#{{ what i have in my two hands is enough to set me free | HEADCANONS: SNAKE }}
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Public/Private Knowledge Meme
This one is a bit long so it's under the cut, but it's incredibly useful I think as Snake's story involves some events that made global news and various government conspiracies so it helps to show what other muses might actually know and what's beyond their purview.
Public Knowledge >> Your muse could easily know these just by hanging around Snake and/or paying attention to news media.
There was once a soldier whose feats were so legendary even the broader public had likely heard of him at least once; Big Boss. He was the one who defeated the 'Mother of the Special Forces', The Boss, after she became a traitor. His many exploits after earned him much praise as a war hero. He went on to lead a US special forces unit called FOXHOUND.
A soldier in that unit showed incredible promise, enough to catch Big Boss' eye, and he earned a variation of the man's old codename. The soldier now known as Solid Snake was later hailed as a war hero for his role in the destruction of a dangerous nuclear weapon called Metal Gear in a South African military nation called Outer Heaven. Solid Snake retired early after that. No reasons given to the public.
Years later however he was pulled out of retirement and involved in quelling an uprising at the same location. After that he vanished from public eye.
The Snake we're discussing here in this post is a different Snake however. He claims to be related to Solid Snake in some way and has apparently inherited the codename of Snake, but won't go into further detail about it. It's probably true though as the resemblance is uncanny.
A private company called SaintLogic manufactures weapons and technology for the American military. They aren't the main nor largest supplier but if your muse is interested in the US military they could know about the company's existence.
There's a small country in South America called the Serena Republic. It had a civil war going for many years. Recently the corrupt military regime upheld by General Delgado was finally overthrown by guerilla warfare from the revolting citizens.
During the revolt however the Delgado regime deployed new forces to quell the rebellion and they took things too far. Around 10,000 people died, including many innocents not involved in the uprising. The event became known as the Praulia Massacre after the city where it started.
Snake and his close friends all fought in the uprising. Their resistance cell played a role in finally removing Delgado from his seat of power.
With the country now finally at peace Snake took up work as a mercenary with his friends' aid.
The peace unfortunately only lasted three years. The new Secretary of State, Perez, was assassinated. Rumors say it was that mercenary called Snake who did it, but does that make sense to you?
Snake and his friends fled the country soon after, coming to the United States where they now live.
General Wiseman of the US Department of Defense's Joint Chiefs of Staff was arrested after classified information came to public light about how he had secretly instigated the Praulia Massacre.
A string of missing children had plagued US news for a while. The cases remained unsolved until the Praulia Massacre's truth was brought to light and SaintLogic held up to scrutiny.
The Delgado regime's forces used in the Praulia massacre were actually secret human experiments made by SaintLogic using the missing children they had bought. The company was given the go-ahead to do a field test with their experimental super-soldiers as a way for Delgado to get a handle on the citizen uprising. Wiseman had wanted more data and provoked the subjects, resulting in the massacre, and SaintLogic later sent in newer test subjects to clean up the mess.
SaintLogic was shut down after the truth came out.
Snake works part-time at Rebel Motorbikes; his friend Consuela's motorcycle shop. Another friend, Roddy, works there full-time. His other friend, Dave, now has a job as as a private investigator.
Snake is closely acquainted with an FBI agent named Dalton. They seem to have a history.
Snake has a sister though they are estranged and have cut contact with each other. He doesn't like to talk about her. He used to have brothers but they have all passed away. He mentions them even less.
Snake is an incredibly fast healer. It's almost superhuman...
The past is an iffy subject for Snake and he will never talk about his life prior to meeting his friends in Serena.
His real name is Snake. Just Snake. No last name. That's what it says on his ID and passport.
>>Specifically for the Sonic verse:
Dalton is actually a GUN intel agent in this verse.
Snake joined GUN shortly after he and his friends came to live in the United Federation.
Snake and his friends were part of the war effort during Forces and still participate in occasional cleanup efforts. His friends are all civilians but Snake felt unfulfilled and at Dalton's behest joined GUN.
Dalton was the one who vouched for Snake, helping him get hired.
Snake is a GUN field agent with Dalton assigned as his handler.
Snake often spars with Shadow and is the only person at GUN other than Omega to actually provide the hedgehog a decent challenge.
Semi-Private Knowledge >> Information that is either classified or not easily learned but potentially available to muses with the right kinds of access/connections.
Solid Snake was actually Big Boss' son who had been put up for adoption, but because of his father's incredible skills was pretty much adopted by the military to raise so he could become another legendary soldier.
Solid Snake was persuaded to end the uprising at the same location as Outer Heaven precisely because of the location and the fact that they were using their own Metal Gear. History repeats and Solid Snake infiltrated and handled the fortress base of Galuade before returning to his retirement.
Solid Snake was pulled out of retirement once more many years after the Galuade incident to handle a delicate hostage crisis; a US senator was held on a hijacked plane with the stipulation of only being let go if the government handed over Project Pythagoras; a Metal Gear being constructed on Lobito Island in South Africa. History repeats. Snake completed the mission, the Metal Gear was destroyed, and the hostage saved. But this time he did not survive the return trip. Strangely his body was never found.
Serena's Delgado regime was actually formed thanks to corrupt officials over in America. Former CIA agents gave him secret military support, and various corporations helped fund them under the table.
As mentioned Snake and his friends played a role in taking down Delgado. But they were actually the key part. Snake himself was the one to infiltrate Tormenta Stronghold and assassinate the man.
Snake was framed for Perez' assassination by a drug lord called Escobar. This was retaliation for stealing his money in an attempt to shut his business down. Snake and his friends kept the money when they fled to the US. All $15 million of it.
Dalton helped create a new life for Snake, giving him an ID and US passport, and deleting any old records from public access.
Snake is an amnesiac. He doesn't truly recall anything before his friends found him in Serena after the Praulia Massacre. He gets bits and pieces in dreams and nightmares but they often don't make sense. He only recently learned the context for them but won't talk about it.
He's incredibly susceptible to memory problems. But he does have some measures from his friends to help mitigate any potential forgetfulness.
Dalton was fired for digging into information he wasn't supposed to, but was reinstated (albeit on thin ice) upon bringing the conspiracy about Praulia and SaintLogic to public light.
>>Specifically for the Sonic verse:
GUN is aware of his frankly absurd healing factor and takes advantage of this in the missions he is assigned.
That healing factor is a big reason he's a good sparring partner for Shadow; neither of them have to hold back much.
GUN is also aware of his nano-chip implant (see next section for info) and makes use of that for missions as well. However use of this implant to download skills has to be run by his handler Dalton first as he's the only one who knows the correct data format. This is partially as a safety measure for Snake.
Private Knowledge >> Only Snake and his closest friends know this information.
SaintLogic had one super-soldier test subject that wasn't made using the purchased children. Solid Snake's body was never found after Lobito Island because SaintLogic stole it while they were there recovering the remains of the Metal Gear. They used his DNA to make our Snake.
Snake's siblings are actually the other SaintLogic test subjects. His brothers were the other male Model 3 subjects. His sister, Venus, is a Model 3 newer than him. She and Snake are the only surviving test subjects.
Snake's nightmares are fragments of memories from his short life at SaintLogic's facility and his participation in the 'cleanup' of the test subjects involved in the Praulia Massacre. He was forced to kill his siblings. And of every Model 3 sent in for the job, he did most of the work.
Venus was the cause of his amnesia, having shot him during Praulia cleanup and left him for dead. The trauma of both this and the prior purging of his siblings affected his mind and broke his memories.
Snake is an 'unfinished' test subject and because of this has some neurological issues; he's incredibly susceptible to memory problems, and if properly provoked could go ballistic like the siblings he was forced to kill.
Snake's nature as an unfinished subject has also given him a shortened lifespan. Nobody knows by how much it's shortened though.
Snake has a nano-chip implant in his brain that allows him to download skills if given access to the right data, like how Neo in the Matrix was able to download martial arts techniques. Very few know the data format necessary to make much use of this. It also allows those tapped into it to see through his eyes, which can be especially helpful on a mission if he gives them access.
#{{ what i have in my two hands is enough to set me free | HEADCANONS: SNAKE }}#human experimentation tw#human trafficking tw#child abuse tw#//And would you believe this is actually a *less* complicated timeline than the main series? xD
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But Put Together, the Cracks We’ll Close In
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Setting: Early Alexandria
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mentions of past child abuse; mentions of suggested abortion; blood and injury
Summary: Fresh into Alexandria, Daryl meets his match in a two year little girl and slowly loses his heart to her mother. You.
A/N: Based on the request/headcanon from @louifaith
Just a couple of things. The child is described as in hair and eye color. Nothing is mentioned of reader so these traits could come from her father. There is also the mention of an “Eskimo kiss.” I grew up using that term but I’m not sure if it is offensive or PC nowadays. please feel free to send me a message if I need to change it. It is not my intention to be offensive to anyone! Also, sorry if anyone likes Spencer. He's always my go to asshole.
“S’that?”
Daryl felt the opossum sway in his grip, looking down with a scowl firmly plastered at the bright eyes returning his gaze, brimming with curiosity. She was a toddler, maybe two years old? Christ, someone had a toddler in this mess. “Dinner.” He grunted, pulling the dead animal out of her reach. He found out quickly that the curious little creature would not be deterred so easily. Standing on her tip-toes, she made a grab for the marsupial. “Knock it off.” He huffed and took a step back, bumping into Carol.
“Daryl, she’s a child. Don’t be such a grump.”
“Ain’t you got a mama—family to get back to?” He snapped, ignoring his best friend. The little girl’s eyes brightened.
“Mama! Mama!” She clapped. Daryl rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm.
“Yeah, go get ‘er.” There was an intense sigh of relief when the little human went running (waddling?) out of sight. “They got kids here.”
“Yes, Daryl. That’s what that was.” Carol nudged him playfully. “The people seem to think they’re safe here. It gives me the creeps.” He nodded but didn’t comment. “They obviously don’t know what’s going on out there, not like we do. I think we need to be cautious here. Find a way to fit in but keep our guard up, you know?”
Daryl snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. Ain’t got no intention of tryin’ to fit in with these folks. Livin’ in a fuckin’ fairytale here. Ain’t gonna last.”
“You’re such a ray of sunshine.” Sasha clapped him on the shoulder as she passed, earning yet another grunt.
“Mama, here!”
Oh dear god, no. “S’back.” The hunter stated flatly.
“Oh, and she brought a friend.” Sure enough, the little girl was dragging you along, tugging incessantly at your hand as if the child had found the world’s most priceless treasure. “You did tell her to ‘go get her.’”
“Nadia, slow down!”
And slow down, she did. Right in front of a scowl-wearing redneck with a bleeding opossum in his grasp.
“Mama, dinner! Dorl dinner.”
Dorl?!? Daryl looked helplessly over to where Carl was carrying Judith, the little light of his life. Would this be what she was like as she grew up? She already knew him, loved him despite how broken and hopeless he was. She would laugh at him if he was ranting about something and hold out those chubby little hands and he was done for, whatever had irritated him was forgotten.
But this child? This wasn’t his lil’ asskicker.
Daryl liked kids but he liked them from a distance. He had no business being around them, save for Carl and Judith. I wish I could have known Sophia. He wouldn’t bother getting to know anyone in this place. It’d burn like every other home they had anyway.
“Dorl, huh?” You smiled.
“Daryl.” He replied flatly, his lip curling.
“I’m Y/N. I assume Aaron found your group?”
He didn’t answer, too occupied with trying to continuously move away from the small child clumsily reaching for his knife sheath. “Stop that.” He barked, expecting the kid to balk. She did quite the opposite and wrapped her tiny arms around his leg, just below his knee. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Shake her off? Of course not. She might get hurt. While he really didn’t want to be touched, he couldn’t help but feel like it was somehow his job to make sure this kid wasn’t hurt. “Can ya—would ya—?” Shoulders slumped, he didn’t even gesture. You know what he was asking.
Chuckling, you reached down and gently pried the little girl loose. “Nadia, you’re supposed to ask before hugs, remember?”
“Hug Dorl.” The dark-headed child pouted.
That was his cue to step away, as quickly as possible, without running. He absolutely did not run.
When you looked up, he was already gone, lost in the middle of his group as they headed in to surrender weapons and be interviewed by Deanna.
Daryl sat on the now red-stained porch, prepping his kill for cooking later. Carol had scolded him and made him promise to use the backyard going forward, but he doubted they would be there long enough for him to need the area. It was just the way the world was. Nice places like this could never last.
“Dorl dinner!”
Jesus take the wheel. “Ya need a bell.” He grunted, looking around for you. “An’ apparently a leash.” Maybe if he ignored her, she would go find you. But what if she wandered off alone and somehow made it out of the gates? Shit. “Sit down, gremlin.”
She giggled and patted her chunky hands against her chest. “Nada.”
Daryl stopped moving and stared for a moment. Wasn’t that Spanish? Maybe? Wait. You had called her Nadia. Maybe that’s what she was trying to say. “Nadia?” Blue eyes squinted in wait.
Nadia bounced and nodded and then pointed at him. “Dorl! Dorl, Nada!”
He released his knife and leaned his elbow against his knee, the heel of his hand pressing into his forehead. “Dare-ul.” He tried.
“Dooorl.”
“Oh, for fucksake.” The archer gave up, picking up his knife and continuing with his task. Nadia didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing but leaned in closely with the most serious look he’d ever seen. He needed to lean back once she made it much too far into his personal space.
“Fucksy.” She said, maintaining eye contact as if she were challenging him.
“No! Don’t say that. Can’t be teachin’ ya sh—stuff like that!” He panicked, opossum forgotten. Daryl threw back his head with a groan. “Can’tcha please just go to your mama?”
Nadia’s little face lit up and off she went with a chorus of mama mama mama. Watching her go, Daryl wondered where the little one’s father was, but soon banished the thought. It was none of his business. What was his business was to make sure the annoying curtain-climber made it home safely. Abandoning his dinner—no time to cover it if he was going to catch up—he walked briskly until he caught sight of her. Little legs can fuckin’ move. We’re fucked when Jude learns to walk.
He stayed close, but far back enough to not catch her attention. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Rounding the curb to the end of the street, he caught sight of the small house. Quaint compared to the other homes. The front door was open but he dared not go closer. Boots firmly planted on the sidewalk, he observed the struggle of a tiny human tackling front porch steps. Nadia was determined though. Had he chosen to help, he was certain she would give him that serious look again and yell at him in baby-speak.
“Nadia Avery, how do you keep getting out the door!”
Maybe cause you leave it open? He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
Regardless, there you were, swooping down to gather the bundle into your arms with a couple of sobs and more than a few sniffles. “Baby, you have to stop doing that! You scare mommy.” Nadia was nuzzling your jaw but then suddenly pointed right at him.
“Dorl got Nada.”
When your eyes found his own, Daryl froze. His arms were out to his sides, his eyes wide. He looked nothing short of a deer caught in the sights of his crossbow when it realized it’s about to be shot. “I—uh, kid found me.” Forcing himself to relax a fraction, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Didn’t want ‘er wand’rin’ ‘round by herself.”
Your face softened into a grateful smile. “Thank you for making sure she got home.” He nodded curtly and you turned away, only to turn back in the same motion. “Would you like to come inside? I have some stew that I’m heating. Plenty for the three of us.”
A part of him that he didn’t know existed wanted to immediately accept the offer but the part of him that had kept him alive this long spoke louder. “Nah, got my own dinner I need to take care’a. Thanks, though.”
You nodded, the smile never faltering. “Think of it as a standing invitation. Nadia seems to like you. She’s a good judge of character.”
He snorted. “Alright.”
“Goodnight, Daryl.”
“Night.” He took two steps.
“Nigh’ nigh’, Dorl!”
He heard the sound of a kiss being blown his way, but didn’t turn around. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away.
It had been three days since he had last seen you or Nadia. He found that it unsettled him but not enough to go looking. Aaron had gifted him a work area and parts to build himself a bike. It was the best thing anyone could have offered him at that point. He felt like he still wasn’t fitting in, and while that was the idea at first, now it just felt…lonely.
Carol was always gone when he got up and not home yet when we retired to bed. Rick and Michonne couldn’t stay out of the bedroom for more than five minutes unless something ‘coppy’ needed to be handled. Carl was always outside with Jude in the nice weather.
Daryl was alone. Though he usually preferred it that way, he couldn’t seem to shake the negativity it seemed to bring to the surface.
Spending time around something familiar from the old world came to be a comfort. When the posh little community with its “good morning” while walking the dog and laughter over coffee at the gazebo became too much for Daryl, he disappeared into Aaron’s garage. Aaron and his husband seemed okay in the archer’s book. They never once stared at him like he was going to rob them blind or beat them to a pulp. They showed him kindness even if his only attempts at conversation consisted of nods and grunts.
“You going to this party tonight?” Aaron asked from the doorway the led into the house from the garage.
“Nah.” Daryl picked up a wrench and continued his work, not giving the question a proper thought.
“You really should make an effort to get to know more people here.”
“They don’t like me. Shouldn’t, really.” The archer shrugged.
“They just don’t know you. Maybe you should give them a chance.” Aaron kept his persuasion in the doorway. He had gifted Daryl that space and was unwilling to step into it without an invitation he was unlikely to receive without asking.
“Better they don’t know me.”
There was a sigh that made Daryl curl his lip. “Just think about it, okay?” The shuffle of feet and the door opening signaled the other man’s exit.
Why should Daryl go? He had little interest in fitting in, even when his own group was making such an effort. Carol and Rick were wary and had whatever it was they had but Carol would tell him if she felt it necessary. Daryl was just plain wary, utterly uninterested. Most of them would likely be dead soon and he didn’t need anyone else to mourn.
So why he found himself showered and in a fresh set of clothing that was his own form of presentable was absolutely beyond him. It had nothing to do with the fact that on his walk home, he thought maybe you’d be at the party. Nope, nothing like that.
He had made it at least to the yard outside, watching the festivities through the window. Everyone he knew seemed so at ease in there. Dressed up, laughing and drinking. Mingling like they belonged there. He didn’t belong there.
“Nah.” He said softly before turning away. He was passing by Aaron’s house when a call of his name from that familiar voice had him stopping with a sigh. “Yeah?”
“You went. Good for you. Did you have a good time?” Aaron asked from the porch. Daryl shrugged. The man’s eyes narrowed and suddenly the archer was nervous, feeling judged. “You didn��t go in, did you?”
Daryl shook his head. “Just ain’t my thing.”
“Hey, you tried.”
“Why didn’t you go?” That wasn’t supposed to sound so accusatory but Daryl was tired and had simply had his fill of the day and that place.
“Eric’s ankle is still giving him trouble. We just thought it best to skip out on this one.”
This one? Christ. That insinuated there would be more. With an inward groan, he answered outwardly with a grunt.
“We’ve got dinner ready. More than can feed us. Can we tempt you?” The offer was sincere and Daryl was hungry, but his battery was running on fumes. He glanced toward his own home and then back at Aaron. “Eric makes a mean spaghetti, man. Come on, you’re already out.”
Daryl sighed. “Fine.” He was grateful for the invitation, he just sucked at showing it, as with almost every other emotion. Aaron held open the door and with a nod, the archer entered, still ill at ease being inside someone else’s home when his own still felt less than comfortable.
“Dorl.”
Before he could prepare himself, Nadia was latching onto his lower legs. Arms out awkwardly, he glared at Aaron. “Didn’t say she was here.”
The man just shrugged a shoulder. “Didn’t say she wasn’t either.”
“Hi, Daryl!” You came around the corner from the dining room, no doubt to gather your spawn but he couldn’t seem to form a thought around the smile you were giving him.
“Mama! Dorl!”
“I can see that, baby. You think you can let go so that he can walk?” Nadia shook her head with a vicious pout.
“Dorl up?”
“What?” He looked down at the toddler and back up at you, silently hoping you’d act as translator for the little gremlin.
“She wants you to pick her up. You don’t—”
For reasons unbeknownst to even him, he bent down and placed his hands beneath Nadia’s arms, lifting her onto his hip. It felt no different than holding Judith. Nadia was heavier of course.
“Dorl!” Chubby arms wrapped around his neck, her little cheek rubbing against his stubbled one. “Tickle.” She giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world and repeated the action.
You were still smiling but much more softly. “She really likes you.” Daryl grunted. “You don’t say much, do you?”
“Ain’t gotta lot to say.” He shrugged the shoulder Nadia’s chin was resting on, sending her into another fit of giggles. She pulled back suddenly, very in his space and then pressed her face against his cheek. He flinched but otherwise didn’t move. There was the smallest flutter that tickled his skin before she reared back again, smiling proudly. “What—”
“Butterfly kisses.” You informed, arms crossed but your smile hidden behind your hand.
“What the fu—heck’s that?”
“Oh come on, you never gave your mom butterfly kisses?” You chuckled.
Daryl felt nauseous at the mention of his mother. The only thing he’d shared with her were bruises and a few after-beating hugs. But you didn’t know him. He took the anger and locked it down, but it must have spilled into his expression.
“I’m sorry.” Your smile was gone, but to his surprise (and relief), there was no pity in your eyes. Only understanding. Still, it wasn’t a subject he cared to let linger.
He turned his attention to the child, who had developed a sudden interest in the hair over his ears. “Ya ever gave a Eskimo kiss?” He almost laughed out loud when Nadia’s eyes flew wide with wonder. She didn’t confirm or deny but the fact that she hadn’t moved was answer enough. “S’simple.” Daryl brought a hand up to the back of her head and gently urged her forward, rubbing the tip of his nose over hers. “There. Eskimo kiss.”
She kept those wide eyes as her little mouth began to spread open into one of the biggest smiles he’d ever seen on a kid, granted he hadn’t spent much time around any.
“Again!” She squealed, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him forward. He expected to have a bloody nose from the force with which she came at him, but her movements became deliberate and gentle, as if getting it right was the most important thing in the world.
Nadia was incredibly pleased with herself, her little hands patting against Daryl’s chest before she wiggled out her request for freedom and sprinted toward the dining room with this newfound information to share with Eric and Aaron.
“Careful.” You said, though there was no hint of anything unkind in your tone. When he looked away from the other room, he found your expression to be one he couldn’t seem to identify. It was soft yet guarded. He didn’t move away when you reached a single hand out to adjust his vest. “You’re smiling.” And you walked away, leaving him there to realize that he was indeed wearing a small, lopsided grin.
He shook it off with a groan, absolutely regretting his decision to come in for dinner.
“Dorl!” Came the loud shout from the table. “Dorl, sketti!”
This was not going to end well.
It had been two weeks since the spaghetti dinner, which in fact had ended rather pleasantly. Aside from your giggles when he realized he was eating his meal with the same gusto and manners as the toddler next to him, Aaron had offered him a job that let him go outside the walls. He’d accepted almost immediately.
Little Nadia had been determined to take him home with them, so he walked you there with her tiny hand in his. Halfway, she had begun to tire and fuss, instinct had kicked in and he scooped her up in the same manner he would Judith. The child was asleep on his shoulder almost instantly.
He had zero intention of entering your home and was thankful the kid was out cold so that she couldn’t initiate the suggestion. He had passed her off to you and started to leave.
“Daryl.” You had called quietly. He still wasn’t sure why he had turned back to you so quickly. “That invitation is still open.” You smiled, he grunted. “Thanks for being so sweet with her. Goodnight.”
There had been a heavy feeling in his chest but he had nodded. “G’night.”
Now, you and little Nadia were almost a constant presence when he wasn’t beyond the wall. A presence that he found no longer really irritated him.
He would sit on the porch with the kid, working on his crossbow while Nadia colored or played with toys. He had to find her some of her own to have there because it seemed she and Judith were at odds about Daryl’s attention. He had made the mistake of lifting lil’ asskicker out of her playpen while Nadia was on his heels and the latter had begun to wail.
He had quickly passed Jude off to an equally concerned Michonne and scooped up the kid. “S’wrong? Hey.” Little arms wrapped around his neck and, though he didn’t see the angry pout directed at the other baby, Michonne did. He turned at her chuckle, eyes wide and confused.
Before she could explain, those little arms squeezed harder. “My Dorl.”
From that moment on, he saved time with Judith for emergencies (there were none) and for after Nadia had gone home with you.
“Don’t touch that, Dia.” Daryl huffed, catching her little hand reaching for the knife he had on the porch table. He had spent the morning skinning a few squirrels for Carol to use in a stew but was at that point, working on the tension on his bow.
And babysitting.
You had some inventory to do at the infirmary with Pete. The doctor gave him bad vibes so when you had asked, he’d accepted all too quickly. Even offered to tag along and keep an eye on the kid there. In the end, after you had politely declined, he had reasoned that you were a grown woman and could handle yourself.
“Babysitting, again, hmm?”
Daryl glanced up from his crossbow toward Carol on the top step, Nadia already beaming up at her from the hug around her waist. It lasted all of three seconds before the kid was back to her toys beside Daryl’s boot.
“Mhm.” Was the only answer he offered, one that was mimicked from the little person below him. He didn’t smile but Carol didn’t miss the way his eyes left the weapon to regard Nadia for a moment before returning to the task.
“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, plopping down onto the other chair. She grabbed a toy that had rolled away and handed it back to the child.
“Some inventory shit at the infirmary.” Daryl shrugged, rotating the bow to check his work. Carol made a noise that gave him pause, one he didn’t like. “What?”
“No one’s at the infirmary. I was just there for Mr. Henderson’s blood pressure medication.”
He could feel his heartrate picking up, a sense of foreboding so strong that he could barely think straight. “Pete weren’t there?”
Carol shook her head. “No one.” She sat up straight when Daryl stood, sheathing his knife and placing his crossbow on the railing. “Daryl?”
“Dia, I’m gonna be right back. You’re gonna stay with Carol for a few minutes. Tell me the rules.”
Nadia’s wide eyes narrowed into seriousness. “No bow. No move. Be good. No shit.” It took her a moment to babble through the small list but Daryl ruffled her hair with the smallest of half smiles.
“No shit, Daryl?”
He was already stepping off the porch. “Her mama hears ‘er sayin’ that an’ m’a dead man.”
Carol laughed and shook her head, turning her attention to the little human that was already working up to a cry as Daryl walked out of sight. “Do you like cookies, Nadia?”
He checked the infirmary first. He didn’t doubt Carol, but maybe she had missed a room or something. It was, as Carol had said, empty. “Fuck.” The next most logical place would be your home. He ran the entire way. He’d feel like an absolute fool if you were fine, but he’d cross that bridge later. The door was open, he could see that from the moment he rounded the curb. You had a habit of doing that and he hated it, but who was he to tell you what to do?
“Y/N?” He took your steps two at a time and stopped on the threshold. “Y/N? Are ya here?” No answer. He felt like shit the moment his boot touched the floor inside. He’d never taken you up on an invitation for the dinner you continuously offered him, much less any offer to simply come inside. Now here he was tearing room to room, in your safe space. There were covered pots on the stove and the oven was on, but where were you? “Y/N!” He placed a booted foot on the bottom stair before your voice stunned him frozen.
“Daryl?”
He nearly collapsed in relief.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Nadia? Daryl?”
“She’s fine. She’s with Carol.” He rasped, sheathing his knife when he saw you staring at it. Your hair was wet, your clothes damp. You must have been in the shower. “M’sorry. Carol said ya weren’t at the—just got worried. M’sorry.” His eyes had lowered to the stairs below you but then your bare feet were padding down them to stop directly in front of him. “I’ll, uh—lemme go get ‘er.” He had barely moved before your hand was on his shoulder. To his shock, he didn’t flinch; didn’t even have the urge.
“Are you okay?” You asked, ducking your head to seek out his gaze. He continued to expertly dodge.
“M’fine. Just—I’ll go get Dia.” He stepped away and out of the loose grip you had on him, immediately missing the warmth of your hand. What the hell was wrong with him?
“I was making us dinner.” The words rushed out of you, like you were trying to get them out before he could leave. Daryl looked over his shoulder from the doorway, an eyebrow arched. “Us. Me, Nadia, and—well, you.”
“Me? Why?” He hadn’t meant to sound so unkind, ungrateful, but that was just who he was down deep, wasn’t it? Still, you seemed unbothered, your nervousness born of something else entirely.
“Because Nadia likes you. I like you. We’d like to spend time with you that doesn’t involve me asking for favors or the entire community leering and making assumptions.”
He still hadn’t fully turned, but narrowed his eyes. “Think they ain’t gonna make assumptions when ya have me in your house?”
“Fair point.” You nodded, chuckling. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what they think but I worry that you do.” Head tilted, Daryl turned but remained in the doorway. “You seem so private, quiet. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth for a moment. “So, will you come? Please?”
As much as he tried, he couldn’t sense a single ounce of dishonesty or ill intent in you. It was certainly there, wasn’t it? No one outside of the group that had grown to like him over months of death and sorrow wanted anything to do with him. So, why you? Why Nadia? “Alright, I’ll go get ‘er an’ be back.” He turned and took a step before you called out again.
“Don’t worry about changing or anything. Just bring you, okay?”
He nodded around the very foreign flutter in his chest, clearing his throat and leaving the house before he could overthink things right there in front of you. He’d be able to do that in abundance on the way to grab the kid.
To say he was confused was the largest of understatements. You were a beautiful woman. Where was Nadia’s father? In that world, the absence usually meant he was either dead or had willingly left, which he couldn’t fathom either. Was the kid the reason all the single men weren’t knocking down your door? That couldn’t be it. Nadia was amazing, all bright smiles and such an innocence that was refreshing in a world as dark it was.
Even if you did have suitors, why were you taking the time to get to know him? He was damn sure nothing special and had nothing to offer you. Daryl growled at himself. He was jumping the gun. You hadn’t expressed any real interest in him. You wanted to have dinner. Aaron and Eric had him over for dinner all the time. It was what friends did. He was your friend after all. He had to be for you to trust him with Nadia. He snorted. Maybe that was all the brat’s doing and you were just along for the ride.
His shoulders were slumped, feet dragging by the time he made it back to his house, already opening his arms in expectation of the bundle of Nadia that would be leaping into them any moment.
“Dorl!”
“She was about to strap on your crossbow and come find you herself.” Carol teased from the doorway.
“I was barely gone twenty minutes, kid.” He nodded to Carol and turned back to take Nadia home. “Your mama’s at home makin’ something for supper. Ya hungry?”
“Mmmmhmmmm!” Little legs were swinging while bright eyes watched the street in front of them, her arms loosely around his neck, trusting him to not let her fall. And he would never. Daryl craned his head to look at her, all dark hair and big blue eyes. She could pass as his own kid to anyone who didn’t know better.
Whoa. That train of that was roughly derailed.
Easily done when the top of her head leaned against his temple and she began to hum some tune he didn’t know. It calmed his anxiety enough to not eat him from the inside out before he made it back to your house. Nadia was wiggling to be lowered before he could even get her to the steps. Much to her annoyance (if her little growl and pout were anything to go by), he didn’t place her on her feet until they were on the porch.
The door was still open and, man, he really wanted you to stop doing that.
“Mama!” Nadia squealed, running right into your arms.
“Hi, baby! Did you have fun with Daryl today?” You hefted her onto your hip, your face turned toward hers even though your smile was aimed at the archer.
“We always have fun.” He was close enough to ruffle the kid’s hair without invading your space.
“No shit!” Nadia proclaimed with her arms in the air. You were smiling but your eyebrows shot up toward your hairline. Daryl cleared his throat.
“M’a tell Carol to watch ‘er mouth.”
“Carol. Right.” You chuckled. You started to reach for his arm but must have thought better of it and motioned toward the dining room instead. He found he was disappointed. “Go ahead and sit down wherever. There’s some wine and water already there.”
Daryl liked wine. He’d partake when at Aaron and Eric’s for dinner but here? He wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. The table could seat six but there were three places set, the middle chair holding a booster seat. He didn’t sit, wouldn’t until you did. Instead he noticed how close the glasses of wine were sitting to Nadia’s place and took the liberty of moving each of them to the other side. Not that the kid would bother them but it just felt—right?
“Alright, kiddo. You get to eat first.” You weren’t carrying Nadia anymore but she was right behind you, looking up at the bowl of pasta like a pup that was about to get its kibble. Daryl was already lifting the kid into her seat when you turned from placing the bowl on the table. “Thank you.” You did touch his arm then. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll be right back.”
Nadia had apparently chosen his spot for him, patting the back of the chair to her left. Chewing on the side of his thumb, he glanced toward the kitchen. Wasn’t he supposed to pull your chair out for you or something? Aaron had.
“No, no, Dorl.” Nadia pulled at his elbow, earning a halfhearted scowl before he realized she was trying to get him to stop the anxious habit.
“Sorry.” He mumbled, not sure why he was apologizing when she just went back to dancing and eating once he had dropped his hand. He watched her for a moment, just being a kid, innocent and oblivious to the dangers and heartache that lay in wait just outside of Alexandria’s protective walls. She and you—just two more people for him to mourn in the end. What was he doing there? He had no business being in your lives. If he didn’t lose the two of you, then you would lose him. It was inevitable. It was fate. It was the way the world worked now, tirelessly snuffing out any semblance of light that could give someone like him hope.
And goddamnit, he’d be devastated. He adored your kid and though he couldn’t quite decipher what it was that he felt for you, he knew that if anything happened to you, he’d shatter.
“Daryl?”
“What?” He snapped out of reflex, not fully out of his head before he had realized you were speaking. You flinched, the pasta in the two bowls you were holding bounced but didn’t spill. “M’sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” The bowls were placed on the table and a basket of fresh bread that he hadn’t noticed you had already brought out. How long had he been standing there?
“Yeah, uh—yeah, m’fine.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very trapped in the small room. It wasn’t really that small, was it? “M’just—” He didn’t finish before he all but ran to the door, closing it behind him like he really wished you would start doing. He had a cigarette lit within seconds, trembling fingers bringing it to his lips for a long drag.
Pale light from inside cascaded around him as the door opened. You didn’t move any closer, obviously staying near Nadia while the little girl ate. “You okay?”
“Mhm.” Lie.
“Come back inside?” You requested after glancing toward Nadia, finding her eating her pasta elegantly with her fingers. Daryl said nothing, wasn’t even sure he could, but he flicked his cigarette toward the sidewalk and stood, walking past you with but a beat of hesitance.
Despite Nadia’s excitement at his return, he remained quiet, but offered the kid a ghost of a smile when she offered a bite of her own food. Disgruntled at his refusal, she wore her own version of a scowl and continued to eat. You had taken your seat, giving the bread basket a tiny shove toward the archer.
“Thanks.” He mumbled. He wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. Staring at his food, he questioned whether the way he usually ate might disgust you. It was never something he actively thought about. He grew up in a home where he snatched what he could get and ate it quickly before someone could take it or reprimand him for it. It was nearly the same now that the world had ended. Thankful for any scrap of food, but quick to make sure it was gone before someone came ready to fight for it.
“If you think any louder, I might be able to hear it.”
Daryl glanced up, unable to meet your eyes. You were swirling the wine around in the glass with your gaze settled on him. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s just dinner, Daryl.”
With a barely there nod, he picked up his fork and began to eat, slowly and carefully, not noticing the way you watched him with a quizzical expression.
Nadia was having a hard time keeping her head up by the time dinner was finished, her little eyes closing before snapping open with a jerk of her head.
“Time for bed.” You announced, attempting to wipe her face around languid movements of annoyance. “Come on, baby.” Lifting her from the chair, you tilted your head when she leaned her upper body back toward Daryl, reaching out with lazy, grabby hands.
“Dorl night night.”
Halfway out of his seat, he froze. “Think ya should, uh—your mama should handle this’un, Dia.” She didn’t seem to have it in her to argue, flopping onto your shoulder. You managed to hold up a finger, asking him to wait while you put Nadia to bed. He did, but busied himself gathering the dishes, taking them to the sink, and rinsing them out as Carol had trained him to do. “Wow, my very own human dishwasher. Can I keep you?”
Daryl felt the heat rise in his face, traveling down to his chest and up to the tips of his ears. “Stop.” God, you were just as bad as Carol.
“Daryl.”
Oh, boy. Your tone had gone from playful to serious in two seconds flat. His stomach was in knots but he dared not turn around and rinsed the same bowl at least three times. “Hmm?”
“I’d like to see, uh—I’d like it if you'd come around more often. Tonight was—it was nice.”
And there it was. The one thing that had caused him so much inner turmoil now confirmed. You were interested and, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. When he finally managed to get his tongue to work, the words that spilled out were nothing like the ones running through his head and he regretted them immediately. “Where’s Dia’s daddy?” Christ, Dixon. “M’sorry.” He tried to backpedal, finally turning toward you and leaning back against the sink with a white-knuckled grip against the edge of the countertop. “Ain’t my business.”
“Gone. I don’t really give a fuck where.” You shrugged, so nonchalantly that he had to look at you. “He didn’t want her. Nearly got himself killed finding pills for me to take. I refused, he left. But I have her and I hope he’s a walker.” Your gaze was fond but serious, and he found not a single trace of annoyance or anger. “She’s never really liked men. Even Aaron and Eric had to coax her inside for dinner with a stale candybar.” You laughed at the memory, and Daryl realized he could listen to that sound for the rest of his life. “But then you. She wasn’t afraid, not for a single second.”
“It was the ‘possum.” He shrugged, shyly ducking his head for only a moment but looking back up through his fringe when you laughed again.
“Okay, we can go with that.” You lifted yourself up onto the island, kicking your legs, reminding him of Nadia. “Doesn’t really explain why she stuck to you like glue every moment since then, though. Dorl this and Dorl that. I’m not complaining. You’re good for her.” Daryl scoffed, ducking his head once more. “You are, Daryl. And I think she might be good for you too.”
“She’s a kid. Don’t know no better.” He shrugged, the urge to run becoming more and more prevalent. He didn’t belong there. It wasn’t his family. Nadia wasn’t his kid and you weren’t his. God, he wished you were.
You hummed, holding back something. “I had fun tonight, but when you come back, don't worry so much about what I think, okay?” The way he tried to eat more slowly?
“Yeah, okay. Was nice. Thanks, uh—thanks for havin’ me.” The archer made the choice to pass you and head for the door. Your bare feet hit the floor just behind him. “I’ll see ya ‘round. Lemme know if ya need someone to watch Dia.” Why the hell did he offer that?
“I will. Thank you.” The smile you gave him was almost sad. Maybe disappointed? “Goodnight, Daryl.”
“Yeah. Night.” He crossed the threshold but turned back, keeping his head low. “Keep your door shut.” There was no time for you to answer before he was jogging down your steps, barely slowing his stride all the way home. All the lights were off when he arrived and he couldn’t be more grateful to slip in and down to his room to berate himself properly until he was finally able to fall asleep.
Logically, he should have avoided you since that night, but Daryl never claimed to be the brightest crayon in the box. He absolutely did not look for reasons to go to your house, satisfied to find the door closed each and every time. If he saw you carrying something, he’d jog over to take it from you, no matter how big or small. He responded by meeting Nadia in the middle each time she called for him, even if he was covered in dark blood and brain matter.
“Dorl smell ick.” She would say.
He was down bad and though he would deny it until his last breath with the age old line of we’re just friends, Carol was smarter than that.
“Daryl, you and I are friends. You’re sweet on that girl and you can fight me if you try to claim any different.” She stirred at the brownie batter, intermittently swatting away his hand when he tried to sneak a taste. “You should just tell her how you feel.”
“Stop actin’ like ya know ev’rythin’.” He snapped with no real heat.
“Okay, fine. I know nothing.” She stated coolly, spreading the mixture into a baking pan. “Except that Spencer has been spending an awful lot of time around her and Nadia.”
Well, that had his attention. “What? When?” He hopped off the countertop and was quickly standing just beside Carol, moving accordingly so that she could continue her baking.
“Usually when you’re out. I think you intimidate him.”
“Damn well better intimidate him.”
“Why? You’re ‘just friends,’ remember?” Daryl curled his lip at her air quotes, turning on a heel to head toward the door.
“Shuddup.”
He hadn’t been focused, lingering on what Carol had told him that morning. Worrying that Spencer was putting the moves on you that very moment he wasn’t there to do anything about it. What if he’d missed his chance? He growled, trying to take more of his own weight off of Aaron but his leg burned and ached.
“Ain’t that bad.” He tried to brush it off, but it was, in fact, that bad. He hadn’t seen the damn trap, the walker backing him right onto it. He was lucky the dead bastard didn’t take a chunk of him when he went down, but Aaron was quick. Had Daryl been alone, he’d likely be snarling and growling on the ground with his calf still locked within that metal.
“Keep telling yourself that and maybe your stubbornness will keep you on your feet until we can make it back.” The other man huffed. “First Eric, now you. I swear, I’m cursed.” Daryl groaned but couldn’t disagree.
Christ. The archer’s head was fucked. He couldn’t focus with images of you running rampant at the forefront of his mind. The way you would smile when you saw him; how you’d laugh when he’d huff at Dia for calling him Dorl; you’d have him for dinner a few times a week and it was less and less awkward.
He was so fucked.
“Open the gate!” Aaron called urgently. Daryl hadn’t even been paying attention but maybe zoning out was what brought him that far with such an injury. The toe of his boot was dragging, his leg both numb and throbbing in a way he couldn’t seem to understand was even possible. Sasha was yelling, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. He was too busy trying to look over his shoulder at the steady crimson trail that followed them. Would walkers follow it right to the gates? “Jesus, okay. I’m going to get help to carry you to the infirmary.”
“Fuck Pete. Gimme Y/N or just take me home.” Daryl slurred, his head falling back against the metal just inside the gates. He was fading, tired and smothered by a dark cloud that was creeping into the edges of his vision and mind. He knew he wouldn’t die from this, but damn, did it still suck.
“Dorl! Mama, Dorl boo-boo!”
Tiny, warm hands were on his face. He was cold, didn’t even realize it. Big blue eyes were hovering right in front of his face, a little mouth between chubby cheeks speaking with an urgency that made him want to scoop her up and soothe the worry. “Dia.” He breathed, his mind finally catching up, though he wasn’t sure for how long.
“Nada kiss boo-boo.”
Daryl chuckled breathlessly but pulled the little girl against his chest. “Nah, baby girl, don’t kiss that boo-boo. S’gross.” Big crocodile tears were forming and falling, and his heart ached. His little girl was never supposed to cry, never supposed to even be sad. “M’okay. Your mama’s gonna make it all better, you’ll see.”
“Mama, Dorl got big boo-boo.”
“I see that, baby. Can you move so mommy can take a look?” You were there, your voice a balm to the pain that was slowly fading.
“She’s alright.” Daryl shifted Nadia to his side, letting her hold on with her head on his filthy chest. You’d have to give her a bath later and somehow, he had the energy to feel bad about that.
“Jesus, Daryl, what did you do?” You were cutting the lower part of his pant leg, right there on the street, but he didn’t have it in him to see who might be watching. He muttered bear trap but didn’t really recall it being his voice. Was it even him?
The child holding to him made a noise when the wound was revealed, jagged punctures that still steadily bled and she shouldn’t be seeing that. Why wasn’t someone taking her away? “Ssh. S’okay, Dia. Just look at me—can ya hum that song ya always do when we take ya home?” A tiny sniffle but then a little tune in his ear.
“What happened? He okay?” Rick.
“Daryl!” Ah, Carol. Good.
“Hey, take her, would ya? Don’t need to be here.” He was gentle if not weak when he tried to hand off Nadia, kissing one of her little hands when he finally peeled them away from his neck. “M’a be okay, Dia.” She cried. Even as Carol promised her cookies and brownies, she cried and his heart ached more than his leg. He barely caught the word disinfect before the hellfire in his leg struck him like a hammer to the head and he knew no more.
“S’not that big’a deal. I can take care’a myself at home.” Daryl grimaced and watched you moving things around in your living room. You disappeared and returned several moments later with pillows and blankets.
“I know you can, but I also know you’re stubborn as a mule and you’ll try to go out of those gates behind Aaron within a day.” He barely opened his mouth before you held up an authoritative finger. “Don’t lie to me, Daryl Dixon. And don’t pretend I don’t know at least a little by now.”
“Dorl!”
Before he could process her voice, the archer had a lapful of toddler. It was hazy but he could remember how he felt at the gate, the protective instinct, the absolute knowledge that Nadia was his no matter how untrue it was. He couldn’t seem to shake it.
“Hey, Dia.”
“Be careful of his boo-boo, sweetie.” You admonished in the most gentle tone while propping Daryl’s leg up on a pillow. “He’s going to stay with us for a few days so I can keep an eye on him.”
“Why?” Came the innocent reply.
“Because Daryl is naughty and doesn’t like to listen when he’s told he can’t do something. Like you with Miss Carol’s cookies.”
Nadia gasped dramatically and turned those big blues to Daryl. “Dorl takes cookies.”
Glancing at you, expression bland, he nodded. “Yeah, I take the cookies.”
“So he has to stay right here on this couch unless mommy is helping him, okay? Can you be my junior nurse and make sure he stays put?”
“That ain’t fair.” Daryl objected with an indignant pout.
“Why? Because you know it’ll work?”
Daryl grunted and crossed his arms. He was in for a long few days.
A week later, the stitches were out but there was residual swelling that was hindering healing. Nothing to worry about, you had told him.
“Why ain’t Ken wearin’ no clothes?” Daryl was concerned to be ‘playing Barbies’ when Barbie wore a bathing suit and Ken was naked as the day he was—assembled? So far he’d been able to avoid dialogue and just bounce the doll around with facial expressions that kept the toddler occupied. “Seems a lil’ fucked up.”
“You try finding doll clothes nowadays.” There was laughter in your voice and tenderness in your touch while you cleaned the wound and changed the dressings. Only a couple more days of that.
“Maybe I will.” The archer mused, standing the doll on top of Nadia’s head, keeping it there with his finger on the top. Her little arms could only reach the legs, facing reddening and scrunching with giggles.
“Time to pick up your toys. Daryl needs to rest and you, missy, need to get to bed.”
“Noooooo.”
“Don’t sass your mama.” Daryl dropped the doll in favor of patting the kid on the head. “G’on now.” The archer dropped an arm outward, fully expecting the hug that was incoming. “Night, kid.”
“Nigh’ night’, dada.”
It was at that moment Daryl Dixon completely forgot how to breathe. His eyes were already on yours before the kid decided to drop that bomb and skip away to brush her teeth like she hadn’t just turned his world upside down.
“M’sorry. M’so sorry. I don’t—she didn’t—”
“I’m just—” you interrupted, backing toward the doorway, “I need to put her to bed.” You stumbled out of the room as if he were chasing you.
He wasn’t sure he could move if he tried. His heart was in his nose, his stomach in his ass, and his lungs were plaited around his spine. Why would the kid call him dada? It made no sense. A couple of months wasn’t long enough for anything like that. Right? Fuck, he needed to talk to Carol. His brain was malfunctioning. He couldn’t process this.
Throwing off the blankets, Daryl sat up, levering to his feet. He still had a limp but it was easier now. Shuffling to the exit, he stopped, staring at the handle of the closed door. You’d been doing that now, hadn’t you? He said something once and you had listened.
“So you’re just gonna run away after that, is that it?”
The archer spun so fast that he lost his balance, righting himself with a hand on the wall. “It ain’t—I was—just needed to talk to Carol.” He admitted. His shirt was damp and he was certain he would vomit.
“She didn’t mean anything by it, Daryl. I’ll talk to her.” You were wringing your hands, your chin wobbling.
Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. He had the sudden desire to hug you but didn’t dare move. Aside from casual touches, bumping shoulders in jest, and of course the occasional wound treatment, the two of you had never physically interacted. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Wow, had he thought about it. “I know she didn’t mean nothin’.” Ouch. Somehow that revelation was worse.
“She loves you, Daryl. I’ll talk to her, I promise. Please don’t walk out on her. On—on me.”
He likely looked like an idiot hobbling half the distance to where you stood. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” When you nodded and dropped your head, he dared another unsteady step. “M’a stay as long as ya want me here. You an’ Dia.” With one hand, he touched your shoulder and left the decision up to you. You needed no further prompting to step into his arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered. But then you were stepping back.
“Okay.” You nodded, turning your head to wipe away a tear you thought he didn’t already notice. “I like having you here.” He returned the nod silently.
Nothing else was said. Daryl went back to the couch, you went to get ready for bed. The night went on with both you and Daryl feeling more alone than ever.
“She really called you dada?” Carol asked in an excited whisper, the wide grin on her face in direct contrast to Daryl’s frown. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“No!” He shot back immediately, looking over his shoulder at the little girl playing on the living room floor. They had somehow even managed to get her to sit next to Judith’s playpen, so long as Daryl didn’t touch Lil’ Asskicker, peace remained. “I mean, yeah. Fuck, I dunno what I mean, Carol.”
“Daryl.” The seriousness in her tone brought his gaze to hers, flinching when he found her leaning on her elbows much closer than she had been just a moment ago. “I’m gonna ask you a question and I want you to answer me honestly.”
“Ain’t never lied to ya.”
“Okay.” Her eyes, just as blue as his own, narrowed. “Do you love that little girl?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” It was true. It was so different from how he loved Judith but yet completely the same. He would give anything for her to have been his, to have been there while you carried her. He wanted to spit on the man that tried to force you to end it. He couldn’t imagine a world without you and little Nadia anymore. It was as if the two of you were the missing pieces that could give him a chance to be whole.
“And Y/N?”
“What?”
��Do you love Y/N?” Carol leaned back a little, her gaze no less intense.
“S’a lil’ more—I, uh—”
“I said STOP!”
Daryl was on his feet instantly at the sound of your voice, running outside. His limp was less profound and didn’t hinder him from descending the steps to see you across the street with your arm in Spencer’s grasp. You were likely on your way to collect Nadia.
“Come on, Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Spencer pulled you toward him.
“You’re delusional!”
“Stop being such a prude. You’ve got a kid. You think you got any other options out there?”
“Yeah! She does!” Daryl’s fist had already connected before the other man had even realized he was approaching. The archer stepped in front of you and stayed there, coiled to attack but holding steady until he was given a reason.
“You?” Spencer spat, literally, a glob of blood and saliva landing next to Daryl’s boot. “The dirty redneck everyone’s afraid of? That’s laughable.”
Daryl started to move until he felt the smallest tug on his jeans. Nadia was looking up at him, equal parts curious and afraid.
“Dada mad?”
Your arms encircled his stomach with whispers of he’s not worth it repeated over his shoulder. “Get the fuck outta here an’ don’t come near my girls again.” The archer waited, arching a brow when Spencer hesitated.
“You heard him.” Rick stepped up to Daryl’s left, Michonne and Carol on this right. “Best be going now.” Spitting again, the man curled his lip and scrambled to his feet, stomping off toward his mother’s home. “Well, that’s gonna be a problem.”
“I’ll go talk to Deanna.” Maggie offered, nodding at Rick but stopping to squeeze Daryl’s arm on her way by. What the fuck? Had everyone noticed?
“We should make ourselves scarce.” Michonne suggested with a knowing grin.
Once they were all out of sight, Daryl deflated, one hand falling to the top of Nadia’s head. “Ain’t angry, Dia.” She sniffled and seemed to only hug his leg tighter. When it was clear he couldn’t turn with the added weight to his injured leg, you stepped around in front of him.
“Your girls?” You asked, expression so terrifyingly unreadable.
“I just—he needed to leave an’ I didn’t want him to think he could come back ‘round.” His bottom lip was instantly being gnawed between his teeth. “Needed to make sure ya were okay.”
“So, we’re not your girls?” There was definitely disappointment there. You were wringing your hands again before reaching toward Nadia.
“I mean, if ya—yeah.” Daryl swallowed hard. “Yeah, you’re my girls. Have been for a while. M’just a idiot an’ I was—I’m scared. Don’t wanna be like my old man.”
You hummed, stepping into him to brush back the fringe across his eyes. “You haven’t told me anything about your parents, but I’m willing to listen. I wanna know everything about you.”
“Me too—’bout you, I mean. ‘Bout Dia.” He was reaching for your face, leaning in just as you did. His lips barely brushed yours before there came another tug at his jeans again.
“Home, dada.”
You laughed while Daryl just looked stricken and confused. “You heard her, Daryl. Let’s go home and figure this out.”
One Year Later
“Daddy! Lookit picture!!”
Daryl looked up from the mess of rabbits he was skinning on the porch, blowing upward to move some of the hair from his eyes. The almost four year old was sprinting down the street from the Grimes’ house, a piece of paper waving in her grip above her head. He waved to Michonne who had been watching Nadia make it back safely. “Whatcha got there, Dia?” She was grinning from ear to ear when she presented it to him, holding it out in front of her because ew no when he reached for it with bloody fingers.
There were three stick figures. One was obviously him if the crazy hair and scribbled attempt at a crossbow were anything to go by. A small figure was at his side, dark hair and a big smile: Nadia. And then there was you. Daryl snorted. You were a stick figure with a circle drawn around the middle.
“Your mama’s gonna ‘preciate that, kid.”
“Appreciate what?” You stepped out with two glasses of water, placing them on the table and resting your hand on your swollen belly. Nadia proudly displayed the drawing and received a big smile and mhm, so pretty from you while Daryl snickered into his shoulder. “Go put it on the fridge, baby, and wash your hands. Supper’s nearly ready.”
“Okay, mama!” And off she went in a blur.
“Not funny, Dixon.” You dug your bare toes into his lower back until he yelped.
“S’a little funny.” He wiped his knife across his jeans.
“About as funny as you cleaning these rabbits on my front porch.” He ducked his head sheepishly when he turned to watch you lower into your chair.
“I’ll clean it up, Sunshine. Don’t get all uppity ‘bout it.” Rising from his perch, he gathered the meat onto a parchment you had given him and wrapped it, leaving the bones and fur to handle later. “Dia! C’mere!” Moving at inhuman speed, she was looking up at him from the doorway the next second. Daryl jerked his chin toward a bag on the table beside his water glass. “Broughtcha somethin’ back.”
You leaned forward with curiosity and watched your daughter pull out the contents of the bag, barely catching a glimpse of the different colors before Nadia hugged Daryl’s leg and disappeared back inside with squeals of delight echoing in her wake.
“What did you bring her?”
Daryl smirked. “Told ya I’d find clothes for them dolls.”
#murda writes#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#step dad!daryl#dad!daryl#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon twd#Spotify
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Heyyy i just wanna say that I LOVE your writing. Its so so comforting 🫶🫶🫶
Can I request a story/headcanon about how Thorins company/ specifically Kíli would react if (fem) reader got her hair braided by her (non dwarf) friend, and it was just a friendly thing, but the dwarves thought it was a courting braid?
Pairing Fem!Reader x Kíli
Thank youu🫶💗
Omg thanks! Comfort writing is a big honor 🥹
Mission of Misunderstanding- Kili x F!Human!Reader
Shout-out to my girlies in the unbraidable hair community lmao 🤝 Warnings: one minor swear lol, a couple suggestive remarks
One more step and your feet were going to fall off. Surrendering to the burn, you all but fell down onto the log, tilting your feet so only your heels rested upon the earth. A sigh escaped your lips and you didn’t even move when the rustling sounded at your back.
A familiar voice spoke your name. Bilbo. “Are you quite alright?”
“Yes, my friend,” you breathed, “so long as you don’t count anything below the knee. Or my hair. Can’t imagine how much dirt and leaves have gotten in it after all that.”
"Well, yes," Bilbo chided, ever the little mother-hen, "you've got to keep it back. Why don't I braid it for you?"
Your heart burst, and not from exertion this time. "You would do that for me?"
"Of course," the hobbit shrugged, "haven't had much practice of it of late, but certainly I can give it a go for you. I understand. I wouldn't want the mess either. Come here."
Thanking him again, you scooted closer to where Bilbo stood, gritting your teeth for the pain of him detangling your hair, only to relax at the gentle touch of his nimble fingers. Eyelids fluttering shut in contentment, you sat as Bilbo worked his magic neatening your hair up and making fresh braids of it for you. Feet still elevated and aching, but less so the longer you sat off of them. When the hobbit pulled back with a quiet, still-focused finished, your first instinct was to reach up around your head, touching the new set of braids with a widening smile.
"And now it shall be free of my face! Truly, thank you, Bilbo!" Pulling him into a quick hug, you vowed to repay him somehow with a teasing final statement. "Since I doubt you want me to braid yours."
"That is quite alright, thank you," he chuckled, "let's head back to camp before Bombur chases us down, eh?”
Camp was nearby, and still sparsely populated as you approached it. Bofur and Bombur were there building a fire, and Thorin stood a ways aside having a conversation with Balin. Dwalin and Gloin sat playing a game with a rock as their table, and Ori sat knitting. The others, you presumed, were hunting, saddling ponies, or else getting attention from Oin. Thinking nothing of it you sat down again, this time near Dwalin and Gloin, asking who was winning and if they were taking bets just to laugh at their responses. Bilbo helped Bofur and Bombur get set up for dinner a few feet off, propping up sticks strong enough to hold the cooking pot.
Sure enough, the rest of the company began trickling in, Oin, Bifur, and Nori first, the latter two with poultices and bandages. You winced. Perhaps you should complain less about your feet. Next up came Dori and Fili, who each carried one half of a felled deer, shot clearly with one of Kili's arrows. The younger prince had a bag in hand, likely having won whatever silly game determined who got the lightest load. Smiling and meeting his eyes, you gave a quick wave, indicating your amusement at the game behind you with your eyes.
Kili smiled back and waved, then swiveled his head away and back again in a double-take. You found yourself frowning as he averted his gaze to help his brother, blinking as you wondered what that was about. All you'd done was say hello. Not even say, really. Did he think you were making fun of the others?
Perhaps it was nothing, but considering your feelings for the prince, it was everything in your mind. Cycling ideas began overtaking your brain like mist. Had he suspected malice of your joke? Had he simply heard something? Why had his expression shifted so? Maybe he was just worried by what he heard.
~
"What did I miss while we were gone?"
At Kili's words, Dwalin simply frowned, peering at him like he'd thoroughly lost his marbles. "What do ya mean, lad?"
"Did...did anything happen?"
"Took Gloin for a right fool on the card table," the older dwarf replied with a smug look, chest puffing and shoulders widening.
"No," the prince shook his head, "not with you, with..."
Despite the way he trailed off, Dwalin gave him a knowing smirk, crossing his tattooed arms. "Ah, I see," he nodded, "not with me, not with me at all. With the lass, eh? Why, she didn’t greet you with a kiss?”
Having an older brother really steeled one to teasing. Much as Kili wanted to fight, to protest and say oi, quit that or I’ll make you, he knew it was exactly the rise Dwalin would’ve wanted to get from him. Beside the other fact that his elder could kick his ass easily.
“‘Course not,” he replied nonchalantly as he could, “I just noticed someone had braided her hair was all.”
Even Dwalin had cause for surprise at that, dark eyebrows shooting up to his metaphorical hairline. “Just since this morning?”
“Yeah,” Kili replied, trying not to sound as deflated as the words made him feel, knocking the air clean out of him now that he’d said them out loud, “thought maybe you’d seen who did it.”
“Hadn’t even crossed my mind, but I think it was like that when she and Bilbo headed back to camp.”
“Bilbo?” He’d lose to a three and a half foot…grocer? “Well now, I’d not have expected that, eh?”
“I can tell ye don’t actually want to laugh, son.”
Sighing, he finally let himself deflate. Bilbo? You and Bilbo?
~
“I hardly see them talk that much. Do you?”
“Not nearly enough to warrant a marriage. Those take time.”
“I know, Fee.”
“Spark.”
“I know.”
“And I thought you two had it. Not even just saying that because you’re my brother. You know I’m honest with you. The only reason those two would have is both feeling like outsiders, and that hardly seems cause to f-”
“Thank you, Fili, yes. Perhaps I was just wrong. Perhaps she could never have loved me after all. She wasn’t my One.”
“Now, brother,” grabbing him by the cheeks with one hand, Fili pulled his younger brother’s gaze to meet his, “not so hasty. Have you talked to either of them yet?”
“Wasn’t ready,” he mumbled, shaking out of the squishing grasp.
“Well, perhaps you should. Knowing is pain, yes, but it is also the thing that keeps us going in the end.”
Kili dropped his gaze thoughtfully before meeting his brother’s eye again, smiling faintly. “Remember our old espionage days? Maybe it’s time we had another mission.”
“Alright,” Fili nodded and smiled, “for old times’ sake.”
~
“Well hello there, Master Burglar.”
“Whatever it is, I won’t fall for it.”
“Now, now, so dry and for what?” Fili wrapped an arm around the hobbit. “I was just wondering how you you were coming along with…a certain member of the company.”
At that, the hobbit’s face crumpled in disgust. By Fili’s reckoning, Master Bilbo seemed barely interested in romance and certainly not with any of the types he currently ran with. He needed someone more doilies and dishcloths and the lot. You may have been the closest to his type, but still far too much of an edge, far too much indeed.
“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo simply replied.
With a conspiratorial wink, Fili leaned in and whispered your name, glancing back to the hobbit’s eyes, which narrowed slightly. Suspicious.
“Uh, w-well I would say,” Bilbo stuttered, shrugging lightly, “well as we could be, all things considered.”
“All things considered?” Fili’s grip tightened a bit. “There are things to be considered?”
“There are plenty of things to be considered!” The burglar shot back. “Why, is she upset with me? Last I heard, she liked the braids and I made her feel much more comfortable. Have I done something today?”
Blue eyes closing to near-slits, Fili released his grip entirely, arm falling back to his side. “Did she ask you to arrange her hair?”
“She complained about it,” Bilbo replied, shimmying in his newfound freedom and using his released arm to slide his pack closer, “so I offered to do something about it. Can’t imagine that is much of an outrage…oh. Oh, good heavens! No! Oh, no. No. She could be my daughter, who on earth sent you over here to…?”
Blonde brows raising, Fili’s head shot back in surprising hard enough to send his mustache braids swinging. “Wait, so you do know about courting braids?”
“Gloin was just telling me all about his,” the hobbit replied, freezing in place even in spite of his awkward, hunched-into-his-pack-hands-deep posture, “neither of us thought a thing about it. Privately I was hoping she and Kili would do whatever it was to get the tension out there, you know?”
Fili did know. He knew, all right.
~
“Psst! Psst! Hoo! Hoo! Caw!”
Kili’s head snapped up at the sound, dark eyes meeting his brother’s fair head popping from the scraggly bushes surrounding camp. One gloved hand waved wild beckoning at the younger prince. Rising from the rock he’d sat down on, one with a strategic view of some conversation between you, Uncle Thorin, and Balin, Kili strode to the edges of camp.
“Reconnaissance successful,” his older brother hissed.
“What?” Jaw dropping, Kili felt his hands leave his chest and clench in surprise. “That was fast. Nothing for me to do?”
“Not true, brother. Not true at all,” Fili smiled, “your part is far more important. You have to go talk to her.”
With a sigh, Kili nodded despite the heavy clunk of his heart in his chest. All the childhood playtimes were nice and all, but at the end of the day he had to be a dwarf about things. Face his fears, just like Uncle Thorin and his father and even Fili.
“You’re right. Though I dread it in my heart, I must speak to her. Even if my love is never known.”
“I wish you the greatest of luck,” Fili patted his shoulder, smiling eagerly, “and trust me. She won’t do a single thing to hurt you. I know it. Alright?”
Another nod. “Alright.”
Inhale, exhale. One step, then another. It was hard sometimes. Putting on the bravado. Fili was always so capable and Uncle had high standards. Not that he shouldn’t, but…it just got easier to act unafraid of everything. In truth, there was much Kili didn’t understand. Much he feared. Perhaps even his own heart, and that was why he had allowed himself to play games with it for so long. No longer, though.
Crunching across the dry campsite ground, he marched up to you as your conversation ended and asked to speak with you, frowning slightly at the nod Balin and Thorin exchanged. Focusing instead on your gaze, the way your eyes were intent in his and the-admittedly quite adorable-way shock bloomed across your face before giving way to a smile and a nod.
“Of course,” you said, and that was that.
How was it that one little smile from you could simultaneously calm Kili's heart and set it leaping like nothing else? There truly was no denying that you were special. Perhaps Bilbo had seen what was so dazzlingly obvious, too. Guess that wasn't too much of a shock.
You both ventured toward the tree line, stopping next to a particularly sturdy trunk. Eagerness was written across your face as you leaned against the smooth bark, encouraging Kili with a smile he couldn't help faintly mirroring even as tears swam in his eyes.
"Are congratulations in order?"
"For me?" You asked, head tilting and hand reaching to your chest. "Forgive me, but what are you asking? I thought maybe I'd upset you last night, but now I really fear it. Or are you teasing me again?"
All thought was scrubbed from Kili's brain at your words, a thick blanket of confusion draping over the prince's mind and furrowing his brows. Is this what Fili meant? Were you not to hurt him because you thought him cross with you? That hurt a bit in and of itself. Perhaps you'd known he would be jealous. But then again, you had greeted him so casually, giving him a cute little wave when he came back...
"Please," he all but begged your name, "the suspense is just killing me. Is that not a courting braid you've been given? I know it is new as of yesterday."
"Is that why you looked so perturbed? Courting...courting braid? Kili," you laughed, "my hair was full of sticks and leaves and all manner of muck, so Bilbo detangled it and got it out of my face for me! Bilbo could be my father!"
Still a bit shaky, but Kili's face surrendered a smile at the teasing smack you gave his upper arm. "Oh, forgive me for being a dwarf," he shot back, "I was hardly the only one who noticed."
"But you were the only one who was jealous," you teased him back, "is that not right?"
Kili could tell by the faltering smirk you gave, by the dart of your beautiful eyes, that you did not truly believe it, but by Mahal, you would when he was done with you.
"Madly," he agreed, eyes boring into yours, "never let anyone but me braid your hair again."
Eyebrows shooting up to your hairline, you peeled yourself from the tree as if to get a closer look. "Kili..."
"I mean it," he implored your name once more, gently taking your shoulders in his hands, "please. This isn't a joke, but if you'd like me to convince you..."
Surging forward, Kili closed the gap between you two, his lips soft against yours and stubble pleasantly tickling against your skin, which shifted as you moved in response to his kiss. Your hands found purchase in his hair, tangling in it and eliciting a sound Kili was too focused on you to be embarrassed about. When you finally pulled away for air, he pulled you back, resting his forehead against yours with a growing smile.
"So, you convinced?"
Your eyes glittered with mirth, joy, mischief...perhaps even love, and Kili knew he should have never doubted you were his One. "So convinced I practically want you to rip out all of Bilbo's work and do it over again yourself."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰
#the hobbit#the hobbit imagines#the hobbit x reader#kili#kili x reader#kili x female reader#female reader#ask#anon#requested
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"you came so fast, I barely even touched you" holy shit.
I have no idea where the original list of prompts is but I love your request and here I present you a smut fic about Astarion and Tiriel!
Shadows
Synopsis: Astarion dissociates during sex, believing he "owes" sex to Tiriel.
Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!
Tags: smut, handjob, NSFW, trauma talk
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Tiriel has completely lost herself.
There is nothing in this world but her and Astarion. He’s pinned her to the bed, shut her mouth with his kisses and Tiriel thinks her legs, currently tightly wrapped around his torso, won’t close ever again.
Tiriel grabs a fistful of his curls, making him groan. Astarion pulls away a bit and then pierces her neck with his fangs, causing her to whimper with pain and pleasure.
With every gulp, his thrusts become rougher and harder. He releases her neck and Tiriel smells the iron scent of her own blood.
“Such a delicious little thing,” he growls. “So warm for me.”
Tiriel tries to make eye contact but Astarion turns away. His mind is a thousand miles away.
“Astarion,” she meowls.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he squeezes her wrists harder and rolls his hips.
“Astarion, please,” Tiriel says, but he doesn’t pay attention.
Now it’s not lovemaking, not sex.
Just a mindless fucking, perfect in its performance.
And Tiriel hates every second of this.
“Astarion, let me go!”
He places his palm over her mouth and hushes something pointless in her ear. He speaks of love, passion… He may not mean a word he says.
Tiriel has had enough.
She manages to set her leg free and punches Astarion forcing him to release her at once.
He gasps and moves to the other side of the bed. His cock is still hard and it glistens in the dim light, still coated in precum and her own wetness.
“Did I—Gods!” Astarion covers his face in shame. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s ok, you didn’t hurt me,” She takes his hand in hers. “What happened? You were dissociating again.”He looks at her and then takes a blanket to cover his lower parts, as if embarrassed by his own erection.
Tiriel studies his perfect face and notices he’s avoiding looking at her.
They spent the last two days apart. Tiriel was offered a job—to help a group of adventurers deal with a banshee, and it was clear they wouldn’t tolerate a vampire. So, Astarion agreed to stay in the Inn with his books—and Tiriel promised to return as soon as possible.
Be it the consequences of the fight or something else, Tiriel was coming back to the Inn with only one desire.
She wanted to fuck.
Astarion quickly caught the scent of her arousal and, while joking about her overall appearance (bruises, sweat, a ripped shirt), he undressed her and gave her what she desired most.
“Astarion,” she caresses his knuckles. “You could have just said you weren’t in the mood.”
Now he looks at her. A bitter smile twists his face.
“It’s difficult to say ‘no’ to you, darling” He chuckles. “Didn’t want to disappoint you”
Tiriel grabs his shoulders. “Astarion, don’t be stupid! Do you think I like forcing you to do things you don’t want? You think I… Gods, Astarion, you aren’t an object to be used, not a means to an end. You don’t owe me sex or intimacy or anything! We’ve talked about it!”
Astarion turns his head away. “I had a very bad reverie while you were absent, '' he admits. “Really bad one. I will spare you the details and I don't want to talk about it. I didn’t want you to notice and tried to pretend everything was normal. When it wasn’t.”
Tiriel puts her head on his shoulder.
“Astarion, tell me what you want. But be honest. Please.”
He exhales. “Well… I… definitely can’t finish what we started but my body disagrees.”
Tiriel pulls away the blanket. Astarion’s manhood looks painfully hard. She feels a tugging sensation between her legs but she manages to suppress it. Whatever they are going to do won’t be about her.
“Can you just… Sit in front of me?” he asks.
Tiriel nods. She adjusts herself on a pillow so Astarion can see all of her. She spreads her legs a bit and smiles.
“Come for me, love,” she murmurs watching as he strokes himself.
Astarion maintains eye contact fucking his own hand. Tiriel suspects she doesn’t look seductive or particularly appealing, but she’s learned to love herself as she is. If Astarion finds her attractive and desires her, she shouldn’t care about anything else.
Then, he turns away again. The movements become mechanical—he bites his lower lip and tries to keep performing but Tiriel has known him for too long not to notice.
“Astarion?”
“Fuck!” he unclenches his hand.”I can’t.”
“Do you want me to help?” Tiriel leans to him.
He hesitates but then nods.
Tiriel tugs Astarion to her chest making sure he is comfortable between her legs. She kisses his shoulder and then touches his nipples—his body reacts to her fingers, forcing him to squirm.
“I don’t want to hurt you, I don't want you to feel used. I want you to be loved, to be cared for,” she strokes his cock and Astarion moans.
She has never done it before. Astarion often pleasures her in more than one way; his fingers have been inside her not less than his cock. Meanwhile, her role is almost always a passive one.
Well, unless she rides him—but that’s another story to tell.
She touches the sensitive tip and then proceeds to stroke the shaft, enjoying the sensation of silk-like skin under her fingers.
Astarion squirms, he digs his fingernails into the sheet. Tiriel uses her second hand to caress his balls. She squeezes them a bit and the moment she does it thick strings of cum coat Tiriel’s fingers.
“Fuck!” he gasps.
Tiriel pays little to no attention to the mess he’s made and adores his face. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is half open. There is nothing left from his usual smirk and a composed smile—Astarion is just a mindless vampire right now, drowned in his own pleasure.
“I barely even touched you,” Tiriel playfully says. “And you’ve come so fast.”
His cock is still hard and Tiriel kisses her lover’s lips.
“Please…” he mutters. “Do this… again.”
“Anything for you, love.”
This time Tiriel squeezes him tighter, her movements rough and passionate. Astarion moans and hisses uncontrollably.
“Hells…”
“I love you so much,” Tiriel whispers in his ear. “I am so lucky to have you. Don’t hold yourself. ”
Astarion rolls his hips fucking her hand. By this moment she doesn’t even have to move— she just holds Astarion the same way she holds a sword handle.
“Come for me, love.” She licks the tip of his ear and then carefully bites it. As she feels his skin on her tongue, he clutches at the fabric of the sheets with such force that he tears it.
Then he opens his eyes wide and cums again.
If he was alive, he would pant loudly and his heart would beat like after climbing up the stairs in a tower.
But his body is silent and Tiriel moves a bit to see his face better.
The image doesn’t disappoint her—Astarion is completely flustered, all in her power, vulnerable, and mindless.
Finally, he looks at her. She smiles and puts her coated fingers to her lips and licks the cum.
“Wild girl,” he murmurs and kisses Tiriel, tasting himself.
“Do you want to cuddle?” she asks.
“Do you really have to ask?” Astarion is back to his common self. “Darling, I thought we'd been cuddling longer than we’ve been having sex.”
“Then how do you want to do it?”
Astarion hesitates, then pushes her onto the bed, forcing Tiriel to lie on her back. He then settles his head on her bare lap, hugging her thigh like a pillow.
“I had a reverie about a woman,” he finally says. “She knew I was a vampire and I was her ‘reward” for doing some… job for him. She was a nobility, a rich girl who always got what she wanted—and she wanted me to be her fucktoy for a month. I should have been grateful because for once I didn’t have to flinch at any unexpected sound or be afraid of torture. Instead of rats, I fed on horses and dogs which was much better than my usual diet. I even could read books in her library and, gods, I spent every spare minute there.”
“But the price was to sleep with her?” Tiriel asks.
“Well, the bitch had very interesting views on sex, and any regular intercourse was too boring for her. Besides, she deluded herself that she asked for permission—but I was ordered to agree to anything she suggested. And the bitch was as inventive as perverted.”
Tiriel caresses his scalp waiting for the story to continue. Astarion’s mind is like a hangman’s archive—Tiriel can never guess which disgusting fact she will learn next, but it is always worse than the previous one.
“I was in her bedroom and… she was forcing herself on me. I wanted to strangle her, to rip her throat. Her touches were acid-like. It was… a deep reverie when I wasn’t aware it was a memory. I was sure I was still there. And then… it all faded away. And then you returned with your arousal and your passion.”
Guilt knots in Tiriel’s stomach.
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t. I should have just told you I wasn’t in the mood. You would have stopped, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course. Without a doubt.”
He turns around so he can see Tiriel’s face but still uses her thighs as a pillow.
“You are warm,” he mutters.
“And you resemble a big cat.”
“Is it a compliment?”
“Yes.”
Tiriel feels like falling asleep. The last thing she sees is Astarion’s crimson eyes that look at her with awe and tenderness.
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-alll @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#astarion romance#bg3#baldurs gate 3#astarion fics#astarion fic#astarion fanfic#spacebarbarian fics#tiriel of the sunset mountains#tiriel the barbarian#astarion x tiriel#oc tav: tiriel#astarion smut#astarion x tav smut#baldurs gate 3 astarion#astarion acunin#astarion ancunin#astarion baldurs gate#astarion baldurs gate 3#astarion fanfiction#astarion my beloved#astarion imagine#astarion x oc#tav x astarion
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Can we get some more stuff with your yandere! nanami? it could be anything like even your headcanons about how he treats his darling ! I really like the way you write him!
Yes!! Any excuse to write my man. I hope this is ok, and if you want more, feel free to ask.
Not Your Room (Yandere!Nanami x Reader)
~You wake up somewhere completely foreign to you~
CW: Past kidnapping. Yandere Nanami. Vomiting but that's because reader is dizzy.
Word Count: 1,178
Reqs are OPEN! At the top of my page you can see what fandoms I write for, so DM me with your ideas!
Buy me a coffee?
.-.-.
You woke up in a bed that was not your own.
The first thing you’re aware of is a weight across your legs, then a warmth around your body, and, finally, the plush sensation of sheets and pillows cradling you. It was almost enough to drag you back down to the impossibly deep sleep you fought your way out of. Almost, but not quite, because this was not your bed.
You took a moment to breathe, bracing yourself before opening your eyes, only to wish you’d kept them shut.
You weren’t in your bed, and you were definitely not in your room. All of it was completely foreign, so unlike your own home that you might as well have stepped into a separate country for how unfamiliar everything was. The room was dimmed with only one lamp on, but you could see off-white walls and beige curtains, no colorful accents but for the single blue throw draped over a chair in a corner. It was like the owner had never dared impress any of their own personality into the room, and you had woken up in an interior design catologue.
Could you be hospitalized? If you were, wherever they had put you was surely thousands of dollars out of your budget. It was bland, yes, but just from a single glance you could tell that everything was top quality.
You forced your body to sit up with a grunt, limbs oddly heavy, casting your eyes around the room, searching for your things, only to pause. Beside a door was a pair of shoes; a pair of men’s shoes. If you were in a hospital, it would make no sense for a man to leave his shoes in your room, not if they were a doctor or visitor. You swallowed, and this time looked around the room with new eyes. Other than the shoes, you saw a bedside table with a book resting on the top, a suitcase set on the chair that held the blue afgan, and opposite from you bed was a door cracked open just enough for you to see a bathroom rug.
You weren’t in a hospital, you were in someone’s house. You stiffened, and you found yourself fisting your hands into the white sheets beneath you.
Your panic was cut off when you heard the creak of a doorknob turning. Jerking, you slid from the bed to stand and hide from whoever was coming, but instead you nearly crumpled to the ground. A sudden dizziness overtook you, black speckled at the corners of your vision, and a rushing pounded through your ears, deafening and clouding everything around you.
“-sy. Take deep breaths.” A voice, also male, broke through to you, and you felt calloused hands guide you back to the bed.
“Where-” You paused, rubbing your temples, a headache building up in your skull. “Where am I?”
You glanced up and gasped. Brown eyes behind wire glasses, blond hair professionally slicked back, a sharp face; you knew this man. Every Thursday, you’d go to a bakery a block from your house, treating yourself to something sweet. Exactly at eight in the morning, the man in front of you would walk in, buy the same thing every time, then leave. Never had the two of you shared words, or smiles, or anything more than a quick glance. What was he doing here?
“Stay calm,” your bakery aquiantance said as he guided your head back to the pillows. “You’ve been through a trauma.”
“A trauma?” you muttered. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t give you all the details yet. For now, just focus on relaxing.”
You found yourself lying back in bed, staring at the ceiling, mind trying to process what was being said yet falling oddly flat.
Suddenly, your vision was obscured as he reached for your face, and you didn't have any time to flinch back before his hands grabbed your head. Big was the only word that came to mind, before fingers were gently massaging at your scalp.
That felt nice. Your eyes started to droop, and you felt yourself sinking into that strange fog you had just struggled from. You were nearly asleep, gentle, strong fingers massaging your neck, when a thread of anxiety worked its way through you.
“My parents!” you exclaimed, sitting back up again. “I have to call them! Where’s my phone?”
The blond man sat back, dropping his hands from your face. “I’m afraid you can’t do that.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, then winced. Your head was hurting again.
“I mean you can’t have your cellphone or any other electronics without my supervision.” He put his hand on your sternum, urging you back, but you pushed him away.
You thrashed, throwing off your blankets. “What the fack does that mean?” you snapped, swinging your feet over the bed. “Where’s my phone? Where’s the rest of my shit?”
“Easy,” he soothed. “Too much movement might make you dizzy. I’m not sure how you’ll react with the drugs.”
You felt an icy cold work its way down your back.
“You drugged me?” you hissed. Now that he’d admitted to it, you did feel heavy, dizzy in a way that not even alcohol could accomplish. Even the anger you felt towards the man for what he didn’t was only there for a moment before guttering out, like a weak flame fed with damp wood.
“With propofol, yes. It’s a common anesthetic used in hospitals and other healthcare settings.”
You had to get out of here. You had to run. Stomach churning, you rolled to the opposite end of the bed, away from him, falling to the ground with a thump. You whimpered, clutching at your head. It felt like you were drowning in cotton.
Arms wrapped around you, lifting you into their hold effortlessly. A horrible vertigo washed over you, and you gripped the man’s shirt collar in front of you to at least try to stay in control.
“‘m gonna puke,” you mumbled. And then you did. All over the plush carpet.
You could feel a sigh travel through the man’s body as he stepped carefully over your mess, carrying you towards the bathroom.
“If you felt sick you should have told me earlier,” he said. It made you feel like you were being scolded.
“If you hadn’t drugged me I wouldn’t be sick,” you snapped, before being set on a toilet seat. “I have bad reactions to propofol. It makes me nauseated.”
It was hard to be angry at him. It was hard to be anything; it felt like you had an empty hole in your chest, swallowing up every emotion you tried to muster. It was the propofol, surely. A garbage can was settled between your feet before a cool hand, strong and steady, massaged the delicate nape of your neck.
You stared into the empty can, and tried to cherish the feeling. As soon as the drugs wore off and you got your lucidity back, things would be infinitely worse. Soon, everything would be real.
#jjk imagines#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujustu kaisen x reader#yandere#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere nanami#nanami x y/n#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#kento nanami#yandere nanami x reader
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Hihi I got a one shot request!! Vox x Reader where reader takes charge of date night! I feel like everyone headcanons, rightfully so btw, that Vox is 100% a fancy expensive restaurant for every date kind of guy. Maybe Reader takes care of date night for a change, opting for something more simple and comfortable over expensive clothing and expensive food. Fluff!!! I love the fluff (*≧∀≦*)
Hello there! Writing this was so fun, I might've not made it fluffy enough so feel free to tell me to change stuff or request something similar next time. Tried to make Reader as GN as possible too!
Have a nice time reading ^_^
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Vox x Reader - CEO of a Good Time
The moon shined brightly outside of the V Tower, its rays illuminating the rooms of the headquarters a bright red; you stared at your own reflection in the mirror of your room, the color of the pretty yet conservative outfit you were wearing contrasting against the red coming from the large window behind you.
A quick glance at your phone informed you that it was almost time to head out, so you grabbed your belongings and made your way towards the door. Opening it revealed the tall figure of your boyfriend, dressed in a dark blue striped suit with a touch of red from the tie neatly tucked into his blazer. You had told him to dress comfortable, and well, if this was his definition of that you couldn’t judge him, really.
A relaxed smile on his TV screen, he lowered the hand that was hanging in mid-air, ready to knock on your door;
“Oh, ready at the same time.” He pointed out, “I assume it’s time to get on our limousine then?”
You chuckled, linking your arm with his and walking towards the elevator.
“No silly, we’re driving there. It’s not that far anyways.”
From the corner of your eye you could see Vox blink, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Still, for you he was willing to show his more gentlemanly side.
“Ah, I see...then let me drive.”
Once in the elevator you pressed the button supposed to lead you to the ground floor, opting to not say goodbye to the other Vee’s; Velvette was probably busy anyways, and Valentino...well, your dislike of him was apparent to everyone in the tower. Plus this was supposed to be a night for you and Vox alone, and a very special one at that since your boyfriend had allowed you to choose everything about it: the location, how to get there and what to do afterwards.
You set Vox’s arm free once you two reached the garages, letting him retrieve his black Pontiac Chieftain; he took the time to walk over to your side of the car and open your door, and once you were both inside he entrusted you his phone.
“Set the location to where you want us to go, hot stuff.”
“Gladly, princess.”
Vox glitched, choking on his own saliva.
“Told you not to call me that...”
“Yeah, in public!” you let out a chuckle, fiddling around with his phone.
Once the location was successfully set you placed it in your lap, as this car wasn’t equipped with a phone holder. Vox groaned as you blew him a kiss, and started driving and following the directions of the GPS.
---
The pizzeria you had chosen was humble, certainly not a place that Vox would’ve chosen had he been in charge that night. It was located in a cute little alleyway – well, as cute as those can be in Hell – so Vox struggled for a bit before he could find a parking space. When he did though, he once again made the effort to open your car door, earning a little kiss from you.
“I’ll trust that you’ve already been here and tasted the food, at least?” he questioned as you began walking towards your destination.
“Oh, don’t be so distrustful. My friends speak very well of this place!”
Saying the entrance was surrounded by LED lights would be an understatement; arrows pointing at the door and pizza-shaped lights almost blinded you, reflecting the light off of your boyfriend’s screen.
Once inside though, the pleasant smell of pizza immediately reached your nostrils and you were met with a quiet buzz typical of small taverns like this one. As your eyes adjusted to the dim orange lights, the owner themselves welcomed you.
“Greetings, greetings! We’re very pleased to serve a couple as grandiose as you!” She bowed, recognizing you and Vox. She then referred to you; “A table for two, like you said?”
“Yes please, and thank you!” you replied politely, letting her lead you to a square little table near the fireplace like you had asked earlier on the phone. Vox hesitantly followed the two of you, his gaze falling on the Imps sat at the other tables staring curiously, probably surprised that a couple such as you and your boyfriend would choose a place like this for a night out.
You sat down in front of each other as the owner of the pizzeria promised that a waiter would’ve been at your service in just a few minutes, and handed you two menus to choose your pizzas from.
“What are you going for?” you asked absentmindedly, scanning through the options.
“Well, I’d rather play it safe and get a Margherita, since we’ve never been here and all.”
You both ended up choosing your own pizza and letting it know to the waiter as they brought you breadsticks as an appetizer.
You stared at the flames flickering, the relaxing atmosphere of the pizzeria and the warm temperature embracing you like a fuzzy blanket. You think you would’ve fallen asleep if Vox hadn’t tapped his finger on the wooden table.
“Don’t sleep, the pizzas will be here soon.” He reminded you almost gently.
“I’m not sleeping, just resting. Isn’t this a nice change from the usual busy rich people restaurant?” you quickly realized what you said, stumbling on your own words as your boyfriend raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Not that I don’t appreciate it when you organize dates, it’s all very sweet...but this is cute, no?”
Vox scanned your face, your gentle smile and soft cheeks illuminated by the fireplace’s light almost making him short circuit. He cleared his throat and awkwardly adjusted his tie when he realized that he had been staring for a bit too long without offering you a reply;
“Ah, yes, it’s not...as bad as I thought it would be, how did you find this place again? Your friends?”
You explained that, while you were usually busy working at the V Tower, your friends had a little more time on their hands, so from time to time they’d organize little hang outs with each other in places they didn’t know. Vox focused on the first part of your sentence: you didn’t have much time to hang out with your friends. He’d make sure that this changed once back at the tower, or at least he was going to let you choose where to go a little more often than usual.
He listened as you complimented the ambience of the place, and took a moment to admire it himself, ignoring the curious gazes of the other demons sat around you. Maybe it was a nice change, especially seeing you this happy, yeah.
The pizzas arrived soon, the waiter placing a candle at the centre of your table.
“Romantic!” you commented, “Vox, take a picture!”
Vox did as you told him to, ignoring the notifications on his phone and concentrating on shooting the perfect picture of you, even telling you to strike different poses. When he did so you raised your eyebrows, your mouth slightly agape.
“What? Got something on my screen?” he asked, switching to front camera to check for stains.
“No, it’s just...you usually say you need to check your notifications and all first, so I was a little surprised is all.”
He stopped admiring himself and refocused his attention on you;
“...Oh. Well, can’t really be an asshole all the time I guess,” he smirked, taking a surprise picture of you. You barely restrained yourself from yelling at him for that – jokingly, of course – and instead opted for stealing his phone and deleting it immediately as he laughed.
The pizzas were delicious, both you and Vox practically devoured them and even offered the other a slice of each other’s pizza. He also decided not to order alcohol as he was supposed to drive you both back, and drinking is never a good idea in these cases.
He led you back to his car, an arm draped across the small of your back protectively as you passed various groups of ill-intentioned individuals; it was late at night when you left the pizzeria, after all.
This time you ran forward a little, opening the car door on the passenger’s side for him.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake-“
“After you, sweetheart.” You teased, a smug smile plastered on your face. He rolled his eyes, taking you by the hand and letting you sit instead. “Aw, boring. I thought I was the one in charge tonight.”
“Maybe next time I’ll consider your strange proposals.” He said, walking to the other side of the car. Before he could start it you placed your hand on his, making him turn towards you.
“Thanks for...indulging in this. Next time the lead’s all yours.” You said sincerely. He smirked at you, pulling you in for a quick kiss.
“Nah, I can handle a little change.”
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x reader#x reader#vox x reader#vox x you#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#vox hazbin
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Anything Ned Stark. Second wife, first wife, fluff, headcanons anything. 💚❤💚❤💚 -Maris
Omgg!! Haven’t written much for Ned and haven’t written game of thrones in a while so I rlly liked this one!! I went with 2nd wife HCs for this one.
Being Ned Stark’s second wife would include…
Warnings: AU where Catelyn dies, reference to death, political/arranged marriage, age gap, reference to smut, but it’s skipped over
Gif creds to owner
Almost a full year after catelyn had passed, Ned decided that Winterfell needed a new Lady, and his children needed a maternal figure
Of course, no one could replace Cat, who was the mother of five of his children and kept Winterfell running smoothly while he tended to his duties as warden of the north
So after much deliberation in the Godswood, he visited Lewin’s Solar and had ravens drawn up to the northern Lords
And one to King Robert himself.
it takes several moons, but soon his new bride arrives at Winterfell, accompanied by your Lord father and two of your brothers
The wedding itself is a small affair, with your vows said in the Godswood before the old gods
The children are in attendance, and the eldest among them seem aged beyond their years following the death of Lady Catelyn.
The feast afterwards is quiet, the music played quietly, the guests not yet rowdy.
You sit at the head table at Lord Eddard’s right side, your shoulders weighed down by the great grey cloak of House Stark, and the new responsibilities of the Lady of Winterfell
Soon the children are herded off to bed, and it’s time for the bedding
Your mother had discussed what would happen in the marital chamber in scant detail, so you knew the mechanics
Your father had only told you to do your duty to your house, his jaw tense
But when a rowdy fiddle player tried to liven up the festivities with his bawdy hollering and calls to strip you through the halls, Eddard stood from the table
A cool look from his stern grey eyes was enough to silence the musician
“You may continue the festivities,” he addressed the wedding guests. And although his voice was low and quiet, it commanded respect from all in the Hall.
He then offered his hand to you, and when you slipped your hand into his calloused palm, he guided you up and then down from the platform, through the hall of well-wishers, all bowing their heads to the Warden of the North.
The walk to your new chambers was silent, but not uncomfortably so, and when Eddard held the door open for you, you thanked him in a quiet voice.
“These are your chambers,” he said lowly, gesturing.
They were beautiful, in a rustic, comforting way. The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows over the furnishings.
“In here is your sitting area, with your Solar just ahead. Your bed chambers are through that way. Your things have been brought up already, but you have plenty of time to sort all of that out. And you’ll have help, of course,”
You smile gratefully as he explains that you are free to change the appearance of the chambers as you please.
“My own chambers aren’t too far from here,” he adds with a small smile, and you notice the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles.
Together you sit before the fire, sharing a cup of ale, talking of not much at all, but easing into one another’s company.
“Thank you,” you say, setting your cup down. When he looks at you quizzically, you expand. “For before. My younger brother teased me before I came here, telling tales about bedding ceremonies. I knew you wouldn’t allow it, you didn’t for-“ you catch yourself. “You defended the Lady Catelyn’s honour. And I am thankful that you defended mine too, Lord Stark,”
Eddard watches as you talk, the way you handle talking about Cat, his Cat. There is no scorn, no resentment at being a second wife, at being a replacement, at knowing that he did not love you
Not yet, at least
“I would never dishonour you, My Lady,” he tells you, and you smile gently.
He is silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “I will not make you consummate this marriage tonight My Lady. Not if you don’t want to. We can proceed in the coming weeks, if you would prefer,”
“What if I want to?” You asked. “I must do my duty to House YLN and now to House Stark as well. You and I both know this marriage cannot go unconsummated, otherwise our houses are not formally allied,”
Eddard surveyed you for a moment, relieved he had wed a Lady with a wise head on her shoulders, and not a skittish young maid.
“Then I will go at your pace, my Lady, and you must tell me to stop should your mind change,”
You nodded your head in agreement, and together you made your way to your bedchamber
He keeps his word, and the marriage is consummated slowly, dutifully, gently
Afterwards, he holds you, never leaving to return to his own chambers, and had a servant bring wine for you
But when he returns to your bed, he finds you asleep, snuggled into the fur, your face serene and your hair mussed up
With a gentle smile he slides back into bed with you, though it takes him much longer to fall asleep, killed by your gentle breaths
#eddard stark x reader#ned stark x reader#Ned stark imagine#ned stark headcanons#game of thrones headcanon#game of thrones au
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Warm Hands | Rusty Nail x Female!Reader | Part 1
Author’s Note: This man has me giggling and kicking my feet. Thank you @peyton-peyton for the recommendation because I am obsessed. By the way, I know my requests are closed (I have quite the backlog) but if anyone wants to send me any headcanon requests regarding Rusty, feel free to. I can’t get enough of this man 💕
Warning Tags: Older man/younger woman, size difference, possessive behavior, dubious consent, smitten at first sight, Rusty is doting on reader, and a lot of smut (in part 2).
Winter had finally settled in your small town. A fine layer of frosty snow blanketed the ground, keeping most off the roads and inside their homes, tucked safe and sound in their beds.
The convenience store parking lot was vacant besides a few stray cars, most likely belonging to the store workers, and a black Peterbilt truck. With the exception of a light post flickering noisily above you, the world was quiet.
The door ringed when you entered, announcing to the cashier, who was currently reading a magazine, that a customer was here. You politely nodded as you quickly pass, skimming past a man idling by the lighter display.
Knowing the store by heart, you had gathered what you wanted in less than a minute. You took your place behind the man where you realized just how tall he was because you barely came up past the middle of his back.
Geez, dude, what the hell did your mother feed you when you were a kid?
Must have been the owner of the Peterbilt. His attire screamed trucker with his thick, brown coat, worn jeans, and work boots. Curling just beneath his dirty baseball cap was dark, graying hair.
“Pack of Malborros too.”
The deep baritone caused a chill to go down your spine. You hummed it out, shaking your head to keep your thoughts from straying. He pulled out a black wallet attached to a long, silver chain that hung from his hips. Grabbing his lighter and smokes, he gruffly thanked the worker and headed for the door.
Beneath the glow of the store’s fluorescent lights his ruggedly handsome features weren’t able to hide the strong jaw covered in stubble, plush lips set in a grim frown, or baby blue eyes that reflected just how tired he was.
He walked by you to the front door and you sucked in a breath when his hand lightly brushed yours, sending an electric shock to your heart that felt like it had stopped beating. So subtle, the contact, yet it left your mind reeling. Both you and the cashier watched him walk to his truck. While she couldn’t tear her eyes off his ass, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his hand.
She made a noise. “He sure was a tall drink of water.”
You blinked. “Oh, yeah, I guess.”
She inclined her head. “You know he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
Even though you rolled your eyes, your heart skipped a beat. “Stop it.”
She scanned your drink, eyes bulging. “I’m serious!”
“I was only up here for two seconds.”
“Baby, he had his eyes locked on you the moment you stepped through the door. You’ll be lucky to make it out of the parking lot without him nippin’ at your heels.”
He’ll be long gone.
You glanced out the display window. His truck was still there.
Or not.
She finished scanning the rest of your things. “Fine, don’t believe me. But I’ve been around the block a few times. I know when a man wants a woman.” She slipped the receipt into the bag and slid it across the counter.
“Prepare to be disappointed.”
She smirked and winked. “Have a nice night, sweetheart.”
The wintry air nipped at your nose. You shivered and stuffed your hands in the pockets of your jacket. The truck camouflaged perfectly against the black night. The light post that still flickered illuminated just enough where you could see inside. The trucker sat hunched over in the driver’s seat with a lit cigarette dangling loosely out his mouth.
You had to pass the truck to get to your car. Sucking in a long breath to calm your nerves, you slowly walked to your car. As you came closer, the driver’s side window slowly winded down.
His deep voice pierced the silence like a freshly sharpened knife, “It isn’t safe for a young woman to be out here by herself.”
Your heart thumped loudly in your ears. “Why do you think I’m alone?”
“I’d hate to think any man would allow their lady to walk themselves to their car in the middle of the night.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth, cushioning it between two fingers. “I know I wouldn’t allow mine to.”
The way he elongated the word mine was not missed and neither did was the way he peered down at you from beneath his hat, watching your reaction. Your cheeks felt warmer than the rest of your body and you knew you must have been blushing from the attention he was giving you.
“Maybe I have a shitty boyfriend?”
“Would be quite the shame. Pretty thing like you deserves someone who will treat her right.”
It was a good thing you weren’t made of snow because you were melting beneath his scorching stare and flirtatious words.
Stop it. Tell him you have a boyfriend.
Your mouth betrayed your thoughts, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He took a long drag, inhaling deeply, the corner of his lips curling. “Good, means I don’t have to teach the boy a lesson about respecting his woman.”
He tapped the end of the cigarette out the window. Ash fell onto the ground causing small, random holes to form, ruining the undisturbed beauty of the freshly fallen snow.
“I don’t often do this, but it would be nice to have some company for the night.”
And there it was. Part of you knew this is where the conversation was heading. Truckers stayed on the road for days, even weeks at a time, usually without anyone to talk to except for other haulers. It wasn’t unheard of for them to pick up a woman along the way, but you weren’t looking for a one night stand.
“I’m sorry but I need to get home before the storm gets worse. Have a nice night.”
The cigarette bounced between his pink lips, lips that looked so kissable that it was a crime that the next words that came out of them froze you worse than the chilly night. He blew out a puff of smoke before dousing out what was left of the tobacco end. He flicked it off somewhere in the distance and his gaze then settled back on you.
“That wasn’t exactly a suggestion, little one.”
“What?” You stepped back. “Look, whatever you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it with me. Like I said, I need to get home.”
He chuckled low. “You won’t make it far, believe me.”
You shook your head, not believing this was happening. “There are plenty of women who will happily make your night.”
He sighed heavily and hopped out of the truck. “Don’t make me have to ask again. I hate repeatin’ myself.”
The ice made it difficult to move quickly without skidding and he grabbed you before you could move out of his reach. Not hard, not roughly, just enough to keep a hold of you. He pulled you around and opened the cab’s passenger door, waiting for you to climb the steps.
“I ain’t going to hurt ya, darlin’. Get on up there.”
Even though his words were reassuring like the large hands resting on your shoulders, he had you caged between the truck cab and his body. He nudged you up the steps, following closely behind until you were settled in the passenger seat. The cab rattled and so did your nerves when he slammed the door shut. As he walked around the front, you pulled the door handle.
It was locked.
#rusty nail#rusty nail x reader#slasher community#slasher x reader#mark gibbon#joy ride 2#joy ride 2: dead ahead (2008)#rusty nail the trucker
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37 just playing the part — karma is my bf !
scaramouche x g!n reader
concert headcanons
✰ there’s a photo booth near the venue with props and you drag him into it and force him to wear the cat ears. he gets two copies and keeps a photo of you two in his clear phone case
✰ during the song lover he holds your waist from behind you and sways you through the song with his chin on your shoulder, kissing your neck
✰ someone records it and you guys go viral on tiktok as that one hot couple
✰ ten ppl try hitting on him and he gives them the cold shoulder everytime, even drags you to run away one of the times
✰ security guard got flustered by him and let you guys cut in line
✰ he carried your shit for the entire concert so you could be hands free and enjoy yourself
✰ records the entire show so you can cry over it later and so you can live in the moment
✰ you guys are one of the people to get randomly chosen to meet taylor after the concert and you tell her you’ll leave scara for her
✰ ends up renting a hotel room you guys can crash in afterwards, and there’s one bed
just playing the part !
masterlist — prev | next
new yn wallpaper me n who
btw this is the last filler fluff before the time skip so i hope it was enough to feed you lmao it’s time for the finale!!
this is me projecting i need taylor tickets
if you aren’t a taylor fan…fix that!
headcanon scara always gets the best seats for any concert you want and will learn the set list better than you and correct you if you miss a lyric 😒
scara liking the catboy text…do you think he’d be down to have seggs wearing it 👁️👁️ i would def write that one day
also mistake the time in scarayns text is supposed to say 7:29 AM mb 😔
synopsis: you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?
author’s notes: double update i’m sick and procrastinating 😇 guyz what’s your favorite song on midnights 🎤
end of act three 🎬
taglist—CLOSED: @monochromaticelliot @kaedear @stxrgxzxr @shirmxie @elakari @lacy-lady @linn-a-a @one-offmind @kithewanderingme @quepasoash @leathernourishingshoepolish @mangobee @lxry-chxn @dameofthorns @scarasaver @kythe1a @elysiasbae @hikaru-exe @tokkishouse @raiihoshii @cherrybeomgyu @kunikuzushiit @thenightsflower @lilneps @goodthingimsam @lovelyiez @euhla @beriiov @abvolat @kittycasie @b0bafl0wer @bubblyclouds @atlatcaheart @artssleepy @baelloraa @tartagli-yuh @satowaluverr @hangesextra @scaranaris-lil-niko @caffinatedcoma @wheneverthesunrise @hajimeseyo @itsyourgirlria @hyunrei @redactedhimbo @caliginous-skies @vinskyspuff @miissfortune @criminalinthemaking @scaramouches-girlfriend @scrmgf [1/3]
#genshin impact#genshin fluff#genshin imagines#genshin smau#genshin impact smau#genshin drabbles#genshin fics#scaramouche x reader smau#scaramouche x gender neutral reader#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche x oc#kunikuzushi smau#kunikuzushi x you#kunikuzushi#kunikuzushi x reader#wanderer genshin#wanderer genshin x reader#just playing the part smau
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You Are Loved Here
Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader
INSPIRED BY THESE HEADCANONS
Genre: Fluff
Summary: Reader is sick, and Lucifer has gone full caretaker mode to help them get better.
Content/Warnings: Lucifer hand feeds you if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, Reader takes some pills cuz sick, lots of praise and comfort from Luci, just tooth rotting fluff
Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio!
Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out
Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)
Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!
“My love? Are you awake?” Lucifer calls from the other side of the door, prompting you to open your heavy eyes. He waits a few moments before slowly creaking the door open, sighing with a smile when he sees you looking back at him.
He shuts the door behind him as quietly as he can before making his way over to you. He’s holding a tray with a bowl of steaming soup, a glass of water, and a couple of pills. He sets it down on your nightstand before turning his attention to you.
“Luci…fer…” You weakly call, throat scratchy and dry.
“Shhhh,” Lucifer replies, pulling off a glove and holding the back of his hand to your forehead. You instinctively lean into his comforting touch.
“Your fever seems to have gone down a bit,” he remarks, “That’s good. You need to keep resting, though.”
You nod as he retracts his hand, slipping it back into his glove. You shudder beneath your heavy blankets, pulling them up to your face.
“Now, now…I know you’re comfortable in that little cocoon of yours, but you have to sit up to eat.” Lucifer grabs an extra pillow off of a chair, encouraging you to sit up before placing it behind your back.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm…”
“Good. Here.”
He hands you the glass of water and pushes it to your lips. You take a few sips, and he seems satisfied at this. He’s been nagging you about staying hydrated, after all.
“And these too,” He says as he takes your free hand and drops the pills into your palm. You can’t help but grimace at the sight. They’re not very big or hard to swallow, but no one likes taking medicine.
“I know, it’s not your favorite, but you need them.”
He’s right. You hate to admit it, but he’s right. You really should take them.
You heave a heavy sigh before taking a drink of water, holding it in your mouth before quickly pushing in one of the pills and swallowing hard.
“There we go,” Lucifer praises softly, “Halfway there. Now you only have to do that one more time.”
The kind words were unexpected, but certainly delightful to hear. It wasn’t often anyone got to hear him talk like that, especially you. It was enough to ease you in taking the last pill, which went down much smoother than the first.
“There we go…It gets easier every time, I promise.”
A soft hand came down on your side, tenderly rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lightly laid your hand atop his and gave a small squeeze.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well, my love…” Lucifer whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your warm forehead.
“ ‘s okay…” You replied, matching his quiet tone, “I feel a bit better today…”
“That’s good. Some warm soup will help.”
Lucifer takes the glass of water from
you and sets it down on the bedside table before placing the tray in your lap. You watch with tired eyes as he lifts the bowl, stirring the spoon around for a few moments before lifting it. He carefully blows on the spoonful of soup, and you can see the hot steam disperse quickly.
“Think you can keep this down?”
You nod, reaching out to take the spoon and bowl from him but he pulls away.
“Please, allow me.”
You hesitate, but allow it. Your hands fall back down to a resting position and absentmindedly toy with the edge of your blanket. Lucifer brings the spoon to your lips, and you open your mouth just enough for it to slip past your teeth.
You weren’t expecting it to taste as amazing as it did. Maybe you’ve just forgotten what good food tastes like—seeing as you haven’t had much of an appetite—so much so that your eyes widen a bit as you swallow. Lucifer chuckles under his breath.
“Good, isn’t it? I can’t take all the credit, though. The recipe belongs to Barbatos, I just followed it.”
“M..More, please…”
Lucifer gladly obliges, insisting on blowing off the next spoonful before allowing you to have it. You’re a bit more eager this time, leaning forward to accept the offering. Lucifer can’t help but smile at this, his heart fluttering at the sight of your excitement, even it if it is rather mild over something as small as good soup.
“I’m glad to see you like it. It’s the first real food you’ve had in a while.”
He wasn’t wrong. The past couple of days you’ve been surviving on crackers and tap water. You couldn’t keep much else down. You didn’t realize until now how hungry you’d been.
“More, please…” You ask again, but Lucifer is already bringing up the spoon once more.
There’s part of you that wishes this moment could last forever. Maybe not the fever or the dull ache in your head or the scratch in the back of your throat, but this unusual closeness with Lucifer. He loves you, and he tells you so every chance he gets, but to experience that love is something else entirely. With each spoonful you feel a bit more full, a bit more content. There’s a soft warmth blooming in your stomach that’s sprouting tall vines that climb up your body, wrapping around your shivering limbs and calming your heartbeat.
Warm, but not hot. Not sweaty or restrictive or heavy. Just warm. Comfortable.
Loving.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and you’ve only made it halfway through your meal before your body begins to protest. The next time he brings the spoon to your mouth, you push it away and shake your head. Lucifer pauses, and for a moment you’re worried he may be disappointed.
Of course, he’s not.
“Is that all for now? Well, that’s quite alright. You ate more than I thought you could. Good job.”
There’s no denying the way the praise makes your heart skip a beat. If it weren’t for the fever hiding it, your face would surely feel hot.
Lucifer sets the tray back down on the bedside table as he stands, brushing himself off and cracking his back with a groan.
“I’m going to keep this in the fridge for you in case you decide you want more, and I promise to keep Beelzebub away from it at all costs.”
Your laugh quickly devolves into a weak cough, but you smile through it all the same. Lucifer gives you one last kiss on the cheek before departing, looking back one last time before closing the door.
“Feel better soon, my dear, and please let me know if you need anything.”
As the door gently clicks back into place and Lucifer’s footsteps fade away, there is one prevailing thought that grows in your mind.
You can’t help but allow yourself to feel how overwhelmingly loved you are here.
#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me lucifer#lucifer#obey me fluff#obey me x gender neutral reader#obey me x reader#lucifer obey me#lucifer x reader#lucifer fluff#sick fic#sick reader
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YOU HAVE BEEN DEFEATED
What items do you drop?
Part 1/??
Multiple muses under the cut:
WALLET (common): Bare-bones. A typical ID card for a Rapture citizen, several Rapture Dollars with water stains, a membership card for The Fighting McDonagh's Boxing Club, a ticket stub for the Rapture Metro for a 5pm bathysphere ride, a business card for Sinclair Spirits, and a ripped half of one for ___ Fisheries.
SHOTGUN (uncommon): Equipped with every possible upgrade offered in Rapture. It's quite worn; scratches on the tubes, chips in the wood, rust on the metal. There's a dark stain on the grip you know isn't water. It seems this gun has been through a lot with its owner.
SHORTWAVE RADIO (rare): A wooden frame, small enough to hold with one hand, but still box-like and clunky. A clip has been added to the back so it can be attached to clothing. The antenna doesn't move smoothly anymore and the audio has a static tinge, but are those signs of age or damage? There seems to be a pattern of grooves lightly carved into one side resembling tally marks, and there are quite a few.
TOY FISH (epic): Small and plastic, it seems like it could have been a children's bath toy. It's in relatively good condition, so either fairly new or well-cared for.
AUDIO DIARY (legendary): The voice in the recording is a woman with a Scottish accent. It's not meant for you, the way she sadly asks Atlas if he remembers how they met. It's not meant for you, this wife's unsent message for her husband. It's not meant for you, but you'll keep it anyway. He clearly wanted her remembered.
WEDDING RING (mythic): It's nothing fancy, just a simple silver band, but the inside has grown quite shiny from constant wear.
CIGARETTE PACK (common): A brand called Lucky Strikers. There's only one cigarette left in the box.
BANDANNA (uncommon): A navy blue color and soft, breathable fabric. The ends are somewhat tattered and the fabric is wearing thin. It must have been worn frequently.
COMBAT KNIFE (rare): Including the handle it's almost a foot long. The brown leather sheath has straps through it so it can be attached to a limb. There are minor nicks along the blade.
FLIP-PHONE (epic): The bare basics. No extra tools on it, no games, no photos from the camera. It seems it was only used for calls. The contacts menu lists five people; Consuela Alvarez, Dalton, Dave Copeland, Roddy Louiz, Venus. The last contact has no number, just the name.
PASSPORT & I.D. (legendary): Documents detailing the basics. Each marks him as a United States citizen. The passport is empty of stamps. And yes, according to these documents his real name was Snake. What kind of parent does that?
STRANGE DEVICE (mythic): A seemingly home-made mechanical device about the size of a flip-phone. It's got a single large button on one side and the back has words etched into it; PUSH TO CONTACT. You're not sure you should try it.
BLUE POWERADE (common): An oddly-shaped plastic bottle of blue liquid designating itself as a 'sports drink' flavored 'Mountain Berry Blast', whatever the hell that's supposed to taste like. Half the bottle has been drunk.
GLASSES (uncommon): A basic pair of black-framed glasses. The lenses are rather scratched up. How the hell did he see through these?
CROWBAR (rare): You can only hope the rust along it is from age, and that its pattern resembling liquid splatter is an unfortunate coincidence.
BLACK MESA I.D. (epic): A plastic identification card for a workplace. It's bent and scratched enough it probably no longer works. Apparently the owner worked in the Anomalous Materials department as a Level 3 Research Associate.
PARTY HAT (legendary): Conical, white, spiraling green stripes, it reminds you of something you'd see at a child's birthday party. It's been flattened, presumably for storage, and has some minor creases and tears.
PROSTHETIC HAND (mythic): At least it looks and feels like a prosthetic. But you can't see any joints for movement, and the part where it should attach to the arm looks disturbingly severed...
GLASSES (common): A fashionable pair of blue glasses with a mesh design on the rims. The lenses are rather thick and seem to be for a far-sighted prescription.
DRIVING GLOVES (uncommon): A pair of black fingerless gloves with holes near the knuckles. Meant to be used for driving yet the owner had no car. The material feels a bit worn.
BRIDGES PIN (rare): A golden, diamond-shaped enamel pin for a group of some kind. Beneath the name is imagery of a cobweb and above is some sort of artsy, angular design.
AED (epic): A boxy orange device with a light on the front, several straps for keeping it in place, and two wires with pads attached to the side. It seems to be an automatic defibrillator, although customized. There are options for changing the voice, the phrases it can say, usage interval times, and when reminders should trigger.
CUFFLINK (legendary): A holographic computer in the shape of a handcuff. Small crystals embedded within seem to help generate the projections, and it can be controlled with hand gestures when worn. There is a lot of data stored on the device but it's all locked behind passwords and biometrics.
FAMILY PHOTO (mythic): A trio of people on a beach on a bright, sunny day. One of them is the man you took the picture from. The others are a young woman and a girl who appears to have traits from both. His wife and daughter?
GREEN HOODIE (common): The kind that zips up in the front. Basic with no image or pattern, just a flat shade of deep green. Given how worn the fabric is the hoodie is either cheaply made, quite old, or was acquired second-hand.
NOTEPAD & PEN (uncommon): A simple, tiny pad of paper with several pages torn off and a capped pen tucked into the rings. The next page has something written on it but unfortunately it's too illegible to read.
WATER BOTTLE & SNACK (rare): A hard-plastic bottle with a cloud pattern, filled almost full with water. Found with it was a small edible item, hardly touched.
PAINT SET (epic): An acrylic paint set meant for children consisting of two connected rows of tiny, plastic tubs of paint in various colors, and two sizes of brushes. It seems the owner kept the set together by storing it all in a yellow pencil case.
LONG-FALL BOOTS (legendary): An interesting pair of tall, white-and-black heeled boots; the heels appear to be a sort of springy, metal brace meant to absorb and disperse kinetic impact.
PORTAL GUN (mythic): A white-and-black gun that feels right out of a science fiction movie. The claw-like prongs can hold an object in their grasp via energy beams, and the gun itself seems to fire connecting wormholes onto compatible surfaces. A circular logo you don't recognize is present on the side.
WRENCH (common): An old, red pipe wrench branded as 'made in Rapture'. A lot of the rust on it seems to be in a splatter pattern...
CROSSBODY BAG (uncommon): Cylindrical, dark brown, and with faded blood and water stains scattered about. It's got many pockets inside for easy sorting.
FIRST-AID KIT (rare): A small, white tin with medical supplies inside. It's dented and some of the items are in low supply or entirely missing.
CANDY BARS (epic): A stack of candy bars kept together by the poorly-tied wrapper of a presumably eaten one. Was he saving them for later or for someone else?
SHORTWAVE RADIO (legendary): A wooden frame, small enough to hold with one hand, but still box-like and clunky. A clip has been added to the back so it can be attached to clothing. It's got minor nicks and dents all over, even a few odd stains and an electrical scorch mark. Despite the damage it seems to function just fine, though audio has a slight static tinge.
WALLET (mythic): A basic foldable wallet made of dark brown leather that's rather worn. Inside are a few dollars of both the Rapture and American kind, a plane ticket, and a black-and-white family photo. The owner is not present in the picture but presumably some relatives are; a middle-aged straight couple and an older man.
#{{ hold the line; this is how we'll be defined | HEADCANONS: ATLAS }}#{{ what i have in my two hands is enough to set me free | HEADCANONS: SNAKE }}#{{ on a scale from one to two now; are you happy? | HEADCANONS: GORDON }}#{{ covered in scars but roses are coming through the cracks | HEADCANONS: HEARTMAN }}#{{ don't you know the meanings are hidden under cover? | HEADCANONS: CHELL }}#{{ you are what moves you not who approves you | HEADCANONS: JACK }}#//This is a fun game to do! Lots of thinking involved in what they'd have on them & level of importance to those items.
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Papas and Readers Coexisting (Headcanons)
I love having the ability to just quietly exist in each other’s company, not necessarily talking and not feeling like you have to. Just being together is enough.
sfw, no warnings, fluff and comfort, coexisting quietly with each other
Primo
Quiet time in the garden; sometimes you help him with the weeding or pruning, other times you sit in the shade of a nearby tree with a sketchbook. Though you sketch a lot of the wildlife and plants around you, you always find at least one or two candid sketches of Primo tucked in the corner of every page.
Every so often you’ll feel light pressure and look up to see that Primo has balanced a wildflower of some sort on your knee. Sometimes you catch him before he fully withdraws his hand and he smiles sheepishly at you. Occasionally he’ll tuck the flower behind your ear and press a kiss to the back of your hand.
“It simply reminded me of your smile, my petal. You wear it so beautifully, si?”
Secondo
There’s a couch in his office with soft cushions and a plush throw blanket over the side. There wasn’t one before, but after a few weeks of you sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs he had one installed. You usually lounge on the couch with a book as Secondo silently works on paperwork or a personal project.
Occasionally you’ll fall asleep and Secondo will look up when there’s a lack of page turning and realize you’ve passed out. He’ll gently take the open book that’s about to fall out of your hand and set it on the side table before covering you with the throw blanket. Before he goes back to his work he always gives your forehead a gentle kiss.
“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it? Sleep well, tesoro. I’ll finish in a couple of hours and join you.”
Terzo
Whether it be breakfast, lunch, or dinner, Terzo prides himself on being an excellent chef. Since retirement he often home-makes all your meals you have together. Lazy mornings spent watching him putter around the kitchen with the radio on, sometimes humming along or doing a little shimmy to the music. You watch from your spot at the kitchen table with a smile, usually with your laptop out catching up on emails and other work.
In the evenings, you sometimes help Terzo with dinner preparations, glancing at the recipe book as you orbit around each other in perfect tandem. Other times you sit at the table not unlike the mornings, working on your laptop again or watching videos on your phone with the sound turned low. Terzo doesn’t mind the extra noise and every so often will waltz over with a spoon for you to taste test for him.
“Too sweet, dolcezza? Give me your thoughts. Oh! Not sweet enough? Mm, if you give me some of your sugar we can change th— ow! Don’t smack me I was complimenting you.”
Copia
You love nothing more than napping with your head in Copia’s lap while he plays his video games, making little noises as he succeeds or fails, the soft sounds of the game volume turned low lulling you to sleep. Sometimes you snuggle together and watch him, other times you’ll be scrolling on your phone quietly with your feet in his lap.
Copia will take his rats out to free roam his room sometimes while the two of you hang out quietly. Some days he works on his music, other days he just likes to play and watch his rats. You often bring your own things to work on but always find yourself looking up every once in a while to see Copia cooing softly to one of his babies.
“Aw look at you, you’re getting quite chubby aren’t you? My little chubby baby, you’re so cute— amore mio, come look! He’s cleaning his face what a polite little guy!”
#the band ghost#copia#terzo#secondo#ghost band#ghost bc#primo#papa emeritus iv#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iii x female reader#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus i x reader#papa emeritus ii x reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#papa emeritus iv x reader#cardinal copia x reader#papa emeritus x reader#headcanons
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May I please ask for headcanons for la squadra reacting to their gn s/o doing this for halloween?
oh my god...yes??? holy SHIT am I finishing this so late I am so sorry but yknow how i am at this point...
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La Squadra getting pranked by their S/O with a fake snake
Formaggio
You have to keep yourself from cackling when his eyes light up at the sight of the cooler. He looks to you, asking if you brought it, then making some silly comment about how he'd "be taking one for free anyways" before reaching for the lid.
He jumps just a smidge, his only sound of shock being a small "oh-" before exploding into laughter. He's down on his hands and knees at the silly little prank. He's trying to call you either fucking stupid or a fucking genius but you can't tell through the giggles.
Takes the humor into his own hands afterwards. Grabbing your attention, he flaps the lid up and down rapidly the nod the snake's head with a stupid grin.
"B-before you can grab a drink, y'gotta answer my three riddles!"
Illuso
You don't even know he had spotted the cooler - he just made a beeline for it the second he could read the writing, not thinking to ask about it or even notice your presence. Beer first, chat later.
That is, until you hear his scream. Yes I think he'd scream like a little girl, what're you gonna do about it? You look over and the lid's slammed shut, your lover holding a hand over his mouth, looking at you. His expression hasn't yet decided whether to be pissed or horrified.
"Did...did you-?" once you explain that you set up the little trick he calms down quickly, save for his furrowed eyebrows. He's standing next to you then, arms crossed as a smirk tugs at his lips.
"As long as you don't tell anyone about my reaction, I'll play along. I'd love to see what everyone else thinks."
Prosciutto
He's suspicious immediately. Of course the beer would be free. It's a cooler, just sitting there, why would there be any charge whatsoever. No reason to point out "free"...nonetheless, he could use a drink.
Obviously he's not stupid enough to get it himself, so luckily you're there. He asks you to grab him a beer. Knowing what lies beyond that cursed lid, there's no way you'd follow his order, and he's clearly ticked off at your "strange" hesitance.
You two just stand there, arguing over who's to grab the beer, both trying to hide your "secret knowledge" from one another. He eventually realises it's futile to try and make you fall for your own prank, and in defeat he walks over to the cooler and opens it. The only slightly sour look on his face is disappointing.
"Wow. A fake snake, really? Childish."
Pesci
Doesn't like the taste of beer, has no interest in it, so you can't really get him like you can with the others. At best he'd tell Prosciutto about it, and you get a new target. But it's not what you originally hoped.
So if you really want this to work, you need to enlist Prosciutto's help. Once you somehow get him to agree, you wait for Pesci to inevitably join the two of you in the room. The boy is obviously quick to obey when Prosciutto asks for a beer.
Pesci stumbles away from the cooler with a cry when faced with the fake snake, and when he turns to you and Prosciutto to point out the danger, he's even further disconcerted when you look amused and unbothered respectively. This makes him check the cooler again, and you can't help but chuckle as he reaches out and shakes the false snake.
"Jeez, it's nothing...why would you do that to me??"
Melone
He's smart, at least you thought so. But...somehow the genius you love barely even thinks about it as he approaches the suspicious cooler without so much as a second glance. He...he wasn't that gullible, was he? You wanted this to happen, yeah, but this was...creepy.
Then you notice the look on his face and know that smile means he knows what's going on. Of course he's not stupid enough. He's trying to play around with you, isn't he? He might even know exactly what's about to pop out of the box.
Well, apparently he didn't know that last thing, because the smug look on his face is gone the second he is met with the fake snake. He gasps and shoves the lid back down, stumbling away. You try to make some silly comment to him but he's averting eye contact and retreating, ashamed.
"Well, goodbye darling. I'm....no."
Ghiaccio
Oh come on, what fuckery is this, is the first thing your blue-haired beloved thinks as he sees the writing on the cooler. Paired with the fact that you're standing a few feet away, totally not glancing at him every few seconds makes it even more obvious.
He decides after some moments of just staring at the cooler to just go for it. Best case scenario, he gets his beer and leaves, worst case scenario he witnesses some stupid useless prank. and leaves. Literally facing disappointment head-on, he kneels down and is face to face with the snake that greets him.
Of fucking course. He grabs the false snake by the head and rips it off the lid with a scowl before walking off. It's your choice if you're underwhelmed or howling with laughter.
"Stupid fucking...why would you even..." *insert the sound of the frozen snake scraping against the floor*
Risotto
In any other situation he should, and would, be weary - the perk of being his S/O is that he lets his guard down when it comes to you. He doesn't jump right into falling for it, he stands around and makes conversation with you first, asking where you got the beer and why.
You're hopefully prepared for this with a good lie about a sale, or some shit you never finished yourself that you thought the team might want. You better be a good liar too. Check both those boxes and soon you'll be watching him open that cooler.
He probably didn't expect a snake of all things, and does let out a surprised "oh!", but his reaction is pretty much over once he doesn't see razor blades spew from the serpent's head. Risotto does chuckle when he shuts the cooler, just a bit.
"Do tell me if this works on anyone else. That was a good one, dear."
#I'm sorry i HAD to be silly with Melone's abfhsdgsj i couldn't NOT.#I know he wouldn't have cause to be scared yet cuz. the snake he sees in canon fucking kills him but IM the writer#la squadra#la squadra x reader#formaggio#formaggio x reader#illuso#illuso x reader#prosciutto#prosciutto x reader#pesci#pesci x reader#melone#melone x reader#ghiaccio#ghiaccio x reader#risotto#risotto nero#risotto x reader#jjba x reader#sometimes I feel like I don't know how to write speaking things for risotto#i should probably study his speaking a bit more (by that i mean watch the doppio risotto fight more)#not too bad. i fucking love that fight beyond the discomfort of. metallica.
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How about a fic of Astarion not liking his bite mark touched but then Tav does it. 💕
Here we go! Hope you will enjoy it!
The Marks on Our Skin
The bite mark is the only place on Astarion's body Tav doesn't touch. Until now.
Tags: fluff, comfort, f!Tav, established relationship, post-game
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion finds solace in the late evening hours when the sky still holds a warm glow, but the sun is almost gone down. It's neither day nor night, a perfect in-between that he eagerly anticipates.
Emerging from his tent, he sprawls out on the grass with a book in hand, watching as the sky slowly darkens, revealing the sparkling tapestry of stars above.
Astarion props a bag beneath his head, and the fingers trace the cover of the book, its surface still bearing the faint marks of dried blood. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he recognizes Tav's scent.
Astarion opens the book and makes a mental note to convince Tav to learn how to read. He sets the book aside and chooses another, its pages also marred by blood, though not Tav's this time. The text is written in the archaic elven dialect, a challenging puzzle that demands his full concentration. Yet, as he delves into the words, the text starts sounding familiar. As if he already read it, many years ago, when his eyes weren't red and sun didn't burn.
Unwanted memories and thoughts creep into his mind, stubborn as vermin, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't divert his focus.
"How's my favorite man doing?" a loud voice yanks him away from the abyss he had started to slip into.
Tav.
She walks unsteadily, like someone who's had enough to drink, not to think clearly but can still stand on two feet.
"I thought you went to search for quests, not for a drink," he says without any hint of accusation. Tav collapses beside him, and he catches a whiff of ale.
"Are you drunk?"
"No. Well, maybe a little." She giggles and nuzzles into his collarbone. "What's four mugs of ale for a warrior like me?"
He chuckles. "Considering your body type, it's quite a lot."
Tav focuses, attempting to devise something clever to say, but gives up. She presses her body closer to him, and Astarion can feel her heart beating.
"It's very inconsiderate of you to get drunk without me," he teases, studying her face. A soft smile graces his lips as he cannot tear his gaze away from her.
"You can drink my blood, and then we can get drunk together," she playfully suggests.
"I'm not going to feed on you until you get sober," he plants as tender kiss on her forehead.
"Alright, alright, next time, I won't go alone," she concedes. "What if someone wants to harm me or hit on me? You'll need to show them to who I belong to."
He chuckles, reminiscing about the first few months of their journey when he cringed at her casual remarks about belonging to him.
"No, you're not mine," he would protest. "You're not my possession, not my spawn, not my … anything. You're an independent person. Please don't say things like that."
Over time, he understood that Tav's words aren't meant to diminish her self-worth. It is simply an innocent joke between two genuinely free individuals in love. It is her way of reassuring him that she isn't going anywhere, even when Astarion questions his own value in her eyes.
As Tav tilts her chin upward, a subtle flinch passes through him, a reminder of the bite mark they have agreed not to touch.
"I like your bite mark," she drunkenly admits.
He pulls away, and her head falls onto the grass. "Tav, what in the sweet hells are you talking about?"
"I love your bite mark," she repeats. "It proves how strong you are. Did you notice it's not just fangs? It's also incisors. The bastard was so hungry and desperate for prey that he almost gnawed a part of your neck. It shows how strong you are that despite all the horrors and pain, you never gave up."
Tav yawns, her eyes half-closed. Astarion is sure it wasn't just four mugs of ale. She probably remembers drinking only four. The rest is the mystery.
His fingers tenderly brush against her cheek as he asks, "Do you truly mean all that?"
Tav's eyes meet his, her response unwavering. "I do."
He rises to his feet, carefully lifting Tav into his arms, and carries her into the tent. He lays her gently on the bedroll. It seems like they aren't going anywhere this night. Anyway, he has some books to finish reading,
Astarion lovingly tucks Tav beneath her blanket, ensuring she is shielded from the chill of the night.
"Little Star"
"Hm?"
"Can I touch your bite mark?"
He hesitates. It is the only part of his body Tav hasn't touched yet.
"Yes."
He doesn't understand why he agrees. But it's already too late to take away the permit.
Sitting up, a silly smile plays on her lips as she wraps her hands around his neck. With an unexpected boldness, she presses her lips against the scar on his neck. He can feel the touch of her tongue, the graze of her own incisors against his skin, almost as if she is trying to drink his blood.
As Tav releases him, she nestles on her bedroll and dozes off peacefully.
Astarion remains in the tent, keeping a watchful eye over Tav. When hunger gets too strong to bear, he ventures into the woods to hunt.
When he returns before the sun rise, his hunger satiated, and his strength renewen, Tav is still asleep.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tav exclaims when she realizes it is already afternoon. "Now we'll have to wait the whole day before hitting the road again."
"That's alright, darling. I hope you had fun yesterday. I don't remember ever seeing you so wasted."
"I remember fighting someone who said she'd kill every vampire she came across."
"Did you win?"
"I'm sorry! I should be offended by the mere suggestion that I could lose in a tavern brawl!" She crawls closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her tone turning more serious. "Did I hurt you yesterday?"
"No," he assures.
"Really? I mean, do you say it because you mean it, not just to spare my feelings? It would make me sick if I crossed your boundaries and made you feel… bad."
"Everything is alright. I mean it."
"Can I do this again?"
He nods. Tav kisses his bite mark. Again and again, and he completely melts in her hands.
Astarion marvels at the simple ministration and how it brings him such bliss. He has little faith in gods or divine rewards, knowing nothing could compensate for what happened to him. And yet…
There is Tav. Tav, for whom he wants to be a better version of himself. Tav who caresses his scars and makes the pain fade. Tav, whose blood is, in a way, divine.
Tav eventually pulls away and invites him to lay his head on her lap. "Will you read to me?" she asks.
"The book with bloody fingertips?" he inquires.
"Yep. What's this book about?"
"It's a collection of fairytales for elven children."
Tav's eyes glisten. "Exactly what I need with my hangover."
Astarion opens the book and begins reading. Tav starts massaging his scalp and occasionally lightly touches the bite mark. Sometimes, when he pauses and looks up, he finds Tav's eyes focused on his face.
Those are simple stories. About heroes, magic, dragons, monsters. Naïve. Stupid. Childish. But Tav likes them. In the same way, she likes a good fight, ale, and nights of passion.
Moreover, he can't help but think Tav is similar to these fairytale heroes. She is the hero who protects him, who makes him better. Who gives him all the hope he needs to survive the day.
And he will do anything to make her happy and safe.
"Tav," he whispers.
"Yes, my heart?" she replies.
"I love you."
Tav kisses his forehead "Well, I will never grow tired of hearing that from you."
---
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@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#bg3#astarion romance#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate 3 astarion#tav x astarion#astarion x f!tav#astarion x tav#astarion fics#astarion comfort#astarion ancunin#astarion fanfiction#astarion fic#spacebarbarian fics
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Omg yes I will gladly request something for Banda he is so underrated 😭. Can I request general dating headcanons for Banda? Can it be fluffy there isn’t enough fluff of this man! Feel free to add in a couple stuff I hope you have a good day or night!<3
im gonna be honest. i dont care if this is ooc this man is so babygirl. those shoulders.... those hips.... that face. damn put me in the ground already 😭😭 also, you might know me from an old writing blog.. @/saebyeoked. i moved over here awhile ago, so i figured i'd write for aib here instead :)
gn!reader | tws: banda is a murderer... that's really it. overall pretty fluffy !! season 2 spoilers, and probably ooc banda | join my taglist !!
dating banda sunato headcanons
you met in the solitary confinement game. he immediately caught your eye. you weren't too sure on what it was, but there was something about him that had you captivated from the beginning
you, banda and matsushita form a trio, telling each other what your symbols are. your relationship with both of them is pretty simple, and you don't get closer to banda up until the game is over
chishiya had asked you to tell him his symbol, as his partner died in the previous round. he had told you that banda was a murderer, and you shouldn't put too much trust in him. he had yet to lie to you.. so you brushed his comments aside
so what if he was a murderer? wasn't everyone, at least in this world?
though, you would be lying if you said the information didn't put a pit in your stomach— one that was growing with each passing day in the borderlands anyway
you caught his eye back in the jack of hearts game, too. mostly keeping to yourself, he could tell you were scared of dying. he wasn't, but it didn't mean he wanted to by any means
you, chishiya, yaba and banda end up living through the game— and you feel something pulling you to banda. for some reason, you decide to go with him instead of chishiya
your relationship begins to progress after it's just the two of you alone. you become friends surprisingly quickly, for a man who was a murderer in the real world.. he isn't the worst company
he's intelligent, quick on his feet and able to read situations really easily. it's nice to have him around for those reasons, if nothing else
banda has a very hard time expressing his emotions. he isn't big on friends, so it takes awhile for you to get close enough to him for him to think of you romantically
he knows what that feeling in his heart is, and he pushes it away until he can't ignore it anymore
neither of you really.. confess. you two just flirt— a lot. you insist to yourself that it means nothing, and flirting is just a fun way to pass the time or something. but it does become something more
you realize you like him romantically when he saves you in a game. it's nothing big, not in his eyes, anyway. he pulls you out of the way of an object that otherwise would've crushed you, and he acts like it was nothing
neither of you ever say you like each other romantically. it just.. happens
you're initiating the first kiss, obviously. he acts so cocky in every situation and he tries to hide the fact that he has no idea what to do from you
over the time you spent together, you're able to read each other really well. it's a major benefit in your relationship, as you both know whenever the other is feeling upset or angry about something
as a boyfriend... i will say he has experience. he knows what to do to get you flustered and hiding your face in your hands, and that's at the very bottom of the list of things he does
he tries not to be cheesy. but he will set up makeshift dates while the two of you are out scavenging. he never plans them beforehand, but you don't care. he doesn't even have to do it in the first place— as long as you get to spend time with him that's enough
he isn't big on pda. there's no one around in your world, but it's a general thing for him. it makes him feel really exposed.. and it bothers him
though, if it's something you enjoy he'll hold your hand occasionally. that's really all he'll do, but it's more than you ask for
he doesn't mind physical touch in the moments where it feels right. if you're having trouble falling asleep, he'll pull you into his chest and just.. talk to you to help you relax
his voice is the most relaxing thing in the world in your mind. he could be reading out the dictionary to you and it would help you in some way
banda's VERY protective. he knows you're more than capable, but he does want to keep you safe
as much as he tries to act tough, he has a soft spot for you and your safety is a priority to him. he'll go out of his way to make sure you're okay, even if he's injured
he's a surprisingly sweet boyfriend. despite his.. history...
taking everything he sees that he thinks you'd like or reminds him of you to give to you at some point, picking out your favorite food at a store if he sees it laying around.. all simple, yet noticeable things to show he cares
most of the time, you'll be the one initiating physical affection with him. he has other ways of expressing his feelings for you, but if it's a love language of yours he learns to not mind it too much when it's appropriate
boundaries! super important in any relationship, and he sets them up with you really quickly. always respectful of you, and will back off if you tell him you're not feeling something
as strange as it feels to admit it, he feels himself warming up. becoming a better person. that doesn't mean he changes his attitude, though
it just means that.. he is more willing to help people struggling, even if you aren't around. if he walks away, he'll picture your smiling face in his mind and turn around
he has a guilty conscience okay
teases you whenever he sees an opportunity to. if you're staring at him? he's teasing you. it happens more frequently than you'd probably like to admit but you looove how he sounds whenever he teases you
his voice is just... so soothing. even when he's using it to embarrass you somehow
teaming up in games because you're the only person he trusts with his entire being
if you ever say you love him.... he's lucky he can hide his emotions on his face because WOO he's a bit flustered
he doesn't say it back right away, but it doesn't mean he doesn't feel the same way. when he does say it, it's a very special moment, probably after a game where you both almost died
he expresses his love in other ways, mostly. quality time is his biggest love language. it's easy, and meaningful at the same time :")
reading books in silence <3
overall, he's a good boyfriend. he knows what you need when you need it and he's willing to learn from you, which is more than what some people are okay with
he admits when he's wrong. he's okay with making mistakes, and you never judge him for it
he's different. but you like it. and you like him, obviously
he lucky. he knows that, and he repeats it to himself over and over in his mind sometimes just to ground himself
he wakes up in the morning and has you? someone as kind as you? loving him? it baffles him, but he doesn't complain
he really does love you. he has trouble saying the words, but he will say it verbally when he feels the need to
he's nice to only you, normally
you make him feel good. he won't ever throw it away, and he makes that promise to himself
if he ever looses you, he's really messed up. you're so GOOD and he can't ever let you slip through his fingers
#alice in borderland x reader#aib x reader#aib x you#banda sunato#banda sunato x reader#sunato banda x reader#sunato banda#alice in borderland x reader headcanons#banda x reader
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Hello!! I was wondering if you could do a Gyokko x F!Reader? (Reader could have a few tattoos around her body)
Reader is a demon slayer and she’s on her way for mission but she runs into a pretty vase and she comments on how pretty it is but is shocked when Gyokko emerges out of the vase. And he’s like wow you really like my art?! And wow you also have art across your body?!
Please and thank you 🙏
Gyokko [X Reader]
In which Gyokko encounter's a demon slayer with tattoo's and a knack for all things creative.
Not only do you have tattoos, but you are an artist yourself, having come from a family that dabbled in the art form
It wasn't very common, considering tattoos were linked to criminals, but the small one here and there weren't uncommon
Yours were far from small, though, thin striped divided by one to two inches up both arms, though your right arm had a few bands filled with symbolic scenes
Each filled stripe was a battle you'd survived, one noteworthy, and not necessarily a literal battle
Your uniform was tailored to show them off fully, so most people avoided you
Though you liked it that way, enjoying your personal space and that you were able to slip away from a crowd
In fact, that's what you were just doing, escaping the new town you were patrolling since the law enforcement were so keen on speaking with you anytime they saw your markings
Much to your surprise, in the middle of the dirt road through the forest was a gorgeous porcelain pot
"No way someone abandoned this pretty thing!"
You were just so busy focusing on your surroundings, you hadn't considered the sinister implications
"Hyo! Do you really think so?"
Jumping back from nearly picking up the thing, you already had your sword in one hand while Gyokko carefully crawled from his pot, revealing himself without shame
Despite your defensive stance, he didn't falter for a moment, gazing at you curiously
"Would you look at that! You are just like me!"
He was staring at your arms curiously, a free hand holding onto his
He had markings, but not like yours, humans didn't have those, not naturally
You are no match for an upper moon, so Gyokko decides to spare you by simply knocking you unconscious with enough poison
That wasn't the end of it though
Picks you up and sets you against a tree, and his claws are dancing along your arms, admiring every detail of the tattoos
When you wake up by morning, there's nothing but a small, empty pot in your lap
Consider it a gift
Authors Note - I think you forgot to add if you wanted headcanons or oneshots but since I know you I shall let it slide just this once,,,, I also could have asked since you aren't anon but to be honest I have written so many Gyokko oneshots I am clawing my way out
#gyokko#gyokko x reader#demon slayer#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer headcanons#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#kny x reader#kny headcanons#headcanons#reader insert#x reader
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