#i put on my fave pair of socks
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comfy clothes? check
new headphones? check
dog? check
ideas? uhhhh i'll get back to you on that
#galaxial.txt#i put on my fave pair of socks#and my slytherin pants that i got before it came out she is the way she is#and a comfy af shirt#and my dog wants cuddles#now to wait on my fiancee to get back from the shower#so they can help me write saskia's character#D:#help
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ellie headcanons pt 4.!
warnings: literally nothing
content: loser!ellie x reader
authors note: brewing a full length fic in my mind rn… this might be the last hc post 😓!!!
pt.3. taglist!
- loves matching with you. keychains, shoes, outfits, literally anything. if you have dyed hair, she’d dye a piece of hers to match you.
- makes up elaborate plots to kiss you bc she’s too cool and nonchalant to ask for a kiss 😕😕
“ugh, my lips are just sooooo dry…”
“didnt you literally just put chapstick on 5 minutes ago?”
“yknow chapstick these days…so…low quality.”
“is this your weird way of asking me to kiss you?”
“noooo what!!! thats craaaaazy i have nooo idea what you’re talking about!!!”
smooch
“you’re so stupid.”
“i feel sooooo moisturized right now”
- always fidgeting with something. probably has a rubix cube keychain 😕🔥🔥
- speaking of, she has an excessive amount of keychains. like so many.
- covers her eyes and peaks through her fingers every time you change infront of her
- definitely audibly said “woah” when she saw ur boobs for the first time
- has so many dumb socks. dinosaurs, minecraft, pickles, literally anything she likes she has a pair of socks for
- scarily good at roblox obbies. you literally can’t play with her because she’ll be done in like 5 minutes 😞
- loves those papas cooking games. her faves are the taco mia one and the sushi-ria
- arizona green tea 🗣️🗣️
- will put on awful accents for hours on end just for fun 😞 esp the italian accent. it’s ridiculous 💔💔 or that frat dude accent
“suhhh dude”
- definitely built her own pc. put a picture of you in it too ☹️☹️
- calls you “dude” or “bro” on accident sometimes
- absolutely constantly argues w ppl on the internet. if she gets bored she just tells them to kts and blocks them 😕
- MAKES THE BEST PASTA EVER!!! it’s literally her favorite food and she’s constantly cooking it. even makes her own sauce 🔥🔥
- tries to do tricks while she’s smoking and just ends up a coughing mess
- her default pose in every picture is just her doing a thumbs up and looking at the camera like this 😐 but whenever she takes a picture with you she is absolutely CHEESING
- randomly takes 0.5 pictures of you constantly. has a whole album in her phone of all the pictures
- barely ever uses instagram, and all her posts are just pictures of you.
- “i could take a bear in a fight.”
- loves balancing things on your head when you fall asleep around her. one time you woke up to like 20 cheerios falling on your lap
- whenever she’s home alone she puts on insanely random outfits and then forgets she’s wearing them. one time you came home to her sleeping on the couch in a full suit
- lets you stand on the cart in the grocery store so she can stand behind you and push it around
- has had the same backpack since the 5th grade. she’s had to sow it back together 20 times and she refuses to throw it away because its “special”
- stalks all your reposts on tiktok when she’s bored
“was this about me???”
- absolutely disgusted by like…any type of canned food. she will not go near it. ESPECIALLY SARDINES
- makes a million typos every time she texts you. her messages are like ancient scrolls you have to decipher to read
“sre tou comungw over todqy ??”
- every time she wears a hat she wears it backwards
- hates sharing her food, but will constantly eat yours
“just a little bite!!!” and she eats like half of it 😒
- has the julien baker rainbow guitar strap
- literally loves apples. so much. apple juice, apple pie, apple cider, literally ANYTHING that has apples in it/ is apple flavored she will DEVOUR IT
- whenever she cooks for herself, she just eats it straight out of the pot/pan.
“whats the point?? ‘s just more dishes to wash 😒”
taglist: if ur name is crossed, i cant tag u :((
@princessguardian444 @mina-281 @leatheredhearts @r3wbeef @dinaissoprettyoml @forelliesposts @lov3lylotus @melissabarrerass @greencacty @as2rid @kingofmylastkiss @dollietes @ellieslilsIvvt @pl9ys @bbygrlshelbs @gayh0rr0r @sawaagyapong @paran0id0blivi0n @bubs-world @mag-mfm @bearieio @slutshies @horror-whoree @calystas-morning-tea @ilovaffles @fr3sh-tragedies @iloveeyousblog @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @elliesgflol @girlwonderchloe @brunettedolls-blog @beestar120 @ddreabea @ibloom4u @elliesmellsbad @thecowardwrites @owmoiralover @yuyans-stuff @minixmel @ellesslutt @swtsuna @saggykneecaps @4rt3m1ss @clouded-whispers @baldph0bic @elleatethat @certifedcrybunny @staxz8 @astridnyx31 @0rb1t-s4turn @amandla111 @kalia31 @spinnyshark @cewcumbers @urnewghostfriend @dinasmoon @teeveegirl @iwantsoda @lunascerebro @matildalee @rach-0000 @er-or101 @our-horse @armins1ut @syrenada @seventeenelliesgf @jellysangelstar @f3r4lfr0gg3r @ilovelyby @people0know @sapphicsstars @hi2647 @mousymaven @echostinn @bratydoll
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams headcanons#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#tlou fanfiction#tlou2#the last of us 2#lesbian#wlw
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Dating Emily Prentiss - Headcanons
some of these are nsfw
-She is the softest girlfriend ever
-always seems so strong, so badass, but she has the softest spot for you, you make her heart melt, and she never fights it back
-suuuuuuper posessive, gets jealous easily
-one time during a case, one of the local cops started flirting with you. Emily was fuming, pulling you close to her, her hands on your waist, putting your hair behind your ear, she had done it all, but this guy was just not getting it. Once the case was closed, he was about to ask you out for a drink, when Emily heard it, she run to where you were (still speechless) and kissed your lips, it was a explicit kiss, her hands on your waist possessively, a deep, passionate and romantic kiss, taking you by surprise. The guy was flabbergasted to say the least. "hey baby, ready to go?" she asks when she pulls apart. She looks at you, still out of words, and then to the guy, his mouth still opened in awe. "oh, sorry, you were saying?" he doesn't bother you anymore
-she loves having you over at her place because it's like sharing her intimacy with you, and she is a SUCKER for any kind of intimacy
-seeing you sitting around her place, walking around her kitchen messing around, cooking, listening to music and dancing, you on her couch, hanging your bras on the bathroom, randomly finding a sock or a pair of lost underwear after a night together... she loves having you around so much that you have your own drawer at her place after only 3 months of dating.
-another form of intimacy that she loves is when you wear her clothes. Hell. She loves it. She's feral for it. She always insists you look better on them anyway. She will wear it after because it smells like you, the scent calms her down, so she buries her nose into it every once in a while.
-physical touch is her no1 love language, in the sense that she will take any chance she gets to touch you. Her hand on your thigh. Will hold yours under the table every time. She caresses your shoulder, your arm. Will hold your hand on the plane during landing. When you go back after a case on the jet she'll have you laying on her, full on hugging sometimes, your back laying on her chest, she will play with strands of your hair, tickle your forearm... anything she can, she will touch
-she loves showing you off, always refers to you as "my girlfriend". "i'm gonna call my girlfriend" "i need to ask my girlfriend first" "Sure! I'll call my girlfriend to ask her if she wants to come" ...
-WILL tease the team, specially Morgan as he instists on making comments about your relationship (he never means wrong, he's not fetizishing you, it's just what he knows) "Prentiss, you and pretty girl had a good night?" "damn well we did" / "hey Prentiss any reason why you're both wearing turtle necks today? (she uncovers her neck, showing off the purple marks you had left) don't worry, you should see how i left her"
-at the beginning it would embarrass you a lot, now you've learned to enjoy it, and you even join in sometimes "Hey Prentiss, got a whip? (he says holding the leather attire to her body) You bet she does" Em loves it when you tease too.
-she definitely praises you in different languages, specially Italian because you love it (yes i'm projecting, so what, Italian is sexier than French, i said what i said)
-she's a huuuge nerd, so you bet movie marathons are a thing. She'll also keep asking you to pay attention if she has already seen it "Baby look! Look, this is the best part!" "I'm looking Em, I promise I'm looking"
-Chocolate, red wine and cherries are her 3 faves. You once got a perfume that smelled like cherries and she loved it so much she spent hours with her nose buried in your neck
-After several months of dating, you suggested to go on a little weekend trip. She was reluctant at first, but you convinced her as soon as you showed her the big jacuzzi at the hotel. She loved it so much and you had such a great time, that you started going on them every time you had a free weekend
-She has a tattoo on her ribs, right next to her boob. It was a stupid decision she made when she was 16, she instantly regretted it, hated it, and had always thought about getting it removed, until you started dating. You loved it, constantly reminding her how sexy it looked, kissed all the way around it, it made her feel so confident about it that she even started liking it, although it kind of looked like shit.
-She's not controlling at all, but she is over protective. She will murder whoever dares to touch you. (You know that scene when Spencer bends a guy's arm when he touches Tara? something like that)
-She loooooves giving you hickeys, but obviously they can't be visible, so she marks you all around. Your boobs, your thighs, your waist...
-She's a top, but she likes experimenting and will let you (and enjoy it just as much) take the lead whenever you feel like it.
-Has a whole folder on her phone for pictures of you with Sergio, most of them candid that you don't even know about
-loves showers and baths together, any time you go for a shower you can be sure she's joining you inside. You always say how inconvenient it is, but she always goes "we need to save water, honey"
-into astrology but will never admit it (she literally recognises constellations HELLO?!)
-You love her nose so much. She's always been kind of self conscious about it, but you reassured her every time, kissing it, praising her, you always told her how perfect it was for eating pussy, and that convinced her. Or maybe it was your moans after the tip of her nose brushed against your clit when she ate you out. You're not sure.
-Before she met you, she hadn't come out to her mom, nether had taken any partner home, when you started dating she told you about it, you insisted that it didn't matter, she had to do it when she was ready, if she ever was. It only took her 6 months to tell her and introduce you both.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A/N: might do a part two in some time because there are SO MANY omg she's the cutest (like and reblog <3 )
#criminal minds x reader#emily prentiss#emily prentiss imagine#emily prentiss lesbian#lesbian#lesbian pride#wlw#wlw fanfic#wlw smut#emily prentiss hcs#emily prentiss headcanons#headcanon#Emily Prentiss x reader
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I am barely alive after glacial blue and french socks. barely.
in honor of the new p2 date photo, what are your top 5 peterick moments?
Anon, this question has haunted me since you sent it days ago because HOW CAN I POSSIBLY PICK? So. Here is a non-exhaustive list of fave p2 moments where I totally bend the definition of “five.”
The now infamous Singapore slide . Patrick’s smirk paired with Pete’s giggling school girl reaction was just…chef’s kiss. (And just. All riffs with Patrick let’s be real.)
The tie pulling moments. For reasons.
More than an hour. Every show (except one which will not be named). For 20 years. (Bonus: this video where Patrick and Pete wax poetic about Saturday while Andy and Joe are like “what is this again…? Oh yeah. Whatever.”)
Mr. Brightside cheek kisses
I’m lumping my final answer into a few because they technically all fall under a single category - unhinged interview moments.
The entirety of the Zane Lowe interview. Probably the best interview they’ve done together. Features bangers such as: Patrick getting emotional talking about pre-h/the hiatus, Pete comforting him during this by putting a hand on his knee, and Patrick saying that Pete’s lyrics give him purpose as an artist and get him out of bed in the morning.
This one where Patrick is absolutely deranged and possessive AF to the point where the interviewers are like. Afraid of him.
This one where Pete reveals their sexy Santa role playing (/j) (/s)
Infamous “If I could marry a dude, it would be him” interview (bonus: Pete also talks about It’s Not a Side Effect…and. well.)
Pete talking about Patrick with Joel Madden and agreeing that they are soul mates.
Wen Wen. Enough said. Also something else from this interview which I shall not say…
I feel like I’m barely scratching the surface here but these are just the few that I have flailed over the most lately. ENJOY!!! <3
#my true top moment ever cannot be posted publicly so these will have to suffice.#fall out boy#patrick stump#pete wentz#p2#peterick#anon ask#fob
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Words: 13,742 (SHE'S A BIG 'UN!)
Pairing: Teen!Daryl x Teen!Reader and Daryl x Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Requested by: anonymous! thank you so much for your kind words about my writing, love! I hope this is everything you envisioned and more! fic inspired by a song (Riverside by Agnes Obel) that happens to be on my favorite playlist and is one of my faves to sing and play on the guitar—not even kidding, I was SO STOKED to see this request in my inbox. *heart eyes* I'll probably share a little cover of the song soon just for fun!
Era: pre-apocalypse, outbreak day, Post-Negan Alexandria—specifically the time after Rick's "death"
Warnings: language, child abuse (physical and verbal), violence, injury, gore, blood, frightening scenarios and imagery
Summary: Bonded by shared trauma in their childhoods, Y/N and Daryl share a deep connection. But when life begins to distance them and later the cataclismic outbreak causes everything to fall apart, Daryl wonders if he'll ever see Y/N again and whether she is even alive.
Your name: submit What is this?
“Ya got any nibbles yet?” Daryl drawled, glancing over at where you were perched on a rock, line drifting a little in the faster current in the center of the river. The sun shimmered on your hair when you turned at the sound of his voice.
“No,” you said. “I thought you were supposed to be teaching me how to fish, not how to waste time,” you teased him.
Daryl rolled his eyes at you, but a boyish smirk graced his face. “I can’t make the fish bite,” he snarked back.
“No, but you said this was your best spot. I’m now a little skeptical of your abilities overall,” you joked.
He stuck his pole down in the sand on the riverbank and climbed to his feet. “If yer havin’ problems, dun ya think it’s prob’ly more likely that yer doin’ somethin’ wrong and the problem ain’t my spot?” he asked you.
You shot him a look with your eyes sharply narrowed, but you were smiling too. “Come over here and say that to my face.”
He let out a low laugh. “I just said it to yer face ‘n I’ll say it again.” He continued his way over and stopped beside you. “Gimme that,” he drawled, taking the pole from your hands. His fingers brushed yours and the tips of them were rough and callused. You didn’t mind. Comparatively, your skin felt like silk or like wet rice paper that might tear beneath even his lightest touch. Both of your hearts responded with abrupt jumps and Daryl was very conscious of the fact that his palms immediately started sweating. He ducked his head, suddenly unable to look directly at you, and focused on reeling in your line. The hook popped up out of the water finally and it was bare of bait.
He glanced over at you with one eyebrow raised. “Ya ain’t got no bait on here anymore. No wonder ya can’t get a bite. Somethin’ prob’y already bit it off…”
“Or maybe someone didn’t put the worm on securely enough,” you retorted. He watched with curiosity as you bent and started untying your shoes, slipping one off followed by the sock, which you shoved inside the discarded sneaker.
“What are ya doin’?” he asked, watching as your bare foot sunk into the sand at the edge of the water.
“I’m bored of fishing. I’m going in for a swim. You coming?” you asked him. “It’s hot.” He had already noticed the beads of sweat rolling down the side of your neck and catching in the cotton of your shirt collar.
It was hot. And Daryl was feeling warmer by the second. “Uhh… guess that means ‘m done fishin’ too. Ya go in and any fish that were hangin’ around will be gone.”
“Yep. So, I guess you better just come in,” you said with a smile. You moved your shoes to the top of the rock you’d been sitting on.
Daryl hurriedly and pointedly looked away as you suddenly started slipping off your shorts. He gulped again, averting his eyes anywhere but in your direction. “What are ya doin’?” he asked again, focusing his eyes up toward the rustling leaves in the sun-soaked canopy overhead.
Your response was a light, careless laugh. “I’m not going in swimming in jeans! But don’t worry. I won’t lose any more layers.” There was the sound of soft splashing as you slipped into the river.
Daryl rolled his eyes and hazarded a glance over at you. “I wasn’t worried…” he murmured to himself. He reeled in his own line and set the discarded rods up on the shore before ambling back over to the edge of the water. You were drifting lazily in the current, your hair floating out around your head and wavering in the water.
You were humming something, a low and melodic song that drifted to him and seemed to keep time with the breeze and the little waves lapping at the shore.
“What is that yer hummin’?” he asked you.
You didn’t even look over at him, arms outstretched and toes pointed up toward the trees as you floated on your back. “Some song my mom likes. I think it’s called ‘Riverside.’ Probably why it’s in my head.” You slipped completely underneath the surface for a moment and then stood up again, wiping water from your eyes and pushing your hair away from your face. It clung to the graceful curve of your neck. “Aren’t you coming in?” you asked him.
Daryl hesitated and you watched him wring his hands a little anxiously. You started back toward the water’s edge again with long, lazy strokes. “We’ll be dried off already before we have to go home. It’s a furnace out here today,” you said. “Or maybe even an incinerator.” There were still tiny droplets clinging to your eyelashes, like morning dew.
Daryl hummed a vague noise and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “It ain’t that…”
“Mmm,” you hummed back, understanding cresting over you. You walked slightly back toward where he stood on the shore. “Daryl—” you said softly. His name leaving your lips snapped his eyes back to you. “It’s okay. I already know. It’s okay…” you reassured him. Your expression was soft and sad, your eyes clear and shining, and it produced an ache in his chest and a desire to throw all his timidity away and go press his hand to your cool cheek.
Instead, he simply ducked his head for a moment before he nodded and reached for the hem of his shirt, sweeping it off and dropping it on a nearby boulder. He hurriedly toed off his socks and shoes and barreled into the water as if he was hoping to hide beneath it. The river was tea-colored and although a little murky, there was still no hiding his faintly pink scars and recent bruises beneath its waters. Besides, as you’d said, you already knew. You’d already seen them before. Hell, you’d helped patch him up a few times after a particularly bad episode with his drunken asshole of a father.
He dunked himself under and the deeper and cooler layer of water beneath the surface was refreshing and reviving. He came up shaking out his shaggy hair, eliciting laughter from you as the spray showered you again.
“There. See? It’s nice,” you said, smiling at him.
“Yeah… yer righ’. Like always,” he drawled, mopping more water off his face. He tried not to stare at how your shirt was alternately plastered to your curves and then billowing out around you depending on the way you turned in the water. You were ethereal, like if he reached out to touch you his fingers would pass right through you, a shape of only light. He stood still, his toes finding purchase in the sandy bottom only to keep him upright and in place against the current. He watched you take a few more strokes up the river and back, humming to yourself all the while, but you caught sight of his expression again and your brow furrowed. You made your way back over toward him, reading something on his face he didn’t know was written there.
You stopped squarely in front of him and his blue eyes lifted and met your gaze. “Want to see my latest?” you asked him. His brow furrowed in a question, but he didn’t have to wait long. Beneath the surface of the water, you pulled the cotton of your shirt aside and even through the cloudiness and tannin-stained hue he could see the bloom of a bruise near your hip that wrapped around toward the front of your stomach.
He felt a spasm of anger run through him. “What happened?”
“Geoff shoved me into the edge of the counter,” you said matter-of-factly, referencing your stepfather. “Held me there for a minute and—whatever…” you trailed off, dodging his eyes for a moment, a role reversal.
“Fuckin’ prick,” growled Daryl, scowling down at the dark mark on your skin, a surge of rage welling up inside him. When he let himself focus on it, he felt more anger toward your stepdad than he did even to his own father, regardless of whether that was logical or not. It entered his bloodstream and burned like poison, but another glance at your face and it melted away.
You dropped your shirt back into place below the water. “Yeah… Still—” You reached out and touched Daryl’s shoulder with your fingertips, your eyes going to a round scar near the end of his collarbone that looked like a cigarette burn. He almost shuddered under your fingers, but he would have mourned them had they left. No one touched him with anything other than violence, except for you. That alone was enough to make him fall for you… You moved around to his side and your fingers walked toward the back of his shoulder. “Not as bad as yours,” you said sadly, your eyes traveling over the puzzle of marks on his back, in various stages of healed and healing. Your stomach knotted into a pit.
Daryl felt strangely safe with you seeing this most painful part of him. ““I dun think it works like that…” he drawled. “One ain’t worse than the other. S’all bad.” It was almost a gift to be able to share his nightmare with someone else, though he wished you didn’t understand it as fully as you did under the hands of your stepdad.
You moved back around to face him again, and this time you were standing even closer. “You want to know what I think?”
There were no sharp edges to you in that moment—you were all of velvet and folds of fog over a beach of silky sand; he wanted to sink into you. You could be his escape. He gulped, and nodded in response to your question. He thought he could almost feel the warmth of you drifting toward him in the water that ebbed around your body and continued to his.
“I think you’re beautiful. No one tells boys they’re beautiful, but they should—especially you.” You reached up and smoothed a strand of his wet hair away from his forehead with the pad of your finger, your lips curving in a smile as you did so.
The only thing he could do was stare back at you, stunned. He wished he could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and say what he was thinking, which was that even if what you had just said was true, he was nothing compared to you. To him, you were the most beautiful damn thing in existence, inside and out. You were his best friend, his complement, a kindred spirit of a kind he’d never dreamed existed until he met you. If he could have summoned up some buried courage from somewhere deep inside him, he would have bridged that small buffer of space between you and kissed the soft pillow of your slightly pouting lips, tasted the river water still clinging to your skin. He would have rested his hands on the indent of your waist as he sometimes imagined doing late at night when he was home and couldn’t sleep and anxiety was eating him alive and every creak in the trailer was perhaps his father coming to drag him out of bed by his hair and beat the shit out of him for no reason and—just the thought of you stilled everything. And sure, he was a teenage boy, and sometimes his mind went to wholly lustful places, but more often he thought about gentle moments with you that were far purer, and for a while everything was good as he sunk into those recesses of his mind, indulging in a dangerous hope, inhabiting an innocent kind of fantasy.
But he didn’t say any of that, or do any of that, and then you were moving away as if you hadn’t just said something that went straight to the center of his heart. He watched as the curve of your eyelashes fanned out as you shut your eyes and floated away from him on your back, paddling softly with your arms and your feet against the current. You were humming that song again and it was like a soundtrack for the day.
Not long after that, you waded out of the river and sat on the sun-warmed stones and dried in the summer sun, side by side. And Daryl felt safe and whole. For once in his life, he inhabited the present moment with no worry or fear of what was possibly coming next.
He turned and glanced over at you where you were lying next to him, your eyes closed as the sun warmed your skin and damp clothes. “Did ya really mean what ya said earlier?” he asked you suddenly, not even really meaning to speak it out loud.
“About the fishing? Yeah, you suck,” you said, looking back over at him, a crooked smile on your lips. He loved that mischievous glint in your bright eyes.
He rolled his eyes at you and directed his attention back up toward the blue sky, framed by the billowing willows and cottonwoods. His fingers drummed anxiously on his stomach.
You laughed lightly and rolled onto your side facing him, propping yourself up on an elbow resting your head on your hand, wet strands of hair still clinging to your neck. “You mean the other thing,” you said. “When I said you’re beautiful.”
Daryl gulped and used all his courage just to look over at you again, still lying flat on his back, his skin against the warm sand and smooth stones. You read his doubt easily and sighed, your expression turning serious again. “Of course, I meant it.” There was no trace of sarcasm in your voice.
Daryl felt an electric shudder run through him and pulled his eyes away from yours, staring up, unseeing, too distracted by your words to fix his gaze on anything. “Ya shouldn’t say stuff like that,” he drawled.
You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand, folding your legs beside you. “Why not?”
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason,” you countered, your brow furrowed now. You sat cross-legged facing him, dusting the sand from your palm.
“Ya just shouldn’t,” he drawled. He licked his lips nervously.
“Why?” you asked again, more strongly. “You can’t just say that and not explain.”
He leaned up on his elbows, his ribs outlined in shadow on his skinny frame. “Nah, you can’t,” he snapped. “Ya can’t just say that to me and then—then just act like ya ain’t said somethin’—somethin’—” He let out a frustrated noise, unable to find the right words to fit. How could he tell you that those words would consume him, would take up the entirety of his mind? Your brows were still drawn low over your eyes, fixed on him.
“You think I said that without any thought behind it? Is that it?”
He tore his eyes away from you again.
You scooted closer to him. “Sit up,” you said. He was still only leaned up on his elbows.
“Y/N—”
“Sit up,” you said again, and your tone compelled him to look at you. He pulled himself into a cross-legged position, mirroring you, confusion painted on his face. Your eyes flickered over his features. Suddenly, your hand, cool and light, was resting on the side of his neck. “Can I kiss you?” you asked quietly.
“…what?”
Your lips twitched into a small smile for a moment. “I’m asking you, Daryl Dixon, if I can kiss you. Do you want to kiss me?”
He stopped breathing. His heart stopped, suspended from your words, maybe floating somewhere outside his body, up with the fluttering willow leaves or even beyond. The only thing he could do was nod. He watched in amazement as you leaned in toward him, your head tilting slightly, your eyes closing just before the soft pillow of your lips met his. His eyes shut just as the space between the two of you vanished. You kissed him softly, so gently it was as if you were worried that he would break beneath your lips. It was all over too fast—before Daryl could even be sure that it was real, but when you pulled back the weight of your hand stayed on the side of his neck. Your eyes were again traveling over his face, this time trying to read his expression.
“I didn’t say it like it was nothing, with nothing behind it.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Two weeks later
Daryl stood up abruptly from the steps of his dad’s dilapidated trailer, already nervous just from the sight of your approaching silhouette. As you came closer, the light above the door of your mobile home, where you lived with your mom and stepdad, cast you in a warm, orange glow that somehow seemed a little dingy. Even in that shitty lighting Daryl still thought you were the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen. He tugged absently on the hem of his baggy t-shirt. “Hey,” he said, taking a couple quick steps toward you.
You broke into a wide smile like you always did when you saw him and his stomach somersaulted. “Hi,” you said. “Were you waiting out here for me?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, just—knew ya would be comin’ home kinda late and wanted to make sure ya made it inside alright,” he drawled. You were working a job after school to help your mom and to save a little money for whatever you decided you wanted to do in the future—mainly get the fuck out of that shitty trailer park.
You nodded and bit your bottom lip. “Thanks. But honestly, it’s probably inside that’s more concerning than out here,” you said darkly.
Daryl’s face fell. “He—he been givin’ ya a hard time?” he asked in a low voice.
You nodded, readjusting you bag over your shoulder. “More than usual.” You eyed the dark trailer behind him which you knew held the vast majority of his demons. “What about you? Are you okay?” You didn’t need to mention his father for Daryl to know what you meant.
“Me? Ah, ‘m fine. ‘M always fine…” he drawled. You gave him a sad, soft look. Fuck. Those big doe eyes you had seemed to turn him to an incoherent pillar of stone.
“You don’t have to be,” you said, stepping closer to him. “It’s okay to be—not okay.” He could smell the sweet scent of your shampoo, and he wanted to reach for you and kiss you right there. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you ever since that day by the river... He’d been trying to figure out some way to ask you about it, to bring it up, to find out what exactly it meant, but he never seemed to be able to take that scary step.
Daryl was about to reply when the screen door to your mom’s mobile home slammed open and rebounded against the siding. “What the fuck are you doing?” Your stepfather appeared at the threshold, drawing in a long pull on a cigarette. He paused and took a deep drink out of a glass in his other hand. “Get in the fucking house. You know how long I’ve been waiting for fucking dinner?” he spat.
“So, cook it yourself!” you snapped back. “You’ve got two hands!” You knew you’d probably pay for that but you were so incensed by him trying to tell you what to do while he sat around all day getting loaded, drinking and smoking your mom’s money away.
The look he gave you was cold and severe. His eyes landed on Daryl and a smug smirk broke across his face. “What are you lookin’ at, boy? Got something to say?”
Daryl hadn’t realized it, but his hands were clenched into fists and his blue eyes were sharp in a glare.
Your stepfather laughed and leaned casually on the doorframe. “Well, I guess when she comes home knocked up, I’ll know who’s to blame,” he said, taking in Daryl’s furious expression.
You felt your face and chest flush with humiliation. “It’s—it’s fine,” you murmured to Daryl. “I’ll just—I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Are ya sure yer—”
“Get in the fuckin’ house!” he roared again.
“Fine,” you said, already turning around to leave. “I��m fine.” And Daryl knew you meant ‘fine’ in the same way he’d just used it about himself.
It was maybe two hours later, while Daryl was sweating on his cot in the back of his dad’s trailer, sleep elusive as usual, when he shot upright at the sound of arguing from next door. That wasn’t uncommon, but this sounded worse than normal. Your stepfather was letting loose with a torrent of abusive language hurled at you at a volume that surely had all the surrounding neighbors awake. Daryl swiped a hand over his sweaty face and listened as your voice sounded back. At first your tone was also confrontational, but that all changed quickly when he heard loud bangs and crashes punctuated by fearful shouts. Daryl kneeled on his cot and squinted through the crooked blind slats at the trailer house you were in as if he’d be able to see through the walls. He could vaguely make out a moving shadow on the blinds of one window, but that was about it.
Your mother worked the night shift at a manufacturing plant. You were in there alone with him…
Another crash and the sound of shattering glass. More yelling from him. Then, a yelp. That was you letting out a yelp of pain and then a cry that stopped short suddenly.
Nah. Nuh uh. Not tonight, fuckface. Daryl’s own father had been passed out drunk by eight pm, but Daryl still yanked the screen out of his window and boosted himself through instead of going out the front, fear of somehow rousing his dad so ingrained that Daryl didn’t even think about it. As his feet landed softly in the dried grass below his window, he could now clearly hear you crying and pleading with your stepdad. Nausea and anger rolled his stomach.
Without even really thinking, Daryl burst into the mobile home and found you cowering on the floor of the kitchen, your back pressed against the cabinets, one arm up as if to shield yourself from more blows. Your stepdad had a fist raised, clearly getting ready to strike another blow even while you cried where you were cornered, eyes wide and panicked, begging him to stop. There was broken dishware and glass all over the laminate floor of the small kitchen area. You had tears pouring down your face. Half your face was already red and swelling and your eyebrow was split open. A cascade of blood flowed down your cheek.
Your stepfather lunged toward you again and Daryl reacted reflexively, rushing in and grabbing hold of his arm before he could bring his fist down to make contact with you again. “Hey! Don’t touch her!” he yelled, tugging Geoff’s arm back and away from you with all his strength.
Even from your place on the floor you tried to stop Daryl from getting involved. “Daryl, don’t!” you managed through a staggered breath, syncopated from your crying. “D—don’t! Just go!”
Geoff spun around, tossing Daryl off and locking his eyes on the teenager, who was simply standing there with his fists clenched, dwarfed by the towering man in front of him. He was a kid of sixteen challenging a violent bully twice his size. Your stepfather let out a cold laugh. “Oh, I’ve been lookin’ for an excuse to get my hands on you,” he growled to Daryl. “Your old man has told me what a piece of work you are, boy.” Behind him, Daryl saw you trying to pull yourself to your feet, grabbing onto the edge of the counter, but you slid back down, clutching your arm around your middle. Your knees seemed to give out and your eyes squeezed shut tightly.
“N—no, Daryl, go!” you yelled desperately, trying to stand again and managing to pull yourself partially to your feet this time, gripping the edge of cabinets hard.
“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch!” Your stepdad whipped around and back-handed you across the face so fast it was over before Daryl could do anything to stop it. You were splayed out flat on the floor now, stunned, your palms and knees pressing down into the broken glass scattered across the peeling laminate. Daryl had had enough.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch her!” he roared, drawing Geoff’s attention again. That was fine. If he could just keep your stepdad’s attention on himself instead of on you…
Geoff only laughed again. The level of enjoyment he seemed to be getting from this was disturbing. It was as if he fed on the fear permeating the air. “What the hell are you gonna do, boy? Yer just a dumb kid who’s landed himself in a man’s game.”
What the fuck was he gonna do? His mind was working so quickly now everything around him felt like it was crawling along in slow motion. You were still prone on the ground, trying to get your bearings. His eyes hurriedly scanned the room for something he could use as a weapon. His eyes landed on the knife block on the counter. Right when he was working himself up to lunging for it, grappling with the reality that he might be about to pull a knife on a grown man, hurt him if he had to, maybe even kill him to protect you, there was a pounding on the trailer door behind him. Then he realized blue and red lights were flashing through the slats in the blinds, lighting up the entire inside, bathing the chaos in garish color.
“Sheriff’s office! I need everybody to come out of the house slowly with their hands where I can see them!” The voice was urgent and demanding.
Someone, one of the neighbors, had called 9-1-1. Daryl had never been so glad of the close quarters in the trailer park before.
Geoff let loose a string of expletives and shoved Daryl aside carelessly, not even sparing you a glance, going to the door and already yelling at the officer who was standing there with his flashlight raised and a hand on his gun. Daryl rushed to where you were stirring on the floor, lifting your head where a small pool of blood had formed from the gash in your eyebrow. Part of your hair was stained crimson. His stomach twisted.
“Y/N—Jesus, what the fuck did he do to ya?” He helped you sit up and fumbled for a kitchen towel hanging behind you on the fridge handle, pressing it to your wound. With the other hand he clasped your face. “Hey—hey, can ya hear me? Y/N, look at me.”
You were disoriented and seemed only vaguely conscious. “D—Daryl?” you finally stammered.
“’M here. ‘M right here. Yer okay. The cops—somebody called ‘em. Yer okay.” Behind him, Daryl could hear your stepdad arguing loudly with the police. The sound peaked and then stopped altogether. They seemed to have hauled him away to calm down, probably to cool off in a squad car. There was another series of knocks on the door.
“I need anyone else in this residence to make themselves known! Sheriff’s office!”
“Here! We need help here!” Daryl called over his shoulder. You seemed to be coming around and you fixed your eyes on Daryl’s face.
“Daryl,” you murmured. A fresh wave of tears began to pour out of your eyes. The swelling on your face seemed to be getting worse by the second. Daryl realized there were specks of glass ground into your cheek and forehead from your fall to the floor and his rage made his hands shake, all while he tried to speak softly to you, tried to calm you.
“It’s okay. ‘M righ’ here.”
Two officers moved into the small mobile home and found the two of you huddled on the kitchen floor. “Is anyone else in the residence?” one of them asked anxiously, edging toward the doorway that led into the rest of the trailer.
“No,” Daryl answered, not breaking contact with you. His hand was warm against the side of your neck. “No, there’s no one. We need—we need an ambulance—a medic, somethin’,” he urged them. They reassured him that one was outside. As soon as they were satisfied that no one else was lurking around or involved in the unfolding nightmare, they helped Daryl get you on your feet and ushered both of you to the door and out into the night.
Daryl had an arm around you, supporting you as an officer escorted you both to the waiting ambulance. The EMTs hurriedly sat you down on the back and rushed to action. Daryl tried to step away to give them some space to help you, but a look of terror seized you and you grabbed his hand and clung to it. “S’okay,” he soothed you. “S’okay. ‘M here. I ain’t leavin’ ya…”
He sank down beside you and wrapped his arm around your back again. Your fingers found his other hand and quickly laced between them. You moved toward him until your side was pressed against his. He could feel you trembling slightly. The medic recommended that you travel to the hospital to get checked more thoroughly for a concussion and broken bones and several times there were mentions of shock, though you seemed to be more aware of what was happening now, less disoriented. Of course, the police needed to talk to both of you, get statements, ask questions… and get evidence.
Evidence. The word stuck between Daryl’s lungs. It held a heavy weight and dredged up the horrific reality. Jesus Christ. He could have killed you. He might have, if Daryl hadn’t—
An officer was talking to you both. “Is there someone else we can call for you? Your mom?”
You gulped. “My—my mom is working… we—we can’t call her. They’ll fire her if she has to leave the factory floor.”
The officer frowned. “Another relative then?”
You shook your head. “My dad isn’t around. And we don’t really have family here.” You drew in a shaky breath. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine… If Daryl can come with me, I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll call a social worker for you. They’ll meet us at the hospital. And then I’ll need to talk to both of you separately. I’ll ride with you there,” he said, climbing into the ambulance and sitting alongside one of the EMTs.
As they closed the ambulance doors, Daryl was vaguely aware of his own father standing back at the edge of the reach of the flashing blue and red lights, watching with a scowl on his face that sent a shiver up Daryl’s back.
The ride to the hospital was silent. You and Daryl sat side-by-side on the stretcher and you leaned into him again. His thumb moved against the skin on your upper arm softly, up and down. Up and down. Up and down. You wavered beside him a little, fighting the upwellings of pain that seemed to shoot through your entire body. The weight of you against him grew. He tightened his arm around you reassuringly. Finally, you arrived and were helped into a room in the ER. Here, you had to separate. You looked almost frantic as a nurse led you away to change into a gown, accompanied by complete strangers; the social worker and the hospital staff. He felt nauseous at the sight of your injuries, the worsening swelling on your face, the limp in your walk, and the desperation with which you glanced back at him. Daryl watched as you disappeared behind a closed door.
He became aware that the cop was asking him something. “Huh?”
“Your relationship to the victim?”
Daryl’s eyes narrowed. “The victim?” he repeated. He hated the sound of that.
The cop cleared his throat. “Sorry. Y/N. Your relationship?”
It was a simple question but Daryl was puzzled about how to answer. I’ve been in love with her for years and we kissed two weeks ago, and maybe she loves me too, but I don’t really know what we are still. Stupid. That was stupid. He’d sound like an idiot kid. He was an idiot kid. But he still couldn’t say that. “I live next door and we go to school together. But mostly, she’s… my best friend,” he said.
The cop scribbled on his note pad, surveying Daryl afterwards. “Alright. And why don’t you just tell me what happened tonight?”
He recounted all of it as accurately as he could remember, starting with waiting for you to come home after work. The verbal altercation outside. The argument inside your mobile home later. Hearing things being thrown, crashing. Hearing you scream. Rushing in and seeing—all of it.
The police officer’s expression was grim. “Has this happened before? With her stepfather?”
“Yeah. But this is the worst it’s ever been. I mean… that I know about.”
“What about her mother? Any… concerns there?”
Daryl shrugged. “Her mom is good people. She’d never hurt Y/N. But I’m pretty sure that piece of shit—uhh, sorry—I think Y/N’s stepdad hits her mom too.”
That was pretty much the end of Daryl’s statement, except for one last thing that scared him so much his blood ran cold. The officer looked him right in the eye and stuck out a hand for a handshake. When Daryl grabbed it, he said, “I think you may have saved Y/N’s life tonight. You and the woman who called this in. It’s just a feeling. After you’ve been a cop for a while, sometimes you just know. You did the right thing, even though I wouldn’t recommend you make a habit of this kind of thing. You could have been seriously hurt too.”
Daryl shrugged. “I didn’t think ‘bout it. I just knew I had to get in there and do somethin’.”
And that was it. He sank into one of the stiff green chairs outside your room and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, the door opened and he was immediately on his feet. A nurse was standing at the threshold.
“Are you Daryl?” He nodded. “She’s asking for you. Come in.”
He gulped and chewed on his bottom lip as he stepped into your room. You were lying on a bed in one of those gowns that feel like they aren’t quite made of fabric but aren’t paper either. A doctor was beside you, prepping something. Nurses were standing around. Your eyebrow was still bandaged. There were dotted red marks on your swollen cheek from the glass. Your palms had some light bandaging around them too. He wondered how badly you were bruised in places he couldn’t see… Even now there were glaring marks forming on your arms, clearly places where your stepdad had grabbed you.
You seemed more alert, maybe as a result of the passage of time or from the IV fluids minimizing your pain and rehydrating you after such a traumatic shock. But seeing your swollen face was still a punch in the gut. Daryl moved around to your bedside. He felt small and useless in that place, with doctors and nurses rushing around.
“You look like shit,” you said suddenly, and one corner of your mouth tugged upward briefly. Daryl’s expression didn’t change, didn’t ease. “Relax. It’s a joke,” you said dryly.
All he could do was reach for your hand. He held it gently, keenly aware of the bandage around it. His brow was deeply furrowed, casting a shadow over his blue eyes.
“They’re about to give me a shot in my face and stitch my eyebrow up,” you explained. “I could use the moral support.” Your voice had an unusual rasp in it. Daryl sat silently next to you and held your hand as they stitched you up. You barely flinched.
Afterwards, once the nurses and doctors had told you that you could get dressed again and departed, you sat up and glanced over at him.
“That was really stupid, you know,” you said. Tears burned in your eyes again. “Running in like that… He could have killed you.”
Daryl shook his head. “I was worried he was gonna kill you,” he drawled. “I did exactly what I shoulda.”
You didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I saw your dad standing there, when we were leaving in the ambulance. …Are you gonna be okay?” you asked him.
A dry laugh of disbelief left him. “Are ya kiddin’? Y/N yer in the hospital and yer worried about my old man?”
“Of course I am. It could be you in the hospital next.”
Daryl shook his head. “Nah. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine… He’s probably just worried I’m gonna say somethin’ to the cops about what a piece of shit he is...”
“Maybe you should,” you said. Daryl didn’t respond. You’d had this conversation endlessly together before, much more often about the abuse against him than for you, and it always ended the same way. Neither of you told anyone anything, too afraid of the fallout. But tonight it wasn’t your choice. Someone else had made the call, and it had gone far enough that you knew it couldn’t be undone… You wanted your stepdad gone, of course, but this would be messy.
“What’d the doctor’s say?” Daryl asked.
You shrugged and gulped, avoiding his eyes for a moment. “Fractured cheekbone. Fractured rib. Concussion. But they said I don’t have to stay overnight. And I don’t need surgery or anything, just the stitches. They gave me some painkillers.” You paused and glanced back up at him. You could read turmoil behind his eyes.
Daryl felt lost sitting there, still holding your hand, his eyes drifting over your battered face. He would have taken it. If he could have exchanged places with you, he would have. He would have taken it to stop you from having to go through this. He’d have taken all of it and more. That son of a bitch better rot in jail.
Merle or his dad would probably mock him for being “soft” if they knew the whole of what had happened, or rather how Daryl felt about what had happened, how sick it made him, how it seemed to have opened an achy blackhole in his chest that was seemingly filled with both emptiness and rage. But Daryl thought that even if nothing else in his life turned out, at least he’d been there to keep you safe that night.
He stepped outside so you could change back into your clothes. Your shirt had bloodstains on it that immediately drew his eyes when you stepped out again. His chest swelled with anger again. But you stepped forward and gently grabbed his hand again, lacing your fingers together as you had done all night. “Come on,” you said softly. “My mom should be here soon to pick us up.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
One Year Later You slowed as you caught sight of his familiar broad-shouldered frame across the parking lot. You sighed and continued your walk, crossing toward him. Most of the spaces were empty now. You’d lingered behind after school for a little while at the library. Daryl was parked on his bike, his curtain of dark hair ruffled around his face from the wind. He climbed off as you approached and you stopped next to him, fiddling aimlessly with your keys.
“Hey,” he drawled.
“Hi,” you said, surveying his expression carefully. It was unreadable.
He shifted his weight a little anxiously. “Can I—give ya a ride?” he asked.
“Is that why you’re here?”
He shrugged. “Not exactly…” he drawled.
You sighed, your brow furrowing heavily. “Daryl—you’re making this too hard,” you said softly. “You can’t just keep showing up here…”
“I just wanna give ya a ride. Tha’s all. Since you and yer mom moved I never see ya anymore and—” he broke off.
You shook your head, a distinctly pained expression on your face. “That isn’t why we don’t see each other anymore.” He ducked your gaze, staring down at his boots for a long moment and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “If you hadn’t dropped out—”
“If ya didn’t hate my brother so much me droppin’ out wouldn’t be a problem,” he interrupted. “We could see each other all the time.” Heat was flaring in his chest and he looked up and met your gaze again. You still had that wholly aggrieved expression on your face, like this conversation was physically hurting you. He didn’t realize that in a way it was. Every time you had to rehash this with him it was a tug of war between your feelings for him and your deeply ingrained past trauma. The scar on your eyebrow was still pink. If your nose or cheek got bumped on accident it still brought you to your knees from the pain if the all too recent fractures. It hadn’t been that long since Daryl had stopped your (now ex-)stepdad from beating the shit out of you. Just the mere mention of your stepfather still triggered a wild panic that you had no control over—and Merle? Merle Dixon reminded you of your stepdad when your mom had first met him.
“Your brother isn’t a safe person,” you started. “And the other people he runs around with aren’t either. I don’t want anything to do with it. Do you really want me around them? You really think that’s a good thing for me?”
“He ain’t a psychopath,” Daryl argued, pacing closer to you, emphatic as he tried to convince you for the umpteenth time. “Sure, he gets in bar fights and pops pills but he ain’t—he ain’t—”
Suddenly, there were tears running out over your cheeks and Daryl stopped short. “Why can’t you see that that isn’t what I want for you? And it definitely isn’t what I want for myself! I don’t understand the choices you’ve made! You could do so many other things and you’re following Merle around getting into shit so far beneath you—”
“He’s my family,” Daryl argued back. “What am I s’posed to do? Just turn away from that? He’s the only thing I got left. He’s my blood.”
You hastily wiped the tears from your cheeks. “So was your dad,” you pointed out.
Daryl flinched at the mention of his father and a shadow passed over his face.
“Family means something else, Daryl. And if you still don’t understand why I can’t be around all the shit you’re getting into then—I don’t know what else to say.” You studied him for a moment and then stepped forward and cupped his face. “You’re worth so much more than all of this.”
He felt desperation swelling in between his lungs. He wanted your hand to stay there on his cheek forever. “Look—ya ain’t gotta be ‘round it. I can just—we can just see each other, just us two, when we can, ya know? We can figure it out.”
You wiped away another tear that had escaped and let out a dry laugh. “What, you want me to share custody of you with Merle?” you said. “Daryl…”
“We can figure it out!” he insisted. “Y/N—the way I feel about ya—”
“Daryl, stop! Don’t say it! Don’t… okay? That’s not a life! Seeing you, what, every other Friday? Worrying myself sick all the time that something horrible is gonna happen to you when Merle shorts a drug dealer or picks a fight with the wrong MC? I just—with what’s happened to me, I can’t. You’re making this too hard showing up here all the time… And I feel like I’m torn in two. I can’t… If this is what you’re choosing, you’re going to have to do it without me. I’m not saying we can’t still be friends but I just—I can’t…”
Daryl saw your walls closing in around you again and his heart sank into the bottom of his stomach and laid there heavily, like a brick. He tore his eyes away from you again and tried to breathe. It was hard to get his lungs working again… “Can I at least just give ya a ride to work? Please?” He just wanted to feel your arms around him again one more time.
You nodded.
_ _ _ _ _ _
“I’m tellin’ you, boy—that’s about the dumbest shit you could do, headin’ that way!” Merle said loudly, following Daryl back over to his bike where he continued strapping down his hastily gathered gear. “Use yer fuckin’ head! All that shitstorm in the city is gonna be spilling out every which way.”
“Shut the fuck up, Merle! I don’t give a shit what ya do, but ‘m goin’ back that way and ya barkin’ at me ain’t gonna change a damn thing!” Daryl roared back.
“Yer gonna wind up dead, goin’ back toward the damn city! And I ain’t gonna cry for ya. ‘M just gonna tell ya I told ya so,” Merle spat.
Daryl straightened up and fixed a hard glare on his older brother. “How the fuck ya gonna tell me ‘I told ya so’ if ‘m fuckin’ dead?” he growled. He swung his leg over his bike. “Do whatever ya want—I don’t give a shit!” He started his bike and made ready to leave.
Merle let loose with a string of expletives. “Go get yerself eaten by one of those freaks walkin’ around, or better yet—shot by some amped up pig tryin’ to ‘keep the peace’! I’ll be settin’ up shop out by the old gravel pit catchin’ myself some fat fish for dinner!” he roared over Daryl’s engine. “All this for some broad who ain’t givin’ ya nothin’ more than a—” Daryl didn’t even respond, just took off, letting gravel fly behind him, drowning out whatever final spout of bullshit Merle was spewing.
Daryl quickly lost track of how many wailing sirens and emergency vehicles he passed, speeding back toward Atlanta. If he hadn’t been on a motorcycle, he would have hardly been able to go a mile before he would have joined the gridlocked traffic clogging the highways or the tangled masses of crashed vehicles, some still emitting steam or even actively burning, flames licking out from under the hoods, billowing black smoke swirling overhead. Disoriented and wounded people were standing aside dazed. He wove his way through all of it, his heart pounding so hard it was running wild. Scenes of horror occasionally flicked past him as he rode; staggering infected still walking with missing limbs, or others bent over unidentifiable piles of gore and slowly chewing, looking up at the sound of his bike blankly. And there were survivors—blood pouring down the sides of their faces or some walking without shoes, clutching dirty bags as they tried to flee from nowhere to nowhere. Shit, they’d really hid just how bad this really was… until they couldn’t hide it anymore. Daryl didn’t really know who the “they” was that he was thinking of—the feds, the state, the media, the military, all of them—but it was obvious no one had been telling the full truth on the nightly news. Fifty percent of the population was dead from the disease and infected straight away, and with what he was seeing now another half of whoever was left would probably be gone within another day. He tried to keep himself focused, keep his head down and his bike speeding along. If he didn’t, waves of panic threatened to swamp him under.
In the distance, black columns of smoke rose up from the city and Daryl could see what looked like dozens of helicopters circling. Everything was chaos. It was like he’d suddenly been transported into some warzone. But he didn’t pay any attention to any of it. His mind was bent solely on getting to that little bar and café where you worked. He took the final turn onto the gravel road so quickly that he nearly skidded out on his bike. He left a hazy brown cloud of dust behind him as he hit the accelerator and the engine rumbled. There were no cars in sight on the rural road that led to the lonely little building, save an old farm truck in one ditch.
Daryl didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He couldn’t decide if the quiet and deserted scene was ominous or not.
He raced into the little parking lot, which still had some cars and trucks parked in it like any normal day. The lights were on inside the building, but when he glanced through the big front window as he jogged up to the door his stomach sank. He didn’t see anyone, and the place looked like a tornado had torn through it. He pushed inside and stopped on the mat, his eyes surveying the scene. Stools and chairs were overturned. The bar was in complete disarray with broken bottles of booze smashed on the tile floor. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he took a few more hesitant steps in, the door slamming behind him in the wind. Worse still, there were dark, rusty spots glaring horribly on the tile—blood. Some were small circular droplets but others were large swipes and smears, all in various stages of dried or drying... His stomach twisted. God, no. Please, let her be okay.
Suddenly, he heard some clattering in the back room, and his hand went instinctively for the gun he’d stowed on his hip. He raised it, adjusting his grip so it was secure, and strained his hearing. “…Y/N?” he called out hopefully.
The only answer was more banging from the kitchen area. Daryl moved slowly toward the sound. As he passed the bar, heading for the swinging door to the kitchen, he glanced to his right and saw an unmoving bloody body sprawled on the dingy rubber mat. Part of it had been—there was no other word for it—eaten. His stomach responded with an automatic swell of nausea and he had to shut his eyes for a long moment to prevent himself from vomiting. Daryl was no stranger to blood. Beyond his fucked-up childhood, Merle was quite good at getting into fights when he was high or drunk that Daryl had to help finish. They’d been in plenty of tight spots. But this—this was something else entirely…
He refocused on the noise ahead and pushed the swinging door open with the toe of his boot. The kitchen seemed to be less ransacked than the front room, with the exception of plates of food and dishes left where they lay, as if the whole restaurant crew had just walked out a moment earlier. There were a large number of flies buzzing around, however. The banging was coming from a supply closet and Daryl edged his way toward it, reaching out a somewhat shaky hand to grasp the knob. A sudden, horrific thought seized him: what if he was about to find you as one of those—those things.
No. No… a stronger voice inside him answered. No. Not possible. It isn’t her.
He readied his gun and pulled the door open wide.
There was an infected… zombie? (He didn’t know what else to call them) inside, but it wasn’t you. It ambled toward him as he backed up, its rotting fingers reaching for him. The sickly sweet and repulsive smell of decay was overwhelming and another swell of nausea hit him.
Daryl fired his gun squarely into the chest of the advancing zombie. The shot knocked it back, almost off its feet, but amazingly it only started toward him again. “What the fuck?” he murmured, narrowing his eyes. He squeezed off two more rounds, which both hit the infected squarely in the chest, but it hardly staggered. Panic started to seize him as he backed up and it continued forward. “You piece of shit,” he growled. He emptied five more rounds into the zombie and it fell backwards to the floor. He only had one shot left and the damn thing was still moving. Daryl rushed forward and slammed his boot down on its chest to hold it to the ground, took aim at its head, and fired the last bullet in the magazine. Finally, with a sickening spray of gore, it was still and silent.
Daryl was gasping in tremendous breaths as he lifted his boot from the still corpse and turned his eyes away to scan the scene again. He found himself searching for some trace of you, but what? What was he even hoping to find? He hadn’t seen your car in the front of the lot. He pushed out through the rear door and scrutinized the dirt, hoping to see a footprint that was your size, some proof that you’d gotten out of there safely, alive. He found nothing but some scuffs in the gravel and tire marks from a large truck or SUV.
He cut through the kitchen and into the main room of the café again. His empty gun still hanging by his side, clutched tightly. Daryl’s eyes returned to the stains on the tile floor—so much blood… And no sign of you. He was too late. Whether you were dead or alive, he was too late…
His hurried back to his bike and kicked it in gear, turning it back toward the gravel road and zipping along, kicking up a steady brown trail of dust in his wake. Your house. The little farmhouse you rented. That was his last chance of finding you, or getting you out, of making sure you’d be okay. His mind was racing… he wished now more than ever that he’d listened to you those years ago after he’d dropped out—wished he’d done whatever he could to stay by your side and to be more. Instead, he’d wasted all this time running around with Merle, seeing you only every once and a while when he stopped in at the restaurant for a meal as an excuse to see you again. And now when it really mattered, when the entire world seemed to be ending, he hadn’t been there with you…
He knew something was very wrong as soon as he pulled up to the little house. The screen door out front was hanging on by one hinge. The wood was broken and dangling by the remaining metal screen. He stopped his bike and squinted at the windows, praying that he’d see you looking out of one, scared but here.
His train of thought was broken when a flood of infected, attracted by the sound of his engine, suddenly began pouring out of the house.
Terror seized him. “Son of a bitch,” he swore under his breath. His hand fumbled for a knife he kept in one of the saddle bags, but as he watched the dead continue out of the house and slowly amble toward him, he knew there were too many of them for him to handle. If you had been in that house, Daryl knew you were either dead or one of these things now. The awful thought struck him cold…
He felt tears burn in his eyes as he turned away, speeding in the direction of the gravel quarry to find Merle. The hopelessness that blanketed him was heavy and all-consuming. He had no thoughts, his eyes were nearly unseeing, and he felt empty the entire ride, surprising himself when he arrived and suddenly looked up to see Merle’s bike parked beside a tent. His brother was perched on an overturned bucket, a small metal camping dish in his hands. Daryl pulled to a stop beside Merle’s bike and turned off the engine. His body felt heavy and moving seemed to take a great effort as he climbed off and began to pull his gear free from the back of his motorcycle. He could feel Merle watching his every move, but did his best to ignore it.
Daryl dumped his gear in a pile and began to pull his own tent from its pack. Merle finally spoke.
“No broad,” he commented, his mouth twisting into a half-smirk. Daryl’s fist clenched but he simply continued laying out the poles for his tent. “I told ya,” Merle said. “She dead?”
That was too much. Daryl stood and paced over to his brother, his expression hard, his jaw clenched. “Y/N ain’t just some broad. And if ya ever say anythin’ else ‘bout her, one fuckin’ word, even if ya just say her name, I’ll break yer jaw.” He turned his back and returned to setting up camp. Merle, in classic Merle-fashion, only laughed and let out a low whistle.
“Oh, I’m really scared, baby brother. Shakin’ in my boots,” he said. He shoved another forkful of fish into his mouth. “Guess it’s still just you and me…”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Daryl rose before the sun. The morning air was chill and heavy with moisture as he pulled on more layers and revived the fire, setting a pot of leftover fish and broth over it to heat. He rubbed his hands together and turned an ear toward the forest and listened to the chattering and singing of the birds. They heralded that autumn was approaching. The raspy croak of a raven. The melodic lilting of a thrush.
Dog moved closer to the fire and laid down to bask in its heat. Daryl’s eyes went to the river. This section was unfamiliar to him, but it wouldn’t be after today. He and Dog would spend all day combing the banks, pushing through rushes and cattails, scattering puffs of seeds that would drift on the wind, hoping and yet dreading any sign of Rick. It was a lonely task, but he was determined to do it for his friend, his brother.
The liquid in the pot rolled to a boil and Daryl used his spoon to hunt the remaining chunks of fish from the day before. He tossed one to Dog who gulped it down so quickly he could hardly have tasted it. The warmth of the broth helped Daryl shake off the rest of the morning’s chill.
He gathered his gear and whistled to Dog, and set off down the bank, scrutinizing the little areas of mud flats which tried to wrest his boots from his feet. He saw only sign of deer and rabbit and raccoon. He looked for trails in the long grass that nodded and bowed toward the brown water and he found them—but they weren’t made by boot or foot.
By the time it was near noon and Daryl was preparing to ford across to the other side his heart had sunk and he began to lose momentum. What could he possibly hope to find this far away from where the bridge had blown apart? A corpse.
Suddenly, Dog let out a high-pitched bark and fixed his gaze across the river. His tail began to wag furiously and he let loose with a few more excited yips.
“Shhh!” Daryl quieted him, squinting across the river, scrutinizing the shadows on the other side. That was no bark to signal a walker… Dog sat perfectly still, except for the tip of his tail continuing to wiggle. That’s when Daryl heard it; a soft humming, drifting across the water, rippling to him in faint phrases that were sweet and smooth.
There was something familiar about it. His heart stirred in his chest and rose from the depths it had sunk to. It quickened. Daryl stared, watching the shadows for the shifting of a someone. He saw nothing. But that song… It was bringing uncontrollable sensations of warmth and sunlight and sun-dappled stones, of long summer days and water droplets on skin and—
The next moment, Daryl waded into the water, leaning on the sharpened stick to steady himself, and crossed to the other side. The music seemed to float between the trees. He had trouble determining where exactly it was coming from. His heart was hammering in his chest as he attempted to trace the melody like he was tracking an animal. It grew steadily louder over the sound of Dog’s panting behind him. As he felt he was nearing the point where he’d be able to see whoever was humming, words suddenly drifted to him, in a voice low and sweet, and his stomach somersaulted. He silenced his steps and crept closer and closer, moving from one shadow to another, straining his eyes and ears desperately.
Finally, there. The figure of a woman, knee deep in a bend of the river that had been out of his view from the other side, with a fishing rod in her hands. She hummed and sang aimlessly as she recast her line into deeper waters, bouncing the tip of the rod to attract fish and then letting it all still. She was all patience, a statue as the current swirled around her. She seemed part of the river herself, dressed in olive tones and muddy browns, adopted into the scene as a quiet wild thing herself. Her back was to Daryl, but the longer he watched from his place tucked beneath an ancient cottonwood tree, the more certain he was, until he couldn’t wait any longer.
He stood and quietly stepped out from his hiding place, striding toward the small opening that was soft with grass at the edge of the water.
He watched as the figure suddenly jerked the rod and began to steadily reel in line. The tip of the rod was bent beneath the weight of a fish that eventually broke the surface in a riot of splashing. Daryl was now at the very edge of the water behind her and paused as she grabbed hold of the fish and carefully removed the hook.
“Yer better at fishin’ than I remember,” he said suddenly. His voice was gravelly from disuse.
The figure spun around in shock and fixed her wide eyes on him. He saw her brow furrowing and her eyes hurrying over him, from his heavily patched pants to the poncho draped over him to his curtain of wavy brown hair.
She was stunned into silence, the fish still dangling from her hand, the rod in the other.
“Y/N—” He could see the distinctive scar that cut across your eyebrow, the spot that still never grew any hair.
You stared up at him where he stood on the bank, feeling your shock finally pass and be replaced by a wild wonder and disbelief. Your eyes flickered over him again and your lips parted slightly, as if you were about to speak, but nothing came out.
He shifted nervously and held his hands up palms out in a sign of goodwill. “S’me. S’Daryl,” he drawled softly.
He was surprised when this elicited a sudden laugh from you, and he saw tears burning in your eyes when you finally spoke.
“I know it’s you, Daryl Dixon,” you laughed. The tears broke out and ran down your cheeks.
Daryl’s heart thudded away in his chest. You saying his name seemed to bring back a dizzying rush of memories and sensations and hopes and he felt like his damn knees almost gave out. You were alive. And you were here, standing right in front of him. And you were just as beautiful as he remembered. Maybe even more so… The passage of years seemed to have imbued you with a steadiness and a strength that was unmistakable.
Dog suddenly bounded out from where Daryl had made him wait, barking and prancing around him happily, tail a blur of movement. “Friend of yours?” you asked.
“Huh?” Daryl was still just staring at you, dumbfounded. “Oh—yeah. This is Dog,” he said, grabbing him and making him sit, patting him on the head and turning his blue eyes back to you, where they fixed on your face and didn’t stray.
“Dog?” you repeated. “Well, it’s accurate anyway.” There was a pause that seemed filled with tension. You were staring right back at him, your eyes still a little glassy. “…Are you going to help me out of here or do I need to embarrass myself trying to climb out?”
“Righ’. S—sorry,” he said hurriedly. He went to the riverbank and took the fish from you, tossing it on the bank where Dog immediately inspected it and gave it a few eager licks before testing his teeth on its head. “Dog! Leave it!” Daryl scolded him. “Sorry… he likes crunchin’ the heads for some fuckin’ reason,” he murmured. He extended a hand to you and helped pull you up onto the bank. Even when your feet were firmly planted on solid ground, he didn’t step away and he didn’t let go. The two of you were just looking at each other up close, both afraid to glance away in case the other would vanish.
Daryl cleared his throat, which felt constricted. “Ya were singin’ that song. From that day at the river,” Daryl drawled, his deep voice resonant in his chest. “I heard it and—I thought it couldn’t be—” he broke off, suddenly struggling with emotion rising up in a turbulent torrent. “But I knew it was…”
You nodded, unable to speak. You studied his face. He had scars he didn’t have before and he was weathered from the passage of years, but you thought he was even more beautiful than ever.
Finally, perhaps realizing the time he should have let go of your hand had long since passed, Daryl gulped nervously and stepped back, and his fingers slipped from yours.
“Come on. This way,” you said, gathering up the fish and retrieving a bag from nearby. Daryl followed you on a game trail that led through the trees. In a short while, you both came to a little cabin, not more than a shack really. You began setting down your gear and reviving some flames in a fire circle ringed with smooth stones.
“This is yer place?” he asked, peering around. Minimal gear and belongings were organized carefully inside.
You were stirring the coals with a stick. “For now, it is,” you said. “I keep on the move. Follow the game and stick close to the river and its tributaries.” You tossed more dry wood on and the fire danced and crackled.
“Smart,” Daryl said, one corner of his mouth twitching up reflexively as he watched you busy yourself about camp. He sank down onto a round of wood and pet Dog who sat next to him.
You straightened up, dusting your hands off, nodding. “Are you hungry?”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Night had fallen in earnest and you and Daryl were still side-by-side, warming by the fire as the blue shadows wrapped around you like a cloak. You’d covered a lot of ground, sharing the larger points of what you’d both gone through since the outbreak. Then a lot of time had passed in silence, both of you turning memories and questions over in your minds, but as Daryl watched you sip some hot tea from a tin mug, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“I looked for ya,” Daryl said suddenly. “When it happened, that day. I went to that little farmhouse ya were rentin’. And I went to the restaurant and—I was too late. And—” he shook his head and gulped, remembering the fear and panic and horror of those early days, “—it looked bad. I—I thought ya might not have made it…”
You read pain in his eyes and nodded, your eyebrows drawing down low over your eyes, which seemed striking to Daryl even just in the glow of the firelight. “I had been at the restaurant that day—when they started calling for all the evacuations and then the bombing started… Things went bad so fast. Some people came in and just started looting the place, being violent, and then some of the walking dead got in. I made it out with some of the other servers, the kitchen staff, but—we didn’t stay together long. I honestly don’t remember too much from the first few weeks. I probably blocked it out,” you said with a wry laugh.
Daryl turned to face you more fully. “I shoulda been with ya,” he said forcefully. “I shoulda been there when it all happened. ‘M sorry I wasn’t.”
You gave him a questioning look and shook your head. “It isn’t your fault you weren’t. I was the one who couldn’t—who stayed away, who put the distance between us.” You ducked your gaze now, showing the dark fans of your eyelashes to Daryl. The fire cast shadows of them on your cheeks, gray half-moons. “I have a lot of regrets about that,” you said, lifting the mug to your hands, breathing in the fragrant steam. “I should have—” you sighed heavily and shut your eyes for a moment. “But I was just scared. After that night, I was scared of everything back then.” You stared into the coals of the fire, watching the heat move over them like waves in the ocean.
Daryl nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. “Ain’t like ya didn’t have a reason to be.” He shifted next to you, shaking his hair out of his eyes. It made you smile. He used to do the same thing when you were kids. “Besides,” he went on, “ya were right ‘bout it anyway. Got into a lot bad shit because of Merle and his crew. And even after shit went to hell, Merle kept findin’ ways to make things worse, and for a while I just went along... until I met some people who showed me that ain’t how it has to be.” He shook his head, obviously upset at his past self. “Stupid…”
You nodded. “Well. It doesn’t matter now.”
Daryl watched the look in your eyes grow a bit distant and vague as you returned to watching the fire lick over the logs. Night was getting on. Dog was dozing by the fire, flopped over on his side to warm his belly.
The last thing he wanted to do was leave, but he was suddenly struck by the thought that he would overstay his welcome. He stood and your eyes flew to him. “Well—s’late. I should prob’ly get outta yer hair,” he said. “My camp ain’t that far from here.” He paused, coming to a sudden realization. “Though it is on the other side of the river…”
“Oh—” you responded, looking up at him, your eyes big and—was that disappointment? “You’re going?”
Daryl scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his neck. “I dun wanna—overstay my welcome is all…” he trailed off.
You were suddenly on your feet too. “You’re not.”
He gulped. There was suddenly electricity in the air.
“You should stay,” you said. “I have spare blankets and stuff inside. And… it’s been over a decade since we’ve seen each other,” you added with a laugh. “And you already want to go running off into the dark?” You felt the air crackling like it did before a lightning strike.
Daryl chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, nervously for a moment and then shook his head. “Nah, I dun want to…”
And you smiled at him. You fucking smiled. And Daryl’s heart skipped a beat the same way it always used to when you smiled at him. “Good. Come on,” you said, tipping your head toward the little building. You shifted some things around and produced a second bed roll. “I usually layer with this one when it gets really cold, but it’ll work just as well as a spot for you tonight.”
“Hold up,” Daryl said as you started laying down the spare blankets. “Put mine by the door over here.” You straightened up and were giving him a queer smile he couldn’t entirely decode. “What?” he asked, shifting his weight anxiously.
“Still trying to protect me, Daryl?” you asked softly. That was exactly what he was doing. He didn’t know if he should apologize or— “I will, but you should know I’m a lot less helpless these days,” you said.
“Oh, I—I didn’t mean to imply that—” Your laugh interrupted his stammering.
“It’s alright. I know you can’t help it. That’s just who you are,” you said. “Some things don’t change. Besides, it’s sweet…” You finished laying out the spare bedding and straightened up to look at the two bed rolls next to each other. “Sorry it’ll be a little close in here.”
Daryl was thinking it wasn’t close enough. Since he’d let go of your hand by the riverbank he was mourning the loss of your touch. Every second he was just trying not to do or say something that would be off-putting. You were practically strangers now, weren’t you? But in his mind, all he could think about was hugging you tightly and not letting go, of breathing in the scent of you—wondering if it was the same as it had been then, like warm maple syrup. You still felt like home. You still felt safe. And he wanted so badly to collide into you, to kiss you and put all those feelings that had had nowhere to go for 13 fucking years into it, to sweep you into him, to tell you over and over again how much he’d missed you, how he’d thought of you every fucking day—at his lowest and at his highest. How could he still feel so instantly connected to you after all this time? Fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same thing? Should he—
“Daryl?”
“Uhh—sorry. What?”
You had a questioning look on your face. “Are you alright? You look a little flushed.” You actually reached out and pressed the back of your hand to his cheek and then his forehead. Goosebumps rose on his skin at the contact. You were absently biting your bottom lip and the drawing of his attention to your mouth was only making him feel warmer.
“Nah, ‘m—‘m good,” he said as you withdrew your hand, still looking concerned.
“Are you sure?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m good…” You seemed to yield to his reassurance and peeled off your outer layers before settling down on your bed roll. His eyes roamed the shape of without the bulkier layers and he gulped again. You looked up at him expectantly where he was still standing a little awkwardly just inside the door.
“Does Dog want to come in?” you asked.
Daryl’s hands were fiddling anxiously. “Nah. He’ll guard the door all night outside.” You nodded and then propped yourself up on your elbow.
“Are you… uncomfortable? I mean, being in here with me?”
Daryl shook his head in a hurry. “No. No, it ain’t that… S’just—tryin’ to wrap my head around this. Last time I saw ya, ya were waitressin’ at Lou’s, ya know. Pouring that shit coffee into my mug and giving me this damn look like—like ya wanted to tell me to go to hell and ya wanted to hug me at the same time.” You let out a small laugh. Daryl went on. “And then all these years I thought—I dunno,” he murmured. “Part of me thought ya were gone that day, but another part of me just held onto hope. Or maybe I knew somehow that ya were out here somewhere… I know that dun make any sense.”
You were giving him a half-smile, a soft look in your eyes again, illuminated by the brightness of the lantern you’d lit in the corner. “I knew you were alive. I knew you’d beat all this shit. You’ve always been a survivor.”
Daryl sank down on the bed roll you’d laid out for him finally, prodding the makeshift pillow into the form he wanted before lying down on his side. You were facing each other, only six inches apart. “Yeah, well, so were you.”
You let out another dry laugh. “No, I just got lucky. My best friend was fierce.” There was something in the way you were looking at him now that was drawing him in. He felt the pull of you like a magnet and that electric tension was hanging in the air again like humidity. It was there—humming, buzzing, and then it was gone all of a sudden as he ducked your gaze and rolled onto his back.
Fucking coward, he thought.
You shifted beside him and clicked off the lantern, plunging the interior of the little cabin into blackness. Outside, a few lazy crickets chirped. The silence stretched for a minute before he dared to speak.
“Y/N…”
“Hmm?”
“I dun ever wanna lose ya again…” He heard the rustling of fabric as you moved beside him, and he sensed somehow that you were closer.
“I don’t want to lose you either,” your voice came back in a whisper. There was something strained in it and he turned toward you again.
He leaned up on his elbow. “…are ya cryin’?”
“No,” came back your stubborn answer, but he could hear it in your voice.
Daryl knelt and fumbled for the light, managing to hit the switch in the dark. There was no denying it now as he saw the tearstains on your cheeks. You sniffled and drew in a shaky breath, looking up at him with an almost ashamed glance. “…Why’re ya cryin’?” His expression was pure worry.
You shrugged and laughed sardonically. “I don’t know! Just—this! You! Here! And I—Daryl, I can’t even tell you how much I missed you. It was like walking around with part of me gone. And maybe that’s—maybe that’s fucking stupid because we were kids… We were fucking teenagers, but I don’t think that’s just it! I think when you meet someone that’s your soulmate, who understands you on some deep level you can’t even describe, it doesn’t matter if you meet them when you’re ten or when you’re forty!”
His brow was drawn over his blue eyes.
“And I—I think I’m still as in love with you now as I was back then and I’m really sorry if that’s weird for you to hear, and maybe I shouldn’t have said it but—we’re practically strangers now but—”
Then he was kissing you. His fingers were in your hair and he was tugging you into his body, and you were sinking into him, surprised at first but then softening beneath his hands, melting into it. He kissed you desperately, like he needed you to breathe instead of air. His hand clasped your face and then drifted to your shoulder and then to your waist and you were arching into him, gripping on to the lapel of his shirt and pressing your other hand flat to his strong chest and almost melting into a puddle of sensations as his strong arms were around you, holding you up.
Your eyes flickered between his, still a little wide, but now crinkled slightly at the corners in a smile. “I wanted to kiss ya since the first second I realized it was you standin’ in the river,” Daryl said. “I just thought—s’been so long… maybe I was the only one feelin’ what I was. But s’like we ain’t spent a day apart. Even though I know I’ve sure put a lotta damn mileage on since the last time I laid eyes on ya…”
You ran your fingers through his hair and he leaned into your fingers, his eyes closing. Every worryline on his face relaxed. “Shush. You’re still beautiful, Daryl Dixon.”
His blue eyes opened again and he clasped your face gently, studying all the ways you were the same and different. His thumb swept lightly across the pillow of your lower lip. “Ain’t nothin’ compare to you.”
#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon twd#the walking dead#twd fanfics#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl imagines#daryl x y/n#fanfics#writers of tumblr#twd drabbles#daryl angst#twd angst#teenage!daryl dixon
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What are the fashion senses of the ROs? What do they wear on a day to day basis?
ANON. im seriously so glad u asked u dont understand.im actually going to attatch the long descs i wrote of their everyday outfit (like in a vn..) also theres more fashion/makeup inspo on their boards on my pinterest! there's also boards for bg charas on there:33 so if u r interested in lee's band or aria there u go;p
HILO: an orange tank top with a ruffle trim paired with an off white maxi skirt. A pair of dark brown double strap sandals are on their feet. A gold ring with an infinity symbol is on the pointer finger on their right hand, accompanied by two thick threaded bracelets; the first one being yellow and orange, and the other [MC fave color] and orange. They have long almond shaped acrylic nails; colors varying. They tend to get a new set every three weeks. They wear a pair of orange bead earrings with a gold moon charm on the left ear and a gold star charm on the right ear. A pair of gold hoop earrings goes through their upper lobes in both ears.
LEE: a black shirt that’s cropped just above their stomach, with a graphic of a black skull outlined with white. A black zip-up hoodie is either halfway zipped up, tied around their waist, or discarded. A black and grey striped fingerless glove is covering one hand the other is covered in an assortments of rings including a silver skull ring and a silver ring with a red garnet stone, gifted to them by MC on their one year anniversary. Elijah wears short black cargo shorts while Elaine wears a black cargo miniskirt. They both have (optional) distressed tights underneath them. They wear two black earrings on each upper ear, a pair of silver skull earrings, two black rings on their lips, silver eyebrow stud piercing, silver septum piercing, and a silver star shaped tongue ring.
NOEMIA/NIKITA: a white long sleeved compression shirt is worn underneath a yellow, purple, and white color block windbreaker; either unzipped or balled up and put in their bag. A pair of black athletic shorts with a white adidas logos in the corner is covering their legs. They normally carry a yellow crossbody bag with an assortment of different pins on it (bisexual flag, mang, surfboard, bmo, spiderman, no pain no gain, shark, pufferfish, wave). They wear a pair of green pair of star skate shoes over a pair of colored socks; always mismatched. An anklet with white beads is around their right leg, a similar one with teal beads underneath it. A gold ring with a white teardrop shaped opal ring given to them by their grandma sits on a leather chain around their neck. Two to three hair ties are always around their wrists.
ARLO: an untucked white short sleeved t-shirt is usually worn under his rotation of lightly colored button ups, sweater vests and cardigans. A pair of light denim overalls is over it; with some barely visible paint stains here and there. He wears a pair of black oxford shoes with this. On his wrists are a few braided leather bracelets. He wears a gold vintage coin necklace around his neck along with matching small gold hoop earrings. A thing elastic headband is sometimes holding back his bangs while he works.
as for key words in my notes i have; hilo is whimsical, lee is emo (lol), n is sporty, and arlo is cozy!
#inbox#about: hilo kalua mahoe#about: lee ferguson#about: n azevedo#about: arlo song#arlo's is kinda short but he's a simple guy#hilo actually dresses very nice looking!#as in approachable#but if ppl ask where their shirt is from they WILL gatekeep#n is an army btw.. if u even care#PLEASE LOOK AT THEIR BOARDS THO
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For the requests: maybe Brott? (Brick x Scott)
full disclosure: i haven't gotten to TDROTI in my rewatch yet (mid-TDWT rn) so if anyone seems OOC i apologize it's been a while since ive seen it!! but i think brott is a super cute pairing and brick has always been one of my faves from the newer casts so i hope you enjoy :)
also on my ao3!
Part of a soldier's duty is to keep alert, and notice the little things not everyone else does. Brick may not be top of the class, but he had to have gotten picked for the new season of Total Drama for a reason. And if he really wants a shot at the money, it's probably best to start strategizing before the game even begins.
Which is why Brick starts people-watching as soon as he boards the boat to the island, so he can get a head start on sizing up the - somewhat intimidating - competition.
The most obvious threats, he checks out first. The girl in the grey tracksuit is clearly super athletic, as is the guy in the jersey he's pretty sure is named Lightning. Loud, both of them, but probably also headstrong. Easy to anger. Brick's known plenty like that over the course of his years of training. They'll be ones to watch out for, for sure.
The big guy is quiet - really quiet - and Brick's positive he's got to be secretly housing some mad brains up there. The small kid with the glasses won't get anywhere in the physical challenges, but in Brick's experience, those types of people can serve up a truly merciless smackdown of intelligence. Brick wouldn't call himself dumb, but he's never exactly been an Einstein - watch out for them, too.
Zoey is sweet - she'd introduced herself to Brick near the top of the boat ride, obviously eager to get to know her fellow competitors - and therefore not much cause for concern. Ditto Mike, who seems both nervous and excited, and ultimately, non-threatening. Dakota (and he knows her name is Dakota, because she'd loudly announced herself as she'd sashayed on board) is caught up in her own glossy glamorous self, the curly-haired guy too wrapped up in his video games to give Brick cause for much worry. The Italian girl is a little scary (not that Brick's afraid or anything, haha) and the small kid in the green sweater has done nothing but meditate this whole time. Yeah, they shouldn't be a problem.
Neither is the loud girl in the pink jacket. Brick never caught her name - he's sure she introduced herself, but she's been talking the ear off of everyone non-stop and in all that prattle, none of it seems to actually hold any merit. And Brick would know a thing or two about merit, yes sir!
Chatty Cathy's current victim appears to be the only other remaining contestant - looks like your classic Nova Scotian farm boy, chopped red hair, threadbare wifebeater, unimpressed look on his face. Brick doesn't know his name, or his deal - strength from years of outdoor chores? Some hidden smarts no one would assume of him? Brick has no idea. Come to think of it, Brick's not even sure he's heard the guy say a word. Not that it's in any way easy to get a sentence in edgewise with pink jacket girl around, of course - had she said her name was Tracey? Sarah?
"What are you staring at, buzzcut?"
Brick instantly straightens his spine, standing at attention, embarrassed to have been caught looking at the farm boy. "Nothing. I wasn't staring at anything."
"Uh, yeah, you totally were," says pink jacket. "It was so obvious! By the way, did you know that my great-great-great-great-great uncle Gordon first coined the term obvious wayyyyyy back in - "
"Put a sock in it," farm guy mutters, and strangely, she seems to listen to him. He diverts his attention back to Brick, advancing on him like some sort of terrifying jungle cat. "Trying to size up the competition?" He sniffs, thin lips curled into a sneer. "All you need to know about me is that I'm gonna kick your sorry ass off this island."
Brick stands his ground. "With all due respect, you don't know that for certain. Mr....?"
"Scott." He grabs a hold of the front of Brick's shirt, pulling him in close and oh no, he's hot, and whoa, he's got freckles like everywhere. "I'll make sure you won't forget it, private."
And with one last withering glare, he lets go of Brick and stomps away.
"Wow." In all that had just happened, Brick had forgotten Staci (!!) entirely, but she's throwing an arm around his shoulder now in what she likely thinks is a comforting manner. "That guy is gonna eat you alive! Speaking of cannibals, my cousin's sister's dog's landlord totally eats people! Chris would probably love to have him on the show, yah, he's a total maniac but I bet he'd be great for ratings, ya know? Ya know, my great-great-great-great - "
But Brick isn't listening to a word. He's staring down at his shirt, positive he can see the imprint of Scott's fingers seared into the fabric there, because why else would Brick have burned the way he did when Scott touched him?
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I finally took the disposable camera I got on my trip to KL to be developed, which I would have done earlier if I had bothered to look up how long film is good for, but better late than never. (Dragonfruit plants along the route pictured above, actual photos to come.) I was happy with a surprising amount of it! I can see the allure of getting back(?) into film, although perhaps one cannot be said to have been "into film" in the past when it was literally the only option- I remember very distinctly the first time I witnessed a compact digital camera in the early 2000s. But I think it's safe to hazard that I have a different sense of aesthetic from back then and thus it might be worth another go. (Or at least it might make me more discerning and thoughtful about what to take pictures of, quality over quantity, that kinda thing.) I was pleasantly surprised that the developing itself was a brisk 24 hour service and only cost ~$4 for scans, so maybe things are different in Taipei (compared to a friend in another city who indicated otherwise).
This weekend I finally got back to my fave shibari salon after missing both sessions last month due to various comedies of error. The organisers had opened registration quite late and so it was sparsely populated with an excess of riggers in attendance- a bottom's market, you could say. (I had a good time.) At the end there was a single length of rope abandoned on the ground, and in order to determine the owner 4 or 5 people picked it up at once and started rubbing, smelling, and otherwise examining the minutiae of their section, which was both somewhat comical and also impressed upon me the relationship riggers have with their ropes.
On the way home on the train a man with a bunch of suitcases decided to set up camp in the seatless corner of the last carriage. He wordlessly and inexorably pressed forward until everyone else had moved out of his way, arranged his luggage against the wall, then sat down on the floor and started taking off his shoes. I was ensconced in a very comfortable and also adjacent position between a railing and the non-opening doors, and had no desire to be displaced. I decided he wasn't smelly enough to warrant surrender, held my ground, and watched as he removed his socks, carefully wrapped up and put away his sneakers, then brought out the 拖鞋 (iykyk, if you don't, it was these things, this exact pair:)
(Un?)fortunately I didn't get to see where he was going with all this (or maybe he didn't intend to go anywhere at all) because we arrived at my stop, but it was the first time I'd seen that sort of thing here. I did once observe a woman fling down her luggage in the middle of the aisle and sit on it, but the house slippers are a new one!
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I assume you feel quite strongly (either positively or negatively) about things made of wool (blankets, jumpers, socks etc)
YOU ARE CORRECT!!!
I love the cosiness and the aesthetic and also the usefulness of things made out of wool, I have a dark green wool wintercoat and 2 wool cardigans and am wearing nice wooly socks as I am typing this! Socks are probably my fave category of things made out of wool!! I literally asked my mum if she could teach me how to mend my socks yesterday because one of my fave pair of wool socks has a hole haha! Not a big fan of wool blankets though, because I find them itchy quite often? With clothes/scarves etc. I have found it really depends on the quality of the wool and if it's a blend/mix or pure wool, it's usually when it's a mix with other (synthetic) fabrics that it's itchy but when it's pure wool it's fine (to me), which is why I don't own many wool things but my 2 wool cardigans were both hand me downs from my mum and are probably at least 30 years old, or even older, and I love them so much!!! one of them is from new zealand and it's older than me, that's so cool!!!!
Also my parents brought me back some iconic & cosy sheep wool slippers from a trip to ireland once and they were the cosiest and warmest things but then I had fabric moths in my flat and they DESTROYED THEM, which is why I try to always put my wool stuff in bags over summer with little lavender pouches to keep the moths away!!
make an assumption about me!
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hii can i request a mark drabble in which he's a clumsy dad but he also tries his best to be the best father? ㅠ and his kids kinda knows his dad is a bit clumsy so they purposely "mess around" with him when he's with them 😆 (they are a bit scared of their mother on the contrary 🤫)
•~𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐅
Masterlist Navigation
(D/n = name of daughter S/n = name of son)
D / n: "Dad my socks different"
Mark: "What? Oh God sorry princcess"
Mark searches the drawer for matching socks until he finds a white pair.
Mark: "Here you are, you know the socks are more beautiful if different"
Mark changes his daughter's socks as fast as possible.
D / n: "Daddy crook -crooked"
Mark tries to fix them as much as possible but putting socks on someone other than themself is a lot more complicated.
Mark: "Good now?"
Her daughter starts laughing secretly as she nods.
Mark: "Okay ... Are you ready S/n"
S / n: "No"
Mark: "You told me you just had to fix your hair aren't you done ?!"
His son does not answer so Mark picks up his daughter who start laughs with happiness and then goes to the son's room.
Mark: "Hey are you ready? - No no no I told you not to play Nintendo anymore"
Mark places his daughter on the ground, she runs to the bed to watch her older brother play.
Mark: "Okay that's enough"
S / n: "5 minutes I'm done"
Mark: "No give it to me now otherwise you in punishment"
D / n: "fave minuts daddy"
Mark: "I thought you were on my side"
His daughter makes the slug to him and then rests her head on her brother's shoulder.
Mark: "Children listen! Mom is coming soon and we must be ready. So give me the game and let's get ready"
D / n: "fave minuts daddy"
Mark exasperated by his children decides to really wait 5 minutes, in the meantime he gets ready. He wears a shirt and tries to make a tie but after several attempts he fails so he leaves it waiting for you to come back to fix it.
After getting ready, he goes to his son's room.
Mark: "It's been 5 minutes stop playing now"
S / n: "Another 5 minutes, please, I'm almost done"
Mark: "No give me the Nintendo now- D / n why did you take off your socks ?!"
His daughter looks at him smiling.
D / n: "I like colors socks"
Mark: "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
D / n: "Sorry"
Mark: "Oh my God in a few minutes mom is home and you're not ready yet"
S / n: "You're not ready either dad"
His son points to Mark's neck tie making his sister laugh.
Mark: "This is too much"
Mark takes the Nintendo from his son's hands, resulting in a new set of grievances from both his son and daughter.
Mark leaves the room with his two kids chasing him to get their game back.
D / n: "Daddy I wanna to play!"
S / n: "It's not fair!"
Mark: "Oh yes it is-"
Mark: "Honey"
Mark looks at you in relief as the two children finally stop messing up.
You: "Hi, why all this mess?"
The two children do not respond, avoiding their mother's gaze.
You approach Mark by giving him a kiss.
Mark: "Luckily you're there"
You smile as you fix his tie.
You: "That's better"
You: "You two don't seem ready to me"
Mark: "They wanted to play"
D / n: "Sorry mommy"
S / n: "Sorry mommy"
Mark: "I don't understand why they listen to you and not me ..."
You: "Go get ready"
The two children turn and run away but you stop them.
You: "Hey come back, don't you say hello to mom"
You lower yourself opening your arms while the two children run smiling towards you.
D / n: "Mommy dad clumsy"
Mark: "Hey! I heard you!"
Okay, I did it to post haha 💪🏻😎 I hope you like it ☺❤ today I also received the results of my exams 93/100 I'm so happy, have a good life 🍀🐙
#nct imagines#nct reactions#nct oneshot#nct drabbles#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct timestamps#nct angst#nct fluff#nct#nct 127#nct 127 imagines#nct 127 scenarios#nct 127 drabbles#nct 127 oneshots#nct 127 angst#nct 127 smut#nct 127 timestamps#nct 127 reactions#nct 127 fluff#mark nct#mark drabbles#mark reactions#mark oneshot#mark scenarios#mark imagines#mark timestamps#mark smut#mark angst#mark fluff
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Hi fangirlinglikealoon 🤗, where I am from we have this tradition of putting our shoes out on the evening of the 5th of december, and in the morning of the 6th of december they are filled with little presents by the Nikolaus (like candy and stuff). I wanted to bring this tradition to my tumblr friends 🖤 and so I come to your ask box bringing a 🥾. In there are 4 little presents for you...
1) a pair of cozy socks 🧦
2) your favorite candy 🍪 🍫 🍬 🍭
3) your favorite hot drink ☕️
4) all the love I can fit in a 🥾! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🩶🩷
And there is also a note with a question: If you want to, please share a happy memory you have of 2023?
I hope wherever you celebrate anything this month or not, you have a wonderful last month of the year! 🖤
- 🦋 wearing a santa hat
How sweet of you to bring that tradition on here this way 🥺🖤 Thank you for giving me a shoe with such lovely presents! 🙏😊 I hope you have a wonderful last month of the year too! 🖤
One of my fave happy memories is from May and it kinda combines two cool things that happened this year. My friend and I were planning a trip to London over the phone when I found out that I got into an university! We had talked about going to London for months and the idea always was to go during autumn. When we found out about Lost Society's UK tour we decided to combine the trip with the London gig. I've dreamt of going to see a band that I love play abroad for years so it was a two birds, one stone kind of situation.
I was already happy about the trip and my gig dream turning into reality but while we were planning I opened my email to get some needed info for the trip and I saw a new email saying congrats you've been accepted into the uni! I got even more happy and I think I squealed quite loud, my poor friend's ears must have hurt a bit 😅 I can clearly recall the joy I felt at that moment. Sometimes reading your email can end up being one of the happiest moments of the year 😂
#that was a bit long but ehhh i ramble a lot anyway 😂#thanks for this again! 🖤#asks#answered#anon#or actually maybe i should tag this with#🦋 anon#happy memories
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The littlest Firefly:
An: More backstory for our fave Blinky
Cw: use of the N word
@vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @myers-meadow-selfship @oceansrose2002
Blinky’s POV:
Six months. Half a year I’d been with the Firefly family. My family. It felt much more official now, something natural. Like I’d never known anything else. It’s was comforting. But being a Firefly wasn’t all roses and sunshine, far from it actually.
But did I even want that? A life like that no longer seem achievable, and hardly desirable. Who wants to be a pretty princess, cooped up in a stuffy tower, waiting on a prince to come save them. It was much better to play the prince. That’s what I decided on today. I fashioned myself a little crown out of the old newspaper Grandpa was done with. There was a little blood stain on one of the corners where he killed a mouse with it, but I didn’t mind.
I had my hair up in two big puffs, it was much too hot in the texas summer now for me to have my hair down. There was just so much of it. Baby had helped me with my hair, giving me little purple ribbons to tie it up with. I placed the crown on my head, pining it down with bobby pins. Such an odd name for a little trinket.
I had much more clothes now. Otis had stolen some from a young girl who was backpacking across texas. A strange choice for hiking, but who was I to judge. It wasn’t a hobby I knew much about. I preferred indoor hobbies, like origami that I used to make my new crown. I decided I would show it off with a pretty outfit. There was a small yellow dress at the back of my closet, a little shorter than I usually wear, but I didn’t mind.
I paired it with some striped black and white socks, and the new shoes Mama had gifted me. She said my old ones were hideous. And I guess she was right, there wasn’t much shoe left to them. These were much more hardy, they reminded me of Otis’s work boots and that’s why they were my favourite. I sometimes like to mimic his heavy walking and stomp around in my brown combat boots when nobody was home. He was always so angry, and he looked a little silly with his brows furrowed. It left a permeant wrinkle on his face.
I zipped up the boots and checked myself in the old cracked mirror in the corner, but something was missing. Tiny had picked me some flowers last week, little daisies he found on the side of the road. I plucked one from the vase and snapped the stem, shoving the now shorter flower into the side of my left poof. Perfect. I gave a little twirl, giggling to myself as the room got blurry. I flopped down on my bed to steady myself, a tiny point of my crown bending a little. But I didn’t mind, it added character.
I had to show Baby. I skipped down the hall, following the sound of rock music to her room. I knew she wouldn’t hear if I knocked, so I slowly peaked the door open to make sure she was decent. I didn’t want a repeat of last time I bathed into her room. I watched as Baby danced along to the music, she always made dancing seem so easy. She looked effervescent. She turned around, and stopped when she noticed me, smiley wildly.
“We’ll aren’t you adorable today.”
“I’m adorable everyday” I responded cheekily.
“You’re right, my mistake my lord.” She did a mocking literally curtesy.
“I’m a prince actually. They’re quite different.”
She chuckled.
“No makeup today? I suppose they don’t usually wear any do they?” She asked, turning down the music.
I was thankful she’d noticed I was getting mildly overstimulated. I never wanted to ask her to be quiet, it didn’t seem right. And it wasn’t fair to her, especially when she was having so much fun.
“We’ll maybe I’m not a normal prince, not if the princess wants to do my makeup.”
I held out my hand, asking for hers. She placed her hand in mine and I kissed the back of it. She was positively giddy.
“Hmm, let’s think. What if we put little stars on your cheek? And some yellow eyeliner to match that pretty dress if your Prince Blinky.”
“Stars?!”
She nodded her head.
“And does the Princess get stars too?”
“Of course!”
She still held my hand, leading me to sit on her bed.
“Let me go get your face paint box. You still got some left right?”
I nodded.
“Spaulding didn’t like the paint he got last time, said it made his skin itchy.”
She frowned.
“It doesn’t make your skin itchy right?”
“Nuh uh.”
I kicked my feet back and forth as I waited for her to come back. My smile returning as she entered the room. Baby’s personality was contagious.
“Alright what colours do you want today, you seem to be in a very colourful mood.”
I thought to a second.
“Just yellow and purple to match my ribbons please. Don’t want to over do it.”
“Oh yes, the only person allowed to be over done in this house is Mama. Did you see the new robe Spaulding gifted her?”
“The one that’s baby pink?”
“Mmm” she hummed.
“I think it makes her skin look pretty.”
“And did you tell Mama that?”
“Not yet, I got nervous.”
She chuckled lightly.
“Alright eyes closed, no peeking!”
“None?”
“Might have to claw your eyes out if you do.” She teased.
“But my eyes are my best feature?”
I looked up at her, my eyes shinning brightly for emphases. They were far more expressive then the rest of my face. Sure I smiled a lot now, but it was a learned behaviour. It felt so weird, and kinda hurt at first, my face muscles sore at the end of the day. But for the most part, I remained neutral, just smiling with my eyes most times.
“And don’t you forget it.” She booped my nose:
She was different than me than with the others. She was almost constantly getting in petty fights with Otis. But it seemed she liked having another “girl” around. I don’t know what I was, but girl never really felt right. But I liked pretty things, and girls had the prettiest things. And if being used as a living doll made Baby and Mama happy, I’d gladly do it.
“Now close your eyes Blinky.”
I obeyed easily. I was no longer nervous in her presence. Not like when I first got here. I let my mind wander as she painted my faces, speckling little stars on my cheeks. I kept thinking to the story of the prince I’d been reading. He was strong, fierce, but shorter than his brothers, younger too. The last in line for the throne. No one thought he’d amount to much until he rescued the rival kingdoms Princess from the evil dragon. Sure, the way I described it sounded like a children’s story. But it was quite gruesome, many before him has died horrible deaths, being torn apart, burned or eaten but the fearsome dragon.
I believe the book was marketed toward young adults. They’re were many encounters of sex with the other brothers, but I didn’t much care for that part of the story. And when the little prince rescued the princess, they were betrothed to be married to save their two kingdoms. A wedding to bring enemies together. A wedding which ended in the beheading of the cruel king, the one who’d ignored his son, and by the hands of his daughter in law none the less. An act of love and devotion to her new husband who has suffered at the cruel hands of a king who was unfit to rule a kingdom. As she held up the head of the once feared king, the kingdom cheered for their new leader.
“Long live the King!” They all chanted.
And that was where the book had ended. And ending which I’m not quite sure I would describe as happy. It was good, satisfying even, but there was something about it that seemed so strange. I wondered what would become of the little prince and his new queen. Do they live happily ever after, or was he doomed to ruin her, and befall the same fate as his father. Could people be different, change? Would he ever unlearn the behaviours and habits forced onto them by family?
“Blinky, you’re scrunching.” Baby said, slightly annoyed.
“Oh.” Was all I said, trying my best to relax my facial muscles.
“What ya thinking about in that smart Brain of yours huh?”
I fidgeted with my hands.
“Do you think people can change Baby?” I asked.
I didn’t dare open my eyes, but I did lean forward slightly when I didn’t feel her hands or the cool brush on my face.
“Course they can. People change all the time, you have.”
“I have?” I asked.
Maybe it had gone unnoticed, a subtle change over time. But my memory wasn’t too good, I always forgot certain things. Like what I looked like when I first got here. But I remembered stupid things, useless things. Like the first book Otis had ever gifted me. Or Tiny’s favourite food. Or Mama’s favourite perfume. I knew a lot about them now, but I didn’t really know a lot about me. I didn’t like to think about me much. Every-time I did I’d only get sad again.
“Mmhmm.”
“Could you tell me how?” I asked.
“Well, I guess you’re less shy. You don’t hide as much anymore. And your style, that changes every week. You’re less squeamish too, don’t mind the blood and the mess so much no more.”
“Hmm” I hummed.
Maybe I could change. Maybe the Prince could. But was it a good change? That was an entirely different question.
“And done!” She proclaimed proudly.
“Can I see?”
“Yes Blink, you can open your eyes now.” She sassed.
She held up a tiny little pocket mirror. My eyes looked a little bigger, the yellow complimenting the dark drown. Well I’m wasn’t sure if that was the right word for it, they were almost black, unless under harsh lighting. And the undertones were more red. But whatever they were, the yellow was nice, like the centre of the daisy in my hair. And the little stars complimented everything perfectly. I felt like the cutest prince in the whole world.
“I love it!” I exclaimed happily.
“Of course you do!”
Baby was confident, in everything she did. Some people may think it comes off as arrogant, but I thought it was endearing. She was a princess who didn’t need saving, like the one who changed at the end of my story. No longer being docile and quiet, and choosing instead to cause a ruckus and stake her claim on life.
“Now, help me pick my outfit for the day.”
“Ok.”
Baby was more of a blue jeans, tiny shirt kinda of gal. But she did own a few dresses. I spotted a purple dress in her closet and instantly pulled out out.
“We could match.” I offered a small smile.
“I knew there was a reason we kept you around Blink.” She smirked.
She turned around to and started to strip and I blushed, throwing myself into the pillow to avert my eyes. Baby was comfortable with a herself, which I was glad for, but I swear sometimes she did this stuff on purpose. She shimmied into the dress and when I thought enough time had passed I looked up again. She was sitting at her vanity, tying her hair into little pigtails to match my puffs.
“Wanna return the favour?” She asked, holding out a makeup brush.
I nodded and quickly made my way over, kneeling by the chair so I would get to her face. Her makeup didn’t take nearly as long as mine. I kept it simply with a light purple eyeshadow and a dark purple cat eye wing. Baby never wore lipstick much so we just put on a light gloss. I stuck my tongue out in concentration as I evened out the wings.
“There, done.”
“Wanna go show off to the family?” She asked.
I nodded, grabbing her hand as we made our way to the kitchen. It was a little loud with Spaulding crinkling his paper, Mama watching a Tele Novela over his shoulder on the tv, an Otis cooking up breakfast. I wasn’t sure where Grandpa and Tiny were at the moment.
“We’ll don’t you two look perty.” Mama complimented.
“Thanks Mama” Baby did a little twirl to show off her dress.
“You look like a god Damn Girl Scout.” Spaulding said to Baby.
It was his way of attempting a compliment. He wasn’t very good at them. Worse than Otis actually.
“And what are you supposed to be?” He asked me.
“I’m the Prince of the purple kingdom!” I declared.
He let out a half huff, half laugh.
“Since when do prince’s wear dresses?” He asked.
I just shrugged, sitting down in my spot for breakfast.
“Your clothes seem to be fitting a little better sweetheart.” Mama commented.
“I blame Otis’s cooking.” I laughed.
It was strange always having so much food in the house. I’d grown so used to one meal a day, since forever. Otis made it clear I was free to eat anything in the house, and make requests on grocery day. Otis sent me a crooked grin over his shoulder.
“We’ll somebodies gotta cook around ‘ere” he teased.
Most of breakfast was in a comfortable silence as we all enjoyed the french toast and berries. Otis made eggs for everyone else, but I couldn’t stand them. He was offended the first time I turned him down, and I didn’t mean to make him feel insulated. I just couldn’t stomach eggs, they made me sick. I thought back to the first two months I was here, when I’d get sick so often after eating. My body wasn’t used to being so well fed. I think a gained about five pounds since I’ve been here.
“You’re with me today kid.” Spaulding announced as he got up to put his plate and coffee in the sink.
“Oh, ok.” I said.
I didn’t mind working down at the store, there was always something to keep busy. Rearranging things, cleaning the counters. It kept me busy, which made me feel helpful.
“Is Otis not working the gas station today?”
“Naw, I’ve gotta head into town to get some stuff to fix the damn shower. God Damn thing won’t stop leaking and it’s wasting water and money.”
I hummed, downing the last sip of my tea. I followed quickly after Spaulding so I wouldn’t be scolded for not keeping up. He gave instructions as we walked.
“You man the front, I gotta deal with this fucking delivery that’s a damn week late. I swear nobody gets shit right in this town.”
I chuckled slightly. He was always grumbling about something. It could be a perfectly fine day and he’d still find something to complain about.
“You got it boss man.” I said.
He stopped waking and rolled his eyes at me. I just shrugged and we made our way into the little corner store. The day would go by slow, as usual not many people came in. But as luck would have it, the little bell at the front door chimed. I looked up to see a girl who looked scarily like Darla. It almost made my heart stop, but I pushed it down. She was with a man, a little taller than her, jock type from the look of letterman jacket.
He looked around the store, pretending to be interested in random things.
“Can I help you sir?” I asked.
He finally looked my way, and I saw his body stiffen slightly and his nose scrunch up.
“What, is the pretty princess convention coming through town?” He jeered.
I frowned.
“Is there anything I can help you with.” I pushed forward, ignoring his Inappropriate little side comment.
“Yeah, this shithole got a manager?” He asked.
His accent was thick, possibly Georgian. Spaulding would be interested to hear this, people from out of town were easier as Otis explain to me. Less people to notice them missing.
“Sure, I’ll go get him.”
I hopped off my stool and ran off to the back of the store, finding Spaulding unpacking pallets of soda.
“Hey Cap?” I asked.
It was a nickname I’d taken to calling him, he didn’t seem to mind it.
“What the fuck do you want kid?”
It wasn’t hostile in tone, he just slipped swearwords into almost any sentence he could.
“Customer wants to talk.” I explained. “He and his girl are from out of town.”
“Are they now?” He said.
He placed the heavy tray of soda back down on the stack. He made a lead the way motion with his hand and I followed him to the front again. I lingered behind, leaning against the wall as I watched.
“What can I do ya for?”
“Wondering if there’s anywhere to get a car fixed around here. Damn thing broke down.”
“There’s a mechanic just up the road, but I could look at it.”
The man scoffed.
“Yeah, no thanks. I don’t want you anywhere near my truck.” He commented.
“That wasn’t very nice.” It slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“The fuck do you know kid?” He turned back to Spaulding, “ain’t child labour illegal?” He asked.
I crossed my arms over his chest.
“Darren, be nice, these kind folks are trying to help us.” The girl spoke up.
“Did I ask for your opinion?” He snapped at her.
Definitely not very nice. I kinda felt bad for the girl, like I had when watching my brother and Darla. Why did pretty, smart girls fall for jerks like this? I could never understand. I wish I could create a diversion, help her escape. But I knew the drill, they were a package deal, and they’d already seen both of our faces.
“Which way to the mechanic old man?” He asked.
Spaulding just pointed, but not towards the mechanic, no, toward the house. We’re Mama and Baby we’re back home waiting. I wondered if Otis had even gotten back from the city yet. I watched as he shoved passed the girl and out the door, letting it slam behind him.
“Thanks for the help.” The girl offered.
I gave her a tight lipped smile. About half an hour had passed and I went to take a break outside for some fresh air. I leaned against the wall near the dumpster and just kinda stared down at my feet. Clicking then together to get my stims out before going back to work. I heard foot steps approaching and they seemed heavy. I thought for a moment maybe Spaulding came to ask for help with something, but I noticed the boy from earlier.
“Hey you, kid!” He started.
He seemed angry.
“I’m almost 18 I mumbled” annoyed then he called me that.
It was different when it was my family, but I didn’t like strangers treating me like a child. I could hold my own. I wasn’t helpless.
“What sort of games are you and baldy playing Hmm?” He asked as he got closer.
“Don’t call him that.” I said.
“Or what? Is it gonna hurt your feeling sweetheart? Maybe someone should teach you a lesson, wearing a short little skirt like that and flaunting yourself around while your old man fucks people over.”
I finally looked up at him, rage burning in my eyes.
“What did you just say?”
“Called you a slut, cause that’s what you are.”
He grabbed my arm harshly.
“Where the fuck is the damn mechanic?” He asked.
I shrugged, apparently that was the wrong move, cause he squeezed tighter on my arm. I glared up at him. He went to put his hand in my face, and without thinking I viciously bit into his hand. I heard him let out a yelp as I bit hard enough to draw blood. He yanked his arm away, dropping his other one too.
“Stupid nigger bitch, you bit me!” He exclaimed.
Before I could do anything, his fist connected hard right at the front of my face. I heard a crack and almost instantly felt warm blood trickle down my face. I think he broke my nose. I stumbled back a little, catching myself on the wall. As I went to lick my lips, I could taste the blood, and something fell onto my tongue, I spit it on the floor to see it was one of my teeth. I starred at it for a second in shock. He certainly knew how to throw a punch, probably got into a lot of fight in high school.
“Hey, bitch im talking to you!” He said, wrapping his hand around my throat.
I guess the ruckus must have gained Spaulding’s attention, cause I grinned up at the boy as he squeezed my throat.
“The fuck you smiling about?”
Before he could get out another word, Spaulding reached around and slit his throat. I felt warm blood spray on my face and closed my eyes and mouth, making sure I didn’t get any of it where it shouldn’t be. I didn’t need a nasty infection from this impish oaf.
“What the fuck were you thinking kid?” Spaulding yelled.
I flinched slightly.
“Please don’t yell at me.” I muttered.
He sighed exasperated.
“He could have killed you.”
“But he didn’t.” I reminded him.
“Shit, look at your face, Otis is gonna be pissed.”
I adjusted my now crooked crown back on my head, and spit out a mother glob of blood.
“I’m fine Spaulding, thank you for saving me.” I said.
“Don’t ever make me do that shit again ya hear?” He said
“Yes sir, won’t happen again.”
That I was sure of, I wouldn’t make the same mistake next time. Being on my own here could have ruined me, if Spaulding hadn’t been nearby.
“Fuck!” He groaned. “Blinky help me get him into the dumpster.” He said.
I nodded, quickly moving to throw open the top of it. I wasn’t sure how much help I would be, that man was nearly twice my size. But almost everybody was bigger than me. I grabbed his legs and helped Spaulding throw him over the top, then slammed the lid back down. By the time the trash people came, in this hot, moist environment, he’d be well on his way to decomposing.
“Inside, now.” Spaulding said shortly.
He was mad, that much was obvious. I didn’t hesitate, quickly doing inside and slipping into the back office where we had all the paperwork. We kept the first aid kit back here. I sat on top of the desk. Spaulding came stomping in a few minuets later.
“Called Mama, told her in sending you home early for the night.” He explained.
I nodded. He bent down to pick up the first aid kit, before quickly throwing me a cold water he’d taken from the front. I took a sip, swishing it around in my mouth, then spit it into the plant pot in the corner. Before taking another and letting it slip down my throat. It was refreshing, I hadn’t even realised I was getting dehydrated. I sat back atop the desk.
“Let me see.” He said.
I opened my mouth, and he moved my face side to side with his hand on my chin.
“Shit Blinky, he got you good.” He said.
“Yeah, don’t think I enjoyed that very much” I chuckled.
“Nothing we can do about the tooth, and your busted lip with heal. But I’m gonna have to set your nose.” He said.
I nodded.
“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”
“Ok.”
I closed my eyes as I felt him touch the bridge of my nose. I winced a little. He didn’t even give me a warning before I heard it click.
“There, good as new. Now go head to the house and shower before Otis gets home, I don’t need that bastard on my ass about this. I’ll clean up the mess outside.”
“You sure you don’t need help.”
“Just get to the Damn house Kid.”
I nodded, running off toward the house. I was able to make it to the master bathroom before anyone saw me, I quickly stripped out of my clothes, knowing I’d have to burn them later. It was a shame, I liked this outfit. But they was no getting blood out of yellow, bleach or peroxide would just steal the dye. I turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up. Otis had yelled at me for this once, but what kind of psycho turns on the shower when they’re standing in it, the water that comes out first is always freezing.
I scrubbed away the blood, watching it go down the drain. I groaned as the adrenaline wore off. There was a small bruise forming from where his hand was, and the hot water stung a little when it hit my broken nose. I threw on a towel as I got out and looked in the mirror. The tooth to the left of my canine was missing. I suppose it added character. And if I ever made a friend I’d have a cool story to tell. I’d finally get to use the line “you should see the other guy.”
I opened the door and walked down the hall to my room. I slipped into one of Otis’s oversized band T-shirts and some old shirts Baby got me. I fixed up my hair, tossing it into one giant bun. Seems I made it just in time for dinner, cause I could smell the food from here. Otis turned around when he heard me say “what’s for dinner”
“I’m making spaget- Blink what the fuck happened to your face?” He asked.
He seemed shocked, but the shock quickly turned to anger.
“Tripped.” I shrugged.
I don’t know why I lied to him, I didn’t feel good about it. But I already got scolded by Spaulding and I didn’t really want to hear it again.
“Shit, Blinky how many times have I told you not to skip around everywhere. This is what you get.” He grumbled. “It hurt?”
“Not much.”
He paused and took a few step forward, grabbing my chin in his hand, and using the other one to open my mouth.
“Fuck, you’re missing a tooth.”
“It’s ok.” I said.
“How hard did you hit the ground you dumbass?”
It was supposed to come off as mean, but I knew him better now. He swore more when he was deflecting, trying to make it seem like he didn’t care.
“Think I might have cracked the pavement.” I joked.
“I’m gonna have to put you in a damn bubble I swear. Nothing we can do about that tooth.” He commented.
It was odd how he was just like Spaulding in that way. Two sides of the same coin with those two.
“Just set the table” he sighed.
“Ok.”
I would have to talk to Spaulding after dinner, make sure he kept our little secret. I didn’t want Otis finding out what happened today. He’d flip, and majorly so. If baby ever found out what that man called me, she’s also lose her mind. They were very overprotective in that way. Baby like a sweet, but scary aunt, and Otis the dad with a shotgun in hand at all times.
Baby greeted me by picking me up and spinning me around. I giggled, pleading with her to put me down.
“Shit, the fuck happened to you?”
“Tripped.” I lied again, it was easier this time.
She laughed loudly, and gave me a big grin.
“Didn’t think you could get any cuter kiddo, now look at that smile.” She said.
She always knew just what to say to cheer me up. Things were getting better around here and I hoped they continued like this. Yes, being a Firefly wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but it was home. It was safe. And I was never gonna let anyone take this from me. I wouldn’t be without a family ever again if I had to kill every last person to keep it that way.
An: Despite being black, I didn’t use that word much. But house of 1000 corpses is a bit darker subject material so it felt appropriate to use here.
#Blinky firefly#Blinky#house of 1000 corpses au#house of 1000 corpses#otis driftwood#baby firefly#tiny firefly#captain spalding#mama firefly#my oc
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tagged by @reignofdreams
nickname: Dandy! sort of- Technically its my name, but my full name is Dandelion, so Dandy is a nickname.
Height: I am sadly 5'2 😔 In my heart i am 5'5 or 5'6
Last thing I googled: How many inches is spaghetti. I had a recent uh. flour weevil infestation in all my pasta. so i had to check how long pasta was for the sealed containers I'm buying to put pasta in.
Stong suck in my head: King, by our lady and saviour Florence
follower number: iiiii... am not sure but i have a few of y'all
dream job: tattoo artist 👁👁 so bad. i wanna.
wearing: My moms springfield illinois sweatshirt, flannel sweatpants and some comfy ass socks
Aesthetic: I have multiple aesthetics, I switch from metalhead clothes (black pants, leg chains, lots of silver rings, band tees, etc) to like... alt cottagecore-ish stuff?
I have a really cute pair of green corduroy pants that I like to wear with sweaters. Like gardener type sweaters. Thats probably not a great explanation but oh well 😭
Fave authors: I still hold deep respect for Suzanne Collins, ummm... Neil Gaiman is good. I really havent been reading that many physical books lately- but I'm looking to change that in the next couple years. Also Rick Riordan.
random fact: I am double jointed in my fingers, toes, and knees :)
i have to . tag five ppl so here u go-
do it or don't, have fun either way ^^
@charmelloww @aetherisademigod @crow-cards @steveshairychest @stevesbipanic
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GET TO KNOW ME TAG GAME!
tysm for tagging me and thinking of me @end-hyphen and @petrichor-han ! i am late to the game as always 🤡 bc i did let this marinate in my drafts for a week for absolutely no reason but !! this was fun hehe i loved reading yalls too <33
this is also super long so answers under the cut!
BIRTHDAY
october 17
FAVORITE COLOR
dark blues and pastels
DO YOU HAVE PETS?
one cat! he is staring up at me from across the room as i write this lmao
HOW TALL ARE YOU?
5’5 (165 cm)!
HOW MANY PAIRS OF SHOES DO YOU OWN?
i think between 10-12 but there’s only 5 pairs i wear regularly. literally wear the exact same loafers to work every single day 👍
FAVORITE SONG?
literally changes every day lmao but rn it’s probably between good life by wayv, back down by p1harmony, or avalanche by walk the moon
FAVORITE MOVIE?
everything everywhere all at once OR kiki’s delivery service OR scream (1996) LMAO i love watching all different kinds of movies but horror has rlly been my fave over the past year or so <3
WHO WOULD BE YOUR IDEAL PARTNER?
lee seokmin OR someone who makes me laugh, is patient, kind, caring, and a good listener. someone who i don’t feel like i have to put on a performance for and who i can be myself around. and who understands all my little interests! like tv and movies and kpop hehe
DO YOU WANT CHILDREN?
absolutely not! LMAO the cat is enough <3
HAVE YOU GOTTEN IN TROUBLE WITH THE LAW?
i’ll copy genie’s answer and just say i was a very stupid teenager who thankfully never actually went to the police station BUT i try to be a smarter adult now bc of it HAHA
WHAT COLOR SOCKS ARE YOU WEARING?
blue and white striped!
FAVORITE TYPE OF MUSIC?
i rlly do listen to just about anything but since this IS a kpop blog i’ll say kpop. honorable mentions include 70s dad rock, alt/indie rock, anime osts, and classical (study playlist my beloved)
HOW MANY PILLOWS DO YOU SLEEP WITH?
two! one for my head and one beside me lmao
WHAT POSITION DO YOU SLEEP IN?
on my side usually. or curled up in a ball since my room is always freezing cold ahaha
WHAT DON’T YOU LIKE WHEN YOU’RE SLEEPING?
when i can see light coming under my door from another room in the hallway…drives me absolutely bonkers i need complete darkness to be able to sleep or i cannot 💀
WHAT DO YOU HAVE FOR BREAKFAST?
if i have time to eat i usually just make cereal! sometimes my work brings in bagels and cream cheese too which is always a treat <3
HAVE YOU EVER TRIED ARCHERY?
yes! HAHA my parents tried literally any and every sport/activity they could get me in as a kid bc surely i had to be good at ONE, right? (answer: no 💀) i was decent but definitely not a sharpshooter by any means lmao. i do still have my bow and arrows and the target we used to practice with (and this is also why the reader in frw&d shoots w a bow n arrow — since it’s the only ‘weapon’ i have any real experience with for writing 🤭)
FAVORITE FRUIT?
strawberries, kiwi, and mango!
ARE YOU A GOOD LIAR?
absolutely not lmao i have tried for many years but apparently i just look incredibly obvious when i try to lie 😐
WHAT’S YOUR PERSONALITY TYPE?
enfj!
INNIE OR OUTIE?
literally what does this mean. my bellybutton??? do i like going outside????
LEFT OR RIGHT HANDED?
right-handed!
FAVORITE FOOD?
poppyseed chicken! OOO or i had lemon bars the other day and they were absolutely 🔥
FAVORITE FOREIGN FOOD?
omg there’s a thai restaurant literally 2 seconds away from my house that is SO damn good. i’d eat there every day if i could LMAO
AM I CLEAN OR MESSY?
i think i’m very selectively clean bahaha like my bathroom has to be nice and organized or i’ll lose my mind but my room is always in some state of disaster
MOST USED PHRASE?
do i have one?? idek actually 💀
HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE FOR YOU TO GET READY?
i don’t put in a ton of effort for work these days LMAO so like 10 minutes probably?? if i’m going out for dinner or something else w other ppl tho between 20-30 minutes
DO YOU TALK TO YOURSELF?
100% HAHA this is the best way to get fic ideas and also sometimes i think i’m funny y’know 😻
DO YOU SING TO YOURSELF?
every time i get in my car it’s a concert babey !!
ARE YOU A GOOD SINGER?
absolutely not HAHA but that’s why it’s fun to just jam in the car or in my room <3
BIGGEST FEAR?
drowning, caves, letting ppl down
ARE YOU A GOSSIP?
🍵🍵🍵 bring me the tea PLS i think a healthy dose of gossip is good for you actually
DO YOU LIKE LONG OR SHORT HAIR?
on me i think i prefer short (even though it’s growing out again rn). long hair for literally everyone else though HAHA
FAVORITE SCHOOL SUBJECT?
any english or writing courses and history!!
EXTROVERT OR INTROVERT?
extrovert!
WHAT MAKES YOU NERVOUS?
having to drive long distances and making phonecalls 😧
WHO WAS YOUR FIRST REAL CRUSH?
one of those mfs from newsies (1992) most likely LMAO or nick from walk the moon 🫶
HOW MANY PIERCINGS?
just two on my earlobes for now! not going to do anything else until i figure out if i can get more with my job HAHA
HOW MANY TATTOOS?
none </3 i wanna get the homunculus tattoo from fmab SO BAD
HOW FAST CAN YOU RUN?
if i’m running i’m either on the treadmill or being chased so. probably not that fast
WHAT COLOR IS YOUR HAIR?
brown. rlly want to get skunk hair with blonde underneath but once again……need to see if my job will allow it lmfao
WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES?
blue!
WHAT MAKES YOU ANGRY?
many things but today it’s the governor of my state and ppl who are rude to service workers
DO YOU LIKE YOUR NAME?
yes! i picked out beck a long time ago bc i liked the androgyny of it and i still rlly like it <33
DO YOU WANT A BOY OR A GIRL AS A CHILD?
no kids babey!! my cat is a boy though and he’s enough
WHAT ARE YOUR STRENGTHS?
i’m resourceful, creative, and i don’t give up on things that are important to me.
WHAT ARE YOUR WEAKNESSES?
why is this a job interview i can’t shut up once i start talking and have a hard time being able to tell when i need to stop. also mega perfectionist and tend to overanalyze every other conversation i have lmao
WHAT’S THE COLOR OF YOUR BEDSPREAD?
white with purple flowers!
WHAT’S THE COLOR OF YOUR ROOM?
it’s this purplish grey (which doesn’t sound super appealing but i promise it’s a very calming color LOL i painted it over the summer) and i have brown wood floors.
tagging: @seung-scrittore @decembermoonskz @sulfurcosmos @lotus-dly @lixesque @txtkids and anyone who would like to or hasn’t already done this! as always, no pressure on the tags — these are just for fun and nothing serious 🤍
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📷✨💛 and 🌿!!!
(Yes— I’m sending you the same Q as you made me wonder about it too 😅🫶🏼)
EEEEP!!! Hello Spooky!!! Lemme see
📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?
I have nine interchanging ones, all dinluke themed 🫣 cos I'm fixated, but my main homescreen is-
✨ Do you have any nicknames?
Oh boy
Vee — chosen name atm, Aloe (like Aloe-Vera teehee), Goose, V, V-V, Marvin, VLC (I wore a traffic cone and it stuck), Swan, the spellings of V - Ve - Vee are interchangeable, probably more but I don't remember
💛 Do you have any piercings?
Just my earlobes, but I'm hoping to get those doubled, I'd like angelbites (upper lip) and an industrial piercing (where the curve of your ear is pierced twice and a bar is put between them) and I'd like to get creative with it, but I'm gonna wait till I know what I'm doing aha
🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.
Hmm. Imma describe a few I enjoy, I don't have a fave particularly (socks can be whatever)
Comfy — my red heartbeat patterned trousers and any white t-shirt, plus the worn trainers
Beachy — I have these soft, light black overalls and probably any of my many many black t-shirts (probably my star wars one)
???? Mark Hamill esque??? — I have a gorgeous pair of flared trousers that I adore and I gotta buy more. I wear that with this purple-ish fancy button up cardigan and my heeled boots woughhh it makes me feel nice.
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🥀 angst | ☁️ fluff | ✨ faves | 🔥 smut
🪐 already on notes | 🍂 to be read
Fred Weasley
By masivechaos
Put Your Head On My Shoulder 🍂
By potter-imagines
Roses 🍂 - Ravenclaw reader has been receiving gifts from an anonymous.
Not Like The Movies 🍂
Flowers in Braids ☁️✨🪐
Best-friends to Lovers 🍂 - Fred invites you back to the Burrow to spend the break there and you fall for each other.
Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks ☁️🪐 - Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment.
By writersblockedx
Just Material ☁️🥀 - When Fred finds Y/n wearing a jumper which isn’t her own (and certainly isn’t his), he can’t help but question who it must belong to.
Favours for the Falling 🍂 - Fred and Y/n couldn’t be more different, yet the boy can’t help but find himself falling for her.
To Fix what is Broke ☁️🥀 - After a teenage heartbreak, all you wish for is your bestfriend. He’s not there.
By georgie-weasley
Shenanigans 🍂 - You and Fred pair up to get George a partner and along the way you learn your feelings for Fred might not be just friendly.
By lobey-scribbles
Playing Dumb ☁️ - Fred Weasley has always had his eye on you and when Professor Flitwick sits you next to each other in Charms, he can hardly believe his luck.
By geminil0vr
what'cha listening to? ☁️✨ - a little friends to realising crushes to... well, who knows?
By sergeantbuckybarnes
something that we’re not ☁️🥀 - You and Fred are friends. Best Friends. Who happen to cuddle and sleep in bed together all the time.
By abookloverlmao
𝑆𝑡𝑢𝑐𝑘. 🍂 - What will happen when you get stuck with Fred Weasley (the person you despise) in a closet to hide from Umbridge?
By fortisfilia
Fake it till you make it 🍂 one | two | three - “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend”
By helnjk
Only Us 🍂
Bad Idea 🍂 - Fred weasley has the ability to get under her skin in a way no one else can. he also sends butterflies straight to her stomach like no one else can.
By Its Cover 🍂 - Fred knows he’s quick to act and to judge, but what happens when it backfires with the pretty healer he meets at st. mungo’s?
By george-fabian-weasley
On the Rooftop of the Burrow ☁️ - Fred finds you all alone at night, at the rooftop of his house; that he didn’t even know has a passage to the rooftop.
Socks & Lighter ☁️ - Due to a heavy storm going through Diagon Alley, you are forced to stay inside your apartment with no electricity for a while and Fred, is, scared, of, the, dark.
By karahofthedawn
You Owe Us One 🔥
By hxlyhead-harpies
Congratulations Weasley ☁️🥀🪐 - Fred Weasley has been completely insufferable and mean since third year. Unfortunately the reader still feels for him even after he takes his teasing too far.
By awritingtree
Burnout 🍂 - Y/N has been pushing herself past the limit with school work. When Fred notices her unusual behaviour, he decides to intervene.
By heloisedaphnebrightmore
Half an hour 🍂 - Waking up next to Fred Weasley and starting your day within his arms means plain happiness.
Obviously oblivious 🍂 - You have liked Fred for the longest time and Fred has been having a crush on you, but you are just being oblivious, until he finally takes the first step.
Wrong approach 🍂 - Fred and you have been enemies since the day he decided to turn his back on you. But then a certain detention changes things and things get awkward.
By iliveiloveiwrite
I think I’ll fall in love with you ☁️ - Lazy days like these with Fred, are treasured.
Page After Page | Date After Date 🍂 - “Are you… Are you flirting with me?”
Half A Heart 🍂 - “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”
Love Me Now, Love Me Always ☁️ - Five times Fred has been in love with you, and the one time he tells you.
Say The Word 🍂 - “Just say the word and I’m yours.”
Not Now. Not Ever. 🍂 - “I’m never letting you go.”
Changes and Constants ☁️ - “Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.”
Needy Fred 🍂
Fred Weasley and crushes 🍂
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