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if people want to visit me i’m going to need at least a week’s warning
#i swear everyone has these conversations and forgets i’m not a part of them#like you need to tell me the dates too#‘we’ll be up at some point in half term’ - said to me two weeks ago#yeah okay fine#heard nothing since#like a normal person i’d assume they’d be coming on the weekend or a friday because i have them off#but nope apparently they’re here on monday and now i’ve had to time to prepare my stuff#like i would have gone to my class last wednesday so i could skip monday and still be able to easily catch up#i’d have done all my notes i use my free period on mondays to catch up with#i’d have set aside time to clean#like you can’t just spring this on me#i don’t have time to sort everything out this weekend#i’ve got work#i also would have said hey any other day is better than mondays because mondays are the day i have my weekly lectures#which have a guest speaker every time#so i can’t catch up easily#so come a different day#i talk and its probably something weird
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A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader
Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.
A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.
Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.
Not really proofread
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.
It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.
Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’
You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”
You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.
After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.
————————————
The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.
Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.
There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.
Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.
You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.
"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.
"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.
————————————
As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.
When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.
JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.
As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.
Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.
As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.
Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.
You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.
"Hi."
You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.
"I've missed you, Maybank."
"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.
It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."
A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."
"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.
"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.
He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.
His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.
Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.
“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”
“What?”
“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”
He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”
You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.
He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.
You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”
You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.
“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Cum for me.”
As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”
You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”
“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”
“Are you going to talk to him about her?”
“I don’t know, J.”
---
I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.
#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe smut#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe outer banks#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe x pogue#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe x maybank
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The yawn stretched Lena’s jaw to the point that she felt like a cat, baring her fangs. Naturally, it prompted a Kara Danvers Pout, which was utterly devastating. Kara looked at her over the top of her drink cup, straw still pursed in her delicate pink lips as she frowned slightly.
“How long have you been awake?”
“I had a half hour nap this morning,” Lena sighed.
She’d been in the office for three days, but she didn’t admit that.
“Leeeenaaaaaaa,” Kara said, drawing her name out into a gentle rebuke. “You promised me you’d stop doing that to yourself. I’m taking you home.”
Lena’s heart skipped and Kara abruptly jerked upright, briefly glancing at her. Lena hated when that happened, when her body betrayed her. Kara meant escort her home; Lena’s thoroughly tired mind had supplied another scenario, one where Kara carried her onto the bed, relieved her of her clothes and dove between her legs, but that was never going to happen. Lena let out a long sigh of resignation, trying to be satisfied with best-friendship.
She hoped Kara hadn’t suddenly developed telepathy.
If you took me home I’d never leave. I could make love to you for a hundred years.
Kara smiled back at Lena’s wistful look. “I mean it.”
“Okay. I can come back to it tomorrow. Besides, I’m too full of grease and cheese to stay awake. Should we…”
Lena never finished her sentence. There was a crackle in the air, a sudden wet smell of ozone, and the thunderous boom that made her ears ring.
Kara flashed in front of her at super-speed, yanking off her glasses and tossing them on the couch in a smooth motion.
Hovering in the middle of her office was some ramshackle contraption resembling a mechanical eye about the size of a basketball that scanned Kara with a faint purple energy ray.
“Kara Danvers. Supergirl. I am Zeglos, Regent of the Alotian Republic. I am calling to you from the home of my people, located in what is to you a subatomic realm we call Universe Q. We need your help, you are our only hope. The invaders are slaughtering us and razing our home. There is no time.”
Kara glanced back at Lena. “I’ll help if I can. Let me-“
“There is no time. You must come with me now.”
“Wait, hold on a second-“
The machine flashed, thrumming as it powered up, and blasted here with a wave of light that surrounded them both, and then in a crackling boom they both vanished, leaving behind the ozone smell and a faint impression of Kara’s boot heels in the carpet.
Lena stared into the empty space for a moment, then shot to her feet, snatching the phone off her desk, where it had lain ignored since Kara walked into the room.
She called Alex, shocked at the blubbering panic in her own voice. Within a few minutes, everyone was there, piling into the room. Lena warded them off from the spot where Kara had stood. Alex was cold and calm, her voice clinical, and she immediately began issuing orders. J’onn took Lena aside and gently asked her probing questions in the manner of an old detective, coaxing every meager detail of the event out of her.
Within half an hour, Brainy and Lena had set up all sorts of equipment around the room, scanning, hoping to find some energy signature or other clue that could enable them to bring Kara back from wherever she’d been taken.
It proved fruitless. They tried everything.
Minutes stretched into hours. Lena was exhausted, heavy with fatigue.
“Go home, get some sleep,” said Alex. “We can’t help her if we pass out on the floor.”
“I’ll sleep here.”
She did, throwing a thin blanket over herself on the couch. It was Alex, not Lena, who cleaned up the Big Belly Burger mess. Lena slept fitfully, showered in the en-suite attached to her office, and changed into an old hoodie that she kept there and wore when no one was looking.
It wasn’t hers. Threadbare, a maroon color faded to a soft red, the back still emblazoned with a cracked and fading Midvale Mathletes Club logo, it was Kara’s. Lena had snatched it from Kara’s sofa and put it on one night when she was feeling bold and then, as now, felt surrounded by it, the oversized garment swaddling her.
And it smelled like Kara, just enough. Kara had stared at her intently for a moment when she took it that night but said nothing, a wistful sad look on her face before the moment was broken by Wynn’s bad joke at the table. Wynn was gone now, but the hoodie remained, just as it had remained when they were fighting, when she thought she’d never see Kara again. She’d worn it then and cried herself to sleep in it.
Just like now.
A day became two. Then three. Five. Lena tried everything, pursued every theory. They called in every favor, human and alien. Brainy tried to send messages to the future. Nia dreamed fruitless dreams. Alex paced like a caged animal and Kelly kept the peace, keeping them all fed, making sure everyone slept, talking things out whenever tempers flared.
Nothing worked.
Lena even tried praying, something she hadn’t done since the last time she was in a small church in Ireland. It didn’t work this time, either.
Lena was seated next to Brainy on the couch, going over a design for a new device to try to follow what was by now a thoroughly cold trail. Alex stood at the balcony door, staring out into a slashing summer rain squall that buffeted the glass with distant thunder and gusts of wind.
The ozone smell tickled Lena’s nose and she looked up, just as Kara took a stumbling step out of nowhere, appearing in her office with an utterly bewildered look on her face.
“Kara?”
Alex snapped round, adding her voice to the chorus. “Kara?”
Kara stared at her sister, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes.
“Alex?” she said. “Alex, you’re alive? How is that possible?”
“Alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Kara!” Lena cried, her voice ragged in her throat.
At the sound of her voice, Kara snapped around, eyes wide. Her knees buckled and she sagged, almost falling. She stumbled forward as Lena stood and they fell into each other, Lena hurling herself, reckless, into an embrace that revealed too much. She almost climbed Kara, all but throwing her legs around her as well as her arms as she buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck.
“Oh God. Oh Rao. I thought you would all be gone. I begged them to let me leave but they wouldn’t let me go, I had to…”
“Kara?” Alex asked, cautiously. “Why would we be gone?”
Kara barely seemed to hear her as she gently twined her fingers in Lena’s hair and wrapped her powerful arm around Lena’s waist, encircling and shielding her.
“How long has it been?”
“About a week,” Lena choked out. “I was so scared.”
“A week?” Kara blurted. “It’s only been a week here?”
Alex put a reassuring hand on Kara’s back, standing next to them. “Yeah, you were taken on Tuesday, kiddo. It’s Wednesday, the 17th.”
Kara stared past Lena, resting her chin on the shorter woman’s head, and began to sob with relief.
“Kara?” said Alex.
“Time dilation,” said Brainy.
“They told me time would pass slower up here but I didn’t believe them. I’ve been gone for… for…”
“It’s okay, Kara,” Lena whispered. “You’re okay, you’re back.”
“Eighty seven years, four months, and eighteen days,” Kara sobbed. “It’s been so long, I thought you were all dead.”
Alex stiffened. “Kara. Oh my God.”
Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed her in, shuddering. “I’d given up. All that kept me going was hoping I could see you again. This is a gift. A gift. I love you all so much.”
Kara still held her, rocking slightly, her big shoulders shaking with powerful sobs.
“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Kara, it’s okay.”
“I love you,” Kara blurted. “I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me back, I just need to tell you, I have to tell you. All I could think about down there is how stupid I was and how stupid I’ve been and how none of the reasons I never told you made any sense,” she sucked in a breath as if she’d briefly forgotten how, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
There could be no mistaking her intent. She seethed with it, it radiated from her very bones. Lena hugged her hard, crushing her with all her might as if to crawl inside her.
“God, Kara, I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too. Let’s… mmmph!”
Kara was kissing her. Lena’s brain briefly froze, then she realized the full magnitude of what was happening. Kara was kissing her. Kara was kissing her. Then Lena was kissing her back. There was so much in it, need and lust and adoration and an unbelievable desperation, but above all love. Lena felt her heart open as if hadn’t in a long time, like a flower unfolding to receive the nurturing warmth of morning sun.
“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Kara whispered when they finally broke and Lena again could breathe.
“Let me take you home,” said Lena.
#supercorp#supergirl fanfiction#supergirl#supercorp fanfic#lena luthor#kara danvers#kara x lena#karlena#supergirl fanfic#ficlet#love confessions#time dilation#it takes fighting a war in a subatomic universe for Kara to process her feelings#softcorp#longing#pining#mutual pining#piningcorp#requited pining#requited crushes#requited love#reunion#reunited and it feels so good#kara danvers x lena luthor#sad lena luthor#dorky lena luthor#Lena wears Kara’s clothes and they both know what it means but they’re idiots#Kara is a hug machine#🥺#🥺corp
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the monthly necessities⋆.ೃ࿔*:・📔🎀
just some things like appointments, trips, dates that i like to plan before the beginning of each month so that i can set off on the right foot for a successful month.
MANICURE AND PEDICURE ;
i like to schedule an appointment before the month starts to either get myself a new set or start fresh and let my nails breathe. i like to keep my toes done regularly because it just makes me feel so feminine and clean.
FACIALS AND OTHER TREATMENTS ;
things like a hair trim (you can designate a day to do it yourself or get it done professionally) and facials can keep you looking and feeling your best.
waxing appointments
getting ur brows or lashes done
facials
hair trimming
it’s important to set aside those dates because booking appointments and making time to groom and pamper yourself is something that u can easily sweep under the rug, especially if ur not in the habit of pampering urself.
IMPORTANT DATES ;
make sure to set out dates that you don’t wanna forget! like birthdays, lessons, tournaments and competitions. make sure to put the important things in ur monthly calendar.
applications and deadlines also go in this category so make sure to include those in ur calendar because you don’t wanna forget those.
SOCIAL LIFE ;
set aside times to have dinner dates with ur friends, include the dates of parties and get togethers.
lunch date
dinner date
brunch
sleepovers etc
i try and keep at least one or two days where i can be fully available with my friends so we can keep friendship strong. this includes other social events so that then you can keep your social life alive and thriving!
ONE DAYS ;
one whole pamper/spa day (my tip is to do this on a saturday or a sunday)
one whole day without using social media
one day in which u spend time outdoors
one day to go somewhere that you never went before
one day to help someone else and be there for them
TIPS AND TRICKS ;
if ur putting everything into ur agenda or calendar and you somehow still manage to forget things, log things in ur alarm clock. for example if u have a daily alarm clock that rings at a certain time, write something along the lines of what you need to remember.
like if my alarm goes off at 6:00 am and it says “good morning beautiful” on important dates i’d write “good morning beautiful, you have an appointment at 9:00”. that way it’s like an active reminder.
do your best to make ur calendar and agenda aesthetically pleasing, i swear it makes you more productive and happy to get things done and be prepared.
#honeytonedhottie⭐️#it girl#becoming that girl#self concept#self love#it girl energy#that girl#dream girl tips#dream girl#dream life#self development#self improvement#self growth#self improvement tips#planning#organization#organization tips#hyper femininity#princess#doll
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You collapsed in a heap on the couch next to Daryl, who looked over in surprise. Everyone else had gone to bed ages ago but you had only just got home and by the look of you it'd been a tough day outside the walls.
"Ya alrigh'?" he asked. Secretly, he'd been waiting up for you, but he was using making some new bolts for his crossbow as an excuse.
You sighed and rubbed your hands over your face, pressing your palms into your eyes for a long moment. Daryl noticed that all your knuckles were grazed. "Yeah. Just... tough day. Almost everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Well—except I made it back and I am still alive. So there's that," you sighed, sinking back into the deep couch cushions, exhaustion quickly settling over you heavily.
Daryl was appraising you. "Mm. Ya wanna talk about it?"
You shook your head, your eyes closed. "No. I'm almost too tired to think."
He nodded, and hummed a response again. His blue eyes studied you for a moment before he spoke again. "I'm gonna get a kit for your hands. We should clean up those scrapes."
"Huh? Oh." You held your hands out in front of you, catching sight of the abrasions for the first time. You hadn't even noticed them.
Daryl left and returned quickly with what he needed to at least get your hands cleaned up and you murmured your thanks as he worked gently. "Sounds like ya had a day like that time Rick and I met Jesus. When that truck went into the pond," he said.
You laughed lightly and bit your bottom lip thoughtfully, nodding. "Yeah, you know... it was kind of like that. I didn't lose an entire truck but... not far off."
"Well," he drawled, setting aside the used first aid supplies, "'m just glad yer okay."
You smiled at him. "Will you run away with me?" you asked, again sinking back into the couch, your eyelids heavy.
Daryl looked stunned for a moment and then laughed, a low, chesty sound you loved to pull from him. "Where would we go?"
You shrugged. "I don't care. Anywhere. I'd go anywhere with you, Daryl."
He ducked his head, feeling his cheeks burn a little with a blush. "I think maybe ya should sleep on that... ya've had a day."
Your smile widened. "I'll ask you again tomorrow. My mind won't have changed."
Prompt: "Will you run away with me?" / "Where would we go?" / "I don't care. Anywhere."
#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon twd#the walking dead#twd fanfics#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl imagines#daryl x y/n#fanfics#writers of tumblr#twd drabbles
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not being romantic
Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?
Jess Mariano x f!Reader
Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.
✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words
The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.
You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing.
Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?
Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?
“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”
You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.
He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.
Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.
You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”
Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”
You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”
“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised.
You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”
“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”
“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”
“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.
“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”
“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.
“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.
Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.
With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.
“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.
“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.
You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”
“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.
“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”
He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”
You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”
He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.
Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.
“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.
When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.
You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.
You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.
“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”
You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”
He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.
“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.
You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”
Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”
“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”
“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”
“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.
“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.
Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?”
You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”
“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.
“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”
“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”
You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.
Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”
“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”
“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”
“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.
“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.
“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.
“Just welcome to my home then,” he said.
You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.
Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.
“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”
He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.
“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.
You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.
You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.
A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you.
All this time it was Jess Mariano.
All this time it was a lie.
Just another one of his games.
“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.
“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.
You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you.
Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.
“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”
You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”
You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.
“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.
You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.
The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.
That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone.
“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.
You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.
“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.
You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.
“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.
There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?
Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.
When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."
He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.
You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.
You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”
“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.
“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.
He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.
“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”
You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased.
Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”
You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”
You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”
He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.
✿ Masterlist
Author's note:
✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.
#jess mariano#jess mariano x you#jess mariano x reader#jess mariano fluff#jess mariano imagine#gilmore girls#amongemeraldcloudswrites
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Can you hear the Evil Dead?
Rafe Cameron x Sarah’s best friend!femreader
Kinktober blurb! Blood play
After the book of the dead causes demon possession, you and Sarah are saved by Rafe Cameron. Who thinks a genuine thank you is deserved.
Warnings! Talks of violence! Blood play but reader isn’t injured! Light degrading? Praise! Fingering! Aged up Sarah and reader who are in college! Very minimal talk of demonic possession. Evil Dead movie references.
College break was supposed to be fun, relaxing and filled with adventures. Especially with your best friend and roommate Sarah Cameron. Yet, here you were. Hiding out in a cabin after fighting a league of demon possessed people.
She was asleep finally. After narrowly escaping an hour prior from her father while Rafe Cameron, her older brother had no choice but to kill Ward. With a fucking chainsaw.
You quietly walked into the room he was in, where he cleaned off the blade with a cloth. He was still covered in blood and shaking with tension.
The cabin was dark. It wasn’t safe to use lights and your own clothes were torn. He saved you both. He was someone you tolerated but never befriended. Rafe was preparing to take over the Cameron empire. Now, if you all survived, it would be sooner considering their dad was dead.
“Hey,” You cleared your throat and he looked up. His blue eyes icy in contrast with the crimson coating his skin.
“Is Sarah asleep?” He asked and set down the weapon. You nodded and Rafe ran a hand through his messy hair.
“I can’t believe that dumbass John B caused all this.” He ranted and you leaned against the wall. “I mean who looks at a book like that and fuckin opens it?”
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same.” You tossed back and Rafe looked at you angrily.
“Give me some credit, sweetheart. Maybe I’d look but I wouldn’t open it.” You rolled your eyes and for some reason that sent him over the edge.
Rafe marched towards you and set a hand against your head. “I stuck my neck out for you and this is how you thank me?”
“Yeah because I owe you a thanks for doing the bare minimum.” You sarcastically replied despite the growing heat between your legs.
“I could have just left. Saved myself. Not picked up that goddamn chainsaw and killed my own dad.” Rafe said lowly and leaned down. You quirked a brow.
“Thanks. Is that better?”
Rafe reached down and smeared the blood that was on his hand. His thick fingers running along your collar bones, chest and finally he gripped your jaw. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by flinching. You looked him in the eye as he pushed you harder against the wall.
“Look at that. Marked you with my mess. Thank me properly and I’ll clean you up.” His voice took on a seductive tilt and his full lips turned up.
Your heart was pounding. That was something you couldn’t hide and by the way Rafe smirked, you knew he felt it. Your pride wanted to resist but at the thought of waking your best friend, you relented.
“Thank you. For saving my life.” You gritted out and Rafe furrowed his brows.
“What? Can you repeat that, little girl? Did you actually do as I asked?” You wanted to step on his foot so bad but you swallowed the urge to be petty.
“I said. Thank you for saving my life.” You responded again, this time with significant more bite. Rafe gave you a look of respect and his hold loosened on your neck.
You knew he was leaving a bloody print around your throat but the last thing you expected was Rafe to lower his mouth. He dragged his tongue against your chest, softly licking the smear. He kissed your jaw, sucking softly and his palm fell off to rest on your waist.
He licked the blood off your flesh but it wasn’t gross. You quietly moaned and he took the opportunity to slip his fingers down your pants.
Rafe moved aside your panties, his ring cold against your thighs.
“I deserve a reward.” He muttered and caught your mouth in a kiss. Rafe toyed with your clit, smearing the wetness down. Mixing the blood and pushing two digits inside you.
Your mouth parted, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue against yours. You tasted the tang of copper and sucked his lower lip. Rafe groaned, pressing his chest against yours. He pumped you deeper, his knuckle hitting your center perfectly.
“Ride my hand, princess. Worship the very thing that saved you.”
You grunted and whimpered as a quiet squelching sound came. Rafe chuckled as you tried to muffle your sounds.
“Say thank you one more time,” He whispered and you obeyed.
Your climax hit you and you crumbled in his arms. Moaning a series of thank you’s. Rafe finger fucked you through it, until you were begging for him to stop. He removed his hand, creamy substance lighting the bright red. Rafe sucked them clean.
“Perfect pretty pussy, baby. I can’t wait to sample it with my mouth and dick when all this is over.” He gave you one last kiss and stepped back. Leaving you to breathe heavily.
Dawn was coming and monsters were still outside. But you also watched Rafe Cameron become an unwilling hero.
And he fingered you. A win is a win, right?
Divider credit: @strangergraphics
Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @fear-is-truth @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @oceanblvd111 @oceandriveab @cameronsprincess @redhead1180 @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafecameroninterlude @justafangirls-blog @nemesyaaa @loserboysandlithium @gri959
#rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe smut#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe imagine#rafe x you#Rafe Cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x smut#kinktober
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summer of sam || sam golbach
SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. wooo it’s getting hot in here. tw: subby sam, stripper/dom reader, humiliation, degrading, overstimulation, sub/dom dynamics in place, dry humping, choking, etc this is just complete and utter filth. ps: this is my first time writing the male to be submissive on this blog. W? L?
You were a professional at what you did.
Every summer in between college semesters you’d work the same strip club, earnings thousands of dollars all summer long. Ohio wasn’t known for its popularity in exotic dancers what so ever, your presence spicing up an otherwise dead club.
Over time you had grown a consistent fan base of men who awaited your return every summer. You were now on year five, your degree so close to being obtained you could practically taste it. It’s what kept you motivated to keep coming back. You had to pay for your degree somehow even if it was deemed shameful by your peers. Which is why you traveled to a town in Ohio far from your hometown, determined to make enough funds to scrape by the semester.
It was only week two of your return, word of your arrival spreading through the town. In an odd way it made you all jittery, feeling like a little celebrity. You were in your dressing room, pampering yourself with makeup before your set time on stage. Your eyes flickered to the door opening behind you, continuing to pat your brush across your cheek. Your body guard was the sweetest man alive, his chocolate eyes meeting yours.
“Hi Tommy, big crowd?” You asked. You had met Tom during year two of your ‘career’, the man fully dedicated to protecting you from creeps. “I’d say so, but I have an offer from a new comer. Wants a private dance,” He informed you. You set your brush aside on the vanity, grabbing a tube of lipstick. “As if, that crowd out there will provide me ten times whatever he could,” You replied. Tom cleared his throat, your gaze straying away from your plump lips to him. In his hand sat two wads of cash.
“This is fifteen thousand. He offered more if you come.”
You never did private dances. You had admittedly become egotistical over time, your time precious during the hotter season. The private dances were no where near as cash filled as public ones were. Undoubtedly you were the star of the show in this little town and you belonged in the spotlight. Your eyebrows had furrowed at the wads of cash, quickly sliding out of your chair. Your heels clicked as you grabbed one, running your thumb through it.
“They’re real?” You questioned. You already knew the answer, the tiny bumps across the blue band of the hundred dollar bills giving it away. “Every single one. He’s in room six,” Tom answered you. You nodded, handing him back the wad. “Stand outside of the room if you don’t mind. I want to see what this guy is all about,” You say.
You had almost forgotten what the hallway to the private rooms looked like, new purple led lights illuminating the dim hallway. Finding room six was a breeze, the numbers in bold letters hammered to the doors. You glanced over at Tom, nodding affirmatively for him to stand by its side. You shook off your nerves, remembering who you were. How many men would die to be in this one’s position. Your slender fingers gripped the doorknob, pushing it open.
The sight before you was not one you expected, a clean cut blonde sitting on the middle of a circular couch. His legs were spread, thin framed glasses sitting on his nose. His blue eyes met yours instantly, an undeniable intensity flooding the room. Tom closed the door behind you, giving you some privacy. The blonde awkwardly stood up, adjusting his tie. “Hi, i’m Sam,” He greeted. You watched as he held out his hand to you, waiting for you to shake it. You tried to conceal your confusion, shaking his hand. Your stage name fell off of your lips with ease,
“I’m Kailani.”
Sam cleared his throat. “Here um, sit sit,” He said, gesturing to the purple velvet couch. You followed his request, sitting down. “So Sam, what exactly did you request me here for?” You asked. Sam sat down as well, visibly nervous. He ran his fingers through his hair. “For a private dance..?” He replied, his tone sounding as if he was asking a question more than answering. You raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart no one around here pays fifteen thousand just for my consideration. What do you actually want?” You asked. Sam gulped, his adams apple moving as he fidgeted with his hands.
“It’s kind of a long story,” He began. You could feel your patience thinning. “Time is money and unless you plan on beginning to pay me for this I will not-” You began. Your words were sharply cut off as Sam reached in his pocket, setting another wad of cash on the clear coffee table in front of you. “That cover it?” He asked you. Affirmatively you nodded.
“My name is Sam Golbach, i’m a famous youtuber with an obsessed fanbase. I’m from here and heard through the great vine about you. Might I just add you’re even hotter in person,” Sam began. His name didn’t ring a bell, but his face did look vaguely familiar. “I’m here because you’re just as discreet about your line of work as I am about what I do in my spare time in the bedroom,” He continued. You arched an eyebrow, questioning his words. “You’re very obviously not from here, only here during the summer. My guess is that you’re in college or something similar, probably in a different state,” He answered.
Your stone cold expression fell, your face visibly telling Sam everything he needed to know. You felt the urge to get up and leave, the blonde seemingly reading your mind. “No no listen I totally get it, i’m not here to judge you or anything,” He rambled. Your eyes shot daggers as they met his blue ones. “Get on with it. What do you want?” You questioned.
“It is extremely hard for me to get laid without the media making a big deal out of it, I have some things I want to uh, try in the bedroom that the media would have a field day with,” Sam told you. You audibly scoffed, rising to your feet. “I’m not a goddamn prostitute. So what was your big idea? To come here and have me call you daddy and beg for your cock? Fuck you,” You snapped. Hastily you turned towards the door, Sam’s large hand grabbing your waist. You began to protest, Sam’s meek words cutting you off.
“Quite the opposite,” He said. He was practically shaking with nerves, his cheeks flushed pink. You froze in your tracks, looking at the desperate blonde. “I-I want you to use me. To treat me like a slut or something. I don’t want to be in control,” Sam explained. His cheeks were turning a deeper shade of red, his hand dropping from your wrist. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a black credit card. “If we make this arrangement for the entire summer, this is yours. It’ll pay off anything you need it to. Until next summer, where I’d like to do all of this again,” He offered.
You took the tiny piece of metal between your fingers. You had never held such a heavy credit card before. “What are your conditions?” You questioned. Sam lowered himself back onto the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. “No stripping while i’m around, which will be all summer. Obviously no telling anyone you ever saw me and um, I want it rough,” He answered. The offer was tempting, the boy in front of you practically a puppy dying to be played with. “Any hard limits I need to know about?” You asked.
“No anal, nothing too weird, I guess. I just want you to use me. I want to be your submissive who you use to get off.”
“And you want to start now?”
“Please.”
Fuck, his desperation was making your core throb. You slowly approached him, straddling him as you looked down at his flushed face. “Safe word is red if you want to stop for any reason,” You whispered, leaning close to his ear. Your breath was hot against his skin, a small groan escaping his lips. You rolled your hips against his, the blonde below you audibly whimpering. “There we go, keep making those pretty noises for me,” You cooed. You brought your index finger and middle to his lips, pulling them down teasingly.
“Open your mouth,” You purred. Sam opened his mouth, flattening his tongue out on display for you. You grinned devilishly as you shoved your fingers into your mouth. He groaned as you grinded down against him. “There we go, now the harder you suck them the faster I grind against that hard cock of yours, hmm?” You offered. Sam nodded profusely, groaning around your fingers as you rolled your hips against his. Your thin red panties bottoms creating the perfect amount of friction against your clit. You moaned as he swirled his tongue around your fingers, his hands placing themselves on your hips.
They slithered to your ass, massaging the mounds of flesh as you grinded against him. His whining noises were music to your ears. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” You say. Sam’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head, bobbing profusely on your fingers. “I’m gonna cum,” He moaned around your fingers, his words muffled. You grinned, a sadistic idea coming into your mind. If he wanted to be treated like a fucktoy, you’d treat him like a filthy fucktoy. “Go on, cum for me you pathetic thing,” You ordered. His hips stuttered, loud groans muffled by your fingers as he came in his pants.
You took your fingers out of his mouth, bringing them to your own. You licked his saliva off, his blue eyes blown with lust. Sam swallowed as he admired you. “Let me taste you, please,” He whispered. You grabbed his face, teasingly dragging his bottom lip downwards. “Get on your knees and keep begging. I’ll think about it,” You ordered. Sam quickly slithered out from underneath you, dropping to his knees without a second thought. He looped his fingers around your panties, your hand stopping him.
“Oh baby boy I didn’t say you could use your hands,” You chuckled darkly. Sam was in a state of euphoric bliss, your degrading words making his cock grow harder in his cum soaked boxers. You spread your thighs, the blonde nuzzling in between them. He put his hands on your knees, his submissive mind trying to figure out how to obey you. You frowned at his hands on your knees. “You just can’t stop using those hands of yours,” You noted. You leaned forward, the blondes breath hitching as you undid his tie.
He could smell your perfume as you leaned over him, grabbing his hands and tying them behind his back with his own tie. Sam gulped nervously as you sat back, giving him a mischievous smile. “Go on baby boy, put that tongue of yours to good use,” You cooed mockingly. Sam brought his head in between your thighs, biting the hem of your panties with his teeth. You bit your bottom lip as he dragged them down your thighs, your core throbbing in anticipation. This is what you deserved, a rich submissive man who was willing to do whatever you wanted.
Sam dragged your panties down to your ankles, watching you slowly step out of them. He nuzzled himself back in between your thighs, flattening his tongue against your folds. He groaned at your taste, your cunts sweetness an addicting sensation. “You taste so sweet,” He mumbled into your slick, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips had a mind of their own, grinding shamelessly against Sam’s eager tongue. He sucked and lapped at your clit, before teasingly sticking it inside of your entrance. Your fingers raked through the roots of his hair, tugging at the roots.
The pain only made Sam moan louder, his cock growing fully erect in his pants. You could feel the cord inside your stomach tighten. You’d never had a submissive partner before, your core on fire from the pleasure the eager blonde was giving you. You’d never felt more empowered. “You’re doing such a good job Sammy, just like that,” You moaned. Sam whined as he shifted awkwardly in his pants, seeking any sort of friction for his own throbbing needs. He latched his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as you finally came.
Once the blonde saw your legs tremble, he began lapping up the juices you had produced. It was like a reward. “Just like that. Lick me clean or I won’t touch you,” You threatened, swallowing to regain your authoritative tone. Once you were satisfied with Sam’s performance you grabbed him by his button up, switching places with him once more. Your fingers played with his belt, your doe eyes meeting his. “May I?” You asked. He nodded profusely, licking his lips.
“Please.”
He lifted his hips, the two of you managed to slide his pants and boxers down to his ankles. In front of you was his hard cock, his cum covering the sides. “Such a filthy little boy, making a mess like this,” You commented. You straddled his hips, lining yourself up with his cock. Your eyes met his blue ones, studying his face carefully. “This okay?” You whispered. You leaned closer to the trembling man, his face flushed pink from lust. “More than okay, please,” Sam whined. You smirked as you lowered yourself on his cock, biting your bottom lip to hold back your own moans.
His cock was stretching you much wider than you had taken before, your walls fluttering around his cock. “Oh my God,” Sam groaned, throwing his head back. Once you sank fully onto him you grabbed his throat, your slender fingers applying pressure to the sides. “Look at me while I fuck you slut,” You ordered sternly. Sam forced himself to look at you, his hips attempting to move upwards to fuck you. He needed you. He needed you now. “Awe are you really trying to fuck me? Like the filthy whore you are?” You asked mockingly. Sam groaned as you applied less pressure, your hand still settled on his throat.
“N-need it. Need you. So bad,” Sam whimpered. He wished he could touch you, his hands still bound behind his back with his own tie. It was so demeaning, so humiliating. Yet he adored every second of it. He knew from the moment he saw you that you were the one for him. The one he wanted to give control to. To dedicate his body to. As you rolled your hips against his you could feel the vibrations of Sam’s whimpers against your hand through his throat. Sam was a panting mess, your hips bouncing on his cock faster by the second.
“My fucking God- you are so tight,” Sam panted. You squeezed his neck tighter, his vision becoming hazy. “Yeah? Fuck you’re such a cute little thing,” You huffed, his cock abusing your g spot with each roll of your hips. Your hand released his throat, his lungs immediately gasping for air. You wouldn’t ever admit it, but he felt fucking amazing. Far better than any other man you’d ever had. You weren’t proud to admit your career didn’t start off on such a high note, your legs having been opened for one too many creeps.
You’d had all kinds of affairs and arrangements, ones that fizzled out immediately. But Sam? The whimpering mess beneath you? You wanted to ride him like this forever. You felt yourself getting close to the edge, taking his cock as you pleased. “Mmm i’m close,” You murmured, biting your bottom lip. Sam was convinced he hadn’t seen anything near as sexy as you cumming on his cock. Your walls spasming around him sent him into a frenzy, his dick twitching and cumming inside of you. His face was beet red, his mouth dry as he panted below you. You were a slice of heaven, one he wanted to experience every chance he could.
You grinned as you leaned back, before lifting yourself off of him. Sam had foolishly expected it to be over, before watching you drop to your knees. “W-what are you doing?” He questioned softly. He watched in fear and lust as you licked up the side of his shaft. “I’m cleaning you up silly, i’m not rude you know. I have manners,” You answered. You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, his shaft growing harder in your mouth with each passing second. He squirmed as you swirled your tongue around his shaft, sucking both of your juices off of him. His body trembled as you licked his slit.
“Holy fuck that’s t-too much I-” Sam babbled. You pulled off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You pumped him with your hand, giving him a devilish smirk. “You can handle it. Let me clean you up. Be a good boy for me and take it,” You told him. Sam threw his head back as you began to deep throat him, your gagging only turning him on more. “I didn’t say you could look away Sammy. Look at me. Watch as I suck out your soul,” You purred. The blonde forced himself to look down at you, his legs trembling as you resumed sucking his cock.
His moans were incoherent babbles. “Fuck fuck fuck i’m so close,” He whined. The pleasure was becoming painful, your devious tongue and sinful lips showing no signs of stopping. You wanted to milk him dry. Sam’s hips jerked upwards as he came, his cum painting the inside of your mouth. You swallowed it with ease, before teasingly licking his slit. “You taste good,” You praised. You pulled away from his cock, the blonde shaking from euphoria.
You could feel his cum leaking down your upper thighs, an unholy idea popping into your head. You stood up, grabbing him by his shirt and forcing him to lay back on the couch. You straddled yourself over his head, your cunt inches away from his face, his blue eyes meeting yours, awaiting instructions. “Go ahead, why don’t you find out how you taste Sammy?”
#sam and colby#sam and colby smut#colby brock#colby brock x reader#colby brock x y/n#colby brock x you#sam golbach#sam golbach smut#sam golbach x colby brock#sam and colby x you#sam golbach x you#sam goldbach smut#sam and colby x reader#sam golbach x reader
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If you still want Astarion requests, I’d love to see something with a Tav who’s really nervous to let Astarion bite? 🥺
Positively Starved (Astarion)
Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]
Summary: In spite of your nerves, you invite Astarion back for a bite; admiring the trust you've put in him, he promises to be gentle (Act 1 spoilers).
A/N I wrote this in under an hour as I wanted to play around with some requests! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these off-the-cuff oneshots! (Also, slight mention of blood in this one).
Masterlist
"You can feed on me tonight... if you'd like."
The words sprung from your mouth. They lingered in the air, each syllable punctuating over and over—ringing out through your shared connection.
You felt a cringe.
Where in the seven hells did that come from? Was one near-death encounter not enough?
Before you could attempt to splutter out any sort of explanation, you were met with Astarion's laugh. "How very generous, my dear! I was starting to wonder when you'd invite me back for a bite."
Blood pooled to your cheeks; you could feel it—see it in the way his eyes turned them a similar, darker shade.
As you ruminated on his words, your heart hammered in your chest. The silence was palpable. But just as you were about to open your mouth to dismiss the idea completely, the man was roused into action.
"You know... I never expected you to be so eager," he finally said. Your embarassment swelled tenfold. "Tell you what, when the others have turned in for the night, I'll come to your bedroll."
Immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You glanced around—far less subtly than you would have hoped. To anyone in earshot, it would have sounded like Astarion was propositioning you.
Well, he was, you quickly realised. Just for blood over sex.
"Right—okay," you stammered back. You hated how weak your voice sounded, so you took a moment to make it stronger. "Come find me later then," you told him, before returning to sifting through your supplies.
You tried to calm your nerves, but as you turned to leave, you did not miss the way Astarion's fangs poked through his grin, nor how his eyes trailed your neck. Your legs almost buckled.
◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥ ◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥
As night fell, you found yourself, and your bedroll, tucked away in a small stone outhouse on the edge of camp. You'd discovered it earlier in the day, when looting storage boxes for odds and sods. It was cold, and damp—but at least it wasn't dark.
Amber glow lit up the space; you'd illuminated it with a few low-wicked candles as you waited for Astarion. In this warm light, you tried to make yourself comfortable on your bedroll.
"Setting the mood are we?"
Astarion's voice echoed through the outhouse. Although you tried not to acknowledge it, your heart immediately quickened in response—as did your mind race.
Your eyes followed him as he came inside, closing the old oak door behind him. "I must admit, I didn't expect this..." He waved a hand before him, inspecting the dripping candles, and your poor attempts at cleaning the place up.
"How come?" you asked.
His smile sent a shiver down your spine. "Well, aside from me getting a tad carried away the first time we did this... I could also feel your thoughts."
Even in the dim light, you could see his half-lidded expression, as though he was reliving the moment behind tired eyes.
He went on, "Excitement, yes, my dear. But also flighty as a bird."
Your brows furrowed. Part of you felt indignant, craved to prove him wrong by baring your neck without an ounce of apprehension. The other part wondered how he already knew you so well.
You tried to muster a reply, but it was Astarion who spoke first. "As much as I appreciate the offer, you don't have to do this, you know."
In that moment, everything seemed to still. You could only imagine the state of disbelief painted on your face. Throughout your time together, that must have been the most selflessness Astarion had ever strewn into a sentence.
But now was not the time to comment on it.
"I know," you said instead. "And I won't lie to you. I'm not sure exactly why I sought you out."
You sat up and reached for Astarion's hand. Something flashed over his face, but even so, he allowed you to guide him down to your bedroll.
"Perhaps you were right. Perhaps there is a spark of curiosity in me—excitement, even." His eyes widened, set alight by your confession. "Or maybe, and I know you won't like it..."
With a raised brow, he coaxed you, "Go on."
"When you told me about Cazador—" You paused for Astarion scowl, watching the lines materialise on his porcelain skin. "Well, I just thought how horrible it must have been to be constantly..." You sought out the word. "Hungry."
Astarion's lips parted ever so slightly.
Are you hungry? You shared the thought with him.
"Positively starved," came the reply.
Then he leaned in, casting shadows over your candle-lit skin. To any onlooker it might appear he was preparing for a kiss. But you weren't that naive.
"Not—" Your hand found his chest, the exposed skin peeking out of his shirt collar. "Not too much," you whispered.
Your eyes caught his in a silent plea. Astarion answered by taking your hand and pressing it into your bedroll. "No need to worry, my dear," he said, hot against your ear. "I promise to be gentle."
Your breath hitched. That wasn't the first time you'd heard those words spill from his pretty lips; you just hoped he'd be true to his word on this occasion.
You kept your eyes tightly shut as Astarion found your neck. As his fangs scraped your skin, you took a fistful of his hair between your fingers.
He bit down.
You tried not to cry out. The sensation was one you could hardly describe: a sharp sting followed by... euphoria?
No that wasn't right.
But all you could confidently say was that Asatrion's body lay hot over yours, and his lips were soft, but not quite as gentle as promised.
As he drank from you, you saw stars behind your eyes.
Your body thrummed as he suckled on the tender skin of your neck. The sounds he made were nothing short of sinful; they elicited a strained sort of moan from behind your own lips.
You felt Astarion's hand tighten over yours. He took more from you, worrying your skin between his teeth, coaxing more of your gasps to surface.
Pleasure mingled with pain coursed through your shared connection—a deep longing on either end. You cried out, and quickly, Astarion pulled away.
Feeling the loss of warmth, you opened your eyes. You were dazed, but even then, you noticed his cherry-red lips, tinted with your blood.
You blinked, trying to rid your vision of its blurred edges.
"Are you alright, my dear?" Astarion asked. He sat up immediately, inspecting your neck and overall complexion. "You're looking a little... flushed," he concluded.
A tired laugh escaped you. "My blood runs hot," you managed to say.
"Indeed it does," he agreed. Then he promptly stood up and dusted himself off.
A pang of hurt struck you.
It must have been strong enough to have travelled through your shared connection, since Astarion glanced back almost immediately.
"Don't look at me like that," he said, exasperated. "I'm just going to fetch some water. Try not to move until the dizziness passes."
Your mouth fell ajar. A wave of shyness overcame you. Had it been that obvious you wanted him to stay?
Apparently it had, so you tentatively rolled over, hiding your face from the man. "Thank you," you mumbled into your bedroll.
You heard the door creak open, and Astarion's footsteps damper. "No, my dear," he replied. "Thank you."
#astarion#bg3#astarion x reader#bg3 fanfic#astarion fanfic#astarion x tav#baldurs gate 3#astarion fanfiction#astarion x oc#astarion x you#fanfiction#fanfic#bg3 fanfiction
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Leather: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
***
You groaned as you stretched your sore muscles, fighting leathers tight against your skin. You felt his eyes watching you as they always did, following the curve of your body. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at him, confirming the fact. Truthfully, you were growing tired of this.
Azriel and his staring. He watched your every move, not shy about how he looked at you. Anyone could tell he wanted you. Honestly, the staring wasn’t even the real issue. It was the way he refused to do anything about it.
There had been plenty of times you had set it up so he could make a move, and yet he wouldn’t. You’d allowed him to catch you changing, you’d walked through the halls after a shower with nothing but a teeny towel, you had even swam in the nude in the river. He always saw. And yet he did nothing.
You knew it wasn’t due to him not being interested. You made it perfectly clear that you were. He just wouldn’t.
You’d had enough. You decided that morning if he continued to act in such a way you would be brazen about it. “See something you like, Az?” You asked coyly, turning your body to face him.
His eyes flicked up to yours. He shook his head once. You were going to scream.
“If you say so. Although, I cannot say I really believe you,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. He looked slightly taken aback, eyes widening.
“What do you mean?” He asked, a shake in his voice that wasn’t normally there spurring you on. You took a step closer to him, voice taking on a sultry tone.
“You think I am oblivious, Azriel?” You began walking a slow circle around him, allowing your eyes to drag up and down his body. “You think I do not notice you looking at me? Watching my every move?” You stood directly behind him, pushing up on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear. “I know you want me.”
He remained silent, jaw clenched. His shadows were swirling around you in a frenzy, the only sign of what he was truly feeling. You dropped back on the flats of your feet, your fingers ghosting over the wings in front of you. “Have I been mistaken, Azriel? Do you wish for me to stop?” You cooed, rubbing the edge of his leathery wings between two fingers. He let out a grown, head falling back.
“I’d think carefully about what you are doing,” he ground out, a rasp to his voice. You hummed, tracing the veins along his wings.
“Or what? You have yet to do anything besides stare at me.” You leaned in closer, blowing a cool breeze onto him. “Are you going to fuck me, Azriel?”
That was all it took for the shadowsinger to finally snap. He whirled around on you, hands gripping on to your waist as he lifted you up to the stones lining the training ring. “Is that what you wish?” He whispered, his nose trailing down your neck. You held on to his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him.
“Gods, yes.”
Azriel’s hands traveled up your body before coming to rest at your neck, his fingers toying with the collar of your shirt. You had barely a second to think before he ripped it clean in half, the leather falling aside. He made a guttural noise as he took you in, pulling your ruined training gear fully off of you. You tilted your head back slightly, the cool night air running over your heated skin.
The sounds of tearing leather brought your attention back to Azriel. You watched as he tore your top into strips, confusion on your face. “What are you doing?” You asked, hopping down from the wall you were perched on. Azriel looked up at you, a shadow of a smirk on his face.
“Turn around,” he demanded, moving closer to you with his leather strips in hand. You stared blankly at him.
“Turn. Around,” he said again, flipping you to face the stone wall and bending you over it. You gasped out as he reached around you and started winding the leather around your wrists. He tied them securely, leaving you unable to move them from their spot on the stone in front of you. A second strip of leather was shoved into your mouth, tied tight behind your head. The mix of shock and fear only intensified your need for his touch.
Azriel leaned close, his breath tickling your ear. “I can’t have all of Velaris hearing you scream, can I?” You moaned against the leather at his words, core tightening with desire.
He took his time tracing your skin, running his hands over the swell of your breasts, teasing the waist and of your pants. Every touch of his skin against yours increased the burn you felt for him, a torture greater than you had expected. You tried to beg him through your gag, but your words came out little more than muffled sounds.
“Shhhh,” he whispered, hands finally beginning to tug down your pants. “Let me take my time with you.” Your breath came in shuddering gasps as he bared you to him, desire coursing through you. His lips met your back, kissing across your shoulders. A scarred hand flattened itself against your stomach, its twin working its way down between your legs. “Look at that,” Azriel praised, his fingers coating themselves in the wetness they found. “All for me?”
You whimpered out around your gag, thrusting your hips back towards him. He let out a cruel laugh, his fingers circling your clit slowly. You clenched around nothing, the need to have him becoming overwhelming. Your hands twisted against the leather binding them, the material beginning to cut into your skin. You wanted to rip out of it and drag Azriel into you.
As if he could sense your thoughts, his fingers disappeared from you. You cried out at the lack of the only stimulation you were getting, nails digging in to your skin. It was only seconds later that you felt his hard length between your legs, teasing you. Azriel’s hand came to rest on your hip, the one on your stomach pushing your body tighter to his. “Ready?”
You nodded, eager to release the tension in your body. He began to push inside of you, the stretch a delicious pain. You gasped out, hips pushing back onto him. “Fuck,” Azriel groaned as he bottomed out, “I can feel myself inside of you.” He pressed his hand harder against your stomach, pulling you upright against him. You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, hands bound helplessly in front of you.
He started to move, the hand on your hip coming up to cup your face. “You’re beautiful like this,” he moaned, hitting deep inside you. You wanted to kiss him, cursing the damn gag he had placed on you.
Every thrust pushed you closer and closer to your peak, Azriel working you as if it was an art form. Your eyelids fluttered closed as the sensation became overwhelming, moans and cries falling from you. “That’s it,” he said, thumb caressing your cheek gently, like he wasn’t fucking you harder than you’d ever experienced. You arched against him as he hit the perfect spot inside of you, becoming a moaning spitty mess.
“You are so perfect. So beautiful.” Azriel continued to praise you as you reached your orgasm, teeth biting hard into the leather gag. You screamed out from behind it, body shaking in his grasp. You felt him tense up and moan your name in your ear as he came with you. In that moment you felt like you were in the stars, shining down upon the city below.
Azriel worked you through your pleasure, prolonging it until you were little more than a limp body in his arms. He pulled out slowly, turning you back to lean against the stone. He took in your tear stained face, the drool dripping from your gag. He watched his cum drip down your legs, the slight quiver in them. “Gods,” he murmured, beginning to untie the leather around your mouth. “This is the best sight i’ve ever seen.”
You sighed in relief as he undid the leather around your wrists as well, your skin singing where it had been bound. Azriel looked at you rather guiltily as his fingers traced the bruising on your wrists and face. “Was it too much?”
You shook your head, pulling your wrists from his grasp to wrap your arms around his neck. “It was perfect, Azriel.” You wasted no more time in pulling his lips to yours, kissing him with everything you had left. His arms wrapped comfortingly around your waist as he kissed you, the two of you molding together perfectly.
As if you were made for each other.
***
#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel x reader smut#acotar x reader smut#kinktober#leather
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so that even the world does not doubt that you are mine
— aka their ways to stake their 'claim' on you (in a cute and wholesome way)
◇ characters ◇ zhongli, ayato, childe, xiao, diluc, wanderer, cyno, al haitham
◇ tags ◇ teeth-rotting stomach-hurting fluff, dragon!li, childe calls himself your puppy
◇ a/n ◇ *throws this at yall after the angst last week* HERE'S YOUR THERAPY BILLS /j
𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
aside from the obvious way he gravitates around you whenever you’re in public - sometimes with his arm resting on your back and other times with yours looped around his - zhongli never does tell you but he has a little ritual he never fails to perform every morning before he goes his merry way to the funeral parlor.
they do not look like much from a normal person’s perspective, but had you listened religiously to all the tales he told you throughout your relationship, you would have understood the ancient gestures’ meanings to the dragons of the olden days.
today too is no exception; he lets you run your delicate fingers up his proud, battle-scarred horns as you clean them before moving on to clip his hair with his usual hairclip. at the end of it all, he thanks you with a soft nip to your nape.
“there you go. all set. thank you, dearest. have a good day, and i’ll see you again at lunch later, yes?”
ayato believes that the way one dresses - at least in public that is - could make or break a business deal or a potential ally, therefore, he always upholds himself to dress sophistically at all times. and while he normally does not force you to follow this belief, the number of clothing articles and the finest accessories gracing your doorstep could get a little burdensome…
but the moment he sees you out and about with that specific haori he custom-tailored just for you, its color scheme and the fine embroidery literally screaming ‘kamisato clan’? hmmm… perhaps if wearing them would make him this happy, you should consider doing it more often?
“that haori looks lovely on you, darling. hmm? people were being more polite than usual today, you say? haha, i’d say they were besotted by your loveliness, dear. soft blues and whites have always looked good on you, afterall.”
childe might be a good actor, but sadly his subordinates are not.
so it really isn’t a surprise when, after befriending the harbinger, you open your door to see a fatui agent conspicuously spying on you right across your lawn.
and when you started dating?
it got worse.
it didn’t even take you a full day to count all five agents trailing after you like lost puppies. you would have thought they learned to disguise themselves after all these times, but no. they look horribly out of place with their huge weapons and flashy uniforms. sure, they’re fulfilling their purpose by being flashy, but you’d prefer if people don’t run away from you in fear whenever you try to talk to them!
…. it seems like it’s time to give them a crash course on how to dress and act more inconspicuously.
“did the dogs misbehave today? no? i’m glad!! ….. still, you sound like you’re getting fond of them…. hey, i’m still your number one puppy, right? right??”
there are no such things as adepti’s blessings, and yet you carry xiao’s with you everywhere you go.
not that you’re aware of it.
but it shows. it's indicated by the remnants of anemo energy trailing upon your steps. of how his trinkets clink gently against your accessories, always subtle and never too intruding, effectively shooing the evil spirits vying upon possessing your body. in the way the breeze hums gently as it listens to all of the sounds surrounding you, silently protecting, watching, vigilant.
though he might not be able to watch you 24/7, xiao will always continue to make tremendous efforts to keep you safe.
“welcome back. i’m glad you had a good day today.”
a walking contradiction, this one.
wanderer says he does not enjoy being stared at as you walk through the market, yet he scowls when people ignore him in favor of talking to you instead. he says he does not enjoy sweet food and yet he continues to kiss you, tells you that you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, silently pleading for more with the insistent chase of his lips when you retreat. he says he doesn’t feel the need to announce your relationship to the public eye, and yet the moment someone gets just a little bit too friendly with you, he’s there, almost hissing like an angry cat chancing upon a dog wagging their tail at his unsuspecting owner - his hand settles on your and his hip sticks onto yours, and if looks could kill the unfortunate soul would have been blown a thousand feet into the air and falling rapidly to its demise a hundred times over.
“…… hah! coward. shouldn't have coveted what you can’t have. stupid human. wh- the hell are you doing?! stop pinching my cheek! and how many times do i have to tell you that i’m not ‘cute’!”
him staking his claim on you? ha. elementary. no, no, no. the tcg legendary player uses an uno reverse card on this one. in everyone else’s eyes, there is no doubt that he is yours.
the way cyno wears your accessories whenever he’s out on duty (it matters not if it “doesn’t match” his aesthetics - he claims seeing it on himself gives him a sense of peace), the speech ticks and the mannerisms he adopts from you (tighnari was the one who picked up on it; he thinks it’s very adorable), the way he walks about sumeru city with a bunch of padisarahs in hand, tied with a ribbon of your favorite color (and more often than not, with a bag of your favorite drinks or snacks in his other hand)…
... and most of all, the way a gentle smile always spreads on his lips when someone mentions your name.
“[name]…………. hm…... come on, tighnari. i need to finish this job. what? you think we can get this done before dinner? that's ridiculous. we will finish it by lunchtime. now, get moving.”
diluc is so hesitant to stake his claim on you most days, but after a while, it comes almost naturally to him.
he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but the way he refers to you as his whenever your name comes up in conversations is so smooth, people could easily miss it if they don’t pay enough attention to his words. from “my spouse? yes, they’re doing fine” to “adelinde, where has my beloved gone off to? they weren’t in the study room”, he has mastered the subtle art of painting you as one of his people in others’ eyes, but on the contrary, the implied message is clear - “if you hurt them, i will not hesitate to take action.”
“my betrothed? no, they’re not with me today. but if you need to tell them something, you can always tell me and i’ll relay it to them.”
whenever he is not within the walls of his new office, al haitham is always seen with you.
in the bustling streets of sumeru, the acting grand sage sticks by your side, sometimes with his hand holding yours, or with you sticking to him like a koala under that cape of his. if one stops by the grand bazaar, they would see him carrying bags upon bags of items as you try to haggle for the 'exorbitant’ amount of mora needed to buy a pack of allspices. and whenever one happens to take a spontaneous stroll in the lush woods surrounding the city, they might stumble to the two of you stargazing, with your head pillowed on your lover’s arm, his expression smoothed out in serene bliss.
there is no mistaking your relationship, for the whole population of sumeru could unanimously agree even without the now-obsolete akasha terminal’s guide: he is yours just as you are his.
“tsk. it is outside office hours right now, i- hm? ah- i… see. you merely wished to inform me where [name] is? very well. this does not mean i will approve of the proposal for your darshan.” “.... but i will at least extend my gratitude and check on it latest by the end of office hours tomorrow.”
© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!
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Not Half Bad - Marauders x Reader
AN - I'm a few minutes early but happy valentine's day, my loves. I wanted to post something that wasn't crazy romantic because I know today can be pretty lonely. So, enjoy some platonic marauders x reader fluff. This is my first time writing anything like this so please let me know what you think. 1.7k words.
Y/N startled awake, her head throbbing and her eyes swollen from tears. She groaned softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion as she rubbed her face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Then, the unmistakable sound echoed through her apartment again.
Bang, bang, bang.
With a resigned sigh, Y/N muttered curses under her breath before she shuffled towards the front door. The harsh hallway light made her squint as she opened the door, taking a moment to register the trio standing before her.
“Come on, you. Out of the way, we’ve got some serious work to do!” James declared, gently nudging Y/N aside to enter her apartment, with Remus and Sirius following close behind.
“What the hell are you doing? It’s practically the crack of dawn!” She exclaimed; her voice still thick with sleep.
“Oh, yeah? And you’d know what time of day it was, would you?” Sirius teased, theatrically throwing open her curtains, allowing light to flood into the room for the first time in days.
“We’re on damage control. Y’know, since we haven’t heard from you in almost a week.” Remus explained, heading straight into the kitchen and flicking the kettle on.
Y/N sighed heavily, feeling a pang of guilt for having shut off herself off from her friends after her recent break up. The end of her relationship had hit her harder than she had ever anticipated, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. She hadn’t felt up to facing her friends properly. She had shot them a quick message briefly explaining the situation before shutting off her phone and finding solace in her own company as she grappled with the emotional fallout.
Remus busied himself in the kitchen while he waited for the kettle to boil. He had a tea towel swung over his shoulder as he started washing the dishes that had been piling up in the sink. James was getting the living room straight, opening windows, clearing up the endless piles of scrunched up tissues and fluffing up the sofa cushions.
“You don’t have to do all this – I'm fine!” Y/N protested.
“Stop fussing and just let us help you,” Sirius chimed in, poking his head around the doorway from where he was in the bathroom, “Now, get in here because I’ve just run you a bath.”
Y/N’s protests died on her lips as she relented, allowing herself to be guided into the bathroom by Sirius’s firm but caring insistence. The soothing scent of lavender filled the air as she stepped into the room. Sirius shut the door behind her, allowing some privacy. He had set her some fresh towels and clean clothes on the side, even going as far as to light a few candles. Y/N let out a sigh as she sank into the tub, the warm water washing over her tired body.
After a while, Y/N emerged from the bathroom feeling a bit lighter. She smiled at the three boys, appreciating their practical gestures of support. They had practically cleaned her whole apartment while she was in the bath. It had taken a bit of a hit in the week that she had been moping around. Remus had set her a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table, and she took it into her hands eagerly.
“Feeling better?” he asked, patting the spot on the sofa next to him.
“Much better. Thanks for the rescue” she smiled at each of them, “I owe you guys one.”
“Nonsense.” James dismissed with a wave of his hand, “That’s what friends are for. Plus, I’ve been dying to bring out my superhero cape.”
Remus snorted into his tea, “Superhero cape? More like a tea towel tied around your neck, mate.”
“Hey, it’s all about the dramatic effect, Moony. You should try it some time.” James mock-glared at him.
“I’d pay good money to see that.” Y/N laughed.
“You nearly did!” Sirius remarked, “I literally had to pry it from around his neck before you got out of the bath.”
Y/N burst into laughter at the mental image, shaking her head in amusement, “I can only imagine the heroic struggle.” She said, grinning at James, who rolled his eyes with a good natured sigh.
“Yeah, well, it was a valiant effort on his part,” James admitted, earning a playful elbow jab from Sirius.
It was the first time in a good week or so, that Y/N had laughed properly. She felt her spirits lift with each passing moment, the heaviness that had weighed in her heart for the last week beginning to fade. Their light-hearted banter and playful antics had a way of lifting her spirits, offering a welcomed distraction from her recent troubles. It was only when the boys stood up to leave that the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach started to return.
Sirius noticed her face fall when they started getting ready to leave, each of them shrugging on their coats and slipping into their shoes.
“Don’t worry, we’re coming back.” Sirius reassured her.
“Yeah, you didn’t think that you could get rid of us that easily, did you?” Remus chuckled.
“We’ve just got to nip out to get some stuff but then we’ll be back.” James promised.
“What stuff?” she questioned.
“Ask us no questions and we’ll tell you no lies.” James quipped, playfully tapping her on the nose before swiftly exiting.
A bemused smile played on her lips as she watched her friends disappear. Although they had only been around at her flat for a few hours, it felt eerily empty now that they had gone. Collapsing onto the sofa, she reached for her phone, hesitating before finally switching it on after days of deliberate avoidance. There was the expected flurry of messages from her friends and family checking in on her and she made a mental note to reply to them later on. She quickly deleted a particularly nasty text from her ex before she gave herself chance to read it properly. As the screen blinked back up at her, the date glared back with unexpected significance.
Valentine’s Day.
The realisation hit her and stirred up memories and emotions that she had been trying to suppress. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of loneliness as she thought back to past Valentine’s Day spent with her now ex-partner. For a moment, she regretted even switching on her phone; ignorance might have been bliss on a day like today. Tears prickled in her eyes and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to hold back the flood of emotions.
Just as she had been earlier that morning, she was brought back to reality by the door of her apartment swinging open and James, Remus and Sirius bustling back inside.
“Told you we wouldn’t be long!” James said brightly, though the look soon dropped from his face the second his eyes fell on Y/N.
“Oh, no! What’s happened? Everything okay?” Sirius rushed over and crouched in front of her, so his face was level to where she was slumped on the sofa.
“It’s silly,” she sniffled, “I turned on my phone because obviously I’ve been avoiding it for ages and I saw the date. It’s just... overwhelming.”
Remus moved to sit beside her, his presence a comforting anchor as he place a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s not silly at all, Y/N. Valentine’s Day can be shit. Especially after everything you’ve been through.” he said softly, offering her a sympathetic smile.
James signed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped closer, “We came over today because... well we didn’t want you to spend Valentine’s Day alone. We didn’t realise that you didn't even know what day it was. We’ve kind of fucked up really, haven’t we?”
“Don’t be daft.” Y/N wiped the tears away with her sleeve, “You’ve already cheered me up so much just by being here.”
“Let’s not stop now then, eh?” Sirius said, patting her affectionately on the head as he stood up, “We’ve got plenty more planned for this evening. Why don’t you go get yourself freshened up while we get set up in here?”
Y/N smiled gratefully and obliged, making her way to the bathroom. She splashed her face with cool water, letting it wash away the remnants of tears that clung to her skin. As she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she forced a smile onto her face in an attempt to make herself feel better. She quickly ran her hands through her hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes.
In the other room, the boys had sprung to action. James rummaged through the bags of shopping, his brows furrowed in concentration as he set about preparing dinner. Remus, ever the organiser, rearranged the furniture to create a cosier and more comfortable set up for them. Sirius, with his flair for the dramatic, set about lighting candles and pulled an assortment of decorations from his bag to add a festive touch to the occasion.
As Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes widened in surprise at the transformation that had taken place in the living room. The warm glow of candlelight danced across the walls, casting soft shadows across the room. Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes and with a shaky breath she made her way to join them.
“Speechless, huh?” Sirius joked gently, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
Y/N managed a watery smile, “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Nothing needs to be said.” James stepped in from the kitchen, floral apron tied around his waist.
“Just know that we’ve got your back always, yeah?” Remus chimed in.
With a grateful nod, Y/N settled into her seat at the table, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.
“Nice apron, James.” Y/N teased, unable to contain her laughter.
“What can I say? Real men wear floral.” he quipped, setting down plates of food in front of each of them.
“Ah! I almost forgot!” Sirius stood up quickly from the table and disappeared into the other room.
He returned a few moments later, holding a bouquet of flowers. He presented them to her with a flourish. Y/N gasped in response.
“You really didn’t have to!” she protested, her voice filled with gratitude, “You’ve already done so much for me today!”
“We wanted to.” Remus smiled.
“Besides, we’d be pretty crappy mates if we let you go a whole Valentine’s Day without flowers.” Sirius chuckled.
“Yeah, it’s practically a cardinal sin to neglect such an important tradition.” Remus nodded in agreement.
“See? We’re not completely useless, are we?” James nudged her, grinning.
“Nah, you’re not half bad.” she beamed back at them, “I might even go as far as to say that you’re the best.”
#marauders x reader#marauders fanfic#marauders fluff#poly!marauders#platonic marauders#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#marauders
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PART ONE
⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST
This chapter is part of a two-part fic entitled 'Chivalry is Dead.' Click the link to view the series masterlist!
PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 5.8k SUMMARY: You’re smitten with the archer you meet at the quarry who doesn’t believe in romance, vowing to make him yours, but it eventually becomes frustrating when he’s never clear with what he wants. WARNINGS: fluff. angst with comfort, then angst with no comfort. reader is very flirty with daryl. SETTING: the quarry, the farm, and the prison
I. A CHANGE OF SCENERY - THE QUARRY
Prim and proper, clean-shaven, wears an authentic watch, bothers to use cufflinks, gets a neat haircut often, works in corporate…
You liked your men worthy of an introduction to your family. The kind of guy who you could, with no shame, flaunt to your family. A guy who would do well in the role of a sweet, loving husband and father in the comfort of the suburban home you built together.
Shame that they’re pretty hard to come by lately, not to mention that it doesn’t even matter anymore—
“…Y’know what I mean?” you rambled to the archer who had a permanent scowl itched on his face. Unbeknownst to you thanks to your drunken stupor, he’d been listening to you going off about your type.
He watched as you held an almost empty bottle of alcohol pressed to your chest, your eyes manning the space around you as if you were talking to a crowd of people. Much to your luck, the rest of the people had eventually retreated to their own tents, leaving you to the company of this — sorta cute — redneck.
“Like, where do you think I could even get them these days?” you laughed, your eyes going back to him. “But then, like, y’know, it doesn’t even matter ‘coz I got my family killed! And I didn’t even do anything, I just ran like a fucking coward.”
Daryl decided an hour and a half ago that he’d up and go off to somewhere else, maybe to hunt. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave in concern for the drunk woman beside him who’d sooner or later become another hunter’s prey. Maybe even the undead’s.
Pain in ‘ma ass, he’d thought to himself while watching you with a scowl as he sank back down to the log in front of the campfire.
“I could use a bar of chocolate, but… This is the closest thing.” You made to gulp down more of the alcohol, but he reached out to snag it away from your hands. You yelled at the archer. “What are you—!”
“‘Yer a fuckin’ idiot,” he spat, setting the bottle aside. Daryl met your bewildered gaze, and he was certain you wouldn’t even remember it the next day. “Ain’t no reason blamin’ yourself for somethin’ ya couldn’t prevent. And ‘yer worried about all the wrong things, too! I’s out there huntin’ and I couldn’t care less ‘bout what kind’a girl I’d snag, I actually worried ‘bout somethin’ that matters! Like the fuck the camp’s gonna eat, which one of us would those stinking geeks get next and—!”
Daryl zipped his mouth shut for a good moment, realizing he’d said too much. Oh, fuck. He was thinking of ways to save this. He didn’t have an inkling on how to comfort a girl, much less a drunk and crying one. Your eyes turned glassy, your face contorting to…
“Pfft!” you laughed, further confusing the archer before you. He watched as you leaned backward, laughing. It was sort of a relief to watch and to hear; some great change of scenery to what he’d grown accustomed to seeing on the daily. “Y’know the” — you hiccuped — “funny thing about the guys I used to date? They ended up screwin’ some other pretty girl looking for the same guy as me. See, I cracked the code!”
You blinked a couple of times. Daryl remained silent. You couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned closer to the archer, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in his chest as you came closer, your nose closing in on a couple of inches away from his.
A buzzing sensation crawled from your chest to your cheeks, warming your face up as you felt something begging to be unleashed from within you—a confession, perhaps?
He got a good whiff of the alcohol from your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak. “I should’ve been looking for someone like you!”
Daryl felt heat rush to his cheeks. He wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing: Good because you considered him worthy of being chosen or bad because that would mean he was the opposite of everything you thought was ideal in a partner?
Why did it matter to him?
You leaned closer. “Better yet, I think that you’re—”
The warmth he could feel inside of his chest was now outside too, pouring on the surface of his shirt with alcohol and bile mixing in the humid air of the night.
“Fucking hell!” he cursed in a whisper as your body slumped forward, passing out asleep on his lap. Daryl would have done the same as you if somebody told him that that night was the beginning of an epic love story.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The following days went by like a blur, with Daryl’s suspicion that you recalled everything dissolving into the relief that maybe you really had no idea what happened that night. You acted normal the day after that brilliant occasion, save for groggy eyes that lasted the entire day as well as a visible temper.
You paid him no mind the entire time, but he assumed you were just embarrassed for confrontation. However, the entire week passed and you made no comment whatsoever about what transpired.
His eyes always lingered on you a second longer than he’d intend to in an attempt to get a glimpse of embarrassment. He’d been meaning to tease you about it as revenge, but… Looks like you’ve forgotten. He probably should, too.
This very relief went away when you volunteered to come along with him to hunt for food. “I’m coming along, you should teach me how to use your crossbow,” you said, dagger in hand.
He wanted to argue, but worried he’d say something that would trigger your memory, he only nudged his nose up as a nod.
The entire walk in the woods would have been a painful silence if not for the rustling of leaves in the trees and the subtle whistle of the wind.
You watched the broad shouldered archer before you made his way with calculated steps, even while you couldn't yet pinpoint a target. “Well, aren’t you stealthy?”
Daryl spared a glare your way. “Why’d ya go huntin’ anyway? And with a blunt knife at that—are ya and idiot or somethin’?”
“‘Cause I was thinking maybe you should teach me your weapon of choice.” You looked at him as if he said something mad. “Didn’t I just say that, like, two minutes ago?”
He noticed that you said ‘should’ instead of ‘could.’
“Let me get this straight,” the archer started, halting, and you knew a scowl would greet you before he even faced you. “Ya went into the woods to hunt, but ya don’t even have a clue how?”
“Oh, honey, I didn’t say I needed you to teach me how to hunt. Didn’t even say I was gonna hunt.” You stepped closer to him. You noticed he took a subtle step back, and you couldn’t help but grin. Could it be that this rugged gentleman is nervous? “I said I wanted you to teach me how to use your crossbow.”
He cleared his throat, pulling back his armor of a scowl matched with an anger that was certainly uncalled for. “Oh, yeah? It’s fuckin’ stupid of ya to think I go around grantin’ everybody’s requests! And I ain’t gonna just stand here and take this, hunt by yourself.”
Daryl turned around, a casual swagger to his walk. You had to smirk at his back, knowing what he’d do next once you hit him with your first ammunition: intel. “I know something you stood for and took like a champ.”
The archer froze.
“Thanks, by the way. And sorry you had to deal with that!” you exclaimed. “See, between the two of us, I’m not the stupid one. You could’ve used that against me, but you didn’t. And that just made me more interested in you—like, wow! You’re a lot more of a gentleman than you think you are.”
Oh, Daryl was pissed. Why were you the one making fun of him when it’s you who should’ve been abashed by what happened? “You remembered all along and ya didn’t say sorry?”
“I just did,” you said blankly.
Daryl faced you, shaking his head in a stubborn way. “Nah, ‘ya didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did. I said ‘sorry you had to deal with that.’”
He scoffed. “Doesn’t count.”
“Does too!” you spat back, this time grinning at the archer. You couldn’t help but laugh at his growing frown. “Come on, if you could take that with dignity, surely a crossbow lesson with Coach Daryl can’t be that bad.”
“Why do ya even want one? Thought ya said it wasn’t practical, righ’?” he asked, recalling all the times you called his weapon all kinds of things when you were drunk: “It’s way too heavy and takes up arm space! Can’t fit it in a pocket! It looks like a toy!”
You laughed out loud from his poor attempts at imitating you. Daryl felt the slightest tinge of embarrassment. He wanted to cup his own cheeks to make sure he wasn’t imagining the heat in there, worried he’d gone red. And if he did, he hoped you’d mistake it for the effect of the Georgia sun.
“Yeah, I did say that,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.
Daryl raised a brow. “So why want it?”
You stepped forward again, taunting him. “Because I have a thing for the guy giving the lessons.”
The warmth that paid him a visit that one fateful night made its presence clearer, this time from the burrows of his chest. What the fuck was wrong with him?
“I ain’t interested,” he said. Daryl was all things, but not a liar. This time, though, he might just be one.
Although he was looking down at you, he felt as if he was the one being challenged from above. He gulped.
This time, you raised a brow at him. “Oh, you’re not into girls?”
“I—”
“I’m kidding. Y’know I thought the same, maybe you weren’t interested in me.”
Daryl shrugged, composing himself in an attempt to restore the dynamic he had in his head where he could be in a position where he could intimidate you. He couldn’t. “Yeah, ‘cause I ain’t.”
You continued to ramble on. “I was thinking, hey, maybe this guy doesn’t have any feelings for me!”
He put his hands on his hips, challenging you. But you weren’t quick to back down from a fight. “‘Cause I don’t.”
“Right,” you mused. “Didn’t you bring me a warm cup of tea the day after to help with my hangover?”
He watched you with question, but he worried you’d see the static coming from his chest and spreading to his arms. “Yeah, that woman Carol asked me to.”
“Huh,” you scoffed with a smile, ready for the look on his face to come and indicate your victory. “Funny. I was ready to ignore what happened, think of your kindness as nothing but kindness. But see, I came by sweet Carol’s tent to thank her but imagine my surprise when she said ‘What tea’?”
He had no answer to that. Usually, Daryl was a man who could think on his feet. Heck, you expected him to have some brilliant excuse. He was a hunter, after all. It was natural of him to think quickly.
You licked your lips, staring at his with that smirk of yours he wanted so badly to wipe off. “I’m gonna court you, Daryl Dixon. And you’re gonna say yes.”
The archer grunted, swinging his beloved weapon across his shoulder, shaking his head in denial. “I ain’t ever sayin’ yes to anything.”
“Sure, not today, not tomorrow, but a little push and I know I can get to you.”
Daryl spit somewhere on the dead soil surrounding you as he walked off to the trees. “Nah, never.”
As he disappeared into the forest, you couldn’t help but grin, feeling confident. You saw that moment of weakness. Somehow, some part of you knew it would happen. “Never say never, Daryl Dixon!”
You saw his middle finger raised just before he disappeared further, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Game on, archer.
It went on like that for a while. Daryl said he hated it, that ‘allat romance crap’s worth nothin.’ Still, those little slip-ups in his expressions and gait let you know that there was an opening there somewhere.
He did start teaching you how to use his crossbow, and the first time you were able to shoot a deer with it, you felt as if his silence was born from both his shock and the fact that he was possibly impressed.
“I can feel your boner from here, Dixon,” you smirked as you carried his crossbow with you as you began to walk over to your successful capture.
“Shuddup,” he said in response. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was definitely thrown off by how he was feeling watching you walking with his weapon.
“Help me with this,” you said, grabbing the animal by its hind legs. “Carry the deer so the gang could see how kickass I look with your crossbow. No wonder you like it, it makes me feel sexy.”
When you faced the archer, you raised a brow. He’d been staring and out of focus longer than he intended to be, not that he did. You smirk at this.
“You’re starting to like me,” you said, pointing at him with an accusatory finger. “You were staring.”
“Nuh uh,” he said, composing himself as he hurried to haul the animal over his shoulder.
“Is it the crossbow? ‘Cause I get it. I look at you with it and I think, ‘Oh, now that’s a man.’” You adjust the crossbow on your shoulder as Daryl watches you with confusion and… Maybe admiration? “I’m gonna do an experiment. This is hot.”
You move the crossbow to your hands, extending it outwards, posing for him with a slouch. “Not hot.”
You kept going on; hot with the crossbow, not hot for the crossbow. Until Daryl stopped you.
“Yer wastin’ time, yours and mine, when yer hot either way.” Daryl froze. So did you. His eyes widened, his cheeks redder than ever. “Not hot. Either way. Hey, I—!”
“You think I’m hot! You said I—!” you exclaim. Daryl clasped his clean hand over your mouth, pushing you against the tree.
“They’re gonna hear ya.”
No walker came by. You could hear nothing but Daryl’s breath and yours, at least until he dropped his hand.
On the walk back to camp, you were grinning the entire way. Daryl remained silent, afraid he’d say something that you could use against him.
“That was a Freudian slip,” you said with a snort.
Daryl wanted to argue, but knowing he couldn’t trust himself with talking, he kept his words short. “A what?”
“You subconsciously said something you actually meant. I get it, really.” You make a show of holding his crossbow. “I like you, you like me. But then you feel embarrassed that I’m going after you before you could go after me because you feel weird about a woman pursuing you even though you clearly really have the hots for her.”
He fought to keep his face stoic. “Nah, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“Alrigh,” Daryl said just to end the conversation.
“Alright as in yes you do?” you tease the archer.
Daryl smirked, determined to get you to admit defeat on your mission to pursue him. “Alrigh’ as in I don’t care.”
But you weren’t a quitter. He’d shown a glimpse of how he felt, and you were determined to get it out of him. By the time you reached camp, you handed his crossbow over to him with a glimmer in your eyes.
“You seemed to enjoy having your hands on me just a couple of minutes ago.” You flip him off as you walk away to go help out with the rest of the people in the camp. “See ya, Dixon.”
Though he wouldn’t show it, Daryl would rather sleep in the woods alone, weaponless than admit that he did.
It wasn’t just that. He didn’t hate the things you were doing to him and for him. He hated that he wished he thought of pursuing you sooner so he’d have the upper hand. . .
Nah, nah, I don’t. He shook his head to himself.
But it became harder to deny whenever you went out of your way to do something for him, especially when he lost his brother. When he mourned Merle, you were there. And you weren’t a menace like he thought you would be.
You were just. . .there. Giving him the bigger half of whatever food you had, lingering just ever so near, and more. Daryl was surprised to realize that he enjoyed your company.
He knew he was fucked. Especially when he realized he missed you flirting with him, but he’d never tell you that.
II. NICE - GREENE FARM
Looking for a missing child was way easier when there were no corpses roaming the land of the living, back when there was no need to distinguish what’s alive and what’s not. You were hoping that Sophia would turn up as soon as possible.
You felt a twinge of guilt realizing that your hope for the child being found was just Daryl’s return, but it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t that you had this silly crush on the archer. Yes, you did, but you needed the right time to talk to him about what happened at the CDC.
You’d never felt so mortified. For the longest time, you’ve been saying that you wanted to accept death in exchange for peace. You always thought that when the time comes, you’d be ready. It was a fucked up way to realize that you weren’t, and you found yourself out of breath, unable to chase your breathing.
Daryl was hysterical, but upon seeing you, he immediately rushed in front of you, cupping your face with his rough hands.
“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He then held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break. You weren’t able to process the rest, but you remembered him at first assisting you in walking until he eventually carried you in his arms out of the facility right before it deteriorated.
You never got to speak to him since then except for when you encountered the herd on the road. He just asked if you were okay, and that was it.
He’d been preoccupied looking for Sophia ever since. You didn’t want to assume that he’d only been looking for her just because that would make you the biggest insensitive asshole in the world.
Just then, a young blonde girl came out of the house, a tray in hand.
“Hi,” she said. You could tell right from how she held herself that she was of good nature. “I’m Beth. I brought you some tea and some oatmeal.”
A small smile came on your face, and you couldn’t help but let it grow brighter when you watched the girl realize why.
“Oh, I gave this to you on my own—nevermind,” she sighed. “He told me not to tell you ‘cause he said you were—”
“A pain in his ass?” you teased with a grin. “Verbatim?”
Beth considered what she was going to say, but she eventually smiled as well as she set it on the small stool table beside the rocking chair you were sitting on while you stared in the distance. “Well, yes.”
You laughed together with the girl. It was easy to talk to her, you felt light.
“But he also told me to watch after you.”
You waved your hand, dismissing Daryl’s order to the girl. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. In fact, we should share this oatmeal. It looks good!”
Beth gave you the warmest smile anyone’s ever given you for the past week. “No, I’m okay. He specifically told me to make sure you eat enough. Said he’d bring in something later for you later.”
This time, heat rushed to your cheeks. You stuffed it down. “I’m pretty sure the meat’s for all of us, just including me.”
“I don’t know,” Beth said, leaning against the railing of the house’s front porch. The air certainly felt different in the farm compared to every other place you’ve been to. The sun was setting, and the view of the sky could make anyone oblivious to the newfound horrors of the world. “He was talking about how you needed it, but my dad said you weren’t in need of any medicine. You just needed to eat somethin. And if you needed something for your headache, we have it.”
“I see,” you said, your shoulders sinking. “He’s probably just avoiding me.”
Beth faced you, confused. “Why would he do that?”
“Well, that’s Daryl.” You shrugged, thinking back to what he’d done for you at the CDC. You could almost feel his arms carrying you again, and you couldn’t help but feel the heat in your cheeks return. You instinctively look down.
Beth noticed your brow furrowing just before you reached out to feel your temple. “Do you need anything?”
“Sorry you have to take care of me,” you say with an apologetic smile. “Just whatever you have for headaches and a decent sleep.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
You awoke around the middle of the night to the door to your room shutting closed. At first, you thought that someone came in only to find that you were completely alone. You then heard the faint sound of footsteps walking down the stairs just outside.
Stirring awake, you sit up straight to rub your eyes. Outside, the sky was dark. You must’ve slept for around eight hours, because you could no longer feel sleep returning easily. The urge was there, but you knew sinking back into a deep sleep would be for nothing.
You yawn and scratch at your neck. On the nightstand to your right, you’re relieved to find a glass of water. But what stole your attention was what sat right next to it.
You were surprised to find three packs of chocolates: KitKat Bars, Kisses, and Hershey’s. There were also some packs of M&Ms.
Thinking back to the footsteps rushing down the stairs just a minute ago, you hurriedly carried all of the chocolates with you and ran down the stairs as lightly as you could so as to not wake anyone.
You swung the screen door open, trudging down the stairs of the porch. You reach Daryl just before he enters the tent. You chuck the pack of KitKats to his head, to which he yelped. “Ow!”
“Do you like me?” you ask directly.
The archer faces you, picking up the pack of KitKats you threw at him. “What’d ya do that for?”
“Do you like me?” you ask, firmer this time.
There’s that pause. That two-second, lingering, suffocating pause. “I don’t.”
But that pause meant maybe. Both of you knew it, he just didn’t want to admit it, like he always does. Annoyed, you throw the rest of the chocolates to his feet. “Then you shouldn’t be doing things that make it seem like you do!”
You don’t know if it was the painkillers or just your interrupted sleep, but you definitely felt your temper controlling you.
“I was bein’ nice.”
“Nice is opening the door for someone. Nice is handing the water pitcher at the dinner table. Nice is not asking someone to take care of me while you’re away, nice is not you bringing me chocolates like it’s Valentine’s to cheer me up when you know damn well how I feel about you. Nice is not making me feel like you feel the same and then take it back then just act like you do feel the same again!”
Daryl stood there, taking it all.
You rubbed at your eyes, your shoulders slumping. You feel a lump in your throat and your eyes begin to water. You stare at him for three seconds before turning around to return inside when he grabs you by the wrist to pull you into that same embrace he’d wrapped you into that day at the CDC.
He was warm. God, he was warm. You hated that your body craved the press of his.
He held you until you stopped crying. Until, for some reason, you were holed up in his tent, eating the chocolates he got for you while the two of you talked about everything and nothing.
You realized how easy it was to speak to Daryl, too. How it came naturally, and how you felt comfortable being yourself around him outside of the flirting. Maybe it really was better to remain friends.
You were just being nice to each other. But if Daryl really did feel an ounce of what you felt, then that wouldn’t be very nice of him.
For a while, you accepted that. You stopped pursuing him altogether and maintained a respectable distance with him. He then always seemed to be everywhere you went, but you told yourself you were in over your head thinking he’d ever even feel the same way.
III. RETURN - PRISON
Life was good. Save for the nightmare that was facing the Governor, of course. The last time you felt a grudge against him was when he left with his brother, but you stopped yourself from feeling anything. After all, that was his brother and you were…
A friend. He’d apologized leaving by bringing you more chocolates from his run. Things have been good lately. You loved being friends with Daryl.
Sure, you’d find yourself in feats of attraction towards the guy ever so often, like the time he carried baby Judith. . .
That was something.
It didn’t help that he was looking at you while he was carrying her, even playing with her and showing her to you. You hated that even though you say you feel nothing anymore, sometimes everything resurfaces.
If only you knew what was going through his mind when he passed baby Judith to you.
Those were little tests that failed to weaken your belief that you were better off as friends. You survived them. Yep, you were fine being friends. It was just a silly crush anyway.
“[Y/N],” Daryl called from outside your cell. “[Y/N], we’re heading out to get some meds, ‘ya need anythin’? Chocolates again, maybe?”
You were covered in two blankets head neck to toe, your back to the cell door. You said nothing, much less did anything to indicate you heard him. Daryl stepped inside, feeling bad that he’d crossed over but he somehow felt like he had to.
“[Y/N]?”
By the second Daryl laid his hands on your shoulder to tap you, he knew he had to turn you over. You were shivering in your half-sleep, and yet when Daryl pressed the back of his palm against you, you were burning up.
“Jesus, you’re—!”
“I think I caught it,” you said. You try to sit up, and Daryl helps you up. You turn the other way to cough. “I was gonna bring myself to the quarantine cell block, but I couldn’t stand up.”
“Here, I got ‘ya,” he said, helping you up. “You sure ‘ya don’t wanna stay here in your cell instead?”
You shook your head. “I could turn and infect everyone. I—”
“Hey.” He cupped your cheek with his hand, gently tapping it to keep you in check. “You’re not gonna turn, I’m not gonna let that happen to ‘ya. I’m goin’ out and gettin’ ‘ya the meds, then yer gonna be fine.”
“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” you said drunkenly. On the way to the isolated block, you feel yourself losing your step… Losing your consciousness…
“[Y/N]? [Y/N]!”
And it all went dark.
The days that followed promised a new routine. After the supply run, you were the first stop Daryl visited. He talked to you, took care of you. He’d tell you stories about him and his brother Merle. You’d tell him about the guys you dated and every single terrible date experience you’ve had.
“Yeah, you said you hated dating ‘em. So you wanted to date guys like me instead, y’know, the kind you’d be embarrassed to introduce to your ma and pa.”
You laughed. “Oh, come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Friends, friends, friends. That’s how it is, how it should’ve been right from the start. It’s so easy to laugh with Daryl, so easy to be with him.
That was until you got better. You were out, making the rounds.
“Ya shouldn’t be here,” he’d told you when he caught you walking the perimeter with a revolver. “At least not yet. I’ll take over from here.”
“Nah, somehow I feel way sicker when I’m not doing anything.”
He shrugged. “You could read a book.”
“Oh, yeah?” you chuckled.
“Oh, yeah.”
Silence again. It was just the two of you in the dead of night, and you wondered if you only imagined the flurry of emotions back then when you were separated when you got sick.
You wanted to stay there in that moment forever, just standing in the dark with Daryl. But you felt a sort of suffocating sensation the moment you thought of him fondly. You were a bit sleepy anyway.
“Actually, maybe I should go.” Yawning, you stuff the revolver back to your holster. “Good night, Daryl.”
You only got to walk past him a couple of steps before he spoke.
“[Y/N]?” he called out to you just before you were about to return to your quarters. You felt sleep about to take you in deeply, but you fought it off, telling yourself it’ll be quick.
You face the archer, raising an interrogative brow in response.
For some strange, mundane reason, you found him extra lovely tonight. You were forced to discover why as he leaned forward, pressing his lips into yours in the most gentle way he could. You pull away.
There’s a question in your eyes, and so he only kisses you again in response. You kiss him back, this time with desperation. You don’t know where to put your hands, overwhelmed by this gust of exhilaration washing over you as his hands caress the nape of your neck.
He pulls away this time.
You couldn’t believe it. So many thoughts ran into your head. Pursuing Daryl used to be something you were just looking forward to as a challenge, maybe even just for the sole purpose of enjoying a fling knowing the end is near.
But you got to know him. He got to know you, and you let him. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, bringing them high enough for the most genuine grin to show in your face. “Does this mean—?”
“Nah.” He takes a step backward, and your grin instantly dissolves into a frown at the sight of him shaking his head. “No, I…”
What?
You shake your head in disbelief.
What the fuck?
Your smile faltered further. The butterflies in your stomach you thought you felt suddenly felt as if you were about to throw it up again.
“No?” you utter in disbelief, the taste of his lips still stuck somewhere in your mouth. You step backward as well, staring into space as you touched the lips of yours he’d just kissed with so much passion, opposite to the coldness he’d brought upon you with that one word. The rush from the kiss was being drowned by an otherworldly anger threatening to be unleashed. “What the—No?”
You turn your focus to him again. He says nothing, his back to you as he stares into the dark greenery outside of the fence.
“You make me chase after you like a fool and ‘No’?”
Daryl sunk into himself. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve anything you gave him. He didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t ask ‘ya to.”
He wanted to disappear.
“Right.” You had to laugh. “Turn around. Face me.”
The archer obliged, and you couldn’t read his face enough through the tears born from your anger. He hated that he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you into another kiss, to press his lips against your neck and down to your chest. He wanted to caress your hair, to—
“Back at the CDC, I wanted to stop pursuing you. But then” — his heart broke as your voice cracked — “you held my hand when we found out we could die and you looked at me with those fucking eyes of yours on your goddamn face and I thought maybe there was something real, something I could get out of you if I tried hard enough.”
“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break.
“Then you were cold again, and I thought maybe you were just being kind like usual back then but you—argh! You got me chocolates when I was scared shitless from almost dying and called it being nice and friendly before holding me again!”
You rubbed your eyes, frustrated more than ever.
“You just had to take advantage of the fact that I’m weak for you! You nursed me back to health when I got sick, you spoke to me as if you felt the same way, just—everything! You say you didn’t ask me to chase after you but when I did stop, you find ways to get me back on your trail and now you kiss me and then you take it back?”
You felt your heart begging to be freed. You couldn’t breathe. The lump in your throat was building up, and you knew it did its work once you felt your cheeks begin to wet.
You couldn’t even see him clearly through your tears. “What the fuck do you want, Daryl?”
How could he tell you? What could he say? He didn’t even know what he wanted. Still, you waited in hopes he’d give you an explanation. That he’d at least explain himself.
“Do you like me?” you ask him again. No response.
You steel yourself for what you were about to ask next.
“Do you love me?”
Silence.
“God, I’m so stupid."
Realizing the chance you gave him is all for naught, you shook your head with a mirthless laugh as you walked away. The embrace of sleep never returned, and you were left to stare at the ceiling, waiting for daybreak to come just so you could fight an unwinnable war.
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#zirconika.fic#daryl dixon x fem!reader#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon x fem!reader angst#daryl dixon x fem!reader fluff#daryl dixon x reader angst#daryl dixon x reader fluff#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x reader angst#the walking dead x reader fluff#twd#twd x reader#twd x reader angst#twd x reader fluff#twd daryl#twd daryl dixon#norman reedus
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All Clean!!!
How dare Sai deprive me of this tbh /j /silly
a lil itty bit angsty on angel's part… i meant to write it completely goofy oops
cw// mild nudity (but not for sexy reasons), blood, implied offscreen murder(s)
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
“Should I be concerned?” you finally blurted out, curious about whatever had caused the sight before you.
[REDACTED] sat completely relaxed on the edge of the tub, splatters of blood mixed with dirt and rain water over their face and torso. Under the scarlet streaks and smears, his skin was flushed as if he’d been running a long time. He was stripped to his boxers, and the clothes they’d come home in were being tossed around in the washing machine while you took care of him.
“Not at all,” he quickly answered your question with a nonchalant shake of his head, then muttered an apology. “Didn't mean t’wake you up.”
It was strange that he was more worried about your sleep than the fact that he came home covered in bloodstains, but you knew exactly what to expect from them by now. The only sound in the room was the cloth in your hands loudly dripping into a bowl of soapy water as you rung it out to clean them up.
You’d heard noises in the middle of the night, and peered out of the bedroom to find your boyfriend halfway down his apartment’s dimly lit hall, making a mess of the marble floor with their clothes soaked from the rainstorm. Except the little puddles of what should've been water were slightly stained red, leaving a haunting trail in his wake as he’d staggered towards the bathroom.
The apathy in their blue eyes disappeared the moment you called their name, a puppylike smile forming on his lips that was at odds with his ghastly appearance as he turned, fully intent on hugging you, then struggled to stop himself once they realized they’d get dirt and blood all over you if he tried. You would’ve laughed if you weren't still half asleep.
And if the hallway didn’t look like a crime scene all its own.
You brushed their dark bangs back and wiped at the liquid on their forehead and cheeks, gently scolding them. “Don’t apologize for that. I’d rather miss out on sleep and make sure you're okay instead of wondering if…” It hurt to even think the words.
He took hold of your hand, the cloth trembling against his skin from your fears. “‘M sorry for worrying you, love. I promise it’s not my blood,” they said in the hopes you’d calm down. Weirdly enough, it did make you feel better.
Though he never flat out admitted to it, he wasn’t really trying to hide the things they did from you anymore, only the brutality of it all. From the dozen or so times you came home to an empty apartment after a text not to wait for him, just to vaguely recognize a missing person on the TV a few days later, it was obvious without confirmation. This was the first time you’d “caught” them, though—and with actual physical evidence. He usually came home silent and squeaky clean.
“It better not be,” you halfheartedly joked to ease the tension. He smiled and let go of your hand so you could continue your work.
The cleanup went by quickly. Dipping the cloth into the bowl of soapy water and wringing it out one last time, you reached towards your hacker’s bare shoulders. The blood there was mostly gone—save for a streak just below their collarbone. It wiped away all too easily, but a tiny line of dots flowered forth from a small injury you hadn't noticed at all.
“So about this not being your blood,” you started, setting the cloth down in the bowl.
He must not have noticed it either, but recognition dawned on their face. “I did have a tree problem earlier.”
“A tree problem?” Your earlier worries were quickly pushed aside at the revelation.
“Yeah, a branch got stuck—” he suddenly paused. The pink in his already flushed cheeks deepened. Their eyes shifted to the side in embarrassment. “Never mind.”
You struggled not to laugh. Of all things to phase him about his night out, a tree branch? The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to tease them. But you held your tongue and quickly grabbed some ointment and a bandage from a nearby cabinet.
[REDACTED] didn't even flinch when you pressed a dab of ointment to the reddened scratches. His expression seemed to melt instead. You asked carefully, “It doesn’t hurt does it?”
Their gaze went blank and wide eyed for a split second, then a twinge of fake sadness oozed into his voice. “‘Hurts a lot, Angel. Be gentle with me and kiss it better?” He even pouted to sell the act.
“Of course.” You playfully rolled your eyes and applied more ointment. As you spread it over the scrapes, he resumed adoringly looking up at you until you finished. Satisfied with your work, you smoothed the bandage over his skin and loudly planted a kiss to the spot then stood up.
“Y’know…” he hummed while wrapping a tattooed arm around your waist with a devious smile. “My mouth hurts too. ‘Could use a kiss or four there, don't y'think?”
With a smile, you leaned down, grabbing both their cheeks as if to kiss them. His eyes glittered in anticipation as you came closer. Instead, you stopped millimeters from their lips and whispered in the sultriest voice you could muster, “I’m gonna go mop the hallway.”
#14 days with you#14dwy#14dwy redacted#14dwy ren#momo writing#middle of june for reqs maybe probably#my brain is in screensaver mode ngl#no essay in the tags from me i sleep
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A Wet Dream Just Dangling
Summary : vampire harry wants to eat you out.
TW : smut, period sex, oral (f receiving)
Word Count : 1.5k
“c’mon, darling,” harry coos, laying in bed, tangled up with you, using the softness of your tummy as a pillow. “don’t have to be shy with me.”
“harry,” you giggle, biting your lip, “never in a million years would i have thought of doing this.”
“hmm, i could wait a million years, but i’d really rather not,” he grumbles, fingertips gently stroking your skin. “you know it’ll make you feel better, my love.”
“s’embarrassing. and really awkward,” you groan, stuffing your face in a pillow, fingers carding through your boyfriend’s hair.
“nothing to be embarrassed about. totally normal thing,” he turns his head, chin pressed into your skin, peering up at you. “besides, s’not like it’s my first time.”
“that doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” you giggle.
when you met harry, and inevitably fell deeply in love, you knew there would be a learning curve to dating him. the whole vampire thing being a bit of an adjustment for you.
in the last 6 months, you’d gotten used to the feeding part of dating him. a weekly, sometimes twice a week, occurrence, that you’d grown to honestly be excited for. the intimate part of it all wasn’t lost on you. if anything, it made you feel closer to him.
so far, the idea of period sex hadn’t come up. that is, until today. your cramps were a little worse than usual, and although you know that sex has helped to alleviate them, you also know that he’s not just asking for sex. he’s asking to eat you out.
“beautiful girl, you’ll love it,” he hums, pecking over your stomach, tongue darting to take a few tentative licks of your skin.
your taste invades his senses immediately, fangs poking out on their own accord, gently scraping against you, just enough to make a trail of goosebumps follow their path.
“harry,” you whine softly. he knows that whine, knows that what he’s doing is working. and the lower he makes his way down your stomach, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting, the more he can smell you. smell the blood, smell the arousal mixing in. his mind starts going hazy, only able to focus on blood, blood, blood. but more specifically your blood.
“please,” he mutters so softly you barely caught it, fingertips dancing by the waistband of your sweatpants, lips and tongue and fuck, so much harry, ghosting over your hips. “please, will you let me, my love ?” little puffs of warm air tickling your skin.
“do it,” you sigh contently, setting your reservations aside at the pure desperate neediness to his tone. you’re not sure you could have ever imagined your big scary vampire to sound so soft and small, it made you give into him even quicker than usual.
the next moment flies by in a flash, your pants ripped clean off you, legs spread wide, thighs held open with his hands, an animalistic growl echoing from harry’s chest, fangs on full display, dropping down to breathe you in.
“fuck, fuck,” harry groans, his temple resting against your inner thigh, eyes locked on your cunt. you were absolutely soaked. your hormones on overdrive from your period, plus well, day 2 of your period, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen something so fucking beautiful.
his tongue tentatively pokes out, taking a lick at your sopping folds, harry’s eyes rolling back. “fucking christ, my beautiful girl, can’t-“ he shakes his head, taking another lick, “can’t hold myself back. stop me if it’s too much.”
and with that, he delves in. face instantly pressing into your cunt, tongue darting into you, licking at your inner walls with purpose.
you struggle to keep up with the quickness of it all, your body reacting to harry before your brain has a chance to keep up. with your back arching, a loud moan echoing through the room, you grip into his hair, pressing yourself more into his face.
you can feel the vibration from his groan, your pussy clenching on his lapping tongue. you can feel the bluntness of his fangs encompassing your heat, a slight sting from time to time, when they scrape particularly roughly. you can feel the nipping of his nails in your skin, thighs aching from his strength holding you spread open.
with your period long forgotten, cramps seemingly swept away with the flick of harry’s tongue, you keep rolling your hips into his face, causing his moans to increase.
harry’s mind is reeling, so far gone, overtaken with the continuous flow of blood. he doesn’t have to pace himself, doesn’t have to worry about taking too much. he can slurp up as much as he likes. add in the sweet taste of your arousal, and all he can focus on is more, more, more.
his eyes flick up to meet yours, the darkest crimson you think you’ve ever seen looking back at you. you note the deep red smeared over his pale porcelain skin, and you feel yourself tug on his hair harder, the sight making your skin prickle. you weren’t sure how this scene could ever be so beautiful, but here it was. and it made your stomach clench.
you can see the moment harry knows you’re going to cum, his eyes looking at you in recognition, cunt throbbing on his tongue, his mouth moving north for a moment to suck and flick at your clit. instantly, your orgasm crashes over you, back arching, legs trembling against his hold.
and harry’s ecstatic to lick you through it, scooping up the bubbles of blood, a guttural moan vibrating from the depths of his chest, his tongue migrating south again, face following suit.
without a moment to breathe, harry being hyper focused on blood, languidly stroking his tongue up and down and up and down through your slit, from entrance to clit, lapping up the blood, the arousal, the overwhelming sense of you, you, you.
“harry,” you whimper breathily, trying to compose yourself post orgasm, all while still having his tongue scooping from deep inside you. you couldn’t budge your legs at all, no matter how hard you tried to close them, your entire body prickling with heat every time he’d stroke your sweet spot.
your whines fall on deaf ears, harry much too busy with his face buried in your cunt. it was moments like these where he loves that breathing isn’t a problem he needs to worry about anymore.
so he continues on, sucking and slurping, getting completely lost in the seemingly endless supply of sustenance. so much so, that you’re almost certain he’s completely missed the fact that you’re cumming again.
your moans had gotten increasingly loud, body trembling and wracking in his hands, fingers pulling tight on his hair. your cunt was clenched hard around his tongue, but his muscles were strong, and it didn’t stop him one bit. growling pants coming from between your legs, he flicked his tongue over and over and over against your inner walls.
body covered in a sheen of sweat, you were panting, whining, so fucking overstimulated. and yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him. even with your third orgasm looming, the coil in your stomach tighter than it’s been all night, almost painfully so, you could not stop.
your hips try to lift off the bed, muscles stretching and tensing all at once, an explosion of heat and tingles spreads through you, your cunt at the centre of the storm.
harry groans happily, his mouth working you through your third orgasm, hands sliding from your inner thighs, around to the small of your back, holding you.
instantly, your legs close on his head, a moan vibrating from harry’s mouth, his hold leaving your back, sliding over your bum, up the back of your thighs, to press your knees into your chest.
and for the first moment since his escapade began, he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, looking at it, admiring his beautiful girl’s most intimate parts. he knows he’s pushed you to a limit, doesn’t have to ask, he absolutely knows you well enough by now.
he still, however, unable to help himself, takes a gentle lick all the way up your slit, your body flinching in response. “m’sorry, darling. just so pretty.”
heat rises to your cheeks, wiggling your hips, trying to get away from him, as embarrassment, shyness creeps up on you.
and again, knowing you so well, harry notices, shaking his head, pecking against the back of your thigh, knees still pressed to your chest. he takes another gentle lick up your cunt, groaning, “don’t know why you even bother with pads and tampons. fuckin waste of money, if you ask me.”
……
Masterlist
tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms @cc-horan
#harry styles#harryween#halloween#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#smut#vamprry#vampire!harry#harry styles masterlist#harry styles writing#writings#justmeinatree
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The Miracle Man
Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader
Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.
AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.
Word Count: 3,500
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.
He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?
A dirty mop.
Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.
He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.
Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…
Three months ago. When they were still together.
Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?
It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?
That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.
“Hello?”
The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.
“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.
You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.
You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.
“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.”
Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.
Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.
He held in a sigh.
“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.
He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.
But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.
Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.
“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.
What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.
His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”
You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.
“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.
Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.
“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”
He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.
“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”
Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”
“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.
“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”
You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.
“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”
You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.
“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”
And then it dawned on you.
“That fucking asshole,” you growled.
Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”
Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”
Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.
And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.
“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he��ll…”
You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail.
“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”
You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.
He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.
“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”
Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”
“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”
Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.
“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”
Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”
He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.
Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.
“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.
“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”
Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.
“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.
“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”
“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.
“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”
He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”
“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”
Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.
“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.
“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”
By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.
“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.
“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”
He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.
“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”
Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.
He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.
I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.
“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.
“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.
“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”
If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.
“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.
As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.
"Uh, sorry," he said.
But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.
“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.
You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.
“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.
“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.
“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.
“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.
Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”
Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.
“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.
“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.
“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.
“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.
“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.
“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.
“How’re you getting home?” he asked.
You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.
“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”
“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”
You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”
Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.
“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”
You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.
You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.
“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”
He smiled. “You can try.”
He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.
And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.
“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.
“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.
“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”
“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.
The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.
The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.
“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.”
He continued cleaning.
Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.
It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.
He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.
“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.
“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.
Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.
“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.
He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.
“Well, hi there,” he greeted.
A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.
In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.
“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”
Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”
You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.
“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.
You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.
But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.
“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.
You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”
Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”
Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”
You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.
You felt like you.
So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.
His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.
“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.
“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.
You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.
“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”
He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.
But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.
“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”
You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.
Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.
It was the perfect day for a Miracle.
AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜
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