Blind Date Masterlist 2

Blind Date Masterlist 2

Modern Thomas Shelby -99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108

109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126

127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149

150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159

160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170

New Endings Masterlist

Summary: When Tommy bumps into the woman he thought he'd never see again, he couldn't let her go once more. She lights something within him that he thought was lost and decides to help her in times of need. While she tries to cut ties with the life she’s living, she's forced to commit the ultimate betrayal.

❖ - Part 1

❖ - Part 2

❖ - Part 3

❖ - Part 4

❖ - Part 5

❖ - Part 6 - Coming soon

Please check the warnings of each chapter before reading.

My dad and I once had a disagreement over him using the adage "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

I said, "That's just not true. Sometimes what doesn't kill you leaves you brittle and injured or traumatized."

He stopped and thought about that for a while. He came back later, and said, "It's like wood glue."

He pointed to my bookshelf, which he helped me salvage a while ago. He said, "Do you remember how I explained that, once we used the wood glue on them, the shelves would actually be stronger than they were before they broke?"

I did.

"But before we used the wood glue, those shelves were broken. They couldn't hold up shit. If you had put books on them, they would have collapsed. And that wood glue had to set awhile. If we put anything on them too early, they would have collapsed just the same as if we'd never fixed them at all. You've got to give these things time to set."

It sounded like a pretty good metaphor to me, but one thing I did pick up on was that whatever broke those shelves, that's not the thing that made them stronger. That just broke them. It was being fixed that made them stronger. It was the glue.

So my dad and I agreed, what doesn't kill you doesn't actually make you stronger, but healing does. And if you feel like healing hasn't made you stronger than you were before, you're probably not done healing. You've got to give these things time to set.

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | tommy shelby x reader › 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆

when you read the biography of the shelby family you decide to travel back in time to help them and save the lives of several of them, but things get complicated when you start to have feelings for thomas shelby

word count: 4451

masterlist

content: fluff and emotions

warnings/info: mention of weapons, too many conversations, grace and thomas don't fall in love in this fic. it is adapted to the series but i changed several things. based on peaky blinders season one.

author note: english is not my first language, so forgive me if there are spelling mistakes

You walk with slow steps, you're terrified. You travelled to this place believing it would not be risky, but when you arrived in the city your veins filled with fear, and your courage fled like that woman you saw in the dark alley, fleeing from the man who tried to hurt her so cruelly.

The streets of Small Heath were more dangerous than the biography you read for weeks before travelling said, there were not only criminals, there were also people looking to do harm and steal what little hope was left in the palms of innocent people's hands. This city is like a dark hole, once you fall into it you will never get out.

You take a last deep breath and open the weathered wooden doors to enter the famous pub called Garrison. The eyes of several men sweep over your figure but you ignore them and begin to search your eyes for the only person you care about, and that person is Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders, the horse enthusiast, the man who received two medals in the Great War, the reason you travelled to this town, your mission.

You approach the bar where a tall, thin man with a serious face and rather striking ears looks at you judging you with his dark brown eyes. Normally you were used to men disrespecting women but in this era women had no right or voice, they wouldn't mind hurting you if they had the chance, for them women were just a piece of meat to satisfy their "needs", just thinking about that idea makes you want to vomit. Finally you get up the courage to speak and clear your throat, trying to get the nerves out of your body: "I'm looking for Thomas Shelby" you say.

"A woman shouldn't be in this place," he replies in disgust, ignoring you completely. He goes back to his work, cleaning the bar and serving alcoholic drinks to the customers.

"Do you know where I can find him?" You ask again and this man ignores you again. About to speak again his eyes look behind you and grow wide with fear, he stands up straight and nods, formally greeting the person behind you.

"Why you looking for me?"

A low, husky voice sounds behind you, sending a shiver down the bones of your spine, you swallow your saliva nervously and turn to look at the person with the attractive voice. He wasn't as tall as his biography said, but his defensive stance made him intimidating, his piercing blue eyes mesmerised you and his strong, clenched jaw gave you goosebumps.

"When I ask a question I expect an answer." He speaks again but nothing comes out of your mouth. Thomas Shelby lets out a tired sigh and takes a cigarette out of his pocket and then points it at you: "Are you a whore?"

You open your mouth in offence, ready to reply rudely, but then you remember where you are and who is standing in front of you, calm yourself and take a deep breath, preparing to speak to Birmingham's most feared gangster: "No, I'm not a whore." His pale blue eyes look away from you to light his cigarette, but a few seconds later they focus on you again. "I'm looking for you because I have a message for you" You look around, all the men's eyes focus on the two of you, "I need to tell you in private" He raises an eyebrow and then cocks his head.

"Well, let's talk in private." Thomas Shelby turns to go to a small secluded room at the side of the bar, opens the door and gestures for you to enter first. Inside there is a table with whiskies and a couple of chairs around it, the sound of the door closing diverts your attention from your observation and you notice him move behind you until he is facing you again, he takes a puff on his cigarette and blows the smoke out, creating a haze between your faces. "If you're not a whore, what are you and what do you want?"

"I'm just a woman" You blink, "And I've come to give you a little message: the men you sent to do that robbery are too drunk, they'll get the wrong box and bring you a box of government weapons instead. I suggest you throw them in the canal and for nothing in the world hide them, otherwise your life will change completely and it will be the first step for misfortunes to come into your life like rats looking for scraps." When you finish speaking the gangster's eyes darken, and it is then that you fear for my life for the first time.

"Who the fuck are you and how do you know about that robbery, eh?"

"As I said before, I'm just a woman. Do as I say Thomas Shelby." You stride out of the Garrison, once in the small house you've been renting for over a month you let the bated breath out of your lungs and close the door. Your sweaty hands roam the furniture until you find the bottle of rum, uncork it and take a deep swig, praying that it will take effect and take the trembling out of your body. What you had done broke all the rules you had created for yourself, you couldn't tell the people you were trying to help what would happen in the future but you found it impossible not to, it's many years apart and this time you're not helping someone innocent, you're trying to change the life of a mobster. You took a risk by exposing your identity to Thomas Shelby, now you just had to wait and if he really listened to you, you could go back to your time, otherwise it would take more than a year and that's what you least wanted.

Your plan to have tea the morning after the events is interrupted when there is a light knock on the door, you leave the sugar on the side of the table and go to the door to open it, behind the door you meet the person you least expected to see on this cold, dark morning. His expression is serious but his eyes look confused.

"We need to talk and this time you'll tell me who you are."

Thomas Shelby enters the house without your permission, you stand stunned in the doorway watching the man light a cigarette and sit in one of the chairs as if nothing has happened. Taking one last look at the gangster you close the door and walk over to the table, also sitting down in a chair and preparing yourself for what is to come, as this mission will not be as easy as you had planned.

"I tried to do some research on you after you ran away from the Garrison." He speaks again and takes a deep drag on his cigarette "The people here don't know anything about you, nobody knows you and nobody knows for sure when you came to Birmingham. So I went to your house to get you to explain to me how the fuck you knew about my planned robbery and how you knew they'd get the wrong box and just like you said, now I've got government guns in my hands. You'd better speak up and tell the truth."

"If I tell you the truth you won't believe me" You say sincerely.

"Are you a witch?" He asks a second later.

"No. More like a seer." You lie to his face.

"A witch" He affirms his own question, staring at you.

"I just wanted to warn you about the guns to save you the trouble but I see it was in vain because you still keep them" You grab the cup of tea and drink from it, "Do you want tea?" You ask, you may be with the most feared mobster of the 1920's but you would never lose your kindness.

He gawks at you and shakes his head, "I'm not a tea man." Thomas Shelby lifts the cigarette to his thick lips for one last puff and then flicks it into the ashtray that happens to be on the table. "What's your name?"

Your eyes drop to the cup in your hands, your missions couldn't know your name, another of your rules. So you look for the first way out: "How do you know where I live?" You ask him another question and look him straight in the eye.

A small wry smile escapes his lips and he clasps both hands together on the table to bring his face close to yours. "You won't tell me your name, will you?" your lips part to answer him but you seal them again, "Fine, I'll find out just like I did with your home address." Thomas Shelby pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and drops it on the table and then gets up from his seat and walks towards the door, "Are you any good with numbers?" He asks you and you look at him confused but end up nodding, "Today you will quit your job as a housewife and start working at my family's betting shop, there's the address" He points to the paper with his index finger "So when you have a vision for my life you can tell me before I make another...mistake" And without another word he walks out of the house, leaving you stunned in your chair. This shouldn't be happening.

You were making big mistakes, your main goal is to help or change the lives of the people you choose from the background, without having contact with them. But you also had to admit that all last month you got nothing out of being away from Thomas Shelby, maybe if you had approached him from the beginning the mistake of the guns wouldn't have happened, and you wouldn't be in this mess today.

For the next two hours you questioned whether you should really take this job or just abandon this mission and go back to your own time, you were about to lock yourself in the wardrobe to give it all up but then you remembered the tragic life of the Shelby family, you couldn't go back. Even if they didn't know it they needed your help, all the unjust deaths that were coming were breaking your heart in two, they deserved better and if you were the only person who could change their lives you would do it, even if in the process they would probably hate you or you would end up buried lifeless in the dirty mud of Birmingham. You put on a simple white shirt with a brown skirt and pick up the paper with the address of your next job, a few minutes later you arrive at the famous Shelby house on Watery Lane, you knock on the door but no one answers, you knock again and nothing.

"Nobody will open the door because no one is at home"

A woman's voice interrupts your action of knocking again on the black wooden door with a horseshoe nailed to it. Your head jerks in her direction and you can't help but recognise her, her snub nose and dark-as-night eyes are typical Polly Gray features. She takes a drag on her cigarette and looks you up and down, intimidating you to the bone.

"What do you want?" She asks.

You nervously fix your fringes "I think Thomas has given me a job."

She raises an eyebrow: "So you're that famous seer. He told me he'd give you a place at the betting shop, so you have to go through the other entrance, down Montague Street."

"I didn't know that. Thomas gave me this address." You take the paper from the pocket of your worn woollen coat and hold it out to her, she takes it and reads it, then shakes her head, throws the cigarette on the floor and takes a key from her small purse to open the door. She gives you permission to enter and you both walk down a hallway to a living room decorated with brass and elegant floral china. The Shelby house is compact and has a typical terrace style. There is an excessive amount of floral and brass decorations throughout. The Shelby family are rich in money but lacking in what is considered conventional good taste, it was evident that their gypsy roots were intact in their home, as you come to a small kitchen with a coal fireplace there is a pantry that has been opened up to form a small back room. But instead of a wall, black curtains cover what is on the other side.

Polly Gray walks up to them and opens them, then opens two doors in a row, finally arriving at the famous betting shop, which is bustling with activity. The large room is dominated by a huge blackboard where two bookmakers keep the bets and odds. You approach it and look at it carefully, each holding a ladder to reach the top of the board. Your eyes move to scan the room which is filled with cigarette smoke. In the middle of the large room is a large desk where men queue up to place bets and at the back of the room is a small office, divided by glass and curtains. Polly Gray walks up to stand in front of you.

"With all due respect, but isn't having a betting shop in your own house illegal?" You ask.

"It is. But this house belongs to the Peaky Blinders and nobody messes with us, dear. Now, this will be your workstation, you will count all the money we collect during these hours and write it down in this book. At the end of the day you will calculate the total and write it down too" She hands you a huge dark brown one, full of dust and yellowed pages. "It was Arthur's work, but he is very bad at adding numbers, so this afternoon you will catch up with all the miscalculated numbers in this book." She turns around walking back towards the kitchen, "Good luck with that!". She shouts at you and disappears from your sight, leaving you alone in the middle of all those men looking at you as if you were an intruder.

You press the book tightly to your chest and take a seat at the large desk, you had to concentrate. One wrong step and they'd know you didn't belong in this era, and your attempt to help this family would be futile. You carefully check the numbers and definitely the older brother from Peaky Blinders doesn't know anything about sums, they were all wrong, you ask the man sitting next to you for a pen and start correcting all the wrong sums, at the end of the day you finish your work successfully and leave the book on the kitchen table and go back to what you call home. The same routine is repeated for two weeks, the Shelby brothers would come to the betting shop from time to time, do their typical revisions and leave for hours. Thomas Shelby was not a frequent visitor, the only time he came by he watched you work in detail and left without a word. You had to hurry, his future wife had already arrived in town, which meant he would soon be betrayed by her, which would cause him to become more involved in the mafia, you had to prevent it, you would save several lives, even hers in a few years.

You walk into the kitchen ready to put the book down when suddenly Thomas Shelby, soaked to the skin, enters, as usual, with a cigarette in his mouth. "Good evening, Mr Shelby," you say and turn around, but before you walk away you stop and look at him, perhaps it's the right moment to tell him what you've been rehearsing for days. "I'd like to give you an honest opinion about your business, Mr. Shelby," you start to speak and move closer to him, standing a few inches away. He nods slowly, giving you permission to continue. "Every day I write a large amount of money, the two weeks I've been working here the figures haven't stopped going up..." You look into his pale blue eyes. "Why don't you invest all that money in a new place to do your bets? A legal place, where the police can see it and can't do anything against you."

He takes a puff on his cigarette and approaches you, his breath mingling with yours in the air. "Come with me, let's talk business somewhere else."

Thomas Shelby starts to walk away from you, you soon follow him. As you walk you say nothing, your nostrils fill with the smell of wet earth, it has been raining at night for days and you couldn't be happier, you loved the rain. When you finally reach your destination he opens the door and you walk in without complaint, inside the pub it was warm, in the distance you see Gracie Burgess, she was even more beautiful than in the old photographs, blonde, blue eyed and delicate as a feather.

"Leave us alone, Grace," Thomas says dryly.

"Yes, Mr Shelby." She sets the whisky aside and walks out of the pub past you.

You walk over to where Thomas is sitting, lighting another cigarette. "I hear she sings beautifully," you say and sit down next to him, he frowns at you, "Besides, she's pretty, isn't she?"

"How do you know she sings?" he asks.

You get nervous and look for an excuse to remedy your mistake, "There are many people who say that...that sometimes she sings here."

He shakes his head, "I forbade her to sing weeks ago". Thomas looks down at the cigarette between his fingers, wondering why it mattered so much to you to talk about Grace.

You think deeply, according to her biography her singing made Thomas Shelby's cold and broken heart fall in love, if that's not exactly happening there are only two theories: whoever wrote the biography got it wrong or something is going on because of a mistake of yours. "Why did you forbid her to sing?" You ask him and he raises his eyes to stare at you.

"Because I am Thomas Shelby, and no one should disobey my orders" He says ironically and fills his lungs with smoke.

You chuckle "So this isn't a real pub. In pubs people sing and have fun maybe... you should let her sing".

"Maybe... Now tell me why are you so interested in the business? Would you like to be part of it?"

"No. Not really" You answer honestly, "I just feel that you and your family can have a lot more money without the need to be illegal"

"You don't like that we're criminals, eh?"

You shake your head, "No. I don't judge you for the life you have and chose, I just think you're a good family who deserve something good, something less...dangerous."

Thomas Shelby looks at you looking for a reason for your kindness to him and his family, ever since he met you, you have not stopped telling him that he deserves a better life than the one he has. Your simplicity appeals to him constantly and he hasn't stopped thinking about you since that day in this pub, he stubs out his cigarette and takes some coins out of his pocket, leaving them on the table. "I'll take you to the races, with this money buy yourself a nice dress. A beautiful woman deserves one, don't you think"

You stare at the money blushing, other men have called you beautiful but Thomas Shelby saying it had a different effect on you, something you thought was long lost, you blink a couple of times before picking it up. "When are the races?"

Your reddened cheeks look like a gesture of tenderness to Tommy, who smiles a faint smile on his lips.

Tommy takes you by the waist with one arm and guides you to the side to get a better view of the horses, everyone around you is excited about the race ahead. You and he, on the other hand, are quiet, enjoying the moment.

"They are the best this season" He starts to explain to you once you find a comfortable place, "That one there is the fastest in this race, he will probably win it" He says pointing to a black horse, you look carefully at the other horses, you didn't understand much about how to identify a good horse but a white one with black spots catches your attention, you look again at the gangster next to you who already had his eyes fixed on you.

"For me the white with black spots will win." You tell him and this time you point your finger at a horse. His eyes move in that direction and he automatically shakes his head.

"That one lacks training, it won't win."

"Wanna bet?" You challenge him and he raises an eyebrow with a coy smile on his lips.

"Alright, let's bet. If the one I say wins, you'll dance with me and tell me your name" He moves closer to you "If the one you say wins, you'll get a promotion at work, you'll be my secretary and the family business accountant"

You look at him in surprise, you were expecting a money bet, not that. You look at the horses preparing for the next race, a thousand thoughts come into your head, he can't know your name, that would only make his affection for you grow stronger, just like it is happening with you. You swallow hard and your eyes travel to his, they were like the ocean, so beautiful but at the same time they generated fear in your whole body. Unable to control your words you end up accepting his bet and he smiles blushing like a teenager, unable to control his emotions.

The sound of the gunshot brings you out of your trance and you look at the horses, which are running at full speed together with their rider leaving a dust in the air, you approach the bar and look carefully at the white horse, Tommy was right, it was slow compared to the others but you don't lose hope, your hands clutch the iron bar, squeezing it tightly. And a scream comes out of your lungs when the white horse catches up with the black horse but seconds later it runs slower, coming last among all the horses. The race is over, the black horse is the winner, your eyes turn to Thomas Shelby who offers you his hand with a mischievous smile, you take it and together you walk towards the dance floor, where jazz music reigns in every corner of the room.

Tom puts one hand on your waist and the other on your right hand, you try to follow his steps but it's impossible, you laugh as you make another mistake, inadvertently stepping on the left foot of the man in front of you. "Sorry, I've never danced jazz"

Thomas looks at you, unable to believe your words: "Why is that?"

"Well...in my town we don't dance to this kind of music" You try to explain, but you can't tell him that women in 2023 dance sensually in short dresses, "The music I usually dance to is more free, without the need to dance with a partner"

He pulls you close to his body and your faces are inches apart. "You are different from other women. I've never met a woman so interested in business and yet so spontaneous."

"All women are spontaneous and also like business," you say offended.

He caresses your back with his hand and shakes his head "I don't mean to offend you, I agree, but it's very difficult to find a woman like you here. Normally women were brought up to marry and raise a family. You show no interest in such things."

Your faces are almost glued together, and that's when you realize the reason he invited you to a race, the reason he's so insistent on knowing your name. Thomas Shelby showed no interest in Grace Burgess because you had captured his attention in every way. Despair invades your whole soul and you try to patch up another mistake of yours. "Grace is also a very intelligent woman, even more so than I am" He frowns as he listens to you "Besides beautiful and she—"

Tommy's lips are glued to yours, your first instinct is to pull away from him but you can't, instead you close your eyes and let yourself go. You just couldn't deny the fact that he is a very attractive man and you had been dying to taste his lips for a long time, you just didn't know that the feeling was reciprocated. Thomas grabs your waist tightly, pressing his body completely against yours and deepens the kiss, his lips were soft but they were full of desperation, he wanted more, he wanted every part of your body but you couldn't let him. So you pull away from him with a push from you. He opens his eyes not understanding what is happening while you shake your head.

"This is wrong, Tom. You shouldn't be with me" You say, unable to control your words, totally disturbed by what had just happened.

"What are you talking about, ey?" He asks and approaches you, taking your hands.

You break free of his grip and pull away from him. "I can't be with you, Thomas."

He pushes his hair back and purses his lips before speaking: "Are you...do you love another man?"

Your gaze goes down to the ground, you think of the consequences if there is something between you. It would change everything and you could never go back to your time, you would never see your family again and you could never travel back in time, and the destiny of him and his family would change completely, you would no longer know what would happen to his life if he is with you and not Grace. Your eyes fill with tears and you look him straight in the eye. "Yes. I am in love with another man" You lie to him.

He takes a deep breath and nods, "Good. I think it's time for you to go home."

click here

Last Night on Earth

Summary: During your time with the Atlanta Camp, you form an unlikely friendship with the younger Dixon brother. When the group finds their way to the CDC, you feel safe enough to push past the lines of just friends.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Quarry/CDC (TWD S1 E4-6)

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: typical TWD violence, character death, guns, alcohol use, explicit language, sexual content (don't know if I would call it smut but it's in there!)

A/N: this is my first ever fic, and it definitely ended up being longer than anticipated, but I'm pretty happy with it! I am open to feedback, just please be nice about it i am so anxious to be posting this on the internet

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Everyone sits, laughing and eating around the fire. Amy and Andrea had caught a whole bunch of fish today, and the group was feasting for the first time in a while. Dale even cracked open a few beers for the adults of the group. You had gladly taken one, determined to have a good time tonight, determined to ignore the twinge of fear in your gut. You didn’t want to ruin the fun of the evening. Everyone was happy.

Well, you think to yourself. Not everyone.

A group had gone into Atlanta today, Daryl among them. He wanted to go because the new guy - Rick, Lori’s husband (which could’ve fooled you, with the way she has been acting around Shane) - had handcuffed his brother Merle to a roof and they went back to find him. You know that Daryl can handle himself - he was pretty much made for the apocalypse - but you can’t help but worry about him.

You and Daryl are unlikely friends, you know that. Before the world fell to shit, you were down in Florida, visiting friends from college. When the news broadcasts started becoming concerning, you had decided to cut your trip short and start driving back north, trying to get home to your family. But you had gotten caught in the traffic outside of Atlanta, with everyone trying to get in. You ended up stopped not far from Lori, Shane, and Carl and quickly became acquainted with them, as well as Carol and her family. You had watched the bombs get dropped on Atlanta with Lori and Shane, and since then, you were adopted into their group. It took a bit of convincing on Shane’s part - Lori had fought him very loudly about not wanting to leave you behind, since you were traveling alone - but one look at Carl clinging to your neck sealed the deal for him, and you’ve been with them ever since.

From there, your little group, including Carol and her husband and daughter, met Dale, Andrea, and Amy, and set up a small campsite not far outside of the city limits. A few days later, the Dixon brothers stumbled upon your camp. Most people were afraid of them; Merle and Daryl did not initially look like the friendly type, but their ability to hunt and provide food for the group was enough for everybody else to begin to tolerate them. 

But you did more than tolerate them. You actually began to form a bit of a friendship with the younger brother, Daryl. Merle was an ass, spitting nasty comments at everybody for any given reason, but Daryl was different. While he followed his brother almost everywhere, he was also more reserved and, once you got to know him, exceptionally kind. 

It started small, with him making sure that you had enough to eat whenever they brought back game from their hunting trips. But then it blossomed into him finding reasons to be around you; he started walking with you when you needed to go to the lake for water or to wash clothes or yourself. Eventually, it led to him inviting you to go hunting with him when Merle was still sleeping or too fucked up to go with him. You didn’t know anything about hunting, but he brought you along anyway, teaching you how to walk quietly through the woods, as to not scare any animals off, and even how to set up a few basic snares and traps. After a few trips, he gave you one of his hunting knives, showing you how to use it both for hunting and for fighting off walkers.

You later realized that Daryl actually seemed to like your company. And you were surprised to discover how much you liked his too. A deep gnawing feeling inside of you reminded you that you were as much of an outsider to the group as the Dixons were: Lori had her family, especially once Rick came back from the dead; Carol had her family, as shitty as her husband was; Andrea and Amy had each other, and Dale had them; the Morales all had each other too. So you had the Dixons, even Merle and his ridiculousness. 

You started spending more time with them. You ate your meals with them around their smaller campfire, as they were rarely invited to sit with the rest of the group. You even moved out of Dale’s RV and started sleeping in their tent, much to Merle’s chagrin. With that in mind, Daryl also insisted on you sleeping behind him, probably so that he could keep an eye on his brother. Eventually Merle began to lighten up about you being around, nicknaming you “dollface,” which was a huge upgrade from “slut,” “whore,” or “that nice piece of ass.”

So when Glenn, Andrea, Jacqui, T-Dog, and Morales came back from Atlanta with Rick instead of Merle, you were able to anticipate Daryl’s meltdown. Unfortunately, the men had found Daryl first, and an altercation occurred. When Daryl stalked off into the woods, you knew he needed space, but you followed him anyway.

“I have to go get him,” he kept saying, pacing back and forth. “I have to.”

“I know,” you had reassured him. “You will.” 

But that was hours ago, and they still weren’t back. So as much as you wanted to enjoy the fish-fry with everyone else, you worried about your friend. When the plates of food were passed around, you took extra and hid it on another plate, making sure to save some for the Dixons when they came back.

Because they will come back, you kept telling yourself. Struggling to eat with your stomach in knots, you keep to slowly sipping your beer and trying to focus on the conversation around the fire.

“We’re out of toilet paper?” Amy calls from the Rv. You laugh with the rest of the group, paying little mind to her until you hear the screaming. All of your heads snap to the young blonde, and the walker taking a bite out of her arm. 

The camp quickly erupts into chaos as walkers appear from every direction. Lori and Carol grab their kids and run for cover while the men get their weapons out. You unsheathe the hunting knife that Daryl had given you, sending up a grateful prayer to him, wherever he was. You run forward to stab the nearest walker in the head with your knife, making sure to hit the brain, just like Daryl had shown you. You yank it back out and jump backwards as a second walker lunges for you.

The air is full of gunfire as Shane unloads round after round into the oncoming walkers. All around you, people are screaming. You see multiple members of the group getting taken down by walkers, and you run away, knowing it's too late for them.

Daryl, you think into the universe, where are you?

A cold hand grabs your arm, and you turn to find a walker latched on to you. You scream, but no one’s around to help - everyone is fighting their own battles. You’re on your own. You raise your foot and kick the walker in the stomach with enough force that it has to let go of you, then you quickly ram your knife into its head before it can try again. It falls to your feet, taking your knife with it. You try to pull it out but it’s caught. You hear the groan of another walker stumbling towards you, so you try even harder to get the knife out but it won’t budge. The walker gets closer, and you’re about to give up on the knife when the walker's head explodes, blood splattering your face. 

Frozen in fear, you don’t register the face in front of yours until it yells at you.

“C’mon!” Daryl yells, looping an arm under yours and pulling you up. His strength is enough to help you pull the knife out of the dead walker’s skull, and he nearly drags you towards the RV. He shoots two more walkers along the way before the two of you are surrounded. He lets go of you, using the butt of his gun to smash in the heads of a few walkers. One goes for his back but you catch it just in time, driving your knife into its skull just before it can bite him. You stumble but Daryl catches you, pulling you the rest of the way to safety. 

When you get to the RV, Daryl pushes you behind him, putting himself between you and any other potential threats. After scanning the scene and seeing that it’s clear, he turns back to you.

“You alright?” he asks, grabbing your face. “You good?”

You nod the best you can, still recovering from the shock of it all. “Ye-yeah,” you manage to stutter out. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” he grunts out, still holding you. You place your hand over his, still cupping your face, close your eyes and take deep breaths, happy that the two of you are alive, despite the carnage that surrounds you.

You spend most of the next day helping the group dispose of the bodies, both walkers and fellow group members. Daryl uses a pickaxe to hit them in the brain so that the bodies can be burned. You follow him around, using the hunting knife to gently prevent your former friends from turning into walkers themselves.

When Daryl gets into an argument with Glenn about what to do with their bodies, you can’t help but agree with Glenn. 

“These were our friends,” you say to Daryl, when he was huffing and puffing about it afterwards.

“Not mah friends,” he spits out. “Not yers, neither.” This stings, so you look away, not wanting him to see the tears pricking your eyes. But of course, he does anyway. “‘m sorry,” he mutters, not meeting your eyes. “That was mean.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sniffling. “You’re not wrong.” Then you glare at him. “But they were still people. Our people.” He looks up at you. “So we bury them, okay?”

“Fine,” he mutters. He may not agree with you, but he works with you anyway, helping to move the bodies to the graves that Jim had ominously dug the day before.

When Jim is discovered to have been bitten, Daryl immediately moves in front of you, using his body as a shield to keep you safe. He pushes you back before moving in to lift Jim’s shirt and reveal the bite to the group. You slowly move to where Lori and Carol stand with the kids, ready to grab one of them and run if it comes down to it. Thankfully, it doesn’t.

The group discusses where to go and what to do. You hang back with Sophia and Carl, knowing that you don’t have much to add to the conversation since you’re not from around here. But when Daryl runs at Jim with the pickaxe and Rick puts a gun to his head, you quickly jump in between them. 

“Hey!” you yell, startling both of the men. You stare Rick down, his gun pointed between your eyebrows. Daryl lowers the pickaxe and wraps an arm around you but you plant your feet and refuse to move. 

“We don’t kill the living,” Rick says through gritted teeth.

“That’s funny coming from a man who just put a gun to our heads,” Daryl snarls. You smack him in the side.

“We may disagree on some things, not on this,” Shane drawls in agreement with Rick. “You put it down,” he orders Daryl. “Go on.” Daryl slams the pickaxe on the ground and stalks off, taking you with him. 

The two of you return to his tent. 

“Pack up yer things,” he murmurs, still glaring at Rick and Shane. “I feel like we’re gonna be moving soon.”

“Okay,” you say. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

The left side of his mouth lifts into a small smirk. “Never,” he says before turning his back and returning to cleaning up the campsite.

After you pack up your few belongings, plus Daryl and Merle’s stuff, you pop back out of the tent to see Daryl handing the pickaxe to Carol. She then drives it into her dead husband’s skull time after time.

Good for her, you think to yourself, smiling. He sucked anyway. 

Not long after, the group convenes up by the graves. You stand next to Daryl as everyone watches Andrea and Dale lower Amy’s body into her final resting place. Andrea is clearly struggling, and you feel for her - of everyone in the group, Amy was one of your favorites, always so positive despite the dire circumstances you all lived in every day. A tear runs down your cheek, surprising you. You quickly wipe it away, hoping no one noticed, but Daryl always does. He takes your hand and gives it a quick squeeze. You squeeze his hand back, before he pulls it away, a blush creeping up his neck. He disappears as soon as the group disperses.

You walk back from the graves with Carol and her daughter. Carol is also one of your favorite people in camp. You saw how her husband mistreated her and always felt the urge to step in and protect her. You wrap an arm around her, and she drops her head onto your shoulder. The two of you walk this way until you get back to camp. Carol gives you a small smile before heading to her destroyed tent with Sophia to pack up their belongings. Your heart breaks for her too, but not as much.

Shane calls for a group meeting. You take a seat in one of the plastic folding chairs around the fire. Daryl appears behind you, resting his hands on the back of your chair. You instantly feel safer with him there.

“I’ve been thinking about Rick’s plan,” Shane says to the group. “Now look, there are no guarantees either way. I’ll be the first one to admit that. But I’ve known this man a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together.” He looks around the group as he talks. “So those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?”

Most of the group nods in agreement. You just sit there and listen, taking in the information as well as the events of last night.

When everyone heads towards their own tents, Daryl falls into step with you.

“So what do ya think?” he asks you. “You wanna go with ‘em?”

You just shrug. “I got nowhere else to go,” you say simply. “You?”

Daryl looks at the ground, suddenly incredibly interested with the tip of his boots. “I go wherever you go,” he mutters.

You can’t help but smile. “Then I guess we’re going,” you say, unzipping the tent. You crawl inside. Daryl looks around a few times, before following you in as well.

The next morning, you wake up to a heavy weight on your stomach. You crack up an eye to find Daryl’s arm draped over you. For once, you didn’t have to sleep squeezed between him and the edge of the tent, with his body acting as a barrier between you and Merle, so you got to sleep on the inside. Apparently in his sleep, Daryl curled into you, wrapping his arm around you. You smiled, unable to help feeling safe this way. You close your eyes, savoring the moment.

Not long after, you feel Daryl start to stir behind you. You feign sleep, not wanting to make him feel embarrassed or anything about how your bodies ended up during the night. You expect him to jump up, snatching his arm back, not wanting to be caught with it around your sleeping form. But to your surprise, you feel him let out a deep sigh and curl even closer into your back before getting up. He carefully crawls over you, thinking you're still asleep, and unzips the tent. You don’t hear anything for a minute, but you can sense that he’s still there. You hear a low chuckle before you feel the tent move as he exits it.

You wait at least ten minutes before moving yourself. You crawl out of the tent to find the group circling up. Daryl walks back towards you as you slide into your boots, and he extends a hand to you, which you gladly take, helping you up. He doesn’t let it go as the two of you walk over to everyone else as Shane addresses the group yet again.

“Everybody listen up,” he instructs. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. He really loves the sound of his own voice,  you think snarkily to yourself. “Those of you with C.B.s, we’re gonna be on channel 40,” he continues. “Let’s keep the chatter down, okay? Now you got a problem, don’t have a C.B., can’t get a signal or anything at all, you’re gonna hit your horn one time. That’ll stop the caravan. Any questions?” He looks around the group.

“We’re, uh,” Morales starts, and your heart immediately drops. “We’re not going.”

“We have family in Birmingham,” his wife continues for him. “We wanna be with our people.”

“You go on your own, you won’t have anyone to watch your back,” Shane says, like he's trying to convince them not to go. 

“We’ll take the chance,” Morales says. “I gotta do what’s best for my family.”

“You sure?” Rick asks, earnestly.

“We talked about it,” Morales replies. “We’re sure.”

“All right,” Rick says, bending down. He and Shane whisper to each other about who knows what. Then they step toward him, handing him a handgun and ammo. 

“Box is half full,” Shane explains. 

Next to you, Daryl is clearly frustrated. He’s biting his nails on the hand that’s not holding yours. Then he scoffs and turns, letting go of your hand and stalking off, leaving you with the rest of the group. They’re all giving each other heartfelt goodbyes. Morales claps you on the shoulder and tells you to take care of yourself. “And Dixon,” he says with a smirk. You smile back. To your surprise, his kids latch on to your waist as his wife pulls you into a tight hug. You didn’t expect the affection from them, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

After you peel yourself away from the Morales family, you walk towards Daryl’s pickup. He has Merle’s motorcycle strapped to the back, and all of your stuff in the backseat.

“Got room for one more?” you ask playfully.

Daryl looks up at you from the other side of the truck. “ ‘course,” he says.

“Wasn’t sure if you were trying to pawn me off on somebody else,” you joke.

“Shut up,” he says, smirking. He climbs into the driver’s seat. You hop in the passenger side and barely close the door before he starts driving, following the rest of the caravan out of the quarry.

The caravan drives for several hours. You entertain yourself by bothering Daryl while he drives. This time, you’re reading the horoscopes off of an old newspaper you found on the floor of the backseat.

“When’s your birthday?” you ask him. 

“Why?” he asks, trying to sound annoyed with you but you can see right through him - he’s happy to not be alone on this drive. 

“Stop being so difficult and tell me,” you snap, hitting him with the newspaper.

“April 7th,” he answers, reluctantly.

“Hmmmm,” you say, reading. “So you’re an Aries. That makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed t’ mean?” he demands.

“‘Aries have bold personalities,’” you read from the newspaper. “‘They are courageous and determined individuals, natural leaders, but tend to be moody and aggressive when they don’t get their say.’” You burst out laughing.

“Shut up,” he says for the millionth time on this car ride, but you can see he’s trying not to smile. 

“It’s so true though!” you yell between laughs.

“Yeah?” he says, giving into his smile, “what about yours?”

“April 23rd,” you tell him. “Taurus.” You quickly scan the paper. “‘Reliable, patient, and as devoted and loyal as they come,’” you read. “‘Stubborn to a fault and possessive of those they love.’” 

It’s Daryl’s turn to laugh. “That sounds right,” he says. “Yer stubborn as shit.” You hit him with the newspaper again, laughing with him, before he has to slam on the breaks. The caravan has stopped.

“Stay here,” he says quickly, putting the truck in park and sliding out of it. 

“What, am I safer here?” you ask, rolling your eyes.

“Nah,” he says simply. “So you can protect my bike.” He dodges the newspaper that you ball up and throw at him, laughing, as he takes his crossbow and runs up to the front of the RV. 

Asshole, you think to yourself, but you can’t help but laugh too. 

After a while, Daryl walks back to the truck, all the laughter and levity from before wiped from his expression.

“What’s going on?” you ask, suddenly concerned. 

“Jim’s done,” Daryl says, looking at the ground. “He’s struggling. Wants to be left behind, so that’s what we’re gonna do.” He comes around the truck and opens the door for you. You slide out, and follow him up to where the rest of the group is.

Jim is sitting up against a tree when you get there. Jacqui talks to him softly before planting a kiss on his cheek. Rick offers him a gun - you guess to end it for good - but he refuses it. 

“I’m okay,” Jim reassures him. 

The group takes turns saying goodbye to him. You and Daryl weren’t particularly close with him - to be honest, he kinda gave you the creeps, not for any fault of his own but because of everything he had been through before he joined the group - so you both give him a goodbye nod before walking back to the truck. 

This time, when you and Daryl get back into your seats, you stay quiet while you drive off.

Just before sundown, the caravan parks outside of the CDC building. When you jump out of the pickup truck, you struggle to take in the scene in front of you. There are bodies everywhere. Piles of sandbags suggest that the military was there, but there are no surviving humans in sight. There are several walkers stumbling about, but for the most part, the place is a graveyard. Flies buzz around everywhere.

Daryl has his crossbow raised and a shotgun in his other hand, ready to fight. You grip the hunting knife he gave you and follow him and the rest of the group. As quietly as possible, you all approach the building.

Rick knocks on the shutter doors. The sound is so loud compared to the silence of the place. It immediately draws the dead.

“Walkers!” someone yells. 

You and Daryl turn, ready to fight them off. He shoots the closest one with his crossbow, but more are quickly approaching. He tosses you his gun.

“Aim for their heads,” he tells you. “Do yer best, I’ll handle the rest.”

You raise the gun, never having shot one before, and aim it at an approaching walker. You fire, hitting it in the chest. You pump the gun again to get another bullet in the chamber and this time, you hit the walker straight in the face. Next to you, Daryl takes out two more.

Behind you, Shane and Rick are arguing again, and you can hear Lori trying to get involved too. But you don’t have time to focus on what they’re saying - Carol cries, holding Sophia to her chest, and you refuse to let anything happen to them. You shoot another walker that tries to close in on them, then place yourself between Carol and any more of the dead that try to follow. You take aim at another one, when all of a sudden, there’s a loud sound and a bright light behind you. You turn, and see that the doors to the CDC are open.

The group rushes inside the building. Daryl pretty much pushes you through the door, keeping his eye on the walkers stumbling their way forward.

You step into the lobby of the CDC. It’s bright, even with most of the lights off. The place is amazingly clean, given the carnage that lays just outside its front doors. From what you can see, it’s empty. Everyone that’s armed keeps their guns up, reading for the next attack, but it doesn’t come.

“Anybody infected?” a voice calls from inside. You can’t see where it’s coming from.

“One of our group was,” Rick explains. “He didn’t make it.”

“Why are you here? What do you want?” the voice asks again. Now you see the lone man with a gun approaching the group.

“A chance,” Rick answers. 

“That’s asking an awful lot these days,” the stranger says, still approaching. You raise your gun at him, not even sure if you have any ammunition left.

“I know,” Rick says simply.

There’s a pause as the man surveys the group in front of him. You can only imagine what you all must look like to him.

But after a minute or so, he announces, “You all submit to a blood test. That’s the price of admission.”

“We can do that,” Rick assures him. 

The man lowers his gun. “You have stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed.”

Daryl quickly hands you his crossbow as he runs outside. You stand in the doorway, watching his back as he collects your bags from his truck. You don’t breathe until he comes back in, and the group piles into an elevator.

You and Daryl stand in the back corner. He moves himself in front of you, placing himself between you and this strange new man. You are grateful for it, and you lean your forehead into his back as you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. We’re safe, you tell yourself. We’re safe now. 

When the elevator dings, you follow Daryl and the rest of the group out and down a long hallway.

“Are we underground?” you hear Carol ask. 

“Are you claustrophobic?” he asks back.

“A little,” she says quietly.

“Try not to think about it,” is all he says back.

Dick, you think. 

He leads the group into a big room with a lot of computers, where he announces that he’s the only one left there. Rick and several others ask him a bunch of questions, but you can’t be bothered to listen. You are still trying to process the events of the last half hour, and have to lean heavily on Daryl to keep your breathing steady. He lets you, giving your shoulder a small squeeze as he leads you to the next room where the man - Dr. Edwin Jenner, you find out - takes blood samples from you all. 

After he takes Andrea’s blood sample, she stumbles.

“Are you okay?” the doctor asks. 

“She hasn’t eaten in days,” Jacqui explains. “None of us have.” 

Jenner looks around at the group thoughtfully, then leaves the room without a word.

A short while later, the smell of food fills the air. You follow Daryl into yet another room, and see a table covered in food. There’s pasta and vegetables and bread. And wine! So much wine. Jenner pops a bottle open and pours some for all of the adults around the table. You swallow half of yours down, and savor the fuzzy feeling you get as it hits your brain. 

T-Dog piles a mound of spaghetti onto your plate and you dig in right away. It’s been so long since you’ve had something as simple as pasta, and you nearly moan after the first bite. Your cheeks burn, almost embarrassed at your reaction, but everyone around the table is reacting to the food as well, so you’re sure your reaction went1 unnoticed.

For the first time in what feels like weeks, the atmosphere of the group is pure happiness. Everyone is eating their fill and enjoying the drinks that Jenner has provided. Dale goes around the table, topping off everyone’s wine glasses, and everyone laughs as Carl takes his first sip of wine and nearly spits it out onto the table. 

Having finished eating, Daryl has taken to leaning against the counter behind where you sit, bottle of Southern Comfort in hand. You keep turning around to steal peeks at him as he taunts Glenn, making the group laugh even more. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile this big before. He catches your eye, and you match his smile, holding your glass out to him. He clinks his bottle with it and you each take a sip, not breaking eye contact until Rick starts tapping his knife on his glass.

“It seems to me we haven’t thanked our host properly,” Rick announces, standing and lifting his glass into the air.

“He is more than just our host!” T-Dog calls out, raising his glass too.

Everyone in the group raises their glasses in cheers to Jenner. 

“Booyah!” Daryl yells, and Dale and T-Dog echo his cheer. Everyone goes around, clinking glasses together and laughing and drinking to your host, thanking him for his hospitality. 

Shane is the first one to break the levity of the evening. “So when are you gonna tell us what the Hell happened here, Doc?” he asks Jenner. The room goes quiet. “All the—the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?”

“We’re celebrating, Shane,” Rick says quietly, sitting down. “Don’t need to do this now.”

But of course, Shane continues. “Whoa, wait a second. This is why we’re here, right? This was your move—supposed to find all the answers. Instead we—” he stops, chuckling to himself. “we found him. Found one man, why?”

Jenner clearly looks uncomfortable, but answers him anyway. “Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted.”

“Every last one?” Shane presses him.

“No,” Jenner replies, staring him down. “Many couldn’t face walking out the door. They… opted out. There was a rash of suicides.” He looks away, as if reliving it. “That was a bad time.”

This time, Andrea leans in and asks, “You didn’t leave. Why?”

“I just kept working, hoping to do some good,” he answers sadly, looking up at her.

An awkward silence falls over the group. Everyone takes quiet sips from their drink, not making eye contact with anyone else, waiting for someone to break the tension.

Glenn wanders forward, looking at Shane. “Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man,” he mumbles. 

Shane at least has the courtesy to look a little ashamed of himself.

After dinner, you stumble behind the rest of the group, the effects of the wine hitting you harder than you expected. Daryl swoops in, reaching an arm around you and holding you steady.

“You all right?” he asks, concern lacing his glassy eyes. He’s probably just as drunk as you are.

“I’m more than all right,” you answer, a smile breaking across your face. “I feel great!” You sway as you say this, and Daryl is the only thing keeping you from falling. He smirks as he pulls you upright, and the two of you nearly trip over each other, trying to follow everyone else. 

Jenner is explaining things to those of the group who can actually listen. But whatever he says last catches Glenn’s attention. He turns back to the rest of the group, and says excitedly, “Hot water?”

“That’s what the man said,” T-Dog replies, and both of the men start laughing.

Then, the group splits up, each running to a room to call dibs on a shower. You are too busy laughing to try and claim one for yourself. Thankfully, Daryl has you, and he pulls you into one of the rooms with him.

Inside, there is a twin bed, a nightstand, and another door that you are assuming leads to the bathroom and the glorious shower with hot water. You fall onto the bed, laughing still as you sit up and look at Daryl. He stands by the door, looking at the ground awkwardly.

“What?” you ask him, giggling.

“You can go first,” he says shyly. “In the shower, I mean.”

“Oh,” you say, standing up off of the bed. You grab onto the doorframe of the bathroom to keep from falling. Daryl is right behind you, a hand on your waist, steadying you. You smile at him, then once you get your balance back, you walk into the small bathroom, and turn the water on for the shower. It comes out cold, so you decide to give it a minute before getting in.

When you turn around, you see Daryl trying to walk out of the bathroom.

“Wait,” you say, grabbing his arm.

“What?” he asks, looking at your hand on him rather than your face.

“Come with me,” you say quickly.

His face shoots up to yours. “What?” he asks again. You see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“There’s not much hot water,” you say. You feel your cheeks burning, not sure if it’s the wine or what you’re saying, but you carry on anyway. “This way, we’ll both get some.”

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

“Very sure,” you reply, pulling him towards you. 

When his body nearly collides with yours, you bring your hand up to his face and crash your mouth onto his. You can tell you took him by surprise - for a moment he freezes, but before you can pull back and apologize, his hand finds the back of your neck and he’s kissing you back. His kisses start off gentle but quickly deepen as he pulls you even closer to him. You run your tongue along his bottom lip and he parts his, letting you slip inside. He tastes of cigarettes and whiskey, and the taste alone is enough to make you moan.

Daryl pushes you so that your back is up against the wall, the hand that’s not on your neck finding your waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of your shirt. You raise your arms so that he can slip your shirt off entirely, only breaking the kiss when it gets in the way. Once it’s off, you wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss even further as the two of you wrestle for dominance. 

You slide your hands down his muscular chest and move to unbotton his shirt, but he catches your hand, stopping you. “Wait,” he says.

“I don’t want to,” you say, trying to catch his mouth with yours again but he dodges it, looking at the ground instead.

“You don’t want-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“I do,” you say quickly. “Whatever you’re going to say, I do.” You cup his cheek with one hand. “We might die tomorrow. Who knows in this world.” You rub your thumb along his cheekbone. “But what I do know is that I want this. I want you.” You bend your knees, putting your face in front of his so that you can look into his eyes. “Please, Daryl.”

He gazes into your eyes. “You sure?” he asks.

“If you ask me that one more time, I’m taking your crossbow and shooting you with it,” you say smirking. At this, he smiles, grabbing your face with both of his hands and smashing his lips onto yours.

You and Daryl kiss each other while also trying to kick your shoes off. You have to break apart so that you can each wrestle with your pants. You’re suddenly really regretting your choice of skinny jeans, as you have to jump and yank to get them off. When you finally do, you find Daryl standing in front of you in just his boxers, and you take in his muscular form. His chest and arms are littered with scars, all of which you plant kisses on before he places his hands at the back of your thighs and picks up you, pushing you back into the wall. You wrap your legs around him and you catch his mouth with yours, savoring every moment of this kiss. 

He reaches one hand out and feels the shower water.

“It’s hot,” he murmurs into your kisses.

“Put me down,” you nearly yell, wiggling out of his arms. “I want in!”

Daryl laughs as he drops you to the floor, then he catches his fingers under your sports bra and pulls it up over your head. You grab the waistband of his boxers and yank them down just as he does the same to your panties. You stand in front of him, naked as the day you were born. Daryl looks you up and down, and you swear you can see the hunger in his eyes.

“C’mon now,” he says as he takes your waist, and pulls you into the shower with him.

You can’t decide what feels better: the hot water or Daryl Dixon’s kisses. The water sprays your back as he kisses and nibbles your lips, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands find their way into his hair, running your fingers through it. A small moan escapes you as he worships you with his lips. Daryl kisses you lower and lower until he gets down onto his knees, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, and he bites the inside of your thigh. You grab a fistful of his hair as he moves in to kiss your core.

The effect is immediate: you fall back into the wall as Daryl licks his way from your entrance up to your clit. One of his large hands grips your waist, holding you in place. Your head falls back in pleasure as he sucks on the sensitive nub, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Your knee buckles beneath you, but he doesn’t let you fall. His free hand finds your entrance, teasing you by circling around it before he slips one finger inside.

You moan loudly as his finger enters you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this good, the last time you even hooked up with someone, and it sends your body into a frenzy. You tug on his hair, pulling his face up from kissing your core.

“I need you,” you say, breathlessly. “I need you now.”

Daryl immediately yields to your desire. He stands up, towering over you. When he kisses you, you taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you crave him even more. One of your legs already around his hip, he gently lifts you like you weigh nothing. You wrap both of your legs around his waist as he lines himself up with your entrance. He catches your lips in his, then presses his forehead to yours, looking deep into your eyes.

“All right?” he asks, his voice low and husky. You want to melt just at the sound of it.

“All right,” you whisper back. And when he pushes himself into you.

His head falls into the space between your shoulder and your neck as he does, starting slow. Gradually, he pushes into you further until he bottoms out. He pauses there, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, before he pulls his head back up, catching your lips in his. 

You kiss him back fiercely, letting him know you’re okay, and then he begins thrusting into you. He is gentle at first but he quickly picks up the pace. Your back slides up the wall with the power of his hips, but you can barely tell. All you can think - and feel and taste - is Daryl. Arms circling his neck, you kiss any part of him that you can reach: his lips, his jaw, just under his ear, his neck. When you bite down on his shoulder, you elicit a deep groan from him, and the sound makes your toes start to curl.

The mix of the hot water, his thrusts, the friction between you from his closeness lights a fire deep in your lower belly. You can feel your orgasm approaching, starting as a little spark and growing into a wildfire. With all your might, you pull him closer to you, moaning his name as you do.

“Oh Daryl,” you say breathlessly. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” and then your head falls back as your orgasm crashes over you.

All at once, your body feels as if it engulfs in flames. The knot in your stomach explodes like a firework show. Eyes closed, you moan and whimper into Daryl’s ear as he fucks you through your orgasm. He keeps the pace of his thrusts slow and steady. Your arms start to slip, but his grip on your thighs tightens, refusing to let you fall. He places gentle kisses and bites along your neck and jaw as you ride out your high.

When you start to come down, you catch his lips in yours.

“You good?” he asks into your kiss.

“So good,” you mumble out, smiling into his lips.

Daryl bites your lower lip, pulling on it lightly before letting go. His forehead finds the crook of your neck again as he thrusts into you harder, searching for his release next. Your nails drag along the back of his neck and his shoulders as he keeps pushing you up and into the shower wall. His thrusts become more erratic as he approaches his own orgasm. You grab a handful of his hair and pull, forcing him to lean his head back so you can kiss and bite along his neck. 

This undoes him. Quickly, he pulls out of you, lowering one of your legs to the floor. Eyes squeezed shut, he pumps himself once, twice, three times before he comes too, trying his best to aim it away from you. One leg still wrapped around him, you lay kisses along his chest, sucking on his collarbone as he rides out his own high. You steady him the best you can, then he falls into you, groaning as he does.

You kiss him on the forehead. “You good?” you ask, smirking.

Daryl chuckles before responding. “Amazin’, darlin’,” he drawls. He catches your lips again, then gently lowers your other leg so that you are standing on your own. You kiss him deeply, exhausted and giddy, wanting to draw it out for as long as possible. His hands are on your waist again, with one slowly dragging its way up your body, sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away, looking up into the stream of water. “Guess we should actually shower, huh?” he asks, smirking.

“Yeah,” you say, a little reluctantly, not wanting this moment to end. “If we run out of hot water, I’ll cry.”

Both laughing, you and Daryl break apart to start cleaning up. Thankfully, the CDC has body wash, shampoo, and conditioner dispensers on the wall of the shower. You grab some of the shampoo and dig your fingers into Daryl’s hair before he can stop you. You massage it into his scalp, eliciting another deliciously low groan from him. While you work on his hair, he reaches behind you to get some of the soap, and starts lathering your body, working meticulously from your shoulders to your chest, down your legs. He grabs you, switching your places so that he’s under the stream of water, rinsing out the shampoo as you start to shampoo your own hair. 

By the time the water starts to run cold, you and Daryl are both washed, rinsed, and conditioned. He jumps out of the shower first, tying a towel around his waist before wrapping you in one. Arms trapped inside, you have to let Daryl pull you out of the shower and back into the room. You trip over your discarded shoes, and land on the bed, giggling. 

As soon as you feel the softness of the mattress, your exhaustion catches up to you. You dry yourself the best you can, before chucking the towel across the room.

“Don’t be getting mah bed all wet,” Daryl says from across the room. He’s already slipped back into his boxers and sleeveless flannel shirt.

“Shut up, Daryl,” you mumble, sinking into the pillows. You pull the blanket out, making space for him to lay with you. He scoffs, but he climbs in anyway. You lay your head on his chest, pulling him tight. You barely feel his kiss on the top of your head before sleep overtakes you.

The next morning, you wake up, still snuggled into Daryl’s chest. You can tell that he's already awake; you can feel him gnawing on his fingernails before you even open your eyes. Anxiety radiates off of him.

Using your arms, you squeeze into him tighter, then lean up to kiss his neck.

“Good morning,” you murmur, eyes still closed but smiling.

“Mornin’,” he says, shortly.

Your eyes shoot open at his tone. All the affection, the gentleness from last night has been replaced by a coldness. You sit up, leaning on your elbow so you can look at him. He looks away.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothin,” he grunts out.

You nudge him. “Liar,” you say. You grab his face with your free hand, and pull it towards you, forcing him to look at you. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothin,” he mutters. He moves to get out of the bed but you don’t let him go.

“It’s not,” you say, more forcefully this time.

Daryl looks away from you again. It makes you want to punch him in the face.

“So that’s it?” you ask, trying to ignore the prickling of the tears in your eyes. “You get to fuck me once, and then go cold on me? That’s what we’re gonna be now?”

“That what you want?” he asks, still not looking at you.

“If you would look at me, you could see that’s not what I want at all,” you snap. 

This makes him look at you, and he immediately sees how glassy your eyes are. He hesitates, eyes flicking between yours and your lips. “You don’t?”

“Not at all,” you whisper. You cup his cheek with your hand, and he leans into it, eyes falling closed. “I want you. Just as much as I did last night. I want you. I want this. Forever. Even if forever is just for today.”

His eyes snap back open. “You do?” he asks, and you can hear the eagerness in his voice, even as he tries to hide it.

“I do,” you say breathlessly. You lean your face in towards his, pausing less than an inch away from his lips. “I really do.”

You can feel his breath hitch at your words. Gingerly, you close the gap between your lips and his, and place a soft kiss upon them. He kisses you back timidly, as if waiting for you to be repulsed. But when you deepen the kiss, he relaxes, his hands crawling up your back to pull you in closer.

Without breaking the kiss, you lay back onto the mattress, pulling him on top of you. Using one arm to hold up his weight, Daryl’s free hand trails up your side to cup your face. You slide your hand down his body, feeling the muscles of his chest again and then catching on the waistband of his boxers. Taking your hint, he pulls them down, releasing his cock, already hard, and lines it up with your entrance. He breaks the kiss only for a moment to look into your eyes, before pushing into you again.

Forehead pressed against yours, Daryl grinds into your body slowly. You lift your hips to meet him with each thrust, your hands exploring every inch of your body. The warmth that radiates off of his skin reignites your fire from last night. You catch his mouth with yours, his lips parting to allow your tongue in as your kisses deepen. 

Your bodies begin to flow like one, melting into one another with every movement. One of your legs wraps around his hips, pulling him in even closer. Daryl’s kisses become sloppy, slipping from your mouth to your jawline, trailing along it and down to your neck. Every one of your nerves feels like it's been pulled taut; every place that he touches you is like him strumming them like a guitar. 

The deep pool of desire inside of you begins to overflow, and your fingers find his hair as you come undone in his arms again. You moan his name, pepper him with kisses, drag your nails along his arms as your body gives into the pleasure that only he can give you. Your walls clench around him, and he barely lasts through your orgasm before he has to pull away, shooting his own onto the bed just beneath you. 

Daryl lays his head on your chest as you both recover from your mutual releases. Eyes closed, you rub his back as he pushes kisses into your skin. He eventually crawls back up to you and kisses your forehead, your nose, then your lips. When you open your eyes, you can see a gleam in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“Let’s go find some grub,” he says through his smirk. “I’m starvin’.”

You can’t help smiling, feeling happier than you have in a long time. But you should’ve known better.

By the time you and Daryl make your way to the breakfast room, most of the group is following Jenner out. You look at him, but he just shrugs and moves to follow the group. You stop to pour yourself a cup of coffee; the smell alone is making your mouth water, and you refuse to miss out on a luxury you used to take for granted. You assure Daryl that you’ll be in there in just a minute. 

“I won’t be missing out on anything too exciting,” you say to him with a smirk.

Boy, were you wrong.

When you walk into the main computer room, everyone is crowded around Jenner and watching the big screen. On it, you see what looks like an x-ray of a brain, and you nearly jump out of your skin when a streak of light shoots through it.

Carol asks, “God. What was that?”

“He shot his patient in the head,” Andrea explains, turning to Jenner. “Didn’t you?”

Jenner hesitates, before talking to the computer. “VI, Power down the main screen and the workstations.”

The computer voice responds, “Powering down main screen and workstations.” The room starts to go dark. 

As people hound the doctor with questions, you move over to where Daryl is standing. He watches the doctor carefully, and you can feel the tension radiating off of him. You try to place a hand on his arms but he pulls away, starting to pace the floor.

“So it’s not just here,” Andrea questions Jenner. “There’s nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That’s what you’re really saying, right?”

When he doesn’t answer, realization hits the group like a bag of bricks.

“Jesus,” Jacqui mutters, exasperated.

Daryl rubs his hands into his eyes, still pacing, “Man, I’m gonna get shitfaced drunk again,” he complains, leaning on one of the computers. 

Dale speaks up, “Dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but…that clock—” he points to a big red countdown clock on the wall. “it’s counting down. What happens at zero?”

“The basement generators—they run out of fuel,” Jenner answers quickly, before walking out of the room.

“And then?” Rick asks, but Jenner ignores him. Instead, Rick turns back to the supercomputer.  “VI, what happens when the power runs out?”

The computer answers, “When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur.”

Daryl throws his hands up into the arm and curses before stalking out of the room. You look around at the rest of the group, who all look just as confused as you are. Rick nods his head towards Shane and the two of them, followed by Glenn and T-Dog, run out of the room. You look over at Carol and Lori, who are both holding their kids close. You decide to go find Daryl and try to figure out what the fuck is going on.

You find him back in the room where you had spent the night with him. He’s pacing the room, bottle of whiskey in hand. Every few steps, he takes a swig from it, muttering to himself.

“Daryl,” you say gently. He doesn’t seem to hear you. He keeps pacing and talking to himself as if you’re not even there.

“Daryl,” you say again, louder. He stops and looks at you. “Calm down,” you say, moving closer to him. “We’ll figure something out.”

“But what if we don’t?” he asks angrily. But underneath that anger, you can hear a twinge of fear laced in his voice. 

“We will,” you reassure him. “Rick and some of the guys ran off, probably to go look at those generators.” 

Daryl only grunts at you. You chuckle a little, before snatching the whiskey out of his hand. You plop down on the bed, patting the space next to you.

“C’mon,” you try to coax him over, but he doesn’t move.

“What are we supposed to do now?” he asks, quietly.

“I mean, you did say something about getting drunk,” you trail off, taking a long sip of the whiskey.

With a huff, Daryl lands on the bed next to you, snatching the bottle back from you and drinking.

A short while later, you are still sitting on the bed, legs draped over Daryl’s lap, enjoying the fuzziness in your head, courtesy of the whiskey. Daryl’s sitting with his head leaned back against the wall, one hand making lazy circles along your thigh. You take another sip from the bottle before passing it back to his open hand. As you do, the lights in the room dim.

Daryl immediately jumps, and moves to pop his head out into the hall. “What’s going on?” he asks. “Why is everything turned off?”

Jenner walks past your room, dressed in a shirt, tie, and lab coat, and takes the whiskey bottle from Daryl as he continues moving down the hall.

“Energy use is being prioritized,” he says as a means of explanation.

“Air isn’t a priority?” Dale asks, dumbfounded. “And lights?”

Jenner takes a swig from the bottle and says simply, “It’s not up to me. Zone 5 is shutting itself down.”

Daryl starts following him down the hallway. “Hey! Hey, what the Hell’s that mean?”

But Jenner keeps walking, and your entire group follows. You trail behind everyone else, just barely able to make out Daryl yelling at the doctor. “Hey, man, I’m talking to you. What do you mean it’s shutting itself down? How can a building do anything?”

More lights begin to turn off as you follow Jenner back to the computer room. Rick, T-Dog, Glenn and Shane come running from another doorway to join the rest of the group. Rick runs ahead and meets up with Jenner, demanding answers. The rest of you trickle down the stairs to join them at the computers.

The clock on the wall reads 30 minutes left.

Jenner pauses, allowing everyone to catch up. He hands the bottle to Daryl, who angrily snatches it out of his hand, spilling some whiskey on the floor.

Then Jenner turns to Andrea. “It was the French,” he says.

“What?” she asks, confused.

“They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know,” he explains. “While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution.”

“What happened?” Jacqui asks.

Jenner looks defeated as he continues. “The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?”

Shane jumps up to confront him but Rick pulls him back. He calls out behind him, “Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

But as you all turn to run back to the rooms, an alarm starts blaring.

“What’s that?” Shane asks Jenner.

The computer answers for him, announcing: “30 minutes to decontamination.” Everyone is looking around the room, at each other, panic in their eyes.

“Doc, what’s going on here?” Daryl yells. But Jenner is too busy messing with the computers to answer.

Shane addresses the group, “Everybody, y’all heard Rick. Get your stuff and let’s go! Go now! Go!” 

But as everyone starts to run again, there’s a loud bang: the security door to the computer room has slammed shut.

“He just locked us in!” Glenn yells, fear almost causing his voice to break.

You look for Daryl in the chaos, and you find him running at Jenner, the bottle in hand, ready to hit him.

“You son of a bitch!” he yells as he tries to swing, but Shane and T-Dog catch him before he can connect with the doctor’s head.

Rick stalks up to him. “Hey, Jenner, open that door now,” he demands.

“There’s no point,” Jenner explains, dejected. “Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed.”

“Well, open the damn things,” Dale yells.

“That’s not something I control,” Jenner continues. “The computers do. I told you: once that front door closed, it wouldn’t open again. You heard me say that. It’s better this way.”

Rick looks at him, confused. “What is? What happens in 28 minutes?” When Jenner doesn’t answer, Rick asks again, “What happens in 28 minutes?!”

Jenner shouts back, “You know what this place is?! We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!” He pauses, sitting back down. He continues, quieter this time. “In the event of a catastrophic power failure—in a terrorist attack, for example—H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out.”

“H.I.T.s?” Rick asks, approaching him.

Jenner orders the computer to define it for him. “H.I.T.s—high-impulse thermo baric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between 5,000 degrees and 6,000 degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired.”

“It sets the air on fire,” Jenner explains in a low voice, not making eye contact with anyone. “No pain.”

The group stares at Jenner, understanding hitting everyone differently. Rick grabs Lori and Carol, holding them close. Carol is openly crying now, hugging Sophia to her chest. Dale and T-Dog just stare, mouths agape. Your hands reach up to cover your mouth as you try to process what you just heard: Jenner is going to kill us all.

Only Daryl still has his wits about him. Kind of. He throws the liquor bottle at the sealed door, yelling at Jenner to open it.

Shane runs at the door with a fire ax, trying to cut it open. T-Dog tosses a second one to Daryl, who catches it and starts working with Shane to get the door open. Lori and Carol slide down to the floor, each with their kid in their lap, trying to keep them calm. You move closer to where Shane and Daryl are working on the door, trying to watch for any indication that it’s working. As far as you can see, they aren’t making a dent.

After a few minutes of no progress, they both stop, out of breath. You try to catch Daryl, but he and Shane are moving back to where Rick is talking to Jenner, practically begging him to let you all out.

“Can’t make a dent,” Shane tells him, out of breath.

“Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher,” Jenner explains, smugly.

“Well, your head ain’t!” Daryl yells, running up, swinging his ax at the man.

It takes Dale, Rick and T-Dog to hold Daryl back. T-Dog pulls the ax out of Daryl’s hands, who pushes past them all and stalks back over to the door. You follow him.

“Daryl-” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he snaps at you.

“I wasn’t-” you try but he moves in swiftly, taking your face between his hands.

“You said you wanted forever, right?” he asks. Tears in your eyes, you can only nod in response. “Then I’m gettin you yer forever.” He leans in, touching his forehead to yours, and looks deeply into your eyes. “I’m gettin’ us out of here.” 

You nod again. “O-okay,” you manage to get out. You and Daryl stay this way for a minute, soaking each other in, only breaking apart when you hear the sound of a shotgun cocking. Both of your heads snap back to the group as Shane runs up to Jenner with the gun, pressing it into his face.

“Open that door or I’m gonna blow your head off. Do you hear me?” he threatens the doctor.

Rick and Lori try to talk him down, but Shane begins yelling and shooting at the computer monitors. The other members of the group duck for cover as pieces of the machines start flying in different directions. Daryl nearly has to knock you to the ground as Rick tries to get the gun from Shane, causing a stray round to hit the light fixture above you. 

Rick wrestles the gun away from Shane. Everyone looks to him for guidance. He hands it off to T-Dog before turning on Jenner again. “I think you’re lying,” he says. “You’re lying about no hope. If that were true, you’d have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn’t. You chose the hard path. Why?”

Exasperated, Daryl finds the ax again and returns to beating on the door. You follow him with the second one, and stand between him and the rest of the group, trying to hear what they’re saying in between the slams of the ax on the door. Each slam of the ax on the door lines up with your heart, which is pounding in your chest. Fear threatens to take over, but you shove it back down. Daryl’s going to get us out of here, you tell yourself on repeat. We are going to live.

After a while, Daryl’s hits on the door begin to slow down. He stops, hands on his knees, panting. He refuses to look at you. Don’t give up,  you want to tell him, but your throat feels like it's closing. You look back to Jenner, who is watching Rick intently as he continues to plead. 

Whatever he says to Jenner must work, because all of a sudden, the door shoots open.

“Come on!” Daryl yells, signaling for everyone to follow him. You reach him at the door, pulling him into a quick hug as everyone runs up behind you.

Everyone except Jacqui.

“Let’s go. Let’s go,” T-Dog says to her, trying to pull her along.

But Jacqui pulls away. “No no. I’m staying,” she tells him, tears in her eyes. “I’m staying, sweetie.”

“But that’s insane!”

“No, it’s completely sane,” she continues. “For the first time in a long time. I’m not ending up like Jim and Amy.” Everyone stops and stares at her. She looks at the group, and motions them forward. “There’s no time to argue. And no point, not if you want to get out. Just get out. Get out.” She pushes T-Dog to urge him to go.

Daryl grabs your hand. “We gotta go, girl,” he says as he starts pulling you down the hallway. You stumble along behind him, doing your best to keep up. You hear the footsteps behind you as more group members run out, but when you peer behind you, you see that Dale hasn’t left the computer room, and neither has Andrea. You want to yell out but you can’t as Daryl throws open the door to the stairwell and you have to start climbing.

When you make it to the lobby, T-Dog runs forward, trying to open the doors. They’re locked.

Daryl and Shane take the axes again and start trying to break open the windows, but they barely even splinter with each hit.

Your blood is pounding in your ears. There has to be only three minutes left on that timer, and you can’t find a way out of the building. You look around for something to use to try and break out, but there’s no use. T-Dog hits the window with a chair but it bounces right off each time. Shane shoots at it with the shotgun and, while it makes a small crack in it, it’s not enough to break it open.

We’re not going to get out in time, you think to yourself. You feel your chest tightening as fear takes over. Tears start to prick your eyes again as you look at Daryl. He’s frantic, looking up and down the lobby, trying to come up with another plan. But you can tell he comes up empty-handed.

Then Carol runs forward, digging in her purse, “Rick, I have something that might help,” she cries. Shane mutters under his breath, but she ignores him. “Your first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform I found this in your pocket.” She pulls out a grenade - a grenade?! - and hands it to Rick before running back to her daughter.

As Rick runs towards the window with the grenade, Daryl runs at you, looping an arm around your waist and dragging you behind a low wall. He spins you around so that his back is to the windows, and he holds you tight. You grip his arms and squeeze your eyes closed, bracing for whatever is about to happen.

The grenade explodes, shattering the window. Daryl pokes his head up, peering over the wall, then grabs you by the arm. “Run!” he yells, and you and the rest of the group make a break for it. 

Daryl reaches the window first, tossing the ax out before jumping down to the ground. Then he turns around, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down next to him. He picks the ax back up, and yells at you to stay behind him. You pull your hunting knife out of its sheath on your hip and follow him.

Together, you make a beeline for his truck. Everyone is running. Shane and Rick shoot a couple of lingering walkers, clearing a path to the vehicles. Daryl drops your hand to take the head off of an incoming walker with the ax. He pushes you on ahead of him and you sprint to the pick up.

When you reach it, you run around to the driver’s side, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the building as possible. Daryl runs up, yanking the door open.

“Get in, get in,” he yells, half lifting you into the truck. You barely make it on to the seat before he jumps in behind you, slamming the door shut. You go to slide over but Daryl pushes you down so that you’re laying on the seat. He lays on top of you, holding you close to his chest. You squeeze your eyes closed and wrap your arms around him the best you can, and you pray for the first time in ages.

Please god, you beg. Let us be okay-

Then you hear the explosion. The truck rattles at the sheer force of it. Daryl pulls you even closer to him, his face lost in your hair. 

It feels like it goes on forever. Eventually when it starts to quiet down, you feel Daryl sit up slightly. You lean forward too, trying to peer out of the window, and you gasp.

The building is gone. All that’s in front of you is a pile of rubble and massive flames, with black smoke reaching up to touch the sky. You let your tears stream down your face now, thinking about your friends who stayed behind. 

You crawl out from under Daryl to get a closer look. Behind one of the sandbags, you see a blonde ponytail pop up.

“Oh my god,” you cry out, hitting Daryl’s arm. You point. “Look!” He leans in, and the two of you watch Andrea and Dale stumble towards the RV. “They made it,” you sigh, leaning back in the seat. Daryl leans back too, chest heaving. 

The two of you sit there for a moment, catching your breath and taking in the destruction around you. Eventually, you hear the RV’s engine start up. Daryl puts the keys in the ignition of the truck, starting it too. He turns and looks at you.

You place a hand on his thigh. “So forever, huh?” you ask.

A small smirk reaches his lips. “Yup,” he says, putting the truck into gear. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you across the bench seat and into his side. “Forever.”