#its the small victories i think. good stuff. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

schoopsahoy · 1 year

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i'm holding every breath for you

steve harrington x nextdoor neighbour!reader {8.2k} based on the song i’d lie by taylor swift. friends-to-lovers. lots of pining, a bit of angst, steve being oblivious to reader’s feelings. reader uses she/her pronouns. no use of y/n. not proofread

You root through the glove compartment of Steve’s car, bent over at the waist to peer into the small space trying to find the lip balm you swore you left there the last time he gave you a ride.

“Why d’you have so much crap in here? How am I meant to find anything?” You pull out random scraps of paper, food wrappers and notes scribbled in a hurry that were barely legible.

“You wouldn’t have to look through it if you didn’t forget something every time you’re in here.”

You shoot him a glare, no malice really behind it because he was right, you did have a bad habit of constantly leaving your stuff in his car. Though to be fair, you were constantly leaving things behind in the places you’d been, it wasn’t exclusive to his car.

“S’not my fault, I just forget.” You’ve got a pile of rubbish on your lap now, the glove box empty enough for you to actually see its contents. When you finally see the plastic tube you’ve been searching for you let out a small ah!, inhaling quickly as you pull it out with a victorious smile on your face. “Got it.”

“Best put it somewhere safe, god forbid you have to root through my stuff again.” Steve’s eyebrows were raised, a sarcastic twang to his voice, but you know he’s not really mad. He was never mad, not at you anyway.

“I know, sorry, could have all sorts of secrets in here.”

You put all the rubbish you’ve accumulated back into the compartment, really you should keep hold of it to throw it all out. But the thought doesn’t cross your mind until you’re back home in your room.

“Think you know all of my secrets anyway, I’ll let it slide.”

You sit back in your seat, pulling down the sun visor to shield your eyes from the summer evening sun that was hanging low in the sky. You have your own car, and were perfectly capable of driving it, but Steve insisted on driving you around because your car was old and rickety and ‘should not be allowed on the road’. He was at least a little bit right, and you can't say you mind him picking you up from your shifts at the grocery store. His passenger seat had always felt a bit like home, even through high school and the girlfriends that would come and go, your presence up front was a constant.

You undo a few of the buttons on your work shirt, the sticky heat of the day clinging to the fabric and your skin. The air conditioning near the checkouts in work was temperamental at best, and today it had decided to pretty much pack in altogether. The first thing you’d done when you got into Steve’s car was crank the AC up to try and lower your body temperature from feverish to just plain old hot.

“You coming to the lake this weekend?” You pick at your chipped nail varnish, Steve finally able to actually start the drive home now you’ve dug through his mess successfully. It was a Hawkin’s summer tradition to spend at least one day down by the lake, drinking and smoking a bit too much and getting a little dizzy from a full day of sun exposure.

Steve hums, nodding in response as he pulls out of the parking lot. “You’ll never guess who asked me that at work today.”

“At work? Robin?” You look away from your nails, brows furrowed and nose scrunched with confusion.

“No, not Robin.” Steve chuckles, your response typical of your mind, always a little ditzy and in your own world. It was endearing in a way, your world view simple and honest and good. “Tammy Thompson.”

Your mouth opens to a small ‘O’, head nodding slowly. “You gonna go with her?”

“No, absolutely not. Couldn’t pay me to go with her.”

“She’s not so bad, in the grand scheme of Hawkin’s.”

“If my best option is Tammy Thompson, I think I’ll just stay single forever.”

You press your lips together, nodding again. You were overly familiar with Steve’s dating woes, both throughout school and now into adulthood. Maybe if you were bolder, with less to lose than your best friend, you’d just tell him to date you. Bite the bullet and take the leap and just give it a try. But you weren’t bold, you were safe and comfortable in the familiar and not ready to jeopardise that by confessing some big feelings that Steve was oblivious to.

“You just gonna hide from her the whole time then?”

“Maybe, use you as a human shield.” He grins at you, watching as you scrunch up your nose again. It was one of those mannerisms that you did all the time, whenever something confused you or if he teased you a little. It was a dead giveaway for your emotions, even if you were unaware of it.

“But you’re bigger than me, I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

“Y’not even gonna try? I’d do it for you.” He pouts at you, you’re sure he’s doing his best puppy dog eyes behind his sunglasses too.

“Sure, I’ll try. But don’t blame me when she spots you, I can’t grow like 3 feet taller in a few days.”

“Don’t think you’d need to grow 3 feet, honey.”

“To do a proper job I would.”

Steve just nods, smiling to himself as he pulls into the street you’ve both grown up on. Carpooling was pretty easy when you only had to make one stop, though he’d take you to the other side of the world if you asked him to.

“You gonna need a lift to work tomorrow?” Steve parks up in his driveway, turning the ignition off and cutting off the AC you’ve been basking in, a small sigh coming from your lips as the cool air stops fanning on your skin.

“S’okay, I start at like 6am so I can drive.” You pick your backpack up out of the footwell, corduroy straps held tightly in your hand.

“You’re not driving that death trap when you’re half asleep, you know I don’t mind dropping you off.” Steve’s car keys dangle from his pointer finger, the collection of keyrings you’d gotten him over the years from every holiday you’d been on jingling against one another. “Just bang on my door if I don’t knock before you need to leave.”

“You’re silly for doing this, y’know that?”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

Steve leans over to ruffle your hair, earning him a huff from you as you try to move your head away. You smooth out the mess as you climb out the passenger side, slinging your bag over one shoulder as you start to make your way over to your own house.

“You forgetting something?” Steve calls after you, and as you turn you see him holding out the same lip balm you’d left behind before.

“Oh, thanks Stevie.” You hurry back over to take the tube out of his hand, giving him a sweet smile before heading back home again.

—

You’re used to early mornings, pretty good at pushing past the grogginess after having to work so many opening shifts and be alert when the sun is still climbing in the sky, but being jostled about the back of Eddie’s van with the rest of your friends when you’re all still half asleep hurt your head a little bit.

It was the easiest option, meaning you could all make your way to the lake together and only have one designated driver, but you did miss seatbelts.

The heat was still yet to break, the air thick and clammy despite only wearing a tank top and some jean shorts over your bikini. You’re already slathered in sunscreen, the artificial coconut smell a bit overwhelming in the enclosed space and it doesn’t seem to lessen even once you’re out in the fresh air.

“I wish we had one of those big umbrellas.” You stand with your hands on your hips, watching the boys lug the bags filled with snacks and the cooler of beer and soda out of the van. “It’s so hot.”

“That’s what the lakes for, cools you right down.” Eddie smiles, shaking his curls out of his eyes as he stands up straight.

You shrug, staring out at the glistening water. “I don’t wanna get my hair wet.”

“It’s gonna get wet.”

“Shame.” You chew the inside of your cheek and hold your arms out to take one of the picnic blankets that’d been brought along.

It took you about fifteen minutes to all settle on a spot along the shore, Eddie and Robin wanting to be as close to the pier as possible so they can dive-bomb into the water but Nancy saying there’ll be too much foot traffic there and nobody will be able to relax. You stand back, letting your friends argue it out and laying down your blanket once the issue had been resolved.

The sun feels nice on your skin, the lake having more of a breeze than the rest of town making it bearable to lay out in. It doesn’t take too long for the midday heat to have you peeling off your tank top, shorts unbuttoned and rolled down a little so you can feel the heat on your stomach.

Eddie hands out one of the joints he pre-rolled for the occasion, something about needing to start early so he can sober up before he drives you all home. The smoke has your head feeling a little fuzzy, mixing with the beer you’ve been sipping slowly and slowing your mind down.

“You’re going pink.” Steve sits down next to you, cross legged and shoulders almost brushing.

“I thought it was green?” You tilt your head to one side, putting the back of your hand to your head to feel your temperature. “I feel okay.”

“No, not that, your shoulders.”

You lift your sunglasses onto the top of your head, looking down to your shoulders which were turning a little pink. Your freckles coming out where the sun had kissed your skin. “Oh, right, I am.”

“C’mere.” Steve leans over to reach for the sunscreen, not moving from his seat next to you as he stretches his arm over the blanket. “Your mom will be mad if I let you get burnt.”

You shake your head, shuffling around so Steve can get to your shoulders easier. “You’re her favourite, she’d just tell me to be more careful.”

The sunscreen feels cold, even as Steve rubs it in carefully against the hot patches of skin on your shoulders, being careful to get it under the straps of your bikini. You’re used to his gentle touches, him always looking after you ever since you were kids, but now you’re older and you’re more aware of the way his hands move and how he treats you like you’re precious and it makes your heart skip a little.

He moves a hand away to take the joint off Robin, inhaling as he keeps massaging the sunscreen in with his other hand. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin, not yet in the sunburn territory, just a little warm. Your skin always feels soft, he’s not sure if it’s some moisturiser you use or if it’s just how you are. He leans his arm over your shoulder, holding the joint out to you as you take it between your fingers.

You inhale, careful not to press your lips against the roach too hard in case your lipgloss transfers too much. Steve finally finishes rubbing the cream into your shoulders, and you shuffle again so that you’re facing him. “Is my face pink too? My nose feels kinda warm.”

Steve lifts his own sunglasses up so he can look at you clearer, hair pushed back by the frames and his hand shielding his eyes from the sun's glare. “A little, you want sunscreen on there too?”

You nod your head, closing your eyes. Your eyelashes cast little shadows on your cheeks, something Steve hasn’t really noticed before but he likes it. Likes seeing you up close, even after all these years. His movements are careful as he brushes the cream across your nose and over your cheeks, just using one finger to rub it into your skin.

You enjoy the sweet moments, but sometimes they’re too easy to get lost in. It's easy to pretend you don’t harbour all these feelings for Steve when you’re apart, even when you’re just hanging out at a safe distance. But when he’s close, your mind gets a bit carried away. Dreaming up scenarios where he might press a kiss to your lips whilst your eyes are still closed, hold your hand once he’s done and keep it there for the rest of the day. You’ve got a big imagination, it’s a real bother sometimes.

Steve finishes his careful application, and sets his hand down in his lap to look over your face once more to check he hasn’t missed anywhere. He takes a moment to just watch how you breath steady, a small smile on your lips that always seems to be there without you even knowing. “Okay, you’re done.”

You open your eyes, instantly squinting from the bright sunlight. You quickly bring your sunglasses back over your eyes, the red heart shaped frames contrasting against your complexion. “Thanks Steve, you’re the best.”

“I know, s’why you love me.”

If only you knew, you think. You have to force your face not to react to his words, simply giving him a smile as you lay back down to sunbathe some more.

The heat and the smoke and the alcohol makes you clingy. They always do, even on their own, so mixing all three was sure to have you craving closeness.

The boys had all been in the lake, splashing and tackling each other and making enough noise to draw attention from most of the people on the lake. When Steve walks back to the blanket, you hold out your arms to him as if to summon him.

“Hey, honey. You good?” He sits in that same spot next to you, you instantly lean your head on his shoulder and hum a response. His body is still wet, but you suddenly don’t mind your hair getting a little damp. Steve knows what you’re like when you’re high, having spent enough nights on his back porch sharing a joint when his parents were out of town. Knows how you like to be close to him, he doesn’t mind it so much either.

“M’good.” You mumble, pushing your face further into his neck. He smells like the fresh water, that same strong sunscreen but somehow still like Steve. You wish you could bottle it up, it's probably your favourite smell in the world.

Steve puts his arm around your waist, head resting on top of yours. If it was anyone else the close contact in the heat would probably be too much, but it’s okay if it’s you. You’re like an extension of him at this point. “You had enough water today? Don’t want you going loopy.”

“Yeah, drank like two bottles.” You nudge your head in the direction of the empty water bottles discarded next to you, keeping them in a pile to collect at the end of the day.

“Oh, must just be loopy anyway then.” He teases, giving your side a gentle squeeze. It feels like his hand has an electric current running through it and each movement sends shockwaves through you.

“Thought you already knew that.”

“I do, it’s cute.”

“So you’ll visit me in the loony bin then?” You shift your head slightly so you can look up at him through your sunglasses, everything tinged some muddy colour from the lenses.

“Every day, if they don’t lock me up with you.”

“God, can you two get a room? Even Robin and Vickie aren’t this bad and they’re actually together.” Eddie shouts over from the other end of the mismatched collection of blankets, your cheeks heat up more than they already are with his words. The sun at least gives you an excuse for the flush of colour.

“Can it, Munson.” Steve flips him off with the hand that isn’t still on your waist, the other boy returning the signal with a smug grin on his lips.

You kind of want the ground to swallow you, suddenly aware that everyone probably knows you’re in love with your best friend. You don’t want the pity smiles or the sorry stares, but then if everyone else knows, why doesn’t Steve? Surely someone must have let something slip by now. Hopefully they haven’t. It’s even worse to think he knows and is ignoring it to save you from the rejection. You squeeze your eyes hard to try and push the thoughts away.

You lean further into Steve’s side, the cool water on his skin feels soothing against your own. His hand finally moves from your waist up to stroke your hair. His thumb brushing slowly over and over.

“You seen Tammy Thompson yet?” You want to put the question back inside your head as soon as you’ve said it.

“Yeah, think you did a pretty good job at being my shield though. Took one look at us and turned on her heel.”

You smile to yourself, a small laugh coming out as you put your arms around Steve. “That’s good. Maybe I’ll get a job as a bodyguard.”

Steve chuckles and you can feel the movement against your body, the vibrations making your hairs stand on end. “Don’t think they usually let bodyguards do this sorta thing.”

“Oh.” You hold your bottom lip under your teeth and exhale. “Maybe not then.”

—

You’re wallowing. It’s maybe overdramatic, and you’re glad nobody else is there to see it, but you are. You have the house to yourself again, and the whole day off work, but you’ve spent most of it laid out on your lawn with a book trying to distract yourself from the fact that Steve is on a date.

He told you yesterday, as he was dropping you off from work again, that some pretty girl had been in Family Video and he’d asked her out and she’d said yes. You’d smiled, told him you were happy for him, because he was your best friend and you wanted him to be happy more than anything else in the world. But it hasn't stopped you from moping about the entire day.

The grass tickles the skin on your back that’s exposed from where your shirt is riding up, the feeling irritating you more than it usually would. You’d managed to read about twenty pages in the past hour, having to re-read each paragraph at least three times because your mind keeps wandering.

Your book is left at your side, defeated by the words that jumbled in your brain, your arm over your eyes to block out the last of the day's light.

“Hey, you.” Steve chimes from over the shared fence, you hadn’t heard his car pulling up and his voice spooks you a bit as you quickly sit up.

“Steve, you’re here.” You furrow your brow, confused by his presence. You were no expert on dating, but you had assumed he’d be out much later than this.

“Can I come over?”

“Stupid question.”

He smiles at your response, giving you a nod as he walks down the fence and back around into your back garden. “You been out here all day?”

“Almost. I had to go inside for a bit because it was too hot.” Your legs stretch out in front of you as you lean back on your palms, head tilted up to look at Steve who’s still standing over you. His body blocks the sun, his shadow gives you some relief from it.

“It was pretty hot today.” Steve agrees, lingering in his spot for a minute before he finally takes a seat next to you mirroring your posture.

“How was your date?” You try to sound interested, like you’re hoping he had the best time and was going to see her again and maybe she was the one. The thought really made you want to die a bit.

“Bit of a bust.” Steve shrugs, he doesn’t sound too phased by it. You curse yourself for wanting to smile.

“That’s a shame.” You say, shifting your weight off your palms so you can sit up straight and pick at the grass under your hands. “Not gonna see her again?”

“Probably not, just didn’t have much to say to each other.”

“But you can talk anyone’s ear off.” You tease, looking at him with your eyes squinted a little, corners of your mouth turned up. Your features look soft in the evening sun, shadows rounding out your cheeks and the little bump on your nose bridge.

“I can talk your ear off.” Steve corrects you, and gives your shoulder a light shove. The light reflecting off his hair has it turning the colour of honey, the same with his eyes. You wish he wasn’t so pretty, his face was far too easy to look at.

“Sorry it didn’t go well.” You twist your mouth to the side, eyes all apologetic because you do want him to be happy even if it does hurt your heart.

“Don’t be. It was nice enough, just not second-date nice.”

“Y’want to watch a movie? We can watch A Nightmare on Elm Street, might make you feel better.”

“Why would it make me feel better?”

“Because you’re not getting chopped up in your sleep.” You say it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Touche. Okay, let’s do it.” Steve pushes himself up off the lawn, holding his hand out to you to help you up. You put your hand in his, his grip solid but still gentle as he pulls you up from the grass.

You brush your legs off, little indents from the grass left in the bare skin of your calves. “I’ve got the good popcorn too.”

You walk into your house through the patio doors, the laminate floor cold underfoot as you pad your way into the kitchen. You root through the cupboards, pulling out the various tins and boxes of health food your mom had stocked up on until you finally find the popcorn.

“See, cinema quality.” You hold the packet out to Steve, pointing at the words printed on it.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Tell me about it.” You roll your eyes, all affection and sweetness really. You turn the stove on, placing the biggest pan you can find on the hob and letting it heat a little before tipping the kernels into it and putting the lid on top.

You hop onto the counter beside the cooker, legs dangling and ankles hitting the cupboard below you as you swing them a little. “Now we wait.”

Steve’s leaning against the island in the middle of your kitchen, hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he looks at you. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact you’ve been lazing around in the sticky heat all day, hair probably a mess and skin a little dewy and definitely not looking your best.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, head tilted a little as his eyes stay locked on you.

You shrug your shoulders, trying your best to keep your breathing steady and not give away the fact that such a simple question has your throat drying up and your stomach twisting into a knot. “Sure, ask away.”

“Do people ever just, like, assume we’re dating?” He asks the question so casually, like he was just asking how your day had been. “Like, when you’re trying to date, do they ever say that?”

You scrunch your nose up, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you try to come up with an answer, try to pull words out of your brain that currently feels like it’s been scrambled. “I d’know, I don’t date much, so I guess not.”

Steve pauses, just nodding at your response. He knew you didn’t really date, not after high school anyway. He’d never given it much thought, you’d always come away from dates complaining they were boring or got too handsy or didn’t laugh at your jokes and he’d always thought that those guys must be crazy. Because you were great, the best person he knew if he was being honest.

“Why?” You force the question out, hoping your voice doesn’t audibly crack from how much effort it's taken to say just one word.

“I was just wondering. Heard it a couple times now, and I was just curious if you had too.”

Heard it a couple times now. The words echo in your brain, bouncing around over and over to the point it was making you a bit dizzy. Your hands grip the counter beneath you to try and ground yourself.

The sound of the kernels popping against the lid of the pan breaks the silence before you have to, a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God is watching over you in the moment. You hop down off the counter to get a proper look at the pan, watching as the kernels expand and pop until the little bangs slow and you can turn the stove off.

You stand on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard above your head, fishing out the largest bowl in there and carefully tipping the popcorn into it. You finally turn back to Steve, bowl held close to your chest with both hands so you won’t drop it. “Okay, let’s go watch some people get slashed up.”

Steve laughs, the little creases at the corners of his eyes deepening with his smile. “You’re morbid.”

“No, I’m creative.” You say the words bluntly, but your eyes are still full of warmth for the boy in front of you. Even the coldest words wouldn’t be able to take away from the way you always look at him, a bit like a lovesick puppy.

You put the bowl of popcorn on the table in the middle of your living room before trying to find the tape you need from the stack around the television set. You have to check a few cases, because most of them weren’t in the right one and there was no point trying to logically work out which one it’d be in.

“Didn’t you loan this from Family Video like, two months ago?” Steve asks, already in his usual spot on your couch as he watches you open your fifth case to no avail.

“Probably, yeah.” You don’t sound too bothered by it, the late fee something you’ve never had to pay thanks to Steve always wiping it for you. Finally, on your eighth try, you pull the correct tape out and hold it up to Steve with a grin. “Got it.”

You eject the tape that’s currently in the VCR player, putting it into the case that you’d found A Nightmare on Elm Street in without checking if it was the right one, and push the right tape into the player before you stand up.

“That seems like a flawed sorting system.” Steve nods towards the scattered cases on the carpet as you sit down next to him.

You shrug. “It works for me. We don’t all work in a video store, Steve.”

“You’re right, my bad.” He holds his hands up in defeat.

You lean forward to grab the popcorn bowl and pass it to Steve. “Try it, I need an unbiased opinion on it.”

“Why would you be biased?” His question is muffled by him throwing some popcorn into his mouth.

“I bought it, I want it to be good.”

“Makes sense.” Steve nods and takes another handful of popcorn. “It’s good, but not cinema good.”

You sigh, taking a handful for yourself now that Steve had given his review. “They always lie on the packets.”

You and Steve had watched this film about ten times, including when it was in the theatre and you made him go twice. Knowing the plot back to front was really not helping to distract you from how close Steve is sitting to you, you didn’t have to pay attention because you know what’s about to happen so instead your brain is entirely focused on the fact you can feel Steve’s body heat, his leg pressing against your own and his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you.

You’re really trying to keep your mind on the movie, eyes stuck to the screen barely blinking, but your brain just won’t cooperate. It’s not like Steve doesn’t always sit this close to you, because he does. But you’re still reeling from what he said in the kitchen and your thoughts show no sign of slowing.

Steve sits up to put the half eaten bowl of popcorn back on the table, his movements making your breath hitch in your chest and your muscles tense. You think you must look crazy.

“You feelin’ okay?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, which only makes you tense up more.

“Mhm.” You hum, turning just a little to glance at him and give him your most convincing smile. “Probably just got sun sickness y’know? Brains been cooked all day.”

“You mean heat stroke?” He rubs his thumb over the curve of your shoulder, the feeling comforting in a sickly sort of way.

“Nah, different things.”

“You wanna go to bed? We don’t have to watch the movie.”

You shake your head, eyes focusing back on the gory scene on the tv in front of you. “I’m okay, I think it’s helping.”

“Watching people get chopped up?”

“Exactly.”

—-

The Hideout is dark and loud and warm, and you’re a bit out of place. You promised Eddie months ago you would come and watch his band play, always meaning to do so but things never lining up the right way, but tonight you were making good on that promise.

You try to dress the part, at least to the extent your wardrobe allows, a strappy black top and a short skirt - that definitely used to fit fine but was now bordering on indecent - all covered up by a big denim jacket that you thrifted a couple years back. A bit of eyeliner smudged across your lids, messy and already creasing with the heat of the venue.

Steve is at your side, obviously. Because he heard you were planning to go to The Hideout and there was no way he was letting you go alone, not when you look like that and the place would no doubt be crawling with creepy guys. Not that he told you all this, he just said he wanted to come along. He was always protective over you, but this felt different to him for some reason. Like, he didn’t want creepy guys to bother you, but maybe he didn’t want any guy to bother you? Those were thoughts he’d have to unpack later.

You pull at the hem of your skirt as you linger near the outskirts of the room, shuffling from one foot to another in your doc martens that aren’t quite broken in yet. You look up at Steve through your mascara coated lashes, eyes wide a bit like a deer caught in headlights, mouth open a little with your tongue pressing against the back of your teeth.

“You all good?” Steve has to shout a little to be heard over the music thumping through the venue, the old sound system struggling to keep up with the heavy bass.

You nod, eyes darting between Steve and the bustling space around you. Your hands stay at the hem of your skirt, finding a loose stitch to pick and pull at as a distraction. “I think I need a drink.”

“Yeah? What d’you want? I’ll get it for you.” Steve could see the way you were staring at the bar, it’s at least two deep the whole way along and you’re definitely smaller than at least 90% of the people waiting. It just made more sense for him to be the one to try and fight his way through.

“Just a lemonade. Unless they don’t card, then I’ll have a beer. But lemonade's totally fine.” The words fall out of your mouth quickly, the heat of the room suddenly sticking to your chest and making you feel flushed.

“Okay, just wait here and I’ll be back.” Steve steps away, but turns back to put his hands on your arms. He locks his eyes with yours, your pupils still blown from the dim lighting. “Right here.”

“Right here.” You look down at your shoes and then back up to Steve, giving him a reassuring smile that you weren’t going to move.

You watch Steve make his way to the bar, feeling a bit exposed now you’re standing alone. He turns back to you from his spot in the queue - if you could even call it that - only briefly, just to check you’re okay and haven’t moved.

It doesn’t take Steve that long to get served, probably about ten minutes from him leaving you to actually having the drinks in his hands. He tried to keep an eye on you, but the closer he got to the bar the more people crowded behind him and blocked his view. So he curses himself a little when he finally breaks through the mass of bodies to see you talking to some guy. Some guy who is definitely at least ten years older than you, and is definitely drunk.

“Um yeah, my friend is in one of the bands playing tonight.” You try to be polite, making small talk has never been your strong suit but you don’t want to be rude. Especially not when you’re on your own.

“Oh right, cool.” The guy - you think his name is Mark? He did tell you but you didn’t really listen - nods enthusiastically. “Just a friend, though? No boyfriend?”

“I, erm -“ You laugh awkwardly, not really sure what to say. You want to lie, it’d be the easiest way to end this conversation. But you’re even worse at thinking fast than you are at small talk.

You don’t have to lie though, or say anything at all, because Steve is back at your side and standing so close your body’s are practically pressed together. He holds out a cup for you to take without a word, and as soon as you take hold of it his arm snakes around your waist to hold you to him.

“Hey, honey. Who’s this?” Steve looks between you and the other man who’s now looking much less interested in talking and much more interested in leaving.

“Oh, I was just telling him that we know Eddie.” You dodge the question of who he is, because you can’t give a real answer.

“Right, and that’s it?” Steve sips his drink, not taking his eyes off the guy in front of you.

“Relax dude, I get it. I don’t want your girl.” Mark, or maybe it was Matt, holds his hands up before he skulks off back into the crowd, most likely to find his friends or another girl to try and hit on.

Hearing the phrase your girl makes your head spin, especially with Steve’s arm so tight around your waist and his body pressing into yours. You take a deep breath and a shaky sip of your drink as you try to calm yourself, because everything is fine. Steve is here and people think you’re together and it’s so fine.

“You alright?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you somehow closer to him as he speaks.

“Yeah, thanks Stevie.” You grin up at him, the low lighting doing you a favour by covering up the pink that was spreading over your cheeks.

“You didn’t wanna speak to that guy, right? Because you can totally speak to any guy you want, he just looked a bit…” He trails off, scrunching his face a little and shrugging in place of words.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t want to, I’m here with you.” The words come out before you really think about them, your eyes widening a little as soon as you realise what you’ve said.

Steve doesn’t seem to react, if he heard what you said - or more so what you meant - he doesn’t show it. “Okay, good. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

You just smile at him, enough confirmation that you are happy. Perfectly content just in his presence. Even if the room is too close and the beer is kinda warm and you feel like you’re dressed up in a costume instead of your clothes.

When you see Eddie walk out onto the stage you step away from Steve, tugging on his hand to pull him closer so you can actually watch your friend and hopefully get his attention to prove that you held up your promise and came out to a show.

Even when you settle in a spot close to the stage, you don’t drop Steve’s hand, and he doesn’t drop yours. Your plastic cup in one hand and Steve in the other, it all feels a bit surreal. Maybe it’s the heat making your brain a little mushy.

You manage to catch Eddie's eye at some point, grinning and holding your drink up at him. He looks between you and Steve, down at your conjoined hands, and nods dramatically with a wide smile. You’re going to have to tell him it’s not what it looks like later, not sure how to articulate that with just one hand and facial expressions.

It’s nice seeing your friend so in his element, the energy of the room lifted by the band's energy on stage. You feel bad for waiting so long to come and watch, even if it was always out of your control.

Their set isn’t too long, only five songs, but they really make the most of their slot. The whole place seemed to get involved, everyone cheering when they finally finished up and headed off the small stage.

“You wanna get some air?” Steve asks, some loose hairs falling into his face as he looks down to you.

“Yeah, s’pretty hot in here.”

Steve leads you through the crowd, still holding onto your hand, and out through the venue doors into the parking lot. There’s a few people outside smoking, little groups gathered together all talking and drinking and looking like they belonged. It made you laugh a little to think about what you and Steve must look like here.

“That was fun, Eddie is so good.” You look down at the almost empty cup in your hand, swirling the remaining liquid around in it til it nearly splashes over the sides.

“Yeah, it was. Don’t think I’ll become a regular here though.” Steve laughs, giving your hand a squeeze as if to acknowledge that he is still holding it. You try not to read into it.

“Yeah, the place doesn’t really scream ‘Steve Harrington’.” You shrug, finally drinking the last of your beer. If it wasn’t warm when you first got it, it definitely was now.

You see Eddie walk outside and finally release Steve’s hand to skip over and hug him, already wishing you hadn’t let go because what if he doesn’t hold it again. You push the thought out of your head and try to focus on Eddie. “That was so good Ed’s, you looked so cool.”

“Thanks short stack.” Eddie leans back to pat you on your head. “‘Bout time you finally came.”

“I know, I don’t break promises.” You speak matter-of-factly, face all serious as you cross your arms over your chest.

Steve was beside you again, though not so close this time. “Good job, Munson. Guess you’re not all talk.” He teases, Eddie giving his shoulder a playful

shove in response.

“It’s good to see you two together. About time.” Eddie points between you and Steve, and your chest tightens as you process what he’s said.

“Oh, no, we’re not-“ You laugh, but it comes out awkward and forced and you look between Steve and Eddie and the floor and try to bargain with the powers that be to strike you down.

“Oh, shit, my bad.” Eddie looks around the parking lot, pressing his lips together as he sighs. “Better hurry it up Harrington, or someone else’ll snap her up.” He pats Steve on the back, and you look at him like he’s gone absolutely insane.

Steve nods, a weak laugh at Eddie's comment giving nothing away about how he feels about it.

You take a deep breath through your nose, hoping the cool night air might stop you from passing out on the spot.

“I better get back inside, have a good night kids. Stay safe.” Eddie waves you off as he walks back inside, disappearing into the dark room and leaving you outside with all the tension and awkwardness in the air that he’d put there. You’d be mad at him if he wasn’t such a nice guy.

You and Steve are both quiet for a minute, and you think this is finally it. You’d managed to keep your friendship untouched by your feelings for so long but it’d finally come crashing down.

“Reckon we head home?” Steve cocks his head as he looks down at you, you must look a sorry state given the pity filled smile he’s giving you.

“Yeah, probably for the best.” Your voice is quiet, and you drag your feet along as you walk to Steve’s car. You toss your cups away in a bin along the way, all over dramatic and woeful as you sigh with the movement.

The drive home was quiet. Steve would try and spark up a conversation but your brain was whirring and everything felt like too much and you could barely force a coherent sentence out.

When you finally arrive at Steve’s house, and your house respectively, you feel frozen in your seat. Because what if you get out and go home and that’s that? Steve stops giving you rides to work and stops watching movies with you and stops letting you stay in his bed when you drink a little too much and don’t want to be alone.

Steve says your name, and you force yourself to stop spiralling in your own thoughts to look over at him. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Really? You didn’t think the place was a bit gross?” You pulled the sleeves of your jacket down over your hands, holding them in your lap.

Steve laughs, shaking his head at you. “The Hideouts always been gross. I had a really nice time with you.” Even under the dim street lights Steve can see your puzzled expression, brows pinched together and a little pout on your lips.

“Well, yeah, we always have a nice time Stevie. S’why we’re friends.”

Steve sighed, because you were right. But it’s not what he was trying to say. He was never all that good with his words, and he also didn’t really know exactly what he wanted to say. “Y’know what Eddie said?”

“We don’t have to talk about it, it’s just Eddie, he just says stuff.” You can’t make eye contact as you speak, in half a mind to just bolt from the car, hop your fence and lock yourself in your house for the rest of your days.

“Well, yeah, he does. But I guess lately I’ve been thinking about it, about us.”

You swear your heart was moments away from actually bursting from your chest it was beating so hard, your hands feeling clammy as they gripped tightly onto the denim of your jacket sleeves. “What about us?”

“Just that we’re so close, you know? You’re my best friend, but then sometimes, lately, I look at you and it feels different.” Steve tries to gauge your reaction to his words, but your eyes are staring down at your hands in your lap and your hair is falling so that it covers your face. Maybe he’s got this majorly wrong, completely misread things between the two of you.

“Different how?” All you can manage is stupid questions pushing him for more, for him to just be clear and concise and put you out of your misery.

“Different like sometimes I think I want to kiss you.”

You stop fiddling with your jacket then. The words hitting you in the chest like a semi-truck. You’re not sure you actually heard him right, because you’ve been so certain all this time that your feelings were one sided. A hopeless crush that would just burn in your chest forever, longing for more but never getting it.

“You think you want to? Or you want to?” You finally look up at Steve, turning slightly in the passenger seat so you’re facing him. Seeing the way he’s looking at you, so full of affection and like you put the stars in the sky, makes your stomach flutter like there’s a hoard of butterflies in there waiting to be set free.

“I want to.” Steve breathes the words out, soft spoken like if he says them too loud it’ll scare you away. “If you want me to.”

Your mouth hangs open a little as you try to speak, words failing you completely. So you just nod, blinking quick a few times to make sure you’re actually awake and this isn’t just a cruel dream. “Yeah, I want you to.” You eventually manage, your voice cracking a little.

Steve moves carefully, his hand cupping your cheek so softly it’s almost as if he’s not touching you at all. You breathe in deep through your nose, closing your eyes in anticipation. You’re still not entirely convinced it’s happening until you feel his lips press against yours.

It’s slow and shy at first, a little unsure of what’s allowed when you’re kissing your best friend, when you finally cross that boundary. You tilt your head into his hand some more, as if to say it’s okay, permission to kiss you the way you’ve been dreaming about.

Your hand moves to Steve’s jaw, thumb running along his cheek against the stubble that was there after a couple of days of not shaving. You part your lips a little, and Steve takes your movements as a green light. He kisses you a little harder now, still gentle but with more behind it. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip making your breath hitch in your throat.

It’s a simple kiss, nothing crazy or wild but it’s just what you want. Because it was Steve, and he wants you.

When he finally pulls his mouth away from yours, he rests his forehead against your own. “Was that okay?”

You can’t help but giggle, because it’s such a ridiculous question to you. Of course it was okay, God, it was so much more than okay. “Yeah, Stevie, it’s okay.”

“So I can do it again?”

You’re both whispering, faces still so close that you don’t need to speak any louder. “Yeah, any time.”

Steve presses another gentle kiss to your lips, just a quick one this time but still as full of affection as first. You have to blink hard when he properly pulls away from you to try and stop your head from spinning.

“I wanna do this properly, y’know. Not just kiss you in my car. I wanna take you on a real date, wine and dine you.” Steve nudges your chin with his finger, head cocked to the side as he looks at you.

“I don’t really like wine.” You shrug. “I’ll give it a try though.”

“You’re a real trooper.”

“Anything for you.” You smile sweetly, and you mean it. You think you’d do absolutely anything for Steve Harrington. But it’s fine, because he’d do absolutely anything for you, too.

thank u so much for reading + thank u to the anon for the song rec / request <3

#i wrote this in one day im sorry its not proof read #but its here . i made it. i survived #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x female reader

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punkitt-is-here · 9 months

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How can I cultivate the same, "just keeping making stuff all the time" kind of energy you have? It's very impressive and something I wish I could do!

well, theres a couple reasons i think! one is that i just found ways to be satisfied with small amounts of work. its in part because of my ADHD, but my parents were always trying new things (motorcycles, leatherwork, acrylic paint, collage art, photography, video editing) so that definitely rubbed off on me; i had a great example of people just wanting to try stuff. i keep making stuff all the time because i love trying out new things; you don't have to be an expert to try something new! you just have to have a desire for it! wanna make a zine? google it! wanna write a comic? give it a shot! wanna get into woodworking? buy a carving knife and find a stick or something! i think theres plenty of ways to find entry points into interesting stuff and you gotta let yourself be okay with making shit that sucks just because its fun. which leads me to my second point!!

im okay with being dogshit at stuff! i try new things, i kind of suck at them, and i think it's either 1. cool that i made it this far or 2. kinda funny that this is what its like at the moment. i know that sucking is never permanent, everything can be improved with time, and rarely does anyone ever magically get good at something first try. i think of myself as a talented artist, but its over the course of 2+ decades of drawing; im always improving, and no matter what im going to find things i want to get better at, so why fault myself now for not being perfect? a couple of months ago i really wanted to try woodcarving, so i made spoon with my dad. did it turn out great? not really! you cant even use it as a spoon! but im glad i tried it, it was fun, i had a great time with my dad, and now i know a little bit more going in next time. the idea that you have to be perfect or make tangible progress every single time you try something new is a recipe for burnout. i promise you, it doesnt matter if something doesn't come out like God's Gift to Humanity! Did you have fun? did you learn something? are you satisfied in some small part? good!

(pictured: tha spoon)

last, im just really easy to please myself! I'll make a doodle or implement an idle animation in my game or color a piece and go "wow! thats so cool i did that :)" and it really is just a matter of realizing that its fucking COOL to create stuff, no matter how small! whatever you made didn't exist before you, especially in your own unique way, and now it does! doesn't that rule?! i'm obsessed with it! even if its just a stick figure, its a stick figure you made, and it wasn't there before. thats fucking awesome!!! art is so cool!!!! i think that being happy with small goals and victories is a great way of trying out new things and showing off cool stuff u made, no matter what skill level. :) this turned into a whole big thing, but i hope this helps! tl;dr is try things if they seem fun, be okay with not being good at them, and find stuff about it that makes you happy or satisfied!

#petegrammarman #my posts #asks #advice

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theteasetwrites · 23 days

Text

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 11: You Are My Queen

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI)—missionary, unprotected PiV (do not endorse, wrap it up), "fucked dumb" (more like "fucked tired") if you squint, food stuff (... idk it gets messy. Honey is involved.) ❧ Word Count: 10.2k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: After the defeat of Negan and his Saviors, you are confronted with the pain of what you've experienced, and you must confide in Daryl. Of course, the bittersweet moment becomes a reunion fit for lovers.

❧ A/N: Um so hi! You guys didn't think I was never gonna finish this did you? I mean I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I did it! I mean, I tried. I had a few different ideas for how to end the series, and then I realized that this isn't quite the end. I am going to write an "Epilogue" chapter that will just be wrapping up everything with Ezekiel and basically the princess telling her dad about Daryl. But for now, this is the end! Now I gotta focus on Begin Again now that I finally have this done(ish). Hope you guys like it, and thank you for waiting <3

Far from the carnage and warfare, miles away in a secluded wood, the hearth burned brightly, illuminating the small cottage in a warm glow that seemed so distinct from the deep, dark night that surrounded outside.

The scarlet wound on his thigh bubbling with vinegar and wine, you held a wooden spoonful of warmed honey, letting it drip slowly over the clean injury. After the bath you’d given him, he wore nothing, save for the loose drawstring braies of linen that reached just above his knee.

Your delicate fingers spread the translucent liquid gold over the surrounding skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you kept note of his visage. Though his face was relaxed, and softened by the warm glow of the fire, he was stoic. No matter how you treated his wound, he did not flinch, or so much as show any signs of discomfort or pain.

As you wrapped his leg with a clean gauze, you spoke to him, cutting through the silence that had settled between you for the last several minutes.

“Does it not hurt?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.

“No,” he replied simply, though that was not entirely true. The blade had been the worst hurt of it, but now, it was only a dull sting. Perhaps so much pain in his life had heightened his tolerance, or dulled his sense.

In fact, the sensation was pleasant. All he could really feel was the soft pads of your fingers gently spreading the liquid over his skin, the honey acting as a soothing agent after the cleansing properties of the wine and vinegar had settled into the open wound.

Wrapping the last bit of gauze around his thigh, you gently folded the linen of his braises back over, a soft puff of air escaping your lips all the while.

“You are brave,” you said, your eyes lifting with a gentle flutter of your lashes.

With a shift of your legs from underneath you, you carefully replaced the spoon of honey into its jar, setting it aside upon the floor next to you. It felt good to no longer be upon your feet, now bandaged and clean after Daryl had so adamantly insisted that you let him do so. Now, though, you’d tend to him, after everything he’d done for you that night.

But with the fortitude of a true knight, he did not show pain nor pride. He did not bask in any glory or relish in his victory. He did not shed a tear, his limp as he walked not slowing him down or keeping him from getting you to the safety of the cottage. Not only was he brave, but he was humble. The man you’d once called a sorry excuse for a knight had turned out to be a paragon of gallantry, though he never had to prove that to you. You’d known the error of your words since he returned to you that night so many moons ago, promising to take you beyond the walls without payment or worldly reward.

That seemed worlds away now. The way you’d looked at him then was a far cry from now, when before you was the embodiment of the greatest warmth and sweetness you’d ever felt. The swell in your chest had cut your breath short for a moment, while the knight shifted on the floor cushion upon which he sat, leaning forward to pull you closer by your hands, until you were cradled in his arms, your body curled up upon his lap and your head resting against his bare chest.

That was when your breath came back, the soothing motions of his hands caressing your sides reminding you of the safety he gave you now. Negan was no more, the Saviors were no more, and soon, your father and the surviving militia would meet you here, but now, there was nothing in this world except him, and you.

When time just began to crumble away, your eyes heavy with the promise of sleep, you were brought back to the surface of consciousness by his voice, steady and low.

“You are brave.”

A puff of amused air escaped your lips, though you did not contradict him, only listened as he spoke, that voice of his more soothing than the honey on his wound.

“You killed Negan.”

Though you could not regret your actions, you shivered at the thought of that moment, the knife driving into his back, the feeling of the blade tunneling through tissue and finally puncturing his frozen heart. It made you cling tighter to his chest, as if to cower from the memory that haunted you in the back of your mind.

“If you hadn’t, I would not be here now, holding you.”

Indeed, that was what he was made for―holding you, serving you. Just as you clung tighter to him, he held you with more strength, not out of fear that you’d be taken from him again, but out of sheer devotion.

“And I owe you my life.”

“No,” you replied, almost startling him as you lifted your head. As if by instinct, he held your chin softly, the calloused pad of his thumb stroking its soft skin in short, but slow, back and forth motions. “There is nothing that you owe to me. Certainly not your life.”

Though you remained stern in your expression of earnestness, his lips curled into a gentle smile.

“I owe you everything. My life’s devoted to serving you, you know that.”

But as you looked at him, his eyes so full of love and hope for the future he had with you, there was still a hesitation inside you. It was like a parasite, worming its way inside your heart to keep you from fully embracing the comfort he brought you. It had not held such an effect on you, until now. Now that you could comprehend it, the hideous guilt that troubled you so.

He could see it in your eyes now, too, as evidenced by his smile fading and his eyes, still filled with that same love, growing dim with concern.

“What is it?”

To keep it from him would only cause more abject pain, but to hurt him, to tell him of the betrayal that you believed you had committed against him. How could you go on, now that the thought of that man’s cold, slimy hands all over you would not let you rest in the arms of the man who truly loved you?

And if you told him, would he rebuff you, disavow his love for you and never even hold you again?

“Nothing,” you said, but the quiver in your slowly faltering voice betrayed you, and the feeling of a cold, dead hand strangled around your heart made you shiver. He brought you closer to his chest, where warmth briefly tore you from the icy snare of guilt and shame. It was only a temporary respite, though. The only way to rid yourself of this regret was to tell him.

Another man’s mouth had been on yours, the salty, bitter taste of which you swore still lingered and made a mockery of your once pure lips. You’d truly never felt that Daryl had ever taken any purity from you. In fact, he made you more pure, but the bitterness of Negan’s filthy tongue had sullied you, you believed, and now you were nothing more than a broken woman, despite how whole you felt when he held you in his arms.

“Tell me,” he said, with that eerie whisper of knowing on his breath. Even the soothing circular movements of his splayed out hand on the small of your back were made with careful concern. Indeed, he knew that whatever troubled you must have been to do with what had transpired within the last week.

Afterall, the blot of watercolor black and blue around your eye gave him an inkling, one which made anger well up in him like molten lava bubbling to the surface, igniting him with a kind of rage that was strong enough to bring that scum of a man back to life just to slice his head clean off a second time. And, oh, would he do it again if he had the chance, just to know, again and again and again, that the man who tormented his princess could never bring more harm to her, or anyone else.

“Daryl, I…”

Your words having fizzled out into thin air, you shook your head and loosened yourself from his arms, as though you were unworthy of their embrace. The more you thought of that night, the more you believed that to be true.

“What happened?” he asked, his body beginning to stiffen as he mirrored you—both of you frozen in fear of whatever you would say, if you would say anything at all.

For a moment, he felt both weightless and heavy, in some kind of strange limbo wherein worry overtook his physicality before any words could confirm the worst of his fears. It washed the color from his face, where once a warm pink had blossomed from the feeling of the nearby hearth and your body so close to his, once again, after everything that had happened.

Now, he could only begin to think of the heinous things that could’ve been done to you… Knowing how Negan had looked at you, how he touched you that night of the joust. There was something sinister in his eyes then, and now, there was a similar dread in your expression as you looked away from him, eyelids heavy and head downturned.

With a gentle hand on your shoulder, his instinct to hold you too strong to completely ignore without at least a single touch, he began to speak again—voice quiet yet raspy.

“Did he… did he touch you?”

Of course, he had, but what Daryl meant by his words seemed deeper than their surface level definition. The vitriol in his voice, the sting of the word touch, which once might have been so much more beautiful on his lips, was palpable, lacerating your heart further. If it wasn’t for the pain of the guilt, you would still feel the hurt of the sadness in his voice.

You raised your eyes to meet his, though his face was blurred in the haze of your tears. A kind of shocked concern shaped his expression as he held your cheek with so much delicateness, as though you were but an assemblage of rose petals sewn together with gossamer twine.

He spoke your name now, low and almost a whisper. There was something so earnest about that, the way he called you only by your name and nothing else. No title, no epithet. Just you, just a woman, but not just a woman at all—a woman for whom he’d give the skin off his back to keep warm.

With his fingers laced delicately through your hair, he begged you with his eyes, glassy and clear, almost translucent to the point you swore you could see his soul bared before you. Even just in his stare, he made himself vulnerable to you, and soon, whatever fear you had of him turning on you melted under that comforting, warm gaze. Just for a moment, you gave in, and used your tongue to forcibly tear out the words that were stuck in your throat.

But still, you could not look at him as you spoke.

“Yes, he…” Your voice trailed off, followed by a deep breath of air you’d hoped would give you the strength to continue, but it only brought forth the tears that threatened to give way.

Two big arms encircled you hesitantly, slowly enough to allow you to break free had you not craved his touch, but his touch was all that could give you peace now. No further questions were needed, he surmised. He wasn’t sure he could even bear to know more of what was done to you, so he kept you in his grasp, which you did not fight.

With a shaky voice, he spoke against your cheek as he held onto you. Your head found a cradle in his shoulder, where tears wetted his bare skin. On his breath was a gentle shhh sound, like a light breeze rustling the leaves of an ancient oak in cool night air. It comforted you, along with the steady motion of his hands on your back, moving in slow, languid circles.

But no longer could you only contain your emotions to your sobs. Now, you raised your head and faced him, looking him sharply in the eye despite the pain that singed your heart with each syllable:

“I had a plan,” you began. “I… I only wanted to get close to him. He called me to his chambers… I had a knife. I let him touch me…” Once again, you could no longer hold his gaze. You continued on, now tripping over your own words as you scrambled to explain, through a tear-soaked voice that trembled in fear of whatever reaction you’d receive. “Only just with his lips… His filthy lips. Then as soon as I could, I tried to stab him. I swear, all I wanted was to get close to him, long enough to kill him.”

The knight only looked at you with a steady gaze, one that only softened with each passing moment. You felt his arms tighten around you, and you weren’t sure if it was an attempt to comfort you, or to suffocate you. Either way, you would’ve died a thousand times to feel that touch.

But you longed most of all, now, to know exactly what he was thinking. To hear those words you knew must’ve been brewing inside that head of his—those words that would crush you under the weight of their rebuke. Though those words never came, no shame or disappointment, only another kind of pain in his eyes. A pain that was born of your sadness as each tear you shed sent a new wave of agony through his aching body.

Shakily, you whispered to him, pleading in all but words for him to tell you how much he hated you for betraying him, for letting another man touch you. “My love… Won’t you end my suffering and speak to me?”

At times, Daryl’s movements carried more meaning that any service his vocal cords could provide. All he could do in that moment was hold you by your cheeks, his thumbs meandering in circles to gently rub the tears into your skin.

And, finally, he did speak, but his words caught you off guard far more than you thought possible.

“What are you afraid of, princess?”

Afraid of?

“I… I do not understand.”

“The look in your eyes, the fear. You look afraid of me. Why?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat as you shook your head, both in denial and in confusion. “I do not fear you.”

Quite the contrary, you wanted nothing more for him to hold you until your heart gave out.

“I—I fear that you will detest me,” you continued, now trying desperately to let your tears drown out your words. “I fear I’ve betrayed you.”

In your mind, you had, and Daryl would have had every right to leave you now: alone and pitiful. Though he didn’t. He only kept his eyes on yours, and though you had a shameful urge to look away, you could not tear your gaze from his. There was no spite in his eyes, no bitterness or loathing. Not even anger.

All you could see in his eyes was the same gentleness, the same kindness and utter servitude that he devoted to you with each passing moment his eyes took you in. That sentiment had always been there, nothing had changed, no matter what you could say. It would never change. There was no enmity there, only the strength of his love for you.

His hands held your cheeks still, pulling you gently closer until his forehead softly touched yours. The feeling made you shudder, as though still you could never fully comprehend the sensation his touch gave to you. You were sure that you would never get quite used to that feeling, though you never wanted to. That sense of novelty was a pleasant sensation all on its own.

“My princess,” he said, his grainy voice barely above a whisper as his nose touched yours. His lips began to upturn ever so slightly into the softest smile, natural and sweet. “There’s nothin’ you could do to make me think that.”

As you shuddered a shaky breath, he held you closer still. You let out a heavy sigh, one that felt like it had been lingering deep inside you ever since you escaped the Sanctuary.

“You’re trembling,” he said, running his coarse fingertips along the exposed skin of your neck, until his hand met the loose neckline of his chemise that you borrowed, draped over you more like a dress than a shirt as the oversized garment reached just below your thighs. He leaned back to look at you, still sniffling back tears. With a strong hand, he swept back your hair to nestle it in the warm crevice behind your ear.

“You cold?” he asked, already beginning to tug a blanket from under a nearby cushion. “Here—”

“No.” Your suddenness nearly startled him. It reminded you just how fragile he was, no matter how reluctant he was to show it. “I’m all right.”

Daryl knew, though, that you still could not shake the guilt, like a vulture’s ravenous gnawing at your heart. He knew you too well, so well that it almost frightened him. There was no one else with whom he could see through, whose transparency reflected a deep, intrinsic understanding beyond conscious comprehension. The depths of you were overwhelming, but he could never fight the profound urge to navigate them, despite the sadness that his love’s empathy could bring.

With a deep breath of his own, he brought you back to his lap. The ease with which he could manipulate your body with the most gentle yet sudden caress would never fail to momentarily paralyze you. You melted into his arms once again. It was only a matter of time before you became completely at his mercy, though there was absolutely no part of you that protested, except maybe that last shred of guilt.

“You know I love you,” he said. “You know I serve you.” You must have broken out into a smile, because he, too, smiled. “And you know that you’re here now. You’re alive. Whatever you did to get here, whatever I did to get here… They’re sacrifices—risks.”

You found your hands returning to his body, their place on his broad, firm shoulders solidified like indentations in concrete. Swallowing hard, you felt a chill run through you, but it was not from the fear of losing him now—it was the effect of his touch, his hands having found their way beneath the shirt he lent you, sprawled out over your back, stroking in gentle rhythms.

“Daryl.” Your voice seemed to crumble under the pressure of the air that you spoke shakily into, the utterance of his name so delicate upon your trembling lips. “What I did, it haunts me. Perhaps you can forgive me, but how will I forgive myself, when I let that man—”

He did not let you utter another word before he interrupted, his own voice soft with sympathy. How he could remain so patient with you in this state, you would never know.

“I know your heart, I know you.” Now he all but forced your weary head to rest upon his chest, where the gentle beating of his heart warmed your cheek. “The only anger I have is for the man who touched you, not you.”

But still, it was hard for you to forget. The only cure to that ailment seemed to be Daryl’s touch, his assurance that he loved you beyond what words could convey. You needed his touch, but not just skin to skin. There was more, a lingering desire that floated between you perpetually, yet was stronger now than ever before.

It was a desire that penetrates, that longs to be penetrated. The kind that only lovers of the truest caliber could satisfy in the company of one another, the company which you had been deprived of for far too long.

The pestilence Sir Negan left for you to wallow in would only be destroyed by the greatest expression of love—that which made all pain and sorrow and suffering pale in comparison to the feeling of knowing that your heart was in the safe hands of no one else but him, your lover.

Your knight.

When silence overcame you, he uttered your name softly against one cheek, while his hand delicately brushed over the other. If he touched you anywhere else, you might crumble into a million pieces, like an ancient Grecian statue carved from the most fragile marble.

Only the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth could be heard against your soft breaths caressing the shell of his ear, while your hands crept carefully up his chest, brushing over the creases of his underarms to grasp at his shoulders. They felt so hard, so firm and unbreakable. You held them tighter now, and in response, he tightened his arms around your waist to bring you ever closer, until your lips found his.

The kiss was tender, light, each of your lips dancing softly over the other’s. With a tilt of his head and a brief respite, he caught your lips again, this time more firmly, yet still somehow cautious.

Perhaps he’d never grow completely forthcoming in his lust for you, which seemed almost sacrilegious, yet somehow sacred. He knew that he’d be killed for this, but how on God’s green earth was he going to keep his hands off you? How could any star up above in those vast, empyreal heavens compare to the gleam in your eyes when he uttered your name, each syllable dripping with honeyed cadence? How could the rich, melodic refrain of any skilled bard’s lute come close to the dulcet sighs that tickled his ears so delectably, almost tauntingly? How could there be anything more soft, more supple, than your body—that which occupied his thoughts far more often than he could ever truly admit?

Even your scent roused his most lustful thoughts, that sweet citrusy musk entangled with heady notes of the most intoxicating rose, the petals of which could not compare to the plump, velvety lips he traced his work-worn thumb over now, parting them gently until a sliver of darkness formed, with just a flash of white where your teeth could be seen.

Finally, those lips opened just a bit more to speak again. “I want to forget that night,” you said. “I want to forget everything that’s happened… besides you.”

Truly, nothing was of consequence to you now, but him. You wanted to be enveloped in him. To be absorbed in him. To be one with him.

If he hadn’t been so lost in the vibrant hue of your glittering eyes, speckled with sparks alight from the nearby hearth, he might’ve noticed the feeling of your hands exploring his bare chest, your palms melting against the buttery surface of those defined muscles. When the sparkle in your eye lost his attention, he did feel it—that soft touch with just a hint of something more… indecent.

With a slow, meandering movement, never taking those silvery blue eyes from yours, he took both of your hands in his, where they rested so delicately in the strong cradle of his warm palms. He brought them to his lips, the touch of which was so featherlight that you could barely even hear the sound of them pressing an ever so sweetly suggestive kiss to your hands.

It was then that the chemise you wore slid slowly off your shoulder, its size much too big for your frame. With even just your collarbone and the slope of your neck now exposed, much to the delight of his increasingly wandering eyes, he knew there was no escape from the desperation you awakened in him. Only it was not just desperation, but the insatiable urge to provide for you the comfort you so needed. It was written clear as day in your eyes.

Even so, you could not let the heavy air between you go without another plea, though it seemed to him almost like a command—from a princess to a knight.

“Make me forget.”

And so he obliged, not with another kiss, but with a tight grip on your waist, lifting you until you sat upon his lap, where the heat of his center warmed the bare underside of your thighs. After he took a moment to gather his thoughts in the midst of his sudden haste, he did not keep you in that position for long. The feeling of your weight upon his lap was too divine, nearly too much. If he took you now with too much urgency, that which was so strong he could hardly hide it, he might reach the peak of his pleasure much too soon.

So you were caught in a slight whirlwind for just a moment, in one last burst of quickness punctuated by a low, raspy rumble in his voice. Now you were laid out rather ungracefully, resting on piles of weaved woolen blankets and furs strewn loosely upon the floor.

There was not as much hesitation now, having already seen your body in its most bare form. He lifted the chemise over your head with ease, and when the fabric no longer obscured your vision, you met his face—a gentle, almost unnoticeable curl of his lip.

Above you, his eyes took their time roaming your chest, but not just your breasts. There was a delicateness to you everywhere—the slope of your collarbones, the way your shoulders rolled as you started to grow aroused, the pulsing of the strained tendons in your neck.

But before he could bring his lips to kiss your neck as he so deliberately planned on doing, he noticed the now tipped over jar of amber-colored honey slowly dripping from the lip of the vessel onto the floor, not far from where your hair had been strewn about amidst the sudden movements of passion. Those same movements must’ve caused the nearby jar to lose its balance.

Now brought to his attention, the silken honey seemed to shimmer with a warm, enticing glow. His heavy, blown-out eyes returned to your body, now with a sparkle of mischief, perhaps. You weren’t entirely sure, as you’d rarely seen such a quality in his gaze before.

In a trance of combined anticipation and confusion as the man held his half-naked body over yours, you looked up at him with innocent questioning.

“My knight?” you asked quietly, your voice only a faint, fragile whisper, delicate as a butterfly’s wing. “You seem confounded.” A soft tickle of laughter trailed off from your voice. “Does something trouble you? You moved with such vigor only a moment ago.”

He was unsure of how to explain in words the idea that came to him then, though you seemed to have grown accustomed to his sometimes reticent nature. That would prove to work in his favor now, as he all but remained silent in response to your questioning, opting instead only to scoop a bit of honey onto his index and middle fingers, slowly removing them from the jar with a hefty glob of the sticky substance.

You turned your head to watch in confusion, which quickly became concern.

“Does your wound need more honey? Does it hurt?”

“No,” he replied simply, with a more serious tone of lust to his deep, gravelly voice, the vibrations of which sent a fresh shiver down your spine.

For several moments, you were held hostage by his gaze, which roamed down the expanse of your neck. Your heavy breathing told him what he needed to know—the way your chest heaved with each passing second. You craved him, more than ever before, perhaps. With each new breath, he swore he could hear a slight pleaing whimper just trailing behind.

Without another moment’s hesitation, he brought his honey-drenched fingers to your lips, already slightly agape.

But he did not want to force the liquid into your mouth, only to coat your lips in its sweetness.

So he traced the shape of your lips, leaving behind a trail of gold sheen to glaze the soft, plump skin. Despite your slight disorientation, you allowed him to do as he pleased. After all, there was no other way to forget the pain of all that you’d experienced. No other way to be completely enveloped in the pleasure of love.

Soon you could taste the honey seeping into your mouth, dripping slowly onto your tongue. It tasted sweet, of course, but as his lips gently pressed to yours, the taste seemed even sweeter.

Between your lips was a sticky mess of warm sighs and saccharine wetness, with his tongue invading your mouth impatiently, swirling feverishly as your hands reached up to grasp at his shoulders.

Your touch ignited a fire in him, deep in the pit of his stomach, from which a guttural moan melted into your mouth.

And he knew there was more of your body that he needed, more skin he could drench in the warm nectar of the honey, more skin he could lick clean.

A fragile sigh escaped your trembling lips as he separated himself from you abruptly, though the disappointment in your voice compelled him to return to your honeyed lips for just a moment to kiss them in an offer of apology for his momentary departure.

He separated once more, leaning to the side to find the jar of honey, and immediately collecting another hefty, dripping glob of golden syrup.

There was a shaky whimper in your voice when he trailed his honey-drenched fingers over your breast, circling slowly around the nipple.

The more he applied to the soft tissue of your nipple, the more the substance globbed and began to drip slowly, like molasses, down the slope of your breast, making your back arch at the tickling sensation.

The knight could only watch your breast become drenched in translucent golden liquid, the subtle scent tempting him to come closer, until you could feel his warm breath against your heaving chest.

An absent-minded sigh escaped your quivering lips, with his name: “Daryl…”

Just as he heard it, his own name spoken on the wings of a swan’s breath, his flattened tongue caught a plump drip of gold slowly making its way down your breast.

He licked upwards then, reaching the hardened bud of your nipple, where his tongue circled eagerly now, yet with a slowness just enough to delay your pleasure, to properly torment you with his toying attention.

But his own temptation prompted him to take the whole sweetened nipple into his mouth, which craved above all else to taste every inch of you—the delicate, virtuous princess writhing naked underneath him as he made use of your body to the fullest extent of his desire.

With his mouth upon your aroused nipple, he suctioned his lips, now himself becoming too impatient to merely kiss the engorged flesh.

The feeling sent your head reeling backwards against the pillow, with a low, breathy moan. Each kiss made you cry out louder, more impatiently as your body craved more of his kisses.

But what he wanted was more honey.

So he took the jar again, this time tilting it so that the golden liquid began to drizzle in zigzag patterns over your chest, then your stomach.

Now you felt drenched in honey, sticky with it. Not to the point of discomfort, but amusement at his fascination with it, his tongue now licking up the trail.

You let out a quiet laugh, your voice low and sultry as you began to speak. “You’re making a mess of me.”

He did not stop lapping up at the drizzled honey, except to look up at you with a subtle mischief gleaming in his eyes of quicksilver blue for a few moments, long enough to say, “A very sweet mess.”

Soon his lips returned to yours, while his chest pressed against yours in a sticky embrace. You couldn’t help but laugh softly against my mouth, while your hands reached up to loosely tangle in the soft umber colored tresses upon his head.

And it felt like heaven to him then—your softness underneath him, your own sweet taste overpowering the saccharine honey, the tickle of your laugh fluttering against his lips, the slight scratch of your fingernails upon his scalp, the intoxicating warmth between your legs opening up to take him in as your legs wrapped around his waist.

That eagerness of yours made him snicker. Unable to resist the urge to chide you a bit, he pulled his lips away for a moment.

“Your highness seems restless,” he said, nodding his nose against yours with a small but wicked smile curling to one side of his face. “I thought princesses were supposed to be patient and proper.”

With a tilt of your head, you glared up at him, only with a very slight sense of playful annoyance.

“You know nothing of patience or propriety, depraved knight. It is you who so wantonly tempts my resolve… Who compels me to crave your devilish touch, which causes my weary mind such carnal turmoil.”

The knight’s quiet laugh seeped out from the charmingly crooked crack in his lips. With a low hum, somewhere between amusement and lust, he leaned down to kiss his increasingly restless princess once more.

When the kiss broke, he brushed the back of his hand against your heated cheek in soothing motions as he spoke softly against your slightly pouty agape lips.

“Those are big words,” he said, with a low rumble of laughter underscoring his scratchy voice. “They sure sound pretty on your lips.”

As your hands absentmindedly roamed the broad expanse of his heaving chest, the muscles underneath the hair-speckled flesh flexing under your soft touch, you met his gaze from above you with a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

“My love,” you hummed softly, your eyelashes fluttering slowly against his cheek as his mouth roamed aimlessly over yours. “You torment me with your caresses… Your sweet touch.”

“You said it was devilish,” he replied between kisses, using your dramatized words against you.

“It is,” you laughed softly. “Devilish and sweet. But it’s your touch. I wish to feel it every moment of every day and every night for all eternity, and the eternity after that, and before that, and every eternity in between.”

Daryl’s hand lifted to the side of your face, gently placing a strand of unruly hair behind your ear, to continue his increasingly feverish onslaught of kisses on your other cheek.

“Yes, your highness,” he replied, much to your amusement. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“Mm, you’re mine.”

After a momentary pause, he seemed to turn more serious—almost frightening—as he grabbed you with more impatient vigor, your arms having no choice but to cling around his neck. With your face surrounded by soft tresses of brown hair, you let out an instinctive cry, as though he was a predator and you were prey, about to be devoured. Though there was nothing in your biology that compelled you to fight him off. You’d accepted your fate, and you welcomed it.

Your weight was suddenly cradled by the softness of the bed beneath you, though your legs were still wrapped tightly around Daryl’s waist. That did not keep him restrained for long, for he soon unraveled himself from your entanglement and began to strip himself of his worn linen braies.

There was hardly any time to marvel at his anatomy—he soon climbed back over you, catching your breath with his mouth once again. You could at least feel his now unhindered length, though. You could feel it harden between your legs, where the warmth of your soft thighs made his cock begin to twitch from the pressure.

As though your body wasn’t close enough for his liking, he looped his arm under the arch of your back, lifting you up just enough to feel your belly pressed against his. If he concentrated enough, he swore he could feel the delicate fluttering of your excitement inside you.

The tingling became stronger now, his body moving above you with enough rhythm to force his cock against the fleshy folds between your legs. The feeling was still so foreign, having only felt it in its fullest form once before, but you knew that tingle just from the sight of him, the smell of him, the taste of him. He did not even need to touch you there to make your body react in such a way, you were certain.

Taking notice of your soft moans against his lips, and the slight gyration of your body, he used his free hand to find the warmth that so enticed him. His fingers settled in that crevice, staying still for a moment, until by some impulse they began to move. Up and down, up and down… A rhythmic motion not unlike the way the rest of his body moved, too. For your part, you broke the kiss to let out a moan that could not be contained by the velvet cage of his adoring mouth any longer.

“Oh!”

Your head had tilted back so far that your neck was now exposed, completely subject to his will. As his hand moved not faster, but with more pressure, more insistence, he trailed his lips down your jawline, leaving messy, imprecise kisses along your perfumed skin.

Applying increasing pressure, he sank his fingertips into you, that warm, sodden opening between your legs. The sensation was still so new, though the slight burning pain was less than before. You only clenched your teeth slightly, feeling his fingers extend deeper within you, curling upwards toward your belly.

For a moment, he could not pay attention to anything but the way you felt—the way your body reacted to his invasion. Your passageway seemed to pulse around his fingers ever so slightly, as if it was some innate reaction, coercing his fingers further.

He only noticed your slight discomfort when he looked at you, your eyes shut tight. He pressed his lips to your cheek, his hair falling in your face. It was soft, yet ticklish, like a curtain of brown feathers draped over you.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice a soft, soothing whisper. If his touch wasn’t pleasing you enough, his voice so gentle and yet gruff was sure to push you over the edge of pleasure and into the realm of extraordinary bliss. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s only slight… You’re quite gentle.”

Against your cheek, you could feel his lips curl into a smile. All the while, his fingers moved slowly, back and forth, migrating between the shallow part of you, and the deepest part.

“Do you like it this way, your highness? Slow… gentle? I could go faster, but I don’t wanna hurt you.”

With a laugh, you shook your head, amused. “You could hurt me and it would still feel like heaven.”

He smiled down at you, then pressed another kiss to those plump, agape lips, sparkling with wetness and trembling with desire. Daryl was never a particularly confident man, but something about the way you wanted him, craved him beyond anything he’d ever known, he felt like he had the whole world in his hands.

And now, he felt the world quake and shiver round his curled fingers, an accumulation of warm wetness pooling where his knuckles breached the entrance of your body in repetitive motions. Coupled with the aching softness of your uncontrollable moans were the sounds of his fingers moving inside you, the rhythmic, involuntary squeezing of the canal creating drenched and airy sighs of its own.

As his fingers pulsed inside of you, you clung tightly to his shoulders, the tan, sun-freckled skin stretched thinly over defined muscles. A strained sigh escaped your lips as your fingers dug into his skin. Daryl’s pace slowed steadily to keep you from coming too soon, but he knew you were so very close.

It amused him a little, the way your body was so sensitive to his touch. He found arousal in the way he could so easily bring you the ultimate pleasure, and the way he could withhold it at will. Despite how subservient he was to you, he could not help but revel in the dominance that came over him when so much control of your perfect body was given willingly over to him.

But you sighed and pouted as his fingers paused inside of you. Opening your eyes, you tilted your head and looked up at him—he traced your jawbone with his finger, while the fingers he had inside you playfully wiggled upwards to make you shiver.

“Daryl,” you sighed, not quite sure what else to say but his name.

In response, he smiled as hazy silvery blue eyes roamed your face, taking in each and every flawless feature. “You’re so beautiful… My sweet angel. I’d like to have you like this forever.”

Though your heart fluttered at his sweet words, you could only muster a few words, as your body anticipated its release: “Do not stop.”

But he did the opposite, removing his fingers altogether and leaving you throbbing, writhing desperately as you groaned softly.

Panting, he sat up, lifting himself up from the bed to look at you, taking you in for a moment as he decided on what to do next. After all, he was leading the way.

Before you could say another word, or even lift up your head to see what he was up to, you felt his hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you towards him as he stood at the end of the bed.

You managed a surprised exclamation at the sudden jolt, your legs now spread just wide enough to fit his body as he climbed over you, his weight holding you against the bed. Now he kissed you again, with lips and tongue moving wildly over yours. Lost in this passion, you found your hands exploring the wide, muscular surface of his back, moving in erratic circles. With each flex of his muscles underneath your soft palms, you let out a breathy sigh, swallowed by his mouth on yours.

As much as you craved his kiss, you knew you craved the hardness between his legs that was pulsing against your sodden entrance more. It was so close to being inside you, so close to that feeling you had only known once before, that you coveted ever since he first made love to you. There was an overwhelming emptiness there always now, where you hadn’t quite felt one before. You had known the carnal pleasures of sex, and now it was like a curse of desire had overtaken you. Not a desire just for the feeling, but for him, and the feeling only he could give to you.

He felt your desire, too. It only heightened his own as his lower body moved against yours, assuaging his hunger for the embrace of your body just enough to keep him from spoiling this moment of closeness with his impatience. You deserved more than a quick burst of passion that ended in an underwhelming sensation of relief. That was what he’d only known before, after all―mindless, loveless moments with nameless, faceless women who could satisfy his purely biological need in the most practical exchange of goods. These occasions were few and far between, but never satiating beyond that primal desire. This was unlike anything he’d felt before, and to make love to someone, real love, was a change of pace he had to orient himself with. A most welcome change, of course.

But he could not hold out much longer, he knew this of his body well enough. So at last he pulled his lips away from yours, his focus turning to the space where your bodies were so close to connecting. He reached down, with a series of gruff pants escaping between his lips, to bring the tip of his cock to your entrance.

There was just a tickle of his flesh brushing against yours, but it was enough to elicit a shiver and a sigh against his sweat-dripping cheek. There, you pressed your lips to his face, with the salt of his clammy skin on your tongue. As he slowly entered you, you felt your body loosen, no longer tense with need, but now just beginning to feel full and warm.

And with a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself further. Despite how slow he tried to move, he could not waste another moment―he did not want for anything in this moment but to be completely inside of you.

The feeling lingered for a while as both of your bodies rested in place. He did not move, neither did you. There was only the erratic beating of your hearts and the heavy breaths escaping your lips. Daryl’s head found its place in the space between your head and your shoulder, where he found refuge in the warmth of your hair, scented with galgant and cloves.

Though you could bask forever in the feeling of him inside you, still and deep, your desire was to feel him move again.

As if on their own accord, your hands moved swiftly down his back to squeeze the flesh of his buttocks, as you’d call it. Ass, as he would call it, you were sure. The feeling elicited a laugh which tickled your cheek.

“Where did you learn to do that, princess?”

“Nowhere,” you replied, just as he lifted himself up to look down upon you. There was a look of playfulness in his eyes, with a considerable amount of increasingly impatient lust. It excited you more, so you moved yourself as much as you could in an attempt to feel the friction of his cock inside you.

Amused at your clumsy wiggling, he relented with a subtle swirl of his hips and a movement of his body which pulled him further out of you, until he slowly buried himself deeper again.

His arms propped up the bulk of his weight as he moved in and out of you at increasing pace, his breath becoming more and more ragged all the while. Nothing could hold him back as he began to lose control of himself. Every cell in his body screamed for release, and he couldn’t slow down now. His lower body moved faster with each thrust that shook you to your core, where the tingly feeling of pleasure was building up inside once again.

Wide-eyed and breathless, your hands moved to his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself steady, but it was no use. His sheer physical strength and size was enough to make your body practically seize from the force of his thrusts. In these desperate, hungry movements, there was a deep reverence—a kind of devotion you’d never known before, not even as a princess. He made love to you like it was an act of worship, in every conceivable way.

From the way he focused on you, as though the sun and stars revolved around you, to the feeling of his body making every frantic, passionate movement not only to sate his need, but to please you, he wanted nothing more than to serve you, as was his sworn oath.

And as you came closer to losing control of your loins, your body squeezed and writhed around him. In a fit of pleasure, so close to the precipice of bliss, your back arched and your head was thrown backwards with an involuntary spasm, as your legs clenched tight around his waist to draw him further into you.

He was so deep, and you felt so full. The pain was there, lingering, as you were stretched open again and again. In all your ignorance, a part of you feared he’d tear you open, but you trusted him—your gallant, noble knight.

Now your hands held for dear life to his upper arms, where well-worn and well-defined muscles gleamed with sweat and ached with each part of him that needed release, which was soon to come. Your heavy, quickened breaths formed a pattern that seemed to match his, with occasional moans, groans, and even a slight curse or two escaping his tightened lips.

And soon, a sudden wave of vibrations overtook you—that sensation you’d been dreaming of since the first night he bedded you. It was like a hurricane sweeping through your body, each new pulse of tingling pleasure surging through you like a strong gust of wind that left you squirming and crying out underneath him.

It was a feast for his eyes to see you like this, and to know just how much power his love held over you. With each gasp, each breathy moan, each soft convulsion that contorted your body, he lost himself in your bliss.

He couldn’t help but kiss your trembling lips as your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, pulling his body further against you and into your pulsing center. This feeling, along with the soft dance of his tongue across and around yours, drew him closer to his own release.

It had been buried deep in the back of his mind from the moment he realized you were taken—that terrible longing, tainted by the fear that never again would he feel this again. Of course he knew the most important thing was rescuing you and returning you home safe, but there was that selfish part of him that desired you carnally, because once was not enough.

Now that you were safe, he feared he’d never be able to go another second without you again.

So, with a final deep thrust and a hearty groan, he let his body go. He was quick enough to free himself from you, releasing the buildup of his arousal onto the soft inside of your thigh.

The warmth tickled you slightly as it trickled down. You watched through hazy, lidded eyes as Daryl’s hand stroked his pulsing cock until it was rendered limp as if with exhaustion. His body drooped over yours, his head cradled against your shoulder. Fast, heavy breaths warmed your neck. In a matter of seconds, he caught his breath enough to catch your lips with his once more.

Heady air thick with the scent of honey and sex swirled between your bodies, moving languidly beneath the fur blanket Daryl had draped over the two of you somewhere between lazy, sweaty kisses and tangled arms.

Tonight was different than the first night you made love. That night, the passionate fire he stoked inside of you kept your mind alert enough to stay awake with him into the wee hours of the morning, murmurs of dreams and worries slipping between your lips. Tonight, you could hardly keep your eyes open once you’d felt your body sink into the straw-filled cot beneath you.

Daryl, in his lust, hadn’t noticed you’d begun to drift off as he showered you in kisses. When your hands began to slowly lose their tight, needful grip on his shoulders, he let his lips separate from yours with a smile. Your head sank like an anchor onto the pillow beneath you. With your last sensation the feeling of your knight’s lips pressed gently to your temple, you entered a deep, much-needed sleep.

The night was still when you awoke in a slight daze, colored a deep brownish orange from the flicker of the dying hearth. Your newborn senses clung to the feeling of the soft fur beneath your outstretched hand, where once Daryl lay.

You stirred awake at the realization of his absence. Sitting up, the fur blanket fell from your body to expose your naked breasts. A sudden shock dispelled any last remnants of sleep. You weren’t at all accustomed to sleeping in the nude, after all.

Moreover, you feared something, though you weren’t quite sure what, had happened to your knight.

As you raised yourself from the modest cot to dress yourself in the once discarded chemise, you could not help the fearful thought of whatever remained of the Saviors taking Daryl from you, leaving you alive in some cruel, twisted act of revenge for the death of their leader.

But as you stepped outside, into the darkness of the early morning, Daryl’s voice, grainy and soft, came to you through the crisp air. In your slight daze from waking just moments ago, it took you a moment or two to recognize his voice speaking your name.

Your eyes caught up faster than your ears when you turned to see him, illuminated only by the light of a small lantern placed on the pebbled ground near his feet. He was dressed already, a simple tunic of linen white, with a wool cloak of deep indigo on his back. The closer you stepped towards him, the more the almost crimson glow of the majestic Friesian’s coat shimmered to distinguish the creature from the black of night.

“Phantom?” you spoke softly, rubbing your sleep-heavy eyes as if to wake yourself from a dream. You’d almost forgotten about the loyal steed, and it was hard to imagine him surviving the chaos of the battle just hours ago, but then again, you survived.

Phantom seemed to perk up at the sound of your voice. He lifted his head to meet your eyes, and left the side of his master to slowly come towards you. The gentle creature’s muzzle seemed to slide perfectly between your delicate hands as he huffed a breath of air. After a few moments of accepting your pets, he raised his head to nuzzle your shoulder, nearly putting you off balance with the sheer force of the large animal’s affections.

Daryl flinched for a moment, about ready to lunge forward to catch you if you fell, but you caught yourself with your back foot, laughing despite the slight pain of the raw blisters that began to form there from last night’s escapades.

“Oh, I am so glad to see you.” The horse lowered his head as if in reverence, some kind of formal acknowledgement of your voice. You ran your fingers through Phantom’s silky forelock, which you knew to be quite pleasing to the destrier. “I thought I might never do so again.”

“He found his way home.” Daryl’s voice came closer, until you felt the warmth of his chest against your back. His chin rested upon your shoulder, a comforting weight. “Like he always does.”

Daryl’s arms squeezed tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. While still lavishing attention upon the rather needy horse before you, you closed your eyes and took in his scent of pine and honey. But you did not stay still long, turning to see his face you’d dreamed of, just to remember that he was real. Phantom, though, huffed in slight disappointment.

“When will my father come?” you asked quietly. Something about the stillness and the darkness of the early morning, just a matter of time before the sun would begin to rise, made you whisper.

Daryl’s chin lifted towards the distant horizon, where the first sliver of dawn slowly parted the darkness of night to give in to the pale light of morning.

“He said we’d meet here at first light. Should be any moment now.”

Daryl’s mind drifted elsewhere. Last night’s events had left him with a whirlwind of emotions and revelations. Negan’s death brought with it the triumph of war, the splendor of victory that he knew well from practically a lifetime of battle. And with war came the inevitable grief of countless lives lost. Daryl’s thoughts lingered on the duke, the prince, and the rogue Savior who’d helped them. He wondered if they’d made it out of the dungeon alive.

And when those thoughts gave way to the realization that, within only a matter of time, you would return to the arms of your father, and no longer would you be his. The king would never understand your love for each other. Why should he, anyway? Daryl was of lowly birth, even if he was a knight. As much as he wanted to believe King Ezekiel would allow him to marry you, he knew he was more likely to end up headless at the mere suggestion.

As he held you now, and as he knew you in the most sacred passions of love that you had shared, you were not just a princess, but his princess. When you were away from him, the world around you blissfully unaware of the truth, you were just a princess. Not his, at least as far as the world was concerned. Despite all logic, he knew there would need to be a time when the love between you was not hidden in the shadows of the forest.

Daryl’s pensiveness was not lost on you now. You felt him cling tighter to you as he looked off into the distance, a heaviness in his face. Your hand caressed his cheek with enough pressure to bring his attention back to you. His expression became lighter by just a tad, but whatever plagued his thoughts was still lingering.

“What is it, my love?”

“Nothing, I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if to rid himself of these worries. “I wish we had more time.”

Where there was once a look of concern blossomed a sweet smile that was almost potent enough to make him forget your father altogether.

“We always have time. We will make time, like we always have.”

But in your heart, you knew what he meant, and you felt the same. How long could you go on like this, hiding your love from your father? Escaping into the woods to consummate your love in secret? For as much as you loved him, and as sure as you were that your heart belonged to no one else, you were not sure how you could keep your love a secret much longer.

Still, the time would come when you could tell your father. You were sure of that.

“You told me that you’d marry me,” you whispered, lips fluttering against the soft hairs of his cheek. “You said someday, you’d marry me. And a knight always keeps his promise, especially to his lady.”

The knight let out a huff, then soon found himself nuzzled into the warmth of your hair, where memories of every moment spent in your company curled around his face in a deep, honey-scented embrace.

“Someday,” he murmured. “I promise you, my princess.”

When his lips touched yours, he felt your tremble against the cold. He pulled the cloak from his back to swing it around you and wrap you in a woolen cocoon. Pulling you ever closer, your chest was heated by the fire that seemed to perpetually burn in his. Another longer, deeper kiss, then a smile shared between the two of you.

“Perhaps one day, I will be your queen.”

His warm hands rubbed your back in steady motions as his eyes traced dreamily over your face, each curve and crevice and color another feature he would keep to memory for in those moments when he could not hold you. He wanted for nothing in this moment—everything he could’ve dreamt of wanting was here, in the shape of you.

“You are my queen.”

A new heat rouged your cheeks and ignited your heart. To be his queen seemed to be the greatest height you could ever reach, if only it meant you were the queen of his heart.

Dawn stained the sky with rich hues of rosy orange and dusty violet as you fell into another kiss, though your lips would be torn away by the distant sound of clopping hooves coming closer beyond the horizon. Not just a handful, but nearly hundreds.

But the fearful flutter in your heart soon subsided as the blue flag of Alexandria raised above the militia, their silhouettes coming into view. They were led in triumph by the king, flanked on either side by Duke Richard, and one man you did not recognize—Prince Jesus of Hilltop. In your father’s hand was the chain that leashed his mighty companion, Shiva. They were victorious, and no more would you fear Negan, nor walkers, nor death itself. Not when your knight was near.

Not even death could tear you from him, and as you held his gaze, you felt a calmness overcome you—a relief, as though you knew that everything, somehow, would be all right.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

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l0cal-catb0y · 6 months

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Hero!Ghoap x God!Reader brainrot

this is mainly about ghoap cuz i didnt focus on them in the first post and they deserve love too!! and i wanna add backstory :33 based off this post i made and i think i want them to be childhood friends!! (its one of my favorite tropes im sorry </3)

once again this is just word vomit !! not my best but it must be shared :DD but also!! let me know if you have any ideas for what reader should be the god of cuz i really have no ideas and i wanna add more details to them!!

definingly have the vibe they would've meet by running into each other playing in a field when they were very young and just ended up sticking together. simon found comfort in johnny's presence and just sort of started following him everywhere he went with johnny just completely okay with dragging this boy around cuz!! he gets to have fun with his friend!! :DD sadly though they have to have reason to become fighters for plot reasons </33 their village gets destroyed, burnt and looted with few survivors left. theyre both distraught and angry with johnny openly wanting to track down the people behind the attack and fuck them up (simon too but hes silent about it) maybe johnny starts getting ready to start that hunt without telling anyone but simon can just read him perfectly and just pulls him aside to tell him that he's coming too.

I feel like along their hunt they would stop and take care of anyone that were causing issues, probably with just small trouble makers but as they become stronger and more experienced they deal with whole gangs of people (they end up getting the names ghost and soap along the way somehow) they become more renowned for their strength and victories that even cities far off know them!! im thinking the group that destroyed their village became an army and overconfident to the point of disrespecting the gods (probably not all but definitely some big ones) so when ghost and soap become bigger names they are given the upperhand with the backing of the gods who wish to put the group back into place. they basically get to the level of demigods !!

romance wise though,,, giggles,,, somewhere along their journey after a hard fight they would confess while patching each other up, the concern for each other far outweighing the fear of rejection <33 the gentle touch of making sure theyre still there and the whispers of love would be so soft after they know its a mutual love omg. their routines change a little afterwards too!! like simon giving johnny little trinkets to have in his pockets (probably something handmade when he cant sleep) and johnny braiding part of simon's hair before a fight (maybe he braids a piece of simon's hair into his own braid and his hair into simon's?)

I don't think they would actively worship one particular god? they would give offerings every so often as thanks for the blessing or in hope of getting some luck with something (finding info or just having good weather) but they are mainly on their own for the most part. yes they are favored more than others but it doesnt mean the gods really care about them yknow? they both know theyre just a means to an end for some of them :((

so when you start looking out for them theyre both just :OO you actually care about them outside of what they can do!! you help them with small things!! your watching eyes comfort simon when he cant sleep!! you guide johnny to peaceful areas for him to relax and draw at!! you send your associated animal to keep watch if they ever both crash after a fight!! they start to add stuff to their routines that relate to you in some way :33 making crafts of your symbols and having one with them for "good luck" or making a small spot for you at every camp they make or talking to you (aka the open air of your spot) about their plans and what they wanna do next!!

idk man brainrot and lack of sleep are getting to me!! im going to rotate these two in this au in my head for the next month ^-^

#clawing at the walls of my enclosure #me when men #catboy talks #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #unedited #not beta read #ghost x reader x soap #ghoap #soapghost

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st4rgzer · 5 months

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NOW PLAYING…

↳ WELCOME TO NEW YORK (1980 TV) MATT STURNIOLO

genre: fluff, with a touch of angst

cw!: cursing, fem pronouns

summary: in which the reader is, half ready, to move to new york after booking her first major gig

a/n: this is the first track and i hope ill release one every weekend, maybe more, thank you for reading!

after 7 years, no, all my life working my ass off, going to every audition I can get my hands on, reading too many scripts a day, I finally got an audition.

And the best thing, it wasn’t because of the triplets! me being friends with them, and dating one, had made it incredibly difficult to make my own image, be my own person, even though I love them, I want people to know me for me, not know me as “matt’s girlfriend” or, “that girl that hangs out with the triplets”.

The only problem about getting a major gig, it’s in New York, and it’s going to be a pretty long time rolling, so I’d have to move there, at least for a year. That means leaving thee triplets at home. Leaving Matt home, and its not like NY is next to LA or Boston, 5 hours on plane. And it´s already difficult when they have leave for LA.

“babe, c’mon, just, come, spend the night here and in the morning we can drive you to the airport” Matt wined, pulling me towards him on the sofa, he had been trying to convince me not to leave early all day, and that they were closer to the airport so they could be the ones to take me there.

“well…maybe…” I sighed, the airport anxiety making me doubt wether or not to stay tonight, well, they are closer to the airport than me…fine, I sleep better with him anyways.

“yes! see i always win” he says lifting his arms up in victory, earning a laugh from me, he may be very persistent but it was sweet to see how he celebrated when he finally won.

He tugged me towards him and I laid my head on his chest, closing my eyes in a moment of peace before I had to worry about the move.

I nearly fell asleep when his hands started caressing my hair and detangling all the knots, slowly putting me in a trance, then I came to the realization that my bags were still in my house, and sighed, taking his hand away from my hair gently and sitting up.

“I just remembered my suitcase is still in my house, we have to go get it before anything” I kneaded my forehead and breathed deep, then I felt Matt’s hand on my back.

“relax ok, I can take us there in a minute, don’t worry about anything, the important things are already being shipped to your flat and the flight leaves at 10 am, enough time to sleep in a bit or have breakfast.” he said stroking my shoulder reassuringly, I grabbed his hand and placed it on mine, sighing as I backed myself against his chest once again, grateful I had an organized boyfriend opposed to the mess I was with this kind of stuff.

We pulled up to my driveway, I fiddled with the keys before finally opening the door. I went up to my room to get my big suitcase, them I realized a staircase and a big suitcase wasn’t a good match for me, I yelled Matt’s name but I saw him already going up the stairs, probably cause he knows me too well.

“thank you” I said with a sly smile. Grabbing the other end of the suitcase to at least help a bit, though he took all the weight.

We got into the car, the sun was setting and the weather was perfect for reminiscing and being nostalgic.

I laid my head against the damp car window , I started to think if this gig was going to be my big break. Even though I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was a young child, I never liked change, I despised it even.

This was going to be a big change, I had the last month to think about it and get used to the idea, but still, the thought of me and Matt breaking up because of long distance…

I felt a hand be placed on my knee, snapping me out of my thoughts, my mouth curved up into a slight smile, I placed his hand in mine, he rubbed small circles on my knuckles, and pulled it closer to him, placing a soft kiss to them.

“I’m so happy for you, do you know that?” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me with genuine joy. I tilted me head slightly and pursed my lips together.

“Do you think we’ll- survive the long distance…?” I looked down, guilt lingering in my voice, It was my fault I was moving to NY, I took the job, if the relationship went down the drain…I wouldn’t help to think it was my doing.

“What? That’s stupid, of course we will, Its not like you’re moving to a whole other country, phones exist, planes do as well” He insisted, tilting my head up to meet my line of view.

“trust me, okay? I’m a professional at the whole moving stuff…” He saw I was still unsure.

“baby I wouldn’t care if you moved to a whole other continent, I’d still book the flight every weekend to come see you” He said, gently moving a strand of hair out of my face, he wanted me to look at him, and I did. I half-smiled at him, feeling a bit more sure about the move thanks to his pep talk.

I realized I didn’t recognize where we were heading to, turning confused to Matt as he kept his eyes on the rode.

“Matt, where are we going? As far as I know, your house isn’t in a forest” I shook my head when he didn’t respond, scoffing as I laid back into the carseat.

As we parked in a rocky spot, he got out and went ‘round the car to open my door, what a gentlemen.

“What? are you gonna murder me out here or…?” I laughed as I got out of the vehicle, closing the door behind me. I was shut up as he placed a hand on my cheek, pulling me closer, and planting a sweet kiss onto my lips.

“oh?” I grinned, resting my hands over his shoulders, he grabbed one gently and led me in front of the car.

“ok, so, you know how I decorated my room all foresty?” He finally spoke, turning so he could make eye contact with me, I nodded.

“well, that’s cause the woods, mountains, they help calm me down, ease my anxiety and worries about things. After our first argument I came here, to clear my head. I come here a lot, and…I thought maybe it would help you a little? at least give you some peace of mind for while…”

He said, sweet words spewing from his mouth, I could’ve melted then and there. God, he was thoughtful. I smiled at him so widely, pecking his lips gently, I then peppered his cheeks and forehead with some more, he was right, this WAS giving me peace of mind. There was a slight fog surrounding the trees, and a soft breeze.

“thank you, Matt, this means a lot, like, really” I sighed as he opened his arms and held me, I closed my eyes at the smell of his cologne and the soft fabric of his plaid flannel.

“anything for you, lovely. I just wanted to give you a good afternoon to end with before the exhausting week that awaits you” He said kissing the top of my head and resting his chin there.

Hours passed. We were crossed legged, sat on the ground, watching the sky get darker and darker, contemplating as the stars slowly appeared.

My head was rested on his shoulder, his arm intertwined with mine, and his head laid back on the front of the car. It was simple and sweet, but better than anything I could’ve asked for.

It was silent, the comfort of our company being enough substitute for meaningless conversation. He sighed, contempt, we both knew the night was coming to an end, as I still wanted to get in at least 9 hours of sleep.

“do you think we should go now? its getting a bit late” he said stroking the palm of my hand.

“mhm, it is” I hummed, I gave him one more kiss before getting up and grabbing the makeshift blanket beneath us.

We drove to the car humming songs on the radio, his hands always resting either on my knee, my thigh, or my hand.

As the car pulled into the garage, Nick and Chris’s voices were heard, I think they were screaming something along the lines of “fucking finally”

We both looked at each other and sighed, holding in a laugh as he turned the doorknob, we were greeted with an angry blonde haired boy and a hyperactive Chris.

“where the fuck were you guys?! we wanted to do a going away movie party for tonight!” Nick yelled, he breathed and tried to calm himself, me and Matt were delighted watching the scene unfold.

“I took y/n somewhere.” he smirked slyly at him. Nick scoffed, he wasn’t too mad, after all, they were going to see me just next week.

After some more banter and such, Matt and I headed up to his room. He had his hand intertwined with mine and wasn’t dropping it anytime soon.

“m’lady” he said with a country accent, that always earned a chuckle out of me, opening the door for me, following behind. I sighed, letting myself fall onto the soft sheets of his bed.

He laid down next to me, as routine, I placed my head on his chest, he wrapped his arm languidly around my waist, pulling me close.

“im tired” I yawned and felt the vibrations from his chest as he laughed.

“of course you are, we’ve had a busy day, huh? He said kissing my hair softly, rubbing small shapes on the exposed skin of my waist.

I nodded, closing my eyes, sighing, I grew more tired every heartbeat of his I felt from his chest, the lullaby of his heart clearing my mind.

He felt I drifted off, he kissed the top of my head once again and whispered goodnight.

“I love you.”

“i love you too” I mumbled.

I recounted the previous moments in our day, everything from the starbucks he bought me when picking me up, to watching the sun set in his favorite place, with his favorite person.

Im scared of new beginnings, but New York can’t be so bad, right?

…

‘welcome to New York’ The big sign I was met with read, people were hustling and seemed like they had somewhere to go, I could here sirens blaring and people yelling “taxi!” I smiled. Everyone here wants something more. I guess I maybe could get used to this.

taglist: @dwntwn-strnlo @iha8you @lovelysturniolo @gabbylovesreading @hedgehogperalta @iloveneilperry @stvrni0lo @sturniolol @stvrniolo @sturniololoverr @oneirophobic (nicole idk if you wanna be added or not, tell me if you want me to take you off😭) @gaytoadwithapopsicle (same for you)

reblogs and likes are appreciated!

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfiction #fic prompt #1989 tv #1989 era #welcome to new york

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eris-snow · 6 months

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1. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐞?

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, fluff, confusion

Remembering what life used to be like is akin to playing with fire. It's nostalgic, but if you're not careful, it burns.

“Have you heard about the ghost in the hall?”

Katsuki’s eyebrows furrows as his head snaps to Denki in confusion. “What?” He spits.

“You know, that rumour going around!” Denki says excitedly. “The school hall? The piano? It says that it’s haunted by a ghost!”

“Kaminari, you know that rumour is a load of hogwash,” sighs Kirishima as he plops himself beside his friend. “Someone probably made it up.”

“You guys don’t appreciate a good horror story!” Denki huffs.

“I don’t appreciate fuckery,” Katsuki states bluntly. “Now scram before I **make a horror story out of you.”

—

The classroom is quiet when people go out for recess. It’s not silent, but a void of chatter and life that it usually holds. The class monitor glances around the classroom, nods, and turns the lights off.

It’s funny that he misses one person who sits there, staring out of the window while sitting in her seat.

—

“What do you need all this shit for?” Katsuki grunts, putting down the boxes filled with god-knows-what. All Might gives him a small smile.

U.A.’s hall is futuristic and sleek. Due to the numerous windows, the room soaks up all the natural light from outside. Even with the lights off, He can see everything easily at a glance. Everything is minimalistic and aesthetic: puritan wood planks, round, white pillars and a roof so high he’s curious about how cleaners get up there. He’s surprised dust isn't falling down like snow.

“It’s trophies for the General Studies, Business and Support courses. Speech Day is coming soon, Young Bakugou,” All Might pats the box he hauled here, taped and sealed so no one can see the sparkly awards inside of it, “so Nezu required these trophies to be transferred here for the event. Thank you for helping me—”

“Yeah, yeah, it ain’t anything,” He huffs dismissively. “Go now, Izuku’s probably waiting at Gym Beta like the lost sheep he is.”

All Might nods, completely unfazed at his student’s blunt, unfiltered language. “Are you sure you can handle—”

“I faced the epitome of death,” Katsuki says flatly. “I think I can handle a couple of boxes.”

“Thank you once again, Young Bakugou!”

With a wave, he makes his way out of the dimly lit hall.

Bakugou exhales out a tired breath, refocusing on his task. After the war with Shigaraki, the heroes had busied themselves with the reconstruction of buildings and rebranding of heroes as a whole. Most of the time he spent while interning was boring as fuck—walk around blocks, help an old man walk down a flight of stairs or save a fucking cat from a short-ass tree, etc, etc.

A part of him was glad to be given a break given the situation, especially when he was first out of the hospital. His doctor was as stiff as a light pole, and even with Katsuki’s threats to stuff explosions down the guy’s throat, he refused to budge an inch about his no vigorous activity policy and dumb pills 3 times a day.

But come on. It’s been 15 bloody months after All For One decided to roll over with a bolder named Gigantomachia. 10, if you’re counting from Deku’s ‘All Might” moment of standing victorious on the battlefield with his fist in the air after Shigaraki laid unconscious at his feet. The occasional jewellery store robbery can only get so interesting.

He stacks the last of the boxes on the table in centre stage, dusts his hands and stares out at the chairs that line the halls. The Hero Course’s speech day takes place the day after the other courses, and as the U.A.’s Sports festival champion, he has to attend by default.

He never liked Speech Day, with its unnecessarily long talks, but he does enjoy the feeling of recognition for his hard work. The lights shining on him, the deafening applause and the muted silence of those who hate him—the awards he earns are indisputably his, and no one could take the spotlight away from him.

The creaking of the maple flooring makes his head snap to the direction of the noise. Behind the velvet curtains, someone hovers near the grand piano. The figure looks tiny when standing next to the instrument, and Katsuki has to squint to make out the shadow behind the lush red drapes.

“Oi! What’re you doing here, extra? Playing hide-and-seek?”

The silhouette's movements stutter, which makes Katsuki roll his eyes as he takes long strides backstage and rips the curtain away.

“Would it kill you to speak—?”

The decibel level in his voice flips to zero like the arrow in a speedometer. His eyes catch yours for the first time, for some reason, his heart stammers at the sight of you.

“Oh, what the hell—” He starts, before you stare at him dumbly with wide eyes brimming with unbridled shock. You open your mouth, chew your bottom lip and rasp out 5 words.

“How can you see me?”

#juxtaposition (Bakugou)#mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #angst #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #comfort

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iamafanofcartoons · 7 months

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RWBY Fans talk about what makes RWBY enjoyable for the FNDM.

I want to take a moment to thank the RWBY Fandom for coming together on post

www.tumblr.com/iamafanofcartoons/714857308133441536/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

and discussing why RWBY was an enjoyable show for each of them.

Everyone here had a fantastic reason, and I am grateful to each of you!

@hmvw2015 : For me, RWBY filled the void left behind by Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra.

It’s one of the few shows I’ve seen (aside from Adventure Time) that grows up with its audience.

The fight scenes are so incredible! They’re lightening fast I would have to rewatch the same episode at least twice or thrice! Easily rivaling those done by Studios Gainax or TRIGGER, or Titmouse.

Since every character, place, and object have connections to fairy tales, mythologies, folklore, and classic novels, it did a great job portraying them to their root inspirations. Plus, I’m always digging deep into their designs and backstories.

The music is almost top tier to the music from the Disney Renaissance Era. Maybe even better than that. The songs add another layer of foreshadowing for the characters, and they’re fun to listen to~!

It tackles issues like self-worth, abuse, and death.

The series basically screams “Women’s Rights” and “Gay Rights” and proud of it. :D

www.tumblr.com/hmvw2015/715987868852666368/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@ammy246 :

I've always enjoyed the characters, and I like how there are 4 badass female protagonists who are each enjoyable to watch. I also like how the villains are actually threatening, so the heroes have to put effort into earning victories unlike many works of fiction. The animation always excites me, because you never know what you're going to get. And, don't even get me started on the amazing soundtrack.

@cinnamonrollfuckhead :

it tickles all the right things about me. i got in trouble for reading in classes when i finished my work early at school, it was nearly always history or mythology. i was an ancient Egypt kid. i read outside my age group. if Snapple wanted to employ me to write factoids for their caps i would take it. i was hooked on RWBY immediately despite being older than any of the main characters. i found an unlikely character to relate to in Jaune. i loved how it balanced serious and goofy themes.

@satoshi-mochida :

Some stuff I like about the show is that it's pretty fun and entertaining to watch, has constantly improving writing and animation(the CRWBY recognizing ACTUAL criticism, and working on those), with smarter and deeper than some may think moments, well-done characters, great music and songs, and probably more. I even cosplayed as Jaune(and the 'HuntsMan' with a Wonder-Zwei plush)with my then-girlfriend before COVID hit and other stuff happened, and enjoyed doing that.

@haunted-meatsack :

I'm waaaaay behind but I started watching for the fight choreography, music, and battle skirts. Plus I'm a sucker for small girls who kick ass with GIANT weapons. Then the story and characters kept me coming. I need to catch up.

www.tumblr.com/haunted-meatsack/715895495101497344/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@bumblebyfan :

I like RWBY due to a lot of reasons, for starters, the relationships between the main characters, and how they constantly help each other, I also really like the whole fantasy setting and how funny it is at times, I also really liked how they handled Ruby’s arc during season 9, as someone who has had... intrusive thoughts

www.tumblr.com/bumblebyfan/715730749688561664/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@xlbingo10 :

one thing that i particularly like about rwby is that the characters aren't dumbasses. i feel like so often in shows i watch there's an episode conflict where the characters make an obviously terrible plan that will clearly backfire horribly just for the sake of the episode plot and it's always painful to watch, so it's really nice to watch a show where that doesn't happen.

www.tumblr.com/xlbingo10/715707865708527616/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable.

@sir-somewhat :

I love the cast.

I honestly can't say there is a character I am not fond of in some way and that includes the villians.

I love the idea of semblances and the faunus.

Also I want more faunus lore. Given the existence of the Ever After I have to wonder if the Faunus came from another world created by the Brothers.

www.tumblr.com/sir-somewhat/715323283721076736/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@ghost-of-sparda :

Rwby was a show I found in college that I wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy, but as I watched it- I found myself completely enthralled in the world created by Monty Oum and his friends. It’s story has me on the edge of my seat every episode, and it’s anime vibes make it a treat to watch. It’s not perfect, I will admit that- and there have been times where I didn’t agree with a direction of story telling at first. However there hasn’t been a show that gets me as excited as RWBY does since I was a kid.

If you grew up watching anime, or grew up watching anime- I’d give RWBY a go. If you are still not over the Owl House/ She-Ra/ ATLA/ LOK/ Naruto/ or any other amazing series with crazy fights and an amazing story: I recommend Rwby as your next obsession.

And if you want to give anime a try, but are still dipping your toes into the medium- Rwby is a good half way point for newcomers.

www.tumblr.com/ghost-of-sparda/715237926532956160/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@aspiringwarriorlibrarian :

I really like the characters and their arcs, tragic villains, the triumph of hope and healing, and the fantasy elements.

www.tumblr.com/aspiringwarriorlibrarian/715056039519830016/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@miki-13 : I love how they use fairy tales and myths as inspiration but execute them in really interesting ways, as well as how human and grounded everyone feels while inside such a fantastic setting.

www.tumblr.com/miki-13/715136165044469760/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@thatringboy :

For the same reasons above, I’m also in love with the complex motivations behind the antagonists. Mercury hated the world and needed an enabler, Emerald needed security, Cinder snapped after a lifetime of abuse (just like Mercury), Hazel wanted revenge, Lionhart wanted to save himself, Raven wanted to save herself, Tyrian is just insane (based), Watts wanted petty revenge, Neo wanted revenge but doesn’t know what to do afterwards, CC wants to fulfill their cruel purpose, and Salem just wants to finally die. Torchwick was a comical villain who posed a dangerous threat, the Malachite sisters were doing their jobs, Ironwood was a victim of his own paranoia, Cardin was just racist, Cordovin worships her superiors, the Fennec brothers too, Adam wanted total control over everything and everyone in his life and would stop at nothing to get it, Ilia believed in a cause, Tock was following orders, it’s all so varied and exciting!!

www.tumblr.com/thatringboy/715138435689676800/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@pyrokinetic-murder-hobo :

I honestly fell in love with this project immediately back when the red trailer was first introduced to me.

Though the animation for RWBY was simple and understandably a lot of people regard it as not the best. Even V1 and the original 4 trailers had a living soul to me and there was a certain charm to the characters and the animation.

What kept me coming back is I find myself being unable to predict where the show will go and it honestly keeps me drawn in that my thoughts and predictions are completely circumvented. The show doesn’t follow the trajectory of really any other media and Monty navigated it masterfully.

There’s so many relatable characters and the situations they are put in are approached not perfectly but in a human way as to be a human (even if you have copious amounts of power) means you’ll definitely trip up.

But simply put I’ve loved this project since the beginning with the 4 trailers and could write a dissertation on why I love this show and include a long list of different things I love ranging from OST to characters to design animation. But maybe a talk for another day

And it made me some awesome friends on tumblr of course too which is a major plus (you better know who you are lol)

www.tumblr.com/pyrokinetic-murder-hobo/715072709057478656/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

iamafanofcartoons:

For me, RWBY is a change of pace.

It allows for women to be shown as independent characters, just as smart and strong as male ones.

It doesn’t use fanservice , you don’t have internal monologuing during fight scenes, you don’t have people screaming random attack names, and the music and designs are great.

I appreciate the humor, its not toilet humor or degrading humor like a lot of anime.

It also tackles difficult themes like abuse, leadership, morality, and debate.

It also takes the white male savior trope so common in the fanfics that people use to promote their OCs, and takes a giant dump on that garbage. If anything, when people say “the fanfics are better than the show” you’ll see them promoting a white male savior trope above all else.

Finally? Its a pro-LGBT show on many aspects, which amusingly infuriates a lot of straight shippers who defend their straight white male character who they put on a pedestal.

www.tumblr.com/iamafanofcartoons/715040015347040256/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@grimmgrinningghouls :

for me RWBY is a comfort

It has been for 10 years

I literally would not be who I am today without this show

I'd probably still be a closeted lesbian living in a conservative household with an abusive father

and a mother who hated me

hell I may not even be here

But instead I'm living across the world from them and I'm okay

As okay as I can be

Its helped me through so much and its introduced me to people I have become life long friends with

These funky little lesbians are part of my life and they will be till the day I die

www.tumblr.com/grimmgrinningghouls/715064091163721728/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@snowqueenofmyheart :

Agreed to the above, as well as being able to enjoy a story that centers women in a way that doesn’t reduce them to simplistic tropes or fanservice. I’ve been looking for more female-centered material over the last several years, and stumbling upon RWBY turned out to be a real joy in that regard. Across the board, you have so many compelling female characters, heroes and villains alike. Not to mention two main characters being explicitly in a queer romance is a delight and a relief.

www.tumblr.com/snowqueenofmyheart/715058819349233664/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@youraveragecatastrophe :

well first i love fantasy so we're off to a good start between the monsters heroes and magic

the characters are a very strong point of this show. they're well fleshed out

(even many secondary characters including villains and despite the big cast!)

and they get the opportunity to develop and evolve

i love the themes! love and hope and caring about each other and all that

the fights are really fun to watch especially with the unique weapons and everyone's different fighting style

the story is really compelling and well written too!

also gayness. can't forget the queerness

really this show has everything

www.tumblr.com/youraveragecatastrophe/715058708953071616/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@foulfirerebel :

The music was what first made me get interested in RWBY. The hard hitting rock that also carried quite a bit of meaning into it if you truly took a moment to listen to the lyrics.

So, from there I watched V1 at a friend's house and felt it was good. It did a good job with the action scenes, and setting things up for the characters.

Volume 2, however, is where I truly fell in love with the show. The appearance of Cinder, of Ironwood, the food fight, the investigation into Torchwick and the White Fang, the dance and hacking sequence! Everything pointed to something more going on. Something hidden waiting to spring forth!

V1 was a great entry point, V2 convinced me to stay and hooked me, and when I finally marathoned V3 I was EAGER to watch V4 and onward. Any and all quibbles I may have had melted away when the Fall of Beacon happened.

So, long story short, I love the story. I love how things are built up and come back further down the line (Jaune's issues, Ruby's issues, etc.). I love how the characters do go through a lot and need help getting back up. I love how sincere and earnest everything is without a hint of irony.

I love the slow burn relationships, and that the show doesn't end with those relationships just being established. I love that, despite everything, this one little indie show has continued going past everything that's happened in a decade since it started. I love that the story is engaging, the characters are deep, the writing is great, and that I'm even feeling bad for the villains which I don't normally do.

RWBY may not be the most perfect thing ever, but frankly I love that the writers do see and incorporate feedback into their work. I love that, unlike how Halo or Star Wars do things, you don't necessarily need to have read all the side content to understand things too.

Most of all is I love how this show has improved on every level: animation, writing, voice acting, etc. It's just so refreshing. It's the Little Engine that Could continuing onward and getting better as it goes.

And hey, being a Bumbleby shipper since V3 and being vindicated in V9? Cherry on the sundae. It's been a wild ride, and I'd love it to continue.

www.tumblr.com/foulfirerebel/714989613562904576/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@maor-koren :

RWBY is one of my favorite shows, it take a unique concept and make it very enjoyable to watch.

The main and side characters are all unique in their own way and very enjoyable.

The story is really good.

The animation, fight scenes and the design of the characters and places are all very pleasing to the eye.

And the music is phenomenal.

Don’t let other people make your opinion! look at the show and see for yourself if you like it or not!

www.tumblr.com/maor-koren/714954350873788416/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@but-a-humble-goon :

Rwby is, in a word, earnest. Its characters are unashamedly sincere, affectionate and vulnerable and the show understands not only that these things are not a weakness but that there can be no greater measure of strength. It’s a story overflowing with heart that categorically rejects stoicism and nihilism and never once apologises for itself. Nothing has ever hit me harder and I do mean that.

www.tumblr.com/but-a-humble-goon/714953671346176000/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@mikey-polo420 :

I watched RWBY Because i was drawn in by the trailers when Monty was alive and i liked the idea of cute girls fighting monsters with giant weapons, then i wanted to see their journey through beacon and now i've become invested with the Messages of hope the show presents, i love each of my precious children and want to see them achieve their happiness , i want to support RWBY to it's conclusion because that's what Monty wanted, it's what his friends wanted and they deserve to complete his Brain child.

www.tumblr.com/mikey-polo420/714951464721743872/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@mooninoir :

i started watching when vol. 1 was still going, with a fansub (!) working hell and back to translate each episode as they came out. i remember waiting every week to see a new episode, and when the last episodes came, i was entirely invested in this sci-fi fantasy series with fairytale elements and wanted to know what would happen next.

and, for me, it's an endearing series that i enjoy watching, even with its flaws. it's fun, but it also has a heart. i like how it didn't shy away from telling a broader story. vol. 3's gut-wrenching finale was for me what made me realize i was not there just for the amazing fights and cool soundtrack, but for the characters and how they live in this crazy world. it was amazing to watch its worldbuilding evolve to such great lengths and see the characters i like to grow and learn and evolve along with it. they are done well and don't feel misplaced in the narrative. it just flows nicely and i guess the latest volume proved that to me (the themes, the motifs, the characters' choices, and the visuals) everything comes together, y'know?

and i just... like it. i like rwby. i really do.

www.tumblr.com/mooninoir/714949733681102848/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

Tumblingxelian:

Why do you watch this show?

I watch RWBY for the cool characters, interesting setting and engaging overarching story and arcs, plus some gorgeous animation, sets and awesome music.

What makes it appeal to you?

Women, including queer women, are center stage and given tons of dynamic personality, agency and exploration in ways I rarely see done in other series.

www.tumblr.com/tumblingxelian/714943623381303296/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@feifiefofum :

look, the ad on the tin was cute girls doing violent things and looking great while doing it. that was the impetus for me to follow the show, i was there when it started with the famous red trailer to yellow trailer.

the writing then wasn't bad, a bit condensed because, y'know, shoestring budget so everything was very tight time wise. but y'know, you didn't watch the four trailers and get sold on the story- which was good by the by, but it wasn't exceptional. it was by the numbers, hitting what they need to hit, but good. you didn't think it was spectacular.

but then volume 3 hits you out of nowhere, and you realize, oh, the writing is phenomenal actually.

rwby has deceptively good writing that on the surface is good par for the course that lulls you into complacency, and then manages to sideswipe you with incredible twists that you don't see, but on looking back, the seeds for the twist were planted from book 1 on. the world is slowly and meticulously rolled out to the viewer, the characters shine, and the action, while still spectacular, become secondary to the characters and the world.

i started watching rwby, expecting cute girls doing violent things. and they deliver on that, and if you come watch rwby just for that, it delivers that. i didn't come in for hearty world building, intrigue, and lore so deep you can get lost in it. the writers write on a razor's edge, giving enough lore for a backdrop and setting the stage, but if you decide to dig at any trail, you can get lost in it. the concept of dust, the name of the world itself- frankly i think it's a masterclass in giving enough to keep the story going but having enough in the back that every new twist that they lay out can be found to have grown from a seed that was planted in an earlier volume.

i dunno who traded their soul away to keep track of all that world building and lore, but that excel sheet must be something to behold. rwby throws u-turns that you don't expect at you, lulls you with a sense of 'okay, i see your tricks now' and somehow manages to turn you around again, and have it make sense.

frankly, it's a little frustrating, i've been bamboozled and led by the nose.

and i love it for that. i'm delighted by the ride i'm on, and i hope the show keeps going.

www.tumblr.com/feifiefofum/714920887601790976/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@aspennntree :

I watch rwby for several reasons- mostly for the characters, i find some of them really relatable

also i just genuinely enjoy the story and the visuals and find the show very comforting

i also like the people i’ve met in this community that are kind and i like having people to share my interests with

i’ve made many new friends being in this community and it’s something i’m very passionate about, i just really enjoy it genuinely

www.tumblr.com/aspennntree/714906439613906944/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@tokufan400 :

Even with everything, I can't bring myself to stop watching RWBY. I got back into it after talking with some friends in highschool, and I've been doing my best to keep up with it since. I have love for the characters (Weiss is the best), and I do feel a sence of amazement that a western project like this ha s grown so much. Not to mention the amount of art, comics, manga, and fanfics that have spawned from the show.

Do I have problems with RWBY? Yes. I will probably never stop ranting about something the show does to tick me off. But I do the same for Star Vs and Kamen Rider Zero One, both shows I still hold a love for. Hell, I might do the same for Amphibia and Owl House down the line if I do a re watch.

So yeah, still love RWBY and I want to be around to see how this story ends.

www.tumblr.com/tokufan400/714910475313446912/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@howlingday :

So, I was in high school and I was watching Red VS Blue. Then I started watching Rage Quit. Then Achievement Hunter. Play Pals.

Then my sister and my high school crush were like, hey, try out RWBY. I mocked them by saying "It should be Ar-Dubyoo-Bee-Why". Then I got into it and, well, I liked it the more I got into it until I was caught up to Volume 2. Then Death Battle had the Yang VS Tifa fight (PLEASE, NO REMATCH), and I was rooting for Yang. Then I saw Volume 3, and I was shocked, dismayed, and devastated at the sudden heel turn. I've been hooked ever since.

So, to answer your questions.

I watch RWBY because it's fun, and I want to know where the story goes. I loved the fun had at Beacon, and I want to know what happens next.

The appeal comes from the desire to see these group of friends fight to save the world from the Grimm. I want to see them thrive against a world where everything is stacked against them! And I want to see them flying kick someone in the face to the sound of the most amazing butt-rock since Crush 40 Sonic (No offense MGR)!

So, yeah, I love watching RWBY because it's a story to be told. And I'm going to openly sob when the story finally comes to an end.

www.tumblr.com/howlingday/714865441082851328/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@gorillageek27 :

i watch because, okay i was kinda turned off by it at first, just "what is this anime shit?", but i watched it and it's the most out there animated thing i can think like. Rwby is a show that somehow got me appreicating animated projects and you can tell the writers and animators have fun with it.

www.tumblr.com/gorillageek27/714864574777671680/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@lithominium :

Its endearing, the lack of amazing animation in vol 1-3 is made up for in how much love was put into it. The characters are fun and loveable and the writing is goofy but unlike some other media ive watched its very good at knowing when to keep the tone consistent. Its very gay and i love gay and its got one of the greatest slow burns ive ever seen with great payoffs which always happen when they should. I like the setting and the lore and the weapons and the semblances. Its such a good show

www.tumblr.com/lithominium/714869719134535680/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@everafterfrisk :

I love RWBY for a ton of reasons but to keep it short:

• The Facial Expressions of the characters match really well with the tones of each scene

• Amazing character designs that can just tell you so much about them before you get to know them

•The animation: RWBY imo is best 3D animated series, most of the time 3D animes tend to be stiff and lifeless

But RWBY gives its fights alot of finesse and creativity to go along with

Like here's a few examples:

(V9)

Weiss and Blake using gambol shroud's blade to propel Yang while simultaneously having Yang use Arma Gigas's Sword

www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9RQnk7Oueo

(V3)

Yang closing Flynt's Trumpet making his quartet backfire on him

www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLu3_LKG_A8

(V4 Short)

Ruby using the recoil of her weapon to bounce out of the way from a Grimm and trip him up using her Scythe catching him into a Hurricane formed by her semblance (13:54)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivns4_clQ_c

There's even a full in depth analysis on the fight choreography from the earlier volumes to check out

www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMQfm0RsY6o

• Themes of Unity,Self identity,Acceptance,Loving oneself, Finding hope in the most dreadful scenarios and the list goes on

• The Protagonist Ruby Rose is a breath of fresh air similar to say Deku from BNHA where both know the world isn't exactly kind but still try to help the best they can; even if it results in them destroying themselves to get there as their series's goes on

•The Villains are all pretty realistic in their motivations being not afraid to fall victim to arrogance while simultaneously being victims of either the world's actions or their own

°The show doesn't swindle you into thinking that just cuz they have sympathetic backgrounds that they're immediately good

They have to work for it and atone for misdeeds such as Ilia,Emerald and Hazel or doesn't believe their actions are unwarranted like Salem and Cinder or has a lack of empathy for the world around them like Mercury or Tyrian or Wants to do the right thing but lets the ends justify their means(Ironwood) or Living only on the fear of your actions(Lionheart) or The world has dealt so much injustice to you that you felt giving it by ten thousand fold would remedy it ( Ilia and Adam)

▪︎ The Music is just PEAK for me

The Sound design,everything just speaks volumes of the scene

www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLS4HvQ5BP-1gKp4Ou4PRkqdEDvnNqdTGS

www.tumblr.com/everafterfrisk/714883876389044224/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@blakistan :

I think RWBY was first suggested to be me on the grounds of “lots of really cool fights” which, while not ultimately the point of the show is still a big plus! Monty was an absolute wizard when it came to fight choreography and CRWBY has done a fantastic job keeping up that legacy. Ofc that was only the thing that got me to look at the show in the first place - what made me stay was the incredibly well done character-driven story. Following along and exploring the arcs of all the different characters in the show helped me through tough times and shaped a lot of who I am as a person today - Blake and Weiss’ stories in particular did so much in helping me find hope that I could grow as a person because that what the show is: hope. So uh yeah, if you like deep, interwoven character narratives that don’t shy away from growth, change, or the ugliness that sometimes crops up along the way with those things, definitely give RWBY a watch

www.tumblr.com/blakistan/714867196992585728/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@proximio-5 :

Tbh, I don't know, there's something about it that I can't explain, I started watching it in 2018, but somehow it's one of my top 3 Favorite animated shows, it can be because of the story or maybe the background, like the people behind it and everything they've done and how far they've come

For example, Monty; first he made the Haloid animation, then he became director of animation in Red vs Blue, and then he created this masterpiece that will be a big part of me

The animation itself is one of the best things about the show, I mean looking back at the style of background in V1 and more recent volumes, saying it has improved would be an understatement, I mean just look at it, you can see how much effort the've done for it

Another reason is the development or the characters, they've changed and matured in many ways. (Speaking of, I really hope Ruby comes back different but keeping at least some of her previous self)

So yeah, this show is far of being perfect, but then again...

What isn't?

www.tumblr.com/proximio-5/714866831427567616/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@kereeachan :

I’m generally a fan of animation, and it’s been neat seeing how it’s improved since volume 3 (when I got into it). The story intrigues me, and I love the wide cast of characters and their development. The alternate universe is a neat one, Grimm are fascinating as a take on Evil Creatures to me, and the designs have always been cool, bar a few that never flew with me (Blake’s 1-3 outfit just kind of always looked a lil too sexy for my tastes on a “huntress” and I initially thought Nora’s 4-6 look was a downgrade before it grew on me)

I really enjoyed Ironwood’s slide from well-intentioned, if incorrect, hero to villain. Honestly his foreshadowing in volumes 2, 3, and 4 was some of the best I’ve ever seen. Maswartz above has commented on how they fool you by having him take facistic actions against people we hate more to hide how far he’s falling fast until we actually GET to Atlas and Mantle and realize it’s gone full Police State (if it wasn’t before). Genius.

I also adored Penny, she was my baby, she was amazing as a character and I’m so happy we got her back for a few more volumes before losing her for good (as much as anyone is ever truly gone, of course, she still looms large over vol 9). As one of the “weird girls” of the world who took a long time to come into my comfort with being a girl due to teasing and bullying (autism, baby. they always know) Penny just always SPOKE to me. I’m glad she not only proved her Real Girl bonafides as a Maiden but even got to live outside a metal body for a few episodes before her death, finally feeling the warmth of a hug.

www.tumblr.com/kereeachan/714863784387297280/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@sevenofreds :

It's a genuinely fun and enjoyable show that can mix multiple genres together without it being jarring. There's action and comedy, there's horror, there's mystery and drama, and it all makes sense for what's happening. It has a layered and complex plot where things almost always turn out to be more nuanced than they first seem, and almost every twist/big event is subtly foreshadowed in some way. The shorter length of episodes compared to other shows also makes it really fun to binge watch.

www.tumblr.com/sevenofreds/714860874339352576/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@crowwrites2140 :

Of course it has its flaws like every other piece of media, but I genuinely find RWBY both entertaining and just a good show in general. I love the "AHA!" moments when you something is revealed that has been hinted at for volumes. I love the music and could listen to it for hours. I love the characters; their designs, their motivations, their relationships with each other and their character arcs that span the show. In regards to the protagonists, I also enjoy how they all seem so human. The writers allow them to make mistakes and fail. They aren't always the perfect heroes. And in regards to the villains, they are believable too. Nearly every one of them has some kind of motivation that drives them to want revenge in destruction. I love the plot, despite its flaws. It's complex and ties in with countless allusions. And lastly, I love the fanbase. Not the toxic side, honestly it makes me sad that a show like RWBY needs positivity posts because its hate fanbase is just so large. But there are so many in the community who are incredibly creative and create hilarious memes, beautiful art, and amazing stories, and I'm grateful to be a part of that.

www.tumblr.com/crowwrites2140/714860089114312704/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@the-god-of-nihon :

RWBY is a special show to me. I’ve been with the series since it premiered at the end of RvB Season 10, and ten years is not an inconsiderable amount of time to be a fan of something. And unlike the “critics” or RWDE, I don’t stick around to hate-watch because of the sunken cost fallacy, or “to learn what not to do.” Or just for a reason to complain, more accurately. I simply enjoy the series. I have since it began, and I still do, and I’ll continue to do so.

While I don’t like everything about the show, or agree with all the creative choices; I don’t automatically assume that something I don’t like is wrong or bad. I happily take RWBY for what it is, and not what I think it should be. I, by no means am blind to the flaws and missteps, but none of them hinder my enjoyment to the degree that I feel like the show overall is a negative experience, even at its lowest points.

I watch the show because I like it. It has been a consistent source of enjoyment for me, and even now. I’ve enjoyed growing alongside it from an indie web-series into what it is today and seeing how it’s changed and improved with every volume.

I enjoy and am invested in many of the characters. I like the world and the bits of world-build and lore we get throughout the main show and supplementary material. And of course I can’t not touch on the fights and character designs. Its vibrant and narrative-relevant use of color, and how that’s effected the shows aesthetic development. And Monty Oum’s classic high-speed, frenetic and intricate choreo, that’s yet to be replicated. And how while different the post-Monty fights are still interesting and engaging for the most part.

I love the depictions of friendship and platonic/familial connection in the show, most prominently for me personally, Ruby & Jaune’s bond. As it’s so rare for a male-female friendship to be purely platonic and still be so genuinely well-written and integral to both characters. Although, I think RWBY is largely hit or miss with the way it handles romance, I think its friendships & familial bonds are where it excels.

Ruby, Yang, and Jaune are my top three favorites characters in RWBY, and how their characters and arcs have been so endearing and intriguing to watch. Especially as since V7, and what is being done with them current.

www.tumblr.com/the-god-of-nihon/714867324298182656/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

@lostdemifiend :

The biggest thing for why I love RWBY so much it is "oh that makes sense!" when something unexpected happens BECAUSE everything was set up previously that would result in this eventually, and none of it feels forced.

At the same time, its gleeful deconstruction of common shonen anime tropes adds to that sense of surprise. Subconsciously, one goes in expecting certain things to happen, but it defies that expectation in a way that feels like a natural consequence.

There's so much more, but I can't even start to unpack just exactly why I love this series so much.

www.tumblr.com/lostdemifiend/714857897499164672/lets-talk-about-what-makes-rwby-good-or-enjoyable

Thank you all of you for showing everyone what makes RWBY fantastic to all!

If you want some youtube channels that discuss RWBY in analytical or philosophic detail? Or if you want comic dubs?

Xel Writer on Youtube aka @tumblingxelian for analysis videos

@marylizabetha on Youtube for philosophy videos

and @markzschiegnerii or Mark Zschiegner on youtube for comic dubs!

I love you, RWBY Fandom, you've made my life rich with joy.

#rwby #rwby is a good show #let people enjoy things #please give rwby a chance #give rwby a chance #mark zschiegner #markzschiegnerii #xel writer #tumblingxelian #marylizabetha #iamafanofcartoons

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