#//since he’s the one that started the whole damn thing

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: newbf!vernon, based off this quote, appearance from some svt members, afab reader, smut(?), suggestive, etc.

wc: 1848

a/n: this is such an odd premise but it caught my attention so yeah<3

masterlist

"i dont get the joke," seungkwan cocked his head to the side in a questioning manner.

"yeah, april fool's was last month?," added joshua.

"there's no joke. we're dating."

even as you and vernon found yourselves cuddled up on the couch, – in a manner only a couple would intertwine with each other – your friends seemed unimpressed by the mere suggestion of the two of you dating.

"so you've been besties for twelve years and suddenly you're dating? no warning, no nothing? not very believable", answered mingyu, staring at you in nothing short of annoyance.

"why is this so surprising? you guys knew that i had a crush on her," argued vernon, feeling a bit annoyed at the way all his friends were currently staring him down. meanwhile, you appeared to be completely chill as you nuzzled into his side, watching videos on his phone and ignoring the conversation altogether.

"i just don't buy it."

"yeah, i don't get the joke, but i'm not falling for it."

"she's out of your league anyway."

seungkwan, seungcheol and jeonghan all expressed their sentiments to vernon as he groaned in frustration, unable to understand why it was so difficult to accept that he had finally grown the balls to ask you out. alas, he gave up as his friends grew distracted by something else, opting to go back to watching cat videos with you on his phone.

this was a brand new change in your dynamic, so maybe it'd be hard to grasp at first. but it was fine. vernon didn't need his friends to acknowledge his relationship in order to make it real. he'd simply continue to love on you like he'd been doing since you accepted to be his girlfriend, damning any denials from his friends.

~

acting unaffected by his friends' constant refutals of his new relationship proved to be harder than vernon had first anticipated. they'd gone above and beyond to attempt and disprove your relationship, claiming that it simply didn't make any sense.

any time you posted a picture with vernon it'd get spammed with comments from all twelve boys declaring the falsehood of your relationship.

jeonghanieyoon: booo 🍅

joshuacoustic: drop the fake bf and date me instead 😘

dk_is_dokyeom: ok u guys are starting to look believable 🧐

sometimes they'd even respond to vernon's stories about you and slide in his dms just to call him a dumbass for attempting to make this 'a thing' when it was clear you two were lying.

from: pledisboos - stop being a coward and ask her out for real

from: feat.dino - clearly fake. try harder next time!

in retrospect, maybe vernon only had himself to blame for this. after years of liking you, he never once gave any indication of attempting to leave the friendzone. his friends had all given up on hyping him up to confess to you years ago, leaving his crush as a dormant subject of conversation. it was quite sudden how you and vernon ended up together, and your dynamic hadnt changed too much, so your upgrade from friends to lovers was likely not noticeable to the naked eye.

however, this did not excuse the damned booing vernon had to endure any time the two of you walked into a room hand-in-hand. it also did not excuse jeonghan and mingyu's continuous flirting with you – they were doing it to prove a point, they said. and the most frustrating aspect of it all was how nonchalant you were about it all, always giggling along with his friends and never backing vernon up when he'd try and argue with them.

this was quite out of character for vernon. his demeanor had always been extremely chill and laid back, never one to be bothered by any outside forces (much less his dumb friends). you, however, were not helping manners in any way. you found the whole situation funny, telling vernon not to stress over it as you giggled over how passionate both vernon and his friends were about such a benign subject.

so, vernon gave up. he guessed that since you found the running gag about your 'fake' relationship amusing rather than frustrating (as he did), then he would just leave it alone. he was never one for pda anyways, so attempting to prove his relationship to his friends was kind of like beating a dead horse.

what vernon forgot to consider, however, was how nosy his friends were.

when it was time for all fourteen of you to spend the week at mingyu's beach house, he had let his guard down far too much, leading to a situation he'd like to consider both a win and a loss.

despite the sheer size of the beach house, housing fourteen people proved to be quite a difficult task, meaning that roommates were a must. with six rooms, everyone was separated into twos, with two rooms containing one extra roommate each. you and vernon always paired up together with no questions asked, except this time you were teased and mocked as you settled into your rooms, all while they assigned you chan as an extra roommate with the sarcastic intent of him keeping an eye on the two of you – "just want to make sure you don't get down to any funny business," had sad dokyeom in a mocking tone.

it was quite common for everyone but vernon to go out and play some badminton or basketball during these types of outings. he just wasnt a sports guy, and he was well loved despite his lack of participation. you'd occasionally join the guys, but would mostly hang back with vernon, which was what happened this time around. usually, you'd simply lounge around and watch a movie, but now that you were finally together, vernon decided to make better use of your alone time.

"are you sure we should be doing this?", you pulled away with a heavy breath, tilting your head back so vernon's lips could trail down your neck.

"it's fine, baby. they're all busy. they don't even believe we're dating, so they probably just think we're watching a movie," he explained as his hands attempted to get you to sit on his lap.

you didn't seem to need convincing as you slid over onto his lap, allowing his hands to guide your hips against his own. even through the pajamas you were wearing, he was sure you could feel his hardness under you.

"fuck, you're so fucking warm," he murmured as his hands went under your shirt, feeling up your warm skin and throwing it off in the process.

his lips went back to yours, groaning against you as your hips sped up against his own. easily frustrated, he laid you down, bringing down his pants and boxers to his mid thigh and leaving you in just your panties, adjusting his hardness so it'd grind itself perfectly against your clothed folds. the wetness seeping from your panties drove him insane with desire, but he couldn't stop grinding into you, growing easily obsessed with the stimulation. his lips had made their way back to your own, groaning endlessly against them while your hands pulled at his hair in a way that made his eyes cross.

"hmm, nonnie ..." you'd murmur every so often, making his resolve break little by little.

"fuck, is this okay, baby? just- wanna make you cum like this. i'll fuck you, i promise. just feel so fucking good like this," he groaned as you licked into his mouth, refusing to entertain any amount of separation.

eventually he reached down to your tits, tonguing at them like a starved man in search of his next meal. he was shameless in his desire for you, having wanted you for far too long and finally having you all to himself. no other thought occupied his mind at the moment. the touch and sight of your pretty body under his own was all his brain had the capacity of entertaining.

which was how neither of you noticed the boy suddenly intruding the scene, screaming in absolute shock at the nasty sight in front of him.

"oh my god?! you weren't lying?!"

what was even more unfortunate was how chan's yelling immediately alerted the rest of the members (or at least the nosier ones), leading to the door being filled by about seven spectators within seconds.

the only fortunate thing about the situation had been how fast vernon's protective instincts over you took over, covering you up with a blanket the moment he saw chan enter the room, preventing all the nosy men from having a peek at the nudity only vernon was allowed to see (and apparently chan too, as vernon had not noticed his presence until after the fact).

however, even as he covered you up, he left himself completely bare, having to take on all their shocked commentary whilst fully nude, barely able to pull up his boxers a few moments into their intrusion.

"no way, you're actually dating?!"

"either that or they took this joke a little far ..."

"man, channie's gonna be jacking off to this for ages."

"how the fuck did you score her??"

"do you guys want a third?"

these were only a few of the comments thrown at you and vernon within the first twenty seconds of the guys' presence in your room. however, to vernon it felt like a whole hour of scrutiny before he finally shook the shock off and began yelling at them to leave.

"get the fuck out! and never look at my girlfriend again!", he got up and began pushing them out as a few of them giggled at his anger whilst some others remained in shock at the situation.

in the meantime, you had pulled up the blanket over your head as you sat crisscross on the bed, likely too bashful to face the situation until your friends took their leave.

once vernon closed and locked the door, grabbing a pillow and throwing it outside for chan (who would not be allowed back in, by the way), vernon sped to your side, uncovering you, fully worried that you might be mad or petrified at what had just happened. to his surprise, you began laughing the moment you first made eye contact, causing vernon to furrow his eyebrows in question.

"baby, what the fuck? you find this funny?", he wasn't mad, but more so extremely confused.

"you got want you wanted, nonnie. there's no way to deny we're dating now," you grinned, crawling to sit on his lap again.

"god, i take it back. i'll never be able to fuck you again in peace. i was just about to cum, too."

"'was'?", you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning in closer, "you don't wanna anymore?", you tilted your head in fake curiosity.

"i mean-"

"they already know we're fucking. might as well have fun with it. right, nonnie?", you grinned.

chuckling at you, he couldn't help but agree with your horny logic. his boner was still half-there anyways.

"c'mere, baby."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen #svt #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt oneshot #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #vernon fanfic #vernon smut #vernon x reader

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Labor HC (ft. Poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: intense labor, my bsf just had her first baby and told me all the horrific things 🫠, personally i never want children, thank the cauldron for healing magic, longish? compared to my other hc, i guess labor horror? the idea of giving birth scares the ever loving shit out of me

By the end of your pregnancy your stomach was the size of two side by side watermelons

Madja grew increasingly worried that you would not survive the labor at how big the babe inside of you had grown

you worried your child would tear itself out of your womb

indefinite bed rest for you

which you honestly didn't mind since it was getting difficult for you to move your body without getting tired

bat boys worry. you aren't illyrian. if the baby belonged to cassian or azriel, your body would not be able to allow for wings to grow. (paternity/gendering of the baby was not possible. all the results came back as inconclusive)

as it gets more cramped inside of you, every one of the baby's movements is felt by you.

Rhys neglects much of his work and favors spending every waking hour by your side.

Cassian and Azriel grow extremely considered when they hear commotion arising in the Hewn City. Az has heard that many in the Court of Nightmares wish for your demise in labor. They take each threat to your life seriously and spend their time ensuring the security and safety of you and your unborn child.

they can't protect you from the pain of labor though

Rhys and Az were asleep with you in the bed, Cassian preferring to stand guard outside your door.

You're pulled out of sleep rather abruptly, well aware of the unconscious tensing of your muscles as a stabbing pressure digs into your abdominal area. a tightening and squeeze so vicious that you try and sit up immediately but your big belly prevents you from doing so.

stomach churning fear rises in you. it was time.

you shake your mates awake as another squeezing pain that burned across your lower back and pelvis.

they've drilled for this. no really your bat boys have played out the scenario an annoying amount of times. Az leaps from the bed to alert Cassian, Rhys helping you sit up

Azriel leaves to fetch Madja since he's the fastest

the Wraiths prep everything you may need and wait in the room with you, Rhysand and Cassian until Azriel returns with the healer.

that's when things really start

you were already screaming when Madja arrived. Nuala and Cerridwen had prepped you for the labor if Madja were too late.

Azriel had your left hand, brows furrowed and wishing he can transfer the pain you were going through into his body. Even if this pain meant the birth of a child, he hated hearing your screams or the tears welling in your eyes as you push with all your might

Rhysand, who had been hold your right hand transfers it to Cassian's care as he moves to be by Madja side to watch the actual birth. His eyes keep darting from your lower half to your face.

you never knew bringing another life into the world was so painful. you yourself didn't know either of your parents. no one to warn you of what you would face in childbirth

your bat boys were there though, that was all that mattered.

time drags with each heave you give

then he was born. . .

Dagen. even with his wings tucked in tight, pushing him out damn near tore you from your v to your a. like that whole entire region was on fire

"O-Oh. . ." Madja gasped, clearly startled as she held your baby in her arms, having been about to pass him to Rhysand. Almost in fear she looks at Rhysand. "I. . .I think there is another babe coming. . ."

Two babies???

you didn't believe her. until you felt another intense wave of pain start up again. dagen nearly tore you in half. you couldn't imagine pushing out another baby that potentially had wings.

"no, please no" you sob, every part of you aching.

Cassian looks scared. "You can do this." his hand was numb but he didn 't care.

"We're here." Azriel nods and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Rhysand was still standing a little dumbstruck with a fresh newborn in his arms.Thankfully one of the wraith sisters nudges him, her arms ready to take the baby so he can go back to focusing on the next one.

Rian arrived quickly, smaller than dagen thanks to the lack of wings

there was five minutes of peace where Rhysand and Cerridwen showed you your boys. beautiful boys that you and your mates created

until you felt another stabbing sensation.

you screamed at rhysand, azriel and cassian. damning them to a suffering in the afterlife for putting you through this.

to you this was bullshit.

it should be impossible!! then again, so was having three destined mates

Mor had called it a miracle. you now thought of it as a curse. you never knew having three mates meant giving birth to three babies at the same time

the third baby however would prove to be the most difficult. thanks to the previous two, you were beyond exhausted and begging for someone to just rip it from you. there was no way you could push it out by yourself.

Madja made the tough call of performing a cesarean section

the wraiths took away rian and dagen as the surgery took place

they'd been in wars, seen carnage, but there your bat boys were with white faces that expressed utter horror

the last baby to be delivered was a little girl with wings. your Baila.

exhausted, you pass out soon after Madja pulls her from you.

everyone is pushed out of the room except for madja herself as she sews you back up and stops the bleeding that could possibly kill you if not treated properly.

it feels like a dream to you when you wake up.

except every part of you is still suffering from a dull pain

your bat boys introduce you to your three pretty babies

i hc that dagen is azriel's, rian is rhysand's and baila is cassian's cuz i've always thought of him as a girl dad and nothing can change that lol

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar series #acotar cassian #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #bat boys #acotar bat boys #rhysand x reader

[usereddie]

explain couch theory for dummies please

alright!!!

basically, couch theory started last season in 6x01. we got a snippet of the script for the buckley diaz scene at the beginning of the episode, where buck, eddie, and christopher are all having dinner together, and christopher teases buck for not having a couch.

buck is upset that bobby didn't consider him for interim captain and goes "i just wanna know what these other candidates have that apparently i don't."

christopher goes "buck, you don't even have a couch."

buck explains that the last two couches came with girlfriends (to which eddie replies "i think you mean the last two girlfriends came with couches.") because ali picked his couch when he got the loft, and they kept taylor's couch after she moved in, meaning that when she moved out, she took the couch with her.

the theory REALLY starts, though, when eddie points out that buck and taylor broke up months ago, he could've replaced the couch by now.

and buck gets a soft look in his eyes as he looks at eddie and goes "well, maybe i don't want to pick the wrong couch again."

that's kind of the root of the whole couch theory.

there's another scene in 6x01 where buck mentions not having a couch to bobby and saying he doesn't want to make a mistake again, referring to life experience.

essentially, the couch metaphor is actually something that happens in canon throughout season 6. the couch theory is the spin off of that metaphor, where it's very obvious that eddie is the damn couch.

throughout the season, there's this theme of buck searching for the right couch. it continues at the very end of the coma episode (6x11), when the buckley parents ask buck why he doesn't have a couch after they come home from the hospital.

we find out in this scene that maddie is aware of the couch metaphor because she goes "oh, that story is too long to tell while standing."

we then get a scene in the following episode (6x12) while buck's in recovery, of him trying and failing to get comfortable on his couch.

in this episode, the 118 and co are showing up to buck's apartment to keep him company, a system created by maddie to make sure buck is fine and that he's not by himself while he recovers from the lightning strike and coma.

buck doesn't want all this attention, though, and, eventually, gets fed up and goes to eddie's house.

where he immediately gets comfortable on his couch, and falls asleep before eddie even brings the beers out.

it did make the fandom lose it, thanks so much for asking.

not directly related to the couch theory, but after buck wakes up on eddie's couch, they talk about the shooting for the first time since it happened.

couch theory kind of continues throughout the season. there's a scene that's essentially a beat by beat parallel of buck falling asleep on eddie's couch with christopher falling asleep on the couch, and the buckley diaz family implications went crazy with that one.

seriously, i'm not kidding. beat by beat.

the writers, actors, producers, etc were all aware of what the fandom thought about the couch theory and how it related to buddie, also. couches were mentioned in interviews, tweets were liked, it was a whole thing.

but, i'm assuming whatever oliver says in today's (april 25th) article about the couch theory is gonna be a little more....buddie specific than anything was during s6.

anyway, after buck falling asleep on eddie's couch everyone sort of hoped for a continuation of the couch arc that involved eddie, because obviously eddie was the couch. you have buck, who didn't want to pick the wrong couch again, who couldn't even get comfortable on the couch his parents bought him, immediately fall asleep the second he sat on eddie's couch?

insanity!!!!!! it was crazy!!!!!

i don't remember if anything happened between 6x13-6x17 that was directly in canon. obviously the fandom kept going with the couch theory, speculating all the ways that the couch could mean buddie canon (there's a lot of fic from s6 that's full of couch metaphors and couch mentions)(my fics, too).

kameron gives birth to the sperm donor baby on buck's couch, also.

i forget that detail.

anyway, end of 6x18, buck and natalia are sitting on his balcony and he turns to her and asks if she wants to go buy a couch.

people died that day.

that's more or less it. i'm sure there's more that i'm missing, but essentially, the couch theory is the idea that eddie is buck's couch, the couch representing a romantic relationship.

or, not just a romantic relationship, but the right one. buck's couch is buck settling down, finding someone to spend the rest of forever with, a family, a home.

and then he got that in eddie's house, but he was too blind to see it.

alright. i think that's it! hope it made sense :)

let's pray today's interview doesn't kill us all

#i did this instead of getting ready for class btw #buddie #bia gets mail #anon #911 abc

[pedge-page]

Ahhh asking again!!!! I love and laugh about Joel and Preggo. What if she wants Joel to prepare the nursery? They go to pick out paint ….she says needs to see it in the room, he paints sample areas. ……she picks one, he paints it and then she cries because she hates it and accuses him of doing the wrong color. Please change this prompt anyway and every way! Basically about preparing nursery to her whims. Or he does everything and she has changed her mind.!!!!

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife - Oh the Colors You'll Choose

Warnings: girlie is up to her usual tactics, slight Jealous!Joel at the end

- - - -

One thing Joel’s really excited about with the baby on the way is getting to design the nursery. Finally having an excuse to throw away your old high school gear you haven’t touched in over a decade, the clothes that had no style in the modern era, collecting dust in bins, all the Christmas gifts you never were going to use just stocked up in the spare bedroom for storage. Now the room was vacant. Tarps and old sheet cover the carpet, walls primed and prepped for the first round of paint.

Joel picks out a nice pink neutral tone, something perfectly lovely for the little girl he’s about to have.

You barely glance at the swatch in his hand, just nodding and waving him off as you lie sprawled eagle in bed, trying your best to cool underneath the high speeding fan.

He’s spent the entire afternoon of your nap getting the room partially painted. The whole time, giddy with the idea that he’s going to be changing diapers in here, reading stories, cradling his baby’s soft small head and walking around the room to get her to sleep—

He finally notices you patting gently into the room, just awoken from your fresh nap. He’s halfway to an excited smile until he sees the absolute wrought look of disappointment all over your face. 

"What, what's wrong?"

There’s no hint of happiness or enthusiasm in you. You survey the walls disappointingly, crossing your arms with a disgusted look before walking out without a word. 

Joel’s not going to let this room be the thing that upsets you—no you’re going to love it, he’ll be damned sure.

He shows you 5 more colors—all ranging from pinks to purples and—

“Does it have to be pink? Why are we forcing the gender thing on her?”

“I mean, I don’t know. Doesn’t have to be. Thought maybe could be something sweet…” his voice trails off as you make a disgruntled frown. 

“We can pick a neutral color if ya want.”

Joel pulls out a few colors he had stored in his bag—some greens and blues, grayish whites and browns.

You make a firm decision on one—the light green forest color. It’s bold, but it seems to make you happy.

Until he starts painting:

“No! No it’s not right.”

Joel sighs. “What’s not right? This is the one you picked!”

You shake your head again. “The light from the window makes it look so bland. It just doesn’t look good.”

“I can’t control the sun…”

“You’re doing it all wrong, Joel.”

He wipes the paint off of his beard. It’s been 2 days of painting now, much longer than he expected.

He lays 5 different colors on the walls in tiny samples; this time you’ll be able to see the one exactly as it will be when he finishes painting.

You walk back and forth, finger pressed to your lip in hard concentration. “Oh! This one!” You exclaim: an orange tan.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

He starts doing the color, now halfway through the room, fumes suffocating his brain, but now you’re telling him it's just not as pretty as it looked on the swatch. 

“Why are you painting the wrong color!”

“It’s the same one!”

“No it’s not!”

You've now moved on to the next color of the rainbow on your hit-list since he somehow fucked orange up. He lays out 10 swatches of blue. All of which look the same to him but none appeal to you. 

“Can we just pick one and settle on it? This much paint on the walls aint good. Gonna take forever to get the smell out.”

“Joel, this is going to be our BABY’s FIRST COLOR she'll associate with. It has to be perfect for her! She’ll be stuck with it forever!”

He raises his eyebrow unconvinced.

“…Until I decide to change it again,” you add plainly. “Or until she’s old enough to decide for herself. Do you really want a tween picking out her own bedroom color to haunt us?”

He huffs but agrees.

You are eating a banana just as Joel's finishing laying on the neutral ocean blue throughout the whole room. You had come in twice already but hadn’t made a peep either time, so maybe this one is the one—

 "Oh my god!" You exclaim. Joel nearly falls off the latter with worry that the baby somehow just dropped from between your legs until he sees you point to the banana peel excitedly. 

His shoulders slouch in a ‘you gotta be kidding me’ sort of way. His back fucking hurts. Hands cramped up. There’s gotta be a permanent strike of white in his hair right now. He drops the paintbrush, splashing it into the now wasted paint can of blue before taking your peel and walking out the room. Of course, its already nighttime, so the hardware store is closed and he’s gotta wait till morning to get the new paint.

The next day, he's rolling on the new yellow.

You wrinkle your nose disgustedly. "Ugh what the fuck is this?"

"It’s the banana!"

"No it's not! This is so much darker!"

"BANANAS GET DARKER EACH DAY. YOU WANTED ME TO MATCH FROM A HALF EATEN PEEL.”

“It sucks. You've put this god awful yellow in my mind now I don't want anything like it.” 

You turn around and survey the room, repulsed by its bright wrongness. Joel opens his jaw wide and silently screams into the air, pounding his fist into his head angrily without letting a sound out.

You turn around just as he drops into a neutral, emotionless demeanor.

The lightbulb in his brain flickers on. “You know what? I got an idea."

-

Joel takes you to the Home Depot.

"Hey Rick,” he says towards the man behind the paint counter.

Rick just chuckles. “Hey Joel, getting another paint? Your wife gonna make me match to the crazy fire in your eyes when you tell her to—“

Joel clears his throat when you waddle quickly to hold his hand like a child eager to stay close to dad in an unfamiliar land. Your mouth agape as you stare up at the ceiling and around all of the endless aisles of lumber and tools. Luckily, you were too stunned to hear Rick’s passing words.

"Why is it so big here?” You ask innocently. “And woodsy. And ... orange."

Joel grabs your hand and plops you in front or the swatches wall.

You gasp, “THERES SO MANY OPTIONS,” eyes sparkling and wide like a child in a candy shop.

"Pick a couple to take home, and then we're getting the paint for it. Ok?"

"How much are they?"

"They're 40 bucks each—“ Joel starts.

But Rick, the ever so helpful manager to anyone but Joel, buds in. “The swatches? You don't gotta pay for them darlin,” he winks.

Joel gives him a dagger look, but you smile so wide and start slipping swatches like they’re on fire.

Joel shakes his head and grabs some more rolls and brushes since his are all worn out. By the time he returns to the swatch wall, all 23 seconds later, you’ve got a giant of colored papers pile barely held in your hands of every single color. “We should check them all!”

He grits his teeth but bares a smile.

-

Joel tapes every single swatch on the wall at home. You walk and study each one. Holding one eye closed, tilting your head to the side, putting a different color next to it. You couldn’t see him pretending to bang his head against the wall on the other side of the room as you debate for an hour now.  

Finally, you stand back and take in the entire multicolored wall. “Oh thats it! It’s all of them! We make it like rainbow ombre in like little squares.”

"I would have to buy a can of every single paint. No. We're not doing that. We said one color only.”

"They can't give you like little cups of each color?"

"No.”

"That's dumb. What a scam!"

You wonder downstairs for more inspiration. Something homely. Something familial yet not too obviously Joel or your own style. You come across an old picture of young Tommy and Joel standing in front of Joel's truck, that had just been passed down by their dad. Their smug grins and messy hair, wrinkled clothes and slung arms around one another make you feel pleasantly at ease. Your baby needs to have that same sense of security, youth, and warmth. You study the photo a bit longer, and then it hits you. 

-

Joel wakes up, and the first thing he subconsciously does every morning is to reach for you on your side of the bed until he’s in contact with your warm body. It puts him at ease, touching you, knowing you’re there and he’s home. The only times you wouldn't be there would be if you were in the bathroom. But as he looks through heavy eyes, the bathroom door is open, dark, unoccupied. He furls his eyebrows back to your cold, empty side of the bed.

The sound of his truck rumbles distantly through the open window, growing closer and squeaking to a hault in the driveway.

He throws the blankets off and rushes down the stairs 2 at a time just to see you hauling a big heavy paint can slung down low with both your hands desperately holding the handle, all by yourself, bloated tummy and all, through the front door.

Barreling to you, he snatches the can from your sore fingers. 

“Are you crazy??? You can’t drive! You can't carry heavy shit! What were you doing—“

"Yes I can!” You challenge back. He sets the can on the table with a loud slam just as you drop his keys in the tray. “I’m not completely helpless, Joel! I can get my own pain and drive my own ... your own truck!"

"Yeah? Go paint the room yourself then, if you're so independent."

You scoff, bemused by his suggestion. “I’m not doing that. That's what I have you for.”

He shakes his head and looks at the new can.

“This better be worth it. "

You smile. “It's the one. Trust me." 

-

Joel finishes lying on the paint. It's a breezy, toned down pinkish salmon. Definitely not something that you would have gotten from a swatch. No, you had this one custom matched, and he can't quite put his finger on why it feels so familiar. And gives him little irksome itch too. 

He’s about to call you up when he hears Tommy greeting you at the front door.

The two of you make your way up the stairs, Tommy with a muffin shoved half in his mouth. When you round the corner, your husband stands in the middle of the room, awaiting your response.

"Well?" Joel asks curiously. 

To his relief, you've got the brightest, sweetest grin plastered all over your face. "It’s perfect. I told you!"

Its worth it--to see the excitement in your face--this is what he was hoping for the whole time. "Thought we weren't doing the gendered color thing?"

you nuzzle yourself under Joel's broad arm. "Well... this one is special."

Tommy nods in agreement "this looks good!" He walks around the room, more so noting Joel's handiwork rather than the choice of paint. It's kind of funny that Tommy almost disappears like camouflage with how closely his favorite shirt matches—

Joel's satisfied grin immediately drops to a shocked frown.

“You made me match our baby girl’s bedroom to Tommy's old ass shirt??"

You nod happily. “Isn't it so good!"

His arms flex angrily across his chest—it’s not good at all. “What’s next, you two havin’ an affair I don't know about,” he accuses between his brother and his wife.

"Joel!”

"Dude!"

"No! We're not painting our daughter’s room after him! This can't be your favorite color! What about every other color we looked at? What about all my shirts?"

Your eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of your sockets for such a ridiculous suggestion. “Plaid????????????" you ask audaciously.

"I got some denim too!"

Just as you two are screaming at one another over who’s shirt to match the room to, Tommy tiptoes backwards out the room quietly while swallowing the rest of his muffin, hoping to snag one more in the kitchen too before dipping.

"...and I'm just to assume our daughter is MINE when you got me painting HIS shirt—“

"I wouldn't be hanging out with your sensitive ass if it WAS his baby, damnit Joel, its just a color, what is WRONG with you—!”

Suddenly, he dips his hand into the bucket and slaps two saturated handprints onto your breasts. 

You gasp, backing away. Two Joel-sized hands in pink are wetly printed onto your large t-shirt, your favorite tee, as you stare down in shock. "You. Did. Not.”

Joel shrugs proudly. 

You grab the wet brush on the table next to you and slash it across his face before he could stop you. 

you try not to laugh, his face dotted in splotches of pink paint dribbling down his whiskers and neck. He rolls his pursed lips before looking at you, a predator smirking at a silly little bunny who’s just been put herself in a trap. 

".... This stuff comes off clothes...  right..." you ask hesitantly, backing away as he grasps the roller slowly and strides toward you.

You make a run for it, but the big belly doesn’t let you get far as he closes the distance and snatches you. You squeal out, giggling in his arm arms as he rolls and pats paint all over your clothes and body, the two of you getting soaked by the thick pigment. He pulls you around and smashes his lips for a heated kiss. Pink-colored hands rub paint all over your cheeks and chin affectionately. You rub your nose along his bridge, grinning at one another, covered in the glossy acrylic without a care in the world right now.

You peck his lips once more. “It’s a good color on you too, ya know…” 

He rolls his eyes. “Tell ya what. We’ll keep the room like this since ya like it so much. And next time I see Tommy, I’m bleaching that shirt. Win-win.”

“Deal.”

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

#joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fluff #the last of us fic #last of us fic #Joel dealing with Preggo wife

[blood-grove]

— school fights

— dad!ghoap & reader scenario based off my fics here :3

— tws; ofc fighting mentions, injuries , annoying adult (principal)

a/n; this isnt a chapter to odd adjustments just a scenario so pls dont treat this as a next chapter !

Fuck Fuck Fuckkk.

I was so fucking screwed.

But honestly the kid deserved it.

God my fist hurt so damn bad, I just tried rubbing it despite the fact I'm pretty sure I bruised my knuckles pretty badly.

Managed to sock him in the face though god damn it hurt.

I've never really gotten into fights much barely at all really, and it's been good at this school so far.

All into this one fucking kid decided to start fucking up your day for two weeks straight, You didn't even know what you did to cause this.

You weren't the tallest person either which also didn't help your situation Nearly comically shoved in the locker, Always having to quickly rush to your next class just in case the long open hallway would flood and stop up with foot traffic.

The relentless harassment, and the honestly uncreative insults thrown at you.

You just snapped.

John had packed me lunch usually I didn't ask since honestly I never got used to asking for things I felt everything they've gave me so far was enough, I didn't want to be spoiled even though there was a nagging voice saying I wasn't being spoiled.

This sort of parental affection made me feel spoiled, Made me feel like I almost had too much.

The principals voice brought me out of my thoughts.

"Are you listening?!"

No.

"Yes.."

"I've already called both of your parents both of your behaviors were inexcusable- And you? Biting one of your classmates?!"

I slightly flinched.

Yeah I did bite them.

But that was also deserved, I hated this school's stupid no-tolerance policy, Nearly the whole class was there saw it.

They all saw him dump that milk carton on my head my hair still damp, I tried to just walk away but being shoved onto the ground was my final straw as I punched him, and then we were both on the floor he was bigger than me and obviously, And I wasn't made for fighting he had landed a few more hits on me than I had on him.

So I bit him.

Hard.

Then the teachers finally got in threw the small crowd of students and pulled us apart.

"What are you some kind of dog? Do your parents teach you nothing?"

I just stayed silent gripping my pants leg as avoided eye contact, Why was I getting torn into for self-defense? Her shrill voice was getting on my nerves at this point getting to them bad.

I doubted things would go any better if I completely shut down, But eventually, she let up on me and went over to the teary-eyed boy no doubt from my bite of just to gain sympathy I couldn't care.

I just pulled my legs to my chest as he chewed on my lip focused on the ground.

This discussion was just hell, I wanted to throw up, yell, and vomit all once.

We both were getting suspended for a week, You would be put in sperate classes as if that was going to stop any other interaction from happening.

And you were supposed fucking apologize?.

"What?" I spoke up finally as the principal looked over at me Simon looked over at me as well had luckily arrived before the other kids' parent came which would have basically felt like my doom feeling like they were just going to gang up on me and guilt me till he came.

"You bit another student-"

"He dumped milk on me he's been fucking with me for two weeks!"

"Watch your language-"

"I-" I stopped as Simon slightly glanced over at me and I just gave up at that point as I bit my lip nearly crumbling up the apology paper I was given.

I was sniffling quietly by the time we left the office.

"Wait here." Simon finally said something as he headed back into the office leaving me to sit down on a nearby bench as I sniffled tears streaming down my face.

Simon came back out a few minutes later.

"Where's the paper?" Simon looked over at me as I handed him the paper as he just ripped it up tossing it into the trash.

"Why'd you do that?-"

"Do you want to go get ice cream?"

"..Yeah."

"Ow"

"Sorry.." Simon mumbled as he wrapped up my bruised knuckles and hand, My other holding my ice cream cone.

"Well get it wrapped up in ice at home.." I just nodded as he shifted getting up from his crouched position and picking up his own cup of ice cream.

He sat back down and we sat in silince for a while as we ate out ice cream.

"..Are you upset?"

He glanced over at me.

"Yes."

"I-"

"For not telling us you were being bullied."

"Well..I..I just thought.." I just sighed I went quiet looking away I could hear him shift taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"..If it happens again tell me.." I looked over at him as he shifted.

"You don't have to write that apology letter.."

"W-Well you ripped it up so..Yeah I thought so.."

"I'm going to the gym tomorrow.."

He paused as he shifted as he got up to throw away his ice cream cup.

"I want you too come."

"I-..Why..?"

"So I can teach you how to punch someone properly."

a/n; idk what to put here so this is it lmao

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #dad simon riley #reader #simon riley #child reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #cod

[kangals]

way back in 2014, probably a few weeks or months after you posted that picture of boone with the stick on his head, i checked your blog out and so dearly enjoyed all the dogposting that i followed. i think you were the first dogblr blog i actually followed at the time, but it's been ages and my memory is bad, so i'm not fully sure. it wasn't long before then--2012 i think?--that i had gotten a new dog of my own, a border collie. iirc he and boone were just about the same age.

in 2018 i lost that blog i'd followed you with, and a lot of connections with it. i didn't return until 2021, and when i did, i didn't refollow most of the old blogs; i don't think i even really went looking for them. it took me a while to get back into the swing of using tumblr.

last september, my border collie had a sharp health decline, and i had to say goodbye. it's not the first time i've had to put a pet down, but i think it was the hardest. i'm still not over it. even just typing this now, i feel raw.

then in march or so, i made a new fandom friend who knows you, and i enthusiastically recalled following you before and how much i enjoyed it. i didn't even know about stellina, and now there's kep too! but... i also didn't know you'd lost boone. i followed because i still really enjoy your blog, and i love your collies too. and butters!!! so glad she's still here!

idk what made me look tonight... maybe because i talked about my old border collie with someone today. i went looking for the posts immediately around when you lost boone, because i guess some part of me wanted to know what happened. i spent the better part of an hour (maybe longer?) reading posts from the weeks before the decline, and then the loss, and then the deluge of old boone pictures after, and i've been crying pretty much the whole time just reading your posts and tags about him.

and this is a long and windy way to get to saying thank you. i'm glad you shared your grief, though that seems like a weird thing to say. there's something cathartic about crying over someone else's dog when you still hurt about your own, and knowing you're not alone in that kind of sorrow. boone was such a beautiful boy. i'll never forget that silly post that made me check your blog out in the first place, or the years of posts i stuck around for after. i wish i'd remembered to follow sooner, but the archive is still there, and it's so fun looking through all those old posts about him and his quirks and antics. he was amazing.

sorry for the length of this, i just... really wanted you to know that he touched yet another life, i guess. and i've been so deeply enjoying your posts about stellina and kep. i know it'll be a year soon... i hope there's some peace in how things have gone since he passed, and i hope the anniversary isn't too hard on you. thank you for sharing him with us.

i've been on tumblr for 14 years and this is, genuinely, the nicest ask i think i've ever been sent.

thank you - sincerely. there's been a lot of times over the course of this blog that i've felt like i was oversharing, or talking about pointless things only i cared about. i still so frequently start typing out a post only to stop mid-sentence and delete it because i can't help but think "no one cares about this." possibly it's why i like to talk about my pets so much - they're not me, but i'm the one who knows them best, so i get to say "hey look at this" and ramble and have people say "i'm looking" back. when boone passed, i lost that filter and i poured my grief out into this blog because it was the closest outlet i had. and to have hundreds of people not only acknowledge this but to commiserate, to reassure, to share their own stories - that helped healed me more than i can put into words. it's exactly as you said: there's a catharsis in grieving together.

i am sorry you also had to say goodbye. i wish i could say it gets easier, but i think that would be defeating the point of grief. your grief is your love and damn it if there isn't any act more loving in the world than choosing to say goodbye to an old, loyal dog. you think of how dogs were domesticated tens of thousands of years ago, of how human society and dogs have developed intertwined, of how we have records of ancient greeks and romans carving loving epitaths on their dog's graves, of how a prehistoric dog's skull was found with a bone placed in it's mouth after death, and you wonder if grieving a dog isn't one of the most consistent experiences in the whole of human history that there is.

i'm glad to know that this could bring you some comfort, in some way. it's incredibly touching to know that you kept me and boone in your thoughts for all this time. i am doing ok - i've been reflecting a lot as we approach the one-year mark. i'm not sure if i'll be able to condense those thoughts down into coherent words, but i'll do my best. i hope that my silly little pets continue to bring you some happiness, and that you've found peace with your own grief.

thank you, again - this is extremely touching and means a hell of a lot to me.

#i know exactly what you mean about reading posts about other peoples loss and grieving in camaraderie with them. i do that too #also mayhaps i am nosy sometimes and want to intrude. i cant help my nature to be a looky-loo #which is to say: you should never feel like you are intruding for doing so back to me.

[inmyheaddd]

only fair now that nash has his own childhood friends to lovers to complete the series!!! so i’m requesting a nash childhood friends to lovers hcs hehe. they’re so so cute to read, i love every single one of them 🥹💘

nash hawthorne childhood friends to lovers

thankyou sm for the requestttt, sorry it took so long 😭 the lack of nash in the books is such a crime, he’s so underrated

wc:4k

you and nash met at a horse riding club, when you were 11 and he was 13 years old. 

since you two were practically the only children in the private establishment, you two were often in each other's presence.

you made eye contact a few times but never spoke to each other. you thought he was pretty cute. 

“hey mom, do you know who that guy was?” you asked your mom once when you were leaving the place. 

“oh yeah, that’s skye’s son, nash. i’m friends with his mom, why?” 

“nothing” you say with a small smile as you continue to walk. 

“are you sure it’s nothing?“ she asks as she looks at you with a laugh.

“yes, mom,” you reply as you start giggling slightly. you start to approach the car door, and your mom opens the door for you. 

“i was your age once too, you know,” she laughs, and jokingly roll your eyes before joining in.

the next lesson you had, with some encouragement from your mom, you decided to speak to him after the lesson ended. he was standing in the reception, seemingly waiting for someone to pick him up, as were you. 

“hi.” you smile at him when he turns to look at you, and he returns it back.

“hey, i know you; i've seen you ‘round here”

“yeah, we’re like the only two kids in the building,” you reply with a small laugh.

“you’re right on that,"  he says with a small chuckle, and then you ask another question.

“are you waiting on your parents?”

“my moms pretty busy, so someone comes and picks me up.” he says, sounding slightly less confident as he did before.

“oh, lucky!” you respond, oblivious as to why a driver picks him up instead of his own mother . “my mom just talks and talks the whole way through the car ride—also, did you know my mom and your mom are friends? ” 

he raises an eyebrow at your last statement. “really, how’s that?” 

“i don’t know, my mom just told me.”

“you were talkin’ ‘bout me?” he says, a grin starting to appear on his face.

you nervously chuckle and continue “um, i just asked my mom who you were, ‘cause like, she kinda knows everyone.” 

“did you get your answer?” he says, and you realize he has a texan accent. 

“i think so; you’re nash, right?”

“yep. and you’re y/n, right?” he uses the same intonation as you, and raises his eyebrows with a smile as he tilts his head slightly.

“yeah! how’d you know?” you say with a large smile on your face.

“i know things,” he replies, and you thought you were hallucinating when he winked at you. 

he tore his attention away from you to the door, noticing someone who looks like you walking through the door.

“‘s that your mom?” he says with a chin nod, and you turn to follow his gaze.

“oh,” you say, slightly disappointed that your conversation would have to come to an end.  “yeah, it is.”

you turn back to him, and he speaks again.

“you ready for the talking?” he questions, quoting you from earlier. 

you let out a chuckle through your nose, “yeah, i’ve gotten used to it.” you two make eye contact for a few seconds with no words and decide to speak again “i guess i have to go, my moms waiting.” 

“i guess you do” 

“do you have a habit of repeating everything i say?” you say with an inquisitive look on your face and a smile. 

he runs his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide his own smile, and shrugs 

“maybe,” he says with that damn smile that makes you feel like there’s a whole zoo in your stomach.

he looks behind you once again and sees your mom waiting for you, looking slightly bored.

“it looks like your mom is still waiting.” you turn to look at your mom, then back to him. “i’ll see ya later then?” he continues.

“bye, i’ll see you later” you repeat his words and deepen your voice in an attempt to mock him, to which he laughs at, before you turn around and walk to your mom, who immediately pulled you into a hug and walked with you with her arm around your shoulder. 

before the automatic door opened, you turned to wave at nash, he reciprocated it with another chin nod and a raise of his hand. however, when looking at you and your mom, he had a new, unrecognizable look on his face. ‘he’s probably bored because now he’ll have to wait alone’ 11 year old you thought. 

you two got so much closer over the span of a few weeks, and soon enough, you were going over to each others houses all the time.

you noticed that he spent a lot of time with his brothers, and he was a great role model. you didn’t really learn the reason why until years later, but you still found it so admirable.

you two would do everything together, sometimes you’d simply go over to each other's houses to do nothing together.

nash quit horse riding lessons when he was around 15, and instead decided to use some of the money that he practically never touches towards buying two horses and building a shed. he named one of them after you by anagramming your full name, but never told you. 

the next time you came over, he was extremely smiley, which was definitely different from his usual persona. 

“okay, what’s up with you? you’ve been smiling all day,” you say, bringing up the question that has been clouding your mind since the second you stepped in his room. 

“nothin’, just grateful to be alive. what, a man can’t smile?”

“you’re barely 16, what “man” are you talking about?” you say with a laugh, and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“alright, let me show you something,” he says as he stands up from the couch you were both sitting on and offers you his hand. 

“okay,” you make that sound more like a question as you his hand and follow him out of the room. 

“where are we going?” you ask as you two step out the back doors and are now outside in the backyard. 

“what’s with all the questions today?” he stops in his tracks and turns to face you, looking down at you with a grin on his face, slightly squinting as the sun was directly above you two. “it’s like we have the riddler over here,” he says with a deep chuckle. 

“you can’t blame a girl for being curious,” you retort, squinting as you lift your hand and use it as a makeshift visor from the sun.

“but you can blame a man for smilin’?”. 

“yep, you’re actually spot on.” 

he fake-sighs and looks away from you, then looks back at you, a smile involuntarily finding his face. “whatever the lady says,” he says as he grins down at you.

“you’re learning!” 

“yes, i am. let’s continue now, yeah? i’m sweatin’ out here” he says as he reaches his hand out to you. then you put your hand down from your face and connect it with his.

when he showed you the horses, you literally stopped in your tracks and gasped, instinctively walking over to them and petting them. when you realise what you’re doing, you remove your hand and turn back to nash. “oh my god, i can’t believe it- i-when did you do this?”

he chuckles with his hands in his pockets, leaning back slightly on his heels, “i’ve been planning it for a while,” 

“oh my god, and they’re yours? like completely? oh my- can i?” you ask to pet the horses, practically stumbling over your words because of how shocked you are.

“you don’t have to ask, i got ‘em for us,” he says, quieter than his usual tone, as a sense of familiarity and warmth spread through him. he forgot how much he loved seeing you with animals.

“no you didn’t,” you gasp as you whip your head around and turn to face him completely, “oh my god, nash,” you turn and look at the horses again, “what are their names?” you ask whilst petting them.

he tells you the names, and one of them piques your interest. “wait, can you repeat that last one again?” you ask as you turn around with your eyebrows furrowed in question. he smiles, confirming your suspicions as he repeats it. 

“there’s no way you anagramed my name to name a horse,” you chuckle and he walks towards you. 

he’s standing right infront of you, and you realise he’s basically towering over you. “when did he get so tall?” “has he always been this tall, or am i just realising this? - and when did he start looking like that” 

you’re quickly brought out of your thoughts when he responds. “hey, i couldn’t not name my favorite animal after my favorite girl,” he says, grinning down at you. 

you slightly giggle and briefly look to the side before pulling him into a hug. you were on your tiptoes, but he crouched down to meet your height so you wouldn’t have to. 

“seriously though, i love you so much nash, you’re the best friend in the world.” you mumble into his shoulder as he rubs your back up and down. 

friend. he felt a pit in his stomach. why did that word suddenly have a sting to it? “i love you, more than you know.”

as time went on, you were practically a member of the family and would participate in the saturday morning games. you noticed nash would often figure it out before his brothers did, but let them take the win. 

“why do you do that? let them win? you’re insanely smart, but you never show it.”

he takes a deep bath before answering your question. “they’re just kids, they desperately want to please the old man because, well.” he trails off, not really wanting to bring up his mom, more so, her absence. he continues “i just want them to be happy, they deserve it.” you look at him with love written all over your eyes, it’s like everyday he unknowingly pushes the agenda that he’s the best person ever. “yeah, i get that.” he meets your eyes and for a few seconds it genuinely feels like time stopped. 

your moment was suddenly interrupted by xander running through the room, “nash! guess what!” and he starts telling nash about his win. nash looks back at you, his face saying “you see what i mean?” you give him a knowing smile and he turns back to xander.

“no way kid, how’d you figure it out?” 

xander rambles on about the riddles, the clues, and the game in general, and you watch their conversation, wondering how you got so lucky to know these one-of-a kind people. how you got so lucky to know nash. 

that wasn’t the only time one of nash’s brothers would barge into his room. it was actually quite a common occurrence. 

one time you were hanging out in his room, just sitting on his bed and talking, when all three of his brothers barged in the room, jameson in front, grayson not far behind him, and xander behind grayson laughing his head off whilst running.

“woah woah woah,” nash repeated as he stood up from the bed, “what’s going on here?” he stood infront of you, making sure jameson wouldn’t barge into you as he steadied him by grabbing onto his shoulders.

“tell jameson to give my usb stick back.” grayson says as he tries to tackle jameson, however, his attempts were quickly stopped by nash. “listen here, if you two want to fight, go fight. but not here, not when y/n’s over? alright?”

“sorry” they both grumble under their breath.

“is y/n your special friend?” little xander asks, seemingly having recovered from his fit of laughter. he was honestly just here for the fun of it.

“yes actually, she’s a very special lady, which is why i’m telling your brothers off for acting like that infront of her.” 

“oh i’m very special?” you ask sarcastically 

“yes ma’am” he turns to look at you and for a brief second, he forgets his brothers were in the room for a second.

he turns back when he hears grayson trying to pry the usb out of jamesons hands and jamesons' yells.

you were honestly glad, because you were 110% sure your face was about as red as a tomato at this point. he had a way with words, that’s for sure.

“jamie, give your brother his usb stick back, grayson, go away and keep the fighting to a minimum, xander, you continue whatever you were doin’, and all of you, out of my room.” 

he leads them all out, while xander was laughing again, jameson and grayson both had their heads down but you could see jameson still smiling, and you heard a snicker coming from him when nash closed the door behind them. 

he closed his eyes and sighed for a second after he shut the door, and when he opened them you both started laughing.

“they can be such little critters sometimes, huh?” he says followed by a chuckle.

“i love them; it’s like constant entertainment. plus i can just talk to them when i get bored of you,” you say jokingly with a laugh.

“oh yeah? you bored of me now?” he jokes back

“hmmm,” you pretend to think, tapping your chin, “a little bit, but i’ll deal with it.”

“you’ll deal with it?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in amusement, along with a playful smile on his face. “how so?” he says as he walks towards you, and you’re still sitting on the bed.

“i guess i’ll just bring the energy out of you. i’m just special like that,” you say with a smile, recalling him calling you “special”

“i guess you are.” 

the moment was becoming too “more than friends"-ish for you to handle, especially with him looking at you like that, so you decided to go back to familiar ground and bring back the light jokes.

“how do you still manage to repeat me when i’m repeating you?” you laugh and shake your head.

he shakes his head back and joins in on the laughter, finally sitting next to you after standing right infront of you.

the rest of the night went as it usually would with you two. but when you were in your own room, staring at the wall unable to sleep, you were cursing yourself for going another day not talking about your feelings, more specifically how you felt for nash. little did you know he was doing the same exact thing.

around your senior year, he decided that being just friends with you was genuinely going to be the cause of his death.

mentally, and also physically.

his brothers non stop teasing about you which always sometimes ended up in fights was starting to get on his nerves. 

prom was coming up, and he knew from the books you read, the movies you watched, and just you in general that you felt like it was a big deal.

you ‘dragged’ him along to dress shopping, even though inside he was jumping up and down because he loved anything to do with you.

“okay listen, you know my size, and the colours i like are…?” 

“light pink, baby blue, pastel yellow, orange, and light green as a last resort—those words are practically engraved in my brain darlin’”

“okay, great.” you say, beaming at him. you’re not sure if it’s because of the fact that he remembers everything you tell him, or the name he called you. “i’m going to go try on these, and you send me photos of any you find you think i might like, okay?”

“yes ma’am, on it.” 

he was looking around the store, 3 dresses in hand, knowing the employees were talking about him.

“do you see those eyes?”

“wait- hawthorne? as in tobias hawthorne?”

“that’s the oldest one, nash” 

“i don’t know who i want to be more; y/n or him” 

“she’s so pretty, they fit each other.”

he heard in hushed whispers, and hearing the last two made him smile, just as he saw a dress that was so you. 

everything about it screamed you in every way, and he loved it.

he spoke to one of the assistants and got one in your size, he couldn’t wait to show you this one; he was afraid a photo wouldn’t do it justice. 

“hey darl, i saw this dress that i think you’d love. when you’re done you can come out and see it,” he said after knocking on the door of your changing room.

“oh i’m basically done, just putting on my shirt!” you say slightly muffled, and a few seconds later you open the door, “hi” you breathe out. 

“hey there,” he grins at you.

you smile back at him, and then ask “do you have the dress?” 

“right here,”

he turns and walks a few steps, taking the dress of the hanger and showing it to you, he begins to speak but you tune it all out because the dress is literally everything you wanted and more, “oh my god,” you say with your mouth agape. 

this earns a low chuckle out of him. “you alright there?” 

“i just, i love the dress so much, i can’t believe i didn’t find it myself, how the hell did you even notice it?” you finally tear your eyes away from the dress and meet his, adding a laugh to the end of your sentence. 

“i just know my girl like that,” he says, genuinely smiling at you, and you were 99.9% sure your knees were going to buckle right there and you would fall at his feet. luckily, some of your strength remained, and you met his eyes for 2 seconds, only deepening the red colour in your face.

“i’m uh, i’m gonna go try on the dress.” you say, pointing back to the changing room with your thumb.

“alright, take your time.” when did his accent get so hot?

you close the door, lock it, and lean on it for a few seconds, recalling what the hell just happened, “my girl”???? 

“what the fuck” you mutter under your breath, but you can’t help the smile that finds your face when you think of the moment, in fact, you’re basically always smiling whenever you think or talk about nash. your mom never fails to mention it.

you try on the dress, and you think it’s practically made for you. you felt perfect. how was nash so right with his choices? to say you were obsessed with the dress was an understatement. 

after snapping a few pictures for your friends and mom, you call out to nash. “i’m coming out now.” before opening the door and stepping out.

“what do you think?” you say as you do a 360.

‘speechless’ wasn’t a word used to describe nash hawthorne, ever. but right now, he fit the dictionary definition. 

he was thinking ‘i can’t wait until one day, it’s our wedding she’s shopping for’

he quickly cleared his throat and replied once he realized he left you hanging. “you look gorgeous, you are gorgeous. buy that dress, i’m begging you.” 

his words make you nervously laugh, “yeah, i love it so much. i think i will. thankyou for finding it.”

“no need to thank me darlin’, it’s all you.” which earned another nervous laugh out of you. he has to know what he’s doing. “i’m gonna go change now, and then we can leave.”

after you finish changing, you go to pay for the dress. when you reach the desk, the lady informs you that the dress has already been paid for. 

you go back to nash who was waiting for you in the sitting area, his eyes lighting up when he meets yours.

“nash? did you pay for my dress?” 

he just smiles in return, telling you everything you need to know.

“how did you even pay for it? you didn’t even have the dress with you.”

he stands up and walks next to you, taking the packaged dress from your hands and saying “don’t worry 'bout it’. lets go now?” before leading you two out the door.

a few days later, you realized you didn’t officially have a prom date. what you didn’t know was that nash was planning a whole thing to ask you out, with flowers, a picnic, jewelry, and little things he knows you love. it was the day he was going to ask you, and the second you walked into the house you said this:

“hey nash, um, this is kind of random but would you be my date to prom? i don’t have one yet and i-“ you immediately stop when you notice his face slightly fall.

“it would be friendly, o-ofcourse and it doesn’t mean anything.” you attempt to salvage yourself by rambling on and on.

“nash?” 

he starts to smile and then decides to speak. “it’s real funny you ask me that, ya know?” 

“why’s that?” you say with a smile matching his.

“c’mere” he says before taking your hand and leading you somewhere again.

what is it with this man and taking your hand?? 

when you reach the picnic he set out for you, which looks straight out of a romance movie or a valentine’s day advert, he starts to speak again. “i was going to ask you here, but now i don’t have to do that and we can just eat, right?” he jokes, to which you laugh and respond, “so that means you’ll go with me?” 

“ofcourse i’ll go with you. hell, i’d do anything you want. i’d go anywhere, if it was you askin’. i love you, not in the way that you already know i do. not in a friendly way. i love you in a way that takes over my mind and makes you all i can think about 24/7.” his tone is suddenly much more serious, not a hint of the joking that was once present. he scans your face, noticing your blush and the smile starting to appear on your face. he continues. “what im tryin’ to say is, since the second i saw you in those horse riding lessons, i knew you were going to be someone special in my life. the second i saw how good you were with my brothers, with animals, with people in general, i knew i loved you. and the second i realized your cheeks would turn a shade of red, like they are now, after id call you a name, i knew i was in love with you.” 

now it was your turn to be speechless, the only thing you could muster up was whispering his name before pulling him into a kiss. 

he craned his neck down to meet your height, then you jumped and wrapped your legs around his torso. when you pulled back, you all but squealed and started peppering his face with kisses, repeating “i love you” with each one. 

he started laughing, and “moving his face away from you” but not really, he loved it. 

“alright alright, hold your horses.” he laughed before placing you on your feet again.

you tried to hold back your laugh when you realized there were kiss marks from your remaining lipgloss all over his face.

“what are you laughing at huh?” he says through a smile as he looks at you and starts laughing, simply because you are. 

“nothing! just happy.” you reply.

“and why’s that?” he asks again, still smiling at you. 

“well, this really cute guy with a funny accent just told me he’s loved me for like ages, and i’ve basically had a crush on him since we first met. isn’t that great!” you beam up at him, and he starts laughing again.

“i don’t know about that, the guy sounds like bad news. you should stay away.” he jokes back. 

“but he’s so cute, you should see him.” you continue, not being able to hold back your laughs.

“yeah?” 

“yeah, he’s the best.”

his grin widens before pulling you into another kiss. this time when it ends, you sat down to eat the food he prepared. you two watched the sunset together, and when it was night, you ended up falling asleep on each other while watching the stars.

you were woken up by his brothers standing over you two, laughing at the kiss marks still on nash's face, and the position you two were in. nash excused himself and had a ‘talk’ with them inside, and came back to you out of breath and sweaty, looking slightly pissed off. (it was hot though)

all of the hawthorne friends to lovers officially doneee, lmk if you enjoyeddd and leave reqs!! tags: @kikiyapps @lanterns-and-daydreams

#nash hawthorne x reader #nash hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #the inheritance games #tig

[buildarocketboys]

Some Team Castle shenanigans for @mygangtome day 2024. Written in an hour on my lunch break, unedited, Allan, Marian and Guy go out to the tavern, semi-crackish

"Allan," Marian hisses from the end of the corridor. "You need to help me sneak out of the castle."

Allan sighs and rolls his eyes. "You know I can't do that, Marian. Giz banned the Nightwatchman."

Marian huffs. "I wasn't going to sneak out to be the Nightwatchman."

Allan eyes her dubiously.

"Well, all right, maybe I was. But I just want to get out! Take me to a tavern or something, I don't care! I just need to get out of this damn castle."

Allan raises his eyebrows. He doesn't think he's ever heard Marian swear before. "All right," he says, hands on hips. "But I'll have to ask Giz for his permission. And you never know, he might want to come too."

"I don't care," says Marian. "I'll go to the tavern with the Sheriff if it'll get me out of here for five minutes!"

"Fine, I'll ask him," says Allan. "No promises, mind." He looks at her sceptically. "Have you even been to a tavern before?"

"I can hold my wine, thank you very much," Marian says, which means no.

Allan smirks. "We'll see," he says.

Gisborne is horrified at first.

"A tavern? Lady Marian?"

Allan pleads her case pretty well, especially since he's not quite sure he believes it himself. He's not convinced that Marian won't run off to the forest or start giving alms to the poor the minute Guy's back is turned.

He can see Guy starting to waver.

"Very well," he says eventually. "Under one condition."

"Yeah?" says Allan. "What's that?"

"I will accompany Lady Marian to the...tavern," he says, as if the word is an unpleasant bite of food.

"Yeah, great," says Allan. "I might head down too."

Guy looks strained. "Allan, you don't have to-"

"Yeah, but I want to. What, are you gonna ban me from going down the pub?"

Guy bears his teeth at him. "I should do." He sighs. "Fine. You may come."

"Didn't actually need your permission, but thanks Giz," Allan chirps, then leaves before Guy starts throwing things at him.

The company isn't exactly diverting to start with. Guy buys the first round of drinks, looking suspiciously over his shoulder at Marian and Allan the whole time. He sets them on the table and they sit in silence.

"So, Gisborne," Allan says. "How's the leather working out for you? Look still in?"

Marian hides an undignified snort of laughter in her hands. Guy looks at her sharply before turning to Allan. "It's comfortable," he says.

Marian raises her eyebrows. "Is it?"

"Yes, actually," Guy says, drawing himself up in a dignified manner. "And protective. Much less cumbersome than actual armour, but it does the job."

Marian looks surprised. "Well, I never knew that."

"Me neither," says Allan.

They lapse back into silence.

By the second round of drinks, however, everyone starts to loosen up. Allan plonks them on the table.

"Cheers, Giz, Maz," Allan says, raising his tankard, and neither of them tell him off for the nickname.

"What should we call you?" Marian says. "Al? Az?"

She lets out a snort and Guy joins her in laughter, to all of their surprises. 

"I'm gonna use that from now on," he says, gesturing towards Allan.

He sets his tankard down. "I shouldn't drink anymore, the Sheriff wants me up at the crack of dawn tomorrow."

"C'mon, live a little, Giz," Allan says.

"Yes, Guy, you need to loosen up," Marian says, bursting into giggles for no apparent reason. Allan had known she'd be a total lightweight.

Guy rolls his eyes and sighs, then drains half the tankard in one. Allan cheers while Marian laughs in delight, attempting to copy him and spilling half the pint down her dress.

"Oh drat!" she says.

Guy shakes his head fondly and offers her a handkerchief.

"Thanks Guy."

By the third round, both Marian and Guy are well and truly drunk, and Allan's well on his way to tipsy.

"Sure you don't wanna go home already?" Marian teases Guy.

"Nah," he says, taking a big gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fuck the Sheriff."

Marian howls with laughter and Allan can't help but join her. People are starting to look in their direction, but Guy and Marian don't seem to notice.

"Fuck the Sheriff!" says Marian, raising her tankard and clinking it against Guy's, then Allan's. 

"To drinking!" says Allan.

"To ale!" says Guy.

"To friends," says Marian, catching them both in her little smile. Allan feels pleasantly numb, happy in the company of two people who have been enemies, allies and superiors to him, but who right now are friends.

"To friends," he repeats.

"To friends," Guy says. He's wearing an odd look on his face, one Allan can't quite read.

"On that note, I need to visit the privy," Marian says. "Where is it?"

"Outside." Allan gestures vaguely, noting the distasteful look on Marian's face as she gets up.

Once she's left, Gisborne rests a hand on his shoulder. Allan turns to him and is surprised to see his eyes filled with tears.

"Guy?" Allan asks tentatively.

"Allan," Guy says miserably. "Allan, what can I do to make her love me?"

Allan takes a deep breath. He should have known Gisborne would be a weepy drunk. "Well, she's your friend. That's a start, right?"

And then Guy is weeping into his chest. "Why won't she love me, Allan? I just want her to love me."

Allan pats the back of Guy's head awkwardly. "There, there," he says. Guy continues sobbing into his shoulder, but luckily doesn't say anything else.

"Allan, I can't walk straight," Marian says, tottering back to their table. Allan's almost surprised that she's come back - he'd half expected her to run off. 

Then she notices Guy weeping into Allan's shoulder. "Guy? What's wrong?"

Guy lets out another wracking sob and doesn't answer, which Allan is secretly grateful for. He came out for a relaxing night of drinking - the last thing he needs is for Marian and Guy to have it out here and now.

"He's just a bit drunk," Allan says, answering for him. "C'mon, help me get him back to the castle. We don't want the Sheriff to see him like this."

Marian nods, trying to look more sober than she is, and helps Allan get Guy up.

"Not the Sheriff, no, no, nooo," he moans. "Allan, you can't let the Sheriff see me like this, OK?"

"On it, boss," Allan says. Marian sniggers.

"Or Marian," Guy says. "She can't see me like this."

"Um," says Marian, her arm already around his shoulders.

"ALLAN!" Guy yells, giving him an earful about letting Marian near him in this state as they wrangle him out of the tavern.

"Jeez, a little gratitude would be nice," he says as Guy lapses into tears again.

They manage to make it back to the castle without being spotted. Marian helps Allan lay Guy down on the bed.

"Well," she says, looking awkward (and a lot more sober than she was half an hour ago). "Goodnight Allan."

"G'night Marian," Allan says.

"Goodnight, Guy," she calls, but Guy doesn't respond.

"Don't worry," Allan says confidently. "He'll have forgotten this by the morning."

"I hope so," says Marian. She smiles. "Thank you for arranging tonight," she says. "I had a good time."

Then she's gone. Allan is astonished. She really did just want to go out and spend time with them.

Maybe that'll be a comfort to Guy later, he thinks, as he helps the man undress and get into bed.

"Stay," Guy begs as Allan is about to head for the door. He pauses.

"Are- are you sure?" he says. "I don't want you to wake up tomorrow morning screaming like a little girl about me being in your bed."

Guy snorts, the tears apparently over for now. "It'd take a lot more for you to make me scream, Allan."

Allan wonders if he realises how dirty that sounds.

Guy sighs. "I need you to wake me up in time to meet with the Sheriff," he says. "So I need you to stay. That's all."

"That's all," Allan repeats.

"Yes." Guy eyes him narrowly, then pulls back the covers. "Get in."

Trying not to smirk, Allan gets into bed next to Guy. "You had better not throw up on me, Giz, that's all I'm saying. Otherwise, you and me are through."

Allan expects some kind of response to that, an elbow in the ribs at the very least. He twists round to look at Guy and realises he's fallen asleep, gently snoring, pressed up against Allan.

Allan sighs and resigns himself for a restless night.

#my gang to me 2024 #my gang to me #robin hood bbc #guy of gisborne #allan a dale #marian of knighton #lady marian #marian #my writing #team castle #im obsessed with these three i just wanna write 50 different fics where they hang out

[coquelicoq]

the onset of voicing in the /b/ and /p/ phonemes are different in french than in english which is why french p's sometimes sound like b's to me, but for some reason i have not been able to replicate this yet in my own speech except in the word "père". pretty solid on pronouncing père, not at all on pronouncing any other word with a p in it. baby steps i guess.

#omg i just looked this up in ladefoged and he even has a handy chart comparing the voice onset time for /b/ and /p/ #for french and english!!!! #thanks petey! i take back what i said about you last year not giving me the sufficiently complicated algorithm for determining the lexical #stress of any given english word #i mean i still want that but you're dead and i understand that it's unreasonable to ask things of you in that state #so that's on me. and now also you've got my back with this VOT graph. you're a real one #if you're curious voicing starts about 10 ms into the english stressed initial /b/ and about 60 ms into english stressed initial /p/ #whereas french /p/ is about 15 ms and /b/ is -100 ms or more #that 5 ms difference between english /b/ and french /p/ is blowing my mind because i CAN hear the difference. it's just that french /p/ is #closer to english b than it is to english p so it kinda sounds like you tried to make an english b but were just sliiiiiightly off #but damn. five MILLISECONDS??? that's the difference that i can hear? sometimes? #it's already crazy enough that 50 ms is the difference between a /b/ and a totally different phoneme. like delay vibrating your vocal folds #for a mere fifty milliseconds and you have made a whole other word! bestie that is sooooo few milliseconds!!!!!! #my instincts are so off on this lol i was thinking VOT for /p/ was like 600 ms and VOT for /b/ was 100 #wow. send me back to phonetics 101 i guess. actually that sounds very fun i would love to take remedial phonetics #french #phonetics #my posts #my french pronunciation journey has gotten so much more fun since i stopped freaking out about how bad my accent is #or well i still freak out about it. but less! #turns out it's really hard to get better at something if you're so afraid of being bad that you never practice #also everyone else in my class has bad accents except for like two guys who have been taking the class for 12 years #and one of them lived in montreal. so that's cheating. disqualified! #god what if i just started like. recording my speech in praat and looking at the waveform and making adjustments based on the VOT #like biofeedback for my french accent #for all the rounded front vowels i can't tell apart just break out the spectrograms and start comparing formants #every time a french person says something i'd be like damn. what i wouldn't give to get that sound in my shop and look under the hood #i bet that spectrogram would be really something

[divinemanicstate]

hi im new here and i just wanna ask: you mentioned not liking yun-jin in your pinned post, is there any reason in particular? im just curious but you dont have to answer!

hi anon, welcome!

i prefer not discussing my dislike for certain dbd characters since i dont want to hurt any feelings

however, in short - i dont like her personality

#more in tags since ppl usually dont read them but #one particular thing that made me dislike her was her breaking into ji woons room and ivading his personal space IK WHY she did it but #as a person who fkn hates ppl entering my room without permission i got so pissed off #like ok u suspect ur employee but damn bitch imagine if he enters UR room and starts rummaging thru ur stuff ofc hed get mad #also just not a fan of the whole trope for characters esp when in reality thats just a façade and they re helpless #ppl treat her like shes this badass chick who d kick ur ass meanwhile ji woon was gonna kill her in canon and she couldnt do anything LMAO #also sorry tumblr ate two words from the tags and i dont wanna re do them

[tinyorangepotato]

mm tumblr post time

#tiny talking #so im at camp and very suepr tired and also bene drinking a little so im not spell reading this #but so ive been talkign tonthisndude for a bit and we started daring #dtaing #to see what happens since wevee been freinds for legit years and i was still iffy about my aroace because udk maybe #and ive vene thinkigna biut breakignyp for minths but we justbahvent rlaked and i hate to not be a people pleaser so ive bene putting it of #and trying to just construct the whole message an dppanbit all but that doesnt work ykniw #and i finally tonight got a coupel drinks and sent a message (becaus ei knew i woudl ramble and apolpgoze and eveyronr #either if i was sober or notbso inhave more of an excuse now but just for the rambling yknoe) #and god he was so fucking jcie and underatsnding about me sating am aroace and apologolize #and god damn man i started tearing up and theres no right what yi sat things over text without iverthinkign it #and i defiantly qasnt gonna call because one im with other peopel and have a broken ankle #so i cant just go walk off and call then come abck wirhotu strugglign #and becuae i can never outload speak of things that is inporatn or argmuentative or abything #and i dont think i coudl do it wirhout tesring up a bit beciase god dman #but god damn i did it and um glad i did butnalso god he was the bwst and i wish it worked propperly #but i just didnt fele it so yknow whays best is to not lead it on mroe and all thag gut fyck man #this gonesly wanst even an actualnpsot i just wanted to say this soemqhere because ita bene on y midn a bunch #and no one even really knew i was seeing him because one nobone asked and too i wasnt gonantell them #because whyshoydl they know. who cares who im dsting because we werent ecen labled yntil a little whilr ago #and even after like i was still jsy hangung with my friend who i ahppene to be kinda dating so who cares #anywyas ive eben rmabling since the beginingn #um actually gona. do one more tint talks tongiht since its been soenthing elsneive beenbthiningnof #and just want off my mind and its not mwant tk guolt trip or anything but its just soenthing i saw and tho7ghtnof

[voidthewanderer]

I’m so close to finishing this art but my BATTERY IS AT 32% 😭😭😭

I guess it gives me time to look up some procreate tips and tricks for their text feature, but I legit just need to add the words and sign it and it’ll be done! I just hope what I need to do with the writing is actually a feature that already exists in the program and not gonna be some annoying process.

Also gotta hope that my printer doesn’t muck up the colors. I know it’s a lot more saturated than I probably should have done, but I really like how it looks.

#shut it void #I also am starting to get more ideas with it too so fingers crossed this turns out good #I’m legit just scared of the printer messing it up because I never know if it actually has ink in it or not #like… yeah we’ve needed a new one for a long time but if I buy a whole ass printer the whole house is gonna use #then we should split the cost of the damn thing #especially since the ones I’ve been looking at I don’t think fit in the computer cabinet 🥲🥲🥲 #might have to ask my sticker guy if he can maybe print off the sheets for me and I’d obviously make the rest

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

#Danny is Gotham #danny phantom #Jason Todd #Jason Todd as Robin #joker is about to get haunted #bruce wayne #Gotham’s knight #batman #bamf danny phantom #ghost king danny #dc x dp #Danny is Tim Drake #he’s like nine #Jason Todd lives #joker? probably not #the bats: hmmm suspicious #also the bats: Gotham loves me! I’m doing the right thing! #dp x dc

[oddinary4bts]

To Give a Helping Hand | jjk

☆summary: when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.

☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

☆warnings: unedited, curses, explicit content: masturbation. that's it, that's the whole thing. Cumshot on his hand tattoos. Jungkook is hella horny for reader and jerks off thinking about her - fantasies of oral sex (male and female receiving), of unprotected sex, of rough sex, of hickeys and marking (scratches on the back), of shower sex, of spanking, of choking, of creampies, of clit play, of fingering and squirting. Multiple orgasms, lowkey pain kink and praise kink (let me know if I forgot something)

☆word count: 1.8k (I think it's the shortest thing I've ever written on here lmao)

☆a/n: pure unedited sins bc mr jeon jungkook makes me horny despite being in the army. hope this doesn't disappoint lmaooo thank you to @wintaerbaer for her help with the banner (it would have been a horrible mess without your guidance) and for encouraging me to write this!! love you Ari <3333

☆☆☆☆☆

You’re driving him insane.

You. Are. Driving. Him. Insane.

Insane.

Every time Jungkook sees you at the gym, he goes insane. Completely, utterly, insane. He thinks there has to be a better word in the dictionary to describe what you do to him but, alas, he can’t find it.

So insane it is, and he tries to live up to the name.

He’s been home for five minutes, and he’s already in his bed, dick so hard he thinks it’ll explode. Because of course you had to be doing squats today, in those way too tight biker shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Your thick ass, stretching the fabric so much he thinks he spied a thong underneath…

Jungkook grunts, hiding his eyes behind his arm, trying to erase the picture from his mind. But he can’t. You’re everywhere – behind his closed eyelids, or a ghost in his room when he opens his eyes again.

It’s been that way since the very first day he saw you at the gym. Jungkook caught sight of you and immediately had a boner, which hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. He’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake, yet the sight of you turns him on far more than anything ever has.

You’re just… perfect. Too hot, your body perfectly sculpted by the hours you spend at the gym every week. Jungkook dreams of dragging his hands, his tongue, on every inch of your body. Of caressing your hard-earned muscles, of gripping the meat of your ass…

Of grinding into you and hearing the little breathy moans he’s sure that you make in the thralls of passion.

Fuck.

If he’s honest, he would have fucked you that first time. Would have approached you and charmed you, seduced you until he’d have you writhing under his body. But one look – one damn look – at your keychain, and he knew you were off limits.

The bright pink Kooky plushie hanging from the keychain was a firm reminder that he cannot approach you, ever. Indeed, he doesn’t mix pleasure with work, which is starting to prove increasingly hard as he gets more famous, and as his fans grow way too numerous.

As his fans, as you pretend that you don’t recognize him when you go to the gym, even though he catches you looking at him all the time. Yet he can’t approach you, won’t approach you, ever. But nothing stops him from exploring his dirty little fantasies, whenever he wraps his hand around his cock…

Jungkook grunts, and he decides to take manners into his own hands, literally. He wishes it’d be your hand, gripping his cock once he’s pushed his shorts and underwear down. Wishes you’d hold him tight as you’d jerk him off slowly, eyes never leaving his.

He imagines you taking him in your mouth. Your plump lips, wrapping around the tip of his cock, sucking once as he’d fist your hair, restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth. Or maybe you’d give him the go to fuck your mouth, to unleash himself on you…

Jungkook moans, and he jerks himself off, slowly. Eyes closed as he imagines everything he wants you to do to him, everything he wants to do to you. His hand is not nearly enough to pleasure him, not when he’s been craving you the way that he has…

But it’ll make do.

Spitting in his other hand, Jungkook holds his dick up to rub the natural lube on the head of his cock. He winces – he’s already so damn sensitive… Probably because he’s sported a semi since he saw you at the gym.

Who gave you the right to go to the gym in those shorts, with only a sports bra to pair with them? You looked devilish, downright sinful, and you’ve dragged him to hell.

Once his dick is lubed up, glistening in the dim light from the hallway because he sure as hell didn’t have time to turn the lights on in his room, Jungkook strokes himself, slowly. Tattooed fingers firmly wrapped around his cock, just the way he likes it – right under the tip, hard enough to hurt just a little bit.

Hard enough to make him wish he was fucking your tight pussy instead. He imagines the drag of your walls on his dick, on his veins and on the ridge of his tip. He imagines your breasts bouncing up and down as you’d ride him, and then your face, contorted in pleasure, as he’d jackhammer into you.

He’s had noise complaints from his neighbours once, because of the loud singing he does once in a while, when he goes live for his fans. Right now, he wishes he’d get a noise complaint because they’d hear him fucking you good, fucking you until you’d crumble into ecstasy.

He picks up the pace on his dick, free hand grabbing at the white sheet of his bed. Would you be the type to moan unabashedly loud? To say his name when you come, when your walls flutter on his dick?

The thought makes his dick twitch in his hand, and Jungkook grunts again, curses underneath his breath. He doesn’t even know your name, but he sure as hell knows he’d come with your name a litany on his lips, a sinful melody he’d sing just for you to hear.

Would you drag your nails on his back, marking him so that the world knows you’re his? Would you suck on his neck, leave hickeys behind that he’d have to hide under foundation? Would you beg for him, or would you be a brat?

He wants you to be a brat. He wants to have to put you back into your place, to spank your ass and choke you until all you know is his name. He’d be feral with you – he’s feral just thinking about you. And maybe one day he’ll betray his number one rule, maybe one day he’ll fuck you into the night, hear you cry with pleasure as he’d pump his load inside of you…

His imagination is running wild, and his pace on his dick is relentless, unforgiving. His bicep burns already, even though he’s barely started. Or maybe he’s just too lost in his fantasies, losing track of time. But he doesn’t care – he’d lose track of time fucking you, too.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes closed tightly, eyebrows bunched together as if in pain. But he’s not hurting – he feels way too good, the pleasure running through his blood a symphony every cell inside of him is addicted to.

You’re just too beautiful to him. He’d fucking crawl on his knees for you, or maybe he’d make you crawl. He’d force you to crawl, to beg for him, to…

Jungkook grunts loudly, his orgasm hitting so hard it feels like a trainwreck. He doesn’t slow down his pace on his dick right away, letting his cum spurt out and drip on his fingers, on the back of his hand. He doesn’t even care if he makes a mess – he’s lost to his pleasure, and he doesn’t want to come back to sanity. He wants to stay insane, and so he drags his orgasm out, milks it out of himself.

And he comes a lot, painting his whole fucking hand white. He’d think it to be disgusting, but when he looks down at his hand, fuzzy from his blissed-out pupils, he sees that he’s covered his tattoos with cum. His army tattoo – the closest he’ll get to come on you. He curses at the sight, hates that it’s turning him on again and that his dick twitches, begging for more. But all he does is watch the cum – it covers the three first letters, but it’s slowly dripping towards the y, and soon the whole tattoo will be covered, like he fucking wishes your pussy would be covered with his cum, dripping with it. He’d finger you with it.

Fucking hell.

Jungkook gives in to the unrelenting desire once he’s in the shower, trying to clean himself. A single thought of your thick ass and the stretched fabric of your biker shorts sends him back to square one, and he jerks himself off again, fast and hard, his free hand leaning on the wall. He’s quick to shift and put his forearm against the wall instead, hiding his face in his arm. And then he imagines fucking you in this shower, taking you from behind as your ass cheeks shake from his ministrations. He imagines you trying to find purchase on the wall, your hands slipping until he pulls you back into his chest. He’d hold you tight, wrap a hand around your neck, and he’d find your clit with his other hand.

He’d make you come so fucking hard. All night long. He doesn’t think he’d let you even fucking walk out of his apartment. He’d fuck you seven days a week, wouldn’t even leave his bed.

This time, his release hits differently, not as strong. It still fills his blood with ecstasy, and his head swims as he watches his cum go down the drain. His hand, his tattoos, are mostly clean this time around, and he imagines them covered in your cum instead. In your sleek juices as he’d finger you, making you squirt everywhere…

He curses loudly, turning the shower to cold, immediately wincing as the water hits his back. But it’s the only way he thinks he’ll manage to chase his arousal away. Hell, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his fucking evening masturbating. Though it’d be worth it, and he’s fully aware that he’d be able to. He’d just need to think of you, and he’d be ready to go again.

But when he steps out of the shower, he decides otherwise. He decides to go live – are you watching him, from wherever it is that you live in this city? Do you know that you make him insane, so, so insane that he just came twice to the thought of you?

He smirks, watching the comments coming in even though he hasn’t said anything yet. They fly too fast for him to be able to read anything, but he knows.

He knows that you’re there, on the other side of the screen, watching him as he watches you. Where else would you be?

And he knows damn well that next time he’ll see you, he’ll talk to you. Fuck the rules, fuck the fact that you’re his fan. He needs to fuck you, to know what your pussy taste like and how you sound when you come.

So next time he sees you, instead of jerking himself off alone, Jungkook knows he’ll ask you to give a helping hand.

Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Welcome to the land of sinning lmao hope you enjoyed this short ride! Let me know what you thought - it always motivates me to write more stuff like this ;)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

#to give a helping hand #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #btswritersclub

[duuhrayliegh]

consequences

a/n: I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM BUT HERE YOU GO

also i'm more than happy to continue this if yall want more, just LET ME KNOW

other works

“You want to what?"

"To open our relationship."

You stare at him in disbelief, clutching the soft blanket in your hands. There's a sharp ringing sounding through your eardrums and everything around you slows. He keeps talking, his voice breaking through the barrier of fog that encompasses your senses.

"I want us to remain honest with each other, but this is the only way to keep our relationship healthy."

He steps away from the kitchen counter, wearing the sports jacket you bought him for your sister's wedding.

"I want the both of us to disclose when we start dating someone else. That's the main boundary, we can hammer out all the ground rules later. Right now, I'm going on a date, so uh," he pauses as he checks his reflection in the mirror beside the door one last time, "don't wait up."

You try to focus on his words, but no matter your efforts you weren't able to process anything. His keys jangle in his grip and you faintly recognize the sound of the door slamming closed and his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor of your apartment.

"I still can't believe he said that to you."

The singular ice ball hits against the sides of your glass with each tilt of your wrist. You take a long drag of the dark liquor before laughing sardonically.

"It's been six months of him parading his dates around." Another sip, your work skirt digs into your thighs painfully. You distract yourself by reaching for a peanut from the nearly empty bowl. "And what's worse is that he still expects me to be the doting wife that he comes home to every night!"

The bartender refills your glass while you sneak another peanut. You card your fingers through your hair as you continue to rant. A dull throb radiates in between your brows so your eyes slide closed as you take deep breaths.

"Well, I can't imagine you're doing so bad yourself."

You hum questioningly at the man, focusing your gaze on the dark-haired bartender, his stubble dusting his sharp jaw as the muscles work beneath the skin. His eyes haven't left you since you sat down in front of him.

"I see you in here." You begin to pick at the skin around your nails and he nudges a bowl of peanuts in your direction. "Men come up to you all the time. You've been on dates too, right?"

You reach for a peanut and crack open the grainy shell, biting the inside of your cheek. Your bartender laughs incredulously and then presses his hands into his side of the counter to lean over toward you. The cloth he tosses over his shoulder must be damp because the fabric of his white button-up is darkened there.

"Focus on me, Peanut."

Your eyes snap to his, unable to keep the overflow of expression from brimming beneath the surface. Your heart cracks further as he visibly softens, crumpling against the counter to cover your hand with his. A tense silence stretches between the two of you, charging the air with unwelcome emotions.

Your bartender’s spare hand cups your jaw and swipes away the glistening tears fleeing down your cheeks. Sniffling loudly while straightening in your seat, you pull away from his touch—effectively stopping yourself from melting into him.

You’ve worked so hard to make this shitty dive bar your safe place, you’ll be damned if you ruin it with a fling.

“I don’t even know why I’m wasting tears on this whole thing.” You take three deep breaths—whiskey and apples invade your senses. The man in front of you tilts his head to the side while drying a few crystal glasses.

“You’re avoiding my question, Peanut.” He turns briefly and you try to figure a way out as the cups clink softly. “You have been dating too, right?”

Your teeth trap your bottom lip, peeling off the thin layers of skin. You purposely avoid his eyes, doing less than nothing to hide your answer.

“Jesus, Peanut. What’s stopping you?”

You huff, focusing your attention on the patrons around you. There’s noticeably less than there were when you first arrived. The bar guests go about their business, underlying emotions kept close to their chest and out of sight to everyone else. You wish you could be that way, instead of sewing your heart to your sleeve for anyone to rip pieces from.

“I--" You hesitate, twirling your glass, watching as the ice fights to keep up with the sudden movements you force on its surroundings.

"Some small part of me still loves him. No matter how much he hurts me with this whole open relationship bullshit. I'm still thinking that one day he'll wake up and remember that I've been his loving wife and partner for the past six years. This can't be my new reality. It just can't. He's meant to be my partner for life, not my partner who has really good friends. Not my partner with a girlfriend or some fuck buddy across town."

This is the can of worms that you'd hoped to keep locked away from the Commando's dive bar. What you've held close to your chest every night you slink past the blonde bouncer, Steve. The information you never let slip to the six-foot-five bartender with the metal arm. And now, you can't seem to stop the words from leaving your mouth.

"He's supposed to be my husband. Why isn't he my husband? Is it me? He said that we would talk about what the reason was, but I can't get him to sit down with me. I can't even get him to reply to a text, much less answer questions about our relationship."

You spit the last word before downing the rest of your drink in one go. Bucky stands patiently as you let loose every emotion that you've bottled up for the past six years. Further in the bar, someone shouts for the last call.

"Why don't I date? Because I love him. Because outside of him, I don't know who I am. I don't date because I've been with the same man for almost a decade and I wouldn't even know where to begin. I can't see past where I'm at right now. There is no future for me outside of the hell that I find myself in now. I can't date because I want to be there for when my husband remembers that I exist. I want to be there for him like he wasn't for me because I know the novelty of his flings will wear off soon enough. And maybe that makes me worse than him, but I don't know if I have the energy to care anymore."

There's now a heavy silence covering you and your whole body slumps because of it. Despite feeling the biggest breath of relief of getting those emotions out in the open, you now have to deal with what they mean. You were always taught that saying your emotions out loud would only lead to more issues, but here you fucking are. Sometimes these things are unavoidable.

"I call bullshit."

Your jaw drops as your bartender rocks away from the counter. You flounder as he starts performing closing duties. You stare at Bucky's back, slightly distracted by the muscles working underneath the tight material.

"Did you just bullshit my feelings?"

Bucky turns halfway, eyebrows raised, "Yep."

Your bartender plucks the glass in front of you and drops it in the sink on his way to the cash register. If you were in a whole state, you'd smack back with a witty comment, but you're tired.

"You can't bullshit my feelings."

He holds a stack of twenties in one hand and he pins you with the same expression as before.

"Uh, yeah I can."

He continues to count the register and tosses a goodbye to the other bartender. A long lull stretches between you. Now it's just the two of you in the bar, and that must have been what he was waiting on because it's only now that he really talks.

"Peanut, how long have you been coming here?"

You furrow your brow at the question, not sure where he's taking his line of questioning.

"I don't know, four months?"

“Four months, twenty days."

Bucky's retort is quick and final. A fact. Something he's committed to memory. You're taken aback by the heavy tone he layers between the syllables.

"And for those four months and twenty days, I've stood behind this counter and watched you wallow. I've watched you turn down proposition after proposition. I've had Steve throw out dozens of men for how they speak about you. I've sat back and tried to be the listening ear that you need because you're clearly going through a really difficult time. I've never been in the position that you're in and I'm not going to pretend that I understand the half of it."

He slams the drawer closed and rounds the countertop. His boots thud against the floor violently, stopping beside the barstool next to you. Your bartender leans down and swings your stool to face his before taking a seat.

"I've stood behind that bar and was able to listen to quite a bit. But what I can't have is you thinking that you're the issue."

His hand slips into yours, his thumb tracing the knuckles of your fingers. Tears begin to brim at your waterline again, but you refuse to let them fall.

"Peanut, you're the most loyal person I've met in recent years. You love fiercely and you hurt even harder. Hell, you've been with this guy for almost ten years and he's been fucking you over for the past six months and you're sitting in this bar defending him to a relative stranger!"

"But he--"

"You're husband took the decision away from you and then framed it in a way that made you out to be the bad guy. He put you in a nearly impossible situation because he knew you were too loyal to him to do anything about it."

"He didn--"

"Yes, he did."

Having it laid out like that by the one person you wanted to be kept away from all of it was eye-opening. Your shoulders crumple and a new wave of tears threatens to escape.

"Now, this isn't the best time, but I feel like in a situation like yours there's never going to be a 'right' time."

Bucky sits up straighter and sticks his metal hand out to you.

"Hi. I'm Bucky Barnes. I'm a retired Army Sergeant and I now work in the Howling Commandos bar. I've been your bartender for the past four months and twenty days. Over that time, I've grown to care for you, more than a bartender should. Because of that fact, I want to take you out on a date."

You suck in a breath sharply, immediately going to deny him, only for Bucky to cut you off.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now, Peanut. Just think about it and whenever you're ready, I hope I'm your first call."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, gnawing on the idea. You have grown fond of Bucky. He's become a sort of safety net for you these past few months. Going home has proven to be more and more of a chore so you spend hours on end in the Howling Commandos.

What if you and Bucky go on a date and you hate it? What if you date and you have a huge falling out? What if you--

"I can see the wheels turning, Peanut." He taps your temple with a cold metal finger. "What are you thinking?"

"What if we end up not working out?"

"What if we do?"

The question hangs. The implication is clear. You could spend hours going through the what-if scenarios, both positive and negative. You'll never truly know until you take a leap of faith.

"What would your boss think of you dating one of your new regulars though?"

You're grasping at straws, but you're really trying to convince yourself that taking that leap with Bucky would be the worst thing in the world.

"Peanut, I'll sell the damn bar before someone other than you tells me that I can't date you."

Your eyes meet his and all you can see is the adoration and sincerity in them. His thumb is still working over your knuckles, but it's also expanded to tracing aimless circles into the back of your hand. The cool metal is the only way you've grounded yourself to reality.

A slow smile spreads across your features, the first of its kind tonight and you both know what it means.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky x reader #bartender!bucky barnes x reader #seb stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #seb stan character #seb stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bartender!bucky x you #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader

[feral4daryl]

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

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