#is it too late for Easter jokes?

[bonuscache]

Jesus on Friday:

Jesus on Sunday:

Am I not alive right in front of you?

The crowd™: No, you literally have to show us the wounds to ~prove it~ . SMILE NOW 📷 ✨✨

Jesus, sighing:

[amingethia]

Happy Easter

[erwinsvow]

the way that gif with the hair is giving kook!reader and rafe at one of her friend’s wedding or graduation. like omg

you're so right. for some reason the first thing that came to mind was church for a kook wedding or something like that. could be easter mass too. the gif in question

normally rafe always sits next to you at events like this. you make sure he's paying attention in between jokes with kelce and top, earnestly telling them to stop talking and be respectful. they usually listen.

but today he'd run late, and you'd come over to the church with your family anyways. he wasn't that late, but not early enough to convince you to get up from being squeezed between to your parents to sit a row back with him.

he recognizes you by the back of your head and the yellow sundress you'd shown him and the boys yesterday, wanting opinions and making a joke that they should match you. top and kelce had laughed. rafe had gone to ward's closet to find a yellow tie.

he excuses himself past the people in the beginning of the pew, getting behind you and tapping your shoulder. you look back surprised, thinking rafe would sit with his family.

"hey, you made it-" your eyes flick down to the yellow lying on his white dress shirt. "you know, i was just joking about the matching-"

"yeah, i know. coincidence." you smile at rafe, laughing gently. your parents turn to say hi, and the two of you stay like that for a moment before you turn, the ceremony starting.

he's bored quick without you next to him. watching your honest eyes take in the scene usually kept him going. even now, he can see you tear up at the pastor's words and wipe them away with your hands.

your hair falls over the back of the wooden pew, dangles there loosely. before he can think about it, he takes a piece in his hand, playing with it between his fingers.

you turn at the touch. the hair slips away.

"what're you doing?"

"nothin'." you two lock eyes for a minute until your mother taps your shoulder, until you look ahead.

the second you have, he goes back to spinning the hair around his hand softly. he can't tell, but you're smiling.

[tsumtsumrry]

Favorite Holiday

this follows harry and a cutie (you) through some of your favorite holidays as you guys navigate a little fun friends with benefits/situationship stitch. i feel like this took forever so sorry for my near disappearance but i hope you enjoy!! <3

**disclaimer** i'm american so i have the dates (e.g. 11/24/23) month/day/year format. just to avoid any confusion!! <3

WC: 12k.

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, multiple instances of smut (fingering, phone sex, f receiving oral use of a vibrator, unprotected don't do it p in v), barely proofread cause i was too excited to finally post it, and a bit of angst.

March 20th, First day of Spring.

The holidays were always your favorite time of year. Every single one for that matter. Every holiday has its own special place in your heart. New Years, Easter, Christmas, etc. You loved them all the same. But you looked forward to them even more so this year. Because this year you had Harry. 

Harry, who was sitting across from you right now, laughing as he animatedly tells one of his horrible but adorable jokes. You have the stupidest grin on your face, with your eyes set on how his lips form the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t seem to look away. It doesn’t help that he keeps sneaking glances at you, those suggestive eyes that only you know burning into your face. 

He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet. 

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips. 

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you bite your lip, fighting hard to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face. You know exactly who it is. 

You pull your phone out and smirk when you read it. 

H 11:34PM

Need you tonight, baby.

It’s been too long since he’s touched you, you missed it so much and he couldn’t go another day without you. You look around a little, trying to make sure no one is looking at your phone (only making yourself look more suspicious in the process) and then begin typing back. 

You 11:36PM

And what do you suppose I do about that?

You look up at him when you know he’s seen the message. You smirk at him and he gives you a look that says ‘you know damn well’ but he texts back anyways. 

H 11:37PM

Come to mine tonight. Let me fuck you.

As soon as you read the text your stomach erupts with butterflies, you always have an instant reaction to his words. You press your thighs together and try your best not to squirm. 

He doesn’t need to know that though, so you answer with a simple, 

You 11:40 PM

Ok.

You push your phone right back into your pocket and try your best to continue with the conversation that’s getting passed around the table. But thoughts of him keep creeping in. Thoughts of his voice in your ear, the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, his hands gripping you roughly or gently, depending on how you feel, all you can think about is him. 

“It’s getting late, you guys. I’m exhausted. Loved seeing you all.” you finally say, not being able to take much more of wanting something when it’s literally right in front of you and not being able to just take it. 

“Me too. Got an early morning. See you.” Harry says after you, looking at you not-so-discreetly as he gets his stuff. 

When you’re both outside he instantly pulls you away from the windows and kisses you. It’s hard and passionate and needy and it’s almost like he―

“Missed you.” he says in between kisses, his hands going to grip your waist tightly, like he’s yearning for the skin to skin contact. 

“Yeah?” you whisper, tugging on his bottom lip which earns you a pained groan. 

“Fuck. Mhm. Missed you so much. You smell good.” 

You giggle at his admission about your scent and decide to spur him on even more. 

“Show me. Take me home, H.” 

Waking up next to Harry is something you simultaneously love and wish you never got to experience. Because when this little arrangement is over, you know you’ll miss it too much. 

When he wakes up, he doesn’t treat you like his fuck buddy, he treats you like some sort of girlfriend. And you haven’t let it detrimentally affect you yet, but you know it will. And the day it does is when you’ll know you need to end this. End it before someone, scratch that, you get hurt. 

“Mornin��, angel. Want some breakfast?” he says, his voice gravelly but also smooth like toffee and it sounds weird but you want to taste it. 

“Mhm. Whad’ya making?” you mumble, eyeing his lips. 

“Whatever you want. Kiss?” 

You smile and lean up to kiss him, taken by surprise when he deepens it and pulls you over his lap. You giggle into the kiss and he smiles with a short chuckle. 

“Want anything before I go make it?” he says, obviously trying to start something. 

“Harry…” 

“Just asking, sweetheart. You know I always want you.” he says with a kiss to your collarbone, “only you” he says softly as if it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Stop trying to sweet talk me. Go make breakfast.” You push yourself off him and he whines, but obliges, going to make that lovely french toast he knows you want.

You sit up to look through some emails when you hear it, his phone buzzing incessantly on his counter. 

You know it shouldn’t bother you, you’re just friends who happen to enjoy each other's sexual company. The idea of him having someone else that he whispers sweet nothing to in his ear just doesn't feel right to you. 

You pick up the phone, keeping it face down, (not wanting to see something you know you don’t want to) and walk to the kitchen where Harry is mixing some yummy smelling batter. 

“Think someone is trying to reach you.” you try to come off as cool and collected, and you almost convince yourself that you are, but you know you’re not. You curse your sensitivity and watch as he picks up the phone but puts it back down, face down, just as quickly. 

“Makin’ your favorite.” He rasps out, turning around to smirk at you. He frowns when your expression isn’t one of your usual excitement. 

“You okay, baby?” he inquires, setting the bowl of batter down on the counter and walking over to you. He takes your hands in his and playfully looks into your eyes with faux intensity, “tell me.” 

“I’m okay, yeah. Just tired.” It’s only now that you actually wonder how many times you’ve told that lie. 

“Worked you over good last night, hmm?” He smirks and you roll your eyes and smile despite yourself, “you sounded like you were having a good time.” he adds cheekily and before you can stop it a giggle breaks from your lips. 

“I was.” His ability to make you feel like everything is okay with just a cheeky smile and a couple of words breaks you and mends you at the same time. 

“Good girl.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly and softly. 

“Back to the food!” he exclaims, breaking away from you to saunter back over to the counter-top. 

“Wanna be my sous chef?” 

April 1st, April fools.

You never understood the fixation with men’s hands until you started sleeping with Harry. 

“Fuck.” he drags out the vowel sound as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot in a way you can only describe as affectionately rough, “look at you princess, taking my fingers so fucking well.” 

“H..fuck I—” you’re cut off by your own loud moan, praying that no one can hear you two. Your friend group planned a little get together given the fact that it’s april fools and you guys have nothing better to do. You all decided to host it at Harry’s place and he lasted about ten minutes trying to be a good host before he dragged you into the bathroom with a phony excuse that you’re almost sure nobody believed. 

When you reach up to cover your mouth, he tuts softly and reaches up to tap three fingers against your hand, signaling he wants it off, “s’my fucking house we can be as loud as we want. You know how much I love your pretty sounds, why’re you trying to keep ‘em from me, huh? Being bad?” he says in that condescending tone that you simultaneously love and hate.

“N-no, please H. M’not being bad jus-just please.” 

“Love it when you beg. Soaking me like this and I’ve only given you two fuckin’ fingers–” 

“Gonna cum.” you interrupt him with your frantic moan, he’s always very adamant about you asking for permission. He needs to be in control like that. He needs to have that control over your body and your pleasure. He thrives on it. “Can I please, please cum?” 

“Fuck. You’re sqeezin’ me so fucking tight. Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Give it to me.” 

“Yes, yes yes” you feel that white hot pleasure building in what feels like every nerve in your body and your muscles start to jerk as you cope with all the pleasure overriding your system. You ramble out a couple praises mixed in with Harry’s name and your hand tangles in his hair which he groans at. You pray to every god that you can think of that nobody downstairs can hear the way he’s ruining you. 

“There you go, baby.” he doesn’t stop with his fingers, keeping a rhythm that only intensifies your release. When you choke on a moan that sounds more like a sob, he kisses your temple gently and soothes you with his voice, “I know, I know. Feels too good, doesn’t it?” 

You’re not sure if he expects a response, but even if he did you’re not in any state to give one. His fingers have turned your brain into a mushy mess.

“You’re okay darling. Always making me so proud.” He whispers as you come down, slowly pulsing his fingers inside you still to help you ride it out. 

“Jesus christ.” you sigh and he chuckles softly. 

“What was our excuse again?” he asks before leaning down to your lips to kiss you, his kiss full of the lust that’s swimming in his forest eyes. 

“Dunno, something about getting the movies that we were gonna watch,” you giggle softly against his lips and he smiles. 

You get some movies from his bedroom so that you don’t seem too suspicious and go back downstairs to your friends. The heat of embarrassment makes itself known every time someone asks you or Harry what took so long or what distracted you up there. 

“What could you guys possibly have been doing for eight whole minutes?” a friend of yours asks incredulously with a joking tone. 

“We couldn’t find the movie we wanted. Duh.” Harry shoots back with a quickness, smirking softly when he looks over to you. And he can read your body like a book. He knows you’re a little embarrassed at the idea of people finding out that you guys have been fooling around. 

You’re playing with the lobe of your ear as everyone takes in Harry’s response and laughs. Someone tells another joke that just amplifies the laughter but Harry’s only looking at you. Playing with the lobe of your ear is one of your many obvious tells with your anxiety. He makes  a mental note to check on you later. 

During the movie he plops himself right in between you and one of your friends, making both of you giggle. He swings his arm around your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. The heat and tickle of his whisper sends a shiver down your spine and you know that the position you guys are in is less than discreet but you can’t really find it in yourself to care when he’s close like this. “You okay?” he asks in an earnest tone, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder for good measure. You nod softly and he smiles, softly tugging you closer. 

April 9th, Easter.

Easter was always a fun holiday, especially for your god children, you always loved to see the little kids run around in search of the little painted eggs. It reminded you of a time when you were in their position, blissful and young. You often refer to those as the ‘good old days’, but you can’t quite complain about how you ended up.

You’re talking to your sister’s baby boy when your phone rings, you pull it out to see a picture of Harry sleeping in bed and you smile, you remember when you took that picture. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, pretty. Where are you?” he sounds kind of breathless, like he’s been running a mile.

“At an Easter egg hunt. You?”

He chuckles darkly before speaking. “Dunno. Just missin’ you.” he says. You squint your eyes in suspicion.

“Missing me?” you say with the same suspicion laced in your voice. You’re starting to understand what he’s playing at. 

“Missing your sweet cunt. God, the way you taste. Need you on my tongue.” he spews out in what seems like one breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Harry. What has gotten into you?” you hiss, quickly getting up out of your seat and away from prying eyes and ears. 

“God, I can almost imagine it.” you hear his whisper and the neediness radiating off of his voice makes you press your thighs together. He’s touching himself. He’s fucking his hand to the thought of your taste and it’s driving you mad. “Want you to sit on my face next time, have your thighs shaking around my head, your pussy drenchin’ me―fuck!” he whimpers. 

“Harry…” you say, it’s supposed to be some type of warning but the arousal starting to pool in your underwear has your voice coming out shaky and unstable. 

“Love it when you say my name like that. Again. Say it again, please baby.” he begs, shamelessly. You can tell he’s close, the strain in his voice, the crackly over-the-phone sound of the wetness of his strokes.

“Harry I―”

“Fuck fuck fuck, I fuckin’ need you. Please, please.” he keeps whispering the word “please” under his breath, gasping out moans and whines, “gonna cum, gonna cum.” 

You decide there's no harm in spurring him on a bit, “come for me, Harry.” 

You hear a broken “fuck” before a series of his beautiful sounds fill your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught of stimulation, butterflies swarming around in your tummy. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah fuck.” you whisper and you hear his laugh on the other end. 

“Sorry―Sorry I um― called you like that. I just, fuck, really needed you. Was so fuckin’ hard. Y’have no idea.” he breathes out. 

“I…um. I missed you too.” you don’t know why you cringed at yourself after saying it, but it’s almost like Harry can read your mind because he chuckles and speaks in a reassuring tone, “that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. When will I see you again missy?” 

“Dunno. I’ve been a little busy with work and…stuff. I’ll have my people call your people to see when I can fit you into my schedule.” you joke, biting your lip softly and toying with your necklace as you wait for his response. 

When you hear a soft laugh a smile is immediately brought to your face. That laugh could melt you. His voice is like velvet when he speaks, “I’ll have you soon. We both know you can’t stay away. You need me for my slutty waist and washboard abs as you usually say.” 

You try your best to hold in your laugh so as to not inflate his ego, but it slips out before you have permission and both of you are laughing before you feel a delicate tap on your leg. You’re met with your nephew when you turn around and look down to find the source of the touch. 

“Can we pway more bunnies?” your nephew says to you and you nod softly, “just give me one second honey.” He nods and walks back to the place you guys were sitting and you smile as you watch him. 

“I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you, alright?” 

“See you soon, petal.” 

May 31st, Memorial Day.

“That kiss the cook apron is really working for you, Harry I’ve got to say.” you giggle at your friend Jamal’s shout at Harry. 

It’s another one of your favorite holidays and you and your friends are all at the beach. The sun is beaming on your skin and warming you in the best way while the breeze balances it out, cooling you in the places needed. “Take it off! Take it off!” you join the chant, having trouble even speaking in between laughs. 

“You guys are fucking ridiculous” Harry chuckles. He smirks and reaches behind him to pretend to take the apron off, laughing when everybody’s cheers get louder. 

When the food is done and everyone is full, the girls lay on the sand while the guys are across from you guys making sandcastles like children. You look over at Harry and feel your stomach twist in a way that it’s been doing recently that you can’t stand. He just looks so good. You don’t know how else to explain it. Especially in this light, the warm sunset creating a golden glow against him. The soft amber tones kissed his skin and the sunshine he usually radiated with his personality seemed to radiate physically, as if he was being infused with the sun’s very essence.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up to go and talk to him. He looked up at you in the position he was in on his knees and smiled, his eyes squinted from the direct sunlight.

“Hey. Fancy going for a walk?” the way he says it seems like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. The sun shifts and his expression softens as he awaits your response. 

You nod and put your hand out for him to take it, and he rolls his eyes playfully but takes your hand anyway. You try not to think about what the rest of the group might think as you walk away with him, hand in hand. It’s not lost on you that you guys look like a couple, but Harry has always been touchy with his friends, some might say too touchy, so you pray that they’ll just attribute it to that. 

He swings your hands as you guys walk, and constantly rakes his fingers through his damp hair with his free hand. You kind of wish he wouldn’t because you love the way his curls fall over his face. 

“I feel like we’ve both been so busy. I haven’t gotten to see you as much as I want to.” You stop walking, you guys are a bit of a good distance away from everyone else and he’s starting to get more affectionate with you. His hands trail up to your arm to cradle your neck and he rubs your jaw affectionately. He leans down to ghost his lips against your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you.” 

There’s something so poetic about the way his voice carries with the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing around you guys. You melt into his hands when his lips finally make actual contact with your skin and you have to fight hard to suppress the whimper that threatens to leave your mouth. 

“Tell me you’ll come home with me tonight. Please.” He suckles on your neck gently, causing the moan you were suppressing to finally force its way out. 

“I will. Anything you want.” you pant out, tangling your hands into his hair. You sigh when he pulls away from you but you can’t complain when you get the view of the sun reflecting in his eyes. It feels like you’re frozen in time as you look at him. The sun has set a bit more and the atmosphere is colored a fiery orange that bleeds more into a red. His eyes mimic the water in the way they glisten and his pink lips almost make you weak just looking at them. Especially considering the way those lips were just all over you. 

Harry’s staring at you in awe, the way the deep colored rays dance against your skin made it seem like a thousand stars fell from the sky just to adorn you. You’ve always been beautiful, but in this very moment, you’re transcendent. To him it’s like you constantly exceed any expectation for beauty he could possibly have. Everything about you is like a masterpiece to him. He wonders why it took him so long to grasp just how weak the sight of you makes him. He gives you one soft kiss and then pulls back too quickly. He takes your hand and starts walking with you back to the rest of the group. 

Looking at him now, you wonder why it took you so long to grasp just how deep you are in this. Having thoughts of freezing time and staying in this moment so you can look at him forever are dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that almost make it seem like you’re in love. 

Dangerous. 

October 31st, Halloween.

“Jesus, babe.” Harry brings his finger up and moves it in a circular motion, “do a spin for me.” 

You giggle and spin around, making sure to do it slowly so he can really take in the way this dress hugs your figure in all the right ways. He whistles and you can’t stop the laugh from leaving your lips. 

Ever since your realization at the beach, things have been so simple between you two. You thought it would complicate things, but everything has been perfect. So incredibly perfect. It’s almost like he knew that you were starting to feel something more, the way he’s been treating you these past couple months is so different. Different in a good way. The amount of attention and care that he’s devoted to you makes your stomach with more butterflies than you can handle. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tell him, walking up closer to him, having to look up at him. Your confidence wanes the slightest bit at his intense eye contact when he looks down at you with an amused smirk on his face. 

“Yeah? I look good enough for you?” he quips, dangerously close to your lips as he speaks, “I was worried you know? S’hard to measure up to you.” 

Ever the flirt, he is. 

“You’re overdoing it now.” you deadpan and back away from him, making him throw his head back in a cackle. It was Harry’s idea to go to the Halloween party in matching costumes. You were a little shocked at first but you’d never turn down an opportunity to match with the most fashionable man you know. 

“Our ride is gonna be here in about….” he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “fifteen minutes. Whadya say we sneak a quickie in?” he smirks at you and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“It’s this fucking outfit,” he practically growls, his hands palm at your ass, “driving me insane, baby.” 

“And whose idea was it?” you tilt your head as you speak, making a point to move his hands from your ass to your waist. “I’m not gonna be late because of you again, Harry. Keep your hands at appropriate places at all times.” you scold him. 

“Yes it was my idea,” he sighs. “A very good but painful idea that I take full credit fo—” a car beeping outside interrupts his sentence and his brow furrows while you smirk at him. 

Right…fifteen minutes.

Getting in the car and seeing all your friends dressed in all their Halloween outfits already has you excited for the rest of the night. Harry was very adamant about your seating arrangement when the car got too cramped, eagerly offering up his lap as a seat replacement for you. You of course took it, and you’ve spent the whole ride fighting your body’s natural reaction to his little teasing touches. 

You want to kill him by the time you finally arrive at the party. He knew exactly what he was doing in that car, he knows the effect his touches have on you and you know he’s doing this as “payback” for how you’re torturing him in your outfit. 

It’s not hard to make your rounds and do all the socializing that you’ve equipped yourself for before Harry is immediately stealing you away from people.

“Wanna dance with you.” is all he says, dragging you to the dancefloor. You look around as you guys settle, the vibe around is nothing short of raunchy. Looking at all of the other couples around you, you can tell that they all want to take each other home and tear each other’s clothes off. After cooling off with a couple drinks and conversations, you weren’t exactly in that mindset anymore, but you have a feeling that Harry is about to take you right back there. 

His hands smooth down your waist, boldly cupping your ass and he slowly grinds against him to the rhythm of the song, you feel his gentle breath before you hear his voice. “You’re killing me, petal. Been picturing tearing this dress off of you all. Fucking. Night.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and you let his hands lead you as you push your head further into his neck, “M’not doing anything though. What’s got you this worked up?” You pout at him condescendingly. He knows feigning innocence when he’s needy like this is your favorite thing to do. It makes you feel a sort of power that you usually don’t get with him to hear him say that you make him into a mess. 

“You fucking know, baby. You know what you’re doing to me.” he’s whining out his words at this point, and you thank god that the music is as loud as it is so everyone else can’t hear how this man is falling apart in your hands. 

“Can’t think of anything else. The only thought in my mind is watching you come on my cock. God it’d be so easy to just fuck you right here. Know you’ve already made a mess of yourself. It’d be so easy to give you what I know you need right now.” 

You’re panting at this point, delirious with pleasure. It should be illegal the way he can talk you into almost anything with that voice. You don’t care about anything or anyone else around you, all you can think about is how desperately you need him to quell that ache that’s building inside you.

“Fuck. Take me home. Take me home right now, H.” 

As soon as he hears you he’s moving. He doesn’t even bother to let your friends know where you’re going. He just drags you outside and starts tapping on his phone to get you guys an uber.

The ride to his house is tortuous. He sits you in his lap almost immediately and his hands find a home on your hips, making a point to drag you slowly back and forth across his thigh. 

Every roll against his thigh drives you further and further into oblivion and you don’t think you can wait any longer to get what you so desperately need. You suppose you’ll let him have his fun though, his little taste of “payback” for how bad he’s been aching this whole night. 

The second the driver stops, it’s like Harry couldn’t get you off of his lap fast enough (something you never thought you’d say) and he’s dragging you up to the house. He wanted to kiss you as soon as you got out of the car but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate doing that in front of the driver. No matter how turned on you are. 

As soon as you guys step into the house, he closes the door behind him and his lips are already on you. Your mind is instantly turned into mush with the way he claims your lips. It’s like he can’t even wait long enough to get you upstairs. He’s immediately getting down on his knees and kissing and sucking his way up your thighs, “so fucking beautiful and soft. You feel like a fucking dream. Dreamy girl.” 

He trails his hands slowly upwards and takes a hold of your thin lace panties. Although he pulls them down gently, you can see the impatience in his eyes and feel it in his grip. He’s beginning to lose his resolve and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your skirt is pushed up and resting on your hips before you can blink. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together since you got in the house has been deemed useless when he forcefully pushes them apart, his hands gripping the flesh so hard you fear it might leave marks.  

“Wanna feel you come on my tongue. Missed it so much. Will you let me?” he sucks marks that only the two of you will be able to see in your inner thighs. You can barely find it in you to answer his question. Everything about the way he’s touching you, to his voice, to the smell of his cologne and your arousal mixed together is heightening all of your senses and making your brain short circuit. 

You nod hoping that would be enough, but you should’ve known better. “Words. You know better, baby.” he tsks, continuing his kisses along your sensitive skin. 

“Yes, yes. Please.” Is all you can manage to get out. The second the first yes leaves your lips, his mouth is exactly where you need it the most. He’s not wasting any time tonight, getting straight to the point of making you lose yourself on his tongue. Usually he drags it out, edges you or teases you with his tongue, but he’s aching so bad. He needs to be inside you before he loses his mind. 

His tongue swirls messily against your clit and you’re so sensitive that you tense with almost every stroke. He’s moaning against you in a way that you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him, but because it is him, it just adds to your pleasure. He’s behaving as if he’s a man starved. As if he’s been a dessert and you’re that stream of water that he’s been yearning for. 

You tangle your hand into his hair and let your head tip back against the door. You can’t be bothered to worry about the volume of the moans you’re letting out and how they travel through the empty house. You’re too consumed in how good he’s making you feel. That’s the good thing about having a sexual partner like this. You’ve had so much time together and he’s made the most diligent effort to learn your body. He knows every signal, every tick, every indication. And he uses it all to his advantage. 

You sob lowly when he slides his fingers into your heat, immediately curling them up to hit that spot that makes you shake. You pull your head off of the door to look down at him, only to find his eyes already on you. His intense green eyes bore into yours and it’s almost as if they’re communicating with your eyes. He urges you to let go for him with that unspoken language that you’re now fluent in. 

He fucks you deep with his fingers while his tongue continues it’s very skillful ministrations. Every time he moans into your cunt the vibrations just push you further and further into bliss and you’re almost embarrassed with how close you are so quickly. The sounds you’re making are bordering on pornagraphic when you start clenching down hard on his fingers you know you’re a goner. 

He pulls away to egg you on with his voice, “there you go, baby. Getting so fucking tight for me.” you moan at his words and nod. As much as you love the way his tongue was working magic on you, the one thing that will always get you to fall over the edge is his voice. 

He’s evil, you decide. He’s evil for the way he toys with your body like he owns it. And at this point, he does own it. 

His tongue is back on your clit to offer you that final push off of the edge, he flicks his tongue and sucks with a pressure that you can only describe as mind numbing. Every movement he makes just makes the release that’s brewing even stronger. 

A complete mess of syllables leaves your bitten lips as the white hot pleasure consumes you. It feels like a tidal wave swallows you up in its strength and you see no way of coming up for air. You choke out a series of moans that Harry only groans at while he continues to softly lick at your clit and thrust his fingers inside you, like he intends to keep you under. 

The hands that were in his hair tug hard as the soft licks start to become a little too much for you to handle. A slightly higher pitched sound leaves him and he relents reluctantly, “can never get enough of your cunt, petal. Never.” He leaves wet kisses all over your thighs in between more praises that you barely register with all the pleasure swimming in your mind. 

One thing you can register though, is how bad you need him inside you, “take me upstairs, Harry.” 

He stands up almost immediately at that, and he smirks before leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You giggle at his antics and he only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he leads you two up the stairs.

November 23, Thanksgiving.  

Thanksgiving is by far your favorite holiday. The way you get to spend time with your family, the (amazing) food, just the atmosphere of being happy and thankful with people you love, you look forward to it every year. You’re chilling next to your sister on the couch at your parents house, laughing at one of your dad’s jokes. 

You guys have already eaten and you're completely full and sated as you enjoy the company of your family. 

The amount of times you’ve checked your phone should be considered embarrassing, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You invited Harry over for dinner. And it’s really no big deal, he’s been your friend for a while, long before the whole arrangement started. And he’s met your family so many times that they wouldn’t even bat an eye. His family lives in London and he’s in the U.S. for work so he’s come over for Thanksgiving plenty of times. 

You feel a nudge on your shoulder and you look over at your sister who has a soft knowing smirk on her face. 

Uh oh. You know that expression. 

You give her a deadpanned look, “what?” 

Her smile grows at the way you can read her so well and you urge her with your eyes to tell you what’s on her mind. 

“So…what’s going with you and Harry?” her eyes are squinted in that specific way that tells you that she knows exactly what’s going on with you and Harry, she just wants to hear you say it. “It’s just…you guys have been posting each other a lot, tagging each other in posts and all that. And the last time I saw you guys, you seemed super domestic.” 

You don’t doubt that. Even though you and Harry still place yourselves under the “friends with benefits” label, you guys have gotten way closer emotionally. You’re always together now. You sleep over at his house almost every night, sometimes without even sleeping together. You guys have been glued at the hip ever since Halloween. And it’s great, honestly. It feels great. 

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders and a sheepish look graces your face, “I think I sort of…like him”

  Your sister can barely register what you said before your head is snapping to the sound of the doorbell ringing. You look back at your sister and she smirks at you softly with a soft raise of her eyebrow. 

Your mom gets up to open it and immediately shrieks in surprise, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming!” you smile at the genuine joy in her voice and then at Harry’s voice when he speaks, “she didn’t tell you I was coming?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it immediately brings the one you were trying to hide back on your face. 

“And you brought a date!” your mom exclaims. 

Your smile drops. 

Your heart follows your smile and you immediately feel a pit deep in your stomach that twists and twists until you can’t take it anymore. 

A hot wave of embarrassment comes next when your sister tenses next to you. You had just told her that you actually might like someone, that you actually might like Harry. And here he is with a date. 

Your mom steps aside to let them in and your stomach twists even tighter. She’s beautiful. And you’re sure she’s kind and charismatic and perfect and everything Harry would want and deserve in a woman. 

You don’t even wanna see the look on your sister’s face, you don’t want to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes that you’re completely hopeless. 

You feel tears gathering in your waterline and you blink them away. You almost want to feel angry. He brought her here? At your parents house? You know that technically you two don’t owe each other anything but there’s a level of respect that you figure one is supposed to have when sleeping with someone. 

You suddenly feel scared to see his face. You wonder if he’ll look guilty, or completely indifferent. You honestly don’t know which one is worse. 

You’re even more nervous that he’ll see your face and realize how much this is hurting you. How much it’s hurting you to realize that, although you two are friends, he never felt for you what you felt for him. That you were just a warm body he used when he needed it, and you happily offered it to him. Over and over. 

A plethora of emotions hit you at once, and after you cycle through confusion, sadness, and anger, you just feel stupid.

Your mom says your name and you’re very harshly snapped out of your thoughts, “figured you’d surprise us for the holiday, huh?” your mom has the most gentle smile on your face and it almost makes you crumble more. You look over to your mom and you immediately feel his intense gaze on you. That same intense gaze that used to make you melt only makes all of your muscles seize in the worst way at this very moment. You refuse to meet his eyes cause you know that if you do, you’ll break. 

You force a smile and pray that it’s not too obvious how you’re not even acknowledging him, “guess so, mom.” 

You and your sister share a look and you communicate without words that she’ll cover for you if you have to leave. She nods at you with a knowing look and you return the look, mentally preparing yourself to lie to everyone here and say you have to go. 

You pick your stuff up and get up to walk towards the door. “Harry,”  you address him for the first time since he came, “thank you so much for coming. I didn’t think you’d actually make it.” 

He furrows his brows and leans towards you, extending his arm out to pull you into an awkward side hug, “of course I’d make it.” you feel yourself tense as you feel his touch and you hope he doesn’t notice. You nod against his shoulder and sigh. His cologne envelopes your senses and you bask in the comfort of his warm hug. You’re utterly torn between the two feelings it offers you, a feeling of discomfort conflicting with a feeling of home. 

“How are you? You look lovely.” he kisses your cheek and the all too familiar feeling of his stubble rubbing against your skin threatens to bring a new wave of tears to your eyes. 

“I’m fine–” you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. A huge smile graces his face and he looks down at the girl he’s got his arm around, squeezing her shoulder gently before he speaks and you already know what he’s going to say. 

“I want you to meet—” 

You can’t do it. 

“I’d love to talk but I’ve got a work emergency and I really need to go.” you watch his face drop. His eyebrows furrow tightly together and a frown graces his face. You can tell he’s confused, he knows that you would never leave Thanksgiving early for any work emergency and you would never leave as soon as he shows up. 

You go to walk but his hand leaves his date like he’s been burned by her skin and he reaches out for you, grabbing your arm tight. His eyes are swimming with an expression you can’t quite place and he squeezes your arm with a quick pulse, “where’re you going? I just got here.” his voice dips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s hurt by you leaving. Right now you can’t even begin to worry about him being hurt with the pain radiating in your chest right now. 

“S’work, H. I’m really sorry,” you turn to address the girl next to him, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more.” and with that you’re out of there before anyone can say anything else. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take a deep, shaky breath and bring your hand up to your neck to soothe the ache that’s developing in your jaw from holding in your tears. 

You decide then and there that you need to get it together. Harry doesn’t owe you anything, you guys are strictly friends with benefits. You weren’t supposed to get attached and caught up in the strings. You’ll try your absolute best to be a mature adult about this and not take your pain out on him cause as much as this hurts you, he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treat people when you’re hurt. 

And with that decision, you come to another. You need some time apart from Harry. 

December 24, Christmas Eve. 

Christmas Eve. Another one of your favorites. The anticipation and festive energy in the air felt palpable and everywhere you looked there was joy. The land outside was covered in white and the air felt crisp and cold. You loved the kind of air where it gave you little goosebumps as soon as you stepped outside. 

You’re watching a cheesy romantic Christmas movie, simultaneously loving and hating it. Loving it because it’s adorable and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, hating it because you definitely wish that the leads were you and Harry and it’s making you want to die. 

Just as the male lead tells the female lead how much he’s really been crushing on her the whole time they’ve been trying to save her mom’s restaurant, your phone begins to buzz. Unfortunately for you, it’s been buzzing all day. 

Harry. 

Over and over again. 

He’s been texting and calling and truthfully, he actually sounds really concerned.

Harry 11/28/23

Hey petal. Been trying to reach you for a bit. Is everything okay? We good? 

Harry 12/1/23

Miss you. Text me. 

Harry 12/3/23

Answer meeee please? 

Harry 12/7/23

Feel like you’re avoiding me. 

Harry 12/7/23

Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did. 

Harry 12/14/23

Just please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting worried. 

Harry 12/17/23 Starting to think that you’re dead. 

Harry 12/22/23

I’m gonna stop bothering you now. But I miss you. Please text me back. 

Harry 12/24/23

Okay I lied about the bothering thing. I need to see you and I’m really worried and if you’re dead I’m gonna ask the police to do a wellness check. So answer me. 

The sheer desperation in his texts almost broke you, but for all you know he just misses the sex, and the thought of that breaks you even more. 

You grab the pillow on your couch and thrust it up to your face to scream into it. The second you get done screaming you hear your doorbell and you jump. You wonder who in their right mind would be out in this weather but you pause your movie and  go to open it nonetheless. 

What you didn’t expect was a Harry Styles covered in snow at your door. 

“Hey...can I come in? S’snowing like really hard.” It breaks your heart a little the way he added that last bit in, like you would refuse him otherwise.

“Of course. Do you want any tea?” you ask, trying to avoid the elephant in the room in case that’s not why he came here. 

“No I’m― I came here to um…talk.”

Fuck. 

“Okay.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood but his sullen expression stays put. 

“I’m still gonna start the kettle in case you want any―” 

“Why’re you pulling away from me?” he blurts out.

“Wha―”

“I literally haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Have I done something wrong? I―I” he pauses to compose himself and your frown deepens, “I miss you. Miss you so much and I just wanted to make sure we were okay.” 

You push yourself away from the couch and walk up to him, making sure to keep eye contact knowing how important it is to him,”of course we are, H.” 

“You haven’t spoken to me in like a mo―” 

“Shh, shh. Was just swamped with work. You know how I get all in my head.” You know you shouldn’t be lying to him, you really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking like the idea of you purposely ignoring him breaks him, you don’t have it in you to let him suffer any longer.

He nods and you smile at him, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair, “we’re okay. I promise.” 

“Promise?” he whispers and your heart flutters. 

“Yeah.” You hate lying to his face. 

You start your steps to go to the kitchen but his grip on your wrist pulls you back, nearly crashing into his chest. 

“Want a kiss, please.” his voice never leaves that soft whisper. You lean in to give him a soft kiss, suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach that only deepens the closer you get to him. You’ve always had a bad habit of putting someone’s comfort over yours. 

“Do you want tea?” you whisper against his lips. 

“Always want some fuckin’ tea.” he says with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, that joyful inflection back in his voice and that familiar sparkle back in his eyes. 

When you step out of the kitchen with the tea he’s sitting on the couch in a relaxed manner, picking at the loose strings in your pillows and watching the movie you have on. His lips stretch in a gentle smile when he sees you and you force yourself to return it. 

You sit down next to him and he places his hand softly on your thigh, leaning over to you to place a soft kiss on your jaw. He trails more and more down to your neck and you feel your stomach twist. Your hand shoots to his chest to halt any further movement and you rush out words in a short breath, “We can’t.” There’s a beat of silence. He backs away quickly to not make you uncomfortable and you sigh and whisper, “...I can’t” 

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you can tell that without an explanation your rejection stings him a little. 

“Don’t you have like…a thing? With that girl you brought to Thanksgiving?” you watch his face twist tightly in confusion and you can’t bear to hear him make excuses or lie to you so you just continue to ramble, “does she even know that you’re sleeping with other people? With me? Like if I was your girlfriend I’d be pretty fucking pissed that you’re over here and touching me after bringing her to Thanksgiving of all places—” 

“Shut up.” He cuts off your ramble sharply. You suck in a breath at his tone (and after speaking all those words without a break) and your chest tightens at his stern expression. 

“W-what?” you fumble through the word. Never in your life have you seen him this angry. He’s looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as absolutely vexed. 

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” If there’s one thing Harry is, it’s smart. He’s absolutely not an idiot. But you absolutely are for not realizing just how well he knows you, “you’ve barely spoken to me for a month. Didn’t answer my calls, texts, not going out when you know I’d be there because you thought I’d betray your trust like that and just pop up one day with a fucking girlfriend!?” You can tell that he’s trying to control his volume and anger. The way his fist and jaw is clenched is an obvious indication. 

“Well what was I supposed to think, Harry? You brought her and she was beautiful and you had your hand on her wai–” 

“And you weren’t gonna let me explain myself!? I’d never do that to you. It was—We–we had a deal!” he exclaims incredulously, ducking down to meet your eyes when you try and look away. 

“I know we had a deal, H. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions—” He interrupts you again and you sigh deeply. 

“And I can’t believe that you would think…I thought it was different…I thought you…” he trails off, his voice getting softer as his speaking slows.

“You thought I what?” you ask urgently. He looks down at his hands and picks at the nail on his thumb. You frown softly, “you thought I what, H?”

His expression almost looks tortured as he trains his gaze on his fingers. You suddenly feel terrible. You ignored him for so long all over a simple misunderstanding. You think back to the moment that it all happened and figure you might have avoided all of this if you just let him properly introduce her like he was trying to. Your lip trembles softly at the idea of hurting him and he sighs. 

“I thought you felt the same way as I did. I thought it wasn’t just a deal to you.” he admisses so very quietly. So quiet that if the TV was any louder you wouldn’t have heard it. His brows are tightly knit together and his lips are turned down into a deep pout. 

Harry almost regretted it when he said it. He knows that if you truly don’t feel the same, it’ll never go back to the way it was, and he’ll lose the person he cares about the most. He’ll lose the person he loves the most. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he avoids looking up at your expression in fear that your expression will be less than kind. 

He speaks before you can even process what he just said, “Ellie’s my cousin.” he breathes out a humorless laugh, “the girl I brought to Thanksgiving. I thought you’d love her.” the soft tone and volume of his voice remains constant.

You feel like your brain just short circuited. Harry just told you that he actually has feelings for you. That all this time he’s been thinking about you in the same way that you’ve been thinking about him. All this time. 

And you’re sitting here like an idiot letting him stew in confusion and not saying a word. 

“Oh my god.” you gasp like you’ve suddenly been slapped back into reality. Your hands rush over to him like they have a mind of their own with thoughts that tell them that they need to be close to him. You grasp his face in your hands and pull his head up so you can look into his eyes. 

“H.” you sigh. He watches your mouth form around the word and he decides right then and there that no matter what you’re going to say next, no matter if you reject him and tell him you could never see him that way, you will always make him weak. Looking into your eyes will always break and mend him at the same time, the sound of you saying his name will always make him crumble.

“Of course I feel the same way. Are you kidding? I thought that you didn’t.” you finally, finally admit. It immediately feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of your chest and you almost wanna cry at how freeing it feels. 

“Are you serious?” he laughs, although you can see that his eyes are a bit glossy. You pout softly, nodding and leaning down to envelop his lips in yours. 

“I’ve always needed you, petal. Even before the sex. I need you to know that.” he speaks with conviction. He needs you to know that it’s not just the sex muddling his brain and making him attached. He really truly loves you. Everything about you. 

“I know, I know H.” you nod again. 

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed you, petal. No clue.” His voice is thick with emotion, but also filled with that familiar lust that you missed so much. 

You scoot closer to him on the couch and throw your legs around his lap to straddle him, “feel like showing me?” 

He chuckles darkly, his hands quickly landing on your waist. His mouth closes to form into a smirk when you blatantly offer your body up for him like this. A soft noise leaves you in reaction to the tight grip he has on your waist. 

Your hips take on a mind of their own when they start to shift against him. A soft hiss followed by a groan leaves his lips. It’s like your lips are magnets the way you can’t keep them away from each other. He leans up to kiss you and the movement of your hips intensifies. 

You can see it in his eyes that he’s thinking of some sort of punishment to sort out your behavior of the past month. The intensity in his expression makes you feel a sort of anxiousness that throws you for a loop. You feel a little scared, but all the excitement and anticipation just overrides that tiny bit of fear. 

He leans closer to you to leave open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, he kisses until he reaches the fabric of your shirt and his hand falls to your ass, gripping it tightly while urging you to continue the movement of your hips against him. 

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson it seems.” His voice is husky and deep when he speaks, you know that he has the capacity to absolutely ruin you tonight, and you know that he will. 

He taps your hip with his fingers, his usual signal that he needs you to stand up. Your brows furrow in confusion briefly, but the confusion is gone as soon as it came when he speaks. 

“Do me a favor, honey?” 

You nod eagerly. 

“Get out that vibrator you’ve got in your dresser, clothes off and wait for me in your room.” His voice held a velvety, sensual tone, and combined with what he said, you’re nearly weak in the knees. When you stand there for a moment, having a bit of trouble getting your body to move as fast as your brain, he urges you with a raise of his eyebrow and you immediately spring into action. 

You hear his quiet murmur of “good girl” as you start to walk to your room. Every nerve in your body is buzzing with anticipation. Harry is already amazing in the bedroom with just him, imagining the pleasure you’ll feel with him and the toy is making you squeeze your thighs together and your eyes shut as you dwell in your thoughts. 

You sat down on your bed (very submissively, you hope it’ll get you some brownie points) with your vibrator laying next to you. Just when you’re starting to get impatient, the door opens with Harry on the other side of it. There’s a very distinct hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, as his gaze travels the length of your body. You can tell he appreciates the way you’re sitting. 

He doesn’t waste any time walking towards you and kneeling until his knees touch the floor and he’s level with where you need him the most. His hands find purchase on your thighs, immediately squeezing and prodding at them like he’s playing with his favorite toy (which he technically is), “you’re so good for me, petal. Doing as I asked.” 

His eyes flick up to yours after he speaks, and the eye contact, especially when he’s got that look going, makes you melt. You’re hyper aware of the tortuous way his hands are trailing upwards. He knows the way his touch works you up no matter where it is, and he’s using it to his advantage. 

A sharp gasp rips from your throat when he spreads your thighs apart. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten from just the anticipation and thought of what he’s going to do to you. The groan that he let out once he saw what a mess you’ve made is an indication that he was pleased. 

“Jesus, petal. Look what you’ve done…” he stares at your center with an expression of deep desire as he reaches out a hand to trail two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, “messing up your sheets, baby. This all for me?” 

You can’t help but obediently nod, meeting his eyes with a pleading look, “only for you, promise. Please?” 

His face is painted with an expression of faux confusion, that condescending look that makes you clench around nothing and tip your head up to the ceiling in frustration. You know from that look this is going to be harder than you thought. He’s in the mood to tease. He’s going to break you.

“Please? Please what, baby. What do you need from me?” You’re impressed by the way he’s looking at you like he’s actually concerned and wondering what you want, and although you know it’s an act and he’s not asking because he truly plans on giving it to you, you still give in.

“Touch me, Harry. Need it.” You should be embarrassed at the whiny inflection in your voice as you beg him, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel shame when you’re aching as bad as you are. 

“You need it?” He teases and you know even he’s getting tired of this waiting game because his expression has melted down into a lazy grin, enjoying the way he’s torturing you. 

You can tell that he isn’t exactly mad any more, which you’re grateful for. He’s just enjoying toying with the body that he knows so well. 

You scoff and roll your eyes, pushing your hips towards him needily. It earns you a dark chuckle and a sigh, “alright, alright.” 

Without leaving his position on his knees, he reaches for the vibrator. Before you can beg any more, he’s switching it on and bringing it down to where you need it the most. He doesn’t even offer up a warning before he’s placing it directly on your clit, ripping a shocked moan from your throat. 

“Yeah?” His voice is taunting and low, and if the vibrator was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear him, but it still hits you right in the gut like his voice usually does when he talks to you like this, “is that good? Right here?” 

“Fuck, yes. Stay right there.” you stutter through your words in a way that you know he’ll tease you for later, but you don’t have the brain capacity to care right now. All you can think about and feel is him, that vibrator on your clit, the way he’s talking. 

When he presses it harder against you, you breathe in deeply, exhaling in a whiney moan. He’s making you unravel at a quick and embarrassing pace and the sensations are overwhelming you. Your hips start to shift in tandem with the way he’s slowly rubbing the head of the vibrator back and forth against your clit, the sounds that leave your throat travel straight to his cock that’s still confined in his pants. He growls lowly when he notices your thighs start to shake and leans closer to suck kisses into them, “close already? Fuck look at that, honey…” he’s referring to the way your arousal is coating the toy. He almost feels tempted to bring it to his lips and clean it off, “this dreamy cunt needed it so bad, hm?”

You couldn’t respond even if you tried, your brain a mess of syllables and sounds that you’re meant to put together. All you can manage is a string of whimpers as you get closer and closer to your peak.

Harry watches your every move, so in tune with every twitch of your body and every sound you make. He moans along with you as you come undone, making sure to keep the toy right where it’s been to help you ride it out, anything to keep making his girl feel good. 

You reach for his hand to ground you and he quickly gives you what you need, interlocking your fingers and groaning when you squeeze tightly, “there you go…fuck.” 

You push yourself away from the toy when it becomes too much as best as you can, desperate to escape the onslaught of overstimulation and he chuckles, pulling the toy off of you. You can barely grip your bearings as he brings the toy to his lips to clean off with his tongue, he moans needily when he tastes you and squeezes your hand as if to say he’s proud of you. 

He puts the toy down next to you and starts to kiss his way up your body. Mumbling little words of encouragement and praise on his journey to your lips. 

“Did such a good job.” 

“M’so proud of you.” 

“You come so pretty.” 

“So beautiful.”  

When you guys are face to face he pinches your lips with his fingers before he leans down to kiss you, moaning into the kiss since he was deprived of them in the short time that he was making you come. 

“Hi.” You breathe out in a chuckle, your mind still muddled from the post climactic haze. He returns your greeting, his voice soft and tender with an adoration filled expression on his face. 

“Aren’t you like–” you motion your head downwards to refer to the way he’s straining in his pants and a chuckle leaves his lips. He nods gently, still staring at you with that fond look in his eye. 

“Mhm.” he mumbles. He repositions himself so he can take off his clothes and after he teases you for nearly drooling over his abs, comes back down to rest against you so that your chests are touching, “you wanna keep going?”

You know he’s asking to be respectful, but you can also tell that if you say no he’d probably cry. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and see the strain in his expression. He subtly shifts his hips every so often against your skin and you have to fight back a smirk at how needy he is. 

You nod before you remember his thing about verbal consent and you mumble out a soft yes. As soon as he has your permission, he’s connecting your lips and lining up his tip with your entrance. He drags his tip back and forth against you, your body twitching in sensitivity every time he passes over your clit. 

A guttural groan leaves him as he finally fills you, a groan that melts into a whine as you clench down around him tightly, forcing yourself to adjust to the burning stretch that you’ve missed so much. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sound of his voice and the sounds he’s making just make you clench down tighter around him, “how do you always feel this fucking good? Squeezing me like a vice, pretty.”  

He sets a rhythm that has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt every time, somehow even though he’s been aching in his pants for so long his focus still remains solely on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good, “s’that okay, sweet girl. S’it good for you? Am I giving this needy cunt what it needs?” 

You know he doesn’t expect you to respond but he speaks anyway. He’s well aware of the effect his voice has on you.His deliberate thrusts gain more momentum with every reaction you give him. He truly feeds on your pleasure. It’s as if he suddenly remembers the emotional turmoil you forced the both of you to go through the past month, because his thrusts begin to get more purposeful. Rougher, more pointed motions of his hips rip noises from you that you’re sure is gonna give you a sore throat later. 

His hand wraps around your throat in a firm grip, leaning down to grit words out into your ear, “you’re mine, understand that? You’re mine. And I’m yours. No one else’s. I belong to you, petal. Just you.” 

He fights the strong pull in his chest that tells him to tell you how he really feels, how in love he is with you. How you consume his every thought and how your touch is unlike any other touch he’s ever felt. From the first time he was already addicted. You’re unlike anyone else that he’s ever met, you feel like home. 

The force of his thrusts knock all of the air out of your lungs, and all you can do is nod and mumble out an agreement. You need to be his. There might not be anything that you want more right now. Hearing him confess his feelings for you right now as he’s fucking you into oblivion do all the right things for you, and like clockwork, he immediately recognizes what you need and switches back on the vibrator, bringing it right back down to your clit. 

“Fuck that’s it, baby. Am I fucking you right, petal? Yeah? Fucking show me then. Come for me.” He presses the toy harder against you and rolls his hips in just the perfect way that makes him rub against that perfect spot inside you and you realize now that he made good on his word of teaching you a lesson. You are sufficiently taught.

He whines loudly at the feeling of you coming around him, mumbling out praises and thank you’s as you milk him for everything he’s worth, “shit, m’gonna fucking come. Fuck keep cumming, baby. Keep fucking squeezing me like that–” his words are cut off with a series of noises that you know is going replay in your head on loop. 

He rides out his pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts, hiding his face in your neck as he tries to cope with all the pleasure that’s wracking through his body. You tangle your hands in his hair to offer him some comfort, both of you breathing heavily. He continues to mumble praises into your damp skin, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling that transcends anything you’ve ever felt before. 

When he catches his breath he turns his head to rest it on your shoulder and speaks, “you know I meant it right?” 

“Meant what?” 

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” 

December 31st, New Years Eve. 

Your friend’s makeshift bar is bustling and you chuckle as the poor untrained bartender is trying to grapple with it all. You’re sipping slowly at a glass of champagne when you feel a strong arm link around your waist. 

“Mm hi baby.” his deep voice reverberates through your entire body as he speaks directly into your ear. You melt into his grasp and your lips break into a smile that you couldn’t stop even if you tried. 

“Harry.” you say cheekily as your hands fall to hold onto his arm. He had just come back from an absolute killer karaoke performance next to your friend’s TV. The whole entire house was cheering for him as he belted out an incredible rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Ever the performer, your boyfriend is, “you were amazing. As always.” you giggle and he presses a messy, wet kiss to your cheeks. 

He is absolutely glowing tonight. Surrounded by his family, friends, and you. He’s beyond ready to spend the next year being annoyingly in love with you and attached to your hip. In fact, that’s the thing he’s looking forward to the most about the new year, going through every milestone, change, and holiday with the love of his life. 

“Always strokin’ m’ego, petal. Looove you.” you laugh loudly at how inebriated he is and lean your head back against his shoulder to get closer to him. 

“I love you too, H. I think you’re cut off though.” you chuckle and you can hear the pout in his voice when he speaks. 

“Wha’? Wha’s wrong with you? M’not even that drunk m’love.” The irony of his words slurring while he’s trying to convince you that he isn’t drunk isn’t lost on you. You turn around to face him and it’s like his expression melts into a smile when he looks at you. 

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way he looks at you. He stares at you with so much awe, so much reverence. Ever since you’ve noticed it the first time, it’s the first thing that catches your attention when you guys are together. That damn look. 

“Y’so pretty.” He brings his hand up to stroke your face with his thumb. 

You turn your face to kiss his palm and he giggles childishly, mumbling something about it tickling.

It’s not long before the countdown starts. Harry and you look at each other in anticipation, wanting to commemorate the first time you guys expressed the affection for each other that’s only increased ten fold. 

9

8

“I think New Years is m’favorite holiday.” he mumbles out, looking down at you with that familiar fond look. 

6

“Yeah?” you giggle at his admission, “why’s that, H?” 

4

“S’cause it’s the day that I finally got you.” You can barely register the cheers of happy new year before his lips are on yours, claiming them and making you his. You pull away reluctantly to breathe and smile at him when you speak.

“I think it’s my new favorite too, baby.”

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Onstage

What - it's nothing to panic about, Lori's secret pregnancy, Shane's changes for the worse, Sophia gone for over a week, and now a barn full of walkers. It's fine. No big deal, nothing is wrong, so you're gonna step onstage and act like it. On the bright side, Daryl isn't stuck in a bed anymore!

When - the morning after Keep this dog asleep. (the night where Glenn discovers the barn in Season 2)

Who - this is part of the Slowpoke Series, which is a canon compliant slow burn Reader x Daryl. You're also Shane's younger sibling

Pronouns - she/her

TWs - a few cusses, panic, bad screenshots

References - lots, y'all, want the Masterlist?

Length - longer bc I've been awol, I've been dreading posting again, friends, so thank you much for reading. Kind feedback is always welcome :)

“Goodness. You two slept together.”

“Wha—Carol!” you squeak, accidentally splashing some coffee on your hands while you’re at it, to which Carol apologizes, “Oops!”

Glenn and you fell asleep beside each other, by the fire pit. You two must have conked out while staring at the barn.

Brr, the sun hasn’t warmed the day yet, you’re like an ice-pop.

“Wh’appened?” Glenn mumbles, still half-asleep in Dale’s camp chair.

Carl, freshly freed from the house and now officially back to the tents, also wanted to know, “What was the joke?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Carol whispers in your ear and wipes the coffee off your hand with a tissue she had in her pocket.

That ship has sailed, Carol!

Lori smiles and shakes her head, and hands Glenn a coffee cup. “Carol was teasing them about having spent the night out here. Must’ve stayed up far too late having fun.”

“‘Fun,’” Glenn groans to himself, blindly nursing his coffee. You notice he winces and reaches for the back of his neck when he tries to bend it forward. Must’ve slept on it wrong.

“How late did you guys stay up?”

“I don’t even know, little man,” you answer Carl while reaching out for a hug. “But ‘far too late’ sure is correct.”

He returns your reach and hugs you back, tucking his head down across your neck like he used to when he was little. You press a kiss to his temple and hold him awhile longer, not wanting to let go first.

It’s good to have started the day on an up-note. You’re already on guard this morning. Less so about the genuine, bona-fide barn full of walkers on the property and moreso that Glenn won’t keep the secret long enough.

Which is backwards, but…the worry is that Shane will, um, and, and— oh God, and Carl can’t go near it! What are you gon—

“—Here, Maggie left these for you two.” Lori has returned and plunks down what resembles an Easter basket filled with peaches.

“Wait, should you be lifting heav—” Glenn cuts himself off, apparently having woken up a brain cell and remembering the pregnancy is still a secret.

You run onstage and speak up for Lori. “That’s how her arms stay so toned. Can you believe she hand-whipped the cream for the ambrosia?” Solid improv.

Lori seems to tamp down on whatever frustration she’s feeling. “It’s not heavy, Glenn.”

“Mom can lift so much, that puny basket of peaches is nothing,” Carl tells him, apparently thinking Glenn was being silly.

Rattled, it takes a moment before Lori recalls what she was talking about. “Maggie also gave us a bucket filled with tomatoes along with another big bowl of eggs. We have to find a way to thank them. They’ve done so much.” She sighs. “Even last night, we cooked the meal, but they provided the food. Meat, even. All we contributed food-wise was the field green salad and the two cans of creamed corn.”

You’ve got to keep it to yourself that by not revealing the Greene’s massive secret about a barn full of walkers, you’re certainly giving them some kind of fucked up recompense.

And like you said last night, there are worse things to be bribed with than food. In fact, you have no immediate plans to do anything other than sit here, miserably tired, in T-Dog’s camp chair and stress-eat peaches — and stick close to Glenn lest he get the urge to open Pandora’s box about that barn.

“Carl, Miss Patricia hopefully mentioned how the barn is unstable? They won’t even go near it, and we are forbidden.” You swipe a peach and have at it. The juice dribbles down your hand and chin. Carl smirks. You snort; at least he’s seen you look grosser. So, in a very ladylike fashion, you shove the rest of it in your mouth in one bite and immediately swipe another. “There’s some kind of vermin problem, too, and you don’t want none of them diseases rats and the like carry. Keep away.”

Mid-chew, you realize that you just lied flawlessly by slipping in truth. You’re not big on lying. In fact, you hate it. You don’t do it, or, at least you think you don’t? Do you?

This and the weight of last night’s inward decision that you made sits heavy in your stomach, making the peach sink like a rock.

You’re going to leave, with your brother. Shane can’t stay here, not when the news of the baby and now the barn gets out. You’ll even go to Fort Benning despite all your misgivings. Anything to keep things from imploding here when those secrets get out. Not, um, not that you’ll stay away forever from the group, just until, um…

Well, if looks are any indication, Glenn’s also busy being miserably tired and stressed. He was the one to discover the barn’s secret, first off. And he’s not good with secrets, and now has three to contend with. The pregnancy, Shane losing his temper and physically hurting you. And now, the stupid, stupid, awful barn.

“Did your head flop down when you fell asleep, Glenn?”

“It must’ve, it’s so stiff!” he mutters. “I can’t have a stiff neck when the…”

Smart, he knows not to finish the sentence and instead resumes warily eyeing the barn. You’re grateful your neck is fine and dandy, you’re in no fit state to mess up your neck or shoulder again. For real, by the grace of God, you’d fallen asleep nestled in T-Dog’s camp chair and your neck stayed blessedly straight and untwisted.

“We search for Sophia in groups, it’s all good,” you cover for him. Carl is still next to you, so the fewer questions, the better.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but you’re restless. Seeking something to busy your hands with, you think to yourself you know what? Your friend could use a massage. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, considering you slept together (lol).

Shoving the rest of the second peach in your mouth, you consider that slurping the juice off your hand may be a mite untoward, so instead you…wipe it on the clothes you wore all day yesterday and fell asleep in…such a feminine, classy woman. Didn’t even brush your teeth last night.

Whatever, a neck and shoulder rub is the least you can do for a friend you may not see again. “Glenn, I can do you a massage,” you offer.

“Wait. Really?”

“’Course.” Let’s face it, you may not see him again after you leave. Maybe no one here, just look at the track record of losing peop — oh my gosh, crybaby much? Get your butt back onstage and act fine.

“Can you, with your arm still wrapped like that?” he checks regarding your modified sling.

“Sure can.”

“Dude, that would be, like,” Glenn sighs, then you hear Lori call for Carl, who gets up and goes to his mother. “Thank you, that would be awesome, it hurts really bad,” your friend accepts.

“Eh, it’s the least I could do, considering last night we did,” pause for dramatic effect, “sleep together.”

“What the f—”

“—Bro, I know.," you drone. "That’s what Carol joked about a few minutes ago. Didn’t expect that joke outta her, right?”

“Slept together, now I get it,” he cracks up halfheartedly. But in an instant, his gaze gets drawn right back toward the barn and resettles into uneasy, blatant stare.

That rattles you. Suddenly, you become convinced he’s gonna spill the beans before the one week (at least one week!) trial. For a few moments, you feel breathless, as in you can’t inhale enough. That happened last night, too, you figured it was because of the cold air.

You cough, inhale extra deep. The sensation goes away. But now you’re starting to get mad. As you rise from the chair, you’re more than conscious of your inner kettle beginning to simmer. Not gonna lie, you sound snotty when you comment, “Glad to see they didn’t learn how to jump as high as a hayloft and find their way out yet.”

“Y/N.”

In lieu of any new comeback, you start on his neck. Immediately and likely without meaning to, he lets out a thankful groan. That warms you, and you remind yourself he’s worried for a good reason and that you love your friend.

And, strangely, then you think back to how you did this for Daryl, gave him a massage. How pleasant the closeness felt, how strange it made your stomach feel. How he’d silently cried but was vulnerable enough to ask you not to stop…

And with the jokes about you and Glenn, you’re feeling some unpleasantly conflicting emotions. Full disclosure, you’d had some hidden and very unwelcome hurt feelings when you found out about him and Maggie. Residual, you reckon, from when you’d two had a little fondness (lol Dale) for each other.

Really, you know it’s just that you’re lonely and things are stressful. Ugh, more than stressful.

“Wanna kick the ball around later with the others, see if the girls can’t beat y’all this time?” Together, Jimmy and he have been an unbeatable team so far, and you three girls want to change that.

“Anything to make the pharmacy trip suck less.”

You’d forgotten all about that. It’s supposed to feature none other than Glenn, Maggie, yourself, and maybe T-Dog. “That’s still on?”

Glenn shrugs. “I don’t remember. And I don’t want to go today, let’s do it tomorrow or Monday.”

“Fine by me. Naught dire we need yet.”

He unexpectedly exhales in pleasure when you must’ve hit a spot he needs worked out.“I haven’t gotten a massage since, like,” your friend sighs again, and he sounds weighed down when he continues. “Varsity baseball in high school. Appa was really good at shoulder rubs.”

“Oh.” A memory about his dad might will probably spark a whole lot of memories, and he’s still iffy about crying in front of people. “Want me to stop?”

“Heck no.”

“Are you cool with crying? Massages sometimes do that,” you hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

“I meant the act itself can make folk cry sometimes.” Especially if memories get brought up.

“Make ‘folk’ cry?” he teases. "You already used the word 'naught,' too, bumpkin."

You pause the massage to give him a very light shove. “Shut up.”

Breakfast is eggs again, you can smell them cooking. The Greenes have been very generous with eggs. And, of course, now extra-generous with the peaches and some tomatoes, apparently. Maybe the thrill of yellow squash or string beans is in the future, too.

Ooh, or dairy. Oh my gosh, or red meat! Jimmy mentioned they’ve made a ton of jerky what with all their cattle.

“G’morning,” you hear Shane behind you.

“Heya.”

“Morning, Shane.”

The razzing is clear in his tone of voice, but try telling that to Glenn as your brother says, “Lookin’ cute, you two. Didn’t know this was a thing now, I thought that ship had sailed.”

Yeahhhhh, Glenn wriggles away from your hands quicker than you can whine, “Shaney!” who simply cracks up, “Just teasing.”

“I’ll tease your face,” you wish you weren’t snickering back. “And you know my heart belongs to darling Theodore,” you add in an exaggerated accent.

T-Dog, unfortunately, hears, and utters a soft “Da hell?” aaand you cackle even harder. Surely he knows the not-so-secret secret that you think he’s a catch? Too old for you, but, like. What a gem.

“Glenn, my apologies.” Shane winks. “It’s too easy to rile this one up. And Dog, don’t worry.”

“It’s cool,” Glenn answers so awkwardly.

You scrunch your lips at your brother in an effort not to smile. He’s acting like himself again, the real Shane. You don’t feel as if you’re looking at a stranger, you don’t feel the urge to stay on-guard or stay onstage. “Proud of yourself?”

He shrugs with a lazy grin. “It is real easy to rile you up.”

“Mmhm, well I’m fixing to escape to Fort Benning right now, lemme just wash up first.” You insert this little seed in hope it takes root. He was planning to go there before things changed.

He was planning to go without your input or foreknowledge, too, but he was doing what he thought was best for the group. For Lori and Rick.

Until he didn’t anymore, according to what he said to Lori.

That night, the same day Daryl had almost died, was something else.

The things he said to Lori echo in your head, the confident flirting while she was visibly unreceptive and shaken.

Then you recall the way he’s been “pragmatic” and almost irritated about the continuing search for Sophia.

Then the way he blew up at you, hurt you.

And finally, how your first reaction to finding out there was a barn filled with walkers a mere one minute trek from where your people are sleeping in tents was to insist that the secret must be kept from Shane at all costs. That the secret had to stay that way because of what would happen if Shane found out.

Maybe it’s from sleeping too close to the campfire or because it was so chilly last night, but the breathing trouble is back. It's fine, this happened last night, it ended up being fine. You cough a few times to try and inhale more deeply and ease the tightness in your chest, but you feel strange and a little nauseous. Maybe you're coming down with something.

“Lemme take over here — aw, Glenn, hey, sit back on down,” Shane insists to your friend who just tried to escape. “Heard you slept on your neck wrong. That shit stinks, man. But,” he holds out his hands and wiggles his fingers. “I got so much practice with massages from this one’s migraines, I might should switch careers. C’mon then,” he says lightheartedly.

The unease you just wrestled with lessens. This is the real Shane, the confident, even cocky, but goodhearted one.

Ooo, your breathing feels a little better, too. Cool!

He looks at you and points with his thumb toward the house. “The uh, the little one, what’s the blonde girl’s name again?”

“Soph—oh! Um, sorry, y-you mean ‘Beth,’” you stammer, all the mirth from a moment ago zapped.

The look in your brother’s eyes changes from easygoing to dampened to cold.

He tries to sound nonchalant behind a thin veil of both defense and offense. “Yeah, the, uh, the teenager. She asked for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” You’d be off like a shot if there wasn’t another potential time bomb to worry about.

Glenn.

To your friend, you assure in truth, “He does give a mighty solid massage.” But when you lean over enough for him to see your face, you can feel your eyes darken when you hold the finger to your lips and set your jaw.

And as you make toward the house with your coffee and another two peaches, you’re grappling with the fact that, in an effort to keep Glenn quiet so everything won’t blow to pieces, you’re behaving not unlike the very person that you’re trying to prevent from igniting the explosion in the first place.

Another worry is the way you so easily slipped in and out of being onstage.

You’ve always been one to insist on truth and honesty. It’s a badge of honor you wear with pride, and even Daryl, prickly grump Daryl, has mentioned it and appreciates that about you.

And yet, look at your conduct over the past week or so. You can certainly lie, and be believable at it. You don’t like that.

Oh, gross, you’re getting nauseous again.

As you near the porch, Beth’s soft, clear voice calls your name, and she exits the house to meet you. “I got somethin’ for you. Can you come upstairs?”

“Sure. Your dress is cute!” comes out automatically. You’re still dazed and stressed. Her sundress really is pretty, though. Briefly, you consider how it would be nice to feel feminine again.

She leads you up the stairs, and it strikes you how odd it is that you have to go upstairs for whatever she’s going to give you, right? Then, you worry that it’s to do with the barn.

And you’re right.

Or, at least, you think you are. Maggie is upstairs when Beth brings you there.

The tightness comes back, so you focus on your breathing and will your stomach to chill out. You're onstage, you need to perform.

“Y/N, hi!” Margaret says this a little overly chipper, even though her appearance suggests that she’s had about as much shut-eye as you, if not less. “Sleep okay?”

“A-About as well as you, I reckon,” you answer with a hint of humor and only a trace of a stress stutter. Buying time with a few more coughs, before you get too defensive, you play it off as if Beth does not know that you and Glenn know. “We stayed up far too late and ate way too many peaches,” you say the girl. Which is the truth, you aren’t lying! You aren't lyi — nope, don't you cry! Stay onstage, stay onstage, stay onstage—

—As it so happens, now is when you recall how you are currently carrying two peaches in your hand, so your cheeks heat. The urge to cry goes away, so small win. “I ate way too many, at least.”

Beth giggles. “I love peaches, too. I had peach cobbler as my birthday cake two years ago. The ones we grow are so good!”

“Thank you for the basket of food, by the way, it was very kind.” Very kind bribery, please keep it up, we haven’t had this much available food in months, in fact, we’ll probably do anything you ask us if you let us stay here!

“There’s plenty more where the peaches came from. The season’s almost over, but we still have bushels left to pick, the hens haven’t slowed production yet, and we’re almost out of canning supplies we’ve done so many,” Maggie responds.

Beth is opening a big trash bag on her bed that looks like it’s filled with blankets, so Maggie takes the opportunity to lock eyes with you again. She mouths, “Thank you.”

For not saying anything? “She doesn’t know we know?” you mouth back.

She shakes her head.

You relax muscles you didn’t know you were tensing.

“Yay, I got it open without rippin' it!” Beth exclaims. “Y/N, Maggie and I had gathered up a bunch of clothes for charity, but that’s when things got, w-well,” she halts, unsure of how to describe the outbreaks. “The bad things happened, but, um, we, well, we still had all the donations bagged. Daddy and Shawn also…” She quiets at mentioning her deceased older brother and turns weepy.

Her big sister finishes for her. “Shawn donated clothes, too. And Mom.” She swallows. “There’s plenty to share with your group, is what she means.” Maggie nods her head at the bag on the bed, then to two others on the floor.

They're sharing...all of those?

You don’t get a chance to ask it because Beth is already answering. “When I saw how y’all looked, it was scary. The,” she starts, then stops. “Not that you were scary, I meant y’all must’ve been out there a long time. It’s scary to think about.”

“In your defense, I did look scary the first time you saw me.” Wild hair, sweat-drenched, sobbing, and covered in Carl’s and your own blood. Rough day.

But having been ‘out there,’ as Beth worded it, it’s not so scary when you’re with a group you trust. It even feels comforting to have them all. Which is when you consider how Shane and you will be back out there in a couple weeks, alone.

“Here.” Beth shyly points to the bag. “I wanted to offer for you to look through the bags first. If, if you want.”

The offer is (more) bribery to keep you quiet, which cools the warmth of the charity, but doesn't lessen the grateful tears you spill. Plus, yes, you all could use some fresh clothes, there’s only so much mending that can be done. And to be offered first dibs, even if it’s just to butter you up, is still being offered first dibs. “I’d love to take a look, thank you,” you say in earnest.

Beth combs through the bag and chats in her shy manner, handing you a barely-worn, calf-length dress that had been gift for Maggie, then a (pure wool?!) cardigan their mother had been giving away.

You find it hard to believe that she’s doing this as bribery, Beth doesn’t seem the sort to easily conceal things. She’s got an innocence that hits as genuine.

But, then again, you who hate dishonesty are apparently great at it. Who’s to say she’s not, too?

The breathlessness briefly comes back. You clear your throat and cough once.

Beth next, to your apprehension and then delight, has you try on the dress and cardigan (which shockingly fit). While retying the modified sling around your upper arm, Maggie keeps trying to catch your eye again in order to, you don’t know, communicate something via meaningful glance? But you don’t have the bandwidth for it, so return her look with a polite smile and shrug.

Her little sister then proceeds to gussy you up in a way reminiscent of how Amy did once at the quarry camp to see how Glenn would react. Gosh, was that only two-ish months ago, wasn’t it? Or has it been longer? It feels like longer.

Beth has manages a quick, respectable braided style for your hair, touches up your eyebrows for you, and even adds blush. She then claims that your hiking boots “look okay” with the ensemble and has you use the full length mirror in her closet to inspect the full results.

The dress is lovely, you have to admit. The neckline doesn’t dip too low bonus that it doesn’t show your bruise, the waist is defined, and it’s long enough past your knees to be comfortable. The length also helps lessen the lingering apprehension you have about showing natural (*cough cough unshaven*) legs.

You actually feel…pretty. Been a while.

It’s as if she knew you were yearning to feel girly again. If this is bribery, you welcome it. Worse ways of being bribed than with fresh food and a makeover from a genuinely sweet kid. And hey, since you have to be onstage so much, might as well dress nicely for the audience.

When you’re walking downstairs to bring your people the donations, Maggie murmurs in your ear, “Y/N, I didn’t put her up to any of this, it was all her.”

When you pull away from her, she's insistent. “It wasn’t her bein’ nice to keep you quiet. Remember, she doesn’t kn—”

“—Good mornin’, girls. What’s in the bags?” Patricia’s voice calls from the bottom of the stairwell.

“We had some clothes to donate since before Easter,” Beth answers. “I figured they could use ’em.”

“They certainly could. I’m glad I have plenty I brought from my house when we moved in.” You can see Miss Patricia in the hallway by the stairs, clearly wearing one of her late husband’s shirts over her dress. Her brows lift. “Seems you dolled your friend up some. You clean up nice, sweetpea!”

“Thank you, ma’am. I-I do feel like a lady again,” you allow, your cheeks again warming.

“Never stopped being one, as far as I’m concerned. Always kept your Ps and Qs,” she’s kind enough to maintain. “Oh, speaking of ladies, I don’t know how y’all are doing on girls’ supplies, but we should have enough to share while you’re still with us.”

“Margaret and I were gonna look for some more on the next drug store run tomorrow or Monday to make sure you’re well stocked.” Along with everything else on the list(s) that was forgotten when those two…got distracted.

Ugh, how different things would be if you’d gone along for that trip! None of this barn bullshit!

Again, you feel the need to cough to help you breathe better, so you cough twice and try clearing your throat.

“Uh-oh, sounds like cold and flu season is well on it’s way,” she muses. “Don’t let me keep you holding them bags all day, girls. It’ll be funny watchin’ your daddy react if one of them ends up dressed in his giveaways,” the woman comments wryly. “Now, I did intend to check on those stitches today, Y/N, so come see me later. Hersh is just finishing up with Daryl’s, in fact, then he’ll be all set to go, if you were wantin’ to see him out.”

Oh, right! Today is finally the day he’s leaving that room!

Carl, too, but he’s already out and has been wandering around outside as much as his energy and mom will allow (which isn’t very much yet).

Daryl, on the other hand, has been too dizzy and too ashamed to do much more than a trip around the perimeter of the house.

Carol and you cleaned his tent yesterday as a surprise. It was her idea, of course. She enlisted your help specifically because you twice mentioned not thinking his sweat smelled bad, which is weird, but, for real, it doesn’t smell bad to you. The cigarettes, on the other hand, ew.

“Are we not going today?” Maggie asks quietly about the postponed pharmacy trip.

With tact, you suggest, “We could all use some rest after stayin’ up so late.”

She peers into your eyes, then nods and adjusts her hold on the two bags in her hands.“That’s a good idea. I’m not up to it, either.”

Upon stepping back outside onto the front porch, Jimmy and Glenn are kicking the soccer ball around already. Glenn is keeping his neck taut as he and Jimmy go back and forth, but the pain must have lessened.

The irresistible urge you have to make light of everything seizes you, and you leap into matchmaker mode because, why not? You won’t be here much longer, and maybe Maggie and Glenn linking up will lead to the rest being permitted to stay. That’s what matters.

Oh, and, uh, because you love Glenn, and Maggie is kind…oh fuck, are you just a calculating, cold strategist?

The feeling that you’re running out of air and going to vomit returns, but you push yourself onstage and commit to the role. You have to keep your shit together.

“Ain’t he handsome when he plays? Good sportsmanship and confidence rolled into one.” You playfully hold a smile back when you glance at Maggie and giggle to hide your heavy breathing. “Also the shiny hair.”

“He does have great hair,” she softly agrees.

“Y/N, do you and Glenn like each other? I-I thought…” Beth’s face has paled.

Maybe that’s why you over-act when you exclaim, “Of course I like him, that’s why I’m such a great wingwoman for him.”

Margaret blushes. “Let’s get these bags to their camp.”

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

“I can’t hunt?”

“You can do as you please,” the old man remarks. What, is he making fun of him? “But doing so while recovering from a concussion would be foolish, as would be heavy lifting or other strenuous activity, and that’s not considering your collarbone and ribs. I’m curious as to how you’d wield your weapon or bring back what you hunted, for one, if you would even make it off the property without keeling over.”

Daryl bites his tongue and keeps his words to himself. Well, fine! I can still bring that little girl back. She’s got legs, she’ll be able to walk on her own.

Hershel cleans up his stuff and stands. “Now, then, I’m sure you’re ready to finally see yourself out.”

“Damn straight,” is probably not the smartest response in front of the old man, what with the cuss word, but damn straight he is ready to get the hell out of there. Still, he remembers his manners. “Thanks for everythin’.” He even holds out his hand for a shake. Which is dumb because the guy’s hands are full.

Daryl…puts his hand back down and grabs the few things he had in there with him. Y/N once described the Dr. Farmer as ‘unreadable.’ Definitely is that.

Unreadable, Hershel drawls, “It’s good you’re on the mend,” and inclines his head toward the door. “After you.”

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

Dude, you had a panic attack.

It wasn’t too too bad, all things considered. Initially, you’d thought it was a mild asthma attack, but in hindsight, wow you were oblivious to all of the signs.

It started to happen when some of the group was going through the clothes, right after Maggie and you dropped them off and she left to do choring.

Lori was beside you, low-key beside herself trying to figure out how your people could “ever repay the family now?”

Next, T-Dog joked about the sizes being too small for him. “Ain’t sure what here I could fit that won’t result in a show for y’all.”

This is when Andrea murmured to Carol, “Reminds me how it’s been awhile.” The way Carol reacted clued you in that it might have been a sex joke. Especially given the way Andy next gave your brother a once-over as if you weren’t right there. You vividly recall licking your teeth and rolling your eyes.

Then Shane — and he did this without having seen Andrea do the once-over — nudged T-Dog in the ribs and began to unbutton his own top. “Worse things than a show these days, friend. And that there clean shirt is calling my name.” Naturally, he proceeded to swap garments right where he stood.

Per usual, Lori was more graceful than you. She ignored it as if he were her own brother acting like a frat boy, and merely continued to sift through one of the bags. She smiled upon finding something, tapped Carol on the shoulder, and handed it to her.

It’s been a week now since Shane betrayal to her and Rick. Even you’re still figuring out how to see him. The hopeful part is that he’s been leaving Lori alone. If his sights have indeed turned to Andrea, all the better.

Back to the moment, then you imagined what if he and Andrea got a little too close, did something foolish, and she ended up pregnant, too. Not that Lori’s baby is Shane’s, the baby is Rick’s regardless, but...

The tight feeling returned in your chest.

It was in the midst of this that Dale complimented you. “Kiddo, you’re all gussied up! Any occasion?”

“Mmhm, all dressed up for the ‘show.’” The nausea was back, plus a fun new notion of being observed by unseen persons.

Dale just nodded with raised brows, and you and he shared a look. Instead of tempering your fears, it piqued them. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Horvath’s expression started to mirror the way he stared into your eyes after catching Shane lose his temper and leave you with a bruise on your sternum.

The fears within you, the stress, the dread, all started roiling stronger and stronger. You cleared your throat, then coughed, but it didn���t help and you felt restless and, oddly, cornered.

And so, not knowing where to look therefore looking in all directions, you happened to spy Glenn staring at the barn. Again.

The air felt too…thin? And then you noticed Lori examining the torso of one of the shirts in the bag as if testing it for stretchiness or room. You could see the shadows clouding her face right before she abruptly put the shirt down. Then, there was Carol, holding up something that had clearly must have been Beth’s a few years ago, and it looked as if it would fit Sophia perfectly now.

It was just about then that your lungs simply couldn’t keep up.

“Kiddo?” sounded in your ear.

You may have panted something to do with “puffer,” referring to your largely unused inhaler. At any rate, instead of next going to the logical location of the RV to find the med bag, you made for the treeline. You didn’t want anyone near you, didn’t want anybody to see you, didn’t want a fuss, didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want anyone to even think about you, so you had to hide.

Panting, a numbness started to affect your fingers and spread to your torso and toes. You repeatedly coughed in an effort to break up whatever was making it hard to breathe. Once you started coughing, it dominoed. Your stitches were tugging at the forceful coughs, and soon, you were hacking. The hacking led to retching, one, two, three times. Tears started to fall.

“Baby, here,” came from your right and a warm, delicate hand touched the small of your back. Lori. She pressed the inhaler into your hand. “I shook it up, it’s all ready.”

Bending forward slightly to open your airways, you tried to exhale enough so you could take the dose properly as you clasped the trigger.

One puff. Hold breath in.

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

Another puff. Hold breath in.

The relief that usually comes with the medication wasn’t as apparent as it normally would be. It helped somewhat, but. You tried another dose.

More tears of frustration. You panted that you thought your were going to pass out. "F-Feels like m'gonna die," you may have also said. The phantom sensation of your hand being covered in Amy's blood returned. You recall wiping it with the hem of your dress, and Lori taking your hands, preventing you from continuing to do so.

Lori calmly instructed you to, “Try this with me, honey,” and slowly breathed in through her nose. You copied as best you could.

She then slowly breathed out through her mouth. You copied as best you could.

Over and over she coached you.

Things started to ease. Your pulse was still loudly thumping, but two doses of a corticosteroid will do that. In your escape, you’d made for the big rocks where you’d shared (sort of) a cigarette with Daryl. The stones felt nice and cool, and Lori’s gentle rubbing of her hand across your back was comforting.

“Been a while since you’ve needed the inhaler. ‘Decorative,’ you called it once,” she softly chatted. The sensation of not getting enough air wasn’t quite gone just then, but you felt pretty normal again.

“I reckon the cold and the smoke must’ve done me in,” you mumbled. Your throat was mildly sore after all the coughing. “It’s good it was mild.”

“Were you wheezing?”

“No, I…just couldn’t breathe enough or something.” You shrugged. “I don’t always wheeze when I need it.” Your nose was stuffy from crying.

She was thoughtful for a moment, and had begun to lightly scratch your back. “You and Glenn seem off this morning. I’ve seen you two tired before, but today you both seem…there’s something else going on, clearly. Did you two fight?”

“Not exactly.” It’s true. “We’re on the same page.” You weren't prepared to have to go onstage again, but just in case, you tried pulling yourself together.

“Was it about Maggie?”

You laughed genuinely. “Ha, not at all.”

Lori didn’t mirror your laughter or even smile in return. “Honey, I think you had a panic attack.”

At first, you protested. “Oh, it wasn’t that dramatic.”

“It looked different from where I was. But even still, it didn’t have to be or feel ‘dramatic’ to have been one, you know that.” The nonjudgemental straightforwardness in her voice, in her eyes, was enough to convince you that she could see straight into your heart and read what was there. “Y/N, is there something more going on?”

More than anything, at that moment, you didn’t want to lie to her.

But what could you do? Tell the truth, yes, 'the truth will out,' you know that. But you were convinced that telling the whole truth, right then, would be like lighting dynamite.

In your view, you would be exposing everyone to chaos and even violence, and you'd all seen too much of that already. And no, you couldn’t just tell one person because it never just stays with one person. Lori was/is not in any position to have more fear on her plate.

So what did you do?

You crawled back on that stage and you lied — by telling the truth.

“I’m worried he’ll talk.” Vague and a lie of omission, and maybe a little throwing your friend under the bus, but Lord have mercy on you, it was truthful.

Lori squeezed her eyes shut. “Me, too. Oh honey, I’m so scared!” she whispered, covering her mouth.

So scared of Shane, just like you are. “Rick won’t hold any of it against you. We all thought he was dead.”

She shook her head and stared at the ground.“But you saw how Shane behaved, you, you heard the things he said, Y/N,” she nearly hissed. “I don’t know who that man was, but it wasn’t Shane, just like when he had m—” then Lori cut off.

“When he had what?”

She shook her head again. “Seems Dale’s on his way over. He told me about what was going on so I could bring your medicine to you. He hadn't known what 'puffer' meant." And —oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry that you’re worrying yourself like this over my mistake! It's not fair to you.”

“Your kid ain’t a mistake, it’s so good that they’re here,” you replied in total honesty. First time all day.

Maybe she’ll be honest with you and spill whatever Shane did that she’s not being upfront about. Whatever it is could surely have been described in a sentence. “What else did Shane do, Lore?” It can’t have been that bad, or could it?

All she did was shake her head once more. “Like you said, he hasn’t been himself.

‘Hasn’t been himself.’ Fine. You’ve got secrets, too, so there’s no way on earth can you cast stones.

You stepped back onstage for hopefully the final time, and made yourself deliver the next lines. “That’s why we’re goin’ to Fort Benning.” Without you all. “Just him and me. Within two weeks, I hope?” The nausea still hadn’t gone away, and simply saying this brought it back.

Her brows sunk caution. “When was this decision made? I-I thought—”

“—I ain’t told him about it yet.” The bitter smile, you hadn’t been able to stifle. “Shouldn’t be hard to convince him, considering he was fixing to not so long ago.”

Lori’s apologetic tone wasn’t a put-on. “I’m so sorry he didn’t tell you. I had no idea you were left in the dark.”

That’s when some tightness came back to your chest, and your breathing turned faster again. “I know, Lore.”

She noticed. “Honey, hey,” she soothed, “breathe slowly, deeply." Her hand cupped your cheek. "His mistakes, his choices, his reactions are not your responsibility.”

“I know, b-but—”

“—And you don’t have to leave with him if you don't want to.”

“But wh—”

“—No buts.” Lori cupped your cheek, stood, and swiftly made toward Dale.

And here is where you hadn’t known she was going to be quite so straightforward with him.

In fact, you’d hoped she’d join you onstage and lie, too, but she behaved beyond reproach. “It was a panic attack, so please make sure to respect her privacy about it. I’ve got to check on the laundry.”

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

Funny thing, he’s wearing the same clothes he had his accident in. He’s in the same stuff leaving that he had been when he got carried in there, except now they’re cleaned and mended.

It’s been good to be back outside, he prefers it. He can’t wrap his head around why some people can keep inside in front of a TV all day. You don’t get to hear or feel the wind indoors, can’t hear the birds and all that.

Now, he couldn’t say for sure, but stepping outside and knowing he didn’t have to go back in must feel at least half as good as getting freed from prison.

If prison was a nice-ass farmhouse without the risk of getting shanked or worse, obviously.

Merle would have some words if he heard Daryl say something like that out loud. Though, Merle was pretty settled when he was in lock-up. Fared fine.

His first view when he steps out into freedom is of Glenn and the teenage boy, kicking the ball around. Those two are straight into it and pay him no mind as he walks around them.

The rest of the group is around the picnic table, looks like they’re sorting laundry (?), therefore ain’t paying him no mind, either.

Phew.

This is good. He was wondering if Y/N was gonna parade him out or make it a big deal, but after hearing her and the other ladies talking in the hallway, she didn’t come back in. Works for him, he doesn’t like a crowd.

…But, like, where is she? He figured she’d be around, is all, but she ain’t by the table.

Ah, yeah, duh — she's probably still doing something with the girl that's about her age and her little sister. Still seems off Y/N and Glenn are only “five or six years younger” than him, but that’s what Y/N has said a few times.

The next thing he sees is Lori, who is swooping down the yard and toward the big rocks where he and T-Dog took a smoke break once. And where Y/N had her first try of a cigarette, too. Lori looks like a woman on a mission, damn. Dale is staring in the direction Lori is walking, those big-ass brows of his slanted downward. Wonder what that's about?

Over the sound of a few leftover end-of-season cicadas, he hears the normal drone of crickets, light talking from the group, the thunk of the ball getting kicked, a very loud crow, some cows mooing, somebody coughing, birds doing their thing, chickens clucking, the wind blowing. Mmm, good stuff. Being inside and hearing it just don’t sound as good as being right out in it.

Then, “Daryl!” comes from his left, and he sees Carol walking to him. She’s a good woman.

And now the memory of her kissing him on the cheek is making his cheeks heat up as quick as her steps toward him.

“I’ll carry those for you,” she quietly insists about his small pile of clothes. He lets her.

She’s been very, um, very attentive. Been having most of her meals with him, babying him as much as he’d allow, and all-in-all has been treating him extra after he had his accident.

There are more coughing sounds that he almost pegs as being Y/N’s, but when he looks back in the direction of the noise, there’s no one, just Lori off on her walk, and it wasn’t her doing the coughing.

“We moved your tent closer to the rest of us, so you would be closer to where we could help you.”

Closer. Great. Daryl wanted nothing less, but a kind gesture is a kind gesture, so he mans up and acts proper, grunting, “Thank you.” It’s not like they went and messed with his stuff, they just moved the tent, and for a real kind reason.

Glenn rears and kicks, sending the ball soaring. Damn, he's good.

“Now, it may smell and look a little different, but all of your things are still there.”

“Huh?” What’d she mean?

“You deserved a nice, clean place to go back to,” Carol explains. “Y?N and I cleaned up your tent.”

…

...

…they what?

He gets the weirdest image of himself as being onstage and forgetting whatever it was he was supposed to say next, leaving him standing there like a mouthbreather in front of the audience. And he kinda wants to cuss the audience out.

His first idea after learning Carol and Y/N was: What the hell, y’all been messing with my stuff? What gives y'all the right?

But, come on, even he had it in him to keep his mouth shut. They’d taken the time and effort to clean up his shit and it was probably as nice as when Carol had worked her magic in the RV. That's damned decent, in fact.

So, Daryl does not act like a jackass, and instead, remembers his lines and thanks Carol again.

“It was no trouble. How about I bring you some more breakfast once you’re settled in?” she quickly offers. See? Very attentive. And he didn’t do shit to have earned it, which made it more uncomfortable.

Aw shit, his cheeks feel all warm again. First around Y/N, now Carol? Maybe there is something to this whole concussion bullshit.

Or, maybe Carol done kissed you on the cheek and said you were a good man and that you did right by her little girl as much as a father should and that’s the best possible thing somebody could be told.

“Do you want some more coffee, too?”

I wanna to be left alone, lady. “Nah, m’great. Thank you.”

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

“Last night seemed to be an indication summer was officially over. But today,” Dale blows through his lips, “Well, we can already tell it’ll be a warm one.”

“Did we hit the first day of fall, yet? I forgot what date it is today.”

“No, that’s on the 21st. We’ve got some time.”

“Oh, wait!” you squeak (ouch, your throat is still sore from coughing). “Ain’t it the Holy Days for you still?” Rosh Hoshanah was sometime last week, but that one got sort of messed up because of everything that’s been going on.

Oh man, it was the day after Daryl got into his accident, wasn’t it?

Dale’s cordial expression falters. “Yes, it was last week.”

“Yom Kippur is soon then, right?”

“It’s on the 18th this year, yes. Two days away.”

There’s this very insistent raven that’s been cawing away. Or is that a crow? You can’t tell the difference. You can tell that you’ve bummed Dale out, however. “I’ve bummed you out.”

Smiling sadly, he concedes, “Jewish holidays are usually lonely ones in mixed company. And now, especially with it being the holiest time of the year, after everything…” He lifts his shoulders.

“I’ll do the fasting with you so you won’t be alone!” Ow, stop raising your voice so high. “Is it no food or drink at all on that day, or is water okay?”

A happier smile. “No food or drink — barring serious health concerns, of course, in which case, one is required to not fast.”

“No water must suck! When my lot do fasting, water don’t count.”

He nods his head once. “It’s all part of the atonement. It’s considered a blessing for us to fast for it.”

“And the feast after it is fun,” you sigh with a grin. You’ll enlist Carol and Lori to see about making him a yummy fast-breaking meal for the day.

This is what you needed. Dale didn’t press you regarding the panic attack, and has simply been keeping you company by the big rocks. You’ve haven’t had to go back onstage while he’s been sitting with you. You’d probably be content to stay here a good, long time if you didn’t have to use the toilet something major.

“Did you see if there was a pair of suspenders in the bags so you and Mr. Greene can match?”

“Is this your way of saying you’re feeling well enough to head back, or that you need privacy?”

“It’s my way of sayin’ I gotta go potty real bad.” You stand. “Suspenders are pretty cool, you can party like it’s 1899.”

“I actually quite like how suspenders look,” he chuckles, stretching and getting to his feet.

“Mm, they remind me of the Old West, I love ’em.”

Dale and you walk back until reaching the side of the farmhouse, whereupon you excuse yourself to head to the treeline and do your business.

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

As soon as the heat starts to sink in, he unbuttons his shirt halfway and kicks his shoes off. Getting the socks off without hurting himself takes some effort, but it’s worth it. His stuff is so squeaky clean and fresh, he wants to avoid sweating the place up too quick.

His old pillowcase is gone, probably scrapped for dishrags seeing as it was pretty worn. In its place is a flower-covered one with soft, thick cotton fabric. There's some phrase about a 'woman's touch' that must apply here. Or, if Merle were here, prime Darylina ammo. Joke's on him, the pillowcase is soft as hell.

And being in there might seem boring, but it's 10 times better than being stuck in a damn bed and listening to music for days on end. Just cloud-watching through his tent window is fun enough for him.

In fact, it’s rad! He’s so psyched to not be in that room anymore!

Cloud watching, playing with his bolts, farting if he's gotta; he's content as can be. Seriously, he’s in such a good mood right now.

But as luck would have it, by the time he’s decided to see how easily a bolt can poke a hole through the mesh window (the answer is very easily, and it’s real satisfying) none other than Andrea herself appears at his tent door. The chick who shot him.

Now, she’s pretty as a picture and then some, but he doesn’t want his belly showing in front of her. If he’d been paying attention and heard her making her way to him, he would’ve buttoned up.

So, he tries out the same tactic as last night, when Carol walked in on him shirtless; maybe by not closing his shirt, she wouldn’t think about it? Or…fuck it, just about everybody has seen some part of him uncovered in the past week. At least there ain’t no scars on this side.

All he’s got to do is make like he’s onstage and that it doesn’t bother him having his literal nipples on display.

“Hey.” Andrea steps into his tent, looking like she is about to eat crow.

She hands him a book. He accepts the maybe peace-offering.

“It’s not that great, but…” she trails off, breathes out, and looks guilty as hell.

Y/N, Carol, and T-Dog all mentioned she’s been kicking her own ass for shooting him. Granted, he’s still a little pissed, and, yeah, real thankful that she’s a shit shot, but — she was trying to protect the group, right? Ain’t even her fault he got stuck in that damn bed. The concussion, split side, and broken ribs did that for him.

He figures he’s gotta make it clear that she’s off the hook without making her feel worse for being let off the hook. And, he thinks he knows just the way to break the tension. It’d got the librarian at his high school to laugh the first time he made the remark, which is probably why he was usually allowed to eat in there during lunch.

Now, he knows reading is still on the no-go list, don’t worry, Y/N, but he casually holds the book up and flips through the pages.

He’s gotta, it’s the setup.

It’s good that Andrea ain’t said nothing yet, because it’s the perfect opportunity for him to pretend to be dead-serious when he complains, “What, no pictures?”

The joke does the trick. Andrea smiles and relaxes. “I’m so sorry. I feel like shit,” she starts to go on, but he puts a stop to it.

Tucking the book aside as he settles down onto the pillow, he cuts in, “You and me both.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but, if there’s anything I can do, I—”

He cuts in one more time, “—You were trying to protect the group. We’re good.” He means it.

But, ya know, just because things are chill doesn’t mean he can’t bust her balls a little, right? “But hey,” he stops her as she’s leaving. “Shoot me again, you best pray I’m dead.”

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

“It went great! Better than I ever expected.” Andrea takes a seat beside you on the log. Judging by the look of serenity on her face, it appears that the monkey she’s had on her back for the past week is finally gone.

“Good, m’glad.” You knew it would be fine, but Andrea was so nervous.

“And I have to say, I can see the appeal now.”

“What appeal?”

“Daryl was,” she thinks on the right word and picks: “Charming.”

Ah. You see what she’s trying to do. “Well, go tell him that, then,” you suggest, cool as a cucumber. She and Dale thought you and he had a romantic thing going on. Lol, nah.

“And he was funny!” she goes on.

You sip your tea. “Mm, he can be.”

“Not angry, or, or nasty.” She closes her eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief. “I was so worried about how it was going be.”

You tilt your head in partial agreement. He can be a dick.

Your job for the rest of the day, so Papa Dale done told you, is to be chill (yes, he used the word ‘chill’ and it was adorable). It’s your only responsibility today, seeing as he joined you when you went to check the highway spot for Sophia. She hasn’t found it, it’s untouched. Again.

So now, your job = keep chill.

“Are you helping with target practice later?”

Oh, right, and there’s that. You suppose you could continue helping Beth with drawing her weapon smoothly, keep drilling her never, ever forget to switch the safety back and forth.

But…maybe today, that isn’t your job. Maybe you need a rest from being onstage. “I think I’m gonna sit today out.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I just need a day,” you answer in too high a pitch.

Andy doesn’t inquire further. “How’s the little fuzzball?” she instead asks.

“Still sleeping,” you coo. The sluggish little chick you’d scooped up while quickly sprinkling feed-corn in order to feel useful is your insurance for keeping chill. Can’t not keep chill with a chick asleep in your lap.

“It must feel nice and safe wrapped up like that.”

“Mm.” The chick is nestled in a dishtowel, half its body also covered by your new cardigan.

“Y/N, have you not gone to visit him yet?”

“Not yet. He’d appreciate some time to himself, I reckon, after a week bein’ stuck in there and visitors and checkups at all hours.”

Glenn’s off doing farm chores with Jimmy, so he’s being kept busy and won’t be a concern. As for you, you’ve got your sleepy chick and are content to stay here on the log. You ate lunch, yet another peach (you’re up to six), just finished the leftover raspberries, and are now washing it all down with some fresh mint tea you made in honor of one of your best friends. She’d make her own mint tea and would call it ‘wild mint’ tea because it sounded exotic.

When Dale mentioned today’s date, you realized it was her birthday. She was the most confident girl you’d ever met, and a sweetheart to boot. You really hope she’s alive.

Andrea chuckles to herself. “I gave him that terrible book to keep him occupied.”

Book?? “A book?”

“I brought him The Case of the Missing Man,” she shares with a grin. “He can join the survivor’s club of those who’ve read it — Y/N, is something wrong?”

“Oh, um, nah, it’s all good, uh,” you are fumbling so hard right now. Cool, you’re feeling lightheaded again, cool cool.

It’s all cool. There’s no fire. Stay chill. “I’m gonna pop over and make sure he ain’t cracked into it yet, he’s, it’s, it’s not safe yet. C-Concussion and all.” Listen to you, smooth like butter.

“Oh shit.”

“Andy, don’t sweat. Even if he did start on it, like,” and you pause, because, “I don’t actually know what can go wrong, I didn’t ask Miss Patricia, but I’m sure it ain’t nothing serious!” You cup the (awoken and now loudly peeping) chick between your hands as you book it (pun intended?) to Daryl’s tent.

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

For Y/N to glide over wearing a pretty dress, hair all fancy, and holding some little bird was not something he put on his bingo sheet.

“Hiya, Daryl.”

It takes him a second. “Hey.” Never seen her in a dress, is all. And with that little bird, he gets the image in his head of her bursting into song and the farm animals and forest critters doing a musical number with her.

He’ll *ahem* keep that to himself...

“I hope you’re enjoyin’ your new freedom! Mi—”

“—Who’s the little guy?” he had to ask first.

“It's a chick.”

Clearly. “Why?”

“It’s cute.”

She ain’t wrong. “…Can I see?”

“Yeah, it's adorable!”

He begins to get up, but she steps over faster than he can stand. She kneels beside his cot and, delicately, transfers the wrapped chick into his hands. He carefully unwraps the washcloth around it and slips his hand underneath it so sits on his palm with its teeny legs dangling through his fingers. It’s peeping like it’s getting paid for it, holy shit it’s so fucking cute.

“I came here wonderin’ if I might I borrow the, uh, the book Andrea just lent you?”

Ha, called it! The second Y/N found out he had contraband, she came to the rescue.

The chick quiets down, appearing to relax in his hand.

Maybe it’s because he’s in a good mood, but he smiles like a dipshit for a few moments before saying anything. “Nah, I wouldn’t dream of checking it out ’til you said it was fine.”

“Oh ha-ha,” she play-mocks, assuming he wasn’t being serious.

Eh, okay, maybe he was sorta razzing her, too. But he wants to come out on the other side of this whole concussion bullshit on the up, and if reading is still off-limits, it’s still off limits. He’s not gonna full-on disregard somebody who gives a shit.

“How’d ya end up dressed like that?” is his second question while he pets the chick lightly along its head with the feathers on his bolt.

“I wear this, like, all the time.”

“Oh right, yeah, you do,” he sarcastically responds. He tries to reach with his left arm to pick up the book under his cot, but gets a sharp twinge and surrenders that he can’t do that move yet.

Y/N snorts at the sarcasm and tells him straight, “The Greenes had some giveaways, so Beth gave me this outfit. Oh, thank you,” she says when he instead points in the direction of the book. She picks it up and hugs it to herself. “I do believe Carol put a few things aside for you to try on, too.”

“’Kay.”

Y/N looks pretty.

It’s nothing new, obviously her face is nice, but it's the whole blushing things that's annoying. Seems he's started blushing like a belle over all the damn women in camp these days. That really was some smack to the head he got.

He’s imagining himself as being back onstage again, forgetting his lines. He can ad-lib. “How you gonna search in that?”

“Ain’t like my ankles are tied together. Women have always been able to move, play, do manual labor of all sorts in dresses, corsets, stays, stockin’s, you name it,” she serves back with just enough fire that his belly did one of those good flippy-floppys. “That reminds me, Nervous Nelly came back! Did any of us tell you? She’s fine as can be, I fed her half a peach yesterday!”

Some of them baby hairs around her face are coming out of the braids. Her skin's got a sheen to it. And did she put pink stuff on her cheeks or something? Or is that because she was moving around a lot and it’s gotten warm out? Because her lips don’t look like there’s nothing on them but they’re nice and —

“—Dare, you okay?”

“Yeah. Tired.”

“You must be.” Why is she frowning? “You looked like you’d just got hypnotized or — you sure you feel normal?”

“M’fine, I just spaced out.”

She’s gonna have him do a thing, isn’t she? “Follow my finger for a little, please?” Ah-ha, see?

Pointer finger extended, he goes along with it for the 10 or so seconds it takes for the slight crease between her eyebrows to relax.

“Please stick out your tongue for me?” is her next request and, uh, why?

Well, he goes ahead and does it for her anyway. The hook ’em horns he makes at the same time are a sure sign he’s in a good-ass mood.

Y/N lets herself smile, then elaborates: “If it came out tilted, it’s a sign of stroke.”

Stroke? That’s a little much.“C’mon, you’re worried I had a stroke?”

She nods once. Her chest expands big as if she were inhaling really deep. “A smoker, extended bed rest, head trauma,” she quietly counts.

Is he hearing things, or does her breathing sound a little too fast?

“Can you point your toes three times?”

He point his toes three times, and yes, her breathing is a little too fast.

“Now please lift both arms parallel to the bed.”

He lifts both arms. The baby chicken is sleeping now and doesn’t wake with the motion.

“Okay,” Y/N whispers to herself.

“Tell me you’re not stressing out about nothin’.”

She blinks a few times and deadpans, “I would never.”

“Here,” he holds the chick near her face. “Get zen like this pipsqueak.”

“But you ain’t ‘nothing’ and you are at an elevated stroke risk.”

He’s only got the one word for her: “Zen.” The hovering motion he made with the chick was a fun touch, the little thing didn’t even mind.

Her expression suggests she’s trying to not smile, and, in a move he doesn’t anticipate, she leans forward to rub her nose on its beak. Her lips brush against his fingertips when she does and his train of thought derails.

Next thing, her hands are overlapping his as she gently takes the chick back and re-wraps it in the washcloth. “’Lil buddy you’re fine, you’re fine,” she coos. “I’ll grab you the hand sanitizer and leave you to some peace, alright man?” she addresses to Daryl, who's still a little distracted, so a grunt and a chin tilt is how he acknowledges this.

Merle would be laughing his ass off right now, goddamn. ‘Sweet lil virgin Darylina’ sounds about what he’d be cackling about.

Y/N flips open the cap with her thumb and squirts the hand stuff onto his palm. Smells like lemons.

So, he didn’t have that stuff before, meaning she’d likely been the one to put it in there when she’d cleaned his tent with Carol. “Hey, um, thanks for the surprise.” Damn, he’s awkward. Smells way better in here.”

“Carol is so wanting to help you in any way she can. I was in it just to see you end up with that pretty floral pillowcase. I had to stop her from hangin' the matching curtains,” she snickers, then waves him goodbye and, boom, leaves.

So…how long until his heartbeat and head stop racing?

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

Yet another stage performance today. You had to act like you weren’t distracted by how boyishly charming Daryl looked lounging there with his shirt unbuttoned to his hecking waist, good Moses. Then the way he snuggled the chick, how your legit lips bumped into his fingers?? He noticed your panicking and was all soothing and shit? Dude, and you were trying to sit like a dainty lady the whole time, too, what a poser.

Still, you think you were convincing. Oscar-worthy. Golden Globe. Emmy. Tony. Somebody hook you up with your EGOT.

Oh, and that little jab at his new pillowcase, aw yes, that was top tier friendzoning! Or — oh, it wasn’t interpreted as flirting, right? No way did you intend that! And hold up, no way he'd even care. It's Daryl.

You've earned a B- so far at being chill, you've got to get that grade up.

So, you are going to go pick fruit, alone, and you’re going to stuff your face because the show is over, you’re off stage for the rest of the day!

------------------------------------------

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[j0kers-light]

Innocent!reader , wearing a summer dress (I know it’s December 😭) , and not being aware of its effect on joker . Please bring back innocent!reader , need more of her 😭🩷🩷

His Lighthouse: Summatime Fine (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Summatime Fine - Oneshot

Image Credit

It’s the long awaited return of innocent!reader! Joker's sweet girl is finally back in this long awaited part two!

Its not December anymore anon and I am terribly sorry for filling this ask so late. I come bearing a lil something something as a thank you for your patience! I encourage you to listen to the song that inspired me to write this oneshot! Enjoy! 💖✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

You are a f__king tease and the worst part? You were completely unaware of the effect you had on Joker.

He thought he purged that blissfully ignorant demeanor of yours, but alas you were still a virgin at heart. A part of him loved it— another wanted to fully corrupt you until nothing innocent remained. Yet you were still his sweet little doll he so desperately wanted to defile.

Your childlike view of the world was so painstakingly cute, it made him want to vomit. Your natural kindness practically begged him to destroy it. Would it be wrong if he spoiled the secrets of your youth? Santa wasn’t real, neither was the Easter bunny and gasp! Okay, he’d let you keep the tooth fairy. That one was too cute to ruin.

He loved exchanging your baby teeth for jewelry and other pretty things. Granted that it fit under your pillow.

Joker found it his mission to protect your naivety from the gruesome world. The extremely sheltered childhood you endured molded you into the person you were today. Joker could live out the rest of his days in your pink little bubble, but he knew that was impossible with his lifestyle.

You were still shy and bashful, uncertain of your own body, but the worst of them all—you were unaware of the control you held over Joker.

If you batted your lashes, he was a goner—forever doomed to follow behind you like a lovesick puppy, wagging his tail. He could come to terms better if you were intentionally trying to seduce him. He could fight back if you were in on this game of cat and mouse but that wasn’t the case.

Your body was still a prize to be had and poor naïve you did not know that the situations you put yourself in were utter torture to Joker.

Getting stuck in the dryer with just your butt sticking out? Stretching on the couch and practically pushing your breasts in his face? Or when you knelt on the floor with your mouth wide open begging for cock?

Okay, maybe that last one was a fap dream, but still!

How did you not know what you were doing to him? You still went about the apartment cooking and cleaning in those skimpy clothes, and he loved how you still bit your lip and looked away whenever he gave you a compliment.

You adored his silly jokes and that smile of yours would always make him a simp. He took your virginity, yet nothing really changed about you.

Your stupid parents protected you from anything remotely sexual and it was now Joker’s job to educate you. And boy did he have his work cut out.

He would try and instigate things, whether smacking your behind as you walked past or palming your breasts mid make out sessions, all to no avail. One night Joker dry humped you right to the edge of bliss only for you to fall asleep, leaving him raging hard and dumbfounded.

He couldn’t believe you fell asleep during foreplay. It was a blow to his ego and he had no other choice but to jerk off and fall sleep, questioning if he could put up with this for much longer.

He had to take a step back and remember your lack of experience. You didn’t know that you were horny and even after a trip to the clinic, you were still clueless.

You were a child compared to his extensive knowledge of sex. If Joker didn’t tell you his intentions outright, then his dirty comments and attempts at flirting would go through one ear and out the other.

Despite all of this, his little Bunny was smart. You craved knowledge on this secret world of sex—your subconscious actions proved that much; and what better teacher than himself?

Your first night was all about you but Joker wanted to change that. He wanted to test your skills giving pleasure. He remembered the promise he made, ‘I’ll let ya have a uhh, taste, another day Bunny.’

He was a man of his word and let you explore.

Joker was amazed to discover that you lacked a gag reflex and loved the taste of his cum. It was only natural that he teased you about it. “My sweet girl don’tcha re-mem-ber? You gave me such an attitude about how you taste. What was it? Uhh tangy and salty?”

You reminisced back to the night that you lost your virginity. Joker kissed you after eating you out (much to your disgust) and now you felt embarrassed for subconsciously craving his cum.

“I wonder.... what do I taste like, sweet girl?” Joker purred.

His words always made you feel funny.

It happened to be a kink of yours Joker explained. An idea, thing, or act that made you aroused. Every night it seemed you added more and more to your growing list.

And Joker’s influence didn’t stop there. He took educating you very seriously and found informative sex-ed material for you to read in your downtime. He wanted you to know about your anatomy and how to take care of it.

Your parents should’ve been the ones teaching you this stuff but alas.. They were absolute morons.

It was embarrassing to learn about your own body another person (even worse from a man), but you were grateful that Joker took the time and cared enough to do it.

You didn’t want to imagine the alternative of being taken advantage of due to your lack of experience. Joker was a bit rough but what else did you expect from him? It could have been a lot worse.

It was a miracle that he took the time to talk you through every step of sex and then exposed you to the wonders of aftercare.

You couldn’t ask for a better partner. It was why you did well to study hard and learn everything that you could. You actually looked forward to ‘pop quiz’ days. For obvious reasons.

Joker made you lie back on his chest in front of your giant floor length mirror. When you were in position with your legs spread wide open, the test would begin. “Mmm, whaT is this?”

You squirmed as his fingers stroked your outer lips in a v shape, making them slick with your juices. “It’s ah! That’s my labia!”

You felt, more than heard Joker’s approving hum and he didn’t waste any time finding the next body part to quiz you on.

Joker forced you to keep your eyes open and pay attention despite the overwhelming pleasure. He would bite your neck if it took you too long to remember. The sharp pain did little to jog your brain nor did his fingertips rubbing fast circles on your bundle of nerves.

“I think you know what this is.” He laughed as you jerked wantonly in his hold.

Try as you might, you couldn’t answer, especially not when Joker plunged two fingers deep into your pussy and started thrusting them. “What is this, hey shushhhh... hush now doll. Focus. What is this spongy... sensitive... ooey gooey spot that’s melt~ting under my touch?”

So what if you failed that night’s pop quiz? You disqualified yourself by cumming but you still felt like a winner.

Slowly but surely Joker was introducing you to the ways of sex with new and exciting lessons. Soon you would be the insatiable vixen he secretly desired.

If only you would cooperate. It seemed like after sex was over, you were back to your shy, timid self—hiding underneath the covers and asking J, “Did I do okay?”

All he could do was chuckle under his breath ‘It's always the shy ones,’ before tackling you with kisses.

His Princess was a handful yet no one else would have the honor of knowing you so intimately. Joker would kill anyone who dared try. Over time he coped with the fact that you would always be his sweet girl, as innocent as spring.

Which is why he dedicated himself to protecting you. Somehow you convinced J to visit a farmer’s market with you in the Cauldron.

It was a beautiful day out and the people milling around the market brought a lively festive atmosphere to the area.

The crowd was tolerable, but Joker was being a grumpy stick in the mud, preferring to be holed up in an underground hideout or better yet, in your apartment, far away from others. The things he did to make you happy. However, it wasn’t all terrible.

The crowd was an insignificant backdrop when his sweet girl dressed up to the nines stole the show. It took you almost an hour to doll yourself up, but he very much appreciated the final product. You were the focal point in all your beauty.

Your colored skin was fitted with your signature hue of bubblegum pink. Today’s summer dress had detailing that followed the curve of your back right down the bodice. He loved the puffy sleeves and the swooped neckline on you.

You had stopped to quite literally smell the roses, while Joker counted the buttons down your back. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen...

“J? Did you hear me?” Your sweet voice danced on the wind right into his ear. There was never a time that Joker wasn’t laser focused on you. As if he’d miss a single word you said.

“Uhhhh, yeah.” He fished out a dub for you, “Here, pretty girl.”

Ugh you loved the numerous pet names he held for you. Of course, he valued you as a person and knew your real name, but sweet girl, princess, and bunny just sparked something in you. It made you feel special.

You smiled wide and turned back around to exchange the twenty dollar bill with the vendor. It didn’t dawn on you that Joker gave you real money—the both of you were too distracted to make it into a big deal.

Little did you know, Joker was analyzing in the bun you styled your hair in. It was so perfect, not a single strand out of place. You even wore a cute pearl bow as a functional hair clip. Everything matched to create a timeless look.

He stole gifted you a pair of pearl earrings and they glistened each time you moved your head. The cutout of your dress made it impossible to wear a bra, but Joker was taller than you and could see straight down your front. Your tits looked good from any angle.

Random people in the crowd admired the living doll walking amongst them and if not for your scary guard dog (ahem Joker) anyone brave enough could’ve walked up and hit on you.

That would never happen on his watch. Only he could have you.

Joker invested so much into you; it would be a shame for some lesser man to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Joker didn’t care how he looked glued to your side; he wasn’t leaving.

You were all dressed up in pink and ballerina heels with your tall, imposing boyfriend cloaked in black and metal. A grunge king with his ethereal princess. You and Joker were opposites in so many ways, yet the relationship just worked.

He loved seeing the innocent wonder shine through your e/c eyes as he explained different kinds of knives and torture methods, and you enjoyed helping him stir cake batter after the horrific lesson. Nothing he did scared you away. J could do no wrong in your sheltered eyes.

Speaking of your innocence, it was tangible in the afternoon air. It must’ve been the way the sun beamed down on you like a spotlight or perhaps it was the dress you were wearing. Either way, Joker couldn’t stop staring.

How could he ignore the way you wore your hair? You carried yourself with a regal splendor, even if you were self-conscious almost all of the time. You were quite the sight to be seen in his opinion.

You thanked the stall owner and lifted your new bouquet of flowers to your nose.

You took in the delicate scent; Joker drank in the sight of you. Times like this he wished he carried that Polaroid camera with him more often. He could take a thousand pictures of you and still fail to capture your beauty properly.

It was the little things you did that made him want to stay with you. If he lost you? No. He didn’t want to consider the possibility. He was already insane; you were the only thing keeping him from turning into a killing machine. You and your infinite beauty, he could barely breathe right while in your presence.

You were caught in a ray of sunlight and Joker’s eyes widened in awe. Those sunlit eyes of yours… they could rival the world’s finest gems.

And somehow you were blissfully ignorant of the destruction that one single look from you could inflict. Hence the state Joker found himself in.

“Is there something wrong, J? Your eyes look really spacey.” You lowered your flowers and devoted your full attention on Joker.

And that seemed to make the situation worse. Undiscovered shades of green swirled within Joker’s eyes. He was most definitely spaced out and you were to blame. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He swore under breath and grabbed your hand. You yelped and tried your best to keep up with Joker’s long strides in your dainty heels. A few people looked on in concern, but none dared to speak up against Joker.

He was a man on a mission.

There weren’t that many options at this dumb farmer’s market, but he’d make do. He had to.

“J-J.. where are you taking us?” You gasped as he shoved the nearby park’s restroom door open and flung you inside.

The lock dial turned to occupied and his mask was ripped off. Then it was just you and Joker in the cramped public bathroom.

It wasn’t what he had in mind and definitely not the best locale, judging by your adorable pout. Both of you knew that you deserved better accommodations than this.

You didn’t have a chance to argue since Joker backed you into the door to cup your face. Your flowers fell from your grasp in order to hold onto Joker’s hair.

His kisses had a way of erasing your thoughts. Your only brain function was breathing and moving your lips to match Joker’s urgent pace.

He devoured you whole and only pulled back to catch his breath. “I need ya. Right. Now.”

He was already lifting your dress up when you replied, “H-Here?” You glanced around the stall in open disgust. Surely, he was joking. His devilish smile said otherwise.

“Are you wet for me, baby doll? Lemme check.” Joker dropped to his knees and grinned, finding a wet spot already ruining your panties.

Your mouth might deny, deny, deny but your body craved J without a doubt.

Joker peeled your panties to the side and lapped at your juices. Your instincts cautioned you to be quiet, (this was a public place after all) but Joker reached up and pulled your hand away from your mouth.

“None of that, doll. I wanna hear ya. Cry out if it uh, feels good. I know it doesss.” He resumed his focus back on your pussy and indulged himself like a starved man.

Joker’s loud slurps and eager swallows filled the hollowed room and forced you to hold onto his hair for balance. You refused to touch anything inside this place for support.

The back of your head banged against the door, “J, it feels weird.. please I can’t..”

He pulled away to lock eyes with you. “Aht ahttt. You know better, Princess. If you’re gonna cum, then... use your uhh, big girl words, ‘n tell me. None of that shy girl s__t.”

You totally forgot about Joker’s rules in the throes of passion. You were educated now, so he expected you to speak accordingly.

You mentally corrected yourself. Your pussy felt weird because Joker was eating you out with every intention of making you climax on his face. Now if only you could articulate that out loud..

He flicked his tongue against your clit, causing you to lose your train of thought. It only took a moment, but you cried out and came over Joker's tongue. He was upset that you didn’t express yourself more, but he still growled in delight before cleaning up his treat.

He stood up and bent down towards you, but you turned your head away, “Eww no kisses!!”

Now that got a laugh from your clown. You still thought your own cum was yucky. He was still chuckling to himself as he undid his belt. The sharp chime it made always got your attention.

You raised an eyebrow when he began grinding his hard on into your thigh. “J-Joker?” Did he not get what he wanted?

“I saidddddd. I need ya, Y/n. It’ll be quick, I p-prom— oh f__k!” Joker moaned mid-sentence, feeling your wet pussy welcoming his dick inside. It felt like coming home after a long day, you were amazing.

You knew how big Joker was, you held his girth in your hands before. He was a big boy and yet he respected the size difference every time the two of you joined. Slow and steady was the game until he was flush with your hips.

He would remain there until you nodded that it was okay to move.

Just because you were no longer a virgin didn’t mean your pussy could accommodate him so quickly. There would always be a stretch to fight through and overcome. But after a while, you gave him the green light to start.

It felt criminal to depart from your warmth, but that delicious friction was sought after by the both of you. The first few thrusts were always the most intense and your toes curled in your heels as Joker pistoled back inside you with a guttural groan. He readjusted his grip on you right before he pulled out again—only to bottom out at a snail’s pace. The heavy drag of him brushing against your walls was just too good to rush.

Now that Joker pinned you to the door, you could cling onto his shoulders and relax.

You trusted him to hold you steady, like he’d ever let you fall. He loved how you buried your face into his shoulder when it became too much. It gave him the perfect opportunity to kiss along your neck and coo in your ear.

“M’sorry, Princess. I just need to.. I just need. Agh, I can’T.. get enough of ya.” Joker groaned into your ear.

His pace suddenly picked up and rattled the door against your back with each powerful thrust. Should anyone walk by the park restroom, it was obvious what was happening inside. That thought made you gush even more on Joker who immediately took notice.

“Look at yoooooooou my pretty. Little. Slut. Taking cock in some uh, public stall. You that needy doll?” His grip tightened on your waist as he sped up even more. You swore you could feel him hitting your brain, he was so deep.

The wet slap of his balls repeatedly hitting your thighs rang out in the empty stall. There was no way you were walking out of here and Joker knew it.

But how dare he blame this on you? You were minding your own business at the market before he dragged you in here! You had to put your foot down. “No! Ah, y-you’re the needy one, J!”

He was too far gone in your pussy to hear your weak cries but you finally got his attention by clenching down on his dick. He shuddered to a standstill before regaining his momentum. There was no way you were becoming self-aware of your charms and using them against him. Joker glanced your way, only to find that you were already staring at him.

He couldn’t take your fluttering walls and your smoldering eyes.

Both were just too much so he buried his face in your neck. “I know, sweet girl! J-Just uh.. f__k, meeee. Why are you soooo tight?” Joker had to catch his breath and get your permission. “I need ya to cum, Princess. Ya got one more?”

Two orgasms seemed to be your limit and it was sweet enough of Joker to ask if you could cum again instead of expecting it from you. He made sure you stayed hydrated to get the most out of your big O’s.

At this point you were cock drunk, so he took your subby uh huh’s as a yes and smiled wide. “Atta girl, go on... don’t be... nghh, shy bunny. Let me have itttt.”

The audible slaps, Joker’s praise in your ear, and the eye rolling thrusts he pounded into your pussy, it was all too much to handle.

Your whole body shook in Joker’s hold as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your nails punctured holes in his jacket, not that he minded, and you crossed your ankles over his back—locking him right where you wanted him to be.

It was a nonverbal signal for him to let go and cum inside.

Joker chanted your name as each rope of cum shot into your cunt. He never came this much; it was making him dizzy, however his grip on your never faltered. The last thing he would ever do was drop his Princess regardless of his physical state. He just sagged his weight onto the door, squishing you further into the hard surface.

The room was quiet save for the collective pants of air you and Joker took. You breathed in his exhale and vice versa until he leaned back to gaze into your eyes.

He wasn’t surprised to find they were heart shaped and hazy. He had no doubt that his were similar. “You feelin’ alright, doll?”

Was he kidding? You felt amazing! At least, the parts that you could feel. There was a numb, tingling buzz spreading throughout your body after such a powerful orgasm. You were in the arms of your lover riding your afterglow; there was no doubt you were satisfied.

You caressed Joker’s scars with a big smile. It slipped your mind that he was the one that instigated this interaction. But almost like clockwork, the sex was over, and you were reverting back to your naïve ways.

“I want strawberries, J.”

Joker almost dropped you after hearing that.

Only his sweet girl would blurtout something so random after sex. He wheezed out a laugh and with great care, carried you over to the sink area.

You made a noise upon contact and Joker rolled his eyes at your inner germaphobe having a conniption. It was too little, too late to be acting out. You did just have sex with him in a public bathroom after all.

“Calm down, Bunny. We’ll uhh, clean you up, later. Lemme fix ya back pretty. Mkay?” He waited until you pouted and eventually nodded before starting.

Joker wetted a wad of paper towels and wiped your pussy and inner thighs as best he could. The soap was abysmal, so he went without. Your panties were soiled with his cum, but it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last occurrence. Joker secretly liked you walking around with a reminder of what he did to you.

Joker was fixing you back presentable when you batted your lashes at him. “Okay.... I still want strawberries. Can I get some, J?”

He was still confused. How could your mind quickly bounce from sex to fruit? “Huh?”

“J.... listen! I saw some fresh strawberries at the farmer’s market like a few stalls down. Can you buy me a pint? Ooh and replace my flowers? You.... you um stepped on them when you...”

The tips of your ears turned red and Joker knew why. It was far too easy to tease you.

He tipped your chin up, “When I whaT, Bunny?” A quick glance over at the floor revealed the trampled flowers underfoot.

You didn’t need to explain. They were no doubt a victim of his efforts to pound into you without abandon. The flowers were replaceable and judging by your watery eyes, he’d better buy you new ones and fresh strawberries or he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Whatever his sweet girl wants, she gets. That was his motto from the very beginning, and he considered himself a man of his word.

Joker sighed to himself, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. Let's go get my gooo~oood girl a reward then we’ll errr head on home, ‘kay? I might get ya dirty again before I get ya all cleaned up.”

“How does that sound, Princess?” Joker bopped you on the nose. Your bashful nod was your only response. Now that wouldn’t do!

He bent down to kiss your cheek, making sure that the exaggerated mwah got a response out of you. Just his luck, it did. He smiled wide at the peal of laughter you let out. “Okay!”

His sweet girl laughing was the best sound in the world.  

[reysdriver]

Kill Him With Cuteness | J.P.

you and your daughter show James your Easter outfits — dad!james x mom!reader

warnings: fluff so sweet it'll rot your teeth

words: 0.5k

a/n: I forgot I was gonna write james easter stuff and I might make more but here's one I hope it's not too late!

“Alright, Jamie, we’re ready!” You called down the stairs to your husband. “What about you?” 

You already knew the answer to your own question. James was so excited to see you and your adorable daughter in your Easter outfits, but you may or may not have taken your time on purpose to tease him. 

“Yes, of course. Let’s see it!” He called up. 

You grabbed your daughter’s hand and reminded her to hold onto the railing as she walked down with you. Her Potter curls were tied up with pink scrunchies and her pigtails bobbed with each step she took. She was wearing a pastel rainbow dress and the cutest Mary Janes to match. 

You thought she couldn’t look any more adorable, but you were quickly proven wrong. Her toothy smile doubled in width at the sight of her dad. 

He was crouched down with his arms open, waiting for a hug that the little girl immediately gave him. She jumped down from the last step and ran into his arms, allowing James to get a look at you now. You wore a floral sundress in similar colours to your daughter, and James loved it. 

“You’re matching with your mum!” He said to your daughter after letting her out of his arms. “And you both look so pretty! Don’t you think so?”

She just gave him a giggle and a shy twirl as a response. She started fiddling with a lock of her hair, and James pressed a series of quick kisses all over her face, punctuating the last one with a loud ‘mwah!’. 

“Everyone at the party is gonna be all over you, bug, I promise.” He told her as he scooped the toddler up into his strong arms and stood up to his full height. Then he looked back at you. “The same is gonna happen to you, but I’ll do my best to keep them away.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Yeah, I’m so worried your mates will steal me away from you.”

“You never know, they’re sneaky. Plus someone as pretty as you could corrupt even the most innocent of people.”

You laughed at his joke and ruffled his hair lovingly with the one hand that wasn’t behind your back, holding the last surprise. 

“So, are we ready to go?”

“I think so.” He said, bouncing your daughter a bit. “Are you ready, bug?”

“My ears.” She responded, much to James’ confusion. 

“Oh that’s right! How could I forget those?” You pulled your hand out from behind your back, revealing the bunny ear headband you had bought for her. She giggled as you put it on her, happy to complete the holiday ensemble. “Now you have your ears and they look so precious! What do you think, Jamie?”

He looked back at you, lovesick over both you and your toddler. “I think you’re trying to kill me with cuteness here, love.”

[greenhousethree]

Good Enough

100-Word Drabbles for Arthur and Ginny Weasley

Fifteen drabbles written for @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week, Oct 16th: Arthur Weasley. Read below or on AO3.

i.

“You’re joking.”

Molly chews back her smile, shakes her head coyly. The house isn’t quiet, per say, but in a rare stroke of luck the twins and Ronnie’s naps have aligned.

And he’s wedged around the bathroom sink with his wife, giggling like children over a potion that’s just changed color.

“A girl…”

The day she’s born, Fabian is there. Peers over the bassinet for so long, Arthur wonders if he too is counting ten perfect pink toes.

“Shit,” he says to Arthur over a cigar that night, after talking war, “this world will never be good enough for her.”

ii.

It’s his turn tonight, when they hear little feet across the kitchen floor. He’s not surprised it’s her, face still blotchy, hair sticking up everywhere from this afternoon’s tantrum that left her knackered.

She whips around in the pantry doorway, eyes like saucers. “I’m hungry.”

After leftover stew from her yellow paisley bowl, he lays in bed with her. Grants her request for a story on the condition she doesn’t suck her thumb.

“Once upon a time, there was a witch named Ginny who lived in a deep, dark wood…”

“No, Daddy,” she whispers, eyes nearly closed. “I’m a dragon.”

iii.

Molly tells him she cried the whole way home from King’s Cross. By early afternoon, he can still tell— the aftershocks seem to surprise her, those gasping little breaths. 

“You know the best part of being the last one left,” he divulges over homemade strawberry ice cream that has yet to do the trick, “is that no one’s here to fight you for your pick of broomstick.”

The rest of her bowl melts on the porch swing. She’s out until it gets dark in the orchard, comes in for supper with leaves in her hair and the biggest jack-o-lantern grin. 

iv.

The day they bring her back home, he carries her trunk upstairs and sits beside her on the bed. Apologizes for ever blaming her, even for a second. 

She counters by saying something lifeless and self-loathing and broken. Eleven-year-old fingers pick at bruised nail beds— tiny, perfect hands. He still can’t fathom it.

That night, Molly brings her dinner and doesn’t come back down. When he heads up to bed, he sees they’ve clearly emptied all her shelves, stacked every novel and journal and textbook outside her door where they can’t hurt her. 

He’s never been angrier in his life.

v.

Since this morning, he’s meant to tell her he’s sorry— sorry they couldn’t offer her anything better on her birthday than this condemnable house-turned-war room. Sorry for the second-hand leather satchel wrapped in faded Christmas paper, even though she wanted a broom; sorry everyone’s thoughts are on tomorrow’s hearing.

After dinner he finally says it, out of Molly’s earshot. Sitting on the stairs leading from the kitchen, plates of fudgy cake in hand. 

“Don’t apologize.” She’s still smiling huge, bumps his shoulder. The Flatulence Fez the twins crowned her with slips down over one eye. “I really love the bag.”

vi.

It should’ve been the day that made them proudest as parents, marrying off their firstborn. It wasn’t. 

This morning, they boxed up centerpieces and charger plates in the shed, repaired all the furniture, met with the Order. His ears still ring. The house is eerie without those three. 

He finds them in her room. His wife is clutching their daughter as she sobs harder than he’s ever seen, inconsolable, wracking herself hoarse. He feels it like a sword to the chest.

In bed later, Molly shakes her head with that look he earns sometimes when he’s being thick. “She’s heartbroken.”

vii.

Friday before Easter, he changes from work robes into something Muggle and tweed and itchy. Platform 9¾ is packed with people avoiding eye contact, and the Express is late. It was late in December, too— arrived without Luna. He waits, terror tightening his throat.

He’s numb with relief when he sees her, one of the only kids lugging a trunk like he advised. She’s swimming in a jumper he’s sure is Ron’s, and that twinges a bit. There’s something different, he notices, walking to the entrance. Colder. Quiet. He doesn’t ask… can’t quite bear to.

Four days later, they flee.

viii.

She’s fighting him. Kicking, clawing.

He holds on with everything he has, arms clasped around her chest, and it’s like he can feel her breaking inside. But if he lets go, he’ll lose her, too. Like Fred. 

Like the body they’re all staring at, lifeless at Hagrid’s feet.

Weeks later, when the Boy Who Lived finds him in the shed one night, hedging, guiltier than anyone he’s ever seen, he already knows. For a moment he considers letting the kid squirm, like the father ought to do.

But then he remembers her first year, and wordlessly hands over a screwdriver. 

ix.

“One more,” she tells their waitress, pointing at a coaster she’s put in the middle. “For my sixth brother.”

The table falls quiet. But then George chuckles and they all take his cue, except Molly.

Snow collects on the windows as the bangers and pies and chips are served. She laments early-morning practices to them all, pretends she’s already bored of all the travel.

“Knock it off,” Charlie snickers, grinning. “Rookies can’t complain. We know you’re having a blast.”

At the end of the night she beats everyone to the bar, pays their tab. Arthur suspects it’s her whole paycheck.

x.

“I definitely saw you cry,” she accuses. She’s graceful even in smugness, grinning something wicked over her lipstick-stained champagne flute.

He pretends to grumble, but he knows she knows. “Hard not to, with the bloody groom getting all choked up.”

The band calls them up soon after, and he pulls her close. “It’s okay,” she murmurs as her face starts to blur again, inches away. “Just admit you’ve gone soft, Dad. I won’t tell.” He tugs on her hand to spin her, chuckling.

They cut cake, and Harry whispers something that makes her laugh, and she lights up the room.

xi.

Predictably, the stadium loses it when she flies out with a new surname on her kit. Ron rolls his eyes as she lands on the pitch with a bit of swagger.

She flies well today, but he reckons she could miss every shot and the commentators would still talk of nothing else. In the stands, Harry laughs when Arthur leans over to ask how it feels to play second fiddle. 

“I’ll never be good enough for her,” he snorts over the rim of his pint. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

She scores twelve goals, and the Harpies clinch playoffs.

xii.

“I’d kill for a drink about now,” she mutters, leaning against the railing. He knows better than to say she probably shouldn’t be out here, either— the venue’s porch, serving as refuge for men who normally never smoke.

He takes a long drag as they watch her boys toddle after their dad on the lawn. “Nearly there, sweetheart.” Treading lightly with his words, lest he incur any of what Muriel’s other well-intended mourners did with their attempts at small talk (“Like a fucking whale, thanks for asking”).

“Hey,” she smirks, “maybe you and Mum can buy a beach cottage now.”

xiii.

The mug Molly poured when they arrived is tepid now, sitting on the table. Shadows lengthen like ghosts beneath his daughter’s eyes; he suspects they’re five days old.

The kids are all asleep, Molly updates them.

Her jaw tightens. At her temple, he notices a couple of gray strands. “I can’t—” she whispers. Squeezes her eyes shut; nothing else comes out. “They need their dad. I’m not good enough on my own.”

“He’ll come home safe, darling. Always does.” And he makes her promise to never say that again. 

He takes both of her hands in his, and they’re cold.

xiv.

They’re celebrating Ted and Vic beneath a canopy of fairy lights. Bill’s weepy toast prompts Fleur to frisk his brothers till she finds George’s flask.

She never realizes Ginny’s stowing the bottle. 

His children outlast their kids and spouses. It’s one of those nights he can’t let himself miss, tired as he is. 

His daughter points a wobbly finger. “Lils has a boyfriend, by the way. Doesn’t think we know. Harry’s going spare.”

He chuckles. “Now he gets it. Imagine trying to justify hating the Chosen One.”

She laughs, nearly tips her chair. “You should tell him that. Might help.”

xv.

It comes in waves. Feels like a lifetime has passed since yesterday; another before that. Molly— bless her— tried to prepare him for it. Tried to comfort him. Imagine.

It feels too big now, their little house on the beach. Perfect for two lives, cavernous with just one. 

She finds him in the garden before sunset. Small, warm hands enclose his. 

“Look, Dad.” 

It’s a delicate, fluttering thing with blue wings, bobbing on the wind. Molly’s favorite. 

“She’s found us again.”

He smiles and tucks a silver lock behind her ear, meeting her gaze— precisely the same shade of brown.

[happenssweet]

this song is so dodge mason coded... walk with me... let me present you with something...

when you'd first met dodge, you knew you wanted him as your first. your dad had hired him to help with some busy work around the church, and while dodge was neither particularly religious himself, nor interested in the way your father could turn anything into a sermon, he figured helping the man that was likely privy to everyone's thoughts and troubles could gain him some information.

what he had not anticipated was you coming up to him after a long day of getting the grassy yard beside the church set up for carp's easter breakfast.

what he had not anticipated was the way your legs kicked flowing white fabric forward, or how your fingertips felt over his as you handed him some water.

you could just tell, from the way his shirt hung from his shoulders and his adams apple bobbed, the way he thanked you in a voice full of distrust, that this was the boy for you.

he knew, vaguely, that you were the preacher's daughter. a little chaste, a bit more modest than most of the other girls your age. he'd once heard a guy make a joke in passing about getting 'struck down' being worth getting in your pants. and quite simply, that wasn't his speed. so he never thought much of you. until that afternoon.

now, dodge mason, who had been all but dubbed a recluse, was showing up for wednesday mass. who the fuck showed up for wednesday mass? dodge did. as long as he could sit next to you, letting you help lead him along during hymns, your fingertip drifting below the words long past the time he'd memorized them.

he even let you keep him after for a mini bible study each time, just the two of you discussing what had been on your mind regarding the book lately. he still didn't think he really believed in it all. but he liked the way you spoke about it, soft and kind and hopeful, a stark contrast to what he had experienced as religion in the south up until that point. until you.

so, yeah, when he asked your father for permission to take you out, you guessed you weren't too surprised. and you definitely didn't say no. he was respectful, always getting you back home on time, never going further than a few kisses and a hand on the waist or jaw. everyone else was a bit shocked, just to see the restraint. to see the way he'd soften his shell around you, letting you lean on him, talk to him all softly. even more shocked to see the way he'd do the same right back.

you supposed it didn't quite make sense. you'd known what he was like before, gruff and introverted, keeping to his family in terms of socialization. but then he took you home for the first time, and the moment you saw him with his mom and sister, it clicked. when he loved, he loved hard. and to introduce you to the most important people in his life? god, he must love you more than you ever could've guessed.

he didn't stay so restrained forever, easing you into longer kisses, then to makeouts, then to kisses on the neck and hands that wandered along your sides and arms. but they were never alone, always accompanied by an "is this okay?" or a "good?". and it always was.

once you were more comfortable, he became bolder, fingers slipping beneath fabric, tongue slipping between your lips and down your jaw. there were a few times you thought he might try and take it further, but it never turned to more than just heated makeouts. maybe he was trying not to scare you? you didn't know. but the way he groaned into your mouth before needing to cool off made you think when you finally did go all the way, it would be beyond passionate. borderline animalistic, you imagined. something you'd have to take your cross necklace off for.

but when you told him you were ready, the words dripping with implication, you could tell he was shocked. it wouldn't happen then. no, not when he hadn't prepared. not when he knew he couldn't give you all the time in the world.

and when it did, a week later, you never could've anticipated what it was. flickering candles sitting on his dresser and desk, fresh sheets, and flowers he'd handed you at the door. the faint smell of his cologne in the air, as if he'd sprayed some extra around the room earlier that day.

despite how long he'd waited, there wasn't even the smallest indication of a rush, not for the entire night. eagerness? yes. desire? most definitely. but through each and every step, dodge took as much time as he needed to treat you with the utmost care and consideration.

coming up behind you as you looked around his room, brushing soft kisses along the backs of your almost bare shoulders. gentle hands lifting the straps off of them, giving him full access to the typically-hidden expanses of skin.

he'd made sure the house would be empty for the weekend. he needed the time. needed to spend an hour just kissing you. just slowly uncovering every bit of you, not wanting to leave a single inch without reverent touch.

nothing had ever felt so right, regardless of what you may have been taught about premarital intimacy. "they have no idea what they're talking about", you thought as he held you, straddling his lap, stripped to your underwear, giggling softly as he kissed down past your cross necklace, the gold gleaming in the flickering candlelight. he laughed with you, his fingertips tracing deftly down your spine before slowly unhooking the clasp of your bra.

there was no way this could be wrong. there was no way this could be anything but holy, the way he looked in your eyes, the way he held you so carefully. this was goodness, this was God. what could be more sacred than this love?

you would both later describe it as a religious experience, in separate conversations, at separate times. that's exactly what it was. no need to take the necklace off. in fact, you couldn't imagine the experience without it. it belonged in that room, between the two of you.

it was in the way he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them off of you without ever breaking eye contact. it was in the way he kissed up your thighs, singing your praises, little whispers and breaths dancing across the tender flesh. this was his sacrament, getting his first taste of you, giving you your first taste of the rest of your life.

it was in the way he let himself come last, both literally and figuratively. it was in the way he let you look at him, hold him, observe him, before even thinking about spreading your legs again and settling between them. it was in the way he ran himself through your folds, making sure he was coated enough to not cause you even the slightest discomfort. it was in the way he held your hand next to your head, fingers interlaced, as he gently slipped in, asking how you were after every inch, making sure you were totally comfortable before letting a soft string of curses out through his lips.

and it was in the way he held you the whole time, made sure you knew how much he adored you every single second. there was no denying it anymore, if you ever could before.

every single minute of time he'd carved out for you, he spent worshipping you. even once he'd cleaned you up, even once the two of you had dressed again. until the second he had to drive you back home, he was holding you, kissing you, checking in on you, and loving you. making you feel as divine as the being that had brought the two of you together.

every single laugh, every single kiss, every single touch. that was what was holy.

[motherofdogs1010]

Laurel Sickness I (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

Summary: Laurel Sickness was a case of extreme, obsessive love that has been used to describe the new phenomenon that is sweeping the globe with no explanation. Individual are becoming just as mad as Apollo once was when he first set his godly eyes on the virgin nymph, Daphne.

Warnings: 18+ only, dark!fic, toxic behavior, gaslighting, dystopian society, dark!Sonny Carisi, stalking, stalker!Sonny Carisi, the world's messed up in this story, age gap relationship, forced relationship, eventual non-con/dub-con, Stockholm Syndrome

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Sometimes, in the late night when she was holding herself up in her dorm, Y/N would lay there in her bed and contemplate what exactly she had done to gain the attention of her friend's uncle.

She remembered meeting Maddie Carisi at freshman orientation, the two girls having been in the same major (nursing to be exact) and having instantly clicked. She had known Maddie for exactly three years before she was invited over to the Carisi Easter Sunday Dinner, her own parents were back in her home state and unfortunately, Y/N couldn't afford to go back home at the time, but now... now, she wishes she had taken up her parents' offer of letting them buy her a ticket to visit them.

She remembers the way the whole family had been welcoming, a loud joking bunch of people who were still in the Sunday bests; Y/N having made sure to dress in a floral, pastel colored dress that was off the shoulder yet she made sure to put a cardigan on top as to not show too much cleavage since Maddie had told her that her grandmother was quite the conservative Catholic. Y/N had been enjoying herself, enjoying the conversation and activities the Carisi family had set up for the kids and cousins to do when she had bumped in Maddie's uncle.

"I'm so sorry", Y/N had said with a apologetic look on her face. "I didn't see you there."

She didn't think of anything when their eyes met, E/C meeting blue and seeing the appearance of his pupils dilate when they met. She didn't think the surge reports on the news could happen to her, how naive she had been.

"It's alright, no harm done", he had said with a tight smile.

"Uncle Sonny!" Maddie had cheerfully said, "you're here!"

"Well, luckily, I was able to take the afternoon off", he said, his accent thick. "I see you brought a friend along."

He was a handsome man, Y/N could recall; he had his hair gelled back, he had quite a bit of grey in his hair yet it had only added to how attractive she had thought he was. He was much older than them, Y/N figured he was in his late thirties or early forties and he seemed to be accompanied by a blonde haired woman who always looked like she was permanently scowling.

"Oh! This is Y/N!" Maddie said, introducing her. "Remember, I told you my friend and I both wanted to get our Masters to become NPs? This is her."

"Ah, Maddie talks a lot about you", he said, "big plans you two have, huh?"

Big plans, that's what she had. So many big plans and dreams before Sonny Carisi crossed paths with her...

"My Uncle rarely comes nowadays", Maddie had told her later. "He's the new ADA in Manhattan for the sex crimes unit."

Amanda had been mad as of late, a cunt if Sonny was being honest because of his lack of wanting to have sex with her anymore. But how could Sonny betray his little doll face like that? How could he forsake the instant connection he had felt by having sex with another woman?

The minute their eyes had met at his family's get-together, he knew it was instantaneous, they were meant to be. Sonny didn't exactly understand at first the thoughts that were in his mind about the younger woman, the intense and sexual dreams about her until he was watching the news.

The dreams he had were not always sexual, no, sometimes he saw his life with her; her cooking at the stove with five or six little Carisis ran around their legs, she would laugh as they pestered her before she'd look back at him with a grin.

"Dominick, you're home", she'd said as the bundle of children ran towards him.

Another case of that new phenomenon, Laurel Sickness was in the news; a woman arrested after killing the boyfriend of the woman she had grown to become enamored with. Laurel Sickness was something that some were saying was global hysteria, people falling in love with a uninterested third party, chasing down their loves until they were able to obtain them.

"Our eyes met and I knew we were meant to be!" the afflicted woman sobbed as she was arrested. "She showed me our future together!"

Sonny's eyes had widen as he could hear Amanda calling him from the other room.

Damn all the time he had put into the relationship with Amanda, the arguments they had over making their relationship public or how attached her daughters were to him.

Sonny looked at the photo Maddie had posted to her instagram, a photo of her and... Y/N, oh, how did just thinking her name make his stomach clench and heat spread through him. The two girls were outside at a coffee shop, it was obvious they had been studying by the notebooks and textbooks, even their laptops around them on the table.

Y/N had her hair pulled away from her face, a happy but tired smile on her face.

"Sonny, we really need to talk about this", Amanda nagged from the other room.

Yeah, they were going to talk.

He just knew it was one that Amanda wasn't going to be happy about.

[honeys-hotties]

I love your writing omg, I was wondering if you could do like some head cannons about jb dating a singer as big as Taylor swift (and with music similar to hers), maybe even when shes doing a tour like the eras tour

yes yes yes i love this!!! i've been a swiftie forever this is so fun! this is kind of short but i wanted to get something out for you tonight!! xoxo

okay so julien has been a fan for YEARS and thinks you're basically the most incredible singer ever

i'm writing these thinking jb and you got together in like late 2022 early 2023? so she def watched you go through all of the shit with management and watched everyone turn on you and it broke her heart

you had worked with phoebe in the past and knew of lucy and julien but had never met them UNTIL an event you were all at

you guys went to the afterparty together and julien confessed she was such a huge fan of yours

you guys were friends for a while but were hiding feelings and it literally took someone else pointing it out for you to realize

you're both so insanely proud and supportive of each other's careers

awards show dates<3

matches her tie to your dress/outfit!

one million percent writing songs for each other

after everything that you went through she is so SO protective of you

she is as excited as you are for the eras tour and is so in awe of you as she watches the entire world lose its damn mind over you

just so incredibly in awe of you at all times, she is absolutely enamored

she helps you rehearse and choose the setlist for the tour, and helps you choose all of the surprise songs

surprising her with the outfits and her just absolutely losing her damn mind

keeping the vigilante shit choreo a secret from her until the very first performance and poor jb, her eyes are bugging out of her head she can't keep her eyes of you

def gets a little possessive as a joke, like, "babeeee only i get to see you like this"

maybe you do a little one on one show for her to make up for it...

is just obsessed with you and your stage presence

sometimes she can't believe how many people your music affects and she is so incredibly in awe of you and the impact you've had on people across the world

she comes to as many shows as she can and there are SO many videos of her watching you like you hung the moon

munagenius teases her constantly about you, saying she has to share her girlfriend with the rest of the world too

they all love you SO much and you guys are all constantly hyping each other up and promoting each other's music

going to her shows but trying to be discreet

SO many paparazzi photos of you two just being incredibly in love, holding hands, going on walks, all of it

you include her in all of the hints and easter eggs for re releases (rep tv when????) and she loves helping you troll your fans

she has so much respect for everything you've been through and everything you sacrifice to make music

helps you write songs and come up with music

always looking at you with the biggest heart eyes, she tells you all the time she can't believe you chose her and you tell her that YOU'RE the lucky one

lots of affirmations and reassurance

she's just so amazing and in love and now i want to be a taylor level singer with jb as my gf<3

i hope you liked this babe!! let me know if you have any more requests!! love you all with my whole heart

[kimberlyannharts]

So Darkest Hour is over, the MMPR main series has wrapped, so what do we do now? We......check out the adventures of this team led by a giant polar bear? Sure!

It's Power Rangers Infinity!

= For those who haven't seen the previews: our main character, Lola! She's cute, I like her a lot; even if admittedly BOOM has really been dishing out the Green Ranger girls one after another lately. (As for her last name being Navarro.....put in a pin in that for a second. Unfortunately it doesn't go where you might think it goes.)

= Obviously there's no way to prove it but moments like this kiiiiiind of feel like this was written back when BOOM figured they were finished with the PR license. It's a little too on the nose

= GIRL YOU LOOK SO GOOD

= Though I am a little annoyed because her lines here about looking for Lola for a long time made me think my theory that she was targeting her because she was related to Tyler/Shelby (or Poisandra just THOUGHT she was) was real. Unfortunately Lola's last name being Navarro isn't at all relevant (she targets Lola because she overhears that she writes PR fanfiction, so she wants Lola to make a weak team she can beat, it's a whole thing) so I guess in the end it was just an Easter Egg. I guess it's not too much of a surprise as this is set in "our" world rather than the Dino Charge world, but still, if you were going out of your way to pit a Dino Charge villain against a main character with the same last name as a Dino Charge character, you'd think that was leading up to something

= Group shot of the team! Along with the names, since I kind of skimmed my first reading and didn't retain them kjkdjf

= Also I just noticed Braylee's visor is shaped like a megaphone. That's cute

= Unfortunately the Poisandra Stan Society skipped out on PMC 2024. I totally would have gotten a picture with them otherwise

= Obviously as this is a one-shot book making gags out of the concept of "unlikely character archetypes as Power Rangers" the Infinity team members don't have the most complex personalities, but it's vital for you to know that the Pink Ranger, Penelope Prescott, is a lesbian. Anyway hot bear time

= I literally went into this book thinking the polar bear (Coach Kumo) would end up being a joke one-note "haha is that an ANIMAL as a ranger??" a la Yale but he actually ended up being my favorite character so uh. Yeah. Power Rangers Infinity did the whole "animal ranger" thing better than the main series. Make of that what you will

= And a look at the other teams. And okay, I'm just going to come out and say it; we did canonically have a pirate team in the show. I KNOW THEY DIDN'T DO PIRATE STUFF BUT I DON'T CARE, THEY STILL EXISTED, IT'S NOT AS OUTLANDISH AS THE HOCKEY BEAR UNIVERSE

= I do have to admit, for as much as this book tries to joke about how Poisandra isn't a threat and can't find a team weak enough for her to defeat, they're pretty casually talking about how she's basically committing mass genocide. Like their teams/universes are literally dead. I think that counts as beating them

= Proud of the book for not calling them "Paisley Force"

= your uber is here

= Anyway actual worst part of this book is it implies Poisandra took out Curio too which SHE WOULD NEVER DO!!!!!!! THAT IS HER BESTIE!!!!!!! Sledge getting her this ship is 100% in-character though

= Poisandra has committed mass murder and kidnapping but nothing compares to the evil of committing Lola to the path of customer service

= Still a better Green Ranger reveal than M/tt

= This silly one-shot parody comic sure has a lot of death in it

= speaking of death:

= MORE ONSCREEN DEATH THAN DARKEST HOUR IN THE ONE-SHOT GOOFY PARODY COMIC I'M GOING INSANE

= This is sweet and everything, but it kinda takes me back to how members of this fandom would uhhhh kinda harass the writers and BOOM about including their own ideas in the comic. (And the actors too. Firsthand witness to that at PMC 2024!) So to all up and coming writers and artists: please keep your submissions and pitches to professional settings

= see you, space cowboy...................

[jinlias]

can i request mom jihyo hcs?

— mom jihyo!!

once she hits this stage in her life, the longest her hair will be is shoulder length. usually keeps the bob, because she no longer. has the time or the interest in doing her hair

she is so put together, almost like she’s done this before

your kids are the best ones yet, they’re respectful, responsible, beautiful. they even got her jokes.

and she is such a cool mom, she provides your kids the most welcoming arms and a space where they can tell her anything and she won’t judge.

i don’t see either of you being stay at home moms, i feel like she’d go insane every day at home. she needs to be moving constantly or she will feel useless.

i do see her as a history or english lit college professor.

she loves dressing up the kids and most time matching the two of you to them.

so many amusement park visits! she loves how it tires them out but she might just love the parks too much herself.

oh the kids grow up so competitive, most parents will let their children win, but jihyo gives them hell.

from every casual game night to easter egg hunts to creating a strategy that forced your kids (including your wife) to chase a finish line for birthday or holiday presents.

her love language would definitely be acts of service, sending your kids flowers on random days, making their favorite foods on days she knew would be specifically long, etc.

she’s also just so appreciative of you. she sees you in a whole new light after your babies.

goes all out on mother’s day. and tries to remind you how important and valued and amazing you are every single day.

she would do and put everything, her heart, sweat and soul into being a mom <3

— mommy!jihyo

has learned to be quiet and quick.

loves to tease and rile you up when the kids are around.

she even choked on an artichoke at dinner once when one of your littles noticed how quiet you were, sweaty with a face of uttermost fear.

will often sext you from work or while you’re at work.

ugh, i can just picture the late night make outs in the kitchen, giggling when one of you accidentally knocks something over.

very serious about her authority in bed.

she also finds you being a parent so attractive, if you were to carry one of your kids she would not be able to keep her hands off you.

usually the one carrying is the needy one, but she would be insatiable. she would take you anywhere, in your bed, shower, bath, even standing as long as you can lean on something, anything.

and she is also possessive. cue the brutal car sex right after some pta parent bats their eyelashes at you.

so many hickies and bruises. sometimes planned on places easy to catch so said parents would get the message.

also just very in love with you in general. and your kids growing up seeing that is so beautiful <3 anyway,

“im gonna knock you up baby”

“you look so pretty swollen with my baby”

omg. would introduce you to nursing. whether she’s the one carrying or you. it doesn’t matter, she has opened a new realm for the two of you.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 11 (Family Dinner with the Landgraabs)

Heather left work early the day of the party but still got stuck in traffic on the Simmerloop Superhighway. Showing up almost an hour late really didn’t impress Nancy. It was a small, family-only gathering, and everything about it made Heather anxious.

"You finally made it. Wonderful!" Nancy crowed. "I thought the food would get cold."

Heather apologized for the traffic and let Malcolm show her around the three-story penthouse. Their in-ground pool took up an entire floor, and the difference between Heather and Malcolm's worlds was as stark as their sleek, modern furniture.

"Heather, have you met my brother, Johnny Zest? He does stand-up comedy, apparently. But his career choice is a better joke than any of his on-stage bits," said Nancy, introducing Heather to a scowling blond who showed up with a gorgeous woman on his arm. "And this is..."

"This is Eva, Nancy." Johnny growled in frustration. "She was Eva the last time you met her, too."

"Oh, all your girls look alike." Nancy waved a flippant hand as she led everyone to the dining room.

"Eva's been the only girl for over a year," he shot back. "You always do this!"

"Do what, John? Continue to bankroll your lifestyle with Eve, here?" Nancy glowered across the table as Johnny shoveled salad into his mouth to stay quiet. "Whatever happened to that comedy special you were telling us about over Easter?"

"The producer flaked," said Johnny with a mouthful of food. "Tried to pay me less than he promised so I walked."

"Sure you did."

"If I'd taken what they wanted to pay me, you'd have told me off for taking less than the job's worth! Do I have to be Malcolm to get the benefit of doubt from you?"

Heather watched quietly while Nancy ordered her family around, chastising Geoffrey and Malcolm for their posture while Johnny's Monte Vistan girlfriend, Eva Capricciosa, did her best to keep him calm in broken Simlish. They were far more interested in each other than the company, anyway.

Heather was stressed. She wasn't used to families arguing at dinner. Obviously, no one was a match for Nancy Landgraab – not even Malcolm, who was clearly her favourite person in the world. But his usual snobbery was quiet in her presence.

"So, Heather, I can't help but wonder: What made the daughter of an astrobotanist and the inventor of Nesbeets faux meat decide to become a veterinarian? It's such a limiting profession."

So that's where Malcolm got his snobbery over her chosen career. Heather cleared her throat. "We always had pets at home when I was growing up, and I've wanted to be a vet since I was a little girl. When they come bounding out of the exam room completely cured, I love seeing the joy it brings their humans, too."

"Vets are so important!" Eva cried. "We had a vet in Monte Vista who saved my duck-"

"I'm sure it's honourable to save the odd duck or two, but Brindleton Bay is such a backwoods town." Nancy rolled her eyes at sweet-natured Eva. "They don't even have a mayor!"

"No mayor you can buy off, you mean," Johnny sniffed.

Nancy shot her brother a disgusted look. "My son - the only Landgraab heir since Johnny's a disappointment who hates his own name - will never live in Brindleton Bay with all its feral strays. And Landgraabs aren't vets; they hold galas that make money they can donate to pet causes." Malcolm avoided eye contact with Heather while Nancy proselytized. "You'll have to sell if things get more serious with my son and move to San Myshuno. But don't worry about your clinic if the time comes - Landgraab Corp. can always find a buyer."

"Mom. Stop."

Malcolm's unexpected defense caught both Nancy and Heather off guard, but Heather was grateful. They’d never discussed marriage, and the last time he brought up leaving Brindleton Bay they fought in the street. But she’d owned the clinic for less than a year and had no interest in selling to anyone.

With Nancy's dinner party teetering on a knife's edge of tension, would they get through the night in peace? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I know Johnny is supposed to be Geoffrey and Nancy's son in loose/controversial game canon, but I used MCCC to make him Nancy's brother, instead. My headcanon likes Malcolm as an only child and Nancy as a particularly nasty one-kid helicopter mom!

[nimona-week]

Nimona Week 2024 FAQ

What is this?

Nimona Week is a celebration of our favorite shapeshifting sidekick, in both her movie and comic incarnations. We're hoping to encourage new art and fics (of any length!), but we're also happy to see fic recs and art recs of existing fanworks (just remember to reblog/otherwise properly credit the artist!).

When is it?

Nimona Week will take place from Sunday, March 31 to Saturday, April 6, 2024. Those dates were chosen because March 31st is both Trans Day of Visibility and Easter Sunday in 2024, and @zyrafowe-sny couldn't resist a resurrection joke.

That said, it's never "too late" to be inspired or post fanworks. We'll try to reblog tagged posts during actual Nimona Week, so keep that in mind if you decide to post early or late.

Are there prompts?

Yes! There are three to choose from each day and some alternate prompts as well. This post has the final prompts and explains the tagging system. Many thanks to @candyskiez for helping finalize the list.

Are there event graphics?

Yes! @violet-prism-creatively has done amazing work. This post has the prompt list, banners you can use for posts, graphics for fic and art recs, and participant/completionist badges.

What can I make?

You can make or write basically anything: haikus, limericks, 100 word drabbles, ficlets, long fics, traditional art, digital art, gifsets, cosplay, embroidery, etc.

Is there an AO3 Collection?

Yes! The AO3 Collection for new fanworks will open sometime on March 30th (just ahead of Nimona Week). You can add fics directly and can also add bookmarks with links to other kinds of fanworks (Tumblr posts with art, etc).

What about existing fanworks?

You are welcome to recommend existing fanworks that match the prompts, including your own. Those will need to be tagged appropriately, and of course, the artist/writer needs to be properly credited. Click on the links below for more details and graphics.

Guide to Fic Recs | Guide to Art Recs

What if I'm not interpreting a prompt correctly?

We are not policing people's interpretations of the prompts. If a prompt inspires you to create, that's fantastic!

What about Goldenheart/Blackloin?

This event is Nimona-centric, but there will be a Goldenheart-focused event later this year. Fanworks for this event can absolutely include Ballister and Ambrosius (or other characters!) in addition to Nimona, but we want to keep her in the spotlight.

If you are interested in organizing Goldenheart Week, please reach out to @zyrafowe-sny. :)

Are there any other Nimona fandom events?

YES! There's a @nimonabigbang. Sign ups for writers are open through March 1st and sign ups for artists are open through April 1st.

What about...?

Feel free to send an ask if you have additional questions. We will also be updating the FAQ as needed.

[differenteagletragedy]

HI i have a domestic brainrot lately and I wanted to see your take on how the olba boys (individually) would be living with mc? either romantic or platonic is ok!

take a flower 🫴🌸

I thiiiink I've done something like this before so apologies if there are any repeats! But yes, domestic boys!!!

-- Cove is not a cleaner, not because he wants to be a messy guy, but he just doesn't think about it. Maybe just talk about a routine, a division of household responsibilities, that sort of thing and he'll be all over it.

-- Like I'm not saying to make a chore chart for him where he gets gold stars for doing his chores and after so many gold stars he can get treats like a pretzel down on the shopping street or a trip to the aquarium (that one is gonna be a lot of stars) but whatever works!

-- I def know I've said this multiple times, but Derek is Mr. Fix-It. If he doesn't know how to fix something (rare), he will figure it out and then he will know forever.

-- This is so serious, like if you end up buying a house and you mention that it might be nice to have like a sunroom or a playroom built onto the back of the house for kids or whatever, the guy is going to learn how to build a whole entire room. Putting up walls, putting down floors, other ... room stuff. It'll be a big project, obviously, but he'll get it done.

-- Imagine going outside and seeing him up on a ladder, banging a hammer against something all sweaty and concentrating hard. Or like imagine respectfully.

-- Derek is also a big time holiday guy. Tons of Christmas lights, the house is all decorated for Halloween and he's got on a costume and a wide variety of candy and treats to hand out to the kids. Your house is THE house to hit up on Halloween.

-- If you have kids and do an Easter egg hunt, Derek is going to be the king of this. Cove is gonna come over and hunt too and he's gonna be mad when he can't find them all.

-- Anyway.

-- Speaking of decorating for holidays, have you guys ever seen those little goose statues that people put outside and dress up for different occasions? Here, let me link it in case you think I'm crazy, this is a thing. You can get silly little outfits for every little holiday you can think of. You and Baxter saw one once and he joked about it, then you got one as a joke, then you got it outfits as a joke, and now no one knows if it's a joke anymore but you HAVE to make sure the goose has an appropriate outfit on.

-- Baxter also has some expensive candles. So expensive that you're kind of taken aback (they are all just wax, where does they money go), but the place DOES always smell really nice. He has seasonal ones he rotates, then some general favorites that work anytime.

-- If you try to light one of the pumpkin-y candles after December starts, he will treat you like you are actually insane.

-- Dance parties with Cove! We always talk about dancing with Baxter, but sometimes you and Cove just have a good time, putting on those songs that were popular when you were kids and being silly. This is really very cute.

-- Cove can't cook, but he goes through a phase where he tries real hard! Please be nice, but if you cannot safely eat something, then you don't have to (this is going to happen at least once or twice).

Cove: *gestures to chicken breast that is clearly pink in the middle* It's like when you go to a restaurant and order a steak rare!

You: No baby it really is not.

-- Derek is a grill guy. He has a "Kiss the Cook" apron and no one ever knows if he's wearing it ironically or not. Please kiss him anyway.

-- What if whenever you and Derek finally move in together, he goes through a stage where he doesn't really want to leave for long stretches of time because he's just so so happy to finally be living how he wants, to have told you how he felts after YEARS and to have you reciprocate those feelings? He would probably get too much energy, he's used to wearing himself out everyday, so he'd be running around the house like a puppy, just all excited.

-- That's not really anything, it's just cute, sue me if you want.

-- Living with Baxter is going to make you surprised that he survived for years on his own, that's how bad he is with mornings. Sleepy Baxter is a menace to himself and everything around him. What if you move into a house and he tells you he's going outside one morning to get the paper, and it's taking too long so you peek outside and he's just like standing out there in his pajamas, vaguely confused but also just not totally there. You're going to have to pull him back inside, it's not safe out there.

-- Derek and Baxter are both very clean, we already know that. They might like a chore chart too though, everybody likes treats!

-- Cove is going to be bringing home little presents regularly, you'll have like a little shelf just with trinkets he's found that made him think of you. Think little sea creature keychain from Step 1, like just so many little items that represent special things to you.

-- Derek is going to take care of you like you've never been taken care of in your life. Also wowee, the cuddles! Derek is a grade A cuddler, super warm and cozy.

-- It might take Baxter a little bit to get truly comfortable with living together, he's going to be scared you're going to leave or change your mind, like you'll realize that he's a mess (like you didn't already know and made it clear that you love him anyway) and be done with him. He'll get there though, please be patient!

-- And if he has to work late, please change the goose's clothes, he doesn't want the neighbors to see it in a pilgrim costume the day after Thanksgiving, how embarrassing.