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#anyway it was another good run folks

youssefguedira · 2 years

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Yusuf is there when Nicolò enters the old temple, not a vision of him, no portal behind him that will take him somewhere Nicolò cannot follow yet again before he has the chance to reach him, just Yusuf. He's alone, his head tilted upwards and eyes closed, illuminated by the shafts of sunlight that fall through the cracked ceiling. The sight of him - here and safe and whole, finally, after everything Nicolo's fought through to reach him - takes his breath away.

"Nico," Yusuf says, and opens his eyes to look at him. He smiles, and he's still Nicolò’s Yusuf, even after everything that's happened.

Nicolò can't wait another second, then, sheaths his sword at his back and walks up the stone steps towards him. Yusuf's smile widens, and then he's stepping into Nicolò's already open arms, laughing. "I missed you."

"Missed you too," Nicolò says. He kisses Yusuf's temple, holds him close. "So much, Yusuf, you have no idea-"

Yusuf leans back, cupping Nicolò's face in one hand. "I know. It's okay. I'm here."

But Nicolò knows him well enough to know something's wrong. "What is it?"

"It's not over, yet." Yusuf steps out of Nicolò's arms and back a few steps, leaving him cold. "There's so much more you don't know yet, but we're running out of time. He will return, soon, and we're not ready."

"Tell me what I need to do," Nicolò says immediately. He can't bear the idea of Yusuf disappearing again, not now when he's finally here, when every other time Nicolò has tried to reach him he's been a second too late. "Anything, and I'll do it, whatever it is. Just tell me what you need."

Yusuf smiles again, sad. "It's not you, Nico. We need more time. And I can buy it, but-" He cuts himself off.

"Then I'll help you."

Yusuf shakes his head. "You don't understand. For this to work, I need to reform the seal, and I can only do that by" - there are tears in his eyes, now, and dread running down Nicolò's spine - "by sealing myself away along with it."

Nicolò realises just a moment too late what that means. "Yusuf-"

"If I seal myself here, in the past," Yusuf continues, "when you return to our time, it will be just strong enough to hold. You will have the time you need to finish this. And once all this is over, the seal can be broken in our time."

"I can't," Nicolò says. "There has to be another way. This can't be it."

"It's the only choice we have," Yusuf says. "I cannot - this was always my path, Nicolò."

She's manipulating you, Andromache had said, the goddess. She's using Yusuf to make you do what she wants, can't you see? If Nicolò hadn't understood then, he does now - neither of them ever had a choice in this. Yusuf was chosen because Nicolò would follow him anywhere, and Nicolò was chosen for the same reason.

Nicolò realises something else then. "If you seal yourself here, you'll be trapped for thousands of years."

"I'll be asleep," Yusuf says, soft. "It'll be like the blink of an eye. So when this is all over, you'll have to come wake me up." He smiles, then, even through his tears. "Just like old times, no?"

And before Nicolò can say anything else, the air around him begins to glow gold, condensing around Yusuf, who tilts his head back and closes his eyes, and Nicolò cannot move, frozen in place by something beyond his control. All he can do is watch as the light gathers around Yusuf, blindingly bright, until Nicolò cannot see him anymore. Whatever's holding him releases, and he runs towards Yusuf even though the light hurts his eyes, and just as he reaches out the light fades.

Before him is what looks like a crystal, tinged orange, clear enough that he can see Yusuf inside, his eyes closed. He looks like he's just sleeping, like this is one of the mornings Nicolò had had to wake him but had paused for a moment just to watch him.

Nicolò lifts his hand to the crystal. It's freezing cold when he touches it. Yet again, he's too late.

"I'll come back for you," he tells Yusuf, even though he knows Yusuf can't hear him. "I swear it. I'll finish this, and I'll come back for you." His voice is trembling, but he can't let himself break down now, not when there's still work to be done. The faster he finishes his task, the sooner he can wake Yusuf.

(Nile is the first to ask when he returns through the gate, waiting for him with Andy, Quynh and Sebastien nearby. "Where's Yusuf?" she asks, looking behind him - the plan had always been that Nicolò would bring Yusuf back with him, after all.

Nicolò can't bring himself to say it out loud.)

--------------------

It feels like an age before Nicolò returns to the temple, now in the present. It's over, finally - the five of them have sealed the demon king away for good. The others are outside.

The crystal is overgrown with vines, now, just like their old favourite meeting place on the island where all of this had started. Its surface is scratched and clouded with age, but Nicolò can still make out Yusuf inside it, looking exactly as he had when Nicolò left him in the past. He hates to think of the crystal here, alone, for so much time.

There's a glowing mark on the crystal's surface that hadn't been there before. Nicolò approaches it carefully and places his hand over the mark.

Almost immediately, glowing cracks begin to grow from where his hand touches the crystal, spreading across the whole thing until it's glowing as brightly as it had when it was formed, but he can't look away. When the light dies down, Yusuf hovers in the air for just a moment before whatever spell had held him there finally breaks, and he collapses, but Nicolò is there to catch him, sinking to his knees and cradling him close. He doesn't move for a moment, and Nicolò is terrified, because what if something had gone wrong-

Yusuf gasps awake, his eyes fluttering open. He looks around frantically before catching sight of Nicolò above him, who nearly sobs with relief, holding him impossibly closer.

"Nicolò?" Yusuf whispers, his voice hoarse. Nicolò nods, unable to speak just yet, blinking back his tears and brushing Yusuf's curls away from where they've fallen into his eyes.

Then Yusuf asks, "Did I oversleep?" and Nicolò has to laugh even though it comes out sounding more like a sob, kisses his forehead and smiles. "It's over, then?"

"It's over," Nicolò confirms, and then, "I love you."

Yusuf sits up and wraps his arms around Nicolò's neck, buries his face in Nicolò's shoulder and holds on tightly. "I love you too."

(When they return, Nile is the first to them, hugs Yusuf so tightly he laughs, and then it's Sebastien's turn, then Andromache and Quynh both.

They choose to stay on the surface, all six of them. And neither Yusuf or Nicolò are the same people anymore - sometimes Nicolò wakes screaming, sometimes Yusuf gets a distant look in his eyes and it takes a worryingly long time for him to come back to himself. Sometimes there are things Yusuf still can't tell Nicolò, and vice versa.

They make it work, though. They find a quiet place in the woods, far away from the temple and any danger, and they're safe, and happy, and together.

It's all Nicolò's ever wanted, really.)

#neon writes #posting this separately in an attempt to unbury it a little #the old guard #kaysanova #ANYWAY guess whos playing skyward sword. thats right folks this is ANOTHER different zelda au #ive condensed the entire thing into this because im not going to write much else for it #but. the plot:#nicolo and yusuf are childhood rivals-to-friends-to-lovers. at the time when Shit Goes Down they're coming up to the point where they have #to pass a specific test to become soldiers/knights/whatever. the wing ceremony if youre a zelda fan but theyre both participating. anyway #they both win (andromache and quynh are two years ahead of them nile and booker are the year below but they're all like. adults. not 17)#anyway they win and go on some kind of flight around the clouds because the kicker is that this takes place on a sky island and they get #around by riding giant birds i love ss. anyway while they're flying around (victory lap or something) yusuf mentions weird dreams he's been #having. then a giant tornado appears things happen yusuf falls below the cloud barrier separating the land from the sky nicolo is thrown #from his bird. wakes up explains this to andy who is like Well Shit. cue epic quest to find yusuf who has some destiny shit to do #gods and all that. its not important #but theyre trying to defeat an evil demon king before he comes back. merrick with horns can be the visual for that. nicolo spends half of #his time chasing after yusuf who always has to leave before they can talk. maybe quynh isnt with them on sky island and is the one guiding #yusuf instead i dont know anyway eventually nicolo has to do some hero stuff and all that. and this happens when theyre running out of time #as a kind of last resort. but then nicolo nile booker andy quynh defeat The Evil and rescue yusuf and its all good #the plot of this isnt very well thought out. i just thought about that scene with zelda and then about them and had to make this about it #enjoy #the reference to yusuf oversleeping is bc there's a bit in skyward sword abt link always sleeping in and then having to wake zelda and it #causes me 10 psychic damage so i had to adapt it here. that line is the whole reason this fic exists

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tealin · 5 months

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Mucus Buster

Everyone's got lingering congestion this year, so as someone who's no stranger to phlegm, and inherited the folk wisdom of a stage actress (the show must go on!) I share with you my recipe for making things better:

2L water

the juice and rind of one lemon (just dump the juiced rinds in, don't zest them, you maniac)

a small thumb of fresh ginger, sliced in coins

about a dozen cloves, some star anise, peppercorns, and maybe whole cinnamon or allspice or whatever else you like, in a tea ball (except the cinnamon if it doesn't fit, obvs)

good dollop of honey, to taste

Bring the water to a boil then dump in all the stuff. Keep it hot but not boiling – a slow cooker is good for this. Keep this pot on a low heat all day and serve yourself a mug every so often, adding water as necessary. At some point you will need to add a new lemon and some more honey, but the spices can generally carry over two pots if you're drinking it regularly.

The acid helps clear the gunk, ginger is good for the circulation, and clove/aniseed/pepper have some sort of decongestant/soothing properties. Honey is both nice and antiseptic, and apparently is a cough suppressant as well? Anyway, I just got over another run of Covid and this was wasn't 100% effective but it worked better than phenylephrine.

#recipe #decongestant #home medicine #covid #colds #phlegm

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ew-selfish-art · 6 months

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Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #danny can make ghosts appear like they do in amity but only for a short while and when in proximity to him #its not apparent in amity because the ghosts are just like that there #Danny just having a good time #Danny having zero brain cells about this whole thing and neither he nor jazz will offer explanations #they're just like 'gotham has ghosts. its not like he put them there'#Bruce getting into therapy because his dead parents said they were proud of him and he didnt know how to handle that #bruce having to turn this energy around somehow and seeing jason - my boy i love you so much and im so sorry and im so proud of you #heres the thing i dont know how i made it anger management ship at the end but i sure as fuck did.#jason is at a lack of words at bruce's confessions of pride and love but is also about to be a BAT about this and track down info #info in the form of a cute girl #oh yeah she has a brother #uh well #he has brothers too- this is fine #someone write this fic pls n thx u

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celtic-crossbow · 2 months

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But Put Together, the Cracks We’ll Close In

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mentions of past child abuse; mentions of suggested abortion; blood and injury

Summary: Fresh into Alexandria, Daryl meets his match in a two year little girl and slowly loses his heart to her mother. You.

A/N: Based on the request/headcanon from @louifaith Just a couple of things. The child is described as in hair and eye color. Nothing is mentioned of reader so these traits could come from her father. There is also the mention of an “Eskimo kiss.” I grew up using that term but I’m not sure if it is offensive or PC nowadays. please feel free to send me a message if I need to change it. It is not my intention to be offensive to anyone! Also, sorry if anyone likes Spencer. He's always my go to asshole.

“S’that?”

Daryl felt the opossum sway in his grip, looking down with a scowl firmly plastered at the bright eyes returning his gaze, brimming with curiosity. She was a toddler, maybe two years old? Christ, someone had a toddler in this mess. “Dinner.” He grunted, pulling the dead animal out of her reach. He found out quickly that the curious little creature would not be deterred so easily. Standing on her tip-toes, she made a grab for the marsupial. “Knock it off.” He huffed and took a step back, bumping into Carol.

“Daryl, she’s a child. Don’t be such a grump.”

“Ain’t you got a mama—family to get back to?” He snapped, ignoring his best friend. The little girl’s eyes brightened.

“Mama! Mama!” She clapped. Daryl rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm.

“Yeah, go get ‘er.” There was an intense sigh of relief when the little human went running (waddling?) out of sight. “They got kids here.”

“Yes, Daryl. That’s what that was.” Carol nudged him playfully. “The people seem to think they’re safe here. It gives me the creeps.” He nodded but didn’t comment. “They obviously don’t know what’s going on out there, not like we do. I think we need to be cautious here. Find a way to fit in but keep our guard up, you know?”

Daryl snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. Ain’t got no intention of tryin’ to fit in with these folks. Livin’ in a fuckin’ fairytale here. Ain’t gonna last.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine.” Sasha clapped him on the shoulder as she passed, earning yet another grunt.

“Mama, here!”

Oh dear god, no. “S’back.” The hunter stated flatly.

“Oh, and she brought a friend.” Sure enough, the little girl was dragging you along, tugging incessantly at your hand as if the child had found the world’s most priceless treasure. “You did tell her to ‘go get her.’”

“Nadia, slow down!”

And slow down, she did. Right in front of a scowl-wearing redneck with a bleeding opossum in his grasp.

“Mama, dinner! Dorl dinner.”

Dorl?!? Daryl looked helplessly over to where Carl was carrying Judith, the little light of his life. Would this be what she was like as she grew up? She already knew him, loved him despite how broken and hopeless he was. She would laugh at him if he was ranting about something and hold out those chubby little hands and he was done for, whatever had irritated him was forgotten.

But this child? This wasn’t his lil’ asskicker.

Daryl liked kids but he liked them from a distance. He had no business being around them, save for Carl and Judith. I wish I could have known Sophia. He wouldn’t bother getting to know anyone in this place. It’d burn like every other home they had anyway.

“Dorl, huh?” You smiled.

“Daryl.” He replied flatly, his lip curling.

“I’m Y/N. I assume Aaron found your group?”

He didn’t answer, too occupied with trying to continuously move away from the small child clumsily reaching for his knife sheath. “Stop that.” He barked, expecting the kid to balk. She did quite the opposite and wrapped her tiny arms around his leg, just below his knee. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Shake her off? Of course not. She might get hurt. While he really didn’t want to be touched, he couldn’t help but feel like it was somehow his job to make sure this kid wasn’t hurt. “Can ya—would ya—?” Shoulders slumped, he didn’t even gesture. You know what he was asking.

Chuckling, you reached down and gently pried the little girl loose. “Nadia, you’re supposed to ask before hugs, remember?”

“Hug Dorl.” The dark-headed child pouted.

That was his cue to step away, as quickly as possible, without running. He absolutely did not run.

When you looked up, he was already gone, lost in the middle of his group as they headed in to surrender weapons and be interviewed by Deanna.

Daryl sat on the now red-stained porch, prepping his kill for cooking later. Carol had scolded him and made him promise to use the backyard going forward, but he doubted they would be there long enough for him to need the area. It was just the way the world was. Nice places like this could never last.

“Dorl dinner!”

Jesus take the wheel. “Ya need a bell.” He grunted, looking around for you. “An’ apparently a leash.” Maybe if he ignored her, she would go find you. But what if she wandered off alone and somehow made it out of the gates? Shit. “Sit down, gremlin.”

She giggled and patted her chunky hands against her chest. “Nada.”

Daryl stopped moving and stared for a moment. Wasn’t that Spanish? Maybe? Wait. You had called her Nadia. Maybe that’s what she was trying to say. “Nadia?” Blue eyes squinted in wait.

Nadia bounced and nodded and then pointed at him. “Dorl! Dorl, Nada!”

He released his knife and leaned his elbow against his knee, the heel of his hand pressing into his forehead. “Dare-ul.” He tried.

“Dooorl.”

“Oh, for fucksake.” The archer gave up, picking up his knife and continuing with his task. Nadia didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing but leaned in closely with the most serious look he’d ever seen. He needed to lean back once she made it much too far into his personal space.

“Fucksy.” She said, maintaining eye contact as if she were challenging him.

“No! Don’t say that. Can’t be teachin’ ya sh—stuff like that!” He panicked, opossum forgotten. Daryl threw back his head with a groan. “Can’tcha please just go to your mama?”

Nadia’s little face lit up and off she went with a chorus of mama mama mama. Watching her go, Daryl wondered where the little one’s father was, but soon banished the thought. It was none of his business. What was his business was to make sure the annoying curtain-climber made it home safely. Abandoning his dinner—no time to cover it if he was going to catch up—he walked briskly until he caught sight of her. Little legs can fuckin’ move. We’re fucked when Jude learns to walk.

He stayed close, but far back enough to not catch her attention. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Rounding the curb to the end of the street, he caught sight of the small house. Quaint compared to the other homes. The front door was open but he dared not go closer. Boots firmly planted on the sidewalk, he observed the struggle of a tiny human tackling front porch steps. Nadia was determined though. Had he chosen to help, he was certain she would give him that serious look again and yell at him in baby-speak.

“Nadia Avery, how do you keep getting out the door!”

Maybe cause you leave it open? He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Regardless, there you were, swooping down to gather the bundle into your arms with a couple of sobs and more than a few sniffles. “Baby, you have to stop doing that! You scare mommy.” Nadia was nuzzling your jaw but then suddenly pointed right at him.

“Dorl got Nada.”

When your eyes found his own, Daryl froze. His arms were out to his sides, his eyes wide. He looked nothing short of a deer caught in the sights of his crossbow when it realized it’s about to be shot. “I—uh, kid found me.” Forcing himself to relax a fraction, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Didn’t want ‘er wand’rin’ ‘round by herself.”

Your face softened into a grateful smile. “Thank you for making sure she got home.” He nodded curtly and you turned away, only to turn back in the same motion. “Would you like to come inside? I have some stew that I’m heating. Plenty for the three of us.”

A part of him that he didn’t know existed wanted to immediately accept the offer but the part of him that had kept him alive this long spoke louder. “Nah, got my own dinner I need to take care’a. Thanks, though.”

You nodded, the smile never faltering. “Think of it as a standing invitation. Nadia seems to like you. She’s a good judge of character.”

He snorted. “Alright.”

“Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night.” He took two steps.

“Nigh’ nigh’, Dorl!”

He heard the sound of a kiss being blown his way, but didn’t turn around. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away.

It had been three days since he had last seen you or Nadia. He found that it unsettled him but not enough to go looking. Aaron had gifted him a work area and parts to build himself a bike. It was the best thing anyone could have offered him at that point. He felt like he still wasn’t fitting in, and while that was the idea at first, now it just felt…lonely.

Carol was always gone when he got up and not home yet when we retired to bed. Rick and Michonne couldn’t stay out of the bedroom for more than five minutes unless something ‘coppy’ needed to be handled. Carl was always outside with Jude in the nice weather.

Daryl was alone. Though he usually preferred it that way, he couldn’t seem to shake the negativity it seemed to bring to the surface.

Spending time around something familiar from the old world came to be a comfort. When the posh little community with its “good morning” while walking the dog and laughter over coffee at the gazebo became too much for Daryl, he disappeared into Aaron’s garage. Aaron and his husband seemed okay in the archer’s book. They never once stared at him like he was going to rob them blind or beat them to a pulp. They showed him kindness even if his only attempts at conversation consisted of nods and grunts.

“You going to this party tonight?” Aaron asked from the doorway the led into the house from the garage.

“Nah.” Daryl picked up a wrench and continued his work, not giving the question a proper thought.

“You really should make an effort to get to know more people here.”

“They don’t like me. Shouldn’t, really.” The archer shrugged.

“They just don’t know you. Maybe you should give them a chance.” Aaron kept his persuasion in the doorway. He had gifted Daryl that space and was unwilling to step into it without an invitation he was unlikely to receive without asking.

“Better they don’t know me.”

There was a sigh that made Daryl curl his lip. “Just think about it, okay?” The shuffle of feet and the door opening signaled the other man’s exit.

Why should Daryl go? He had little interest in fitting in, even when his own group was making such an effort. Carol and Rick were wary and had whatever it was they had but Carol would tell him if she felt it necessary. Daryl was just plain wary, utterly uninterested. Most of them would likely be dead soon and he didn’t need anyone else to mourn.

So why he found himself showered and in a fresh set of clothing that was his own form of presentable was absolutely beyond him. It had nothing to do with the fact that on his walk home, he thought maybe you’d be at the party. Nope, nothing like that.

He had made it at least to the yard outside, watching the festivities through the window. Everyone he knew seemed so at ease in there. Dressed up, laughing and drinking. Mingling like they belonged there. He didn’t belong there.

“Nah.” He said softly before turning away. He was passing by Aaron’s house when a call of his name from that familiar voice had him stopping with a sigh. “Yeah?”

“You went. Good for you. Did you have a good time?” Aaron asked from the porch. Daryl shrugged. The man’s eyes narrowed and suddenly the archer was nervous, feeling judged. “You didn’t go in, did you?”

Daryl shook his head. “Just ain’t my thing.”

“Hey, you tried.”

“Why didn’t you go?” That wasn’t supposed to sound so accusatory but Daryl was tired and had simply had his fill of the day and that place.

“Eric’s ankle is still giving him trouble. We just thought it best to skip out on this one.”

This one? Christ. That insinuated there would be more. With an inward groan, he answered outwardly with a grunt.

“We’ve got dinner ready. More than can feed us. Can we tempt you?” The offer was sincere and Daryl was hungry, but his battery was running on fumes. He glanced toward his own home and then back at Aaron. “Eric makes a mean spaghetti, man. Come on, you’re already out.”

Daryl sighed. “Fine.” He was grateful for the invitation, he just sucked at showing it, as with almost every other emotion. Aaron held open the door and with a nod, the archer entered, still ill at ease being inside someone else’s home when his own still felt less than comfortable.

“Dorl.”

Before he could prepare himself, Nadia was latching onto his lower legs. Arms out awkwardly, he glared at Aaron. “Didn’t say she was here.”

The man just shrugged a shoulder. “Didn’t say she wasn’t either.”

“Hi, Daryl!” You came around the corner from the dining room, no doubt to gather your spawn but he couldn’t seem to form a thought around the smile you were giving him.

“Mama! Dorl!”

“I can see that, baby. You think you can let go so that he can walk?” Nadia shook her head with a vicious pout.

“Dorl up?”

“What?” He looked down at the toddler and back up at you, silently hoping you’d act as translator for the little gremlin.

“She wants you to pick her up. You don’t—”

For reasons unbeknownst to even him, he bent down and placed his hands beneath Nadia’s arms, lifting her onto his hip. It felt no different than holding Judith. Nadia was heavier of course.

“Dorl!” Chubby arms wrapped around his neck, her little cheek rubbing against his stubbled one. “Tickle.” She giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world and repeated the action.

You were still smiling but much more softly. “She really likes you.” Daryl grunted. “You don’t say much, do you?”

“Ain’t gotta lot to say.” He shrugged the shoulder Nadia’s chin was resting on, sending her into another fit of giggles. She pulled back suddenly, very in his space and then pressed her face against his cheek. He flinched but otherwise didn’t move. There was the smallest flutter that tickled his skin before she reared back again, smiling proudly. “What—”

“Butterfly kisses.” You informed, arms crossed but your smile hidden behind your hand.

“What the fu—heck’s that?”

“Oh come on, you never gave your mom butterfly kisses?” You chuckled.

Daryl felt nauseous at the mention of his mother. The only thing he’d shared with her were bruises and a few after-beating hugs. But you didn’t know him. He took the anger and locked it down, but it must have spilled into his expression.

“I’m sorry.” Your smile was gone, but to his surprise (and relief), there was no pity in your eyes. Only understanding. Still, it wasn’t a subject he cared to let linger.

He turned his attention to the child, who had developed a sudden interest in the hair over his ears. “Ya ever gave a Eskimo kiss?” He almost laughed out loud when Nadia’s eyes flew wide with wonder. She didn’t confirm or deny but the fact that she hadn’t moved was answer enough. “S’simple.” Daryl brought a hand up to the back of her head and gently urged her forward, rubbing the tip of his nose over hers. “There. Eskimo kiss.”

She kept those wide eyes as her little mouth began to spread open into one of the biggest smiles he’d ever seen on a kid, granted he hadn’t spent much time around any.

“Again!” She squealed, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him forward. He expected to have a bloody nose from the force with which she came at him, but her movements became deliberate and gentle, as if getting it right was the most important thing in the world.

Nadia was incredibly pleased with herself, her little hands patting against Daryl’s chest before she wiggled out her request for freedom and sprinted toward the dining room with this newfound information to share with Eric and Aaron.

“Careful.” You said, though there was no hint of anything unkind in your tone. When he looked away from the other room, he found your expression to be one he couldn’t seem to identify. It was soft yet guarded. He didn’t move away when you reached a single hand out to adjust his vest. “You’re smiling.” And you walked away, leaving him there to realize that he was indeed wearing a small, lopsided grin.

He shook it off with a groan, absolutely regretting his decision to come in for dinner.

“Dorl!” Came the loud shout from the table. “Dorl, sketti!”

This was not going to end well.

It had been two weeks since the spaghetti dinner, which in fact had ended rather pleasantly. Aside from your giggles when he realized he was eating his meal with the same gusto and manners as the toddler next to him, Aaron had offered him a job that let him go outside the walls. He’d accepted almost immediately.

Little Nadia had been determined to take him home with them, so he walked you there with her tiny hand in his. Halfway, she had begun to tire and fuss, instinct had kicked in and he scooped her up in the same manner he would Judith. The child was asleep on his shoulder almost instantly.

He had zero intention of entering your home and was thankful the kid was out cold so that she couldn’t initiate the suggestion. He had passed her off to you and started to leave.

“Daryl.” You had called quietly. He still wasn’t sure why he had turned back to you so quickly. “That invitation is still open.” You smiled, he grunted. “Thanks for being so sweet with her. Goodnight.”

There had been a heavy feeling in his chest but he had nodded. “G’night.”

Now, you and little Nadia were almost a constant presence when he wasn’t beyond the wall. A presence that he found no longer really irritated him.

He would sit on the porch with the kid, working on his crossbow while Nadia colored or played with toys. He had to find her some of her own to have there because it seemed she and Judith were at odds about Daryl’s attention. He had made the mistake of lifting lil’ asskicker out of her playpen while Nadia was on his heels and the latter had begun to wail.

He had quickly passed Jude off to an equally concerned Michonne and scooped up the kid. “S’wrong? Hey.” Little arms wrapped around his neck and, though he didn’t see the angry pout directed at the other baby, Michonne did. He turned at her chuckle, eyes wide and confused.

Before she could explain, those little arms squeezed harder. “My Dorl.”

From that moment on, he saved time with Judith for emergencies (there were none) and for after Nadia had gone home with you.

“Don’t touch that, Dia.” Daryl huffed, catching her little hand reaching for the knife he had on the porch table. He had spent the morning skinning a few squirrels for Carol to use in a stew but was at that point, working on the tension on his bow.

And babysitting.

You had some inventory to do at the infirmary with Pete. The doctor gave him bad vibes so when you had asked, he’d accepted all too quickly. Even offered to tag along and keep an eye on the kid there. In the end, after you had politely declined, he had reasoned that you were a grown woman and could handle yourself.

“Babysitting, again, hmm?”

Daryl glanced up from his crossbow toward Carol on the top step, Nadia already beaming up at her from the hug around her waist. It lasted all of three seconds before the kid was back to her toys beside Daryl’s boot.

“Mhm.” Was the only answer he offered, one that was mimicked from the little person below him. He didn’t smile but Carol didn’t miss the way his eyes left the weapon to regard Nadia for a moment before returning to the task.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, plopping down onto the other chair. She grabbed a toy that had rolled away and handed it back to the child.

“Some inventory shit at the infirmary.” Daryl shrugged, rotating the bow to check his work. Carol made a noise that gave him pause, one he didn’t like. “What?”

“No one’s at the infirmary. I was just there for Mr. Henderson’s blood pressure medication.”

He could feel his heartrate picking up, a sense of foreboding so strong that he could barely think straight. “Pete weren’t there?”

Carol shook her head. “No one.” She sat up straight when Daryl stood, sheathing his knife and placing his crossbow on the railing. “Daryl?”

“Dia, I’m gonna be right back. You’re gonna stay with Carol for a few minutes. Tell me the rules.”

Nadia’s wide eyes narrowed into seriousness. “No bow. No move. Be good. No shit.” It took her a moment to babble through the small list but Daryl ruffled her hair with the smallest of half smiles.

“No shit, Daryl?”

He was already stepping off the porch. “Her mama hears ‘er sayin’ that an’ m’a dead man.”

Carol laughed and shook her head, turning her attention to the little human that was already working up to a cry as Daryl walked out of sight. “Do you like cookies, Nadia?”

He checked the infirmary first. He didn’t doubt Carol, but maybe she had missed a room or something. It was, as Carol had said, empty. “Fuck.” The next most logical place would be your home. He ran the entire way. He’d feel like an absolute fool if you were fine, but he’d cross that bridge later. The door was open, he could see that from the moment he rounded the curb. You had a habit of doing that and he hated it, but who was he to tell you what to do?

“Y/N?” He took your steps two at a time and stopped on the threshold. “Y/N? Are ya here?” No answer. He felt like shit the moment his boot touched the floor inside. He’d never taken you up on an invitation for the dinner you continuously offered him, much less any offer to simply come inside. Now here he was tearing room to room, in your safe space. There were covered pots on the stove and the oven was on, but where were you? “Y/N!” He placed a booted foot on the bottom stair before your voice stunned him frozen.

“Daryl?”

He nearly collapsed in relief.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Nadia? Daryl?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Carol.” He rasped, sheathing his knife when he saw you staring at it. Your hair was wet, your clothes damp. You must have been in the shower. “M’sorry. Carol said ya weren’t at the—just got worried. M’sorry.” His eyes had lowered to the stairs below you but then your bare feet were padding down them to stop directly in front of him. “I’ll, uh—lemme go get ‘er.” He had barely moved before your hand was on his shoulder. To his shock, he didn’t flinch; didn’t even have the urge.

“Are you okay?” You asked, ducking your head to seek out his gaze. He continued to expertly dodge.

“M’fine. Just—I’ll go get Dia.” He stepped away and out of the loose grip you had on him, immediately missing the warmth of your hand. What the hell was wrong with him?

“I was making us dinner.” The words rushed out of you, like you were trying to get them out before he could leave. Daryl looked over his shoulder from the doorway, an eyebrow arched. “Us. Me, Nadia, and—well, you.”

“Me? Why?” He hadn’t meant to sound so unkind, ungrateful, but that was just who he was down deep, wasn’t it? Still, you seemed unbothered, your nervousness born of something else entirely.

“Because Nadia likes you. I like you. We’d like to spend time with you that doesn’t involve me asking for favors or the entire community leering and making assumptions.”

He still hadn’t fully turned, but narrowed his eyes. “Think they ain’t gonna make assumptions when ya have me in your house?”

“Fair point.” You nodded, chuckling. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what they think but I worry that you do.” Head tilted, Daryl turned but remained in the doorway. “You seem so private, quiet. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth for a moment. “So, will you come? Please?”

As much as he tried, he couldn’t sense a single ounce of dishonesty or ill intent in you. It was certainly there, wasn’t it? No one outside of the group that had grown to like him over months of death and sorrow wanted anything to do with him. So, why you? Why Nadia? “Alright, I’ll go get ‘er an’ be back.” He turned and took a step before you called out again.

“Don’t worry about changing or anything. Just bring you, okay?”

He nodded around the very foreign flutter in his chest, clearing his throat and leaving the house before he could overthink things right there in front of you. He’d be able to do that in abundance on the way to grab the kid.

To say he was confused was the largest of understatements. You were a beautiful woman. Where was Nadia’s father? In that world, the absence usually meant he was either dead or had willingly left, which he couldn’t fathom either. Was the kid the reason all the single men weren’t knocking down your door? That couldn’t be it. Nadia was amazing, all bright smiles and such an innocence that was refreshing in a world as dark it was.

Even if you did have suitors, why were you taking the time to get to know him? He was damn sure nothing special and had nothing to offer you. Daryl growled at himself. He was jumping the gun. You hadn’t expressed any real interest in him. You wanted to have dinner. Aaron and Eric had him over for dinner all the time. It was what friends did. He was your friend after all. He had to be for you to trust him with Nadia. He snorted. Maybe that was all the brat’s doing and you were just along for the ride.

His shoulders were slumped, feet dragging by the time he made it back to his house, already opening his arms in expectation of the bundle of Nadia that would be leaping into them any moment. “Dorl!”

“She was about to strap on your crossbow and come find you herself.” Carol teased from the doorway.

“I was barely gone twenty minutes, kid.” He nodded to Carol and turned back to take Nadia home. “Your mama’s at home makin’ something for supper. Ya hungry?”

“Mmmmhmmmm!” Little legs were swinging while bright eyes watched the street in front of them, her arms loosely around his neck, trusting him to not let her fall. And he would never. Daryl craned his head to look at her, all dark hair and big blue eyes. She could pass as his own kid to anyone who didn’t know better.

Whoa. That train of that was roughly derailed.

Easily done when the top of her head leaned against his temple and she began to hum some tune he didn’t know. It calmed his anxiety enough to not eat him from the inside out before he made it back to your house. Nadia was wiggling to be lowered before he could even get her to the steps. Much to her annoyance (if her little growl and pout were anything to go by), he didn’t place her on her feet until they were on the porch.

The door was still open and, man, he really wanted you to stop doing that.

“Mama!” Nadia squealed, running right into your arms.

“Hi, baby! Did you have fun with Daryl today?” You hefted her onto your hip, your face turned toward hers even though your smile was aimed at the archer.

“We always have fun.” He was close enough to ruffle the kid’s hair without invading your space.

“No shit!” Nadia proclaimed with her arms in the air. You were smiling but your eyebrows shot up toward your hairline. Daryl cleared his throat.

“M’a tell Carol to watch ‘er mouth.”

“Carol. Right.” You chuckled. You started to reach for his arm but must have thought better of it and motioned toward the dining room instead. He found he was disappointed. “Go ahead and sit down wherever. There’s some wine and water already there.”

Daryl liked wine. He’d partake when at Aaron and Eric’s for dinner but here? He wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. The table could seat six but there were three places set, the middle chair holding a booster seat. He didn’t sit, wouldn’t until you did. Instead he noticed how close the glasses of wine were sitting to Nadia’s place and took the liberty of moving each of them to the other side. Not that the kid would bother them but it just felt—right?

“Alright, kiddo. You get to eat first.” You weren’t carrying Nadia anymore but she was right behind you, looking up at the bowl of pasta like a pup that was about to get its kibble. Daryl was already lifting the kid into her seat when you turned from placing the bowl on the table. “Thank you.” You did touch his arm then. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll be right back.”

Nadia had apparently chosen his spot for him, patting the back of the chair to her left. Chewing on the side of his thumb, he glanced toward the kitchen. Wasn’t he supposed to pull your chair out for you or something? Aaron had.

“No, no, Dorl.” Nadia pulled at his elbow, earning a halfhearted scowl before he realized she was trying to get him to stop the anxious habit.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, not sure why he was apologizing when she just went back to dancing and eating once he had dropped his hand. He watched her for a moment, just being a kid, innocent and oblivious to the dangers and heartache that lay in wait just outside of Alexandria’s protective walls. She and you—just two more people for him to mourn in the end. What was he doing there? He had no business being in your lives. If he didn’t lose the two of you, then you would lose him. It was inevitable. It was fate. It was the way the world worked now, tirelessly snuffing out any semblance of light that could give someone like him hope.

And goddamnit, he’d be devastated. He adored your kid and though he couldn’t quite decipher what it was that he felt for you, he knew that if anything happened to you, he’d shatter.

“Daryl?”

“What?” He snapped out of reflex, not fully out of his head before he had realized you were speaking. You flinched, the pasta in the two bowls you were holding bounced but didn’t spill. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” The bowls were placed on the table and a basket of fresh bread that he hadn’t noticed you had already brought out. How long had he been standing there?

“Yeah, uh—yeah, m’fine.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very trapped in the small room. It wasn’t really that small, was it? “M’just—” He didn’t finish before he all but ran to the door, closing it behind him like he really wished you would start doing. He had a cigarette lit within seconds, trembling fingers bringing it to his lips for a long drag.

Pale light from inside cascaded around him as the door opened. You didn’t move any closer, obviously staying near Nadia while the little girl ate. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” Lie.

“Come back inside?” You requested after glancing toward Nadia, finding her eating her pasta elegantly with her fingers. Daryl said nothing, wasn’t even sure he could, but he flicked his cigarette toward the sidewalk and stood, walking past you with but a beat of hesitance.

Despite Nadia’s excitement at his return, he remained quiet, but offered the kid a ghost of a smile when she offered a bite of her own food. Disgruntled at his refusal, she wore her own version of a scowl and continued to eat. You had taken your seat, giving the bread basket a tiny shove toward the archer.

“Thanks.” He mumbled. He wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. Staring at his food, he questioned whether the way he usually ate might disgust you. It was never something he actively thought about. He grew up in a home where he snatched what he could get and ate it quickly before someone could take it or reprimand him for it. It was nearly the same now that the world had ended. Thankful for any scrap of food, but quick to make sure it was gone before someone came ready to fight for it.

“If you think any louder, I might be able to hear it.”

Daryl glanced up, unable to meet your eyes. You were swirling the wine around in the glass with your gaze settled on him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just dinner, Daryl.”

With a barely there nod, he picked up his fork and began to eat, slowly and carefully, not noticing the way you watched him with a quizzical expression.

Nadia was having a hard time keeping her head up by the time dinner was finished, her little eyes closing before snapping open with a jerk of her head.

“Time for bed.” You announced, attempting to wipe her face around languid movements of annoyance. “Come on, baby.” Lifting her from the chair, you tilted your head when she leaned her upper body back toward Daryl, reaching out with lazy, grabby hands.

“Dorl night night.”

Halfway out of his seat, he froze. “Think ya should, uh—your mama should handle this’un, Dia.” She didn’t seem to have it in her to argue, flopping onto your shoulder. You managed to hold up a finger, asking him to wait while you put Nadia to bed. He did, but busied himself gathering the dishes, taking them to the sink, and rinsing them out as Carol had trained him to do. “Wow, my very own human dishwasher. Can I keep you?”

Daryl felt the heat rise in his face, traveling down to his chest and up to the tips of his ears. “Stop.” God, you were just as bad as Carol.

“Daryl.”

Oh, boy. Your tone had gone from playful to serious in two seconds flat. His stomach was in knots but he dared not turn around and rinsed the same bowl at least three times. “Hmm?”

“I’d like to see, uh—I’d like it if you'd come around more often. Tonight was—it was nice.”

And there it was. The one thing that had caused him so much inner turmoil now confirmed. You were interested and, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. When he finally managed to get his tongue to work, the words that spilled out were nothing like the ones running through his head and he regretted them immediately. “Where’s Dia’s daddy?” Christ, Dixon. “M’sorry.” He tried to backpedal, finally turning toward you and leaning back against the sink with a white-knuckled grip against the edge of the countertop. “Ain’t my business.”

“Gone. I don’t really give a fuck where.” You shrugged, so nonchalantly that he had to look at you. “He didn’t want her. Nearly got himself killed finding pills for me to take. I refused, he left. But I have her and I hope he’s a walker.” Your gaze was fond but serious, and he found not a single trace of annoyance or anger. “She’s never really liked men. Even Aaron and Eric had to coax her inside for dinner with a stale candybar.” You laughed at the memory, and Daryl realized he could listen to that sound for the rest of his life. “But then you. She wasn’t afraid, not for a single second.”

“It was the ‘possum.” He shrugged, shyly ducking his head for only a moment but looking back up through his fringe when you laughed again.

“Okay, we can go with that.” You lifted yourself up onto the island, kicking your legs, reminding him of Nadia. “Doesn’t really explain why she stuck to you like glue every moment since then, though. Dorl this and Dorl that. I’m not complaining. You’re good for her.” Daryl scoffed, ducking his head once more. “You are, Daryl. And I think she might be good for you too.”

“She’s a kid. Don’t know no better.” He shrugged, the urge to run becoming more and more prevalent. He didn’t belong there. It wasn’t his family. Nadia wasn’t his kid and you weren’t his. God, he wished you were.

You hummed, holding back something. “I had fun tonight, but when you come back, don't worry so much about what I think, okay?” The way he tried to eat more slowly?

“Yeah, okay. Was nice. Thanks, uh—thanks for havin’ me.” The archer made the choice to pass you and head for the door. Your bare feet hit the floor just behind him. “I’ll see ya ‘round. Lemme know if ya need someone to watch Dia.” Why the hell did he offer that?

“I will. Thank you.” The smile you gave him was almost sad. Maybe disappointed? “Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Yeah. Night.” He crossed the threshold but turned back, keeping his head low. “Keep your door shut.” There was no time for you to answer before he was jogging down your steps, barely slowing his stride all the way home. All the lights were off when he arrived and he couldn’t be more grateful to slip in and down to his room to berate himself properly until he was finally able to fall asleep.

Logically, he should have avoided you since that night, but Daryl never claimed to be the brightest crayon in the box. He absolutely did not look for reasons to go to your house, satisfied to find the door closed each and every time. If he saw you carrying something, he’d jog over to take it from you, no matter how big or small. He responded by meeting Nadia in the middle each time she called for him, even if he was covered in dark blood and brain matter.

“Dorl smell ick.” She would say.

He was down bad and though he would deny it until his last breath with the age old line of we’re just friends, Carol was smarter than that.

“Daryl, you and I are friends. You’re sweet on that girl and you can fight me if you try to claim any different.” She stirred at the brownie batter, intermittently swatting away his hand when he tried to sneak a taste. “You should just tell her how you feel.”

“Stop actin’ like ya know ev’rythin’.” He snapped with no real heat.

“Okay, fine. I know nothing.” She stated coolly, spreading the mixture into a baking pan. “Except that Spencer has been spending an awful lot of time around her and Nadia.”

Well, that had his attention. “What? When?” He hopped off the countertop and was quickly standing just beside Carol, moving accordingly so that she could continue her baking.

“Usually when you’re out. I think you intimidate him.”

“Damn well better intimidate him.”

“Why? You’re ‘just friends,’ remember?” Daryl curled his lip at her air quotes, turning on a heel to head toward the door.

“Shuddup.”

He hadn’t been focused, lingering on what Carol had told him that morning. Worrying that Spencer was putting the moves on you that very moment he wasn’t there to do anything about it. What if he’d missed his chance? He growled, trying to take more of his own weight off of Aaron but his leg burned and ached.

“Ain’t that bad.” He tried to brush it off, but it was, in fact, that bad. He hadn’t seen the damn trap, the walker backing him right onto it. He was lucky the dead bastard didn’t take a chunk of him when he went down, but Aaron was quick. Had Daryl been alone, he’d likely be snarling and growling on the ground with his calf still locked within that metal.

“Keep telling yourself that and maybe your stubbornness will keep you on your feet until we can make it back.” The other man huffed. “First Eric, now you. I swear, I’m cursed.” Daryl groaned but couldn’t disagree.

Christ. The archer’s head was fucked. He couldn’t focus with images of you running rampant at the forefront of his mind. The way you would smile when you saw him; how you’d laugh when he’d huff at Dia for calling him Dorl; you’d have him for dinner a few times a week and it was less and less awkward.

He was so fucked.

“Open the gate!” Aaron called urgently. Daryl hadn’t even been paying attention but maybe zoning out was what brought him that far with such an injury. The toe of his boot was dragging, his leg both numb and throbbing in a way he couldn’t seem to understand was even possible. Sasha was yelling, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. He was too busy trying to look over his shoulder at the steady crimson trail that followed them. Would walkers follow it right to the gates? “Jesus, okay. I’m going to get help to carry you to the infirmary.”

“Fuck Pete. Gimme Y/N or just take me home.” Daryl slurred, his head falling back against the metal just inside the gates. He was fading, tired and smothered by a dark cloud that was creeping into the edges of his vision and mind. He knew he wouldn’t die from this, but damn, did it still suck.

“Dorl! Mama, Dorl boo-boo!”

Tiny, warm hands were on his face. He was cold, didn’t even realize it. Big blue eyes were hovering right in front of his face, a little mouth between chubby cheeks speaking with an urgency that made him want to scoop her up and soothe the worry. “Dia.” He breathed, his mind finally catching up, though he wasn’t sure for how long.

“Nada kiss boo-boo.”

Daryl chuckled breathlessly but pulled the little girl against his chest. “Nah, baby girl, don’t kiss that boo-boo. S’gross.” Big crocodile tears were forming and falling, and his heart ached. His little girl was never supposed to cry, never supposed to even be sad. “M’okay. Your mama’s gonna make it all better, you’ll see.”

“Mama, Dorl got big boo-boo.”

“I see that, baby. Can you move so mommy can take a look?” You were there, your voice a balm to the pain that was slowly fading.

“She’s alright.” Daryl shifted Nadia to his side, letting her hold on with her head on his filthy chest. You’d have to give her a bath later and somehow, he had the energy to feel bad about that.

“Jesus, Daryl, what did you do?” You were cutting the lower part of his pant leg, right there on the street, but he didn’t have it in him to see who might be watching. He muttered bear trap but didn’t really recall it being his voice. Was it even him?

The child holding to him made a noise when the wound was revealed, jagged punctures that still steadily bled and she shouldn’t be seeing that. Why wasn’t someone taking her away? “Ssh. S’okay, Dia. Just look at me—can ya hum that song ya always do when we take ya home?” A tiny sniffle but then a little tune in his ear.

“What happened? He okay?” Rick.

“Daryl!” Ah, Carol. Good.

“Hey, take her, would ya? Don’t need to be here.” He was gentle if not weak when he tried to hand off Nadia, kissing one of her little hands when he finally peeled them away from his neck. “M’a be okay, Dia.” She cried. Even as Carol promised her cookies and brownies, she cried and his heart ached more than his leg. He barely caught the word disinfect before the hellfire in his leg struck him like a hammer to the head and he knew no more.

“S’not that big’a deal. I can take care’a myself at home.” Daryl grimaced and watched you moving things around in your living room. You disappeared and returned several moments later with pillows and blankets.

“I know you can, but I also know you’re stubborn as a mule and you’ll try to go out of those gates behind Aaron within a day.” He barely opened his mouth before you held up an authoritative finger. “Don’t lie to me, Daryl Dixon. And don’t pretend I don’t know at least a little by now.”

“Dorl!”

Before he could process her voice, the archer had a lapful of toddler. It was hazy but he could remember how he felt at the gate, the protective instinct, the absolute knowledge that Nadia was his no matter how untrue it was. He couldn’t seem to shake it.

“Hey, Dia.”

“Be careful of his boo-boo, sweetie.” You admonished in the most gentle tone while propping Daryl’s leg up on a pillow. “He’s going to stay with us for a few days so I can keep an eye on him.”

“Why?” Came the innocent reply.

“Because Daryl is naughty and doesn’t like to listen when he’s told he can’t do something. Like you with Miss Carol’s cookies.”

Nadia gasped dramatically and turned those big blues to Daryl. “Dorl takes cookies.”

Glancing at you, expression bland, he nodded. “Yeah, I take the cookies.”

“So he has to stay right here on this couch unless mommy is helping him, okay? Can you be my junior nurse and make sure he stays put?”

“That ain’t fair.” Daryl objected with an indignant pout.

“Why? Because you know it’ll work?”

Daryl grunted and crossed his arms. He was in for a long few days.

A week later, the stitches were out but there was residual swelling that was hindering healing. Nothing to worry about, you had told him.

“Why ain’t Ken wearin’ no clothes?” Daryl was concerned to be ‘playing Barbies’ when Barbie wore a bathing suit and Ken was naked as the day he was—assembled? So far he’d been able to avoid dialogue and just bounce the doll around with facial expressions that kept the toddler occupied. “Seems a lil’ fucked up.”

“You try finding doll clothes nowadays.” There was laughter in your voice and tenderness in your touch while you cleaned the wound and changed the dressings. Only a couple more days of that.

“Maybe I will.” The archer mused, standing the doll on top of Nadia’s head, keeping it there with his finger on the top. Her little arms could only reach the legs, facing reddening and scrunching with giggles.

“Time to pick up your toys. Daryl needs to rest and you, missy, need to get to bed.”

“Noooooo.”

“Don’t sass your mama.” Daryl dropped the doll in favor of patting the kid on the head. “G’on now.” The archer dropped an arm outward, fully expecting the hug that was incoming. “Night, kid.”

“Nigh’ night’, dada.”

It was at that moment Daryl Dixon completely forgot how to breathe. His eyes were already on yours before the kid decided to drop that bomb and skip away to brush her teeth like she hadn’t just turned his world upside down.

“M’sorry. M’so sorry. I don’t—she didn’t—”

“I’m just—” you interrupted, backing toward the doorway, “I need to put her to bed.” You stumbled out of the room as if he were chasing you.

He wasn’t sure he could move if he tried. His heart was in his nose, his stomach in his ass, and his lungs were plaited around his spine. Why would the kid call him dada? It made no sense. A couple of months wasn’t long enough for anything like that. Right? Fuck, he needed to talk to Carol. His brain was malfunctioning. He couldn’t process this.

Throwing off the blankets, Daryl sat up, levering to his feet. He still had a limp but it was easier now. Shuffling to the exit, he stopped, staring at the handle of the closed door. You’d been doing that now, hadn’t you? He said something once and you had listened.

“So you’re just gonna run away after that, is that it?”

The archer spun so fast that he lost his balance, righting himself with a hand on the wall. “It ain’t—I was—just needed to talk to Carol.” He admitted. His shirt was damp and he was certain he would vomit.

“She didn’t mean anything by it, Daryl. I’ll talk to her.” You were wringing your hands, your chin wobbling.

Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. He had the sudden desire to hug you but didn’t dare move. Aside from casual touches, bumping shoulders in jest, and of course the occasional wound treatment, the two of you had never physically interacted. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Wow, had he thought about it. “I know she didn’t mean nothin’.” Ouch. Somehow that revelation was worse.

“She loves you, Daryl. I’ll talk to her, I promise. Please don’t walk out on her. On—on me.”

He likely looked like an idiot hobbling half the distance to where you stood. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” When you nodded and dropped your head, he dared another unsteady step. “M’a stay as long as ya want me here. You an’ Dia.” With one hand, he touched your shoulder and left the decision up to you. You needed no further prompting to step into his arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered. But then you were stepping back.

“Okay.” You nodded, turning your head to wipe away a tear you thought he didn’t already notice. “I like having you here.” He returned the nod silently.

Nothing else was said. Daryl went back to the couch, you went to get ready for bed. The night went on with both you and Daryl feeling more alone than ever.

“She really called you dada?” Carol asked in an excited whisper, the wide grin on her face in direct contrast to Daryl’s frown. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“No!” He shot back immediately, looking over his shoulder at the little girl playing on the living room floor. They had somehow even managed to get her to sit next to Judith’s playpen, so long as Daryl didn’t touch Lil’ Asskicker, peace remained. “I mean, yeah. Fuck, I dunno what I mean, Carol.”

“Daryl.” The seriousness in her tone brought his gaze to hers, flinching when he found her leaning on her elbows much closer than she had been just a moment ago. “I’m gonna ask you a question and I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Ain’t never lied to ya.”

“Okay.” Her eyes, just as blue as his own, narrowed. “Do you love that little girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” It was true. It was so different from how he loved Judith but yet completely the same. He would give anything for her to have been his, to have been there while you carried her. He wanted to spit on the man that tried to force you to end it. He couldn’t imagine a world without you and little Nadia anymore. It was as if the two of you were the missing pieces that could give him a chance to be whole.

“And Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do you love Y/N?” Carol leaned back a little, her gaze no less intense.

“S’a lil’ more—I, uh—”

“I said STOP!”

Daryl was on his feet instantly at the sound of your voice, running outside. His limp was less profound and didn’t hinder him from descending the steps to see you across the street with your arm in Spencer’s grasp. You were likely on your way to collect Nadia.

“Come on, Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Spencer pulled you toward him.

“You’re delusional!”

“Stop being such a prude. You’ve got a kid. You think you got any other options out there?”

“Yeah! She does!” Daryl’s fist had already connected before the other man had even realized he was approaching. The archer stepped in front of you and stayed there, coiled to attack but holding steady until he was given a reason.

“You?” Spencer spat, literally, a glob of blood and saliva landing next to Daryl’s boot. “The dirty redneck everyone’s afraid of? That’s laughable.”

Daryl started to move until he felt the smallest tug on his jeans. Nadia was looking up at him, equal parts curious and afraid.

“Dada mad?”

Your arms encircled his stomach with whispers of he’s not worth it repeated over his shoulder. “Get the fuck outta here an’ don’t come near my girls again.” The archer waited, arching a brow when Spencer hesitated.

“You heard him.” Rick stepped up to Daryl’s left, Michonne and Carol on this right. “Best be going now.” Spitting again, the man curled his lip and scrambled to his feet, stomping off toward his mother’s home. “Well, that’s gonna be a problem.”

“I’ll go talk to Deanna.” Maggie offered, nodding at Rick but stopping to squeeze Daryl’s arm on her way by. What the fuck? Had everyone noticed?

“We should make ourselves scarce.” Michonne suggested with a knowing grin.

Once they were all out of sight, Daryl deflated, one hand falling to the top of Nadia’s head. “Ain’t angry, Dia.” She sniffled and seemed to only hug his leg tighter. When it was clear he couldn’t turn with the added weight to his injured leg, you stepped around in front of him.

“Your girls?” You asked, expression so terrifyingly unreadable.

“I just—he needed to leave an’ I didn’t want him to think he could come back ‘round.” His bottom lip was instantly being gnawed between his teeth. “Needed to make sure ya were okay.”

“So, we’re not your girls?” There was definitely disappointment there. You were wringing your hands again before reaching toward Nadia.

“I mean, if ya—yeah.” Daryl swallowed hard. “Yeah, you’re my girls. Have been for a while. M’just a idiot an’ I was—I’m scared. Don’t wanna be like my old man.”

You hummed, stepping into him to brush back the fringe across his eyes. “You haven’t told me anything about your parents, but I’m willing to listen. I wanna know everything about you.”

“Me too—’bout you, I mean. ‘Bout Dia.” He was reaching for your face, leaning in just as you did. His lips barely brushed yours before there came another tug at his jeans again.

“Home, dada.”

You laughed while Daryl just looked stricken and confused. “You heard her, Daryl. Let’s go home and figure this out.”

One Year Later

“Daddy! Lookit picture!!”

Daryl looked up from the mess of rabbits he was skinning on the porch, blowing upward to move some of the hair from his eyes. The almost four year old was sprinting down the street from the Grimes’ house, a piece of paper waving in her grip above her head. He waved to Michonne who had been watching Nadia make it back safely. “Whatcha got there, Dia?” She was grinning from ear to ear when she presented it to him, holding it out in front of her because ew no when he reached for it with bloody fingers.

There were three stick figures. One was obviously him if the crazy hair and scribbled attempt at a crossbow were anything to go by. A small figure was at his side, dark hair and a big smile: Nadia. And then there was you. Daryl snorted. You were a stick figure with a circle drawn around the middle.

“Your mama’s gonna ‘preciate that, kid.”

“Appreciate what?” You stepped out with two glasses of water, placing them on the table and resting your hand on your swollen belly. Nadia proudly displayed the drawing and received a big smile and mhm, so pretty from you while Daryl snickered into his shoulder. “Go put it on the fridge, baby, and wash your hands. Supper’s nearly ready.”

“Okay, mama!” And off she went in a blur.

“Not funny, Dixon.” You dug your bare toes into his lower back until he yelped.

“S’a little funny.” He wiped his knife across his jeans.

“About as funny as you cleaning these rabbits on my front porch.” He ducked his head sheepishly when he turned to watch you lower into your chair.

“I’ll clean it up, Sunshine. Don’t get all uppity ‘bout it.” Rising from his perch, he gathered the meat onto a parchment you had given him and wrapped it, leaving the bones and fur to handle later. “Dia! C’mere!” Moving at inhuman speed, she was looking up at him from the doorway the next second. Daryl jerked his chin toward a bag on the table beside his water glass. “Broughtcha somethin’ back.”

You leaned forward with curiosity and watched your daughter pull out the contents of the bag, barely catching a glimpse of the different colors before Nadia hugged Daryl’s leg and disappeared back inside with squeals of delight echoing in her wake.

“What did you bring her?”

Daryl smirked. “Told ya I’d find clothes for them dolls.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #step dad!daryl #dad!daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon twd #Spotify

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drac-kool-aid · 11 months

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I like the reading that the Romani did actually try to post Jonathan's letters, that they were caught by Dracula, and he then lied about their duplicity to Jonathan. It's clearly not the read that Bram intended, but he's dead, and I'm not. (Yes, that was a Death of the Author joke)

Anyway, let's take this a logical step further! In a mirroring of what he did with the three roommates, what if this was another "test" both for Jonathan and the Romani.

He knows he's going to have to start having people around again soon to help with the arrangements for the trip, but (if you ascribe to the idea that he hadn't initially planned to let Jonathan live after his initial use was done) he hadn't accounted for his captive to still be running about the castle.

He's already seen proof that Gothic Heroine Jonathan Harker has the power to turn even the most cowed peasants to his side, as seen by the townsfolk and the carriage folk already, so now he's got to nip this in the bud because Jonathan needs to think he is isolated, needs to view him as his only form of safety.

So, Dracula carefully keeps watch, and lo and behold, the Romani DO attempt to help Jonathan. Well, it's a good thing he anticipated this.

So, he interrupts the delivery of the letters, maybe pushes the idea that he's omniscient of all that goes on in Castle Dracula cause who's going to call him out and people are less likely to attempt anything if they are under constant surveillance, maybe maims or kills a few people to really push the consequences of helping again.

Okay, that's one part done. Now, for Jonathan, he can once more enforce the idea that Jonathan can only turn to him for protection, increase his feelings of isolation, and destroy his trust. He can happily torment him as he sees fit, and everyone is too shaken by their disastrous first attempt to try again.

Anyway, long story short, interpreting the text as "maybe the Romani people are good and aren't a racist caricature" actually gives a more interesting reading. Also, it allows them to parralel Jonathan's plight as people who are forced due to circumstances to obey Dracula, as he is the least likely to kill them right this second.

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #gothic heroine jonathan harker #dracula tends to get tired of people playing hero really fast #and that's when he gets really cruel about it #it would fit with his previous “tests” ones he knows Jonathan is going to fail #and likely planned it so that he would

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angelbarelywrites · 8 days

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♡ good one | thomas hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003 + 2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Brown Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; references to extreme violence, stockholm syndrome i suppose?, kidnapping

♡ notes; this was literally supposed to be porn but instead here’s some weird sappy stuff lol

anyways hopefully more fics soon, writers block and rehearsals have been a bitch and a half

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

It was a wonder you were still alive. That’s what you thought about, sitting and fidgeting in the strange bedroom with your ankle shackled. Was shackled the right word if it was tied with rope? Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were fairly certain you’d fall prey to the crazy folks running around the place soon enough. The group you’d hitched a ride with was already long gone- one you’d watched get shot point blank by the bullshit sheriff. The others….well, you heard the chainsaw and the screaming. It was an easy conclusion to come to, especially after you saw the bloody smears on the hardwood downstairs.

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been hacked into bits yet. You’d been indistinguishable from the others- just another wandering twenty-something with tight clothes and next to no money. The only thing you could think of was that gas station. Your companions had been such dicks to the lady at the counter- of course you apologized to her. She’d been just as kind in return, she even snuck a candy into your bag of sodas and snacks. She was the one who’d sent you that way, towards the farm house.

You stilled, train of thought lost as you heard footsteps. Heavy and slow- they were somehow more intimidating than any angry stomping could have been. You curled your legs up defensively, eyes trained on the door. The person stood there more than a second, silent and just as still as you were holding. If you hadn’t been listening so intently, you would have thought they turned and walked away. But then there was some quiet mumbling- a woman’s voice, maybe?- and the door creaked open.

“Go on Tommy dear- I found a good one for you.”

You’d never seen a man so tall- with shoulders so broad or arms and torso so solid. He was massive. He was terrifying. And he was attractive. Once your eyes unglued themselves from his figure you finally took in the rest. Dark, thick shoulder-length waves. A mask that seemed useless as any sort of medical device thanks to the open mouth. Eyes that were dark but not brown. Maybe blue, maybe gray..maybe just pure black. Like a shark’s. In other circumstances you'd be reduced to a puddle on floor over him. But the bloodstains on his shirt didn’t go unnoticed.

You watched him closely, and he watched you just as alertly, stalking forward like some jungle cat…No. Wait. That wasn’t right. He didn’t look scared, but he was cautious, keeping some distance. Maybe a better allegory would be he looked like he was trying to corner a feral kitten- not wanting you to swipe or dart away. As if doing either was possible. You were frozen with fear, though found the courage to lean back a bit as he stepped forward. He grunted softly and persisted, nearly trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

Love at first sight was a stupid fucking concept. That you’d always believe. Maybe something in you just broke that same moment, maybe you were just too exhausted to think even close to straight. Maybe both. But when you and this massive man locked eyes, there was an instant understanding. He was already yours- and more importantly, you’d be his. He just had to stake his claim.

“…you’re Tommy?” You practically whispered. He nodded quickly. You got a sense he didn’t speak much, but you told him your name in return and tried to think of anything to talk about to stall the inevitable. “…you killed those people?” You blurted for some godforsaken reason. He tensed, still hovering over you. “It’s okay.” You added quickly “I didn’t actually know them. They were kinda mean.”

He furrowed his brow just a bit and searched your face, for any signs that you were lying. Before he came to a conclusion, you gave a soft sigh, instinctively leaning into the hand that had raised your face to him. Something immediately softened about him, and he rubbed your cheek in awe. The sleepy giggle it caused seemed almost to startle him. It was like no one had ever been that soft with him. Maybe they hadn’t. “….this is your room right? Can we sleep?”

Tommy still seemed in shock but carefully nodded, undoing his apron and seeming at a loss of what to do next. He frowned a bit as he noticed your bindings and quickly undid the knot that kept you stuck there. His guard was down- you could try to run. But you didn’t want to. Doing so would only be tiring. You wanted to let go. So instead you smiled softly and simply opened your arms, letting him cuddle up with you. It took him a minute to get settled, and all the while treating you so delicately… like you were made of glass. He looked up at you, again searching your face in near confusion. He grunted in surprise as you pecked his forehead. His mama really did find him a good one.

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #thomas hewitt #tcm #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #tcm 2006 #tcm 2003 #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #gender neutral reader #g/n reader

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alastors-antlers · 3 months

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Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

#hazbin hotel #aroace alastor #alastor analysis #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel spoilers #asexual #asexuality #hazbin alastor meta #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #alastor #hazbin meta #hazbin analysis

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kichikichiko · 2 months

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Hello! I hope you're having a good time,I would like to request Kazuha and scaramouche with a gender neutral reader Who almost died protecting them?

If you don't feel comfortable doing this, don't do it. Thank you so much!

Don't you dare leave me!

HELLO HI EVERYONE! HAPPY (BELATED) NEW YEARS! 😻😻😻🌟🌟🌟

I've had this request in my ask box for MONTHS and Ive planned to write it when I got it but ykkkk life happens.

Ty Anon for sending this in and sorry it took me this long to write your request 💔

Synopsis: How your partner would react to when you risk your life to save them.

Pairing: Kazuha x Gn! Reader and Scara x Gn! Reader

Cw: Semi proof-read, Fluff, headcanon, slight blood mention, cursing for Scara, Established relationship (Kazuha), kiss at the end (Scara)

──────•❥❥❥•──────

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA ¤ Scarlet leaves pursue wild waves

It was around the time the Raiden Shogun declared the vision hunting decree, and right after Kazuha's dear friend Tomo passed trying to withsand the musou no hitotachi.

You were away for training with your teacher. And as you walked home you heard of the commotion on the streets

"That guy died from the Shogun's strike" "what was he thinking?! He is obviously no match for the Shogun"

Hearing all of the whispers made you a little worried. And something told you that it was terrible news. What if that was someone you knew personally?

Assuring yourself that it's probably just some stupid samurai off the streets is what you did. Trying to block out all the whisperd and worries of the city folk.

Until you heard his name from a group of people talking about what just happened. "...Kaedehara...."

Your boyfriend who you haven't seen since this morning. You stopped on your tracks and turned around hoping you heard that wrong.

"What did you say?"

"Pardon?" The person asked.

"The name." You repeated "the name you mentioned before, what was it again?"

"Kaedehara. Kaedehara Kazuha?" The person said confused by your expression growing more and more distraught by the second

"What happened to him? Did he..." you couldnt even get yourself to finish that sentence. You didnt want to believe that HE was the one who challenged the Raiden Shogun

"No dont worry (miss/sir) it's not him who died. Its another guy, but Kaedehara was seen on the scene taking the dead vision and running off. From what I've heard he's running away right now"

Without wasting another second you booked it to the nearest port. You had no idea if he was going to be there as he escaped but it's worth the shot anyways.

Panting and gasping through the bamboo forest while thinking about the fate of your boyfriend isn't the best combination.

"What if he got caught?" "What if he already left?" "What if that stranger was mistaken?" The what if questions were not helping you at all.

So all you did was to hope. Hope that he is still alive, hope that he is still in Inazuma

Your legs were killing you and your lungs feel like they're about to explode if you don't stop running. But you can't

You need to see Kazuha.

As if the Archon's heard your prayers, all of a sudden you hear a guard shouting in a distance "Kaedehara Kazuha you're under arrest under the vision hunting decree!"

"It's him! He's still here!" Relieved he hasn't made it out of Inazuma yet, you started running even faster to the scene.

When you got there you saw Kazuha fighting a bunch of the Shogun's guards left and right. "Kazuha!" You shouted out in relief, as you drew out your katana (sword) and began helping him fight.

You bear no vision, but the adrenaline was pumping into your veins you didnt give a second thought and dove into the fight.

"(Name)??" Kazuha turned around to look at you for a split second. Honestly if it werent for the current condition youre both in, he'd hug you real tight

"How did you find me?" He asked before turning his head around and defend himself from the guards.

"I heard from the city folks hat you ran away after a man died from the musou no hitotachi" you responded, blocking a strike from another guard.

He made a mental note to explain to you the story after the fight is over.

Speaking of which, the fight lasted for quite sometime until all of the shogun's minions were down.

You turned around and hugged Kazuha, throwing your weapon onto the ground.

"I'm so glad youre safe Kaz" you burried your bead into his shoulder, still panting from all that fighting, adrenaline and running.

Kazuha was panting as well, hugging you tighter like never before and kissed your forehead softly "Me too (name), I'm so sorry I didn't come to you sooner and told you anything. Everything happened so fast, I had to leave before I got caught."

You pulled away from the hug and smiled at him softly, your breathing becoming more stable after a while "That's alright, I found you just in time-"

Something was moving behind Kazuha and you couldn't make it what it was until you could.

It was the Shogun's guard again, with a bow and arrow... aimed at Kazuha's back. Your heart dropped

before the guard should release the arrow you pushed Kazuha away and took the hit.

The arrow ended up piercing your shoulder which earned a shout from you. It hurted like hell and blood started flowing out of your shoulder by the minute.

At first you felt dizzy from the blood loss and then everything went dark. You were going in and out, Before you blacked out completely, the first time you saw Kazuha charging up to the guard and fought him. The next time you saw him picking you up bridal style

And the last thing you heard was " (name) Don't you dare leave me!"

♤

The first thing you saw when you woke up was a wooden ceiling above you. "Where am I?" You sat up and hissed from the pain on your shoulder. You took a look at thr soirce of the pain and to your surprise, the wounded area had been wrapped with a compression bandage.

Looking around at the area you realised you ended up on a ship. But how?

Before you could ask more questions, the door in front of you opened, and standing there was Kazuha. The man saw that you were awake and sped walk towards you.

"You're awake! Thank goodness. Don't worry everythings alright. We're on a ship of a pirate captain from Liyue and she got her crew to help stop the bleeding on your shoulder."

Ah, he basically just answered the questions that were popping up in your head. "Looks like we'll have to thank this pirate captain for her hospitality"

You looked at the current condition of your lover. His shoulders were tense and his lips forced into a small smile.

You could tell it was so that you wouldn't be alarmed. And you could tell he was still shaken up by the stunt you pulled earlier.

"I'm sorry my love, for scaring you like that." Placing your hand on his shoulder, then slowly making your way up to his cheek. "I'm safe, youre safe. That's all that matters."

You could see his eyes softening and his shoulders becoming less tense

"Youre right... youre right. You just got me worried back there. I was afraid I might lose you too." He whispered softly, cupping his hand over your hand.

Subconciously he gripped your hand hard enough to make you notice but not hard enough to hurt you.

He didn't have to elaborate any further for you to realise that his dear friend was the one who died.

"I won't leave you here alone dear. That's a promise." pulling him into a hug, which he reciprocated quickly

"What now?" Is a question you both will figure out later.

Right now, the only thing that matters is the two of you.

SCARAMOUCHE/ KUNIKUZUSHI ¤ The Balladeer

Being the Balladeer's assistant was no easy job

Literally.

Having to deal with his yelling, degration, mocks, (tantrums) and bad temper required patience. Lots of it

But no matter how many times he left you out in the snow to freeze, or mocked you in front of everyone, you stayed by him. Honestly no one understood how and why (and neither did Scara but he would never question it)

Partially because the pay is good (the harbingers decided to pay you extra because youre dealing with Scaramouche), partially because you don't get treated as half as bad as his subordinates and because sometimes he isn't so bad in general.

What I mean by "not so bad" is that sometimes, barely, but once in a blue moon. He shows that he cares and appreciates your help and loyalty.

When he was sent out on a mission to Inazuma, you couldn't come to help him due to unfortunate circumstances. He was pissed to say the least

surprisingly not at you but at the higher ups for not allowing you, his assistant to come

he brought you a souvenier from Inazuma. Nothing much and nothing grand, but it is something from your boss so you treasure it.

Another time you got sick with the flu, at first he was pissed (when is he not 💀🖕) but then at night, he came over to give you some soup

By the Balladeer's words it is to "Make you get better soon so you can work again. I can't manage all this shit by myself"

Which you translated it to "I miss your company and I need your help with my tasks"

Either way you appreciated his kindness.

♤

Scaramouche and you were sent out on a mission together to the chasm. Usually they wouldn't send the harbingers down there, but an important relic from an unknown lost civilization was found, and the fatui wants to study it.

As the 2 of you were down there, all you (other than trying to find the relic) did was listen to his occasional rants and curses to the other harbingers for sending him on this mission.

"Annoyed as always" you rolled your eyes.

When the relic was found and secured safely, the two of you nodded at each other as a sign that you both should head out as soon as possible

Luckily Scaramouche and you didn't run into any enemies which was....

"Strange" you mumbled to yourself, brows furrowed and eyeing the caves

"What is?" taking a glance behind to look at you as he was right in front of you

"It's just that we haven't bumped into any monsters or enemies during our time here." You started

"There's always enemies down here at the chasm"

Scaramouche shrugged at you "Maybe theyre taking a nice long nap, or maybe they know their place and not to mess with us." He was half sarcastic and half serious. Either way, he wasn't bothered by this at all

You nodded at him. Not necessarily because you agree with him

But mainly because you're quite unsettled about the whole situation to the point where you'd just hope he was right

Something must be wrong with the universe because not long after, a mob of hillichurls showed up

Scaramouche groaned, getting ready to fight "Great you jinxed it."

They were just a bunch of hillichurls so it really didn't take long for Scara to handle it while you guard the relic

"Let's just get out of here before I have to deal with those i-" before your boss could finish his sentence an abyss herald showed up

When it showed up, you drew out your weapon getting ready to fight. He was no easy foe and even if you knew Scara could handle it...

Something was telling you thing's were about to go south.

You and him started fighting the Abyss enemy

Scara with his electro powers and you with your (vision of choice)

"Hey (name) fuck off I can handle this myself you know?!" He shouted at you

"No you can't Scaramouche!" You retaliated, not listening to another word he says because you were getting more and more pissed by his antics "Just shut up and let me help!"

With the way you disobeyed his orders AND talk back at him got him taken aback and angry at you

"Why this little bitch!" He wanted to say

Scara just gave the abyss herald an opening to launch an attack at him

"Scara watch out!" Luckily you saw right on time and threw yourself in front of Scara to protect him

The attack was so bad you started coughing out blood from the impact. Everything started to become blurry and you lost your balance and strength, dropping your weapon in the process

Before you blacked out you heard Scara scream out something you couldn't quite make out and then... total darkness.

♤

"Don't you dare leave me here!" Echoed in your mind before you awoke in a bed in a strange place. This wasn't Snezhnaya and you know it.

"Where am I? And who said that sentence when I was asleep?" You asked yourself, slowly sitting up from the bed with a groan.

The door on your right opened and in came your boss

"Scara..!" You managed to say. Your voice came out soft and sort of like a wheeze. The impact of the attack seemed to affect your ability to talk as well

"Shh. Don't talk. The doctor said your vocal cord needs rest." Making his way to your bed, and sat by the edge

You closed your mouth but it was clear you had many questions. Scara frowed a little but started answering the questions he knows you'll anyways

"We're still in Liyue. I managed to carry you out of the chasm and the relic I handed off to some fatui members I saw on the way to the doctor.... and you've been out for 3 days now. I was..." he paused and looked away

"Starting to get worried." You didn't have to see his face to know that his expression softened.

Now it all makes sense, you now know what Scara said before you blacked out.

"Don't you dare leave me here!" It was also the sentence that echoed in your mind while you were asleep.

You knew long ago that the all so scary Balladeer had developed feelings for you. It was the little things he did for you that made you question but today, this whole incident made it clear to you that the 6th Fatui Harbinger harbours feelings for his assistant.

You did as well of course. Even though he was a pain in the ass sometimes, it feels as if no one understand you more than he does, and likewise.

Scooting closer to the harbinger, you brought your hand up to his cheek and made him face you.

He saw your expression and even though you said nothing, he knew what you meant. "I'm not leaving you here."

You both slowly moved closer and kissed each other, removing all the tension in the balladeers shoulder.

──────•❥❥❥•──────

Request

Masterlist here!

#genshin impact #fanfic #genshin fanfic #kichifanficsfw #scaramouche x you #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha #scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #kazuha headcanons #scaramouche x y/n

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katsu28 · 6 months

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Congrats on 2K Kait!!!! And this celi is gonna be so fun, but don’t stress yourself out <333

☕️☕️☕️ I’d love a drink of “carefully initiating slight intimacy (like holding hands, hugging, etc.) since they aren't quite sure how far they could go with where they are” from List D with Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Thank you so much <33

may have strayed a little from the prompt but i hope you enjoy anyways!

jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.3k, join the celebration!

To make it extremely clear, you were not dating Jake Seresin.

He was one of the most remarkable people you’d ever had the pleasure of being friends with, kind and funny and braver than most folks would ever admit, but no, you weren’t dating him.

You really, really wanted to, though. You just weren’t sure if that’s what he wanted too.

Sometimes you got the feeling he did, like when Nat had caught him staring at you from behind the rim of his beer and very loudly called him out in front of everyone for unashamedly ogling you. He’d vehemently denied any said ogling with flaming red cheeks, but you noticed him doing it again three more times that same night.

Or when you went to the farmer’s market with him one Sunday morning and it was so crowded you were positive you’d lose him in the throngs of people. He slid his hand into yours that time, lacing your fingers together tightly as you tugged him to tent after tent.

Sometimes you thought about how you weren’t all that slick either.

Like that time Mickey invited you to the beach with all of them, and you got so distracted by Jake’s shirtless chest during dogfight football you nearly missed the pass he’d lobbed you. It all worked out in the end though, because when Jake’s team inevitably won, he’d hugged you and spun you around gleefully.

It was worth it to feel the press of his chest against yours.

You found yourself looking for him everywhere you went, regardless of whether he was actually there or not. You’d like to run into him at the mundane places—grocery store, laundromat, coffee shop—just so you’d be able to spend more time with him.

But those were totally platonic, good friend things to do, right?

Like always, your eyes searched for Jake as soon as you stepped into the Hard Deck tonight, scanning the packed bar for any sign of that telltale blond head of hair you wanted to see so badly.

Today especially, because you’d had one hell of a day at work. Between spilling coffee on your shirt first thing in the morning, to your shitty boss lecturing you about an error that wasn't even your fault, to hitting the worst traffic imaginable on the way home, you could really use one of his special Jake pep talks right now.

Much to your dismay, you spotted Rooster first, and although you did enjoy his presence, he wasn’t the man you were looking for. You made your way over anyways, greeting everyone as cheerfully as you could given your circumstances, still looking around for Jake.

“Hangman’s getting another round, if you wanted to put your order in.” Nat informed you, nodding towards the bar. Lo and behold, there he was a head above the rest, broad shoulders helping you spot him almost immediately. You weren’t sure how you’d missed him upon first glance.

You thanked Nat quickly, wasting no time in making your way over until you’d pushed up next to him at the bartop. Maybe a little too quickly, because your shoulder bumped against his arm a bit harshly, and his head whipped in your direction, probably an expletive at the tip of his tongue. When he saw it was just you, his expression did a complete 180, now a grin so big his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d be showin’ your face around here tonight.” His smooth, Texas twanged voice had part of the tension dropping from your shoulders. He seemed to notice because his smile dropped a little bit and he tilted his head, regarding you with those pretty green eyes you always found yourself getting lost in. “Y’alright, darlin’?”

“Yeah. Just…horrible day.” You sighed, drumming your fingers against the weathered wood. Jake raised an inquisitive brow, his invitation for you to talk about it. So you did, telling him every shitty little thing that happened since the moment you woke up to the second you pulled into the bar parking lot.

As soon as you were done, it instantly felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders—not all of it, but enough to the point where you didn’t feel like you were about to burst into tears at any given moment. Jake’s eyes hadn’t left yours the whole way through, keeping you tethered to him with every slow nod and brow crease.

“Sounds like you’ve had quite a time today.” He said quietly, sliding his hand over yours. His palm was calloused and warm, thumb rubbing along your knuckles soothingly. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. Wish I coulda been there for you, maybe knocked some common sense into your idiot boss.”

“Can I just—can you hug me? I really feel like I need a hug right now.” You weren't sure if that was asking too much of him, considering you didn’t quite know where the two of you stood in terms of what you were to each other, but you had to ask.

“Sure. Of course I can, c’mere.” Jake opened his arms for you as soon as the words left your mouth, letting you bury yourself against his chest like you’d done it a thousand times before.

But really, you’d never hugged Jake before. Not like this, at least. A few brief greeting hugs, thank you hugs, celebrating your win at partners beer pong at a barbeque hugs—but you'd never felt so safe in someone’s arms as you felt in Jake’s right now. They were strong, circling around you tightly, one hand smoothing up and down the length of your spine slowly, the other cradling the back of your head. You felt like you could weather a storm and still be okay here.

He smelled like laundry detergent and musky cologne when you inhaled, strong but somehow still comforting at the same time, and the cotton of his flannel shirt was soft against your cheek. When you were this close to him, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took, the way his breath hitched when you hugged him a little tighter than he’d expected.

And you could’ve been wrong, but you swore you could feel his heart beating a little too fast.

“Thank you, Jake. I really needed that.” You sighed, pulling away from him (a little too soon for your liking, if you were being totally honest). “Sorry if it was weird, I just—”

Jake clicked his tongue, smiling at you warmly. “Don’t be sorry, darlin’, I’m glad I could help. You can hug me anytime, alright?”

He licked his lips, clearing his throat before speaking again, voice a lot less confident than you’d ever heard it before. His cheeks were tinged pink too, maybe from the heat of the crowded bar. (Or maybe from you.) “And maybe next time you have a bad day, you can call me? We can go out for lunch or somethin’, help get your mind off the shitty things.”

“You’ll be at work, Jake.”

“The Navy does give us lunch breaks too, y’know.” He joked, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge.

“It’s still clear across town. I couldn't.”

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. I’d even take the damn jet if I had to.”

You couldn't help but let the corners of your mouth lift up into a shy smile. “Pretty sure that's illegal, Lieutenant.”

“But would you? Take me up on the lunch date?” Date. He said date. You smiled even bigger because Jake looked nervous, and he never looked nervous. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t enjoying the effect you seemed to be having on him right now.

“I would.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Jake gathered the beers Penny had set on the bar for him into his hands, shooting you one of those shiny, charming smiles that made you fall for him in the first place as he backpedaled towards the rest of your friends. “Maybe we can do a test run, say…tomorrow, noon? I’ll pick you up.”

“I’d love that.”

So no, you weren't dating Jake Seresin. But maybe, just maybe, after a few lunch dates, you could be.

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#kait's 2k!#jake seresin #hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #hangman seresin fic #top gun maverick

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tossawary · 5 months

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One of my favorite Discworld books is actually one of the more obscure ones, "Moving Pictures", which is about the invention of films and the movie business in this fantasy world that has dwarves and trolls and wizards and so on. It has its rough patches like every early Discworld book, but Ginger's speech about people who were born in the wrong time or wrong place for their dreams really gets to me in a good way, and I love all of the references to classic films and commentary on fame and creativity. It also has classic characters like Gaspode the Talking Dog and C.M.O.T. Dibbler, and it introduces Detritus's romance with another troll named Ruby.

Perhaps most importantly to me is that this book introduces Ponder Stibbons, who is a wizard, and who goes on in later books to be one of the most important members of the Unseen University (he holds like twelve different positions), in that he's one of the few people who can competently manage a project and so ends up managing nearly everything. (Bear with me, it's been a while since I read any Discworld and my memory is a little rough.) In "Moving Pictures", Ponder is the classmate (roommate?) of a fellow named Victor Tugelbend, who is one of the main characters.

Victor begins the book as a career student, in that a wealthy relative left him a great deal of money exclusively for school; so as long as he STAYS in school, all of his living expenses are paid for. If Victor graduates, that's the end of the money. If Victor drops out, that's the end of the money. But if Victor manages to hit a specific mark range in the 80s every year, then he gets to stay on for another year and try again, and so Victor is perhaps the most dedicated and knowledgeable wizardry student in the university's history, because you have to know what the right answer is in order to intentionally get a certain number of the questions wrong, so that you can continue to coast along on your college fund.

Ponder's graduation is (accidentally) Victor's fault, because Victor runs away to get into the movie business. (I won't spoil what happens, but it's VERY funny.) Now, I like to imagine after the events of the book, after Ponder holds a faculty position in the university, Victor comes BACK to the university occasionally as a disgustingly well-paid external consultant, which drives Ponder UP THE FUCKING WALL. Like, people are so stingy all of the time but SOMEHOW the university budget has room to bring your offensively handsome dropout roommate back just to say, "Hmm, yes, that looks bad. Have you tried turning it off and on again?" I'd throw a fit, honestly. (As soon as Ponder has enough seniority, he probably puts his foot down to stop this if Victor isn't actually useful. Maybe he is, idk, but maybe not for THAT consulting fee.)

I also like to imagine that Victor Tugelbend and Theda "Ginger" Withel are still together, maybe even still acting (badly? mediocre-ly? decently?) together, in some dingy little theatre (Ginger is the director and runs their acting troupe like a tyrant) where the front seats are regularly filled with middle-aged folks who still sigh over the memories of moving pictures. (Moving pictures are now, presumably, VERY illegal in Ankh Morpork.) Victor and Ginger have only because even more attractive as they've gotten older, which is EVEN MORE OFFENSIVE to poor Ponder because his former movie star former roommate is married to another gorgeous former movie star?! I'd throw another fit.

Anyway, I think Ponder deserves to have an affair with a pair of aging former movie stars. I like to imagine this purely because I think it's funny. He seems kind of busy for marriage, so joining someone else's marriage part-time might be good for him. It probably makes most of the rest of the Unseen University faculty breathlessly envious and that really does it for him.

And I think that this affair would OF COURSE be covered by every newspaper and tabloid in the city, including The Times, and William de Worde and Sacharissa Cripslock don't fully understand why their entertainment reporter is so breathlessly excited about people who were famous over a decade ago? (Supermarket tabloids love to tell me about alleged affairs of people who were famous 20+ years ago.) The article on Victor Maraschino and Delores De Syn's failing marriage* is their bestselling newspaper in months and William puts his head down on his desk in despair. (He's fine. This happens on a weekly at least basis. He just needs a minute.)

*Victor and Ginger are very happy with this situation, actually. They're going to take Ponder to dinner to go on a double date with Ruby and Detritus soon. Victor and Ponder are going to get distracted arguing about some of the Inadvisably Applied Magic research projects, but that's fine, because Ginger wants to talk to Ruby about this one-troll-woman-show concept. (Detritus will proudly hand out tickets at the Watch station and accidentally intimidate all of his coworkers into accepting the invitation.)

#tossawary discworld #fic ideas #spoilers #long post

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hippielittlemetalhead · 3 months

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Never Took The Time (To Forgot) part 4.1 : With a Capital 'P'

Part 4.2 (Hey Dingus? Idk, the title for that one is up in the air.) will be up as soon as I have it somewhere I like (doing a different character's pov instead of Hop so it's giving me some trouble). Felt really bad that I hadn't updated in a while and this one was getting longer than I expected and I hadn't even gotten Robin really talking yet so... Happy Valentine's Day?

Part 1 (Hop Fucks Up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition), Part 3 (One of Us)

Family Video and the Arcade were two of the few businesses still operating after the inter-dimensional earthquakes that had tried tearing their town to pieces. Hop knew the kid who used to run the place for his uncle, Keith, had split town with his folks (said uncle in tow) leaving the store and arcade in the care of whatever employees had been willing to stay on payroll while the world fell apart.

He watches as Harrington's (more banged up than never remembers it being) car stops in front of the video store, parked parallel to the curb across at least 3 parking spots, as a wildly gesticulating Robin rolls herself out of the idling vehicle, jabbering loud enough that Hop can hear her voice from down the block. With most cars owned by the folks of Hawkins being commandeered by Owens' government goons to fill the gaps left by lost military vehicles it doesn't much matter but Hop can't help a bit of an eye roll at the kid's audacity.

But then again, he catches himself thinking, Steve was one of the only 'civilians' in-the-know and was well-known for carting around and protecting proven assets to the War Of The Worlds shitshow going on. So was there really an issue if the kid was one of the only cars on the road anyway and because he was even more read-in on the situation than even local law enforcement? If he was not only transporting and protecting people the government had a vested interest in but had proven himself more effective than even Hop and Joyce in wrangling the kids who had basically been saving the world for the last 4 years? If he kept them safe and out of harm's way in the thick of it but also kept them entertained and out from underfoot during the downtime?

Hell, the kid being one of the only employees left at some of the last businesses in town these brats would have any interest in almost guarantees the whole lot of them are continuously stocked in movies, snacks and quarters to distract them from even the most world shaking of calamities.

It hadn't occurred to him until just now what it meant for The Party that Steve and Robin seemed to be the only ones willing to hang around behind the counter at the arcade and sell and rent movies to shell-shocked townsfolk and tight-lipped government goons alike. Fuck, Lucas and Mike were right. He was an asshole.

He's pulled out of the slow spiral of realizing Mike Wheeler of all people had been right about something by Steve hollering one last "Love you, Bobby!" at a grinning and waving Buckley as she flung open the video store door and stumbled inside. He waits for the car and it's driver to round the corner before he gets out of his own government-issued station wagon. Fuck but he missed his truck.

"Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." He can tell she recognizes his voice (and it's a little impressive how quickly she clocks him since he's spoken only a couple words anywhere near her maybe twice in his memory. Girl has a good ear) from the way her entire body stills for a split second before whirling back into the hurricane of motion he's come to associate with her.

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She's still not looking at him, hands busy shuffling papers and flipping open VHS cases. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

Hop sighs, running a hand over the short growth he's slowly getting used to again. He'd almost shaved it down again but El had been so happy when she'd realized they were growing out at about the same rate. He couldn't ever say no to her.

"Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here, to fix it."

The flurry of movement doesn't stop but it's tighter, she's fiddling with something shoved up her shirt sleeve and tapping at the casing of a button connected to a wire leading into her green vest. Bright blue eyes are focused on him and he's almost reminded of the no-nonsense look Nancy Wheeler gets whenever they're faced with the world ending, but the girl in front of him is colder. He has no doubts that where Nancy Wheeler would tear down giants for what she believed is right, Robin Buckley would burn the world if it meant saving her people.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He didn't remember assigning a patrol schedule and he's not sure if this is Steve's own initiative or if he's been roped into something by Owens' people. "in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

The tag list below. Let me know if you want to be removed or if you go by a new/different tag you want on the list let me know which one I'm replacing and what I'm replacing it with please.

I've had some people ask to be tagged in this series who should already be in the list? If you see your name/tag but didn't get the notification that you were tagged please let me know so we can figure it out.

As always; like, comment and feel free to ask questions in the replies or my ask box.

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Tags that are not working on my end. Most of these Tumblr acts like they just don't exist and others I see accounts similar but 1 word, letter or number off. Please let me know if I put any of these down wrong!!

@anaibis @wormapothacary @lawrencebshoggoth @steveshairspray @samcoxramblings @rocochen20 @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu

#rambler writes #Never Took The Time (To Forget)#nttttf verse #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #codependent steve and robin #robin buckley #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin are soulmates and you can't convince me otherwise #not a Nancy hater just not really a Nancy appreciater #great character but in a #they're a flawed human who makes fucked up personal life choices while making decent/good save the world choices #ANYWHO #stranger things wip #stranger things fic

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steddielations · 11 months

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“Evening, sir.”

It’s the Harrington boy. Again.

“I told you, son, it’s Wayne,” he manages a smile, harder to do these days, like chipping it out of cement and dusting it off. But he gets it done.

Steve doesn’t have the Henderson boy with him today, that’s a first.

“Where’s the curly one?” He steps aside, letting Steve into the trailer door, more rickety than before. No money left to fix it after repairing the bulk of the earthquake damage.

“Dustin? He doesn’t wanna watch the game, and trust me, you don’t wanna listen to that kid complaining the whole time,” Steve walks by, sorta chuckling to himself, “I always miss the replay ‘cause he makes me change the channel to those D&D cartoons during the commercials, just like—”

He stops in front of the couch, looking over his shoulder at Wayne like he’s afraid he messed up somehow. Wayne noticed that look often from him, less and less, but still often. All that confidence he carries can drop on a dime, sorta reminded him of—

“Like Ed?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I don’t mind talking about him if you want,” Wayne manages another concrete smile, but he means it. Steve always waits for him to bring up Eddie first, like he doesn’t want to remind him if it ain’t on his mind, but Wayne likes to be reminded. It’s nice to feel like he’s not the only one missing him. “But the game was yesterday and y’know the cable’s out.”

“Yep, got it covered. I uh, I taped it,” Steve fishes a VHS tape from his back pocket. Fancy. Wayne would worry about him using that for his sake, but he has a feeling Steve’s folks aren’t around enough to notice.

“The Colts win?”

Steve flips the tape around, “Haven’t watched it, so we can bet on it if you’re feeling lucky.”

It doesn’t feel so dry and heavy when Wayne laughs a bit then, waving Steve to go ahead and start up the TV. He already caught the game on the radio, but he bets on the Colts anyway. Loser’s supposed to do the dishes after they scrounge together some soup, but Steve does them anyway.

Wayne would make a stink about it but he can tell Steve just wants to help, to feel like he’s helping. Same thing when the Henderson boy comes around to see him, wanting to hear all the stories, even the scary ones. So Wayne doesn’t mind letting Eddie’s friends feel like they’re helping him.

His nephew didn’t have many friends. Real, cover-your-six kinda friends. The boys he played his music with, they’ve come by a couple times, Wayne always liked Jeff despite the racket. That older fella that’s doing time now, Wayne wasn’t too fond of. And some of Eddie’s dungeon buddies he talked about were the only few.

Now, casual acquaintances? Anybody who didn’t have anywhere else to sit when he had an empty spot at his table? Sure, Eddie had those in spades.

His boy was good at that, putting on a good old show for his crowd, on a stage to keep his distance. That damn Al did him in good, never could trust easily, having his old man pop up and drag him into his mess before he took off again. And Eddie’s poor momma would’ve done right by him, if she hadn’t gotten sick so young.

Took Wayne a long time to get Eddie to depend on him, to trust this was his place to stay and he didn’t have to earn it, Wayne wasn’t just filling his head to scheme something out of him.

Love ain’t a transaction that way. He wasn’t ever any good at saying it, but he tried to show Eddie the best he could.

His boy though, always carried a debt with him. Like he owed Wayne something for taking him in, had to graduate quick and make it outta here, do something with the better life he gave him. Al dug him in so deep, Eddie stayed roped into whatever his latest scheme was (the cars, the dealing, the gambling, thank God Eddie wasn’t there when the goddamn robbery went wrong, 25 to life) like maybe it’d be enough to keep him from running off again.

The odds have never been in favor of people like them, poor folk in a town that’s stuck in its ways, where everybody’s just like their old man, but Al made his choices and Wayne made his. Rest their mother’s soul, she did her best. Part of Wayne was relieved when Al got locked up, at least Wayne had a better chance of keeping Eddie from going down the same path, try to raise him right.

Being a Munson wasn’t a crime. He didn’t owe a darn thing to anybody. Eddie could graduate at his own pace, play whatever games and music he wanted, dress however, that didn’t mean he was up to no good. And a lot of boys get into dealing for a little easy extra money around here, he was gonna grow out of that just like Wayne did.

It worked until all this mess.

That’s why Eddie ran off after what happened to the poor Cunningham girl. He gets spooked when something goes wrong, like it’ll be the last straw he can’t make up for so he runs off. Like the first time he didn’t make senior year, went and hid out with that Rick fella that Wayne never did like, got Eddie deep into that business he tried to keep a secret.

‘Course Wayne knew. He knows exactly what and where his boy hides. If those damn cops weren’t tailing him, he would’ve gone straight to get him.

That was before he knew it would turn into all of this. Now he wishes he would’ve done it anyway. Gone right to Eddie, told him it wasn’t his fault that everything got all turned upside down. Told him he knew he was innocent right from the get-go, and got him away from this rotten old town.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t go get his boy.

So now he’s just trying to be there for Eddie’s boys, since he can’t.

“You have a night shift tonight right? Gonna put on a pot of coffee,” Steve says once he’s finished up the dishes.

Wayne hums. There’s usually more noise going on during these visits. Steve’s still alright at carrying on, even without the Henderson boy’s chatter to fill any gaps.

It was strange, the first time the two of them showed up. Wayne knew Eddie was close with Dustin, but he didn’t have a clue that he was chumming it up with the Harrington boy. Just don’t seem like the same type of company. He might not believe it if it weren’t so obvious that Steve cared about his boy. He suspected before, but now with Steve showing up here alone, he knows.

Steve misses Eddie in a different sorta way than Dustin.

“No cream or sugar, right?” Steve looks humored by that as he passes the mug of black coffee to him, “How are you related to Eddie again?”

Wayne’s mouth turns upward, remembering his nephew’s god awful sweet tooth. He picked up a box of Honeycombs the other day in the store out of habit. “Just happened to be standin’ there when they beamed him down.”

That gets a good chuckle out of Steve. Nothing wistful weighing it down and Wayne’s glad, watching Steve pour himself a cup of coffee too.

Then bitter-sweetness swirls in his chest, seeing the mug that Steve chose for himself. Must’ve dug it out from one of the boxes Wayne hadn’t hung back on the walls yet. The earthquake did a number on his collection. That Garfield one was the only one he’d gotten around to gluing back together.

“What is it?” Steve asks, cup paused at his mouth.

“Ah nothin’ just,” Wayne waves it off, “That’s the mug Ed always used.”

“Oh, I can use a diff—”

“Nah, nah go ‘head. It’s fine.”

Unconvinced, Steve takes a wary sip.

Mostly these days, Wayne just feels like a watch without a ticker, a chest with nothing beating inside it. He can’t name the feeling he has at seeing Eddie’s old mug being used by someone else, but at least it’s something.

“Y’know, he used to put everything in that sucker. Soda pop, soup, cereal, you name it,” Wayne shakes his head, mouth twitching into a smile, “I’d have to wrestle it away from him just to give it a good washing. It’s well loved, alright. Leaks now.”

As if on cue, Steve has to grab a napkin to sit underneath it.

Wayne lets out an amused hum, “He uh— Didn’t have much stability ‘fore he came to live with me, so he’d get real attached to things like that.”

Carried around a stuffed dragon they picked up at a garage sale ‘til Wayne couldn’t sew the wings back on anymore. Never wanted to throw anything away. Got real anxious about Wayne going to work sometimes, even when he was too old for a sitter. Held onto him saying “Stay home just today, Dad, please.” Which, he didn’t mind Eddie calling him that. It always softened him up, made him give in. Wishes now that he’d told Eddie upfront. Maybe he never would’ve stopped.

“Thought for sure he’d marry that damn guitar one day.”

Steve nearly sputters his coffee, laughing at that, “Yeah, those two are made for each other.”

It’s nice, seeing the way that story lit Steve up. Sorta like his boy can still make someone happy. Hurts like hell that he ain’t here to do it himself, but Wayne was always good at telling stories. That’s where Eddie learned it from.

“I’m uh,” Steve deflates after a minute, looking down at the mug, “God, I’m just really sorry, Wayne.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too, Steve,” he says, because, well.

Wayne gets the feeling that his boy was Steve’s boy too.

Read the rest on Ao3

#it’s the full version of the garfield mug fic from forever ago #this has the happiest ending on ao3 i promise #linked at the bottom #steddie #rueswriting #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #steddie fic #temporary grieving #temporary mcd

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