueja opens a drawer in her desk and hands over what appears to be a gun.

"We've enchanted this to be silent. Do not wound, if you encounter resistance, kill. Clear?"

This side of Fox wasn't something I saw often. It was cold, lifeless even. A stark contrast to the robot I spent my childhood with. With the same voice box used to comfort me after some of my darker days,

"Clear."

That was all the information she needed to know.

•

Mission serial number 7057 logs.

...

Assigned task X/X/X

Arrive at extraterrestrial port Y/X/X

Arrive at Fraw Z/X/X

Infiltrate building A/X/X

Encountered resistance, enemy neutralized

Encountered resistance, enemy neutralized

Shell has been damaged

Encountered resistance, enemy neutralized

Torso has been damaged

Encountered resistance, enemy neutralized

Internal structure has been damaged

Target acquired, falling back

Components missing replacement required

Encountered resistance

...

Signal lost

[outcast-thingz]

Chapter 5:

That Went... Well?

It'd only been maybe an hour's worth of searching but it felt like ten as far as Galieo was concerned.

"What if she lived in the woods. I doubt we'll find her"

"Atticus don't even joke like that."

"I wasn't, but whatever helps you sleep at night" the blonde shrugs. Both boys' attention are caught by the excited barks from Sweetpea and the shriek that followed. Running over the find the young woman half way up a rope that led to a tree house.

"Go. The FuCk. Away!"

"Can you hear us out for a second?"

"If it gets you to go back to that wretched house then yes." Her voice was a bit rugged both from anger and sickness.

"Let me put it this way dear: you still looked sweaty as hell when we got back, looked wondered after throwing a can, not to mention you look like yer two seconds from dropping off that rope ther-." He brings his hands up like a closed book, "to sum up, and excuse my language.." he opens his hands "you look like shit"

"Did you come all the way out here to tell me? I'm not afraid to punch you pretty boy, guard -dogs- or not"

"N-no, no. Of course not I-"

"Fuck this. I'm going up" the young women starts climbing up th erope.

"Wait just! -ugh.." Galieo sighs, "please let us help you. I don't know what yer house situation is like-"

"You're looking at it dumbass"

"Oh good heavens... *clears his throat* BuT none of us really feel comfortable about leaving a sick person to fend for themself in the middle of the woods." After Galieo finishes Atticus shrugs, Galieo elbows him for this. Styx sighs,

"Whatever. You guys owe me anyways." She states as she resumes her climb up the rope."

"Right- wait es-scu-zy?"

"You're not suppose to have pets, it's like the second thing in the listing. So when you leave i gotta make it look like that horse-sized pup was never there."

"Does that mean you'll come back?"

"Did you rub your last to braincells to come with that answer? ..yes. Just let me grab some stuff." She pauses at the top and peaks her head over the railing. "You all know how fucking creepy this all sounds right?" She leave before either boy can Asner to let them simmer in the thought.

Galieo sighs, his shoulders slumping down, "Y-yeah... I know." Ten minutes of twiddling thumbs later *plop* the sudden drop of a duffle bag made the poor man yelp and Styx snicker. As if karma was listening she started coughing and nearly fell off the rope. "Please be careful." The worried man sighs.

"It's going to take more than a fall to kill me, sunshine." Styx states sharing an eye roll with Atticus when Galieo does a bashful look-away.

'He gets that way with any nickname' Atticus signs with another eye roll.

'One of those people.. Bet he mixes up insults with compliments. H-i-m-b-o?' She signs and snickers when the blonde nods in agreement.

"Secrets don't make friend, you two!" The 'Himbo' pouts only to recieve more eye rolls.

"Seems like it's making friends just fine right now." This comments manages to crack a chuckle from Atticus.

"Yeah well..." Galieo huffs, "you keep rolling your eyes they're gonna get stuck in yer head."

The rest of the walk ended up being pretty quiet. This didn't bother Styx or Atticus but was practically killing Galieo.

"There you guys are. I was worried you'd gotten yourselves lost." Kyran greets the group only to recieve sighs and silence. The red head clears his throat, "well, lunch is ready!" He retracts back into the kitchen. He pours everyone a bowl of the soup. The group makes their way to the table and the boys each take a seat. The three of them give Styx a weird look.

"You know you can take a seat, right, hun?" Galieo spoke in a soft voice trying not to offend her.

"Don't call me hun."

"Habit, sorry. I don't rightly think we caught your name?"

"Cause I didn't throw it." She says then clicks her tounge. After expectant silences from the boys she huffs, "you may call me Styx."

"-Kay, well you can take a seat Styx, I promise we don't bite." Galieo pauses, "well- I can't guarantee Kyran won't, living embodiment of gremlins."

"Hey-... actually, you right." Kyran grins and sits at the head of the table.

"Damn right I'm right!" His brother huffs. It was once all three boys were seated that Styx took her seat. All three of them notices this and the fact that she didn't start eating till all three of them has taken a bite. Despite the confused and concerned glances they shared with one other, not one of them asked about it.

Unfortunately lunch and later dinner ended up being pretty awkward. Any attempt to make conversation with Styx was either shut down or met with silence. Even so, when everyone was finished with their food Styx took up their dishes and washed them all. Galieo attempted to offer to take over but quickly shot down and shooed out of the kitchen.

"You still sure about asking her to come on the trip with us? You realize how weird and insane that is right?" Galieo asks in a hushed voice. An amused grin stretches across Kyran's face as light seems to dance in his eyes.

"Yeah dude. If she says no then 'oh well her loss' but I'm telling you she's not gonna say no. I can feel it in my bones, this is so meant to happen"

"You're scary sometimes Kyri, you know that? And bat-shit crazy too"

"Awe thank you. Life isn't fun if I'm not."

Tagglist: @bisexual-confusion @gayfanficanonymous @yeet-man @astro-pioneer

[claytonpetersen32]

Loss Of A Beloved Cat

best gifts for cats Real Stillness can only come from nature. Sitting in nature, the quiet of the forest, the calm of the ocean, the magnitude of the mountains, soft breeze against your skin, cool icy snow; all this, brings the human heart to peace, and therefore awakens the spirit of love. This is the temple for life. Nature's temple. A park, a garden, a riverbank, a beachside walk. Swim in the pool, or sit. The key is to forget yourself. Loose the self obsession of "I want" and surrender to nothing, emptiness. Then, in this time, the love that is the real purpose of any relationship will surface, and you will be renewed. Cat Lovers Gift While I always believed and argued relentlessly that cats reign supreme, my opinion changed embarrassingly quickly when I became a dog owner. Based on my personality and what I like in a pet, the perfect pet for me is what I always said wasn't-a dog, and a small one at that. I appreciate the calmness of my cats, but the excitement that Ramasus brings to our lives daily is certain testimony confirming why dogs are consistently the more well-liked animal. Stray cats in the neighborhood will cause fighting, but it may be hard to get rid of all strays in your area. Other than neutering, the only other way to prevent cat fights is to keep your's inside. It is nearly impossible to control all strays and all cats in your neighborhood. You can convert outdoor cats to become indoor lovers. The girls love a Barbie Party Theme with colors of pink and purple. Placing Barbie dolls around the table and having a Barbie doll cake will make the party extra special. For the cat lovers a Hello Kitty Party Theme with colors of red and white. A hip doll is the Bratz doll. Perfect for dress-up parties. A cartoon and a movie would be a Powerpuff Girls Party Theme. Have the cartoon playing in the background. For party favor give out little Powerpuff girl figurines. Lizzie McGuire a character both in the movies and on the TV. For the princess fans a Fairy Princess and Disney Princess Party Themes are a magical idea. Wands make the perfect party favor. Present for Cat Lovers Cats spray for one reason and one reason only-to mark their territory. Human beings aren't much different. We set boundaries on land to establish who owns what-only, for the most part anyway, we don't use piss as markers. Cats do, however, and they have done this for thousands of years so it's going to be an uphill battle to get yours to stop. But you are not helpless in your quest. Here are some things you can try. So now that you know all of these interesting facts, you're probably still wondering how something that is mostly water can literally cause such a stink, and how you can deal with the odor effectively. Here are 3 steps to take to literally clear your air. Gifts for Cat Lovers Fortunately, hairballs aren't deadly. But they will make your cat uncomfortable and they will cause quite a mess. Gifts For Cat Lovers is not something you will find too much information on. You might want to check KittyNook Cat Company. Regurgitated cat fur is not a pleasant thing to find lying around the house. In extreme cases, if your cat is a meticulous groomer, the accumulated hair in his intestines may cause digestive problems. It may cause decreased appetite, which often results in lethargy or fatigue. He may also have problems with constipation, since the accumulated hair in his intestines can make it difficult to get things out. Although, in good faith, she was seeking spiritual support, nothing could overpower the toxin that surrounded her everyday life. Her attachment to the goods and victories of her relationship, kept her bound to the ever present resentment and negativity of that past. She could neither heal the past with love and appreciation nor create the relationship she deserved.

[crossbowking]

Honey & Whiskey

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

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

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

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

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

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

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

He appreciated the quiet these days.

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

And then he thought of her.

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

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

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then suddenly, it stilled.

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

And then he saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not Daryl.

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

Little did he know.

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

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

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

“Need a hand?”

Daryl stilled — he glanced up, his eyes locking with Y/N’s, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a thin sheen of sweat laid out across her forehead. One hand rested on her hip, the other hovered near her face, blocking the sun rays. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past her elbows, streaks of dirt and blood visible against her exposed skin.

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

The intrusive thought caught the archer completely off guard. He quickly turned his attention downward, grunting a half-assed ‘nah’ before continuing his trek to the pickup truck, determined to preserve some space between them.

But instead of leaving, as he’d assumed she would, Y/N remained rooted in place.

Daryl faltered, the expression that flickered across her face hinting that maybe she hadn’t come to just ‘lend a helping hand’. She had something on her mind — he could tell by the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing absently as she shifted her weight back and forth.

The archer dropped his hold from around the walker’s ankles and straightened. “What?” he demanded gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him.

Y/N’s eyes found his as she took a small step forward — Daryl fought back the urge to back up. “I, uh —” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side as though fumbling for the right words. “Just — thank you.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he huffed.

Y/N’s head cocked to the side, seemingly surprised. “I — I don’t know,” she murmured, a soft, sort of bewildered laugh slipping past her lips. “For bringing me here, for introducing me to your people — for everything, I guess,” she expressed sincerely. “You could’ve just left me out in those woods that day — most people would’ve.”

The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling incredibly exposed for some strange reason. “Was nothin’,” he finally grunted, ignoring the prickle of heat at the tips of his ears.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Y/N replied indignantly, like she was offended at the notion that he didn’t deserve her gratitude. “You saved my life.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than for this interaction to be over with — because once that happened, he could go back to maintaining his distance, he could go back to allowing the air between them to be just that. “Figured I owed ya,” he finally mustered, recalling the first day they’d met.

Y/N’s lips curled up into a megawatt smile and Daryl could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything so damn captivating in his entire life. “Okay,” she grinned, sticking her hand out in front of her. “We’ll call it even then.”

The archer glanced down at the gesture before warily reaching forward, taking her hand in his, and shaking once, twice, three times. Her grip was firm and she didn’t seem to mind the grime coating his skin.

When she pulled away, Daryl felt the empty spaces she’d filled set ablaze.

Y/N shot him one last smile before turning around and heading back towards the courtyard. But she’d only made it a few feet when she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure you eat something, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response — instead, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a look in mock-seriousness as if to say ‘I’m watching you’. Then her face broke out into another grin before she sent him a small wave — and she was gone.

Daryl watched her leave, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form.

He tried to ignore the mess his mind was becoming, littered with confusion and insecurity, the nagging voice that lingered telling him he’d never be good enough, strong enough, brave enough for anything other than what he’d always known.

He wouldn’t let her in — he couldn’t let her in.

But as he bent down, grasping onto either ankle of the walker at his feet, he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips he swore had everything to do with the Georgian heat and nothing to do with her.

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

He shifted from where he sat, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the pack of cigarettes he kept there.

The package was falling apart, half-crushed, half-wrinkled from everyday wear and tear, but the archer slipped one of the few remaining cigarettes out anyway and caught it between his lips.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that keeping Y/N at arm’s length was a futile attempt — he’d been naive to think it was possible in the first place.

Before he knew it, she’d wormed her way into the forefronts of his mind and found herself a nice, cozy corner to call home. She’d done it as effortlessly as the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. It just happened — no rhyme or reason, no explanation or logic. It just happened.

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

The archer ignored Glenn’s shout, marching further into the woods and approaching a snide-looking Merle. “C’mon, bro,” the younger brother grunted, worried if they didn’t leave right then and there, he’d change his mind and return to the prison with the others.

Merle’s booming laugh sounded, drawing Daryl from his thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man sneered, tossing an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Looks like somebody decided ta’ grow himself a big ole’ pair a’ cojones while I was gone,” he snarked, pushing Daryl forward and falling in step beside him.

The archer pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort and focusing ahead.

“Hey, wait up!”

The voice that sounded halted Daryl in his tracks. He spun around, spotting Y/N making her way through the forest, her strides long and determined as she headed straight towards him.

“Well, would ya look a’ that,” Merle quipped under his breath, leering at her approach, his tone sending a swell of aggravation through the younger brother.

“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Daryl quickly waved him off, ignoring the prickle of heat creeping up his neck as he trudged towards her.

Y/N came to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching his for a long moment.

She seemed to have something to say, a reason for chasing after him — but it was as though she couldn’t get the words together. She glanced down, shaking her head slowly before taking a deep breath. When she looked back up, Daryl noticed a resignation in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, her troubled expression sending a pang of guilt through him.

Daryl looked away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure — he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

He shifted his weight, focusing back on her. “Ya watch out for yourself, ya hear me?” he rumbled, pushing away the unexpected worry gnawing at him.

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, her defeated expression damn near changing his mind altogether. “I will,” she murmured, a bittersweet smile ghosting across her features.

Daryl held her gaze a moment longer before nodding once, turning without another word.

But he’d barely taken a step when he suddenly felt her grab his wrist and twist him back around.

Before he knew what was happening, Y/N was hugging him. She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, leaving Daryl completely and utterly dumbfounded. His arms hung limply at his sides, caught off guard by the surprising gesture. Though as soon as it’d begun, it ended. Y/N unwound herself from around his body and took a step back, a pink tinge to her cheeks he hadn’t noticed earlier.

She whispered a somber goodbye — though Daryl couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears — and then she was gone.

The archer fought back the urge to follow, telling himself over and over again that he was making the right decision — he was choosing blood, he was choosing family, he was choosing —

“Hey! Where’s my hug at, sweet cheeks?” Merle’s suddenly hollered, calling after Y/N.

She didn’t look back and Daryl fought back the impulse to start swinging.

But Merle just laughed, the noise loud and boisterous as he sauntered forward. “Damn, lil’ brother. Didn’t think ya had it in ya! I was startin’ ta’ think ya played for the other fuckin’ team’,” he jeered, clapping the archer on the back with more force than necessary.

Daryl’s entire body tensed up, his darkened gaze snapping towards his brother. He noticed then that Merle was also watching Y/N — though his eye line was fixated on one specific part of her body…

“Let’s go,” the archer spat under his breath as he spun around and stormed off, his hands balling into fists.

He had to walk away. Otherwise, he’d lose it — he’d give in to instinct, he’d allow the rage coursing through him to take over, and all of this would’ve been for nothing.

So he took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched fists, and dismissed any lingering thoughts of her.

Daryl scoffed at the memory, an unlit cigarette still caught between his teeth.

He pulled out his lighter and flicked his thumb against the wheel, sparking a small flame before inhaling a deep breath. The familiar taste of nicotine and ash filled his senses as he drew smoke into his lungs, immediately feeling a rush of calm flow through him.

Daryl existed in the quiet, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He pulled his legs towards his chest, resting his elbows atop his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. He watched the lit cigarette butt dim and dance between his fingertips, the embers burning off and drifting into the grass.

It’d only taken a single day for the archer to come to his senses — to realize the mistake he’d made in leaving with his brother. And if he was being honest, it’d had nothing to do with Merle. He couldn’t blame his brother because his brother hadn’t changed — his brother was still the same brash, volatile, ill-tempered redneck he’d known his whole life.

No, it was him — he was the one who had changed.

“Would ya slow yer damn roll? I ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be, ya know!” Merle bellowed from somewhere behind Daryl, clearly struggling to keep up with the younger brother’s pace.

But the archer didn’t slow, his strides matching the beat of his pounding heart. He ducked under tree branches and side-stepped exposed roots, the prison growing nearer with each step he took.

It wasn’t until Daryl heard a sudden thud, followed by a viciously snarled curse, that he slowed. He spun around, spotting Merle pushing up off the forest floor.

“Ya good?” Daryl called out, crossing back and reaching down, offering his hand.

But Merle just swatted him away, his expression twisting in contempt as he staggered back to his feet. “Lemme ask ya somethin’,” he growled. “How the hell ya think this’s gonna go, huh? Ya think those assholes are jus’ gonna forget ‘bout everythin’ that happened? Ya think we’re jus’ gonna hug it out an’ sing ‘round the campfire like some kinda damn afternoon special?”

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Ya —”

“This ‘bout that skirt from yesterday? Huh? That it?” Merle steamrolled over his attempt to interrupt, taking a step forward, the brothers now toe to toe.

Daryl felt a prickle of heat flush the back of his neck, his chest tightening. Merle was just trying to get a rise out of him — he knew that deep down — but damn, was it working. “It ain’t ‘bout her,” the archer growled defensively, fixing him with a glare. “It’s ‘bout survival, ’bout rebuildin’ — ‘bout tryin’ ta’ make somethin’ outta this shit world. It can’t jus’ be us out here, man — not anymore.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, did Officer Friendly force-feed ya that bullshit?”

Daryl stiffened before huffing a breath and waving his brother off. He turned away, determined to continue his trek back home before it was too late — but he’d only made it a couple of feet when Merle called after him once more.

“It ain’t ever gonna work,” the older brother voiced, his usually brash tone dimming into something surprisingly vulnerable. “It — it jus’ ain’t. Not after everythin’ — not after what I did.”

The archer glanced back, watching Merle’s notorious bravado finally melt away, replaced with something he could’ve sworn looked like guilt. “We ain’t dead yet, man,” Daryl rumbled simply. “Still time ta’ make shit right.”

Merle considered his words for a long moment — but before he could respond, the sound of barraging gunfire exploded through the air.

Daryl’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, feeling his stomach drop when he realized where exactly it was coming from.

He took off into a sprint, Merle’s pounding footsteps echoing directly behind him.

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

In his defense, it hadn’t been deliberate. When Merle had questioned his intentions, alluding to the idea that Y/N was the main reason for his urgency to return home, the archer had denied it.

He hadn’t known it back then, but the truth became startlingly clear once he’d made it back to the prison, marched up the pathway leading to cellblock C, and laid eyes on her.

Daryl found Y/N crouched down beside Axel’s unmoving form, one hand resting on his shoulder.

His steps faltered, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he couldn’t help himself. The Governor had attacked the prison, his people were shaken, and damn it, he just needed to make sure she was okay.

She stood a moment later, turning to rejoin the rest of the group huddled by the fence, her despondent expression filling his bones with a red-hot rage.

But then her eyes met his.

Y/N’s footsteps stilled, her gaze widening in disbelief as she looked at him. A heartbeat passed between them before Daryl noticed how she was holding herself — hunched over slightly, one hand wrapped around the opposite arm, blood seeping out from between her fingertips.

He crossed to her in three long strides, ignoring the heat that flushed his chest the closer he neared.

Instead, he focused on the wound — that he could deal with, that made sense.

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

“Daryl,” she breathed in disbelief, her voice thick as though the word had gotten tangled somewhere in her throat.

His name sounded like honey the way it rolled off her tongue.

He shrugged off his crossbow and tossed it aside, wordlessly reaching forward and pulling her hand away from the injury. He examined the laceration carefully — which upon closer inspection appeared to be a gunshot wound — though luckily enough, the bullet seemed to have only grazed the side of her arm.

The archer reached into his back pocket, grabbed the red rag he kept there, and gently pressed it against the wound. “Jus’ keep pressure on it, alright?” he rasped, guiding Y/N’s limp hand to rest over the cloth, stalling the blood flow.

He glanced down at her, doing a slight double-take when he realized she was watching him, a slightly strained smile pulling at her lips. “You came back,” she whispered, her eyes warm despite the blood splattered across her cheek, the pallor in her complexion.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, incredibly aware of how little space remained between them. He managed a stiff nod in response, his voice suddenly lost.

But Y/N’s smile merely grew, like the first hint of sunshine after a devastating storm.

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

The archer inhaled another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke spilling past his lips and disappearing into the growing night.

Returning to the prison had given Daryl a sense of purpose, a sense of hope — he was back where he belonged and the threat of the Governor just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

Daryl stormed across the field that led to the prison’s courtyard, shoulders set, fists balled, eyes rimmed red.

The Governor would pay — he’d pay for what he’d done.

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

The archer’s footsteps faltered, only briefly, when he spotted Y/N pacing back and forth behind the gate. Her head snapped towards him as he approached, her worried expression melting into relief as she quickly pulled the gate open for him.

“You okay?” she called to him, brow furrowing as she craned her neck, now looking behind him. “Where’s Merle?”

Daryl kept his gaze forward, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he marched past her without a second glance. “Dead,” he grunted, ignoring the prickling sensation growing behind his eyes.

“What?” he heard her exclaim, though he didn’t turn around — he kept his momentum pushing ahead, hellbent on going after the Governor and taking him down once and for all.

No matter what the cost.

He stalked towards where he’d parked his motorcycle, slinging his crossbow over his back and mounting the bike in one swift motion.

But Y/N was just as quick.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she jogged towards him, planting herself in front of the bike, an alarmed look in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Daryl felt a swell of anger wash over him, an unusual feeling when directed towards her. “Move,” he growled, using his heel to knock the bike’s kickstand up.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, his intent becomingly startling clear. “No.”

He was caught off guard by her protest, though snapped out of it just as soon — his scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, seeing nothing but redness and fury and Merle’s reanimated corpse flickering through his mind. “Move, damn it,” he snarled once more.

But Y/N stood her ground regardless of the wariness in her gaze. “No.”

The archer’s rage churned inside him, his grip white-knuckled around the throttle. “Ya —”

“Please, don’t do this,” she interrupted his brusque retort, shaking her head. “I promise — I promise — he’ll get what’s coming to him, but Daryl…this is not the way.”

He knew deep down she was right, but he didn’t want to hear it — he didn’t want to hear ration or reason or the pity in her voice.

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, emotion clouding her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry about Merle. I’m —”

Something inside the archer snapped. “Ya know what, ya can drop the damn act,” he hissed, springing off the bike and shoving it to the ground with a deafening crash. He ignored the way Y/N flinched as he barreled towards her like a surging storm. “Ya can stop pretendin’ like anyone in this fuckin’ place gave a single shit ‘bout my brother!” he fired back, his voice rising. “Or me, for that matter!”

Y/N recoiled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m —” she started, shrinking under his heated approach. “I didn’t —”

“Forget it,” the archer spat, unable to stop the fervor spewing out of him. “Ya don’t know shit.”

A beat of silence passed as they stared one another down — but the more the quiet stretched on, the more a different emotion began to seep through the archer.

Guilt.

Unable to watch the hurt settling across Y/N’s features, Daryl turned away, allowing his brewing vehemence to carry him across the courtyard and to the doors leading into cellblock C. He paused at the doorway, unable to stop himself from looking back.

He watched Y/N’s head lower, her shoulders drop, before she slowly reached down, grabbing his toppled motorcycle by the handlebars and propping it upright.

The archer swallowed his remorse, buried his instincts, and stalked inside.

Daryl hissed a breath as the burnt end of the cigarette singed his fingertip. He stubbed the flame out against the heel of his boot, flicking the butt away into the grass.

Still, to this day, he felt bad about losing his temper. The anger had clearly been misdirected, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it — Y/N had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite the aftermath of his outburst weighing heavily on him, he’d kept his distance from her throughout the days that followed.

Old habits die hard.

Daryl woke with a start, his eyes snapping open, chasing away lingering images of the nightmare he’d found himself immersed in.

Sleep had never been kind to him, even before everything went to shit — tonight was no different.

He could still see flashes of redness and death, smell the scent of rotting corpses and bloodshed, hear the sounds of tormented screams and anguished whimpers —

Daryl’s thoughts faltered as he quickly pushed up onto his elbows, straining his ears.

He realized then that the whimpering wasn’t coming from just his imagination. No, it was real — and it was coming from somewhere inside the cellblock.

The archer sprang up, untangling himself from the bed sheet coiled at his feet before shuffling towards the doorway. He paused there, his senses on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened carefully.

When another soft cry sounded, he moved from the entryway, slowly slinking past cell after cell and following the noise.

It wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside Y/N’s cell.

Daryl peered into the shadowed room, just barely able to make out the shape of her beneath the covers. She murmured something jumbled and incoherent, her words muffled as though her face was pressed into the pillow. She tossed and turned for a moment before finally settling.

When she remained still, the archer nearly left for his own cell.

But then he heard a quietly gasped sob and began moving forward before he could think twice.

Daryl crouched down beside Y/N’s bedside, turning on the lantern she’d left sitting on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted before focusing on her.

She was curled up, covers drawn to her chin, faint tear tracks marking the sides of her face. Her brow was knitted, causing lines to form across her forehead — he fought back the urge to reach out and smooth them away.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleep was unkind to.

Another soft whimper blew past her lips and Daryl reached for her, gently shaking her shoulder.

Y/N immediately jolted awake, shooting upright, disoriented and alarmed as her bleary eyes darted around the cell.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl quickly rasped, holding his hands out in front of him. “It’s alright.”

“What — what happened?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep, her wide gaze finally settling on him.

The archer shook his head, pulling back slightly, second-guessing his decision to wake her. “Nothin’ — nothin’, alright? We’re okay.”

“What —” she sounded, a bewildered look flitting across her face as she settled her hand against her undoubtedly racing heart. “Are you okay?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed at her question, confused as to why that would be her next question and not ‘what the fuck are you doing in my cell?’ Regardless, he nodded once. “Yeah,” the archer brushed off her concern, sitting back on his haunches. “Ya — uh, ya were cryin’,” he revealed hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he watched for her reaction.

Y/N straightened, the top bunk just grazing the crown of her head as she dabbed her fingertip at the corner of her eye, appearing almost embarrassed suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered, wiping away the tears that’d formed.

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Ya alright?” he rasped after a long moment.

She quickly nodded her head, waving off his worry. “Oh, no — yeah, no, I’m fine,” she replied flippantly, shooting the archer a tight-lipped smile.

Despite Daryl seeing right through her bullshit, he didn’t push.

Instead, he nodded once and clambered back to his feet.

But he’d just barely turned to leave when Y/N spoke up once more. “Hey, Daryl?”

The archer faltered, glancing back at her. “Yeah?”

Her demeanor appeared collected, though he could see her hands twisting nervously around the sheet splayed out across his lap. “I —” she paused, seemingly working up the nerve to say what was next. “Are we okay?”

Daryl felt his chest tighten, the heaviness that’d grown between them splintering in that moment. There was something about her words, the smallness in her voice, that had him kicking himself for being so damn stubborn, for not making things right sooner.

She raked a hand through her tousled hair. “I just — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I mean, I wasn’t trying to —”

“Stop,” Daryl cut off her rambling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was actin’ like an asshole,” he grumbled admittedly, the shame he’d buried creeping back in.

The tension in Y/N’s features softened as she regarded him. “It’s okay.”

For some reason, her easy forgiveness made Daryl’s insides churn.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he shot back sharply, almost wishing she’d curse him out instead. “Wasn’t right ta’ take that shit out on ya.”

“You were grieving,” she justified, her explanation simple and understanding.

Daryl worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching as he stared at the far wall of her cell, his gaze darkening — he didn’t deserve her compassion. “Well, ya probably stopped me from doin’ somethin’ real stupid,” he muttered dryly.

She merely shrugged, still completely unfazed. “Grief makes us do stupid things,” she murmured, defending him yet again. “I am sorry about your brother, you know,” she whispered a moment later, the sincerity in her voice knocking down the wall Daryl had worked so hard to keep between them.

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Merle was no hero,” he finally rumbled. “But he died tryin’ ta’ make shit right,” he mustered, his eyes finding hers amidst the shadows of her cell.

Y/N shot him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”

Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling as though his heart was moments away from bursting out of his chest. It was as though the cell was shrinking around him, the walls closing in — and the only thing keeping him above the surface was her.

“Get some sleep,” he managed gruffly, turning to leave once more.

“Daryl?”

The archer stilled. “Hm?” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

“Can you stay?” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it entirely. “Just a little longer?”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, feeling the overwhelming urge to run, to retreat to his own cell and pretend he hadn’t heard her.

But the slight tremble in her voice, something others surely would’ve missed, pulled him right back in.

The air thickened as he walked towards her, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for it while he still had the chance. Y/N watched him approach, slightly wide-eyed, his steps faltering the closer he neared. She maneuvered slightly on the bed, moving towards the wall as though making room for him beside her.

Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”

“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.

He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.

She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.

They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.

It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.

Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.

Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.

And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.

She became his solace.

Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.

“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.

The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.

“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.

Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.

Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.

Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”

Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.

“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”

Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”

Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.

Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.

The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.

Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”

“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.

Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.

When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.

“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”

Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”

“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”

The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.

A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.

But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.

The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.

Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.

Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?

Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.

Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.

“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.

“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.

The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.

Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”

With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.

He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?

He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

The archer felt his throat constrict.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.

Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.

Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.

He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.

He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.

They’d move on to her.

Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.

A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.

He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.

Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.

Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.

And then he saw her.

She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.

Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.

His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.

It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.

The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.

Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.

The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.

He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.

Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.

Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.

But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.

And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.

The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.

And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.

Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.

He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.

But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.

The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.

Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.

The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.

The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.

Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.

Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.

But hers?

She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.

He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.

Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.

He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.

“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.

The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.

He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.

“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.

He never got to thank her.

When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.

And he never got to thank her.

“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.

The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.

But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.

Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”

Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.

He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.

But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.

Not from her.

“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.

A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.

Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.

A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.

Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than before.

And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.

Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.

The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.

Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.

He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.

She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.

Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”

Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”

The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Demon Form Head Canons

Lucifer

Is not shy about sharing his demon form in the slightest.

More than happy to show off his wings for you and every compliment and awed look you give him just strokes his pride.

He gets taller in his demon form, not by more than a few inches but its enough to have you craning your neck to look him in the eyes.

His horns are not nearly as sensitive as some of his brothers but he still quite enjoys when you pet them.

Specifically likes it when the base of his horns are scratched, he could just melt into your hands.

His wings are prone to molting when he is stressed and seeing as he is stressed almost all the time. It's fairly common to find black feathers around the house.

When Lucifer later finds out that you had been collecting his discarded feathers in a small vase in your room he can’t help the blush on his cheeks having forgotten the entire reason he went into your room in the first place.

Seeing as you are so entranced by his feathers you might as well help him preen when he is molting.

It is totally cause he wants you to just have a nice collection, not because its a massive boost to his ego to have you doting over him.

Straighten his tie and flatten out his collar. Even if it doesn't need it. These little gestures will leave him flustered and blushing.

Mammon

His horns, due to their peculiar shape, are extremely sensitive. To the point where just blowing on them sends a tremble racing down his spine.

Pressing a finger between the grooves or into the center of the horn's spiral will have him practically howling from the sensation or more accurately leave him a stuttering and flustered mess.

Despite being essentially shirtless in his demon form. Mammon is like a walking heater. Just standing next to him for too long can cause you to break into a sweat.

If you were to ever trace the white lines that cover his torso he would just stop functioning entirely.

He would of course vehemently deny any such claims stating that, he was simply… thinking… about things… shut up.

Mammon is also extremely ticklish and with so much exposed skin from his questionable choice in a shirt. Do with that what you will ;)

His wings are restless, always flickering, fluttering or some variation of the two.

The only time they had ever truly stilled was when Mammon had agreed to let you touch them for the first time. In that moment as you ever so carefully ran your hands over the thin membrane of the wings, they didn't so much as twitch under the touch.

While his wings aren't necessarily sensitive to touch they are slightly delicate, being as they are made from a thin leathery membrane.

Leviathan

He also gets taller in his demon form by a few inches. Though due to his terrible posture you are likely to not notice.

He regularly sheds his antlers each year and grows back new ones.

He used to be extremely self conscious while his antlers regrew due to teasing from his brothers but after hearing how much you liked them they were now a point of pride for him.

I can also totally see an MC who collects his shed antlers like, it's 2 am and Levi texts them like ""Hey normie you want my old antlers I know you asked about them before so...""

Leviathan would get such an ego boost from it though. His face growing reed each time he walks into your room to see his old antlers nestled about the shelves like decor.

His tail also sheds its skin every so often (like a reptile would) another reason as to why he is always showering or taking a bath.

On that same thought, Levi has to take daily soaks in either the shower or tub to keep his skin from drying out or getting irritated. Being in the sun for too long can also irritate his skin.

Uses this as an excuse to not go outside despite there being no sun in the Devildom.

Both his horns and his tail are rather sensitive to touch. Though he loves the idea of you petting them his self consciousness prevents him from ever initiating such a thing.

The markings on the side of his neck are also highly sensitive. Running a hand or dragging your nails over them sends shivers down his spine every time.

Satan

Not only does he get taller but he also physically bulks up in his demon form. Its hardly noticeable under the sweater and boa he wears but on close inspection you can see the defined lines of his muscles straining under the fabric.

Similar to Lucifer, his horns are not all that sensitive. Though the area where they connect to his head are very mush so.

Satan is not shy in the slightest about asking MC to pet his head when he is in a bad mood and needs someone to stop him from doing something potentially stupid.

Satan often subconsciously purrs when he is happy or content.

This habit may have stemmed from his obsession with cats

His tail for the most part is hard and senseless, though the green end is softer and more pliable like cartilage. It is also extremely sensitive to both touch and temperature.

This is why he keeps his tail wrapped around his leg to protect it from being accidentally trampled on or whacked.

Since his tail extends from his lower back rather than the base of his spine the exposed skin surrounding the base of his tail is extremely sensitive and ticklish.

Asmodeus

Asmo of course loves any kind of affection, especially if it is coming from you of all people.

The tips of his horns that are pink in hue are extremely sensitive to touch. He is not shy about asking you to touch him obviously but you would note that he does get extremely flustered when you do so without having to be asked.

Asmo will just melt into your touch if you walk up to him and just randomly cup his face or pet his horns.

When he is especially flustered the pink hue of his horns will even darken

His wings are velvety and soft to the touch. He loves to have kisses pressed to the soft membrane of the wings.

The easiest way to turn him to putty in your hands is to go straight for his wings. They are his weak spot.

It's really little affectionate things that get him going. Adjusting the metal chain of his scorpion brooch, pushing a stray piece of his bangs back into place, even something as simple as picking a piece of lint off of his jacket has him beaming with affection.

I don't see Asmo as getting to experience these little things as often as the more prominent things that come with his sin. So when you go out of your way to make sure he does get to experience these little things he falls hard and fast.

Beelzebub

He physically bulks up when he transforms. If you thought he was shredded normally wait till you see him in demon form.

His horns are extremely sensitive, almost like little antennas. Turns into the biggest puppy when you rubs his horns. Just all smiles and happiness from him.

Sometimes he will even rub your cheeks together so his horns brush against your hair.

He is a bit hesitant when it comes to his wings being touched just because of their nature. It's not that he doesn't trust you it’s just when he gets excited he unconsciously buzzes his wings.

If he were to catch his wing on your hand and rip it he would feel bad for making you think you hurt him. In reality it does not hurt him all that much, akin to like a paper cut or bad scratch.

Beel is really just a big push over for you, scratch him behind the horns and he will just become the biggest lap dog.

Belphegor

His horns and tail are not sensitive but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to pet him.

After he falls asleep to you petting his horns one afternoon he now demands that you do this at least once a week. If you don't he will bother you until you cave to his wishes.

Also loves to have the fluff of his tail brushed / petted, although he would never admit it outright. His brothers already think he is spoiled so how would they react to knowing he has you pampering him each week? Braiding his tail hair and brushing out the tangles while he snoozes.

On the rare occasions he can’t sleep or when he is awakened from a nightmare he will seek you out and ask you to pet him so he can get to sleep. There are many mornings you will wake up and just find Belphie in bed next to you curled around his pillow with his face buried in your shoulder.

He promises to pay you back later though. Totally...

The cow spots on his neck are extremely ticklish, to the point he borderline passes out from wheezing so hard when Beel tickles him there.

Bonus:

Diavolo

He is much, much larger in his demon form than he is when he appears as human. He is normally tall but like this he is borderline massive.

He tends to keep his wings folded into his sides due to their large span. Though is more than happy to show them off to you when prompted.

They are thick and velvety to the touch, the metallic jewelry that covers the tops of them a cold contrast to the warm skin.

He adores any kind of attention from you, more than content to sit and chatter about whatever comes to his mind as you sit beside him or stop him petting his wings.

He bent down once so you could see his horns and as a joke lifted you off the ground while you were holding onto them. He laughed so hard you thought he was going to drop you on your ass.

His horns are not sensitive in the slightest, hence why he has no problems with decorating them with tight metal pieces akin to a piercing on a person.

Diavolo is a super loving guy normally and this holds true to when he is in his demon form. So whenever he gives you a hug you end up smothered in his pecs. Not that your complaining.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never say it aloud but he very much enjoys when you spend time just running your fingers ever so softly over his horns. Their unique shape and varied textures can leave you entertained for what feels like hours but in reality you love the soft expressions you can pull out of the normally stoic butler.

Loves having soft kisses pressed to the joints of his horns.

His tail is his one weak spot as once one learns what certain movements mean. You can always tell how he is feeling.

The unbridled joy you feel well in your heart when his tail begins to curl up upon seeing you letting you know he is feeling the same way has you biting your lip to hold yourself back from running into his arms.

[afterlifewrites]

Okay, but you HAVE to make a second part of that Christmas Technoblade fic holy shit-

(Ok but honestly it is so soft I might have just fallen in love with it 💕)

Brumal (2)

“Adjective.

The relation to winter; wintery.”

You asked and you shall receive✨ I may or may not have gotten a little carried away honestly

Au: Modern Au

Techno is 26, Reader is 22 (Small Age Gap)

C!Technoblade (Romantic)

Warnings: Mention of Alcoholic Drinks/Getting drunk

Word Count: 2.3k

------------------------------------------------------

When you got home it was as if time had righted itself, starting all over again. A part of you was in awe. You got a date with a cute guy. He wasn't just cute, he was smart and really funny. Oh, Puffy is going to love this. You walked into the apartment to see her on the couch. Ha, just the person you had been thinking of. Your roommate had just returned home from a trip a few hours ago but you still jumped to sit next to her. She smiled with a pleasant greeting and for a moment there was silence as her eyes met yours. She could always tell when something was added or even subtracted from your life, now was no exception.

“You're awfully happy for someone who was crying on the phone with me a few hours ago.” The woman's eyes narrowed when you smiled nervously. She was probably going to tell you to stay home. She had some pretty bad trust issues, so it wouldn't even surprise you if she claimed the cute guy from the light show was a murderer or something. You were scared of her opinion now that you think about it. She was always the more anxious with new people but the least likely to get hurt.

“I met a guy.”

“A guy?”

“A guy.”

“What kind of guy?”

“A cute one.”

“Oh really? How descriptive of you.” The woman tilted her head in mock annoyance. You smiled sheepishly at her body language before continuing the conversation any further.

“Well, he has pink hair and his body is really strong looking. His laugh sounds like a choking duck almost and he even snorts. He likes animals, he has a dog on top of all that. He's just my type.”

“Oh? How long have you known him?”

“Like three hours?”

“You have a high school girl level crush on a man you met three hours ago. Girl. Do you even know his name? Age? Where he works? Anything?”

“Uh, he's twenty-six?” The woman on the couch beside you let out a long and drawn-out sigh. She was exhausted by you and the hopeless romantic you were, the one who entirely believed in fate just a little too much. Yet Puffy simply shook her head in further disappointment as you explained you and him would be meeting up tomorrow at the same place.

“Fine, but keep your phone on and be safe. Okay?”

“Yes, mom.” You replied with a little laugh, causing your roommate to laugh with you. She waved a lazy goodbye before disappearing into her room for the rest of the night. The poor thing was probably exhausted having been on a 3-hour flight she nearly missed. You remember the frantic call as you helped her stay calm so she could focus. It had been just before the pink-haired man had appeared. You wouldn't sleep much that night like the giddy romantic you were. You felt like you were living the fairytale you'd wanted since you were a kid. The rest of the day was a blur, eating with Puffy and opening presents, singing Christmas karaoke horribly. It was a good Christmas this year for sure. You managed to even bake some cookies that tasted pretty good! They weren't the prettiest but you covered them in some edible glitter and they didn't look half bad anymore.

It didn't take very long for you to be back at the town square, eyes scanning the small crowd. Okay so maybe you got over-excited and got here a few minutes early. By a few minutes, you definitely mean a half hour. It was dumb, you knew it was. I mean you were an adult and not some giddy kid, but you were practically falling at the feet of some man you don't even know the name of. You felt silly, yes but you couldn't help it. You want a name to match his exceedingly pretty face. This little infatuation you seemed to both have with each other could end up going somewhere too! That is...if he feels as interested as you do. He probably does, right? I mean he wanted to see you again and even flirted with you, wait, was it flirting?

“Well, you're here early, hm?” Your heart fluttered rapidly in your chest as the man behind you spoke. Your head turned to be met with the same warm brown eyes and pink hair as yesterday. This time his hair was in a ponytail and he had a different scarf but God did he look just as handsome. You both silently admired each other for a second, eyes tracing over the gentle and soft curves. As if committing the glow of lights against each other's skin to memory.

“Maybe I am a little early, but you’re about ten minutes early yourself. Merry Christmas by the way. How’d the day with your brother go?” You spoke for the first time and his eyes instinctively flicked up to your eyes from where they had settled on your lips. You swallowed a little hard as he walked around the bench and sat beside you again.

“It was fine, Wilbur decided to get drunk and flirt with a salmon.”

“What?” You laughed in shock and his eyes met yours. A small and warm smile at your reaction, he seemed so unbelievably interested in the way you looked in this moment. You felt like heaven to him. A breath of fresh air. He wasn’t one to believe in soulmates but you might make him change his view.

“See, Wilbur and I went to eat at some restaurant we’ve never tried before. He ordered the salmon, got drunk, and flirted with the thing on his plate.”

“From the way you’re telling this story, this isn’t the first time he does something like this.”

“If he’s drunk he’ll flirt with anything or anyone, object or human, doesn’t matter.”

“I feel like he wouldn’t appreciate this story being told.”

“His fault for having an interesting enough story to tell.” You both laughed together this time, cheerful and full of an undeniable pull of energy from one another. It was so natural and yet his very presence left you near breathless. What a hopeless person you were, easily falling for him.

“Say, I brought something for you.” You grabbed your bag once the both of you had stopped laughing and pulled out the Tupperware in which you’d packed a few cookies you and Puffy had made. The tips of his ears and his cheeks turned a pale pink as his eyes locked onto the gift. You watched his eyes dilate just a little as he took the cookies from you and held them in his lap. His eyes didn’t leave the gift for a moment before meeting yours.

“You- You didn’t have to get me anything you know.”

“Well sure I did, you asked me out, it’s only fair I give you something in return.” You were met with silence as he stared with awe, his mouth slightly parted. You could tell he wasn’t the type to be this expressive so you took a mental picture of his face. You made sure to map out every little feature and twitch as he placed the cookies to his side carefully.

“You know since you gave me something it’s only fair to give you something too.”

“What? But we’re even now.”

“I always have to win.” His eyes flicked down to your lips for just a moment but you caught it. The action causing you to let out a slightly heavier breath. He leaned in just a bit, just close enough that you could feel his shallow breathing against your face. He smelled of peppermint and chocolate, oh god. Was he going to kiss you? You hoped so, you really did.

“You can call me Techno.” He mumbled and continued admiring you from up close. Your heart was wild and you were trying desperately to calm it down. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself and let him know exactly how easily he flustered you.

“It fits you. It's hard to explain in what way, but it does.” You let out a soft puff of air as he ever so slowly pulled away from you. He didn’t kiss you, sadly, but you know how his breath feels against your face and his lips look even softer up close. You lightly shook away the thought and let the conversation trail on as if nothing had happened. There were moments when one of you would end up making a slightly flirty comment but nothing big enough to make a move with.

“So I told Tommy the truth, he’d never be able to beat me.”

“Oh?”

“I studied fencing for four years, he’d only just learned how to correct his footwork at the time. He had no chance, like a lamb to the slaughter.”

“To think it all happened because you took his phone.” You laughed as if you had been there too. You could almost see it, an angry 14-year-old kid stomping around like he was five. You watched Techno as he gave you another once over, both of you again finding your eyes searching each other. You're not sure what he was looking for exactly but you knew what you were trying to find in his eyes. You wanted to see his real feelings for you. You wanted to know if he would be willing to try out a date or two more.

“Hey, do you wanna walk with me?” He asked as he slid the cookies you'd given him into the bag he’d brought. You're not entirely sure what was in the satchel but you didn't ask. There was definitely room for the Tupperware though so you didn't worry very much, there probably wasn't anything dangerous. You smiled and slid your bag on with a nod. You both stood and walked past the various lights around the vibrant lamp posts. A soft crunch below your feet as you made idle conversation. It reminded you of yesterday and the way he’d looked at you before you'd left.

“You wanna go in? I hear they have a killer light display?” You asked and tilted your head to the left where the snowy park was. He agreed and walked in with you. The icicles above your head glistened with lights of various colors, even the snow turning into a small rainbow. You both walked around for a while and admired the lights, being careful of the ice. Although you may or may not have tripped. It wasn't as embarrassing in front of Techno, even as he laughed, you felt yourself laughing too. You eventually stumbled to the center of the beautifully lit-up park to a massive tree. The entire thing was covered in ornaments and tinsel, it was absolutely beautiful. Yet when you turned to Techno he wasn't even looking at it.

He was looking at you. You swallowed hard as he walked closer to you, gently grabbing your arm and pulling you towards his taller figure. Your hands found his chest instantly. You were begging, no, pleading for it to be now. You're not sure you could mentally ask him to kiss you any louder than you currently were. If he didn't take the leap of faith then you would, this moment was too perfect to let pass. It would be a memory you'd always cherish even if you had to take control of the situation.

“You know, I'm not sure if it's the Christmas lights or maybe it's the blush on your cheeks, but I can't stop thinking about how good you look tonight. So you know I have to ask.”

Please say it, ask, do it. This wait has been killing you the entire time.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered it almost breathlessly against you. One of his hands sliding to your lower back, the other cupping your cheek. His thumb tracing your cheekbone carefully, the action causing your heart to beat even faster. His heart was matching yours as it thumped wildly.

“Of course you can.” You replied in that same soft tone, eyes half-lidded as he leaned in. His lips connected with yours and the taste of chocolate was the first thing to invade your senses. Your hands sliding up from his chest and right onto his cheeks, you both held each other there. A few soft and slow kisses were shared like secrets between you both. A longing for this has been finally lifted off of you. You both pulled away, licking your lips from the chocolate flavor. The man laughed lightly and pressed his forehead against yours.

“You taste like sugar cookies.”

“And you taste like chocolate.”

“Something tells me we both enjoyed something sweet before we got here.” You smirked at his words and pulled your hands away from his warm cheeks.

“I guess so, you know, you should've kissed me earlier. You were so shy and nervous I thought you'd chicken out.” The man let out a small huff as he kissed your forehead in response.

“Says the one who eyed me up the second we met.”

“As if you didn't do the same!”

“Maybe, but can you blame me? Look at you.” He mumbled it as he pulled away just enough to make a point of looking you over. You laughed and pushed against him just a bit. So he was a flirt, good to know.

“By the way, I brought something for you too.” He opened his bag and pulled out a small box. You opened it to find a single piece of paper folded up neatly along with a cute little pig charm. You made a mental note to add it to your bag later as you opened the paper. There, written in a pretty scrawl, was a single sentence. Yet, it made you smile. He’d been just as nervous as you had.

‘Want to try this relationship out?’

“Oh definitely, but only if you pay for the horse-drawn carriage ride.”

“A carriage ride? How cute.”

“You know you like the idea too.”

“Maybe, we’ll just have to see, hm?”

--------

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Could you maybe please do one where the yandere 2p Allies darling some how escaped and vanished for about a year. Then one day they see them out in public? How would they react and what would they do? Sorry if the ask is a little confusing. Also I don’t really see the darling escaping Viktor and especially Oliver but you know, just little what if’s lol.

He nearly collapsed on the cold, metal park bench. The bitter, winter winds not helping his current levels of fatigue. Each shiver that was forced from him felt like a reminder of what he had lost.

His love.

If only he had prepared better. Acknowledged the changes in her behavior, instead of just brushing them off as holiday excitement or unease for their first holiday season together. They could have been together. Creating memories, new traditions, but he hadn’t. She used that, abused that ignorance to escape from him.

The memories dancing before his eyes caused them to cloud with unshed tears. Hands-on his face to hide his sorrow.

Until a soft laugh rang like a sleigh bell. Silvery and familiar.

He snapped to a stand. Head swiveling around for the source. She was close, she had to be!

Almost like a hunting dog on a trail, he took off. Snow kicking up in his wake. The few trees turned into blurs.

The continuing laughs and giggles only aided in him pinpointing her location.

He could see two figures in the distance. The first is a woman, dressed in a dark winter coat and wearing brown boots, and the other is his love. It had to be, there was no mistaking it! Especially when another laugh rang out. There she sat by an old, black stone, Victorian-styled, fountain in a small, busy clearing.

Despite the distance, he noticed that she looked so different, and yet it felt like just yesterday. His heart screamed at him to take her. To just run in and throw her upon his shoulder like the men from eons before. Though it was not eons ago, it was now, and he had to plan. If not, she may just slip away again.

America: Allen knew that he would find you again. He had spent the year looking for even the smallest of clues that Doll was nearby. He had even forced his men to go looking for her. Each report of failure ended with someone being killed as a sign for the rest of what failure means.

Yet, he found her without their help. Allen could feel the tears threaten to spill as he gazed upon her. His feet had begun to move towards Doll, until he remembered. She left him.

His loving gaze became hard and heated. His fists clenched causing his black gloves to crinkle. His breathing became harsh puffs. He wanted nothing more than to rip away her comfort, safety, just like she had done to him. But that wouldn’t had been as satisfying. No, Allen thought as his rage calmed and a smile spread across his face.

He would turn the capture itself into her punishment.

Allen would force himself to be patient. Following Doll, staying right in the corner of her eye for only a second before disappearing into the darkness. Watching the paranoia grow would be delicious. Each low comment of doubting and claiming stress would make him chuckle.

Allen would step it up once he saw the first signs of sleep deprivation. Moving things, acting like a being of darkness, and overall, just creating feelings of dread.

These factors would lead to a breakdown. Allen would smile seeing that it was time.

She would be crying, having collapsed onto her knees. Alone, following the instinct to hide. Allen would calmly walk up behind her. Using her own hiding spot as a cage.

In a calm voice, Allen asked “Are you ready to come home?”

Canada: Matt had been relentlessly searching for Maple since she left that cold winter night. He had only left to get the supplies that she had requested. Something to start a new tradition. It was Maple’s suggestion, but he never saw her true intent. It wasn’t until he saw an open door and the claws of frost making their way inside that he realized the truth.

That truth caused Matt’s anger to burn brighter than his love. His heart pounded and his head hurt from the emotions running like rabid wolves within him. Part of him wanted to confront her. To make a scene that was both full of passionate love and vehement anger. Yet, he couldn’t.

Matt knew that should he do so, she would be whisked away. Taken from him and put into the arms of someone undeserving. Someone who wasn’t him.

He would decide to return to the roots of their relationship, stalking. Using those same skills Matt would watch and wait. Learning her schedule was easy, especially since Matt knew everything about her already. Learning any new likes and dislikes would be noted. Though instead of fixing Maple’s home, Matt would start to sabotage things. Milk would be left out, windows would be broken, and power would flicker.

Exactly two months since the day Matt saw Maple in the park, Matt would decide its time. He would sabotage Maple’s home, leaving it cold and dark. As she had done to their shared home, and then he would wait.

Maple would return home; confused as to why her home was cold and dark. In a panic, she would quickly move through and check all her options. All the while ignoring the figure that sat in her living room, surrounded by the darkness. Until he spoke that is.

Matt would start off with a sneer. Asking how she enjoyed the cold, the darkness, and why. Before she could even contact the authorities, Matt would grab her, holding her close like he had wanted to for two months. Then break her wrist.

It would be a sharp and sudden snap. Maple would be shocked into silence, tears having been released, and staring at Matt. This would be the last moment she recalled in her home before it all went dark.

France: François watched as the wind carried the harsh herbal smoke down to his Cheri. It was delicious to watch her fear. The stiffening of Cheri’s muscles, as she recognizes his cigarette brand. The desperation in her head swivels. François even smirked, for just a second, when Cheri denied her friend’s comforting hand.

It wasn’t until Cheri had panickily staggered into the middle of the clearing did their eyes meet. She looked to be in shock, unbelieving that he had found her again. Though he would have liked to drag the moment out longer, François decided to release some of the pressure.

As he turned away, François pulled his dingy silver phone out of his long coat pocket. His steps were in time with his tapping of the screen. Within a few seconds, he held the device to his ear, its consistent ringing bringing annoyance.

Finally, a soft click signaled that someone had answered. François didn’t wait for their greeting. His tone even with a cold undertone.

“Ravine Grove. Follow and report.”

A gruff affirmation was his only reply before both sides hung up.

This was it. François thought has his pace slowed, and eventually stopped. A final puff from the dying cigarette. He was gonna finally bring his Cheri home.

It wasn’t until after the sun had set, that François reached his hotel room. He only managed three steps inside when his phone rung to life one more.

They had found her home. It was a simple blue house, surrounded by homes at various stages of construction. That tidbit gave François, a wonderful, awful idea. His face curled into a grinch-like smile as he gave his instructions.

As the town clock struck ten. The power went out in Cheri’s home. The darkness claimed not only the area around her but also whispering to her paranoia.

He’s here. He’s coming for you.

As much as she wanted to cast it off, tell herself that it wasn’t true. She couldn’t deny it. Not when Cheri heard footsteps.

Heavy, yet soft. Like a predator hunting for sport, someone that gets a thrill from the kill.

Panic was taking over. Her breathing became harsher as the darkness seemed to get darker. Suffocating.

Her limbs felt cold and despite the want to run. She didn’t. Cheri just curled into a ball. Hoping it was anyone but him.

Yet, his chilled and gentle touch confirmed her fears.

England: Oliver stood in between the trees. Their shadows made his Cheshire smile seem sharper and wider than anything had seen before. His eyes, blue swirled with pink were intensely focused on Dearie. He licked his pale lips when Dearie shivered.

Without removing his eyes from his lost titania, Oliver called for his long-eared, winged companions. Two flying rabbits responded without haste. Appearing before their master but ensuring that they did not block his view.

Oliver looked a second longer before clapping his hands. Looking down at the winged lagomorphs, sitting by his brown loafers. He pulled a small pink notebook from the inner pocket of his lilac jacket. Opening it, he flipped to the middle of the notebook.

A harsh ripping sound filled the air as he ripped a page out.

“Alright, FCB. I need you to take this note to Black Annis.”

The larger of the two, a brown winged rabbit with red eyes, nodded and took the letter between his thick fluffy paws.

Oliver stepped back, as the brown lagomorph hopped a few feet further away. Then FCB took off, carried by the icy winds.

The smaller of the two, a light red female with yellow spots and wings, looked up to her master. She was confused.

“Why would you ask for Black Annis? Isn’t there a chance she’ll hurt your beloved?”

Oliver giggled. He wasn’t surprised that FSB would question him. After all, she was right. Black Annis was not known for mercy or survivors.

“Oh, poppet. We both know that Black Annis wouldn’t dare oppose me. It also doesn’t hurt that she owes me a few… favors.”

“Favors?”

Oliver’s eyes gleamed like a cat’s, sharp and cunning. His sharp smile sent shivers down FSB’s spine.

“Yes, poppet. Now, we must be off. You need to keep watching Dearie while I get the house ready. After all, the holidays are upon us and we don’t need a repeat of last year.”

Oliver watched as FSB flew off without looking back. He continued on, back to the home his Dearie had abandoned. Allowing the shadows to swallow him up as he went.

The sun turned from its dull winter grey to the beloved violet sunset. The shadows stretch out to a lone woman. Her steps were stiff, and her body hunched over. Small attempts of recovery from the workday and as a way to keep warm. Dearie stopped at a lone four-way cross waiting for the lights to change.

Her attention had been solely on the lights until Dearie heard a cacophonous noise. The sound was like a screeching cat gurgling hot iron nails. The want for the warmth of home was strong, but the curiosity to discover the source of this disastrous sound was stronger in her worn mind.

Not much thought was given as she retraced her steps to the source of the cursed siren song. Its call brought her to a dark alley. Looking in it appeared even more frosted than the open-air she had been standing in.

Again, the screech rang out. Much louder than before and more hypnotic. Like a sailor standing on the shore, she walked in. Dearie felt her senses leave her as she walked.

At the darkest point of the alley was a horrid, old hag. She raised one withered, blue hand and gestured Dearie closer with a sharp iron finger. The hag’s smile grew wider, showing shark-like teeth, as Dearie inched closer.

It wasn’t until that Dearie was within three feet that the tranced faded. Confusion took over Dearie’s senses and she turned to attempt to flee. But it was already too late.

Before she could even scream. Black Annis had pounced on Dearie, pulling her into the shadows of the alley. It’s darkness consuming them both.

Before the light could even reach Dearie’s eyes, she felt a hand caressing her hair. Gently pulling on it, while seeming to speak to another.

“Thank you, Annis. I’ve missed Dearie so much.”

China: Jin scowled as he gazed upon Qin. It didn’t make sense to him why she would be out in the open. It had nearly been a year, and yet she acted as their love had never happened. Had she not taken his love for her seriously? Did Qin think that every time he mentioned following her to the ends of the earth, even heaven or hell, that it was all joke?

Jin shook his head in disappointment. Qin still had a lot to learn about the meaning of eternal love and himself.

Reaching into the pocket of his black pants, Jin pulled out his black phone. Aiming it like a skilled photographer, he captured an image of the woman talking with his dear Qin. That simple click was the only sound that could have let Qin know he was near, but she was too caught up talking. Enjoying her time talking with a coworker? At least that is what Jin assumed due to their matching red polos.

Jin looked at Qin once more time, his eyes softening at her laughs. As much as he wanted to hold her, he needed to find his in.

Within two hours, Jin had found that in. It only took some appointments with clients in the city and promises of deals on the newest drugs that he learned something interesting. It turns out Qin’s boss, who was identified by the matching polo, was one of Jin’s clients, but he was one of the more desperate ones.

The ones that would risk it all and sell it all just for one more hit. The easiest ones to use.

Jin would have his men pull Qin’s boss aside. Together they would discuss Qin. How good of a worker she was, her many talents and such. As they talk Jin would notice the signs of withdrawal. The agitation, small muscles spasms, and shifty eyes.

He would wait for it to hit its climax. Once the boss snaps, then Jin brings up his offer again. Promises of a steady supply and being one of the first to try new drugs. He smiles as Qin’s boss seems to think over the deal. It only grows when he says yes.

Jin orchestrates the plan, the time, the office, heck even her lunch that day are all thought of by him. Jin even gains some peace realizing that in three days, Qin will be home.

Three days later, Jin sat in a fine leather chair owned by Qin’s boss. The office was that of a typical office executive, with dark accents, a light neutral color for the main. It was nice but empty. With a simple wave of his hand, Qin’s boss called for her. The intercom crackled with a confirmation that she had been notified.

As calm as Jin looked, he felt anxious. He wanted nothing more for Qin to move faster, but should he show himself too early, then this would all be for naught. Jin took another deep breath as he heard a knock on the dark oak door and then the squeak of its hinge.

Greetings and questions were thrown between the boss and Qin. Though it all became quiet when Jin decided to turn the chair around.

He didn’t enjoy the look of fear on her face, but at least she was cornered. Jin stood, as Qin threw insults and begged to be let go. Jin just shook his head.

“You never should have underestimated my love.”

Then he motioned for the boss to hold her down.

Her screams became louder and quiet as the needle was injected. Leaving the room in silence.

Russia: Viktor held his blue phone to his right ear, his eyes locked on to родная. His voice was low, speaking in Russian, and had scared many off from around him.

Родная felt the heat from Viktor’s gaze. As much as she wanted to move, leave from the sight of the monstrous man behind her. She couldn’t be found alone by him would be worse than what he could do in a crowd.

Viktor watched as her face became unnerved as the crowd began to shrink. Her attempt at using the crowd had been poor. He could see that her inner debate had begun. Get up and follow the crowds or stay.

He wouldn’t give her a chance. Not when the sirens he had been waiting for appeared like thunder during a rainstorm. Various police cars appeared their lights as bright as lightning. Their doors opened with loud clicks. Out stepped police officers in all shapes, colors, and sizes.

Before родная even had a chance to understand, she was surrounded. The flashing lights glared off the black handguns pointed at her. Viktor watched as she froze. Unsure what to do. Tears filled her eyes, as she looked around panicked.

The first officer demanded she gets down. Hands up and remain silent. Родная cried as she did. Chocked sobs seemed difficult to control as she lowered herself. The officer to her left roughly yanked her about as she was not only handcuffed by shoved into a police car.

Viktor smirked родная’s reactions were something he savored. It was not his favorite method of control, but it would work. After all, a woman deserved to be cherished, but in this case, the punishment was in order to ensure that she would remain by him.

He sat in the park for a few minutes more before walking off. He had left his black 1950s sedan a couple of streets down. Getting in, he decided it would be a good time to run a few errands.

Those few errands should have only taken an hour. Viktor dragged them out to six hours. A small sneer came to his lips as he saw the time was now eight o’clock at night.

Once again, he climbed back into his car and drove. This time he went past the park and further into town where an old cobblestone building sat.

Its high walls and black barred windows reminded one of an old prison. It was fitting given the fact it was the police station.

Viktor stepped out of his car. His steps seemed lighter than normal as he checked in. The proper papers were signed quickly, and the chief of police personally came to greet him.

Their conversation was kept short as they walked the lifeless halls. It wasn’t until the big chief tapped the metal door to interrogation room 1A that Viktor thanked the man.

Inside sat a hunched over родная. Her small hands were handcuffed to the silver table and her face was stained with tears. The sound of the opening door caused her head to pop up like a scared puppy. Though it quickly dropped when she noticed it was Viktor.

He slowly stalked up to родная. He hands rubbed her shoulders firmly and yet with a comforting gentleness. He appreciated that родная slightly leaned into his touch. It seems like his plan was working. Now it was time for an ultimatum.

In his rough, deep voice Viktor asked one question.

“You can either rot in jail alone or come home with me?”

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Just the Two of Us (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello everyone! I am so excited for you to read this part. I hope you enjoy!

Songs used are "Open Arms" by Journey (1982) and "Just the Two of Us" by Bill Withers and Grover Washington Jr. (1980).

Summary: The situation in Westview is slowly beginning to unravel. Will Wanda be able to fix it before everything falls apart? With some surprise guests.

The family was all gathered in the living room as Billy demonstrated tricks he and Charlie had spent the afternoon teaching Sparky. The moment was perfect. Well… almost perfect. Even though Wanda was grateful that the twins were happy, she couldn’t help the longing that was burning in her chest. There was a limit to the happiness that she was capable of feeling when the most important piece was missing.

You.

Wanda could see that you were becoming skeptical and that skepticism was causing you turmoil. That was the last thing she wanted. Which is why she made the decision to send you to work as a distraction. As much as it wasn’t what she wanted, she could handle being separated from you temporarily if it meant that your skepticism wouldn’t grow into resentment.

Wanda knew that she had to smile through the hurt. Even if the smile didn’t match the way she felt inside. She was determined to protect the twins from seeing anything other than a happy image - she couldn’t bear the idea of hurting them as well.

“That was amazing, Billy!” Wanda praised excitedly as she leaned over and scratched between Sparky’s ears. “And you weren’t so bad either, Sparky.”

Charlie rushed over to her brother, nearly bouncing with excitement. “That was so cool! Where’s Momma? We have to go show Momma!”

The way the twins immediately wanted to include you in the moment tugged harshly at Wanda’s heartstrings. “Oh, she-she’s at work!” Wanda stuttered out nervously just as the twins were getting ready to run into the other room.

It was clear that her words puzzled the two when Wanda was met with matching looks of confusion. “It’s Saturday…” Billy said wearily.

“No, it’s not. It’s Monday.” Wanda countered quickly in hopes that they would drop the subject.

Charlie shared a look with her brother. “But, Mom, this morning it was Saturday.”

For a moment Wanda cursed herself for having such intuitive children. “There was an emergency at the office and your mother had to go in. End of story.” The twins exchanged worried looks. She sighed. Maybe it was time to try honesty. “Don’t worry, you two. She just… She needed a distraction.”

“From what?” Charlie questioned, her eyes beginning to shimmer with disappointment.

Billy looked at his sister for a moment before turning dejectedly to Wanda. “From us?”

For a moment Wanda was sure she could hear the sound of her heart breaking as she watched the way Billy and Charlie’s faces crumpled with hurt. She swiftly rushed over to gather the twins in her arms. “No! No way! She loves you both so much.” She reassured them as she rubbed their backs. “She needed a little break from me, not you. I promise.

Wanda gently led them over to the couch and took a seat between them. “Sometimes your mother and I aren’t on the same page, but that’s okay. I know it’s just temporary because at the end of the day we will always love each other. Love isn’t always perfect, but it’s always there through every up and down. It’s there even when we fight.”

Wanda wrapped around each of the twins. “Like you two may sometimes fight over toys, but you will always love each other because he is always going to be your brother.” She affectionately stroked Charlie’s hair before turning to Billy and doing the same. “And she is always going to be your sister… Because family is forever.”

Billy and Charlie leaned into Wanda’s side, seemingly content with her explanation. Wanda breathed a sigh of relief that she was able to ease their minds. “Do you and Momma have siblings?”

The question was unexpected and as much as she tried to control it, Wanda couldn’t help the lump that built in her throat. “We do. I have a brother and Momma has a little sister. They’re far away from here.” She closed her eyes for a moment to control the tears that welled in her eyes. “And that makes me sad sometimes. I know it makes Momma sad too.”

The somber moment was interrupted by the sound of Sparky barking at the front door which distracted the twins. Wanda took advantage of the distraction to collect herself. “Sparky, what’s up, boy?” Billy called after the dog.

“Something’s scaring him.” Charlie worriedly leaned over the back of the couch to watch Sparky and Billy replicated the action.

Wanda’s eyes widened slightly with a realization that she kept to herself. “Stay here.” She instructed the twins as she rushed to the door, accidentally letting Sparky out.

The twins rushed up when they noticed the dog run outside. “Sparky!” They called as they followed after Wanda who hadn’t realized that they had followed her out until it was too late.

When she noticed the drone hovering above her, Wanda stepped forward in hopes of keeping it away from Billy and Charlie. “Wanda, this is Captain Monica Rambeau. Can you hear me? I just want to talk. That’s it.”

All Wanda could think of in that moment was protecting her family. That need grew when she faintly heard a voice she loathed float distantly over the sound of the machine. “Disregard. Take the shot.”

______

Anger wasn’t an emotion Wanda felt often, but in that moment the anger circulated so intensely through her body that she was almost certain it would consume her. When threats were made against her she could live with them.

When the threats were made against you or the twins, there would be no forgiveness from her.

The anger only made it easier to open the wall of energy she had created as she marched forward determinedly, not even flinching when she realized there were various weapons aimed directly at her.

When Wanda was close enough she threw the mangled machine at the feet of the man she despised. “Is this yours?” A small sense of satisfaction filled her as she watched the man take an involuntary step back.

“The missile was just a precaution. You can hardly blame us, Wanda.” Hayward said calmly, though his eyes flickered with irritation.

Wanda flexed her hands slightly as she fought to maintain control of her emotions. “Oh, I think I can. This will be your only warning. Stay out of my home.” Came her steely reply as she stared unflinchingly at Hayward. “You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you.”

Hayward’s hands clenched at his sides. “It’s not that simple, Wanda. You’ve kidnapped Y/n Y/ln’s body and have been manipulating her to do your bidding. Y/n’s wishes were-”

Wanda’s jaw clenched. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

“-to remain under our care. Y/n is a weapon and a danger under your manipulation. She needs to be back under our supervision. To pass away peacefully like she should have when you took her.” Hayward pushed on, his tone condescending. Hoping to push Wanda to the point of reaction.

Again, Wanda flexed her fingers, her willpower fading quickly. “Don’t talk about her like she’s an object. Don’t talk about her at all.” She gritted out. Her eyes gave away the fact that Hayward had gotten to her as they watered ever so slightly. Hayward smirked in satisfaction.

He held up his hands as he feigned innocence. This was only after seeing the way the other agents began to look at him. Hayward was supposed to be most worried about the citizens of Westview not you. “You’ve also taken an entire town hostage.”

“I’m not the one with the guns, director.” Wanda retorted sharply.

Monica stepping forward caught Wanda’s attention. “But you are the one in control.”

“You’re still here.” On reflex, red wisps began floating around Wanda’s fingers. Her patience hanging by a thread.

It was clear that Hayward was livid as Monica took control of the situation. “Wanda, I didn’t know those drones were armed, but you know that… Don’t you?” She continued forward cautiously. “A town full of civilians and you, a telepath, brought a S.W.O.R.D. agent into your home. You trusted me to help deliver your babies. You allowed me to create a bond with Y/n. On some level you know I am an ally. I want to help you.”

Wanda couldn’t help but falter slightly, though the red energy that danced under her fingertips flashed menacingly. “How? What could you possibly have to offer me?” Her voice was quieter, the accent even more pronounced than it was moments before.

Monica took another cautious step forward. “What do you want?”

The moment was broken the second the question was asked. She knew what she wanted. Nothing would replace that. “I have everything I want… And no one will ever take it from me again.” Wanda’s gaze shifted to Hayward, her stare unwavering. Challenging.

With a flick of her wrist all the weapons that were directed at her shifted to Hayward. Wanda walked away with contentment as she listened to Hayward’s panicked shouts to stand down.

The only thing that slowed her down was the sound of heavy footsteps rushing in her direction. “Wanda!” The surprise of hearing the familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

As soon as she turned she met the eyes of Steve Rogers. He stood a few feet away from her, his hands raised slightly as though were approaching a wounded animal. “Wanda, you have to stop.” Wanda’s eyes glistened with contained emotion. “Let’s talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about? Y/n is safe here.” She tilted her head a small frown on her lips. “Don’t you want that for her?”

Steve’s eyes flashed with indecision. Wanda knew he understood the desire to protect you more than anyone. “Not like this.”

There was a subtle shift in her posture as she began shutting down once again. The willingness for conversation ending. “This is the only way.”

“There is always another way.” Steve said determinedly. “Let everyone go. Let her go.”

Wanda’s jaw clenched at Steve’s words. The conversation was over.

Wordlessly she raised her hands, so they hovered before the barrier. “I’ll never let her go. Not again.” Before Steve could utter another would she opened the barrier and stepped through. When he rushed forward to follow after her, he was forcefully thrown back.

As he was standing, Natasha ran over. “What the hell just happened?”

Steve winced as he held his aching side, his eyes never leaving the place Wanda just walked through. “She didn’t listen. When I tried to follow her, she stopped me.”

Natasha stared up at the flickering red wall before her. “Let’s hope we get another chance.”

_______________

The walk home felt longer than usual.

Not that I can even remember how long the walk was before today, you thought to yourself in frustration.

Even though your heart had stopped racing, your thoughts were a disaster. The terror that you saw in Ellie’s eyes kept looping in your mind, leaving behind a residual fear that coursed through your veins. Nothing you did could shake the image as you felt your chest begin tightening in a panic and your palms begin sweating.

In a bid of desperation, you began tugging at the collar of your shirt as it became increasingly more difficult to take in air.

The unexpected sight of the twins and their heartbroken expression quickly grounded you as you managed to take in a few deep breathes. Your worries didn’t matter if one of your loved ones was in distress. “Bring him back, Mom.” You heard Charlie beg Wanda who was kneeled in front of them with a troubled expression.

Your brows furrowed as you came to a stop beside them. “Bring who back?” The twins rushed forward and hugged you as soon as they saw you. Wanda stood up, taking a shaky breath.

The question was answered when you looked over at a teary-eyed Agnes and a small bundle wrapped in her arms. Your heart ached at the sight. You kneeled down and held the twins as you attempted to push back your own tears.

Glancing up briefly, you couldn’t help but noticed Wanda’s pained expression. Her eyes were conflicted. Almost as if she wasn’t sure if she could join in the embrace with her family. The fear that was still racing in your mind froze the words of comfort on your lips.

Instead you dropped your gaze to the floor and pulled the twins in closer.

______________

It wasn’t until hours later that you were finally able to get a moment alone with your wife. You found her organizing as you made your way into the kitchen. “How are the twins?” She asked worriedly.

You pushed a weary hand through your hair as you contemplated your answer. “Well, heartbroken. That’s to be expected since they lost Sparky in such a tragic way… but they’ll be okay.” A tired sigh fell from your lips. “If I’m being honest, I’m a bit shaken up about it too. We only had him for a day, Wanda. How does that even happen?”

Wanda stepped closer to you as her hand hovered over your shoulder, hating the tension that lingered in the air. Hating the fact that she even felt hesitant to comfort you. She dropped her hand to her side. “I- Are you okay, Y/n?”

You leaned back against the counter as you finally lifted your eyes to meet her gaze. You ignored the question. “Something happened with Ellie today.” You could feel pressure begin building in your temples. “Something happened with the computer and-and I saw her.”

Wanda turned and busied herself with organizing the basket of toys. “Well, I’d hope so. She is technically your boss.” She said in a joking tone. Nothing about her posture indicated there was anything light-hearted about how she was feeling.

“No, I saw her. In my mind, not in Westview.” You paused slightly, and you noticed Wanda falter as well.

When Wanda turned to face you, there was confusion clouding her eyes. “Wait, how did you see her if-”

Her words didn’t register as you continued on. “Her personality had completely changed, Wanda. She said someone is in her mind - she was in pain.... Please, tell me you’re not doing this.”

A forced chuckle fell from her lips. “Y/n...” She walked over to you and gingerly took your hand. “Listen, can we just-”

“Share a kiss and move on to the next day?” You interjected with a quirked eyebrow. The frown on your face caused Wanda’s own smile to falter as she turned away from you again and moved out of the kitchen. “Turn in for the night so you can reset our world again?” You pressed as you followed after her.

Wanda spun around to face you, her eyes wide with disbelief. You continued before she could utter a sound. “You can’t control me like you control them, Wanda.”

Her eyes remained locked on yours and you watched her eyes flash challengingly. “Can’t I?”

Just then the sound of music filled the room around you. Wanda began walking away and your head fell as the lyrics floated from the radio. You braced yourself for what you could only imagine was to come next.

“Now that you've come back, turned night into day, I need you to stay.”

The soft music playing in the background lulled you into a trance. The safety you had created in this moment on the roof of the compound prevented the outside world from existing. On this roof all your worries faded away. All that existed was the music and-

“If you could have been anything, what would you have chosen?”

It was a surprise to hear her speak. Most of the time Wanda would just sit next to you without saying a word - always keeping you at arms distance. “I don’t know. This? Saving the world is a pretty sweet gig.” You mumbled distractedly in a playful manner as you watched the clouds move through the sky above you.

Wanda pushed your shoulder lightly in annoyance. You struggled to ignore the way your skin burned under her touch. “I’m being serious, Y/n.”

You smirked, eyes still locked skyward. “So am I.”

From the corner of your eye you could see her frown slightly. Guilt overcame you when you realized she was finally trying and you were shutting her down. “A writer.”

“What?”

“If I was normal and could have lived a normal life, I would have been a writer.” You explained, sitting up and crossing your legs. Wanda mirrored your position. “It would have been interesting to be a novelist with an editor and dealing with signing with publishers, you know? Or a news writer who creates interesting articles.”

Wanda played with her fingers. “I didn’t know you were a writer.”

With a short shake of your head, you answered, “I wouldn’t say I am. Remember this is all hypothetical. The life I’d have if I was capable of living a normal life.” You finished with a light laugh.

While she didn’t laugh along with you, a small smile spread across Wanda’s features. The rare sight took your breath away. “It’s a shame we’re so far from normal.”

Your eyes stayed locked on hers as she tugged at her sleeves, her lips still quirked up faintly. You smiled at the sight. “I don’t know. It’s not too bad.”

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You shouted, the music abruptly shutting off and filling the room with static. “That’s- I don’t know what any of that is! It’s not mine!” You shouted, pressing your palms into your temples. Wanda’s eyes glimmered with an emotion you didn’t recognize

Another song began playing.

“Good things might come to those who wait, not for those who wait too late. We gotta go for all we know-”

“-just the two of-” Your singing was brought to an abrupt end when you saw flames coming from one of the pots on the stove. “No, no, no!”

A loud curse fell from your lips as the fire advanced even further from your attempts of salvaging the dish. “Y/n! What-” Hurried footsteps rushed into the kitchen of the compound. Wanda’s eyes widened when she took in the sight before her. Without a word she ran back out of the room.

“Thanks for all the help, babe!” You shouted sarcastically as you hurriedly began filling a bucket with water.

Before you could finish filling the bucket, Wanda ran back in with a fire extinguisher and doused the fire in seconds. “You were saying?” She turned to you with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.

Sheepishly you rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks.” You mumbled.

“When we get our own house, you’re not allowed to cook.” Wanda said with a laugh.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Our house?”

A deep pink hue spread across Wanda’s cheeks. “Well… yeah. Someday. If that’s what you want.”

Her words made your heart flutter. “I mean, we’ve only been dating half a year, but yeah... I see it too.” You smiled at her adoringly. “What else can you tell me about our future house?”

Wanda’s gaze bashfully fell to the floor, you found the action endearing. “It would be in a nice little neighborhood with friendly neighbors.”

The fact that she had thought of spending her future with you only made you fall all the more in love. “With plenty of space for our children to play.” You added.

Her cheeks flushed even more with your words and the smile that lit up her entire being was blinding.

You’d be glad if that was the last sight you ever saw.

“You picture having children with me?” She asked shyly. You nodded, and her smile grew even more. “How many do you imagine?”

“Two.” You replied easily. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of your future with Wanda as well.

She stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “That sounds perfect.”

“Enough!” You roared, pressing into your temples even more as you desperately took ragged breathes to calm yourself. The moments that were attached to these songs all flashing in your mind at once. You still didn’t recognize any of them.

The radio crumpled in on itself in your frustration.

Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise at your sudden outburst, it was clear that you were teetering dangerously on the edge of something she couldn’t control. “Y/n. I think you should get some rest. I’m going to go to bed. Come up when you’re ready.”

The racing of your mind worsened as you watched Wanda turn away. “No, Wanda, we’re not done here! What are all these things I’m seeing?”

Wanda’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “What things?”

You wearily approached your wife, feeling your palms begin sweating anxiously. You dug your nails into your palm to distract yourself from the fact. “I want to believe that this…” You gestured vaguely around the room. “Was all subconscious and you weren’t aware of what was happening.”

“Aware of what?” Wanda said in annoyance as she turned away.

Again, you followed after her. “What are all these moments? What does Ellie have to do with them? Ellie is a real person, Wanda, and she’s scared! Scared because you are controlling her!” Your chest tightened. “Why did I see her in my mind when I’ve never seen her before Westview?”

Wanda spun around to face you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She shouted back, matching your tone. Her frustration boiling over.

“Stop lying to me!” You screamed as the tightening in your chest became almost unbearable. The floor beneath you began to splinter and your hands tensed slightly.

The familiar red wisps began flowing from Wanda’s hands. “Y/n. This, all of this, is for us. For you. So, please, let me handle it.” She gritted out through clenched teeth as the frustration became more and more evident on her features.

“What are they, Wanda? Why can’t I remember anything before Westview? What even exists outside of Westview?” You demanded as the floor began to splinter even more.

The quiver of Wanda’s lips was subtle, but you caught it. “You don’t want to know, I promise you.”

Your hands flexed in frustration. “You don’t get to make that choice for me, Wanda!”

Pain flooded Wanda’s eyes as she turned away from you. The fight in her fading. “You’ve never talked to me like this before.”

The breathes you were taking became more ragged. “Before what? I can’t remember my life outside of Westview! I don’t even know who I am!” You clutched desperately at your chest. In that moment you were sure that your heart was about to burst through your chest. “I’m scared, Wanda.”

Seeing the obvious distress you were in grounded Wanda as she cautiously made her way over to you, gently pulling your clenched hands away from your chest. “You are my wife. You are Billy and Charlie’s mother. Isn’t that enough?” She pleaded as she smoothed her thumbs over the back of your hands.

For a moment your heart rate slowed. You couldn’t tear your mind away from your troubled thoughts though. “If Ellie is under some trance does that mean others are as well?” You questioned in a more subdued tone.

Wanda tore her hands away from yours in disbelief as she stormed away from you. “Do you really think I am controlling everything?” Your brows furrowed as she pushed forward. “That I am somehow in charge of everybody in Westview? Walking their dogs? Taking out the trash? Getting them to work on time?”

An exasperated laugh fell from her lips as she pushed a hand through her hair. You worriedly watched the way tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t know how any of this started in the first place.” Wanda insisted, almost as though she was pleading with you to believe her.

All you wanted to do was comfort her when you realized the turmoil and anxiety that she also seemed to be feeling.

You hesitantly kneeled before Wanda and placed a gentle hand on her leg. “Wanda, what you’re doing here is wrong.” She buried her face in her hands and your heart ached at the sight. “It’s wrong, but we can make it right.”

Before she could answer the doorbell sounded. Your hands fell away from her. “I didn’t do that.” You set your lips in a line but didn’t respond. “You don’t believe me.”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips. “Wanda, I want to, but… the timing of the interruption seems a little too perfect. Just like everything else.”

The doorbell sounded again, and you were sure you felt your heart break when you saw her blink back tears.

Without a word, she stood to answer the door. When you saw Wanda was frozen at the door, you cautiously stood and began making your way over to her. “Wanda, who-” you stopped short when you saw an unfamiliar man in the doorway.

“Long lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin’ sis to death or what?” The unfamiliar man asked playfully.

Wanda stared at him as if she was seeing a ghost. “Pietro?” You watched apprehensively as the two shared a hug.

When Pietro pulled away, he lightly nudged Wanda. “You caught a babe, sis. I’m impressed.” Wanda seemed to still be in too much shock to react as he leaned out the door, “Hey, kid! Come out! I think there might be someone you want to see here.”

A moment later a young girl wandered into the entry way. “Y/nn.” The girl quietly whispered and while you couldn’t seem to remember anything outside of Westview you knew there was only one person who called you that.

“Anna…” You breathed out through a choked gasp. Suddenly it felt like your legs stopped working as you fell to one knee and then the other. Wanda rushed over to you.

.

.

.

A soft gasp filled the quiet room. “She re-cast Pietro and brought back Anna.” Darcy said in shock as she watched the scene unfold on the small screen before her. “What a twist.”

“That’s not Anna.” Steve said as crossed his arms. “Anna was only six when Hydra took her from Y/n. This girl is a teenager. I helped Y/n bury her sister. I don’t know who this is.”

Natasha shook her head. “It looks like everything just got a lot more complicated.”

With a cough, Darcy nodded overzealously. “Right. This is a terrible situation.” She turned away from the two Avengers slightly. “Even if it makes good TV.” She added under her breath.

Both Steve and Natasha gave Darcy a disbelieving look as the credits rolled on the small screen before them.

And we have concluded with the 80s! A lot happened here but I'm actually really happy with how it turned out since I feel like it's beginning to take it's own shape. Chaos has ensued!

Annnnyyway... I hope you all enjoyed this part and are seeing the little depths of reasoning behind a lot of what Wanda is doing. As always, thoughts and comments always welcome! Reading your responses is always the highlight of my day. :)

P.s. if anyone wants to be on the taglist for "As it Was" let me know!

Taglist:

@theofficialzivadavid @tquick99 @wandamaximoffpuppy

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Spooky Stories to Hold Them Close

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Reader Modern AU

A/N:  I’ve got camping on the brain so I wrote a camp AU. There is a manga character mentioned in here but I morph them a bit to fit what I’m going for so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Please enjoy!  Shinobu: If there are any spirits out here tonight tell me, does this sound like Shakira? lolay lolay lo- 

Word Count: 4,821

It was summer again, and (Y/n) groaned as they removed their camp issued baseball cap to swipe at the sweat that had accumulated over their brow. Not even the cheap material could save them from the intense heat of the day. God, they would kill to be back at the counselor’s cabin to enjoy just a smidge of AC but no, instead they were out with the unruly boys of Cabin K, making sure that they carried out their punishment of hard labor after causing a food fight in the mess hall.

“Come on boys, those canoes better be sparkling if you’re going to be taking your sweet time like this.” (Y/n) called, fanning themself with their hat.

“There’s a spider in this one!” Zenitsu cried. “This is so gross, there’s no way anyone’s ever cleaned these before!”

“Don’t worry Zenitsu, I’ll get it.” Tanjirou smiled earnestly.

(Y/n) felt bad for that kid. He was such an enabler though. The others looked up to him and respected him a lot. Who knows how much better it be if he knocked their heads more often. But because of his soft and nurturing demeanor, Tanjirou was always getting caught up in his cabin mates’ shenanigans. Speaking of which...

“Inosuke! If so much as a toe goes in that water you’ll be at the craft table with the junior kids making macaroni art until the only color you know yellow!” (Y/n) warned.

A strangled wail mixed with a roar left the boy’s mouth, the sound didn’t even sound like it could come from a human being. It was like that boy was a feral boar. Given how he’s kept coming back year after year, he may as well be just that.

“It’s hot! I’ll wash the boat in the lake!” He yelled, pulling the canoe closer to the sandy beach.

“Inosuke I’m serious! Macaroni art! That, and I’ll call your mother!” (Y/n) yelled back.

“Damn you and your sick threats!”

“My, still at it are we?”

(Y/n) sighed, turning with a tight smile towards Shinobu as their fellow counselor came up beside them. They tried not to let their eyes wander too long over the expanse of soft looking skin Shinobu’s shorts left exposed.

“Yeah, and as you can see, Tomioka ditched me to go help Sabito with something.” (Y/n) huffed, returning a watchful eye over Inosuke as he dragged the canoe back up to the others.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Shinobu tutted, stepping closer to rub (Y/n)’s back as a sign of sympathy. The proximity brought the scent of sunscreen and damp earth to (Y/n)’s nose. It was an intoxicating scent that (Y/n) had grown to associate with Shinobu always.

“Yeah, are you getting ready for swim lessons right now? Tradesies?” They asked hopefully, mustering up the best puppy dog eyes they could make. They only succeeded in making Shinobu laugh though, which honestly, wasn’t a bad constellation prize.

“Mm, no, sorry. You’re not the only one wanting to get relief from this heatwave.” Shinobu pinched the front of her shirt pulling at it to circulate some airflow. A motion (Y/n) definitely did not follow with their eyes.

“I did grab you and the boys some water though.” Shinobu said, digging into the drawstring bag that was slung over her shoulder and presenting (Y/n) with four bottles of cold water. “And to think I purposfully didn’t get one for Tomioka and he isn’t even here to stare off into the middle distance. Such a waste.”

“You’re such a bully sometimes, you know that?” (Y/n) chuckled, placing all bottles at their feet except for one, “remind me to stay on your good side.”

“You’d really be on my good side if you came to the counselor fire after the kids turn in. The theme is Fright Night, sponsored by yours truly,” Shinobu winked playfully.

Immediately (Y/n) felt a tad ill. “Fright Night?”

“Yes!” Shinobu nodded, a small, yet very excited grin on her face, “it’ll be held at Hangman’s Clearing, of course, a full night of frightening tales and games by the fire... and delicious treats! Provided Mitsuri doesn’t eat them all on the way. You’ll come, right?”

(Y/n) wasn’t particularly fond of the supernatural or chilling tales of murder or other dark themes. In fact, it would be fair to say they loathed them. They hated being scared and this themed get together should have had (Y/n) running in the opposite direction. ‘Should have’ being the key in this situation.

Shinobu looked so hopeful, waiting expectantly for (Y/n)’s reply. It would be impossible to say no to that face. A face that (Y/n) looked forward to seeing every summer and was always desperately looking for an excuse to see as often as possible. It couldn’t be that bad, right? (Y/n) could handle a few spooks in exchange for hanging out with Shinobu all night. Yeah, they could do this.

“It’s not a trick question, (Y/n). A simple yes or no would suffice.” Shinobu teased. “Though if it helps sway your decision at all, it would make me really happy if you would come.”

And with that, (Y/n)’s fate was sealed.

“Okay, sure, yeah, I’ll come.” (Y/n) bashfully agreed, their heartbeat picking up in pace at Shinobu’s delighted giggle.

“Great! I’ll see you at the clearing at ten. Don’t be late or,” she suddenly latched on to (Y/n)’s arm, startling them, “the ghosts will get you!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” (Y/n) laughed weakly. Their skin tingling from where Shinobu had grabbed them.

“I better get to the beach, the kids are getting antsy.” Shinobu said before proceeding to pull her shirt over her head. She was wearing her swimsuit of course, but still. (Y/n) nearly had an aneurysm because of the casual reveal. “See you later, (Y/n).”

“Sssseee you. Bye. Thanks for the water.” (Y/n) then made themselves busy by taking several sips of said water.

“Anytime,” Shinobu’s eyes traveled past (Y/n)’s body before returning to them with a sympathetic smile, “looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) squinted before their eyes blew wide and they jerked their head back in the direction of the canoes. “Tanjirou, why is there a canoe in that tree! I swear I can’t leave you guys alone for two minutes!” (Y/n) stalked over to the boys and Shinobu watched their back, laughing as (Y/n) ran up to Inosuke and tackled him to the ground before he could scale the tree with another canoe.

***

Night fell much too quickly after a full day of scheduled activities and once all the campers had retired to their cabins for curfew, (Y/n) knew their time to mentally prepare for the counselor fire had run out. At least they hadn’t had to walk to the clearing themself, as they had bumped into Mitsuri and Iguro at the edge of the forest entrance.

Iguro seemed miffed that his alone time with the bubbly counselor had been interrupted but Mitsuri was all too happy to catch up with (Y/n) about their day as they walked to Hangman’s Clearing.

Soon the light of a fire could be seen between the trees and they met up with the other counselors who had decided to join in. Sitting around the fire, (Y/n) saw Kyoujurou and Tengen talking to each other while poking at the fire. (Y/n) frowned, wondering where Shinobu was.

“Boo!”

It took everything in (Y/n)’s power to swallow the scream that threatened to spill from their mouth as arms wrapped around them from behind. Instead it turned into a pitiful and embarrassing squeak. (Y/n) wasn’t sure which would have been better.

“Oh dear, (Y/n). Did I startle you? I’m sorry.” Shinobu released (Y/n) from her hold and patted their shoulder.

“It’s okay!” (Y/n) promised, not wanting Shinobu to feel bad. “Besides, that’s kind of the point of tonight, isn’t it?”

“Right! I’m glad you could come (Y/n). I didn’t know if you liked scary things.” Shinobu said as they followed Mitsuri and Iguro to the fire.

“Yeah...” (Y/n) replied, lying against their better judgment. They just wanted Shinobu to think they were cool, impress her somehow maybe. “Horror is.. great.”

“Is this it?” Tengen asked, leaning his back against a sturdy log.

“Yes. Gyomei is staying behind to keep an ear out for the kids, as are Sabito and Tomioka. Sanemi said the whole thing wasn’t worth his time.” Shinobu explained as she took her own seat at the fire, motioning for (Y/n) to sit next to her.

“Did you even really invite Tomioka?” Tengen snorted.

“Of course I did, but as you all know, Tomioka is a wet blanket so he declined and Sabito decided to stay with him.” Shinobu clapped her hands against her thighs, “Now, enough about them. Let’s get the festivities started, shall we? Mitsuri, you brought the goods?”

“I sure did!” Mitsuri cheered, taking the nearly overflowing backpack she had been toting off of her shoulders. It landed in the dirt with a heavy thud. “I’ve got s’more fixings, jiffy pop, chips, sodas, water, hotdogs...”

“Wow Mitsuri, you really went all out. How did you carry it all?” (Y/n) marveled.

Mitsuri flexed one of her biceps, smacking the muscle with her hand. “Strength, pure will power and an intense love of all things delicious!” She said, her lips curled into an adorable smile.

The counselor fire started out great. For the first hour they all talked and ate, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the twinkle of the stars, laughing with each other as they recalled the memories that they had made over the years.

But like anything else, the conversation dried to a slow trickle and most of the food had been polished off. The once hearty blaze of the fire was now a low flame with glowing embers. Shinobu took it as her cue to begin the main event.

(Y/n) blinked at the sudden brightness that flashed beside them. They squinted against the light and saw that Shinobu was brandishing a flashlight, highlighting her face for a moment before moving the light to cast shadows over the sinister smile growing across her face.

“Anyone have a scary story they’d like to share or are you all content to dive into the main event?” Shinobu asked, placing her free hand confidently over her chest.

“Oo! I got one, Shinobu! Pick me!” Mitsuri called, calling out in her seat beside Iguro.

“Alright, catch!” Shinobu tossed the flashlight to Mitsuri who caught it with an excited squee.

“Okay, so, um.. oh! Once, there was this girl who woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. She decided that she wanted a midnight snack and remembered that there was still a piece of her favorite raspberry cheesecake left. A perfect creamy treat! She could practically taste it already.”

Mitsuri wiggled on the log, leaning forward in her excitement. Light from the fire illuminated the green tips of her hair making them appear to glow.

“So she got out of her warm and comfy bed and crept into the dark, cold hallway, thump thump thump, and down the squeaky stairs, squeak squawk squeak, until she finally made it to the kitchen.

Mitsuri reached out towards the fire with her free hand and made a motion like grabbing a door, slowly pulling it back.

“She opened the refrigerator door and then—“ Mitsuri slapped her hand down upon her thigh with startling force, “to her absolute horror, she remembered that she had eaten the last piece of cheesecake at lunch the previous day! There was no more cheesecake to be had, and she had to settle for confetti cake ice cream when what she was really craving was the cheesecake!”

Mitsuri shook her head sorrowfully, and Iguro rubbed a soothing hand over her back while she collected herself.

“The end.” Mitsuri finished, clicking the flashlight off.

“Haha! Good one Mitsuri. The emotion behind your tale made it feel so real!” Kyoujirou loudly proclaimed. Shinobu giggled from her seat beside (Y/n) who also couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“It was real!” Mitsuri said seriously. “It happened to me just a couple weeks ago!” she shuddered.

“I don’t know, that was hardly scary Kanroji.” Tengen shrugged.

“I’d like to see you do better!” Mitsuri pouted.

“I could, but I’d rather let Kochou get on with her activities. Her knee is bouncing. Impatient, Kochou?”

“Ha ha! That it is!” Kyoujirou laughed.

“I can wait,” Shinobu countered, her leg ceased its bouncing due to being caught. “Does anyone else want to share a story?”

A chorus of head shakes met Shinobu’s question and she shrugged, a sly smiling curling at her lips.

“Very well then, Mitsuri, the flashlight please.”

“You got it!” Mitsuri cheered, tossing the light back to Shinobu.

Shinobu clicked the light back on, her eyes roamed over her audience one by one.

“Have you all heard of the serial killer Douma the Cannibal?” Shinobu asked.

“Of course,” Iguro spoke up. “He killed at least seventy women throughout the 1910s until well into the 1920s. However, their still connecting cold case murders to him even now. Some experts believe he could have killed well over two hundred. A really despicable monster to say the least.”

“Very true.” Shinobu nodded solemnly, “His parents ran a cult, believing he was some kind of messiah or deity. They let him do whatever he wished. It started with the killings of small animals but quickly escalated once that had lost its appeal. We don’t know much of motivations, but it’s believed he killed simply because he enjoyed it. Famously developing a taste for his victims after he ran out of places to store them.”

(Y/n) shivered, clutching themself in a hug as they waited for Shinobu to continue. This was worse than any old ghost story, the girl beside them was talking about an actual person! Well, at least he was dead right? Right?

“He was apprehended right here in this very clearing actually.” Shinobu said, looking around at the dark forest that surrounded them “The mob hung him, strung him up in one of these trees, hence the name Hangman’s Clearing.”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. Why here, he couldn’t be dead someplace else? And they made a fucking summer camp here, what the actual fuck? Suddenly the woods seemed much more sinister.

“He deserved it of course,” Shinobu continued with a sigh, “but just think of what we could have learned if they chained him up instead. There are still many bodies unaccounted for. But perhaps,” Shinobu turned to (Y/n), making them jump a little as her hand slid behind them to pick up a box.

“But perhaps tonight, in the field where he gasped for his last breaths, we can learn something from beyond.”

Oh hell to the fucking no. She was holding a goddamn ouija board and matching planchette.

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the back of their neck rise to attention. There was no way, how could they get themself out of this? Calling upon the spirit of a serial killer was not what they had signed up for. Everyone else however, seemed to lean in and stare with excitement at the prospect, even Mitsuri quickly hopped out of her seat to sit on Shinobu’s other side.

“Oo, oo! Shinobu what a good idea!” she cheered.

A good idea? Mitsuri, honey, what is wrong with you, respectfully. (Y/n) held their face in their hand. That girl had been their only chance of escape, but she seemed just as invested as everyone else!

“Thank you, let’s get this set up then, shall we?” Shinobu grinned.

Tengen and Kyoujirou pushed the logs around into a makeshift table and everyone kneeled around it. Shinobu placed the board and planchette neatly in the middle, beckoning everyone to place a finger on the planchette.

(Y/n) jolted to attention as Shinobu placed her hand over theirs, giving them a questioning glance.

“(Y/n), are you still with us?” She teased.

“Yeah, sorry.” They gulped, watching in dismay as Shinobu smiled at them and pulled their hand up to the board, curling all fingers but one and playfully pushing it against the planchette before placing her own over the wood. There was no getting out of this.

Shinobu then went on about how the board worked and what not, (Y/n) didn’t really listen, too busy trying to find their happy place and pretend they weren’t there.

“Are there any spirits with us tonight?” Shinobu asked, pulling (Y/n) out of their head at the most inopportune moment.

At first there was no movement, for which (Y/n) was thankful, but ever so slowly the planchette did move.

“K-Kyou, you aren’t pushing it are you?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask.

“Not at all my friend!” Kyoujirou heartily replied as the planchette continued moving in (Y/n)’s direction.

The fact that it was moving in their direction wasn’t the issue, but rather the fact that (Y/n)’s corner of the board had ‘yes’ written on it.

“Ah, a yes! This is so exciting!” Mitsuri wiggled.

“Nice, how flamboyant!” Tengen added, pumping his free fist.

“What is your name spirit?” Shinobu continued.

(Y/n) let out a shaky breath as the planchette moved away from them. Watching with dread as it skimmed across the board.

‘D’

‘O’

‘U’

‘M’

‘A’

Fuck.

“Where are the victims you buried in these woods, you worthless, demonic bastard?” Shinobu tensed beside (Y/n), concentrating heavily on the board, her tone was commanding as she demanded an answer.

(Y/n) would have found it extremely attractive if they weren’t already scared out of their mind. The taunting of a serial killer ghost was the last thing they wanted to be a part of. Especially if they were talking demons, (Y/n) was too young to die like this. Well, they’d never be at an age where death by demon possession would seem favorable, but that was not the point!

The planchette moved across several letters and (Y/n) lost track of what was being spelled out. Which was just as well, ignorance is bliss after all, right? They waited for the others to figure it out with bated breath.

“Follow the sounds of the woods and we’ll find the signs, hm?” Iguro muttered. “Sounds like a trap.”

“What does it matter? Not like ghosts exist anyway. This is all a part of the ambiance, right Shinobu?” Tengen laughed, laying back on his forearms.

“I wasn’t pushing the planchette if that’s what you are suggesting, Uzui.” Shinobu answered seriously. “But if anyone else wants to confess to it, by all means don’t waste our time.”

“I didn’t!” Mitsuri denied while Iguro shook his head.

“I didn’t either.” (Y/n) also spoke up, an undetectable tremor pulled at their vocal chords.

“Nor have I!” Kyoujirou boomed.

“Then there is only one way to know for sure that this is all legitimate,” Shinobu said, brandishing the small lantern she had lit to illuminate the board, “we break off and search the surrounding woods.”

“Break off? Like, search in the dark alone?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask for clarification. Couldn’t they all just head back to the cabins together and watch a movie on Tengen’s smuggled DVD player and forget this whole mess?

“No, not alone,” Shinobu smiled, looping her free arm through (Y/n)’s, “that would be too dangerous. Pairs would be better.”

“I’m going with Kanroji.” Iguro immediately declared. Mitsuri wiggled and clapped, happy to go with him.

“Guess that leaves you and me,” Tengen grinned, fist bumping Kyoujirou, “let’s kick some ghost ass!”

“Yes!” Kyoujirou enthusiastically replied.

“Great, then it’s decided!” Shinobu nodded, squeezing (Y/n)’s arm closer to her as she stood up, pulling them up with her. “Meet back here in half an hour?”

A range of approvals sounded and once they synced up their watches (since phones weren’t allowed at camp), the three separate pairs went off in different directions into the dark woods.

(Y/n) used to love these woods, coming back summer after summer, it was one of the things they looked forward to every year. It only took about twenty minutes for them to learn to hate it as Shinobu led them through the bramble and roots by lantern light.

“You’re being awfully quiet, something on your mind?” Shinobu asked after an owl hooted in the distance, startling (Y/n) a bit.

“No, I’m just,” (Y/n) made a vague gesture with their hands, “concentrating, I guess.” They finished lamely.

Shinobu hummed in amusement, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. It is all rather exciting isn’t it? I hope we find something.”

“Mhmm.” (Y/n) forced a smile as Shinobu looked over her shoulder at them. It quickly fell from their face once Shinobu turned to face front again, guiding (Y/n) further down the darkened path.

(Y/n) had never been more tense in their life. They didn’t know if they were thankful for Shinobu’s commentary as they kept walking or if they wanted her to be quiet so they could hear any approaching threat. Whatever the case, they kept their mouth shut. Only answering Shinobu with one word responses, affirming or negative noises or just the shake or nod of their head when Shinobu would look back at them. If Shinobu thought it odd, she didn’t comment on her fellow counselor’s behavior.

After awhile, (Y/n) attempted to pretend they were somewhere else again. Still with Shinobu, but somewhere nice like an amusement park or a beach at sunset... maybe sunrise instead. (Y/n) was jostled from their musings when Shinobu stopped suddenly, causing (Y/n) to bump into her.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered, spiking (Y/n) blood pressure through the roof.

“No.” They squeaked.

“Listen.” Shinobu hushed, pulling (Y/n) down to their knees, they both crouched to the ground, listening so hard their ears were buzzing.

A snapping of a branch in the distance, the rustle of leaves.

“What,” (Y/n) swallowed, “what was that?” They whispered.

“Shhh,” Shinobu exhaled, covering (Y/n)’s lips with her fingers as she continued to listen.

It was quiet again, and as Shinobu gave up on listening and removed her fingers from over (Y/n)’s mouth—

“KYYYYAAAAAHHHH!”

A loud scream could be heard far off in the trees, then everything went quiet again for all of three seconds before (Y/n) absolutely lost it.

“Oh my god!” They gasped, clutching Shinobu’s arm tightly to their chest, their eyes wide and unfocused. “Oh my god, that sounded like Mitsuri! Oh god, oh fuck! Shit!”

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu looked at them, a bewildered expression molding her face as she observed their sudden outburst. She quickly moved to comfort them though, setting the lantern down to hug them, rubbing their back as it shuddered with ragged breaths. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re okay.”

“For now!” (Y/n) frantically retorted. “It’s only a matter of time before whatever got Mitsuri and Iguro come for us!”

“(Y/n), wait—“ Shinobu tried to calm them, but they just kept spiraling.

“Why did I agree to this? I should have left the second you took out that ouija board, but no! I stayed just so I could spend more time with you and now we’re gonna be murdered by a demon serial killer ghost before I could finally work up the courage to ask you out!”

“(Y/n)!” Shinobu tried again, speaking a bit sharper this time, forcing (Y/n) to look at her and hoping to calm them with her attentions. “Hey, we’re going to be alright. You’re alright. Listen to me, okay? I set this all up.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) weakly croaked.

“I messed with the ouija board. We weren’t really communicating with anything. I planned for us to split off into groups. We heard Mitsuri scream because—“

“Who’s ready to die!?” A loud maniacal laugh sounded behind them and a chainsaw roared to life.

(Y/n) screamed, otherwise paralyzed in Shinobu’s embrace. Their head tucked under Shinobu’s with their cheek pressed snugly against her chest as they waited for the chainsaw blade to tear through their skin.

“Sanemi, turn that off right now! Stop, damn you!” Shinobu yelled over the noise.

“Okay, okay!” the false murderer, Sanemi, turned off the whirring blade with a tisk. “I was only following your own instructions, Kochou. Why are you looking at me like I was really gonna... oh damn, are they okay?” Sanemi winced, gesturing at (Y/n) quivering in Shinobu’s arms like a leaf.

“Do they look okay to you?” Shinobu huffed, more angry at herself than Sanemi. She continued rubbing at (Y/n)’s back, trying to coax them out of their tight ball while Sanemi stood by awkwardly at the side, rubbing his neck and looking into the woods.

“I’ll uh, gather everybody up and take ‘em back to camp.” Sanemi eventually spoke up. “You have things all under control here?”

“Yes, please go. Thank you Sanemi.” Shinobu shooed him off, not even looking away from (Y/n) as she did so. As Sanemi lumbered back into the forest Shinobu continued to help (Y/n) calm down.

“It’ll be okay, you’ll be alright. I’m so sorry. It’s all over now. It’s just you and me and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” Shinobu promised. “Can you look at me (Y/n), please?”

Ever so slowly, (Y/n) pulled back. They were still visibly shaken and meek which pulled heavily on Shinobu’s heart.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) shuddered, closing in on themself as they looked away from Shinobu, “I ruined your event.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything.” Shinobu spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “I should have noticed you weren’t having a good time.”

“I was having a good time at first. I just really wanted to spend time with you, I thought I could handle it.”

“You can spend time with me whenever you want; all you need to do is ask.” Shinobu smiled softly. “And if anything makes you uncomfortable I want you to tell me right away, okay?”

“Okay,” (Y/n) sniffed.

“I think we’ve spent enough time in the woods tonight.” Shinobu stood, holding her hand out for (Y/n) to take.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) chuckled weakly, accepting the hand and rising to their feet. Shinobu kept her hold on them as she picked up the lantern and guided (Y/n) back to the cabins.

Once they reached the clearing, the other counselors involved in the night’s festivities surrounded them, making sure everything was alright. Mitsuri gave (Y/n) a long, comforting hug while Kyoujirou squeezed their shoulder warmly. Tengen and Iguro shared a few kind sentiments and Sanemi grumbled out a sincere apology for scaring them so badly.

As everyone was turning in to their bunks for the night, Shinobu stopped in front of (Y/n)’s bunk as they were pulling back the covers, waving Tengen’s contraband DVD player in her hand.

“Hey, so, I figured you might have a hard time sleeping tonight. Would you want to watch a movie with me?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think that would help a lot. As long as it’s not horror anyway.” (Y/n) added.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson,” Shinobu shook her head making herself at home in (Y/n)’s bunk as she untangled the ear buds, “a romantic comedy is just about as far from horror as one can get I think.”

(Y/n) tried to give Shinobu her own space, but the small bunk didn’t leave much room for that and Shinobu didn’t seem interested in preserving her personal space anyway. Instead pulling (Y/n) to rest against her side after she set everything up.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, finger poised over the play button.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) nodded against her shoulder, “thanks.”

“Of course.” Shinobu nodded, pressing play.

As the movie played they quietly made fun of it together and commented on the events as they transpired. Once earning Tengen’s wrath for laughing a little too loud while the rest were trying to sleep.

“You know,” (Y/n) whispered during one of the lulls in the story, “if you wanted to watch a horror movie with me some other time I think I could do it if you stayed by my side like this.” They bashfully admitted.

“Well, there is one coming out that I’d like to see this fall...” Shinobu informed with a teasing smile and (Y/n) scoffed lightly.

“I don’t like how quickly you came up with a plan, but I’ll look forward to it.” They said.

“Hey, it’s still a ways off. I hope to have several tamer dates between now and then.” Shinobu casually dropped.

“You do?” (Y/n)’s face grew warm, “With me?” They added just in case, making Shinobu giggle and nod her head.

“Yes, with you. So think of what you want to do for our next free day.”

(Y/n) grinned and snuggled further into Shinobu’s side.

Eventually they fell asleep while Shinobu’s fingers lightly scratched the back of their neck. She turned off the movie and carefully set the DVD player on the floor below. Then she curled up against (Y/n) and fell asleep as well.

[shirophantomvox]

Analyzing Kars' Character

Hello everyone! FYI I am not ignoring your requests. I have tried for a week to get them finished and I keep losing motivation. Then I had the brilliant idea of writing something else about an interesting topic and then I’ll be able to finish a few requests! Today’s post is another character analysis. This is still a multi-fandom blog; you will see content related to other shows besides Voltron. Today’s character analysis is on Kars, the 10,000-year-old vampire. That’s funny. He, Allura, and Coran are the same age!

Overview

I watched JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures about a month ago when I became frustrated that there were only 4 seasons of Hunter x Hunter on Netflix. Remember the scene in the election arc when the citizens were casting their votes for chairperson and Hisoka walked up with his arms forming an “S”? Many people were posing the question of it being a “JoJo’s” reference and for the life of me, I never understood what they were talking about. Finally, I watched the show for the first time and by season 2 I could understand what they were saying.

I have to admit that by the second episode I was bored because the nature of season one took place in the 1800s England and nothing exciting happened. Though I worked my way through a few more episodes. I noticed a creepy stone mask on the way and how it never fell unless blood was splattered on it. I concluded the mask was going to play the role of an antagonist or help the antagonist succeed. Although this post is about Kars, I would like to take a moment and say that Jonathan’s death was very heart wrenching and it made me angry. Jonathan was unnecessarily nice to Dio and living in a privileged bubble lead to his demise. Jonathan was stronger than Dio and he should have kicked his ass once and for all. Have you noticed that after Joseph’s father, all JoJo’s (at least until season 5) could beat the antagonist in the show?

Anyway, the mask is a key tool in the bizarre adventures that each protagonist experiences.

Kars is a 10,000-year-old vampire that designed the Stone Mask and is essentially responsible for the horrific events that have happened throughout history. Dio being turned into a merciless vampire and his minions resulted from the Stone Mask. After discovering that he and his people could not be out in the sun, he concluded he needed the Red Stone of Aja to complete his transformation. Lisa-Lisa, a 50-year-old human woman, has possession of the stone given by her foster father Straizo. Kars, along with the 3 remaining Pilar Men (Wamuu, Esidsi, and Santana, can only survive in the sun if they two wear the mask with the Red Stone of Aja. After awakening, it is quite clear that Kars is on a mission to retrieve the stone and will destroy anything in his way. He was the only one wanting to live a life outside of the darkness. This was the driving force of creating so many Stone Masks and later discovering the need for the Red Stone of Aja. Kars understood the mask would only work on him partially because of his larger skull size, aka body manipulation. This created an increase in hunger. The Pillar Men did not like this at all and sought to eliminate him so he could not ruin the flow of nature. Kars retaliated; he murdered 99% of his people only leaving his friend Esidsi, and two children known as Santana and Wamuu.

Kars’ character is very interesting. A dog was about to have its life ended because of drunk drivers. I don’t know if this struck a nerve in his soul, but Kars nearly cut off the driver’s head, causing them to crash their car and the puppy was saved. After being defeated by Joseph the first time, he landed at the end of a snowy cliff, making sure he did not land on a few daisies. Given these unique interactions with nature and secondary species, Kars has some vendetta against humans. What did they do to him or his people for him to care only about flowers and animals but want to wipe out Harmon users? He insists that Lisa-Lisa drink poison instead of fighting her. Fighting women is something he and Wamuu don’t take pleasure in doing. When I heard this for the first time, I didn’t know if that was something to be proud of or if he was being misogynistic (you know the stereotypical view society has about women). Even if he genuinely did not want to lay a finger on Lisa-Lisa or any woman, his intentions are very questionable. He mimics politeness. If Kars offered to pay for dinner or a drink, run. Just run because if you don’t, you’ll probably be turned into a vampire or be eaten alive.

This is off topic but I wanted to pose this scenario. After watching Battle Tendency for the 10th time, I always like to bring out the “soft” side in villains. Being a sucker for Fluff isn’t helpful. I know that’s defeating the purpose of villains and antagonists, but I can’t help and wonder how it would show in Kars. As I’ve previously stated, Kars seems to care for animals and plants more than humans...so there’s a soft spot somewhere in there. I had a rather amusing and odd thought involving Kars and Lisa-Lisa. Since Lisa-Lisa is the leader over Caesar and Joseph and Kars is the leader over the remain few Pillar Men, I can’t help but wonder how they’d react to each other. When Lisa-Lisa is ordered by Kars to stay at their hideout while Joseph retrieved the Stone, I know she didn’t stand there like a statue for nearly 12 hours. I imagine Kars offering a drink, water, or juice just to get her talking. I mean, she has to warm up to him or it’s going to be a horrible 12 hours. Then he’ll try to engage in conversation and will only try to flirt with her to see how she responds. He may make a comment about how clear her skin is, how perfect her makeup stays intact, or how her legs look better than his (well, duh, you’re 9,950 years older than her!). This way, he can exploit anything he deems as a weakness, but she is a smart woman. She would reveal nothing about her that could be used against her. As OOC as this seems, it could be something he’d do. Remember, he mimics politeness; he has a trick up his sleeve. Although that may be true, at the back of his mind, he really admires how young and enchanting she looks.

Although Esidsi, Wamuu, and Santana are Pillar Men, they are ancient humanoid superhuman beings who lived on the American continent. They have supernatural abilities that leave them invincible while the sun is down. They look similar to humans, but they are much bigger and muscular. Among the 3 remaining Pillar Men, I seem to gravitate to Kars than the others. Before you judge me, I’ll explain. Kars, like many male characters in this anime and others, has a unique character design. Contrary to popular belief, I like Kars better in his head wrap or while he is wearing his hat and cape. That outfit reminds me of a ghost/monster from the remastered Scooby-Doo series in the 70s. The one thing in particular that stood out to me was his eye shadow and mascara. The earrings didn’t surprise me as every time I draw my male characters, they automatically get a pair of earrings. While being physically fit, he can make ANYTHING look excellent!

Just like any villain, Kars and Joseph are equally arrogant and can exploit their opponent’s weaknesses against them. Making jokes about Lisa-Lisa while she is unconscious nearly sets him over the edge and while Kars thinks he has defeated Joseph, he is launched into space.

Last but not least, I noticed how the first two protagonists form an unusual bond with their enemies. As many of you have seen, Dio calls Jonathan JoJo but does not acknowledge Joseph or Jotaro in the same way. He does twice towards Jotaro but not after that. Kars refers to Joseph as JoJo and I have to believe that even if he knew his real name, he’d still refer to him as JoJo. Wamuu stated that fighting Jospeh was worth his time as he did not waste it and fight fairly. Throughout their battles, they somehow remind me of childish games with the name-calling and all. I wish Kars was not a “onetime” villain. I wish he could roll over to the next season. This is a preference, as I hate seasonal villains, like Chrollo Lucilfer or anyone similar.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading!

[omg-imagine]

Hey dear! How about prompt 48 with John Wick? 💕

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Prompt: “Nothing, including you, is going to stop me.”

Words: 572 Send me a prompt + character!

She’s small—a fragile, little thing with hair as bright as the sun.

Merely eight weeks old, and her sweet, innocent face is enough to captivate your heart. You may not have known her for long, but in those precious eyes, you could see a future filled with endless joy, laughter, and fun.

You never believed in love at first sight—that was, until you saw Butterscotch online, a darling golden retriever puppy who is up for adoption.

And you wanted her. So, so bad.

Bad enough that you are keen to get her without even telling John about it first. There’s no time to have the conversation, unfortunately. Not right now. A beautiful dog like Butterscotch would surely be adopted quickly, and if you don’t act fast, you may lose your chance.

With keys in hands, you run a mad dash to the front door, nearly tripping on yours and John’s first baby Dog, who loyally awaits for his dad to arrive. He senses your utter eagerness as he immediately stands to follow you outside.

Smiling, you kneel down, scratching that special spot behind his ear. “I can’t wait for you to meet your sister... hopefully.”

Dog barks happily as if he understands what’s going on. Even he deserves to have a companion, you think. The entire house is certainly big enough for two dogs to roam around freely. You couldn’t come up with one good reason not to do this.

Deciding to bring Dog with you to the shelter, you put on his leash and swing the door open, only to find John standing on the other side. He furrows his brow in concern as you try to mask your surprise, feeling as though you were just caught sneaking out.

“W-What are you doing home so early?” You ask, keeping calm as possible.

“I figured I’d take some time off since I’ve been working nonstop lately. But I’m assuming you have plans today,” John replies, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. “Where are you heading?”

“Oh, umm,” you giggle nervously, then clear your throat. “Okay, so there’s this dog I saw online. Her name’s Butterscotch, and she’s absolutely adorable. I really want her, and I know we haven’t spoken about getting another dog, but this has been on my mind for a while now, and... you know what, long story short—I’m adopting Butterscotch, and nothing, including you, is going to stop me.”

Gently, you push past him and walk out of the door with Dog in tow to prove a point. You almost made it to your car when you notice John sprinting after you, calling your name.

“Who said I was going to stop you?” He questions teasingly with a smile that reaches his kind, mocha-hued eyes. “I’d love to meet Butterscotch, too.”

Out of sheer excitement, you drop Dog’s leash onto the ground and bring John in for a brief yet tender kiss, one that equally expresses how much you love and adore him for agreeing. It still amazes you that John is willing to put up with your spontaneity. The diamond ring on your finger never fails to remind you of it.

A whine by your feet then causes you to pull away, an amused chuckle escaping both of your lips.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” John steals a last kiss before opening the passenger side door for you. “Let’s go get our new baby.”

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx