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starrydixon · 1 year

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Wildflower

Era: Pre-Prison Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Summary: After confessing that you had never been given flowers before, Daryl finds himself becoming determined to be the first one to do so.

A/N: I thought the idea of Daryl picking flowers for someone and then becoming really bashful about it was such a cute concept, so I just had to write it! I hope you enjoy!! (also the gif used is NOT mine, so credit goes to owner!!)

“What the hell are ya doin’?” Daryl drawled from his spot by the fresh animal tracks that were imprinted on the cold dirt ground below him.

“Huh?” Glenn shot up to his feet and spun around on the heels of his worn sneakers in order to face the archer.

Daryl raised an eyebrow at the young man and nudged his chin towards the flowers that were clenched tightly in his hands. Looking down, Glenn’s face flushed a light shade of pink at the realization that Daryl had just caught him picking flowers. Looking back over to the archer, who was still waiting for an explanation, Glenn shrugged his shoulders as a proud smile began to stretch across his lips. “I’m getting some flowers for Maggie.”

Daryl couldn’t help but let out a puff of air from between his lips in disbelief. “Why?”

With a smile still planted firmly on his face, Glenn jogged back over to where Daryl was standing. “I want to do something nice for her, and picking flowers is the only thing I can do right now.”

It had been one month since the Greene’s family farm had gotten overrun with walkers, which had caused the group of survivors to live on the road. With this type of lifestyle in an apocalypse, most romantic gestures had to be modified. For example, instead of making a reservation at a fancy five star Italian restaurant for a dinner for two, couples now had to settle with sharing a can of goods between them over a campfire (if they were even lucky enough to find a can that is). In other instances, you’d have to settle with a box of stale truffles instead of fresh ones, or being given a stuffed animal holding a heart between its paws that had a layer of mildew coating its fur.

For Glenn, this meant picking a few random wild flowers from the side of the road instead of buying a beautiful floral arrangement from the local flower shop.

“I think catchin’ this damn deer would be nice too.” Daryl huffed as a frown formed on his face. With his hand, he gestured towards the animal tracks that were becoming less and less scarce to come by as winter was nearly approaching.

“Man, you’d be surprised how far a few flowers will go…maybe you should get some for Y/N.” Glenn pointed out while carefully placing the flowers in his backpack.

“What?” The archer gawked at the young man in a mixture of confusion and accusation.

Sensing Daryl’s sudden unease, Glenn shot his eyes back towards the archer, and straightened up his posture when he took notice of the hardened expression on his face.

“Uhm…” Rubbing the back of his head anxiously, Glenn struggled to find a way out of the hole he had suddenly found himself in. “I see how you are with her…you guys seem to have a great connection…so I figured you might want to do the same?”

“Connection?” Daryl drawled as his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Glenn swallowed hard and shifted uneasily on his feet.

“You like her, right? In like, more than a friend way.”

Daryl could only stare at Glenn in silence as the young man fidgeted uncomfortably under the archer’s intense stare, silently praying that the ground would suddenly open up and swallow him so he could escape the hunter’s wordless scrutiny.

“Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on between me and Y/N.” Daryl finally stated after a few heavy moments of silence had passed between the two men.

Nodding his head eagerly in agreement, Glenn raised his hands up in surrender. “I got it. Loud and clear.”

Seemingly satisfied, Daryl turned back towards the tracks and resumed his hunt. As he skillfully moved around dry twigs and crunchy leaves that were laying on the ground, and pushed away almost completely barren tree branches from out of his eyesight, his frown from earlier deepened, while his furrowed brows caused a shadow to cast over his eyes. As much as he tried to focus on hunting this deer and bring it back to the people who he was starting to consider family, Daryl couldn’t stop Glenn’s earlier remarks from ricocheting in his brain.

Was there some kind of connection between you and the archer that he wasn’t aware of?

Would you find being given flowers better than a deer?

Did you even like flowers?

Daryl wasn’t sure why he suddenly cared so much, but the thoughts and feelings he had about it were distracting him so much that he almost blew his cover from the deer when he hadn’t realized he had caught up to it. Readying his trusted crossbow, Daryl shook his head to rid himself of those distracting thoughts and refocused his attention on the thing he was the best at; hunting.

Later that day, when the sun was beginning to turn the once bright blue sky into warm hues, the two men walked through the front door of the house they were currently squatting in with the rest of the group. Daryl had the deer he was previously hunting hauled over his broad shoulders, while Glenn wore a grin so big it threatened to split his face in two.

At the sight of the deer perched on the archers shoulders, the group visibly relaxed and had smiles on their faces that actually reached their eyes for the first time in weeks. Tonight, and maybe for the next few days if they rationed, they’d have food in their stomachs.

Although you were also excited to see the deer, you couldn’t help but be a little bit more happy and relieved to see that Daryl had made it back safely and in one piece. For the few hours that he and Glenn were gone, you couldn’t tear yourself away from your spot by the windowsill. You tried to keep the curtains closed for safety, but every once in a while you found yourself peeking through the middle part, hoping you’d see the archer within your sights again.

Seemingly busy with getting the deer prepped for eating, you were only able to give Daryl a wave of greeting from afar. Despite having a 90 pound deer draped over his shoulders, the archer still managed to give you a curt wave back before moving towards the back of the house where the kitchen was and taking up shop there.

When he was out of sight, your focus turned to the group's love birds: Maggie and Glenn. You couldn’t help but smile at the two as Maggie happily smelled the wildflowers that looked to be falling apart due to being placed in a bag for so long. Glenn rubbed the back of his neck bashfully due to the wilted flowers, but his happiness of being able to make Maggie’s day better was clear through the light that shone in his eyes as he looked at her.

By the time the orange and pink sky had turned into a black and glittery blanket, you and the rest of the group of survivors had gathered around on the floor in the living room, eating warm and cooked venison that Daryl had cut up and made for the group. Despite the quietness that fell over the group due to the focus of filling stomachs that had been empty for days, there was a sense of peace and comfort settling over them.

You and Daryl were sitting beside one another, eating quietly and observing the group as they shared giddy looks and hushed laughs with each other. Much like the others, you had found yourself wiggling happily in your spot on the floor when a plate of meat was handed to you, unable to contain the joy of eating something that wasn’t from a can.

When your celebratory happy dance caught Daryl’s eye, he couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. Seeing you content and happy sent a warmth spreading through his chest that wasn’t caused by the warm food or from the fire that was alight in the fireplace just a few feet away from him. Shaking his head slightly to himself, Daryl ducked his head and poked his plastic fork around his plate of venison.

“What?” You asked the archer when you noticed his head shake from the corner of your eye.

Bringing his gaze up from his plate, Daryl blinked his slightly widened eyes as if he was an animal caught in the headlights of a car. “Nothin’?”

“Why were you shaking your head?” A kind and gentle smile fitted your face as your head tilted to the side to show your curiosity.

“Oh…uh, just had a thought pass through…somethin’ Glenn was tellin’ me about earlier.” Daryl explained bashfully while shifting anxiously in his spot.

Instead of responding with words, you silently motioned for him to expand his previous answer with a few coaxing nods of your head. Getting the hint, Daryl let his shoulders drop in defeat. “I told Glenn huntin’ this deer would be just as nice as pickin’ flowers…and seein’ you and the others wigglin’ around, can’t help but think I had a point too.”

By the time Daryl was done explaining his thought process to you, his eyes had drifted back down to his plate. He only looked back at you when your warm laugh reached his ears. At first, the archer was worried you were laughing at him, but the genuinity that filled your face told him otherwise. He didn’t understand what you found funny about what he had said, but knowing that he was making you laugh nonetheless did cause his stomach to flutter.

“Those are two completely different scenarios!” You expressed earnestly while wiping an invisible tear from off your cheek.

“What do ya mean?” Now it was Daryl’s turn to tilt his head to the side in curiosity.

“Picking flowers is a romantic gesture…I’ve never heard of hunting a deer as one.” You explained while setting down your now empty plate besides you.

“Didn’t say it was romantic…just said it’s nice.” Daryl frowned, which caused his eyebrows to furrow and the worry line between them to deepen.

“Okay, okay…but judging by the love sick puppy eyes they were giving each other after he gave her the flowers, I just think Glenn meant it romantically.” You pointed out while raising your hands up in surrender.

Daryl hummed vaguely in response before finishing off the meat that was still on his plate. After a few moments of silence fell over you both, Daryl spoke up. “What do you think?”

“About?” You took your gaze from off of the flickering flames of the fire so you could look at Daryl, who had begun to gnaw on the side of his thumbnail nervously.

“Flowers...you think they’re nice?”

After pondering over his question for a few moments, you shrugged your shoulders loosely and leaned back against the couch while stretching your legs out in front of you. “I don’t know…when I think of flowers I think of bees, which I hate since they scare me, but I can also appreciate their beauty or whatever.”

“So, that’s a no then?” Daryl raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you as you continued to ponder over the complicated stance you had on flowers.

“Not necessarily…I’ve never asked for flowers or have ever received them from anyone before…but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Daryl scoffed in disbelief at your answer. “Ain’t no way no one's never given ya flowers before.”

“What…do I look like the type of girl whose parents brought them obnoxiously large bouquets of flowers after performing in my school play?” You raised an eyebrow at Daryl while placing a hand on your hip.

“Yeah, ya do.”

You couldn’t help but let out an amused snort of disbelief. “Well, I didn’t...maybe I would have liked to have experienced that, just once, but it’s not like I was known as the type of person who adored flowers.” Shaking your head, you turned to look at Daryl. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason…just curious.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders dismissively as he thought back to Glenns earlier remark.

‘Maybe you should get some for Y/N.’

The resources around the house you and the group had been staying in for the past few days had run dry, and Rick figured it was time for the group to move on to another part of Georgia. Daryl wanted to see if he could catch anything before leaving, so he found himself in the woods early in the morning, just as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

From the little bit of light that the barely-there sun was radiating, Daryl could see his breath fog out in front of his face whenever he exhaled out of his nose, indicating that winter was approaching faster then he or the others would have liked.

Daryl wasn’t sure why he was hunting for tracks of anything that had a bushy tail or feathered wings, considering the woods within the surrounding gridlock seemed to have dried out due to the increasingly cold weather. He supposed he just needed an excuse to be alone for more than a few minutes since he had been holed up in a small house filled with eleven people for the past few days. Despite the lack of privacy and having his cherished personal space almost constantly invaded, Daryl had to admit he didn’t mind when you were within his personal space.

Most of the time, you would sit beside him in the corner of the living room he had claimed for himself with a book in your hand and a very worn and old sleeping bag draped over your legs. Other times, the two of you would engage in light conversation; sometimes Daryl would ask you questions about the book you were reading, and other times you’d both get to know each other more by unintentionally playing twenty questions. Daryl never felt uneasy or felt any kind of pressure when he engaged in conversation with you or when your presence kept him company. In fact, he felt like he could truly let some of his many walls down when you were around.

Maybe that’s another reason why he needed to get out of that house for a little while. Although the feelings and thoughts he had whenever you were around brought him unfamiliar feelings of comfort and warmth, it also freaked him out. So, inhaling the cold fresh air from outside into his lungs just at the crack of dawn seemed to help him clear his head a bit.

Daryl had no idea how long he had wandered rather aimlessly through the woods for, but with the sun now brightening the sky, he figured he had stayed out long enough. With no game to bring back to the group, the archer was just about to head back to the base camp when a small patch of purple caught his eye from his peripheral vision.

Turning on his heel, Daryl took a few long strides towards the purple patch and paused when he realized, thanks to the plant book he had half-heartedly flipped through one night when the group had squatted in a local library for a few days, it was a patch of purple Georgia Aster wildflowers.

‘Maybe you should pick some for Y/N.’

Groaning under his breath, Daryl rubbed at the scruff on his chin with the pads of his calloused fingers and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily as he attempted to rid Glenn’s voice from out of his head.

Daryl recalled you mentioning the other night that you had never received flowers from anyone before, and he would be lying to himself if he denied the fact that he had a want and need to be the first one to do that for you. The archer also recalled you mentioning that you weren’t a huge fan of flowers due to your fear of bees.

Glancing around the woods to make sure no one was watching, the archer reached down and plucked one of the wildflowers from out of the ground. Daryl stared at the long purple petals as he rolled the stem in between the pads of his thumb and index finger, momentarily transfixed by the spinning petals.

Not wanting to overthink anymore, Daryl clutched the stem in his hand and began to make his way back towards the group. His heart pounded against his ribcage while his lungs had a sudden need for more oxygen. His stomach twisted in nerves that he couldn’t understand.

Was he nervous because he was afraid that you wouldn’t like being given a flower?

Was he nervous that you actually would appreciate being given a flower?

Or was it because he was nervous that this gesture would open the door for expanding on that connection that Glenn had claimed he and you had.

When the archer emerged from the treeline, he instantly spotted you walking across the front lawn towards one of the vehicles with a rolled up sleeping bag tucked under each arm. For a second, his heart felt like it had stopped beating while his chest suddenly felt as if an anchor had been thrown on it, weighing him down and making it hard to breathe.

He wanted to drop the flower as if it was a hot metal pipe and step on it until the long purple petals broke from the stem and became disintegrated into the dirt. Not wanting to let his anxiety get the best of him, Daryl took long strides towards you until he was standing only a few inches away from where you were standing by the bed of the silver pickup truck.

Seeing his broad figure from the corner of your eye, you turned to face the archer with a smile on your face. Before you had the chance to greet him, his clenched fist was suddenly in your face, his calloused knuckles just centimeters away from grazing the tip of your nose.

“Uhm…” You took a step back in order to get a better look at what he was trying to show you.

“You want it?” Daryl asked rather bluntly as a bead of sweat trailed down the back of his neck.

Blinking in surprise, your eyes focused on the purple flower in his possession. “Is…Is that for me?” You couldn’t help but be a little dumbfounded at the foreign gesture.

“Only if ya want it.” Daryl swallowed hard as he uneasily shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arm still stretched out stiffly in front of him and his clenched hand getting clammier by the second.

“They’re ain’t no bees on it either...so ya don’t gotta worry about that.” Daryl quickly added as his free hand instinctively went to the back of his neck to scratch at an invisible itch.

The biggest, and probably the brightest smile Daryl had ever seen, suddenly spread over your face as your eyes lit up like stars. One of your hands was placed on the center of your chest while the other was clasping the side of your flushed face. “Of course I want it!”

Carefully, you took the wildflower from Daryl and grinned as your eyes gawked over the long, delicate, purple petals. Glancing back up towards Daryl, who was now staring down at his boots as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, your smile never faltered as your head tilted slightly to the side. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Darting his gaze back to your face, Daryl hoped the cold weather could be used as an excuse to explain why the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were flushed pink. The archer shrugged his shoulders loosely. “I know…just thought you deserved to be given a flower at least once.”

Warmth spread throughout your body at the endearing comment while your cheeks flushed another shade of pink. Biting down on your lower lip, you kept your gaze on the flower that was held between the pads of your fingers. “Is this because you wanted to do something nice…or for another reason.”

Daryl’s eyes widened at your question, his heart seemed to have been jump started by an invisible jolt of panicked electricity. Not wanting to put all of his cards out on the table in fear of being rejected, Daryl shrugged his shoulders again.

“It can mean whatever ya want it to.”

Your beaming smile only seemed to get brighter at his answer. Nodding your head, you tucked the flower in the front pocket of your jeans. “This was very nice of you, Daryl…and romantic.”

The archer felt another wave of heat rush to his cheeks as he ducked his head bashfully. He could only muster up a vague hum of acknowledgment as he was unable to tear his eyes away from the tops of his muddied boots.

After bidding Daryl a goodbye, you spun around on your heels and made your way back towards the house so you could continue packing up the group's supplies. Your cheeks ached due to the permanent giddy smile that was stretched upon your face, and you felt as if butterflies were fluttering in a continuous loop in your stomach. Despite the ache and the nerve endings within your body being set alight, you welcomed the sensations nonetheless.

As Daryl watched your figure get farther and farther away, he found himself unable to stop the lopsided smile from forming on his face. Pride and excited anxiety warmed the archer's chest in ways he had never felt before. Shaking his head to rid himself out of the haze you had put him in, Daryl was about to start heading towards the house after you, but paused when he noticed a figure standing in the living room window.

With a proud smile on his face, Glenn peered through the curtains that covered the grimy window and watched Daryl and you share a seemingly intimate moment with one another. Although he was surprised that the archer actually listened to him and picked a flower for you, he was happy nonetheless for the both of you. Also, Glenn couldn’t help but feel a bit smug that he was right in thinking that giving flowers was just as nice as hunting down a deer.

When the young man gave Daryl two thumbs up of encouragement, the archer responded by flipping him off and stalking back towards the house with a bashfully ducked head.

Daryl would be damned if he ever gave Glenn any kind of credit, especially when it was about his potentially blossoming love life, but Daryl had to admit that the young man may have been onto something when he said that giving flowers to someone can go a long way.

The archer wasn’t sure where this new connection he had with you would lead, but he was excited, and not as hesitant as he was before, to find out.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

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vague-humanoid · 2 months

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When I stepped into John Roe’s apartment early last December, slipping off my boots at the elevator that opens into the home, it wasn’t immediately clear that people inhabited the space, let alone a child. The four-bedroom, four-and-a-half bath Manhattan residence looked like a showroom. In the living room, a white minimalist couch with no arms confronted two white bouclé chairs. White couch, white lamps, white walls. Even Roe’s wife, Cherry, wore white. Charlotte of the Upper West Side has no dust, she told me—unlike the couple’s previous home, on the sixty-second floor of the Four Seasons Private Residences. Above my head, gentle classical music issued from invisible speakers.

Roe, a ruddy Asian man who wore a pink polo shirt tucked into khaki pants, is the developer of this nine-story brick and terra-cotta building, named after his daughter. His goal, Roe said, was to create the most immaculate and sustainable indoor environment possible. He obtained a Passive House Institute certification, which recognizes when buildings minimize the energy used for heating and cooling with airtight seals and insulation. (Such measures can decrease energy consumption by up to 90 percent.) To reduce residents’ inhalation of volatile organic compounds, Roe employed nontoxic building materials. Indeed, the star of Charlotte is its air. Each unit sports its own Swiss-engineered ventilation system, called Zehnder. On an iPad, Roe showed me the app that gives residents control over what they breathe.

The building’s approach to filtration is undeniably sophisticated. The air in each unit isn’t shared with any other. Outside air is brought in, filtered, treated with an ultraviolet-C light that kills 99.9 percent of pathogens, and completely changed out once per hour. Circulation can be boosted or slowed. Most apartments with similar systems recycle the air every four to five hours a day. “We were thinking, if we’re already going to build a Ferrari, then why would we only give it a 200-horsepower engine?” Roe said. “Let’s put a 1,000-horsepower engine into it.” The quadruple-layer, triple-paned windows feature museum-quality glass and are generally opened only for cleaning. Otherwise, you’d let in air far dirtier than what’s circulating inside.

At night, when Roe’s family is sleeping, it “smells like you’re camping, because the fresh air is getting pumped in at such a rapid rate,” he said. You know the air is good, he told me, because the hydrangeas last. Typically, when cut at the stem and arranged in a vase, the delicate flowers wither and droop in a few days. In his apartment, the blooms will stay perky for nearly two weeks.

@karpad @ubernegro @redstarovermoundcity @socialistexan

#they are literally creating personalized environments removed form the damage they are causing the world

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neochan · 4 months

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oh to have a sugar daddy jaemin in our lives

i wrote about this (here) but let me elaborate!

jaemin is such a sweet sugar daddy. he won't expect too much from you, because he's such a giver. he wants to spoil you - cars, clothes, jewelry, bags, trips, hotel rooms. anything you want, he'll give you. and when it comes to giving him sugar, well....he doesn't expect much. genuinely, he would fund your lifestyle regardless because he likes your company. but when you are generous enough, he loves fucking you from behind. in the mirror, on the balcony of a five star hotel, against the edge of a hot tub etc. and he's always smoking a joint, drinking a glass of scotch, or counting stacks while he lazily fucks you. in fact - he has such an insane display of wealth, that it seldom lacks presence in the bedroom too. diamond studded lingerie, swarovski studded butt plug etc.

#⋆ answered #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #nct dream smut

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thesas29 · 2 years

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Faceback edition...

#fashion #lifestyle #fitness #motivation #travel #shafiq ghazie #shafiqghazie #follow me #fun #food #five star hotel #hilton kuala lumpur

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nooneaskedbut · 2 years

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Thinking about the way that the Reggie’s abuse effected all of the Umbrellas. The way they grew into man-children with poor coping skills, undeveloped social skills, and completely unbalanced lifestyles. The way they all pretty much regressed into washed up child stars, escaped into coping mechanisms or repressed entirely. Vapid, depressed, petty and suspended in their shortcomings. The Hargreeves are adolescents.

All of them except Five.

According to Luther, even in their childhood Five “always thought he was better” than the others. If you ask me, it’s because of his self awareness. He was never looking for parental validation, or a normal childhood, he understood what he was to Reggie and seemingly accepted it. This is arguably how he was able to have a closer relationship with the shunned and exiled Vanya, as he understood the structure of power his father had created and was able to defy it without manipulation. This is also arguably why he and Reggie seemed to clash so much. His acceptance and cooperation wasn’t the same as Luther’s blind loyalty afterall. His self awareness made him hard to control. He was prideful, and independent. But then, one thing led to another, and he sustained the biggest humbling possibly imaginable.

One tiny fuck up, one little mistake, and he was forced to grow up. Fast. Exponentially fast. He buckled under the pressure of his new horribly fucked up life, and aged literally and figuratively well beyond his years. For better and for much much worse, he seized control over his life and survival. There were no shortcuts, only painstaking work and persistence, for decades. He is the adult. Only to finally, after an unspeakably long and painful journey, make it back to his siblings to save them from themselves.

And what does he get?

He ends up a fucking man child.

#oh the irony #OH THE HUMANITY #except maybe Allison #lmfaooo #the umbrella academy #tua season 3 #the umbrella academy s3 #tua #umbrella academy #tua s3 #five hargreeves #the hargreeves #viktor hargreeves

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lovelytsunoda · 17 days

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spill the wine // lance stroll

summary: honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls. capri will always hold a special place in y/n's heart.

pairing: lance stroll x hutchence!reader

part two of the welcome to wherever you are verse

author's note: i'm so glad that you guys loved the first part of the welcome to wherever you are verse! i was so excited to make this into a series, combining two of my current hyperfixations. i hope that the first part was enough to make some of you curious about the life and times of my favourite aussie rock band. for people who are looking to learn more, i recommend watching the channel seven drama 'never tear us apart', starring luke arnold as micheal hutchence. it's two episodes, each of them an hour and a half that takes a look into the rise and fall of inxs. arnold's protrayal of micheal was beautifully done (and i love alex williams as kirk).

y/n.hutchence just posted to her private story!

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

island of capri, italy.

tagged: lancestroll

liked by lancestroll, officialinxs, yourbestie and 130 others.

y/n.hutchence as my father once said, 'spill the wine, kiss that girl."

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jonfarriss first of all those aren't the real words, and your father didn't actually write spill the wine

-> y/n.hutchence jon why do you have to be right all the time huh?

-> jonfarriss you also know that song is about being on five different kinds of illegal drugs?

-> andrewfarriss he's being annoying because he cares. make smart choices, kiddo!

-> y/n.hutchence andrew have you ever known me not to make the smart choice? i'm living the sober girlie lifestyle here

yourbestie looking good sunshine!!!remember to send me pics, I need to pretend I don’t work a nine to five!

lancestroll wow I can’t decide what’s more beautiful: the scenery or my wife (jokes on you guys, it’s my wife)

-> y/n.hutchence 🥺🥺

kirkpengilly nice to see alcatraz hasn’t changed

-> y/n.hutchence of course you hated it...you hate the beach, the sand, the water, the sun

-> kirkpengilly i do not

-> laynebeachley sweetie she is right.

lancestroll just added to his story

lancestroll just posted!

island of capri, italy

tagged: y/n.hutchence

liked by y.n/hutchence, kirkpengilly, astonmartinf1 and 4,567 others

lancestroll honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls

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astonmartinf1 are lemons supposed to be that big?

-> y/n.hutchence arent they awesome?

estebanocon why do you have to add 'with the hutchence-strolls' to everything?? 'easter with the hutchence-strolls' 'cook chicken gyros with the hutchence strolls' its EXHAUSTING. watch you guys make a sex tape and call it 'making babies with the hutchence-strolls'

-> kirkpengilly they'd better not! y/n i will resurrect your father and have him talk some sense into you

-> y/n.hutchence kirky calm down!! there is NO sex tape!

user y/n is so stunning! europe looks good on her

yourbestie i held my tongue at the wedding but she has been so fucking happy since you guys got married and if you hurt her i will give you HELL to PAY

-> lancestroll don't worry, she's in good hands. she's my reason to get up every morning, my reason to smile. i have never felt more alive than i do when she is next to me

garrygarybeers huh i actually think capri has gotten nicer since 1993

mickschumacher why do your legs look so long in the first picture

-> lancestroll thanks mick, now that you've pointed it out i can never unsee it smh

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

liked by yourbestie, yourmom, lancestroll and 278 others

y/n.hutchence take my breath away

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lancestroll it was an honor to experience the grotto with you, my wife

-> y/n.hutchence the view was pretty, but you were prettier, my husband

yourbestie consider my mind BLOWN. things like these just exist in nature???

timfarriss now why didn't we go here when we were recording the album again? this place would have inspired the crap out of us. your dad would have loved it.

fernandoalonso ah yes, the grotto. fond memories of skinny dipping there

-> lancestroll ew why did you think i needed to know that

-> y/n.hutchence i second that

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @clemswrld @httpiastri @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck

#lance stroll x reader #formula one x reader #lance stroll smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ig aus #formula 1 x reader #formula one x you #f1 pov #f1 smau #Spotify #wtwya verse

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redtsundere-writes · 2 months

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Last Time | Nanami Kento

nanami kento x fem!reader

Sypnosis: Nanami and you have monthly getaways to see each other in secret. Contents: Forbidden/secret relationship. Modern AU. Smut/Angst. Praise kink. Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. +18 MDNI.. Word Count:1386 words. Author's Note: So I tried doing something with fewer dialogues. Hope you guys like it.

His eyes roamed the height of the building. A grand, majestic hotel standing tall amidst a bustling cityscape. Its exterior was a striking blend of modern elegance and timeless architecture. The hotel's facade was adorned with ornate details, featuring large windows that reflect the sky and the surrounding city lights, creating a captivating play of light and shadow. His lips curled in a smile in excitement as he made his way to the inside.

Shiny marble floors, bright chandeliers and fancy furniture surrounded him. It was your turn to pick the hotel where you would see each other after a long month, and you made a wonderful choice, as always. His picks weren’t bad, but yours were better by far. He really liked the one you picked by the beach last getaway. It was a wonderful oasis with a bubbly jacuzzi, piña colada scent candles and the smoothest sheets he has ever felt. A five-star experience indeed.

Up the elevator, he messaged you that he was on his way to the suite you picked. This was a fun twist to the kind of rooms you pick. They are often elegant rooms with great views and amazing king beds, but a grand suite? You were going all out this time. This must be a special occasion.

These small getaways were perfect for both. Nanami was a busy stockbroker with a stressed lifestyle, and you were an impatient teacher at a private high school full of rich kids. This was a very much needed pause from reality so you could relax and relieve each other in a small cocoon of pleasure away from everyone. This last part was very important for both.

The elevator door opened. Nanami followed the numbers to get to the designated room along with the fancy wallpaper and works of art. He tied his tie tightly, made sure his blonde hair looked well, and his beige suit didn’t have any wrinkles. His knuckles knocked on the Grand Suite door, which announced itself with a nice silver plaque under the peephole. You answered the door in a white silk robe. You looked stunning as always.

“Come on in,” you greeted with a smile as always. Nanami looked as handsome as always. You stepped aside so he could come in. Once you close the door, you hug him tight. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, he was stripping away his suit and ripping the white cloth from your body. You led him to the bed while kissing him in a chaotic tango routine to not lose a single second of your precious time together.

His lips roamed around your body, slowly and steady, taking his sweet time but making sure he did a good job pleasing you. You loved how his lips felt against your sensitive nipples, the teasing and sucking felt like heaven on earth. His hands grabbed you tight by the arch of your back to pull you closer to his built body. He loved every curve in his body, it was like a rollercoaster for his finger.

His cock was hard and big as usual, twitching in excitement to be inside of you after a long time no see. Last week, you canceled the getaway because you had an important school event to attend, so you rescheduled. He thrust in you without losing a beat. Your soft moans and grunts mixed with soft music playing on the TV filled the passionate room in a lust symphony. He was in love with your body, feeling the need to open up a church to worship it every single day. Every time he admired your naked body, he believed god is a woman.

You rode his majestic cock without losing a beat. His arms hugged you tight while his hands gripped your ass to make it bounce at his desired rhythm. Your skin slapping against his at the perfect rhythm was motivation enough to not break the satisfying cycle. Nanami got close to your neck to leave a small hickey on your collarbone, sneaky enough so you could hide it easily but public enough so you could see it every time you showered.

Your bodies were in synchronization, they were perfect for each other. It was too bad you couldn’t just go outside and have normal dates, but this was fine, as long you were only his. Nanami pounded against your pussy with a fire of youth he forgot he ever had. It was powerful and deep, you were about to climax, your poor kitty couldn’t take it anymore. That wonderful feeling came around when you felt that thick milky consistency that you love to have in your insides. With some huffing and puffing, Nanami pulled out and flopped next to you on bed.

Eyes closed, wrapped in each other's arms and playing with his perfect blonde hair, you were talking about each other’s week and how was your family. Nanami was your father’s old friend from college that appeared in your life three years ago. He just showed himself at a BBQ gathering at your parent’s house. Your dad was really excited to introduce his little girl to his friend to show him how fast time has passed since their good days in college, you never imagined you would catch feelings for him after talking about work and life during that evening.

Nanami kissed your forehead tenderly. He wanted to tell his old pal that he loved his daughter more than anything in the world, but you were so afraid he would take it the wrong way so you decided to hide it and have casual getaways. You always kissed his forehead back, but this time was different, you didn’t reciprocate the kiss. Something was going on.

After some nagging and demanding coming from Nanami, you sighed as you decided to spill the beans. There was another man in your life, a new hot coworker that you met recently. There was no important school event last week, only a date with the lovely man. Nanami was in utter shock, he couldn’t believe you picked another man over him. You defended yourself saying that you weren’t in a formal relationship and this whole situation was more of a friends benefits thing.

“I am a grown woman, Nanami. I need someone who actually takes me seriously. I hope you like this, but this was our last time,” you said before yanking yourself from his arms to go take a shower. He laid there without understanding how everything happened so fast. A gulp went down his throat trying to control his wild emotions from lashing out. He was naked, cold and sad, the worst thing a person can experience.

So this was it? A quick fuck and you're done? Nanami dressed himself to get going, he couldn’t stay much longer in the room. He opened the door, but he regretted it. If this was the last time you were going to see each other, he would do it like a gentleman, with a proper handshake. He closed the door and a crying sound reached his ears.

His heart sank as he heard you cry out loud, thinking you were alone in the suite. Your eyes poured out all the love you felt for that man, who you think left already. He was perfect for you. You loved how he tucked your hair behind your hair, how gentle he was around you and how he made you feel so special every time you see each other. You wanted to be with him, but you were tired of feeling hidden.

After dressing up, you finally got out of the bathroom with puffy eyes. Nanami wrapped his arms around your body in a surprise attack. You let out a sob after the realization that he didn’t leave. Your arms wrapped around his body in a tight hug, you didn’t want to let him go again. Your hearts were building up again in the sacred embrace. Nanami hid his face on your neck so you wouldn’t see him cry. You whisper “I am sorry”s in each other's ears before kissing in desperation.

“I don’t want this to be our last time. I want to last a lifetime,” he whispered before kissing your forehead, which you kissed back.

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bored-platypus · 27 days

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the moon will sing (time traveling tim)

so. i saw this super awesome post by @puppetwoman17 about time traveling tim drake and got obsessed, so here's a small ficlet i wrote about it!

The thing is, Tim expects it. He’s faintly aware of the blood seeping from his stomach, staining his hands red— hands which are uselessly putting pressure on his wound. If he survives this, he doesn’t even want to think of all the weeks of pure agony and fever, brought on by the wonderful lack of his spleen and the fact that healing from wounds sucked, period.

Death isn’t surprising— he really didn’t think he would live past, what, twenty-five? Thirty? To live until beyond 50 with his lifestyle was, well. It sounded painful, anyways. And you would need to be a deeply paranoid neurotic. Like Bruce. Because as much as he respected his father and looked up to him, if Tim turned out anything like Batman, he’d probably find a bullet through his brain sooner or later.

Half because Tim was reckless and his plans were so convoluted and insane that nobody really knew what was going on either, just to confuse his opponent. The other half was, well. You can guess.

So. He’s bleeding out, the night is uncomfortably cold and the wind bites into his skin, sand grating against his back, and all Tim can think about is how much he hopes Ra’s al-Ghul doesn’t show up like a damned wraith and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest surgery table and take out his kidneys or something.

Tim’s also thinking about his family. And the probable inconveniences that come with his death. Like arranging his funeral and all his assets and his Nest and the fact that Tim is a very integral part of the family and Dick will probably fall apart and Bruce will mourn and brood, and, and damn it. Tim should probably revoke his thinking process or something.

—

Tim is twenty three years old when he bleeds to death alone, and nobody finds his body until three weeks later when his family has scoured the Earth and his distress signal rings, rings, but nobody sees it. His predictions about his family come true.

But that isn’t quite relevant, because Tim isn’t aware of such a thing.

Instead, Tim closes his eyes and falls and jerks up on his bed, clutching his chest as years of memories flood his brain, too much for a mere eleven year old. It feels like his head has been cracked open and molten lava had been poured through, scorching his veins and circulation. It feels like agony of the highest level and Tim is faintly aware of the darkness creeping in, his mind too overwhelmed and overstimulated from years of memories flooding into his brain.

And so for the second time in a few minutes and a lifetime, Tim welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

The next few hours are spent in pure agony, his body being too weak to move and his limbs too short for him to coordinate. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool of dried blood underneath him from a nosebleed, but he’s too tired to turn around, so he just uncomfortably shifts away from it. Not for the first time, he thanks his lucky stars that his parents are neglectful, because he doesn’t even know how he would explain all of this.

Two days later, he musters the strength to stumble out of bed, gulp down the bitter, carbon dioxide-filled water next to him and get to the kitchen. It’s April 1st, twelve years ago, Tim is eleven years old, and his family doesn’t know him yet.

Half of the terrible things that have happened to Dick haven’t happened yet. Jason hasn’t died yet. Duke is still a kid and his parents are healthy. Babs hasn’t been put into a wheelchair by the Joker.

Steph is still living with her father. Damian and Cass are being trained as assassins.

Mrs. Mac is due to come in a few hours. Tim looks at the blood-crusted covers of his bed and his crumpled clothes.

Oh, shoot.

So instead of researching or training, Tim spends the next hour trying to get the bedsheets off with his tiny, noodle arms, half stumbling on his feet because he’s way too damn short, and making his way to the bathroom so he can take a shower and get some of the blood off so it doesn’t stain too badly.

It’s probably a lost cause. Not that his parents will notice or care about a missing bedsheet, but it feels wasteful to just throw it away to hide evidence of his unintentional time travel.

Two and a half hours later, Tim stumbles out of the laundry room, his bedsheets and pillow finally in the washer. He collapses on the nearest chair and scans the room for his father’s computer.

He lets out a shaky breath. His family is generally unscarred. Jason is Robin again. Jason. The boy who Tim had held with a certain degree of, well, disdain. Thinking about it kind of makes him want to punch is past self in the face, or cringe in the way that you can only do when you think of something embarrassing you used to do. Like victim-blaming your older brother for getting beat to death while trying to find his mother.

It wasn’t the only way he looked at Jason, but he had always thought of him as too reckless. Maybe he really did deserve the beating. Well, not that he believed that young teenagers should be beat up by young adults in Robin cosplay, but at least Tim wasn’t exactly traumatized by the experience. Better him than some other poor civilian kid Bruce could’ve adopted.

And Tim did get his revenge. By getting Jason on his private parts. But whatever. Revenge was revenge, and Tim was better than the whole crime lord setup his older brother had. In practice, anyways.

Chewing on the ballpoint pen, he writes down the first thing on his list (in code, of course) since coming back in time.

prevent jason’s death

Well. Now that he had a comprehensive list, Tim was down and ready to plan.

—

A hour later, Mrs. Mac appears, none the wiser to what happened to him. Tim greets her as she walks in, and she smiles and greets him back, putting lunch in the fridge. She notices nothing wrong about how he stays sitting on the chair in the living room, and Tim says nothing about it. When she leaves, he pulls the piece of paper out of his book and the pen from his hair, scratching down some extra points.

Hmm. Maybe the Court of Owls should go early. Or perhaps that would create too much change?

Dick would have a better time in the future if they were gone, though. Tim frowns, dragging his pen back and forth in a short line on the table.

He still needed to factor in the fact that he was an unknown to the family. The thing is, Tim loves their dysfunctional, broken family and he knows Bruce and Dick loved him back. But to be honest, it would be easier to change events if he wasn’t being scrutinized by Bruce every day. And it wasn’t like Tim had any shortage of money, with his parents still alive and his family fortune enough to cover whole lifetimes, so he wasn’t worried about his own safety.

It would be nice to go to college too. Maybe Stanford. He was smart enough to make it, and the location was close to the vigiliante community that if he so wanted to, he could probably join and watch his family from the outskirts. Last time around, Tim just couldn’t leave Gotham. Being a vigiliante was his life— he couldn’t even justify it as a temporary thing anymore. Their family had gone through so much tragedy and Gotham was still filled with crime and Tim had an obligation to keep her safe. It just… he couldn’t escape his mantle because he loved it, and Tim had a difficult time letting things go once he loved them.

But if Tim could change things from the start, he didn’t need to be pulled back into the life. (He couldn’t have it, even if he loved it, because it was never his in the first place.) He could start anew, be a vigiliante when he was in college and far away from the family he hopefully would’ve fixed by then.

Well then. First things first, he needed to remove a factor from Jason’s death so he wouldn’t die in the first place.

—

Mrs. Mac comes by and cooks him lunch, and they eat in silence. Typically, Tim would fill the silence with chattering, glad to have someone to talk to in the empty manor. But Tim’s mind is whirring, drawing up and discarding plans. By the time Mrs. Mac stands up and tells him she’s going to leave now, Tim has thought of three contingencies and twelve more future events he needs to address.

He mhms when Mrs. Mac prompts him to, and eventually she leaves out the front door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’s spring break and Tim doesn’t actually have anything to do because he’s in middle school now, so he mulls over the Jason problem for a few more hours.

It comes to him when he’s microwaving the leftovers from lunch, and Tim is pretty sure he’s a genius, or something. Sheila Haywood worked at a refugee camp in Ethiopia handling medical supplies, but she was embezzling funds from the organization she was working for. It wouldn’t be difficult for Tim to trace it and report her. By the time Jason began tracking her down, she would most likely be in prison, just for a few years and everything would hopefully blow over and the Joker wouldn’t blackmail her because she had no use to him in prison.

It was cold, perhaps. But her life wouldn’t be over with a few years in prison, and Jason would be alive. Nothing more than they deserved.

Jason, alive. Then Damian, Cass, and Steph. He would see to his family, whole and happy. Then perhaps, in the future, when he was older and safely out of Bruce’s adoption zone, Tim could perhaps work with them. Laugh about how he never expected the Wayne family to be vigilantes, just to throw them off his trail.

Tim allows himself this one selfish thought, because he has nothing else but the shattered remains of a future that will never come to be, and a family he left behind but still exists.

a/n:

i wrote this in two hours under an inspired haze of time travel and tim, two of my favorite things

tim is a super unreliable narrator if you haven't already noticed lmao

also if i get any characterization wrong feel free to leave some discourse or ping me on the head

but like please be gentle cause y'know constructive crit, not bashing

thanks for reading! :D

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