#Sophia is always right

[fazcinatingblog]

We’re in a recession and petrol is going up and cigarettes are going up and vapers can’t vape any more so they’re turning to cigarettes and we’re in a recession and

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[daincrediblegg]

one of these days I will fully articulate an essay on the costume design in the terror (for crozier specifically because I have so many brainworms about it) but it is not this day

[yikes-strikes-again]

“Founders”

[vulturevanity]

normal thing to say about your dear friend who you think is really cute and charming and hard-working and basically the perfect wife material

[wildwren]

Some incomplete and perhaps incoherent thoughts on class, race, personhood and women’s sexuality; Tom Jones (2023) in conversation with Fielding’s text

Warning: spoilers for The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling and Tom Jones (2023)

I’ve been thinking about the changes to Sophia’s story and how they both serve to add dimension to her character and to engage with existing themes of the text in complex ways. In Fielding’s text, Sophia is the white English-born daughter of Squire Western and the offspring of a “legitimate” (but very unhappy) marriage. In the 2023 adaptation, she is Squire Western’s granddaughter, born in Jamaica as the offspring of a non-consensual union between her white slaver father (Squire Western’s son) and her Black mother Beneba. She, like Tom, is a bastard, but she has been legitimized, given her father’s name, and declared sole heiress of her family’s fortune. 

These changes don’t make Sophia’s storyline easier to witness — her arc is essentially about violence and the erasure of women’s wills by society, and they now include a racialized component as well. Sophia and Honour experience racial prejudice and harassment while fleeing to London, and Sophia’s entrapment and abuse by Lady Bellaston involves racialized as well as sexual violence, as Lady Bellaston quite literally tries to whitewash her. To make these moments land, the adaptation has endeavored to strike a tonal balance by giving the narrative voice of the story to Sophia herself, consistently framing the action through her gaze, and allowing appropriate space and gravitas for the injustice of her imprisonment and assault. They’ve also explored the text’s existing themes of class, personhood, and women’s sexuality within this new context. 

In as much as it is possible to attribute prescient thematic points to the sort of madness Fielding was writing, there is an ongoing critique throughout the text about the artificial construction of personhood based on class, and particularly the relationship between class and women’s sexuality. Even in the novel, both Tom and Sophia are subject to conditional personhood — Tom due to his status as a low-born bastard, and Sophia due to her status as a woman. But this parallel takes on new meaning in the adaptation. Sophia’s new backstory means that now both lovers have been “rescued” from the conditions of their birth by benefactors to whom they owe their gratitude: Sophia to the grandfather who brought her across the ocean, Tom to his adopted father Squire Allworthy, who raised Tom as his son but never as his heir. Of course, both Tom and Sophia are betrayed by these benefactors as soon as they fail to meet the requirements of their conditional personhood. I appreciate how this adaptation brings attention to Allworthy’s hypocrisy as well as Squire Western’s, as it makes the parallel more coherent. It’s because of this conditional personhood that Tom and Sophia are even able to fall in love in the first place — all those intimate hours together are only allowed because Squire Western doesn’t fundamentally see either of them as full people capable of their own wills.

Tom is marked from birth as less than a full person, by nature of his association with his “ruined” mother (a teenaged serving girl presumably impregnated by her middle-class master). His “base” nature is further reinforced by his continued association with other “ruined” women. His status as a gentleman (or lack thereof) is fundamental to his identity and entirely outside of his control. Whether by the manipulations of Mr. Blifil or the willful bias of others such of Allworthy, Tom’s actions are consistently interpreted in the worst possible light, cyclically upholding the assumption that he’s not a “proper” gentleman after all. 

Of course, Tom still gets away with quite a lot (he is a handsome white man after all!), no more so than at the story’s finale, when he himself is legitimatized and all is forgiven, doubly proving Fielding’s point. If it feels contrived that Squire Western should immediately and inexorably reverse his opinion on Tom as a match for Sophia, it’s because it is contrived. Squire Western’s refusal of Tom never had anything to do with his personality, charm, sentiment towards Sophia, or personal honor, but merely his lack of sufficient legal personhood to match Sophia’s. It’s a frustrating feature of the story that in order to deliver Tom and Sophia to a happy ending, Fielding must in the end uphold the very systems he spent much of the novel’s breadth critiquing. However, I do believe it’s meant to land with some irony. And there are some nice touches to Fielding’s execution of the twist — for instance, that Tom’s legitimacy comes from his relationship with his mother, not his father, who in fact does not matter at all. 

Of course, Sophia’s arc is also very much about the relationship between personhood, class, and sexuality. She has the status of personhood by virtue of her wealth, but keeping it is dependent on her consenting to marry within her own class. Her sexuality is so constrained and controlled that her desire for Tom is described by Aunt Western as “monstrous inclinations” and is at one point compared by Squire Western to beastiality. To marry Tom would mean relinquishing her own claim to personhood, a fate so unthinkable that neither Sophia nor Tom ever seriously consider it beyond a few passionate outbursts. When Sophia flees Somersetshire, she is not running to elope with Tom, only to buy herself more time to make Squire Western see sense and hold off her marriage to Blifil. 

There’s a certain aspect of this drama that is a bit hard to buy, especially for modern readers. Sophia is an heiress — she’ll inherit her own wealth. She’s in love with Tom, who is one of her father’s dearest friends. Why can’t everyone be happy? Aside from the reasons stated above and the constraints on Sophia’s sexuality that exist already in the text, the adaptation has added additional context. As a Black heiress, Sophia’s status as a legal person in English society is already so fragile that Squire Western and Aunt Western feel justified in acting to preserve that personhood by any means possible — namely, by securing her marriage within her class against her will. In the show’s first episode, Squire Western says to his sister: “My girl is beautiful and she is rich. Who cares if she be Black and a bastard too?” to which Aunt Western replies, “Good lord, Brother. The world may care rather a lot.” The fact that this personhood does not include the right to consent is already explored in the novel, but the adaptation includes the arc of Sophia grappling with the knowledge and grief that her mother died while enslaved. 

The relationship between Sophia and Squire Western is one of my least favorite parts of the novel, but the changes to Sophia’s backstory add some additional context and complexity, and some careful tonal choices go a long way. It makes sense, after all, that Sophia would feel some devotion for her doting grandfather, her last family member not bound by lived experience to her memories of Jamaica and her slaver father. At the same time, the adaptation never minimizes the fact that Squire Western still sees Sophia as a form of property — the granddaughter he brought across the ocean at great expense, the last living reminder of his slaver son. In some ways, they’ve made him less awful — he’s certainly less explosively violent than he is in the novel, wherein he hits Sophia, verbally abuses her to a much more intense degree, and regularly threatens her with death. But the implicit violence of his banal small-mindedness is not erased. 

Aside from the issue of Sophia’s forced marriage, which is cut-and-dry violence, their relationship seems to evoke some of the painful and complex dynamics that can arise from interracial adoption. Squire Western declares himself to love and cherish his perfect, beautiful Sophie, and Sophia has an honest experience of feeling loved by him, but ultimately, he doesn’t really understand her experience or her pain, and he makes no effort to. 

Just as Tom’s happy ending must uphold the very systems that have oppressed him, so too must Sophia’s. In the novel’s finale, Squire Western does not receive any comeuppance for his role in the drama, despite acting as much a villain to the lovers as Lady Bellaston and Mr. Blifil, both of whom receive their just desserts. Within the context of the story, there is no ending for Sophia wherein she disowns Squire Western and lives out her days as an independently wealthy woman. Her happy ending can only exist when her will and Squire Western’s will align, which is made possible by the novel’s final twist. In the end, Sophia must live with the complexity of her relationship with Squire Western, not overcome it. I’ll let you decide how you feel about the adaptation's handling of that. I’m still not sure how I do. 

I can never get to the end of this story without wanting to write fic about it, specifically about Sophia’s trauma, and how that might impact her relationship with Jones and with Squire Western going forward. I wrote fic about it when I finished the book and I’m writing fic about it now in the context of the show’s canon and characters. In some ways, the ending leaves more questions for me than it leaves neat conclusions. Whether that’s a strength of the story or a weakness is, I suppose, a matter of taste. The adaptation put a lot of love into rendering Sophia’s arc and illustrating her experience in this 18th-century world. It centered her voice and her gaze as much as possible, and it gave the spotlight to Sophie Wilde’s performance, which is the ultimate heart of their story. For all of those reasons, I appreciate it as an example of race-conscious historical drama and as an adaptation engaged in post-colonial dialogue with the English literary “canon.” 

Whether it ultimately succeeded in giving Sophia all the justice she deserved, I’ll leave to voices other than my own.

[wandercr]

because sophia b.ush played a highschooler in her early 20s, sometimes i forget just how genuinely tiny eliana would be ... like, for reference, this is what soph looked like at 19/20 (left) compared to what she looked like at 23 (right).

so even by the time it's 2281, and we hit new vegas timeline, she's only just beginning to look like the one tree h.ill icons i use.

tiny. baby.

[ilostyou]

bestie, i woke up in the middle of the night with a revelation and idk now if it makes as much sense as it did then lol but my brain made a chloe or sam or sophia or marcus x buddie parallel about how they just kept dating other people and now i had to tell you bc i was going insane with it at 3am and i think you’ll be able to see it lmaooajshdjk

yeah no this SLAPS. and it’s very. if buck were to be casual dating because he wants to land on something serious and eddie (in his own relationship, even) watching it all happen. but then! the crux of it all!

it’s the. i know and now i know you know but don’t even touch it or bring it up with me because it’ll destroy me and we need to carry on business as usual because this will upturn everything everything so DON’T talk about feelings and don’t you dare say you’ve always wondered now that we can’t do anything about it

[robindaydream]

Family Farm

artfight attack of Sophia and Pinki for Snow0body

[chaoticmunsons]

i don't like to use tumblr as an outlet anymore but i really really need to vent today so just ignore this

[nopizzaaftermidnight]

[fazcinatingblog]

I'm so mean to Hieu and I've made jokes about him all the time and laughed at him all year (since he got mad at me last year and called me an idiot, not that he remembers idk I don't bring it up) so it's just natural that I'll continue to find it funny even on the day he loses his job and only has a week left of being employed by a dragon lady

Am I a bad person (don't answer this Tumblr)

[harrytheehottie]

nothing worse than being a huge fan of someone and then seeing right through their bullshit 😭😭

[mrsstarkey1]

could be different - rafe cameron

a/n: new obx season ik thats righttt

// for the sake of story, sophia does not exist ! love her tho xo

// also so rusty guys if this is dogshit just tell me

summary: after the turtle incident at the beach, you have an unexpected conversation with rafe cameron

word count: 1.9k

obx masterlist

••

you stared out at the ocean, the waves rolling in steady and perfect. today felt different—like everything was lined up just right, the surf calling you louder than usual.

“yo, grab your board, let’s go,” jj said, practically bouncing with excitement.

you smiled and grabbed your hot pink surfboard from the sand, ready to join them in the water. just as you were about to run in, the low rumble of trucks caught your attention. three of them pulled onto the beach, kicking up sand. you already knew who it was.

being a former kook, you had a low tolerance for topper and kelce. rafe was another story—complicated—but you wouldn’t exactly call him your favorite person either.

the trucks drove by obnoxiously, the engines roaring louder than they needed to. you silently hoped they’d keep going. “please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” kie muttered beside you.

of course, topper’s truck swerved back around, kicking up more sand as it came to a stop. you sighed, hanging your head. this wasn’t going to end well.

topper strutted over to john b like he owned the beach, and the inevitable showdown started. you stayed back, sitting on the sand with your sunglasses on, doing your best to act like you didn’t care. you’d stopped getting involved in this pogue vs kook mess a long time ago. it only ever led to frustration.

your gaze drifted across the beach, settling—unintentionally—on rafe cameron. arguably the most annoying guy in north carolina. arrogant, reckless, always looking for a fight.

but hot damn was he fine.

you hoped your sunglasses hid your staring, but rafe’s eyes found yours anyway. for a moment, your gazes locked, tension hanging in the air. you forced yourself to look away, heart picking up its pace despite your best efforts.

rafe was bad news nowadays and you knew it. but no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, something always pulled you in.

jj’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “what are we all still standing around for? lets fucking surf!”

you catch a few waves, wiping out on the last one—not a bad fall, but enough to call it a day. you lug your board up to shore, tossing it down by your towel.

for a while, you lie back, soaking up the sun, drifting off in your own thoughts, completely unaware that rafe’s been watching you from across the beach.

later, as everyone’s packing the boards into the twinkie, the day feels like a huge success. kie slips the last board into place, and you all start piling into the van.

“guys,” kie suddenly exclaims, her voice high with excitement, “there’s a turtle hatch!”

you gasp and jump out of the van immediately, your eyes wide with excitement. together, you watch as dozens of baby turtles start their journey toward the sea, crawling through the sand.

“they’re so cute,” you smile, watching them with an almost childlike awe.

“so tiny,” sarah whispers, a grin spreading across her face.

“we gotta make a path for them,” john b says, already moving toward the turtles, clearing a way.

“yeah, turtle highway,” jj jokes, making you laugh as the group works together to make sure the turtles have a safe journey to the water.

but just as things feel perfect, you hear the distant rumble of an engine. your head whips around, spotting a truck tearing down the beach—straight toward you and the turtles.

“hey!” you scream, waving your arms wildly, trying to get their attention.

panic flashes through your group, everyone shouting and waving their arms, trying to make the truck stop.

“stop! there’s a hatch!” kie yells, her voice desperate.

the truck doesn’t slow down. if anything, it speeds up. your heart leaps into your throat as it barrels toward kie, who jumps out of the way at the last possible second.

“what the fuck?” you shout, your pulse racing.

the truck spins in the sand, kicking up dust and revving its engine. then, as if mocking you, someone throws a drink out the window, the liquid drenching you and kie.

“are you guys okay?” sarah rushes over, her face pale.

you nod, too angry to form words. kie runs to check on the turtles, kneeling down in the sand. her voice cracks as she picks up one of the tiny creatures, now lifeless. “no…”

you’re sick to your stomach. they think they own this place, think they can do whatever they want. but almost hitting kie? killing a defenseless baby turtle?

you take the turtle from kie, your hands practically trembling with rage. “what are you doing?” sarah asks, concern lacing her voice.

“enough is enough,” you mutter, storming across the beach.

jj trails behind loosely, always ready for confrontation.

“really, top?” you shout when you’re close enough, making the kooks turn toward you. “you almost killed kie. you feel good about that? still got that dumbass grin on your face?”

they all look at each other, unsure of how to react. topper shifts uncomfortably, trying to play it cool. “look, y/n, i get it—”

“no, you don’t,” you cut him off, holding up the tiny turtle for all of them to see. “look what you did.”

the group looks away, unable to face the damage they’ve caused.

“no, look at it,” you snap. “there was a turtle hatch, and you ran right over it. do you seriously think this is okay?”

no one answers.

ruthie speaks up, an obnoxious smile on her face. “it’s just one turtle. there’s like, a hundred of them.”

you whip your head toward her, fighting the urge to slap her, “yeah? why don’t i run you over with a truck then? there’s like a thousand bitchy kooks, right?”

topper scoffs, looking you up and down. “i don’t know why you’re acting all high and mighty, y/n. you’re just a wannabe pogue now, but deep down? you’ll always be one of us. a spoiled kook pretending to fit in.”

his words hit harder than you’d care to admit. you open your mouth to fire back, but before you can, rafe steps forward, jaw clenched.

“top, shut up.”

topper looks at rafe, surprised. “what, man? i’m just telling the truth.”

“let’s just go. not worth it,” rafe mutters, his voice low, turning away from the group.

you lock eyes with rafe for a brief second, your anger still simmering, but his quiet apology lingers in your mind. “just stay the fuck away from us,” you snap before turning on your heel, heading back to your friends.

even as you leave the scene behind, the interaction stays with you. topper’s words. rafe stepping in. it all plays on a loop in your mind, like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

the rest of the pogues decide to head back to meet pope, but you tell them you need some space, some time alone. the beach feels quieter now, just the waves and a few stragglers as the sun begins to set on the water.

you’re watching the water intently when a voice comes from behind you, “hey.”

you nearly jump, your heart pounding as you turn around. it’s rafe, standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, a cautious look on his face.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice softer than usual. he glances at the ground for a second before looking back at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “look, um, about earlier…”

you cross your arms, your guard still up, but the way he’s standing there, almost unsure of himself, catches you off guard. rafe never looks unsure.

“the turtles, that was fucked,” he continues, his voice low. “i should’ve stopped it.”

you raise an eyebrow. “but you didn’t.”

“yeah.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry.”

you don’t respond right away, the tension between you thick in the air. you can tell he’s waiting for something—for you to lash out, or maybe just get up and walk away. but for some reason, you stay. “you can sit, if you want,” you say.

he hesitates, and you think for a moment that he’ll just walk away. but no, he plops himself down right next to you.

you sit in silence for a few minutes, and to your surprise it’s not awkward silence. it’s comfortable. it reminds you of years ago when you considered rafe a friend.

what you say next shocks yourself, “i’m sorry about your dad, rafe. we haven’t really um- talked, since then.”

his eyes shoot over to you, clearly also surprised by your words. he clears his throat, “thanks,” he says softly, looking back out into the ocean.

you stare at him, taking in his features now that he’s sitting so close. the hard edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something softer. his eyes, normally sharp and guarded, are distant as they reflect the fading sunlight, a mix of blue and gray that you hadn’t noticed before. his jaw clenches, then relaxes, as if he’s holding back words he doesn’t quite know how to say.

“i didn’t really expect you to say that,” he admits, his voice low, almost lost in the sound of the waves.

“i didn’t expect to say it,” you reply, offering a small, unsure smile.

rafe turns his head slightly, looking at you now with an intensity that makes your heart skip. the cool, cocky demeanor you’re used to isn’t there. instead, he looks… real. vulnerable, even.

“you always were different from the rest of them,” he murmurs, as if to himself, his gaze lingering on your face. the compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget the mess of emotions surrounding everything that’s happened.

the air between you shifts, heavy with something unspoken, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. it feels like a thread connecting you both to a time before everything got complicated.

without really thinking, you reach over, your hand brushing against his. it’s subtle, just a light touch, but it’s enough. his hand turns over, palm up, and for the briefest second, you let your fingers rest there, feeling the warmth of his skin.

he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “thanks for letting me sit,” he says quietly, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. you nod, words failing you for once.

you stare at him again; the sun catches in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that feels out of place, and you realize how easy it would be to fall into this moment, to let the history between you blur everything else.

but you know you can’t.

“you know,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, “my loyalty is always gonna be with the pogues.” you meet his gaze, making sure he knows you mean it. “that’s never gonna change.”

rafe looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he nods, like he expected it but still needed to hear it. “yeah, i know,” he mutters, glancing down at where your fingers are still lightly brushing his hand. he doesn’t pull away, though. “doesn’t mean we can’t sit here and talk, right?”

you smile faintly, appreciating the honesty, the way he didn’t try to change your mind or make you feel like you had to choose between him and the people you care about. “no, it doesn’t.”

for a second, his face softens even more, like the weight of the world has been lifted, just for this fleeting moment between the two of you. and despite everything—despite the kooks and pogues, the drama and the history—sitting here next to him, watching the waves in comfortable silence, feels right in a way you can’t quite explain.

you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, rafe could be changing for the better.

••

requests are open 📩

[feral4daryl]

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 2.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck.

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

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

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

wait, no.

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

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

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

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

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

just palming himself wasn't enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

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

[dolcekissy]

i'll always love you

: ̗̀➛ reader holds a secret with her boyfriend jj maybank. rafe, her ex, that picked on her and her pogue friends help them out of a tricky situation but as he helps the secret finally comes out leaving rafe hurt.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ masterlist

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DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED SEASON 4. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED SEASON 4, EPISODE 9 & 10.

✎ this story contains season 4 spoilers. i do not want to be the person to ruin season 4 for people at all because ruining/spoiling a show for someone genuinely PAINSSS me. so that being said, please...please do not read if you do not want obx spoilers. this is sort of long and i hope y'all enjoy! xoxo

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THIS STORY CONTAINS OBX SEASON 4 SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED SEASON 4. READER IS REPLACING SARAH'S POV IN SEASON 4, EPISODE 9 & 10. JOHN B IS REPLACING JJ'S POV IN SEASON 4, EPISODE 9 & 10.

disclaimer // this story involves some angst, mentions of pregnancy, reader being pregnant with jj's baby, reader and john b almost die, reader and jj are together and rafe is her ex. sophia and rafe are not a couple in this story!

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you're pregnant. pregnant with jj's baby. you found out not too long ago, the rest of the crew didn't know besides kiara and sarah. you didn't know exactly when to tell the rest of them ─ especially not in a situation like this, being stuck on a boat with rafe as you all tripped to africa ─ the situation quickly escalating into struggling to survive this nasty storm that hit you guys in the middle of the ocean.

what technically got you into this shitty situation on the boat was rafe, your ex boyfriend. he had randomly walked up on you and the pogues. you were stunned and shocked watching him walk up ─ your grip on jj's hand tightening, you were terrified he'd convince shoupe that he was right about all the accusations and convince him to lock all of you up.

but what you didn't expect from him was for him to save you guys, you didn't expect him to reason with shoupe ─ or for him to tell shoupe he'll finally admit what really happened on the tarmac if he let you guys go off and find groff.

you two left on bad terms when you broke up with him. he was a hot mess and you couldn't handle it. he never used to be as bad until something in him flipped, he used to love and care for you like no other when one day ─ it all changed. he abused and terrorized the pogues and you couldn't handle it anymore, you were a kook but you were also best friends with sarah ─ so you ultimately chose to be around her instead of him.

you started to hang around with them, going on their missions with them ─ doing everything with them. slowly but surely you found yourself falling in love with jj maybank and of course the feeling was reciprocated, he had always felt a certain type of way about you.

rafe lost his mind knowing you were with them ─ with him. at some point he started to care less about your safety and more about the fact you chose them over him. he was so fuckin angry with you, his preying on the pogues never stopped ─ if anything the more he saw you with them, with jj fuckin maybank, the worse he got.

he left you in dangerous situations, taunting and preying on you more than he did anyone else. you were terrified of him, you knew he killed sheriff peterkin, how he tried to kill sarah twice, all the shit he did you were there ─ and he scared the shit out of you. the way he threatened to kill jj every single time they were face to face scared you ─ leaving you to tear them apart as they beat the shit out of each other.

they hated each other, they always have obviously. but once you were in the picture, shit hit the fan. which led to jj's suspicions as rafe walked up and reasoned with shoupe, to everyone's suspicions really but especially yours and jay's.

rafe's eyes met yours briefly a few times, giving you a nod of acknowledgment and a look of guilt. your hands sliding up jj's arm made rafe's jaw clench but in the end he still saved your asses. you kept your hand locked with jay's and eyed the back of rafe's figure as you all walked to his boat, not knowing what was about to go down in a couple hours.

they ended up tying rafe's hands together and shoved him into a small room, you overheard sarah telling him they couldn't trust him and they'd let him out as soon as you guys arrived. you almost felt bad as you heard him yell and kick things in anger and desperation, but after what he's done to everyone, done to you. you couldn't even find a fuck to give.

but then everything went to shit.

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a strong storm hit you guys, the waves crashed together with so much anger ─ leaving the boat filling with water and the boat violently shaking and moving with the waves. kiara contemplated leaving rafe but ended up cutting the rope and helping him out of the small room.

you stood on the deck, watching the water clash ─ the waves soaking you and everything on the boat. you let out a scream as a huge wave toppled over the boat and led you to slide off and into the water. jj cried out your name as john b ran to the edge of the boat with a life ring.

everything flashed before jj's eyes as he watched john b dive into the water, hugging kiara as tears fell from his eyes when you both completely disappeared under the water. he looked back to see rafe standing at the doorway, his clothes soaking wet as he stared out into the water with frantic eyes ─ screaming your name desperately.

he didn't feel anything, not towards rafe exactly. he wasn't worried about the fact rafe was worried about you, even after what he put you through. jj was worried about you. you and his baby.

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they all ended up on land, building a small fire without a word. they all sat quietly as jj looked for you guys for hours, thinking about the possibility of you two being dead.

sarah sat with kie, tears threatening to fall from her eyes as she thought about the two of you. cleo and pope sat together, silently praying you two would eventually wash up on shore but as time passed they started to doubt. rafe sat by himself, staring at the fire as he thought about you. he could care less about john b, he wanted you to come back. he wanted you to miraculously appear in front of him like nothing happened.

nobody slept really, sarah and kie stared up into the sky. pope and cleo slept on and off until they eventually decided to just sit up, staring into the dwindling fire. jj sat close to pope as he kept his eyes closed, his arms resting against his knees as tears fell from his bloodshot eyes. rafe sat far away from everyone as he stared at the water, waiting for you and john b to appear.

hours passed and the sun kissed the water as it began to rise. some time passed as everyone sat silently, some staring off into nothing and others busying their hands in the sand. kiara stood up abruptly, her eyes squinting as she looked ─ her eyes frantically searching for the two of you before she slowly sat back down once she realized whatever she saw wasn't you two.

"they're gonna turn up." pope said as he picked at the fire with a stick. jj's eyes met popes briefly before pope looked back down at the fire, "they'll turn up." jj looked down at the fire, running a hand through his hair, his eyes sad as he stayed silent before he stopped ─ seeing two people walking side by side.

popes eyes followed his gaze as everyone stood up. rafe followed suit and put his hands over his eyes as his brain scrambled with different thoughts and feelings. jj glanced at pope before turning his attention back to the two figures walking by the water, "i'll go." jj wasted no time as he scurried down to you, his heart stopping when he could really see that it was you and john b.

everyone watched as you stopped in your tracks and began running to him, tears falling from your eyes as you jumped into his arms ─ kissing him passionately as tears fell to your conjoined lips, the salty taste of your tears meeting your tastebuds with welcome arms.

"i've got you, i've got you, i've got you. my sweet girl, i've got you." he chanted against your lips almost in a way to soothe himself, the thought of this just being a part of his imagination slowly eating away at his thoughts.

you killed those thoughts the minute you pulled away, your small hands cupping his face as your eyes met his. "jayj, hi. hi, hi." you whispered over and over again, your forehead pressing against his. "you're alive." he said breathlessly, "you're alive."

you nodded with a smile, staring into his eyes while you both panted softly. "how?" you kept your eyes on his, you thumbs running over his cheeks softly. "i was drowning," you gasped out, "john b saved my life." you looked down at your belly and rubbed it gently, your eyes meeting his again. "he saved our lives."

he kissed you passionately before his attention turned to john b walking up, "look man, i was just the closest one, alright? that's it." john b said with a soft smile. jj stomped over to him and brought him into a hug, a tight hug ─ a brother thanking his brother for everything type of hug.

"brothers for fuckin life." jj said firmly. the feeling of seeing you and john b safe and sound hit him hard.

john b is okay, you're okay, his baby is okay.

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you all sat together by the fire, sarah and john b cuddled together, pope and cleo sat together, and kie and rafe sitting on opposite sides of each other. your head rested against the front of jay's chest, your fingers interlocked with his as you all laughed and smiled about stupid shit.

"you know what's a good name for a baby?" john b started, his hand gesturing to jj. "jj, goes both ways actually ─ if it's a girl, if its a boy." everyone smiled and soft laughs left their lips, "what baby?" pope asked.

you squeezed jj's hand tighter with a smile realizing he must have told john b on the boat, "oh right, you guys don't know." your head lifted to look up at jj with a wide grin on your face, he returned the smile before looking around at everyone silently.

"no way...a poguelet?" cleo asked, her eyes big and a wide smile plastered on her face. you nodded with a giggle. pope pointed at you, his face dropping slightly. "you? you're gonna be a freakin dad!" pope jumped up and embraced jj in the tightest hug, "i'm gonna ─ m'gonna be a freakin dad!" jj yelled out happily.

you smiled as pope and jj dropped to the ground, cleo scurrying over to you and cooing at your belly. your eyes met rafe's as he twisted his neck to look back at you, the smile on your face never left as you stared at him. his eyes lingered on you for a moment before he nodded, the corner of his lips tugging up into a soft smile.

he looked away from you, his eyes blinking rapidly as he looked back at the water. thoughts of seeing you with a swollen belly filled his mind ─ the thought of you walking around with a tiny baby that looks just like you had him seeing little white dots around him. thoughts of you breastfeeding a sweet baby girl or baby boy that wasn't his had him standing up and walking off.

he wished he did better, he wished he didn't get addicted to coke, addicted to alcohol. he's never really realized how much he fucked up until now. you watched his slender frame walk across where the water and the sand meet, his arms folded over his chest as he stared down at his feet.

you looked over at jj talking happily with the rest of the crew and bit your lip. you honestly didn't care if rafe was hurt, but now that you're pregnant ─ there should be absolutely no bad blood between you two or anyone else. no more of rafe taunting you and your friends, no more of the kooks bullying you guys.

you made your way over to him, your eyes trained to your feet as your hands clasped awkwardly behind your back. he looked up the minute he saw you walking over to him, he cleared his throat and immediately looked away and stared into the water ─ wiping his wet eyes off with the backs of his hands.

"hey." you said softly, you treaded carefully as you approached him. he nodded his head, his gaze falling to his feet as he clasped his hands behind his back as well. "hey." he replied back, just as soft. you stood a few feet away from him, your eyes flickering between him, your feet, and the water ─ not knowing where you should even be looking right now.

you two stayed silent for a few moments, his small sniffles and the sound of the water were the only things that filled your ears. "are you okay?" you asked, finally breaking the silence in a quiet voice. he nodded, keeping his gaze on his feet as the water splashed against them. "you okay?" he asked, his voice just as quiet.

you nodded your head, whispering a soft yes before silence consumed you two again. he looked up and at the water before his red eyes met yours, your brows twitching at the sight of his glossy eyes and red nose. "thought you were dead." he whispered. you nodded and looked away from him, your soft locks blowing in the night breeze.

he bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at you. his eyes trailed over your figure and landed directly on your stomach, he bit back a sob as he imagined what you'll look like in just a few months. everything suddenly hit him like a truck. the way he used to be so sweet to you, the way he turned on you for no reason, the way you chose the pogues, the way you were left in dangerous situations because of them and because of him. everything, every little memory filled his mind as he stared at your stomach.

"you're pregnant." he choked out, trying to keep himself together. he meant to ask but his words came out as more of a statement, he was almost saying those words to confirm to himself that you are pregnant with another man's baby ─ to confirm he fucked up.

the second you nodded his eyes left your stomach and he turned his eyes back to the water. he felt like such a failure, an asshole, a fuck up. he never thought about how you actually moved on from him, he was so stuck on the fact you were around those pogues. he knew you were with jj, hell all the fights they had gotten into, all the glares they shot at each other but it never really hit him until now. he was so stuck on all the terrorizing and all the fights he started ─ he didn't even stop to think about how you two are genuinely a couple.

"why?" his eyes shot up to yours, searching your face. is he asking you why you're pregnant? your brows furrowed in confusion, "u-uh i...i don't know, r-rafe. it wasn't supposed to happen." you said awkwardly. he stepped closer to you, his eyes flickering between yours and your stomach. "should be mine." he muttered, his eyes trained to your stomach. you placed your hand over your belly subconsciously, protecting it like his words would change who's baby it is in some weird way.

"yours? rafe...you've done so much." you whispered, tears springing at your eyes. "you hurt me, hurt jayj, hurt the rest of them." you reminded him, reminding him why this isn't his baby ─ why you aren't with him. "i'm sorry ─ fuck! i'm sorry!"you flinched at his outburst, your hand pressing harder against your belly as you took a step back.

he noticed your flinching and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as tears filled his lash line. you stared at him as a couple tears slid down his pale cheeks, he looked so hurt and so sad but you couldn't find it in you to want to comfort him. you obviously aren't pregnant in spite of him, you're pregnant because you met someone better and fell in love and mistakes happen. there was no reason to explain yourself or make him feel any better. if he wanted to change, he would have a long time ago.

"i just ─ im so sorry for everything. i- m'sorry for hurting you, m'sorry for hurting you and y-your...your friends. i'm sorry okay? i'm so fucking stupid." you sighed as he spoke, his voice vulnerable and shaky. you nodded your head and looked down at your feet. "i... i loved you and i fucked up 'nd its─ man it's hittin now. you're fuckin...fucking pregnant. you almost died for fuck sake." he whispered the last part to himself as you bit your lip and closed your eyes.

you knew rafe loved you at some point, he always would he's just was and is a fucked up person. you loved him too, you loved everything about him. he was your first everything, first kiss, first love, first time. he was everything to you at some point in your lives ─ but that was over now, it's been over the second you left him.

"i loved you too, rafe. and i-im glad you're aware of what you've done b-but everything is different now...no apology can change anything." he nodded and wiped his eyes and nose on his arm, just for more tears to fall. you watched him for a moment before speaking, "i-i just want no bad blood between us anymore, between anyone. this kook and pogue bullshit is so stupid and unnecessary. j-just want us to be cool." you said, your voice wavering slightly.

rafe nodded, his eyes never meeting yours. his eyes flickered from the sand between his toes and to your stomach as he scratched at his jaw. "u-uh yeah, i understand. yeah, absolutely. we're cool, we're good." he rambled. he looked up at you with hurt eyes, your eyes meeting his as you studied his face. you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and nodded, your lips curled into a soft smile as you nodded again. you turned on your heel and began walking away.

"i'll always love you. i'm so sorry for everything, and i...i wish you the best with uh...wish you the best with everything." he said quietly, his hand lifting to gesture to your stomach even though you couldn't see him. "i love you." he whispered quietly. you turned your head back around to look at him, you blinked at him before nodding your head. you bit the inside of your cheek while you stared at him for a moment ─ thoughts and memories filling your head too.

but you didn't say anything, you turned your head back around ─ putting the past behind you. the past you had with him ─ the good memories of your relationship, the bad memories, the times he taunted you and bullied you and your friends. you put it all behind you, your shoulders felt lighter and you felt at peace. you closed your eyes as you stood there for a moment before you looked back at rafe, giving him one last smile and nod before you began walking back to your friends, your family. the father of your baby.

the people that saved you.

he watched you walk, tears brimming his eyes as he looked back at the water and sat down. he felt hurt but he also felt a tinge of happiness, you're happier ─ you've moved on. he knows your friends are what's best for you, jj is what's best for you.

but now it's time for rafe to move on, to be happier. time for him to find what's best for him.

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i'm genuinely so upset with the fact jj died :( if i'm being honest the show doesn't even feel like obx anymore. sarah's pregnant, jj found out about his real parents then died ??????? i'm suing wtf