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Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Anakin Skywalker was a miniature sun in the Force; Obi-Wan could understand why Qui-Gon was enamored. But this? Intending to take the boy as his apprentice, while Obi-Wan was standing right next to him? The shame that burned red on his cheeks was a familiar friend. He felt it countless times growing up beside Qui-Gon, a master too good for him and the rage he carried.
(Or: Obi-Wan finally gets tired of being nothing but a burden when he has given everything he has to give. He’s setting Qui-Gon free.)
Through Hell & Back (Daryl Dixon X F!Grimes!Reader)
Summary: (Y/N) Grimes and Daryl Dixon would go through hell and back for their big brothers. But something they realise along the way is that they might just be willing to do the same for each other.
Key: (Y/N) - your name
Warnings: Shane Walsh & Andrea existing, cursing, badly written accents, injuries, fights (physical & verbal), badly written reunions, attempted rape, death mentions, mentions of Rick ripping someone’s throat out with his teeth, Emotions
Word Count: 5,261 (yeah wow it’s a doozy)
Note: i am in love with this fic pls request more grimes!reader shit when requests are open i am begging you
“You need to get your priorities straight--”
“My priorities are straight! My brother comes before anything else-- anyone else, do you understand me?”
(Y/N) had been arguing with Shane since dawn. After screaming at him and nearly ripping his head off when he admitted he hadn’t watched Rick die, she was still going. She could do it all day.
“You would risk the lives of everyone here for him?” Shane whispered harshly.
She met his gaze with stubborn defiance. “In a heartbeat.”
“Even Carl?”
“Carl needs his father,” she spat, shoving him back. “And you don’t get to say anything else about this. You left him to die! I’m gonna find my brother and when I get back I’m gonna kick your ass so hard you taste leather.”
She stormed across camp to her tent. Still fuming, she packed her things as fast as she possibly could, ignoring the footsteps approaching her tent.
At first, (Y/N) figured they belonged to Shane, still wanting to argue with her, but when they paused outside, she knew it wouldn’t be him. He would’ve entered without hesitation, as would Lori, so it had to be--
Daryl cleared his throat as he came in.
"What do you want, Daryl?" (Y/N) muttered, shoving her supplies into a single duffel bag.
She didn't need a lot, especially if she was just going to drop into King County and see if her brother was still there. If he wasn't, it would be a whole different story.
"I'm comin' with ya," he said firmly.
She turned sharply on her hell. "Scuse me?"
"I said I'm comin' with ya," he repeated, his tone possibly more stubborn than hers. "You ain't goin' all the way to King by yerself."
She scoffed and turned back around, ignoring him in favor of packing her things. "Daryl Dixon, I never thought I'd see the day." Rolling her eyes, she continued. "I have to find Rick and nobody's changin' my mind."
"Didn't say I was tryin' to."
"I'm not taking you with me," she decided, swinging her back over her shoulder and looking back at him.
"Can't stop me," he glared.
She almost laughed. "The group needs you here more than I do. I won't be long and hopefully I'll have the dumbass with me when I get back."
"They can go without me," he suggested.
(Y/N) shook her head. "We both know they need the food you get from hunting. Stay here."
She went to leave the tent, but was stopped when he grabbed her arm. The smallest gasp left her lips. He'd never touched her before, not in the slightest. He'd never touched anybody except maybe Merle, who he'd smacked on the arm last week.
Since bringing Daryl and Merle Dixon into this group, (Y/N) was a lot less busy than she had been at the start. They brought in a good amount of food from the woods and she couldn't thank them enough for that. They were irritating as hell, mostly Merle, who nobody in their right mind liked. Daryl, on the other hand, was perfectly tolerable.
(Y/N) found herself hunting with him more often than not, actually. He was quiet, but so was she. His company was preferable to Shane's, that bastard.
"You would go through hell for Merle, wouldn't you?" She asked him suddenly, meeting his gaze evenly.
Though Daryl paused, he nodded. "And back."
"Then you know why I have to do this," she said, pulling his hand off her arm.
"That's why I'm goin with ya," he said again. "Nobody should go through hell alone."
Now that had her hesitating. She'd never taken him for the sweet type. By the look on his face, though, even he was shocked by his own words. He almost looked like he wanted to take them back.
"I'll be back soon. You stay here with Merle and the others," she said again. "If I'm not back in three days, then you can come after me."
"And you won't be pissed?"
She snorted. "Didn't say that." She bit her lip a little, sighing. "Just stay, okay? I need someone to be here that isn't Shane."
"Don't trust him?"
"Not anymore," she almost growled. "Sick fuck left my brother to die. Who knows what he'll do if we don't keep an eye on him?"
Daryl nodded at that. "I'll watch him."
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice surprisingly genuine.
After Shane told her that he hadn't, in fact, watched Rick die with his own two eyes, (Y/N)'s list of people she could trust was getting shorter. She always had Lori and Carl, that was for sure, but it wasn't like they would be much use except for emotional comfort.
At least now she could depend on Daryl and maybe even Merle if he was willing to help his little brother out. The others in the camp were trustworthy, too, she supposed, but not when it came to Shane. They listened to him. That was dangerous.
(Y/N) had hoped she could trust her brother's best friend since childhood in the wake of the apocalypse, but that plan had fallen out from under her feet. People in this camp trusted her, they listened to her, but they listened to him more. And after what he admitted to doing, she wasn't sure if she could do that anymore. It was better for her to leave, to go searching for her brother. Daryl would keep an eye on Carl and Lori and there wouldn't be any leadership disputes, at least not until she returned.
"You should tell the kid what's goin' on," Daryl suggested after a quiet moment. "He'll wanna know why his Aunt (Y/N) and Uncle Shane are shoutin'."
(Y/N) sighed deeply. "I know. I wish he hadn't seen that."
Daryl shrugged. "Might be better if he knows you and Shane ain't gettin' along. More likely to listen to ya."
"Maybe. Doesn't mean it won't hurt," she admitted. Shaking her head, she took a step out of the tent, Daryl following her. "Just do me a favor and keep an eye on 'em, Dixon."
"Yeah, well, you do me a favor and don't die out there," he shot back.
She laughed a little despite herself. "I'll try not to." Then, she turned to him, her tone serious. "Three days," she repeated. "Three days before you come lookin', okay?"
"Okay."
“I’ll hold you to it, too, Dixon. Don’t be late.”
He snorted as she went to leave, or at least find Carl so she could say goodbye.
I'm on my way, Rick, she thought as she left. I'm on my way.
That was four days ago.
Daryl had it in his head to leave yesterday, but then Officer Friendly informed him of Merle being missing and suddenly it was a double rescue mission. Of course, Daryl would probably regret trying to beat Rick up when (Y/N) came back, but in the moment, he'd wanted to make him pay for leaving his brother.
To be honest, part of his fury came from the fact that he would never have done that to Rick's sister. So how come he did it to Merle? Well...Merle could be a jackass. Fair enough.
The day the group was going to leave, Daryl overheard Rick and Shane.
"This ain't a good idea. Merle ain't worth it," Shane was trying to say-- again.
Daryl scoffed as he passed. "Sure, Merle ain't worth it. But (Y/N)'s been gone three days. Oughta start lookin' for her down there."
Rick's eyes widened. "(Y/N)?"
That was when it hit Daryl-- Shane's guilty face, Rick's absolute horror.
"He's been here two days and you didn't say shit!?" Daryl accused instantly. He turned to Rick then. "Yer little sister's been lookin' for ya by herself. She said she'd be back four damn days ago. I was s'posed to look for her after three."
So, a rescue mission it was.
Shane was shocked that Daryl was meaning to go after (Y/N), as was...pretty much everyone else. But he ignored them. As soon as they were in the city and found Merle's hand, Daryl was pretty sure they were going to move on to (Y/N).
They were searching the building where they left Merle. Daryl split from the others when he heard movement down a hallway. He paused by the corner and took a deep breath.
He swung around the corner, coming face to face with a loaded pistol.
"Jesus, Daryl," came (Y/N)'s breath of relief. "Might've warned me."
He dropped his crossbow instantly. "Yer an idiot."
"Thanks, missed you, too," she sassed. "After yesterday I didn't actually expect you to find me."
Daryl frowned. "Shit happened. Run into Atlanta went wrong-- your bitchass brother handcuffed mine to a roof."
(Y/N)'s face lit up immediately. "Rick? Rick's with you?"
Daryl almost smiled at her joy, but shoved it aside when he was reminded of his own brother. Sure, they found hers, but his was missing. Talk about a trade off.
He led her down the hall where he left the others and as soon as they turned the corner, she was sprinting at the turned back of her brother. Rick turned right at the last second and caught a massive, tearful hug from her. She clutched the back of his shirt fiercely and buried her head in the crook of his neck.
"Jackass," she muttered.
Rick, voice breaking somewhat, replied: "Dumbass. What were you doing-- looking for me by yourself? What about Carl and Lori?"
"Daryl said he'd watch 'em for me," she said, pulling out of the hug.
"You could've at least taken Shane."
(Y/N) scoffed. "Yeah, right. After what he did?" She shook her head and punched his arm fondly. "Whatever. I'm glad you're okay, loser."
Rick rolled his eyes and reached forward to ruffle her hair, but she shoved him away.
Daryl watched in bitter, spiteful silence, gripping his crossbow tightly. He would have given anything in that moment to have his brother back. And when (Y/N) looked back at him, nodding, he knew she understood.
Through hell, she’d expressed silently.
And back, he’d replied.
Days-- maybe weeks-- later, Daryl was pulling away. He went out nearly every day searching for Sophia. It was an unspoken agreement between him and (Y/N) that she would let him do it. She understood why.
"It's because you didn't go after your brother, isn't it?" She asked him one day.
"What?"
She took a deep breath. "You search for Sophia to make up for not going to look for your brother. You wouldn't leave us to go look for him and now it's eating at you."
"Maybe," he muttered, mostly trying to ignore her. "What's it matter?"
"You stayed to take care of the group. You're not a bad brother for not looking for Merle," she tried to reassure. "There's nothing you could have done."
That was when he stopped replying, grabbing one of the Greene's horses from the stables. He intended to go out again that day, to spend hours looking for a little girl who was probably dead. (Y/N) would let him, like she always did.
"One day," she said, making him stop.
"Huh?"
She smiled a little. "One day. You don't come back, I'm gonna come looking for your ugly ass."
He snorted, mounting the horse. "Yeah, good luck with that."
He rode off, leaving (Y/N) to worry about his return. Every hour that he didn't come back was another hour spent worrying. As it began to get later, she was completely on edge. Rick asked her what was wrong, but she couldn't find the words to tell him. He already had enough on his plate as it was.
When she and the others ran toward the walker on the edge of the field and she recognised it as a person, she nearly collapsed with relief.
And then the gunshot rang out.
(Y/N) was on Andrea as soon as Daryl was in the house. She got in a nasty right hook before Rick ripped her off the woman, yelling at her to calm down.
"I oughta kill you!" (Y/N) spat.
Okay, so leadership wasn't going so great these days, at least with Andrea and Shane. Everybody else looked to her for a neutral point of view in the wake of the Shane v. Rick thing going on. Punching Andrea might not have ended up changing that, either. Most would probably be on (Y/N)'s side in that.
"You just HAD to pull the trigger, huh?"
"I thought he was a walker!" Andrea tried to say. "I was protecting the camp!"
(Y/N) scoffed. "Oh, yeah, shoot the walker even though there's a whole group of us staring it in the face. It wasn't trying to eat us and even if it was, we could have handled it. You just had to play hero, didn't you?" With that said, she stalked off, spitting on Andrea's boot as she went.
"Jesus," she heard Shane mutter.
"Oh, shut the hell up," she snapped at him as she went. "I'll slug you next."
Okay, maybe Daryl was bringing out a little more vicious side of her. But to be completely fair, somebody had to be vicious with those assholes. She was just giving them what they deserved.
(Y/N) made her way to Daryl's room, pulling a chair up to his bed. "How are you?" She asked.
"Fine," he mumbled.
"I know you're not," she sniffed. "What happened out there?"
He was silent for a while. It took him a good hour to open up, to admit he'd found the doll but that the horse had thrown him. (Y/N) listened the whole time, just waiting for him to admit to what was really bothering him.
"Thought I saw Merle," he finally sighed.
Her gaze softened. "We'll find him, Daryl. I promised you we would."
"Ain't happenin' anytime soon."
"Maybe not. But it'll happen eventually," she said.
She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to go for his hand, but decided against it at the last second. Despite stiffening at first, Daryl eased into her touch, basking in the silence that surrounded them.
When he found out about Andrea, he laughed about it for days. He'd never let her live that one down. Sure, she was willing to do anything for Rick, but was Rick willing to go through Andrea for her? Because it seemed like the bitch was holding a grudge.
Rick brought it up to Daryl, who shrugged him off. "I'll deal with Andrea" he said. "You just focus on the rest of it."
Rick, of course, had no idea what he meant. But (Y/N) did.
When Daryl came back from searching for Merle alone, (Y/N) knew something had happened. He shoved past everyone to get to a guard tower and be alone. Everyone left him that way, for the most part. (Y/N), of course, dared to lean in the doorway of the guard tower he had chosen, staring at him thoughtfully.
"Hey," she greeted simply.
"Go away."
She shook her head and moved inside just slightly. "What happened out there?"
"Nothin'," he spat. "Can't ya leave it alone?"
"I'm not leaving you alone, not like this," was her instant reply. "Are you okay?"
His voice cracked when he said: "Piss off."
"Where's Merle?"
With that question, he let out a small sob. (Y/N)'s heart broke as she heard it. She'd never meant to push. For a second, she was sure he was just pissed, but now she realised that he was hurting. Something had happened to Merle and he was in immense pain.
She crossed the room and sat on his cot beside him. "Oh God, Daryl, I'm so sorry."
He cried harder, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook and (Y/N) drew him into a hug despite her initial instinct to run. She couldn't let him go through this-- not alone.
After a hesitant moment, he hugged her back, drowning his tears in her jacket. She held him tightly, running a hand through his hair.
"I know it's rough," she said quietly. "I know it hurts and right now it feels like it won't ever stop. It might not. But you're gonna be okay. Merle went through hell and back for you, just like you would have for him. He did it so you could be here right now."
"Bastard," he spat just loud enough that she could hear.
(Y/N) snorted and nodded. "Yeah, you'll feel like that, too." She paused. "This is what it was like when Rick got shot. I know it's not the same, Daryl, but I understand what you're feeling right now."
He hesitated to speak, the words catching in his throat when he finally came up with them. Well, it. It was one word, one question.
"Stay?"
(Y/N) knew that Daryl was hating himself right now, hating how pitiful that sounded. It nearly broke her heart to hear from him, something so soft and so broken. She hugged him tight, vowing to herself not to let go until he was ready.
"I'm gonna be here until you get sick of me. I promise."
The prison fell. Of course it did. They could never have anything good for longer than a few months. That was how the world was.
Daryl, (Y/N), and Beth managed to stay together, to stay afloat for a while. But then they lost Beth. God, that almost killed Daryl. (Y/N) was dragging him along more often than not, trying to convince him to keep going. When she mentioned that Rick was still out there, that Carl and Judith were still out there, he picked up the pace.
The Claimers almost killed her when they ran into them. Somehow, though, their leader was convinced she could be useful. Daryl and (Y/N) joined their ranks, though regretfully. They both detested the way they looked at (Y/N), like she was a piece of meat. It made her skin crawl and Daryl glared at everyone who even dared to glance her way.
They kept calling him her boyfriend. He didn't correct them, maybe thinking it would be safer for her if they thought so. Maybe he just wanted them to.
"Look," Daryl was telling her one night when the others were asleep, "we're gonna find 'em. Bound to run into 'em sometime."
"You don't know that," she muttered.
It had been days and she was losing hope by the minute. Her brother, her nephew, and her niece were out there and she couldn't find them. God knew if they were even alive. The only thing she could be sure of was Daryl, sitting thigh-to-thigh on the ground next to her.
Daryl's presence had grounded her lately, especially on the more difficult days. But at some point she'd need more than just him, she thought. The longer they were out on the road, though, the more she started to consider that maybe he was it. Maybe he was the only family she had left. She wanted her family more than anything, but if they couldn't find them, if it was just her and Daryl, maybe she could still survive.
"You'd go through hell and back for Rick," Daryl said suddenly, breaking her thoughts. "That's what you said when you went to go find him."
(Y/N) nodded hesitantly. "I still would-- hell, I have."
"I would, too," he admitted. "He ain't my brother, not like he is yours, but I'd go through hell for him. We ain't gonna stop until we find him, I swear."
She soaked in his words like they were the only thing keeping her alive. In the silence of the Claimers' home for the night, she leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. Reminded of that day so many weeks ago when he'd lost Merle, she was sure he would tense up. But he didn't react. He didn't even flinch.
Daryl let (Y/N) lean on him that night and every night after that, no matter the looks they got from the Claimers. She needed it, that he knew. But what she didn't know was that he needed it a little, too.
He kept his promise when they found Rick.
The Claimers turned on them faster than they'd welcomed them, that was for sure. Before (Y/N) could process, she was being pulled to the ground by a man twice her size.
They circled Daryl, beating the hell out of him. She screamed and screamed, shoving at her captor, but he wouldn’t budge. The horror that ran cold through her blood when the man held her down almost killed her instantly. Her shirt was ripped off and she could hear Rick, Michonne, and Daryl yelling at them to stop. Daryl almost broke through the circle trying to get to her.
His hands went to her jeans while she kicked and screamed. (Y/N) risked a glance at Carl across the road. His eyes met hers, terrified.
Goosebumps pelted her arms. She couldn't let him see this-- couldn't let him experience it. Oh god, anything but that. Anything but that, please.
(Y/N) didn't know when Rick bit the man's throat out, nor when Daryl found the strength to overpower the mob. All she knew was that the man above her was dragged off her and stabbed through the face by her pissed off older brother, who was practically bathed in blood.
Daryl ran to her side while Michonne helped Carl, who was still shaking. He pulled off his shirt and gave it to her. Unable to speak, it was all she could do to keep sane, putting that thing on.
"Carl--" she stammered. "Is Carl okay?"
"He's okay, they're all okay," Daryl told her quickly.
She looked behind him, where Michonne had the boy. With a nod at each other, the woman with the katana took Carl to the car, where he was out of sight from (Y/N).
The moment he was gone, (Y/N) burst into tears.
It was like her worst nightmare had almost come true. She was moments away from being violated in the most despicable way she could imagine-- and in front of her nephew. In front of the boy she held so dear, the boy she'd spent so long protecting. He almost had to watch that happen.
She'd barely held the tears back in front of him, but her inner motherly instinct told her that she shouldn't. It had kicked in ever since Lori died. She was one of the only women Carl had to take care of him. Thank god for Michonne.
Daryl shocked himself, Rick, and (Y/N) when he hugged her. (Y/N) expected to flinch away, but instead found herself sinking into his arms.
She was shaking uncontrollably, unable to stop her tears. He held her, rubbing her back like it was second nature. He couldn't understand her terror, not entirely, but he knew that she was terrified. The best thing he could do was be there.
"Are you okay?" She asked suddenly, her voice breaking. She looked up and put a hand on his face, examining his wounds. "They hurt you."
He shook his head. "It ain't bad. He touch you?"
(Y/N) swallowed hard and shook her head. "Didn't get far."
He hugged her again, tighter this time. If Rick hadn't kill that son of a bitch, Daryl sure as hell would have. He would have given him worse than death. Far worse.
They took a while to recuperate. Daryl stole one of the dead guy's shirts and (Y/N) kept his. Their reunion with the others was long awaited, but it wasn't as joyful as they had imagined. (Y/N) didn't care. At least they were all together-- well, some of them. It hurt that the rest of their family was still missing.
That night, (Y/N) passed out in the car with Carl long before the others.
Outside, Rick and Daryl had a heart to heart.
"You're my brother," Rick told him, shocking him. "In more ways than one."
Daryl turned bright red at that and looked away, daring a glance toward the car. "What's that s'posed to mean?"
"I think you know," Rick teased. He went serious after that. “I get why you did it now.”
Daryl frowned. "Did what?"
"All of it. Why you went lookin' for her in Atlanta, why you didn't leave after Merle went missing," he continued. He looked over at him with a stricken expression, finally completely understanding. "You love her."
The words hit Daryl like a brick wall.
Okay, maybe he had feelings for (y/N), but love? That was a little strong. A lot strong. Hearing it out of her brother's mouth almost made him want to run into the woods.
He looked down at his feet, mind running at a million miles a minute.
Love her? He didn't know.
Sure, he would do anything for her, that he'd already established. She was different from the others, warmer and more familiar. She had been since day one, when she was the only one who didn't pretend like he didn't exist. (Y/N) was different and he had feelings for her. That he understood.
Did he love her?
He was starting to think he did. He'd done everything in his power to keep her with him, to keep her alive. He'd done that for everyone in their little family. But with her, he wanted her at his side all the time. He wanted her right there with him through everything and she was almost always there, regardless of whether he voiced that one.
Daryl Dixon did love (Y/N) Grimes, he was starting to realise.
"She loves you, too," Rick said, breaking him from his thoughts.
His eyes widened. "She tell ya that?"
He laughed. "No, man, my sister hardly tells me anything anymore. But I can see it in both of you. She's never leaned on anybody as much as she has you, not since we were kids."
"I--" Daryl hesitated for a moment. "I lean on her, too. She's different."
"You're damn right she is. And you better treat her like that, too," Rick warned, lifting an accusing finger.
He raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright. Enough with the big brother talk. I won't hurt 'er. You know I won't."
"Yeah," he sighed. "Still had to tell you. Part of my job."
Daryl took a deep breath. "Seriously, ya think she--?" he left it unspoken, not sure how he felt in asking her older brother about it.
"Pretty damn sure," he laughed. "Heard her tellin' Carl the other day that if you took your shirt off to dig graves anymore she was gonna die."
He groaned immediately and buried his head in his hands, making his best friend laugh. "So, everybody knows but me?"
"Pretty much," Rick admitted. "Cept maybe (Y/N). She doesn't know how you feel. You're both a little oblivious. We had bets goin' for a while, but you both took so long that we all lost."
Daryl shook his head. "Y'all are assholes."
"Oh, we know."
When they got moving the next day, Daryl kept his pace equal with (Y/N)'s, staying at her side all day. He couldn't bear to leave her alone for a moment, not after that night. They watched with amusement as the others bantered on the way to TERMINUS. They joined in occasionally, but (Y/N) was pretty quiet. She was still recovering from the shock, so no one pushed her.
As they walked through a particularly rough patch of woods, staying off the railroad tracks directly, Daryl got a little bit of a dumb thought.
Walking beside (Y/N), he tentatively reached out for her hand. She almost jumped when she felt him take it, but smiled and let him. Daryl felt like a teenager, beyond red in the face. Luckily, they were walking behind the others, so they didn't notice.
That night, the other three were asleep long before Daryl and (Y/N).
"Don't wanna sleep," she admitted to him after a while. "Scared I'll see it again, last night. It just keeps playin' over and over in my head. What if he'd gotten what he wanted?"
"He didn't. I wouldn't let him," Daryl said firmly.
(Y/N) inhaled shakily. "I know, I just-- it still freaks me out. Can't hardly sleep."
He motioned for her to move closer and she did. He let her lean on his shoulder, as they'd done when they were with the Claimers. He knew it would calm her down, at least a little. It would help her breathe at most. Daryl did notice that Rick, who was definitely pretending to be asleep, opened an eye at the movement. Daryl glared at him and he went back to his pretending.
"Through hell and back," he muttered.
"Hm?" (Y/N) asked drowsily from his side.
"I'd go through hell and back for anyone we know," he admitted. "Been that way since Merle."
"They'd all do the same for you," she said in a quiet reassurance, not quite understanding his point.
He hadn't gotten to his point yet, but he was pretty sure it would kill him.
"I'd do it for any of 'em," he said again, but continued. "But I'd do it twice for you."
Daryl didn't dare look down at (Y/N) after he said it, but he could feel her sit and up and search his face for any sign of amusement or lies.
"I'd do it as many times as I had to," he finished.
"Daryl Dixon, did you go all soft on me?" She asked gently.
He shook his head with a sigh. "Shut up."
(Y/N0 reached up and moved his head to face her, her touch gentler than ever. "I would go through hell and back if you asked me to," she agreed.
"I wouldn't ask ya," he shot back.
She shook her head. "You wouldn't have to."
Leaning forward, (Y/N) Grimes gave Daryl Dixon the most valuable thing she had to give-- her affection. She kissed him soft and slow, letting herself sink into his hold. Daryl was almost breathless. She had her hands in his hair while his arms were wrapped tightly around her.
“Yes!” A quiet voice cheered. “Michonne, you owe me two candy bars.”
“Goddammit, you couldn’t have waited two days?” Michonne hissed at the kissing pair.
They pulled apart instantly and Daryl looked more embarrassed than he ever had been. Rick and Michonne were beaming and Carl was giggling, especially at his dad and Michonne’s bet.
“Carl Grimes, you go to bed right this minute,” (Y/N) instructed.
He laughed but curled. “Okay. ‘Night, Aunt (Y/N). Night, Uncle Daryl.”
‘Uncle Daryl’ mumbled something incoherent and the group burst into another set of giggles, unable to help themselves. Despite themselves, even (Y/N) and Daryl smiled a little.
They had already gone through hell and back for their big brothers. They'd both go through hell again for Rick, in fact, it was almost guaranteed they would have to one day.
But for each other? They'd go through anything and everything without question.
Through hell, they promised each other. Through hell and back.
Summary: Poe Dameron doesn’t like early mornings, especially the ones that have you leaving him.
Requested by Anon: Can I get uhhhhh soft, fluffy Poe x reader? Maybe sleepy cuddles? Sleepy cuddles are good. And sleepy kisses
Key: (Y/N) - your name
Warnings: F L U F F, cursing, BB8 is a little shit who i love with my whole heart, mentions of sleep deprivation
Word Count: 756
Note: hi im on a star wars kick and poe dameron owns my ass
You sighed when the alarm went off.
In the pitch black of your quarters, you could hear a muffled curse from the other side of the bed. You reached over to turn the incessant beeping off and then began to sit up, but strong arms wrapped around you, stopping you instantly.
“Sun isn’t even up yet,” he muttered into your shoulder, warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
You laughed a little at his voice, which was still hoarse with sleep. “War doesn’t wait for the sun, Poe,” you sighed, letting him rest his head in the crook of your neck.
Poe Dameron was all for resisting the First Order, but if it required that his partner be up and out of bed before sunrise, he’d rather die. You’d come back from a mission just two days ago and he wasn’t ready for you to go back to work. He’d finally gotten to sleep decently with you at his side and now even that was being taken from him.
He wrapped around you like an Ewok, his dark curls tickling your neck.
You laughed and held him close. “Poe,” you warned teasingly, “I have to get up.”
“Stay,” he asked gently, pressing a half-assed kiss to your cheek.
You turned in his arms to get a good look at him, still sleepy and half out of it. Running a hand through his messy hair, you couldn’t help but smile when he leaned into your hand.
“Five more minutes,” he begged, kissing the palm of your hand.
You shook your head a little. “I can’t. The General needs me--”
“The General can fight me,” he argued.
You giggled at his slurred words, but quieted when he put a finger to your lips. He gestured to the charge station in the corner, where BB8 hummed, still in sleep mode.
If the little droid woke up, Poe would never get back to sleep.
“You’ll wake the baby,” he joked.
You rolled your eyes. “You are such a dad.”
“You--” He kissed your forehead. “Love--” Then your nose. “Me.” Then your lips.
With another laugh, you kissed him back, noticing that he had a bit of stubble coming in. “Yeah, I do. Even if you’re an asshole.”
A little whir sounded from the other end of the room.
Poe groaned instantly and buried his face in your shoulder again while you laughed quietly.
“Look what you did,” he accused.
BB8 chirped a ‘good morning’ and rolled over to the foot of the bed.
“Morning, buddy,” you cooed. “Sleep well?”
He beeped happily and made a leap onto the bed, landing right in between you and Poe. He snuggled into the space like a little kid, nudging at Poe, who looked falsely irritated. You knew the truth; he loved that little droid almost as much as he loved you.
“Yeah, yeah, g’morning, bed hogger,” he huffed.
BB8 whirred indignantly.
“Alright, boys, it’s too early for this,” you chided.
Poe gave you a look. “Too early to be up. Let’s sleep.”
Before you could reply, BB8 was shaking his little head and beeping curse words that he definitely should not have known. You shot Poe a knowing glare, which he chose to ignore.
“I know the General needs (Y/N), but I need (Y/N), too,” Poe argued with the little guy.
“Aw--” you started to say.
He interrupted you. “(Y/N)’s warm.”
“Well, thanks,” you snorted. “Love you, too.”
He smiled warmly, his gaze meeting yours. Despite the early hour, you found yourself melting. He really did look at you like you were his whole world sometimes.
“You know I do,” he murmured before kissing you softly.
If droids could gag, BB8 would have. He took to shoving you toward the edge of the bed, whirring and beeping about how the General was going to be furious if you were late again today. (Poe had more than succeeded in his efforts the day before.)
As you made your way to the door, you heard Poe mumble a half-hearted goodbye.
Before BB8 dragged you out, you stopped by the bed and leaned down to kiss his forehead.
He smiled sleepily, his eyes closed again to try and get a few more hours of shut-eye.
“I love you,” you whispered before you left.
Poe curled into the bed as the door shut behind you, the warmth of your lips lingering on his forehead. He would dream of you, he was sure, but he was more excited to wake up to you again.
Summary: (Y/N) is getting really sick of people assuming she agrees with her Death Eater parents. Turns out, there’s one Slytherin who’s in the exact same spot.
Requested by Anon: Draco malfoy x fem reader who is hufflepuff. Some people were harassing her bc her parents are death eaters. Draco helps her and shes all like what the fuck?
Key: (Y/N) - your name, (L/N) - last name
Warnings: bullying, threats, mentions of killing/death, forced tattoo acquisition, magical terrorism
Word Count: 948
Beta-ed by: @artirox !!
Note: hi this one ended very quickly because i just wanted to finish it but i hope its good!! Haven’t written harry potter in a while lmao
It was just another day at Hogwarts-- another day of pretending like there wasn’t a war around the corner.
Hufflepuff (Y/N) (L/N) was making a beeline for potions, practically sprinting up the stairs as the minutes ticked by. She was going to be late-- very late. Simply thinking about the detention Professor Snape would have in mind made her sick to her stomach.
(Y/N) had never gotten detention before in her life but of course the one time she had to be late, it was for Potions. She was screwed.
She whirled around a corner and slammed right into someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. She moved to skirt around the person.
They stopped her with a harsh tone. “What did you say to me, Death Eater?”
(Y/N)’s heart sank into her stomach and she finally looked up. The solitary Gryffindor was, apparently, not solitary and had two friends with him. She swallowed nervously, clutching her books to her chest.
“I said I was sorry,” she muttered, unable to meet his gaze.
“Sorry for running into me or sorry for all the innocent people your parents have killed?”
Very suddenly, (Y/N) felt like puking.
Ever since the rest of the school found out that her parents were Death Eaters, she couldn’t catch a break. People avoided her like the plague and if they didn’t avoid her, they harassed her. She was likely the only hateable Hufflepuff in Hogwarts history. She was a disgrace.
No one bothered to ask what she thought about Death Eaters. They assumed she was with her parents-- and they couldn’t have been more wrong.
(Y/N) tried to walk past, but the other two Gryffindors got in her way.
“Please let me through,” she whispered weakly. “I’m going to be late.”
“Oh, you’re going to be a lot more than late,” the boy spat, stepping closer.
She stepped away and went for her wand, but a voice from behind the boys stopped her in her tracks.
“Expelliarmus!”
The Gryffindor boy’s wand went flying out of his hand, clattering to the floor.
(Y/N) had to lean around the boys to see who had done it and gaped at the sight of a platinum blond Slytherin-- one she knew well.
“Leave,” Draco Malfoy spat.
The Gryffindor grimaced. “I should’ve known you sick freaks would stick together.”
Draco stormed right up to him, jabbing his wand up to the boy’s throat. “If you don’t want to end up in the hospital wing, you should leave.”
He paused for a moment, considering the Slytherin’s warning. The boys next to him were wide-eyed, knowing that if they made a move, Draco would fire some horrible spell on their friend. So, the Gryffindor boy nodded slightly and backed away.
The three departed swiftly, though one of them almost ran right into (Y/N) as they did.
When they were gone, (Y/N) looked back to Draco, her eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t meet her gaze for a moment, tucking his wand away again.
“Are you alright?” he finally asked, voice almost a whisper.
She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated.
The sick feeling she’d gotten still remained, even though the boys were gone. It was coming from being around him, she realised.
She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be saved by Draco Malfoy, the local Voldemort loyalist, the one whose parents were so cruel that nobody could stand them. Her reputation was bad as it was but as soon as word got around that she was friends with Draco--
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said a little more harshly than she intended. “If you did that-- if you’re doing this because of some Death Eater support thing, then stop. I don’t want anything to do with them or my parents.”
He blinked a few times, frowning. (Y/N) shifted on her feet awkwardly before he spoke.
“I didn’t do it because of your parents.”
“You--” her brain short circuited for a moment, an ashamed blush coating her cheeks. “Oh. Why’d you do it then?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, almost looking sheepish-- Draco Malfoy? Sheepish?
That was certainly a new one.
“They shouldn’t assume you’re like them-- that you think like them or agree with them,” he said quietly, his face resolved.
Meanwhile, (Y/N) felt her resolve melt away.
Draco Malfoy had protected her because she didn’t agree with her Death Eater parents. Because something in him, some little part of him didn’t either.
“Oh.”
He shook his head and continued. “You, uh, you have Potions, right? Same class as me. I’ll walk with you. Snape won’t give you detention if you’re with me.”
She approached cautiously when he motioned for her to follow and soon fell into step beside him, immensely relieved. Not only would she be left alone by those Gryffindors, but she wouldn’t get the first detention of her life either. Maybe she’d judged him a little more harshly than she intended.
Maybe she’d done the same thing to him that others were doing to her.
(Y/N) lifted her gaze to glance at him as they walked, her voice low. “Did they-- did they make you get it?” She asked, gesturing vaguely to his arm.
He flinched and nodded. “You?”
“Yes,” she answered coldly. “And I hate it. I hate how it feels.”
“Me too,” he muttered.
They walked in silence to Potions that day and every day after that. It certainly didn’t help (Y/N)’s reputation, but it did help her fear and it helped Draco. At the very least, they would have each other to stave off the dark.
Summary: Loki, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three are on another hunting expedition, where they find themselves hunting down a wolf-like beast terrorizing a local village. Left behind once again, Loki’s wounds are tended to by a mysterious figure.
Requested by Anon: Can you write a fic where an injured Loki is tended to by an also injured reader? The reader is bleeding a bit worse than Loki though, and refuses to rest bc they know who he is an don’t trust him to not slit their throat while they sleep lol. Bonus if they’ve got the power to shift into a giant wolf?
Key: (Y/N) - your name
Warnings: minor injuries, magic curses, mentions of death, mentions of mind control, mentions of committing a lot of murder
Word Count: 1,139
Note: funny enough i already had a concept for a shifter!reader when i got this request lol. This is kind of shitty but oh well!
“There it is!”
“Over there!”
“Quick, after it!”
Loki, Prince of Asgard, chased after his older brother and his four comrades. Through the trees they weaved, following a shadow through the forest. The shadow was far faster than they were, but Loki’s magic saw to it that a faint green trail of massive footprints was there to lead the way.
This-- this was the very reason Loki didn’t enjoy hunting expeditions.
They were savage ordeals; pursuing a beast to hunt down, skin, and bring home wasn’t exactly his idea of a good day. However, Thor would never take no for an answer.
So, Loki went along with it this time, though he didn’t refrain from complaining about it.
This hunt was a little different. They had been summoned by a small village on a planet he didn’t care to remember the name of. The people there were being terrorized by a vile, wolf-like beast, which they could not catch, no matter how many men they had. They hoped, rather foolishly, that a pair of godly brothers and their friends would have better luck.
It had been 3 days. This was the first time they were even seeing the beast.
The creature was a mess of dark grey fur, streaking through the forest faster than any human could move. Unfortunately for it, gods were stubborn.
With a wave of his hand, Loki found himself running just as quickly as the creature.
He matched its pace, coming up behind it as it attempted to speed up.
“Loki! Be careful!”
Loki ignored his brother’s exclamation, not realising that he was speaking of something other than the creature.
The trickster god tumbled into a camouflaged ditch, one that sank into the very depths of the earth. It broke open into a deep cavern with a thundering stream.
Loki barely got a look at his surroundings before the world started to fade away. He could only watch helplessly as the shadows of his brother and his friends passed over the cavern, leaving him behind-- again.
Loki awoke to find that he wasn’t alone.
He tried to jump up, to defend himself, but even sitting up made a pained gasp leave his throat. All he could manage was to back up against the cold wall of the cavern he’d quite literally tripped into.
On the other side of the cavern was not what he expected.
It was...a person.
A person with an arrow sticking out of their thigh.
You winced as you pulled the offending object out, though you bit your lip to keep from making any obvious noise. As soon as it was gone, you took to dressing the wound, sparing a sharp glance at the man across the cavern.
Loki eyed you with a frown, gaze drifting from your face to the arrow.
He gaped a little when he recognised it. That was one of Sif’s-- he’d bet his life on it. But as to why one of Sif’s arrows was in a human’s leg…
“Your friends have good aim,” you hissed at him.
He blinked a few times. “They’re not my friends.” Then, he frowned. “But I’ve never known Sif to fire on an innocent.”
“Far from innocent,” you snorted, settling back onto the wall.
For a long moment, he simply stared. You waited for him to put two and two together. It wasn’t as if there were many things his friends-- or his not friends, you supposed-- were hunting in these woods. And apparently Sif didn’t miss.
“You’re the beast,” he finally said.
You rolled your eyes. “Took you long enough. You should rest, your highness. You hit your head rather hard.”
“You…” he tilted his head. “You’ve been cursed?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always been like this,” you said with a shrug.
Loki shook his head. “You know who I am. How?”
“Everyone knows the Asgardians around here. They practically still worship you lot,” was your answer. You grimaced. “Except me. I know about Midgard. What happened there.”
He flinched visibly, which made you raise an eyebrow. “Don’t remind me.”
“Not fond of getting your ass kicked?” you asked.
“It wasn’t my choice,” he spat.
It was your turn to frown. “Wasn’t your choice? How many people died on that planet because of what you did?”
“You don’t know what happened,” he growled. “You don’t know half of it.”
You paused, thinking. “Someone forced you to do it then? Had you at sword-point? Took control of you?”
He crossed his arms and sunk deeper into himself. “Twisted my mind. Forced me to do the unspeakable. Not unlike you’ve done to the people of this world.”
“Touché,” you muttered.
“You don’t have any control over it, do you?” he asked.
You snarled at that. “What do you care? You came here to kill me.”
“I was forced to come here to hunt-- it’s my brother’s favourite hobby,” Loki drawled, irritated. “And I know what it looks like.”
You shook off his comments. “You need sleep.”
“So do you and I don’t see you settling in for the night.”
“I’m not fond of getting my throat slit while I sleep,” you shot back with a fierce glare. “No offense, but I don’t exactly trust you.”
He snorted. “Then we can agree on something.”
For the better part of an hour, the cavern was washed in silence again. He would spare a few wary glances, but you hardly looked at him. You only looked toward the entrance, cautious as ever. The hunters would come back around soon, if they were smart, and they’d likely be looking for Loki, too. Maybe. He didn’t seem too sure about that fact, if his attitude about his brother and company was anything to go by.
“I could help you.”
You nearly jumped at the sound, instead focusing your shock into turning to look at him incredulously. “What?”
“Magic is where my strength lies,” he clarified half-heartedly. “I could find a way to break the curse, you could get me out of here, and then we’re even.”
You squinted at him. “I already helped you. You don’t have to stay. You could leave whenever you want. Why would you help me?”
Loki simply shrugged, as if he didn’t have an answer. But the both of you knew perfectly well what his answer was. He knew what it was like. He knew what it was like and he hated to watch someone else lose control of their life. He hated having to watch them commit the atrocities that were all too familiar to him.
“Okay,” you said eventually, in a whisper. “If you can do it-- I’ll take it.”
Despite himself, Loki smiled. “What’s your name?”
“(Y/N),” you told him. “But if you start using it, I reserve the right to use yours.”
Summary: Step by step, Bucky Barnes was learning to put himself back together. Luckily, he’s not alone. He has Sam Wilson, a bastard cat, and you, of course.
Requested by nklnnd (AO3): Since requests are open again would it be too much to ask for an after endgame bucky/reader. Like bucky is trying to piece his life back together without Steve in a new world and his roommate/friend helps him. I don't know I just love the cute fluffy domestic moments. Ps: I adore your writing. Feel free to do whatever you want with the prompt, if you like it that is, I have complete faith in your abilities! :)
Key: (Y/N) - your name
Warnings: the Snap, mentions of death, depression, depressive episodes, mentions of isolation, touches of trauma, recovery process but written badly
Word Count: 1,469 (nice)
Note: i hope it’s domestic enough?? I played loose and fast with the ‘step by step’ theme i just really wanted to get this done LMAO
Step One: Survive.
Returning to Manhattan after defeating Thanos was more painful than it should’ve been. Days before, he was dead, so you think he would’ve been overjoyed. But in reality, he wished he was dead again.
Loss weighed upon his shoulders heavier than it ever had. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was gone. His Steve, his best friend Steve.
Bucky Barnes was alone.
The Avengers knew this. They thought they could help him. So, they set him up in an apartment in Brooklyn with a roommate: you. They hoped you could take care of him, help him piece his life back together.
But you weren’t sure what was left to put together. To be honest, it would probably be better for him to start anew. But he wasn’t ready for that either.
“James?”
You entered his room one quiet Saturday morning. You hadn’t seen him for a full 24 hours, which was worrying. Your concerns were confirmed when you discovered a pitch black room and the shuffling form of the Winter Soldier still in his bed.
You sighed and spoke quietly, sure that his head was pounding. “Bad day?”
He didn’t reply, but he didn’t have to.
You’d only lived together for about two weeks, but he’d already had quite a few of these days. He would shut himself away from the world, from you especially, and wouldn’t come out for at least the rest of the day. Yesterday was a bad one, too. You hoped this wouldn’t become a regular occurance.
You moved to sit on the edge of his bed. “Can I get you anything?”
There was a pause before he shook his head just slightly. You bit your lip as you looked at him. You could leave him be, let him simmer until he felt better...or maybe there was a better way to do this.
“Do you want company?” you asked hesitantly.
Step Two: Don’t isolate.
The pause was longer this time, but he finally nodded.
You scooted up the bed so that you could rest your back against the wall and sit right next to him. Carefully, you pulled your knees up to your chest and pulled your phone out of your pocket, making sure that you weren’t touching him. He hummed gratefully before the two of you sank into silence.
Step Three: Let others in.
On a good day, you and Bucky would have breakfast together before you went to work. Mostly you talked about when you’d be home and how he was doing, then you’d leave.
You weren’t entirely sure what he did all day without you there, but after a muttered movie reference, you realised he was watching Netflix religiously. Once you found out about that, you realised that you probably should get him something else so he wasn’t as painfully bored.
“I’m home!” You called one day, entering the apartment.
You found him on the couch with a show playing on the TV, which he paused as soon as you entered. “How’d your day go?” he asked quietly.
“Meh, same old, same old,” you replied cheerily, flopping onto the couch beside him. “I got you something.”
He furrowed his eyebrows and sat up, his gaze questioning. Before he had to ask, you held out a small, shiny card that had his name on the back of it and some unrecognisable logo on the front. He flipped it around to look at it, but still looked confused.
“There’s this, um, library down the street,” you told him. “I figured TV is gonna get old sometime, so I got you a card for it.”
His eyes widened and he nodded. “Thanks,” he finally said, almost wistfully.
“Yeah, of course. Just let me know when you wanna go and I can show you the way there,” you said with a smile. “It’s a really nice, quiet place. I think you’ll like it, James.”
“Bucky,” he corrected. “Only one that called me James was my mom.”
You blinked dumbly a few times before nodding. “Bucky.”
Step Four: Get into a routine.
Bucky took to the library like a fish to water. He said he wasn’t much of a book guy, but he was clearly a liar because every time he went, he checked out more books than before. On weekends, the two of you would make it a group outing, but while you were at work if he found himself lacking reading material, he would make a quick trip. The lady at the front desk already knew both of your names after a few weeks and was one of the few people Bucky actually felt like talking to regularly.
It was a massive relief, seeing as he hardly ever left the apartment otherwise.
His bad days happened less and less often, but when they did happen he was content to curl up next to you in his bed as you read your own book silently. The first time he put his head in your lap, you nearly jumped out of your skin. The next few times, however, you got into the habit of running your fingers through his hair.
Step Five: Find comfort in the little things.
And then came Alpine.
You woke up one blissful Saturday morning to find Bucky already awake and on the couch. You were about to say something about how much of an improvement that was, but then you spotted a puddle of white on his lap.
It was a cat.
“Uh…” You didn’t even know what to say.
“He climbed in through my window and he won’t leave,” Bucky said instantly, his own eyes wide. “(Y/N), what do I do?”
You were shocked silent. “I...don’t know.”
“I’ve never had a cat, is this how you get a cat?” he whispered frantically.
Apparently, it was. Bucky dubbed him Alpine and he became a permanent resident of the apartment.
He was a little bastard, but the both of you adored him. He usually slept in Bucky’s room, but he was always up and about when you woke up, purring as he invaded your personal space while you attempted to cook breakfast.
A day wasn’t complete without someone shouting; “Alpine, NO--”
Step Six: Reach out.
Slowly but surely, Bucky was putting himself back together. Or maybe he was becoming someone else-- you didn’t know. But you liked Bucky as you knew him, as he was now.
Through libraries and breakfasts, cats and Netflix, the two of you became inseparable. Bucky Barnes was quite possibly the best friend you’d ever had. You would never admit that to anyone who asked, though, as Bucky nearly died under even the slightest compliment. He was still figuring out positive reinforcement.
He still struggled with Instagram and the news often gave him a headache, but his reintegration was going smoothly. In fact, he’d made a few more friends other than you and Alpine.
“And then he fell on his face like an idiot--”
The laughter from the living room made you smile as you reentered the room, carrying three specially made sandwiches.
“Sorry we don’t have a decent dinner,” you muttered as you passed them to the boys.
Sam Wilson, ever a sweetheart, just shook his head. “Hey, sandwiches are great. I wasn’t planning on any dinner, so…”
“Sandwiches are perfect,” Bucky repeated.
You sat down on the couch in between them, gently shoving Alpine aside when he tried to get a bite of your dinner. Sam snorted at the sight while Bucky rolled his eyes fondly.
“Dibs on picking the show,” you said as you turned on the TV.
“Rude,” Sam said, mocking offense. “Age before beauty, (Y/N)!”
Bucky lifted his legs to rest on top of your lap. “In that case, I get to pick.”
“Old man,” you teased, elbowing his side. “If you’re both gonna be so whiny about it, then we should make this a regular thing. New person picks every week.”
“Deal,” Sam agreed instantly.
Bucky grinned. “Only if it doesn’t mess with your work schedule.”
You waved him off. “A little late night won’t kill me.”
“Okie dokie,” he said, finally agreeing. You turned bright red when he leaned over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best.”
You desperately tried to ignore the way Sam waggled his eyebrows. Luckily, Bucky didn’t seem to see it. He snatched the remote from your hands, citing his age once more as Sam choked on his food when you smacked his chest.
As Bucky put on some comedy, you snuggled deeper into the couch, smiling to yourself.
One step at a time had worked wonders. He was taking bigger steps every day and, to be honest, so were you. Recovery was a slow process, but it was worth every moment just to see him smile.
