#scavenger hunting for a food in a tree | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wheneclipsefalls · 2 months

Text

Little Gift- Feast

Dark Adult Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2 <3

Last Part Masterlist AO3

Summary: Your stubborn attitude isn't getting you much. Or perhaps...too much

Warnings: dubcon/noncon read at your own risk, MDNI, kidnapping, oral, jealousy, possessive behavior, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance, swearing, aged up characters, etc.

Your one woman hunger strike is not going as planned.

Twenty six hours in and you are hungry.

So fucking hungry you are ready to bite off the hand of the next Na’vi to come into your space. Not that you would need to with the delicately cut berry spread before you. The same one that Neteyam had meticulously prepared that morning. Others may think of it as a sweet gesture but you see it for what it really is- a temptation.

In the same way last night’s mysterious, but mouth watering, meat had been. The beast that Neteyam had hunted, cleaned, and prepared with his own hands. The aroma had been so intoxicating that you broke skin from biting your bottom lip as you stared down at your share.

The first time you refused a meal you expected the Olo’eyktan to throw a fit, flip you over his knee, or even jam the food down your throat but he has done nothing of the sort. Instead, he revels in this little competition the two of you have. Because that’s what it is to him.

A game.

Sitting beneath a low hanging tree as you watch him train warrior diligently, there is nothing to entertain yourself with but the food in front of you.

This strange purple fruit in front of you has been cut down into smaller pieces. The inside looks similar to the videos you have seen of peaches and the juice runs down onto the leaf below as if it’s trying to seduce you into finally taking a bite.

Your stomach grumbles as if it’s tearing itself apart.

Fuck, why did you choose to resist food of all things?

The meals at Bridgehead were the furthest thing from a proper meal but you had always enjoyed scavenging out into the forest for various fruits and vegetables to spice it up. It’s one of the best parts of your day. And now that you’ve had a taste of the wonders the Na’vi can create with them, it feels like locking yourself out of heaven.

Neteyam’s gaze is heavy upon you.

Sending him a fierce glare you make a show of nudging the fruit away from you, even as your body screams at you to shove it down your throat.

Neteyam tilts his head, glossy braids swingings over his shoulder as a crooked smirk twitches at his lips. He isn’t frustrated, and isn't deterred. If anything those lips curve as if they hide a secret you are not privy to. So confident he knows who will be winning this tug of war.

You exhale a breath when he finally turns around to correct one warrior’s footwork.

A thump sounds from your side and you almost let out a scream before you realize it is Lo’ak who has dropped down from a tree. With a sigh he comes to sit beside you.

“Looks like fun, doesn’t it?” He gestures to the group ahead of you, eyes rolling as he looks at them in pity.

“Go away, Lo’ak.”

“Jeez what’s crawled down your loincloth?”

You look at him in disbelief. You will never understand where Lo’ak find the audacity to poke fun at your imprisonment.

“Besides Neteyam that is.” He chuckles and your cheeks heat instantly.

“You pervert! Never in a million years-”

“It’s not like I have to take his word for it either. You’re quite loud.” Lo’ak ignore your heated ears and agape mouth as he notices the cut up fruit before you. He reaches forward and plucks a piece with a delighted ‘ooh”.

Shiny juice escapes the seam of his lips as he chews and it makes your own mouth water.

Suddenly a hand is yanking Lo’ak to stand with a fistful of braids.

“What the hell?!”

“You skxawng! Those are not for you.” Neteyam hisses, releasing his brother with a huff.

“Alright alright. Damn, I was just keeping her company.” Lo’ak mutters, arms crossing over his chest with a frown. “Besides, I hate to see food go to waste.”

Their eyes lock as a silent line of communication strums between them. Eventually Lo’ak lets out an irritated sigh before nodding and jogging off into the treeline. Neteyam’s shoulder’s visibly relax, hands casually placed on those sinful hips as he looks down at you.

“You should’ve let him eat it. I’m not hungry.” You lie confidently, jutting your chin up in pride.

“Is that so, tiyawn?”

His deep voice ripples through your body.

“Yes.”

You go to give him a sneer, maybe even the middle finger, but looking up at him from this angle proves to be problematic. His loincloth has a bulge and it lights your curiosity. Despite all the vulnerable and exposed positions Neteyam has put you in you have yet to see what lies beneath that scrap of clothing. Averting your eyes doesn’t save you from witnessing the smirk that dances over her lips.

Stupid observant bastard.

His shadow looms over you as you fiddle with the strings of your loincloth. And then his braids are tickling your neck.

“Perhaps it’s not fruit you are hungry for.” That simmering whisper blossoms a blush once more but nothing in comparison to the one that emerges when he grasps your small hand and places it along his inner thigh.

He doesn’t let you pull away, not before you can feel the corded muscle and smooth skin. Not before your eyes cave into temptation and sneak a glance at the increasing size of that bulge.

“I know your little body has been enjoying our time together but if you’re good, I’ll let you play with me too.”

And then your fingers are traveling over the exposed skin until the silk fabric is beneath your tips. You can’t even look at him. You pray that this aversion will read as nothing more than pure revulsion, because you don’t know what will happen if he senses your underlying lust.

You can feel him twitch under your palm.

Eyes forced closed and heart racketing at your rib cage, it takes all your power to control the rise and fall of your chest.

And then the heat is gone. Neteyam releases your wrists, stands up, and sends a dark smile over his shoulder before rejoining the group. You want nothing more than to hide your face in your hands and scream but that would only show him your hand.

You need to be strong. Keep your mouth shut, fry his patience, and get the hell out of here.

Lo’ak is right about the training. It’s undeniably brutal and strict. While you stare in awe at the rate the young warriors can scale trees and shoot a target, Neteyam shakes his head and sighs before correcting them. You’ve studied a bit of Na’vi throughout your life but there’s no desire to translate his strict reprimanding.

You do, however, find it hard to keep your interest away from the various rippling muscles and shifting loincloths. You’re ovulating. You must be and if you were only in your bedroom back at Bridgehead you would actually be able to take some medication to tamper down this insufferable flood of hormones.

Still, you are stuck here and a group of nine foot tall walls of muscle are fighting, wrestling, shooting, and inadvertently showing off their physical prowess with ease. You swallow a lump in your throat when one Na’vi male tackles another and you get a perfect view of his ass.

Pandora is so hot.

So so incredibly hot and that has to be why you feel the temperatures rising along your cheeks.

Neteyam’s back blocks the view, a stream of instruction flowing from his lips as the two struggle to get the upper hand. Your hungry eyes start to travel up his body instead but you tug them away.

You’ll be on your deathbed before ever admitting to ogling these men but you’ll drink acid before letting Neteyam catch you ogling him.

Another shorter male’s abdomen tightens as he pulls back an ax carefully. Sweat glimmers along his blue form as focused eyes narrow at the target. Within one powerful swing the ax is chucked from his grip and pins a leaf the size of your thumbnail to a tree.

He sighs before reaching back to tie his hair. The stretch accentuates the contrast between his narrow waist and broad shoulders. And yet you catch yourself sneaking a look at Neteyam’s form.

For comparison purposes only of course.

It’s too risky though to notice the slope of his back or the way one strap of his loincloth has shifted dangerously low along one hip. Or note the way his dark stripes smoothly curve over and accentuate his v line. Because that is something you would never do. You would never look. Would never think about him outside of plans to escape. Never dream of his deep voice with that heavy accent or even think about how it sounds in his native tongue. And you most certainly would never anticipate the view of Neteyam between your thighs nightly.

Suddenly the ax-throwing Na’vi has become boring so you veer the focus as far away from Neteyam as possible.

You shift your body to your left, letting your hair create a curtain to block the view of Neteyam pulling back a bow. It takes a bit longer this time to immerse yourself in these next two who spar with long sticks.

All at once your body is ripped from your spot, legs dangling and kicking as you are roughly set to stand. Neteyam’s arm snaps around your waist as he kneels behind you.

“Do I need to put you in time out?” It’s not a joke. Not when his teeth are skimming dangerously closer over your ear. “I would be able to smell you halfway across the forest.” He growls.

Your thighs press together subconsciously as embarrassment floods in.

So maybe you had forgotten about the Na’vi advanced sense of smell.

“Which I wouldn’t mind were it not for your eyes being trained on other men” The ground slips beneath you and suddenly Neteyam is throwing you over his shoulder.

“Wait! Let me go!” You’re not even sure why you try at this point. It’s not like he has ever listened before. The hope of being heard dims even lower when you see his thrashing tail and feel his heavy footsteps as you're carried further into the forest.

But dammit you are hungry and hot and your loincloth is stained with your arousal so you let your emotions bubble over.

“You fucking brute! Put me down right now!” You scream, nails scratching harshly over his back. It doesn’t draw blood but wow those fading marks look so pretty over his blue skin. Not to mention the beauty of his ass swaying with every step. “I’m so sick of this shit!”

Neteyam is quiet.

So very quiet and it doesn’t sit right with you.

“Open.” He commands but you remain still.

Body frozen as you stand before him, his massive member at eye level. It’s almost as if your brain simply can not process the sight before you. The way his cock is so different from the ones you have encountered with its purplish blue hue, speckled glowing dots, and even the precum that shimmers in the fading light. Curiosity sparks once more and for a moment you consider reaching out to touch it.

However, the real shock is the massive size difference. You are no virgin. Bridgehead does not have a plethora of great men but you’ve found partners in the past to satiate your needs. So standing here staring and blushing feels out of the norm but with the way Neteyam is hung, how can you not?

Even at peak arousal, or what you hope is peak, it’s unable to sprout fully, the sheer weight dragging it to hang lower by his thighs. You’ve always assumed the Na’vi would be…bigger but this….you’d never imagined something like this.

The idea of ever fitting it in your mouth let alone inside of you makes your stomach coil.

Are all Na’vi males this way or is this something specific to Neteyam?

Something tells you that thanks to the Olo’eyktan you will never find out.

“Open your mouth, tawtute.” His voice is sharp like a drawn dagger, slicing through the wind to threaten obedience.

“B-but it….it won’t fit.” You try not to think about your choice of complaint.

Not that you don’t want to.

Not that he shouldn’t make you.

No, you simply complain about the logistics.

“You’ll learn, pet. Now open.” The nickname is anything but endearing coming from his lips now, honey eyes darkening as he stares down at you. This is retribution.

Shaking like a leaf, your lips ever so slightly part. It appears Neteyam is tired of giving verbal commands when one large hand grips either side of your face, pressing to force your mouth open wider.

“You won’t let me get any food past those pretty lips, fine. You will take my cock instead.” That growl reverberates through your body until it swirls into a low seated passion and desperation. Neteyam’s nostrils flare, soaking in the scent of your betraying body.

To your surprise Neteyam doesn’t immediately choke you on it but instead guides your open mouth to his base. Prying your jaw open wider, your lips are smeared along the heated skin. Hesitantly your tongue flickers out.

“That’s it, pet. Don’t be shy.”

When your tongue smoothes out to drag along the length of him you remind yourself that this is something you are forced to do. For survival. For escape.

And you prepare yourself to later bury the memory of your desire and curiosity in this moment. To forget how salty sweet his precum tastes as it dances along your tongue. To forget the way his pupils dilate as he purposefully paints your pillow lips with that glowing substance like it’s your own personal lip gloss. To forget the way his abs flex when the head of his cock is finally enveloped by your hot wet mouth.

But most of all, you promise yourself that you will forget how gorgeous Neteyam looks from this angle with his silky braids hanging loosely and glowing eyes devouring you whole.

The back of your throat is reached within record time. Your gag reflex immediately kicks in and Neteyam pulls out while cooing at you.

“Poor little pet. Not used to taking such a big cock, are you?” You take the condescending words without fight, trying to clear your throat and prepare for more. “But then again I’m sure Jeremy has never made you cum until you cry.” Neteyam smirks and your breathing halts.

You look up at him with wide eyes.

Oh God, when did he find out about Jeremy? A dark twinkle shadows the Olo’eyktan’s demeanor, his upturned lips promising an evil fate to your old flame.

“What di-”

“Down you go again, pet.” Neteyam interrupts, prying your mouth open once more and shoving himself inside harder this time. He doesn’t let up this time when you sputter and choke around him. “Relax that throat for me, tiyawn. I know this isn’t your first time doing this.” He chuckles.

Reluctantly you force yourself to follow his instruction, urging your heart rate so slow as you breathe in through your nose. Inch by inch, he slides down your throat until all you can taste and feel is him. A tinge of soreness already sparks along your jaw but stern eyes whisper the consequences of letting your blunt teeth even close to him.

A part of you yearns to get lost in the moment, let your arousal that has shamefully not disappeared since Neteyam’s confession take the wheel and give your mind a break. However, that is not the Olo’eyktan’s design. He means to drive a lesson home.

“I was under the impression that you simply didn’t enjoy giving oral, not with the way your scent soured every time that pathetic man had you on your knees.”

Your whimper of distress only turns into a hum that vibrates along him. Neteyam’s grins, toes digging into the earth below.

“But now I see that is not the case.” His hips roll forward, hand crawling to cradle the back of your head. “Staining that little loincloth for me. You just needed the right man to fill that pretty mouth didn’t you?”

Your protests are nothing more than high pitched whines as he picks up rhythm, only half of his cock fitting inside yet still more than enough to fill your throat.

“No need to deny it, oeyӓ tiyawn. Your body has been loyal to me from the very beginning.” That hand fists into your hair, holding you down on his cock as tears gather over your eyes. “Even when your mind has a hard time catching up.” All sweetness dissipates from his voice, left only with a hard steel.

“Like today for instance.”

You suck in air as soon as your mouth is empty, coughing and crying as he keeps that grip in your hair. A firm yank has your neck straining to look up at him.

“I thought you would know better, little gift.”

You subconsciously grip his thighs in order to keep yourself standing upright.

“But it looks like I need to spell it out for you.”

Suddenly your mouth is filled again but instead of waiting to let you suckle and explore, Neteyam immediately sets pace spearing down your throat. Nails digging into his toned thighs, you focus on keeping your breathing steady and relaxed.

“Good pets do not stare at other men. They do not let them smell their arousal.” Neteyam grinds out, a groan lacing his words as you feel him twitch. Your throat convulses around him, the urge to breathe through your mouth ever increasing. “Because good pets know who they belong to.”

The trembling in your legs skyrockets as your knees threaten to buckle. Suddenly Neteyam’s grip in your hair is not just there to keep you swallowing him down but also as an extra support.

“Do you know who you belong to, little gift?” A shudder ripples over his toned body, balls drawing up tight. And yet he pauses, keeping you frozen but still stretched around him.

He wants a response.

Nodding doesn’t appear to cut it, not when he tacks on a “and who is that?”.

You go to scoff at his persistence but it’s only another choked cough around him, tears spilling down your cheeks. He hips slant forward pressing himself even further down your throat until you are gagging.

“Say it.” The Olo’eyktan demands. “Say my name.”

He pulls out and airs hiccups through your lungs so fast you almost swoon backwards. But his name is still the first gasp to escape your lips.

“Nete-..Neteyaaaam.” It’s come out as almost a complaint but the Olo’eyktan’s joy is not diminished. His tails coils and flickers at the sound of your wrecked voice.

“Good girl.” That praise wraps around you, head lulling to rest against his palm. “Now come here and let me fuck your throat.”

It shouldn’t turn you on. The crude words are the furthest thing from what you should want but Neteyam’s accented voice purrs them like a lullaby. So dark, smooth and alluring that you find your mouth opening on its own accord.

Neteyam’s grins wider than the night that he first saw you tied up with that pretty bow. You push the implications of what you have just done to the back of your head.

Despite his satisfaction, Neteyam doesn’t take it easy on you. The length of him can never fully make it down your throat but that doesn’t stop him from trying. An obscene wet sound is made every time he thrusts back in and you can feel him shiver.

“Aww so pretty like this tiyawn. Wish you could see yourself right now.” His head throws back for a second when your airpipe contracts around him again. “Crying so sweetly for me.”

His gentle tone is a great contrast to the way his cock bullies itself into the tight space. So sweet in comparison to the way he fucks your throat like you’re his own personal fleshlight.

“Maybe we will have to steal a mirror from Bridgehead soon. Let you see what a wrecked masterpiece you are.”

Even as you struggle to breath and your throat aches, his dirty words burn the flames inside of you higher and higher. You will feel ashamed later, you know it, but for now you let him fill every crevice in your brain. It keeps the fear of Jeremy’s safety at bay. It keeps the reality of your situation from catching up with you. It keeps you as his pretty little pet that is doing oh such a good job.

“Fuck! You feel so good around me, tiyawn. Good fucking girl!” Neteyam’s groan is gravely, muscles along his abdomen erratically flexing and you know what is coming before his warning ever reaches your ears.

With a deep groan of your name, thick seed spurts down your throat. It’s too much to fully swallow but luckily Neteyam lets you off halfway through, the remnants painting your cheeks and lips. Your own thighs clench together as you watch him recover, his impressive physique inflating and deflating heavily with every breath.

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you collapse against him, head nuzzled against his hip as you cling to his right thigh. Neteyam’s fingers fondly stroke through your tangled hair as he congratulates you on learning your lesson.

You almost bite his finger when the next piece of meat passes your lips but this time it is by accident. Your habit of grinding your teeth together when nearing climax is becoming a problem. Three massive fingers tease and massage at that spongy spot inside of you as you drool around Neteyam’s fingers.

The Olo’eyktan chuckles and plucks another piece of meat to feed you.

“Remember to chew.” He says with a smirk when his thumb flicks over your clit and you almost choke.

Perched in his lap, smothering his fingers with your juices as he hand feeds you, there is surely not a better picture of obedience one could paint.

A picture that Neteyam cherishes.

But a memory you vow to forget.

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you all for your support and messages for this series especially! Hearing back from you all always makes me excited to write and update<3 Don't be afraid to let me know what you think

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamssyulang @tallulah477 @criticallybella @sullybrothersmate @lilghostiequinni @chershire23 @lala-1516 @teyamshuman @yawnetu @puddle-nerd @ratchetprime211 @avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark @bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut @witchsprit @heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar @minnory @ikeyniofthetayrangi @ilovehobi101 @spicymayyo @v4mp1rr3 @nilsavatar @bambithewriter @quicktosimp @itchaboi-itchyboy @thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @witchsprit @imwutim @crazy4books1 @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @danniackerman @dayyzlol @justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty

Please let me know if I missed you or if you'd like to be removed from the list<3

653 notes · View notes

illyrian-dreamer · 2 months

Text

And Then There Were None – Part 1

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 2>>>

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage

Twigs snapped beneath your boots, your steps heavy with exhaustion as you stumbled through yet another town, as barren and deserted as the last one.

Exhaustion and dehydration weighed heavy, wisps of dust caking your skirts, your boots the only thing to disturb the rubble in days.

There was no concern for a carriage that might pull up behind, or a bossy merchant to yell at you to clear the path. While the ghosts of the life that once flourished echoed in closed shops and abandoned stalls, you stopped looking over your back days ago.

There were no plumes of smoke from chimneys, no distant chatter or laughter or cries. Safe from the occasional grunts or mews of abandoned cattle - there was not a single sign of life, and no human in sight for the past ten days.

A jarring cramp ripped from your abdomen, pulling you from delirium with urgency.

Water, food, bathe and sleep. That was why you were here.

You tried not to think about how quickly resources were depleting, even though you were sure you were the only one using them. Without people to treat water, the stagnant liquid became increasingly dangerous. And you couldn’t farm a vegetable to save your life, and had spent too long journeying to have tended to any crops.

You’d have to go further into the woods soon, find a fresh stream, perhaps hunt too. But you'd need strength for that, and you had just about run out.

At least it was spring, and at least the trees bloomed with fruit as you travelled from town to town, feet blistered and chapped. You cursed you parents for not teaching you formidable survival skills - fighting, hunting, even the ability to ride a gods damned horse would have been an incomparable luxury these past hellish days.

A clang of guilt, and frustration quickly churned to longing. Gods, you hoped they were alive. You would do anything to have them here, to journey this devastating isolation together, the little ones too. You prayed to the Mother for the umpteenth time that day that they were safe and well.

It was not a concern when you woke to an empty house almost a fortnight earlier. Your father was likely at the market, your mother hard at work at the tailor in town. Your siblings were hard to catch at this time of year, with school out of term and the warm spring air, they would spend each waking moment by the river if your parents let them.

It wasn't until you spotted your fathers wheelbarrow through the speckled glass of your kitchen window, held by rotting wood. Empty and unmoved, his tools lay flat on the ground, untouched since the day before. You could have sworn he told you he’d be at the market by dawn.

Scanning the room, your eyes flicked to the doorway where your mothers workbag lay untouched. Needles sat poked in balls of yarn as stray thread sprawled over leather - but an eery stillness sang to you at your parent’s tools.

Names and calls went unanswered, and after a quick search of the home you ran outside, urgent to ask your neighbours where they had gone, your heart fastening with every step.

Too frantic to observe the lack of movement and noise from your own street, you rapped on the door, waiting only a few seconds to push the rattling screen and forcing your way in.

Names went unanswered again, and it was instinct that steered you straight for the nursery. You halted at the sight of new born's empty crib, blankets rippled as if the babe was taken straight from it’s sleep.

Your calls turned frantic as you scoured each room, an upsetting, looming sensation creeping over your skin.

Bursting from the home, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you scanned the street with urgency. Your only greeting was a quiet breeze and snort of a horse left abandoned by a cart - as if it had stopped it's journey halfway through.

In a panicked haze, you searched the next home, and the next, and the next. The dizziness found you then.

Clearly there was an emergency of some kind. But you had been abandoned, left to sleep until midday amongst the quiet. The thought pained you.

More calls to anyone who might have stayed behind, yet still no answer. Your heart was a thunder in your ears.

Had the war finally reached you? Had your family fled in the dead of the night? You shook the thought from your head – they would have woken you, would have needed your help to escape with the youngens.

And then you were running – yelling, sprinting through the dusty streets, voice breaking as you dashed from home to home, shop to shop, calling, crying, pleading.

You were utterly alone. You had been left there, alone.

In a swarm of panic, you pressed a palm at your heart, willing yourself to calm. It was a dream, surely. You were not abandoned, only stuck in a nightmare, the kind that often found you as murmurs of Hybern’s army reaching human lands became louder.

In that dizzying thought, you willed yourself awake, forcing your eyes open to the walls of your dark and cramped room, to the noises as your siblings shouting and playing from downstairs, to the whistle of the kettle and the creak of the wood as your father came to wake you.

But the light was blinding, the sun as true as the your abandonment.

Beads of sweat that ran down your neck, a gnawing anxiousness building in your stomach as it heaved and cramped, nausea and panic churning to one.

Something truly terrible had happened.

And in that moment of utter disbelief, a stabbing pain ripped from your stomach, so great it forced a whimper from your throat.

As silent trickles of blood ran from your thighs to your knees, tracing your calves beneath the fabric of your skirt, you found a numbing sort of courage. Pushing your legs forward, you mindlessly heeded the road out of your home town, and on to the next.

People. You needed to find people.

————

Ten days, and still not a single sole in sight. Each home, each tavern, each market and farm left eerily untouched.

The silence was enough to drive you mad, if not besides the aide you so desperately sought. This was not your cycle - although the pains were familiar. You had known what you were, what this was.

Almost a fortnight, yet the blood still came. Slower now, spotting instead of trickles. You had stolen clothing from abandoned shops, food and water too. But you were distraught, moments away from folding into utter madness. And you were weak – very, very weak.

Water, food, a bath and rest. A list you repeated to yourself, your body begging to prioritise sleep with every step as you approached a farm at the town’s edge.

With a weak hand, you pushed past the gate to the yard, large rusty barrels sat open where a cow and her calf now drank. The water was murky with a distinct smell, but it would have to do. Tomorrow, you’d find fresh water tomorrow.

The trembling hand that dipped to the cool water hardly looked like your own. Dirt lay thick under your nails, your skin littered with cuts from the countless times you had shattered windows of stores and traders homes, scouring the stock for preserved goods and weapons.

Bringing the cool liquid to your lips, you ignored the taste of iron as you willed it to soothe your throat - hoarse from the endless calls that went unanswered.

Ears pricking at sudden growl behind you, you jerked at the site of a pack of dogs who approached on stealthy paws. Their eyes were hungry - flicking between you and the calf. Once loyal farming dogs you were sure, now abandoned by owners and left to fend for themselves. They had formed packs - clever things. While you were sure they couldn't kill you, you didn't have the strength to fight an infection if they got close enough to sink their teeth.

From your side, you unsheathed the hunting knife you had looted from a previous town. Swinging it with unpracticed skill, you shouted at the pack, your heart thundering as you waited for them to recline on hindered paws and leap.

They pack seemed to weigh you up, deciding the calf was an easier target. You fled inside the house before you could see it meet it’s end.

The home was neat, and you almost cried at the sight of a loaf of bread sitting atop the kitchen counters. Mould had attacked it’s edges, but you tore at it, fisting mouthfuls of the centre, dry crumbs coating your throat it was an effort not to choke.

Your stomach lurched, unhappy with the quality of the food and water, but you didn't care. You were on step closer to rest.

Another jarring cramp from your stomach, and you faltered, gripping at the wooden table as you trembled to keep yourself upright. This ailment, how much longer would you last? Sleep begged at you, your body moments from giving out. You’d have to forgo the bath, and prayed to the mother you’d find the strength for it in the morning.

Forcing yourself to the bedroom, swaying with each stumbled step, consciousness was already slipping as you collapsed on the bed, clothes and boots in tact.

————

It was a feverish sleep, your body doused in sweat as you stirred often, jolting awake in panics, phantom calls of your family mixed with the flap of wings, and the crunch of stone and rock under heavy boots.

Then a voice, voices – ones you were sure they were part of your slumber.

But as those footsteps got closer, you woke in a startle, your heart fastened as you blinked furiously.

Voices. Humans. People. Alive, well enough to talk.

You leapt from the bed, ignoring the spin of your head as you clambered to the window, peering behind sheer drapes to the street in front.

Your stomach sank. Lurched. Then sank again.

A large, demonic figure stalked for the home. Wings arched behind it’s head, it’s figure blackened by the leathers it bore, sword and knives strapped around.

And, wisps of some kind. Deadly, reaping magic.

Fae.

Fae had come.

Knees buckling, you stumbled back a few steps.

The world around you reeled as adrenaline coursed through. You would have just moments to prepare if you wanted a chance to survive.

Knife. Your hunting knife. Still strewn at your hip.

Grasping it’s hilt tightly with a trembling hand, you scanned the room for the best place to hide.

The cupboard was too obvious, and there was room under the bed - but there’d be not enough to swing your knife, only enough for them to drag you by the ankle…

The gentle click of the front door opening, and it took all you had not to whimper in panic.

Scrambling for the door as quietly as possible, you pressed your palm to your mouth, begging yourself not to cry as you pressed yourself behind the wood.

From what you could hear over the thunder of your heart, the steps of the fae were quiet despite it’s size.

“Anything in there?” a deep voice boomed from the street. You jolted at the volume. More than one, then.

There was no reply from the creature in the home, only the creak of the wood as it made it’s way through.

“Really, Azriel? Are we to check every home?” Female this time, impatience and ignorance laced in the somehow ancient voice.

No response again, instead a footstep, right by the door.

Something tickled your ankles then, and it was beyond you to stifle your compulsive scream.

Black furling wisps coated your boots.

And then the door opened.

The creature made it one step inside before you had aimed your knife for it’s heart.

A prepared, cool hand caught your wrist inches from it’s chest. Your bones crushing in it’s grasp, and you let out a yelp of pain.

It’s face - his face - was one of shock. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, dropping his grip all together.

You blinked back in shock, ignoring at the throb of your wrist as you snatched it back.

For a dumb moment, you stared at each other with equally wide eyes. The male didn't seem to know what to do.

“You’re human? How are you here, where-?"

The males sentence was clipped short as you drove the knife towards his chest again.

Quick as an asp, he caught you by the forearm this time, more gently too.

Hazel eyes scanned you, his features schooling as he called over his shoulder. “I’ve found someone.”

You were sure you looked mad, grunting with the effort to pull your arm from him, breaths ragged, eyes and hair wild. The male studied you as he might a rabid animal.

Behind him appeared an even taller male, his form more terrifying than the one that gripped you.

“Mother above,” the new one whispered, scanning you in the way the first one had.

“L-let go of me,” you rasped, pulling your arm back, tears stinging at the pain of you surely broken wrist began to swell.

It was a odd detail to note, the scars and ripples of the fae’s hand as he gently unfurled your fingers, prying the hunting knife from you before releasing his grip.

“Let me see,” the female’s voice piped from behind, the males struggling to fold their wings further, cramming into the room to let her through.

You faltered back on instinct, legs hitting the edge of the bed.

As the female broke through the males, harsh silver eyes scanned you up and down. She was half their height, a little shorter than you actually, but the depth of her gaze kept your hands by your side.

“Seems the Mother has spared one after all,” she muttered, nose crumpling at your scent.

Your answered with a scowl.

“What is your name?” it demanded.

“Amren,” the taller male warned, his eyes flicking back to you with softness.

You refused to answer. Couldn’t if you wanted to.

Amren sighed, casting her head sideways to the one with rippled hands. “She bleeds.”

“I know,” he answered, hazel eyes not breaking from you. You blushed, furious and humiliated.

He stepped around her then, the movement graceful and soft despite his size.

“You need aide.”

You gulped, unable to process his words. “L-leave me be,” you demanded, voice hoarse as you tried to create more distance between you and it.

He crouched in front of you then, leathers stretching against ripples of muscle. You noticed them then, jewels, saphires, humming from his body as if they were alive.

He followed your eyes curiously, before answering you with a soft smile.

“These are siphons,” he said plainly, giving one a friendly tap.

You snapped your eyes back to him, disgust forming your features. “You are here on behalf of Hybern?”

The female snorted from behind, earning a shove from the larger male beside her, his siphons glowing red.

The one in front of you studied you. “No, absolutely not.”

You scowled, not inclined to believe them.

“We come one behalf of our High Lord Rhysand, and High Lady Feyre. Rulers of the Night Court. Do you know of them?”

Feyre - the human women who had freed the fae from the grasp of their enemy. You knew the story, the heroic tale of a human women who gave her life for the male she loved. Had heard of her triumphs Under the Mountain, that she had been made into fae herself in exchange for her sacrifice.

“The-the curse breaker?”

A small smile cocked on both of the males faces.

“That’s right,” the one crouched in front answered. “She sent us to retrieve you.”

A panic surged within you. “Me?” you spat. Oh the ignorance of the fae, as if you were some pawn to pluck and place elsewhere.

Azriel frowned, eyes dancing as he realised the mistake in his words. “To help you, of course. There has been-"

"No-n-no. My family, they will seek for me-"

Azriel's brow pulled with softness, his tone falling flat. "We will search for them. Meanwhile, you must see a-"

“Where are the others?” Your voice was louder now, eyes dancing in panic, chest rising with fastening breaths. Had they taken them too? “The people, they've left, I don't know-"

“We are searching for others. You are… the first we have found.”

Your mind reeled. How could that be? You had searched by foot - but with those wings, and the strength and power of fae…

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE OTHER HUMANS?” the volume of your voice shocked even yourself, that strength, that demand from deep within your chest.

Azriel gave you a pained look, before standing to turn to his counterparts. “Amren, can you heal-?”

“I’m spent,” she cut off the male with a flick of her fingers. “Those canines out back were hardly enough to keep me going until sundown, so forget about healing. Unless you suggest I drink her blood, though I doubt she’d survive.”

Mother above.

You were too hazed to see the glare both of the males cut her.

“Then she will need to see a healer before we can continue.”

“She might refuse,” the larger one countered.

“If she’s smart, she won’t. She won't survive out here on her own,” Amren muttered, cleaning her nails as she leaned one on leg, checking her cat-like claws for flecks of blood.

They continued their mutter without once turning to you.

“There is no option here. I’ll take her to Velaris, and return once she’s safe.”

A shaking, blubbering anger grew within you, the creatures in front of you as ignorant and obnoxious as you had always been told fae are – to discuss your own fate as if you weren't in the room.

A killer instinct flared in you then, and you remembered the second knife you bore, hidden within your corsette. A pocket knife, a tool from your father to help pit and peel the fruit from his farm.

The oak handle was cool in your left hand, the right throbbing and limp. With the last remains of energy, you pushed up from the bed, swinging with all your strength - aiming for the blue-siphoned back.

In a graceful turn, the male caught your arm for the third time. You had to blink at the speed with which he stopped you.

Bracing for cruel, unforgiving anger, you were instead met with sympathetic eyes.

Loathing coiled within you.

“Release me,” you spat.

“I’m sorry to do this,” was all he said, and then pads of those rippled fingers were grasping your jaw, pressing to the pressure points of your neck with precision.

Grunting to fight his grasp, you didn’t struggle long before a ringing in your ear grew to defeating silence and the world tipped to black.

Part 2 >>> AN: HELLLOOO! And welcome to ATTWN - massive shout out to @kindasleepywriter for finding the perfect name for this series! I so so hoped you liked part 1. I edited it like a million times, still not 100% happy with it, but I think I just needed to get it out. Fair warning - this fic won't be light hearted, our reader is going to go through some really heavy stuff. I'll of course put my warnings ahead of each part, but please know I plan to explore some darker themes surrounding mental health etc. If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, let me know in the comments! Always love hearing your feedback, and thank you so much for reading! <3 Nic

674 notes · View notes

kafkasmuses · 4 months

Text

ultraviolence

words : 2,261

tags : gun kink , fucked with a gun , predator / prey , reader has a prey kink , peacekeeper ! snow , light sadism , size difference , size kink , obsessive behavior , power play , creampies , orgasm delay / denial

a/n : idk what came over me whilst writing this im gonna be so honest…. semi inspired by Cherienymphe‘s “everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officer” fic!!! its so good

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!!! ( divider by pommecita )

snow barely had any empathy for people, let alone any districts. he was a man who fell into poverty himself, but he got out of it, he was a capitol and he’s friends with those that come from the highest statuses. normally people felt pity for those in the districts, they scavenged for food, or proper clothing. not snow, he thought it was a game to watch them snatch up fresh bread and run like their lives depend on it. because it does, they survive, they live another day and satisfy their hungers, if they get caught, they’ll be dead in seconds— especially if coriolanus catches them.

he liked the power he had, the fact that he could do almost anything he desired and get away with it because the districts had been committing a crime anyway, he just stopped them from doing it any more. he liked that they would cower underneath him, beg for their lives, he liked that he had the power to give them a simple warning, to let them off the hook, but he never did.

not until now.

he found himself chasing yet another bunny, heavy boots padding behind your thin, poorly made shoes.

something about the adrenaline rushing through your veins had a heat developing in between your legs, like it was a primal reaction, an animalistic urge. he nearly noticed in the way your steps staggered, but that could be lack of spacial awareness, which he noted that you had. you were so busy running in straight lines you didn’t even bother to juke him or to hide.

easy prey, aren’t you?

he thought that at first, until your steps suddenly changed, turning to the right.

and you had disappeared between the greens and tall trees, his wild eyes raced around the all too silent forest. he tuts, a low taunt, “where are you, bunny?”

his voice came out sing - songy, having your breathing shake from the tree you hid behind, your thighs pressed together.

how was a hunt so intimate, so sexual?

“why are you hiding from me, bunny?” his voice is softer, as if he’s pouting.

you hear his boots snap twigs with ease, crush leaves into fragile pieces, dip through mud. he was getting closer, like a wolf stalking it’s prey, like he knew where you hid. you tried to hold your breath, to keep yourself hidden, but it was no use. he rounded the corner, and you ran into a sprint again, nearly dropping the bread you had taken.

if you hadn’t dropped it then, you were sure to now.

his arms took you into a threatening hold, at first pushing you into a tree, then slamming you against the floor when you wriggled at his grasp. his panting breath, your fearful whines, the begging that sat on your tongue silently, it was as if sex had been happening even with your clothes on. your tears well with tears at being slammed on the hard ground, and he feels the fabric of his pants tighten at the sight.

“please,” here comes the begging, music to his ears, “it’s my first time stealing, i’ve never done this before—“

“is that so?” his head cocks to the side, holding down your wriggling hands, “i’m sure i’ve seen you before, doll.”

“you must be mistaken,” your puffy lips part, breath heaving as you try to pull away from him.

it doesn’t work, he just simply holds you down, he easily could with one hand if he wanted to, “are you calling me a liar?”

it was embarrassing, truly, being so turned on by the way his voice deepened with firmness, by the way he held you down with such ease, “of course not, i would never—“

“you just did, though,” his tone is biting, typically he doesn’t let conversations last this long, but something about you was different. his eyes catch on to the way your thighs are rubbing together, not in a way to try to free yourself from him, but where you crave friction. “my, my, what do we have here?”

his hand taps against your thigh, pulling up the hem of your dress, his eyes land on yours, waiting for confirmation.

you immediately nod, it’s so quick, impatient, he adores it.

his long fingers lace around both of your wrists whilst the other pries your thighs apart, noticing the way fluids soil your panties.

“how cute,” he observes out loud, allowing his hunger to show in the way he nearly rips your panties apart whilst harshly tugging the, down, watching how your legs immediately fall apart into a spread, panties hanging off your ankle for dear life. you were so desperate, you were willing to do this in the woods, present yourself to a peacekeeper just because you had gotten horny merely off a chase.

his hand smoothes against your right inner thigh, feeling goosebumps form in prickles, and the way you shiver underneath each touch. his hand is large against your cunt, a single finger moving through it to feel the wetness, your hips immediately buck, desperate for more.

his chuckle is soon silenced by his hand raising to his mouth, just so he can taste your slick.

removing it with a pop, a curt smile tugs at his lips, sweet, like honey.

his hand smoothes down your inner thigh again, and you realize he’s teasing you, “officer—“

his thumb is threateningly close to your cunt, “hm?”

“touch me,” you breathe out, “please.”

how funny is it that the last time you said please to him you were begging for your life?

“like this?” his eyebrow quirks, pad of his thumb moving to swipe against your clit, your back arches ever so slightly.

the whine that emits from you is far too loud for his liking, so he hushes you with gentle shhs, thumb rubbing slow circles on the bundle of nerves.

“you don’t want people to hear us, hm?” he hums, “to find out you’re letting a peacekeeper touch you in such ways, truly scandalous.”

he can imagine it being front page of the district newspaper, girl caught fucking peacekeeper in woods!

your fingers twitch in his grasp, finding his movements far too slow, and he finds your movements and whines far too annoying.

he moves to plunge a finger into your cunt, making your whines hush to whimpers, unintelligible words.

“real impatient, aren’t you?” his finger moves slow at first, watching the way your hips move against it in response, “maybe i should just put you in your place.”

he removes his finger, watching the way you desperately clench around nothing. his hand moves to grab his machine gun, which he had ditched as soon as he threw you to the floor, he finally releases your wrists, you have a chance to run if you wanted to, but you didn’t— because you didn’t want to run, because the fear that filled you when he aimed his gun at you had even more of your fluids escaping the oyster between your legs.

he moves to cock it, taking it off the safety.

“fully loaded,” he reminds you, but also seems to be reminding himself.

he seems to believe you don’t believe him in the way you look up at him through glossy eyes, and he moves to aim his gun at a nearby tree, one to your right, directly behind you. and he shot, birds cawed as they flew away from the loud shots, he noticed how you flinched, immediately moving to the safety of his grasp, and he only smiled, how adorable that you find safety in the man who had enough power to kill you in seconds.

he hushes your fears, not reassuring anything about your safety as he moves the gun tip your legs back apart, one of his hands leaving it as he wraps it around your wrists once more, holding you back down in a missionary position. the hand on his gun was less steady now, finger tight against the trigger, it had you biting your lip. he traces along your inner thigh with the tip of the gun, “you’re gonna be a good girl, right?”

he watches you immediately nod, so eager, “yes, yes, officer.”

his gun passes a trail down to your cunt, pressing against your clit, he could shoot right now, the finger on the trigger was so tight, so unsupported. he could slip once and shoot directly into you, something about that thrilled you more, made your hips buck against the gun, practically riding the weapon. he admires your desperation, the way your face twists with pleasure as you move against the cool material that built the gun.

he eventually pulls the tip of the gun down, until it’s at your entrance.

he watches your eyes widen as the metal dips inside of you, spreading you open with ease.

your hands flail in his tight hold, “it hurts— officer, wait—“

“hm?” he pauses for a mere second, “sweet bunny, you can take it.”

the pain soon subdues to pleasure as he begins moving the gun again, pumping it in and out of you and coating the black of the weapon with your milky slick. whimpers of pain soon become moans of pleasure, the tears that had built a gloss over your eyes dipping down your cheeks as your eyes close, hips bucking against the weapon.

“easy, bunny, easy,” his voice is strained, like seeing you cry awakens something within him, when your hips stop moving against his gun he continues to pump it, faster this time, “good girl, gonna cum all over my gun?”

you nod, more tears escaping as the thrill of your possible death and the pleasure from the weapon that may cause it becomes all too much. a deep groan vibrates from his chest at the sight of you crying, lips parting to continue, “that’s it, good, good.”

it’s as if you crying is enough to have him reaching his climax already, as if seeing you cry felt like jerking off.

the gun widens the more it goes into you, stretching you until you’ll be nothing but a gaping mess from his gun when he’s done.

so filthy, to be easily stretched out by something that has killed many, how terribly cruel of you, to be cumming on it.

and the man who had done it is merely watching, admiring you like this was an art gallery, and you were the center piece. he notices the way you near your orgasm, as your hips can’t help but grind down on the gun, moans escaping past your nearly bitten to bleeding lips. and you start calling out to him, “officer, officer, please— can i cum— please.”

a mere plead, and if snow was a good man, he would say yes, but he wasn’t one.

“no, bunny, you ran from me,” his finger slides against the trigger, staring at you with a new tint glossing over his eyes, “do you think you deserve to cum?”

“yes, i need to, i want—“ your breath quickens, mindlessly grinding down onto the gun.

“no,” he pulls the gun out, depraving you of every wish. he notices the way you whimper, thighs pressing together and rubbing in desire to form friction. there was none, and soon he was tossing his gun to the side, tugging his pants and boxers down ever so slightly to free his cock, then prying your legs apart once more.

he carefully moves himself between your legs, his hand around your wrists finally freeing them, admiring the red ring he left from how tight his grip was. the same hand moved to fall against your throat, fingertips dipping in to your delicate skin as he guides his dick to your entrance, carefully pushing into you. he feels you tense underneath him at the feeling of him filling you once more, the length and girth enough to reach your intestines, you were sure of it.

once he bottoms out, he notices the way a bulge appears at your pelvis, popping up against the skin then falling to a settle with each thrust. his other hand moves to your mouth, his fingers spreading your pillow lips apart, your salty taste pressing against your own tongue.

“taste yourself, bunny, so sweet, hm?” he grunts with each thrust, practically manhandling you with each snap of his hips, fingers dipping down your throat. he watches your eyes roll back, mumbling pleas for the satisfaction of your orgasm to finally come, your bodily fluids sticking to his pelvis and his dick, your walls pulsed around him, drooling onto his cock.

he nears his climax almost immediately, nose scrunching slightly, “cum, cum for me, sweet bunny.”

“officer—“ your back arches off the earthy ground as you finally reach your climax, moans vibrating against his flesh and he continues to thrust, riding out your orgasm, overstimulating you until he’s practically fucking you dumb. eventually, he bottoms out, pumping you nearly full of his cum. he moves his hand from your mouth, sticky from your saliva, and takes your panties off your ankle, pulling out and plugging your hole with your own panties. just so you don’t lose any of his cum.

“there, now you can walk around with my cum inside of you, how sweet.” he takes his hands off of you, moving to tuck his softening dick away and standing.

he offers your limp body a wink, swiping up his gun, and following up with a, “don’t let me catch you again, doll.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x y/n #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth

741 notes · View notes

amerricanartwork · 27 days

Text

RW Headcanon: Know the Difference! | An Overview of Quetzalli's Slugcats

Here’s a headcanon I’ve wanted to elaborate on for a while, and today I finally felt compelled to make it real! Also, just a disclaimer I am not a huge biology nerd nor have I studied it that heavily, so I apologize if something here doesn’t make sense or if I get something wrong. I just like fantasy worldbuilding from time to time, and I always like trying to make sense of things I’m interested in!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Basically, I’m in the crowd that interprets slugcats as mustelids rather than literal slugs. When I say this, however I don’t mean that slugcats would necessarily be classified in the actual mustelidae family, seeing as Rain World’s world is most-likely not Earth and therefore our taxonomic classifications and phylogenetic relations can’t necessarily apply. Thus, when I call them “mustelids”, I really just mean that I imagine them as some kind of weasel with all the necessary physical traits to earn that general label.

The first half of the name “slugcat”, in my headcanon, is thus not referring to any literal connection to slugs or other mollusks, but is instead derived simply from their appearance. Due to their long ears and thick tail, and because their fur and fat often squishes together in such a way that it makes their features blend together and their bodies appear more smooth (it’s the same physics as that whole “cats are liquid” idea), the general silhouette of a slugcat can easily be likened to that of a literal slug. The second half of their name is also not literal, and instead refers to their jumping and acrobatic abilities and their skill in hunting and pouncing on small prey, which is very similar to that of small cats.

Species Overview

Now to give a little more detail on slugcats themselves as a species! I headcanon them as small to medium-sized mammals most similar to Earth weasels in both their biology and their ecological niche, who originally served as cute low-maintenance pets for the Ancients and as hunters of small pests in facilities on the ground. They’re clever by nature and good at fitting through tight spaces, and later on they evolved greater jumping abilities to pounce on prey. They’re also very social creatures, who’ve taken to forming medium to large colonies primarily in and around the massive trees that thrive between the cracks in iterators’ rainstorm areas (like the one Gourmand, Survivor, and Monk’s colony lives in). Due to this social nature they also generally travel in groups of at least two, both for company and protection against tougher animals. Travel partners are usually siblings or good friends, and sometimes even whole families will journey out together to find food and other resources for the rest of the colony.

Despite being a small prey animal, slugcats have managed to get by not only due to their intelligence — the evolution of which would be seen as a rather unexpected twist of events if you asked their creators, for the Ancients found them cute but rather simple — but because of their impressive adaptability. It’s similar to that of real life red foxes and pigeons, and it allows them to survive decently well even in less ideal environments; a trait especially necessary for a world as industrialized as this one, even if its people are gone and most of the machinery is inactive. As such not all colonies live in trees; some find homes in the abandoned facilities, large underground hollows, and a few bold colonies have even claimed territories high up in iterator cities alongside scavengers. Slugcats are opportunists and masters at making the best of their surroundings, yet even beyond that they carry a certain other, “special” ability of their own that makes them as diverse as they are clever. But that’s a headcanon for another day…

Reasoning

Now for some out-of-universe explanation for this classification choice. I’ve always seen slugcats as some kind of small scurrying mammal (kind of a bias on my part, I just like mammals honestly, and they’re most familiar to me), mainly due to the way they look and move when on all fours, and their place in the game’s food chain. Originally though I saw them as rodents and compared them to mice and rats, which I still sometimes use for anatomy reference for these creatures. But one day a friend of mine saw me drawing slugcats and thought they were weird ferrets, and the more I thought about it and the more I developed personal speculative biology headcanons for slugcats, the more that label seemed the most fitting for them. It was also solidified when I did a bit more research and realized the main characteristic of rodents is their buck teeth, which just didn’t seem to fit with how I perceived slugcats. Not to mention rodents aren’t really predator animals, and slugcats’ implied natural diet and the gameplay itself does strongly imply if not confirm they have some instinctive hunting ability.

Thus, it seemed “weasel” was the best classification for these creatures, and I quite like it so far! Once again it satisfies my mammal preference, but I also just think it’s a fun idea that neither part of the “slugcat” name is literal, similar to a lot of real-life creatures named after completely different animals, including fellow weasel, the polecat. Plus, I realized recently it’s kind of ironic with how I perceive the messenger slugcats, Hunter and Spearmaster, as being like hunting or guard dogs for their creators, when weasels are exactly the kind of animal humans with their dogs would normally hunt for! It’s cute, it’s familiar, it’s fun, yet I think it still has just as much potential for some interesting speculative biology ideas as the literal slug slugcat interpretations!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I'm so glad to finally get this out! I like seeing specbio slugcat headcanons in the RW fandom, yet I haven't seen many more in-depth takes from artists who don't take the "slugcats are literal slugs/mollusks/primarily mollusk-based" angle. Not that that's a bad headcanon of course; do what you think feels right! But once again I personally prefer slugcats being mammals, and I always look for fan-content that's as close to my personal preferences as possible. And when I can't find enough of it, I make it myself!

So hopefully this serves as a bit more of that kind of representation for the mustelid slugcat interpretation. It at least helped me develop my own idea of the species a bit more; much of that stuff in the overview part was ideas I came up with while typing this whole headcanon out!

As always, I hope you enjoy this headcanon of mine! I've still got so many ideas to develop and share, and even more coming as I continue to ponder these characters and their stories, so as long as you guys still like these Rain World headcanons of mine, they'll keep coming!

218 notes · View notes

lunajay33 · 7 days

Text

Missing🖤

Summary: You and Daryl got separated at the started and now you’ve just been wandering hoping to find a secure place will you find Daryl again?

Pairing: Season 2 Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

You and Daryl have known eachother since you were kids, growing up right next to eachother, along the way feelings grew and you got together right before graduation, you became a teacher and he worked at a mechanic shop, life was nice and simple together, you were even thinking about having a family but then things change, the world ended when you were teaching and you haven’t seen Daryl since, you search everywhere for him until eventually you had to leave down because of the walkers and venture out on your own, hoping you meet him again

Along the way you came across a barn, you scavenged for food finding some cans and as you looked out the window a horse was grazing the field, you packed up the rest of the food and ventured out finding a saddle approaching the horse steadily trying not to spook it away, thankfully it was friendly and approached you with ease letting, you strapped the saddle around her and hopped up, leading the horse as it trotted north

You’d be alone on your own for about 5 weeks now and it’s been lonely, you just wanted to see Daryl again just needed for him to hold you, you were on the horse walking through trees when a clearing opened up showing a farm house with people walking around, you were a bit wary since you’ve run into some shady people along the way but for some reason you were drawn to this farm, you lead the horse, you named Pixie, slowly as to not scare the people

As you and Pixie walked up the dirt road people started to gather, you hopped off Pixie holding her rope and waiting for the others to do or say anything and not just ogle you

“Who are you?” A man in a police outfit asked

“I’m y/n, I’ve been alone since the start, until I found pixie here” you said as you pet her shiny black hair

“Where’d you come from, who’d you find this place?” Another man asked he seemed a little crazy

“I’m from outside of Atlanta, I’ve just been wandering until I found something, I lost someone at the start and I’ve just been looking for him”

“Sorry to break it to you, he’s probably dead”

“Shane!” The officer glared at the man

“I still have hope, but do you guys have room for one more, I know how to hunt and I can help out”

“Of course, we could use another hunter, got one out hunting right now”

“Thank you”

The officer who introduced himself as Rick, showed you around introduced you to everyone even the owner of the farm, the sun was setting by the time all that was done

“We don’t have anymore tents we’ll have to go out tomorrow and get you one”

“Oh that’s no problem I can sleep out with Pixie” it was the normal for you now

“You sure?”

“Yeah it’s no problem…….shouldn’t your hunter be back by now?”

“Yeah oh there he is now” he said looking over you shoulder at the dirt road

A man with a crossbow and plaid shirt with ripped sleeves, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, you sprinted off towards him your heart racing, tears streaming down your face

“DARYL” you screamed as he looked up dropping his crossbow just in time to open his arms and wrap himself around you as you threw yourself into his arms

“Is it really you peach?” He asked in such disbelief it broke your heart

“It’s me, I can’t believe I found you I thought I’d never see you again, I looked everywhere for you I waited at our house hoping you’d come back but……I had to leave I had to find you” you said quickly your eyes not believing you found him having to tell him everything you’ve been thinking these 5 weeks without him

5 weeks may not seem like a lot but in the apocalypse there was no guarantee about anything so everything was precious

You held his biceps as he traced his fingers over ever features on your face completely forgetting others were around you both

“So I’m guessing you two know eachother?” Glenn asked

“She’s my girl” Daryl stated not taking his eyes off of you

“Thee Daryl Dixon got a girl?” Andrea laughed, you turned and glared at her

“You bet your ass I’m his”

“And ya ain’t ever leaving my side again”

222 notes · View notes

hxney-lemcn · 7 months

Text

Scavenger — Farmworld! Finn Mertens x gn! reader

summery: After Finn saved their life, reader becomes a family friend of the Mertens. What happens when the family becomes too accustomed to their presence?

tw: mentions of blood and injury (nothing too descriptive but it's there). hurt/comfort. this is gn! but I couldn't find a good term for a gn! parent...but you can choose what they call you :)

a/n: I am so down bad for Farmworld Finn that it brought me out of my hole and got me writing again lmao. So enjoy

wc: 1.9k

Master List

The sun beat down heavily as I ventured from stall to stall. I shifted my scarf to better cover my shoulders from the sunlight. I was a scavenger. I explored the desolate lands that were already looted as is and took any interesting trinkets I could manage to find. I’d trade it for food or any other things I needed, then I’d head out of the city to the Merten's household. It was a lineup I ended in a long time ago.

Years ago, I found myself attacked by a group of mutant coyotes while on a hunt. I fought them off the best I could, but ended up wounded in return. I cursed myself for not carrying more medical supplies. I cleaned and wrapped my wounds to the best of ability, but I knew I needed to head back to the city. The walk back felt longer than I remembered, and suddenly in my slightly dazed mind, I realized I wasn’t aware of my surroundings.

Scavenging was a dangerous practice. You had to be aware of your surroundings at all times, because for all you knew you were on some gang territory and you’d be dead or seriously injured. I myself didn’t join any gang, I worked alone. Which may seem dumb, but I find that you’re not too much safer in any gang than alone. They’re all selfish and only seem to care for themselves. Even without gangs, you have to be aware of wildlife, as everything has become more dangerous. Not to mention stocking up. You can’t bring too much with you, not that there’s much supplies anyways, but if you bring too little you might as well be dead.

I kept walking, trying to gather in my surroundings. Blood started to drip down my arm, my wound having been poorly bandaged. I tried to stay calm as the pain was pounding throughout my body, hoping glob would look down on me with pity and bring me someone who would help.

I couldn’t stop the pained yelp as I absentmindedly brushed against a thorny bush. My chest constricted as the world started to spin, stars invading my vision. If this was how I ended…it would honestly be really sad. I kept walking until I stumbled to the ground. Perhaps I should rest. I leaned back against a tree, focusing on breathing properly. The swirling got worse as I heard a branch being broken. I took out my dagger, looking around, which only made everything worse.

I closed my eyes hard, trying to correct my vision. If I’m dying, I’m going down fighting. More rustling was heard and I quickly opened my eyes, only to see a man in front of me. He was tall, fit, and had one prosthetic arm. I don’t remember seeing him in any gangs, I would remember since he definitely stands out. I can only hope he’ll be merciful.

“Please…help,” I whispered out before I finally fell unconscious.

That was how I met Finn Mertens.

Merciful he was. Him and his children helped nurse me back to health, and in return, I helped around the house where I could. At first, Finn didn’t want me doing anything, but I insisted that I wasn’t going to be a burden on this already large family. So he agreed I could help the kids with small house chores. It felt embarrassing when he told his oldest kid, Jay, to keep an eye on me.

When I was nearly fully healed, I thanked the family, and promised to visit and bring them something for their kindness. Finn seemed a bit weary, but didn’t protest.

Which led to now. I’ve grown quite close to the family. When I’m out scavenging, I can’t help but search for toys or items the kids would enjoy, or possibly even Finn…but he’s a bit hard to please. When in the city, I trade for items that I know will help them out, and in return, they allow me to stay for as long as I need to. It's a nice symbiotic relationship.

I smiled as I finally approached the house. I managed to get some really good meat, and I was even thinking of cooking something for the family. I only hope Finn doesn’t react too badly to the proposition. I understand how the soup they’ve been eating means a lot to them, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but I also know how they must want to try something different.

I knocked on the door, hoping it would be Finn answering so I could talk to him about the meal first. It seemed like glob really was on my side as Finn stood on the other side.

“You know you don’t have to knock anymore,” Finn greeted.

I looked off to the side a bit embarrassed, “I know but I still feel awkward about it.” I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things, but I swear he slightly smiled.

“Come in,” He motioned.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, almost forgetting what I was gonna ask due to his handsomeness. “Hey I was wondering-”

I was cut off by a chorus of the younger kids calling out my name.

“Hey guys,” I smiled, setting my sack on the kitchen counter. “I gotta talk to your dad real quick okay? Then I’ll come and see what you’re up to.”

“Okay!” They cheered, pushing each other slightly as they ran off.

I turned back to Finn who was already looking at me, I felt shy under his gaze. It was held with a warmth I normally only see him look at his kids with. I opened my sack revealing the cut of meat I got.

“I was wondering if it would be okay to cook something for dinner,” I finally said, keeping my eyes down. It was silent for a few seconds which put me a bit on edge, “I don’t mean to overstep or anything, I totally understand if you want to stick to the stew. I can just add the meat to that-”

“Okay.”

I looked up at him in shock, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “I can help.”

My heart stuttered, not expecting him to let me cook in the first place, let alone help. “O-okay!” I slightly stuttered, feeling a warmth enveloping me at the situation. “Do you have any seasonings?”

At first it was only Finn and I cooking, but slowly, the kids started joining as well. Some came when I didn’t come find them like I promised earlier, others enticed by the smell of something other than stew. It was nice, a big family bonding moment.

I think that's what kept drawing me back. Not only did I find Finn to be handsome, but his family was such a welcoming one. I wasn’t a fan of children, I didn’t really have any experience with them. Growing up in a wasteland, children meant more mouths to feed. And I was never really focused on finding love or making a family. I had to look after myself. I didn’t have land, or any prestige. Just a scavenger looking for their next meal.

So being tended to and cared for by five children was a bit of a shock. I got to know them on a personal level and my aversion to children seemed to vanish. I was awkward around them at first, but I learned how to treat them, and soon I found myself wanting to be there for them. The domesticity of it all warmed me in a way I thought was impossible. It made me forget that the world was unforgiving, that there was still good in the world.

“Dinner is served,” I stated proudly, seven plates of food set on the table.

“Thanks (momma/daddy),” Bonnie thanked absentmindedly before digging in.

I felt myself tense, looking over to Finn who also seemed tense. Oh glob please tell me I didn’t do something wrong. I mean her calling me as her parent wasn’t my fault, but I didn’t want to seem like I was replacing their beloved mother. Nothing was said as the children ate without worry. Jay tried to talk about something he found, and I tried replying like I wasn’t sweating bullets, but I think he felt the tension too.

Once dinner was finished, I went to wash the dishes, wanting to avoid any thought of what just happened. If I pretend like nothing happened, it never did…yup. It didn’t help that after everyone was finished eating (which was very quick), Finn just walked out the door.

“Hey,” Jay popped in.

“Hello,” I replied, putting the dish to the side to be rinsed.

Without saying anything, he helped rinse the dishes. It was like that for a minute before he finally said something, “You’ve become a member of our family. We still love our mother…but you’ve helped bring back something she left. Dad’s been a lot happier…Neptr’s been learning a lot more with the gadgets you bring him. Stormo’s gotten a lot stronger with the basic defense you teach him. Fern found that he loves nature through what you’ve taught him in the forest. Bonnie loves having someone to play with. And…you’ve helped me with…my thing…”

“How’s Little D been?” I asked with a soft smile.

“Good,” Jay blushed slightly. “I know Dad is still struggling with Mom’s passing…but you’re good for this family. So…please don’t leave.”

I looked over to him in shock, “Leave? Oh Jay, I’m not leaving. I just…don’t want to seem like I’m replacing her. And ultimately, the decision is up to your father. I mean…if he deems…I don’t know, that I’ve become too close, or…I know I’m just overthinking. I just don’t want to upset anyone.”

“You’re not upsetting anyone,” Finn’s voice rang out from behind us. I felt myself flustered in embarrassment at the fact he heard about my worries. Jay took it as his queue to leave and I turned around to face the man I was slightly avoiding. Finn motioned me to follow him and we sat in the living room, the kids being occupied by their own interests.

“I’m…sorry if I made you feel that way earlier,” Finn apologized, staring into the fireplace.

“It’s not your fault,” I laughed nervously. “You know how I get.” His gaze fell onto me, and the pure emotion in his eyes made me melt.

“I’ve come to realize just how important you are to our family, how important you are to me,” He continued. My heart melted even worse when he called his family ours. “...I…” He seemed to struggle with what he was trying to communicate.

I slid closer to him, putting my hand over his gently. Our fingers intertwined and suddenly the room felt really warm. I think I know what he’s trying to imply, but I want to be 100% sure. We sat like that for a few minutes, letting him think of the right way of saying what he wanted to.

“Would you stay, and officially become a part of our family?” He asked, the lightest tint of pinks covering his cheeks.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” I blurted out, feeling my own cheeks warm at the thought. Although we never officially courted or dated…I wouldn’t be opposed.

“We can take things slow if you’d rather.”

Leaning over, I kissed his cheek, “I think we’ve been going pretty slow.”

…

“Good job Bonnie,” Jay whispered, handing her a fruit he got from the city as they watched their dad and new parent finally come together.

#adventure time x reader #fionna and cake x reader #finn mertens x reader #farmworld finn #farmworld finn mertens x reader #finn mertens #fionna and cake #x reader #adventure time #adventure time imagine #fionna and cake imagine

289 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 2 months

Note

I am BEGGING for more essentially modern au stuff like the road trip one please!!!! I’ve had the worst anxiety all week and it’s the first genuine giggle I’ve had in forever 💞 thank you! (Also no pressure tho omg I’m sorry)

awww I’m so glad I made you laugh!! Ok how about… modern au, picnic in the park:

Tav

you organise everything. You always organise everything. These guys are not capable of getting together without your direct involvement.

you bring a couple of dishes and drive those who can’t be bothered to walk or take public transport (astarion, shadowheart)

try to be the first there to get a good spot so you tell your passengers you’re meant to be there an hour earlier than planned. they both complain but help you set up anyway.

Gale

brings the majority of home made dishes.

he is the best cook in the group, and he always has a great mix of stuff to bring - salads and sandwiches, pastas and fruit kebabs. it’s all pretty healthy and the plates are cleared by the end!

walked from his house with massive IKEA bags full of food. had to stop three times on the way to the park because he was exhausted.

meticulously counts his Tupperware as he packs everything up afterwards and goes hunting if any of it is missing.

Astarion

tries to steal Gale’s Tupperware.

spends most of the picnic in the shade of a tree pretending to read a book, but really he’s just spying on everyone. It’s fun to eavesdrop.

brought wine. it’s mostly for him. he will share if he’s asked to but he will complain the whole time.

lightens up as the day goes on, doesn’t even complain about the cooking!

Shadowheart

also tries to steal Gale’s Tupperware, but worse at it than Astarion.

immediately picks a fight with Lae’zel when she gets there but the two of them spend the whole day next to each other, anyway.

by the end of the day she’s just lying back on a picnic blanket, vibing, picking the leftovers off of her plate.

everyone has had a heart-to-heart with her at some point.

Lae’zel

mostly comes to eat the proteins. doesn’t indulge in the carb-based foods, she won’t even have a cheat day when she’s meant to be having fun.

ends up with Shadowheart’s head in her lap and plays with her hair. Glares at anyone who mentions it.

will not organise any team sport games, but will become captain if one is suggested. She is fucking brutal. You do not want to be on her team or it gets intense.

Karlach

brings a portable grill so she can get some BBQ going!

Gale is the best cook but Karlach is grill master. She has an apron which says it. Keeps topping up everyone’s plates even when they ask her to stop.

can still play frisbee with no issues after eating 3 plates of food? How? Is this woman magic??

Wyll

is the one who organises the team sports, and you do want to be on his team.

makes the whole day better. If he gets there earliest he also set up a scavenger hunt for everyone!

constantly checking in on everyone to make sure they’re having a good time. Eventually you have to sit him down and remind him to eat, he’s meant to have fun too!

in charge of the sound system. Picks the best music.

Halsin

knows the best spot in the park to set up the picnic!

goes on long tangents about local flora and fauna, but it’s good. Like listening to an ASMR video.

takes off his shirt to lie in the sun. Everyone stares. At one point a fucking butterfly lands on him and it’s like he’s a Disney princess.

109 notes · View notes

ssa-montgomery · 1 year

Text

Baby, I'm Preying On You Tonight, Hunt You Down Eat You Alive (Just Like Animals)

Word Count: 5590

Summary: Daryl has a darker primal side he's been hiding and Y/N is determined to draw it out, no matter what it takes.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, lots of suspense, chasing, Daryl hunts the reader, predator/prey dynamic, primal kink, smut, angry Daryl, overstimulation, dom/sub, degradation kink, use of degrading terms (bitch, whore), punishments, dirty talk, hickeys, marking, biting, possessive kink, ownership kink, choking kink, rough sex, breeding kink, some cum play, begging, use of pet names (doll, girl), Daryl compares the reader to a little bunny, outdoor sex, forest sex

A/N: So uh, this might be some of the most unhinged smut I've written so far. I had this idea for a while and I was debating on whether or not I should write it and once I got the request @azanoni for a Daryl smut using these prompts I just knew I HAD to write it. I think this might be some of my favourite Daryl content I've written. I've had so much fun planning and writing this one (even if it took longer than expected) so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have!

Prompt(s): “Tell me what you're going to do to me.”

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

Growing up you were taught about the dangers of the woods that grew around your childhood home, poisonous plants and animals that had you scared of the smallest noises among the trees but since the fall of the world, that danger had increased tenfold. Anybody with the good sense to fear for their life was afraid of what they might find this deep into the trees, not just the threat of walkers but the threat of people that would stop at nothing to survive. It was a place that most actively avoided when they could but you, on the other hand, had always found a strange peace in nature, even the sides to it that should have scared you. Mother nature was a force to be reckoned with and you admired that.

You knew better really, knew the danger that came with being this far out by yourself and any other time you wouldn't have wandered off without one of the others by your side but the group was running low on supplies. The food situation was becoming scarce and while Rick and Maggie managed to round up some canned goods on their last scavenge it still wouldn't be enough to last long. Your people needed proper, fresh food and you knew you could hunt better alone without any distractions.

You were a skilled hunter, that much anyone could see. It came naturally to you the second you picked up a bow and Daryl spent days taking you hunting with him, training you well. The silence of being alone in the forest helped you focus your senses even more than usual, catching even the slightest movements of the animals around you. It was a strange feeling, listening to just how quiet the forest was now. The quiet seemed to surround you, weighing heavy in the trees around you as the space that had once been filled with the sounds of wildlife was now replaced by silence and the distant groans of the dead. It seemed the wildlife had taken just as much of a hit as the rest of the world. Things were changing and you knew it would never be the same again.

You were careful to avoid the overgrown roots that littered the forest floor, stepping over them as you pressed forward, following the trail of a stag you'd spotted a few miles back. You'd watched in awe of the creature for a moment but before you could get close enough to make a clear shot, it took off into the trees. Daryl had given you a crash course in tracking and the knowledge proved useful as you picked up the tracks in the mud, following them deeper into the forest. If you could bag a kill like this, you could feed the group for days.

You weren't sure just how long you'd been out here anymore. The sun had barely risen when you, nothing more than a faint orange glow in the distance but now the light was filtering through the leaves above your head, bathing you in the warm feeling. You were soft with your steps treading lightly across the forest floor as you used the toe of your boot to brush the twigs in front of you out of the way, trying to avoid making any noise, not wanting them to snap underfoot.

Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention, another indent in the mud but it was smaller this time. A separate track from the one you'd been following. Perhaps it was a younger deer, a doe that had joined your stag somewhere along the way. You tried to get a closer look at the print, stooping down behind the wide trunk of the tree as you judged just how fresh it was.

When you were on these hunts, finding yourself in the situation of stalking an animal in this way there was a certain feeling you'd grown used to. It was a dynamic balance, the feeling of power between man and nature, the hunter and the hunted. Predator and prey. The baseline animal instincts that exist inside everyone.

There was a sense of power you held as the hunter, a confidence that drove you forward but you could quickly feel that draining from your body, instead being replaced by a growing sense of fear. You weren't as alone out here as you thought. You were no longer the predator of this situation. You were the prey. There was somebody, something watching you and you could feel the goosebumps pricking under your skin, your hairs standing on end as a deep feeling you couldn't place settled in your bones.

You couldn't have been sure at the time but you thought you'd heard it just a few minutes before, chalking the slight rustling up to walkers but this wasn't something undead. No, these were too sure, too purposeful, these were footsteps. Real living, human footsteps. The sound was heavy against the soil, a man's footsteps, that much was easy to tell. You could tell whoever this was was trying to cover the noise. They were hiding, stalking you from somewhere among the trees. You glanced around, scanning the tree line as you pretended to search for your deer, not wanting to give away that you were aware they were there.

Something changed in the air around you. A tension thick enough to cut settled around you while your heart started to race, beating against your ribs. You'd been spotted and you knew they could sense the fear that followed. Your movements were deliberate now, trying not to make any sudden movements as you slowly raised from your hunched-over position, trying to steady your rapid breathing. As you moved to step forward there was a louder noise behind you, a twig snapping closer to you than you were comfortable with. They weren't disguising their footsteps anymore and you knew what that meant for you.

That feeling in your bones, there was only one way you could describe it. It was the same primal feeling you saw in the eyes of trapped animals and you knew there were only two baseline instincts for a cornered animal. Fight or flight. You chose the latter. Within a second you were in motion, breaking out into a sprint faster than you could think. You had no idea where exactly you were running to, you didn't have time to plan that far ahead and you'd taken off in the wrong direction to make it back to the group at camp. All you knew was that you needed to get out of there.

Everything in your body was screaming at you to stop as you forced yourself to keep going, you could feel yourself growing weaker with every step, your legs already aching from being on your feet all day. You couldn't stop running now, you knew that much. You were barely aware of anything outside of yourself anymore, your senses overwhelmed by the sound of your heart hammering in your ears drowning out the sound of how close your hunter was getting. The wind whipped almost painfully against the skin of your face but the only feeling you could focus on was that of being chased. Hunted down through the trees.

You raised an arm to cover your face as you ran, shielding yourself from the low-hanging branches that would otherwise catch your face as you kept going. You proved too focused on the branches in front of you as you stopped paying attention to anything else around you, instead managing to catch your foot on the root of a tree that was emerging from the ground. By some miracle, you didn't fall. You managed to reach out and steady yourself on the tree next to you as you kept running trying to push yourself forward but the stumble was enough to slow you down. It was enough for him to catch up.

A scream of protest ripped from your throat when you were suddenly tugged backwards, two strong, rough hands grabbing at your upper arms. You tried to surge forward, hoping to break free of his grasp but instead, he manoeuvred you around however he wanted, dragging you by your arms as he pushed your chest against the trunk of the closest tree. You could feel the panic flooding your veins as you struggled against his grip but there was no use. He overpowered you in every way, the solid wall of his chest pressing against your back as he forced you further against the tree, leaning in until you felt his hot breath fan against your neck.

"Stop strugglin', fuckin' brat. His words were dripping with venom, nothing more than a low growl in your ear as his hands left your arms instead dropping to your waist in an attempt to stop you from trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Your muscles tensed at the feeling of his fingers biting into the soft skin of your waist, your mind racing with thoughts you knew you shouldn't be having in this situation. At first, you weren't sure if the feeling bubbling up in your chest was relief or burning rage as finally placed the voice. You'd recognise that rich southern drawl anywhere.

"Daryl? Oh, you fuckin' bastard." You let out a heavy sigh as your body relaxed in his grasp realising you weren't in immediate danger. You tried to aim another dig at his ribs for the scare he'd given you but he easily blocked you, catching your arm and pinning it above your head. The fear in your body melted away the second you heard his voice but there was something else rising up in its place. A different kind of fear, an anticipation for just how he'd choose to handle this situation. It was a feeling that had you wriggling your hips against him with no intention of breaking loose. "I thought you were some creep out here waitin' to kill me or somethin'."

"I damn well coulda been. Stupid fuckin' girl." Daryl growled out, his voice low as his lips practically ghosted the shell of your ear, his grip on your waist tightening. His grip wasn't trying to hold you in place anymore, the treat of you running having long since passed. In reality, if he let go of you now you'd stay perfectly still just to keep him happy, no his grip now was solely possessive. Holding you close to him and hiding you away from anything out there that might want to hurt you. "I mean what were ya thinkin'? Runnin' off like that without tellin' me? Were ya even fuckin' thinkin'? Y'know how dangerous it is out 'ere, ya tryin' to get yerself killed?"

"I left you a message before I left." You said, your voice dropping in volume with disappointment as you feigned innocence when in reality you knew what you were doing every step of the way since you first left that morning. You wouldn't have come out this far if you didn't know Daryl would follow you, if you hadn't been counting on it. All of this was a game, admittedly a risky one at that and one that you weren't sure Daryl would play along with at first. The fact that he was here, pressing you against the tree with a growing hard-on in his pants proved he was more than willing to play along.

"Right. Yer message. Call that a message do ya? Gettin' Rick to tell me y'went out hours after ya were already gone? What was it ya said? He's a good tracker, tell him to find me if he wants me. Think yer clever do ya?" He bit back the anger rising in his voice as he forced you further against the tree, pinning you there with his hips. One hand found its way into your hair, wrapping the strands around his hand into a makeshift ponytail before pulling your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"I'm - I'm sorry Daryl I didn't mean to -" You stumbled over your words trying to find the right excuse to calm him but you knew it was useless as you met the wild look in Daryl's eyes. It wasn't unusual to see him angry but this look was unlike anything you'd ever seen from him. Anger and genuine concern for your safety mixed with an almost feral nature that seemed to darken his eyes as his pupils dilated. It was mesmerising.

"Nah. Ya knew what you was doin'. Is this what y'wanted? Wanted me to hunt ya down through the woods? Chase ya down and catch ya like some kind of prey? Have my way with ya? Ya wanted to be afraid?" His voice was taunting in a way that should have almost scared you but he was right, this was exactly what you'd wanted. Ever since you'd met you knew there was a side he hid, you could see it in his eyes when he fought with the others in the group, could feel him holding back every time he touched you.

You wanted him to let go, to release that animalistic side that you watched him try so hard to fight, his true hidden nature. He was right, you did want to be afraid. In fact, the feeling turned you on beyond belief. You wanted him to take control of you, to earn your submission entirely until you had no choice but to melt into a mess in his hands. "I should show ya what happens to brats that piss me off."

"Tell me what you're going to do to me." Your words were breathy, barely above a whisper, coming out as more of a pleading beg than the original demand you'd intended. He was already getting under your skin, making you cave under his intense gaze as your eyes flickered to the forest floor when you could no longer take his stare. His hands were roaming your body now, groping at every part of you that he could reach. Squeezing at your hips, running up your back before gliding over your ribs.

"I'm gonna give ya what ya wanted. I could practically smell how badly ya wanted me for miles. Y'wanted me to let loose and fuck ya like some kind of feral animal so that's exactly what I'll give ya." He dropped his head to your shoulder, breathing in deeply as he took in your scent. The smell of pine mixed with the faint smell of the shampoo you'd managed to find a few days ago, but it was the natural scent of your skin that drove him crazy.

Daryl's hands snaked around your waist to undo the button of your jeans not even bothering with the fly as he left you with no time to process his words, shoving his hand past the waistband of your panties. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you at the feeling of his fingers moving roughly over your clit, the sudden feeling almost too much for you. He wasted no time, not in the mood for gentle foreplay as he moved his fingers downwards resting them over your entrance just enough to have you wriggling in his grip for more but not enough to press inside you. He let out a low groan that you could feel vibrate in his chest when he felt how wet you were already, gathering as much of it on his fingers as he could while it smeared over the palm of his hand.

"Look at ya. Already drippin' down yer thighs for me. Fuckin' soaked. Ya like it huh? Like makin' me angry so I'll use ya however I want? Get off of me throwin' ya 'round like it's nuthin' and pinin' ya down?" You were starting to lose it already, still reeling from the feeling of his fingers against your clit you couldn't find the words to answer him. He ground his hips into your ass as he waited for you to admit it. Clearly not happy with your lack of response he brought his free hand up and wrapped it around your throat, using it as leverage to quickly spin you around in his grasp before slamming you back against the tree. "Answer me, girl."

"Y- yes Daryl. I love it. Please I want you to use me. I need it. I can take it. I promise." Your voice sounded desperate even to your own ears as you pleaded with him to give you what you wanted. Seemingly pleased with your answer he tightened his grip on the sides of your throat, forcing a gasp from your lips at the pressure. He took the opportunity the second your lips parted in and shoved his fingers that were still covered in your slick into your mouth. You knew what he wanted immediately as you felt him press down on your tongue, closing your lips around his fingers as you sucked them clean.

"That's it." He hummed tilting your face up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his stare as you struggled not to gag while he slid his fingers further back into your mouth. He thought about forcing you to your knees there and then, using your mouth until he was finished as punishment but who was he to deny you when you begged so pretty? Nobody could break you down as quickly as Daryl, ever since your first time together he had a natural talent for finding that switch in your brain - or he'd argue more accurately in your pussy - that turned you into a drooling submissive mess for him. Not that you were complaining about it one little bit. No matter how much he lost control you knew you were safe in his hands, but right now, you wanted that feeling of danger. "Y'gonna beg me for it like some needy stupid bitch in heat? Need to fucked and bred 'til ya can't think no more?"

"God Daryl, please. I can't - I can't take anymore. I need you inside me." You moaned as you grasped at the shoulders of his worn-down leather vest, trying to feel him closer in any way you could. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, starting to leave hot, messy, kisses there before he sunk his teeth into your skin. You cried out at the sharp feeling, clawing at his back through the fabric of his clothes as his tongue lapped over the area, roughly sucking just to be sure it would leave a noticeable mark. A claim for anyone else who might be stupid enough to look at you to see.

"Y'had so much fight in ya when I was chasin' ya. I had fun huntin' ya like some lil' bunny. Look at y'now. Pathetic." He spat, dropping his hand to toy with the button of your jeans before finally undoing the fly to let it hang open. You could see the smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes darkened before he started to speak again. You could practically see the plan forming in his head. "Since y'want me to fuck ya so badly maybe I should just leave ya out 'ere for bein' such a fuckin' brat before. Let ya find some other way to entertain yerself. Only good girls deserve to be bred."

"No, no, no - wait! You cried out clinging onto his shirt as he pulled back slightly, threatening to step away from you completely. If he walked away from you now without giving you what you wanted you might have actually collapsed to the ground and cried from the frustration. He was getting on this, the teasing, the making you beg, the wide-eyed desperate look you gave him, that much was obvious from the growing bulge in his pants. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry I just wanted to have some fun. I promise I'll be good now just stay please."

"Y'wanted fun huh?" He said grasping your jaw as he stepped closer, his face so close to yours now that his lips brushed yours as he spoke. He wouldn't kiss you, not now, it almost felt too intimate for his anger at this moment. No, he just wanted to tease you instead as you chased his lips. It was intoxicating, the heat of his breath against your skin and the faintest scent of cigarettes that always seemed to follow him. "Yer idea of fun involves annoyin' the shit outta me huh?"

You could feel your cheeks heating, painting your skin red under his intense stare and harsh words. Admittedly you did find simple joy in winding Daryl up at any chance you got. You knew you hadn't really upset him with the stunt you'd pulled today. If you had he would have dragged you back to camp the second he'd caught up to you and screamed at you until every walker in the state heard him. No, this anger, the biting words that made you crumble, this was his game. This was his teasing.

"Yer gonna take what I give ya and I don't wanna hear ya bitchin' 'bout it. Ya asked for this. Begged me actually." He warned, his voice low and dark as he dug his fingers into the side of your panties. In one swift moment, he had both your jeans and panties pulled down just past your knees, forcefully kicking your feet apart to give him the access he needed. "Do y'understand me?"

"Y-yes." You whimpered out, trying your best to angle your hips towards him needing anything you could get but he wasn't giving you anything until he decided you deserved it. He couldn't hold himself back much longer, something inside him snapping at the sight of you in front of him. With his hands now gone from your body you were using the tree behind you to support your already weak knees, your eyes screwed shut with your head resting against the bark of the tree while you waited for him to make his move, your legs spread apart for him with your clothes still hanging below your knees. The sight was vulgar and it made his cock twitch in his pants.

"Look at that pretty lil' pussy, beggin' me to fuck ya 'til ya can't take it anymore." His hands were on his belt in a second, fumbling over himself as he finally gave into just how badly he needed this too. There was a desperate need to be inside of you clawing at his chest in a way he'd never felt before. This wasn't exactly the setting for getting entirely undressed, the risk of danger or having to run out here was far too high. Instead, he shoved his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, his belt still hanging loosely around his waist. "Gonna make ya scream for it s'good they'll hear ya back at camp. Let 'em all know what a fuckin' cock drunk whore y'are for me."

"Daryl fuckin' hell I -" Your words trailed off into a high-pitched whine as he gave in to his overwhelming need to fuck you with no warning and no time to process, shoving his cock inside you and bottoming out with one swift, rough thrust. You brought your hands up and dug your nails into his shoulders feeling your muscles spasming around him, the sudden feeling of being so full boarding on almost painful as you adjusted to his size. "Fuck -"

He didn't stop to let your body adjust like he usually would, there was nothing gentle about this. Instead, he pulled out until he was just barely inside you and then thrust back into you even rougher than before. He was setting a brutal pace that from the burn you could already feel you were sure would hurt in the morning, leaving you with a limp and bruises where his fingers grasped at your waist but you couldn't bring yourself to care. This is what you'd wanted. You wanted it rough, you wanted it to hurt and to wear the reminder of what he had done to you for days after.

The pace he was setting was cruel, his hips snapping against yours in a way that already had you gasping for breath as if he was actually fucking the air from your lungs. His hands grasped at the hem of your shirt, not bothering to pull it over your head but instead tugging it up your chest enough to expose your breasts to his wandering hands and greedy eyes. He groped at your breasts rolling his palms over your nipples as he thrust into you. The feeling had you arching your back further into his touch, pulling your shirt up to catch it between your teeth to give him full access.

"Yer tits look fuckin' perfect for me. Pretty lil' view while I fuck ya, practically beggin' for my mouth 'round them. Want me suckin' on your tits while I breed ya huh?" You could almost hear his accent thickening with each word, that rasp taking over as he control of his words giving in and saying whatever came to his mind. His eyes were glued to your chest watching the way your breasts bounced with every thrust he made that forced you upwards. He didn't wait for a response from you, needing the feeling of your skin under his mouth which earned him a moan as he dropped his mouth to catch a nipple between his teeth.

The slight pain of his teeth dragging across your sensitive skin was drowned out by the pure pleasure coursing through your veins with every thrust of his hips and the feeling of his hand kneading at your other breast. His free hand found its way to the back of your thigh, groaning at the feeling of your soft skin between his fingers as he grasped at you, pulling your leg around his waist. He pulled it as high as he could with the restricting fabric of your clothes still hanging around your legs and the sudden change in angle had him hitting your g-spot on every thrust.

There was something completely animalistic about the noise he made as he pushed even deeper inside of you, something caught between a growl and a deep moan. You couldn't help your body's response when he got like this, the cry that crept up your throat as he gave into every, rough and wild thought he'd ever had about you. You tried to lift your hips, wanting to meet him thrust for thrust as the way his pubic bone ground against your clit drove you insane but it was all too much. His movements were too fast for you to match. You gave in, switching off your brain as you gave every ounce of power over to his demanding hands, falling limp against him while his nails bit into your skin where he grasped and groped at you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck once more, the smell of sex on your skin taking over his mind as his lips ghosted over the red mark on your neck that was already turning to shades of yellow and purple. You could feel every heavy pant and growl that he couldn't control against your heated skin, the sounds rumbling through your chest where he was pressed against you. He turned his attention back to your neck covering you in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. All teeth and tongue. It was like he couldn't focus enough to kiss you properly anymore, his mind so clouded by lust he was only able to give into that primal urge to feel. His lips moved against your skin, sucking roughly until he was sure you'd be covered in marks across your neck and shoulder. His marks. He pulled away watching with heavy eyes as the bruises started to form over your skin, your neck and his lips still coated with spit.

"Look at ya. All marked up for me. Y'like wearin' my fuckin' bite mark like a brand? Wanna show everyone who owns ya? Show 'em who fucked this pussy s'good ya let me claim ya? Too fucked out to even argue now aren't ya? Takin' my dick like a good lil' bitch." His words were a possessive growl now, barely even still audible. You weren't even sure if he was still talking to you directly or if he was simply giving into the urge to voice that you were his and nobody else's.

Not that he had to remind you who you belonged to. There had never been a single doubt in your mind about that from the minute you met him. No one else could bring you to this kind of high, could dominate you in every way you needed like he could. That man controlled every single one of your waking thoughts and you'd never hesitate to give him anything and everything he ever wanted. You were completely and utterly, his. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Daryl adjusted your weight in his arms as you felt him getting closer, his grip faltering as he struggled to keep his mind focused on keeping you both standing. Part of him thought about just dropping you to the ground, fucking you against the dirt. You could feel the bark of the tree digging into the skin of your back as he lifted you and you were sure you would have small scratched after it but as long as he kept doing what he was you couldn't bring yourself to care. The only thought left in your mind was your impending orgasm. You could feel it building, every nerve in your body lighting up, sensitive to any touch as that tension in your stomach built higher and higher. You felt Daryl's cock twitch inside you in response to a particularly high-pitched moan and you knew he wasn't far behind you.

"Daryl -" You gasped out trying to find the words to warn him of just how close you were getting but he was losing himself in the feeling, his rhyme faltering as his thrusts started to come faster and faster, more uncontrolled. His face nuzzled at your neck as his thrusts only seemed to grow rougher, taking you for everything you had. "Daryl I'm - ah fuck - I'm so close -"

"C'mon then, take what y'want Doll. Know how badly ya want it. Wanna feel ya cummin' on dick, let me feel that pussy squeezin' me 'til I cum in ya. Y'want that? Want my cum drippin' from ya when I'm done with ya? Let me use ya 'til I'm all spent huh? Imma ruin ya for anyone else. This pussy's all mine." You couldn't hold yourself back anymore at his words, screaming out his name until your voice was hoarse as the tension finally snapped. You were sure you drew the attention of anyone and anything for miles as your screams of his name echoed through the woods but you couldn't bring yourself to care, not with the feeling that was flooding your body. You clung to him as if your life depended on it, your arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your face in his chest when you couldn't take it anymore. He fucked you through your orgasm never once letting up his thrusts.

You ripped a moan from his throat as you clenched around his cock, your body still spasming from the force of your orgasm as you struggled to tell where it ended. He was following you down and you could tell from the harsh rise and fall of his chest as he used his full body to pin you up. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, his pelvis grinding against your clit sending you into overstimulation that had you whimpering as you weakly pawed at his chest trying to escape the feeling. With one final sharp thrust, he pushed himself as deep inside you as he could, brushing your cervix as his fingers flexed against your hips, holding onto you with everything he had.

"Fuckin' perfect tight pussy. God y'feel s'good takin' everything I have. S'pretty all fun and drippin' for me. Takin' all my cum." He panted out this voice breaking as you felt him twitch, finally spilling inside of you. He held himself there for a minute basking in the feeling of your body still slowly coming down around him while he held his cum inside you. He stepped back when he felt himself start to soften and took in the sight between your legs. His cum dripped down your already-soaked thighs and he brought his hand down, pushing his fingers through the mix of both of you before sliding them inside of you again. The feeling of him pushing past your already sensitive folds making you whimper. "Gone and made a fuckin' mess now look at ya. Complete fuckin' wreck."

"Just - just felt so good." You whimpered your eyes falling closed as your head tipped back, hiding the three behind you with a soft thud. You couldn't find the energy in you to move, completely spent and exhausted as you fought just to keep your legs steady underneath you as your knees threatened to give out entirely. You felt Daryl move towards you, carefully pulling your underwear and pants back up your legs before sliding an arm around your waist.

"Think y'can walk or do y'want me to carry ya?"

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2 @natnoble4 @gutssoverrfearr @ivuravix @spookyspiderseb

#aoife writes fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead smut #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

766 notes · View notes

topazy · 3 months

Text

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, usual violence against zombies

Chapter: 3.01

You wipe the blood off your knife with an old cloth, then toss the fabric onto a table. You weren’t planning on staying in the abandoned house long—maybe a couple of days at most—before moving on. It was hard to keep track of time while living life out on the road and in constant fear of being in danger, but since Lori was nearing the end of her pregnancy, you’d say it had been at least seven or eight months since you left the farm. Jace had grown and become heavier in the last few months as well, which made carrying him in a sling a little more painful than before, but you had become used to the strain on your back.

Since you thought you’d lost him the night the farm was overrun, you hardly let Jace out of your sight. You didn’t like it when anyone else held him for too long, and at night you hardly slept, terrified another horde would come crashing through.

Walking into the living room, where the rest of your group sits in silence, you watch as Rick snatches a can of dog food Carl was about to eat into the fireplace.

You watch Daryl as he plucks feathers from a dead owl; the bird looks clean, which leads you to believe he hunted it himself. If it wasn’t for Daryl’s scavenging and hunting skills, your group would have starved a long time ago.

T-dog stands, motioning to the back door, “We gotta go, walkers.”

As quietly as they can, everyone grabs their belongings and makes their way back to the vehicles. Just as you climb into the back seat beside Carl, the walkers reach the house.

—

Some time later, the cars pull over on the side of a road surrounded by nothing but trees. When you step outside the car, your nephew immediately pulls the gun from its holsters, and holding it loosely in his hands, he begins to run towards Rick. It was one thing to run from walkers with a gun in your hand, but Carl was going to end up blowing his foot off if he wasn’t careful. His dad had warned him multiple times about doing it, but he was still just a kid.

“Carl, watch what you’re doing.”

He slows down and waves his hand. “Sorry, Aunt Lily.”

Lori shakes her head and slams down the boot of the trunk. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my son what to do.”

“He was running with a gun in his hands,” you snap.

Rick gives you a pleading look. You and Lori hardly spoke now, but when you did more often than not, it would end in a heated argument. Without even knowing all the facts, she blamed you for Shane’s death, and you were convinced that deep down Lori loved him and not Rick.

Most of your group gathers around the hood of the car furthest away from you while discussing where you would travel next. You need to find somewhere secure and fast before Lori goes into labor. Beth and Carl were keeping a lookout for walkers, which meant you had some privacy to stand up and feed Jace.

You had only found a small supply of baby food and formula milk, and with your own lack of food and water, your breast milk was starting to dry up.

Once Jace has finished feeding you, fix your bra and vest top before putting him back into the sling. You step out to join the others, and you notice Glenn nudging Daryl.

Daryl turns and calls out, “Going on a hunt with Rick; are you coming?”

“Sure.”

—

“Remind me again why you’re hunting with us.” Rick teases. “Mom couldn’t even get you to help pull the weeds in the garden.”

“Ain’t nobody dying from weeds in the garden. Besides, Daryl offers to teach me how to hunt.”

Daryl had been walking slightly ahead since you found the train tracks. When Jace makes a babbling sound, you brush his hair back and coo, “Shh, it’s okay.”

“You know, you could have left him back at the car with Lori.”

You glare at Rick. There was a risk of walkers hearing his cries no matter where you went, and truthfully, your son would be much safer with Rick and Daryl nearby.

You notice Daryl comes to a standstill; when you get closer, he points to a prison on the opposite side of a small river. He motions to the dead roaming the prison grounds and says, “That's a shame.”

“How many do you think there are?”

“Hard to say.”

You look up at Rick and ask, “Do you think we could clear it?”

Smiling, he nods. “You two stay here; I’m going to get the others.”

—

Using bolt cutters, Rick puts a hole in the prison fence big enough for everyone to squeeze through, then ties it together again with wires.

You make it to the gate leading into the prison yard. “Now what?”

Being attracted to the noise of people running, the walkers stared at the fences. Luckily, the metal fence was strong enough to keep them at bay. There were two different parts to the prison yard; one was a small grassy field and the other was on concrete ground. They were separated by another fence, but the gate between them was open, letting walkers roam between them.

“It’s perfect,” Rick says. “If we can shut that gate and prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers. We’ll take the field by tonight.”

“So how do we shut the gate?” Hershel asks.

Glenn puts himself forward and says, “I’ll do it. You guys cover me.”

“No,” Maggie shakes her head, “it’s a suicide run.”

You pick up a long pole off the ground; one of the ends has already been sharpened into a weapon. Once you had a good grip on it, you slid it through the fence, stabbing a walker in the head and saying, “Not if we kill some of these bastards beforehand.”

Rick points further down the path that you’d just come up from. “Glenn, you, Maggie, and Beth, draw as many as you can over there. Pop ‘em through the fence. Daryl goes back to the other tower. Carol, you’ve become a pretty good shot. Just take your time; we don’t have a lot of ammo to waste. Hershel, you and Carl take this tower. I’ll run for the gate.”

“You can’t go alone; you need cover.”

Rick starts to protest, “You can’t—”

“You’re a mad man. Rick, I’m not going to let you do it alone. They’re too many of them.”

Hearing what you just said, Daryl backs up and says, “I’ll take the little man if you’re running. He’ll be safer on higher ground anyway.”

You kiss Jace on the head before handing him and the makeshift sling over to him. Once he’s got Jace securely in his arms, Daryl moves fast to get to his position in the tower.

You go and stand by the gate with Rick. “Are you ready?”

He lets out a chuckle. “No, but we need to be.”

Lori looks at you both but says nothing as she opens the gate, then closes it soon as you step over the threshold.

Most of the walkers are distracted by the sounds of gunshots or the noise further down the fence, but the once’s surrounding the next gate are coming towards you fast. You do your best to kill as many as you can by using the pipe as a weapon rather than wasting ammo, but when too many start to surround you, you and Rick both begin to shoot at them.

You mercilessly managed to hold the walkers back while Rick managed to close the next gate, sealing off the yard.

He grabs your wrist, pulls you into the guard tower with him, and slams the door shut. When you reach the top, you smile, seeing that most of the walkers have already gone down.

—

You sit cross-legged on a flipped-over prison van, keeping an eye leading up the path to the first gate leading into the yard, while softly singing to Jace, who was falling asleep in your arms. It had been a long time since your group had so much space to roam freely and eat a decent amount of food. Since there was actually time to cook over a campfire, Hershel made a meal out of a few different tins from his backpack. It still wasn’t a lot between eleven people, but it was the most you had in weeks.

“I can take over if you want,” Daryl says, climbing up.

It was late; Carl and T-dog had already fallen asleep, and the last you wanted was them waking up to Jace screaming beside them again. So you think it was better if you kept a little distance. “I’m good, thanks.”

“The food disappears fast around here; I guess little Shane over there has quite the appetite.”

You swat at his arm. “Don’t be mean.”

Daryl raises his brows and says, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Did Rick tell you?”

“Pfft, I have eyes and ears.”

You sigh. Daryl was very perceptive and noticed things maybe the others hadn’t, or simply chose to ignore. “My brother, he’s strong, but I know it’s killing him.”

“What about you? It can’t be easy seeing her every day.”

His question throws you slightly. Shane’s gone, and Lori’s going to spend the rest of her life carrying around this secret, with everyone silently judging her and to you that felt punishment enough. “I’ve made my peace with it; the only thing I care about now is making sure the kids never find out.”

He gives you a doubtful look.

Rick was a good man; he didn’t even know if the baby was his, but he was still doing his best to find a safe place for the kid and Lori to live. “Besides, the only thing killing me right now is my back,” you joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

“What’s wrong with it?"

“Nothing except carrying around tiny humans all day, which apparently isn’t shoulder blade friendly.”

He snorts out a laugh. “This little dude? Never.”

Using your free hand, you cover your mouth to hold back a giggle as Daryl begins to massage your back, making you blush like a schoolgirl.

—

In the morning, Rick, T-dog, Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn moved in to clear the next part of the lesion yard.

You hand Jace to Carl and say, “Take him and go stand further back from the fence, okay? And if anything happens, you run straight into one of the guard towers and lock the door.”

He nods, “Yes, ma’am.”

You laugh at his choice of words and ruffle his hair before turning your attention back to the fence. You begin to rattle the fence to draw walkers close enough to stab them in the head.

Some of the walkers were former prison officers, which made them harder to kill since they still had their riot gear on, but Maggie was managing to pull their helmets back and stab them from underneath the chin.

“Shit!”

You rush over to T-dog and stab the walker who got ahold of his weapon in the eye. He pats you on the shoulder before resuming to kill walkers.

“Where did they go?” Lori says.

You shoot your head up and notice they are gone. “They must have gone inside.”

—

After what feels like hours, your brother reappears and leads you all inside to cell block C.

Each cell had bunk beds, and even though there was plenty of space, it was advised to bunk up with someone for safety purposes. Everyone, aside from Daryl, who had decided to sleep on top of the staircase leading to the next level up.

You notice Carl carrying an armful of mattresses down the stairs and into the cell you were going to sleep in. “What’s going on, munchkin?”

He drops some onto the ground, saying, “These are for Jace, and the others are for my mom.”

Lori would definitely need the extra comfort once she gave birth. “Well, aren’t you sweet?”

He shrugs, “It was Daryl’s idea.”

You look up at the doorway and see the man in question standing there. He shrugs. “I just thought since the cell doors can still close over the mattresses, Jace would be able to crawl around on the floor without bumping his head on shit.”

“Thanks; I never would have thought of that.”

Once the mattresses are on the ground, you let Jace down and smile, watching as he looks around the cell, curious.

—

Anxiously, you pace back and forth, waiting for the rest of your group to return to cell block C. Your brother was leading a part of your group that had split off to search the rest of the prison, clearing out any walkers that they came across. Hopefully they would find some food, ammo, and medicine.

“Lily?”

Instinctively, you roll your eyes upon hearing Lori call your name. Jace looks peaceful sleeping; you would feel guilty waking him. “Carol, do you mind watching him for a minute?”

“Sure,” she smiles.

You walk into the cell Lori is sleeping in and are surprised to see how scared she looks as she rubs at her bump. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you for any favors."

“That’s an understatement.”

“I haven’t felt the baby move in days, which means I could have lost it.”

You sit down beside her on the bed, now understanding why she was so scared. “How long has it been?”

“A few days,” she answers plainly.

You swallow thickly, not really knowing what to say. “There’s maybe nothing wrong; hell, I didn’t even feel Jace until he came out.”

She scoffs. “I’m being serious, Lily; if I turn, I need you to put me down. Not Rick, not Carl. It would destroy them.”

“It won’t come to that.”

She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I know it, okay? This pregnancy isn’t the same as my last one; I know something is wrong. And if me and this baby are dead, just promise me you’ll do what needs to be done. Don’t let my boy see me as one of those things.”

“I—I—”

“Please, I am begging you.”

You attempt to comfort Lori by squeezing her hand. “I promise, if it comes to it, I’ll pull the trigger.”

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #tomorrow’s promise #Daryl Dixon/you #Daryl Dixon/reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #rick grimes x sister reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction

109 notes · View notes

balkanradfem · 6 months

Text

Halloween Scavenger Hunt!

Take a picture of a spider

Find a tree with most of the leaves fallen out

Take three of the most beautiful leaves

Touch a big tree with bare branches

Find a mushroom

Find one wild plant you know the name and use for

Make a potion (tea is fine)

Find an abandoned house

Say hello to the ghosts inside

Take a picture of the inside (hand through a window is fine)

Touch a pumpkin

Eat/drink a pumpkin-flavoured bit of food (or a real pumpkin dish)

Put on a festive outfit

Find a grave

Introduce yourself to the deceased

Find a grave with a red flower/red candle

Find a crypt and take a picture

Make a decoration with your three leaves you found

Draw a white ghost

Cut out your ghost and put it on the fridge/cabinet

Light a candle

Summon a ghost (optional)

#halloween #scavenger hunt #whimsy #witch activities #samhain #spending time doing halloween stuff #tasklist

65 notes · View notes

lady-ashfade · 1 year

Note

Hi love! Since it’s almost Valentine’s Day could I request a Lockwood X reader?

Valentine’s Day HC’s

Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Reader HC’s

Notes: I know it’s out of character but it’s cute soooo. Also I hope you like it because I wanted it to be fluffy and romantic. Also I have not read the books

Type: Head-canons. And short.

Warnings: Non but grammar mistakes.

You would awaken in lockwoods bed ready to snuggle close to him but you found no one in sight. A wave of sadness hit you and you almost thought be forgotten but then you found roses on the bedside table.

There was a note attached to them that said to meet him in the kitchen so you got dressed and headed down. Then it happened again, he was no were in sight but George was standing with coffee in hand. “Thank you for waking up, I’ve had to stay in here. Now take this and tell lockwood he owes me. But- Happy Valentine’s Day.” He handed you a note and left the kitchen quickly. He was annoyed, but you didn’t blame him.

“Good morning, love. Sorry I left you alone this morning but it was for a good cause. Now, today you will need to follow a few notes and tips. For your second hint: The small smell of lavender as he sits by waiting for her. But when he sees her she’s dressed in pink, the small shop closed as he stared at her.”

He set up a small scavenger hunt for you, so clever. Also so him to bring investigating and romance together, but it’s cute. So you got dressed and knew from the moment you read it where to him.

The dress store town. You dragged him along when you first started dating to find a new dress for a party. The shop owner always had the place smelling like lavender, sometimes it was to strong. You remember that dress you bought, how you loved the flowers on it and the color.

When you arrived to the shop then owner greeted you with a smile and welcomed you in. “Hello dear, I have something for you.” You were handed a box with a bow. “I have a dressing room ready for you.”

When you got into the little closed room you opened the box and saw a red dress inside and another note.

“I hope you enjoy the dress, I thought you’d like to have a pretty dress. I know you’ll look beautiful. But here is your next and final clue: The day lovely and bright as the wind picked up, that’s when the paper flew into his face. A angelic voice screaming at him to catch it and so he did. When their eyes met and he feel for them girl in front of him. The world around them swaying and turning at the true love they shared.”

Of course. It was the first place you two had meet, the perfect place to be on Valentine’s Day. It was a short walk from here to the park so it wasn’t hard.

Now is where you finally see him, dressed as he always did in a suit. But the set up behind him was pretty. Having lights connecting two tree’s together and underneath was a blanket and food set out.

That’s when his eyes met yours. His face brightens up and he rushes over to you and you do the same. “Beautiful as ever, my smart girl.” He leaned down to kissed your lips quickly.

“I can’t believe you did this, it’s so amazing. You made this the best day.” He was proud to hear you say that and he took your hand and rushed you over to the picnic.

The rest of the day was spent eating breakfast, kisses and walking around hand and hand.

He held you and didn’t let you go, that being by your hand or waist or your arm. And his lips always connecting to yours.

But that was the best part. Him sharing his love with you.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co george karim #lockwood and co fanfiction #x female reader #valentine’s day #lockwood & co #Lockwood & co x reader

291 notes · View notes

undead-merman · 11 months

Text

This was a request by patreon by Dove: “For my request this month, could I get a yandere harpy Diavolo and satan? Separately, not poly. If you aren’t up for doing both, then just Diavolo is fine”

Harpy Satan and Diavolo as yanderes with GN-Reader SFW

Satan

Appearance

In the summer sun, he glimmers and some of the few folks who spot him claim him to be made from gold. Though that is an exaggeration, it’s not by much. His feathers are lemon blonde and on sunny days they reflect the light wildly.

His legs look like they belong more to a raptor than any kind of bird, thick with muscles clearly for kicking and clinging. His long raptorial feet are spread wide with the toes having three-inch long talons. The scale and leather-like feet are a soft cream color. The thighs then become meaty and feather covered and those feathers go up to his hips.

The feathers reappear on the upper half of his chest just below his collarbone. Wrapping around his neck and jawbone and going down his arms and making up his large wings built for speed. Those wings are double his height but tuck in snuggly against his sides. In the air they spread wide and reflect light beautifully.

On his cheeks and jawline he has small pin feathers and bristle feathers on his skin. While most of them were blond there were a few iridescent green ones, the same as his summer green eyes.

Seaside Lifestyle

Satan found himself a nice home. A proud little tree over a grand cliff-side overlooking the ocean and even the curvature of the earth with how high up he was.

His nest was made from driftwood, his own feathers, and dried grass. He found it cozy and made it a bit too big for himself, though he didn't mind in the slightest. It allowed him to spread his wings and lay on his belly. A sleeping position he found deeply comfortable.

The sea breeze was powerful and often woke him up for a morning flight. One where he simply had to spread his wings and up he flew. It was his favorite way of waking and gave him a nice boost in energy. Sometimes he thinks that the winds help him with catching good prey.

He only sometimes harasses humans, though he doesn’t make a habit out of it. Only ones that are particularly annoying. Food was plentiful and honestly, sometimes he preferred human sweets and books. He learned at a young age how to read human’s prints. And their baked goods were far better than even some of the juiciest fish and berries.

There are a few humans that think they're some kind of hero for bothering him. If anything he’s one of the least bothersome in the area. But should they try he will not tolerate any attacks and will leave their corpses for whatever wildlife wants to scavenge their bodies.

Spending Time With You

It was a bright early morning in the spring he had slept in due to the warmth of the sun but as he woke up and stretched his wings he heard a small gasp, whipping his head around he saw you. Sitting right at the base of a tree with a book clenched between your fists.

He recognized the font of the book instantly, a rare book, a sequel to one of his favorites that he got when he was so much younger. With a massive flap of his wings he landed before you casting a large shadow as he towered over you and leaned down before gently nosing the book to the beginning and sat there to read it silently.

He did this until the sun went down and as he silently closed the book before turning to you and demanding you bring more. “Payment for intruding in my territory. Be back tomorrow morning.”

You were traveling and staying here for a few days. So fear that he might hunt you down in town you came back with the few books you were traveling with. You came as early as you did yesterday. You still felt foolish wanting to just find a nice spot to read and getting wrapped up with a monster, but he didn’t seem like the others. He was still sleeping so you nestled in the same spot you were yesterday and waited for him to wake up.

Satan was surprised again by how quiet you were. Waking up and finding you just waiting there. He was pleasantly perplexed on why you were both able to sneak up on him and even listened to his demands. Though he was happy to read more.

This went on for a few more days. Perching close to you and when the wind blew hard he’d hold up his wings so you both could read. He’d offer some food, and would eat with you. He’d spend the days you had here just reading and he’d get closer every single day until he claimed his neck was hurting from leaning over so he’d yank you into his la so he could read over your shoulder.

It was two days before you were supposed to move on, and it doesn’t matter if you told him or not, it was like he could sense it, your impending travels. That night he was insistent you stay with him. Pulling you into his large nest and trapping you under his wing.

The whole night you were close and he was so soft and warm, softer than any bed you’ve ever laid in. It was impossible to fight sleep. Something about this gentle heartbeat lulled you to rest your head against his feathered chest.

But the next morning you were nearly knocked from the nest as he darted up from the nest and let out an animalistic hiss. From below you saw a man holding a rifle up at Satan, but when you entered his gaze his face contorted into a colossal mess. He shouted something about taking you hostage, but your heart was still beating hard enough to make into your ears from the sudden wake up and muzzle pointed over your way.

There wasn’t even time to process what happened. By the time you blinked and were able to breathe there were feathers on you, a bit of blood, and a man torn apart with his innards exposed. Satan flapped his way back into his nest wheezing with a bit of blood seeping out just below his collarbone, much too close to his neck.

He collapsed and just laid there, bleeding out. And something about this gentle cre- no, this gentle man being shot after the days you spent together made you drop from the nest and run to town.

Satan tried weakly calling out to you but was simply too tired.

He awoke with a misery in his bones, certainly not dead with how much he ached and when he was able to open his eyes the sky was a bright orange, creating a glow around your tearfully relieved face. You had run back into town to get supplies to treat him. You had basic experience, though not enough to pull the bullet out of him. He had lost a lot of blood and you were sure he wasn’t going to make it, but here he was.

‘Ah, this is he one then.’ That simple thought came to mind as he used his wings to pull you in and hold you against his chest. Once again, he was still so warm.

So after that, he started following you. He didn’t care about the public shock. He didn’t care for the terrified murmurs. He planned on following you wherever you went. As long as it was you, and there were books to follow he didn’t care.

Dark Tendencies

But because of this he grew fiercely possessive of you. Aggressively so. He allowed no one to touch you and pull you closer while sending the offender a look that could kill, teeth grit together and feathers fluffed to the fullest.

And if they ever ignored his warning, which many did not, he’d bite into their flesh uncaring if it tore from bone, no one touched you. No one would touch what was his. And even if you scolded him or panicked he didn’t see anything wrong with his behavior. If people wanted to hunt him down for it he’d simply take you to the next town.

And should it ever prove to be too much to you, he simply thinks that you’d take better to his old way of life, you seemed much happier at his nest before, but he wouldn’t have you exposed to the dangers again. He’d find a nice new spot high up and safe from everything else. It could be just you two again.

And those tears? They were certainly tears of joy. Or maybe you weren’t used to being so high up. He’ll pull you close again and let you settle down. Not to worry, nothing will bother you again. He’ll even bother the humans more to get you the books you both enjoy.

Life with you was sweet and brought him a peace he had never known before. He’ll make you as happy as you make him.

Diavolo

Appearance

Rumors of a feathered dragon had been around the area for eons now, but he was not even related to the fire breathing beast, or at least he didn’t think so.

He was the largest he’d had ever witnessed and he had flown all over trying to look for the perfect place to nest. But he seemed to always break them with his wings or his large mass. Last time he checked he was around thirteen feet tall with his wingspan being double that.

His feet are raptorial in shape and have bone crunching claws, several inches and capable of bending even the strongest metal. He has the same anatomy as other harpies, the feathered thighs, the wings for arms, though on a much bigger scale. There were a few differences, his whole body being covered in feathers not a patch of skin showing besides his face.

And on his face are sharp little feathers that split into sharp little feathers, that are more like knives. When rubbed against bark it not only leaves a mark in the wood, or even rock.

And his feathers are a lustrous crimson hombre to a glossy charcoal and even a stormy night sky black.

His tail feathers were much longer and nearly looked like a peacock’s though it didn’t spread like one. Instead having long spear-like feathers, much like the depictions of a phoenix.

A Lonely Life

Due to his size he’s unable to live with the forest harpies, he can’t take to the sandy cliffs as they are too shallow, the mountains are all he can reside in, and as months go by he becomes even too big for some of them. Constantly growing more and more. So he has to move every four to five months. He’s never really had a place to call home since he left his mother’s nest.

But still he persists, because who is he to deny the life his mother gave to him. Other harpies flee at the sight of him, not willing to contest territory against a massive beast like him. Most of them dwarfed in comparison to him, even flocks couldn’t bother him. So when he moved into an area they would never really fight, simply give him a wide berth and if they happen to meet with him while hunting they’d scramble to flee and leave whatever prey they were hunting.

It was a lonely life, hardly any interaction since both his kind, human kind, and many monsters feared his presence alone. He craved the company of another, the warmth of someone who loved him.

Some nights he fall asleep remembering his mother and father’s warm down, and he would softly sob into his own feathers.

Spending Time With You

It was a late summer’s night and he had been gazing at the stars when the sounds of harpies screeching and a human screaming carried its way up the mountain side. He was a ways up from, so for it to be loud enough for him to hear-

He decided to check, with one stroke of his wings, rocks tumbled as he shot skywards. Looking down he could see a mod of harpies trying to get at you as you held a burning piece of wood, swinging at any of them who came too close.

You were ragged, clothes torn, sickly, and tons of wounds. The harpies were getting shot, yanking your hair, scratching your face, biting your back and ripping more cloth. You were staggering, almost out of stamina.

He pitied you. Humans were such delicate creatures and harpies almost always hunted humans who couldn't defend themselves. So when descended and the flock saw his silhouette they scattered leaving feathers everywhere.

You didn't even get a proper look as a dizziness rushed to you head and you collapsed, wood falling out of your hands. Diavolo looked at it for a moment before taking it along with yourself and back to his den.

He took the time to set up a fire and gently put you into his nest, then getting you food and water for when you woke up.

He sat there all night watching you, seeing your chest softly rise and fall, he even gently licked your wounds and smiled to himself as the blood flow stopped and your pained expression slowly faded to a peaceful one.

It took a while for you to wake up. About two days. By that time he had dug a small hole to hold the water he collected, and a pile of fresh berries and animals still fresh from a hunt, thought your saviors was out wanting to get more water. When you stood up you were surprised by how little you hurt, and you drank as much as your body could allow. Dining on the berries and even getting to work warming yourself and cooking by the fire.

But when Diavolo came back and he saw you up, he dumped all the water he hand in his mouth and bounced up to you nearly knocking you away with the fluttering of his wings and putting out the fire.

He checked over you, asked you a flurry of questions that left you dazed and confused. Diavolo then managed to calm himself and slowed down. Turns out you where traveling and got lost, you had been out in the wilderness for days and then attacked by the harpies.

He tried cheering you up, but instead you were simply thankful to still be alive. You had never heard of a harpy that would go out of their way to save humans. So when you thanked him with a smile, he felt his heart leap out of his chest. For a few moments he thought he was having a heart attacked, but every time he saw your face something inside told him to keep you safe, keep you. You are wonderful.

He then insists for you to stay, giving you everything you could ever need, making sure the fire is stoked, you had food a plenty, so much fresh water, and a warm place to sleep, tossing you on his chest as he laid on his back and threw one of his massive wings over you.

Having Diavolo take care of you helped you to recover your strength quicker than you imagined, you had a spring in your step not too long after and he was more than happy to see you up and well again. Still bouncing and nearly tumbling you over.

But when he saw that you were ready to leave him, he made sure to use every excuse he could to have you stay here. Other harpies would get to you, he shouldn’t fly with you just in case a wound reopens, you start catching on.

Dark Tendencies

And if you pushed to leave still he’d stand in your way, and his smile as a sinister twist to it. “No, let's keep you inside now. I would hate to see what would happen to you if I wasn't there." And no matter how much you fuss or scream he simply won't have it.

He guards the entrance and he's now willing to take you with him, after all he needs to keep an eye on you. But with how sharp eyes are it's impossible to slip away. He always managed to gently pick you up with one of his feet and continue doing what he was until he was ready to take you back.

He'd never hurt you, never punish you for escape attempts, he'd just plop you back in his nest and smile at you with such deranged warmth.

To make sure you didn't run at night he'd pull you to the crook of his wing and squeeze you to him, loose enough to be able to move, but close enough so he could feel you slip out from his grip.

He simply wants the best for you as he starts to fall even more madly in love with you. His heart was pounding in his chest every time he gazed at you, every time he felt your skin against him. He could eat you up. Though he'd never try anything like that.

No he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. To be your mate and provide for you every need and want, besides leaving him. It's a lonely world out there. It would be cruel to let you go back to it alone.

#obey me #obey me satan #obey me diavolo #satan x reader #diavolo x reader #yandere satan #yandere diavolo #tw: blood #tw: gore #yandere #obey me monster headcanons #harpy satan #harpy diavolo

83 notes · View notes

alyssaswrld999 · 9 months

Text

Suck It Dixon/ Merle Dixon x Reader:

I was sitting inside Dale's RV cleaning my gun. I was minding my own business until I seen that Dale came In and started smiling at me. "Hey there you are been looking for you" Dale said. I chuckled and kept cleaning my gun.

"Hey Dale" I said. Dale then sat down in front of me in the booth that was in the RV. "I need you to help me with something" Dale asked. "Yeah sure. What do you need help with" I asked curious.

"I need you to go and scavenge for some food while I'm taking watch in a bit" Dale said. I was confused because there was already people scavenging for food I think. "I thought the Dixons had everything under control for that" I said going back to cleaning my gun.

Dale sighed and nodded his head yes. "Yes but we need one more person and I trust that your more capable of doing it. You do have a bow and arrow anyway so" Dale said. I sighed and nodded my head yes. Sure I didn't wanna do it but I can't say no to Dale.

"Sure I'll do it Dale I'm just gonna finish cleaning my gun first" I said. Dale smiled at me and got up to leave the RV. "Thank you Y/n" Dale said. He then walked out of the RV and I sighed. "Fuck me" I thought.

I finish cleaning my gun and get up to head to my tent. I grab my hair tie and pull my hair up into a bun to get out of my face. I then grab my hunting knife, bow and arrow, and bag to take with me. I mean you can't have to many little meat critters to eat.

I made my way into the woods to go hunting for food. As I was still tracking for five minutes I finally seen a squirrel resting on a tree. I grab my Bow and arrow getting ready to shoot it. As I let go of the arrow it directly went through the squirrels side killing it.

"Yes" I said cheering quietly. I walked quickly over to where the squirrel fell out of the tree. I seen it laying down beside a bush and I grabbed the dead critter. "Sorry darlin but we gotta eat ya" I said to the dead squirrel.

I put the dead squirrel in my bag and continued walking. I finally found another critter after looking for a minute after tracking it. It was a pure white rabbit and it was so pretty. I got ready to fire and then I let go.

I cheered quietly again after getting another critter to eat. I pick up the dead rabbit and put it in my bag. I then continue my journey to find more. After twenty five minutes I have already collected four squirrels, three rabbits, two snakes, and one big fat possum.

I'm actually proud of myself because I believed I did a good job today. Besides I have one more available spot to put one more critter in. I then finally found a big fat squirrel and decided to make that the big annual prize for us to eat tonight.

I fire my arrow but I wasn't the only one who fired at the squirrel. There was another arrow in the squirrel and I immediately recognized the arrow. "Dixon" I whispered. I walk up to the squirrel and start to remove the arrows. I take the dead squirrel and was about to put it in my bag until Daryl and Merle walked out in sight.

"Well look here who do we have here" Merle said. I then decided to shove the squirrel in my bag. "That's our squirrel darlin" Merle added. "Yeah and it's going to the same place so I don't care" I said. I walk away until Merle hollers again.

"Come on girl it's our catch" Merle shouted. "Suck it Dixon" I shouted back walking back to camp.

I dont know what it is but Merle gets on my nerves.

#merle dixon #the walking dead fanfiction #funny #hunting #squirrels #daryl dixon #michael rooker #merle dixon x reader

62 notes · View notes

judyfromfinance · 1 year

Text

Olden Times. Modern Thinking.

(Heimdall/Modern!Reader)

Summary: You know things you’re not supposed to. You behave oddly. And the way you speak is even odder. Kratos, Mimir, and Atreus have no idea if they should believe your ramblings of another world and of a future they have no way of knowing is real. But, you seem harmless enough. Plus, Faye may rise from her grave if they let a poor woman freeze to death in their forest, right outside their home no less.

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 2

It’s been a couple of months since you had woken up in what seemed to be the set of Game of Thrones. You remember Kratos questioning you. Who are you? What are you? Why are you here? Basically trying to intimidate you into possibly giving up any information of potentially being a horrible person intending to hurt him, or more so his son. Luckily Mimir was there to lighten the mood a bit. Seeing Kratos in front of your eyes, not as a video game character was… unnerving to say the least. Honestly when you woke up you were expecting everything to be some wacked out dream. Too much gaming late into the night and waking up at the buttcrack of dawn for your shit job. But no. You were here. Actually here. You think. The jury’s still out on the dream thing. But you answered him still. As truthfully as you could. You decided against talking about the fact that you basically played through this man’s whole life. From destroying Olympus to now essentially. Yeah, you don’t think a man like Kratos would’ve handled that well. But he listened. So did Mimir. And so did Atreus. They stopped you and asked questions here or there. Mainly Mimir and Atreus. One because he’s the “Smartest Man Alive” and the other because pure, unadulterated curiosity. They accepted your words. And Kratos made his decision.

“Stay? With y’all? Just like that?” You couldn’t help but sound skeptical. Mimir, who was… sitting… yeah you don’t know whether you could call being placed down on a barrel by your neck stump sitting. But you digress, Mimir chuckled and said “Don’t worry lass! We’ll put you to work yet!” Kratos just hummed in agreement as Atreus smiled towards you.

“Oh. Ok.”

And that’s what led you to now. A few months down the road and they have been teaching you, trying to at least, to hunt and scavenge. Mind you, Fimbulwinter made everything so much harder when it came to gathering food. And since you were mortal, you needed more than the two gods and the undead head.

“This is so stupid. How do you feel anything in this fucking cold?” You simmered to yourself as you practiced with a bow that Atreus had made for you. You could barely feel your fingers as they fumbled with the the string. You tried to keep the arrow straight but no matter how hard you tried it just seemed to move away gradually. As if it was trying to piss you off. “You just gotta get used to it!” Atreus shouted from across the backyard training area. He didn’t want to be hit by a stray arrow. You finally got the arrow to sit still before releasing the string and let your arrow shoot through the sky. Well, shoot through the sky would be a lie. The arrow basically fell not even two feet into the snow and dirt. You heard giggling behind you. You spun around, eyes narrowed into slits. Atreus paused before shrugging and apologizing. “Here, let’s just gather more firewood before father comes back.” You rolled your eyes at the teenage god before walking with him towards the small section of woods behind the training grounds. The trees there were designated as firewood only trees.

“It’s cold as hell here. I can’t help that my body ain’t used to it. I live in California alright? It gets cold there, but never like this.” You swing your bow around your body, finally securing it on your back with the string across your chest. It seemed pretty big to you but Atreus said you’d grow into it. You would’ve mentioned that you were an adult and done growing but the look in his eyes were enough to stop you. You recognized that line. He was remembering his mother, Faye. So instead you just said thank you and took as much care of it as you could. You grabbed a smaller axe that was kept by the fencing and went to work. You definitely didn’t consider yourself strong in the least but you could swing an axe and break a couple of logs. Or at least do some minor damage to it as Atreus did the rest.

“Oh no, Hel is way colder. Trust me.” Atreus said with a grunt as he finished your pile of wood for you. You both then grabbed what you could and headed back inside. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly is your home like? You don’t talk about it much.” He pushed open the door with his back as he stared at you. “Do you miss it?”

You really didn’t talk much about your home and your life before all this. You were more concerned with learning how to be useful to these people. After they were so kind to you and offered their home to you. They deserved that much. And you hated feeling like a burden. It was a gut wrenching feeling to know that no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t live up to some peoples expectations. So no, you didn’t talk about home. To busy trying to help. But.. you missed it. You missed it a lot. Maybe talking about it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “Yeah. Yeah I miss it. What exactly did you want to know?”

It was at that moment that Kratos, with Mimir strapped to his hip, walked in with some freshly dug up roots and what looked to be a chunk of meat he probably butchered from a wild animal. Deer probably. He placed them both on the kitchen counter. Which was just a wooden table. The same table that you guys did anything and everything else on.

“Have you trained more with your bow?” He asked you gruffly. You perked up as you nodded vigorously. “No yeah! Of course!” You said as you took off your bow and placed it next to Atreus’s by the front door. Kratos furrowed his brow at your verbiage before grunting and looking towards Atreus. “She’s doing better father. Not ready to hunt quite yet but better.” He nods before gruffly saying “Good.” He turned towards the food before preparing it for supper. Watching Kratos cook was something else. Sure it wasn’t anything fancy you might see on Food Network but there was still something about it. It was so, domestic for the God of War. You sat down next to Atreus as he got his journal out.

“So… you were going to tell me more about your home? Uuuhh…” he wracked his brain trying to remember what you had called this mystical and other worldly land that you had hailed from. You giggled at his stupefied face.

“California. It’s called California. But that’s just the state I live in. My home country is called America.” You looked down towards your feet. Stilled covered in your Nike tennis shoes. “But… let’s just talk about my hometown for now.”

~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @zoleea-exultant @sumebuddy @sissontrinity123 @different4black

For some reason tumblr mobile won’t let me tag some of y’all. I’ll see what I can do when I get home on my laptop. But for now enjoy this!

I will say, I do plan on doing time skips here and there. I just want to get to the main weasel man 👉👈🥺

Edit: I got the tags working :)

#Olden Times. Modern Thinking.#Heimdall/Modern!Reader #heimdall x reader #god of war ragnarok x reader #god of war x reader #heimdall gow x reader #gow reader insert

162 notes · View notes

pigeontheoneandonly · 2 months

Text

A Happy Feast

So I wrote a BG3 ficlet about my Durge. I'm not tagging it to avoid spoilers, but if you're not expecting some depravity, we're not playing the same game...

AO3 Link

They rolled back into camp near to midday, earlier than expected, but what was expected when a tadpole measured one’s life day by day, anyhow. Nobody felt good about it. But all that could currently be said had been aired, at length, and so they deflected into lesser complaints. Today, it was the menu.

“Not so much as a rabbit track,” Karlach moaned, as she stripped a sapling for tent poles.

Lae’zel was wiping her face with cool stream water. “The pleasures of this realm are few, but I would not regret the opportunity to savor a roast.”

“You’d have better luck roasting a stick,” Gale grumbled. He’d appointed himself keeper of their stores, and knew down to the last dry carrot what they had available to eat. And it wasn’t as bad as all that, at least not today—if one liked eating vegetarian.

“A stick!” Astarion scoffed, and then made to appear hurt at their suspicious looks. “What? I’m as hungry as any, I assure you.”

Nalarin said nothing, herself. Food was…food. A necessity and little more. But these…people hadn’t run. They didn’t know her, true, not know her, but most others she’d met since their little accident had at least a sense about her, so surely her companions here did as well. And yet they let her share their fire, travel with them, drew her into conversations, eventually. Shared their food. Like they wanted her to live, too.

And so Nalarin quietly took up her bow and headed back out into the wood.

Her errand took some time. When she returned, she found the others occupied in their own private tasks following a cold lunch, as had become habit on days that ended early. That suited her. Her task would take some time, with so little experience.

She made the fire away from the camp. No need for our clothes to stink of cooking, Gale had said, the first time she’d watched him. If the intensity of her observation had worried him, he hadn’t said. They were all like that. Willing to ignore a bit of discomfort for the sake of her company. It made an unfamiliar curl of warmth in the pit of her stomach, pleased without quite knowing why. She let that feeling fill her as she fussed over the pots, laboriously scrubbed and chopped and stirred and skewered. It was good to have something to feel and something to do; it emptied her mind entirely.

By the time the food was ready, Nalarin was thoroughly streaked and speckled with various remnants of her efforts. She thought she’d got the doneness of everything right, the turnips and carrots in the ash, the meat on the spit, the greens just lightly wilted. Of the seasoning she was less sure, and the herbs were a certain disaster. But she could eat it and not make a face, and so she declared it suitable and called everyone over for dinner.

Exclamations of surprise made the warm pool in her belly grow. “I hunted,” she explained, when they asked how?!

“If we’d known you were a good tracker, we’d have asked days ago,” Shadowheart declared, plopping down with a loaded plate. “What else are you hiding?”

Nalarin shrugged, but it hadn’t been a serious accusation. More pleased, almost teasing. She drummed her fingertips into the dirt. Too excited, almost, to eat herself.

After a time, a squirrel crept down from a nearby tree and scampered up her shoulder to shelter in a nest of her thick hair. She absently reached up to rub its tiny head. She liked animals; they didn’t make the dreams rise in her, not the way people did, and so it was safe to love them. Self-control with people was so…heavy. Wearying. Not having to fight it… bliss itself.

Afraid! it chittered, crowding into her scalp.

Her strokes grew soothing, her thoughts on all the small traps in the forest, designed to break small bodies but not to kill. The small corpses, pinned into the earth and unmolested by the scavengers, because even animals knew profanity when they smelled it.

As she cupped the creature in the curve of her palm, across the fire Wyll finished a bite and smiled at her. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Neither did I.” Wyll made her want to control herself. To draw a knife over flesh and barely cut. He was a monster much like her; one who made what he wished of his monster.

Her eyes narrowed and shifted to Astarion. There was a monster not like her. One who leaned into the monster, one who did not realize or perhaps did not care that it devoured him, inch after inch. One who did not recognize why he could not rid himself of the monster’s hollow feeling. The sort of monster, in fact, who made her think one day hers might pit itself against his.

Of all of them at this dinner, she thought he might realize. But he gave his portion a hard stare, shot her a glance she did not answer, and then returned for another bite. “Wonderful boar,” he declared.

“Really?” Karlach swallowed. “I thought it was rat! They can get quite gamey, you know.”

The tempo of Karlach’s mechanized heart never quite left her sensitive ear. To take it apart, piece by piece, examine its workings closely and their destruction… Little could be sweeter. Except, perhaps, to hear again her braying laugh, feel her solidity at her side along the road.

Maybe they were her friends, too. Nalarin’s memories might be gone, but some deep part of her was immensely certain she’d never had people who were friends.

Her own plate remained empty. The conversation continued, but they were used to her not talking much, and their sated voices swirling around her, contented by her effort, was food enough.

* * *

Much later, after the pots were cleaned, the cookfire doused, and everyone off to bed, Nalarin bent over the stream to wash her face clean of the last of the soot. She often stayed up late. The cool silence of night felt more home than the day.

“It is a very terrible thing thou hadst wrought,” said Withers, startling her into splashing her clothes.

But she straightened, and looked at him directly. “I don’t care for onions. When what we have is onions, Gale disguises them and doesn’t tell me they’re in the food, so I don’t have to think about it. How is what I did different?”

His wizened face regarded her for long moments, as if weighing her sincerity. Her honesty never ceased to surprise him. But in this, she was confident. How could it be different?

“Perhaps not,” he answered at last, shrugging, all bony eloquence. “Still, I wonder—how wouldst thy companions respond, if they but knew they partook in roast dwarf?”

Her mind again saw the little traps and the poor broken bodies she had buried in small graves. “He was a very bad dwarf.”

Withers looked down his nose at her, an impressive feat given he had no nose. “Thou wouldst know.”

Nalarin’s lips curved in the dark. Yes.

She would.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfiction #the dark urge #durge

15 notes · View notes