#hands is one of my fave songs like. ever I love the Sound

[finelinefae]

soft

synopsis: girls with cute tummies and soft thighs and extra chub in different places can also date hot popstar boys okay? okay.

word count: 2.1 k

contains: plus size reader, non au harry, fluff, mentions of body image and insecurities, harry being obsessed with his girlfriend

A/N: the start of a new thing called 'soft girl sundays' which I'm starting !! i wrote this for wp a few months ago but it's one of my fave things I've written so I'm re-posting it here. it's cheesy and fun and harry's obsessed with his girl !! i know for a lot of us girlies sometimes it feels like we take up too much space and we're always made to feel smaller mentally, physically, in every way really but you have much of a right to be here as everyone else so take up alllll the space u need !! women are beautiful and majestic no matter their size 💘

. . .

My girls' in the audience tonight.

I look past the curtain across the stage and see her in the VIP section.

Even without the stage lights shining on her, she's glowing.

She's wearing a shirt with my initials stitched over her heart and every time she lifts her arms, I see her soft tummy and the dimples on her back when she spins. Her thick thighs are on show as she wears the smallest pink skirt known to man. Her hair falls past her shoulder and down her back and her cute cheeks turn pink as she smiles when she speaks to some of the team who stand with her. 

She's the living embodiment of the divine feminine and I can't ever seem to get over the fact that she's all mine. 

The music begins to play and I watch as her face lights up with excitement. She's seen this show over a few dozen times but she never fails to be just as excited as the first time she saw me walk on stage with a hickey on my neck that she'd put there moments before.

When it's my queue, I skip onto the stage and my ears nearly burst as the sound of people screaming over the music starts to fill the stadium. She's smiling, she's cheering, she's singing the words to every single song. She's so pretty and she's all I see.

When the show ends, I walk backstage to my dressing room. Normally I'd run into a car and get the Hell out of there before crowds of people start to fill up the streets to get home, but this time, Y/N was here and I knew how much anxiety she felt whenever we had to rush to be somewhere.

I walked in and accepted the compliments from my team after another successful show. Paris was a city I held close to me so it was always a fun time when we played.

I gulped down a glass of water and felt arms snake around my waist. I immediately grinned when I saw the lilac-painted nails that matched my very own. I feel her nuzzle her face into my back before I twist in her embrace and look into the eyes of the girl I love with everything in me.

"Hi baby," I whisper, stroking her cheek that still had glitter on it.

"Hi Harry," Y/N murmurs, her eyes tired but full of happiness.

"Y' okay?" I hold her, feeling her soft skin beneath my hand. She was so soft and cuddly.

"I'm okay." She smiles, lazily. "You did so good up there. I nearly cried,"

I laugh, "You always nearly cry."

"That's because I'm proud of you." She shrugs.

We sit on the couch and she straddles my lap, her skirt riding up and I nearly choke when I catch a glimpse of her lacy underwear. I put my hands on her thighs and squeeze them softly. "You excited for our trip tomorrow?" I asked, staring at her lips and suddenly feeling the temptation to kiss them. I did and she happily accepted.

We had a few days before the next show so we decided to head down to the South of France and spend a few days in Nice. We haven't been on a trip together in a while other than the tour locations so we made the most of the little time we had in between shows to spend as much time as we could together.

She nods, "I bought a new swimsuit just for the occasion."

I groan, my head falling back against the couch, "You kill me."

She giggles, "love you."

I immediately smile. "I love you too," I kiss her.

The morning after the show, we woke up early to make our flight down to Nice. Y/N whines the entire time because she's not a morning person and refuses to step one foot out of bed until I force her.

She sleeps on my chest the entire journey there, wearing an oversized hoodie with the hood up. "My whole heart is inside y'." I murmur as her cheek presses against my chest and makes her lips all pouty, light snores falling from them. I lightly push some of her baby hairs back from her face and trace my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

We arrive and head straight to our room at the hotel to drop our bags off before heading to the beach. Y/N immediately opens the doors to the balcony and gasps when she looks out at the view. "Harry, it's beautiful," Y/N says in awe.

I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her tummy, squeezing the softest part of her. I loved all the parts of her but her tummy was my absolute favourite. She always complained about it. How it stuck out when she wore tight clothing and even more so after eating. 'Harry I already have a tummy? Why punish me further by making it bigger after I eat? Seems unfair don't you think?'  I'd spend the whole journey home telling her how beautiful she looked and how I loved watching her enjoy the food she loves and then I'd hold her in bed and run circles on her little, bloated belly because I had made it my life's mission to show as much love to the little chub of a tummy she had.

I pull on my swim shorts and a white linen shirt, leaving the buttons undone. I pack my beach bag for our beach towels and my book as well as my film camera and sun lotion.

Y/N walks out of the bathroom. Her hair in loose curls from the heat and her face already sunkissed and pretty. My mouth falls open when I take in the small, blue bikini on her body, revealing her soft curves and every perfect inch of her.

"Do you like it?" She blushes, acting like she's not the hottest girl I've ever seen in my entire life.

It tied at her waist and around her neck, my immediate thought being how easy it would be to take it off her and spend the entire day in bed, making out or whatever. I honestly couldn't care less as long as she's there.

"Baby," I dropped the bag on the floor and made my way towards her, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilting her head back so I could kiss her at the perfect angle.

She whines and the sound nearly has me dropping to my knees. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"You really think so?" She bites back a smile, "You don't think I need to hide my stretch marks?" My heart aches at how unsure she sounded, the fact she even had to ask made me want to pick her up and kiss each stretch mark on her body.

"No, my love," I shake my head, kissing the stretch marks at the top of her left breast and feeling her heart racing at the delicate touch. "You have absolutely nothing to hide from anybody. Y' beautiful and you're mine,"

She smiles and kisses me again.

We head down to the beach to the reserved sunbeds. Y/N lays out her towel and sits down to apply sun cream to her arms and legs. I help her do her back, massaging her shoulders and trying not to combust as she rolls her head to the side and moans at the feeling.

I literally have a crush on this woman.

And she's my fucking girlfriend.

What did I do to get this lucky in life?

"Let's go in the water baby," I held her hand and we walked to the water, stepping in together.

She wraps her arms and legs around me when we're deep enough in the water. I squeeze her ass and she gasps, swatting me gently. "What?" I look at her innocently.

"There's people watching." She hides her face in my neck and I turn us both around to catch sight of the paparazzi hiding behind the trees and snapping pictures of us.

I release a sigh and pull her face back to get a better look at her. If there was one thing that could make my girlfriend second guess herself, it was the paparazzi constantly posting her pictures online and allowing people to berate her for how she looked.

"Please don't let them ruin your day my love," I kiss her shoulder, still holding her in my arms. "I promise, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"You promise?" She pouts.

"Feel this," I reach for her hand and guide her to the small bit of chub on my hip.

She gasps, "You have chub too!"

I rolled my eyes but smiled at the same time, her excitement was adorable. "Everyone's got something they're insecure about. No matter how hard I've tried I can't seem to get rid of it, maybe it's from all the cakes you've been making but how am I meant to say no to such a pretty face?"

She squeals in delight when I pinch her sides and giggles as I press kisses to her face. "Wanna go and sunbathe for a little, baby?" She nods and we both walk out of the water so she can sit in the sun for a bit.

I spend more time in the water and come out to find Y/N verging on the brink of sleep. I smirk as I crawl between her legs and lay between her thighs, sighing softly as I turn my head away from the sun and press a kiss to her inner thigh. She reaches down and runs her fingers through my wet hair, her nails scratching my scalp.

After midday, I order food to be sent up to our room. Y/N's passed out on the sunbed so I gently shake her awake, "Hi baby," Her pretty eyes flutter open, "Need you to drink something darling, you've been in the sun for a while." She slowly sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. I unscrew the cap of the water bottle and pass it to her, watching as she almost drinks the whole thing.

"I got us room service to be delivered. Want to head back upstairs for a bit?" Her cheeks were red and her hair was all frizzy due to the humidity. She nodded and we packed our things up and made our way back to our hotel room.

Our food was already laid out on the balcony by the time we walked into the room. I had left the air conditioning on so the room was nice and cool since Y/N struggled to sleep when it was too hot and stuffy.

She was wearing my linen shirt over her bikini and I couldn't help but stare at her ass as I followed her to the table outside.

There was fruit, bread and pastries laid out on a spread at the table as well as a glass of red wine and some orange juice. Y/N sat on one of the chairs with one leg hitched up as she ate some of her baguette and cheese, her favourite snack to eat when we were in France.

"Are you having fun, my love?" I asked, taking a bite of fresh watermelon.

She nods quickly, "It's the best. Anytime with you is always the best,"

"Come sit here," I motion and move my chair out, patting my thigh. She doesn't hesitate and stands up to sit down on my lap.

I kissed the back of her neck and put one hand on her hip, my thumb traced the edge of the waistband of her bikini bottoms, slipping under the material to trail soft circles over her hip bones.

"I'm keeping you forever, I hope you know that," I murmur, appreciating this intimate moment between us which didn't happen as often as I liked them to but we made do.

"I hope so," She whispers.

I loved this girl for all she was. There is nothing in this world that could change just how much I adored her.

"Harry," She says my name, "This bikini is pretty easy to take off you know."

I choke, eyes widening and seeing the smirk on her face. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me and her ankles locking behind my back. "Is that a challenge or a request?" I kiss her lips, tasting the saltiness of the sea on them.

"Both," She says in between kisses.

This girl. 

[shadowdaddies]

I don’t know if you do reqs based on songs but if you could do one based off of windowsill by zayn w/ Rhys? Just them like doing it on every available surface and him dirty talking and just 🥵. Love your work

um YES I love this, please send me more requests based on songs it's my fave 💜 (song link at the end of the post)

Windowsill

Rhys x Reader smut

warnings: smut below the cut, praise kink

The marble kitchen countertop was cold against your skin, elbows resting on the surface as you sipped the warm tea in your hands. The hot drink soothed your throat, but not your nerves, as you anxiously waited for your mate to return from meetings in Illyria. 

As if you conjured him from your thoughts, a familiar talon caressed your mental walls, Rhys’s voice purring through your mind. “I am almost home. I need you, now,” he practically growled, desire flowing through the bond so strongly it sent a shiver down your spine.

Gaze flicking to the window, you sat down the cup of tea as you moved to look out at the garden, arms rested on the windowsill as you waited for his arrival. 

Dark power rippled through the air, the feeling intoxicating as desire consumed you, heat building in your core. The ground shook, roaring like thunder as the most beautiful male you’d ever seen landed in the grass, violet eyes piercing through you. 

Breath caught in your lungs as Rhysand ran a hand through his dark hair, chest heaving as his gaze remained locked on you. Within a moment, he disappeared into shadow, darkness consuming him before you sensed his presence behind you.

A chill ran through your body, breathless as you clenched around nothing at the intoxicating scent of your mate and his arousal from behind. You dared to peek over a shoulder, tension in the air growing thick as he flicked his tongue across his bottom lip, eyeing you as though you were his last meal.

“I’ve been aching to be inside of you all day,” he murmured in an almost painful tone as hands clenched at his sides. Your own eyes darkened, face heating under his stare as you struggled for words.

“Take me, Rhys, please,” you pleaded, barely above a whisper as he strode towards you with confident steps, warm hands wrapping around your thighs as he lifted you against the window.

Legs wrapping instinctively around him, you gasped at the feeling of Rhys’s hard length straining against his pants, pressed against your core. A hand gripped your chin, tilting your lips to his as his tongue slipped through your teeth, flicking the roof of your mouth in tandem with his hips grinding against you.

You moaned, mind dizzying with need as you massaged Rhys’s tongue with your own, rolling your hips against his. “Please,” you begged. “Please, Rhys. More.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips, both of your clothes vanishing in an instant. The warmth of his chest against your sensitive nipples, his cock brushing your folds, nearly sent you over the edge. 

Lips parting in pleasure, you looked up at your mate, whose dark gaze was fixed upon you, pure male satisfaction as he memorized your reaction.

A hand swept between you, Rhys’s long fingers lightly rubbing your clit as you arched against him, gasping as you lost control of your body. Incoherent babbles left your lips as you pleaded for more, desperate to have him inside of you. 

A dark chuckle brushed against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Soon enough, darling,” Rhys promised, his fingers toying with your pussy as lips sucked and licked marks down your neck.

A frustrated whine escaped you, arms clutching Rhys’s shoulders as you wound against him. “No, I need you now,” you breathed, eyes frantic with desire. Rhys looked to you, nodding with understanding as he lined himself up at your entrance. “Don’t hold back, please,” you begged.

No sooner had the words left your lips than Rhys thrust deep inside of you, buried to the hilt. The two of you moan in unison, lewd sounds echoing through your home as his hips withdrew. Breathy gasps, the sound of your slick pussy rubbing against his cock all that were heard as he began pounding into you. "Fuck, you look incredible, darling," he muttered.

Nails scraped down his back, your head fallen against the window as he thrust relentlessly. You couldn’t form a thought as he hit that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust, his pace brutal while you held on desperately.

“Perfect. All mine,” Rhys ground out, sweat beading on his forehead as his hips met yours in a beautiful rhythm. A crack sounded from behind you, unknown to you through the rush of pleasure you were feeling. Rhys looked up at the crack you’d splintered in the window, a cocky grin on his lips as he lifted you away from the surface.

“Rhys!” you shouted, the sound melding into a moan as he settled inside of you, buried deep while he moved further into the kitchen. He laid you out on the kitchen counter, admiring your hair splayed out beneath you, nipples hard with arousal as you looked up at him with glazed eyes.

“You are everything,” he murmured, hands wrapping around your waist as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, somehow filling you up further as he rocked against you. The cold countertop sent shivers down your spine, pussy clenching around Rhys’s warm length.

His thumb found your clit, your eyes widening in shock as you convulsed against his touch, breathy moans escaping you as he pulled you to your orgasm. With shaky legs, you caught your breath, searching Rhys’s gaze as his eyes lit in a euphoric delight, his cock twitching inside of you as his warmth spread.

The two of you lay there panting for a moment, a soft smile finding its way to your lips as you looked up at your mate in admiration. “I missed you, so much,” you murmured, fingers lightly stroking his sharp jawline.

Rhys pulled your hand from his face, pressing a kiss to your palm as he smiled at you. “I missed you more. And I’m not done with you, yet,” he growled, winking at you as he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bed.

[hoonvrs]

ROUND AND AROUND — n. riki

req for 1k event!

PROMPT  [ two, 9 ] picking you up and twirling you when they’re excited 

PAIRING riki x gnr

GENRE est. relationship, fluff

WARNINGS none

W. COUNT 0.6k

S. NOTE last but not least my baby riki. this is the last req from my event ( long overdue ik but shhh ) but I tried to make it a little special for my special boy and i genuinely had fun writing this so hopefully it’s good <3

also the title being one of my fave songs ever. jo yuri u will be punished for making it so so short

the sounds of machines beeping and other teenagers screaming rang through your ears as you walked through the arcade hand-in hand with riki. walking past all the friends playing with the claw machines before you pulled him back towards one that caught your eyes.

“oh my god, how cute!” you said, digging through your pocket to ply one round before you felt riki push you away to take your place.

you see him slot in a coin as he bends down a little to grab the joystick, posture relaxed “i’m an expert, watch me get it on the first try for you.”

fast forward, it’s been over half an hour and still no plushie in sight. your competitive boyfriend refuses to give up after many failed attempts, something about not letting a stupid machine hurt his ‘manly’ pride. he was hunched over the control keys, knees bent, as he followed the claw using his whole upper body.

after another fail you begin to tug at the bottom of his shirt, “come on, babe. we all know they’re rigged, and you’ve already spent too much on it.”

you see him huff under his breath, annoyance starting to show through his face still adamant on winning. suddenly shooting up straight, startling you as he whips his head towards you. If there was a lightbulb above his head, it would’ve turned on, “hug me.”

“what?” you looked at him confused, seeing him looking completely serious.

“hug me, you’re my lucky charm,” he grabbed your arms, encouraging you to wrap around his waist, and how could you say no after all the effort — and money — he has used to discourage him now? so, slowly wrapping your arms around him wasn’t the problem, but the awkward situation it left you in with him slightly bending into you.

trying to ignore the questioning glances thrown your way by people just trying to walk past you two as riki goes back into focus with a deep breath.

you couldn’t see much of what was going on, having your view obstructed by your boyfriend's huge back until you start to feel him shake. he turned around so quickly you barely had time to register before you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground.

rikis excited about winning the plushie after god knows how much time and money manifested in him lifting you and spinning you both, “i knew you were my lucky charm!”

leaving no room for you to respond, he quickly places you down as he turns to retrieve the plushie, an almost jarring yellow duck with pink round cheeks and a puffy beak. presenting it to you like a cat would when leaving a dead bird at your doorstep, all pridefully accompanied by the biggest box smile on display.

“here you go, bae. why’d you pick this duck anyway?” he asked, the adrenaline of finally winning evidently still hadn’t worn off yet. you slowly raised the plushie to be beside rikis head, now having two ducks facing you.

you could see the gears turning in his head, but no dots were connecting as he slightly tilted his head with a pout on his lips. you could swear he was trying to copy the duck if you hadn’t known him well enough.

“no reason, just cute.”

shrugging in response, as he grabs your hand to pull you towards another game that wouldn’t suck your pockets dry. looking down to see the duck snug between your forearm and chest and looking up to see the boy you love who looked almost identical.

but of course, one of them is way cuter.

perm taglist @mesopret @whoschr ​@haknom @shinsou-rii @redm4ri @lacimolela @llama-lyna @boyfhee @lazysmushi @flwoie @kocokookie @kyexvly @seongclb @dammit-jjk @flwrshee @produmads ​@teddywonss @aleiouvre @dneltrise @aleiouvre @nyxvrse @yohanabanana @whois-alexis @sngvhs @tinyegg @sserafimez @satsuri3su

[hobie-enthusiast]

LOVE MY LOVE !

— hobie brown x gn!reader + specified reader hcs

— tons of fluff, hobie being ur bf hcs, mentions of injury and blood, petnames, hobie being so hopelessly in love, specific hcs at the end for transmasc, cultural, and dyed hair reader, plus one for bad parents

— some classic hcs for hobie being in a relationship with you

— i have a small section on hobie’s hair, so if any info about his wicks is wrong, pls feel free to correct me! also the last 4 hcs are “if you are/have” kind of scenarios but everything before that is for everyone!

— starting off strong he definitely writes songs about you. he keeps his whole punk scene with his band, but these songs are written to himself. he keeps them in a notebook, with random lyrics scribbled in and chords to match them. his songwriting process is messier than most, so sometimes you can barely understand the order of the music or how it sounds. but this works in his favour; because then he’ll play it for you, gauging for your reaction and maybe that embarrassment you may show when he pours out his feelings.

— i mentioned this one in two fics before but i will do it again; he’s so for matching stickers and pins. both of your interests are smacked on his clothes, guitar, and whatever you chose to sport them on. he doesn’t care if they clash with his “punk persona”, after all, being punk means not conforming to societal expectations. so yeah matching stuff is definitely a thing for him. he’ll also match bracelets and rings with you if you’re down for that

— he is such a petnames person. his faves to use on you are sweetheart, darling, love, when it comes to the standard ones (with those he varies between throwing in a “my” in front of it and not just depends). he also likes referring to you as his “partner in crime” and “his/my star” (since he insists he doesn’t like labels ofc). he would also really like if you use petnames on him, or even a nickname. if you ever call him using “hobie”, he knows you’re upset and will fix things. now, if you call him “hobart”.. he’s running.

— okay please please hear me out on this; he’s such a flower boy. loves getting and giving flowers. picking them while he’s out swinging just to bring them back to you is one of his main love languages. and he loves receiving them back. please give him flowers please. surprise him with them. put them in his hair. FLOWER CROWNS TOO FLOWER CROWNS! he just loves flowers, all kinds of flowers.

— his love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. he loves being in contact with you. hobie loves holding your hand, putting his hand on the small of your back, or patting your head. but his all time favourite? intertwining fingers. he loves the small and intimate feeling it provides, as well as comfort. hobie will praise you a ton. always congratulating you, telling you how amazing you are, that sort of thing

— hobie is very protective of the things he loves, including you. he would never take it lightly if say one of his enemies threatened him with you. he tries his best to keep you out of his spider-man work, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen. but trust, he will pull out all the stops to protect you. if you’re threatened, he’s with you 24/7, eyes always watching for the enemy who had the audacity to say they were going to hurt you

— he’s actually so smitten about you it’s insane. will never stop talking about you and how you make him feel. he loves it. loves seeing the way his friends roll their eyes whenever he says “s’ [Name] said-”. everyone who knows him knows he’s crazy about you. there was a time where he felt so alone in his life, but now that he has you, he remembers he isn’t alone. he remembers what he’s fighting for after your pep-talks to him whenever he feels down. you’re his pick-me-up, so ofc he’s gonna brag about you to his friends.

— hobie hates making you his “guy-in-the-chair.” ofc he’s hella grateful for you helping and supporting his cause, fighting for what’s right. but, one of the parts of that is fixing him up when he’s hurt. he hates seeing your face so worried when he swings into your window, blood pooling at his side as you grab a first aid kit. hobie never wants you to worry, he feels terribly bad about it. but he forever appreciates how you always help him, always welcome him home, always manage to make him feel better

— hobie brown said it himself; he is not a morning person. he gets up everyday like after 10, and so he likes to have you in bed when he wakes up. on the weekends, he’ll beg you to stay in bed and sleep more, holding your body close to him and coaxing you with soft neck kisses and raspy whispers (his morning voice btw its gotta be- oh my god). on the days he does manage to keep you to himself, he wakes up in a better mood with a small pep in his step a good amount of the day

— okay so his hair. he’s very very picky on who touches his hair. i wanna say that he would trust you to touch it, but it would take a while. the way hobie grew up and has ideals that makes it kinda hard to trust people. so it truly does take a while. but once he starts trusting you, he realizes how much he loves when you take care of his hair. he loves feeling your fingers mess with his wicks, combing at his scalp. i wrote a whole fic about this but he also loves when you decorate his hair, especially flowers (fic found here!). and once he truly trusts you, he’ll ask for your help when he washes his hair, since it could be time consuming.

— okay so politics and ideals; it’s very important to hobie you hold the same beliefs as him. i really can’t see him with someone who won’t fight and protest like he does tbh. because he needs that support. sometimes things like that just don’t go right, so he wants his partner there next to him to help him fight for what’s right and what they deserve. this is really important to him, hence why i just can’t see him with someone who won’t support him like that. so yea definitely gotta agree like that, and fight for the cause with him

— THIS ONES FOR ALL MY FELLOW TRANS BOYS ive been needing some of this. okay he takes no shit from anyone about your identity or his own. he’s very supportive of you and anything you need. no surgery and no t? he’ll help you bind and assures you you don’t have to conform to any trans agenda anyone sets for you. if you got surgery, he’s constantly helping you, making sure you take care of yourself afterwards. his favourite affirmations are “you’re so handsome.” and “you’re my pre’ty boy, y’know that?” god he’s so-

— now this one is for all my fellow cultural people. he would love to be taught all about your culture. make the food for him. show him the traditional clothing. tell him the history. he wants to know it all! hobie fights everyday for minorities who aren’t heard, and he always wants to know more about who he’s fighting for. he genuinely finds this stuff interesting, especially considering the different types of people he met during his youth. so please, immerse him in that side of you! he’s all ears!

— here’s one for my homies with bad parents (we matchin fr i see you). oh man hobie will not let your parents treat you like that, ever. if he sees them, it’s not good for them. he’s going to ensure you know that you never deserved that treatment from your own parents. he reminds you that you deserve love and affection, and he will be the one to give that to you. he’s very good at helping you through anything you need, with affirmations and his physical presence, he will always remind you that you are safe and that your parents truly are a joke

— this one for all my fellow dyed hair besties. hobie is so down to help you dye your hair 1000%. get the supplies and invite him over and he’s going go help you out. and trust, he knows what he’s doing. i feel like hobie definitely experimented with his own hair in the past, which includes having crazy colours. so he’s got your back, and will also recommend any colour he thinks is gonna look absolutely sick on you

[ghosts-bandwagon]

did i hear konig... can you do an unrequited love with konig. maybe the reader already has a partner (ghost? soapy? someone else?) and konig wishing it was him getting to be with the reader instead... i love watching my faves suffer.

I love your mind anon 🤩 (for maximum effect, I recommend listening to this song- it’s the one I was using to write this 😭)

It’s not often that KorTac and the 141 work together, but the handful of times that it happened were always a treat. Despite everyone else’s complaints. You always managed to make it an enjoyable experience, you’d wind up acting as a mediator between the two teams, even though no one asked you to. You’d always be the first one to step in between König and Ghost when they’d start to let their differences get the better of them. It was amazing watching you stand in between the two mountains, gently shoving both of them away from one another. Despite being a lower rank than him, your presence commanded as much respect as Ghost’s.

It’s part of what made König gravitate towards you, so whenever your teams would work together he’d start to interact with you only. Even though your jobs were demanding, taxing, and draining on the best days, you still found a way to laugh it off. And god your laugh was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, like wind chimes on a soft breezy summer day, it brought him so much peace to hear you. You were so kind and openly loving of your team. When Soap and Ghost came back from a rough mission, you took them both in your arms. Soap returned the embrace with eyes shut and full of emotion, Ghost patted your back and pulled away. You didn’t care, you were just grateful to have them back.

And then you turned to König after Soap shuffled off to his room, you walked up to him and rubbed his arm, hesitant to embrace him, unsure of his comfort levels. He leaned into your touch and you took it as permission, so you got on your toes and wrapped your arms around him. He leaned down and snaked his own around your smaller form, committing to memory the way you fit against him.

“Forget it. Keep pressing on.” You murmured in his ear, he squeezed you a little tighter and took a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo embedding deep in his mind. He straightened up, and wondered how someone who saw the same carnage as he did could still be so good.

“Thank you, schatz.” His voice felt like wind blowing through a crack, he was winded but in the best ways. You smiled softly at him and rubbed his arm one more time before pulling away and walking in the direction of your lieutenant. Every time he’s seen you and interacted with you, he falls deeper and deeper down the hole, he’s in the palm of your hand and he wonders if you’re even aware.

It’s when he’s on his way to the showers that he heard it. Soft voices filtering through a crack in the door, and one that sounded an awful lot like yours. He loved everything about you and anything to do with you, so naturally he looked through the crack and sure enough he saw you and Ghost.

“I can’t have you out there.” He argued,

“It’s not up to you, Simon, how the hell am I supposed to do my job if you’re going to be freaking out anytime we’re on the field together?” You were sat at his desk, legs swinging as you watched him pace back and forth,

Simon?

“Fuck. I know.” His head dropped, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. König watched as you walked towards him, your hands coming up to his chest, slowly sliding under the fabric of his balaclava,

“I need you to trust me, Si.” Your voice was low, your fingers gently moving the fabric up and over his mouth, resting it at the bridge of his nose. König couldn’t see the exposed skin on account of you blocking his view,

Wait.

“It’s not you I don’t trust, you know that.” He sighed, his hands rested on your hips, holding you against him, “I can’t promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Hold on.

“Well I trust you. Besides, I’ll be with König. I trust him.” You reasoned, Ghost rested his forehead against yours,

“Just be careful, love, please. For me.” He begged, his voice desperate and sad.

“Always.” You were so gentle, just as you always were.

And you did the unthinkable. You leaned up on your toes, just like you had when you hugged König not too long ago, and pressed your lips against his. König felt sick. He wanted to scream but he knew better. He quietly stepped away, feeling like he was stuck in place, struck by lightning and frozen with ice. His blood ran impossibly cold. He tasted iron in his mouth before he realized he bit a hole through his lower lip.

He never stood a chance, did he? He walked numbly towards the showers, the scene playing in his mind over and over again. And as he stood under the spray of cold water, he could only imagine the softness of your touch, the tips of your fingers gliding along Ghost’s cheek as you moved his mask away from his face, the warmth of you as you pressed yourself against him.

And then it all made sense. When you’d stand in between them, you’d always lean against Ghost just a little more. Your eyes always found his as soon as he entered the vicinity, and they always held a certain glimmer in them when Ghost would return your stare. It would probably explain why you so especially attuned to him, always aware of him and his quiet presence.

As his head hung in the shower, cold water suddenly not feeling cold enough, his heart broke in his chest. He felt bile rising up to his throat, he wanted to punch and kick and scream and beat the ever loving fuck out of Ghost. But then he’d lose you forever if he did. He’d just have to settle for your friendly embrace and the fact that you trusted him enough to look out for you. It would have to be enough, even if it never could.

[bookishdreamer28]

₊˚⊹ Only in his arms

Gojo x fem reader

Summary: You're in love with your best friend Satoru, and you've been thinking about to confess to him, but you're not sure if you're really ready to tell him. But something happens, that changed your plans entirely.

Genre: Fluff, very fluffy

Warning: This is very tooth rooting :3

Note: This my first attempt to write a fanfic (one shot) so if this one goes welll, I might write mooore! Hope you'll like it ^^

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

There are times like these, where I wish I could stay in this moment forever. And I'm talking about times, where me and Satoru are just, together. Every time I'm with him, I feel I'm the happiest I've ever been. I know it sounds very cheesy and all, but I'm head over heels for this man and I haven't had the courage to say anything. The only I've been dping since I realized I had feelings for him, was to keep them all to myself.

Right now, me and Satoru were heading to his house to watch a movie or something, after a long day of training. Since we left training, I've been thinking of ways to confess my feelings to him, but I can't utter. a. word. However, today I'll pick up the courage and tell him how I feel. I can't pretend anymore. I felt Toru's fingers intertwined with mine, and I felt like I was about to explode. I turned my head towards him and gave him a small smile. Toru smiled too and brought my hand close to his mouth and kissed it. And the butterflies in my stomach were back.

'What's up with you petal? I can tell there's something occupying your mind and you have this distant look on your face all the time. Is something bothering yo- OR IS IT SOMEONE? Tell me right now who bothered my girl and I'll go give them a piece of my mind right n-'

'Satoru everything's ok' I said giggling and brushed my shoulder with his. I rested my head on his shoulder and his arm was wrapped gently around my shoulders. The feeling of his arms around me was incomparable. I felt this way every time I was in his arms.

'Don't need to overreact Toru. I'm just thinking about training and the curses. That's all.' I started playing with his hair. His soft, white hair. Everything about him is perfect.

Satoru this whole time, was looking at me with narrowing eyes. His hands wrapped around my waist and started rubbing my sides, which is something that gave me goosebumps. 'Petal, whatever it is that concerns you, I want to know. Give all your burdens to me. I don't want you to look sad and troubled.' He said and connected his forehead with mine. And now, I'm pretty sure my heart stopped. He so precious HELP ME.

'I promise you that I'm fine. And, same goes for you. I'll always be there to fight whatever makes you have this-adorable must say-frown on your face. Now, let's save some honey for later, and head home kay boy?' Satoru's smiley face made me chuckle.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

We were now chilling in Satoru's room, specifically on his bed, while talking about anything that came to our mind at that moment. I was lying down with him, my head on his chest and his fingers brushing my hair, and our fave songs playing in background. That was all I needed. But truth is, I wanted more. Wanted Us, to be more. I could feel Toru's stare on me, and I turned my head to look at him.

And once I did, I felt my heart beating fast. Again.

Our faces were so close, and I know this is not the first time we have come This close but...this felt different. The atmosphere was different. And the look he gave me, was different too.

'Toru...I want to tell you something.' My voice low, my lips just a breath away from his, his hands on my waist, fingers rubbing soft circles on my skin there. Oh man, this is too much. 'Yeah, petal?' His voice almost a whisper. He lowered his head and my heart started pumping even faster. Is it hot in here? Is he hot? Am I hot? I need to keep it together and finally confess to him or else I'll run out of this room and go to a galaxy far FAR AWAY.

I inhaled and felt myself relaxing. A little. 'Toru, I-'

'I love you.'

'.....what?'

'I love you. So much.'

' •.•'

'Uuuuh I've been in love with you for soooo long and every time we're together I feel like it's just you and me in this world, and I know this sounds very cheesy and all, but I can't keep these feelings to myself anymore or else I'll los-' before he could finish, I grabbed his face and kissed him. Yeah. Kissed him. Me and Toru. Kissing.

Satoru's eyes were so wide, they looked like they were about to pop out of his head, but then I felt him relaxing and whimpered once he brought my body closer to him. This kiss meant so much more than just it’s base. It held passion and grace like very few had held before. Toru'shands left my waist and slowly traveled over me. Exploring and teasing. Once his lips left mine, I couldn't help myself but want more. And I could tell Toru felt the same way. His pupils were dilated and his nostrils flared.

Our heavy breathing was the only sound in the room now. I couldn't even hear the music playing anymore. His hand went to my face and rubbed my cheek softly, while he brought his face close to mine for once again. 'Is this real? Is this actually happening?' He asked with a trembling voice. 'I should be the one asking this' I laughed and Toru smiled brightly when he heard the sound. 'I'm so in love with you too, my Toru' I whispered. He exhaled a shaking breath and hugged me close to bis body again and kissed my forehead. His warmth engulfed me instantly and I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling. 'Oh, are you sleepy pretty baby?' Toru murmured and rubbed my head in soft movements. 'Hhmm a little. I feel so cozy and warm in your arms.' I sighed and felt Toru's chest moving when he chuckled. 'Yeaaah, I know I give the best hugs. And these are only for you princess.' He cooed and tapped my nose with his finger, his face wearing a proud smile.

'Can't argue with that but please, save your cockiness for the another day bae. I have plenty of it already.' I snickered and nuzzled my face in his neck. Toru laughed loudly and kissed me once more. Our palms were pressed together and Toru completed the hold, interlocking our fingers tightly, symbolising us as two halves of the same whole. Yes I'm a hopeless romantic. His lips touching sofly mine, was the last thing I felt before I drifted to sleep.

I have never felt this way before. So relaxed and peaceful. And I was feeling like this, only in his arms.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

That sounded way better in my head, but I think it's good for a first time writing something. Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy reading this one <33

all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of replies about other fandoms, then a couple of replies about twst boys (including one about them loving hands).

Anonymous asked:

as someone who found you through twst i was EXTREMELY surprised and pleased to see your marchen art since sound horizon is still a bit of an obscure thing, esp compared to all the linked horizon stuff. do you have a fav song from the album or their discography in general?

Anon! I am so excited to hear from someone who also knows about Sound Horizon <3 Yes, we love it very much! We haven’t listened to their newer stuff properly, and by “newer” I mean anything that came out after Marchen lol so not that new, but I do remember Marchen (+Ido) coming out and how overwhelmingly amazing it was. It still is, to be fair; I’d say this is my favourite album. I also REALLY love Moira and Elysion.

There are a lot of songs that I love (from Roman and other albums as well), but if I had to pick one from each of my 3 favourite albums, I’d say it’s Yoiyami no Uta, Shiseru Eiyūtachi no Tatakai and Ark.

I don’t listen to Linked Horizon stuff all that much, but I adore everything that Revo wrote for Shingeki. Akatsuki no Requiem is probably my favourite from these songs… and Sasageyo, of course.

The majority of my SanHora art is so old, I’m sorry you had to look at it lol One day I’ll draw all of our faves again…

Anonymous asked:

Yooo! Black butler throw back!? The nostalgia! In ref to ur recent black butler art

Yeah, we post Black Butler art pretty often! Funny enough, even though we watched it ages and ages ago and rewatched it several times, it took all those years for us to finally appreciate it lol So now we love it a lot. And I draw it quite often…

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

I'm sorry did I see W.I.T.C.H. on your fandom list?? Do I sense some good angsty toxic yaoi Phobos from you by chance-

In theory, yeah lol I think Cedric/Phobos was my first ever ship. I would love to draw them at some point, but that probably won’t happen anytime soon.

Anonymous asked:

I sent a link to a translated clip from chapter 7 without realizing you haven’t gotten there yet! I’m so sorry and please don’t click if you don’t want spoilers!

It’s okay! Well, unfortunately, one of us already looked at it oops, but it’s obvious that you didn’t mean it, so don’t worry.

We appreciate your apology and warning <3

fate-muse-club-house asked:

Jamil got to look sexy enough and Kalim will buy him anything he wants

Fact. And Jamil doesn’t even have to do anything – he is sexy enough just normally…

Anonymous asked:

QUESTION!

Do you think any of the twst boys would have a liking/kink of some sort for hands?

Also, I love how you draw Jamil and Kalim.

:)

Thank you, Anon <3

Let’s see… Rook is absolutely the one, he pays attention to hands all the time. He doesn’t like being touched, but loves grabbing hands and caressing his own face with someone else’s hands…

Vil probably has a very specific type of hands that he loves. Manly, but not overly masculine, but strong, but very tidy and elegant? Super specific.

Trey has a thing for tiny hands. They make him physically weak when he looks at them.

Cater also loves hands, and he probably takes pictures of his own hands a lot. He does it just for fun and for the aesthetics of it. Azul adores his own hands. He also thinks Idia’s are prettier than he thought they’d be…

Idia loves either cute and tiny ones or big and masculine ones, and he is in denial about both.

Sebek is also a big lover of hands, but he didn’t figure it out quite yet.

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Idia having a waifu body pillow and whoever he’s with is jealous of it.

Oh they would get jealous 😭 All of them. Even Azul who would at first think that he is above this, and that this is just one of Idia’s million otaku quirks, would get unexpectedly annoyed whenever Idia would hug this thing or even have it on his bed.

Lilia would yeet it from the bed lol it’s his bed! Maybe he’ll get Idia a new daki, the one of Lilia himself doing a cute pose in a cosplay <3 Idia would get uncomfortable and complain about Lilia acting out of character…

Ortho wouldn’t mind it though. If he’s making a scene, it’s intentional! He knows that Idia just uses this anime girl for comfort and that she isn’t as cute as him.

[veliseraptor]

I don't know if you're still doing this but top 5 musicians?

i can still be doing it, for sure. honestly i can still be doing top fives whenever, they're fun for me

Vienna Teng. my OTM (one true musician), queen of my musical heart, comfort artist I always come back to. I think Spotify told me I was in the top less than 1% of listeners last year? and that's been true the last several years running. I'm so excited for the new music this year that was promised to me. or if it doesn't happen this year I'll be excited for it next year, or whenever it happens, I don't even care. would try to pick a favorite song but honestly I don't know that I could

ThouShaltNot. I tripped over this one because of @shorelle back in my livejournal days and they've been a mainstay of my listening rotation ever since. I love their lyrics and their sound both. very different from most of the others on this list but still a fave, for sure. favorite song is probably "We Could Have Flown Like Pollen" though it's a toss up between a lot of them on that album.

The Crane Wives. I found these guys through "Tongues and Teeth" which is a #shipping aesthetic song and then learned that I just really like the rest of their music also. "Tongues and Teeth" probably remains my favorite of theirs but I also have a big soft spot for "The Hand That Feeds."

Delta Rae. another more recent discovery where I just really like their general sound/style. I think my favorite is "Chasing Twisters" but I also really like "Forgive the Children We Once Were."

Within Temptation. this spot was a bit of a toss up between them, Nightwish, and Blind Guardian (mostly for Nightfall on Middle Earth, lbr), but ultimately I landed on Within Temptation. bonus points for giving me hella nostalgia for a very specific period in my life. this is another one where my favorite song is a serious open question, but I am deeply attached to the entire The Silent Force album.

[dorkyji]

nct dream as taylor swift songs

authors note - not to be dramatic but taylor swift literally holds my heart in her hands (as do all of nct) . THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD so please do not come for me. I don’t think there are any warnings unless you’re a Taylor hater (haters gonna hate) so yeah ENJOY!!

MARK LEE - You Belong With Me

“I’m the one who makes you laugh, when you know you’re boutta’ cry”

Mark just feels like such a familiar person (I’m not delusional)

And I cannot think of anyone who wouldn’t know this song

IS HE NOT THE EPITOME OF CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS???

He’s just such a comfort to so many people

Thats it. That’s the reason.

HUANG RENJUN - Delicate

“Long night with your hands up in my hair, echoes of your footsteps on the stairs, stay here honey I don’t wanna share.”

He’s just really HJHJDHDJWJDHFHJSDKJSHU

He makes me hyperventilate

Im trying to think of a valid reason why this song is actually him but nothing is coming to me

Delicate just feels Renjun-y??

Our boy is a reputation girly everybody sit down I know this man sings Dancing with our Hands Tied in front of the mirror.

JENO LEE - Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

“Leave with my head hung, you are the only one, who seems to care”

I can’t I actually cannot

Hes actually the most beautiful amazing sexy cute gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life??

I had to fight myself so hard between this song and Dress because 😩😩😩😩😩

Hes just so soft?

And then the next minute he has no shirt on?

I just can’t I’m sorry let’s move on

LEE DONGHYUCK - So It Goess

“And all the pieces fall, right into place, caught up in the moment, lipstick on your face”

He’s very cheeky if you know what I mean

This song, funnily enough, is also very cheeky.

No further explanation necessary

NA JAEMIN - Call It What You Want

“Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night”

He’s so boyfriend.

Very lovey dovey, very smooooooooth, very comforting (the song AND Jaemin)

HIS FUTURE PARTNER IS A LUCKY ONE THATS ALL

ZHONG CHENLE - Our Song

“And when I got home, before I said Amen, asking God if he, could play it again”

I’ll be damned if this fella doesn’t listen to country music

This song is so first lovey

AND WHOLESOME

idk

I want to be his mate (not like in an alpha sense chill in like a friend way)

PARK JISUNG - How You Get The Girl

“Remind me how it used to be, with pictures in frames, of kisses on cheeks.”

POV - I’m the girl so he’s already got the girl

Mummy I love him

My fave Taylor song for my fave member only sounds right?

MY COMFORT SONG FOR MY COMFORT PERSON ONLY SOUNDS RIGHT?!?!

okie dokes.

[americaswritings]

My Tim & Lucy stories

The collection

* my personal faves

Safe place

Lucy realizes that she was wrong; Her safe place is not a place anymore, it's a person.

Trapped

It's Lucy's last day as Tim's rookie. But instead of spending it on the streets of LA fighting crime, they are trapped in an elevator together. This brings some unwanted memories back for Lucy.

Where the heart belongs

"You and I both know that there have been three people in our relationship from the beginning and I can't keep pretending to not notice that your heart belongs to someone else." (Rachel breaks up with Tim & Lucy is the one to read the message to him.)

Losing control

“I think Caleb- he-he put something into my drink”, she stuttered, and she heard Tim take a sharp inhale at the other end of the phone." (What if Lucy realized Caleb put something in her drink and called Tim for help?)

Dream a little dream of me

A familiar song is played at Angela & Wesley's wedding. Tim won’t let it break Lucy.

Found that person in you

Lucy tells Tim what happened with Chris. He finds out she hasn't just watched the video of herself in the barrel, but the body cam footage of her rescue too.

No place I would rather be *

"It's about Lucy. She uhm- she had a bad day. She's not coming out of her room anymore. I don't know what to do." He inhaled sharply, his eyes closing for a second as he swallowed. "I am on my way." (Lucy deals with the aftermath of watching the video, Tamara is worried & calls Tim.)

Can’t help falling in love (multiple chapters) *

Her gaze locked with his, brown met blue, and it was like a wave of calmness washed over her. He was studying her, his eyes fixed on hers, an intensity in them she had rarely seen from him.  Why wasn't he looking away? And when had she stopped thinking about the lyrics? (Lucy agreed to sing at Angela & Wesley's wedding and shares an intimate moment with Tim.)

Can Beauty come out of Ashes? *

“You should get cleaned up”, he told her softly, letting his hand fall back to his side as he realized the dirt he had tried to rub away wouldn’t come off. He wondered if she would ever not look beautiful to him. (Tim and Lucy share a moment after the explosion nearly took Lucy's life.)

The Reality of Losing you (multiple chapters)

“Can we talk about something else? About your engagement perhaps. Congratulations by the way.” Her words sounded more forced than delighted and Lucy bit her lip, willing herself to get her emotions under control. (Tim doesn’t directly clear up his proposal is a prank and Lucy has to face the reality that she might lose Tim.)

No regrets

Prompts: "I'm sorry I kissed you" & "I'm not with Ashley anymore"

Head in the Game

"Hey." His arm came up to her shoulder, a firm touch to bring her back to reality yet gentle enough to show her she was not in immediate danger. She startled at the gesture, her head snapping towards him, and he could see unshed tears in them. Shit. If Lucy cried right now, it was over. (Tim & Lucy find out that Rosalind escaped while being undercover together.)

Never Alone With You By My Side *

"Come on, you can't say you didn't enjoy it!" She was teasing, of course, but there was a strain on his face. "Could have been worse." "Wow!" Lucy grimaced mockingly. "Way to make a girl feel special, Bradford!" "You know how special you are." (Now that it's all over the apartment feels too empty. So Lucy calls Tim.)

When will this nightmare ever end?

"Lucy-", he began, but she shook her head. "Don't tell me it's all going to be okay, because it's not! Chris almost died, because Rosalind wants to get back at me. I can't- I-" She closed her eyes, exhaling. "When will this nightmare ever end?" (Lucy waits for Chris to wake up and Tim is by her side.)

I thought you never saw me that way

Prompt: “I thought you never saw me that way."

Some things matter more

“I only wanted space, because I thought that’s what we both needed. Time away from each other to think.” Lucy tilted her head, biting her lip. “And did it help?”, she asked, her voice wavering slightly. Tim closed his mouth again, his jaw twitching. “No.” (Prompt: “Some things matter more.")

Always find you

5x03: Lucy gets trapped. With her radio signal blocked, Tim is left with nothing but his imagination about what could have happened to her.

Where our story begins

“Vegas- it wasn’t just pretend. Not for me anyway and I...I think it wasn’t for you either.” (Prompt: "I can't be your aide anymore.”)

One Good Reason

"Then why are you pushing me away?", Lucy asked. "Don't you want-", she bit her lip. Their eyes met and she saw the question in his eyes, the need for her to finish that sentence. "Me." (Prompt: "Are you afraid to be with me?")

Healing

"It might take a while but eventually it will feel real", Tim told her, referring to her words as she had stared at Rosalind’s lifeless body. Lucy looked at him, a mixture of emotions flickering over her face. "It just- seems too easy." (Tim makes sure Lucy is okay after they found Rosalind’s body)

If Tomorrow never comes

When the nurse had left and Lucy met his gaze again, his brows were lifted. "Boyfriend?" "I said partner."  "If I recall correctly, I'm your superior", Tim pointed out. "No sign of amnesia then." (Tim asks Lucy to lay with him in the hospital bed)

Sick Days

Lucy gets sick, but goes into work anyway, because she's already taken a lot of sick days due to what happened with Caleb. Of course Tim notices.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 13,742 (SHE'S A BIG 'UN!) Pairing: Teen!Daryl x Teen!Reader and Daryl x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Requested by: anonymous! thank you so much for your kind words about my writing, love! I hope this is everything you envisioned and more! fic inspired by a song (Riverside by Agnes Obel) that happens to be on my favorite playlist and is one of my faves to sing and play on the guitar—not even kidding, I was SO STOKED to see this request in my inbox. *heart eyes* I'll probably share a little cover of the song soon just for fun! Era: pre-apocalypse, outbreak day, Post-Negan Alexandria—specifically the time after Rick's "death" Warnings: language, child abuse (physical and verbal), violence, injury, gore, blood, frightening scenarios and imagery Summary: Bonded by shared trauma in their childhoods, Y/N and Daryl share a deep connection. But when life begins to distance them and later the cataclismic outbreak causes everything to fall apart, Daryl wonders if he'll ever see Y/N again and whether she is even alive.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Ya got any nibbles yet?” Daryl drawled, glancing over at where you were perched on a rock, line drifting a little in the faster current in the center of the river. The sun shimmered on your hair when you turned at the sound of his voice.

“No,” you said. “I thought you were supposed to be teaching me how to fish, not how to waste time,” you teased him.

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, but a boyish smirk graced his face. “I can’t make the fish bite,” he snarked back.

“No, but you said this was your best spot. I’m now a little skeptical of your abilities overall,” you joked.

He stuck his pole down in the sand on the riverbank and climbed to his feet. “If yer havin’ problems, dun ya think it’s prob’ly more likely that yer doin’ somethin’ wrong and the problem ain’t my spot?” he asked you.

You shot him a look with your eyes sharply narrowed, but you were smiling too. “Come over here and say that to my face.”

He let out a low laugh. “I just said it to yer face ‘n I’ll say it again.” He continued his way over and stopped beside you. “Gimme that,” he drawled, taking the pole from your hands. His fingers brushed yours and the tips of them were rough and callused. You didn’t mind. Comparatively, your skin felt like silk or like wet rice paper that might tear beneath even his lightest touch. Both of your hearts responded with abrupt jumps and Daryl was very conscious of the fact that his palms immediately started sweating. He ducked his head, suddenly unable to look directly at you, and focused on reeling in your line. The hook popped up out of the water finally and it was bare of bait.

He glanced over at you with one eyebrow raised. “Ya ain’t got no bait on here anymore. No wonder ya can’t get a bite. Somethin’ prob’y already bit it off…”

“Or maybe someone didn’t put the worm on securely enough,” you retorted. He watched with curiosity as you bent and started untying your shoes, slipping one off followed by the sock, which you shoved inside the discarded sneaker.

“What are ya doin’?” he asked, watching as your bare foot sunk into the sand at the edge of the water.

“I’m bored of fishing. I’m going in for a swim. You coming?” you asked him. “It’s hot.” He had already noticed the beads of sweat rolling down the side of your neck and catching in the cotton of your shirt collar.

It was hot. And Daryl was feeling warmer by the second. “Uhh… guess that means ‘m done fishin’ too. Ya go in and any fish that were hangin’ around will be gone.”

“Yep. So, I guess you better just come in,” you said with a smile. You moved your shoes to the top of the rock you’d been sitting on.

Daryl hurriedly and pointedly looked away as you suddenly started slipping off your shorts. He gulped again, averting his eyes anywhere but in your direction. “What are ya doin’?” he asked again, focusing his eyes up toward the rustling leaves in the sun-soaked canopy overhead.

Your response was a light, careless laugh. “I’m not going in swimming in jeans! But don’t worry. I won’t lose any more layers.” There was the sound of soft splashing as you slipped into the river.

Daryl rolled his eyes and hazarded a glance over at you. “I wasn’t worried…” he murmured to himself. He reeled in his own line and set the discarded rods up on the shore before ambling back over to the edge of the water. You were drifting lazily in the current, your hair floating out around your head and wavering in the water.

You were humming something, a low and melodic song that drifted to him and seemed to keep time with the breeze and the little waves lapping at the shore.

“What is that yer hummin’?” he asked you.

You didn’t even look over at him, arms outstretched and toes pointed up toward the trees as you floated on your back. “Some song my mom likes. I think it’s called ‘Riverside.’ Probably why it’s in my head.” You slipped completely underneath the surface for a moment and then stood up again, wiping water from your eyes and pushing your hair away from your face. It clung to the graceful curve of your neck. “Aren’t you coming in?” you asked him.

Daryl hesitated and you watched him wring his hands a little anxiously. You started back toward the water’s edge again with long, lazy strokes. “We’ll be dried off already before we have to go home. It’s a furnace out here today,” you said. “Or maybe even an incinerator.” There were still tiny droplets clinging to your eyelashes, like morning dew.

Daryl hummed a vague noise and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “It ain’t that…”

“Mmm,” you hummed back, understanding cresting over you. You walked slightly back toward where he stood on the shore. “Daryl—” you said softly. His name leaving your lips snapped his eyes back to you. “It’s okay. I already know. It’s okay…” you reassured him. Your expression was soft and sad, your eyes clear and shining, and it produced an ache in his chest and a desire to throw all his timidity away and go press his hand to your cool cheek.

Instead, he simply ducked his head for a moment before he nodded and reached for the hem of his shirt, sweeping it off and dropping it on a nearby boulder. He hurriedly toed off his socks and shoes and barreled into the water as if he was hoping to hide beneath it. The river was tea-colored and although a little murky, there was still no hiding his faintly pink scars and recent bruises beneath its waters. Besides, as you’d said, you already knew. You’d already seen them before. Hell, you’d helped patch him up a few times after a particularly bad episode with his drunken asshole of a father.

He dunked himself under and the deeper and cooler layer of water beneath the surface was refreshing and reviving. He came up shaking out his shaggy hair, eliciting laughter from you as the spray showered you again.

“There. See? It’s nice,” you said, smiling at him.

“Yeah… yer righ’. Like always,” he drawled, mopping more water off his face. He tried not to stare at how your shirt was alternately plastered to your curves and then billowing out around you depending on the way you turned in the water. You were ethereal, like if he reached out to touch you his fingers would pass right through you, a shape of only light. He stood still, his toes finding purchase in the sandy bottom only to keep him upright and in place against the current. He watched you take a few more strokes up the river and back, humming to yourself all the while, but you caught sight of his expression again and your brow furrowed. You made your way back over toward him, reading something on his face he didn’t know was written there.

You stopped squarely in front of him and his blue eyes lifted and met your gaze. “Want to see my latest?” you asked him. His brow furrowed in a question, but he didn’t have to wait long. Beneath the surface of the water, you pulled the cotton of your shirt aside and even through the cloudiness and tannin-stained hue he could see the bloom of a bruise near your hip that wrapped around toward the front of your stomach.

He felt a spasm of anger run through him. “What happened?”

“Geoff shoved me into the edge of the counter,” you said matter-of-factly, referencing your stepfather. “Held me there for a minute and—whatever…” you trailed off, dodging his eyes for a moment, a role reversal.

“Fuckin’ prick,” growled Daryl, scowling down at the dark mark on your skin, a surge of rage welling up inside him. When he let himself focus on it, he felt more anger toward your stepdad than he did even to his own father, regardless of whether that was logical or not. It entered his bloodstream and burned like poison, but another glance at your face and it melted away.

You dropped your shirt back into place below the water. “Yeah… Still—” You reached out and touched Daryl’s shoulder with your fingertips, your eyes going to a round scar near the end of his collarbone that looked like a cigarette burn. He almost shuddered under your fingers, but he would have mourned them had they left. No one touched him with anything other than violence, except for you. That alone was enough to make him fall for you… You moved around to his side and your fingers walked toward the back of his shoulder. “Not as bad as yours,” you said sadly, your eyes traveling over the puzzle of marks on his back, in various stages of healed and healing. Your stomach knotted into a pit.

Daryl felt strangely safe with you seeing this most painful part of him. ““I dun think it works like that…” he drawled. “One ain’t worse than the other. S’all bad.” It was almost a gift to be able to share his nightmare with someone else, though he wished you didn’t understand it as fully as you did under the hands of your stepdad.

You moved back around to face him again, and this time you were standing even closer. “You want to know what I think?”

There were no sharp edges to you in that moment—you were all of velvet and folds of fog over a beach of silky sand; he wanted to sink into you. You could be his escape. He gulped, and nodded in response to your question. He thought he could almost feel the warmth of you drifting toward him in the water that ebbed around your body and continued to his.

“I think you’re beautiful. No one tells boys they’re beautiful, but they should—especially you.” You reached up and smoothed a strand of his wet hair away from his forehead with the pad of your finger, your lips curving in a smile as you did so.

The only thing he could do was stare back at you, stunned. He wished he could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and say what he was thinking, which was that even if what you had just said was true, he was nothing compared to you. To him, you were the most beautiful damn thing in existence, inside and out. You were his best friend, his complement, a kindred spirit of a kind he’d never dreamed existed until he met you. If he could have summoned up some buried courage from somewhere deep inside him, he would have bridged that small buffer of space between you and kissed the soft pillow of your slightly pouting lips, tasted the river water still clinging to your skin. He would have rested his hands on the indent of your waist as he sometimes imagined doing late at night when he was home and couldn’t sleep and anxiety was eating him alive and every creak in the trailer was perhaps his father coming to drag him out of bed by his hair and beat the shit out of him for no reason and—just the thought of you stilled everything. And sure, he was a teenage boy, and sometimes his mind went to wholly lustful places, but more often he thought about gentle moments with you that were far purer, and for a while everything was good as he sunk into those recesses of his mind, indulging in a dangerous hope, inhabiting an innocent kind of fantasy.

But he didn’t say any of that, or do any of that, and then you were moving away as if you hadn’t just said something that went straight to the center of his heart. He watched as the curve of your eyelashes fanned out as you shut your eyes and floated away from him on your back, paddling softly with your arms and your feet against the current. You were humming that song again and it was like a soundtrack for the day.

Not long after that, you waded out of the river and sat on the sun-warmed stones and dried in the summer sun, side by side. And Daryl felt safe and whole. For once in his life, he inhabited the present moment with no worry or fear of what was possibly coming next.

He turned and glanced over at you where you were lying next to him, your eyes closed as the sun warmed your skin and damp clothes. “Did ya really mean what ya said earlier?” he asked you suddenly, not even really meaning to speak it out loud.

“About the fishing? Yeah, you suck,” you said, looking back over at him, a crooked smile on your lips. He loved that mischievous glint in your bright eyes.

He rolled his eyes at you and directed his attention back up toward the blue sky, framed by the billowing willows and cottonwoods. His fingers drummed anxiously on his stomach.

You laughed lightly and rolled onto your side facing him, propping yourself up on an elbow resting your head on your hand, wet strands of hair still clinging to your neck. “You mean the other thing,” you said. “When I said you’re beautiful.”

Daryl gulped and used all his courage just to look over at you again, still lying flat on his back, his skin against the warm sand and smooth stones. You read his doubt easily and sighed, your expression turning serious again. “Of course, I meant it.” There was no trace of sarcasm in your voice.

Daryl felt an electric shudder run through him and pulled his eyes away from yours, staring up, unseeing, too distracted by your words to fix his gaze on anything. “Ya shouldn’t say stuff like that,” he drawled.

You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand, folding your legs beside you. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a reason,” you countered, your brow furrowed now. You sat cross-legged facing him, dusting the sand from your palm.

“Ya just shouldn’t,” he drawled. He licked his lips nervously.

“Why?” you asked again, more strongly. “You can’t just say that and not explain.”

He leaned up on his elbows, his ribs outlined in shadow on his skinny frame. “Nah, you can’t,” he snapped. “Ya can’t just say that to me and then—then just act like ya ain’t said somethin’—somethin’—” He let out a frustrated noise, unable to find the right words to fit. How could he tell you that those words would consume him, would take up the entirety of his mind? Your brows were still drawn low over your eyes, fixed on him.

“You think I said that without any thought behind it? Is that it?”

He tore his eyes away from you again.

You scooted closer to him. “Sit up,” you said. He was still only leaned up on his elbows.

“Y/N—”

“Sit up,” you said again, and your tone compelled him to look at you. He pulled himself into a cross-legged position, mirroring you, confusion painted on his face. Your eyes flickered over his features. Suddenly, your hand, cool and light, was resting on the side of his neck. “Can I kiss you?” you asked quietly.

“…what?”

Your lips twitched into a small smile for a moment. “I’m asking you, Daryl Dixon, if I can kiss you. Do you want to kiss me?”

He stopped breathing. His heart stopped, suspended from your words, maybe floating somewhere outside his body, up with the fluttering willow leaves or even beyond. The only thing he could do was nod. He watched in amazement as you leaned in toward him, your head tilting slightly, your eyes closing just before the soft pillow of your lips met his. His eyes shut just as the space between the two of you vanished. You kissed him softly, so gently it was as if you were worried that he would break beneath your lips. It was all over too fast—before Daryl could even be sure that it was real, but when you pulled back the weight of your hand stayed on the side of his neck. Your eyes were again traveling over his face, this time trying to read his expression.

“I didn’t say it like it was nothing, with nothing behind it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Two weeks later

Daryl stood up abruptly from the steps of his dad’s dilapidated trailer, already nervous just from the sight of your approaching silhouette. As you came closer, the light above the door of your mobile home, where you lived with your mom and stepdad, cast you in a warm, orange glow that somehow seemed a little dingy. Even in that shitty lighting Daryl still thought you were the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen. He tugged absently on the hem of his baggy t-shirt. “Hey,” he said, taking a couple quick steps toward you.

You broke into a wide smile like you always did when you saw him and his stomach somersaulted. “Hi,” you said. “Were you waiting out here for me?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just—knew ya would be comin’ home kinda late and wanted to make sure ya made it inside alright,” he drawled. You were working a job after school to help your mom and to save a little money for whatever you decided you wanted to do in the future—mainly get the fuck out of that shitty trailer park.

You nodded and bit your bottom lip. “Thanks. But honestly, it’s probably inside that’s more concerning than out here,” you said darkly.

Daryl’s face fell. “He—he been givin’ ya a hard time?” he asked in a low voice.

You nodded, readjusting you bag over your shoulder. “More than usual.” You eyed the dark trailer behind him which you knew held the vast majority of his demons. “What about you? Are you okay?” You didn’t need to mention his father for Daryl to know what you meant.

“Me? Ah, ‘m fine. ‘M always fine…” he drawled. You gave him a sad, soft look. Fuck. Those big doe eyes you had seemed to turn him to an incoherent pillar of stone.

“You don’t have to be,” you said, stepping closer to him. “It’s okay to be—not okay.” He could smell the sweet scent of your shampoo, and he wanted to reach for you and kiss you right there. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you ever since that day by the river... He’d been trying to figure out some way to ask you about it, to bring it up, to find out what exactly it meant, but he never seemed to be able to take that scary step.

Daryl was about to reply when the screen door to your mom’s mobile home slammed open and rebounded against the siding. “What the fuck are you doing?” Your stepfather appeared at the threshold, drawing in a long pull on a cigarette. He paused and took a deep drink out of a glass in his other hand. “Get in the fucking house. You know how long I’ve been waiting for fucking dinner?” he spat.

“So, cook it yourself!” you snapped back. “You’ve got two hands!” You knew you’d probably pay for that but you were so incensed by him trying to tell you what to do while he sat around all day getting loaded, drinking and smoking your mom’s money away.

The look he gave you was cold and severe. His eyes landed on Daryl and a smug smirk broke across his face. “What are you lookin’ at, boy? Got something to say?”

Daryl hadn’t realized it, but his hands were clenched into fists and his blue eyes were sharp in a glare.

Your stepfather laughed and leaned casually on the doorframe. “Well, I guess when she comes home knocked up, I’ll know who’s to blame,” he said, taking in Daryl’s furious expression.

You felt your face and chest flush with humiliation. “It’s—it’s fine,” you murmured to Daryl. “I’ll just—I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Are ya sure yer—”

“Get in the fuckin’ house!” he roared again.

“Fine,” you said, already turning around to leave. “I’m fine.” And Daryl knew you meant ‘fine’ in the same way he’d just used it about himself.

It was maybe two hours later, while Daryl was sweating on his cot in the back of his dad’s trailer, sleep elusive as usual, when he shot upright at the sound of arguing from next door. That wasn’t uncommon, but this sounded worse than normal. Your stepfather was letting loose with a torrent of abusive language hurled at you at a volume that surely had all the surrounding neighbors awake. Daryl swiped a hand over his sweaty face and listened as your voice sounded back. At first your tone was also confrontational, but that all changed quickly when he heard loud bangs and crashes punctuated by fearful shouts. Daryl kneeled on his cot and squinted through the crooked blind slats at the trailer house you were in as if he’d be able to see through the walls. He could vaguely make out a moving shadow on the blinds of one window, but that was about it.

Your mother worked the night shift at a manufacturing plant. You were in there alone with him…

Another crash and the sound of shattering glass. More yelling from him. Then, a yelp. That was you letting out a yelp of pain and then a cry that stopped short suddenly.

Nah. Nuh uh. Not tonight, fuckface. Daryl’s own father had been passed out drunk by eight pm, but Daryl still yanked the screen out of his window and boosted himself through instead of going out the front, fear of somehow rousing his dad so ingrained that Daryl didn’t even think about it. As his feet landed softly in the dried grass below his window, he could now clearly hear you crying and pleading with your stepdad. Nausea and anger rolled his stomach.

Without even really thinking, Daryl burst into the mobile home and found you cowering on the floor of the kitchen, your back pressed against the cabinets, one arm up as if to shield yourself from more blows. Your stepdad had a fist raised, clearly getting ready to strike another blow even while you cried where you were cornered, eyes wide and panicked, begging him to stop. There was broken dishware and glass all over the laminate floor of the small kitchen area. You had tears pouring down your face. Half your face was already red and swelling and your eyebrow was split open. A cascade of blood flowed down your cheek.

Your stepfather lunged toward you again and Daryl reacted reflexively, rushing in and grabbing hold of his arm before he could bring his fist down to make contact with you again. “Hey! Don’t touch her!” he yelled, tugging Geoff’s arm back and away from you with all his strength.

Even from your place on the floor you tried to stop Daryl from getting involved. “Daryl, don’t!” you managed through a staggered breath, syncopated from your crying. “D—don’t! Just go!”

Geoff spun around, tossing Daryl off and locking his eyes on the teenager, who was simply standing there with his fists clenched, dwarfed by the towering man in front of him. He was a kid of sixteen challenging a violent bully twice his size. Your stepfather let out a cold laugh. “Oh, I’ve been lookin’ for an excuse to get my hands on you,” he growled to Daryl. “Your old man has told me what a piece of work you are, boy.” Behind him, Daryl saw you trying to pull yourself to your feet, grabbing onto the edge of the counter, but you slid back down, clutching your arm around your middle. Your knees seemed to give out and your eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“N—no, Daryl, go!” you yelled desperately, trying to stand again and managing to pull yourself partially to your feet this time, gripping the edge of cabinets hard.

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch!” Your stepdad whipped around and back-handed you across the face so fast it was over before Daryl could do anything to stop it. You were splayed out flat on the floor now, stunned, your palms and knees pressing down into the broken glass scattered across the peeling laminate. Daryl had had enough.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her!” he roared, drawing Geoff’s attention again. That was fine. If he could just keep your stepdad’s attention on himself instead of on you…

Geoff only laughed again. The level of enjoyment he seemed to be getting from this was disturbing. It was as if he fed on the fear permeating the air. “What the hell are you gonna do, boy? Yer just a dumb kid who’s landed himself in a man’s game.”

What the fuck was he gonna do? His mind was working so quickly now everything around him felt like it was crawling along in slow motion. You were still prone on the ground, trying to get your bearings. His eyes hurriedly scanned the room for something he could use as a weapon. His eyes landed on the knife block on the counter. Right when he was working himself up to lunging for it, grappling with the reality that he might be about to pull a knife on a grown man, hurt him if he had to, maybe even kill him to protect you, there was a pounding on the trailer door behind him. Then he realized blue and red lights were flashing through the slats in the blinds, lighting up the entire inside, bathing the chaos in garish color.

“Sheriff’s office! I need everybody to come out of the house slowly with their hands where I can see them!” The voice was urgent and demanding.

Someone, one of the neighbors, had called 9-1-1. Daryl had never been so glad of the close quarters in the trailer park before.

Geoff let loose a string of expletives and shoved Daryl aside carelessly, not even sparing you a glance, going to the door and already yelling at the officer who was standing there with his flashlight raised and a hand on his gun. Daryl rushed to where you were stirring on the floor, lifting your head where a small pool of blood had formed from the gash in your eyebrow. Part of your hair was stained crimson. His stomach twisted.

“Y/N—Jesus, what the fuck did he do to ya?” He helped you sit up and fumbled for a kitchen towel hanging behind you on the fridge handle, pressing it to your wound. With the other hand he clasped your face. “Hey—hey, can ya hear me? Y/N, look at me.”

You were disoriented and seemed only vaguely conscious. “D—Daryl?” you finally stammered.

“’M here. ‘M right here. Yer okay. The cops—somebody called ‘em. Yer okay.” Behind him, Daryl could hear your stepdad arguing loudly with the police. The sound peaked and then stopped altogether. They seemed to have hauled him away to calm down, probably to cool off in a squad car. There was another series of knocks on the door.

“I need anyone else in this residence to make themselves known! Sheriff’s office!”

“Here! We need help here!” Daryl called over his shoulder. You seemed to be coming around and you fixed your eyes on Daryl’s face.

“Daryl,” you murmured. A fresh wave of tears began to pour out of your eyes. The swelling on your face seemed to be getting worse by the second. Daryl realized there were specks of glass ground into your cheek and forehead from your fall to the floor and his rage made his hands shake, all while he tried to speak softly to you, tried to calm you.

“It’s okay. ‘M righ’ here.”

Two officers moved into the small mobile home and found the two of you huddled on the kitchen floor. “Is anyone else in the residence?” one of them asked anxiously, edging toward the doorway that led into the rest of the trailer.

“No,” Daryl answered, not breaking contact with you. His hand was warm against the side of your neck. “No, there’s no one. We need—we need an ambulance—a medic, somethin’,” he urged them. They reassured him that one was outside. As soon as they were satisfied that no one else was lurking around or involved in the unfolding nightmare, they helped Daryl get you on your feet and ushered both of you to the door and out into the night.

Daryl had an arm around you, supporting you as an officer escorted you both to the waiting ambulance. The EMTs hurriedly sat you down on the back and rushed to action. Daryl tried to step away to give them some space to help you, but a look of terror seized you and you grabbed his hand and clung to it. “S’okay,” he soothed you. “S’okay. ‘M here. I ain’t leavin’ ya…”

He sank down beside you and wrapped his arm around your back again. Your fingers found his other hand and quickly laced between them. You moved toward him until your side was pressed against his. He could feel you trembling slightly. The medic recommended that you travel to the hospital to get checked more thoroughly for a concussion and broken bones and several times there were mentions of shock, though you seemed to be more aware of what was happening now, less disoriented. Of course, the police needed to talk to both of you, get statements, ask questions… and get evidence.

Evidence. The word stuck between Daryl’s lungs. It held a heavy weight and dredged up the horrific reality. Jesus Christ. He could have killed you. He might have, if Daryl hadn’t—

An officer was talking to you both. “Is there someone else we can call for you? Your mom?”

You gulped. “My—my mom is working… we—we can’t call her. They’ll fire her if she has to leave the factory floor.”

The officer frowned. “Another relative then?”

You shook your head. “My dad isn’t around. And we don’t really have family here.” You drew in a shaky breath. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine… If Daryl can come with me, I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll call a social worker for you. They’ll meet us at the hospital. And then I’ll need to talk to both of you separately. I’ll ride with you there,” he said, climbing into the ambulance and sitting alongside one of the EMTs.

As they closed the ambulance doors, Daryl was vaguely aware of his own father standing back at the edge of the reach of the flashing blue and red lights, watching with a scowl on his face that sent a shiver up Daryl’s back.

The ride to the hospital was silent. You and Daryl sat side-by-side on the stretcher and you leaned into him again. His thumb moved against the skin on your upper arm softly, up and down. Up and down. Up and down. You wavered beside him a little, fighting the upwellings of pain that seemed to shoot through your entire body. The weight of you against him grew. He tightened his arm around you reassuringly. Finally, you arrived and were helped into a room in the ER. Here, you had to separate. You looked almost frantic as a nurse led you away to change into a gown, accompanied by complete strangers; the social worker and the hospital staff. He felt nauseous at the sight of your injuries, the worsening swelling on your face, the limp in your walk, and the desperation with which you glanced back at him. Daryl watched as you disappeared behind a closed door.

He became aware that the cop was asking him something. “Huh?”

“Your relationship to the victim?”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed. “The victim?” he repeated. He hated the sound of that.

The cop cleared his throat. “Sorry. Y/N. Your relationship?”

It was a simple question but Daryl was puzzled about how to answer. I’ve been in love with her for years and we kissed two weeks ago, and maybe she loves me too, but I don’t really know what we are still. Stupid. That was stupid. He’d sound like an idiot kid. He was an idiot kid. But he still couldn’t say that. “I live next door and we go to school together. But mostly, she’s… my best friend,” he said.

The cop scribbled on his note pad, surveying Daryl afterwards. “Alright. And why don’t you just tell me what happened tonight?”

He recounted all of it as accurately as he could remember, starting with waiting for you to come home after work. The verbal altercation outside. The argument inside your mobile home later. Hearing things being thrown, crashing. Hearing you scream. Rushing in and seeing—all of it.

The police officer’s expression was grim. “Has this happened before? With her stepfather?”

“Yeah. But this is the worst it’s ever been. I mean… that I know about.”

“What about her mother? Any… concerns there?”

Daryl shrugged. “Her mom is good people. She’d never hurt Y/N. But I’m pretty sure that piece of shit—uhh, sorry—I think Y/N’s stepdad hits her mom too.”

That was pretty much the end of Daryl’s statement, except for one last thing that scared him so much his blood ran cold. The officer looked him right in the eye and stuck out a hand for a handshake. When Daryl grabbed it, he said, “I think you may have saved Y/N’s life tonight. You and the woman who called this in. It’s just a feeling. After you’ve been a cop for a while, sometimes you just know. You did the right thing, even though I wouldn’t recommend you make a habit of this kind of thing. You could have been seriously hurt too.”

Daryl shrugged. “I didn’t think ‘bout it. I just knew I had to get in there and do somethin’.”

And that was it. He sank into one of the stiff green chairs outside your room and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, the door opened and he was immediately on his feet. A nurse was standing at the threshold.

“Are you Daryl?” He nodded. “She’s asking for you. Come in.”

He gulped and chewed on his bottom lip as he stepped into your room. You were lying on a bed in one of those gowns that feel like they aren’t quite made of fabric but aren’t paper either. A doctor was beside you, prepping something. Nurses were standing around. Your eyebrow was still bandaged. There were dotted red marks on your swollen cheek from the glass. Your palms had some light bandaging around them too. He wondered how badly you were bruised in places he couldn’t see… Even now there were glaring marks forming on your arms, clearly places where your stepdad had grabbed you.

You seemed more alert, maybe as a result of the passage of time or from the IV fluids minimizing your pain and rehydrating you after such a traumatic shock. But seeing your swollen face was still a punch in the gut. Daryl moved around to your bedside. He felt small and useless in that place, with doctors and nurses rushing around.

“You look like shit,” you said suddenly, and one corner of your mouth tugged upward briefly. Daryl’s expression didn’t change, didn’t ease. “Relax. It’s a joke,” you said dryly.

All he could do was reach for your hand. He held it gently, keenly aware of the bandage around it. His brow was deeply furrowed, casting a shadow over his blue eyes.

“They’re about to give me a shot in my face and stitch my eyebrow up,” you explained. “I could use the moral support.” Your voice had an unusual rasp in it. Daryl sat silently next to you and held your hand as they stitched you up. You barely flinched.

Afterwards, once the nurses and doctors had told you that you could get dressed again and departed, you sat up and glanced over at him.

“That was really stupid, you know,” you said. Tears burned in your eyes again. “Running in like that… He could have killed you.”

Daryl shook his head. “I was worried he was gonna kill you,” he drawled. “I did exactly what I shoulda.”

You didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I saw your dad standing there, when we were leaving in the ambulance. …Are you gonna be okay?” you asked him.

A dry laugh of disbelief left him. “Are ya kiddin’? Y/N yer in the hospital and yer worried about my old man?”

“Of course I am. It could be you in the hospital next.”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine… He’s probably just worried I’m gonna say somethin’ to the cops about what a piece of shit he is...”

“Maybe you should,” you said. Daryl didn’t respond. You’d had this conversation endlessly together before, much more often about the abuse against him than for you, and it always ended the same way. Neither of you told anyone anything, too afraid of the fallout. But tonight it wasn’t your choice. Someone else had made the call, and it had gone far enough that you knew it couldn’t be undone… You wanted your stepdad gone, of course, but this would be messy.

“What’d the doctor’s say?” Daryl asked.

You shrugged and gulped, avoiding his eyes for a moment. “Fractured cheekbone. Fractured rib. Concussion. But they said I don’t have to stay overnight. And I don’t need surgery or anything, just the stitches. They gave me some painkillers.” You paused and glanced back up at him. You could read turmoil behind his eyes.

Daryl felt lost sitting there, still holding your hand, his eyes drifting over your battered face. He would have taken it. If he could have exchanged places with you, he would have. He would have taken it to stop you from having to go through this. He’d have taken all of it and more. That son of a bitch better rot in jail.

Merle or his dad would probably mock him for being “soft” if they knew the whole of what had happened, or rather how Daryl felt about what had happened, how sick it made him, how it seemed to have opened an achy blackhole in his chest that was seemingly filled with both emptiness and rage. But Daryl thought that even if nothing else in his life turned out, at least he’d been there to keep you safe that night.

He stepped outside so you could change back into your clothes. Your shirt had bloodstains on it that immediately drew his eyes when you stepped out again. His chest swelled with anger again. But you stepped forward and gently grabbed his hand again, lacing your fingers together as you had done all night. “Come on,” you said softly. “My mom should be here soon to pick us up.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

One Year Later You slowed as you caught sight of his familiar broad-shouldered frame across the parking lot. You sighed and continued your walk, crossing toward him. Most of the spaces were empty now. You’d lingered behind after school for a little while at the library. Daryl was parked on his bike, his curtain of dark hair ruffled around his face from the wind. He climbed off as you approached and you stopped next to him, fiddling aimlessly with your keys.

“Hey,” he drawled.

“Hi,” you said, surveying his expression carefully. It was unreadable.

He shifted his weight a little anxiously. “Can I—give ya a ride?” he asked.

“Is that why you’re here?”

He shrugged. “Not exactly…” he drawled.

You sighed, your brow furrowing heavily. “Daryl—you’re making this too hard,” you said softly. “You can’t just keep showing up here…”

“I just wanna give ya a ride. Tha’s all. Since you and yer mom moved I never see ya anymore and—” he broke off.

You shook your head, a distinctly pained expression on your face. “That isn’t why we don’t see each other anymore.” He ducked your gaze, staring down at his boots for a long moment and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “If you hadn’t dropped out—”

“If ya didn’t hate my brother so much me droppin’ out wouldn’t be a problem,” he interrupted. “We could see each other all the time.” Heat was flaring in his chest and he looked up and met your gaze again. You still had that wholly aggrieved expression on your face, like this conversation was physically hurting you. He didn’t realize that in a way it was. Every time you had to rehash this with him it was a tug of war between your feelings for him and your deeply ingrained past trauma. The scar on your eyebrow was still pink. If your nose or cheek got bumped on accident it still brought you to your knees from the pain if the all too recent fractures. It hadn’t been that long since Daryl had stopped your (now ex-)stepdad from beating the shit out of you. Just the mere mention of your stepfather still triggered a wild panic that you had no control over—and Merle? Merle Dixon reminded you of your stepdad when your mom had first met him.

“Your brother isn’t a safe person,” you started. “And the other people he runs around with aren’t either. I don’t want anything to do with it. Do you really want me around them? You really think that’s a good thing for me?”

“He ain’t a psychopath,” Daryl argued, pacing closer to you, emphatic as he tried to convince you for the umpteenth time. “Sure, he gets in bar fights and pops pills but he ain’t—he ain’t—”

Suddenly, there were tears running out over your cheeks and Daryl stopped short. “Why can’t you see that that isn’t what I want for you? And it definitely isn’t what I want for myself! I don’t understand the choices you’ve made! You could do so many other things and you’re following Merle around getting into shit so far beneath you—”

“He’s my family,” Daryl argued back. “What am I s’posed to do? Just turn away from that? He’s the only thing I got left. He’s my blood.”

You hastily wiped the tears from your cheeks. “So was your dad,” you pointed out.

Daryl flinched at the mention of his father and a shadow passed over his face.

“Family means something else, Daryl. And if you still don’t understand why I can’t be around all the shit you’re getting into then—I don’t know what else to say.” You studied him for a moment and then stepped forward and cupped his face. “You’re worth so much more than all of this.”

He felt desperation swelling in between his lungs. He wanted your hand to stay there on his cheek forever. “Look—ya ain’t gotta be ‘round it. I can just—we can just see each other, just us two, when we can, ya know? We can figure it out.”

You wiped away another tear that had escaped and let out a dry laugh. “What, you want me to share custody of you with Merle?” you said. “Daryl…”

“We can figure it out!” he insisted. “Y/N—the way I feel about ya—”

“Daryl, stop! Don’t say it! Don’t… okay? That’s not a life! Seeing you, what, every other Friday? Worrying myself sick all the time that something horrible is gonna happen to you when Merle shorts a drug dealer or picks a fight with the wrong MC? I just—with what’s happened to me, I can’t. You’re making this too hard showing up here all the time… And I feel like I’m torn in two. I can’t… If this is what you’re choosing, you’re going to have to do it without me. I’m not saying we can’t still be friends but I just—I can’t…”

Daryl saw your walls closing in around you again and his heart sank into the bottom of his stomach and laid there heavily, like a brick. He tore his eyes away from you again and tried to breathe. It was hard to get his lungs working again… “Can I at least just give ya a ride to work? Please?” He just wanted to feel your arms around him again one more time.

You nodded.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m tellin’ you, boy—that’s about the dumbest shit you could do, headin’ that way!” Merle said loudly, following Daryl back over to his bike where he continued strapping down his hastily gathered gear. “Use yer fuckin’ head! All that shitstorm in the city is gonna be spilling out every which way.”

“Shut the fuck up, Merle! I don’t give a shit what ya do, but ‘m goin’ back that way and ya barkin’ at me ain’t gonna change a damn thing!” Daryl roared back.

“Yer gonna wind up dead, goin’ back toward the damn city! And I ain’t gonna cry for ya. ‘M just gonna tell ya I told ya so,” Merle spat.

Daryl straightened up and fixed a hard glare on his older brother. “How the fuck ya gonna tell me ‘I told ya so’ if ‘m fuckin’ dead?” he growled. He swung his leg over his bike. “Do whatever ya want—I don’t give a shit!” He started his bike and made ready to leave.

Merle let loose with a string of expletives. “Go get yerself eaten by one of those freaks walkin’ around, or better yet—shot by some amped up pig tryin’ to ‘keep the peace’! I’ll be settin’ up shop out by the old gravel pit catchin’ myself some fat fish for dinner!” he roared over Daryl’s engine. “All this for some broad who ain’t givin’ ya nothin’ more than a—” Daryl didn’t even respond, just took off, letting gravel fly behind him, drowning out whatever final spout of bullshit Merle was spewing.

Daryl quickly lost track of how many wailing sirens and emergency vehicles he passed, speeding back toward Atlanta. If he hadn’t been on a motorcycle, he would have hardly been able to go a mile before he would have joined the gridlocked traffic clogging the highways or the tangled masses of crashed vehicles, some still emitting steam or even actively burning, flames licking out from under the hoods, billowing black smoke swirling overhead. Disoriented and wounded people were standing aside dazed. He wove his way through all of it, his heart pounding so hard it was running wild. Scenes of horror occasionally flicked past him as he rode; staggering infected still walking with missing limbs, or others bent over unidentifiable piles of gore and slowly chewing, looking up at the sound of his bike blankly. And there were survivors—blood pouring down the sides of their faces or some walking without shoes, clutching dirty bags as they tried to flee from nowhere to nowhere. Shit, they’d really hid just how bad this really was… until they couldn’t hide it anymore. Daryl didn’t really know who the “they” was that he was thinking of—the feds, the state, the media, the military, all of them—but it was obvious no one had been telling the full truth on the nightly news. Fifty percent of the population was dead from the disease and infected straight away, and with what he was seeing now another half of whoever was left would probably be gone within another day. He tried to keep himself focused, keep his head down and his bike speeding along. If he didn’t, waves of panic threatened to swamp him under.

In the distance, black columns of smoke rose up from the city and Daryl could see what looked like dozens of helicopters circling. Everything was chaos. It was like he’d suddenly been transported into some warzone. But he didn’t pay any attention to any of it. His mind was bent solely on getting to that little bar and café where you worked. He took the final turn onto the gravel road so quickly that he nearly skidded out on his bike. He left a hazy brown cloud of dust behind him as he hit the accelerator and the engine rumbled. There were no cars in sight on the rural road that led to the lonely little building, save an old farm truck in one ditch.

Daryl didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He couldn’t decide if the quiet and deserted scene was ominous or not.

He raced into the little parking lot, which still had some cars and trucks parked in it like any normal day. The lights were on inside the building, but when he glanced through the big front window as he jogged up to the door his stomach sank. He didn’t see anyone, and the place looked like a tornado had torn through it. He pushed inside and stopped on the mat, his eyes surveying the scene. Stools and chairs were overturned. The bar was in complete disarray with broken bottles of booze smashed on the tile floor. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he took a few more hesitant steps in, the door slamming behind him in the wind. Worse still, there were dark, rusty spots glaring horribly on the tile—blood. Some were small circular droplets but others were large swipes and smears, all in various stages of dried or drying... His stomach twisted. God, no. Please, let her be okay.

Suddenly, he heard some clattering in the back room, and his hand went instinctively for the gun he’d stowed on his hip. He raised it, adjusting his grip so it was secure, and strained his hearing. “…Y/N?” he called out hopefully.

The only answer was more banging from the kitchen area. Daryl moved slowly toward the sound. As he passed the bar, heading for the swinging door to the kitchen, he glanced to his right and saw an unmoving bloody body sprawled on the dingy rubber mat. Part of it had been—there was no other word for it—eaten. His stomach responded with an automatic swell of nausea and he had to shut his eyes for a long moment to prevent himself from vomiting. Daryl was no stranger to blood. Beyond his fucked-up childhood, Merle was quite good at getting into fights when he was high or drunk that Daryl had to help finish. They’d been in plenty of tight spots. But this—this was something else entirely…

He refocused on the noise ahead and pushed the swinging door open with the toe of his boot. The kitchen seemed to be less ransacked than the front room, with the exception of plates of food and dishes left where they lay, as if the whole restaurant crew had just walked out a moment earlier. There were a large number of flies buzzing around, however. The banging was coming from a supply closet and Daryl edged his way toward it, reaching out a somewhat shaky hand to grasp the knob. A sudden, horrific thought seized him: what if he was about to find you as one of those—those things.

No. No… a stronger voice inside him answered. No. Not possible. It isn’t her.

He readied his gun and pulled the door open wide.

There was an infected… zombie? (He didn’t know what else to call them) inside, but it wasn’t you. It ambled toward him as he backed up, its rotting fingers reaching for him. The sickly sweet and repulsive smell of decay was overwhelming and another swell of nausea hit him.

Daryl fired his gun squarely into the chest of the advancing zombie. The shot knocked it back, almost off its feet, but amazingly it only started toward him again. “What the fuck?” he murmured, narrowing his eyes. He squeezed off two more rounds, which both hit the infected squarely in the chest, but it hardly staggered. Panic started to seize him as he backed up and it continued forward. “You piece of shit,” he growled. He emptied five more rounds into the zombie and it fell backwards to the floor. He only had one shot left and the damn thing was still moving. Daryl rushed forward and slammed his boot down on its chest to hold it to the ground, took aim at its head, and fired the last bullet in the magazine. Finally, with a sickening spray of gore, it was still and silent.

Daryl was gasping in tremendous breaths as he lifted his boot from the still corpse and turned his eyes away to scan the scene again. He found himself searching for some trace of you, but what? What was he even hoping to find? He hadn’t seen your car in the front of the lot. He pushed out through the rear door and scrutinized the dirt, hoping to see a footprint that was your size, some proof that you’d gotten out of there safely, alive. He found nothing but some scuffs in the gravel and tire marks from a large truck or SUV.

He cut through the kitchen and into the main room of the café again. His empty gun still hanging by his side, clutched tightly. Daryl’s eyes returned to the stains on the tile floor—so much blood… And no sign of you. He was too late. Whether you were dead or alive, he was too late…

His hurried back to his bike and kicked it in gear, turning it back toward the gravel road and zipping along, kicking up a steady brown trail of dust in his wake. Your house. The little farmhouse you rented. That was his last chance of finding you, or getting you out, of making sure you’d be okay. His mind was racing… he wished now more than ever that he’d listened to you those years ago after he’d dropped out—wished he’d done whatever he could to stay by your side and to be more. Instead, he’d wasted all this time running around with Merle, seeing you only every once and a while when he stopped in at the restaurant for a meal as an excuse to see you again. And now when it really mattered, when the entire world seemed to be ending, he hadn’t been there with you…

He knew something was very wrong as soon as he pulled up to the little house. The screen door out front was hanging on by one hinge. The wood was broken and dangling by the remaining metal screen. He stopped his bike and squinted at the windows, praying that he’d see you looking out of one, scared but here.

His train of thought was broken when a flood of infected, attracted by the sound of his engine, suddenly began pouring out of the house.

Terror seized him. “Son of a bitch,” he swore under his breath. His hand fumbled for a knife he kept in one of the saddle bags, but as he watched the dead continue out of the house and slowly amble toward him, he knew there were too many of them for him to handle. If you had been in that house, Daryl knew you were either dead or one of these things now. The awful thought struck him cold…

He felt tears burn in his eyes as he turned away, speeding in the direction of the gravel quarry to find Merle. The hopelessness that blanketed him was heavy and all-consuming. He had no thoughts, his eyes were nearly unseeing, and he felt empty the entire ride, surprising himself when he arrived and suddenly looked up to see Merle’s bike parked beside a tent. His brother was perched on an overturned bucket, a small metal camping dish in his hands. Daryl pulled to a stop beside Merle’s bike and turned off the engine. His body felt heavy and moving seemed to take a great effort as he climbed off and began to pull his gear free from the back of his motorcycle. He could feel Merle watching his every move, but did his best to ignore it.

Daryl dumped his gear in a pile and began to pull his own tent from its pack. Merle finally spoke.

“No broad,” he commented, his mouth twisting into a half-smirk. Daryl’s fist clenched but he simply continued laying out the poles for his tent. “I told ya,” Merle said. “She dead?”

That was too much. Daryl stood and paced over to his brother, his expression hard, his jaw clenched. “Y/N ain’t just some broad. And if ya ever say anythin’ else ‘bout her, one fuckin’ word, even if ya just say her name, I’ll break yer jaw.” He turned his back and returned to setting up camp. Merle, in classic Merle-fashion, only laughed and let out a low whistle.

“Oh, I’m really scared, baby brother. Shakin’ in my boots,” he said. He shoved another forkful of fish into his mouth. “Guess it’s still just you and me…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl rose before the sun. The morning air was chill and heavy with moisture as he pulled on more layers and revived the fire, setting a pot of leftover fish and broth over it to heat. He rubbed his hands together and turned an ear toward the forest and listened to the chattering and singing of the birds. They heralded that autumn was approaching. The raspy croak of a raven. The melodic lilting of a thrush.

Dog moved closer to the fire and laid down to bask in its heat. Daryl’s eyes went to the river. This section was unfamiliar to him, but it wouldn’t be after today. He and Dog would spend all day combing the banks, pushing through rushes and cattails, scattering puffs of seeds that would drift on the wind, hoping and yet dreading any sign of Rick. It was a lonely task, but he was determined to do it for his friend, his brother.

The liquid in the pot rolled to a boil and Daryl used his spoon to hunt the remaining chunks of fish from the day before. He tossed one to Dog who gulped it down so quickly he could hardly have tasted it. The warmth of the broth helped Daryl shake off the rest of the morning’s chill.

He gathered his gear and whistled to Dog, and set off down the bank, scrutinizing the little areas of mud flats which tried to wrest his boots from his feet. He saw only sign of deer and rabbit and raccoon. He looked for trails in the long grass that nodded and bowed toward the brown water and he found them—but they weren’t made by boot or foot.

By the time it was near noon and Daryl was preparing to ford across to the other side his heart had sunk and he began to lose momentum. What could he possibly hope to find this far away from where the bridge had blown apart? A corpse.

Suddenly, Dog let out a high-pitched bark and fixed his gaze across the river. His tail began to wag furiously and he let loose with a few more excited yips.

“Shhh!” Daryl quieted him, squinting across the river, scrutinizing the shadows on the other side. That was no bark to signal a walker… Dog sat perfectly still, except for the tip of his tail continuing to wiggle. That’s when Daryl heard it; a soft humming, drifting across the water, rippling to him in faint phrases that were sweet and smooth.

There was something familiar about it. His heart stirred in his chest and rose from the depths it had sunk to. It quickened. Daryl stared, watching the shadows for the shifting of a someone. He saw nothing. But that song… It was bringing uncontrollable sensations of warmth and sunlight and sun-dappled stones, of long summer days and water droplets on skin and—

The next moment, Daryl waded into the water, leaning on the sharpened stick to steady himself, and crossed to the other side. The music seemed to float between the trees. He had trouble determining where exactly it was coming from. His heart was hammering in his chest as he attempted to trace the melody like he was tracking an animal. It grew steadily louder over the sound of Dog’s panting behind him. As he felt he was nearing the point where he’d be able to see whoever was humming, words suddenly drifted to him, in a voice low and sweet, and his stomach somersaulted. He silenced his steps and crept closer and closer, moving from one shadow to another, straining his eyes and ears desperately.

Finally, there. The figure of a woman, knee deep in a bend of the river that had been out of his view from the other side, with a fishing rod in her hands. She hummed and sang aimlessly as she recast her line into deeper waters, bouncing the tip of the rod to attract fish and then letting it all still. She was all patience, a statue as the current swirled around her. She seemed part of the river herself, dressed in olive tones and muddy browns, adopted into the scene as a quiet wild thing herself. Her back was to Daryl, but the longer he watched from his place tucked beneath an ancient cottonwood tree, the more certain he was, until he couldn’t wait any longer.

He stood and quietly stepped out from his hiding place, striding toward the small opening that was soft with grass at the edge of the water.

He watched as the figure suddenly jerked the rod and began to steadily reel in line. The tip of the rod was bent beneath the weight of a fish that eventually broke the surface in a riot of splashing. Daryl was now at the very edge of the water behind her and paused as she grabbed hold of the fish and carefully removed the hook.

“Yer better at fishin’ than I remember,” he said suddenly. His voice was gravelly from disuse.

The figure spun around in shock and fixed her wide eyes on him. He saw her brow furrowing and her eyes hurrying over him, from his heavily patched pants to the poncho draped over him to his curtain of wavy brown hair.

She was stunned into silence, the fish still dangling from her hand, the rod in the other.

“Y/N—” He could see the distinctive scar that cut across your eyebrow, the spot that still never grew any hair.

You stared up at him where he stood on the bank, feeling your shock finally pass and be replaced by a wild wonder and disbelief. Your eyes flickered over him again and your lips parted slightly, as if you were about to speak, but nothing came out.

He shifted nervously and held his hands up palms out in a sign of goodwill. “S’me. S’Daryl,” he drawled softly.

He was surprised when this elicited a sudden laugh from you, and he saw tears burning in your eyes when you finally spoke.

“I know it’s you, Daryl Dixon,” you laughed. The tears broke out and ran down your cheeks.

Daryl’s heart thudded away in his chest. You saying his name seemed to bring back a dizzying rush of memories and sensations and hopes and he felt like his damn knees almost gave out. You were alive. And you were here, standing right in front of him. And you were just as beautiful as he remembered. Maybe even more so… The passage of years seemed to have imbued you with a steadiness and a strength that was unmistakable.

Dog suddenly bounded out from where Daryl had made him wait, barking and prancing around him happily, tail a blur of movement. “Friend of yours?” you asked.

“Huh?” Daryl was still just staring at you, dumbfounded. “Oh—yeah. This is Dog,” he said, grabbing him and making him sit, patting him on the head and turning his blue eyes back to you, where they fixed on your face and didn’t stray.

“Dog?” you repeated. “Well, it’s accurate anyway.” There was a pause that seemed filled with tension. You were staring right back at him, your eyes still a little glassy. “…Are you going to help me out of here or do I need to embarrass myself trying to climb out?”

“Righ’. S—sorry,” he said hurriedly. He went to the riverbank and took the fish from you, tossing it on the bank where Dog immediately inspected it and gave it a few eager licks before testing his teeth on its head. “Dog! Leave it!” Daryl scolded him. “Sorry… he likes crunchin’ the heads for some fuckin’ reason,” he murmured. He extended a hand to you and helped pull you up onto the bank. Even when your feet were firmly planted on solid ground, he didn’t step away and he didn’t let go. The two of you were just looking at each other up close, both afraid to glance away in case the other would vanish.

Daryl cleared his throat, which felt constricted. “Ya were singin’ that song. From that day at the river,” Daryl drawled, his deep voice resonant in his chest. “I heard it and—I thought it couldn’t be—” he broke off, suddenly struggling with emotion rising up in a turbulent torrent. “But I knew it was…”

You nodded, unable to speak. You studied his face. He had scars he didn’t have before and he was weathered from the passage of years, but you thought he was even more beautiful than ever.

Finally, perhaps realizing the time he should have let go of your hand had long since passed, Daryl gulped nervously and stepped back, and his fingers slipped from yours.

“Come on. This way,” you said, gathering up the fish and retrieving a bag from nearby. Daryl followed you on a game trail that led through the trees. In a short while, you both came to a little cabin, not more than a shack really. You began setting down your gear and reviving some flames in a fire circle ringed with smooth stones.

“This is yer place?” he asked, peering around. Minimal gear and belongings were organized carefully inside.

You were stirring the coals with a stick. “For now, it is,” you said. “I keep on the move. Follow the game and stick close to the river and its tributaries.” You tossed more dry wood on and the fire danced and crackled.

“Smart,” Daryl said, one corner of his mouth twitching up reflexively as he watched you busy yourself about camp. He sank down onto a round of wood and pet Dog who sat next to him.

You straightened up, dusting your hands off, nodding. “Are you hungry?”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Night had fallen in earnest and you and Daryl were still side-by-side, warming by the fire as the blue shadows wrapped around you like a cloak. You’d covered a lot of ground, sharing the larger points of what you’d both gone through since the outbreak. Then a lot of time had passed in silence, both of you turning memories and questions over in your minds, but as Daryl watched you sip some hot tea from a tin mug, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I looked for ya,” Daryl said suddenly. “When it happened, that day. I went to that little farmhouse ya were rentin’. And I went to the restaurant and—I was too late. And—” he shook his head and gulped, remembering the fear and panic and horror of those early days, “—it looked bad. I—I thought ya might not have made it…”

You read pain in his eyes and nodded, your eyebrows drawing down low over your eyes, which seemed striking to Daryl even just in the glow of the firelight. “I had been at the restaurant that day—when they started calling for all the evacuations and then the bombing started… Things went bad so fast. Some people came in and just started looting the place, being violent, and then some of the walking dead got in. I made it out with some of the other servers, the kitchen staff, but—we didn’t stay together long. I honestly don’t remember too much from the first few weeks. I probably blocked it out,” you said with a wry laugh.

Daryl turned to face you more fully. “I shoulda been with ya,” he said forcefully. “I shoulda been there when it all happened. ‘M sorry I wasn’t.”

You gave him a questioning look and shook your head. “It isn’t your fault you weren’t. I was the one who couldn’t—who stayed away, who put the distance between us.” You ducked your gaze now, showing the dark fans of your eyelashes to Daryl. The fire cast shadows of them on your cheeks, gray half-moons. “I have a lot of regrets about that,” you said, lifting the mug to your hands, breathing in the fragrant steam. “I should have—” you sighed heavily and shut your eyes for a moment. “But I was just scared. After that night, I was scared of everything back then.” You stared into the coals of the fire, watching the heat move over them like waves in the ocean.

Daryl nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. “Ain’t like ya didn’t have a reason to be.” He shifted next to you, shaking his hair out of his eyes. It made you smile. He used to do the same thing when you were kids. “Besides,” he went on, “ya were right ‘bout it anyway. Got into a lot bad shit because of Merle and his crew. And even after shit went to hell, Merle kept findin’ ways to make things worse, and for a while I just went along... until I met some people who showed me that ain’t how it has to be.” He shook his head, obviously upset at his past self. “Stupid…”

You nodded. “Well. It doesn’t matter now.”

Daryl watched the look in your eyes grow a bit distant and vague as you returned to watching the fire lick over the logs. Night was getting on. Dog was dozing by the fire, flopped over on his side to warm his belly.

The last thing he wanted to do was leave, but he was suddenly struck by the thought that he would overstay his welcome. He stood and your eyes flew to him. “Well—s’late. I should prob’ly get outta yer hair,” he said. “My camp ain’t that far from here.” He paused, coming to a sudden realization. “Though it is on the other side of the river…”

“Oh—” you responded, looking up at him, your eyes big and—was that disappointment? “You’re going?”

Daryl scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his neck. “I dun wanna—overstay my welcome is all…” he trailed off.

You were suddenly on your feet too. “You’re not.”

He gulped. There was suddenly electricity in the air.

“You should stay,” you said. “I have spare blankets and stuff inside. And… it’s been over a decade since we’ve seen each other,” you added with a laugh. “And you already want to go running off into the dark?” You felt the air crackling like it did before a lightning strike.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, nervously for a moment and then shook his head. “Nah, I dun want to…”

And you smiled at him. You fucking smiled. And Daryl’s heart skipped a beat the same way it always used to when you smiled at him. “Good. Come on,” you said, tipping your head toward the little building. You shifted some things around and produced a second bed roll. “I usually layer with this one when it gets really cold, but it’ll work just as well as a spot for you tonight.”

“Hold up,” Daryl said as you started laying down the spare blankets. “Put mine by the door over here.” You straightened up and were giving him a queer smile he couldn’t entirely decode. “What?” he asked, shifting his weight anxiously.

“Still trying to protect me, Daryl?” you asked softly. That was exactly what he was doing. He didn’t know if he should apologize or— “I will, but you should know I’m a lot less helpless these days,” you said.

“Oh, I—I didn’t mean to imply that—” Your laugh interrupted his stammering.

“It’s alright. I know you can’t help it. That’s just who you are,” you said. “Some things don’t change. Besides, it’s sweet…” You finished laying out the spare bedding and straightened up to look at the two bed rolls next to each other. “Sorry it’ll be a little close in here.”

Daryl was thinking it wasn’t close enough. Since he’d let go of your hand by the riverbank he was mourning the loss of your touch. Every second he was just trying not to do or say something that would be off-putting. You were practically strangers now, weren’t you? But in his mind, all he could think about was hugging you tightly and not letting go, of breathing in the scent of you—wondering if it was the same as it had been then, like warm maple syrup. You still felt like home. You still felt safe. And he wanted so badly to collide into you, to kiss you and put all those feelings that had had nowhere to go for 13 fucking years into it, to sweep you into him, to tell you over and over again how much he’d missed you, how he’d thought of you every fucking day—at his lowest and at his highest. How could he still feel so instantly connected to you after all this time? Fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same thing? Should he—

“Daryl?”

“Uhh—sorry. What?”

You had a questioning look on your face. “Are you alright? You look a little flushed.” You actually reached out and pressed the back of your hand to his cheek and then his forehead. Goosebumps rose on his skin at the contact. You were absently biting your bottom lip and the drawing of his attention to your mouth was only making him feel warmer.

“Nah, ‘m—‘m good,” he said as you withdrew your hand, still looking concerned.

“Are you sure?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m good…” You seemed to yield to his reassurance and peeled off your outer layers before settling down on your bed roll. His eyes roamed the shape of without the bulkier layers and he gulped again. You looked up at him expectantly where he was still standing a little awkwardly just inside the door.

“Does Dog want to come in?” you asked.

Daryl’s hands were fiddling anxiously. “Nah. He’ll guard the door all night outside.” You nodded and then propped yourself up on your elbow.

“Are you… uncomfortable? I mean, being in here with me?”

Daryl shook his head in a hurry. “No. No, it ain’t that… S’just—tryin’ to wrap my head around this. Last time I saw ya, ya were waitressin’ at Lou’s, ya know. Pouring that shit coffee into my mug and giving me this damn look like—like ya wanted to tell me to go to hell and ya wanted to hug me at the same time.” You let out a small laugh. Daryl went on. “And then all these years I thought—I dunno,” he murmured. “Part of me thought ya were gone that day, but another part of me just held onto hope. Or maybe I knew somehow that ya were out here somewhere… I know that dun make any sense.”

You were giving him a half-smile, a soft look in your eyes again, illuminated by the brightness of the lantern you’d lit in the corner. “I knew you were alive. I knew you’d beat all this shit. You’ve always been a survivor.”

Daryl sank down on the bed roll you’d laid out for him finally, prodding the makeshift pillow into the form he wanted before lying down on his side. You were facing each other, only six inches apart. “Yeah, well, so were you.”

You let out another dry laugh. “No, I just got lucky. My best friend was fierce.” There was something in the way you were looking at him now that was drawing him in. He felt the pull of you like a magnet and that electric tension was hanging in the air again like humidity. It was there—humming, buzzing, and then it was gone all of a sudden as he ducked your gaze and rolled onto his back.

Fucking coward, he thought.

You shifted beside him and clicked off the lantern, plunging the interior of the little cabin into blackness. Outside, a few lazy crickets chirped. The silence stretched for a minute before he dared to speak.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?”

“I dun ever wanna lose ya again…” He heard the rustling of fabric as you moved beside him, and he sensed somehow that you were closer.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” your voice came back in a whisper. There was something strained in it and he turned toward you again.

He leaned up on his elbow. “…are ya cryin’?”

“No,” came back your stubborn answer, but he could hear it in your voice.

Daryl knelt and fumbled for the light, managing to hit the switch in the dark. There was no denying it now as he saw the tearstains on your cheeks. You sniffled and drew in a shaky breath, looking up at him with an almost ashamed glance. “…Why’re ya cryin’?” His expression was pure worry.

You shrugged and laughed sardonically. “I don’t know! Just—this! You! Here! And I—Daryl, I can’t even tell you how much I missed you. It was like walking around with part of me gone. And maybe that’s—maybe that’s fucking stupid because we were kids… We were fucking teenagers, but I don’t think that’s just it! I think when you meet someone that’s your soulmate, who understands you on some deep level you can’t even describe, it doesn’t matter if you meet them when you’re ten or when you’re forty!”

His brow was drawn over his blue eyes.

“And I—I think I’m still as in love with you now as I was back then and I’m really sorry if that’s weird for you to hear, and maybe I shouldn’t have said it but—we’re practically strangers now but—”

Then he was kissing you. His fingers were in your hair and he was tugging you into his body, and you were sinking into him, surprised at first but then softening beneath his hands, melting into it. He kissed you desperately, like he needed you to breathe instead of air. His hand clasped your face and then drifted to your shoulder and then to your waist and you were arching into him, gripping on to the lapel of his shirt and pressing your other hand flat to his strong chest and almost melting into a puddle of sensations as his strong arms were around you, holding you up.

Your eyes flickered between his, still a little wide, but now crinkled slightly at the corners in a smile. “I wanted to kiss ya since the first second I realized it was you standin’ in the river,” Daryl said. “I just thought—s’been so long… maybe I was the only one feelin’ what I was. But s’like we ain’t spent a day apart. Even though I know I’ve sure put a lotta damn mileage on since the last time I laid eyes on ya…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and he leaned into your fingers, his eyes closing. Every worryline on his face relaxed. “Shush. You’re still beautiful, Daryl Dixon.”

His blue eyes opened again and he clasped your face gently, studying all the ways you were the same and different. His thumb swept lightly across the pillow of your lower lip. “Ain’t nothin’ compare to you.”

[herejusttosufferalong]

You want to know the actual perfect song for Lukola? I Can't Ever Get Enough Of You Darren Hayes

Well I know that I have only ever held your hand But just one touch is more than enough to understand There's a master plan And although I know I don't believe in destiny Maybe it found me

Now my world is filled with so many things But nothing compares to the touch of your skin There's a symphony And a melody that plays whenever you're around I think I've been found

I can see the sun And I can feel the rain I can hear the wind call your name I can feel your love But there's one thing I can't do I can't ever get enough of you

Now I know that in the past I've been much too keen But your eyes are the kindest that I've ever seen I guess there are some things you just know There's a voice inside telling me to hold on And never let you go

There's a tune that plays It's a sacred sound It's a symphony I hear whenever you're around Now my world is filled With a whisper of love and a promise of tomorrow

I can see the sun And I can feel the rain I can hear the wind call your name I can feel your love But there's one thing I can't do I can't ever get enough of you

'Cause when we make love I lose track of time I can't count all the colors I see in your eyes And while your heart beats in mine, it's true I can't ever get enough of you

Now my world is filled with so many things But nothing compares to the touch of your skin There's a symphony And a melody that plays whenever you're around I think I've been found

I can see the sun And I can feel the rain I can hear the wind call your name I can feel your love But there's one thing I can't do I can't ever get enough of you

I can see the sun And I can feel the rain I can hear the windcall your name I can feel your love But there's one thing I can't do I can't ever get enough of you

I can't ever get enough of you I can't ever get enough of you I can't ever get enough of you I can't ever get enough of you I can't ever get enough of you I can't ever get enough of you

Ooh I like this one

This song is a fave for them as well

[mountain-in-springtime]

all i ask (a sequel to lying eyes)

pairing: jake kiskza x reader, josh kiskza x reader | word count: 2.7k | warnings: kissing, cursing, p in v sex (pls practice safe sex!!!) | my masterlist | link to part one of this fic (lying eyes)

summary: you make the hardest decision of your life and bid your lover a proper goodbye

author's note: okay hiiii everybody!!! i'm here with a part two of lying eyes, which is probably my favorite fic i've ever written. i'm not sure if this one is as good as the first, but i really do love it. soft and sad shit like this is my fave!! also this isn't proofread (what fics of mine are tbh), and it's based on the song all i ask by adele, which i'll link below.

*******************************************************

Your bathroom was always too cold. The tiles that pressed against your bare legs were a harsh, uninviting white, and they were icy enough to make you shudder with every movement of your body. You tried to will yourself to remain still as sobs wracked through your body, making you tremble and shake as your eyes screwed shut and your hand clamped against your mouth in an attempt to silence your cries. Your hand gripped your phone so tightly you couldn’t fathom how it didn’t shatter into a million little pieces. Each ring brought a strange mix of relief and dread. You prayed he never answered the phone, but you desperately needed him to. Just when you had decided that it was one ring too many and moved your thumb to hover over the ‘end call’ button, you heard an all-too-familiar voice.

“Hello?” 

Your heart fell to your stomach.

“Jake?” you answered weakly.

You should’ve known that he would notice the tremble in your voice. “What’s wrong?” His concern was as unmasked as ever. He never hid from you. It seemed you had done enough hiding for the both of you. For the three of you, you remind yourself bitterly. 

“I just… I can’t do this, Jake,” you confessed, prompting a new wave of quiet sobs to pour from you. Your hand found its way back to your mouth, and your teeth sunk into your palm and the taste of copper washed over your tongue. It hurt like a bitch, but you couldn’t afford to be heard. Not yet. 

Upon hearing your muffled cries, your lover gently cooed to you. “Hey, hey, baby. It’s alright. I’m listening. I’m here,” he soothed, “What can’t you do anymore, love?” 

You stayed silent for a long while, forcing yourself to steady your breath and find your words before speaking again. “I can’t be away from you. I- I thought that I could do this. That I could go back to him and love him and be everything I was supposed to be, but… fuck, Jake, I just can’t. I can’t lie to him or myself anymore.” Your thoughts poured out of you in one long, pathetic stream of consciousness. 

You heard a long sigh from the other line before Jake gave an answer you never expected: “He loves you.” 

“So do you,” you countered, too broken to ignore what was so glaringly obvious. It was the reason you called, and you both knew it. 

“I know,” was all he said in reply. 

“I love you, too,” you continued. The words stung with every syllable, but they were the truth all the same. 

He only repeated himself. “I know.” 

You felt your patience wear thin as you finally snapped. “Then what should I do? I don’t love him anymore. Not the way I did, at least. I don’t think I can anymore.” 

“I don’t want him to be hurt,” Jake sighed. His resigned voice sounded harsh and metallic as it echoed through your small bathroom. For a moment you thought that he was different, that this wasn’t the same man who held you all those nights and loved you so sweetly, but you knew that wasn’t the truth. You had felt the depth of Jake’s love, and you would be a fool to think that he’d regulate that affection to only one person. He cared for his brother just as strongly as he cared for you and probably stronger than you had ever cared for Josh. 

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted so badly to be angry and lash out, ask him why he didn’t want you anymore, but you knew that doing so would solve nothing and only drive old wounds deeper. Instead, you spoke evenly, trying desperately to make him understand. “Jake, if I stay with him any longer, he’s going to be hurt even more. You know that.”

The line went silent for a long time before he finally answered. “I know. I just… I wish things were different. I wish you had met me first. Things would’ve been so different.”

You nodded silently as if you had forgotten that he wasn’t in the room with you. Your head filled with images of shared beds, wedding bands, and the laughter of children with familiar sets of brown eyes. It was what you should’ve had, what you would’ve had if the timing hadn’t been so cruel. It was then as you mourned the life you never had that you made your final decision. 

“I’m going to leave him, Jake,” you confessed through the tears that began to resurface, “I have to do this. For myself.” You made it a point to add the last part, knowing he’d never forgive himself if he thought you did it all for him. 

“If that’s what you need to do,” he replied, his voice steady and sober. “Can I ask where you’re going to go?” The question hung in the air, answered before it was even asked. 

You nodded and sniffled loudly before answering him. “Can I come home?” 

His answer was immediate. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” you sobbed quietly, “I’ll call you before I go over. I have to go talk to him.” 

“Tonight?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. 

“I have to,” you confirmed solemnly, “I can’t do this to any of us any longer.” 

You heard a sigh echo through your phone’s speaker. “I understand. You’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured him as you wiped stray tears with the heel of your palm.

“Okay,” he answered, though you could still sense the worry in his voice, “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied with a deep sigh.

After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” As you hung up the phone, a wobbly smile crossed your features. You sat on the bathroom floor for a long while, silently holding your knees to your chest as you contemplated what you were going to say to your husband. Your mind seemed emptier and emptier the more you tried to think about it, and you decided that all you could do was tell him the truth. He deserved that much. 

You stood from your place on the ground, walking to the bathroom counter. You ran a hand over your face, which only exaggerated the smears of mascara that lay across your cheeks. Your hands found the taps for the sink, turning them on and splashing cold water onto your face. A loud gasp left your lips at the icy feeling against your skin, but it was what you needed to gather yourself. You grabbed the towel that hung next to the shower and carefully wiped your face and hands with it before moving to the door. Your fingers gripped the handle and you took a deep breath before pulling it open to reveal Josh slouched against the wall across from the room. He wore a solemn look on his face, and it was enough to break your heart. 

“Hey,” you greeted weakly, unsure of what else to say. 

“Hey,” he answered, “Was that Jake?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I thought that was over?” he asked, but the resignation was evident in his voice.

“So did I,” you told him honestly, “I tried really hard for it to be.” 

“I know,” he mumbled with a defeated nod, “I knew I could only keep you for so long. I just always wished that I had more time.” 

That statement alone broke your heart. Fresh tears started to pour down in the path of old ones as you broke down before him. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” you cried, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to do this.” 

He walked forward, pulling you into his arms. “I know,” he cooed, “I know you didn’t. It’s okay. I forgive you.” His kindness alone made you want to rip yourself apart. You didn’t deserve any of this. You had promised to love and cherish each other, and as a cruel reward for him holding up his end of the deal, you fell in love with his brother.

“You shouldn’t,” you answered him as you shook your head, “You shouldn’t forgive me. I don’t deserve it.” 

He shushed you and pulled you closer, his hand pressing your head into the comfort of his chest. “I could never be mad at you for loving, baby. That’s what we were made to do. Our time together’s just reached its end. That’s all,” he whispered. It all felt so wrong. How was it that he could comfort you when you were the one that ruined everything?

“I just don’t want you to hurt,” you murmured, your voice muffled by the thick sweater he wore. 

“I know,” he sighed, “And I’m not saying that it won’t hurt me for a long time, but I think we maybe both deserve a shot at being happy, don’t we?” He punctuated his sentence with a firm kiss to the top of your head, which only brought a new wave of sobs from you. You gripped him tightly as you nodded silently, unable to form any kind of coherent sentence. 

You stood there for a long time together, holding each other close as you wept shamelessly and Josh spilled out a few of his own tears. After you eventually both fell into silence, you brought your head up to look at him. His warm eyes studied your face with a mix of love and deep sadness, and you felt terrible knowing that you were responsible for both. His hand came up to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing small circles into your flesh. He wore a melancholy smile on his lips, and before either of you could think to stop it, you slowly closed the gap between you, your lips meeting in a slow, deep kiss. 

A groan rumbled in his chest as his hands found their way to your sides and splayed across your back, pulling you closer to him. You anchored one hand on his shoulder while bringing the other to the nape of his neck, toying gently with the stray curls that fell there. You were absolutely consumed in each other, skin burning hot through clothes as you molded into him. Once you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, you felt a panicked uncertainty wash over you. 

“Josh, we can’t. We shouldn’t,” you sighed, though it was unclear who you were trying to convince at this point. 

In response, he brought his hand up to cup your jaw. “Please,” he begged, his lips millimeters from your own, “One last time.”

You knew you couldn’t deny him. Even if it was over now, he deserved something like this, something to prove that all those years weren’t for nothing, that they weren’t loveless. You nodded softly, your eyes flitting up to his before pulling him in for another kiss. He moaned softly into you, and you felt him push himself against you with gentle need. You held each other close as you stumbled down the hall and into your bedroom. The sheets on the bed were still thrown about and unmade when your back pressed into the mattress. Your mouths stayed connected, afraid of what words would spill out if they parted. The longest you ever broke your kisses was for mere seconds to remove layers of thick sweaters and worn pajamas. His hands traveled across every inch of your body, and yours canvassed his own, knowing each touch would have to last a lifetime. It wasn’t until you felt him slotted against your entrance that either of you dared to speak. 

“I love you,” you whispered feebly, your hand reaching out to hold his. 

He took your hand eagerly and brought it to his mouth, kissing it gently before shaking his head, “No lies, pretty girl. It’s only me.” The sentiment broke your heart, knowing that there was still so much love between you, but not the kind that he needed. It echoed through your mind as he slowly pushed into you, a small gasp leaving his lips at the feeling. You winced softly, feeling the familiar stretch for the last time as you pulled him down onto you, nearly crushing yourself with his body weight. Your face was buried into the crook of his neck as he dragged himself in and out of you, only wanting to be close, not even chasing a high anymore. 

The way Josh loved was heartbreaking. It was so deep and endless and unconditional in a way that you had never understood until this moment. He was all light and good, even when his body and heart were consumed with hurt. It was more than you deserved, and you figured maybe that’s why you couldn’t last, but, in truth, it didn’t matter why anymore. This was the end, and all you could do was make the most of goodbye. 

Silent tears fell from your eyes and onto his shoulder, wetting his bare skin. You could feel his thrusts become sloppier, but they never quickened. He was desperate to memorize every inch of you, to remember how you felt for the rest of his life. It was all very slow and sweet and sad, which made it all the more surprising when the familiar knot in your stomach began to tighten. Soft moans fell from your lips, and you could tell that he sensed your oncoming high. His hand traveled down to where your bodies met, tracing deliberate, drawn-out circles until you both came undone. Your lips connected for one last time as he spilled into you and your body fluttered around him. As your highs faded, you felt him carefully pull out of you, the emptiness you felt seeming more devastating than ever. You moved to sit up, but he held out a hand to stop you. 

“Wait. Let me take care of you one last time, okay?” he pleaded, and by the look in his eye, you knew he needed this, too. If this was it, he needed to know that he had loved you right. Your eyes never left his as you nodded, watching him leave the room. 

When he returned with the damp washcloth, you found his touches to be as gentle as they always were as he carefully wiped between your thighs. He wore a sad smile on his face, which was an expression you were sure mirrored your own. When he finished, he had placed the cloth aside and leaned forward, his lips ghosting against your temple. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face as he pulled away, rising from the bed and getting dressed, allowing you to do the same. You grabbed a bag that you had hastily packed earlier in the night, and he followed you to the door. As you stood there with your things, you felt a strong need to say something, anything to him, but you were at a complete loss. No words could encompass how grateful you were to have loved him or how sad you were that you didn’t anymore, but maybe it was for the best that it was unsaid. Maybe it would only hurt more if the sentiment was shared aloud. 

“I love you,” he told you, his hand taking yours and giving it a final squeeze. 

You smiled weakly and nodded. “I know,” you replied, and somehow, you knew that was the right thing to say. It wasn’t a lie or a brush-off or anything. It was just an acknowledgment.

He returned your shaky smile as you exited your house. His house, now. You gazed back at it as you pulled out of the driveway, marveling at how nice of a home it was. It was funny how inviting everything seemed now that you were leaving, but you guessed that was something to be thankful for. There wasn’t a single bad memory that came from being with Josh, and as you drove away to your home, you silently hoped that he would have no more terrible memories at your hand. As the house left your view, you gave it a final wave goodbye, unaware that your ex-lover stood at the window, doing the very same.

taglist: @westernwoods @sunfl0wer-power @gold-mines-melting @alwaysonthemend @andtherestishistory13 @writingcold @sunandthemoontwinflames @livkiszka (send me an ask or dm if you wanna be added to my taglist!!)

[neoyi]

Any fav Soundtracks in sea of stars? The ambience Soundtracks are really ngl

I actually answered this in my side blog where I live-blogged Sea of Stars:

I fully recommend checking out the SoS tag there if you wanna read up approx. 65 bazillion posts where I analyze and gush over the game, though be mindful my side blog is an Adult Blog For Grown-Ups, so please curate and filter as needed (most of the SoS content there is sfw, but there's at least, maybe like two, risque fanart I posted up there.)

That said, I'll copy and paste what I wrote there here (with some editing):

"In the Womb of the Stars" is my defacto, most favorite song in the entire soundtrack. It is unsurprising that I picked a Yasunori Mitsuda vehicle (not that Eric W. Brown is a slouch!), it is incredibly ambient as you described. It's also ethereal, peaceful, hopeful, and conjures images of starry night skies so perfectly. I feel simultaneously content yet surrounded by mysteries I've yet to discover.

Other fave tracks...

The Great Archives: This actually wasn't in my original list. I liked the song a lot, but didn't know if it was one of those things I'd be listening to quite as much as the others on the list, but it grew on me more and more. Few could really make a theme song that genuinely sounds like "Old Wizard Lives and Smells Like a Library", but "The Great Archives" managed it very well.

Mooncradle: Particularly its night theme. The part where it sounds like it twinkles is a good first impression of the kind of whimsy this game excels at. Bardcore version of this was also good.

Dance of 1,000 Suns: Such a good title for Garl’s theme. It’s so bouncy and joyous, a perfect fit for the perfect boy.

Teaks, the Traveling Historian: The beginning kind of sounds like an ol’ West theme, though further listening, it’s pretty clearly meant to portray her mile-a-minute observational skills.

The Mole Masons: Especially its day theme. It’s just so upbeat and perky.

Serenade of Respite: This was my fave for the longest time until "In the Womb of the Stars." It's just so soothing. Legit feels like this was a leftover from Mitsuda's "Chrono Cross." That's how good it is.

The Storm Calls for You! Cheesy concertina aside (and maybe because of it), this boss theme is a BANGER.

Settlers Island: It sounds both like Christmas and Stardew Valley: very cozy.

The Town of Mirth: Cozy x10. Love how relaxing it is. Both day and night are great.

Monuments to the Ancients: Kinda feels like it’d make a good credits score, honestly. It has that same vibe I feel whenever I listen/see the credits to Super Mario Bros 2, actually.

Shoppe: I like the overall shop theme in SoS, but the Docarri one is the best. It’s the prettiest sounding one.

The Frozen Peak: Holy shit, this one is an EARWORM.

The Bamboo Forest: Incredibly serene. Just slap a screencap of that locale on YT for ten hours with that music, and add in some trickling water sound effects and BAM! You got an ASMR.

Volcano Pursuit: Also a banger. I don’t really gel with a lot of, like, lava-themed songs (y'all can’t ever top DKC 2’s “Red Hot Bop”), but this one is really, really fun.

Elegy of the Hero: Hi, I’m gonna get on my hands and knees and cry again, thanks.

Stars Align on the Assembly Line: Love it. Would rave to it.

Ascension: Godspeed, Solen and Luana…

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Jimin, dude, man, bro, wtf? What in actual goddamn fuck???

Listen, there like 3 Jimin solo songs I like and I am not a big fan of some of his vocal choices but let me tell you I was really hyped and hooked when the teasers came out. The drama, war anthem-ness, the grandeur of everything, I liked it all. So I was quite disappointed when the news of him rapping came out because I've heard him rap before and it was bad, and I especially was reluctant to watch the whole MV after I heard a snippet of it on my tl (the stylistically autotuned rap part, yeah). I was afraid to be disappointed after such great teasers.

despite my fears I finally watched the MV... fuck... WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK PARK JIMIN??? It's so damn good! Even the rap part??? I LOVED it. Separately it doesn't sound very nice but combined and mixed it somehow works well. And his stylistic vocal choices, the way he changes his voice all the time, it's amazing, it keeps you hooked and anticipating what comes next, it keeps surprising you, even shocked at some point. I haven't been a fan of bts songs since the fake love era (even black swan is not IT for me, it's really good but not THAT great) so it says a lot. this one is easily one of my faves EVER in their discography.

The song is a statement. A grand opening. Empowering.

BTW, the song is totally a type of song that you would play in your car while driving around with your friends and singing-shouting along. Wow, just wow.

*

Ask 2: Opinions on set me free pt. 2 seem to be divided in some circles 👀👀👀 ofc because of the vocal processingz that’s a common complaint for so many years already lol. I mean Pdogg is the main producer of the album so idk what they expected… personally i love the song and i think the vocal processing works but i think i can understand some people have different tastes and expectations… at the end of that day it was a choice consciously chosen by jimin and his producers. It’s there for a reason imo. I’m happy though that jimin really tried something different!!!!! So many people were expecting a ballad for this title instead we got a banger lol… and like you said Yoongi’s style is obvious even when he doesnt have a hand in making it directly… now i’m so curious what like crazy will sound like!!!! But i wanna ask if youll be making a post for set me free bpp???

***

Posting these two asks now because my inbox is already getting out of control and between getting zero sleep and a flight I've got to catch in exactly 73 minutes, I'd rather briefly get out some thoughts now, regardless of if they're coherent or not, because I don't know when next I'll have time.

Hi Anon(s),

I don't think I'll ever write a full review for this song, because there's a lot about it I don't want to talk about, a lot I don't want to share and would rather keep to myself.

That said,

Everything about Set Me Free Pt. 2 is right up my alley and objectively brilliant. Every single thing about it: the melody, the autotune, the chants, the rap, the fact the whole thing plays out in the same prison, the way Jimin uses his body as a canvas for inscriptions that only enhance his storytelling, the performance.

I have nothing to say to anyone who doesn't like this or that about it. Rapper Jimin was in my wishlist for PJM1 so... and I'm a hiphop head who listens to Travis Scott-type autotune at least a couple times a day. Plus I've got Yoongi, that nasty, autotune-loving, foul-mouthed cat as my bias. Joon and Hobi aren't that much nicer either. Anybody reading this to hear me say something critical about this song should wake up and smell the matcha.

Some things I want to gush about:

First of all, the instrumentals. PDogg went stuuuuuuuuuuuupid on this track goddamn.

This song is pure trap. An orchestral, haunting trap anthem is what Set Me Free Pt. 2 is.

It is so sick. So maddening in how good it is. No wonder he was so excited about Jimin ending k-pop in 2023, the song he produced is easily the best produced Korean song so far and believe me when I tell you that is really saying something, because the competition this year has been stiff.

*

The Vocals

Jimin's voice is the most emotive in BTS. That's one reason I love it. Another reason is because nobody's vocals in BTS, in k-pop, fuck, in all of Korea, drips as much sauce as Park Jimin's. I've said before, Jimin sounds inhuman almost, I describe his voice as serrated steel coated in honey and wrapped in silk because it sounds distinctly metallic, but can be oddly soothing. But with Jimin, there's a tone he takes sometimes that has this undercurrent of nasty, of unapologetic vulgarity, and in Set Me Free Pt. 2, he uses autotune to amplify it to brain-piercing perfection.

PDogg brilliantly uses autotune to aid Jimin in sending a message.

The shrillest, most distorted we hear Jimin is when he raps after the first chorus, and that's by design. The use of autotune in this song is intentional, and we can see this because every time it ratchets up, Jimin is being crude and uninhibited - as though it's a second voice, an alter-ego, or Jimin himself speaking the deepest truest thoughts he holds, pushing them to the surface after suppressing them for nine years.

PDogg has used this sort of autotune on Jimin's voice before, in the second chorus of Black Swan (timestamp: 2:24 - 2:50)

It's hidden in the backing vocals in Black Swan but felt in full cathartic force in SMF pt 2. And it feels incredible.

Stream:

*

The Message/Lyrics

This is the part I don't want to write about because I'd rather keep my thoughts to myself. Not because I have special insight or think I've discovered something no one else sees or whatever, but because it's the only thing about this song that stayed within my expectations of who I think Jimin is. Plus I'm certain various interpretations will be offered by many other bloggers, so I'm okay sitting this one out.

That's the most I'll say now.

[starz222]

GENSHIN MEN — hcs. their fave past time

ft. scara, kazuha, albedo, thoma, al haitham, xiao, kaeya, heizou, venti 

notes. i go into detail, might be ooc, but i am confident in kaeya. i don't know shit abt calligraphy, composing, or playing violin. and i'm too lazy 2 research lawl. also this is my personal opinion! not proofread.

scaramouche — journaling

he keeps things to himself, and he doesn't like to open up. though he's been through hell and back, he still wouldn't dare to talk about his feelings. that's why, he writes them. i don't think he'll stay consistent, halfway through writing he'd go— what the hell am i even doing? but he'll still write, he doesn't realize it himself but he's grown attached to journaling. it's made his handwriting a lot more elegant as well. it's also helped him to analyze things a lot more easily, journaling keeps his thoughts organized. it stops his mind from going to chaos— and slowly believing he does have a heart. 

kazuha — calligraphy

a descendant of the kaedehara clan, a samurai and a poet. he'll often find himself participating or doing things such as calligraphy. he'll be in a cold room, sitting on the floor doing calligraphy on a table. and god, is it the most beautiful. the strokes he makes with his brush always have the right amount of pressure, and there's barely any smudges or mistakes. his calligraphy is clean and neat. 

albedo — composing / sketching

we all know he sketches. around dragonspire, he'd probably sit on a rock and sketch the surroundings. he'd have messy lines, but the picture he creates ties it all together. he dabbles in realism, and he definitely puts all the intricate little details. 

composing? think about it. he'd have a small book full of music snippets. he understands music theory like the back of his hand, and he hears it all playing in his head. real question is if he's ever going to play them. the songs would be like classical music, mainly piano and violin. the songs are based off his discoveries, and his environment.

thoma — knitting / crocheting

he's so considerate, and he loves handmade things. when he has breaks or free time, or if he can while running errands, he'll be crocheting. trust me, crocheting is addictive. using thin yarn and a small hook, he'll crochet the center pieces of the tables for the kamisato estate. for gifts, he'd make beanies or gloves for winter. and taroumaru? he makes little accessories for him too. he mostly crochets bags and plushies because— bags for gifts for visitors. plushies for children! (and itto when he stops by.)

al haitham — playing piano

usually, all he wants is a moment's peace. he has his headphones– yes. but playing piano just brings him so much more comfort, and he doesn't understand why. he'll try playing at first, and he wouldn't get it. that's why he'd be set on mastering piano. he loses himself when he plays piano. he'll learn lots of songs and make it his goal to master all of them. he's almost got a perfect pitch. kaveh would be shocked at how al haitham looks when he plays. and yes, he's the reason why al haitham knows so many songs. it's because kaveh requests him to play them.

xiao — cloudspotting / stargazing

he doesn't like to slack off. he likes to do things that he believes have purpose. so, it's not often that he takes breaks. he denies the fact that he actually does. after accomplishing his duties as liyue's yaksha, he'll find himself staring up at the sky, lying down on the soft grass. day, afternoon, night. he finds peace and solace during moments like those— like all of his pain didn't exist anymore. he listens to the sounds of nature, the birds chirping, the ait whistling. he'll find himself in a creative state of mind. he sees clouds and he'll picture them as something else, once he saw one that looked like guoba. under the starry night sky, he'll trace the stars with his finger, for ming constellations. 

kaeya — baking

the grandmas in mondstadt definitely gift him homemade baked goods. they'll go up to him personally too, and he'd walk them home, gift in hand. he would eat it with them and say how delicious it is, (let's not lie because when grandmas cook, fuck it's good.) then they'd offer him the recipe. he'll go do paperwork and see the handwritten recipe lying on the same desk, and he'll think of attempting it. after a few tries, he's gotten the hang of it. once he believes it's good enough, he shares it with the knights at favonius and the lady who gave him the recipe!

heizou — playing violin

sherlock holmes of teyvat. when he's hit a wall in his cases, or just needs a quick session of brainstorming, he'll go play violin. his playing is magnificent, it reels you in. he plays difficult songs, and he's talented. watching him play is like getting hypnotized, the way he plays the violin has such a captivating aura to it. he'll definitely be able to play a song after hearing it once, and i believe that he has perfect pitch. 

venti — planting / gardening

it started off when he got so drunk one night, he saw a plant in mondstadt bending down, and he made it his rightly duty to cure them! ever since, it's become a habit. he takes care of plants and having so much freedom, he goes wherever he wants and takes care of the plants as much as he likes. he'll also help by using his powers as the anemo archon to spread the seeds of the flowers and make sure every plant gets properly watered. also since he's too scared to touch them, he'll just make the insects fly away.