#the dixon chronicles

[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

©celtic-crossbow 2024. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.

Chapter 20

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; gunshot wound; injuries; blood; allusions to child abuse; allusions to SA; poorly written smut; oral (fem rec); fingering; p in v; panic attacks

A/N: Dear gods, this one is long and full of a million feels! This will be the last chapter for a long while. It will be on hold in favor of finishing Blood Ties but then, it will be finished before any other endeavors. The song I chose for the later part of this chapter is one I recommend listening to while reading it. The lyrics and soft music helped shape this and I hope you like the end result.

Daryl was dizzy. Beyond relieved to have you latched to him like a koala but mostly just physically dizzy. Still, he couldn’t seem to summon the desire to let go. You were whimpering against his good shoulder, trembling something fierce. “We gotta go. S’not safe here.” It took another moment for your legs to begin their descent, your body sliding against his in a way that forced a grunt out of him while his face flushed. Not the time for that particular part of his anatomy to wake up. Clearing his throat, he loosened his hold and shifted his hips away from you. “Place’ll be full’a the dead soon. Gotta go while ev’ryone’s distracted.”

You nodded, nearly glancing back to where Todd had fallen, just for one more fragment of affirmation that he was gone, truly gone. 

“He ain’t gonna hurtcha no more.” Daryl pressed a palm against the small of your back, and you responded, moving with him toward the door. He stuck his head out first, internally mapping a way to safety before he even thought of letting you follow. Offering his hand, you took it without a single ounce of hesitation.

You could hardly believe you were really outside. With Daryl. There was no time to revel in the victory, however. It was instant walker-dodging, trying to make it into the forest and out of sight before the living threats realized you had escaped. There would be hell to pay once they had gathered their bearings. You could only hope that you were all back behind the prison gates before that happened. 

Daryl weaved through the forest with a skillful ease that you envied, though you noticed he was beginning to flag after only a few moments. His focus seemed to dwindle, nearly leading you headlong into a cluster of walkers before you tugged him to a stop behind a tree. 

Pressed tightly together, chest to chest, you got your first good look at the archer. He was gasping and slick with sweat, perhaps from the run but you were hardly even winded. There was a pallor to his skin that had worry slithering around in your gut like a constrictor, weaving its way into your chest the more you scrutinized his state. 

“Y’okay?” He lifted his chin toward you and gestured toward his own face. You hadn’t really thought of how horrible you must look, beaten bloody in a revealing set of lingerie. Hopefully he couldn’t see your blush around the bruising. 

It wouldn’t have bothered you before his introduction into your life. Hell, it didn’t bother you. It had been your job, your sole purpose. You were molded to believe that you only existed for men to touch and ogle and use. Your time at the prison with kind people you had thought extinct had shown you otherwise,

“Where are we meeting up with everyone?” You leaned around the tree, the shuffling of leaves and snapping of twigs growing further away along with the symphony of groans and snarls. Three stragglers were still too close for the two of you to safely move without alerting the majority. While Daryl could traipse the landscape like a ghost, you may as well set off fireworks with each step. The hunter remained quiet. You only assumed he saw something you didn’t and tucked yourself back against the tree. He was gnawing on the side of his thumb, seemingly avoiding your quizzical stare. “Daryl?”

“Need to find a place for the night.” He was deflecting. 

“Where’s Rick? Carol?” Your eyes narrowed, suspicious. He leaned out much as you had moments before and gave you a nod. 

“Let’s go this way.” He took a step to pass you, but you caught him around his middle. The archer heaved a sigh and dropped his head. “They ain’t with me.” You blanched. 

“You came alone?” It came out higher than you’d intended, prompting a stern shushing from Daryl. Lowering your voice to an aggressive whisper, you continued. “Why would you do that? You were—oh god, Daryl, you were hurt!”

“M’fine. Let’s get—”

“You shouldn’t be here. Not alone. I’m not worth it. I’m not worth your life. I thought I made that clear.”

“Stop that shit! Ya are worth it!” Daryl clapped back, stepping back into your space. You flinched. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, so he held up his hands and put some space between the two of you. “You’re worth it, Y/N. Anyone that tells ya diff’rent can come talk to me.” He added softly, shifting his gaze with a nervous tapping of fingers against his hip. 

You swallowed hard around the sudden lump in your throat. Without the ability to speak at that moment, he would need to accept the jerky movement of your head as agreement. 

“Let’s go. Need to put some distance between us an’ them ‘fore nightfall.”

You were crouched behind the bush, not moving a single muscle. If you could possibly stop breathing, you would have. Daryl was in his element, crossbow leveled, eyes laser focused. You never got the chance to hunt with him. You were certain that, after this, you would never let him go without you again. 

There was so much to learn. The way he followed trails, the slightest disturbances on the forest floor you weren’t able to see. He knew what he was following, knew that it had an injury. All from something on the ground that looked like nothing more than a thin layer of leaves and sticks to you. 

The click swoosh of the crossbow still startled you but was easily brushed off. Shouldering his crossbow gingerly, Daryl retrieved the rabbit by the ears and returned to you, holding it up slightly as if seeking your approval. 

“Ain’t the turkey I was trackin’ but it’ll feed us.”

You beamed at him. “Bird or bunny, I don’t care. I’m just hungry.” You had eaten a little with the Governor but hardly enough to satiate the hunger that caused your stomach to cramp. Daryl hummed with a nod and looked around somewhat aimlessly. 

“Need to find someplace to hole up for the night. Gonna hafta go outta the way a lil’. They’ll be searchin’ the routes back to the prison.” 

“Do we even know the way back?” You asked without thinking. The look he shot you was almost comical. “Right. Stupid question.”

“C’mon.” 

The two of you walked for what felt like hours, your feet scratched and aching, the stockings catching and tearing on almost everything. The irony wasn’t lost on you, the first time he’d rescued you and where you were at that moment. Both times found you in skimpy attire and ending up without shoes. At least now, you weren’t afraid that he was set on raping or beating you. 

“Hang on.” You couldn’t take the discomfort for another second.  Daryl stopped immediately and looked back with concern that was quick to shift into something else, his cheeks reddening. You were shimmying off the garter belt entirely and discarding it along with the stockings, leaving only the bustier and thong. “Much better.”

“Didn’t, uh—didn’t grab anythin’ extra this time. Sorry.”

“You could always give me your underwear again.” You teased, watching the blush deepen and spread to his neck and ears. 

“Stop.” He grumbled. Turning on his heel, he took a step and paused, without looking back. “Do ya—if ya really need—”

“No.” You laughed, not at him but the situation. “Keep your drawers. I’m good.” The man grunted and continued on in front of you. If someone had told you all those weeks ago that you’d be goading a handsome man about his underwear, you would have laughed at them. Well, you probably wouldn’t have since at that point, you’d forgotten how to laugh. You would have been shocked to say the least. 

Everything was so vastly different now. New challenges and emotions to navigate your way through. The more profound of each of those being Daryl. Your feelings for him were strong and mostly unfamiliar. Desire, you’d felt that before, once upon a time. You could recall it from your life before. But you wanted him. In every way. 

Every way. 

Not just physically. And oh, did you want that part of him. This was heavier than that, so much deeper. A vast ocean that’s depths were terrifying but held beauty that called to you. Daryl was complex but beautiful. He was the first breath of spring as winter melted away, the scent of reawakenings and new life. He was that moment when the ominous darkness of a storm parted just enough for the blue sky to peer through. Dangerous, lethal but offering tenderness and safety behind his minaciousness. 

You wanted to know his heart, hold it and keep it safe. You wanted to see his soul, wanted him to bare it to you willingly and tell you his secrets, his inner wars that he had battled alone. You wanted to fight them for him and let him rest. You wanted to touch his scars, show him gentleness where someone had marked him with cruelty. 

But you would want forever. 

You weren’t what Daryl deserved. He was worthy of the world and you could only offer him a chasm, dark and damaged and unrepairable. 

You could want until the end of time. 

You were dismally prepared to do just that.  

God, he was exhausted. If walking for hours wasn’t enough reason, carrying himself as if he wasn’t suffering was wearing him down quickly. Hunger and thirst were turning his stomach inside out, but he couldn’t stop. He had to get you somewhere safe. Then he would rest. Actually rest. He still had water from the river and preparing the rabbit would be easy enough, allowing him to sit and give his tired, aching body a break. 

“Daryl?” 

He loved how his name rolled off your tongue. Focus, Dixon! “Hmm?”

“You, uh—are you okay? Really?” 

He hesitated. He didn’t want you to worry. Causing you more stress after what you’d been through would be selfish. He just needed to find shelter. Anything would do at this point as long he could barricade it and there could be a fire, either inside or out. The weather was mild, the changing of seasons from summer to autumn. He would only need the fire to cook the rabbit. 

“Daryl?”

Oh. You had asked him a question. “M’fine. Just tired.” You made a noncommittal sound, making it obvious that you knew something was off. Damnit. “Shoulder’s buggin’ me. Ain’t no big deal.”

“Maybe we should stop for a while.”

He had to admit, it was tempting. The problem was that if he stopped, he wasn’t sure he could get back up. “Nah, m’good.” As Dixon luck would have it, his body chose that moment to betray him. Daryl stumbled, the dizziness overwhelming him. He tried to lower to a knee, but as the ground shifted and drew closer, he tilted and his injured shoulder took the brunt of the fall. The desperate noise he heard was dampened beneath the onslaught of pain, the only indication that it was coming from him being the burn in his throat. 

“Daryl! Goddamnit, you’re bleeding.” 

Your face hovered over him, blurring in and out of focus like a camera steadying for the perfect shot. The canopy above you served as a stunning background for an image he would try his damndest to commit to memory. The trees acted as umbrellas, issuing the perfect amount of the bluest sky and filtering the light to a flawless dapple. It presented an ethereal halo to your already faultless beauty. 

“Daryl. I need you to get up.” 

There was an urgency to your tone that he couldn’t seem to react to, his brow knitting. When he tried to question, he wasn’t sure his mouth was even moving. Then you were gone. There was an overwhelming impulse to panic with your sudden absence. Daryl grabbed at that feeling and held on tight, using its influence to force his body to cooperate. He rolled onto his uninjured side, back protesting. A rucksack and crossbow do not perform adequately as a pillow. With a grunt, he lifted his head. 

You were fending off four walkers on your own with his knife. No, you were driving them back. Daryl kept his eyes on you as he endeavored to make it to at least a sitting position. You kicked one back, unable to take it down before you cut off another that was getting too close to him. They could smell the blood, thick and coppery in the air. Jesus, how badly had he torn the wound? 

He couldn’t fire the gun, even if it would be more effective. It would alert both the living and more of the dead. Maneuvering the crossbow from his back was painstakingly complicated, but soon enough, he was using his legs to hold it in place while he pulled the string back. He was only briefly ashamed of the whines and whimpers he couldn’t manage to stifle, his shoulder throbbing something awful. With the string captured by the latch, he was quick to load a bolt, trusting his ability enough to lift and fire with minimal aim. 

The walker you were grappling dropped in a heap, your wide eyes seeking out Daryl. Before he could blink, you had thrown yourself at the next closest corpse, leaving the two that brought up the rear. By the time he had managed to load another bolt, you had pulled the knife from one skull and were stabbing the next. You were angling yourself towards the last one when a bolt zipped past your face and impaled itself through the walker’s eye. 

With the immediate threat neutralized, Daryl let the crossbow fall from his grasp and fell onto his back, grimacing when the lumpy rucksack reminded him of its presence. A jolt of pain in his shoulder brought on a gasp, his hand instinctively going to rest on the throbbing area and coming away red. 

“Are you okay?” You appeared over him again with those big, worried eyes. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt annoyed. Angry, even. 

“M’peachy.” He answered flatly. Against every instinct, he sat up again, swatting away your hands when you silently offered to help. He avoided looking at you. The naked concern in your expression would only serve to bring on guilt that he couldn’t process on top of physical pain. 

Finally on his feet, he shouldered his crossbow and scooped up the rabbit with a grunt, walking without speaking. You followed behind but at a distance, your untrained footfalls loud. 

He wasn’t truly angry, not at you. It was his own selfishness behind his irritability. How badly he wanted to let you fuss over him and touch him. The way he wanted to touch you. He knew very little about your life before Jazz and the club. Hell, you didn’t know much, couldn’t recall many things before the trauma that had taken so much of who you were. Would you ever reclaim anything from your past, despite the hell you had lived through? How many pieces were missing? Could he help you find those parts of yourself? 

The answer was no. 

He couldn’t even piece himself back together. 

Still, he knew what he wanted. And that scared him. He wanted you, broken or whole mattered little if at all. The unfamiliar territory he was treading drove him into retreat, battling to keep the bricks from reassembling into the walls you had torn down with such a small amount of effort. 

Love wasn’t a word he tossed around carelessly. It had taken months to admit he felt any sort of affection toward the group he had allied himself with, despite what he had been willing to endure for them. What he felt toward you was so much different, reaching significantly farther than the responsibility he had claimed to be the justification. He knew what his useless, battered heart was trying to tell him but he had never followed it before, relying on experience and self preservation to guide him through a life he felt was sometimes meaningless. 

You deserved so much more than what he could ever offer you. You, with your damnable kindness that should have been, by every right, snuffed out by the unspeakable cruelty you had endured. All things considered, you still worked tirelessly to find yourself or some semblance of who you were meant to be. It was admirable and only made him want you more. 

That just wasn’t him. It was so far away from what he knew of himself, or thought he knew. But being around you brought out a sense of comfort and acceptance he was too scared to embrace or appreciate. Getting comfortable, feeling safe, would only lead to disappointment. He had learned that with his mother and even more so with his father. Just when he thought Will Dixon could change and be the parent he had needed, Daryl would only receive another wound, another scar, another reason to never trust anyone. 

Then you challenged all of that. 

You were a breath of fresh air amidst the decay he was accustomed to even before the turn. The calm of the forest after a hard rain, when things were still and he could immerse himself in the tranquility before the life that dwelled there ventured out to return to normal. You radiated the warmth the sun gifted during the bite of winter’s cold. You were everything that gave him solace when he had run scared as a child, convinced that there was no goodness in the world. 

You were everything he was not. 

And because of that, he couldn’t reach out to you in the way he wanted. He would only break you down when you deserved to be lifted onto the highest pedestal. 

You had been broken enough. 

And you could shine without him. 

You watched Daryl wear himself down to the point you thought his stubbornness would have him crawling rather than accepting your help. He hadn’t spoken a word to you since the walkers, even when the two of you needed to hide from another group of the dead. He refused to meet your eyes, pressing himself so hard against the tree that shielded you both that he would hiss in discomfort just to keep from touching you. 

What had changed so drastically since you had left with Jazz? Why did he even come find you if he didn’t want you near him?

You were just about to attempt to talk to him when the small shack came into view. It wasn’t exactly a cabin but someone had lived there. A garden, long dead, was surrounded by short, broken fencing. An old generator was on the rickety porch-like structure with parts and rusted tools scattered around it. It was a dilapidated building but would serve the purpose. 

Some of the visible tension melted out of Daryl’s shoulders. He was quite clearly exhausted and in pain. Before he could even begin to engage in anything strenuous, you jogged to catch up, holding up his knife  where he could see that you still had it. 

“I’ll check out the inside while you start a fire and take care of the rabbit.” You were trying for authoritative but it, of course, came out as a question. The hunter stopped halfway to the rotted wooden steps and angled his head toward you. Tired, blue eyes narrowed, studying as if solving a puzzle. 

“Fine.” He huffed, dropping his bag but keeping his crossbow. He carried at his side, a silent reassurance that he was ready should you need him. Careful to avoid the weak spots, you were slow to make your way to the door. It was barely shut, hanging at an angle but maybe there would be something inside to push against it. With your hand flat on the wood, you started to open it. “Tap on it.” Daryl called quietly but loud enough for you to hear. 

“What?” 

“Tap on the door. The window. Just make a lil’ noise ‘fore ya go in.” He sounded exasperated but continued with his task. He probably thought you didn’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, finger hovering beside the trigger of his weapon. 

“I doubt there’s anyone home.” You mumbled. He still likely heard you. Inwardly sighing, you tapped the blade of the knife against the doorframe.  At first nothing happened. Just as you rolled your eyes and pushed against the door, something fell into it from the other side, the snarls and scratching making it obvious. When you looked back at Daryl, eyes wide, he was smirking at the circle of rocks he’d be using as a firepit. 

When you sighed this time, it was one of determination. You could hear only one walker. That didn’t necessarily mean it was the only one, but if things went the way you planned, it would be simple to take out however many were inside. You were mindful of how you held the knife when you threw yourself against the door. It took two times to push the door open enough for the walker to come around it. 

“The hell ya doin’?!” 

“I got it.” Careful once again, you backed down the steps. “Come on.” The walker fell over the top step and tumbled, giving you an opportunity to glance at Daryl. He was aiming the crossbow, but the fact that he hadn’t fired when you both knew he could easily take it down meant that he was giving you a chance to do what you were attempting. 

On its feet again, the dead woman followed you clumsily. You led her away from the structure, past the old garden, and then stopped to allow her closer. 

“Y/N.” A clear warning. 

“I got it, Daryl.” He should know. It was he and Carol who taught you. He had also told you that everyone fucks up sometimes. For you, this would not be one of those times. You lunged for it just before it could reach you and too quickly for it to grab you, plunging the knife into the walker’s eye. You pulled as the body fell, making the retrieval of the weapon a piece of cake. “Told you I had it.”

Daryl tried for a scowl but the twitch of his lips was evident even from a distance. So you grinned at him, prideful of what you had done. It probably wouldn’t have been a big deal to Carol or Michonne, but you were new to it all. You’d take a win where you could. 

“You couldn’t drag it and neither could I.” You said in passing on your way back to the door. He grumbled something close to yeah, I could’a but you ignored him. The left shoulder of his shirt was saturated. You needed to sit him down and take a look. You weren’t very knowledgeable but you could at least put pressure on it until it clotted. Maybe? Did it work like that?

The little shack was clear of the dead now, the woman apparently living alone. You gave no thought to how she had died or how long she had been there. Inside was a simple set up. One room, a bed in one corner. Full size with some sort of furs as blankets. It was large enough for you both to sleep as you had before but given his change in demeanor, he was likely to want the floor. 

There were iron kettles and pots stacked on a corner, along with an open med kit. Crossing to investigate, you glanced out to see Daryl crouched down and skinning the rabbit. The kit had a few bandaids, some Tylenol, and an opened square of gauze. Never knowing when you would need even the smallest of things, you removed the gauze and kept the rest, placing the small box on the bed. 

A dresser sat in the other corner, two of the drawers broken and partly open. The woman had been just about your size. Maybe there was something you could use so parading around in front of Daryl with your ass out was no longer an issue. 

“Bingo.” You smiled. The sweats were at least clean. They were a little baggy. Maybe she had looted them from somewhere else. It didn’t matter, really. A long sleeved flannel with most of the buttons missing was in the same drawer. There weren’t any other shirts, to your dismay. Pursing your lips, you decided to see how you could make it work. 

The bustier had left red indents in your skin. You nearly moaned with relief while removing it. The flannel was actually missing all the buttons but you could work with it. You rolled up the bottom and tied the two ends together beneath your breasts. It was an odd crop top that made some of your lesser scars visible but nothing was hanging out, so winner winner chicken dinner. You grabbed the most comfortable looking of all the mismatched socks and walked toward the door. 

You could smell the fire, your mouth watering at the thought of rabbit. No seasoning but beggars could not be choosers. First, however, you wanted to check the walker for shoes. The clothes somewhat fit so maybe shoes would too. “I’m gonna check to see if the—” 

The socks fell to the porch, forgotten. Daryl’s forearm was red and blistered, the skin practically melted away from being too close to the fire. You grabbed his uninjured shoulder, thankful that was the side closest to the flames so you could simply roll him away. He had landed face down, unmoving when you spotted him. 

Now lying on his back, you could clearly see his chest rising and falling. He was alive. “Daryl? Can you hear me?” Your hands cupped his face, the skin cool and clammy. That was good in one sense: no fever. It could, however, mean he’d lost too much blood. His shirt was sticky with it. You carefully peeled the fabric away from the wound, finding it open and still bleeding sluggishly. There were loose butterfly sutures with most of Hershel’s stitching popped or missing. “Idiot.” You sniffled. 

Lifting his shoulder as high off the ground as you could manage, you let him come back to balance on your thigh and leaned to see the exit wound on his back. It was mostly fine, just one end where the skin was torn and puckered. You could work with that. 

The medical kit inside was useless. You could only pray he had the sense to bring something with him. You dumped the contents of his bag in the ground, nearly sobbing at the sight of a kit from back home. You could at least pack the wound and dress it. Grabbing the small red bag and the canteen, you scurried back to his side. You’d have to fetch more water from somewhere after cooling the burn and cleaning his shoulder but you’d cross that bridge later. 

At that moment, Daryl was priority one. 

The first thing he heard was the cracking and popping of a fire, the smell of smoke and meat wafting into his nostrils. It  simultaneously made his mouth water and his stomach turn. There was a groan, deep and drawn out. A walker? No. That was coming from him. Where the hell was he? His damn brain was foggy, clouded over from pain. Exhaustion threatened to pull him back under but the shuffle of leaves gave him just enough adrenaline to flinch away when someone touched his face. 

“Easy. It’s just me.”

“Y/N.” He croaked, curling his lip at the sound of his voice. His mind began to fill in the blanks, memories sliding into place to form a timeline that ended where he was now, by the fire with right arm and left shoulder bandaged. The sky was a watercolor painting of purples and oranges, the sun long out of sight. “How long I been out?” 

“Here.” You pressed the canteen to his lips and while he drank, he used his right hand to take over holding it. “A few hours.” He watched, head tilted, as you reached behind you to turn the rabbit on a spit. “I had to, uh—I had to leave you once to get water. I’m sorry.”

“Still here, ain’t I? Don’t gotta apologize.” 

You took the canteen and replaced the lid. “I’m sorry that I covered you with leaves and put a dead walker on top of you.” You weren’t meeting his eyes. Shit. Had he been such an ass that you were afraid of him again? “I didn’t know what else to do. When you fell, you burned your arm. Between that and your shoulder, I used it all. I had—”

“I ain’t mad, Y/N. Jesus. Calm down.”

Your shoulders dropped. “If you’re not mad, then why are you acting different around me?” 

“Let’s talk—let’s talk inside. After.” He gestured to the fire. “You’re gonna burn that.” He was glad he had at least finished prepping the rabbit before face-planting, made things a little easier for you while you were stuck watching over his dumb ass. You drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. You wanted to say something but swallowed it down with a tight-lipped smile and went back to the fire. 

To be honest, he had pushed back the conversation because he wasn’t sure what he was going to say to you. He could blame his physical state, the blood loss and exhaustion. Then he’d be lying to you more than he already had. To tell you the truth would be to admit that he was no better than the men who had tortured you. Sure, there were feelings involved, something you appeared to have as little experience with as he did. 

Nothing good could come from this. Maybe he needed to come clean just so you could understand why he needed to distance himself, if only until it all passed. Feelings were fleeting, nothing was forever. 

“Here.” You were offering him a skewered portion of meat. “Try to eat. If we need more water, I know where to go.” 

Daryl nodded his thanks and lifted the food to his mouth, stopping short to watch you seat yourself near the fire, drawing up your knees. The soft glow of firelight burned warm against your skin, flickering flames casting shadows that made the bruises and lacerations appear that much darker. You had cleaned yourself up while he was unconscious, changed into fresh clothes and shoes that had likely been inside the home. Even riddled with injuries and in oversized clothes, you were fucking beautiful. 

Finally forcing himself to tear his eyes away from you, food was eaten in silence, the fire extinguished shortly afterwards to avoid drawing any unwanted attention. The hunter was impressed with how you were handling yourself with such minimal instruction from him. 

“What?”

“Nothin’.” He cleared his throat, continuing as you went about gathering everything to move inside with only the moonlight guiding you. “Just—holdin’ your own out here. Don’t need me ‘round no more.” The statement was both fond and bitter, just another confirmation that he’d be doing the right thing by stepping away once you were safe. 

You had stilled, but then carried on, leaving him for a heartbeat to deposit everything inside. Then you were crouching in front of him, reaching out, ready to help him inside. Your hand lifted at the last second, warm palm coming to rest gently against his cheek. He was leaning into the touch before he could stop himself, allowing that brief comfort even if it was entirely self-serving. 

“I think I’ll always need you.” You smiled, gentle and sad, like you were reading his mind. “I’m okay with that.” Maybe you were, but he wasn’t. 

His entire commitment to you from the beginning was to make you self reliant, let Carol help you figure out how to be a person again, and while training you hadn’t gone exactly how he’d planned,—he was never supposed to be involved—he was proud to say that you stood more of a chance now than when he had met you. He could step back and let Carol take over. Daryl never had a problem disappearing, he’d been doing it all his life. Hiding from his father, jumping from town to town with Merle. He could do it again. Even if it meant he’d have to leave the prison, the people he cared about, to keep you safe and give you a chance, he was willing. 

You reached for him again and he swatted at your hands, using his right arm to balance while he got his feet beneath him. The burn ached beneath the bandage and Carol was likely to throttle him the moment they got back for how messed up his shoulder was, but it had been worth it. They would likely see the smoke from the factory, investigate from a distance, and return to the prison, either convinced that you and he were among the dead or they would keep a sharp eye out for your return. 

He was ready to be back, if he was honest with himself. Take a few days to heal properly and then head out for a while on an extended hunt. Maybe he wouldn’t need to leave permanently. Maybe this would all fade as he hoped. 

When he felt your hand between his shoulder blades and caught your eye, the myriad of emotions visible there even in the dim light reminded him that hope in that world was futile. 

You indicated the weak points in the steps and followed him inside, closing the sad little door before shooing him away from the dresser. 

“No way. You’re not pushing this with your bad shoulder. Go lie down.” When he remained there with a incredulous expression of you’re kiddin’, you squared your shoulders and looked every bit as scary as a wet kitten. “Go on, get.”

He exhaled a laugh through his nose and pressed his good hand to the top of the dresser only for it to be popped like a kid reaching for the cookies before supper. He found he was a cross between offended and impressed. “Listen, pipsqueak, I—”

“No, you listen, you stubborn mule.” Daryl’s mouth snapped shut, eyebrows shooting upward. Impressed, indeed. “You damn near killed yourself to get me out of there. I fixed it all up the best I could but I bet Hershel and Carol are gonna lock you in a cell regardless when we get back. So the more you rest, the less time you spend in solitary confinement, capiche?” You leaned your weight against the piece of furniture but stood up again with an angry pout. “And don’t call me pipsqueak!” He filed away that nickname for later. Would there be a later? No, he couldn’t think about that right now.

“Fine.” He huffed and let his hand fall away. He didn’t move just then though, quite frankly enjoying watching you struggle with the task on your own while he unlaced and removed his boots. You grumbled and cursed but finally succeeded, turning to him with a victorious, high-pitched hmmph. Daryl shook his head and turned toward the bed in the corner, a small half-smile gracing his features. 

The mattress had two blackbear furs on it. No pillows but it was unlikely that you gave any more fucks about it than he did. Utilizing his good arm, he snatched the edge of one fur and dragged it off onto the floor, toeing at it to spread it out. 

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?” When you didn’t say anything, he turned, finding you in the middle of the room, wringing your hands with one of the saddest expressions of trepidation he’d ever seen you wear. Fuck. He knew what was coming. 

“Why are things different now?” You were staring at the bear skin as if it were still a living creature that was driving a wedge between the two of you. “Are you mad at me for leaving? I just wanted to protect you like you protect me. I couldn’t stand the thought of—”

“Told ya I ain’t mad.” Daryl interjected when the words just kept tumbling out. “Weren’t happy ‘bout it, but I get why ya did it.” I would’a done the same. The hunter kicked at the edge of the fur even though it was already laying flat. You sniffled and his head snapped up. “Nah, Y/N, don’t cry.”

“We slept in the same bed before. Why can’t we now?” 

He inwardly groaned. Why was this a big deal? Did you just need comfort? Stupid. Of course you did. You’d been through the wringer. He was so emotionally ignorant. Selfish. “Ain’t a big deal. I’ll sleep on the bed.” He bent to retrieve the fur. 

“Why don’t you want to? Are you—I know you know what they did to me. I’m—disgusting.”

Oh, fuck no. “Don’t say that. Ain’t your fault what they did.” He was crossing the distance before he realized his feet were moving, stumbling to a halt in front of you, just barely restraining from dragging you into him. “Things are—just diff’rent.” Your big eyes were shining, wet and full of questions. 

“Different how then?” You reached for him. He wanted to retreat but he couldn’t seem to get his legs to cooperate. “How can I fix it?”

His face twisted into a grimace, turning away from you and then back in the same movement. “Ya can’t cause ya didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” You were hugging him around his torso before he could stop you, your warmth seeping through his shirt for his chilled skin to soak up. “Y/N, I can’t.” 

“You can’t what?” Goddamnit. Why was this so hard?

“Ain’t it obvious? I need to let ya go.” And his damn voice cracked. He still hadn’t made a move to hold you. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. He felt you shift, now looking up at him again with your arms still firmly wrapped around his sides. And though he scrambled to grasp a single sliver, the anguish in your gaze shattered the last of his resolve. 

The back of his knuckles stroked your cheek before he hooked a finger beneath your chin to hold you as you were. 

“Daryl?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “Wanna—can I kiss ya?” Your face crumbled, the tears you had been controlling finally wetting your cheeks. His hand fell away. “M’sorry. That was stupid. Don’t know what I was thinkin’.” He tried to step back and give you space but your hold kept him immobile, your head shaking back and forth.

“It isn’t that. It’s just—” Your breaths were shallow spasms, chin wobbling. “No one’s ever asked me before.” 

His heart didn’t just ache, it broke. The idea of doing anything you hadn’t consented to was nauseating. For all the hell he’d been through and cruelty he’d seen, he still couldn’t fathom hurting someone like you purposefully. No one had asked before kissing you? Did you mean before the turn? God, the urge to just hold you was dizzying, to protect you without ever letting you leave his arms. 

You worked hard to get yourself under control, straightening to look at him as steadily as you probably could manage. “Ask me again. Please.”

His heart was hammering. He knew you could hear it. Tongue sliding across his bottom lip, he leaned down until your noses were almost touching. “Can I kiss ya?”

“Yes.” Your eyes flitted to his lips and back to his eyes. 

This was what he wanted but now he couldn’t seem to remember how. Still, he’d rather it be a clumsy disaster than leave you questioning. He leaned in closer, parting his lips slightly to make his intentions clear even though you had consented. His lips pressed into yours, mirroring the way you opened in invitation. There was a tentative sweep of his tongue, grazing your own. You relaxed with a contented sigh that traveled down his throat, rattled his spine, and cradled his heart. He wasn’t just taking what you were willingly giving, he was learning. 

You wanted this. 

He had never been so wrong but he wasn’t exactly built for picking up any cues you had given him, intentionally or not. He felt himself begin to tremble, suddenly void of any semblance of confidence. 

When your fingertips brushed over the nape of his neck, pressing gently to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, he shivered involuntarily. It was a slow dance of pent up emotion, gradually charging the air around where the pair of you stood. His own hand lifted to the side of your neck where his thumb brushed back and forth over your jaw. It was only when his lungs began to burn that he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours while you both panted. 

“Is this what you want too?” You shrank into yourself timidly and awaited his answer. He chuckled breathily and ignored the pain so his other hand could cradle your face as well, using both of his thumbs to sweep away your tears that still fell uninhibitedly. 

“Yeah, pipsqueak. S’what I want.” 

“Don’t call me pipsqueak.” Your tone was breathless, eyes hooded, your arms winding around his neck. 

He kissed you again. Hands moving to your waist and then around to your back, bending you slightly to curve over you. Your hands slid to his chest and curled into his shirt as best they could while being wedged between your bodies. The second kiss was no less gentle but held no reluctance. He’d laid all the cards on the table, against his better judgment, never expecting to be rewarded. 

The fear of hurting you in some way was still very much present, a lingering warning in the back of his mind that he chose to ignore in favor of licking into your mouth, stealing another taste. And then another. And another. You were intoxicating, one indulgence would never be enough. 

There were no objections from you when he maneuvered your bodies to turn, never parting during the journey to the bed. He didn’t allow the back of your knees to meet the mattress, but instead used the hold he maintained around your middle to lift you up and lay you back. He was leaning over you, mouths still moving together only to part for you to crawl backward and further onto the soft surface. 

There was the smallest flicker of panic that he had taken it too far, that you were trying to escape, but then you were reaching for him. Your fingers pressed gently into his ribs as soon as he was within reach and allowed you to guide him over you, opening your legs to allow room for him. Daryl hesitated, noticing the fine tremors in your hands. 

He leaned in for a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth and then sat back on his knees to grant you a bit of space. “Ain’t gotta do anythin’ ya ain’t ready for.” His pants were already tight, the strain on his groin nearing an unbearable yet delicious pressure that might have been just enough to both give him relief and cause him embarrassment. 

He was far past the point of no return, prepared to give you everything or nothing at all. Whatever you needed or didn’t. His hand was resting just above your hip, thumb brushing back and forth in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

“Just tell me what ya need.”

You were scared to the point of panic, waiting for the inevitable pain that would accompany his baser instincts to take what he wanted. But this was Daryl. Training aside, he’d only ever shown you gentle touches that were fleeting and reluctant, to just as much appease his own anxiety as well as yours. 

The reasonable part of you knew he’d never intentionally hurt you. The part of you that had been traumatized so purposefully had been conditioned to submit and bear the burden of agony to ensure he was satisfied. It was almost enough to send you spiraling into that dark place where you could hide. Maybe it already was. Your chest felt tight, breathing was becoming difficult. You felt like you would shake into pieces, each fragment bearing witness to the disappointment he’d certainly let show. 

“Hey.” His raspy voice was just as gentle as the whisper of his fingertips that were now caressing your jaw. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. Nothin’s gotta happen. We can just lay here.”

You swallowed hard enough to hurt. “But you want this.”

A deep red began to rise on his cheeks, spreading down his chest and up to his ears. “Yeah, I do. Don’t mean m’gonna take it from ya.” His voice was strained, uncertainty working its way in even as he tried to maintain control. His tender touches carried on, fingers carving a soft path down your neck and over your collarbone but skipping your breasts entirely. Then he was rubbing his palm up and down your bare side, below where you had secured the flannel. His skin was still chilled from blood loss. “Can I—will ya let me try somethin’?”

What could he possibly want to try? The act itself was simple for him: undress you, enter you, chase his pleasure. He’d be gentle, you knew that, even if you needed to constantly remind yourself. You found that even suffocating under the weight of your fear, you ached to feel him inside of you, wanted to make him feel good. He deserved to feel good. So if there was something he wanted to try, you’d allow it. Chewing on your bottom lip, you nodded. 

He returned the gesture and slid his palm over your abdomen, bringing it to rest on the front of your sweatpants. “Just say the word an’ I’ll stop.” The need to fight back the dampness in your eyes presented itself once more. Your exhale shook but you nodded again. 

Bringing his injured arm into the movement, he dipped his fingers below the elastic waistband and paused, glancing at you for what you assumed was an opportunity to stop him. You said nothing, curiosity intertwined with apprehension while you watched him. 

Daryl was slow to drag the article of clothing down your legs, taking the time to delicately pull each foot from the ribbed cuffs before dropping them to the floor just beside the bed. Easy to grab in case you changed your mind maybe? The cool air against your skin—your scars—was more than a little jarring but you forced yourself to keep still. 

He was careful when he finally touched you, just above your right knee where a faint, raised imperfection resided. The permanent reminder of James, a regular client with a malicious enjoyment of knife play. There was no pity in the way he looked at your skin, just a reverent understanding. You had seen his scars. He was comprehensive of the callousness that one human could show another. 

Now that he was touching you so intimately while you were spread open before him, you remembered that neither of you had anything to make penetration any less uncomfortable. You were used to it, you supposed. Some men just used your blood and some used lubricant provided by the club. Others just drove in dry. There was also the lack of condoms, dental dams. 

Daryl’s other hand came to rest on the inside of the opposite thigh, his rough palms kneading the flesh of each, while he looked back and forth between them. Ever so slowly, he slid his hands below to rest centimeters away from where your ass curved into your leg. He simply left them there and bowed over you, pressing his mouth just above the waistband of your panties. 

You gasped. His lips were chapped but soft and warm, in direct contrast to the coolness gripping the backs of your thighs. Regardless, it wasn’t the feeling of his touches that surprised you, it was the result of those touches. 

There was a rush of heat at your center that seemed to whittle its way back and forth to your stomach, the muscles of your abdomen twitching against Daryl’s mouth. Your clit was beginning to pulse. You were no stranger to arousal, or so you had thought. Maybe that was another part of you that had been chipped away because nothing that you could remember felt like this. 

“This okay?” 

With a sharp inhale, you looked at him, only then realizing your breathing had picked up. Daryl was completely still, waiting with a patience you had only seen a few times since you’d known him. 

“Y-yeah.” 

Eyes on you, he lowered his head and pressed an open mouthed kiss to a scar parallel to your navel, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs. Looking at him, watching him watch you felt too intimate. The back of your head pressed into the pillow, your own hands coming to rest on either side of your head. 

Daryl was already doing more for you than any man while you were at the club. What he seemed to be doing was comforting you, showing reposeful attention to each mar littered across your skin. Once he had completed that particular endeavor, he switched to doing the same to the smooth areas in between. 

You bit back a whine when he relinquished his hold on your thighs and slid his hands to your hips, slipping a finger beneath each strip of fabric across your hips. Before he could ask permission, you shot upright, forcing him back. 

“Wait!”

“Yeah, okay!” His hands came up next to his head, palms out. “M’sorry, was gonna ask.”

“No, I know. It’s not—it’s just—” you had started shaking your head as you sat up and hugged yourself tightly, a whimper escaping unchecked. “Todd, he would cut me if I didn’t behave or didn’t perform. He was so angry over his brother but Jazz wouldn’t—he wouldn’t let Todd kill me. So, he cut me instead.”

Daryl muttered a quiet Jesus and raked his fingers through his hair. You knew he was working it out, flaming fury burning in his blue eyes when it all clicked. 

“I’m sorry.” You ducked your head away from his anger. Nothing was directed toward you, but the actual heaviness of his rage was frightening. 

“Nah, ya don’t say sorry for that. Ever. Ya hear me?” His left hand was squeezing the bandage-covered burn on his right forearm, using pain to ground himself. You knew the method well. “Wanna bring his ass back so I can kill ‘im again. Slower.”

You weren’t sure there was anything you could say. It was done, the moment was over. You gave him a nod and began to draw up your knees but his hands were quick to stop you. With a quizzical stare, you said his name. 

“Got scars too. Sure ya saw ‘em when ya patched up my shoulder.” His hands remained on your partially bent knees, grip firm but trembling. Maybe it was a terrible time, probably the worst, but you felt compelled to be truthful. 

“I saw—I, uh, saw them before that, Daryl.” 

“Shower. I know.” 

Saucer-sized eyes snapped over to him, your body going rigid, cheeks burning with shame. “You—knew?” Daryl hummed an affirmation. “Do you wanna talk about them? Your scars.” 

He shook his head slowly, no. “Not yet. This ain’t ‘bout me.” The archer sat back on his heels. “Just, ya know, wanted ya to know that I get it. We got scars. Seein’ ‘em ain’t gonna change anythin’.” Maybe bringing up what else you had seen that night wasn’t such a great idea. “Ya good?” You gave a quick nod. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.” Not where you thought things were headed. You weren’t ready to stop just yet. Shaken, but not beaten. 

You moved quickly, pulling your legs beneath you to rise up on your knees where he still sat on his. Your hands bracketed his neck and your mouth was slotted over his, relieved he didn’t freeze. Quite the opposite, he pulled you flush against him with an arm around your waist and the opposite hand on the back of your head. Your chest was heaving when you angled your chin to pull away your mouth, leaving your face close, your nose nuzzling his. His eyes were still closed. 

“Please don’t stop.” If he wanted to—really wanted to— end things there, you wouldn’t try to persuade him otherwise. You held onto hope that the hard bulge pressed against your stomach meant you wouldn’t even need to try. When his eyes opened, the blue that was always giving a glimpse of the kindness he tried to hide was a mere thin line around lust-blown pupils. 

Maybe he wouldn’t notice your deep, steadying breath but even if he did, he was possibly just too enamored with watching you lie back, your nimble fingers untying the front of the flannel. With one last glance at Daryl, unmoving and patient with his hands balled into fists on his thighs, you spread open the shirt. More scars adorned your breasts, but while Jazz’s clients would curl their lips and scoff, the archer's eyes raked over your flesh with what you could only be described as unabashed wonder and appreciation. 

Clinging dramatically to your sudden burst of bravery, you straightened your legs on either side of his hips and hooked your fingers into the straps of the thong to drag the fabric down, keeping your thighs pressed as tightly together as you could manage while lifting one leg and then the other. The white material hung from your left ankle, your knees bent and closed just above where Daryl remained sitting on his own. 

“Y/N.” 

“Please don’t try to talk me out of this.” Hands resting on your thighs, you dug in your nails, the slight burn providing an anchor against your fear. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to maintain composure, but that didn’t matter. Whether that night or a year into the future, you would need to battle these demons. “I just want to feel something—real.” 

His eyes flashed up to yours, an understanding there that needn’t be spoken. Your wounds and his had been inflicted so differently but your scars were the same; a map of your lifetime, of bravery and endurance among such suffering. 

“Alright.” He rasped after another moment of silence. His hands lifted from his lap to hover just above your knees. There was a twitch in his clenched jaw, a spasm of pain from his shoulder but nothing more. The pressure he applied to urge your legs flat was barely there, a slight encouragement that lacked any demand. It was awkward but you somehow succeeded in keeping your thighs together. 

Daryl’s fingertips began easing into the space just above your knees to urge your legs to part, not making it far before he stopped. His jaw worked back and forth, teeth gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip. While you wanted to spread yourself open, you couldn’t seem to find the nerve. 

Not until his next move. 

His gaze remained on your thighs while he worked slowly to pop open the buttons of his shirt, one by one. There was a shadow of a moment where you considered stopping him; telling him it wasn’t necessary. He seemed to think it was. Quid pro quo, maybe; ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel more at ease. 

The archer shrugged the shirt from his right shoulder, then gingerly slid it off the left. You avoided staring after the initial glance. It wouldn’t do to make him feel more exposed than he was. You couldn’t, however, erase the image of his naked torso. His skin was dirty, caked with dried blood from the wound, but he was beautiful, ruggedly handsome with tanned skin pulled over whipcord lean muscle. You had always found jealousy in the ogling stares of the prison women but you understood. To be the one he was sharing this much of himself with was dizzying. 

He didn’t make a move for his belt, crawling toward you instead, the press of his knee where your legs were sealed together was gentle in its attempt at prying you open. You parted them, a little more confident without him staring down at your mutilated flesh. 

Daryl held his weight above you on his right arm with the slightest tremble of exertion. He must have seen you glance over, worry etched in your eyes, because then he was shaking his head with a quiet s’fine. 

You tried to recall when you had lost your virginity, but couldn't seem to pull up a face or name or even a clear memory, but you wondered if it’d been something like that. Two hesitant individuals with the knowledge of the other’s desire for them but completely clueless when it came to implementing that into some sort of action. Like horny, inexperienced teenagers. You would have chuckled if the dark reality of justification wasn’t hovering over your bodies like a dense, suffocating fog. 

You flinched minutely when Daryl dipped his head, hot breath wafting over your exposed nipple. He made no further attempt, looking up at you from beneath his lashes, seeking consent and it made your eyes sting. Your fingertips grazed over a scar on his temple with the slightest curiosity of where it came from, but dismissed it in order to splay open your fingers against the back of his head and pull him toward your chest. 

You gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the touch so foreign that your body didn’t seem to understand how to react. Gooseflesh prickled across your chest and down your arms, your other hand jolting upward to join the first, unintentionally holding Daryl in place, silently pleading for an encore. 

He didn’t disappoint. Shifting over, he briefly pressed his lips to your sternum before his tongue circled your other nipple, drawing the pebbled nub into his mouth. The slow, tenderly executed motions had your lower belly burning with a feeling your traitorous body had experienced while a stranger fucked into you despite your unwillingness. 

The archer didn’t remain where he was for long, moving to drag his tongue down your torso and dip it into your navel. There was a full bodied shiver, your legs instinctively spreading wider. You didn’t even realize it until his open mouth was against the skin just above the tuft of hair at the apex of your thighs. 

You felt the familiar stirring of panic and you tilted your chin toward your chest to look at him, finding him staring right back. His lips remained stagnant against that spot, his dark gaze searching your face for permission. It took two deep, calming breaths, both worryingly difficult to achieve before you nodded. His mouth was against the beginning of the scars that he would soon find on the ruins of your cunt. But then he did something unexpected. 

He closed his eyes. 

At first you thought he was avoiding a disgust that would dampen his desire for you. Then he was touching you, mapping out each jagged line with the tips of his fingers, neglecting not a single one. 

He was allowing you to acclimate to the new experience. 

You couldn’t remember ever being touched so tenderly, or a man ever willingly exploring your most sensitive area beyond driving their dick into your dry entrance. Daryl had yet to even delve between your folds, his attention solely on conveying acceptance of your imperfections. The fear of rejection and anticipation gave way in a rush of wetness you hadn’t realized your body was capable of, a physical indication that you appreciated what he was doing. 

Your hands were still loose on the back of his head, making it possible to speak your consent and insistence without words. Your nails scraped lightly over his scalp for your fingers to tangle in his hair, urging him onward and asking him to open his eyes and see you. Despite his valiant actions to bring you comfort, you needed to witness his reaction. 

He was slow to peel open those pretty eyes, still dark with desire. You laughed around tears when there was the flash of arousal in the pools of blue. He was seeing the whole of you and not just the desolate ruins. He was appreciating what you were offering him. There wasn’t a single scrap of hesitation or disinterest. His tongue was parting your folds to taste you, but then his eyes widened and he reeled back just enough to put a couple of inches between your hot, slick slit and his mouth. 

“M’sorry.” He was apologizing for his naked desire that had propelled him to touch you without seeking permission. But you weren’t even remotely upset, hadn’t even considered anything beyond the scorching trail his tongue had left in its wake. You could do nothing but whimper and card your fingers through his hair, canting your hips upward in silent pleading for him to continue. 

And continue he did. 

Daryl dove in like a man starved and you were the finest meal he’d ever had, his tongue lapping at you while his large hands pressed against your inner thighs to spread you wider. He had only just begun and there was pleasure like you had never before felt, that you didn’t even know was possible. 

When he gave a satisfied hum against you and latched his mouth over your clit, the wanton noise that left you was positively pornographic. Your hips jerked and your grip on his hair tightened. No wonder the clientele had never made this a priority. What would they get from this beyond perhaps the enjoyment of the mewls and breathy moans that you couldn’t seem to stifle? None of them wanted that. 

But Daryl was drinking it up, his tongue working your sensitive bud harder and faster with each sound you offered him. 

When you felt the tip of his index finger circle your opening, there was a jolt of fear; an anticipation of pain but he wasn’t moving. Once again he waited patiently for your approval, but all the while, his tongue continued its assault. Your mind warred with the desire to be filled by him in any and every way and the terrifying inevitability of the pain you had been led to believe was the norm. 

In the end, your undeniable hunger for him prevailed. “Please.” You panted, grinding your hips against his face. The feel of stretching around his thick digit wasn’t anything like you were accustomed to, the gentlest of burning, molding until he was fully inside. Your inner walls fluttered around the intrusion with a stuttering of your hips. It felt so good that you began to question if it was really happening at all. 

When Daryl moved his finger, pulling it back to drag over your insides, you watched his eyes roll with a deep groan against your clit. There was a tightening within your belly that held a promise of something delicious but Daryl seemed to be enjoying what he was doing just as much—if not more— than you were. 

He kept the action slow and deliberate, allowing you to adjust not only physically but mentally as well. You had been denied pleasure, something you were sure he deduced from your tears over his request to kiss you. It wasn’t until you moaned his name and rolled your hips against his hand that he doubled down in his efforts to bring you to your high. 

He worked at your clit with wanton abandon, sucking and licking and grazing his teeth over the swollen, stiff bundle of nerves, all the while pumping his finger in and out of you with a gentle, deep push and pull that directly contradicted his vigorous onslaught with his mouth.

God, you had never felt so good. 

“Daryl.” You whined, writhing and tugging on his hair. He chuckled against your slick cunt. Goddamn him, he actually chuckled. “I don’t—it feels—hhhnnngg—”

“Easy, pipsqueak.” 

“Don’t call me th—oh.” He had slowed down, languidly brushing his nose over your clit while thrusting his finger deep and curling it against a spot inside you that made your toes curl. You couldn’t remember the last time you came or if you had at all. Daryl pulled almost all the way out of you before pressing his middle finger against your drenched hole, requesting to join the other but not advancing it further. 

God, you appreciated his need for consent but at the same time you wanted to shake him and demand he keep going. 

Instead of responding verbally, you angled your hips and pushed down against him, taking both fingers inside you, your velvety walls pulling at his digits to suck them in deeper. You weren’t cognizant of anything anymore, only the rush of urgent need to feel that knot in your belly twist tighter. 

“Fuck.” Daryl whispered before circling his tongue around where his fingers disappeared inside of you. When he began thrusting into you after your desperate whining, it was still at an agonizingly slow pace. You understood why he was being so gentle. 

Because no one ever had. 

And, though your body begged for the alternative, you needed to feel it that way, feel valued and cherished and worth pleasing. 

Daryl made you feel that. He ignored his own needs. You had definitely noticed the way he continued to shift his hips, holding himself carefully away from the mattress. Was he truly that aroused by pleasuring you? 

The train of thought derailed when he sucked hard on your clit, flicking the end of his tongue over it while it was drawn from beneath the thin hood of flesh by the suction of his mouth. His left hand shot up to your hip with a pained grunt to keep you immobile for the moment, your whines and whimpers morphing into shouts and moans. Daryl released the small bud and pressed his tongue against it, and when you looked down, you found his gaze on you with an intensity that drew that coiled knot inside you even tighter, threatening to snap it loose. 

“Please, Daryl—I don’t—I need—”

“S’okay, pip. Just let go.” His tongue pressed against you again, a firm stimulation that when combined with the twist and curl of his fingers inside you brought a sudden heat from deep in your lower abdomen. It engulfed you, centering on the now vehement circling of Daryl’s tongue on your clit. Your body vibrated, your hips rolling now that he had removed his hand in favor of keeping one shaking thigh pressed down while the other sought it out to squeeze and hold him in place. 

You were mumbling, then shouting, random words in incoherent sentences. His name and a plea and a call to a god you didn’t believe in, desperate and overwhelmed. You had never felt pleasure like this, never been allowed to drown in an ecstasy that another person could draw from you. 

You had definitely never orgasmed before; regardless of your trauma, that feeling would be something you would surely remember.

You were clueless as to how long you were under the spell of complete and total bliss, falling limp with your bare chest heaving. You didn’t even feel the tears until Daryl was hovering over you, his thumb catching the moisture before it could run across your temple. 

“Y’alright?” You hummed, still weightless and floating in the space between reality and wherever it was the archer had sent you. He smirked, his hand still against your neck with his thumb sweeping back and forth over your cheekbone. “Think ya need to sleep some now.” Just like that, you were completely lucid, sitting up to pull him into a feverish kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a profound sense of intimacy but you felt another pulse run through your cunt, centering at your clit.

“Please.” You whispered against his mouth, feeling how his breath trembled. As you met his eyes, they were rising away from your lips and looking back at you. He studied you, seemed to be peering into your very soul. He urged you back down when next his mouth slotted over yours. Your hands slid from his shoulders and down to his hips, pulling and guiding him until he was nestled between your thighs. He still wore his pants but his erection was undeniable and likely painful by that point. He wanted you and not in the same way all the men before him did. Daryl wanted you as more than just a hole to be fucked. He wanted you and all your splintered parts and defects. He wanted you but was willing to wait to have you. It only made your desire for him increase tenfold. 

“You’re sure ya want this?”

“Yes.” You replied without thought or hesitation. “I want this and I want it with you.” Deft fingers were already sliding from his hips to his belt buckle, working it open while he peppered sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulder. 

“Won’t last long.” He mumbled against your collarbone. There was a sadness to his tone. Did he really think he could disappoint you?

“You just made me feel so good, Daryl, and you did it without hurting me. You made me feel—” Loved. The word never made it off your tongue, but you shifted his focus with a nibble against his throat. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.” Button open and zipper down, you caressed your way around him and pushed the denim, along with his boxer briefs, down over his ass. Kneading your fingers across each buttock, the muscles twitching. With the combined use of your hands and feet, you managed to get his pants down to his ankles, leaving him to kick them off.

You didn’t look, but you could feel. His cock slid back and forth in your nectar with his hips lazily rocking, his mouth on your breasts. You couldn’t suppress the whine that climbed up to press against your teeth. You needed him inside you. It was never like this before. You were terrified of any man being near you in such a way, but there was little more than residual fear there. Nothing of Dary’s doing. You struggled to slide your hand between your bodies but the archer caught your wrist and brought it toward his mouth to kiss your palm before he guided you to rest it beside your head. He did the same with the other hand. 

Sex like this was different to say the least. He wasn’t rushing to penetrate you, or rutting into you like you were a bitch in heat. Even with the heated weight of him nestled against your labia, he didn’t go into a frenzy. It went against everything you had been taught was normal. But that was just Daryl, wasn’t it?

Always showing you that the truth had never fit into Jazz’s narrative. 

“Hey.” The archer brushed his nose against yours. “Thinkin’ so loud, you’re makin’ my head hurt.” When you had taken too long to articulate a response, his lips descended onto yours once again, moving with such care while you followed his lead. His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours. If you weren’t careful, you’d get drunk on the taste of him. Maybe it was too late and you already were. 

He balanced on his right forearm to ease his hand to your breast, cupping and weighing it, rolling your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a firm squeeze. You arched into him as far as you could beneath his weight, mewling his name with a whisper of more, please into his mouth. You wanted so badly to touch him, to spur him onward. Each time you lifted a hand, he was catching it and lowering it back down. 

By the time he decided to reach down, line himself up, you were a panting, squirming mess, caught somewhere between anxious anticipation and lingering doubt. A whimper shook just behind your lips as his tip nudged your slick entrance. He was hesitating, staring at what he could see of you and himself from where he balanced atop you. 

“It’s okay.” You soothed, hand trembling while he allowed the comfort of your fingers gliding through his hair. “I want this.”

“Don’t, uh—” he began, his throat working to swallow around the words that were trapped there. “Don’t want ya to do anythin’ ya might regret.”

“Who in their right mind could ever regret the chance to be with you?”

The look he fixed on you was nearly devastating, wide, shining eyes that were radiating disbelief. Carol and the others had worked so hard to help you realize your worth. You wondered, dimly, why they hadn’t spent as much time convincing him of his own. There was sudden disappointment that you didn’t know him from before, that the two of you didn’t find one another before things went to shit. You would have gladly spent every single minute of every single day showing him how amazing he was.

Daryl had dropped his head, any view of his face hidden behind his fringe. Was there anything you could do for him? You wanted this—needed it, craved it—but that all consuming desire was easily pushed aside and replaced with the want to show him gentleness. You’d pull him down to rest with his head over your heart. Maybe you could even find the words to explain why he’d hear it galloping behind your ribs, how it was more than a baser need, how it wasn’t sexual in the least. It was simply the effect of having him that close to you, offering you a part of him that none of the women at the prison had ever even been considered to receive.

You gasped, nails biting into his bicep as he began to breach you. It burned, and with that sensation came the shock of knowing that a stranger had been fucking you only hours before, but this was still pushing your body to its limit to accept Daryl. He stopped once the tip rested inside, for both your benefit as well as his own. He was already twitching, possibly not physically able to go further without spilling inside of you. Would he? You could almost feel the cum leaking around him to spill out of your cunt, wanted to experience how it would make your body soar. However, there were very valid concerns that would make that unlikely.

“Y’okay?” His voice was strained, gravelly, and unfortunately for Daryl, your body reacted by involuntary squeezing him. He keened, a low noise in the back of his throat. In lieu of a reply, you dragged up your legs and pressed your heels against the curve of his ass, pushing him deeper. His head fell onto your shoulder with a grunt. “Goddamn—” 

Your cunt wrapped around him in a perfect mold, so tightly that you could feel the vein that ran underneath his cock. Gasping and moaning, you let your knees fall outward and pushed against him with your heels until he was fully sheathed within your warm, fluttering walls. And then you were lost in him. The first thrust was more a roll of his hips, driving so deeply inside of you that you could feel him nudging your limit yet still carving his way further. It was amazing to immerse yourself in the chasm between pain and pleasure, without a sense of foreboding weighing heavily to suffocate you. Daryl was your safe place, and now that you couldn’t seem to tell where you ended and he began, you could draw upon that ardor and submit to him completely.

Submission was something you knew well, but this was different. It was a conscious choice made out of desire and not fear. You were ready to willingly drown in him and let him decide when to pull you up for air. Another roll of his hips saw you breathing his name, your hands roaming over the broad expanse of his back, over the raised and uneven skin. The archer growled next to your ear, sucking on the lobe before progressing with intentionally wet kisses and nibbles over your jaw before claiming your lips.

He was so gentle in his movements, allowing both of you what you needed while still reminding you that sex could be enjoyable. No one had ever made love to you that you could remember. Maybe before the end of the world, but that no longer mattered. The memories could stay buried for all you cared. You wanted this, there in that moment. With Daryl.

“Need ya to tell me you’re okay.” He murmured with his lips brushing over yours. His sporadic presses into your body became a rhythm, continuous and deep, but just as slow and steady. The heat in your belly was already simmering just from the drag of him inside of you, feeling him twitch and swell.

“I’m okay, yeah. I’m okay.” You managed, encouraging him to bare his neck to you with a gentle nudge of your cheek against his jaw. His moan cut off, hips stuttering when you bit down on skin over his pulse. There was the slight taste of copper on your tongue. He groaned and grabbed at your hands, one at a time, to push them back down on either side of your head, lacing his fingers through yours. His grip tightened with every languid thrust, only to loosen when he pulled back his hips. His face was buried against your shoulder again, choking off moans and failing in the attempts to hold back the whimpers, he was throwing gasoline onto the fire inside of you. “I’m—I think I’m—” Your chest arched and pressed against him, his left hand releasing yours to move down and cradle your lower back, angling your hips to allow him to carve his way impossibly deeper. You could feel him moving in your lower belly, each push back into you prodding a spot that had your toes curling.

You began to orgasm before you could even warn him, so lost in the colors and shapes of a different reality while your cunt clenched around him so forcefully that he grunted your name and squeezed your hand. You knew you were shouting but could do nothing to stop it. It just felt so sublime, so right. Dary was still at your ear, panting and grunting through clenched teeth. He was hanging on by a thread.

“Y/N, m’gonna—fuck, m’gonna cum.”

He slipped out of you so suddenly that you whined, twisting your other hand free to encircle both arms beneath his, holding him close and steady as he spilled onto your throbbing pussy. His chest was heaving, the frequent puffs of air so warm against your skin. His muscles were taut beneath your palms, rippling while he rode out his high with lazy thrusts, his cock brushing against your groin. Then he was still, collapsing on top of you but cognizant enough to shift his weight so as to not crush you.

The room was quiet then, save for the heavy breaths. It was damn near eerie but entirely forgotten when the archer pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes tired and glazed over. 

“Did I hurtcha?” It was almost a whisper, as if he was trying to avoid someone overhearing and catching you both naked and sweating.

“No.” You smiled and pulled him back against your shoulder. “Not at all.” It took several more minutes before your own breaths had slowed to an even cadence. Daryl had all but melted into you, sated and sleepy and vulnerable. It felt like an honor to hold him in such a way, coaxing out the stress and despair so that his muscles relaxed and he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One hand rubbed across his back, pausing with each twitch or sharp inhale. Your other hand was busy cradling the back of his head and combing your fingers through his hair. 

“Daryl?” 

“Hmm?’’ When you angled your head to look down at him, you found yourself smiling. His eyes were losing the battle to stave off the call of sleep. 

“Thank you.” 

But he was already out, the exhaustion from the last few days pulling him under with relative ease. As you held him close, you felt your own eyes grow heavy. One of you should really have stayed awake and kept watch, but sleep was relentlessly dragging you down. 

With one last kiss into Daryl’s hair, you closed your eyes, feeling the tears sting but you were too tired to fight them off.

“Thank you.” 

#murda writes #the dixon chronicles #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon angst #daryl smut #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl angst #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #twd daryl #x reader #x female reader #Spotify

[bananafire11]

quick fanart for @murdadixon of her series, the dixon chronicles (with her ver. of reader ofc ofc) :D i just had to. im totally hooked on your stuff. i couldnt NOT doodle something. thanks for all that you write!!

#daryl dixon #fanart #the dixon chronicles #i need to draw something gorey to make up for all this fluff ive been drawing lately #my art #daryl twd #the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #doodle #i draw humans interacting successfully!? #thats an achievement on its own #there will prob be more fanart in the future #cuz RAHHH <3

[hexmurphy]

#tsccedit #sarah connor #charley dixon #lena headey #dean winters #terminator: the sarah connor chronicles #tscc #tscc 1x06 #i just think it's neat when sarah gets to be familiar and almost vulnerable with someone

[loisfreakinglane]

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles 2.01 // 2.06

#tsccedit #tscc #terminator: the sarah connor chronicles #john connor #sarah connor #thomas dekker #lena headey #charley dixon #dean winters #derek reese #brian austin green #tvedit #tvgifs #mygraphics #gif #john x sarah #i just. find them holding that sarkissian reveal til ep 6 fascinating #and sarah not telling charley and derek what really happened here #charley and derek mourning a loss of innocence bc of what they believe john witnessed #instead of what john DID what he was forced to do

[johnscameron]

TSCC 1x06 'Dungeons & Dragons' deleted scene

#terminator: the sarah connor chronicles #tsccedit #john connor #charley dixon #tscc #original

[maepolzine]

The Read-Cap: Week of April 20, 2024

Looking back at all the books I read in the last week, and what I'm looking forward to reading next week.

This week I didn’t want to read anything that required a lot of thinking, so books that I knew were going to be easy enough to breeze through. So, I ended up reading a series on Kindle Unlimited that I figured wouldn’t be too complex based on the premise and a book that I knew was just going to be vibe from Ruby Dixon. If you are new to the Read-Cap this a weekly post I’m doing where I share what…

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#a rivalry of hearts #bexley u #book #book review #elayna r gallea #fae flings and corset strings #Review #ruby dixon #sj sylvis #sunrise cantina #tessonja odette #the binding chronicles #the elementals of iona #the read-cap #vb lacey #Wrap Up

[threeravenspublishing]

Are you Ready for new Car Warriors fiction?

Are you Ready for new Car Warriors fiction?

Because this Friday, April 19th, 2024, Go Hard or Go Home, a Car Warriors Autoduel Chronicles Anthology goes live! The big events may get most of the limelight, but that’s not where all the action happens.This collection of fast-paced, action-packed stories highlights the road warriors who struggle to survive, without the glory of the duel. Caravan guards, gun bunnies, insurance adjusters,…

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#action #Autoduel #Autoduel Chronicles #Benjamin Tyler Smith #car #car combat #car combat fiction #car nut #car porn #car race #Car Warriors #car warriors: the autoduel chronicles #Car Wars #car wars fiction #Casey Moores #comedy #david hensley #demolition derby #fantasy #guns #jenny e. wren #jody lynn nye #larry dixon #military scifi #monical valentinelli #paranormal romance #s.m. stirling #sci fi #science fiction #scienceficiton

[batmanbeyondrocks]

Different by Jaden Dixon

Credit: Jaden Dixon@jadendixonn

#IG #Instagram #Jaden Dixon@jadendixonn #Different #Different by Jaden Dixon #R&B #2024 #Lightskin Chronicles #The 2024 Lightskin Chronicles #Fashion

[sockich]

Tim dreaming of his dead mom while dying from the Clench:

The Batman Chronicles #4 by Chuck Dixon, art by Frank Fosco

Tim meeting an alternate version of his mom as he's traveling the multiverse searching for Bruce:

Batman v3 #134 by Chip Zdarsky, art by Miguel Mendonca

#dreaming about janet knowing he's robin and telling her everything #and then finding a version of janet and telling her everything for real #thisisfine.jpg #tim drake #love him #janet drake #love them #jack drake #ariana dzerchenko #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #the batman chronicles #batman #timdrakeedit #lgbtincomics #dc #comics #my posts

[about-faces]

“The Bride of Leatherwing,” from The Batman Chronicles #11 (1997), by Chuck Dixon and Enrique Alcatena

#batman #penguin #oswald cobblepot #selina kyle #catwoman #robin #dick grayson #elseworlds #full stories #full comics #chuck dixon #enrique alcatena

[zahri-melitor]

hi hello if it's not too much trouble, what comics would you recommend for someone trying to study the batfamily characters and dynamics for a project? I don't know which writers to avoid or which runs are considered bad characterization. I know this varies with opinion but you seem super familiar with the differences between fanon and canon stuff. don't worry about keeping the list short or anything, I don't have a problem with reading a lot

Honestly, this is a ‘how long is a piece of string’ question, but I can give you some pointers.

Which 'family' characters are you looking at, and which dynamics do you want? Because the thing is, this varies significantly over time. What I can do for you is roughly discuss a bunch of different eras, and what's good content to look at in each of them.

A shortcut - you're often well served by looking at a Gotham-wide Event during the period you're interested in. Sure, people often have some objections to some of the characterisation, but if you're looking at how characters interact, they're the best place to see lots of variations.

In addition 'bad characterisation' is largely in the eye of the beholder. There's actually less agreement on what is and isn't 'bad characterisation' than you might think - it depends on who you're talking to and what stories they like. Characterisation with comics characters is best thought of as a sliding spectrum - there's a range that most people will accept, and when characters go outside it people start getting unhappy. I'll try to note major shifts or universe resets or retcons along the way though.

Pre-Crisis:

Look there is very little in pre-crisis you need to look at for this. Sometimes people will pull stuff forward for Dick and Jason as Robin or Barbara as Batgirl, but largely things stand without this.

Post-Crisis:

I'm happy to walk you through post-crisis up to 2011. I'm still getting a handle on 2011 to present myself.

The Early Days: Bruce as Batman, Dick as Robin, Barbara as Batgirl

In the beginning, there was Batman. One day he went to Haly's Circus where he saw two acrobats falling and their devastated son...you know how this one goes.

Pretty much everything set in this period is flashback stories, so they frequently retread the same ground over and over. Want to see the Graysons fall? You're in luck! Choose one of the more than a dozen versions! (I'm not going to list them all even though I like many)

Quality stories looking at this period include:-

Batman Year One (1986) - Batman #404-407. I am recommending this, yes, even though it's Frank Miller, because it gets referenced a lot. It's a decent retelling and the best work Miller's ever done for the Bat books by a long shot. Bruce's origin story.

Robin: Year One (2000) - Chuck Dixon and Scott Beatty. This is probably my preferred version of early Bruce and Dick stories, and it's conveniently got a sequel in...

Batgirl: Year One (2003) - Chuck Dixon and Scott Beatty. Barbara's origin as Batgirl and the only one worth reading. These two update the Dick and Barbara as Robin and Batgirl dynamics into post-Crisis.

Batman Chronicles: The Gauntlet (1997) - Bruce Canwell. This is a single issue about the 'final exam' test Dick took to become Robin. I really enjoy it.

Robin & Batman (2021) - Jeff Lemire. A very recent update of early Dick as Robin. If you want something recent and quick, this is the pick. The characterisation is good but I have a bunch of quibbles with the details.

World's Finest: Batman/Superman (2022) - Mark Waid & Dan Mora. Here's a current ongoing for you! A rarity in that is set reasonably late Dick's time as Robin, and it also doesn't repeat identical beats to those above. Lots of Bruce and Dick, strong Silver Age vibes in relationships, and a lot of fun. A great intro to the wider DC simultaneously too.

Robin II: Bruce as Batman, Dick as Nightwing, Jason as Robin, Barbara as...around

Honestly this is a period I'm weaker on. Jason's post-crisis run as Robin is pretty compact: Batman #401-428 and 'Tec #568-582. Jim Starlin's the writer who wanted to kill Jason off.

Batman #408-411 (1987) - Max Collins. The original post-Crisis 'Dick Becomes Nightwing' and 'Jason becomes Robin' story.

The Diplomat's Son - Batman #424 (1988) - Jim Starlin. This is the issue everyone talks about, where Felipe Garzonas dies. You should read it just to understand the debate, if nothing else.

A Death in the Family - Batman #426-428 (1988) - Jim Starlin. Jason's death.You should read this if you want to understand the dynamics surrounding these events and what actually happened.

The New Teen Titans - look I can't get my head around the numbering of NTT, but if you want to go into this there are eleventy million guides. NTT is very popular. This is Dick as Nightwing during this period, Marv Wolfman and George Perez working together, and considered by people who like Nightwing during this period as the definitive version. Jason appears in a few issues.

Nightwing Year One (2005) - Nightwing #101-106, Chuck Dixon. Now this is going to be extremely controversial, but I do actually recommend people read Nightwing Year One. It's a retcon, but it's an important retcon because it lays out the dynamics of Jason's time as Robin as comics writers have changed them to be following his death. If you want to see how comics writes Jason as the 'angry' and 'risky' Robin following his death, this is the most compact way to see how the narrative changed.

Batgirl Special #1 (1988) - Barbara Randall. Barbara's last appearance as Batgirl. Randall is Barbara's best contemporary Batgirl writer, and this is a loving sendoff for a character who was about to get shredded.

The Killing Joke (1988) - Alan Moore. You should probably read it. Barbara is shot in the spine. However if you want to skip it that's completely fine as the relevant beats have been retold almost as many times as the Graysons have fallen.

Gotham Knights #43-45 (2003) - Scott Beatty. This is probably the best telling of the fallout of Jason's death on the family, particularly Barbara's reaction. If you want Batfam dynamics this is what you should look at.

New Beginnings: Bruce as Batman, Dick as Nightwing, Tim as Robin, Barbara as Oracle, Helena as Huntress, Steph as Spoiler

This is an interesting period in that it's the first threads of what we now call the Batfamily, but they're only just starting to come together as Tim picks each one up. (No, seriously. This era is 'Tim meets people and works with them')

Also as will be the case for a while from here on, at least 50% of all content is written by Chuck Dixon. Now Dixon has his downsides - he's notoriously a conservative homophobe and his views can be seen in the text quite frequently, but he is really good at writing relationships between characters, and he loves a crossover. If you love the modern Batfam, you do have to acknowledge Dixon for his work.

A Lonely Place of Dying (1989) Batman #440-442, New Titans #60-61 - Marv Wolfman & George Perez. Tim's origin story. Very clear on the outset dynamics between Bruce and Dick.

Identity Crisis (1990) Batman #455-457 - Alan Grant. Tim's first night out as Robin in his own costume, plus early dynamics between Bruce & Tim. A tear jerker.

To the Father I Never Knew (1992) Batman #480 - Alan Grant. If you want to actually understand the foundation of Jack and Tim's relationship and how he contrasts it with his relationship with Bruce - look no further.

Robin III (1992) - Chuck Dixon. A very early Tim team-up with Huntress. This is a good place to start for how her relationship with the other Bats evolves in Gotham.

'Tec #647-649 (1992) - Chuck Dixon. Steph's original time out as Spoiler. Again foundational dynamics.

Oracle Year One (1996) Batman Chronicles #5, John Ostrander and Kim Yale. The story of how Barbara became Oracle. Stunning. Essential.

Knightfall: Bruce as Batman, JPV as Azrael and Batman, Dick as Nightwing and Batman, Tim as Robin, everyone else keeping out the way

Knightfall is huge and messy and all over the place but there is magic in here. You just have to dig. Parts I particularly like for family dynamics:-

Batman: Sword of Azrael (1992) - Dennis O'Neil. This is an excellent intro to John-Paul Valley, and get comfortable, because this is what Denny's going to write for the next 10 years.

Batman #488 (1993) - Doug Moench. JPV starts working at Wayne Corp. Tim is assigned to teach him the ropes as a crimefighter in Gotham.

Batman #500 (1993) - Doug Moench. JPV becomes Batman. Dick turns up to complain to Tim about Bruce being insufferable. It's all here.

Bloodbath #1 (1993) - Dan Raspler. This is a terrible comic BUT it also contains some gold dynamics between JPV, Dick and Tim.

Knightsend (1994) - team written. Bruce, Dick and Tim work together to help Bruce rehab from his injury and take down JPV. Legends of the Dark Knight #63 in particular is stunning.

Prodigal (1994) - team written. Dick as Batman and Tim as his Robin. The final issue, Robin #13, has Bruce and Dick's reconciliation over both the fight when Dick became Nightwing AND their fight after Jason died. Essential.

Welcome to the Family: Bruce as Batman, Dick as Nightwing, Tim as Robin, JPV as Azrael, Barbara as Oracle, Helena as Huntress, Steph as Spoiler

I will fight to convince you that this is the first true 'Batfam'. Everything prior to this is Bruce and his Robin, with occasional associates. This is where it goes from the Dynamic Duo to a network who intersect constantly.

Writers: It's a lot of Doug Moench and Chuck Dixon still.

Nightwing: Alfred's Return and Batman #521 (1995) - Alan Grant & Doug Moench. Alfred quit during Knightfall due to what Bruce was doing to himself. This is how Dick got him to come home, and the reunion.

Contagion (1996) - team written. The Event where Gotham gets the Clench (aka Ebola). Massive teamup storyline featuring Bruce, Dick, Tim, JPV, Helena, Selina, and Barbara.

Legacy (1997) - team written. Oh no, it's the Clench Round Two. Here we go again. Basically the same team, but JPV doesn't get invited after he proved he'd forgotten was a fax machine was last event, and Helena gets a more significant role.

Robin important family issues during this period: #17 (with Helena), #29-30 (with Barbara), #34 (with Helena), #35 (with Steph), #45 (with Jack Drake), #47 (with Dick)

Nightwing important family issues during this period: #6 (with Tim), #7 (with Babs), #13-14 (with Bruce), #16 (with Babs)

Birds of Prey important family issues during this period: Birds of Prey Manhunt, as it sets the tone for Barbara and Helena's relationship for a WHILE.

No Man's Land: Bruce as Batman, Dick as Nightwing, Tim as Robin, JPV as Azrael, Helena as Huntress and the Bat, Barbara as Oracle, Steph as Spoiler, Cass as Batgirl

The earthquake where everything goes wrong. The most notable addition to the writing pool is Greg Rucka. Honestly this is a 'so many parts of this are worthwhile, read it all' sort of period, but to help navigate there's a handful of really important points:-

Nightwing #20 (1998) - Chuck Dixon. The Dick, Babs and Tim reunion issue during Cataclysm. The world's fallen apart but they're back together.

Nightwing #25 (1998) - Chuck Dixon. Dick takes Tim trainsurfing

Brotherhood of the Fist (1998) - Chuck Dixon. This is a teamup with Connor Hawke involving Bruce, Dick and Tim. I love the dynamics here.

Huntress/Spoiler Special - Blunt Trauma (1998) - Chuck Dixon. The one Helena and Steph team up during Cataclysm. Get a dynamic you won't see anywhere else.

'Tec #725 (1998) - Chuck Dixon. Dick tells Bruce that he's going to become a cop.

'Tec #727 (1998) - Chuck Dixon. Another Dick, Babs and Tim teamup to take on Firefly.

Mark of Cain (1999) - Kelley Puckett. Cass's intro story.

Birds of Prey #8 (1999) - Chuck Dixon. Dick and Babs visit Haly's Circus

Robin #67 (1999) - Chuck Dixon. Tim and Dick break into No Man's Land.

Legends of the Dark Knight #120 (1999) - Greg Rucka. Team reunion in NML at the Clocktower.

Nightwing #38-39 (1999) - Chuck Dixon - Babs looks after an injured Dick in the Clocktower.

Legends of the Dark Knight #125 (1999) - Greg Rucka. Bruce and Jim finally discuss their issues. Barbara and Tim wait upstairs.

Endgame (1999) - various. Whole team works to track down Joker and some kidnapped babies on Christmas Eve.

A New City, A New Team: Bruce as Batman, Dick as Nightwing, Tim as Robin, JPV as Azrael, Barbara as Oracle, Helena as Huntress, Cass as Batgirl, Steph as Spoiler

This is the final Chuck Dixon era, the Rucka & Brubaker run on Batman and 'Tec, Devin Grayson on Gotham Knights, and probably my favourite era of comics ever. It's hit after hit after hit. Pick up any comic here. You won't be disappointed.

Major highlights not to miss:

Gotham Knights #1-12 (2000) - Devin Grayson. GK is my favourite Bat anthology book ever, but this run includes Transference. The overarching plot is Bruce analysing his team in a series of case notes. Unmissable.

Hunt for Oracle (2000) - Chuck Dixon. The US government tries to track Oracle down. Babs, Dick and Dinah make sure they fail.

Officer Down (2001) - various. Jim Gordon is shot. This is the consequences as people search for his attacker.

Joker Last Laugh (2001) - various. Joker thinks he is about to die and breaks out of the Slab. Chaos ensues. This is the one where everyone thinks Croc kills Tim, and reacts accordingly.

Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive (2002) - various. Bruce has been pushing everyone away for a while, so when he's accused of murder, they must ask the question, did he do it? Everyone tries to solve the mystery of who killed Vesper Fairchild, and Bruce goes through one of his 'am I Bruce or am I Batman' periods.

Batgirl #18 & #20 (2001) - Kelley Puckett. Cass' first team ups with Tim and Steph respectively.

Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood (2000) - Greg Rucka. THE definitive Batfam Huntress book.

Hush It Looks Like War: Bruce as Batman, Dick as Nightwing, Tim as Robin, Barbara as Oracle, Helena as Huntress, Cass as Batgirl, Steph as Spoiler and Robin

Among the drama of Murderer/Fugitive, almost every single book gets a new writer. Jon Lewis takes Robin followed by Bill Willingham, Devin Grayson takes Nightwing, Birds of Prey gets fills until Gail Simone picks it up, Dylan Horrocks takes over Batgirl, Jeph Loeb writes Hush on Batman, Scott Beatty takes Gotham Knights. Personally I endorse basically all these runs but Grayson on Nightwing is controversial.

Hush (2003) Batman #608-619 - Jeph Loeb. Famous for a reason, this is a Bruce story that touches on his relationships with almost EVERY major character in his life (Cass and Steph miss out).

Gotham Knights - Scott Beatty. I don't know what to pick here but #47-49 is a team story of Bruce, Dick, Tim and Cass following Bane to a Kobra stronghold which shows off the developed family-like relationship between the 4 at this point.

Robin - Jon Lewis. Your highlights here are Tim and Steph on a date together (#111), and the 16th Birthday Story (#116-120) because it's essential to understanding where Tim and Bruce are at.

Robin - Bill Willingham. Jack finds out Tim is Robin. Tim quits. Steph becomes Robin. It's an essential arc.

Nightwing - Grayson. This is widely disliked but #81 is a great Dick, Bruce and Cass issue.

Birds of Prey - Simone. Helena joins Barbara on the Birds of Prey. They very, very slowly work through their issues with each other.

Batgirl - Horrocks. #38, Steph and Cass play tag. #45, Cass tries on Barbara's old costume. #50, Bruce drugs himself and Cass with Soul and they fight. #54, Barbara and Cass argue over her reading ability.

And then lurking in the background...War Games hits and tears the Batfam apart, with a doubletap from Identity Crisis.

Leaving Gotham: Bruce as Batman, Dick out of costume, Tim as Robin, Cass as Batgirl, Barbara as Oracle, Helena as Huntress annnnd Jason as Red Hood

Steph is dead. Barbara and Helena leave Gotham for Metropolis. Tim and Cass move to Bludhaven. Dick runs off to join the mob. And in Gotham, Red Hood appears.

Writers: Well we've added Judd Winick on Batman, and now have Andersen Gabrynch on Batgirl. Gotham Knights is now mostly A.J. Lieberman and no longer a good Batfam book (it's now a Hush book). 'Tec honestly isn't worth it during this period. Willingham on Robin has a handful of decent issues to start out then increasingly gets weirdly conservative with some very odd plotlines.

Fresh Blood (2005) Robin #132-133, Batgirl #58-59 - Willingham & Gabrynch. This is a Tim and Cass team up as they move to Bludhaven and mourn together.

Under the Red Hood (2005) - Batman #635-650. You know what this is. It's the Jason returns story.

Nightwing - Grayson. #100 - a strong reflection on Dick's past plus the most heartbreaking part of the Dick/Babs breakup as Dick just runs from all his problems. #110. Tim and Dick meet in Bludhaven and fail to tell each other all the bad things happening in their lives. #112. Dick and Helena run into each other both undercover in the mob. #117. Dick finally talks to Bruce about Blockbuster, and proposes to Babs.

Robin - Willingham. #134 is the pick of the bunch - Bruce offers to adopt Tim and Tim reflects on his time as Robin, though it's a solid little story out to #138 as the truth about Uncle Eddie comes out.

Birds of Prey - Simone. #76, the Babs side of the breakup. #83-84, Helena with the mob and encountering Dick. #90, Helena gives Bruce the new compiled mob data handbook and Bruce compliments her.

Batgirl - Gabrynch. This is a strong well loved run for the build up to Cass' final fight with Shiva, but for Batfam you can't go past #67, when Cass reunites with Babs. Also Cass hallucinates Steph twice in this run (#61 & #72).

Then Infinite Crisis arrives and we all move a year into the future.

One Year Later: Bruce is Batman, Dick is Nightwing, Tim is Robin, Jason is Red Hood, Damian arrives, Cass eventually returns to Batgirl

At this point Barbara and Helena are largely doing their own thing with the Birds of Prey and won't return to the Batfam until Reborn.

New writers all around! Adam Beechen and Fabian Nicieza on Robin, Marv Wolfman and Peter Tomasi on Nightwing, Adam Beechen on Batgirl, Grant Morrison on Batman and Paul Dini on Detective Comics.

Face the Face (2006) Batman #651-654, 'Tec #817-820 - James Robinson. The Bruce and Tim story that set up Tim's adoption.

Batman and Son (2006) Batman #655-658 - Grant Morrison. Damian's introduction to the family.

Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul (2008) - various. Ra's tries to kidnap Damian to steal his body. Bruce, Dick and Tim go to rescue him. Dick and Tim's subplot involves the highest point of their brotherhood as Dick talks Tim out of trying resurrect his lost dead.

Robin - Beechen. #156, the suicide prevention issue, for Tim and Dick. #163, Tim and Bruce on their first Father's Day. #165, Tim and Bruce working on a car together.

Robin - Nicieza. Steph's return as Spoiler. #177, where Jason thinks he can recruit Tim (and fails miserably).

Nightwing - Wolfman. You know what? #117-122, the 'Jason dresses as Nightwing and harasses Dick and turns into a tentacle monster' saga. Does everyone like to say it's out of character? Yes. Is it Jason being just as annoying as he will proceed to be all the way to 2011? Also yes. That's Jason's post-Crisis character.

Nightwing - Tomasi. Freefall, #140-146. This is just a beautiful encapsulation of Dick's many connections, of his teamwork with Bruce and Tim, and of what makes him tick.

Heart of Hush (2008) 'Tec #846-850 - Paul Dini. The premise is ridiculous, but it's about Bruce and Selina, and about Dick and Tim helping track down Hush.

Batgirl (2008) - Adam Beechen. Beechen after squiffing it with the Evil Cass saga, gets to undo the damage to Cass's character and return her to the family. I think it's a pretty successful job, despite Dick spending the entire book holding the idiot ball so someone can be unsupportive. Cass gets adopted. Tim and Barbara never lose their faith in her.

Battle for the Cowl: EVERYONE IS FREEFORM

Everyone will tell you this is all horribly out of character. They're wrong. Come for Fabian Nicieza doing hard work to actually set up characters in the places they need to be for Reborn.

Battle for the Cowl: the Network (2009) - Fabian Nicieza. Oracle and the Birds of Prey have returned to Gotham but for reasons they're not calling themselves the Birds of Prey, so it's the Network.

Oracle The Cure (2009) - Kevin VanHook. Early set up for Wendy Harris' future plot. Babs gets the mentoring itch again.

Azrael: Death's Dark Knight (2009) - Fabian Nicieza. A new Azrael for a splinter faction of the Order of St Dumas appears. Dick and Babs are immediately suspicious (and Dick has to be talked out of immediately kicking the Azrael's butt just on the SUSPICION it might be JPV).

Also the main event books happen and everyone yells at each other a lot about who should be Batman.

Batman Reborn: Bruce is missing, Dick is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, Jason is Red Hood, Barbara is Oracle, Steph is Batgirl, Cass is Black Bat

New titles! New writers! Things all over the place! People who like Jason are going to claim all of Jason's appearances are once again out of character, but Jason fans claim that about every time Jason breathes outside of UTRH, Lost Days and a small handful of very select stories after Flashpoint. I'm just saying, villain Jason is pretty consistently irritating between 2007 and 2011.

Red Robin #1-12 (2009) - Chris Yost. Not only Tim's new costume arc, but a great look at Tim's centrality as a character to the Batfam in the number of contacts he calls in at the end of the run.

Red Robin #17 & #25 (2010) - Fabian Nicieza. Tim and Cass working together as siblings and backing each other up.

Batman & Robin #20-22 (2011) - Peter Tomasi. I would strongly argue this is the best arc in B&R with the best characterisation.

Batman & Robin (2009) - Grant Morrison. Look, a lot of people like the foundation of Dick and Damian's relationship found here. Also Jason shows up to be a pain.

Streets of Gotham (2009) - Paul Dini. There's a bunch of good storylines in this anthology book, but #5-6 with Dick, Helena and Kirk Langstrom is one I particularly like.

Batman #703 (2010) - Fabian Nicieza. The best Dick, Damian and Tim team-up issue of Reborn.

Gates of Gotham (2011) - Scott Snyder. The masterpiece of Batfamily content. Dick, Tick, Damian and Cass all feature in this and all 6 possible relationships are shown in different parts.

Batgirl #3-5, #17 (2009) - Bryan Q. Miller. Damian and Steph team ups, plus a look into the tension in the Dick and Barbara relationship at the time.

Birds of Prey #10 (2011) - Gail Simone. Barbara discusses her new realignment of how she's working as Oracle and focusing on the Bats.

The Black Mirror (2010) 'Tec #871-881 - Scott Snyder. Some of the best writing of Dick as Batman during this period, and a look into his relationships with Jim Gordon, Barbara, and Tim particularly.

The Return Home (2010) - various. Bruce comes back to Gotham after his 'death' and checks in on everyone.

#reading list recs #dc #wow that took a while #here's the batfamily

[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter 14

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; minor discussion of cold symptoms; allusions to prior CA; allusions to prior SA; sexual themes; thoughts of suicide.

When Daryl woke, his head wasn’t pulsing as it had been before he’d given in to rest he so desperately needed. The symptoms were still present but improved. If he wasn’t still so tired, he might have engaged in a bit of self-loathing. How could he let himself get so run down? He had people to protect. He had you to protect. 

Drawing in a deep breath, he managed not to cough even when he felt the tickle at the back of his throat. He groaned at the effort of opening his eyes, the pale light on the top of the walls coming from the moon. He had slept all day. Shit. Nothing could be done now, other than maybe offering to take watch from whoever was on duty. 

His tired gaze slid back down, stopping abruptly when he found your arm on the mattress, your hand resting on his. He was careful when raising his head to get a look at you. You were curled on your side, head pillowed on your other arm. Had you left him at all?  

He watched you sleep until his neck protested the awkward angle and he let his cheek rest against the pillow. Would he be able to slip his hand from underneath yours without waking you? Should he put you on the mattress before he left for the watchtower? Why was everything about his companionship with you a fucking guessing game?

Daryl laid there quite a bit longer, actually trying to go back to sleep, but several things stood in the way of that. He was on the mattress with a pillow and a blanket while you slept on top of the thin sleeping bag on the floor. He was accustomed to sleeping on hard surfaces. He grew up with punishments like being locked in the bathroom for two days, forced to sleep in the grimy tub. When he had taken to the woods at such a young age, the forest floor became his bed. 

The more he thought about that, it eventually brought him around to the place from which he had rescued you. You likely had no bed either. The sleeping bag was probably an upgrade from that situation. 

Then there was your smaller hand on his. His thoughts were taking a swan dive right into the gutter. He tried to focus on the simplicity of it. You either wanted to comfort him while he was under the weather or you needed the comfort yourself. 

Regardless of his efforts, he always ended up imagining pulling you onto the mattress and burying his face between your legs; how you would whimper and whine for more friction but he’d take his time to taste every inch of your pussy. He’d show you how intimacy was supposed to feel. Not pain or fear. He wanted to show you soft touches with heated fingers, whispered reassurances, connecting with someone on a level that would leave you feeling safe and wanted. 

He wished like hell he could show you all of that because it was what he needed too. 

Your fingers carding through his hair while he slowly rolled his hips into you. Your soft lips on his collarbone, painting a wet, burning trail down to his cock. Your nails gliding up and down his spine while you held him against you afterwards. Your touches would be without judgment when you’d feel the ridges of a scar. You’d kiss each one of them and he’d let you. 

When he felt his eyes sting, he turned his face into the pillow. He had to get away from you. He was too deep into the habit of running from feelings triggered by things he could never have. He’d been doing it for as long as he could remember. It kept him safe, kept whatever shriveled mess of a heart he had protected from further damage. 

He’d been keeping his distance when he wasn’t training you. He’d wander the fences or skulk out into the woods. And when the desire for you became too strong, he would go into the showers and allow himself to have you in his mind before taking each scene he played out and locking it up tight. 

It was when he’d realized that he wanted more from you than your body that he became really ill at ease. He wanted you, as a whole. He wanted to be the one to give back what those cowards had stolen from you. He wanted to see you smile and laugh while knowing he helped bring you there. As much as he wanted it, he was a coward in a different sense. He had nothing to offer you. He was broken beyond repair, too afraid he’d use your fragmented pieces to only patch himself up while leaving you shattered. You deserved so much more than what he could ever hope to give you. 

Your fingers twitched against his hand, forcing his self-deprecating thoughts onto the back burner. He rubbed his face against the pillow, afraid of any tears that might have managed to escape. That’d be all you needed. He finally faced you to find you peeking over the edge of the mattress. You were silently blinking at him until you knew he was awake, then you sat up with a smile. 

God, he wanted to hear you talk again. 

“Hey.” Daryl whispered, voice still rough from the cold he’d brought on himself. You tilted your head and gave him a small wave that took your hand away from him. He found it alarming how much he missed it so quickly. 

When you touched him again, it was your palm to his forehead. He knew he was still slightly feverish, could feel it in the slight ache in his joints and the lingering fatigue. The way your mouth turned down just confirmed what he already knew. 

“S’jus’ a cold. M’fine.” He waited until you lowered your hand to sit up. He really was okay, aside from feeling like shit. He’d definitely felt worse before and wouldn’t be made an invalid by a silly head cold. “M’ gon’ see if I can help on watch.” Daryl began to slide down the mattress to grab his boots, brought to a stop by your hand on his bicep. You were already shaking your head before he even looked at you. “Told ya m’fine.” His body chose then to betray him with a barking cough. Your frown deepened. 

You were a persistent little thing, weren’t you? He watched with something akin to amusement, unable to find a single trace of annoyance, while you crawled onto the mattress and sat back on your knees. You brought your other hand to join the first, tugging lightly but incessantly. 

The way you looked at him, big doe eyes shining in the pale light, actually kindled a feeling of guilt at wanting to leave. You shook your head again, appearing frustrated with yourself. It must have felt horrible to be unable to speak. With the way you mouthed the words, it was obvious you were trying. Daryl wished again that he had reached you sooner, that he could have stopped those bastards from touching you. He just couldn’t understand how all of this wasn’t his fault. 

You shuffled on your knees to sit next to him, pressing your palm to his forehead, then his chest, and shaking your head. He didn’t need to hear the next word you mouthed to know what it was. 

“Please.”

If you wanted him to stay that badly— to rest, he supposed —then he couldn’t deny you. He owed you that much. 

“Alrigh’, m’a stay.” You beamed at him, resulting in a fluttering feeling in his stomach that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant. When he realized he was staring, he quickly looked away, somewhere over your shoulder. 

You bounced on your knees for a moment and then crawled back toward the edge of the mattress, both actions nearly making the archer groan. He bit the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood coated the side of his tongue. He felt like some horny teenager. 

Luckily for him, you spared him from yet another self bashing by flopping onto the sleeping bag. You appeared settled and content but Daryl still wasn’t having it. 

“Nuh-uh. If m’gonna stay, ya gotta take the bed.” You sat up, brow drawing inward into what he assumed was your attempt at intimidation. If he wasn't serious about getting you to take the mattress, he might have chuckled. “No arguin’, woman. Take the damn bed.” 

You shook your head and crossed your arms for added effect, only making you that much more adorable. A slender finger pointed at him sharply before you made a fist and coughed into it. 

“I’ll live. Don’ need no mother hen.” He grumbled. He was two seconds away from scooping you up and depositing you on the mattress himself. Your easily triggered fear was the only thing giving him pause. When you still refused to budge, he made to get up. “Fine. Goin’ ta take watch.”

This time, when you caught his wrist, your bottom lip was out and there was no resisting the half smile that ticked onto his face, albeit briefly. You scowled at him then, sitting back on your heels and tapping your chin. Your finger stilled as your eyes narrowed, staring pointedly at the pillow. Your expression was troubled. 

Daryl’s amusement faded. “Hey, wha’s wrong?” He asked quietly. Showing so much concern for someone outside of walker attacks and crazy men with undead battle royales was so new to him. He had never been a comforter. A protector in recent months, sure, but never a comforter. He just didn’t have that quality about him. Yet you continued to pull at threads he didn’t even know were sewn into him. 

You shook your head slowly, remaining still for another moment, but then you were moving. Your face was set in a determination Daryl had yet to see from you, leaving him curious. You slid the pillow over and then the blanket before grabbing the edge of the sleeping bag and dragging it up onto the— Shit.

By the time his brain caught up, you were already pointing at him then to the pillow then yourself and to the sleeping bag. 

“Ya wan’ us both ta sleep on the bed?”

You nodded, still looking more determined than made sense. 

“Nah. No.” There was absolutely no way. He and Carol had shared sleeping areas before but that was Carol, his best friend. He had never used thoughts of her to pleasure himself. Until you, it was an automatic thing. Stress relief, chasing the high, before and the two times after the turn. He didn’t need to imagine anyone. Now, it was always you. “Not a good idea.”

You tilted your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You wanted to say something, it was obvious. He could take a stab in the dark as to what it was. 

“I know that yer offerin’ somethin’ tha’s hard fer ya n’ I ‘preciate it. Ain’t a good idea.” He hadn’t realized he was rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip until he bit down on the skin. “Think I should jus’ go n’ take watch.” His voice strained on the last word and he coughed. Still, he tried again to get up, only this time, your arms wrapped around him from behind with your cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. 

Ah, fuck. 

You were trembling. He thought, at first, that it was because you were getting more and more upset. That was probably at least part of it. But then, the most surprising thing. 

“Please…stay.” 

Daryl inhaled sharply. Your voice was so rough from disuse, the energy it took for you to force out the words must have been draining. You slumped against his back but your grip on the front of his vest held true. You’d finally spoken. And it was for him. Rough or not, it was like a soothing balm straight to his soul.

He loosened your fingers with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed and twisted to get a look at you. Your eyes held a tired resignation. This was your final attempt before you’d give up and he didn’t have the heart to deny you. 

“Okay.”

You didn’t smile this time, only giving the smallest dip of your chin in a nod. The archer’s insides were twisting and flipping with emotions he didn’t know how to handle, but he crawled past you pushed the pillow over to the sleeping bag. You didn’t argue. Then he gripped the blanket and moved it further, nearly to the very edge of the small mattress. You’d both have to lie on your sides to fit and it would be much closer than he was comfortable with, but he continued regardless, his mind moving too fast to be able to focus on the anxiety. 

You had already laid down before he finally took his spot, thankful that it was close to the wall and he could press himself back a little further. Why he laid down to face you was anyone’s guess. He made a valiant attempt to avoid your gaze until your palm pressed against his forehead again. Why didn’t he flinch away from you? He despised being touched. Nothing made sense. His eyes met yours despite his reluctance, and he could see the relief pooling there. You had been so worried over a cold. 

Maybe it was because he’d taken care of you while you recovered. Maybe it was because you wanted to show kindness to prove it hadn’t been taken from you with everything else. Maybe it was because—

He shut the thoughts down, sealed them up tight. Your fingers brushed across his forehead and swept back the fringe that always fell over his face. Maybe he should cut his hair so you wouldn’t feel the need to do that. You drew back your hand and pressed it against your chest, your eyes trying hard to close when you were obviously fighting against it. He turned over, away from you. It felt like his only option, both to ensure you’d sleep and to keep himself in check. 

He must have exerted more energy than he’d realized because it was mere moments later when the thoughts ceased and he knew nothing more. 

You watched silently as his breaths deepened and evened out. The congestion from the cold gave each breath a wet, smothered sound but he was okay. Truthfully, he wasn’t even very warm. A low grade fever at best but he needed to stay in bed to get over the mild illness. If he pushed himself, you knew it would last longer, maybe even worsen. You couldn’t help but be reminded of being so sick because you were forced to work when you hadn’t felt well. Then you were tossed inside your cage with a pack of several cough suppressants. You had been so close to taking them all and hoping it did you in. Now, you were glad you didn’t. 

You would have never met Daryl. 

That alone, his friendship, almost made all you’d been through worth all the ugliness. He was enough to encourage you to pull your voice from the confines of your mind and force it over your tongue. It had been both a physical and mental battle and a tremendous effort.

You didn’t remember much before your time under Big Jazz. It was like everything human had been beaten out of you, taken away and placed under lock and key, the latter held by each man that put their hands on you for their own pleasure. Little by little, you were reclaiming those pieces of yourself. You could remember men from before, the ones that broke your heart in a much more humane but still painful way. Normal relationships. 

Not one of them looked at you like Daryl did. 

The archer hid behind a mask of indifference, but you could see past that, having been the victim of men who were truly complacent to the hurt they caused. Daryl was different. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. There was always a hint of remorse if he raised his voice. Now, he even made the effort to walk away and gather himself before coming back to make it right. He only sometimes apologized verbally, that just wasn’t his nature. But he didn’t need to. His eyes gave him away. 

Regardless of the hesitance you still felt toward everyone, it was improving. Even with that gnawing anxiety, you felt drawn to the archer. And when he was close enough, there was a stillness in your soul that you could get lost in. You found you wanted to and that was daunting. 

Now that the two of you were settled, you no longer felt tired. You wanted to watch over him, make sure he rested adequately. You wondered if you should go get him some soup and tea like you had planned. 

“Daryl?” Carol’s voice carried up the stairs. There was a moment of silence and then the sound of boots on metal. You sat up, your eyes on Daryl, who had yet to stir. He must feel awful if he wasn’t responding to outside stimuli. Once you saw the silver hair, you put your finger to your lips. Carol stopped just shy of the top step when she saw you, her gaze sliding over to the archer and then back to you. A cheeky grin lit up her face. 

You pursed your lips in distaste. “No.” You whispered, finding the word harder to say in Carol’s presence. “Sick.” You took a deep breath, calming your suddenly frazzled nerves. The situation between you and Carol was still tense, but you could feel the slight shift, something just naturally healing itself. Maybe it was because you subconsciously knew what happened to you was out of her control. 

“Sick? What do you mean sick?” Carol took another step, looking panicked. You held up a hand, absently placing the other on Daryl’s back as if the gesture would coax him into staying asleep. He did. The other woman froze, staring wide-eyed at your hand and a knowing smile replaced the previous grin. 

Your hand swiftly retracted. “Cold.” You coughed, verbally communicating felt like it was literally dusting off your vocal cords. “Broth? Tea?” 

“I’ll bring you both some. It sounds like you could use it.” She turned and took a step but stopped to look over her shoulder. “It’s nice to hear you talking.” There was a slight jerk as if she started to move and forced herself to wait. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. For what happened to you. I know I… I let you down and—”

“Okay.” You whispered, smiling gently. It was still difficult to believe her words. After all, you clung to them when you first arrived and they shattered in your hands. You tried for a reassuring smile, apparently coming close enough that she returned one and called ‘be right back’ from her descent.  

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake. It seemed a shame to wake him for food but he didn’t eat at all the day before. You didn’t know much about caring for a sick person but it was a given that the body needed energy and energy came from nutrition. Maybe it would take Carol a while to find some and the archer could sleep a little longer. He’d slept so much but he must have needed it to not wake as easily as he usually did. 

You ended up lying back down beside him and watching him sleep. Watching over him like he had watched over you. 

Carol didn’t take long to return. She had found a can of chicken noodle soup, and it wasn’t even expired! She thought anyway. Who knew what the date was anymore? The tea was actually an easier find. Apparently everyone wanted coffee but tea was in abundance. Peppermint tea with as much sugar as could be spared. Bowls and mugs were steaming when she arrived with them. They needed to cool a bit and that gave you time to rouse Daryl slowly. 

Or so you thought. 

When you shook his shoulder, he bolted up and pressed himself against the wall, grasping for his knife on his thigh, appearing even more feral when he realized it wasn’t there. 

“Daryl.” You whispered, both to calm him and because your throat ached. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, not quite awake. You reached for him, palm up, but didn’t touch him. “Safe.”

The shift from panic to confusion to realization was gradual but you waited him out. You knew what nightmares could do, how they could leave you feeling lost from reality in those first few moments if you wake suddenly. You hadn’t realized he’d been dreaming at all, he was so still. 

He finally eased down onto his knees, chest still heaving. To your surprise, he hesitantly placed his palm on top of yours for only a second before pulling it back and falling over onto his ass, his back against the wall. 

“M’sorry.” He rasped, wiping at his face tiredly. The rough breaths turned into a cough and then a sniff. He didn’t appear to be crying so that one could be chalked up to a runny nose. 

“Tea.” You carefully lifted one of the cups and offered it. He accepted with little reluctance, staring into it blankly. 

“Yer still takin’.” He croaked, wincing before taking a sip. You hoped it had cooled enough. You received your answer when he hummed appreciatively. 

“Yeah.” You took a sip of your own, sighing in relief at the gentle, soothing burn. 

“Thought I dreamt it.” He was watching you over the rim of the mug as he tilted it to his lips. 

“Dream of me?” You teased, feeling bad when he sputtered and spit back into the cup. Still, you chuckled. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” 

You couldn’t help but notice he didn’t answer. Your stomach fluttered pleasantly, a feeling you remembered from the before. It was both terrifying and relieving. You sat your tea back on the tray and held your hand out for his. The archer took one last sip and relinquished the mug. You traded it for a bowl, giggling when he tried to sniff it but his nose was too stuffy, making him scowl. 

“Eat.” You urged, lifting the spoon to your lips. Studying your soup, you could remember your mother making it for you when you were young. Mixing it with water and cooking it until it was all you could smell. You weren’t a fan of the obviously processed meat but the broth was always just what you needed if you were feeling poorly. 

You lifted the spoon to your mouth, distracted by a slurping across from you. Your eyes lifted to gaze from beneath your lashes. Daryl had placed the spoon on his lap and was simply drinking the soup from the edge of the bowl. The childlike mannerism had you giggling all over again. You couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled so often. It made your cheeks hurt. 

Daryl went still. He lowered the bowl, his face red, his eyes lowered. Had you embarrassed him? It wasn’t something that bothered you. You found it endearing. Yet, you didn’t know how to voice that without shaming him further. So, you did the next most logical thing. 

Blue eyes flitted up when you tapped the spoon against the edge of the bowl and then placed the utensil on your lap. Reaching for his bowl, you rested your palm below his hand and pushed for him to lift it. He obliged with a confused frown but then you were taking back your hand and lifting your own bowl, drinking the broth from the edge. You made no noise, where he slurped at his own loudly.  The red hue of his cheeks was fading but he wouldn’t look at you. 

That was okay because, that way, he didn’t see you smiling from behind your bowl. 

Taglist:

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[celaenaeiln]

Hi cl! I was wondering if you have or one day would make a recommended reading list for dick?

Yea!! I would love to!

For Robin- the best would be Batman 1940, Batman: Golden Age Omnibus, Batman Chronicles: The Gauntlet, and Robin: Year One

Untainted by bored and desperate authors, the comics are genuinely funny and interesting and action packed. I love puns and humor and good fighting so Batman 1940 was top tier for me. Batman: Golden Age Omnibus I really liked Bruce and Dick's casual "you're like a brother-son-friend-partner" thing that flowed so naturally.

Batman Chronicles: The Gauntlet and Robin: Year One show Dick's capabilities and and how excellent he is even though Batman 1940 shows that too, these are more recent. Whoever wrote The Gauntlet-I'm kowtowing to you. It's god tier work, thank you.

Batman and Robin, A Boy Wonder

I know this is a controversial one because of what Frank Miller makes Dick do but also I just considered it to be part of this universe's batman's psyche. But Frank Miller aside from this one can go suck it. I love everyone in it.

Robin and Batman by Jeff Lemire

This comic talks about Dick directly after his parents' passing. It shows how instead of angry like people think, he was mostly sad and lonely and how he and Batman both grew from this. Going from grief to the light of Batman's darkness that he's known to be.

The Detective Comics

It's Batman and Robin stuff but you know it's just like a progression of the Batman comics but different stories.

The World's Finest Comics both the 1941 and the new one.

Dick's relationship with the Titans and family- Batman: A lonely place of dying.

It takes place some time after Jason's death and shows how Tim joined the family. I love the way they wrote every character. I'm going to put up a post later about Dick and the Titans and this comic is quintessential to that. MUST. READ.

Want more incentive? It's all about Dick and Alfred's relationship and how they're the best father and son.

Dick's relationship with the Titans and Outsiders

Teen Titans (1966) - the silver age, og titans.

The New Teen Titans (1980)

The New Teen Titans: Judas Contract

The New Teen Titans (1984)

JLA/Titans

Titans Secret Files

Titans (1999)

Outsiders (2003)

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

Teen Titans Lost Annual

Titans (2008)

Titans Hunt

Titans (2016)

Titans United

Titans United: Bloodpact

Titans (2023)

World's Finest: Teen Titans

Nightwing Dick- Nightwing 1996 and 2011

Okay. I know people hate Chuck Dixon but honestly, I think he's one of the greatest Nightwing writers. With him, the writing felt continuous and fluent. It takes you from Dick being fired to the majority of his life. Every arc that was written was excellent because even when Dick was at his worst mentally, emotionally, and physically, he was a formidable foe. He's a tactical genius and one of the strongest fighters and Chuck Dixon put him through a lot but one thing he never did was nerf him. This was very good.

ACTUALLY NO- I LOVED THIS SPECTACULAR, MARVELOUS, BEAUTIFUL, EXTRAORDINARY, BRILLIANT WORK. LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.

Nightwing 2011 will be one of my all time favorites. Undefeatable badass boy. The entirety of Nightwing 2016 has nothing on even a single panel from Nightwing 2011. Glorious work.

Batman Dick- Batman: Streets of Gotham

The things is, Dick was a very good Batman. Actually, he was an excellent Batman. Maybe it's because he's an excellent actor but the internal struggle he had was not outwardly shown when he was Batman thus effectively convincing the public that there was not a different man under the mask (They could only tell because he actually cared about people unlike Bruce). Actually I like him better than Bruce Batman because Dick's actions as Batman at that time were cooler than any Bruce has taken. I know it's hard to believe but this comic was fantastic in showcasing that.

Other top favorites- Nightwing: The New Order, Future State: Nightwing, and Grayson Comics

I'm literally going feral over New Order. Nightwing is the world's favorite (as expected) and has an entire army to himself. He also has a kid named Jake Grayson and JAKE IS THE CUTEST ADORABLEST KID EVER. I LOVE Kori but what I love even more is Dick is a single mom to Jake because Kori left and Jake loves Dick so much! I cried at the end because how badly I was moved.

Future State! Future State Gotham was trash. It was so bad I had to search for a trashcan to dry heave over because it's character assassination. That comic was so bad other DC authors just refused to acknowledge its existence. Future State: Nightwing showcases just how brilliant Dick is. Ever heard the saying, "There's method to my madness?" Dick always has a plan. It's only madness for those that don't understand the full scale of it.

Heh. Everyone hated the Grayson comics but honestly? I loved it. Dick was manipulative, talented, excellent fighter, and a spy. Every task he took he excelled in it. They said that Dick wasn't made for spying but they weren't talking about his skill set. They were talking about his emotions. Even Tiger- Spyral's number 1 asesst and spy- was outplayed by Dick multiple times. If Helena hadn't become Matron, Dick would've burned Spyral to the ground so completely not even ashes of the fire he had set would have been left as evidence for beetles to collect.

Batman/Nightwing: Bloodbourne

Pure fighting prowess. It reiterates the fact that Dick is undefeatable.

Batman and Robin (2009)

Dick!Bats and Damian's run as Batman and Robin. It sheds light onto the hardships of raising an assassin child. People think that Damian would just follow someone along and become good if they knew him earlier but you don't understand. Dick. Put. Work. Into. Damian. Their obsessed with each other relationship exists because Damian is fully aware of the amount of time, effort, and love Dick has given him and reciprocates that. He loves Dick beyond measure and will fight anyone who says even one word against him.

Batman and Robin Eternal

Really talks about Bruce's impact on Dick, Dick's impact on Bruce, family dynamics, batfamily working together, intelligence and fight skills of Dick Grayson. There's a couple plot holes in the middle with about 2-3 panels being wrong but everything else is so correct.

Convergence

Do you want to know how important Dick is in terms of the multiverse's perseverance and continuation? This one!

COMICS I HAVE READ A BILLION TIMES BECAUSE THEY'RE SO GOOD - DARK CRISIS, DARK CRISIS, DARK CRISIS!!!!

DARK CRISIS

DARK CRISIS

DARK CRISIS

I SAVORED every letter of that comic.

#I hope you like these! #dick grayson #nightwing #dc comics #batman #cl anon asks

[dailycass-cain]

Cassandra Cain Reading Guide Part 1: General

So you want a reading list for Cassandra Cain? I'm gonna split this into various sections. So, if the urge increases of "I WANT TO READ MORE!" Then there are other tiers to help feed that great need.

And it all begins with this one.

Part II reading guide (Modern) you can find here.

Part III reading guide (Random) you can find here.

Part IV reading guide (Alternate versions) you can find here.

Part V reading guide (PAIN) you can find here.

The starting point is No Man's Land particularly these issues.

Batman #567 + Detective Comics  #734 - Mark of Cain aka Cass's first appearance and her intro arc (Puckett/Scott/Peterson).

Legends of the Dark Knight #120 - First as Batgirl.

Batman #569 - first solo story

Azrael #56-57, #60-61

Gotham Knights #2

Batman Chronicles #18

Robin #73

There are more appearances of Cass in No Man's Land than these and the one above, but these are highlighted by her interactions with Jean-Paul Valley, Bruce, Tim, and Leslie Thompkins.

Batgirl Vol. 1 #1-11, #13-25

The first half of the Kelly Puckett/Damion Scott run. If you're wondering why #12 isn't mentioned, it's a crossover issue for Officer Down (basically Jim Gordon is shot, and the aftermath is him stepping down as Commish). It's totally up to you completist wise if you want to go into that story.

For key portions, #7 is Shiva/Cass meeting for the first time, #11 is a spotlight on David Cain, #18 & #20 are her first actual team-ups with Tim & Stephanie, Not her first meetings (she first met Tim in #120, and Stephanie in Robin #88).

During #24 we have another crossover, this event being Bruce Wayne: Murderer? This leads into the next crossover which hits in #27 & #29 Bruce Wayne: Fugitive. Bruce is the main suspect of a murder leading the Bat Family to investigate it. It is optional BUT--

The primary antagonist of the crossover has a critical role in Cassandra's life. So if you want-- Batman #605 (reveal of the antagonist of Bruce Wayne: Murderer?/Fugitive) Batman #606-607 (aftermath to the reveal) Cassandra only appears in #605 and has a two-panel cameo in #607.

Batgirl Vol. 1 #26-37

The second half of the Puckett/Scott run. Again, #27 & 29 are x-overs. #30-32 is an arc drawn by Scott but written by Chuck Dixon. #33-37 is the closeout of the run.

For issues going on while this run, there were four specials published that featured Cass.

DC First- Batgirl/Joker #1 (Cassandra fights the Joker.)

Batgirl Annual #1 (one linear story of Cass/Bruce on an adventure)

Batgirl: Secret Files & Origins #1.

Batgirl/Ghost: The Resurrection Machine #1-4.

It's up to you if you want to read the last one. It's Cass's only crossover comic, But yeah.. I’m not particularly fond of the story.

#38 features Stephanie exiting the supporting cast and features the first Batgirl issue by Andersen Gabrych.

Superboy #85 is where you need to read next. It has Cass teaming up with Conner Kent/Superboy. This issue helps leading into----

Batgirl Vol. 1 #39-57

Dylan Horrocks’ run.. #39-42 deals with Superboy and a villain called Black Wind (#39-40). Black Wind shows up again in #43-44 with Cass also tangling with an OLD Batman villain Dr. Death.

#45 is when Rich Leonardi arrives as artist for the comic. This is also the same issue Cass dons Babs' Batgirl costume. #46-49 continues the build-up of tension Cass has with Bruce (starting in #39) which leads to #50 Cass vs. Bruce! Horrocks/Leonardi's crown jewel of their run.

#51-52 Cass takes on Poison Ivy. #53 Stephanie returns to the comic as Robin. #54 sadly is when Barbara exits the title as a supporting character. #55-57 is War Games x-over resulting in Stephanie being killed off, and Barbara leaving Gotham, gutting Cassandra's supporting cast.

During this near the middle of this run, another maxi-series is published by DC that features Cass:

Justice League Elite #1-12

- Kasumi (Cass in disguise and spying for Batman). If you're looking for Cass tangling with threats beyond her usual street fare than by all means.

Nightwing #81

- features Cassandra's first encounter with Deathstroke the Terminator. A gorgeous choreographed fight by Devin Grayson and art by Rich Leonardi.

Detective Comics #790 - a War Games prelude with Cass helping Bruce on a mission while both reflecting on Stephanie Brown who is at a crossroads.

Robin #132

Batgirl #58

Robin #133

Batgirl #59

- the Fresh Blood story which features Cass teaming up with Tim both reeling from the fallout of War Games crossover event and their new status quos.

- #58 is the start of Andersen Gabrych's run on the comic.

-  An epilogue to this story occurs in Batman Allies: Secrets & Origins #1 in a tale (written by Gabrych).

Batgirl Vol. 1 #58-73

#60-62 is Cassandra's new status quo. Ale Garza/Pop Mhan provide art for most of Gabrych's run (save one issue). These three issues have Cass tangle with the Brotherhood of Evil and a "ghostly" Stephanie continues to shows up too!

#63-64 is Cass having a rematch with Deathstroke who brings Ravager along for the ride. This is basically Gabrych tying up a subplot introduced in Teen Titans comics happening at the same time period (i.e. Rose posing as Cass), but you don't really need to read that to understand the why. So I’m not going to give the issue # to that.

#65-73 is the Destructions' Daughter arc. Everyone who has history with Cass shows up in this arc. Bruce, David Cain, Babs, Black Canary, a few villains of her past (Shrike and Alpha), and of course Lady Shiva in #68.

It's here Gabrych has to juggle a lot of tie-ins. Infinite Crisis was looming on the horizon and Cassandra was dealing with parts since the beginning of her run. #66, and #69-70 are considered the "lowest" points of the run and the Vol. 1 series.

#71-73 is when the action ramps up again with Gabrych having to speed his way to the ongoing's conclusion in #73.

I know I left out appearances (Supergirl, Batman/Superman, Harley Quinn, Young Justice, Birds of Prey, Robin, and Gotham Knights). Also a mini (Batman: City of Lights). But they're just sprinkles. Added goodies to the toppings that is this entire run.  Okay, save the last one and maybe Batman/Superman... You will see them on other lists I have for Cass (mostly part 3 and 5).

 DC Festival of Heroes: The Asian Superhero Celebration #1

- contains TWO stories centered on Cassandra. Along with this neat variant cover by Artgerm.  "Sounds" literally feels like a story during or just after the Puckett/Scott run (#37) written by Mariko Tamaki and drawn by Marcus To.  

"What's in the Box?" is the other story that features Cassandra written/drawn by Dustin Nguyen. Though shorter than the prior one it is still a gorgeously drawn story. Not mentioned, but alluded based on the art/timeline Cass is in her Black Bat attire. So you can place this story after Gates of Gotham in the old canon.

Batman: Urban Legends #7 (Hunter or Hunted...)

-  The story/art by Guillaume Singelin provides a truly UNIQUE tale starring Cass.  The action is top-notch, we're given probably the best fight sequence from start to finish involving the character in a LONG TIME. The story is a literal  feast for the eyes.

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures Episodes 32-33 "All Seeing"

- The second major arc that focuses on Cass showcases the many qualities of the character on why there are so many passionate fans of hers. A good starter or introduction for new readers on the character.

All season 1 episodes of WFA  are free and available here:

Episodes 90-91 "What I Want" 

 - The third major story arc focuses on Cass's comic origin while also giving us a team-up gone awry between her and Damian Wayne. Gives new readers a further understanding of Cass building upon Episodes 32-33.

Shadow of the Batgirl

- a Young Adults graphic novel written by Sarah Kuhn and drawn by Nicole Goux. Kuhn gives Cassandra a modern origin taking elements from Puckett and James Tynion IV/Scott Snyder’s Batman & Robin Eternal origin to give us something newly unique on it’s own.

A highly recommended story!

Batgirls #14

- The best issue of the Batgirls ongoing series. Artist Jonathan Case pulls off a masterclass of art, inking, and coloring in this special “silent” issue. There’s no need to read any prior issues. You can go in without reading the prior two arcs (Batgirls #9-12, 2022 Annual, and #13), but it adds to the payoff of this issue.

Yes, writers Michael Conrad and Becky Cloonan cheat in the format, but the way they sneak the dialogue in is absolutely perfect. After years of being denied the special format, Cass gets it and showcases WHY the character just works so well. 

#reading guide #cassandra cain #dc comics

[loisfreakinglane]

Dean Winters and Thomas Dekker in TERMINATOR: THE SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES // 2.03 “The Mousetrap” Bonus:

#tsccedit #tscc #terminator: the sarah connor chronicles #john connor #charley dixon #thomas dekker #dean winters #charley x john #tvedit #tvgifs #blood cw #mygraphics #gif

[oraclebabsday]

um hello!! im very new to comics, but of the characters I’ve seen so far, I really like Barbara and I was just wondering if you had any comic recommendations on where to start..? its very confusing trying to get into it all, but I’d like to be able to hold a conversation about someone I find interesting with my boyfriend so I can hear him info dump on me more cus he’s deep into dc so :)

Hi!!! That is so sweet omg 😭 Welcome to the weird wonderful world of comics!!! and also i’m so sorry for what I’m abt to throw at you lmao

Since you’ve sent this ask into an Oracle-centric blog, I’m gonna keep this rec list Oracle!Babs-centric (& also encourage my fellow mods to add on if they also have some recs!) I actually don’t have a whole lot of recs for Batgirl!Babs anyways, but I’ll be tagging my gen dc blog at the end in case you’d like to talk abt those or any other characters!

Also before I get Into the recs, I wanna give you some words of encouragement: there’s no right or wrong way to read! You’re also likely gonna have some well a lot of confusion at the beginning, esp bc there will be Events™️ that have ramifications™️ and you’re not always given full context of what’s come before or what’s happening concurrently with what you’re reading. I’ve been doing this for awhile and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the more that you read & explore, the more fun you’ll have & the more things will usually start to make sense! But it’s all gotta start somewhere first! :D and you’ve def chosen a great character to be your launching point!

Im gonna be hopping around a bit in my recs here but I’ll try to keep it mostly in chronological order. That said, first up:

Suicide Squad (1987) - she appeared semi-regularly starting in #23! This was also her debut as Oracle! I really enjoyed the overall run & would normally highly recommend it, but also want to warn that it’s a pretty heavy read in terms of content itself (canon-typical violence ofc esp for a SuiSq comic, discussions of suicide ideation, period typical stereotyping/‘subversion’ of said stereotypes, but that’s a deeper discussion for a different blog) For that reason, I don’t necessarily recommend it for a first-time reader, esp if you’re wanting to solely focus on Babs. Team books usually aren’t super great when you’re reading for an individual character, in my experience, esp in a case like this where the character isn’t always necessarily part of the team or appears sporadically enough to disrupt the flow of following a storyline.

Birds of Prey (1999) - This team book breaks that prev rule tho, bc Babs is the leader & is in Damn near every issue of this run 😂 There’s several smaller team-ups before the main ‘99 run (BoP:Manhunt, BoP:Wolves, etc), which are also good as a prelude before the main run itself. This will be the longest thing that will give you a LOT to parse through & ymmv with a lot of it. (Dixon & Simone are the most prominent writers for it & without getting Into It they each have their Issues™️ & Crimes™️) It also crosses over with a few events/references others. Imo it’s a good window into what comics are like overall, esp when you get into a longer run with multiple writers at the helm. But it has an added bonus of keeping a pretty small cast at its forefront (for about half the run, it’s solely Babs n Dinah!) It also has a follow-up run in 2010 which is broken up by-

Oracle: The Cure - (technically a 3-issue mini-series but!!!) this one’s a culmination of Oracle & Calculator’s (it’s not rivalry? That can’t be the right word… Uhhh, nemesis-sitch?) from BoP & leads right into bringing Babs back to Gotham in Steph’s Batgirl run as well as the next BoP run I mentioned just a sec ago. It’s what I like to call connective (t)issues lol. Ymmv I think depending on if you’ve read BoP ‘99/TT ‘03 beforehand, but I hadn’t read a lot of TT before reading it at the time, and I enjoyed it a lot!

A couple individual issues I wanna suggest:

Batman Chronicles #5 - Oracle: Year One!!!!! Cannot rec this one enough!!! In lieu of reading Killing Joke (which really only serves Bruce, Joker, Jim Gordon’s characters) read this!!! LICHERALLY her origin in coming into her own as Oracle!!! This one is THE place to start, actually, before you read anything start here 😂

Batman: Gotham Knights #6 - okay, this one is admittedly a self-indulgent rec. Without spoiling the plot, it’s CLASSIC soap-opera level shit. The TENSION at play & the layers of Bruce & Babs dynamic, the messiness of the batfam!!! 👌 *chefs kiss* GK as a run in general too was a LOT of fun for me & Babs is a pretty prominent player in much of it, but this issue rlly takes the cake for me ngl

And to tie it all together for an extra couple of Important Event recs that you’ll run into esp if you pick up BoP first:

Batman: No Man’s Land - okay, this event was a Behemoth. It’s a LOT to read, but it is REALLY good imo as a launching point for where Bat-comics were at the start of the millennium. Babs takes the narrative role SO many times throughout & she rlly comes into her own by becoming a linchpin for the info system she builds for the batfam. Again, I don’t wanna discourage you when I say it’s a Long read, bc it’s well worth it imo, but also 100% okay to skip when you’re just starting out! It’s a big time sink!

Batman: Officer Down - okay put away the meme forJUST A SEC, our old friend Jim Gordon’s been shot & it’s up to Batma- oh wait bruce sulks by Jim’s bedside while Babs rallies the troops and GETS SHIT DONE to find who shot her dad? INTERESTING 🧐 In all seriousness tho, & compared to NML, this is a much easier bite-sized event that can give you a taste of what Event/crossoverComics™️ are generally like 👍

Bruce Wayne: Murderer?/Fugitive - okay so, take that same energy of the batfam having to Put In The Work to help Bruce out & flip it around bc now Bruce is the Main Suspect. The drama, the Intrigue™️. Pretty much everyone in the fam gets a moment to shine & this is def peak of how Babs fits into the fam during this era. This one runs a bit on the longer side & babs is again, more of a support role here, but god damn I loved it a lot!

I feel like I’m obligated to at least Mention Batman: War Games, mostly to note that it finally shakes the foundation of Oracle being the batfam’s main support (her CLOCKTOWER gets nerfed in this event 😭) If you read all of BoP and skip over this event & then are confused abt why Babs is suddenly being ejected from Gotham, just remember that her clocktower gets blown up, Steph dies, Bruce n Babs have a falling out & that’s basically why Babs starts flying around the country & settles in Metropolis for a bit instead of going back to Gotham. I reread this event at least once a year bc it gave me brainworms, I can not in good conscience recommend it to anyone bc no one understands her (War Games) like i do 💕 Godspeed if you decide to read it o7

Other recs/mentions:

Batgirl (2000) - okay if you end up reading NML, you’ll be introduced to Cass in it, & this run picks up with her. Babs is in it a LOT at the beginning as supporting cast to Cass (up to War Games ofc, but I won’t say much more abt that lol) I’m ngl, when I was trying to get more into comics, this run was what HOOKED me

Batgirl (2009) - so in a similar vein, Babs also features as a support for Steph too in her batgirl run. It’s… different from Cass’ run, but I also rlly love this one too. And also am forever bitter that the Batgirls run didn’t realize their potential BUT WE’RE NOT GETTING INTO THAT HERE.

Gonna mention Batman: Gotham Knights one more time bc again, while Babs isn’t a main focus, I think it’s rlly good at tying the batfam together during that era & giving a reader glimpses into other characters/dynamics. I think I got more out of it after I had read a few other runs from this time period (namely Robin, Azrael & some prominent stuff with Huntress), but can also see it as a potential launching point for new readers too 👍 if you wanna get more into the batfam/Batman but are intimidated by the Big Runs, this can potentially be a good bridge!

Gonna rapid fire mention that Babs as Oracle has a lot of appearances in Robin (93), Nightwing (96), JLA (96), Azrael (95) and obvsly Batman/Detective Comics from the 90s into 00s. I’ve read a few of these runs, and ymmv depending on how attached you may get to certain characters. But that’s what comics is all about! Getting attached and exploring other characters n teams n stuff!

A Gen note that I wanna end on: I wasn’t exaggerating when I said earlier abt how the more you read the more you’ll have fun. I can’t even begin to count the number of times that I’ve read something from a 90s/00s comic & was essentially jumpscared by a sudden Oracle cameo that I wasn’t expecting! She pops up in so many things throughout the universe at the time!!! She was THE info broker for all the supers!!! It makes me so insane that DC threw that all away to magi-cure her and demote her back to batgirl when she had grown so much 😭

anyways I hope you have fun!!! And again if you’re ever looking for other recs my more Gen dc blog is @dyketectivecomics! If my fellow mods or anyone else have some recs to add or to dispute haha, I’ll be tagging this so others can see/rb/reply to add their recs too 👍

Okay! \o/ that’s all I got for now! Happy reading anon!!!!

#barbara gordon #oracle #oracle day #birds of prey #reading rec #~randy #added a cut bc length 👍 and to add a warning that this isn’t just a list #I wanted to include some commentary bc having a reading list is good sometimes #but also having a Guide™️ is what I’m ultimately aiming for when I’m curating my lists now in 2024 #esp bc I’m gonna be revamping the duke list soon but THATS a convo for the duke blog 😂 #okay enough tag rambles. I hope this helps anon! sorry it took a Hot Sec! #you sent this right as the holidays were swinging at me full force 😭