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alltimefail · 10 months ago

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ATTENTION DEAD BOYS FANDOM:

We have some unfinished business and a case to solve: The Case of the Curious Cancellation! 💀🔎

Here are the ways you can help (be sure to read until the end).

I'm not sure how many people here on Tumblr are also over on DBDA Twitter, but there have been MANY developments in the last 24 hours and it's important for all of us to be on the same page if we're going to have a chance in hell of saving our show.

First and foremost, we need to get Dead Boy Detectives in the Netflix Top 10 again. This means running it as much as possible. Read about that below:

(SOURCE x)

As the graphic says, the goal is to have it running on a loop constantly, as much as you physically can. Be sure to have some level of volume on or else it won't count. If you're on Twitter be sure to post your rewatch (photos of your tv, commentary, etc.) with the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives !!!

Also, there's no better time to do this: the Tweet below brings up a great point! 👍

(SOURCE x)

Second, and easiest thing: KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE SHOW AND CREATING CONTENT ABOUT THE SHOW. Analysis, fics, fanart, shitposts, gif sets, memes, tik tok videos, so on - do not stop! Reblog other people's stuff and talk about it! Give fics kudos, comment, make fic rec lists and post that WIP or sketch! The most important thing to remember is to TAG YOUR POSTS AND CREATIONS. We need to trend!!! On Tumblr make sure you continue tagging your posts as you probably already are (look at my tags on this post if you need help, and remember not to use "DBD" on here because that is another fandom! We use DBDA here). On Twitter you want to use the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives for the rewatch and #SaveDeadBoyDetectives is a popular one, too. You can also use #DeadBoyDetectives. Hell, I usually use all three if I can! Hashtag every post you make about Dead Boys, no matter how annoying or "cringe" you may feel. Flood the fucking tag and do not stop.

Third, everyone needs to sign and keep circulating the petition. We've surpassed 5,000 signatures in a day which is fantastic, but we need more. Get everyone you know to sign it; tell them it takes no more than 15 seconds. Be annoying until they do it just to shut you up.

Fourth, request "Dead Boy Detectives Season 2" through Netflix's support website. It's a small thing but if we all do this a couple times a day it will get their attention. They really do vet these suggestions, and an influx of requests for a canceled show will raise eyebrows.

Lastly, if you decide to write Netflix (via email or a letter - their office address has been floating around) please remember to stay concise and professional. Don't curse at them, don't call names. State that you are disappointed with the cancellation of the show, maybe add an anecdote about what it meant to you, and I would even recommend attaching some articles that emphasize people's displeasure with the platform abandoning shows on a whim and Netflix's flippant attitude toward queer shows in particular. Dead Boy Detective Agency on Twitter has retweeted every article on this topic so far, you can find their page here.

You can also use graphics such as the ones below to affirm that the cancellation was unjust.

(Source 1, Source 2)

I know this feels like a lot: know your limits and take care of yourself. Whether you do every single one of these things or just a few of these things, every llittle bit helps!

Even in the worst case scenario where nothing changes, this gesture will mean so much to everyone who made this show. We owe it to the writers, cast, crew, and each other to TRY. We can all agree that this show deserves at least another season and if Netflix isn't going to do it, they need to be open to selling it to someone who will. We cannot keep allowing them to axe these queer and diverse shows with little regard for their customers and their employees, but also because it sets a harmful standard in the industry that is destroying television.

Let's crack this case and bring our agency back! I truly believe in this community!! 💜 We can do this!!

If there are any spelling errors or issues with links let me know! I did this on mobile because I want to mobilize this information as quickly as possible! I'll be adding on to this with new developments and can answer any questions you all might have. Lets save our show!

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vingtetunmars · 29 days ago

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Stevie Doesn't Know...

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Things between you and Eddie start to deepen—what began as something small and secret grows into something real. Between hidden moments, shared smiles, and stolen time, you both find something neither of you expected: happiness.

part 1

Tags: Reader is Steve’s twin sister, roughly takes place between season 2 and season 3, SFW, overall fluff, established relationship, secret relationship, insecure Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, Reader is a sweetheart, they're just soft for each other your honor. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: Here it is! the continuation. Honestly writing fanfics turns out to be so fun. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3k

masterlist

Dating Eddie Munson wasn’t like anything you expected.

It was better.

It wasn’t candlelit dinners or school hallway hand-holding. It was late-night walks behind the football field, shared fries in his van, long drives with the windows down and his mixtapes blasting through your bones. It was laughter that felt real, and stolen kisses in parking lots, and the way he said your name like it wasn’t just something to call you—but something to hold.

It was yours.

You hadn’t told anyone.

Not because you were ashamed—never that. But because once you said it out loud, once people knew, it wouldn’t be just yours anymore. It would become a thing to talk about, to ask questions about. It would stop being quiet and soft and secret and would turn into something loud and watched.

So you kept it on the down low. Just for now.

You met up after school when no one was looking. You kissed behind bookshelves and shared knowing glances in hallways. He picked you up two blocks away from your house just to be safe. You stole moments between responsibilities like you were rationing joy.

And in those moments, he was everything.

But sometimes—just sometimes—he would pull away from a kiss too soon, eyes cast down, like he was remembering something he’d promised himself not to forget.

“I still don’t get why you even want to be with me,” he muttered once, lying next to you in the back of his van, his fingers tangled with yours.

“What do you mean?”

He was staring at the ceiling of the van like it had answers written in the rust.

“I mean…” He hesitated. “You’re you. And I’m—”

“Eddie,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “You’re you too. That’s the whole point.”

He looked at you then, wary and amazed all at once. Like part of him still didn’t believe he was allowed this.

You squeezed his fingers. “I don’t want you to be anything else.”

His eyes softened. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?”

That earned a laugh. And then a kiss.

Sometimes he still needed reminding.

That first month felt like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

He brought you little trinkets from thrift stores—ugly keychains and weird pins he thought you’d laugh at. You slipped them into your pencil case or coat pocket, just to keep something of him close during the day.

You brought him snacks from your locker and left doodles tucked into the back of his D&D folders. Things like “roll for a kiss” and little sketches of devils making out with elves. He kept every single one.

You weren’t together all the time, but when you were—it was like the world got quieter.

It wasn’t always smooth. You still had to lie to Steve sometimes. Pretend you were doing student council stuff when you were really in Eddie’s van, listening to Metallica and eating gas station candy. You still had to act normal when you passed Eddie in the hallway, even when your chest ached to touch him.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You found a stray piece of paper inside your locker.

The paper was folded in half, hastily shoved into your locker like the sender was in a rush or trying not to be seen. You glanced around before opening it, even though the hallway was mostly empty.

Scrawled in messy, slanted handwriting:

“Closet by the science wing. 3rd period. I got five minutes.

—E”

You smiled instantly, cheeks heating before you could help it.

You slipped the note into your pocket like it was contraband and made your way down the hall.

The old utility closet was tucked between two classrooms no one paid attention to. Mop buckets. Stale air. Cleaning supplies and dust. Definitely not on the official tour of Hawkins High.

You barely had time to knock before the door opened and you were pulled inside by a familiar pair of hands.

“Eddie—”

He kissed you before you could finish, mouth hot and a little reckless, like he’d been waiting all day for this exact five-minute window.

You grinned into it, your hands already finding the collar of his jacket as your back hit the wall.

“Hi,” you mumbled breathlessly when he pulled back for air.

“Hi,” he said, eyes wild and grinning. “You came.”

“You told me to.”

“Yeah, but I figured you were too good for shady janitor closets during school hours.”

“You’re lucky I like you no matter what,” you teased.

“Luck doesn’t even cover it,” he muttered, kissing you again.

You let yourself get pulled back in, the two of you tangled up between mops and shelves and the faint smell of bleach. His hands slid under the hem of your sweater, fingertips grazing the edge of your waistband, and you let out a tiny laugh against his lips.

“Eds,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice down, “we have class.”

“Five more minutes,” he murmured, already trailing kisses along your jaw.

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“I lied.”

You giggled, smacking his chest lightly before resting your forehead against his. “If I get caught skipping calculus for you, I’m gonna fail my perfect attendance streak.”

“Worth it.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. Softer.

You melted for a second, just one.

Then you gently pushed him back by the shoulders, eyes crinkling with a smile. “We’re gonna get caught.”

“I’ll take the blame,” he said, hands still on your waist. “Say I lured you in with promises of forbidden love and stolen Fruit Roll-Ups.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing again as you straightened your shirt. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep showing up.”

“Guess I’m impossible too.”

He opened the door just a crack, peeking out. “Coast is clear.”

You leaned up, pecked him once more on the cheek. “See you after school?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

And just like that, you slipped back into the hallway, pulse still racing and lips still tingling, blending in with the rest of the world like nothing had happened.

Nobody noticed. And that made it even sweeter.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Harrington house was quiet, The kind that only felt quieter because the house was too big and too empty, and the only sounds came from the soft clinking of cutlery and the low hum of the radio in the background.

Just you and Steve at the table. A rare sit-down dinner between siblings that hadn’t been microwaved at separate times.

He finally spoke after a beat of silence.

“You’ve been very suspicious lately.”

You looked up, mouth full. “What?”

“You heard me.”

You chewed slowly, narrowed your eyes at him. “Suspicious how?”

He gestured vaguely with his fork. “You’ve been disappearing a lot. Like… ghosting at weird times. Coming home late. Whispering on the phone. You never used to whisper.”

You tried to keep your face neutral. “Student council stuff.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Student council cannot be that busy.”

You shrugged, grabbing your water. “It is when the senior prom budget gets cut in half and everyone suddenly forgets how to behave like functioning humans during meetings.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, still eyeing you like he was trying to crack a code. “You sure that’s all it is?”

“Yes, Steven.”

He squinted at you.

You took a deliberately long sip of water.

Finally, he sighed and gave you a little smirk. “Okay. Fine. But if I find out you’re running a secret gambling ring behind the school gym or joining a cult, I’m telling Mom.”

You grinned. “Cool. I’ll make sure to invite you to the next blood sacrifice.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head as he stabbed another bite of pasta. “You're lucky I love you.”

You smiled into your bowl. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

He let it go after that, turning the conversation to his never-ending battle with job applications and his growing theory that the dryer was eating his socks again.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You knocked twice on the faded door of the Munson trailer before pushing it open just a crack, letting yourself in like you had a few times before.

“Hey, Eds? it’s me,” you called softly, peeking around.

The inside of the trailer smelled like coffee and cigarettes, with a faint trace of bacon from the morning. It was small — tight-knit in the way that made every sound bounce off the walls — but warm. Lived in. Worn, but loved. Mismatched furniture. Faded carpet. A pile of old TV Guides next to the recliner.

And from that recliner, Uncle Wayne looked up, smiling with his eyes before he even spoke.

“There’s our girl,” he said gruffly, reaching for the remote to lower the volume. “Come on in.”

You stepped inside, clutching the sleeves of your jacket like a polite little kid meeting the principal. You’d been here twice before, always for brief hellos and quick pick-ups. But every time, you still felt a little nervous. This wasn’t just anyone. This was Wayne — the man who raised Eddie.

“Hi, Mr. Munson,” you said, polite and a little too formal.

Wayne gave you a long, amused look over the rim of his mug. “Didn’t we go over this already? It’s Wayne.”

“Right. Sorry. Wayne.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t believe a nice, polite girl like you ended up with someone like him.”

From down the hall, Eddie’s voice echoed.

“Hey! I heard that!”

You laughed, cheeks warm, and Wayne gave you a knowing nod as he stood up to head toward the kitchen.

“You kids go on,” he said. “I’m headed to bed soon anyway. Gotta be at the plant by six.”

“Sweet dreams, Wayne,” you said, genuinely.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Eddie met you halfway down the narrow hallway, his hair half-tied back, his usual band tee and ripped jeans on like he’d just rolled out of bed. He gave you a crooked grin, eyes softening the moment he saw you.

“You’re so polite to him, it’s almost weird,” he said, voice low as he tugged you into his room.

“He’s weird,” you whispered back. “In a cool, intimidating way.”

Eddie snorted. “He once fell asleep standing up in the kitchen and claimed it was meditation.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the world went quiet again.

His room was exactly what you'd expect — posters of bands, some D&D maps tacked to the walls, piles of cassettes and dice on the dresser, a messy bed with the same plaid blanket you always teased him about. It smelled like incense and laundry detergent, and faintly like him.

Your shoulders dropped the second the door closed. Like they always did here.

You flopped down onto the bed, letting out a long sigh. “It’s cozy in here.”

“It’s a disaster.”

“It’s you,” you said, grinning up at him.

Eddie climbed in beside you, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at you.

“Wayne likes you,” he said, a little too casually.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“He wouldn’t say it. But if he didn’t, I’d know.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his. “Good. ’Cause I kinda like you, too.”

He smirked. “That right?”

Before you could answer, he leaned down and kissed you — slow, easy, comfortable.

Just the way you liked it here.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Eddie lay on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes on the ceiling, though he wasn’t really looking at anything. The lamp in the corner cast a warm golden haze across the room, but the softest light came from his chest — or at least, that’s how it felt.

She’d been here a few hours ago. Left her chapstick on his nightstand. Cherry. He kept glancing at it like it might disappear.

It still didn’t make sense sometimes. That she chose him.

Steve Harrington’s sister.

He’d spent half of high school trying to dodge guys like Harrington, the basketball clique, the parties, the fake-smile hierarchy of Hawkins High. And she was part of that world — at least, on paper. Perfect grades. Popular enough to be seen. Always polished, always put together.

But somehow, under all that, she wasn’t them.

She was her. Just… kind. Smart without being a show-off. Funny in a way that caught him off guard. She didn’t flinch when he ranted about Dio or got sidetracked talking about campaign arcs. She listened. She actually listened.

And she liked him.

God, that was the part that kept tripping him up.

Because yeah, he’d had flings before. But this? This wasn’t a fling. This was her crawling into his bed after a crap day and just lying there, curled into him like his presence meant peace. This was him caring enough to wipe off the grease smudge from her cheek without making a joke about it.

She made him feel… like he was allowed to be soft.

But still — the world wouldn’t get it. Not yet.

And maybe, just maybe, he liked that this was theirs alone.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The cafeteria buzzed with its usual chaos. Trays clattered, the jocks were too loud, and the mashed potatoes looked like someone forgot what seasoning was.

Eddie plopped down at the Hellfire table, late as usual, a smirk already on his face.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” he said, dramatically sweeping his jacket behind him like a cape. “I was detained by... secret society business.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “You mean you were smoking out by the dumpsters again?”

“Maybe,” Eddie said, popping a grape into his mouth. “Maybe not.”

Jeff squinted at him. “You’re acting weird.”

Eddie froze mid-bite. “Define weird.”

“Like... I don’t know,” Gareth said, leaning in. “You’re humming.”

“I hum.”

“Not Van Halen ballads,” Jeff added. “Also, you showed up to lunch on time two days in a row.”

“And you said ‘please’ to Ms. O’Donnell in chem,” Doug said, pointing an accusatory finger.

Eddie tried to shrug it off. “So I’ve matured.”

“No,” Jeff said flatly. “You’re smiling. Like, not your ‘I just told a dirty joke in my head’ smile. Like, soft. Puppy dog soft.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, trying not to actually smile — which only made it worse.

“Okay, alright,” he said, grabbing his soda. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

“Good mood?” Gareth echoed. “What, did you finally get your hands on that Iron Maiden bootleg?”

“Or maybe,” Doug said slowly, “maybe Munson’s got a crush.”

Eddie nearly choked on his drink.

“Crush?! On who?” he scoffed, coughing through it. “I’m uncrushable.”

Gareth narrowed his eyes. “Then why do you disappear for twenty minutes between third and fourth period? And don’t say it’s the bathroom. You don’t come back smelling like the bathroom.”

Eddie leaned back, looking way too casual.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “You wound me with your lack of trust.”

“Just saying,” Jeff muttered. “If you start writing poetry, we’re staging an intervention.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Leaves rustled lazily overhead as you leaned back on the threadbare flannel blanket Eddie had spread on the grass. The little clearing by Lover’s Lake was technically off school property, which made it perfect — private, quiet, and far from any curious eyes.

Eddie sat cross-legged beside you, nervously watching your face as you took a bite from the sandwich he’d made.

You chewed carefully. And slowly.

“…Is that—jam and…cheese?”

“Okay—okay, look.” Eddie held his hands up defensively. “I was aiming for sophisticated. Sweet and salty, right? Like those expensive charcu—charcoo—whatever boards.”

You tried to keep your face straight. “It’s not terrible.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

You grinned. “No, seriously. It’s edible.”

He fell back dramatically onto the blanket. “I knew I should’ve just gone with peanut butter.”

You set the half-eaten sandwich down and leaned over him, hair falling around your face as you hovered above. “You tried,” you said softly. “You planned all this. You packed a lunch, picked a spot, stole this blanket from your uncle—”

“Borrowed,” he corrected from the ground.

“—and didn’t even forget napkins. That’s a win.”

He glanced at you from beneath a tangle of curls, expression softening. “You really don’t mind?”

“Eddie,” you said, voice quiet now. “This is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in… I don’t even know how long. I’m not just happy about the food, or the blanket, or this dumb sandwich. I’m happy with you.”

His eyes flickered. “You mean that?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re the only person who sees me for more than my name, or my grades, or being Steve’s sister. And you don’t treat me like I’m porcelain.”

“You’re not,” he said immediately. “You’re steel under all that sugar.”

Your heart caught on the compliment. You didn’t reply — just lowered yourself beside him, your fingers brushing his as the wind stirred the trees.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

Then, Eddie murmured, “I think about you all the time. And not just, like, the way a teenage guy usually thinks about a girl. I think about how you laugh when you’re trying not to. How you always line up your pencils. How you tilt your head when you’re listening to something you care about.”

You turned your head toward him, surprised.

“I just…” he trailed off, unsure how to land the plane. “I like you. A lot.”

You smiled, eyes glinting in the sunlight. “I like you too, Munson.”

He nudged your knee. “Even though I’m bad at sandwiches?”

“Especially because you’re bad at sandwiches.”

You both broke into laughter, letting it roll through the trees and across the lake, untethered and light.

You were just two people — lying in the sun, hearts on your sleeves, perfectly happy.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

On Saturday night—or Sunday morning—a knock on your window came at 12:42 a.m.

Three soft taps — your signal.

You shot upright in bed, brushing hair from your face as you crept to the window, already biting back a grin. And sure enough, there he was. Perched in the oak tree just outside your second-story bedroom, clinging to the branch like some dramatic, smirking forest goblin.

“Rapunzel,” Eddie stage-whispered, grinning through the leaves. “Let down your—oh shit, wait, you don’t have hair that long.”

“You’re going to break your neck,” you hissed back, trying not to laugh as you unlocked the window.

He wobbled theatrically, then swung a leg across, hoisting himself onto the ledge before tumbling—gracelessly—into your room with a thud. You grabbed his arm to keep him from knocking over your nightstand.

“Shh! My brother’s literally down the hall!”

Eddie straightened with a cheeky grin. “Then I’m right on time.”

You gave him a look but couldn’t hide your smile. His hair was windblown, he smelled faintly like motor oil and incense, and he was still wearing his battered denim jacket over pajama pants with tiny skulls on them.

“God,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you stepped back. “So this is how Nancy felt.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Never mind.”

The room settled into a warm quiet, the kind that only happened after midnight when the world felt softer. You both sat cross-legged on your bed, knees touching, his fingers absently tracing the hem of your blanket.

“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” you said.

“Neither did I,” he admitted. “Just… couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe if I saw you, I’d remember how to breathe again.”

You stared at him, heart tumbling.

And before you could think better of it, you whispered, “I actually have something for you.”

His eyes lit up. “A gift? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

“I mean it’s not huge, don’t get excited,” you said quickly, reaching for your desk drawer. “I found it at that thrift store by Elm, the one with the spooky mannequin that always stares at me.”

He leaned in, curious.

You pulled out a small cloth pouch and pressed it into his palm.

He opened it slowly — revealing a chunky silver ring with a deep red stone in the center. Worn and slightly scuffed, but unmistakably him.

Eddie blinked. “This is… sick.”

“I thought so too,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You have, like, twenty already, but I figured one more wouldn’t hurt.”

He stared at the ring for a beat, then at you. “You saw this and thought of me.”

You nodded, suddenly shy.

“I love it,” he said, sliding it onto his index finger. “Now I’m up to twenty-one, which is obviously a magic number.”

But before either of you could bask in the sweetness, a voice cut through the hall.

“Hey, you still awake?” Steve’s voice.

You both froze.

“Shit—” you hissed, grabbing Eddie by the wrist.

He was already halfway to the closet, no questions asked.

You shoved open the door, pushed him in, and slammed it shut just as your bedroom door creaked open.

Steve poked his head in, eyes squinting. “Why are your lights still on?”

You turned, innocent smile activated. “Couldn’t sleep. Reading.”

Steve raised a brow. “Without a book?”

“I just finished one. I was… reflecting.”

He stepped in, suspicious. “You’ve been acting weird again.”

You crossed your arms, hoping he couldn’t hear your heart pounding. “It’s 1 a.m., Steve. Everyone acts weird at 1 a.m.”

He sniffed the air.

You held your breath.

“I swear it smells like smoke in here.”

“I burned a candle earlier,” you lied smoothly.

He stared a second longer, then backed out slowly.

“Get some sleep,” he said.

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

The door clicked shut.

You waited ten seconds before yanking open the closet. Eddie stumbled out, trying not to laugh, hair tousled and eyes wide.

“Okay,” he whispered, grinning. “I love you, but I’m never doing that again.”

You grinned, grabbing his jacket and pulling him in for a kiss.

“You love me?”

He froze, then broke into a smile. “Well… yeah. Obviously.”

You kissed him again — breathless, giddy, and still full of adrenaline — knowing that somehow, all the sneaking around was worth it.

Part 1

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things #kar's fics ☆

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violettwrites · 9 months ago

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trailerpark!daryl headcanons

a/n: this includes both sfw & nsfw ( below the cut ) headcanons for tp!daryl

if you enjoy my stuff, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! here you can find my masterlist, and my ask box is open for requests !

warnings: there is mentions of abuse, and weed in this post, also nsfw content. please proceeded with caution 🫶🏻

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

sfw tp!daryl dixon headcanons.

➵ tp!daryl dixon is very much different to his older brother. quieter, less annoying, but overall just nicer. he is extremely loyal, & protective.

➵ he is extremely self sufficient. being left home alone for days on end helped him build his resilience.

➵ he has a soft spot for stray animals. the amount of times he has found a tiny stray kitten and wanted to bring it home is countless, but he knew his father would not be happy with him.

➵ he’s surprisingly very good at drawing. he often likes to sketch scenes of his surroundings, wherever he may be. that may include the creek you and him spend a lot of time together at, the silver dome arena where countless concerts he’s snuck into have played, or even just random doodles.

➵ he loves heavy metal and rock music. his favourite bands are motörhead, slayer, iron maiden, metallica— just to name a few. he gets his taste in music from merle.

➵ he is not much of a talker, but he is definitely a listener. he will listen to you rant and ramble for hours on end, often just replying with a nod of his head or a mhm, but you know he’s always taking it in.

➵ he often wears long sleeves & sweaters to hide the bruises and scars on his body from his father. it’s harder when he ends up with a black eye, but he just plays it off as him and merle roughhousing.

➵ the first time he ever smoked weed was with you, and merle, in one of the old broken down cars at the trailer park. merle and daryl sat in the front and you in the back, dutching out the old chevy with the smoke.

➵ he didn’t like going to school, often skipping classes or just not showing up at all. but you can bet he was always there to walk you home at the end of the day.

➵ he can often be extremely withdrawn, isolating himself several times a week. it’s never personal towards you, but you’ll often notice he’s been missing for a few hours. you can usually find him down at the creek, in the woods behind the trailer park, or even on top of his trailer sometimes.

➵ because he’s too broke for concert tickets, he’s snuck into concerts so many times.

➵ he’s had a crush on you since he knew what crushes were, really. merle constantly teased him for looking at you like a lost puppy, urging him to make a move. but he’s too shy for that, and he didn’t like the idea of possibly ruining your friendship.

➵ overall, he’s your best friend. you trust him with your entire life, and you couldn’t ask for anyone better.

nsfw tp!daryl dixon headcanons.

➵ big switch energy !

➵ when he’s topping, he’s rough with you, but always makes sure you’re okay. he’ll press your thighs to your chest while he fucks you, or he’ll pull your hair from behind. the rings on his fingers also add to the pleasure when he spanks you.

➵ when he’s subbing, he’s a whiny, begging mess. he’ll grip at your thighs or ass, looking up at you with big blue eyes while he begs for you to keep going.

➵ the first few times you two fucked, he kept his shirt on. he was too nervous to take it off, but you never pushed him. slowly he became more comfortable and now it’s one of the first things he’s ripping off.

➵ aftercare king ! not that there’s much he can do without possibly outing himself to merle or his father of his activities, he’ll always make sure you’re okay— wether that be just getting you a glass of water and snuggling with you after, or kissing every inch of your body.

➵ certified pussy eater™. he’d go down on you for hours if he could.

➵ if he had to choose between ass and tits, he’s definitely an ass man. he loves grabbing handfuls of the flesh, especially when you’re riding him or he’s fucking you from behind.

➵ loves leaving hickeys in place only you and him can see.

➵ loves to hear you moan but also loves to shove his fingers in your mouth to shut you up when you’re being a bit too loud.

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joaeriz · 2 months ago

Text

BLURRING THE LINES

Paige Bueckers x Reader | High School AU | One-Shot Genre: , Flirtation, Angst, Opposites Attract Word Count: 1.5K

authors note: hi yall!! this one is for all my artistic readers, and my hopkins!paige enthusiasts (so basically me) anyways this was so cute to write, and i hope u guys enjoy reading it as much i enjoyed writing it :p

p.s: as always, thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it, please feel free to leave a like, comment, or reblog, i’d love to hear your thoughts. 💖

You weren’t supposed to fall for her. She was everything you weren’t—loud, golden, magnetic. The kind of girl people cleared hallways for. The kind of girl whose name lived on banners in the gym and the back of jerseys in the crowd.

You? You were the quiet kid with the sketchbook, earbuds always in, and a world inside your head that you didn’t often share. You didn’t stand out unless you wanted to. Most of the time, you liked it that way. You were invisible by choice.

But she noticed you anyway.

And worse? She made you notice her.

It started on a Tuesday.

You were in your usual spot in the library—headphones in, pencil moving across a half-finished drawing, the hum of rain against the windows setting the pace for your sketching. You loved this feeling, the quiet, the solitude, the sound of your pencil dragging across the page.

But then you felt it—a shift in the air. A presence, out of place.

You glanced up, and there she was: Paige Bueckers. Sitting across from you with a soft smile, eyes bright, effortlessly cool in a hoodie and jeans.

"Do you always sit here?" she asked, flipping through a notebook in front of her.

You blinked at her, confused. "Uh, yeah. It's the library."

She grinned. "Fair."

There was a beat of silence, and then, “I’ve seen you draw before.”

Your heart stuttered, but you recovered quickly. “It’s nothing special.”

“I think it’s pretty special,” she said with a playful wink. “You’ve got a lot of talent. I don’t see you around during practice though. You a secret artist or something?”

You chuckled, feeling your cheeks warm. “Something like that.”

She leaned back in her chair, studying you for a moment, her gaze lingering longer than it needed to. "What do you draw?" she asked softly, her voice unexpectedly serious.

"People," you replied, your fingers still tracing the lines of your sketch. "Places. Memories. Sometimes dreams, sometimes nightmares."

She nodded slowly, like she was absorbing your words. "That’s cool. I like people who think about stuff."

You blinked, not sure if you were supposed to respond to that. "I guess I do."

And just like that, Paige Bueckers—of all people—was sitting across from you, talking to you, as if she wasn’t the most popular girl in the school and you weren’t... well, you.

The quiet connection hung between you for the next few minutes, neither of you speaking, but both of you aware of the unspoken bond.

Friday night came quicker than you expected.

The night of the game. The one Paige had casually invited you to attend. You’d never been to one of her games before, and you had no idea what to expect. You weren’t even that into basketball. But there you were, in the back of the bleachers, a hoodie pulled over your head, trying to keep a low profile.

But she found you anyway.

When her eyes met yours from across the court, everything else disappeared. She grinned, and for a second, you thought you were imagining it—her smile, so wide and bright, like you were the only one in the stadium.

You swallowed, trying not to make a fool of yourself.

And when the game ended, she found you in the crowd. Not the way a teammate would look for their friends, but the way someone looks for you. Like you were the only one she cared about in the room.

"Hey," she said, breathless from the game, her hair damp from sweat. "Thanks for coming."

"I told you I would," you said, a little shy.

She smiled again, this time a little softer. "I really appreciate it. Want to grab something to eat?"

Before you could answer, she took a small step toward you, just enough that your breath caught in your throat. Her eyes flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes.

And then, without any more hesitation, she leaned in.

It was a kiss. Quick. Barely a moment in time.

But it felt like a promise.

Like she was showing you a part of her no one else saw. Like this was something that meant more than just the briefness of the action.

You were breathless when she pulled back.

"Did that... mean anything?" you asked, barely above a whisper, still stunned.

Her smile widened, and she shrugged, playfully. "Maybe."

But there was something in her eyes. Something deeper. Something that made your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

The next few days were a whirlwind.

Texts from Paige became a regular part of your routine. Sometimes, it was a simple “Hey, you still drawing today?” Other times, it was a late-night message that felt like it shouldn’t be shared at all.

“I’m thinking of everything, but you’re on my mind the most.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. You didn’t know what it meant.

But you knew you liked it.

You started to see her more outside of the library. She’d show up at your locker between classes, lean against the doorframe, and just... stand there, quietly. Not a word. Not a flirt. Just her, waiting for you to notice.

One day, you finally looked up, locking eyes with her. The silence stretched between you, and then, she shrugged nonchalantly, like it was nothing.

"You coming to my practice today?"

You raised an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever been to a basketball practice."

She smirked. "I’ll teach you the ropes. And maybe... we can grab lunch after?"

You weren’t sure why, but the way she said it made your stomach flutter.

"Maybe."

It felt like something between you was shifting. Like every casual moment you shared was building toward something more—something neither of you had said out loud yet.

Days bled into weeks, and the connection between you and Paige grew deeper. Your friends started noticing, teasing you about the “mystery girl” who seemed to always be around.

But with every passing day, it became harder to ignore the tension. It was subtle at first, these tiny cracks that appeared between you two—little signs that maybe things weren’t as perfect as they seemed.

A missed text here. A canceled hangout there.

And then one night, Paige texted you:

Paige: Hey, sorry. Something came up. Rain check?

You didn’t think much of it. Not at first. It was late, and you’d already planned to spend the night drawing. But you couldn’t help feeling... a little disappointed.

You: Yeah, it’s fine.

It wasn’t fine.

You found yourself staring at your phone screen longer than you meant to, wondering if this was just a phase for her. Wondering if maybe she was already starting to pull away.

The next day, you were sitting outside the auditorium, headphones in, sketchbook in your lap. The cool air was the only thing that seemed to make sense. Your thoughts were a mess—confused, frustrated, but mostly... lonely.

And then, she appeared. No warning, no prelude. Just Paige, standing in front of you like she had all the time in the world.

"I know I’ve been distant," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I don’t know how to do this... but I want to try. I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N."

You took out your earbuds, your heart pounding as you met her gaze. "Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought something was wrong."

"I got scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve never had something like this. I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s... overwhelming. You’re not just a casual fling for me. I don’t know how to handle it."

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words. "I get it. I’ve been scared too. But I’m still here."

She stepped closer, slowly, her hand reaching for yours. "I’m here too."

And just like that, the distance between you two melted away, piece by piece, until all that was left was the space where the two of you existed—together.

From that moment on, everything changed. Not in a dramatic, sweeping way, but in the small moments. The looks you shared in crowded hallways. The way she always made sure to check in on you. The way you started showing up to her games—not because you had to, but because you wanted to.

There was still fear. Still hesitation. But there was also a new kind of strength between you two—a bond that neither of you had fully understood until that night.

(would you guys want a part 2? 👀)

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