starlessea

[starlessea]

Wild-flower [Astarion]

Chapter 1 - Little Flower

Summary: “Once upon a time, you would have led me to that crypt—and not some pretty clearing in the forest.” His brows knitted with guilt. The laugh lines she's grown to love fall into a frown. “For what it’s worth. I thank the gods every night that they didn’t let me have you.” - Jessamine’s too trusting. If wild, blind naivety was a race, she would win it. Astarion’s a close second, only because he can’t help but follow her.

A/N This is going to be a long ride so strap in. Masterlist

Despite the wine haze she’d found herself in, Jessamine’s certain of one thing. He’s watching her. 

She glances back at the door where he’s lingering, propped with his arms crossed at his chest. He doesn’t belong here; he's far too clean. Far too handsome. But he’d caught her eye when she came down from the upper dorms, and she likewise hadn’t left his sight since. 

So instead of heading out like she ought to, Jessamine instead settled in at the Flophouse bar, glass of wine in hand—which had been mead before she discovered how utterly foul it tasted. 

Jessamine’s on her third glass by the time the silver-haired man makes his move. “Very rare one stumbles upon a wood elf in the heart of Baldur’s Gate,” he announces. “You’re a long way from home, little flower.” 

His words barely register. Through Jessamine’s bleary eyes, she finds the man. An elf, like herself, though more moon-like than forest-coated. His skin is paler than hers, and his eyes, a deep, dark crimson. Her breath catches; she really ought to reply.

“How could you tell?” she asks.

The man grins. He takes to the barstool beside her, as though her question had been an invitation. “I can smell it on you. The earth, that honeyed sweetness…” His hand raises and strokes the air between them. “You wear it well, my dear.” 

Jessamine’s lips part; she was being hit on. 

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, really. At her age, she was far from a child. Yet, she wasn’t quite used to such direct attentions, either. Not without her sisters as buffers, or her father’s influence in the back of everyone’s minds. Something stirs inside of her.

“I— umm. I’m flattered,” she manages.

There’s a chuckle, and her gaze finds the bar.

Neither one of them speak for some time. Jessamine’s mind struggles to make sense of the nightly buzz: the bard tunes, the chatter, the clamour on the streets outside. It’s all a world away from the quiet birdsong she’d grown up with.

She feels the man’s breath on her neck. “So enlighten me…” he eventually says, “how did a creature as radiant as yourself end up in Fraygo’s Flophouse? Doesn’t your kind prefer frolicking about in a forest somewhere?”

The compliments seep right into Jessamine’s skin. She lets out a timid laugh.

He has her cornered. She’s acutely aware of their knees, ever-so-slightly touching, and his fingers, deftly circling his glass. In the span of a few minutes, he’d made her feel so nervous, so—inexperienced? 

The wine goes down thick. Feeling his eyes on her, Jessamine musters every ounce of liquid courage to beckon him closer. And as he leans forward, she whispers through his hair, “It’s a secret.”

The man’s brow quirks. “Oh?” When she doesn’t elaborate, his eyes run over her, searching for any hint of a clue. By the time they return to her face, it’s burning. “I’m good with secrets,” he whispers back.  

Jessamine’s heart pounds. This is dangerous, she thinks. All alone, away from home—and she’s never had this much wine in one sitting. 

“Won’t you indulge me?” the man presses, poutingly. “Let me guess… Seeking adventure? Scandalous affair, perhaps,” he pauses to gauge her reaction, “family disagreement?” 

Jessamine falters; he catches it immediately.

“Hmm, yes. I can relate to that… They made you feel stifled—trapped.” He takes a moment, fingertips ghosting over Jessamine’s flushed skin. “And what better place to seek freedom than the city proper. The one and only, Baldur’s Gate.”

Jessamine shudders.

“My, my, what a sweet thing you are.”

He edges closer. Jessamine loses herself in the contours of his face: his sharp jaw, sly smile, and the faint laugh lines bookending it. She barely notices when his thumb brushes against her ear, tucking fine wisps of hair behind it. 

The smallest of sighs escapes her. He nurtures it. Without a single thought between her eyes, Jessamine leans into his touch. “Fresh as a daisy,” he mouths, “just waiting to be picked—” 

A damp rag slaps the bar between them.

Jessamine jumps a mile.

“That’s enough of that, boy,” spits a voice. “I know your kind and the young miss ‘ere don’t deserve to be used by the likes of you.” 

Jessamine straightens in her seat. “Dashkent—” she sputters at the innkeep.

His expression is hard.

Despite his stature, Jessamine thinks the halfling is more intimidating than most men twice his size. And at this moment, there’s something fierce radiating from him.

She tries to discern where it’s coming from. She didn't know him all that well—only helped put out a fire in his storeroom a few days back. But since then, her lodgings had been free of charge, and she was no longer bothered in the dorms.

As the innkeep looks down his nose at her companion, Jessamine's reminded of an overprotective uncle.

“Jessa,” he says to her, wringing the dish rag, “keep yer wits about you with this one, a’right?” He shoots a look at the pale elf. “You’re too kind ‘a girl for someone like him.”

Rather harsh, Jessamine thinks. Though as she glances at the man by her side, she can’t help but notice his face is rather murder-striken.

Then she blinks, and it’s gone. 

“Now off with ya,” Dashkent says. “Go swig some water an’ get some rest. Your show’s tomorrow.”

Jessamine cringes at the reminder. Caught red-handed, all she can do is nod.

As Dashkent disappears off into the back, Jessamine is hurtled into a wave of sobriety. She throws a sideways glance at her companion. Whatever had been building between had been struck dead. She’s once again aware of her surroundings: the Flophouse and its drunkards (of which she was included).  

Somehow, she almost feels as though she’s been trancing.  

A cough prompts Jessamine’s flight response. She turns to the man. “Sorry about him!” she says; I should go, she thinks. But as she wobbles out of her stool, there’s a hand to steady her. 

“No need to run off, my sweet. I’m not scared away so easily.”

Something about the nickname stops Jessamine in her tracks. It disarms her enough that she doesn’t notice that she's being guided from the bar. Her escort leads her to the Flophouse staircase, where she somehow finds courage to ask him, “Won’t you come to the Blushing Mermaid? I'll be performing there tomorrow night.” 

But when he doesn’t reply, she worries her lip. “Only if you like—” she pauses.

She doesn’t even know his name.

“Astarion,” the elf says, with a flash of teeth.

“Astarion…” she repeats. There’s a grin on her face but she’s much too wine-stricken to care. “Tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow,” he confirms.

And Jessamine’s elated. 

They exchange goodnights, and promises to meet again. But as Jessamine returns to her lodgings with a new name on her tongue, it doesn’t register that she'd never given hers.

A/N This man is going to fall so hard that his knees break, don't you worry x

[starlessea]

If you still want Astarion requests, I’d love to see something with a Tav who’s really nervous to let Astarion bite? 🥺

Positively Starved (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: In spite of your nerves, you invite Astarion back for a bite; admiring the trust you've put in him, he promises to be gentle (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N I wrote this in under an hour as I wanted to play around with some requests! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these off-the-cuff oneshots! (Also, slight mention of blood in this one).

Masterlist

"You can feed on me tonight... if you'd like."

The words sprung from your mouth. They lingered in the air, each syllable punctuating over and over—ringing out through your shared connection.

You felt a cringe.

Where in the seven hells did that come from? Was one near-death encounter not enough?

Before you could attempt to splutter out any sort of explanation, you were met with Astarion's laugh. "How very generous, my dear! I was starting to wonder when you'd invite my back for a bite."

Blood pooled to your cheeks; you could feel it—see it in the way his eyes turned them a similar, darker shade.

As you ruminated on his words, your heart hammered in your chest. The silence was palpable. But just as you were about to open your mouth to dismiss the idea completely, the man was roused into action.

"You know... I never expected you to be so eager," he finally said. Your embarassment swelled tenfold. "Tell you what, when the others have turned in for the night, I'll come to your bedroll."

Immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You glanced around—far less subtly than you would have hoped. To anyone in earshot, it would have sounded like Astarion was propositioning you.

Well, he was, you quickly realised. Just for blood over sex.

"Right—okay," you stammered back. You hated how weak your voice sounded, so you took a moment to make it stronger. "Come find me later then," you told him, before returning to sifting through your supplies.

You tried to calm your nerves, but as you turned to leave, you did not miss the way Astarion's fangs poked through his grin, nor how his eyes trailed your neck. Your legs almost buckled.

◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥ ◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥

As night fell, you found yourself, and your bedroll, tucked away in a small stone outhouse on the edge of camp. You'd discovered it earlier in the day, when looting storage boxes for odds and sods. It was cold, and damp—but at least it wasn't dark.

Amber glow lit up the space; you'd illuminated it with a few low-wicked candles as you waited for Astarion. In this warm light, you tried to make yourself comfortable on your bedroll.

"Setting the mood are we?"

Astarion's voice echoed through the outhouse. Although you tried not to acknowledge it, your heart immediately quickened in response—as did your mind race.

Your eyes followed him as he came inside, closing the old oak door behind him. "I must admit, I didn't expect this..." He waved a hand before him, inspecting the dripping candles, and your poor attempts at cleaning the place up.

"How come?" you asked.

His smile sent a shiver down your spine. "Well, aside from me getting a tad carried away the first time we did this... I could also feel your thoughts."

Even in the dim light, you could see his half-lidded expression, as though he was reliving the moment behind tired eyes.

He went on, "Excitement, yes, my dear. But also flighty as a bird."

Your brows furrowed. Part of you felt indignant, craved to prove him wrong by baring your neck without an ounce of apprehension. The other part wondered how he already knew you so well.

You tried to muster a reply, but it was Astarion who spoke first. "As much as I appreciate the offer, you don't have to do this, you know."

In that moment, everything seemed to still. You could only imagine the state of disbelief painted on your face. Throughout your time together, that must have been the most selflessness Astarion had ever strewn into a sentence.

But now was not the time to comment on it.

"I know," you said instead. "And I won't lie to you. I'm not sure exactly why I sought you out."

You sat up and reached for Astarion's hand. Something flashed over his face, but even so, he allowed you to guide him down to your bedroll.

"Perhaps you were right. Perhaps there is a spark of curiosity in me—excitement, even." His eyes widened, set alight by your confession. "Or maybe, and I know you won't like it..."

With a raised brow, he coaxed you, "Go on."

"When you told me about Cazador—" You paused for Astarion scowl, watching the lines materialise on his porcelain skin. "Well, I just thought how horrible it must have been to be constantly..." You sought out the word. "Hungry."

Astarion's lips parted ever so slightly.

Are you hungry? You shared the thought with him.

"Positively starved," came the reply.

Then he leaned in, casting shadows over your candle-lit skin. To any onlooker it might appear he was preparing for a kiss. But you weren't that naive.

"Not—" Your hand found his chest, the exposed skin peeking out of his shirt collar. "Not too much," you whispered.

Your eyes caught his in a silent plea. Astarion answered by taking your hand and pressing it into your bedroll. "No need to worry, my dear," he said, hot against your ear. "I promise to be gentle."

Your breath hitched. That wasn't the first time you'd heard those words spill from his pretty lips; you just hoped he'd be true to his word on this occasion.

You kept your eyes tightly shut as Astarion found your neck. As his fangs scraped your skin, you took a fistful of his hair between your fingers.

He bit down.

You tried not to cry out. The sensation was one you could hardly describe: a sharp sting followed by... euphoria?

No that wasn't right.

But all you could confidently say was that Asatrion's body lay hot over yours, and his lips were soft, but not quite as gentle as promised.

As he drank from you, you saw stars behind your eyes.

Your body thrummed as he suckled on the tender skin of your neck. The sounds he made were nothing short of sinful; they elicited a strained sort of moan from behind your own lips.

You felt Astarion's hand tighten over yours. He took more from you, worrying your skin between his teeth, coaxing more of your gasps to surface.

Pleasure mingled with pain coursed through your shared connection—a deep longing on either end. You cried out, and quickly, Astarion pulled away.

Feeling the loss of warmth, you opened your eyes. You were dazed, but even then, you noticed his cherry-red lips, tinted with your blood.

You blinked, trying to rid your vision of its blurred edges.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Astarion asked. He sat up immediately, inspecting your neck and overall complexion. "You're looking a little... flushed," he concluded.

A tired laugh escaped you. "My blood runs hot," you managed to say.

"Indeed it does," he agreed. Then he promptly stood up and dusted himself off.

A pang of hurt struck you.

It must have been strong enough to have travelled through your shared connection, since Astarion glanced back almost immediately.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, exasperated. "I'm just going to fetch some water. Try not to move until the dizziness passes."

Your mouth fell ajar. A wave of shyness overcame you. Had it been that obvious you wanted him to stay?

Apparently it had, so you tentatively rolled over, hiding your face from the man. "Thank you," you mumbled into your bedroll.

You heard the door creak open, and Astarion's footsteps damper. "No, my dear," he replied. "Thank you."

[starlessea]

Send me short Astarion requests to procrastinate my work with :')

[starlessea]

The Dawn Watch (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: As dawn breaks the morning after the tiefling party, you find a vampire basking in the sun. In the daylight, all of his pretty words start to unravel. (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N After a week of feverishly playing (and completing) BG3, here's my first Astarion writing. Part 1/3 of a WIP mini-series called the Sunlight Chronicles.

Masterlist

Sunlight was warm on your eyes. It coaxed them open and made you blink: once hard, twice fast. Your lids were heavy, yet you could hardly remember closing them in the first place. Neither could you recall dozing off in a pile of leaves. 

As you pressed yourself into the ground, the forest floor rustled beneath you. A cacophony of dried foliage and bark, made somewhat comfortable by the mossy overgrowth. It took you a moment to understand your surroundings.

The tiefling party had bustled on into the early hours. It was the first reprieve you’d allowed yourself since being plucked from Baldur’s Gate and thrust into this new adventure. But, perhaps you had overindulged… 

There was a fire in your belly still, laden with mead and lingerings of lust, and it had led you here: stark-naked and alone on the outskirts of camp. 

A chuckle sounded behind you. “I was starting to wonder whether I’d drank you dry.”

You sprung up to your elbows. Not alone, you suddenly remembered.

Your head whipped around, settling on the figure bathed in the light of the low sun. “But alas, you were just making good on that beauty sleep. Morning, pet.” 

Rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, you found Astarion. He was radiant. Rays of dawn had snuck through the trees, dappling between branches onto his pale skin. And his hair... Caught in that glow, it looked like leftover starlight. 

The only thing letting him down was his smile. It was utterly charming, as always. But it was more obvious in the daytime; that smile was well-practised.

“Umm, good morning,” you eventually croaked back.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, too nervous to wander over his body. He noticed, of course, and so he paced before you—a small strut, hands on his hips to invite your appraisal.

You looked away. Even in the warmth of the sun, you could feel the man’s contribution to your cheeks. It incited a laugh from him. 

“Oh now don’t pretend to be coy, my sweet,” he said. “Not when there was hardly any of that last night.”

You turned your head; any liquid courage you’d gotten from the party had long since worn off. But now sober, Astarion made your heart ache. His falsity was clear as day. He uttered the words you so desperately wanted to hear, but delivered them on the back of a deceitful voice. 

A sigh escaped you; perhaps the only time he hadn’t lied was when he’d called you naive. 

Awaiting your reply, Astarion became indignant. "What?" he asked. "Disappointed at the lack of morning cuddle? If you ask nicely, perhaps I’ll come back to join—”

"No," you said. "I just..." His eyes watched your every move, red and calculating. You took a moment to collect yourself. "I'm surprised that you stayed at all," you admitted. "Didn't take you for the type." 

His hand fell over his chest. "Oh, how you wound me! I try to do the gentlemanly thing, and yet you accuse me and look at me like that."

You cocked a brow. "Like what?"

Astarion let out an exasperated sigh. "Let’s just say it’s easier to know what you're thinking when your eyes are shut.” He made a face, mortifyingly reminiscent of one you’d likely pulled the night before, and your mouth fell ajar.

If you’d been wearing shoes, you would have hurled one at him. But embarassed and barefoot, you instead dug your palms into the soil, more than ready to depart.

Astarion was roused into action. "Oh come on, my dear," he said softly. He sunk to the floor beside you, coaxing you to stay. "All in good fun."

You deliberated for a moment, watching him in your peripheral. There was a smile on his face but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, a pang of hurt made itself known. You quickly squashed it down, hoping Astarion had not noticed it in his.

Whatever feelings had bubbled over last night were absent this morning, you could just tell. Perhaps he no longer found you interesting now that he'd conquered you. Maybe he'd pursued you just to break your heart, or gods forbid, he'd been put off after sleeping with you—

“It’s just so warm.”

The words left Astarion, quiet as a whisper. But then his eyes widened and his lips formed a taut line—as though they'd never intended to let anything escape at all.

"What?" you started. But with one small glance at the man, you realised; he was talking about the sun.

For a moment, you watched him, basking in the glow like there was no place he'd rather be. You hummed in agreement. “I guess it’s something we all take for granted here.” 

He nodded. It became obvious then; he hadn’t stayed for you, but for the sunrise.  

“Astarion, I–”

He snapped his head. The look in his eyes cautioned you—told you the two of you weren’t that close. But something behind that almost dared you to try.

Against your better judgement, you proceeded. “You might have already guessed, but I’m no early riser." A chuckle instinctively followed. “I know Lae’zel told us not to question the shifts she allocated, but..." you paused, "who wants to take watch at the crack of dawn? Certainly not me.”

It was silent for a moment—save for the soft lilting of birds and the occasional breeze. Yet even then, the morning dawned so quiet that your breaths felt loud.

It took a few seconds for Astarion to reanimate, but when he did, it was with a smile. “Oh, my dear... If you’re struggling that badly, you could’ve just said." He sat up, readjusting to meet you straight on. “It’s not a bother swapping with you—if the night shift is more to your taste.”

Your heart felt warm. Truthfully, you liked the dawn watch, but you had a feeling it would be better appreciated by him. “That would be wonderful, thank you."

You had an inkling that Astarion recognised your ploy, but but if did, he wasn’t making a show of it. His hand wove its way into yours, and pressed it into forest bed. “My pleasure," he said. Then he leaned forward with a grin.

You anticipated a kiss, but he stopped before your neck, tracing the bloody bruise he'd bestowed with his lips—worrying last night's sore between his teeth. “It's the least I can do...”

As he mumbled against your skin, a shiver sparked through your shared connection.

“I’ll be more gentle next time." His breath fanned hot over your ear. “Both ways.”

You let out a gasp. "It's okay, we don’t have to—” The words ejected from you, all flustered and not at all how you pictured them.

Astarion offered a smirk in return, but it was accompanied by an expression you now recognised.

He thought you naive.

“Precious,” he said beneath his breath, before returning your crumpled dress to you. “Now come. We best not keep the others waiting.”

And so you followed his lead and quickly dressed: smoothing your hair and attempting to rid your cheeks of their flush.

If anyone asked, you'd say you were sun-kissed.

[starlessea]

Long time no see! Obsessed with Baldurs Gate 3 rn so does anyone want my Astarion writings?? :)

Pure brain rot!! Let me know if you're playing too

[starlessea]

Tysm 🥺🥺

Fav authors/blogs - literally consider these blogs miracles and masterpiece bringers into my life + fanfic recommendation overall and I was slowly itching to do this for a long time now hehe and there is probably more which I will compile from just my screenshot in phone or reblogs on my blog of other fanfictions

@youvebeenlivingfictional - absolutely dying from their Nathan Bateman tag, kept me alive when I was hyperfixated on that character

@absurdthirst - like... if you know their blog, do I have to say anything? Absolutely feral for every post, every new fic/work has me screaming, love every single piece

@writefightandflightclub - again my Bateman era and again one of the best writing skills on this app (when they started to follow me back I did a lil victory dance lol and had massive freakout lol)

->literally this trio is my holy trinity 👑 when it comes to Oscar/Pedro content and of course there is more I have to mention:

@budcooper - again Oscar Isaac obssesion had send me their way and since then I am a big fan

@brandyllyn - the Nathan Bateman fanfic? kept me fed for weeks and I am still returning gal for it, plus they also have works for Richard from The letter room like hello??? take my money please. I could write forever about my favorite authors for Oscar and Pedro :)))

@mypoisonedvine - got to them thanks to my fleeing (lets be honest its gonna return as any other hyperfixation) obssesion with Paul Dano and just had to stay because the writing style is just cheff's kiss

@supernovafeather - the FO!poe? The duke leto fics? Perfection 🥰 again sometimes I just search these tag on their profile just to spend the following day rereading all of it ❤

@starlessea - one of the blogs that kept me well fed in my twd fandom comback and I am so grateful to them 💖 (might actually do another comeback since twd ended etc.) Also one of the few blogs that made me consider writing on my own.

@mylifeisactuallyamess - again PERFECTLY fed when I was in my Hux era -> you want little angst with your fics like me? go check them out. Absolutely love their series and I am going to reread them soon.

Accidents -alvfr -> Aaron Hotchner my beloved and excellent writing

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - beewolf - Chishiya - Just like w youvebeenlivingfictional and writefightandflightclub I love works with references etc and this one w literature refs is just perfect

@upsidedownwithsteve got into my Steve Harrington lover boy era recently (and again) and their works? Chef's kiss, absolutely delicious

A special friend - Fred Weasley x reader - @luveline - You completely bewitched me with the sentence: "Doesn’t she realise I’m a simple, pathetic man who wants to have her simple, pathetic babies?” I had to recently reread it again and I will probably have to do it once again just for this sentence, I am not even talking about how this is an absolute masterpiece went it comes to writing for reader w anxiety etc. perfect depiction of everything

*Like seriously if I dont read these works or newly posted works of these authors assume I am dead

[starlessea]

Thank you!

cosmiccs fic recommendations

A/N: none of these stories belong to me, all credit goes to the original authors! if you don’t want to be on the list, please just let me know! also please be sure to always read warnings <3

(there will most likely be a part 2 i have a bad habit of not liking fics lmao)

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

daryl dixon

peak-a-boo by @starlessea

miss me by @cultofdixon

withering flowers by @ficnation

daryl dixon masterlist by @r66dus

laying on daryl’s frame by @dixondeliria

masterlist by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

jealous daryl dixon by @e-m-christina

eyes on me by @dreamingdixon(warning for description of SA)

we used to share a bed by @twdeadfanfic

big brother by @starlessea

speak up by @weretheones

din djarin/the mandalorian

family head cannons by @dameronology

security by @dindjarindiaries(OC story but has a self-insert on ao3)

moments in the dark by @talesofesther

in time by @221bshrlocked

ibac’ner by @unbound-space-trash

tasm peter parker

remember me by @softlymellow

second chances by @wondergotham

dating andrew! peter parker by @bowieandqueen11

let me help by @nina-corpsewitch-zenik

coming home by @mads-weasley

are you ok? by @lenaswritingandstuff

crush by @ptersparkers

the first fall of snow by @godlessandwrecked

relief by @lipstickbisous

fluff alphabet by @kaylawritesfics

steve harrington

loving you is a full time job by @wolfstarlvrs(wouldnt let me tag)

providing protection by @captainhotch

of caresses and care by @bejeweledmastermind

nuggets by @spideystevie

[starlessea]

Love reading these comments! Thank you ❤️

Peek-A-Boo

A/N This is a Daryl / Reader story told through Judith’s perspective. This is what most of you wanted to see from the vote - so I hope you enjoy the fluff!​

Summary: The story of Aunt and Uncle Dixon told through the eyes of Judith Grimes.

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee

The very first memory Judith Grimes had of her uncle and her aunt was from back when they weren’t even known as Aunt and Uncle Dixon — well, not to her at least.

She’d been two, or maybe even three years old at the time. She knew she was young, since the memory itself was fuzzy, blurred like an old photograph left out in the sun — like the picture of her and her brother as the years drew on. But even then, their faces hadn’t really changed, nor had the way they looked at each other.

Judith Grimes had been two and a half, perhaps bordering on three, when her world went dark.

That sounded ominous-

It hadn’t really — but at the time she didn’t know any better.

Keep reading

[starlessea]

Thank you for the high praise!! 🥺

Here is a list of stuff I love/recommend from writers I think are neat. Please be sure to check out their blogs and their other stuff too! I will be updating this list the more I find stuff I love.

*this list is arranged in alphabetical order

❤️‍🔥 = smut (18+) 💝 = fluff 💔 = angst 👀 = suggestive/implied smut

❧ @collecting-stories ↳ I am not sure if this writer is currently writing for Daryl at the moment, but I ADORE their Daryl content! Be sure to check them out, and maybe you'll find that they write for some other characters you like, too!

❧ @devnmon ↳ Rye is one of my pals, and they just so happen to write some of the best Daryl Dixon fanfiction ever. Like, ever. They write some of the sweetest, sauciest, sexiest smut I've ever read, and their writing style is just amazing. I am so bad at describing this kind of stuff, but trust me when I say that they are essential reading if you like Daryl Dixon x Reader!

❧ @haruhey ↳ So much has been said about Haru, but I truly cannot express how amazing their work is. Not only do they write the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering smut on this planet, but they also put so much care and detail and love into their writing. I love how they put tons of effort into creating a real relationship between Daryl and the reader character. It's truly spectacular. Please check their stuff out if you haven't already.

❧ @normanplusdaryl ↳ Ari is just starting on her writing journey, and boy is she already turning out to be another ICONIC addition to the Daryl Dixon x Reader family. I love the way she writes Daryl, how he's true to his character and does/says things I actually think he would do/say. That is a really hard thing to do! Plus, she writes angst super well, and, once again, that is not an easy feat.

❧ @starlessea ↳ This writer's work pretty much introduced me to the world of Daryl Dixon x Reader. In fact, her series, Here Comes the Sun, is what inspired me to write my own series, and my own fanfiction in general.

❧ @weretheones ↳ Madi is not only one of the sweetest, kindest, smartest, funniest, coolest, most talented people you will ever meet, she is also a stellar writer who truly understands the complexities of Daryl's character and basically everything about him. She is truly the gem of Daryl Dixon x Reader. She is an icon, a star, a revolutionary. She rocks my world. Oh, and she is one of the best angst writers. Ever. I don't even particularly like angst, but Madi? She does it so well that it's not even angst, it's just pure art.

❧ Back to Black by normanplusdaryl | 💔 ↳ Summary: Daryl comes home after many years to face the consequences of his actions. ↳ Word Count: 2.5k

❧ Doctor's Orders by weretheones | 💔 ↳ Summary: When a sprained ankle takes you off run duty, the new girl goes in your place. Which would’ve been fine– if she didn’t have that brilliant wit, gorgeous smile, and effortless skill. But she did. And it was only a matter of time before Daryl noticed too. (Season 4) ↳ Word Count: 7k

❧ Gone For Good | Part 1 & 2 by weretheones | 💔💝 ↳ Summary: It was easy to lose hope when everyone around you started dropping like flies. When the flu hit, Daryl saw your optimism drain alongside your health, but it wasn’t until the brutal attack of the Governor that he lost his.  ↳ Word Count: 9k (total)

❧ Hide Away With Me by haruhey | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms. ↳ Word Count: 3.6k

❧ In Vino Veritas by haruhey | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: After a particularly rough run, Daryl wants nothing more than to shut himself away from everyone with you. However, he’d agreed days prior to be your ‘date’ to one of Alexandria’s welcoming parties thinking you needed someone to share the pain of new people with. Guilt gnaws at him the whole night and he gets wasted to numb the feeling, resulting in you having to carry him home. The alcohol in his system and the way that dress hugs you makes him particularly… talkative, and as the Romans say, in wine there is truth. ↳ Word Count: 30k

❧ Late To the Party by devnmon | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: Daryl has a knife kink. ↳ Word Count: 7.1k

❧ No Rush by weretheones | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: Daryl took his time with you. ↳ Word Count: 950

❧ You Deserve the World by devnmon | 💝💔👀 ↳ Summary: Daryl’s been insecure about his age starting to show, and is worried he’ll lose you. You show him every way he won’t. ↳ Word Count: 3.4k

❧ You, You, You by normanplusdaryl | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: After a long night, Daryl comes home and you decide he needs a little break. ↳ Word Count: 1.2k

❧ All You Got by weretheones | 💝💔 ↳ Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

❧ Georgia by collectingstories | 💝 ↳ Summary: King County, Georgia. In a small town like that, where everyone knows everyone, people can get pigeon-holed into personalities that aren’t their own. Daryl Dixon was a troublemaker, a good-for-nothing, redneck kid who would grow up to be just like his dad. Drinking too much, smoking too much, and cheating his way through life. But Daryl isn’t any of the things people say he is and you’re willing to shoulder the burden of their judgement when you find yourself falling for him.

❧ Here Comes the Sun by starlessea | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you’re not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn’t like your singing, or that you can’t use a gun for shit - and don’t get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he’s found a best friend for life, and that he doesn’t actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Updated: 3/13/2023

[starlessea]

Starlessea2 is officially now multifandom because I don't have a place to share my other writings!

I'm going to use this account for any fanfics I write for any fandoms (not just the walking dead).

So to kick things off, I'm writing an I Was a Teenage Exocolonist (video game) fanfic about Dys/Sol.

Chapter 1/20 can be found on Ao3 here:

Hope you enjoy!

[starlessea]

Let's have a vote

Hey guys! As mentioned, here are some wips I found. Let me know which you'd like to see finished and I can start working on it.

1. Borrowed Time (one shot)

"In a world where every day is a race against death, Daryl meets someone who’s happy to stop running."

//

Daryl Dixon knew you weren’t going to last long.

He didn’t want to think that way, but he just couldn’t help it. From the moment he set eyes on you, cooped up in the Alexandria infirmary — and hooked to that heavy, metal gas tank which wheeled after you like a wobbly shopping trolley — he thought the world was cruel for even keeping you alive this long.

2. Step on the Gas - Chapter 4

Packing was difficult when you owned nothing but your name. 

Whilst the others around you stuffed suitcases into their cars and fumbled with their tents as they tried to collapse them, you held onto a sole plastic bag containing two of Daryl’s shirts — and a glock tucked into your jeans. 

You hoped there’d be supplies at the CDC, because there was only so long you could wear the same socks, or continue to share a sleeping bag with the man you hurt so deeply.

Though, since his earlier confession, a lot of weight had been lifted from your shoulders. No longer did they feel stiff with tension — save the formerly dislocated one — and no longer were you scared of treading on Dixon’s toes when your paths crossed. It didn’t feel as though bridges were being burned, rather built. For now at least.

Yet, a heavy atmosphere still hung over the camp. Occasional side-eye glances were thrown at Jim — some filled with pity, others with fear. Freshly dug graves still lingered on everyone’s fingertips, dirty with soil and regret. And Andrea’s face had yet to dry, her blue eyes always tepid and weepy.

But all anyone could do in the meantime was pack away their feelings along with their tents. 

You’d exchanged some condolences with Jim earlier, but they sounded insincere since you hadn’t known the man for more than five minutes. He seemed like a good one though — and those were hard to come by. It was a shame.

“Got your head in those clouds again?” a voice asked, and you startled as a hand hovered over your back. 

3. (NEW MINI SERIES) Don't Fear the Reaper - Prelude

It was half-light — that time of day that wasn’t really day, but too timid yet to become night. It was shadowy but those shadows were warm; it was humid but there was no rain. It was a time of in-betweens, perhaps, merely a prelude for what would pass. The sky bore hues of lilac and burnt orange, like a new bruise forming over pale flesh

And beneath that sky staggered fleshy figures covered in those very bruises. The undead.

They groaned under that sky, as rumbles of thunder awaiting a lightning strike, and bobbed along the concrete like a decaying sea. But they were unnatural. Strange marionette creatures kept alive by cruel fate, made to act even crueller. If this was nature taking her course, you thought, then she was perverted — and far too bored.

A pair of feet shuffled along a worn out road; one was missing a boot, toes bloody, with a calloused heel. The other leg bent awkwardly, like an abused wire hanger — misshapen but still recognisable. This figure had its head hung down, hair before its face in a knotted spider’s web, but low gurgles escaped it nevertheless. They sounded as water did when it came to a boil, but this time it bubbled a choked mix of saliva and blood.

Grotesque, you thought, and spat at the roadside.

No onlooker would think twice about pulling a weapon. No sane person would hesitate to put it out of its misery. Just like every other undead asshole creeping along this stretch of highway, it was nothing but a stubborn tumbleweed trying to catch a bite.

Except it wasn’t. This one was alive — just barely.

“F-fuck”, you spluttered, but every letter stuck to your tongue.

The pebbles beneath your feet were jagged, slicing at the tender skin, but that was merely a tickle when compared to the thorn in your side. The wound had bled through your shirt, trickled down your pants, and had even made your toes the colour of rust. But there was no point tending to it. A bite was a bite.

4. (UNTITLED WITCHER FANFIC) Chapter 1 - Beware the Blackwater

The Yaruga river lined the southern border of Brugge, seeping into the earth and making it swell into marshlands. The air tasted faintly of salt there, and of smoky saltwater bass being charred over open fires. And in Dillingen too, a fortress stood tall. It was erected close to that river, and it was a wonder how it hadn’t sunk to the depths of the blackwater estuary already. Though, they say that water is the best defence, and perhaps that was why Brugge hadn’t yet fallen. But that was only a matter of time.

When travellers speak of Brugge and Dillingen their stories often find their way to this stone fortress and all of the battles it had hosted. They tell tales of sieges and of arrows raining fire down upon it only to be quelled and snuffed by the damp marsh. Yet, there is scarcely ever a word spared about the village even further down than that - so far south that it had one foot in the blackwater and the other on a fishing pier. 

Goddin was an angler village, so small and irrelevant that it couldn’t be traced back to any map. It’s residents were sailors and fishers, their wives and daughters. It was no more, no less. It was a peaceful village overlooked by war and strife - out of pity more than anything - and sustained itself on the very thing keeping it from the mainland, the blackwaters and the fish that lurked there. Rarely was there ever so much as a tavern brawl to rock the boat (since there was only one, and its barmaid was sterner than the most fierce storm) and never had Goddin become a place of interest before now. Yet, on this day, amid the warmest time of the year where the flowers bloomed and the salty air tasted a little sweeter, a witcher stepped foot onto Goddin’s piers. 

Geralt hadn’t been paid a lot for this job - less coin than he’d care to admit, really. But a fisherman had travelled all the way to Northern Brugge just to hand him that satchel of gold, scraped together by villagers living in fear. He could smell it. So, after the week’s journey, give or take a few days, Geralt of Rivia arrived at the blackwater shores of Goddin, at what seemed like the edge of the earth - at world’s end. 

“Ain’t got no inns ‘ere,” sniffed the angler, wiping his nose on the ratty fabric of his sleeve. “But me an’ the wife will host the both of ya’s.”

Geralt grunted, having almost forgotten the presence beside him. 

“Well isn’t that kind,” quipped Jaskier, jabbing the witcher with his boney elbow. “Right, Geralt?” he prompted. But the other man remained silent. 

The witcher wasn’t sure how he’d happened upon the bard yet again - like a leeching parasite he just couldn’t bring himself to cut the head off. Perhaps he liked his songs, he thought, but shook his head immediately after. That couldn’t be it.

The angler, growing nervous from the bounty hunter’s demeanour, let out a strained laugh. “Free ‘a charge, of course,” he continued, and Geralt’s ears pricked up. “Least we can do.”

...

There are more, but I'll keep it to this for now. Hope you enjoyed the snippets. Let me know which one you want to see more of.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #twd fanfiction #twd #twd drabbles #twd fic #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt #geralt x you #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia fanfic

[starlessea]

Your scent lingered

Drabble: Come morning, you leave behind nothing but crumpled sheets and your scent. But Daryl craves more.

A/N I'm starting a 10-min drabble series where I write something on my phone quick before bed. Here's the first.

Your scent lingered but you never did.

Daryl wondered why that was - why you'd pack yourself up and haul yourself out of town before his eye could crack open to the dawn.

It wasn't a commitment thing. You were committed to a lot of things: him, sex, chaos.

And you always came back.

You were always there when he needed - with fingers of ice but breaths of fire, and a heart a few degrees south of molten core.

But then you were gone. Away with the night and like a fleeting dream come morning.

The excuses would vary. "Supply run." "Weapon maintenance." "Some Alexandrian snob got a blocked drain (again)."

Daryl had grown tired. Tired of waking up tired to an empty pillow and a scent that always lingered.

Would it kill you to once stay for the dawn, to stay in his arms through morning and to only leave once the knocks came at the door?

It probably would. He knew that by now.

The only thing in this world powerful enough to tie you down was a headstone. And even then, he wasn't sure.

So Daryl stretched out his arms over the king-sized, royally pompous bed, and felt his fingertips brush the sheets where you had lain.

Warmth lingered there. But you did not.

And so Daryl spent half an hour more wondering where you had scuttled off to in your usual hurry, and why you'd kissed his chest so tenderly as you dressed near his bedside.

He'd been awake then. He always was when you left. And every time, you'd whisper him a chaste goodbye as though it were the last, and Daryl would struggle to feign sleep - fretting that it might really be.

Your scent lingered but you never did.

Yet that alone was enough for Daryl. Because there would come a day when neither would remain. And on that day, Daryl knew, this world would become a drop more cold.

[starlessea]

Your scent lingered

Drabble: Come morning, you leave behind nothing but crumpled sheets and your scent. But Daryl craves more.

A/N I'm starting a 10-min drabble series where I write something on my phone quick before bed. Here's the first.

Your scent lingered but you never did.

Daryl wondered why that was - why you'd pack yourself up and haul yourself out of town before his eye could crack open to the dawn.

It wasn't a commitment thing. You were committed to a lot of things: him, sex, chaos.

And you always came back.

You were always there when he needed - with fingers of ice but breaths of fire, and a heart a few degrees south of molten core.

But then you were gone. Away with the night and like a fleeting dream come morning.

The excuses would vary. "Supply run." "Weapon maintenance." "Some Alexandrian snob got a blocked drain (again)."

Daryl had grown tired. Tired of waking up tired to an empty pillow and a scent that always lingered.

Would it kill you to once stay for the dawn, to stay in his arms through morning and to only leave once the knocks came at the door?

It probably would. He knew that by now.

The only thing in this world powerful enough to tie you down was a headstone. And even then, he wasn't sure.

So Daryl stretched out his arms over the king-sized, royally pompous bed, and felt his fingertips brush the sheets where you had lain.

Warmth lingered there. But you did not.

And so Daryl spent half an hour more wondering where you had scuttled off to in your usual hurry, and why you'd kissed his chest so tenderly as you dressed near his bedside.

He'd been awake then. He always was when you left. And every time, you'd whisper him a chaste goodbye as though it were the last, and Daryl would struggle to feign sleep - fretting that it might really be.

Your scent lingered but you never did.

Yet that alone was enough for Daryl. Because there would come a day when neither would remain. And on that day, Daryl knew, this world would become a drop more cold.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #twd fanfic #twd #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon imagine #twd drabble #twd imagines #twd imagine #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #starlessea #fanfic #fanfiction

[starlessea]

"It's just a reblog. Don't get emotional."

*The reblog* ^^

Fr thanks so much 🥺

Crossfire

A/N Whaaat, another alternate perspective POV that you guys like so much?? We’ve had Judith’s POV in Peek-A-Boo, Merle’s in Big Brother, and now we have Rick’s!

Summary: Rick Grimes recalls the day his brother almost lost you (since Daryl still couldn’t bring himself to).

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee

Something was off about that run — Rick could just feel it.

The air was wrong, as was the crunch of his boots on those autumn leaves. His breaths felt heavy, but his steps were oddly light.

Yet, the place was as silent as the grave. Too silent, Rick thought, and swallowed dryly.

He wondered whether Daryl could feel it too. Sure, he didn’t have the honed senses of a seasoned officer, but he had something — that’s for damn sure. The man’s ears would prick up at the slightest breeze in the distance, or if a twig dared to snap in his peripheral.

He was more like a wild beast than a hunter, Shane had told Rick once — so long ago now that it felt like a past lifetime.

Rick had to agree. Though, he perhaps would have put it another way. Maybe he’d say that Daryl Dixon was a born survivalist — someone with a keen sense and the skills to back it up. His gut instinct had gotten him this far, after all.

A lot further than Shane, he grimaced.

Keep reading

[starlessea]

Look mom, I'm famous

Do you have any recommendations of Daryl x reader?

Um well I always recommend @haruhey @imagine-thewalkingdead @starlessea @daryl-dixon-daydreams idk probably more but yeah. I honestly don't read a ton of fanfiction because I like to spend more time writing it but those are some really good writers.

[starlessea]

Hello followers.

Alas, I have risen from thee grave.

WooOoOo.

I'm a big girl now with a big girl job so I haven't had time to do much writing (tho I did have a stint where I tried to write my own novel and got 8 chapters in... Will probably finish at some point).

Anywho, I digress. I was just looking through my absolute MESS of a Google drive and noticed I have about 18 random ass WIPs from different fandoms. I was wondering if anyone wants me to post them (literally some are a few paragraphs to a few pages) and maybe we could have a vote and I'll slowly try to work on one in between work.

I know this is a daryl blog so you'll probably be daryl bias but yeah just gonna yeet my wips out there.

Let me know if you're interested!

#writing #fanfic #daryl dixon

[starlessea]

Thank you for the wonderful praise!

July Fic Recs

Here is what I’ve been reading this month.  Some are new fics, some are old ones that I’ve just discovered or rediscovered, but they are all amazing!  Please, check them out, and enjoy!

Keep reading