#ur choice of colour was great also

[hellisdex]

tagged by @transjarlaxle for 9 people to get to know better!! tyyyy

last song: mishaps of my mid twenties by mouth culture

favourite colour: #142a67

last movie/tv show: just finished blue eye samurai and am watching all of justified. last movie was 27 dresses lol

sweet/spicy/savoury: sweeeet

last thing i googled: 'frozen snow physics', bc a friend of mine was telling me about the dyatlov pass incident and i was like "wait isn't that the one they solved with the animators from frozen". and it was!

current obsession: bg3, always dragon age, also been really into baking this week

tag nine people: im gonna tag @stanwixbuster @par-vollen (hi! long time) @seagullwitch and @keroblin, but pls don't feel pressured to, and also if anyone wants to and sees this then pls take it as me tagging you!!

[famemonsterrr]

Astrology observations part 3.🪽

- I have noticed that people who have mars in libra they don’t argue with people they love. Like they might have been hurt by someone and still act like nothing happened. A very forgiving mars but so passive aggressive.

- people with mercury in Taurus have beautiful and unique voices. Women tend to have deeper voices more than any other mercury.

- air placements especially moon and mercury tend to analyse their emotions to a point that they don’t feel anything.

- Leo moons might have been the kids who never got any attention from friend groups or family. So if you see people with this placement they are loud with their emotions or they tend to be celebrities to get the attention they never had.

- Pisces moon people look sleepy all the time.

- when a Leo moon finds a libra moon expect a strong relationship.

- Leo men are either traumatising or the best thing that can happened in ur life.

- Sagittarius and Pisces is a couple that works well or Sagittarius moon x Pisces moon. They both can be delusional in their own ways.💀

- if you want the attention of an Aquarius man. Think AGAIN. They are the most difficult men on the zodiac. Females tend to be more open and kind but yet hard to keep.

-On the other hand the most easiest man on the zodiac is a libra man

- the biggest givers of the zodiac are Leos. They would do anything for you🤌🏻

- libra placements are always fruity

- Aries mars is a placement that you wouldn’t want to piss off. They will call you out without carrying and maybe be a little hurtful. Now if they have other placements maybe they will be on the softer side but NEVER piss off an Aries mars with earth placements.

- Two Gemini dating and end up marrying each other isn’t the smart choice ever. Especially when they are young. Gemini tend to mature in old age especially men.

- Capricorn moon is something sad to have. Like they have this nonchalant vibe that might affect them in the future. Unless they have water placements.

- Virgo Venus are soooo pickyyyy. Annoyingly pickyyyy but they still manage to choose the worst. Y’all make me giggly.

- Aquarius man with Scorpio placements is a no no no.

- 8th house placements are a blessing or a curse.

But I have to add they are very charismatic and sexy people. They might have a difficult life and always reborn from the ashes. They born to survive no matter what.

- out of the whole zodiac CAPRICORNS are the most fashionable. Maybe not experimental or trendsetter but always on point. I have also noticed they don’t wear bright colours like a Leo would

- on the concept of fashion I would say Leo and Aquarius have bold style but in different style. Libra and Virgo are the girly pops.

- Leo risings are either all loud or really quiet.

That’s all🫶🏻

Thank u for reading and liking me content. Really greatful 🥰 and pliz my grammar isn’t the best sometimes so he kind to be. I’m trying 💀

Stay healthy and happy 🥰

[seneon]

Woaaah I'm so glad the you write for mashe. I don't know if ur open for request if not please ignore this

How about Rayne having to bring his twin sons to work cuz his wife is out for business then for some reason Mash and his gang came to the Divine visionary and typical mashle shenanigans ensues.

The catch tho is that the one twin son is like a carbon copy of Rayne and the other is the same but hair color is like in opposite sides.

If ur uncomfortable with this please ignore this. But I hope you have a great day!!!

★ little raynes and mashle shenanigans

notes. little raynes omg (im his wife like literally) also this is the last request before i start on a new project 🫡

one rayne, two raynes, three raynes. and another rayne if you're counting finn to look similar to rayne. one twin looks exactly like his father, with half yellow and half black hair split in the center. his lines the same as rayne, both streaks that runs down his eyes. demeanor like his father's— serious, calm, and collected.

what about the other twin? he is exactly the same like his father. well, not really. he has the colour of your hair and a different type of line design. this twin is on the weaker side, seeing how he only has a single line that runs across his nose. just like you, with a single line. being the weaker twin, he was softer than his elder twin brother, often helping around town or anyone at all.

today rayne is all alone with his sons, as his wife had to visit her family's business to help around, so she left the boys with him. rayne is a busy divine visionary, he couldn't just leave his sons alone. so he brought them to his office. what a surprise, his brother's friends are all there. and rayne's eyes twitched at the chaos that is about to happen.

finn is the first one who greets them, for he is their uncle. being the loving and nice uncle finn is, he often spoils them and doesn't know when to stop. like always, he gave both the twins a candy each, ruffling with their head.

mash who has never seen rayne's children before, is fascinated by the fact that there are two other little raynes. one the exact copy, the other immediately reminding him of you. he doesn't know whether to continue feeling fascinated or to feel fear since there is a mini rayne in town now. what if mini rayne is as powerful as his dad?

lance who had no reaction to them at all. he already saw them, already met them, and already knew them long ago. in fact, the older twin quite likes lance. he sees lance as an icy and cool idol to admire.

dot who keeps the kids if they want tips on how to get a girlfriend and only the younger ames listens, for the elder one immediately finds dot annoying. the younger one is just curious on what the meaning of 'girlfriend' is, before lemon pushes dot away and apologised to the younger ames.

lemon who tells the twins not to mind dot, for he still hasn't find a girlfriend after years of being single. she tells them not to worry as they are still young and instead, gives them the cream puffs she has made for mash which ended up being way too much.

and rayne, who sighs and shakes his head at the growing trouble that he could smell from afar. seeing the piles of paper stacked on his table, he has no choice but to ask the help of the mashle friends to look after his kids. he could trust finn, but he doesn't trust the others. so he purposely gave the task to finn, but everyone else took it as an invitation to babysit two little raynes.

rayne will make sure to complain to his wife when she comes back home.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[mykneeshurt]

hi!! happy new year!! 💗

I love ur writing, and I was thinking to drop this request;

so may request some hc’s of cod task force 141 (+ alejandro, könig, graves and rudy) :))

feel free to skip this if youre busy, just wondering, happy new year :)

Sorry this one took me some time, I got too in my head about it. It was so hard to not be bitchy to Graves lmfao, Soap is my favourite enjoy! SFW. Let me know if you want NSFW ones

Price 🥃

He supports Liverpool FC, no I won’t hear any different

His favourite non-alcoholic drink is ‘builders tea’

Glenfiddich 18 is his Whisky of choice

Favourite colour is khaki green

Is the father figure of the group, strong, reliable, approachable (everything my dad wasn’t lmfao, I still love him)

He wears a plain t-shirt pyjamas to bed, sleeps on his side, one arm under his head, absolutely snores

His favourite breed of dog is a Collie, or any working dog he can walk for miles for in the country side

He absolutely loves Bargain Hunt on TV

His favourite smell is fresh gingerbread

He’d make an excellent grandfather tbh

Soap 🧼

Despite being Scottish he supports Blackburn FC, an underdog (I refuse to comment on the Celtic vs Rangers, far too much history there. And I’m Welsh, it ent for me to say haah)

He absolutely loves winding the boys up about being English

His text tone is SCOTLAND FOREVVAAAA *aggressive bagpipes*

Soap 100% sleeps in the buff

His favourite dog would be a Labrador, nice active family friendly dog

He’s a chatterbox but a good listener when he needs to be, will often give some surprisingly good advice

He’s an iPhone wanker

Absolutely a mummy’s boy, would do anything for her - he’d love to pay off her mortgage for her

His favourite smell is the cheesy paws of his dog for real

He’s not a morning person, he loves a lie in when he can

Ghost 💀

Ghost supports Manchester City, he just gives me those vibes ok?

His favourite weather is rain/storms

When he’s home from a mission he’s a bath guy, he showers all the time on base, so when he’s home it’s hot ass bath with an audio book and his bourbon

He has two cats that his neighbour looks after when he’s away, two British blue shorthairs. Called Foxtrot and Whiskey

He also loves rabbits

He loves helping beginners at the gym

His favourite tv show is The Simpsons, something easy and colourful to watch to distract him from what he’s seen

He smells like Dior Suvage (anything musky and heavy)

He’s ambidextrous

He loves a cooked dinner, beef, roast potatoes, all the veg, stuffing and all the Yorkshire puddings

He’s got his tongue pierced, I’ve seen the fan art. You can’t tell me other wise.

Gaz 🇬🇧

He gives me Arsenal vibes, so he supports them

But also supports Chicago Bears in American Football

He’s gentle, reserved so he’d have a rat as a pet, highly intelligent

Fish and chips with curry sauce is his favourite meal, a proper British geeza

He smells fresh, think a bright spring day, fresh linen and cut grass

He loves the sunshine

He’s a keen gardener, grows his own herbs and vegetables

His house is spotless, minimalist, but has a huge book collection

He loves caramel lattes despite the banter from the boys, he has a sweet tooth

Loves meeting the boys down the pub on a Sunday for a carvery

Alejandro 🌹

He’s an excellent cook, his favourite hobby when not on a mission is trying out new recipes for Los Vaqueros

This man sleeps in silk sheets, tell me he doesn’t?

He’s fiercely loyal his country, he loves Mexico and is passionate about it through and through

He’s got a great sense of humour, enjoys making people laugh

He runs marathons for charity in his spare time

His favourite subject in school was history

If you’re sad this man gives the best hugs, he’ll make you a strong ass coffee and give one hell of a pep talk

His favourite smell is fresh cocoa beans, always stealing the nibs to eat

Him and Rudy have film nights with their families when they’re home

He’s 100% a girl dad, teaches her how to shoot with nerf guns in the garden

Rudy ❤️

He has a German Vizsla called Pollito, because her legs look like chicken drumsticks

He 100% has an android phone

He’s an armature photographer in his spare time, he loves nature

He and Alejandro have personalised ringtones for each other

His favourite food is Seafood paella

He owns a small farm, sells the produce to the local area, he loves animals

He once won a poetry competition

His favourite colour is orange

Sorry but he wears lynx Africa (I like it sue me)

He likes to game in his spare time, anything from farm simulator to RPGs

König 👑

He loves drawing, anything creative, he’ll draw/paint the Austrian countryside to de-stress

He grew up on a small farm in the Austrian mountains, he has a very close family

He doesn’t like large crowds, worried people stare at him because of his height, feels claustrophobic sometimes

He bites his nails when his hands aren’t busy or covered by gloves

He’s a cat guy 100%

He’s left handed, 100% a lefty but holds his gun right handed (its a struggle, I’m left handed)

He’d like a family one day, he’s got a lot of love to give

He smells like leather, sandalwood and vanilla

He loves eating raw cookie dough, vanilla and chocolate chip

He holds the record for the hardest punch in his home town

Graves 🇺🇸

His favourite holiday is July 4th, he does a huge fireworks display whenever he’s home

His favourite food is Gumbo

He smells like Paco Rabane Invictus

He’s got 3 Dobermans, whom he loves with all his heart. Ben, Jacob and Molly

He has a white picket fence - obviously

He doesn’t have a good relationship with his father, daddy forced him into the army to gain approval

He sleeps in red plaid pyjamas and has matching slippers

He’s fluent in French, he learnt it to pick up girls

He loves hiking in his spare time, with his 3 dogs

He runs support groups for veterans on a Thursday a local library

[tinytinybumblebee]

Hi hello :D!!! I hope you're doing well XP

I just wanted to say that I've started watching metalocalypse since seeing your post about toki being a canon age regressor. I'm on season three so far and I love it! Toki is sooo blorbo shaped and I love the other characters alot too :)))!!!

(Totally optional add-on request but if you had any general agere hc's for him or him with a cg of your choice I'd love to hear!)

Regardless, have a great rest of Ur day/night!!! I just kinda wanted to share this w someone since I don't usually post abt adult swim shows on my fandom side :p

-@p2ii-agere

Howdy howdy!! I've been good, busy but good!!! Hope you've been well!♡

And heck, yeah, welcome to the klok family!!!

- Toki loves, and I mean looves plushies (deady-bear is, of course, plushie #1) they're soft, so many different fabrics, textures, sizes! When they are on tour, it's Toki's mission to get a plush from each city (they might need to build a new room just for the plushies xD)

Tiny Toki definitely has to spend 10 minutes figuring out which plushies are going to be tucked in with him that night (and no, Murderface, Toki can't just grab 4 random ones! Toki had to ask each plushie if they wanted to bed sleep!)

- Tiny Toki is a huge fan of just sitting there and watching his carer. Maybe with a colouring book, but the lil guy just likes being close to his carer. It helps him feel safe and calm♡ (Everyone has to watch their step just in case Toki is under their feet xD)

- Skwis and Murderface are more so big sibs to Toki! Skwis loves to have Toki help him play pranks on others and Murderface looves using Toki to get someone to agree to his next hairscheme idea (He'll just hold up Toki and be like "Awe c'mon, you're seriously gonna say no to a face like this??" And Toki is just knawing on a crayon and happily waving) xD

Either way, those two lads are pointing at tiny Toki and saying, "But it makes the baby happy! You saiiiid to make sure he was happy!"

- Pickles is the best carer for Toki when it comes to nightmares, Pickles doesn't even have to open his eyes when he hears his door creaking open before he's lifting his blanket up for Toki to come running under (Pickles is also the warmest bandmate so, Toki loves to just nuzzle himself into Pickles chest, kinda like baby-carer skin-to-skin style xD)

- Two words: Kitty onesie. That's 90% of his wearings when tiny, it's cozy and cute (and the hood has kitty ears!!!) ;w;

[maochira]

kunigiri for ur new event pls i love the sm theyre literally my parents (real)

They are now also my parents I am your sister (real)

Requests open! - event list - masterlist

Kunigami and Chigiri as your parents!

Tags: gn!reader who's Kunigami's and Chigiri's child, they're both professional players and Kunigami got therapy so he's mentally stable again, no specific age for reader just general headcanons, kinda obvious but reader is adopted

-Chigiri and Kunigami knew for a long time that they want a child one day, but they were always unsure if they were ready to be parents. But once they got you, all the doubts disappeared and they got so confident in becoming great parents

-Kunigami has always been the one mostly trying to prevent you from getting any injuries, but whenever something happened, Chigiri would be the one to take care of you and your wounds, while Kunigami would be the one to comfort you with words

-Kunigami is the more overprotective one. He gets afraid of bad things happening to you more easily, but Chigiri is always there to reassure him you're gonna be fine. Even though he tends to get more worried than needed as well

-Chigiri LOVES styling your hair in all different kinds of ways. He'd also be open to dyeing your hair in any colour you'd like!

-in general, both of them are supportive of whatever style and aesthetic you want to express yourself

-they try really hard to keep their work-life and parent-life separated. They don't want you to be a big part of their soccer life because family is a whole different thing from their career. But sometimes they have no other choice than to involve you a bit, so you get to come along to their practices and watch, and sometimes you even get to travel with them. It can get stressful, but they love to show you the world!

-whenever you come along to watch their practices, they stay a bit longer after their teammates have already left, so they can play soccer with you for a bit

-they don't pressure or push you into it, but they'd love it if you got into soccer as well. They would be really supportive, but Chigiri would also be a bit worried about you getting injured and Kunigami would get worried about what if you weren't mentally strong enough to deal with the world of soccer

-they know you're capable of a lot of things and how strong you are, but no matter how much you grow up, a part of them will forever have the little child (Y/N) who needs to be protected in the back of their minds

-if you have another passion or dream, they will be very supportive as well. But even in that, they find reasons to be worried about you. But seeing the person you're becoming as you grow up just makes them happy, knowing they did a good job as parents

[legallybrunettedotcom]

any suggestions for a director i can study in my film class next year? i have to make a short film inspired by their style. i trust ur film taste.

what a cool assignment! the first name that popped into my mind is wong kar-wai. no one does love and loneliness quite like him and he has such a distinct style. another director with sort of similar neon visuals is nicolas winding refn. i'm sure someone in your class will be doing their project on tarantino, unless they think they're too cool for him, but refn is sort of similar to him theme-wise. he's also obsessed with violence and indebted to all the great filmmakers that came before him. and i think it might be interesting to analyze how style became substance, the evolution from his first films to recent projects etc. gaspar noe might be another interesting option if we're staying in this neon and hazy and brutal world. the most obvious choice is wes anderson. i think cute and fun things could be done trying to replicate his style. in the same vein sofia coppola. my bestie david fincher is another potential option, you have the very dark and sterile and jaundiced colour palette, he doesn't move the camera a lot so you got this feeling of being like a fly on the wall. i think terrence malick could be so cool and you can utilize the nature a lot, even though that can be a nightmarish task. and unlike fincher his camera seems to levitate, it's not really fixed. sergio leone could be really fun, you can make your own western, lots of wide-angle shots of the environment and close-ups of faces, everything is intense and almost comedic, some cool music and you got it. anyway these are the ones that first popped into my mind. good luck! 🫶🏼

[youremyheaven]

also loving all the pink. I bet you're gorgeousss 🫶🏼💕

I also live in a kinda dodgy area with a lot of religious/hijabi people - I have nothing against them and I'm sure a lot of them are super friendly but I can't help but feel a little judged and vulnerable if I be showing ankle lol or wearing colours (nobody wears colours around here bruh).

There's a looot of crime and I don't want to draw attention to myself especially when I'm out with bub.

Sorry to ramble ugh but I guess I'm just saying whoever sees this, this is your sign that if your circumstances are right, be adventurous and take advantage of that, have funn with how you dress, it makes me so happy to see girls being free and shamelessly beautiful ✌🏼💜

🙈🙈🙈ur so sweeettt <333

i do love pink, maroon, magenta, burgundy, brick red and just colours in that spectrum hehe,, makes me feel romantic 🥰

omg where do you live??? nobody wears colours??? 😭😭

being judged for what you wear is the worstttt,,, i was one of the only people who got "dressed" up to go to class bc most people did not have the time or energy for it and just came to class in whatever was clean which i 100% understand but i always felt hella overdressed around them (even tho i technically wasnt)

idk if you're muslim but i dont think your neighbours will care that much??? sometimes the people who seem to live the most orthodox lives tend to be the ones who respect other people's choices the most<33 there are sooo many cute relatively modest outfits too , in case that interests u as well<333 be creative bbg,,

i feel u on the draw attention bit. its like turning on a switch. people seem to notice u 50x more when ur dressed up and it can be soooo uncomfortable. but if u step out in a hoodie and sweats, its like ur invisible. sooo weird. being a woman is just sooo disorienting at times.

i hope u and bub stay safe<333🧿🪬🧿

"shamelessly beautiful" is such a great way of phrasing it!!! i wish we could all shamelessly embrace our beauty and live our best lives!!! fck those people who think we're over the top or doing too much!!! u only live once, put on that dress and wear that blue eyeshadow!!! dont let them ruin fun for u!!!

[lifesver]

@fcused said: ' can i paint your nails? ' + @quietevasions said ' this is a good look for you ' + @meatriarch bc ur kids are here also AGFDSGFDS. don't ask why this is so long sorry for the random drabble

the party at the house over was a bust — and with their plans all but falling through for the night, the group had moped their way back to maria's apartment. the living room was filled with the warm, scratchy hum of her record player, while people settled with their drinks.

sonny and danny on the couch, vaguely heckling whatever movie was playing on the tv. ana was perched on the arm, peering across the room every so often, and putting some more lines down in her sketchpad. she was probably sketching out some of maria's plants, arranged on the mantle. maria and julie were hovering by the kitchen chatting indistinctly, but animatedly.

and leland had sprawled himself flat on his back on the floor, by where connie was painting her nails. she was about done, double-checking them now that they were dried. he tilts his head to peer up at her.

❝ how do you that without messing up? ❞

upside-down connie makes a softly amused sound; ' it's just practice, ' her fox eyes flick to meet his; ' ... here, ' she posits, making a come here gesture, ' can i paint your nails? ' and leland shoots a skeptical brow to her;

❝ do i get to pick the colour? ❞ he asks, and connie huffs a gentle laugh;

' of course. ' and then, she calls toward the kitchen from over her shoulder; ' maria, do you have any blues? ' she holds out the red nail polish bottle she'd just used on herself, to demonstrate what she means.

maria pops her head out from the kitchen with a thoughtful sound and a ' lemme check! ', before she disappears down the hall.

leland's brows furrow playfully at connie; ❝ how do you know i want blue? ❞

connie looks at him like this might be his stupidest question yet; ‘ because i know you. ‘ a small roll of her eyes, and she lightly pokes him in the chest of his blue shirt. well, she was right, anyway; his wardrobe almost entirely boiled down to blues and browns. nothing special, nothing too bright. sometimes he envied the way sonny dressed; unapologetic warm colours and patterns — he always looked cool, leland thought.

a few moments later, maria returns with a small handful of nail polish bottles, crouching to set them down on the low coffee table. they were mostly different shades of blue.

leland lazily rolls up into a sitting position. he pulls his legs to cross under him, scooting closer as he presents both hands, fingers splayed toward connie. his nails are pretty short, kind of scuffed up; probably not great canvases to work on, all things considered.

he remembers back when he was little, april had painted his nails a couple times, too. which dad kind of hated. and sadie had, once, while complaining thoroughly to him about some of the girls on her cheer team.

connie lets him pick from the blues, and he squints between a few options, before pointing out a dark navy. matched his shirt. would probably match everything, right? girls were always worrying about that kind of thing.

' are we doing a makeover? ' julie's head pops out from around the kitchen island. leland immediately tries for damage control, mouth opening and closing dumbly;

❝ wait. that's not — ❞ he's cut off as julie swans her way into the room. she sets her drink down, digging through her purse momentarily for something. she emerges with a makeup bag, before coming to join connie and maria. she sits down, too, and suddenly he's surrounded.

❝ dan, i'm being descended upon, ❞ leland whines, melodramatically, in danny's general direction. who does little more than scoff and reply; ' do your time, chico de oro. '

leland pouts at him; not very helpful, dan.

this was literally just like being home; arguing was futile, the only choice was surrender. he could always wash it off before next practice, right?

leland blinks as he watches them line up their arsenal of makeup and tiny little brushes on the coffee table.

maria perches on his other side, gently parting some of his hair away from the rest. she hums thoughtfully as she pins it back, and out of his face for him with one of her butterfly clips.

it feels kind of weird not to have the cover of his bangs. like his eyebrows were just kind of out there? brows that furrow as he watches the girls arrange themselves, so connie can take one of his hands to place on her knee, and julie can get way closer than he was prepared for. his cheeks flush for a moment, trying to figure out where he's supposed to be looking.

❝ uh — ❞ he clears his throat awkwardly, dodging everyone's eyes. then, he resolves to shoot a vaguely helpless look across the room to ana — who gives him an amused smile as she continues to work.

julie beams at him cheerily; ' it'll be fun, i promise. ' a beat, and she nods to herself resolutely; ' okay! eyes closed, mckinney, ' she commands him.

so he closes his eyes — albeit with a small pout. he can feel one of her makeup brushes dusting over his eyelids. which mostly tickles, and makes him scrunch his nose. she does the same to the other eye, and he tries to resist opening them too early. then she starts with a smaller brush, along the crease of his eyes. and it seems like she works at that forever.

he can tell maria is entertaining herself with braiding a section of hair at the back of his head, undoing it, and repeating the action.

kind of itches. leland's hand starts to move toward his face distractedly, but connie tactically pins it back down; ' those aren't dry yet, stop fidgeting. ' she lightly scolds him, still laser focused on her task of doing his other hand. one eye sneaks open; the blue looked nice, he thought.

meanwhile, julie frowns at her handiwork; ' ...oh. i smudged it a bit, but it still looks ok, i think. '

❝ — you think? ❞ distressing update, to be sure.

' leland, ' connie half-laughs, half-sighs in exasperation.

a blink, and he's paying attention again; ❝ oh. sorry, con. ❞ obediently, he tries his best to keep still. and julie's wielding mascara now, which inspires some mild fear in him. he flinches as soon as the wand gets remotely close to his eye. julie has to pause about ten times, when his eyes get distracted and blink.

' up, look up, lee. ' maria chides, with a laugh. patient as ever. ' you don't want to get poked in the eye, do you? ' he swears he's trying to keep still... and also look up at the ceiling, as julie curls the mascara wand against his lashes. which wasn't a great feeling — kind of weird, really — but he fights not to blink, and ruin julie's hard work.

❝ — so like. you put this on on purpose? this is like... this has to be some type of torture in some country — ❞ he blinks, and does very nearly get poked in the eye for it.

he's never been more aware of his eyelashes.

then, julie's using one of the larger, softer brushes on the highs of his cheeks; ' this is a good look for you, ' she hums, sounds all too proud of herself.

leland feels his face heat up again, suddenly self-conscious; ❝ you're teasing me, now. ❞ he huffs an accusation. julie pauses her ministrations, and purses her lips at him playfully. gives his cheeks a small squeeze between her thumb and fingertips; ' never, babe. i'm serious. you look good. ' he doesn't entirely believe her, but that had less to do with his doubt in her abilities, and more to do with his own face.

his next protest is cut short, as julie administers lipgloss with surgical precision, next. connie's, he realizes. because it tasted like cherry.

' — there, perfect. ' with the finishing touches done, julie beams again, tips of her fingers delicate as she turns him by the jaw to check him over. then, she wordlessly exchanges notes with connie and maria — the way girls do in secret eye-movement language — and the committee seems satisfied. maria carefully retrieves the colourful clips from his hair.

connie turns a pocket mirror to face him, and leland startles out something between a laugh and a slightly choked noise; ❝ — oh. whoa. ❞ useful response. he's not totally sure how to feel, at first. julie had picked out a deep blue-purple sort of colour for his eyeshadow. his face looked sharper than usual. or something.

' see? it totally brings out your eyes, ' julie elaborates. they all chirp and coo their enthusiasm, and leland ducks his head with another sheepish laugh.

' you look so pretty, ' connie reassures in the gentlest of teasing, eyes warming at the corners as she moves his hair back in place for him.

it was pretty, he decided.

... maybe it didn't all have to come off immediately.

confidence somewhat bolstered, leland turns over his shoulder, and bats his newly done-up lashes at their friends. ❝ — what do you think, ana, dan? williams? am i the prettiest girl at prom, or what? ❞ he looks across them pointedly for their individual validation.

' so pretty, ' ana echoes, and danny snorts. sonny turns, looks, and chokes on a sound into his beer, ' very nice, man, ' he says, diplomatically.

' who's next? ' julie chimes, which sounds a little like a threat. ' c'mon, da-ni-lo? ' she sing-songs as she shoots a deliberate look toward the other boys.

sonny promptly freezes like a deer in the headlights — but the speed at which danny bolts upright to leave the room is honestly impressive. ' oh, no you're not, ' danny asserts, and quickly disengages. he dodges julie — with a quick kiss placed atop her head — to disappear around the corner into the kitchen. mumbling something about needing another drink — and abandoning sonny to be descended upon next.

[muniimyg]

Kimiii love your writing!!!! You truly have a talent for it. You bring in the apt feels and vibes for each member and not to mention THE BANTER. Always my favourite part of your writings 🤭🤭🤭 Which member do you get into easily or enjoy writing the most? Idk why your writing tickles my brain like no other. 🙌 So naturally I was curious as to YOUR fave fics!? You don't have to answer any of these questions. I'm just a fan ;p

uhmmmm who r u and why r u my best friend starting now 😭😭😭 this ask is so cute! u have no idea how much ur support means to me 💓💖

hi ,, wow thank u so much !!! i’ve been having such a sucky past few weeks ,, this ask just made me feel so warm n cute 😩 pls dm me if u’d like so we can scream abt my kimiverse

to answer …

1) i love banter 😭 idk if it’s cos i’m a toxika chika but for me… word choice is everything🧍🏽‍♀️

2) i rlly like writing abt jungkook 😔 it’s giving basic but literally he’s so easy to write abt cos of all the tiktok edits HAHAHA ,, i also rlly like writing abt yoongi but i get attached cos he’s my bias … for like main side characters i love having hobi and nam joon 😛 they’re so fun in my head in terms of dynamics

3) ima be real… i haven’t read fics in a hot minute 😔 i have a lot that are on my list but haven’t found the time. recently, i read SDKMN by @dollfaceksj …. lemme jus say it’s 🔥🥵

n e ways ,, my schedule is pretty hectic ,, so when i AM in the mood to read fics i usually go to my comfort ones (linked here) . my fave fics have to be

backburner by @yoonpobs (i need this fic tattooed on me tbfh 😭)

rattled by @gukslut

colour of your shirt by @firebettercallnct

bad influence: collection by @noteguk

nude by btssmutgalore (now only available on AO3

hehehehee !!! have a great day bestie 💖 wuv u!

[baekhvuns]

NO BCZ LOOK!!! AHHH- 😭😭

I don't think she's understanding 😭 ykw I've totally given up ATP whatever happens happens. This adult life is hard bro 😭 i can't believe I'm gonna turn 19 someday 20 DOESN'T SEEM FAR AWAY IM- 😭

I'm scared to work honestly, first of all its gonna take a lot of time to actually find one and when I do find one how TF am I gnna socialize, what if I mess up and stuff YK i overthink beyond my own good 😭 but I've still got it together.

Oh damn those are some good ass certificate options but I was thinking of something related to creative things, like..graphic designing or maybe makeup skills. Girl,everyone has been telling me to do that bcz they say "you have great makeup skills" bcz one time I put on amazing eyeliner 😭 it literally took me like 15 min to do both eyes but I think I might try tht too, imma do everything i cn. EVERYTHING!!! NO FCUK MY RELATIVES DISRESPECTFULLY 🙄 my dad is always cool with whtv descision I take but then mum is always like "maybe u shouldn't.." MOM!! 😭

OMG YES I WEAR MY MOM'S JEWELLERY TOO!! 😭 YOU'RE JUST LIKE ME!! I rmr, i wore my mum's choodha gurl it was so beautiful them red bangles Ohhhh 😭

See my grandmother was like the it girl of our family I'm not even kidding, her style choice, was elite and she gv me those b&w movie actresses vibes, and she was literally the queen. I was her favourite. Ahem, and yeah, so she was also a little petite and skinny so many of my relatives say tht I look like her which is like the biggest compliment ever bcz imo she's the most gorgeous person ever.

And so my mom made me wear her saree and...😭 God, I felt amazing!!

OMG YES PLS DO SEND ME EM I AM HAVING THE URGE TO SEND YOU SO MANY PICTURES OF MY PINTEREST BOARD IVE SPECIFICALLY DEDICATED TO CLOTHES 😭

Yes I think I might be turning into a woman 😭 (OBV I AM!) if you look into my closet I only hv dresses and hoodies and tops and pants, you won't believe i wore a fucking dress to my cousin's engagement 😭 and i was the only one wearing a dress. Which i honestly don't resent but, sometimes I do wish, that I dressed up beautifully and traditionally.

Bro seonghwa is 6 yrs older thn me which is fine for me 😭 considering, my parents hv the same age gap [I'm just stating this I promise I'm not a delulu, (or am i?]

hello 😭😭😭 as i was answering this i saw the one u just sent dvabdh

DO NOT. EVEN. BEGIN.

LMFAOOOO no cause yeah whatever happens happens, what can we even do 😭😭STOP bc when u hit 20, i shed actual tears bc in a few years i gotta marry someone found leave MY ROOM?????? The whole “aged 20 years, but my parents aged too” hit me also, pls be prepared for it <3

I'm scared to work honestly, first of all its gonna take a lot of time to actually find one and when I do find one how TF am I gnna socialize, what if I mess up and stuff YK i overthink beyond my own good 😭 but I've still got it together.

GIRL use the brown parents connections? your dads friends office job? ur moms neighbours store, anywhere literally somehow someone knows someone?? nepotism, give kjo a fight,,,wait no those are also good courses to do! omg u could be a make up artist and teach me 🥰,, SEE IF UR GOOD AT WHY NOT??? the market is huge, weddings happen every day, u can absolutely do and get the $$$ the graphic design one omg pls also do that, u can start ur own lil Etsy shop and sell ur designs?

“OMG YES I WEAR MY MOM'S JEWELLERY TOO!! 😭 YOU'RE JUST LIKE ME!! I rmr, i wore my mum's choodha gurl it was so beautiful them red bangles Ohhhh 😭”

STOPPP THEY GOT THOSE VINTAGE GOLD AND PEARL CHOKERS AND EARRINGS AND THOSE HUGE NECKLACES FAAAMM THIS IS THE BEST THING TO EXPERIENCE!!! omg???? those must the so pretty 😭😭😭 did ur mo wear a pink, red or a rusty orange wedding outfit?? i always see those colours and its always moms who wore those colours who were baddies,,, WHY DO ALL GRANDMAS HAVE THE BEST SAREES????? those banarasi ones >>>>>>>> ur grandma it girl rightfully so, got ur grandpa wrapped around her finger,, u need to tell me ur style icon omg any actress

girl u better mf gatekeep these acc OKAY PLS FBDNBV heres a rly good suits store, super pretty lehenga’s from here (i have the first one and it’s GODLY) some jewelry stores,, (they’re all based in india so it should be easy to ship unlike me who hotta spend 100$ for shippings 😭) LET ME SEE UR PINTEREST BOARD PHOTOS I WILL EXPOSE MINE NFGBDBFQJ it is a process, ur growing, this is so fun jvjvjvk

6?

[chmydarling]

what i most associate w lou

animal: butterfly (lookin at u, walkerwhisperer)

colour: i'm thinkin yellow or green. anything bright and lovely. like him <3 green seems to be associated w lou a lot which is so fitting bc it can symbolise growth, hope, optimism n all that

month: ooh maybe april, bc u just know he goes to town for april fool's

astro sign: hmm idk. i read somewhere that lou is a leo n i can see that w like his outward confidence and all. tho credit goes to cos for suggesting he may be a gemini bc: outgoing, magnetic, playful n sensitive... i can most def see it!

song(s): bright, upbeat n catchy tunes. he loves anything motown and was raised on it, stevie wonder's a big hero of his too

number: 22 (his ericson jersey). lou is def the type to have a lucky number, so it could be this. tho 3 is considered to be associated w creativity, optimism, communication and curiosity..

day or night: i'm thinkin night bc he loves havin deep n meaningful convos and talking until the morning. like, at house parties, louis is abso that one person who is listening patiently to you talk about ur ex and your fears n hopes for the future outside at like 4am

plant: sunflower! (shoutout to mortem) bc positivity, happiness, cheer and adoration :')

season: summer bc lou absolutely adores the sun but he does love festivities and celebrations. so i think he would really enjoy fall for halloween, the festivals, plus all the themed snacks n drinks like candy apples (he also unironically enjoys pumpkin spice drinks, don't @ him). the cold makes him a lil grouchy but he loves winter for like hot chocolate, sledging (whilst dramatically wearing like 3 layers) n xmas and stuff

gemstone: i'm thinking diamond (not only cos he is one and was also rich as hell back in the day) but i did read that they can symbolise innocence and light as well as long-lasting love. they're also associated w creativity and intelligence, positivity and joy

smell: i can so see louis in a modern au smelling insanely good all the time. like u know he has all the best designer aftershaves (he lives for people being like is that u? lemme smell u, what is that) he pulls down the collar of this shirt and is like 'thanks! it's louis vuitton :)' so casually

food: he is a total foodie. the boy does have a taste for the finer things i.e. lobster and fondue (bc it's cheese but fun n fancy) n all that jazz. he loves super spicy foods and is v adventurous when it comes to food. but he can't resist a good mickey d's now and then

candy: reese's peanut butter anything, twizzlers (he has to defend this choice often, bc they taste like plastic to most ppl), jolly ranchers (he steals all the cherry and green apple ones), hershey's (and yes he most def has used that wanna kiss? :) line before presenting a bag of hershey's kisses sksksksks)

drink: ridiculously elaborate coffees (baristas both hate n love him bc he is a great tipper + conversationalist) w like a gallon of cream and chocolate/caramel and sugar in the. but clem is trying to get him to switch to decaf or tea instead bc it makes him super hyper and maybe he gets a lil freaked out about how his heartbeat won't slow down

(normal) element: maybe earth for how down to earth he is (zero pun intended). but then again, water has been associated with depth, creativity, love and music so...

(chemical) element: light elements

[yolkochan]

LETS GOOOOO ITS FINALLY HERE I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and hearing your guys thoughts and interpretation of my bio and how that translated into the event 👍 👍 👍 thank u for doing my request :D

now, here are my thoughts on it :3 (warning: THIS IS ABSURDLY LONG, I’m sorry if u aren’t reading allat 💀)

So you continued playing at this simple level of soccer, waiting for a more exciting opportunity, to truly play with your life on that line.

Me wanting that everyday tbh, real

♤ Pure White.

to be honest, I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH THIS AURA COLOR, GREAT CHOICE

♤ Ok tbh i was rlly scared w/this bc ik u have much more knowledge abt colours then i do :’D

you’re trying your best waffle and I really appreciate it lol, don’t be scared abt it - I’m interested in knowing your perspective on colors regardless of your knowledge on color theory and such :3

also, im sorry that if it seems im lecturing you after this point LOL

♤ Off white is used to often, you barely even see pure white these days. Let alone know which one is which

It really depends on what you're going for because pure white has many use cases as much as off white does. In more bold and graphical(also web) designs, pure white (being a harsh color like you said) tends to be used more due to its purpose of need to catch more attention  - again, its what your intentions are, as different colors and the deliberate composition of them are used to achieve different goals.

♤ Add white to anything, and it’ll immediately go tints lighter. It’s almost irreversible. Even if you try to balance it out with black, the colour won’t be the same as it was.

I definitely get what you're trying to say here, you can tell if something is tinted with white since it makes vivid colors more muted, it no longer looks like the colors are screaming at you.

From my experience, its easier to tell that something was added to white rather than vice versa, white in painting is a very translucent color compared to other paints as it takes many layers of it (or a thick lump) to be perceived as pure white compared to something like pure black/blue on a toned canvas.

Once something is added to white, it is VERY hard to go back to pure white again unless you dump a huge lump of white paint on it. (making white by mixing other colors together is impossible in CMYK, white is basically - nothing, this is why white ink catridges arent a thing in printers). Its easier to get a tinted blue to a pure blue rather than a tinted white to pure white since white is easily overpowered compared to others in color mixing lol (this applies to any colors light in value honestly, like yellow)

Just a note, in irl color mixing, if you want to go back to the original color when you tinted it with white, just add more of the original color, adding black to it will just make it muddy and grey lol

Black in CMYK (irl color mixing) is all the colors combined, so if you have a blue tint (blue + white) then add black to it, youre basically also adding cyan(blue) + magenta(red) + yellow to it so of course it wont be the same lol

(Making white by mixing other colors together is impossible in CMYK, white is basically - nothing/devoid of color, this is why white ink catridges arent a thing in printers)

In RGB (light), white is all of the colors combined, black is basically devoid of light. (see how its reversed? :D)

♤ It is everything and nothing all at once.

THIS IS SO TRUE BOTH LITERALLY (as I explained before) AND METAPHORICALLY, AHHHH UR SO GOOD. This honestly describes me so well im impressed lol

♤ What I’m saying is, you’re an incredibly strong character, with an undeniable impact when you choose to act.

Im flattered 😳

♤ PXG

No other thoughts, just LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOO I LOVE THIS TEAM, honestly thought I’d get Ubers or smth lol

✦ Rin popped into my mind throughout reading your bio!

Again, LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO I LOVE RIN

You've probably heard people telling you to "stop overthinking" or that you make a big deal out of nothing.

Real, I do make a big deal out of the most random ahhh shit ever, my anxiety goes over the roof for reasons normal human minds can’t comprehend (blame my autism)

✦ For that reason, I think something probably clicked between you and Rin, even if nothing was said. It's likely that it happened in a look, an attitude, in your achievements more than in words.

Giggling and kicking my feet rn omg hehehhehehe 

You learn from your mistakes, while Rin, on the other hand, experiences defeat by taking on only its worst aspects

This is one of the things I like about Shidou, Shidou genuinely applauds and gets hyped up from impressive plays - which I find surprisingly really mature (I’m more similar to Shidou in this aspect)

while Rin just fucking sulks when he gets trumped lmao

But I feel like Shidou is so opposite to Rin that I couldn't help but imagine how their relationship would look reflected in yours with each of them.

To be honest with you, I actually REALLY LIKE SHIDOU LOL

In my interpretation of him, I think he’s so cool honestly. In the entirety of blue lock, he genuinely has such a healthy mindset when it comes to living and enjoying life and for that I respect him a lot. Despite being brutal and violent, he’s honestly one of the most down to earth characters in bllk, bro literally just wants to live to the fullest and appreciate the beauty of life AND I THINK THATS HONESTLY SO PRINCIPLED and I truly admire people like that

Even though from my bio, I seem like an overly logical person, I would say I’m completely split 50/50 in both creativity and logic from my irl actions, I consider my thinking style and personality to be similar to a fucked up love child of Sae + Reo + Bachira

✦ Shidou is the opposite of strategy; he's a player of instinct, impulse, whim. He does nothing premeditated, and sometimes it seems like he's playing entirely at random.

To a certain extent, I can understand Shidou’s play style (or anyone’s really) if I know his end goal (to get a goal or explode or whatever the fuck) and outcome.

If I know what his intentions are and the outcome, I can basically REVERSE ENGINEER his thinking style and methodology using that information. Even though his plays may seem unpredictable and random, he does have a concrete goal in mind which makes every move have a reason for its existence, I love finding order in things that seem like pure chaos and if I was in blue lock I would definitely watch every game he played in and analyze his every action and move in detail, rewatching, rewinding, slowing down the frames, taking notes, imagining myself in his perspective and taking the context of other players into the situation, finding as many patterns as I can.

The thing with last minute improvisation is that it’s designed to solve a solution or achieve a specific outcome, improvisation does have a method to it since it has an end goal in mind, it’s almost the same as a normal plan to me, just less concrete and more chaotic. Just like how improvising a good joke always requires some kind of set up and then pay off using subversion of expectations.

Trained reflexes are a thing and Shidou’s soccer instincts are indeed trained since his soccer reflexes isn’t related directly to danger or a threat (all of our non-trained reflexes are designed to keep yourself safe from danger, everyone has these reflexes since birth - reflex signals (sensory signals) don’t reach your brain, only through your spinal cord and then back to your effector as a motor command).

You can develop trained reflexes and instincts that aren’t innate by continuously associating and initiating actions associated to certain stimuli (check out classical conditioning, Pavlovian response). His instincts do have an actual reason and method to it since he definitely trained himself to have those instincts to produce a certain outcome lol

Shidou fully enjoys his freestyle, makes a game of it, and his unpredictability deeply unsettles you. Your anxiety will break a sweat when he's on the field.

You are right, his unpredictability would absolutely drive me fucking crazy at the start since he’s so unconventional with playing soccer. In the beginning, I would definitely be uneasy about him since he’s so different from other players I analyzed so I don’t have anything to base him off of or predict his moves based on the norm. But I remember that he still has the same goal as any other player to get the ball inside the goal. He would definitely give me a big challenge when working beside him but eventually, I’ll get to that point and enjoy it.

learning to let go and accept the unexpected could be a step forward. Shidou, though wild and untamed, is the epitome of a free and impulsive play, completely unchained.

As time goes on and I learn to fully link up with Shidou’s play style, I would let go of my anxiety and turn it into PURE ADRENALINE LOL, since my under-stimulating nagging unease is now converted into overstimulating pressure. Like I said, pressure actually motivates me a lot, I enjoy the raw feeling of desperation, the risk of absolute destruction - it makes me berserk

I also think you two clash a lot on the field, but honestly, could it be any other way?

Us playing soccer together would clash a lot at the start but I think I would enjoy hanging out with him honestly since I agree with his philosophy a lot and he’s a fun dude. I think we would have a friendly rivalry, we can healthily challenge ourselves and learn from it.

✦ It's when he comes charging in with the ball that your real challenge begins: do you stop him? Steal the ball and pass it to Rin? What will you do, Robyn?

As a defender, I would actually be in the back of the field on my team’s side (yk, defending) or preferably marking a very strong player (I would honestly take a role similar to Raichi or Lorenzo)- not in the active field of play helping strikers score goals, I wouldn’t be directly involved in the playmaking or control the flow of the game like midfielders.

In every situation on field, I would take the best course of action that benefits the team to help achieve its goal based on the information I’ve gathered, which could be anything.

you find yourself in a very extreme, bipolar playstyle

fuck yeah

✦ And I'm convinced you have more to learn from Shidou's style of play than from Rin's.

YES INDEED, AND I LOVE THAT HONESTLY

this dynamic offers you a choice: stay in your comfort zone, or break through your limits to taste the freedom of a game unburdened by the obsession with control

I remember stating that my ultimate goal as a player was to create something new, to see and act on the endless amounts of possibilities that can happen on field, I want to create things and experience the outcomes, tasting both absolute destruction and absolute pleasure from the consequences of my actions.

So of course, the latter.

I hope you enjoyed my long ahhhh response I spent so much fuckin time on this it’s insane

YOUR LIFE IN BLUE LOCK — @yolkochan

BACKGROUND HEADCANONS;

♤ From the moment you were put into a soccer program, you found it quite easy to understand. The rules and workings of the game slowly solidified itself in your mind

♤ Picking up the play styles that your teammates and opponents used, the different tactics your coach would teach you. Breaking them all apart.

♤ You were well aware of the different flaws everyone possessed, what they could do to get better. But none of them would bother, you doubted any of them even wanted to be there

♤ So you continued playing at this simple level of soccer, waiting for a more exciting opportunity, to truly play with your life on that line.

♤ And finally that opportunity came.

♤ Ego caught on to this boredom, and desire quickly. The invitation was sent with no hesitation. You had both the skill and mindset to be a player at Blue Lock.

♤ It didn’t take much (or any at all) convincing for you to accept, who was going to pass up a one time experience like this anyway?

COLOR AURA;

♤ White.

♤ Pure White.

♤ #ffffff

♤ Ok tbh i was rlly scared w/this bc ik u have much more knowledge abt colours then i do :’D

♤ I'm sure you as an artist already know the various aspects of white. It can be quite the harsh color, and often isn’t used at all.

♤ Many times people sublte for an off white, which many find hard to differentiate.

♤ Off white is used to often, you barely even see pure white these days. Let alone know which one is which

♤ White’s interesting, bc despite not stereotypically considered a “vibrant” ‘colour’, it’s actually quite strong.

♤ Add white to anything, and it’ll immediately go tints lighter. It’s almost irreversible. Even if you try to balance it out with black, the colour won’t be the same as it was.

♤ White is considered pure and empty, devoid of all colour. But when looking at the colours of light, white is the combination of all colours.

♤ It is everything and nothing all at once.

♤ People may think it's weak, but it's the furthest thing from.

♤ What I’m saying is, you’re an incredibly strong character, with an undeniable impact when you choose to act.

TEAM SELECTION;

♤ PXG

♤ Given your goals and ideals, PXG is the best environment for you to achieve all of those.

♤ A higher pressure team, where even within itself you’re being pushed to improve and be better.

♤ In PXG you get the widest exposure to different people, different styles, etc. You’ll get the most diversity and possibilities.

♤ Plus, both your friend and enemy will be within close proximity, pushing you further to evolve at a fast rate

♤ Everyone there has a motive to be on the field, you won’t have to worry about unmotivated/half assed teammates.

♤ And things can be very transactional. There’s no need to worry about off field relations and how you’re supposed to apply that to on field plays. Once the ball is in plays, there’s no external factors you have to consider but the ones in motion.

BEST FRIEND;

✦ Rin popped into my mind throughout reading your bio!

✦ Clearly, you're someone who thinks a lot. You've probably heard people telling you to "stop overthinking" or that you make a big deal out of nothing. That's typical of people with anxiety, who tend to overthink and overanalyze.

✦ At the same time, there's something very similar between you and Rin—first in how you both strategize and think ahead, but especially in how pressure and deadlines you impose on yourselves are highly effective motivators for success.

✦ That is to say, you're both good at converting stress into energy to overcome life's challenges, which is a huge advantage in any athletic discipline.

✦ For that reason, I think something probably clicked between you and Rin, even if nothing was said. It's likely that it happened in a look, an attitude, in your achievements more than in words.

✦ Rin is obviously a person of actions, not words.

✦ And I believe that your realistic view of failure is something he respects, even if he'd never say it. For him, failure is inconceivable, but it's a strength you have that he lacks: you know how to convert defeats into fuel for what's next. You learn from your mistakes, while Rin, on the other hand, experiences defeat by taking on only its worst aspects.

RIVAL;

✦ Alright, I'll admit I indulged a bit with this duo.

✦ But I feel like Shidou is so opposite to Rin that I couldn't help but imagine how their relationship would look reflected in yours with each of them.

✦ Shidou is the opposite of strategy; he's a player of instinct, impulse, whim. He does nothing premeditated, and sometimes it seems like he's playing entirely at random.

✦ He's brutal, even borderline crude. The complete opposite of Rin, whose play is surgical and precise. Shidou fully enjoys his freestyle, makes a game of it, and his unpredictability deeply unsettles you. Your anxiety will break a sweat when he's on the field.

✦ Yet, maybe this could also be a growth angle for you? Needing to plan everything can be a response to anxiety that needs to know what to expect: learning to let go and accept the unexpected could be a step forward. Shidou, though wild and untamed, is the epitome of a free and impulsive play, completely unchained.

✦ I also think you two clash a lot on the field, but honestly, could it be any other way?

POSITION ON THE FIELD;

✦ Defensor.

✦ As a defender, you play behind Rin and Shidou. At least, as long as Shidou isn't nearby.

✦ It's when he comes charging in with the ball that your real challenge begins: do you stop him? Steal the ball and pass it to Rin? What will you do, Robyn?

✦ In this dynamic, you find yourself in a very extreme, bipolar playstyle—plenty of thought and analysis with Rin, last-second improvisation with Shidou.

✦ And I'm convinced you have more to learn from Shidou's style of play than from Rin's.

✦ In essence, this dynamic offers you a choice: stay in your comfort zone, or break through your limits to taste the freedom of a game unburdened by the obsession with control.

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | OCTOBER '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[winepresswrath]

people make such a fuss over who drives on what side of the road but americans vote on the wrong side of the colour spectrum and tbh that’s worse.

[haruhey]

Mind If I Join You?

check out my masterlist!

buy me a coffee ¿?

Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.  

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.  

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙ 

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[hyperfixated-homo]

sigh. i gotta do everything myself around here.

ive never seen these ocs before in my life but. by god am i already attached to them. SO since i have time (and also because i haven't interacted with you in a while, sorry maddie) its time for some ARTIST APPRECIATION!!! AND ALSO THEORISING INSTEAD OF ACTUALLY ASKING YOU QUESTIONS ABOUT UR OCS SO THAT YOU CAN CORRECT ME AND TALK ABOUT THEM!!

FIRST OF ALL, I'm still VERY MUCH IN LOVE WITH YOUR ART STYLE. I love ur stylisation of characters. The way you draw faces is so distinct and expressive!! And I love how you manage to make them look so sad!! That's not a sentence I ever thought I'd say but. Yknow. Also, I'm SUCH a sucker for monochromatic animatics which then use red as an accent colour to signify BadTM.

Also!! Every frame!! Of this animatic!! Is a full on drawing!! Full lineart, colors (even if its just gray, it still counts), and full poses + facial expressions! AND also little animated parts!! It's so cool looking!

And the character design is so distinct! The two of them look as different as can possibly be, and I love how good the two of them look together. Idk what it is, maybe it's that they look SO different? That they just fit? Either way, love the designs, love the outfits, love the earrings in particular because they make these two feel 80% more homosexual /j

The song choice? Fantastic. I've never heard it before but the vibes r immaculate and I may or may not need to add it to my Random Songs playlist. The lyrics are interesting because, in the context of this animatic, it seems like it's referring to the short one (who I will henceforth be referring to as Shawty) literally losing control and doing something they have no choice over? In all the moments where they are not losing it, they seem genuinely scared and/or upset at themselves. For example, that one frame where Tall Guy is gently cradling Shawty's head. They're literally crying about it. So clearly not something they want to be doing.

I wonder what exactly that "loss of control" actually lead them to do though. I can't tell if I'm reading too much into it, but the way the blood is splattered in that ONE specific spot in both the animated parts makes me think that maybe there was a specific event that was caused by their little freakout, and they got somebody hurt. Who? No idea. You would think that it would be The Tall One but the entire animatic sort of implies that Shawty hasn't actually done anything to them yet, just that Mx Tall knows what's going on. Apart from that one scene where Tall seems like they've been stabbed (shot? hit? could be anything) in the eye. But somehow, I want to believe that that's a future event? And hasn't actually happened yet?

Also, I'm interested in the "Don't want to watch it as it happens" sequence. Does it imply that this situation is somehow connected to public speaking? Is it an issue caused by anxiety? Is it connected to Shawty's mental state? Is the quote-unquote "issue" something that could potentially harm all those people? Man, I don't even know exactly what Shawty can do!! There r so many possibilities!!

Sidenote, I'm also intrigued by their outfits. Shawty looks like they're in a lab coat, and Tall Boi looks like they're in some sort of professor get-up? Maybe? That mixed with the papers and Shawty's nametag makes me think that maybe they're partners? Maybe? Which. Looking at them, I want to believe that they're really close. Close enough that they both aspired to be in this specific field together perhaps? Idek, I am ABSOLUTELY throwing random stuff out there.

Anyways. Rant over. I'm sorry for the incoherency, I just wanted to run my mouth. TL;DR, this animatic is cool as hell, the ocs r fascinating, great job <3

A little animatic I made of some ocs!