#I was just thinking about it again earlier

[noperopesaredope]

Saw this post earlier in one of those Tumblr-reading YouTube shorts and made this comment:

"I honestly feel like the only reason I started to at some point see disabilities as "tragic" is solely because the adults and media around me portrayed them as such. If child-me saw a person with a prosthetic for the first time, I would think they were the coolest person in the world. Honestly, now that I'm older and have changed my attitude back to a more chill one, I've actually developed a bit of an appreciation for mobility aids. Like, not only do a lot of them look cool, but they can help people get around? Neat!"

I then got what was basically a piss-on-the-poor comment (2, actually) who thought I was apparently saying that disabilities are a walk in the park and never cause hinderance to anyone's lives, so I did need to add a reply clarifying my point that I think captures it a bit better:

"I think what I mean is that it's not the end of the world, and even if you can't do everything, you can still live. Sure, there are some that can be a bit more painful (I have family members with chronic pain, which is never fun), but to treat someone the same way those inspiration-p*rn movies treat disabled people is not the way to go. A lot of people treat disabled folks with pity in a very condecending way, rather than treating them like people who just have different needs or live in different ways. That's the issue to me. Also, part of my point (that I explained a bit poorly since I was on my phone and it was hard to type out) was the weird way people treat disability aids, specifically mobility devices. Again, it's treated like a great tragedy that someone needs a wheelchair or something, when wheelchairs are actually a wonderful thing that improves people's lives and give them more autonomy."

What I'm generally trying to say is that the nice thing about little kids is they understand things are hard and sometimes you just can't do stuff, so you might need help or tools to do those things. So when a person can't do something due to disability, a little kid will see it as just like any other difficulty. As you said, "you can't walk? Well, I can't cartwheel, so that's okay. Here's a new way to get where you need to go."

If I'm not tall enough to reach a shelf, I can just use a ladder, which isn't a huge deal, right? Well, little kids see both of those things the same way, it's just that some people need a ladder all the time. Nothing huge. Some people just need them, and it's good that they have them.

Also, the kid who thought that wheelchairs are cool is 100% correct. Wheelchairs are very cool. They help people move around and they look awesome.

I love talking to kids about disability bc

1. they often just Get It, and

2. they have 0 concept of disability as a tragedy or something pitiable.

I've watched kids get into an argument with a teacher bc they thought wheelchairs were cool. I told a kid that I can't stand for too long sometimes and they replied, "That's okay, I can't do cartwheels sometimes, but I just do other stuff then. You can sit down with me if you want". Today a girl asked me what the headphones on a classmate's desk were for and I told her that headphones are important for some kids because noises bother them, and she said she wished she had headphones at home, because her baby brothers make a lot of noise and it makes it hard to think. The idea that different people could use tools at different times is intuitive and simple and when accessibility aids are explained neutrally, kids don't see them as bad or unfortunate, they're just things that are useful.

Even mental disability!! In Kindergarten the other day one of the kids asked me why his table partner got stickers when nobody else did. I started off by saying, "Well, when you do your work well, it feels good, right? That's your brain giving you a reward," and the kid just right away went, "Oh, and the stickers are like his reward?" YES! You are 5 and have a better grasp on ADHD than most adults! Kids blow me away every day.

[sturnioz]

confident!reader wants fratboy!matt to apologise to her in a certain type of way.

you stare at matt unamused, your eyes narrowing into sharp, evil slits. your arms remain stubbornly crossed over your chest, your eyebrows furrowed in storm and rage as he stands in front of you.

the smile of his face only fuels your anger, and it takes everything in you not to wipe it off yourself as he steps closer, trying to snake his arms around you waist.

but you don't let him.

not this time.

his words are meaningless to you right now as your blood boils, replaying the moment in your head on loop of the audacity of that girl—the way she dismissed you during the entire conversation while shamelessly throwing herself at your boyfriend, like you didn't exist.

it isn't the first time this has happened. it happens all the time, and usually, you found it amusing—almost laughable—watching girls stumble over themselves to catch a sliver of matt's attention. you'd roll your eyes, sit back, and let his disinterest speak for itself.

but this one?

this one got under your skin.

this one hand your fingers curling into your palms, nails digging into your skin, and your patience hanging by a thread.

"c'mon, baby," matt drawls in the way it always does when he's trying to coax you out of your moods. his hands wrap around your wrists, gently tugging in an attempt to uncross your arms. "don't be like that, c'mon."

you don't budge, standing firm as a stature. "she was disrespecting me, matt," you speak, tone low. "acting like i wasn't even part of the conversation, and you—" your glare sharpens. "you played into it."

"i didn't play into anythin'," matt counters, his tone still maddeningly calm which pisses you off even more. his hands are still persistent, tugging at your arms with determination. "i didn't know she was flirtin' with me, sweetheart."

"you're not dense, sweetheart. you knew she was flirting with you." you scoff, your scowl deepening as the memory flashes vividly in your mind.

"i didn't, i didn't, i didn't," matt murmurs repeatedly, his voice dropping quieter as he finally manages to uncross your arms, his hands sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.

he pulls you into his chest so easily that it makes you want to resist, but his warmth surrounds you before you can think twice. his lips find your jaw, brushing against it in soft, deliberate kisses.

"got my eyes on you always, yeah? don't give a fuck about them."

you huff, "didn't seem like that earlier—"

"kitty," he interrupts, his voice a little firmer now as he nips gently at your jawline, just enough to make you flinch at the sudden action. his hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks as he tilts his head back to meet your gaze. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry she disrespected you. i'm sorry i didn't notice it sooner. 'n i'll say 'i'm sorry' a thousand more times if that's what it's gonna take for you to forgive me, baby."

his words apologies linger in the air, and you remain blank faced. you want to hold onto your anger, to let your frustration simmer just a little longer. but the way he's looking at you, the way his hands feel against your skin—it's enough to make the fire in your chest sizzle, just for a moment.

and he knows it.

he always does.

"what can i do?" he asks you. "want me to apologise to you again? 'cos i will."

you pause for a moment to think, and then, and idea flickers in your head. a slow smirk spreads across your lips as you tilt your head to the side, watching him intently.

"get on your knees," you say, tone smooth but commanding. "and apologise to me."

matt's eyes darken instantly at your request. his eyebrow quirks up slightly, as though he's testing you, but he doesn't question you. he doesn't even ask if you're serious. instead, to your surprise—and satisfaction—he lowers himself down, slow and deliberate, keeping his gaze locked on yours the entire time.

his hands slide from your face as he goes south, trailing down your sides until they rest firmly on your hips. there's a weight to his touch that pleases you, but you stand your ground.

the corners of your mouth twitch upward into a grin, a rush of power surging through you as you take in the sight of him kneeling before you.

his hands drift lower, brushing over your thighs, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rub over your skin, as though he's savouring every second of this—as though he's worshipping you.

then, he leans forward, his lips pressing soft, open-mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of your thigh, each kiss slow and deliberate, his breath hot against you.

he peers up at you through his lashes, his gaze half-lidded but intense, and he murmurs softly. "i'm so sorry, baby... was stupid, 'n an asshole."

The words roll off his tongue with ease, and you can feel the tension between you, the air crackling with unspoken energy.

and there's something about the sight of matt like this—on his knees, completely at your mercy—makes you feel like you could set the world on fire.

his fingers grip your thighs tighter, digging into your flesh, “please...” he murmurs, his lips returning to the skin of you thigh—he slowly moves up higher, mouthing at your pussy over the fabric of your lacy panties. “forgive me...”

divider credit. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[katebishopsbaefy]

prompt 16 with billie!! and maybe it’s the first time they’ve said i love you so it’s super romantic and fluffy🥹

prompt list

prompt masterlist

16) accidental i love you’s during sex

words: 1167

“Fuck… God, I love you…” she sighed out. She's not even realizing what she’s saying. What she’s admitting to. That it means everything to you.

After the most perfect date you could’ve asked for, you and Billie had been all over each other, so obviously you had to take things to the bedroom. You’ve fooled around a few other times, but this time felt… different. Especially because of what she said when you pushed her onto the bed.  “Wait… I-” she started as soon as you were hovering over her, making you pause. Did she not want this?

You sit up on your heels and look down at her for a moment. She doesn't look uncomfortable, or scared, or anything like that. She’s not that kind of person. But the hesitancy you see on her face makes your stomach drop. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly. You’re aching to reach out and touch her, mostly out of instinct, to comfort her and make that look go away. To make her all giggly like she was a second ago. When she answers, though, you just get confused.

“I… I’ve never done this before,” she mumbles quietly, and looks away from your eyes. That confuses you even more. She’s usually so confident in herself, even when her words don’t reflect that. And you’ve definitely had sex before, so you have no idea what she’s getting at.

“...Never done what?” you ask quietly, and she picks up on the genuine confusion in your voice. The look in her eyes completely reveals what she’s thinking, though. She’s had sex, but she’s never been on the bottom. She’s never been touched. “...oh.”

“I- I’m sorry. Here, just switch with me, and-” she starts rambling immediately. You were having so much fun earlier, and she thinks she’s just ruined all of it.

When she starts to sit up to switch positions, you just push her back down on the bed as gently as you can. A quick shake of your head shuts her up. “Billie, it's okay. I swear,” you mumble softly to her, your tone dripping with sincerity. She hasn’t ruined a thing. If anything, you just feel a stronger urge to make sure she feels good right now. “Do… Do you still want this?”

After a quiet moment of letting her think, she nods silently, and you soften about as much as you have in your whole life. Your chest aches, but not in a bad way; she trusts you enough to let you touch her when no one else ever has. You just nod back, and press a soft kiss to her lips as you start to tug off her clothes, and she tugs off yours. You can almost hear the faint sound of a giggle coming from her. Maybe that’s just your imagination. But when you start kissing your way down her body, you’re sure you hear it.

You grip her hand as you part her legs, and look up at her one more time to make sure she's okay. The look on her face would never reveal that she’s never done this before. She looks so comfortable, so content, and it makes your heart soar that you get to do this with her. 

When she nods at you, you slowly lick up her core, just to give her a little taste. She grips her hand around yours a little tighter, and you can tell she’s doing just fine. You start to softly suck on her clit to let her get used to the feeling.

“Mmph- more,” she sighs out, and you grin against her core. Your hand squeezes hers to let her know she’s doing great, and you start flicking your tongue over her bud in the same way she’s done for you before. It's felt good for you, so you assume it’ll feel good for her. And based on her reaction, it definitely does; “Fuck… God, I love you…”

You almost don’t hear it. Maybe you were imagining it again, just like her giggles, but the way her eyes widen when she realizes just confirms that she did actually say what she said. And she meant it. It’s quite literally comical, the way she starts to go back and pretend she didn’t just admit she loves you. “Shit- I- I mean… uh… oh, that feels goooood…” she fake-moans, throwing her head back, but you can tell she’s just panicking from the way she peeks one eye open at you, like she’s checking to see if you believe her. You absolutely do not. It makes her stomach sink, but when you burst into a fit of giggles, she quirks a confused, but amused eyebrow at you.

“What feels good?” you ask amidst giggles, and she realizes she fucked herself over even more. You’re not even touching her anymore. In fact, you’ve completely sat back on your heels to look at her and her pretty blushing face. But when you see how genuinely nervous she looks, you soften, “...You love me?”

She’s about to shake her head and start denying it, but the look in your eyes melts her. You look so… hopeful, or happy, or anything that isn’t the disgust she’d been expecting. It makes her feel a little bit better, so she nods silently.

You really didn’t think you could get any happier tonight. You’d just had the perfect date, she trusted you to touch her for the first time, and now she was telling you she loved you? You could burst into tears. Happy tears.

But you don’t. Instead, you crawl your way up her body, and kiss her so softly that she melts under you. It’s nothing but gentle, loving, reassuring. Everything she needs to feel right now. She completely melts underneath your touch. After a moment, which could be a few seconds or a few hours, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against hers. You want to make sure she’s looking at you. She already is. Your hands softly cup her cheeks, and you mumble so quietly, just as gently as your kiss, “I love you too.” 

And when you both immediately burst into a fit of giggles, you know you’re okay. She actually loves you, and you actually love her. You don’t think you could possibly love her any more than you do right now. 

After a few more sleepy kisses and soft giggles, you realize that you’d unintentionally edged her. It makes you giggle even more because she obviously doesn’t care, but you definitely do. You’re the first person she’s trusting to touch her, so you want to make sure she finishes. When you make your way back down her body to settle between her legs, she’s confused for a moment before a massive grin and more giggles erupt from her. She’s so beyond adorable. You can’t help but giggle back, and you mumble softly as you press a loving kiss to the inside of her thigh, “...Still wanna come?”

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

[since everything under a Read More cut gets deleted in case a blog deletes/gets deleted and the WayBackMachine isn’t good with pictures, for Archive Purposes Only, I will add the most important bits of the/rest of the full post and have put the screenshots into the correct order.]

Ping (Apple's music-focused social network connected to the iTunes account) shut down on September 30, 2012.

The post here was made on September 20, 2012, so when the screenshots says "Today" or "1 day ago", we can estimate it was approx. between Sep 20 and 15. And prior to that, there are dates next to the posts, so we know for sure.

I will post close-ups and write down what's in the screenshots, because some text is hard to decipher.

🎧 I also created a Spotify playlist of all the songs Louis liked and bought with his profile.

•

first off, Louis' profile:

the profile pic is a sweet picture of Harry & him 💙💚 Louis Tomlinson - Dance, Pop, R&B/Soul Where I Live: Doncaster, United Kingdom (very hard to read, could be 10,569 Followers or 15,569 Followers) About Louis T. 1/5 of One Direction :) LOVE music :)

Louis T. Follows (5) ADELE, One Direction, Matt Cardle, Katy Perry, Rihanna Following Louis T. (10(?),569) Maria Hunt, ???, Ja-??? Antonio/e Yung, Jennifer Ars-???, Shawn Jones

Louis liked the song Belief by John Mayer ("Today" at 1:11 o'clock) [he had already purchased the album that song was on on Sep 9, 2012] Commented by Ashley J.: "how about you leave him alone about the situation? even on ping though, seriously?"

Louis purchased the song All That I Am by Parachute ("1 day ago")

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis liked the song She Is Love (Full Band Version) by Parachute ("1 day ago") Commented by Alyson C.: "love this band! You've got amazing taste in music!! :D"

Louis purchased the album Coexist by The XX (Sep 14, 2012) Commented by Lagah E.: "Love it that you love this. xx"

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the song Live It Up (Radio Edit) by Tulisa. (Sep 14, 2012) Commented by danna r.: "I would like one day you could answer any comments or tell me something"

Louis purchased the album Born and Raised by John Mayer (Sep 12, 2012) Commented by Cathy S.: "annoyed with this. this is louis, she didnt have to go changeing the name of it. no, thats rude. ugh. tb."

Louis liked the song Gravity by John Mayer (Sep 12, 2012) [he had already purchased the album this song was on on Sep 9, 2012]

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the album The Collection: John Mayer (5 Complete Albums) by John Mayer -- consisting of Heavier Things, Room For Squares, Battle Studies, Born and Raised, Continuum) [by that point, he already owned Continuum and a few other songs from the albums] (Sep 12, 2012) Commented by Alexis M.: "^^^thats what I was thinking."

Louis purchased the song Neon by John Mayer [since he first purchased this song and then the The Collection: John Mayer, maybe he really loved the song and then there was some kind of sale on the The Collection and he thought 'ah, why not just get everything all at once?' But who knows. :) He defs had a couple of song duplicates after he'd bought The Collection] (Sep 12, 2012) Commented by Aria P.: "omg this is my jam"

Louis purchased the song She Is Love by Parachute. [a few days later, he also bought the All Band Version of that song] (Sep 9, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the album Continuum by John Mayer. (Sep 9, 2012) Commented by Caitlin B.: "Is that album good?"

Louis purchased the album Beacon (Deluxe Version) by Two Door Cinema Club [two days earlier, he had bought the basic version already] (Sep 4, 2012) Commented by Francesca B.: "Love two door cinema club. loving the the new album!"

Louis purchased the song Mrs. Officer by Lil Wayne, Bobby Valentino & Kidd Kidd (Sep 2, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the album Beacon by Two Door Cinema Club [two days later, he bought the album again, but the Deluxe Version] (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by FeR t.RoMaN t.: "i LOVE U!!!"

Louis purchased the song We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift [louis, you are the king of shade] (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by Jax V.: "really...really?"

Louis purchased the song Good Time by Owl City & Carly Rae Jepsen (Sep 2, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the song Vanilla Twilight by Owl City (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by Laura A.: "get The Saltwater Room and Cave In (get everything from Adam Young)"

Louis purchased the song Fireflies by Owl City (Sep 2, 2012) Commented by Bailey H.: "this song is good"

Louis purchased the album ORA (Deluxe Version) by Rita Ora (Aug 31, 2012)

next screenshot:

close-ups:

Louis purchased the song Transylvania by McFly (Aug 18, 2012) Commented by Gabriela B.: "you beautiful human being why do you have such an amazing taste in music"

continued in Part 2

So, Ping (iTunes’ ill-fated social network) will be shutting down on September 30th and I couldn't let Louis' profile disappear forever, so I screenshotted the entire thing.

and put it all here. so enjoy 64 screenshots of Louis’ musical taste

~updated in 2021 with working screenshots

Keep reading

[hoonquette]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ (´ ▽｀) ㅤㅤ NOW YOU GOT ME𓈒

IN WHICH ❕️ㅤ you're forced to spend time with him alone — listen.

ㅤ❔️ ㅤ LEE HEESEUNG — fem ! r ㅤ✶ㅤ fluff high school au academic rivals 【 957 】

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤREBLOGS★FEEDBACK

“you two have to stay after school and fix..” jules, the class president, vaguely gestures at the mess behind you, “this issue you caused. homecoming is on friday and we cannot have your rivalry messing it up.”

heeseung speaks up before you do, “she’s the one who–”

“no.” jules holds her hand up, glaring at him, “you’re both to blame. just stop arguing with each other and fix the banner.”

heeseung nods, grumbling out a reluctant okay. you, however, stay silent, ignoring his eyes burning into the side of your face. you might seem awful, but there’s no way that you’re going to help heeseung fix the mess that he created. if he hadn’t been bothering you about your recent test score, then he wouldn’t have tripped and spilled paint over the student council’s hard work.

jules says your name—a warning—and you groan, “fine. we’ll fix it, even though it’s entirely his fault.”

“get it done, please.” she sigh is resignation, deciding not to argue with you anymore. everyone knows once you and heeseung start, you’ll never stop. she leaves you with the art supplies, a picture of the previous banner, and heeseung.

lee heeseung is single-handedly the most annoying man you have ever met. you haven’t liked him since fourth grade, when he beat you in the spelling bee. he made fun of you for weeks because you accidentally misspelled ‘consistent’.

there’s absolutely no chance that you could like him after that—you hold grudges—no matter how attractive he got every year, or how flustered his smug smile made you feel. he’s always tried to one-up you and you refuse to lose.. most of the time, anyways.

“are you just going to stand there or?”

scoffing, “i shouldn’t even be helping you.”

“it’s your fault this happened.” heeseung steps closer to you and you instinctively take a step back, making sure to keep your distance.

“literally how? you’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.”

“you were ignoring me.”

you pause, gaping at him. he looks and sounds so.. upset, indignant. is he actually serious? going off of the frown on his face, you assume that he’s definitely not joking. the only thing is why the hell does it matter if you were paying attention to him or not? it’s not like your conversations with each other were enjoyable.

when you don’t answer, he speaks again, “whatever, let’s just get this over with, i have plans later.”

you don’t really want to comply with his subtle demand, but you know that if you don’t help jules will completely freak out on you (understandably so). dragging your feet in annoyance, you grab a few supplies, rolling up your sleeves, and sitting on the floor in front of the paper jules had given you.

you pretend to not notice heeseung sitting beside you, staying completely still when his shoulder brushes against yours.

the two of you work in silence for at least an hour, somehow knowing what you each want. maybe it’s because you have a reference photo, but you work in harmony, with no arguments or snide remarks about your work. it’s not uncomfortable, but it isn’t entirely comfortable either. you feel a heavy weight on your shoulders, curiosity about his earlier statement making it hard for you to concentrate.

“hey, um, sorry for ignoring you earlier.” you mumble, laser-focused on the star that you’re painting, “i didn’t think it’d make you upset or anything.”

you can feel heeseung tense up next to you, his head turning in your direction, no doubt confused. he’s silent for a beat, “are you sorry for ignoring me for the past hour too?”

“huh?” you look up at him, “our silence was a mutual thing, heeseung.”

“okay, fine. but you were ignoring me to be rude, i was ignoring you because i’m nervous.”

your heart skips a beat.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean you make me nervous.” he stares at you, his eyes drifting down to your lips for the briefest of seconds before they move back up to your eyes. you would have missed it if you weren’t paying such close attention to the boy in front of you.

“you—nervous how? sorry, i’m confused.”

he shifts, turning so that his body is facing you, “nervous as in i don’t know how to talk to you. you make me nervous, i get, like, awkward and weird and i cannot talk to you like a normal fucking person.”

“um, oh.” you say eloquently.

“sorry, this is weird.” he turns back to his previous position, picking up his paint brush, “just forget it, okay?”

“i don’t want to forget it, though. i want.. i don’t know what i want, but this is so confusing, heeseung.”

he laughs awkwardly, “yeah, you’ve said.”

“because it’s true! i don’t know how i’m supposed to take that information—am i supposed to be happy or offended or what?”

“you’d be happy?”

you tense up. would you be happy? do you actually want him to be interested in you that way?

“depends on what you mean.” you mumble, saying the most neutral thing you could think of.

“what if i take you on a date to make you less confused? would that make you happy?"

it would. 

you nod, trying your hardest to push away the butterflies in your stomach. there’s no way this is happening right now. literally an hour ago you wanted nothing more than to get away from him and now you’re going on a date? yujin was going to have a field day with this information—she’s always been adamant on the fact that your strained relationship was the result of really bad flirting.

maybe she was right.

you internally curse, you owe her twenty dollars now.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ADRiANNA𓈒 happy birthday to angel girl dani @flwrstqr ily baby sorry i had no idea how to end this + the song has nothing to do w this i was js listening to it on repeat

[daryltwdixon]

Would you write something for Joel where he is patching reader up after a patrol gone wrong, lecturing her about how she should be more careful and stuff, and eventually they end up kissing?

Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Jackson!Joel, fluff, protective, slightly angry, Tommy cameo, reader is hurt: mentions of blood & first aid notes: Hiii thank you for your patience I know this has been in my inbox for forever 😅 hope you guys don't mind I've been doing blurbs/drabbles for requests lately! the creative juice is on E and keeping them short & sweet lets me have more fun!

Your boot slips on the mess of red beneath you—a smattering of blood you’re trying really hard to forget is your own. Your hand presses against your ribs, your shirt torn and soaked through by the time you stumble through the door of the small shed.

"Sit down," Joel orders, voice rough. It’s not a request. He’s already pressing a hand against your shoulder, forcing you onto a storage bin in the dust covered shelter. The plastic groans under your weight.

"I’m fine," you argue, wincing as the words pull at the wound.

Joel scoffs, shaking his head as he kneels in front of you. He’s still catching his breath, hair damp at the temples, hands stained in blood that’s not his own. His fingers press against your side, peeling back your shirt, his touch gentler than his words.

"You don’t get to say that." His voice is sharp, angry, "Not after what you just pulled."

You don’t answer, don’t argue. He’s right. It had been reckless. You’d put yourself between Tommy and an infected, took the hit so he wouldn’t. There hadn’t been time to think.

Footsteps pound outside, then Tommy’s shadow crosses the doorway. His eyes sweep over you, widening.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters under his breath.

"I’m fine," you hiss again.

Joel exhales hard, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch, but you know him well enough to know exactly what it is. Something about stubbornness. About stupidity. Probably both.

Tommy steps closer, his gaze flicking between you and Joel, and for once, he’s quiet. He must see it—the way Joel is wound so goddamn tight he might snap.

“You’re losin’ a lot of blood,” Tommy mutters, glancing down at the crimson soaking through your shirt. He shifts his weight, slinging his backpack off his shoulder to dig for something.

“She knows,” Joel bites out before you can say anything, his hands already outstretched to take the first aid kit from his brother. His movements are sharp, precise—borderline aggressive—but his hands are steady. Always steady.

Tommy takes the hint, nodding once before backing toward the door. “I’ll keep watch.”

And then it’s just you and Joel.

The silence isn’t comfortable. It’s thick, suffocating, stretched tight between you like a tripwire waiting to snap.

His fingers press into your ribs, searching for deeper damage, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. Not from the pain (okay maybe a little bit from the pain), but from the way his jaw flexes when he sees the gash beneath the fabric.

“Should’ve let me take the hit,” Tommy had shouted earlier, before Joel had practically shoved him out the door of the building swarming with infected. And maybe you should have. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown yourself into danger without thinking.

But you did.

Joel pulls a bottle of antiseptic from the kit, cracking the cap off with more force than necessary. He’s quiet, but you can feel his anger buzzing beneath the surface, pulsing like a live wire.

“This is gonna sting,” he warns.

You barely have time to brace before the liquid meets your skin, sending a sharp burn through your ribs. You hiss, gritting your teeth, but Joel doesn’t look up. He’s watching his hands, jaw locked so tight it might crack.

“You got a death wish?” He asks quietly, almost under his breath.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me.” His hands are still on you, pressing gauze to the wound, but his gaze finally lifts, dark and unreadable. “’Cause that’s sure as hell what it looked like out there.”

Your lips part, but he’s not done.

“I don’t need you throwin’ yourself in front of shit for Tommy, for anyone.” His voice is rough, worn thin. “Damn sure don’t need you gettin’ yourself killed for it.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you admit. “It just… happened.”

Joel shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “That ain’t good enough.”

You should be frustrated. Maybe you are. But there’s something else underneath it—something thick in your throat as you stare at him. Because this isn’t just anger. This isn’t just him lecturing you for being reckless.

This is fear.

Joel’s hands curl against your side, the bandages warm against your skin, and for a second, you swear you feel him tremble.

Your breath stutters, "Joel—"

“No.” His voice is raw. “I can’t—” He exhales hard through his nose, shaking his head, gaze darting away like he’s already said too much. His hands work at the bandage, tying it off to keep the gauze in place. His fingers are rough, purposeful, but there’s something frantic in the way he moves—like if he just keeps working, keeps his hands busy, he won’t have to deal with whatever the hell is breaking open inside of him.

Your heart feels like it tightens in your chest. You want to tell him that you’re fine, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You want to tell him that it won’t happen again, but that’s a lie too.

So instead, you reach out.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, just enough to keep him there, just enough to stop him from pulling away.

He goes still.

Not just his hands—his whole body. His breath catches, his muscles tight beneath your touch. For a second, he just stares at where your fingers wrap around his wrist, like he’s trying to decide whether to pull away or hold on.

And then his shoulders drop, his body slumping forward just slightly. Like he’s exhausted. Like he’s done.

It’s not just anger, not just fear—it’s the man who has spent years keeping people at arm’s length because he knows exactly what happens when he lets them in. The man who tells himself, every single day, not to let this happen. Not to let himself care. Not to let himself love.

But then, for the first time in all the years you’ve known Joel Miller, he finally breaks.

The space between you disappears.

He moves fast, faster than you can process, his hands gently finding your jaw, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feeling of you, in the fact that you’re still here.

“I can’t lose you.” His voice is low, almost too quiet, like the words barely make it past his throat. But they hit you like a hammer, cracking through the wall he’s kept between you for so long.

Then, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft, not careful. It’s desperate, raw, laced with something you can’t name. Like he’s spent every moment holding himself back and has finally stopped fighting.

A sound escapes you, something caught between surprise and relief, but you don’t hesitate. Your hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the sharp edge of his breath.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes find yours, his breathing uneven.

“You gotta stop scarin’ me like that,” he murmurs, voice rough against your lips.

You manage a weak, breathless smile.

“No promises.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head, before kissing you again.

[shaunamilfman]

lost in translation [1]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x f!reader summary: You're her French tutor. Your methods may be a little controversial. College AU. note: any dialogue line in italics is French I saved us both time by not translating all of it. minors dni. Jackie Taylor praise kink i know that's right. Part Two

Jackie takes the textbook resting in your lap and tosses it to the floor, ignoring your shocked gasp in favor of swinging one leg over your hips and settling on your lap. 

“Jackie, what–”

She cuts you off as she grabs onto your shoulders, looping her arms behind your neck and claiming your lips. It's messy, impatient, and everything you imagined it would be. Thinking about kissing Jackie had taken up such an embarrassingly high amount of your time recently that you're almost not sure what to do with it once it's become reality. 

Almost. 

Your hands flail for a moment before settling on her hips, sliding down to palm at her ass through her jeans and pulling her firmly against you as she grinds down against your thigh. She groans into your mouth as you prop your thigh up, giving her something to really rub herself against. Jackie gasps, hips stuttering as the seam of her jeans digs in with enough pressure to make her head spin. She rolls her hips again, harder now. 

“What are you doing?” You murmur. 

“Studying.” 

“Studying?” You laugh breathlessly. The answer seems so ridiculous with how wrecked she looks on your lap, but it's such a Jackie answer that you can't help yourself from closing the distance to kiss her again. 

Jackie's tongue brushes achingly slowly against your bottom lip. Her hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, her thumb brushing against your skin as she tilts your head back. She tastes sweet, a mix of the strawberry lip gloss she carries around and the mint gum you'd watched her hastily spit out when she'd seen you coming earlier. 

She takes your lips parting as what it is: an invitation. Her tongue traces yours, slipping inside your mouth with no further preamble. Jackie’s just teasing you, more than anything, retreating whenever you press forward only to push forward again a moment later. You tighten your grip on her ass, squeezing hard as you grind her down on your thigh which earns a breathy moan that vibrates against your skin.

Droplets of spit glisten on her lips as she pulls back just long enough to suck in a desperate breath before diving back in, utterly unbothered by the mess she’s made of the two of you. Her lips glide against yours, so warm and slick that you think you could happily get lost in them forever.

She takes your bottom lip between her teeth as she pulls away, grazing the skin as she pulls away with a pop. Her lips are swollen from the effort. A string of saliva connects you until Jackie slowly licks at her lips and swallows it. 

“French kissing,” Jackie says. 

Her lips brush against yours with every word. She can't even bring herself to pull far enough away to breathe, so intent on making you lose your mind. 

“What?” You ask dazedly.

“French. Kissing,” Jackie repeats slowly, like she's explaining something simple to someone stupid. You can feel her smug grin forming on her lips. 

Jackie leans closer without warning, tracing the seam of your lips only to press a chaste kiss against them before pulling away. “Educational, see? I’m learning so much already.”

“French kissing, huh? Missed–missed that on the syllabus,” you try weakly, eyes falling to her lips.

You just barely catch the way Jackie’s eyes narrow in confusion at the words, far too focused on the way she feels as she leans back and uses you for leverage as she rolls her hips. 

“Shut up.” 

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

You drag her back and forth on your thigh, not so much assisting Jackie as moving her altogether. She seems content to let you move her hips as you please, far more intent on mouthing at where your neck meets your shoulder and moaning into your ear. Her thighs tremble from the strain, so slick and warm that you can feel her even through the denim of her jeans. 

Her hips start to move sloppily as you pull your hand away, pausing just long enough for wandering fingers to pop the button of her jeans. 

“God, fuck, look at you,” you murmur.

Her face is flushed, hair sticking to her forehead as she looks at you with wild eyes as your hand rests above her waistband. 

“How do I look?”

You almost laugh before you realize she was serious. “So pretty for me. Mon jolie fille.”

Her breath catches audibly as the word leaves your lips, her hips jerking forward against nothing. She blushes, looking both like she's feeling shy and like she doesn't want you to know. You'll let her have this one. You trace idle patterns just above her panties, fingertips teasing across soft skin.

“Does the French do something for you?” You muse. “Is that why you jumped me in the middle of tutoring?”

Jackie scoffs weakly. “No.”

You slip your fingertips beneath her panties, sliding into the cramped confines as you can’t bear to pull away long enough to get her jeans all the way off. Jackie whimpers as your fingers find her soaked, shifting to spread her knees apart so that you would please touch her.

“You’re paying me to tutor you, you know,” you say, palming her deliberately slowly. “We might as well practice your French.”

“Non.” Jackie rolls her eyes, but the effect is undercut by the way she clutches at your shoulders.

“I think it’s the perfect time to work on your pronunciation.”

“I think it’s the perfect time for you to–”

Jackie’s hips twitch as you graze her entrance, her moan muffled against your neck as you slid inside. She’s so ready for it, like you suspect she’s been for the last twenty minutes. The silk of her panties rubs pleasantly against your hand as you thrust into her, and without even sparing them a glance, you knew they were much too nice just to wear to a tutoring session.

“Jackie,” you say, watching her eyes flick over to yours.

“Mmm?”

“Did you wear these for me?”

Her eyes dart away as she realizes she was caught before finally nodding. 

“Good. Good girl.” If there was one thing Jackie responded to, it was praise. Jackie clenches hard around you, predictably. It was the only way you could get her to study. Figures that it would work here too.

She’s so wet that it truly was an accident when you slipped back in with two fingers, but all Jackie does is moan again as she rolls her hips half-heartedly. God, she’s just so perfect.

“Feel good?” You ask, unnecessarily. Even you know that. But you just want to hear her say it.

“Yeah. Just, I–I want…”

She bites at her lip as you grind your palm against her clit, crying out in protest when you pull it away again. Jackie tries to chase it, but you grab onto the back of her jeans with your other hand to stop her.

“Stop playing and make me come,” she snaps.

“En Français,” you interrupt. She stares at you for a moment, like she can’t believe you’re doing this to her, before continuing irritably.

“Je veux jouir, idiot.” Her accent is rough, like always, but it brings a smile to your face.

“Not a direct translation,” you muse, grinding your palm where she wants it. “Close enough.”

“Jerk.”

“En Français,” you sing-song.

“En Français,” she mocks under her breath, but the way you curl your fingers takes the words right out of her.

“Oh, fuck, please–s'il vous plaît.”

“That’s it, Jackie,” you say, your fingers picking up the pace as Jackie all but collapses in your lap to bury her head in your shoulder. “That was good. Just put it together.”

Jackie whines, shaking her head. 

“Tell me what you want so I can give it to you.” 

“Make me come, please.”

You were too far in to stop again at this point anyway, but what Jackie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She’s almost riding your palm as she comes, dragging her clit up and down your palm like it was going out of style. The moan she lets out is obscene and far too loud for your neighbor’s sake, but you wouldn’t change a thing as her thighs clamp down around you.

She whines as you pull your hand away, accidentally brushing against her clit and making her hips jerk away. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, peppering kisses against her neck till she relaxes. Jackie seems to like that, sitting straighter in your lap and propping her head back to give you more room to work with. She slides the fingers of one hand up your neck, curling absently in your hair as she lets out pleased little sighs when your lips press against her jaw. Her other hand starts to slide down your arm, her fingertips tracing little lines. 

You need to get the rest of her clothes off next time. And there will be a next time; of that at least you were certain. And with the way Jackie’s wandering fingers were making their way to the hem of your shirt, next time might be a lot sooner than you were counting on.

…

Four Months Ago

“Hey!” Comes a voice across from you, far too perky for this early in the morning. You try not to react too harshly, as it's not this girl's fault you're already in the library the first day of the semester. 

“Hey.” You glance around the library curiously, seeing more than one empty table. Did she seriously want to sit at your table when it was so empty? You're sure your irritation shows on your face as you start to move your things to one side of the table. 

“Oh, no. You're good. It's just… You're Y/N, right?”

“Depends on who's asking.” 

“Jackie. Jackie Taylor. Listen,” she starts, taking the seat across from you. “You tutored one of my friends in French last semester, and she really recommended you.”

You smile, a little pleased at the comment. Still, you don't usually start tutoring this early in the semester. It's hard to know what someone's struggling with before class even starts. You say as much, and she gives you an embarrassed shrug. 

“I tried taking it during the spring semester and failed, so…” She trails off expectantly. Ah. 

Retaking. 

“Yeah, I mean, I guess. What exactly do you think you're struggling with?”

Jackie frowns, propping her head up on her hand. She taps her fingers thoughtfully against the table. You can't quite bring yourself to look away from her, not when the angle does insane things for her jawline. She's easily one of the prettiest girls you've ever seen. You're not looking forward to how distracting it will be to sit across from her to try to teach her. 

Keep it professional. 

“When it stops being in English,” Jackie says finally. 

You laugh. “Everything, then?”

“Is that going to be too much–” 

“No, it's fine. Just bring me your syllabus and I'll look it over. What professor are you taking it with?”

Jackie's eyes widened slightly, something strangely panicked coming over her face. “Oh–uh. I'm not sure.”

You give her a curious look, but don't comment on it. “Who'd you take it with in the spring?”

“I don't remember,” Jackie says hastily, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Your eyes can't stop from focusing on it. “I'm just bad with names. So bad. It's a fault.” 

“... Right. Well, when you get it, just give me a ring.” You rip a corner out of your notebook, jotting down your phone number before handing it off to her. “Sounds good?”

“Excellent,” Jackie says primly, her smile a touch too wide as she looks back at you. 

You return the smile awkwardly, squirming beneath the weight of her stare. Jesus, did she look at everyone so intensely? It felt like she was drilling a hole through your head. 

“Anything else, or…?” You prompt gently. 

“Oh!” Jackie stands up, shouldering her bag again. “No, that–that was it.”

She waves your phone number around before adding, “I'll call you!”

You watch her curiously as she walks off, eyes drifting before you tear them away. Right. You shake your head, turning your attention back to your textbooks with a long exhale. This was going to be a long semester. 

…

Jackie huffs dramatically as she sits across from you, arms crossed over her chest as she leans back in her chair. You almost want to laugh. It’s funny, really, watching her try so hard to let you know she’s unhappy with the situation. 

Obviously, Jackie.

When you firmly told her that your tutoring sessions would in fact have to take place in the library from now on, you thought her head was going to explode. She was so mad you wondered for a moment if she might start yelling as you dragged her by the arm over to a familiar table in the corner.

Sure, you’ve met her in one of your rooms more than once, but obviously that won’t work anymore. Not after what happened last time. Jackie really did need all the help she could get to pass, and sitting across from her on her bed certainly wasn’t going to lead to anything of note being accomplished. 

So the library was good. A nice, neutral ground with witnesses. It would keep the both of you accountable. At least, you thought it would. Judging by the amount of times you’ve had to reach under the table and pluck Jackie’s foot off your thigh, shame wasn’t as the universal motivator you hoped it would be.

Which brings you to Jackie looking over at you expectantly as she finishes her latest sentence prompt.

“That’s not bad,” you say, giving Jackie a smile. She was at least trying to put in some kind of effort, even if it seems to involve a lot of leaning forward to give you a view straight down her shirt. That seems dangerous. You lean further back in your seat, which proves to be a mistake as Jackie’s bored smile starts to turn concerningly smug. “How about this one: What would you say if–”

“Boring,” Jackie interrupts, tapping the top of your paper as she pins it to the table beneath a single manicured finger. She crosses one knee over the other. In that skirt. With those legs. Deceptively long legs and impossibly distracting. Jackie just sits there, but the sight of her makes it hard to breathe. Jesus Christ.

“Jackie…” you warn, but Jackie barrels right through you like usual. You’ve got to give it to her: she's persistent. 

“What? Teach me something useful. We keep talking about libraries. When am I ever going to go to the library when you aren’t there to drag me there?” She pauses for an answer and continues on when you struggle to find one. “How about this? What would I say if…”

“If?” You were definitely walking right into it.

“If I wanted to ask the hot tutor for her number?”

“Puis-je avoir votre numéro?” You answer reflexively, wincing when Jackie smirks. 

“That’s not bad. Very good,” she says with a mocking lilt. The wink that follows makes it feel more playful than anything else.

She picks your pen off the table, grabbing your hand with hers as she slowly writes it across your hand. Her fingers are warm as they brush against you, making you hyperaware of each swooping motion. Jackie takes extra care to touch you as much as she can during the process, trailing her fingertips down your skin as she pulls away.

You don’t realize until later, but she stole your pen too. All you can manage is a weak protest, “I already have your number.”

Jackie tilts her head to the side as she asks mirthfully, “Then why did you ask?”

You stare at her wordlessly, and Jackie just laughs. She leans forward to rest her head on her palm, reaching out a hand to brush stray hairs away from your eyes. Before you can even get your hand up to slap it away, her hand has retreated, curled innocently over her notes.

“Are you going to study, or are you here to flirt? Because it seems like that’s all you’ve come here to do today.” You can’t help how frustrated the words come out; honestly a little miffed at all the teasing she’s done today. Your tone is harsher than you intended it to be, and Jackie takes notice of it instantly. She’s spent the last hour just trying to make you squirm, and you were embarrassed how much she’s succeeded. 

Jackie looks shocked at being called out, her foot that was brushing against your ankle quickly retreating again. Like a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar. She clears her throat before nodding awkwardly.

“Tough choice,” she admits. “But I think I’m here to study, prof.”

“You know what?” You ask slowly, watching as Jackie freezes. “How about we just work on your pronunciation today, since we didn’t get a chance last time.”

“I think I’m okay,” Jackie tries.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Oh–okay.”

“We’ll start off easy. Vous avez fait du bon travail.”

Jackie lights up, just the way you expected she would. “You’ve done a good job today?” There’s just the faintest hint of a question there, a bid for approval.

“Good, Jackie. I knew you’d get that.” You say it just for the way it clearly flusters her.

“Easy,” she deflects.

“Decided that on the first question, have we?” You feign disapproval, but there’s no hiding the affectionate look on your face.

“I can’t help that I’m your favorite student.” That was definitely true. You wouldn’t put out half this effort for anybody else. There’s just something about her that draws you in and makes it impossible to leave.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, hm?”

Jackie gasps as you flip through your notes.

“Now,” you say. “J'en veux un autre.”

A hesitation now, her confidence faltering. Has she noticed so quickly? 

“I want another,” she says slowly.

“Say it like you mean it, Jackie,” you add, keeping your voice carefully neutral. If she was looking at you to see how she should respond, she wasn’t going to find anything useful.

“I want another.” Breathier this time, even as she still manages to meet your eyes.

“Better. Plus vite, s'il vous plaît?”

“Faster… please?” She repeats, a dawning look of comprehension crossing her face. “I don’t know when I would need this.”

“No? You can’t think of a single time?” The way her eyes dart away is answer enough.

“You’re messing with me,” she accuses.

“You don’t find it useful?”

Jackie flushes, fingers tapping against her arms as she looks at you. “I think this is enough practice for today, don’t you think–”

“N'arrêtez pas. Plus”

“Don’t–don’t stop. More,” Jackie stutters.

“Good job. You were right, Jackie. I don’t think the sentences I was having you practice before were very useful to you.”

“No?” She asks quietly.

“No. I think you’re much more likely to need to know these, right?”

Jackie gapes.

“You’re so mean,” she says finally, her voice almost a whine.

… 

Three months ago. 

"Okay," you say slowly, smiling encouragingly over at Jackie. "Let's try this in French, okay?” 

You wish that you could find the enthusiasm to mean it, but that felt like an impossible task. What was the definition of insanity again? Doing something over and over again and expecting different results.

Right.

Jackie nods. “Duh.”

Your smile becomes strained around the edges. “My name is Jackie. I play soccer."

She scrunches her nose in thought, her pen tapping occasionally against her notes. You can’t help but notice how she makes no move to actually check her notes. Usually that kind of thing would be encouraging in someone you were tutoring. It meant that they were confident enough to try it without help. With Jackie, however, you’ve learned that she was probably so confused that she never wrote anything down in the first place. Or, better yet, something about a verb and a bunch of question marks.

It’s not that Jackie was dumb, far from it if you looked at her other classes. Those textbooks she hauled around always seemed appropriately thick, with little notes scrawled on sticky notes in the margins and tabs sticking out the sides seemingly at random. She insisted that she had a carefully maintained method for everything, but you were starting to wonder if she just added a tab when she felt like it. It felt like something she’d do, though you didn’t know her all that well yet.

It was an impressive class load to maintain with how much time she’s clearly dedicated to her soccer team. If it wasn't their practice nearly every day, it was Jackie going out by herself. You’ve passed by the soccer field a few times on your way back from the library–by accident, you assure yourself–and have found her out there more than once lit by nothing but the floodlights. You’re not sure how she made time to breathe, let alone maintain her courses and still manage to make an appearance Friday nights.

You’ve seen her around campus a few times, and she always seems to have an excited wave locked and loaded. Her face lights up the second she catches sight of you, rocking slightly on her feet as she waves just a touch too enthusiastically. There’s a genuine warmth to it, just as inviting as it was disarming. 

There was something about French that just wasn’t clicking for her. She’s improved somewhat under your tutelage, but not as much as you usually expected. If she weren’t such a hopeless case at times, you would have advised her to try a different tutor. But there was something about the way she smiles at you when she gets something right that has you hesitating.

This was your latest attempt: appealing to her love of soccer.

“Okay, uh… man–no, Mon! Mon nom est Jackie.” She pauses, leaning back in her chair as she forces out a breath through pursed lips. “And… Je… jouer soccer.”

Jackie claps her hands together, looking at you expectantly. She looks proud of herself, the most interested you’ve ever seen her in French yet. You think your new approach is definitely working. It figures that all it would take was throwing soccer in there. Something about the way she’s staring back at you makes you feel bad for what you're about to say next.

“That’s not bad,” you start off encouragingly, but Jackie’s face falls almost immediately. There’s a part of you that wants to take the words back to see the smile come back to her face, but you quash it to the best of your ability. “But remember what we talked about? That you can’t just translate words individually from English to French?”

“But it’s so much easier that way,” Jackie complains, her lips falling into a pout. It seems to come so naturally to her. That expression should be illegal in all fifty states.

“But that’s not how languages work.”

“It could be,” she mutters under her breath, but waves a hand at you to continue. 

She may not internalize anything you say, but at least you could trust Jackie to actually listen when you spoke. Some of the other people you tutored couldn’t be bothered to raise half the effort. It wasn’t even that Jackie didn’t try. Jackie tries so hard sometimes, almost embarrassingly so. You’ve seen her mouthing the words along as she reads her homework, trying to make something stick, but nothing seems to land.

“Je m'appelle Jackie. My name is Jackie.”

Jackie frowns thoughtfully. “What’s the difference?”

“It’s not wrong, per se–”

“Great, more French…” she mutters.

You gape at her for a moment. You can’t tell if she’s serious or not. “That’s not… never mind. Look, it’s not incorrect. It’s just very literal. If you say mon nom est, people will know you’re not a native speaker.”

“People will know that the second I open my mouth,” Jackie counters, winking over at you. You can’t help but laugh, nodding your head in agreement.

“Okay, fine. Je m'appelle Jackie.”

“Bon travail. Uh, good job,” you add, intercepting the question before she can ask it. You could already see the words forming on her lips. Jackie squirmed slightly at the words. 

Interesting.

“Now, the rest of it. Je joue au football.”

“But I don’t joue football,” Jackie protests immediately. You groan. She’ll die on this hill, you swear. “I joue soccer.”

“The French call it football.”

“The French are wrong.”

“Every last one of them?”

“Every one of them that calls it football, yeah.” She leans forward in her seat, waving her finger at you.

“Tu joues au football,” you tease.

“Tu joues au soccer,” she insists.

“I don’t play soccer, no.” You laugh. 

Jackie couldn’t seem to get conjugations down either. She sighs, her shoulders slumping dejectedly before she buries her head in her hands in frustration. 

“Why is this so hard?” She whines.

Small hairs stick up beneath her fingers, and much to your despair, the disheveled look only seems to add to her allure. You’re in danger of doing something stupid the longer you spend in Jackie Taylor’s presence. You thought it was a passing fancy at first–hoped, more like–but the longer you’ve spent with her, the more you’ve found yourself inexplicably drawn to her.

Jackie peeks out at you through her fingers, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” She asks, quiet and self-deprecating. It’s said teasingly, but there’s a helpless sense of resignation there that makes your heart ache.

“No,” you promise. “You’re not hopeless.”

Jackie’s shy smile makes your heart race. Her eyes search yours, but you’re not sure what she’s looking for. Something suspiciously close to smug passes over her face. She leans closer to you, bracing her elbows on the table.

“Je suis très jolie,” she says confidently. I am very pretty.

You laugh quietly, which doesn’t seem to be the reaction she was looking for as her face falls. She frowns at you.

“You are very pretty, Jackie,” you agree with a smile.

Jackie groans, tapping her fingers against the desk. She thinks for a moment before she tries again, making sure to emphasize every word. “Tu es très jolie.” You are very pretty.

“Oh,” you say quietly, eyes widening in surprise. “Thank you.”

She seems to take it as a victory. You’re not entirely sure why.

[landvenus]

~me & hasjtags only for smoking again, u"re so cool. like my favorite componiste / being @grimezszsz _ yeh, that is/was Kaios on my hand, she discov 4 me on server L. ×post note 4 me<screenshots>×

aftr "sleep" - *sips kofi* _ mow is kinda hopeful with some thingz with kinda big effcts *surfs channels & platformz fb ... ... * *GRINNNN*

>> V.Westwood x Grimes _L: let's 4 ever ROCOCO back in belongs/place

>> *feels,action* support with the Facts, be CAUSE:Mother Earth is very *[en/in-twined] with these acts of Bravery, ART, The Tripple Helix DNA_ nothing was ever lost *yey* *mean _ while:

[[image makes the integration a bit smoother sometimes in concept]]

[[lvl of protek FACTS cus the Art/Act-ist gets trolled by opinionators]]

>> Genius Grimes Awarding in AI - OF COURSE._ {{duhh <3}}

* mean while it feels like I am gaining my memory back and *swag* let's talk platform {{4thm-schizzo}} style, who cares. {{ido}} >> at x pin the rest // domain grimes x anime x ...

𒆙[X] Post Conversation 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 ˙✧@fairiescumfirst * *

[new c tattoos 💘💘]

[your white tattoos fascinates/recognizes/anime importansze] ... you looks just like her [Lucy/Nyu - Moonsz] @grimezszsz

>> *GR INZ* I totaly made a screenshot of you in Elf with very visible in-side palm Sigil, while having a convo in general about tattoos and anime and especially _ the blend of Arts / Neanderthalis, I mean are we going to spiral up?!, Directing it and Thinking it as of Breathing.

>> "fascinated fnd pretty wallpaper for bestie" - spaghettiiiiiiiiii ! - sigils on the wall !! >> found them other screen 🔫👽 ×<note 4 me<screenshots>×

>> first linez

{hours later} *"𝔅𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔐𝔢" 🎧👁 {23:19} in:

[I don't write here 4 others to make sense of it/they're the ones left schizzo's acual _ 25:40 AngelsxAliens,yah *hi'gh*]

_fuck your hastags we follow our souls_ yeh dravandil angel in kill v. maim {i wish 2 post this, lol} {butttoonnnssss} - 4 sure i am also an adult and thát before 54 *:D* (mayans said so earlier)

[goldfades]

That post about Y/N and Joe parenting style was so perfect. I honestly believe Joe is also super stubborn and would 100000% get in a long standoff with Hayes over him refusing to eat his vegetables. And I think Hayes, ever the mama’s boy, would probably win that battle. And Y/N would absolutely feel the need to tell Joe that Hayes definitely got those qualities from him.

oh, absolutely. joe burrow is one of the most competitive people on the planet—there is no way he’s backing down from a battle of wills, even if his opponent is a three-year-old with chubby cheeks and a mop of curls. and hayes? stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it. the kid is relentless, especially when he knows he has you on his side. it’s that lethal combination of burrow determination and your charm—an unbeatable duo, really. so yeah, if joe tells hayes he has to eat his broccoli? that kid is digging in his heels. and joe, rather than letting it go like any normal parent, is treating it like the damn super bowl. no one is blinking. neither of them will surrender. it’s a full standoff. and of course, you, ever the observer, just sit back and watch it unfold because you know hayes is gonna win this one

it starts with a single piece of broccoli.

small, harmless, nestled between the mashed potatoes and tiny chicken nuggets on hayes’ plate. it’s nothing special—just one of the little florets you steamed earlier, cut up small so he wouldn’t even notice if he just ate the damn thing. but oh, he notices.

“no.”

joe sighs, already looking exhausted. “hayes—”

“no,” hayes repeats, shaking his head so hard his curls bounce. “don’t want it.”

“just one bite,” joe tries, tone even, logical. “you love green beans, buddy. this is the same thing.”

hayes looks offended. “it is not.”

you, sitting across from them at the kitchen table, hide your smirk behind your hand. joe shoots you a quick glare, but you just lift a shoulder, amused.

“one bite,” joe presses. “then you can have more nuggets.”

hayes, still holding his ground, frowns at his plate. he looks at the broccoli, then at his dad, then back at the broccoli. then, slowly, he crosses his arms.

joe sighs again, rubbing a hand down his face. “hayes.”

“no.”

you can feel the irritation rolling off joe in waves. the man doesn’t lose—ever. and now his toddler is serving him his first real defeat in his own damn kitchen.

“hayes.” joe’s voice drops into dad mode. that serious, no-nonsense tone he pulls out when he means business. the one that usually works.

hayes, completely unbothered, mirrors his father’s serious expression. the tension is palpable. this is no longer just about broccoli. this is a battle of principles.

you clear your throat. “hayes, baby, just one tiny—”

he turns to you, eyes wide and tragic. “mama, i can’t.”

you almost laugh. “why not?”

“it’s green.”

joe looks personally offended by the logic. “so?”

hayes stabs his fork into his mashed potatoes aggressively, like this betrayal is too much.

joe groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “this is ridiculous.”

you hum, amused. “wonder where he gets it from.”

joe glares at you again. “don’t.”

you just sip your water, smiling.

the standoff continues. minutes tick by. hayes doesn’t move. joe doesn’t budge. they’re both stubborn as hell. the only difference is, hayes has an out—he has you.

and you? well, you’re having too much fun watching joe suffer.

after a full ten minutes of absolute silence, hayes suddenly exhales deeply. then he shakes his head, slides his plate an inch away, and mutters, “i not hungry no more.”

joe throws his fork down. “are you kidding me?”

“nope.” hayes pops the ‘p’ dramatically.

you lose it. full-on, shaking laughter right there at the table. joe, unamused, shoots you a look.

“oh, come on,” he grumbles. “you’re on his side?”

“i mean.” you wipe a tear from your eye. “he is your son.”

joe scowls. “he’s your son when he’s like this.”

hayes, ever the opportunist, slides off his chair and makes a beeline for your lap. you scoop him up easily, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. he smells like baby shampoo and mashed potatoes.

“you’re ridiculous,” joe tells him flatly.

hayes just grins, curling into you. “mama don’t think so.”

joe shakes his head, defeated. then, after a long moment, he sighs. “fine.”

hayes perks up. “no broccoli?”

joe’s jaw clenches, but he nods. “no broccoli.”

hayes cheers.

you press your face into his curls to hide your laughter.

joe mutters something about never losing to a toddler again. but you both know that’s a damn lie.

[lostinlovingrevery]

hiii!!! would u consider writing a reader who is extremely ticklish and gets very giggly during sex with logan?

(no issues if u choose not to) ✨️💜

Ticklish

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

You just can't help it

A/N: The gif is logan about to tickle you

Warnings: SMUT mdni! Established relationship, unprotected PiV sex, giggly sex, fluff, tickling, random DC reference, fingering,

"You're killing me bub."

Logan tipped his head up at the sound of your mirth, and the feeling of your wiggles underneath him.

"I'm sorry!" You laughed. "I can't help it!"

"I don't recall you being this giggly the last time."

"Well it was more serious last time!"

He raised a brow, "It's serious, this time too."

You laughed, "I'm sorry! I'm taking it serious, I promise!" Your hands reached up into his hair, curling into his locks and pulling him down to kiss you again. He was reluctant, but could never resist your lips.

He melted back into you, his body weight sinking over you- as much as it could without fully crushing you. Your fingers dug into his scalp, arching into him as your kissed turned into something more intense.

Then you smiled, and the giggles started again. Logan parted from you with a exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry I was just thinking about how it felt earlier-" You laughed.

It wasn't that he wasn't annoyed with your giggles- in fact it was the opposite of that, he derived a lot of joy seeing you happy, especially under him.

He feigned annoyance as long as he could, but when he finally looked down at your fluttery self. He broke, letting out a small laugh, leaning down to peck your lips.

"Maybe you just need to get it out of your system." He says in a low voice- suggestive, almost threatening. Your smile dropped.

"Wait- We- Logan-" You stare at him in fear- your voice wavering, realizing you were completely pinned down by this man who weighed nearly 400 pounds - and he was giving you the most devilish grin that would put the Joker to shame. "No- No...No!"

Your shrieked as his hands went under your (his) shirt that you wore to bed. His fingers brushing over your belly, tickling you. The sensation almost become too much almost immediately. You squealed, your hands trying to stop his attack on you, as you kicked your legs and squirmed.

He was at an advantage, settled between your legs, he was able to grab a hold of your hands, pinning them to the mattress above your head with one hand holding your wrists together, while he lifts your shirt, and began blowing raspberries into your belly.

"Logan!" You shrieked, tears now streaming down your face. "Stop!" You squealed through your laugh, losing your breath. You managed to wiggle enough that you could turn to your side, allowing little relief from his attack.

His hands returned to tickling at your hips while he reached forward, pressing kisses into your neck, some firm, some soft, brushing over your skin and tickling your skin further. His fingers sneakily flit underneath your panties, making contact with your clit- and you gasped from the sudden difference in stimulation.

"Sneaky-" You accused, one of your hands curling into his hair. He grinned, rubbing circles into your bud, leaning down to capture your lips in a possessive kiss. You moaned into his mouth, arching into him as his fingers worked you over. Your tears still stained your face- and once again you began giggling.

"Damn sweetheart." He couldn't help but chuckle. "You just can't stop can you?"

"I-" You laughed, then moaned when he lowered his hand down your cunt, and slowly entered a finger inside you. "You just...Oh- bring it out of me." You bit your lip, tipping your hand back, the feeling of his finger slowly curling in and out of you. His thumb pressed into your clit, pressing firm circles as he worked you over. Shivers ran down your back- as your fingers buried into his scalp.

He hummed, adding another finger into your hole, sucking him in as he pumped his fingers in and out of your, stroking the gummy spot inside of you that made you see you stars. He planted his lips over yours firmly, thrusting out of you at a steady pace until your eyes rolled back.

"Logan!" You cried out, as your body froze underneath him. He slows his fingers in and out, in and out. Your arousal creamed his hands. He grinned- watching your giggly and squirmy figure become relaxed and quiet as your breathing eased.

He pulled his fingers out, sucking them clean with a moan.

"Lovely as always baby." He smacked his lips. You let out a weak laugh, shaking your head before letting it fall weakly to the side. "Not so giggly now are you?" He asks, a cocky smirk on his face. He sits up, adjusting you onto your back.

Pushing your legs on his shoulder, he sat up on his knees and pushed down his briefs- his swollen and needy cock bouncing against his stomach, while he angles into you and pushes himself inside.

You gasped, tipping your head back. He leaned forward, your legs pushed to your chest. He pressed his forehead to yours, and began slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"Damn-" He hissed, shutting his eyes. "Feels so good as always."

You hands went to his hips as he thrusts in and out, and you grinned. You waited until he was melting inside you- before you started tickling his hips. He jumped, a small grunt escaping him.

"Hey!" He stopped opening his eyes. You started giggling.

"Guess i'm not the only one that's ticklish-" You tipped your chin up at him proudly.

He scoffed, "I'm not. You just took me by surprise."

"That so?"

You tickled him again, laughing at his reaction. He quickly grabs your hands- pinning them to either side of your head as he began plowing into you- Your laughter turning into moans. His lips planted firmly onto yours, licking into your mouth messily.

You couldn't help it, you started giggling again. Logan groaned- before laughing himself as he continued thrusting into you.

"God, I love you, you know that?" He chuckled, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he buried himself inside you. "Even if you do try to tickle me."

You tittered, pecking him on the nose, "I love you too."

[xichilie]

OMG! I absolutely love you for the way you did my request of Mydei trying to court reader ❤️😭🙏

It was so silly and perfect and i couldn't stop laughing!!!

And now theres part 2???

youre a blessing dear author 🫶

I'm glad you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this ♡

Here's a part 3 ♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader (3)

Part 2

The streets of Okhema had grown quieter as the evening settled in, the sky painted in soft shades of purple and orange. The laughter of the children had faded, leaving only the distant murmur of the marketplace and the occasional chatter of passersby.

Y/N and Mydei walked side by side, their pace slow, unhurried. The excitement from earlier had died down, and now, a strange silence stretched between them.

For once, Mydei wasn’t speaking.

He wasn’t teasing her for losing, wasn’t boasting about his victory, wasn’t smirking at her like he usually did after getting the upper hand.

Instead, he was quiet.

It was… strange.

She kept sneaking glances at him, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. He was staring straight ahead, his usual sharp gaze slightly unfocused, as if deep in thought.

The memory of what happened just minutes ago replayed in her head—the chase, the cheers, the kids yelling about a reward, and then…

The kiss.

Her cheeks warmed just thinking about it.

She didn’t even know why she did it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Mydei had looked so composed, as if he hadn’t been flustered at all, and for some reason, that had annoyed her. So she acted on impulse, tugged him down, and kissed his cheek.

And then he turned bright red.

Just the thought of it made her lips twitch, but at the same time, guilt crept in.

She sighed quietly, lowering her gaze.

“…Sorry.”

The word slipped out so softly, she wasn’t sure he even heard it.

But then—

He stopped.

Y/N felt it immediately—the shift in the air, the sudden lack of movement beside her. She turned, only to see Mydei standing still, brows furrowed, watching her with open confusion.

“…What?” His voice was quieter than usual.

She hesitated before meeting his gaze. “I said… I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened. “For what?”

“For… earlier.” She shifted on her feet. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was probably weird, and I—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She blinked at the sharpness of his tone.

Mydei was still staring at her, golden eyes unreadable, but there was something frustrated in the way he looked at her. Like he didn’t understand why she would even say that.

Y/N bit her lip, suddenly feeling awkward. “…Because it was kind of unfair? You didn’t really get a say in it.”

At that, Mydei let out a breath—one of incredulity.

“You think I didn’t want that?”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

The words were quiet. Almost grumbled. As if he hadn’t even meant to say them out loud.

But she heard them.

Clearly.

Her lips parted slightly, her brain short-circuiting for a second. “…What?”

Mydei’s expression stiffened, and he immediately looked away, crossing his arms. “Forget it.”

“No, hold on, what did you just say?”

“Forget it, Y/N.”

“I will not.”

“Tch.”

He turned on his heel and started walking again, this time at a slightly faster pace.

Y/N scrambled to keep up, her heart hammering, the heat rising to her cheeks again.

Did she just—

Did she mishear him?

Or did he really just say—

No. No way.

…Right?

Y/N hurried after Mydei, her heart pounding in her chest. He was not getting away that easily.

Before he could take another step, she quickly moved in front of him, blocking his path.

He stopped abruptly, barely avoiding bumping into her. “Move.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, standing her ground.

His golden eyes narrowed. “Y/N.”

“Mydei.” She mimicked his tone, unwavering. “We’re talking about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You just said something that completely contradicts the way you act, and you expect me to just ignore it?” She scoffed. “No way. You’re going to explain what you meant.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s jaw clenched, and his gaze flickered away for a moment. His entire posture screamed tense, his arms crossed so tightly it looked like he was physically keeping himself from reaching for something—maybe a sword, maybe just a distraction.

Y/N took a step closer, searching his face.

“…Mydei.”

His eyes snapped back to hers.

“I don’t get you,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “One second, you’re messing with me, the next, you’re ignoring me, and now you’re—” She exhaled in frustration. “Now you’re saying things like that, and you won’t even explain what you mean.”

Mydei stared at her, unmoving.

For a moment, Y/N thought he was just going to shut down entirely, to brush her off and push past her.

But then—

“…You really don’t get it, do you?”

His voice was quiet. Almost amused, but not in a mocking way. More like he was baffled.

Y/N frowned. “Get what?”

His golden eyes studied her face—searching, considering. Then, finally, he exhaled.

“I like you, Y/N.”

Silence.

Y/N blinked, not entirely sure she heard him right. “…What?”

His lips pressed together, then curved into a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not gonna make me say it twice.”

Her brain short-circuited.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

He—

He what?

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her thoughts felt scrambled, like someone had just thrown all the pieces of a puzzle onto the floor and expected her to figure it out in five seconds.

Mydei liked her?

Like—liked her?

She must’ve looked as dumbfounded as she felt because Mydei let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Y/N snapped out of it. “Hold on.”

“What.”

“How—” She ran a hand through her hair, still trying to process. “Since when?”

His gaze flickered to the side, and for the first time, he was the one looking unsure. “…A while.”

Oh.

She swallowed. “And you—” Her voice faltered slightly. “You were trying to tell me?”

He scoffed. “Tch. I was showing you.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it.

All the moments over the past few weeks flashed in her mind—his sparring matches with her, his gifts, the way he lingered around her, his small but rare smiles, everything.

Oh.

Oh.

Her face burned. “I—I didn’t—”

“Yeah. I figured,” he muttered.

She groaned, covering her face for a second. “I thought you were just—y’know, being you!”

He gave her a look. “I don’t do this kind of shit for just anyone.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, and oh gods, he was serious.

Oh.

Y/N lowered her hands, her heart hammering in her chest. “And… you’re not joking?”

His expression darkened. “You think I’d joke about this?”

…No. No, he wouldn’t.

The realization hit her like a wave.

This whole time—this whole time—he had been trying to tell her. And she—she had been too oblivious to see it.

Y/N let out a breath, her pulse racing. She met his gaze, something twisting in her chest.

“…Oh.”

Mydei stared at her for a moment. Then he scoffed. “Yeah. Oh.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind spinning as she stared at Mydei.

The weight of everything that had just been said pressed down on her chest, making her feel both incredibly stupid and incredibly overwhelmed. She had been blind—completely and utterly blind.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “…I’m sorry.”

Mydei’s brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For not noticing.” She exhaled shakily, looking down at the ground. “For making you go through all that trouble just to get me to see something that should’ve been obvious.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s lips pressed together, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

She scoffed. “You literally had to chase me through half of Okhema before I even started putting the pieces together—”

“That’s not your fault.”

She looked up at him. He was staring at her, expression firm—certain.

“…Then whose fault is it?” she asked quietly.

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Mine.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I should’ve just said something sooner.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Instead of relying on Kremnoan traditions that clearly mean nothing to you.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not—”

“I kept thinking, ‘she’ll get it eventually.’” His voice was low, almost frustrated—but not at her. “That one of these days, you’d finally understand.”

She bit her lip, guilt settling in her stomach. “…I still feel bad.”

Mydei let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “And you’re stubborn.”

They locked eyes, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then—

“…I liked you.”

The words tumbled out before Y/N could stop them.

Mydei froze.

Her eyes widened slightly as she realized what she’d just said.

“I—I mean—” She sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly flustered. “I like you—I liked you—no, I mean—” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I never let myself think about it!”

Mydei remained still, watching her carefully. “…What do you mean?”

Y/N inhaled shakily, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I mean, I liked you—I like you—but I never let myself think about it.” Her voice grew softer. “Because you’re you.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable passing through his golden eyes. “…Me?”

“You’re a prince, Mydei,” she murmured. “You’re an Chrysos heir. You have responsibilities. A whole kingdom to think about. And I’m just—”

Her voice faltered, her chest tightening.

Just Y/N.

Mydei’s brows drew together.

“Y/N.”

Her breath hitched slightly when he suddenly stepped closer.

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep talking. “I just—I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t let myself think about it, because—”

“Enough.”

Her words died in her throat.

His voice was firm—certain.

She looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his golden gaze.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“You think I care about any of that?” Mydei scoffed, shaking his head. “You think it matters to me that I’m a prince and you’re not?”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

He exhaled sharply, then—without hesitation—reached out, cupping the side of her face with his hand.

She froze, her breath catching.

“You,” Mydei said quietly, “are the only thing I have ever wanted for myself.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

Her mind went completely blank.

Mydei held her gaze, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. “…Do you understand now?”

She barely managed to nod, her face burning.

He let out a small, breathy chuckle—soft, fond.

“Good.”

The morning sun bathed Okhema in a soft golden light, the streets already alive with the usual sounds of merchants calling out their wares and warriors beginning their morning drills. Among them, Mydei walked with an unmistakable air of satisfaction. His usual composed and sharp demeanor was still intact, but there was something different—his shoulders weren’t as tense, his expression wasn’t as severe, and if one looked closely enough, they might even catch a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Phainon definitely noticed.

He had been casually leaning against a stone pillar near the training grounds, sipping his morning coffee, when Mydei passed by. At first, Phainon had assumed his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no. Mydei looked happy.

Suspiciously happy.

Phainon’s smirk was immediate. He pushed off the pillar and lazily strolled toward him.

“Well, well,” he drawled, falling into step beside Mydei. “Aren’t you in a fine mood today?”

Mydei didn’t react right away, but Phainon didn’t miss the way his lips twitched slightly before he responded.

“Hm.”

That was it. Just hm.

Phainon raised an eyebrow. “That’s all I get? No sharp retort? No glare?” He whistled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Mydei sighed, rolling his eyes. “What do you want, deliverer?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” Phainon took another sip of his coffee, watching Mydei closely. “Just curious as to why you look like someone who just won a war without lifting a sword.”

Mydei scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

Phainon clicked his tongue. “Am I?” He took a step ahead, then turned to walk backward, facing Mydei as he grinned. “You’re radiating smugness, Mydei. It’s practically dripping off of you. It’s disgusting.”

The golden-eyed prince sighed, clearly debating whether or not to entertain this conversation.

Phainon’s grin widened. “Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

For the first time since their conversation started, Mydei hesitated.

It was subtle—the briefest pause in his step, the slightest shift in his expression—but Phainon caught it immediately.

“Oh, this is rich.” Phainon let out a delighted laugh. “You’re really not gonna say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Right. And I suppose that faint blush on your ears is also nothing?”

Mydei turned his head slightly, subtly adjusting his collar, but it was too late.

Phainon saw everything.

“Oh, this is fantastic,” Phainon continued, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Should I go find Y/N? Ask her what happened?”

That finally got a reaction.

Mydei stopped walking.

Phainon barely had a second to register it before Mydei turned his head just enough to level him with a look.

“…You won’t.”

Phainon blinked. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across his face.

“Oh, but now I have to.”

Mydei exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Phainon.”

Phainon only laughed, stepping closer. “Come on. Give me something. Did she finally get it?”

Mydei crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “…More or less.”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “You mean all of your awkward attempts actually paid off?”

Mydei gave him a flat look. “They weren’t awkward.”

“They absolutely were,” Phainon said smugly. “But that’s beside the point.” He tilted his head. “So? What now?”

Mydei was quiet for a moment.

Then, slowly, a small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Now,” he said, “I make sure she never forgets.”

Phainon blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Then he let out a low whistle. “Oh. Oh, this is going to be fun to watch.”

Phainon still wasn’t done.

If anything, Mydei’s flustered reaction only fueled his mischief further.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Phainon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His smirk was downright wicked as he tapped a few times on the screen before turning it toward Mydei.

“Seems like you had a good time yesterday,” he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

Mydei’s golden eyes landed on the screen.

It was the picture.

The one Phainon had secretly taken while lurking in the distance—Y/N on her toes, a hand gripping Mydei’s collar, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The normally stoic prince was caught mid-reaction, his ears red, his expression stunned.

A moment of silence.

Then—

“Mydei?” Phainon said, grinning. “You okay there, buddy?”

Mydei exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Phainon.”

Phainon’s smirk widened. “Yes?”

Mydei’s eye twitched.

“Delete it.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Phainon pocketed his phone, taking a casual step back. “This is gold. Fantastic, even.”

Mydei ran a hand down his face. He inhaled deeply, as if to compose himself. Then, he took a step forward.

Phainon immediately took another step back.

“Mydei,” he said, amusement clear in his voice.

The prince said nothing. He merely rolled his shoulders back, his expression shifting from mild embarrassment to something much more dangerous.

Phainon recognized that look instantly.

“Oh, shit.”

Mydei lunged.

Phainon barely had time to react before he bolted, laughter spilling from his lips as he dodged between passing warriors and startled civilians.

Mydei was right behind him.

“You’re dead, Phainon.”

“So worth it!” Phainon cackled, vaulting over a wooden crate as he ran through the streets of Okhema.

“Get back here!”

“Never!”

Civilians watched in stunned silence as the two Chrysos heirs chased eachother through the marketplace, dodging carts, weaving through narrow streets, their thundering footsteps echoing through the city.

It was definitely not the last time Phainon was going to bring it up.

[amypihcs]

Took me a CENTURY to write this, but finally i'm decently satisfied with it!

I love this art, OP, it's really magnificent! Hope you'll like this tiny fic!

A simple life.

Dr Watson rolled his eyes again as Mr Holmes, at his arm, renewed his protests about their outing.

“It is you who insisted on not having a housekeeper.” Remarked Watson.

“Of course. I did not leave our home in Baker Street to behave myself around you.” Replied Holmes, undeterred.

“So we need to take care of the house and this includes taking care of the groceries. Together, Holmes.”

The detective sighed and acquiesced, still muttering under his breath about leaving his experiment.

The doctor smiled. “Oh, but cheer up, Holmes! It is a wonderful autumn day!”

“It’s freezing.”Answered Holmes a smile about his lips, just for the fun of arguing.

Dr Watson laughed at the quip and squeezed Holmes’ arm against his ribs. “Now, darling, don’t be dramatic. And remember your own deductions on Mr Parker.” He winked.

Holmes chuckled softly. “I have also promised you not to test any deduction of that kind, my dear. If Mr Parker is an invert, he certainly has good taste: he can’t take his eyes off you.”

Dr Watson laughed at the detective’s flirt and shushed him playful, pointing then at some detail of the countryside so as to cheer his partner up.

As in most of their trips to get groceries, it was Watson the one who actually took care of choosing their food and Holmes mostly worked as a porter, a very vocal and curious one.

“My dear boy, what sort of inhuman amount of food are you planning for.” Snickered the retired detective, holding onto the pumpkin Watson had pushed in his hands while he browsed the rest of the vegetables on sale.

Watson chuckled. “Should I remind you again that two adult men must eat to live, old man? – He asked rhetorically. – It’s autumn, and we can do a lot of delicious things with pumpkins, and they’ll do you good. Especially now that you’ve somehow taken to eating even less meat than earlier.”

Sherlock Holmes shrugged. “Meat is just quite a bit too heavy, I told you already. I don’t think we actually need to eat as much of it as certain people do, I find my mental energies much less impaired by a vegetable dish than a meat one.”

Dr Watson snickered again, locking his eyes with their green-grocer friend’s and exchanging a look with him.

“Ah, Mr Holmes. You can’t seriously believe that food impairs one’s mental processes!” Laughed Mr Parker, his incredulity painted on his features.

Holmes gave a bark of laughter and the doctor sighed deeply as the detective launched in his explanation.

“As we both know, Holmes, – interrupted at some point Dr Watson. – food is essential to the work of the brain and indeed of the body. I shan’t remind you of the times you fainted on a case, old man, or should I?”

Holmes huffed comically, as their friend hid a smile under his moustache. “This is for my protests, isn’t it?”

“Only partially, my dear Holmes, only partially. It’s also because you’ve been quite cavalier about your meals recently. And it shows.”

“You truly are biassed, dear boy. – Huffed Holmes, barely restraining himself from circling his husband’s waist. – I shall bow to your desire for food then, if only to make you stop worry.” He smiled.

Dr Watson chuckled again, now together with Mr Parker. “Thank you for such concession, old man.”

Holmes grinned a well-known mischievous grin. “Ah, we’ll see to my payment later.” He smirked as Watson paid for their shopping, almost making him choke on saliva to stop himself from laughing.

He coughed a bit to regain composure. “Sure thing old man. We shall indeed see about it at home.” He replied in a low growl that made some blood rush at Holmes’ gaunt cheeks.

Dr Watson grinned at the sight, and took his leave from the market stand with all his best London cordiality, Holmes’ arm safely in the crook of his elbow and every intention of paying his darling back for his concession and his impertinence.

And patience if the transaction might lead to a slightly delayed lunch, they would be very much able to cope.

Sussex fall market 1910

Sorry for late autumn pic

[scoupsakakitty]

this is probably annoying since the last couple of requests have been about 14th member BUT i saw a tiktok earlier today of a girl pranking her brother with a fake hickey so i was wondering if you could do the same but with seventeen obvi :D

The Fake Hickey Prank | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

The living room was a mess of snacks, controllers, and half-empty soda cans as Seventeen settled in for a night of gaming. The usual chaos filled the dorm—Seungkwan arguing over game rules, Mingyu trying (and failing) to organize the snack table, and DK already too invested in whatever was happening on-screen.

"Y/N! Get over here!" Jeonghan called from the couch, stretching his legs across two cushions. "You’re on our team, and we’re starting soon."

"Coming!" Y/N’s voice rang out from the hallway, but there was a slight delay before she finally entered the room.

The moment she stepped inside, Seungkwan’s eyes immediately narrowed. "Wait. What’s that on your neck?"

A hush fell over the group as everyone turned to look.

Y/N, seemingly unaware of the attention, strolled over casually. But it was too late—Vernon, who had been lying on the floor, sat up slightly to get a better look. "Yo… is that a—"

"A HICKEY?!" Hoshi practically shouted, pointing at her neck like he had just spotted an alien.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and she raised a hand to her neck, fingers brushing over the suspicious mark just below her jaw. "What? No—"

"Oh my god." Seungkwan clutched his chest. "Who? When? How?!"

Joshua blinked. "Guys, calm down, it’s probably just—"

"WHO DID THIS?" Seungcheols voice boomed, cutting Joshua off entirely.

Jeonghan sat up properly, arms crossed. "You better start explaining. Right now."

"Wait, wait, wait—" Y/N took a step back, hands raised. "You guys are overreacting."

"Overreacting?!" Dino gaped at her. "You’re too young for this!"

"You’re literally younger than me," Y/N shot back.

"That’s not the point!" Dino huffed, clearly flustered.

Woozi, who had been quiet up until now, let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples. "I don’t even know what to say."

"Say that you’re disappointed," Seungkwan whispered dramatically. "That’s what she deserves."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "You guys, seriously—"

"Who is he?" Mingyu suddenly asked, looking personally offended. "Tell me. I just want to talk."

"More like fight," Vernon muttered.

"No one’s fighting anyone!" Joshua interjected, but the others weren’t listening.

"Wait, were you on a date today? Is that why you took so long to come back?" DK’s eyes widened as if the pieces were finally coming together. "Oh my god, guys, she was out earlier—"

"IT’S A BURN!" Y/N finally shouted over the noise.

The room fell silent.

"...Huh?" Hoshi blinked.

Y/N exhaled sharply, dramatically pointing to her neck. "It’s from my curling iron. A burn. Not a hickey."

"Oh." Seungkwan sat back down slowly. "Ohhh."

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"YES. What kind of person do you think I am?!" Y/N huffed. "I was literally doing my hair, and I accidentally burned myself!"

Woozi squinted. "That… actually makes sense."

"Wait, hold on." Vernon, ever the skeptic, tilted his head. "Then why didn’t you just say that from the start?"

Before Y/N could respond, Jun furrowed his brows. "Wait a second... but your hair is straight."

The entire room went dead silent once again.

Seungkwan’s jaw dropped. "Oh my god, HE’S RIGHT!"

"Y/N." Jeonghan’s voice was dangerously calm. "Did you lie to us?"

Y/N bit her lip, her expression faltering for a second before she suddenly grinned. Without another word, she raised her hand and casually wiped her fingers over the ‘hickey’ on her neck. The makeup smudged instantly.

The boys collectively gasped.

"NO WAY—" Dino practically shrieked.

Y/N burst out laughing. "It was a PRANK! I saw it on TikTok and wanted to see how you guys would react!"

The dorm exploded.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Seungkwan looked personally betrayed.

"DO YOU KNOW THE STRESS YOU JUST CAUSED?!" Mingyu groaned, falling back onto the couch.

"I ALMOST STARTED LOOKING UP HER LOCATION HISTORY!" Hoshi wailed.

Meanwhile, Y/N had collapsed onto the floor, clutching her stomach from laughter. "Oh my god, your reactions—priceless!"

Jeonghan, shaking his head, finally chuckled. "Okay, that was kind of good."

Joshua sighed. "I knew something felt off."

Seungcheol, however, was still glaring. "You’re lucky this was a prank, or we’d have to have a serious conversation."

Y/N just grinned, completely unbothered. "Guess you’ll just have to wait until next time."

Seungkwan pointed dramatically. "There will be no next time!"

[grudgecollector]

hii queen! i saw that your requests are open, could you write something with daryl and a reader in the earlier seasons who are dating in secret? (they dont want no one to know because daryl is new to relationships and i believe he would be more reserved a little in the beggining), however the group ended up noticing how soft he is to her and how he always keep an eye on her😩 and also i just wanted to say that i read some of yours writtings and they are amazing💕💕

Gimme Shelter | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Tags: Swearing, twd typical violence, kind of slow burn, fluff, lightish angst, half proof-read

Words: 4.4k

A/N: Fank you so much nonny 💖😭 I've been really enjoying writing for Daryl, he was one of my biggest obsessions as a teenager, and that obsession will continue to prevail.

And this is such a cute request, I love secret relationship tropes so much. I decided to do Prison era!Daryl if that's okay, I assume you probably meant for like season 1 or 2, but I felt like it would be cute in the prison.

I know that a slow burn wasn't requested BUT the thoughts just kept coming the more I wrote. Also sorry this took so long to post.

Growing up people would always say you will find the one when you least expect it. Whether it’s in a grocery store, at the park, in a museum. That one person you’re bound to spend the rest of your life with will be there. As if they were waiting for you, and you for them. It was a fairytale dream, one that you lost faith in long ago. 

There were moments you had thought that maybe you finally found that person. Until disappointment would strike time and time again. Your experience with relationships had been less than ideal, never lasting longer than a year. Cheaters, liars, and worst of all abusers. Those types of men had always been the most drawn to you. Making you feel as if you were cursed somehow, unlucky. 

After a while and a slew of pity attempts, you gave up on dating for your own benefit. Deciding it would be best to focus more on yourself. Not allowing yourself to succumb to the societal pressure of getting married by twenty and popping kids out by twenty one. 

That was the dream of a delusional small town teenager, too young to think for themselves let alone plan a future family, and that had been your dream once upon a time. Maybe you read too many stories about young girls finding their prince charming and living happily ever after.

You started to value your alone time. Enjoying the feeling of not having to walk on eggshells in order to keep the other party happy. Things were smooth sailing for about two years. You changed your life around, got a new job, a new car, and a new apartment all within a few months. 

A newfound happiness was settling inside of you, you were beginning to find yourself again. You became more confident in who you were as a person, allowing yourself to actually live your life instead of just simply being alive. 

But life had a twisted sense of humor. 

Things started with frantic breaking news segments on the news. Reporters talking about the horrifying developments coming out of France. In the beginning you had hoped that things wouldn’t escalate past that, hoped that this would be an isolated incident. But things just got worse the more you watched. An unknown virus wreaking havoc across the entirety of Europe, spreading like wildfire across each country. 

After the first case of the virus was reported in Ohio, you started to worry. Things were getting too close for your liking, and with the details they were releasing it wasn’t going to get any better. With each new segment that aired your mother would call, urgently telling you to come back to live with them until this sickness blows over. You knew that it would be your best bet. 

Once the local grocery stores started getting raided, you found yourself being thankful that your family was full of survivalist nuts. Growing up hearing them praise people like Jim Baker, and other televangelist hackjobs like him that weaponized fear mongering for profit. 

Your parents home was stocked full of all the essentials thanks to your aunt Jess. First aid kits, canned food, water to last just a little over a month. It was everything you needed and more. 

“Y’always gotta be prepared, honey.” Your wine-drunk aunt had told you after a week, the both of you lounging on the sofa as you watched the news. “You don’t know how long this crap’s gonna last.” 

It all went by so quickly. The news stations eventually stopped airing not long after the first report hit Georgia, they were urging everyone to evacuate to Atlanta, leaving the streets a mess of honking and dead-stop traffic right outside of your parent’s home. 

And for a short while you had settled into this false hope that you were safe there with them. 

That was until you came back from a short trip to a ransacked Dollar General just down the street. 

The house was oddly quiet when you walked inside. The TV was muted on a flickering static screen, your dad’s recliner was empty, a blanket on the floor. The backdoor that led to the porch was ajar, the sun shining through the crack onto the wood flooring. You remembered that feeling in your stomach as you walked closer, fingers slowly curling around the doorknob. 

When you walked outside it felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head. The horrifying sight of your mother’s body being gutted by your own father and uncle, fresh blood dripped down the side of the RV next to your aunt’s already mangled corpse. Your hands were trembling fiercely, a nauseating coppery smell filling your nose. 

All you could remember was running. Packing whatever you could get your hands on before taking your mother’s minivan.  

Not long after the death of your family, you were taken in by a small group of five. They were unstable, barely hanging on by a thread, with almost nightly arguments tilting them further over the edge. 

It made things harder for you. The tension starting to make you too nervous to sleep without a knife tucked securely under your pillow. 

The self appointed leader demanded too much, wanting more than half of the rations to himself. He was a cruel hearted individual, mind diluted by the atrocities you were all forced to witness. A dangerous man who was quick tempered, and ruthless to anything or anybody you came across. 

After a month of running with them you made a mistake. You hid a portion of your findings from him. Food that he would have taken the majority of. But you were starving, at the point of hardly caring about your survival if it meant you could eat just a little bit more.

Other members had found out though, outing you quickly. As a punishment he tied you up, stole everything from you. Photo albums, your weapons, your food, bandages, it didn’t matter what it was. After beating you he left you in the supply closet of a convenient store you were temporarily camping out in. 

Part of you half expected them to come back, but you knew better than to think positively now, that could get you killed nowadays. 

The minutes blended into hours into what felt like days. The zip ties around your wrists and ankles dug harshly into your skin, biting into the raw bleeding flesh as you struggled to free yourself. Eventually it got to the point where you started slipping in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and dehydrated. You were sure you would die there. 

But, much to your surprise, your luck hadn’t run dry just yet. 

In your haze you could hear the sound of once shuffling corpses hit against the door with a heavy thud. Hushed voices barely graced your ears through the door, two men talking to each other. 

Your voice was hoarse as you pathetically attempted to call out. Your throat was dry from the lack of water, forcing your words to come out as a croaking squeak.  

The door had been opened cautiously, the beam of a flashlight assaulting your eyes. You attempted to focus on the man crouching down above you, his blurred features obscured by the baseball hat he wore. 

“Rick!” The man called over his shoulder, another figure coming into view. He was wearing what seemed to be a police officer’s uniform. Whether it was stolen or actually his, you didn’t care, you just wanted out of this damn closet. 

Both men were quick to cut your binds and hauled you to your feet. The quick motion was all it took for you to finally pass out. A thick blanket of exhaustion pressed into you, forcing your eyes to flutter closed and your body to go completely limp. Unable to cling onto consciousness any longer

In those last moments you almost thought that they would just leave you there. Not wanting to bother helping a now passed out stranger, and you wouldn’t have blamed them if they did abandon you. 

Instead when you woke up you were laying on a couch, an older man with short white hair standing over you. 

At first you had almost believed you dreamed it all, the outbreak, the group. That you were in some sort of comatose state and the world was not overrun by flesh eating monsters. But the stinging pain deep within your wrists proved otherwise, the gashes covered by white gauze and medical tape. 

The white haired man, Hershel, ran you through your current state. Malnourishment, dehydration, feverish temperatures. It was evidently clear that you had been through the wringer, and if Glenn and Rick had not found you when they did, you would have died within the day. In fact he had said it was a miracle that Hershel himself could have saved you. 

You figured you had always been stubborn, though, you never gave up easily. 

Hershel had been kind enough to allow you to stay in his house until you got better. Providing you with enough water and food to get you back on your feet. 

The family allowed you to use their shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you understood why they were so insistent. A thick layer of grime and blood coated your skin, your hair was matted, your clothes ripped beyond repair. 

You couldn’t help but cry, realizing just how quickly you lost yourself out there. Your humanity has faded so much in such a short amount of time, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. You looked like a stranger to yourself.

Over the next week Rick’s group urged you to stay. They knew you had nowhere else to go, no family to run back to. 

You were hesitant, though. You didn’t want to continue to be a burden, you were a stranger infiltrating an already close knit group. The closeness they had made you feel even more lonely than you did in your previous group, because at least when it came to them, you didn’t crave that companionship. 

Gone were the days of blind trust, knowing that everything always came with a price these days. So your knife stayed tucked beneath your pillow, fingers clutching onto the handle as you kept an eye on the zipped up entrance of the tent. 

On many sleepless nights, which were frequent, you would sit yourself in front of the dwindling fire outside of your tent. Mind wandering to everything that’s happened to you in the past three months, the things you’ve done to stay alive, the permanent scars you would carry with you for life. 

You stewed in your bitterness. Chewing ruthlessly on the skin around your fingernails. 

Your tent was further away from the rest of the group’s, tucked away in your own area. You found yourself watching the rest of them at first. Thoughts of running away while everyone slept crossed your mind more times than you could count. 

Until one night you heard a twig snap behind you, your knife quickly unsheathed and pointing towards what you thought to be a threat, 

“Geez. You’re almost as bad as Daryl.” One of the older men from Rick’s group, Dale, chuckled as he walked closer to your secluded camp, his hands up in surrender. “But I can go if you want.” He smiled softly. 

“Sorry… Bad habit.” You said quietly, setting your knife back down next to your thigh. 

He shook his head, taking a seat in front of the fire, “No need to be sorry. I can’t blame you for still being a little paranoid.” 

Dale quickly became a source of comfort for you, sporting an almost fatherly personality when talking to you. He was kind, and realistic which was exactly what you needed after everything you’ve been through. Over the course of a few nightly visits he was able to get you to open up a little, telling him about your former group, he was sympathetic and understanding. 

“The world has truly gone to hell.” He grimaced, taking his bucket hat off of his head. “But, we have good people here. Believe it or not.” His smile was reassuring. 

After a few days you started to come around more. Helping the women with laundry, listening to the stories they told about their lives before, anecdotes to keep themselves sane. 

It wasn’t hard to understand why they were so close. The tragedy of their former camp just outside of Atlanta, the C.D.C, Lori’s son getting shot, the people they’ve lost along the way. 

Slowly you felt more like yourself again.

Every so often they would mention that same name Dale did, Daryl. The only member of the group you had yet to meet personally. 

You had seen him walking around the camp, or tucked away in his own tent, further away from the group much like yours was. He was gruff looking, intimidating to the eye, and his occasional temper didn’t help much. But with how insistent he was on finding Carol’s missing daughter, you could tell there was warmth beneath his rigid exterior. 

The first time you talked to him was less than ideal. You were attempting to set up a snare trap in the woods, wanting to try and contribute a little bit more. The frustration quickly turned to embarrassment when he snuck up on you. Your feet got caught in your own trap and caused you to trip and fall. 

“Looks like y’caught somethin’.” Daryl attempted to joke, walking past you and deeper into the woods with his crossbow pointed towards the trees. 

You cut yourself free of the poorly made snare and ran to catch up with him. Choosing your words carefully. 

“Daryl, right?” All you got was a grumble in response, “Listen I know you don’t know me or anythin’... But could you teach me how to hunt?” 

“Teach yourself. I ain’t got time for babysittin’.” His response stung a little, harsher than you had hoped it would be. 

You figured you should have expected that, though, the conversation him and Shane had this morning was heated. An argument almost leading to a full on fight. The tension was growing higher and higher as the days dragged on with no signs of Sophia. 

Then the group found out about what was inside the barn.

One day when Rick was out helping Hershel, Shane took it upon himself to break the chains on the barn door. Walker after walker spilled out, being shot down ruthlessly by some members of Rick’s group, while the Greene family cried out for them to stop. Their worst nightmare coming true, as well as Carol’s. 

A little girl limped out, skin grey and beginning to rot. Her hair was matted with leaves, eyes a milky grey color, and a rasping snarl emitting from her. There was a large gash on her shoulder, a bite. It was devastating to see a child fall victim to such a death. But even more so for Carol, coming to realize that each day they restlessly searched, she had already been dead.. 

The safety that the farm provided didn’t last long after that. 

Shane was quickly losing his grip, Dale was killed by a lone walker, and eventually the fields were overrun by walkers. A massive hoard stumbling onto the property, drawn in by the frequent gunfire. 

You had lost quite a few on that night, good people that had helped you come out of your shell, people that didn’t deserve what they got. In all honesty you didn’t think you would have made it out either if it wasn’t for Andrea and Daryl. 

After the fall of the farm, you were all lost. Hershel and his family had lost their home, and the entire group was left to search. 

But you had to bury your sadness for the time being, winter was quickly approaching. The leaves were changing into a crisp orange color, and the wind had a bite to it in the mornings, leaving you shivering as you huddled closer to the fire. Daryl had been kind enough to let you borrow his poncho some nights, insisting you probably needed it more than him. 

Daryl seemed to warm up to you after a while too. He would subtly make sure you ate by leaving a half eaten can of vegetables next to you, or would occasionally sharpen your knife for you after doing his own. It was a kind gesture, letting you know that he was starting to trust you. 

Eventually it got to the point where your group finally ran out of canned food. There were no stores around, and everyone was too cold or tired to go anywhere. So Daryl decided to take you out to the woods, finally going out of his way to teach you how to hunt. 

“Y’know what you’re trackin’?” He asked one day, slowly walking beside you, following a small winding trail in the woods. 

You were quiet for a second, thinking as you analyzed the tracks next to your feet, “Could be a deer, whatever it is, it’s got hooves.” 

“Obviously.” He huffed, resisting the urge to smile when you glared at him. 

“Shut the hell up, man.” A small sigh came from you, “Could be a hog.” You crouched down and moved the leaves out of the way to get a better look, “The prints are close together, if it were a deer they’d be further apart, right?” 

Daryl just shrugged, “You tell me.” 

That’s how your hunts would usually go, Daryl providing frustrating nonanswers as you attempted to close in on your prey. He wasn’t going to babysit you, as he had originally said when you first asked, you had to figure it out yourself. You knew that was the only way you’d be able to learn, even if it was mildly annoying. 

The winter finally started to melt into spring, temperatures rising and falling occasionally until settling into an in between. And soon enough your restless searching came to an end, the high chain link fences surrounding a prison with walkers meandering the expansive field calling your names. A soon to be shelter for your group and many others. 

The fight against Woodbury had been a painful ordeal, with Maggie and Glenn getting taken hostage, and Daryl leaving with his brother. The group was briefly left in shambles, hanging on by a thread as Rick slowly faded away, losing his way after Lori’s untimely death and the birth of her daughter. 

When Daryl left it broke your heart a little. The two of you had bonded over the course of the harsh winter, often seeking each other out as a heat source. Whispering stories of your families filling the silence as the biting wind wrapped itself around you. But you could never blame him for leaving, knowing you would do the same thing if you could. 

The first attack from the Governor was when Daryl finally returned, his mouthy brother in tow. They had rescued Rick on the outskirts of the fence, luckily finding him just in time before he was overpowered. 

It made you happy to see your friend again, a hand squeezing his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. It had been a lot less awkward than you expected, his arms wrapping around your middle and squeezing softly, reassuring you that he was okay. 

“Well, ain’t that just cute.” Merle had teased, pinching his little brother on the cheek. 

But the tragedies were never ending, your group seemed to constantly be one step away from death’s doorstep. 

The Governor decided to make his way back to the prison, armed gunmen following behind him. 

They wanted to execute every last one of you no matter what it took. Your group had laid out traps, pretending to have left as requested, lulling them in with a false hope that you were gone. Until the shrill sound of the prison sirens started, smoke grenades being thrown down at their feet in the darkened hallways. 

The armed militia of men, mothers, and teenagers the Governor recruited had run away in fear, knowing that their fates would be sealed if they stayed any longer. 

As the weeks continued after the attack, things started to look up. That once forgotten positivity slowly makes its way back into your heart, along with a smile as you allow yourself to get to know the former residence of Woodbury. Your community was slowly forming, a home being made out of the prison. 

It was easy to become comfortable. 

And as your fondness grew for Daryl, you remembered what your mother used to tell you. 

“You will find the one when you least expect it.” 

Who knew that the world had to end in order for you to find him. With every soft touch, lingering whisper, and a quick stolen kiss in the shadows of your cell, it grew increasingly more obvious that your mother may have been right. 

Daryl was the only person you felt safe enough to be vulnerable around. His gentleness towards you breaking down the walls around your heart, settling himself deep within it. And you gladly let him. You both decided to keep your relationship a secret. Enjoying the thrill of sneaking around, while also avoiding any teasing remarks that would come from your group. 

You knew that this was Daryl’s first serious relationship, so you wanted to allow him the grace of warming up to the idea. You wanted him to become more comfortable with himself, taking his time with you, soothing any anxious wandering thought he may have. 

But you knew that the group would notice eventually. Hell, they already were. The small teasing remarks being thrown your way would make Daryl stiffen. He would pick at the strings on his denim jacket as he huffed and grumbled something in response. 

“You want me to slip her a note or somethin’?” Carol teased him, nudging her elbow into his side, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” She laughed quietly when he rolled his eyes, “Come on Daryl-” 

She was cut off by someone running up to him, Glenn’s frantic eyes meeting Daryl and Carol’s before quickly sputtering out your name, “I don’t know what happened but-” 

The poor boy could barely get the words out before Daryl ran off towards the cell block. 

You were laying in your cell, blood covering your shirt as your side bled profusely. Hershel was quick to try and stop the bleeding, urging everyone to give him room to work. 

“If you want her to live, get out, now!” 

The blood drained from Daryl’s face as he looked at you. Bruises were beginning to bloom on your face and arms, your nose was bleeding and there was a slash on your cheek. Your boyfriend directed his anger towards one of the new members you had taken on a run, pinning him roughly against the concrete wall with his forearm. 

“The hell happened out there?! Huh?!” Daryl shouted in the scared man’s face, shrinking in on himself as Rick and Maggie tried to pull Daryl off. “Talk!” 

“We-” The man gulped, “We got attacked by a small group…” There were tears in his eyes as he tried to explain, his swollen lip trembling. He didn’t look much better than you did honestly, his eye was almost swollen shut, and there was blood coating his hairline, “She said- said she knew them, some group she was with. I thought they were gonna k-kill us.” He swallowed harshly, “They shot her…”

Daryl swore he could see red. His shoulders heaving as he started to pace, fingers running through his hair as he tried to process what the man had said. His face was hot, body pulsing with anger as he glanced back into your cell to see you lying there motionless. 

He stalked back up towards the man, his gaze hard and threatening as he spoke in a gruff voice, “If she dies, her blood is on your hands.” He pressed his finger hard into the man’s chest, pushing him harshly back into the concrete wall before stalking towards the exit of the prison. 

It took the entire council to talk Daryl out of hunting this group down himself. Carol telling him it was a suicide mission, and he would die if he left like this. Going into a situation blinded by rage was never good for anyone, especially now, with you lying unconscious in your cell. 

Luckily for you the bullet went straight through, and all they had to do was wait for you to wake up. 

Daryl didn’t dare leave your side, a rag gently dabbing across your forehead as he whispered softly to you. Unspoken words that he had wished he had told you sooner, words that only you were allowed to hear him say, something he had never dared utter to another person. Not even his own family. 

“I love you.” 

The time seemed to drag on slowly as he waited, his watchful not leaving you for more than a few seconds. His gentle fingers traced patterns on your skin, ignoring the occasional staring that would come from someone passing by your cell. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the secrecy, not now. 

“That fuckin’ tickles.” He suddenly heard you rasp, your eyes fluttering open and glancing down at his fingers on your forearm. 

Relief washed over Daryl like cool rain on a hot summer's day. His shoulders sagged and he couldn’t help but lean his head down to rest on your arm, a long sigh being released from his lungs. 

“Daryl…” You whispered, making him look at you, “It was my old group.” 

The look on your face was similar to the one you sported when they first found you, terrified, lost, confused. You didn’t know what to do with yourself knowing that not only were they still alive, but a lot closer than you would have liked. 

“I know.” He replied, his hand holding onto yours, “You don’t have t’worry about that right now.” 

Even though you were able to find happiness in the apocalypse, tragedy never ceased to sneak up from behind every corner. And you guessed that it had become easy to forget that life had a cruel sense of humor. 

It always would.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I just donated blood for the first time! I would have done it earlier but they wouldn't let people like me donate before (people who lived in Europe for an extended amount of time).

I have to say the homophobia in those instruction is wild. The amount of time spent on HIV and specifically HIV transmission through anal sex is weird. Yes, we don't want HIV-infected blood to enter blood banks. But that's true of all blood diseases. Plus HIV spread is mostly caused by needle sharing not butt/group sex! There was one question about needle sharing and like 3 on anal sex.

All that said I'm absolutely going to go donate again! Now I just have to find a place that does plasma too.

Yikes! Where are you donating???

In Wales it's a lot more lenient, I think. This is the gist of the questionnaire - the one they give you on the day to fill out is a little more involved than this, but that's basically it.

Super cool though! What snacks or merch did they give you? We get orange club biscuits and squash made with what tastes remarkably like a 1:4 squash to water ratio, in contravention of all laws of god and man

[fivestaralien]

just a little kiss pt. 2

-> chan x fem chubby!reader

warnings+”: MDNI!!!, 18+ , soft dom chan, phone sex, app controlled vibrator, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, CHAN , lmk if I missed anything! word count: 1665 notes ִֶָ ࣪˖ ummmmm, okay so thank you @coupsipupsi for requesting a part 2! I highly recommend reading part one to understand what is going on. I wasn't going to originally do a part 2 but I have been in a writing slump and so I thought why not go out of my comfort zone to get out of it. It kinda worked. PLS reblog and comment!! it helps me the most. I really would love to know what yall think! I don't write smut that often so I am a little rusty. please be safe and be gentle with yourselves<3

// part 1

Unfortunately, ‘tonight’ never ended up happening. Chan’s company decided to book a surprise show for a festival and they had to leave that night. He texted you about it the second he found out. 

 channie<3: I’m so sorry baby. I swear I will make it up to you

 You were a little bit bummed you wouldn’t be getting some mind numbing dick like promised but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun. 

 you: make up for what? i’ll be just fine taking care of myself.

 channie<3: Don’t start. 

 channie<3: Just because I will be out of the country doesn’t mean you can start acting like a brat.

 You can see him rolling his eyes with a smirk as you send your next message. 

 you: i think you like it though

 channie<3: Just be good while I’m gone and don’t even think about using that vibrator you thought you hid from me. I’ll know.

 Heat rushes up your neck to your face at his confession. Damn, you thought you had a good spot.

 you: how did you find it???

 channie<3: Baby, it was behind your tampons. I wouldn’t exactly call that a good hiding spot. 

 Of course Chan would find it before you could surprise him with it. Plus, there’s no way he would actually know you were using it or not, right?

 you: hopefully I won’t have to replace you with it :(

 channie<3: We’ll get back to that later. 

 channie<3: I have to go now. I love you and remember to take your meds please.

 you: I will. I love you. have fun and be safe!! 

 You spend the rest of the night eating dinner, cleaning up the kitchen and then watching t.v. Once it is deep into the night, you decide it’s time to try and get some sleep. Sadly, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Your body couldn’t get comfortable and you knew the reason. 

 It’s been a while since Chan has had to leave like this, so your mind wasn’t prepared for the sudden lack of his presence by your side. The next morning came and went and you were right back in bed, scrolling through your phone. Your mind wanders back to your conversation with Chan yesterday, your pussy suddenly pulsing at the thought of Chan using your new vibrator on you. 

 Your fingers could only do so much, so you quickly lean over and grab the toy from your drawer. As you take off your underwear and shorts, you mentally pat yourself on the back for charging it earlier in the day. The second the pulsing vibrations hit your aching clit, you arch your back, letting out a heady moan. 

 You widen your legs and push the vibrator harder, adding to the addicting pleasure. Your hips have a mind of their own as they push down against the mattress. Images of Chan holding you down by your love handles as he rocks into you flashes behind your closed eyes, and you don’t hold back the cry for him that slips past your lips. 

 Suddenly the vibrator turns off, leaving you a confused, panting mess without your permission. You hold down the power button and thankfully it turns on. Dragging it down to gather some wetness, you bring your free hand up to twist and pull at your nipples. Just as you are about to press it back against your clit, it turns off again. 

 “What the fuck?”

 You know that you charged it, so maybe it was malfunctioning? Once again it comes back to life after holding down the button so you waste no time and put it against your throbbing pussy. Moans routinely leave your lips as you circle your clit and up the speed, the pleasure slowly becoming too much. 

  The only thing that would really send you over the edge was Chan being here. Gifting you sensations no one had ever made you feel before. The toy stops abruptly for the third time and right before you cry out, your phone starts ringing. Perfect timing. You almost laugh as you see Chan’s contact and you contemplate not answering. 

 “Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s nearly 2am where you are.” You try not to sound out of breath but you weren’t doing that well. 

 “Didn’t I tell you not to use that vibrator?” 

 Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. Did he set up some secret cameras or something? How the fuck? 

 “I haven’t used it.” 

 “Mmh, you sure about that?” Chan’s words are coated with lust, making you squeeze your legs together. Trying to alleviate the pain of your stolen orgasm. “I was looking at the manual inside the box and saw that there’s an app with it for partners. I can get a notification when you use the vibrator and then control it from my phone.  

 You roll your eyes so hard, “ God, you would find a way to ruin my fun even when you’re away.” 

 Chan’s laugh lightens up your mood a little bit. The sound reminds you how much you miss him even though it’s only been a couple of days. 

 “Have you cum yet?”

 “No, but I was close. You have horrible timing.” Rustling can be heard from his side of the phone so you ask if everything is okay. 

 “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed to move my laptop. And before you start, I had to fix a backtrack before the morning, so I didn’t really have a choice but to stay up late.” 

 You hum in reply, momentarily forgetting why he called in the first place, now worried about his lack of sleep before a big show. 

 “You should get some sleep, love.” 

 Chan scoffs, “ So you can go back to masterbating without me? No shot. Now lay back and get comfortable.” 

 Arguing with him was the last thing on your mind as you go back to how you were laid out before. The vibrator sits next to your thigh, just begging to be used. You let out a sigh, picking it up and putting it between your legs. Not turning it on, but softly running the tip of it between your wet folds, slowly trying to work yourself up again. Chan has yet to say anything else and the silence from his end was agonizing. 

 “Channie, please,” you plead breathlessly, “can I turn it on?”

 “Sure.” 

 Your body sings at the approval. The vibrations stop almost as fast as they start and Chan chuckles at your dramatic whining. You turn it on again just for him to repeat his previous action, 

 “Chan! Stop teasing!” 

 “You’re one to talk baby girl. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled at the shoot.” You feel yourself getting wetter at his stern tone, always loving how it deepens when lightly scolding you. “Put it against yourself and don't move it.”

 After a few seconds your back arches, not expecting the vibrations to start off this high. Your moans grow louder as the pleasure crawls its way up your body. Chan lets out a groan of his own and you can faintly hear him stroking himself. 

 Only the sounds of your moans and Chan's erratic breath can be heard. Your brain is no longer able to form words as your orgasm builds rapidly. Chan catches the way your breath hitches and reaches to his phone, clicking the off button. He bites his bottom lip to hold a laugh as you whine for him to turn it back on. 

 “Do you think you deserve to cum?” 

 “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” You beg. Chan gathers the precum leaking down his cock, dragging his fist up and down to the desperation in your soft voice. 

 “You didn’t seem sorry when you were on your knees, kissing my stomach at my workplace.” 

 “That’s unfair. How else was I supposed to –” You’re cut off by the vibrator turning on, your orgasm right on the edge already after being denied so many times. “Please let me cum Chan. I’m sorry for teasing you.” You cry, pressing the toy hard against your clit, intensifying the pleasure. 

 Chan is right there with you as he squeezes the base of his cock. He can't stop the way his hips roll up, fucking himself into his hand, listening to your beautiful moans. 

 “Cum with me baby.” 

 His permission goes straight to your core, white hot pleasure shooting down to your toes and up to melt your brain. Your vision blurs as you call out to Chan, the sound of his name coming from your lips being his tipping point. He presses his head back against his pillow, squeezing his tip to prolong his orgasm as long as possible. Chan lays his arm across his eyes as his cum landed on his lower stomach. 

 “Fuck, baby.” He breathes out. You both take a few seconds to compose yourselves before Chan speaks up again, “ How was that? Was that okay?” 

 You huff out a laugh, “Okay? That surpassed okay by miles. I can’t believe we haven’t thought of doing that yet.”

 “At least we know now.” 

 Sleep is evident in Chan's voice so you quietly clean yourself up and put away the vibrator after cleaning it. You put your pajamas back on and lay down on your stomach, putting your phone by your head as you rest your head on your folded arms. Chan’s steady breathing starts to lull you to sleep. 

 “Love, go clean up before you pass out.” 

 You hear him get up and a few minutes later you hear the bed sheets rustling, so you assume he is now back in bed. 

 “Will you stay on the phone? I haven’t been able to sleep without you.” Chan admits softly, your heart fluttering. 

 “Of course.” 

 You stay on the phone until Chan is deeply asleep and not long after you find yourself drifting off, your heart feeling very full.

//

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