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haetrack · 6 months

Note

did i hear mark request…

it’s late, you and mark have been spending the last week studying in the library every night for a big final. ur brain’s exhausted and u’ve been losing focus every now and again for the last hour but these last 15 mins, u’ve spent being distracted at how good mark looks next to u, extremely focused and determined to get through these practice papers. so u wanna see how long he can stay concentrated and quiet with ur hands all over him - he’s not quiet though this man is gonna moan and whine in ur ear like his life depends on it

(tbh i just wanna give this man a handjob in public and watch him finish)(he’s so hot)(i need him so bad)(maybe edge him a little too idk)

req 5: mark lee x afab!reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: smut (MDNI!), public sex in a library, handjob, edging (HOORAY)

a/n: THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL… HE SO… HES SONSNDMFK

you’ve been sitting at the library with mark for hours. the words of the article in front of you begin blurring together, none of it is really clicking, none of it bothering to stick in your head. you could recite the whole study guide and its answers by now. you just keep getting distracted. every time you look over at mark, you lose focus.

you can’t help but let your mind drift, can’t help but think about doing a little more than kissing with him.

you and mark have been together for five months. still a fairly new relationship, and you are happy to call him your boyfriend. he’s sweet, attentive, funny, and cute, but you can’t help but wish for one thing. since you’ve gotten in a relationship, you haven’t really done anything but kiss. which is fine, but it always leaves you on edge.

you can tell he gets needy too, his hands wandering, groping around as he licks into your mouth. you can feel him try not to subtly grind into you, keeping you firmly sat on his thighs as he kisses you. it’s not something you can complain about, but it’s been sitting in your mind for too long.

even now, late at night at your school’s library, your bored mind is not safe from these thoughts. you look at him through the corner of your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes focused on the practice problems he was given to by his professor. his bites down on his bottom lip, fingers messing with the corner of the page as he tries to remember what to do.

he’s not even doing anything crazy, but here you are lusting over mark while you two are studying. it’s been like this for a whole week, your boyfriend inviting you out to study with him for finals week. are you in the same class he’s in? no, but you will be there for him whenever he asks. you also get a bonus of seeing him like this.

during the first part of the week, you actually did study. you both focused on your own work, took small breaks with each other, then went back to studying. it eventually evolved to you staring at scans of your textbook, eyes occasionally glancing to mark. tonight is worse, you can’t stop staring at him.

you check the time, nearly midnight. you look around and find a few other students, either dozing off or intensely doing their work. none of them are aware of their surroundings, none would see you in the small secluded corner you both are in. you shift a little in your seat, squeezing your thighs together to calm yourself down.

you let out a long groan, which catches mark’s attention. he tears his eyes away from his paper, amusement in his eyes as he presses a kiss to your temple. it takes everything in you to not throw yourself in his lap right there. instead, you place a hand on his thigh as you kiss him back. he lets out a small sigh at the touch, eyes closing from the feeling.

you pull away from him, hand still on his thigh as you look at him. his eyes are still lingering on your lips, pretty and swollen from the kiss. a quiet laugh leaves you, “how much more do you have left?”

“not a lot,” he huffs, “it’s just, i legit don’t think i can do them anymore.”

you smile at him, scooting your chair close to his, leaning your head on his shoulder, “want me to take a look?”

“well, do you know how to do this?” he points to his paper, an equation that shouldn’t make sense to anyone currently being shown to you.

“i’m not as smart as you, but i will be your personal cheerleader.” you press a kiss to his neck, enjoying how he shivers at the contact. you press a few more kisses until you reach his jawline, your hand squeezing around his thigh. he doesn’t try moving, eyes fixed on how your thighs squeeze together.

when you move your hand higher, his hand shoots down to your wrist. you think he might move it away, telling you he doesn’t want to do this here. you’d apologize quickly, choosing to do your work as you hold his hand.

he doesn’t though, he keeps your wrist there, a tight hold around your skin.

you move to put your head on his shoulder again. your fingers trace light patterns over his sweats. his leg begins bobbing up and down, waiting to see what you might do next. you’re almost surprised to see mark letting you go this far. you can feel the heat from his face, and you can see how his chest rises quickly.

you’re not sure if you want to initiate this here, but as you see mark squirm in his seat, you realize you might have to do something. you want him to tell you that he wants this. under the guise of being tired, you shut your eyes, exhaling while your hand continues to warm his thigh. you don’t want to pressure him into this, giving him the option to ignore you if he wants.

he tries. he tries to look at his paper again, trying to recall what he’s supposed to do. maybe he’d be able to figure it out if it weren’t for how close your hand was to his hardening cock. he’s not sure if it’s because of how frustrated he is or it finally dawned on him how pent up he is, but he needs you.

he lets out a shaky breath, your hand not moving from his spot. he shifts a little in his seat, moving your hand a little further up. it’s not where he needs you, but the feeling of your fingers tracing along his sweats has his cock twitching. he’s about to ask you to do something, but you beat him to it.

“do you need help with that, mark?”

he feels your gaze on his now too tight sweats, hard and begging for your touch. he bites back a groan when your fingers trace over the outline of his cock, squeezing at the tip. this the most you’ve ever touched him, and it’s getting to his head too fast. he bites down on his bottom lip, too scared to open his mouth.

there was a reason to all the times he’s pushed you off of him. he was so embarrassed, every time you kissed him on his lap, he couldn’t help but get so close to cumming. you weren’t doing anything intentional, but the feeling of your lips on his, the softs sounds you made, and the feeling of you on top of him sent a rush to his head.

for you to be so close to him, yet not where he needs you is enough for him to buck his hips into your hand. he lets out the smallest gasp. your lips graze his ears, “tell me what you want mark, i’ll give you anything you need.”

“want you to touch me, want you to touch my…” you can hear him swallow, “t-touch my cock, please.”

your hand teases the band of his sweets, messing with the drawstrings, “anything for you, markie.”

your hand finally slips under his sweats and boxers, hand slowly wrapping around his hard cock. this is better than any of your fantasies, feeling how he throbs in your hold. you let him sit with the feeling for a bit, your grip tightening around his length. he lets out a hiss, quickly covering his mouth when he realizes he’s still at the library.

your fingers move to glide over his tip, spreading the precum around, “guess you’ll have to be quiet, right?”

he nods quickly, eyes shaking when he looks down to see your hand in his pants, right where he needs you. he tries not to seem too eager, tries not to look like he’s currently being touched in the middle of the library. his eyes scan the room, everyone else too busy to be looking at them.

when your hand starts moving along his length, he turns to look at his paper, trying to look busy. his hands are gripping onto the table, knuckles turning white as he feels you touch him for the first time. it’s not the most ideal place, but he’s too pent up too care at this point.

your hand feels nice around him. it’s not like he hasn’t gotten a handjob before, but you’re the one touching him this time.

he’s not sure if it’s because he can see how affected you’re getting by watching him or how good your hand feels wrapped around his cock, but he’s close to cumming. it hasn’t even been that long, he swears that he usually isn’t like this. he bites down hard on his tongue, one of his hands wanting to cover his mouth to stop any moans from coming out.

you noticed how quiet he’s being, and you can’t have that. you know he must be close to cumming, his length throbbing in your hold. you slow your movements, whispering so only he can hear, “mark, won’t you tell me how good it feels? wanna hear how good you feel.”

he shakes his head, cheeks turning pink as he tries to figure out what to do. all he can think about is how close he is, how warm you feel as you lean against him. when he doesn’t answer, you tighten your grip around him, thumb teasing his tip. his whole body shakes, ready to fill his sweatpants with cum.

“mark,” you whine out, “are you close to cumming? aren’t you gonna tell me that you’re close?”

his mouth stays shut, his hips bucking up. his tip is heavily leaking, eyes closed as he fucks into your hand. you can’t believe you get to see him like this, get to see him try and hold back how good you make him feel. it’s when he lets out a small whine of your name when you pull your hand away from him.

he immediately turns to look at you, grabbing your wrist, trying to put together a sentence that makes sense. you let out a small laugh, swatting away his hands that reach for yours. you pout, “you didn’t wanna tell me that i was making you feel good.”

he whisper-shouts at you, “that’s it? i-i could’ve cum… please. just let me- let me try one more time.”

“hm… you still have work to do, right? focus on your work, mark.” you press a kiss to his cheek, leaning back against your chair.

mark stares hard at you, cock still hard in his sweats as he tries to see if you’ll touch him again. in fact, you gesture for him to keep working, eyes watching as he huffs. he turns back to the worksheets, mind too hazy to do any work now. he taps his pencil onto the page, nothing seems to come to mind.

a few minutes pass, mark calming down when he looks at his notes. the problem starts to make sense, slowly writing down the steps to the problem. he tries not to think of you too much, realizing just how quiet you’re being. he knows you can’t stay still for long, waiting for any move you might make.

before he knows it, your hand slithers down into his sweats, fingers lightly moving across his cock. he’s half-hard, beginning to twitch as you make a fist around his length. before he can turn all his attention, you grab him by the shoulder, “keep doing your work, mark. finish your work and i’ll let you cum.”

he nods, but you don’t start moving. you look at him in the eyes, your hand tightening around him, “need to hear you tell me. wanna hear you make some noise.”

he gulps, his whole body feeling hot, “i’ll… i’ll try.”

you make a small noise in excitement, hand finally touching him again. you watch as he puts all his focus on the paper in front of him, not writing anything down. he’s blankly staring at it, licking his lips as his eyes threaten to close. you move your hand faster, tightening your fist when you reach his tip. he’s losing himself quickly, letting out small noises at the feeling.

you push into his side, “do your work, mark. don’t want anyone looking over here and finding that mark lee is currently getting jerked off in the library.”

he lets out a gasp, hands shakily picking up his pencil. he can’t control himself, hips moving on their own as he tries to stop himself from making too much noise. he can feel your expectant stare, just waiting for him to make a sound. it’s when you tighten your fist around his base, slowly sliding up to his tip that he lets out a quiet moan of your name.

you sit up a little further, now fully watching his face as he tries to hide from you. his face is scrunched up, his hips now fucking your hand. he doesn’t care anymore, not when you’re making him feel so good, not when he can feel his orgasm quickly building up.

“f-fuck, your hand feels good. just-” he lets out a small whimper, “keep going, baby.”

happy with his response, your hand moves faster. you can hear the slight squelch of it, his precum helping you glide against his cock. mark looks fucked out, face red as he keeps moving. he can’t help but pretend he’s fucking your pussy, can’t help but wonder if this is how it feels to have you wrapped around him. once finals are over, he will definitely be having sex with you.

you can’t help but let out a whimper yourself, enjoying watching mark fall apart way too much. you bite down on his earlobe, “wanna feel you cum all over my hand. wanna make you feel good, mark.”

he leans back, whining in your ear, “y-yeah, gonna cum all over you. wanna- wanna show you how good you’re doing.”

one of his hands makes it to your thigh, squeezing it for support. he’s losing control, low groans leaving his mouth as you jerk him off. his hips lift off the chair, choosing to full-on fuck your hand. he looks so good right now, and you think he might finally deserve what he wants. you let out a whisper, “cum for me, mark. wanna see you cum.”

mark doesn’t need to be told twice. his hips buck into your hand, his hand around your thigh tightening as he lets out a fuck, a low groan filling the air around you. he feels so gross as he lets go in his sweats, cum shooting out into your hold.

when you feel his cum spurt into his hand, you wrap an arm around him, letting him lean into your touch. he shoves his head into your shoulder, not caring about the loud whines he lets out as he cums in your hand. there’s a lot, his thighs beginning to shake as you help him ride out his orgasm.

he pushes your hand away at the feeling of overstimulation, you laugh as you slide your hand out. your hand is covered in his cum, and you bring it up to your mouth. mark watches with heavy eyes as you suck your cum-stained fingers, watches how you practically moan out at the taste of his cum. he almost gets hard again, his cock begging for your attention.

you laugh at him, quite loud in the quiet space of the library. someone shoots you an ugly look before sticking their nose back to their laptop. you and mark giggle together, hushed in the secluded corner you’ve been in.

“out of all the noises you were making, they decided to get mad at me for laughing?”

mark has to slap a hand around his mouth to stop anymore laughs, “i wasn’t even being that loud! you looked like you were enjoying it more than i was!”

you shove at his shoulder in embarrassment, “that’s what happens when you run away from me when we make out!”

“i’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” he goes to hold your clean hand, “now, can i, uh- can you teach me how to…”

he makes some weird gestures, and by the looks of it, he wants to try to eat you out. you smile at him, “of course, mark.”

#asks #anon #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #mark lee smut #mark lee fic #mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios

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illyrianbitch · 1 month

Text

One Summer — Part Five

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: drug usage (weed n edibles), alcohol, mor & cass legit being siblings, reader & az being a lil touchy, az being vulnerable, some insecurities

Word Count: 5.7k

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not fully proofread. <3

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was 7:09 AM when you woke, a golden sheen slowly seeping through your curtains. Your phone’s screen was still dimmed, locked in Do Not Disturb for another two hours, and your body protested the movement to slip out of bed. You weren't generally an early riser, never found much enjoyment in waking before necessary. But as you stepped onto the balcony and watched the world greet the day, you began to understand the appeal. You savored the sense of calm, letting it seep into your bones.

In a little over three hours you’d be back in the Summit Pulse parking lot preparing for the second day, stomach full of spiked seltzers and a full face of sunscreen— with extra on your nose.

You glanced back towards Azriel’s room. The curtains were still drawn tight, no light escaping through them. He must still be asleep. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you recalled the night before— Azriel bathed in the moonlight, eyes closed and a smile hanging on his lips.

You sat in the memory for a few more moments before you headed to the kitchen.

You stopped in your tracks as you rounded the corner of the stairs.

Azriel stepped in from the back door, a ray of sunlight pouring into the space behind him. It illuminated his figure almost perfectly. He had clearly come back from a run: black shorts and matching tennis shoes to match. But his shirt—his shirt was no longer on his body, but rather in his hands. He wiped it across his face and your gaze fell down to his torso, tracing the detailed black ink across his arms and chest. The small droplets of water clinging to his skin didn’t look like sweat, and his hair was too damp to be attributed to the run alone. He must’ve rinsed off in the outdoor shower.

“Hi Az.”

You hoped your voice sounded steady, that it wasn't weighed down by sleep— or, worse, tinged with a longing that could betray how blatantly you had been staring.

Azriel’s head snapped up, eyes widening as he registered your presence. He pulled his shirt down to his chest, the motion hurried and frantic like that of a chaste Victorian woman covering her bosom. You glanced down at the movement then back up to his eyes and raised an amused brow. The corners of your lips twitched with a smile.

A pink hue spread across his cheeks as he cleared his throat, stepping fully into the threshold of the kitchen.

“Look who’s scaring who now.”

“Sorry,” you replied, a similar flush now painting your cheeks. You dropped your gaze and moved further into the kitchen. “I guess I need a cat collar too.”

“Maybe,” he mused with a small laugh. The sound rippled through you. “You’re up early.”

“You are too. Did you go for a run?”

Azriel nodded, his fingers drumming a gentle rhythm on the kitchen counter. “I did.”

“Very impressive.”

A slight grin touched his lips. “It helps clear my mind.”

The idea of a clear mind seemed incredibly appealing at the moment. You were excited for the day ahead—truly, you were. But there was still an anxious flutter in your stomach, a sense of stress that made your skin prickle.

“Maybe I should go for a run too, then.”

Azriel tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied you. Normally, you’d find extended eye contact uncomfortable, feeling exposed under anyone else’s gaze. But with Azriel, it felt different—less intrusive. He opened his mouth to respond, but the backdoor slid open again, admitting another stream of sunlight.

Cassian stepped in, shirtless of course, and a large smile spread across his features as he took in the sight before him.

“Y/n,” he greeted. “Up bright and early, I see.”

“I am,” You said with a smile. You gestured to his form with your chin. “Guess I missed the shirtless memo, though.”

Cass chuckled— a hearty sound that pulled the corners of your lips even higher. He strolled over to you with a wink. “Hey, no one’s opposed.”

You flicked a glance at Azriel. The blush on his cheeks seemed to deepen, though it was hard to tell if it was the lighting or just your imagination. Cassian walked to the cupboards, pulling out a glass and filling it at the sink. You watched as he took a long sip, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“We ready for today?” He asked cheerfully, turning to fill the cup up again. “I think it's my favorite lineup.”

“Me too,” Az said. You glanced over at him, eyes tracing the curve of his mouth as it blossomed into a smile. “I feel like the sets will be great.” He tossed a glance your way.

Cassian guzzled down another glass of water before he nodded at Azriel. “You gonna shower?”

They shared a bathroom here— a large one found in between both of their rooms. According to everyone in the house, their shower had a water pressure that rivaled yours. Morrigan had told you to use their shower whenever you had the time, claiming that their showering experience was elite and totally unfair. You hadn’t had the opportunity as of yet.

Azriel’s gaze flickered to you once more before he gave Cass a smile. “Nah man,” he said, “You can hop in.”

Cassian grinned. “Sweet. See you guys in a bit.”

It wasn’t until you heard the echo of his heavy footsteps upstairs that you turned back to Azriel. His eyes were trained on you, that warm, inviting look still on his face. Even from feet apart, you could see the gold in his eyes—and you thanked the morning sun for giving the house such great lighting.

You offered him a smile and made your way around the kitchen.

The fridge and the cupboards were all stocked thanks to you, Azriel, and Feyre’s thorough grocery list, so you found what you needed within a minute. Some bagels, eggs, cheese, bacon, and cream cheese.

Azriel craned his head to take in the assortment in front of you. “I thought you preferred lighter breakfasts?” You met his gaze as he continued, “Simple cream cheese with nothing else.”

Something in your chest stirred. A people-watcher, indeed. Even after two years of little interaction, Azriel still remembered something as small as your light stomach in the morning.

“I do. But I need something heavier so I don’t waste twenty bucks on a mediocre pizza slice.”

Azriel grimaced, the skin on his nose scrunching in a way that seemed entirely too soft for his striking, sharp features. “Yeah,” he said with a low whistle, “The prices were steep.”

You nodded and pulled out two bagels. “I also think Mor is going to need a heavy breakfast. Something nice and greasy.”

Mor had started off Summit stronger than any of you. You stopped counting how many drinks she’d managed to get through sweet-talking. She’d been generous to share the wealth among you, switching between who she would give the free drink to. There was no doubt she’d saved a good dent in your wallets. But even with all of her graciousness, Morrigan had drunk her fair share.

Azriel let out a sound of understanding and moved around the counter, situating himself next to you. “Then let me help.”

You accepted the offer with another smile. You’d been offering those to him a lot recently, so much so that it felt like your cheeks naturally tugged at your lips in his presence. Azriel pulled out a pan, turning on the stove. You caught his stare as you were cutting the bagels in two.

“What is it?”

You fought the urge to bring a hand to your face—did you have something? Some remnants of crust around your eyes from sleep? You’d washed off, gotten ready before you came down, but maybe you’d missed—

“Nothing,” Azriel shrugged. “I’m sure Mor will appreciate breakfast. It’s sweet of you to think of her.”

Right on cue, the groan of a very hungover Mor filtered into the room. Azriel went back to tending to the stove before you had a chance to pull a response from your throat.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You had to give credit where credit was due: Cassian knew his audience.

You’d only been in Summit for about an hour and a half and he had already secured a handful of numbers from various admirers.

You watched as he brought a hand to his face, absently stroking his mustache as he talked to Rhys. There was something about Cassian that drew people in; a friendly and approachable magnetic charm that was often lost on Rhysand and Azriel. It wasn’t that the two other boys were less attractive, no, but their beauty was sharper— finer. Intimidating. Cassian, despite his large stature, was someone you’d talk to in public.

It didn’t hurt that he knew how to present himself. He loved his hair oils and the meticulously chosen skin-care products that he used. Cassian was sensitive to smells, couldn't handle anything with fragrances, so he was loyal to a specific skincare company manufactured in Milan. You thought it was extremely overpriced. He argued that beauty was priceless.

This summer had also made one thing abundantly clear: the man knew how to dress.

His sleeveless black Harley Davidson shirt clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, exposing his muscular arms and the tattooed wings extending down his biceps. Loose blue jeans hung low on his hips, cinched by a rugged belt, and the fucker was wearing boots— goddamn cowboy boots in the 80 degree weather.

You didn’t want to admit that it worked.

It looked great—effortlessly cool, like he belonged in a vintage motorcycle ad. You were stewing in your envy. You, Mor and Feyre had planned your outfits in advance, spent days deciding which vibes for which days. Cass outdressed you all. It wasn’t even a contest.

“It’s not fair.”

Mor’s whine pulled you back into the present, the sounds of Summit crashing back into focus. Rays of the sun prickled on your skin as your gaze traveled to the blonde, a small pout on her lips and a scowl written into the crease between her brows.

You were all standing in a loose circle. Az stood close on one side of you, with Mor on the other. Cassian, Feyre, and Rhys were across from you, their backs to a sea of people watching the set of a band you didn’t recognize. You were all still recovering from the last performance, a sense of sweat still clinging to your skin from the densely packed bodies you’d rubbed against.

“What isn’t fair?” Feyre asked.

Mor gestured around at the crowd, her expression bordering on exasperated. “I can’t figure out who’s gay here. It’s like a terrible game of Where’s Waldo.”

Rhys opened his mouth to reply, but Mor wasn’t finished.

“We used to have a culture, y'know? Carabiners, septum rings, two short nails!” She raised her hand, wiggling her fingers for emphasis. “Tell me why every girl here is dressed like my ex.”

You snorted at the familiar rant and Cass let out a sigh, rolling his eyes as he took a swig of his drink. Mor had been on a roll all morning. She’d denied it for the past half hour, but you all knew that she was pissed Cassian was getting more numbers than she was. She could get free drinks from guys and ditch them, but the girls seemed too intimidated to talk to her. That, or they just assumed her friendliness was exactly that: friendliness. Platonic.

Mor shot him a look. “Don’t roll your eyes at the rich history of—”

Cassian rolled is eyes again. “Okay, I’m not rolling my eyes at—”

“And you did it again!”

Cassian’s lips tightened.“I was rolling my eyes because your ex did not dress this nice.”

His gaze drifted to a sight beyond her, golden eyes scanning the crowd. His head followed the movement of a group of people passing by. “Definitely not this nice,” he finished, voice trailing off as his mind wandered elsewhere.

“She dressed fine.”

Cass didn’t respond. Feyre leaned in closer to Rhys, whispering something in his ear as they both exchanged amused glances. Mor snapped her fingers in an attempt to pull Cassian back to their conversation, but his head remained turned. He brought his drink to his lips as she shot you a frown.

“I think he’s ignoring you,” Rhys told her, leaning forward with a mockingly innocent grin on his face.

“Thank you, Rhys,” She said through gritted teeth. “You are so helpful.”

“You just need to beat him,” he replied. “You really gonna let Cass out-flirt you?”

Mor’s annoyance seemed to dissipate, replaced by a glint of determination. If there was anything more pronounced than Mor’s flair for the dramatic, it was her relentless drive to surpass those around her. Though it sounded bad, her ambition was never born of malice and only really came out around men. Her competitive streak was something you’d grown used to over the years, a trait that was likely to serve her well in her legal career. It certainly served her well in every debate held by Professor Davids.

You let Mor and Rhys fade into the background again as you felt a stare burning into you— a warmth that was more welcoming than it was hot or uncomfortable.

You turned and met Azriel's steady, intense gaze. It made your skin tingle. "What?”

Azriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he motioned to the corner of his lip with the hand not holding his drink. "You have something…”

You quickly brushed your fingers against your face, trying to find and remove whatever it was that had him staring. You could feel your cheeks heating up, the memory of another moment flashing in your mind—his touch lingering on your temple after the bonfire, the way his fingertips had burned against your skin as he wiped away the sand.

“Did I get it?”

Azriel leaned in, studying your face with that same careful concentration. He was so close now that you could smell the faint scent of the beer he was holding, mingling with something distinctly Azriel—warm and familiar.

“I don’t know… it’s just some…”

“Some what?”

The barest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. You frowned at the motion.

“Some drool,” Azriel said, his expression shifting into a smirk. “Probably from when you were blatantly checking Cass out.”

“Ha ha,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. A smile grew on your lips despite yourself.

Azriel’s grin widened and you swiped his drink. “Give me that,” you mumbled, hoping the can would hide your flushed cheeks.

You wiped at your mouth again, just to be safe, and gestured vaguely in Cassian’s direction, "His fit goes so hard, Az. I have to stare."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “His fit?”

"Are you feeling left out?" you teased. "I can stare at you next."

As if you weren’t planning on it anyway, your gaze already sweeping over his form. But you’d gotten your stare in this morning, admiring him in the car from the backseat. Like most of Azriel’s outfits, his clothes today were simple— loose black t-shirt and shorts, sneakers, and a black hat to match. While you missed his curls on full display, you couldn’t complain too much. The hat looked great on him.

With a casual shrug, he reached to take his drink back from you. "Maybe."

You laughed, letting your voice drop into an exaggerated, overly sweet tone. “Azriel, I’m so sorry for not staring at you. Let me objectify you right now and make this right.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. Still grinning, you tugged his hands down to you, making sure he was fully paying attention. "I’m serious," you continued, mockingly sincere. "Let’s fix this before it ruins our friendship."

Azriel shook his head, still smiling, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. Feyre’s laugh pulled your attention back to the group.

Her cheeks rounded as she smiled, wrapping an arm around Mor’s shoulders. “I think the heat is getting to you, babe. Let’s get something nice and cold.”

Feyre flashed you a smile and gave a nod for you to follow. You and Azriel trailed behind the group, and you took the opportunity to bat your eyelashes dramatically, giving him an exaggerated, adoring look. Just then, Mor leaned her head back and reached an arm behind her for you to grab.

With a playful shove, Az pushed you away. “Get out of here,” he murmured, still grinning. You flashed him a bright smile then skipped forward to take Mor’s hand.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

While excitement had hummed beneath your skin all morning at the thought of seeing the smaller set with Azriel, anxiety had trailed closely behind it, nipping at the edges of your thoughts. Realistically, you knew it was silly—leaving the group for an hour and a half at most wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t life or death. In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing.

Except to you, it was everything.

Because in a few months, you were going to disrupt a much grander, more important plan. Mor would start planning for law school, and you’d have to tell her—and everyone else—that you didn’t want any of it. So, you didn’t want to start changing plans now. You wanted this summer to be perfect, for this festival to go exactly how everyone else wanted. You’d have fun no matter what. And deep down, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you felt like you still needed to make it up to everyone—for the time you’d lost while dating Eris, for the small anger—no, disappointment—they’d felt when you started seeing him.

But today, the world blessed you.

Mor and Cass had met two girls. “Twins,” Cass had grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “They’re twins!”

Feyre and Rhys were more than happy to enjoy the bigger sets alone, standing behind the sea of people, savoring the experience from afar—Rhys behind her with his hand wrapped securely around her waist. Cass and Mor disappeared into the crowd, hands clasped with their respective twin, diving into the thickest part of the masses.

And you and Azriel had headed for the smaller stage on the east side of the festival grounds.

Now, you found yourself standing alone in the crowd. Az had headed off to the bathroom a little while ago, insisting he didn't want to risk leaving too late and wanted to beat the gummy.

It had been around forty minutes since you'd taken the edibles—ones you'd carefully pulled from a small baggie that once held a spare button for a sweater your mother had bought you for church.

“Sour apple,” you’d told him with a knowing smile. “I know those are your favorite.”

Azriel had given you a soft smile in return, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he accepted. There was something comforting about the exchange, a sense of nostalgia that made you feel eighteen again, transported back to your freshman dorm when you and Az would eat these same gummies, lay on the ground, and listen to music.

A body stumbled back into you and you blinked, taking in the man before you. He was cute in an indie festival kind of way—jorts, a button-up with only the top button done by his neck, the rest open to reveal a plain white tank.

“Oh, shit,” he said, putting a hand out in apology. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re good,” you replied, giving him a polite smile. Your eyes felt heavy and you bit back the urge to let your smile widen—not for him, but because of the dizzying feeling in your head. This was great. You felt great. But god, you wished he would look away. The man only cleared his throat, the action almost endearing in its awkwardness.

“Sorry about that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You already said that.”

“Right.”

He turned back to his friends, tossing them a glance, and then faced you again. There was a sweet smile on his face.

“I’m Aiden, by the way.”

“Cool,” you managed to say, your mouth dry. He extended a hand. It took you a moment to register that he was offering it for a shake. You lifted a heavy hand and shook his, the contact sending a shiver through your body. You pulled your hand back, but he kept staring—eyes wide like a puppy.

“Oh, my bad,” you laughed. “Y/n.”

“Cool,” he said, repeating your earlier words. He shifted on his feet, looking between you, the crowd, his group behind him, and the stage.

“This is like my favorite band,” he said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s bittersweet that they’re getting recognized. Like, I’m happy 'cause they deserve it, but I know I won’t be able to afford any more tickets.”

Your mind wasn’t keeping up with the conversation but you let him ramble anyway. He was nice. Harmless, truly. In any other circumstance, you’d probably engage more. But it was hot, the crowd was getting more condensed, and your high was slowly cresting. You needed to stop smiling so much. Your cheeks were hurting. And Azriel—where was Azriel?

You nodded as Aiden kept talking, his words blending into the background noise of the festival. He settled down and gave you an awkward laugh, perhaps realizing you weren’t entirely following along.

A hand slid around your waist, and you melted into the touch of those familiar ridges on your exposed skin.

“Sorry I took so long,” Azriel said. “I got you this.” His other hand reached around and offered you a drink.

Aiden blinked, glancing up at Azriel with a brief look of surprise before he quickly masked it. They exchanged a few words—something about the crowd and the set—but you were too focused on the hand still wrapped securely around your waist. The last time he’d had an arm wrapped around you was two years ago, but now, every slight movement of his fingers was magnified by the tingling sensation in your body.

You lifted the drink to your lips. It wasn’t alcoholic. Instead, an icy, tart taste of frozen lemonade flooded your senses. You smiled, nodding in appreciation at the flavor, at the way it felt in your mouth. You felt Azriel’s chuckle more than you heard it.

“Thought you might like that,” he said.

“How?”

Your heartbeat quickened as Azriel leaned in, lips hovering your ear. “It started hitting me in the bathroom,” he murmured, voice low and slightly rough.

Your eyes widened slightly and a grin spread across your face. Azriel grinned back almost instantly. “Saw the drink on the way back. Perfect for cotton mouth, yeah?”

You took another sip with an approving hum. “You’re a genius, Az. I could kiss you.”

You missed the way he blushed, eyes darting away for a second before he composed himself. His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and he chuckled softly, his expression half-amused, half-flustered. “Save it for later,” he replied, trying to sound casual, but the hint of color still in his cheeks betrayed him.

Azriel slowly pulled away and you instantly felt the absence of his touch, the spot where his hand had rested feeling empty and exposed.

“Can I grab something from your bag?”

You nodded, lifting a hand to let him unzip your small purse. He had stashed some of his things in there earlier when you’d offered—his wallet, keys, and his camera, which he now carefully retrieved. His movements seemed slow, deliberate—or maybe that was just you and your high.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft and slightly muddled.

Azriel glanced up at you, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. He held the camera up.

You immediately shook your head, a playful groan escaping your lips. “Nooo, not now,” you protested, already imagining the awkwardness of your gummy-induced smile being immortalized on film.

“C’mon.”

You shot him a pleading look. “Az,” you said, drawing out his name as if it could somehow convince him to let you off the hook.

“Y/n,” he countered, mimicking your tone. “You’re going to deny me of my artistic pleasures?”

“Pleasures?” you echoed, the word rolling off your tongue with a chuckle. “Fine, fine. Okay. One photo.”

Azriel lifted the camera and you smiled—a real, genuine smile that was all for him. He took the picture and you leaned into him to view the screen.

“I look terrible,” you said with a grimace.

Azriel shook his head, turning to face you. His eyes glimmered beneath the brim of his cap, a soft smile playing on his lips. “How can you not see it?”

You frowned at his words. But before you could ask what he meant, a light tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. The girl standing behind you sported a bright smile on her face.

“Do you guys want one together?”

You and Az stayed still, staring at her with slightly narrowed eyes, brows both burrowed. She glanced at the camera in Azriel’s hands, then back at the two of you. “A picture,” she clarified with a small smile. “I can take one of you guys.”

You blinked, exchanging a slow look with Azriel before nodding. “Oh, right! Yes, thank you,” you said, stepping closer to him as he handed her the camera.

You stood next to him, a little stiff at first, but then Azriel’s hand wrapped around your waist again and you melted into his touch. The girl smiled at the sight, lifting the camera to snap the photo. She handed it back. “Y’all are so cute. Let me know if you want another.”

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at the compliment— a compliment intended for a couple. You glanced at Azriel. His expression seemed unfazed, though, as he took the camera from her with another thank you. He brought the screen closer and you both looked at the picture.

The photo was perfect. A wave of warmth spread through your chest, something deep and bright. It traveled through your entire body, down to your fingertips and your toes.

Azriel’s gaze remained fixed on the screen. “I usually don’t like photos of myself,” he said. “But I really like this one.”

“Well, you look good,” you replied.

“I look happy.”

You looked up at this, your eyes meeting his. The distance between you seemed to shrink and you could feel the heat of his body close to yours. It felt like every fiber of your being was on fire, heightened by the festival's energy and the intoxicating closeness you now found yourself in.

Why was it hard to breathe?

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd as the band took the stage. The noise jolted you out of the moment, and you both fumbled to put the camera back in your purse. Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer. Then he settled behind you.

The band kicked off, and the music surged through the crowd, a force that seeped into your skin. You grinned as the world blurred into a pleasant haze, colors and sounds swirling in rhythm. The euphoria of being high intensified with each beat, and the band sounded even better live—this was one of your best decisions in a while.

You could feel Azriel behind you as you swayed to the beat and his hand settled lightly on your waist. It was a gentle touch, clearly there for support to keep you from swaying too far. It sent a shiver down your spine all the same and you instinctively leaned back into him, pressing closer. Azriel’s touch initially stiffened, but seconds later he relaxed, his arm wrapping around you more securely.

You tightened your grip on your drink and looked up at him. His returning smile made your heart skip. Eyes closed, Azriel moved to the beat, still smiling. You followed his lead, letting the music guide you both.

Soon, the crowd, the sun, and noise faded into the background, leaving just the two of you lost in the music.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The overcast sky draped your surroundings in a soft, gray light.

The set had ended half an hour ago, but you and Azriel had stayed put, lingering even after the crowd around you, including Aiden, had dispersed. Eventually, the call of the munchies became irresistible, and you both decided to get food. Now, with a few street tacos and a soda down, you were sitting on the large grassy expanse in the middle of Summits festival ground, next to Az as he nursed his basket of fries.

“I wish I could play music like that,” he said. His voice was steady but something pricked at your skin as he talked, a lingering sense of something sad, something bitter. “Connect with people through something other than words.”

You studied him for a moment, eyes tracing a path from the baseball cap on his head to the curls that stuck out from beneath it, down to his face as he brought a fry to his mouth.

“You say that like you can’t.” He looked over at you as you spoke, a contemplative expression crossing his features. You tilted your head at him. “You’re only twenty-two, Az. You have a lifetime to do whatever you want.”

The right corner of his mouth tugged upwards. He raised a brow as he picked another fry but didn’t bring it to his mouth. His gaze fell to his hands. The same hands that had stayed wrapped around your waist the entire set.

“I don’t think it’s that easy.”

You let the silence stretch, watching as his eyes darted back and forth, scanning his surroundings, lost in thought. When he finally looked back up at you, you maneuvered yourself to face him, crossing your legs.

“The things that are worth it are not always easy,” you said softly. “What’s stopping you?”

Azriel looked down again, then back up at you with those deep, hazel eyes. The brim of his cap cast a shadow on his face, making his eyes seem darker, clouded by his thoughts. He raised a hand, almost defeated, and gave a humorless laugh.

“I can’t exactly play guitar.” He ran his thumb along his fingers, tracing the raised ridges of his skin. “The strings get caught. Hurts too bad.”

You wanted to say you were sorry because, truly, you were. But you didn’t. You were sorry he thought that way, that he saw this part of himself as something completely and utterly debilitating.

“Django Reinhardt had severe burns across his hands. He’s considered a jazz legend. Developed his own unique way to play and everything.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed slightly but he said nothing, just listened. He could tell you had more to say. You took a small breath and continued, “I’m not saying it wouldn’t be incredibly difficult. But it’s always possible. Especially for people like you.”

He blinked. “People like me?”

You nodded, tapping your temple with your finger. “The strongest minds can do the hardest things.”

The sun peeked through the clouds, lighting the grass around you. Azriel smiled then, like he was in disbelief. You couldn’t imagine why.

“You think I have a strong mind?”

You nodded again and leaned forward to pick a fry from his basket, bringing it to your mouth. Your high had dissipated, but some still lingered, and the small fry tasted incredible.

“Or,” you said, leaning forward to grab another fry. Azriel’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You could always be a spy.”

He laughed, the sound starting as a snort, and then he leaned back casually, his arms extended behind him, palms pressing into the grass. His muscles flexed subtly with the pose, his tattooed wings peeking out from beneath the short sleeves of his shirt. You tried not to stare at the way his physique was accentuated, tried not to think about how his chest felt against your back in the crowd.

“What?” you asked when he gave you a look. “What’s that face for?”

He shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips. From your view of the side of his face, you could see the small dimple in his cheek deepen as he said, “You gotta drop that whole spy thing.”

“Why? It’s so perfect.”

Azriel rolled his head to look at you, just staring.

You shook your head at him. “See, that’s something a spy would do. Stare and try to intimidate.”

“I’m not trying to intimidate you.”

“No?”

He shook his head.

“Just staring?”

He shrugged, but the corners of his lips lifted into a cheeky grin.

You squinted at him, your gaze falling to the basket of fries next to him. Your mouth was still dry but somehow watering for another taste. He caught your sight quickly, letting out a small laugh and sitting up to pass the basket to you.

“See,” you said, holding the fries tenderly, as if they were precious. “You can even read my mind. Perfect.”

“Spies can’t read minds.”

“No,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But they can read people.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow, his face reflecting his deep contemplation. You could practically hear his familiar “Yeah?” as you looked at him.

“Maybe I can just read you.”

Your stomach flipped. “Then what am I thinking about right now?”

Azriel stared at you for a moment. You suddenly regretted asking the question because all you could think about now were his eyes, the way he was looking at you, and the tingling sensation in your body. God, it was a good thing he couldn’t actually read minds.

“I’m actually not sure,” he said, his voice low, as if confessing something. “But what I’m thinking about is how much you love those fries.”

“Stop,” you whined. “They’re good.” You paused, looking down at your fries. You tossed a side glance at Azriel. “And I’m also still a little high, okay? Don’t be mean.”

He laughed, sitting upright and wiping his hands clean. He leaned into you. “I know,” he said. “I’m still a bit high too.”

“You are?”

Azriel nodded, a grin breaking out on his face. You started to notice the smaller details now, how slow his breathing was, how his eyes were still squinted. The redness in them was hidden under the shadow of his hat.

“Why do you think I’m not saying much?”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “You never say much.”

He only grinned wider.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: these parts will probably get longer hehe. i just luv this lil friendship that has all of this chemistry sprinkled into it. i have their future kisses/moments already written and yall... i do believe the wait is a lil worth it. also pls let me know if your tags work! 🥺

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @micahssketchbook

thank you for reading🫶🏻

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crheativity · 2 months

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Hi! Thank you for doing this event! This is such a cute prompt idea, I love it! Would it be alright if I use it in the future?

And could I request Ruggie at 11:38PM in the Savannaclaw laundry room?

WARNINGS: None! Very cute and wholesome :D COMMENTS: Hello! Thank you so much! I don’t mind at all hehe, these are fun to write :D I hope you enjoy this, sorry it took so long!!

It had been six hours and twenty-seven minutes since Ruggie Bucchi went AWOL.

Typically, on a busy day like today, he’d send you a short text explaining that he’d be busy for a while and couldn’t chat. He always messaged you as soon as he could after that, so that you knew he was free again.

Only this time, he hadn’t texted you back.

For the first little while, you figured whatever he had been doing was just taking longer than he’d thought. But when four hours had come and gone with no sign from him, you started to get a bit nervous. At five hours, you were checking your phone every couple minutes. At six, you’d put on your jacket and rushed out of Ramshackle.

The night was cold and eerie as you slowly made your way to the Savannaclaw dorm. You kept your eyes peeled for any sign of Ruggie as you got closer and closer, but there was no sign of him.

Upon arriving at Savannaclaw, you carefully made your way to Ruggie’s room, keeping as silent as possible. You figured that in a dorm full of beastmen, they probably knew you were there anyway, but you still didn’t want to disturb them if you could avoid it.

You finally stood in front of Ruggie’s room, thinking hard. What if he’d just forgotten to text you, and was currently enjoying some much-needed rest? You hesitated.

Well, if he didn’t want to be disturbed, he should’ve remembered to text me.

You knocked on the door.

Silence.

“Ruggie? It’s me.” You kept your voice low and quiet as you knocked again.

Still nothing.

“I’m coming in.” You paused and waited for a protest. Nothing came, so you opened the door.

Ruggie Bucchi was not in his bed, nor in his room.

He was simply gone.

You felt your heart start to race. Where in twisted wonderland was he?!

You pulled out your phone, scrolling past the slightly embarrassing amount of texts you’d sent to try and get his attention. He hadn’t sent anything to insinuate what exactly he’d be doing.

You thought back on your conversations earlier that day, trying to figure out where he could possibly be. Ruggie had been complaining about all the work that he had to do for Leona. More specifically, he’d been making fun of Leona for not knowing how to even wash his own clothes.

Wait. Wash his own clothes…

You turned and hastily made your way to the Savannaclaw Laundry room, racking your brains for anywhere else he could be.

Turns out, thinking of other options was entirely unnecessary.

Curled up on a pile of freshly dried laundry, Ruggie Bucchi lay fast asleep. His hair drooped messily over his eyes, arms still clutching a half-empty laundry basket. He looked eerily peaceful. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him this relaxed before. You pulled out your phone and snapped a quick photo, before shoving your phone in your back pocket and crouching down beside him, looking through the washing.

You grabbed a clean, lukewarm blanket from the pile and gently draped it over him. He, still asleep, snuggled into it with a cosy smile on his face.

“I love you.” He mumbled.

You froze, unsure if he was awake or asleep. If he was awake - or at least, half awake - then what he said could’ve been legit, right…? Or maybe it was just him dreaming of someone he loved, like his grandma or something. It didn’t necessarily mean you… did it? You were suddenly very aware of how fast your heart was beating.

You sighed and sat down next to him, adjusting yourself until you were also comfortable. It was late and you were starting to get tired.

Might as well stay here for the night, you thought. I can give Ruggie an earful tomorrow…

You tossed another blanket over yourself and shifted until you were comfortable. As sleep slowly began to pull you into its warm embrace, you could’ve sworn you felt a calloused but gentle hand take yours.

♥ Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it! ♥

#Rhea's TWST Fics~!#200 follower celebrheation event!#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #Ruggie #Ruggie Bucchi #Ruggie Bucchi x reader #Ruggie x reader #twst fanfic #twst

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inklore · 1 year

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Legit can’t think of anything other then Miguel catching you trying to get off then edging you for the entire fucking night.

torment

— miguel o'hara x wife!reader

word count: 813

warnings: eighteen+ content, i haven't seen the movie yet so that's a warning i guess, unprotected p in v, multiple o's, over stimulation, dirty talk, quick bj mention, miguel is a pleasure dom don't argue with me, amorcito means sweetheart.

note: i hope you don't mind i took this idea and changed it a bit lovey because while yet i would love this, the idea of him handing out orgasms like little torture candies for his own pleasure of watching and feeling you do it drives me freaking nuts omg. i need him.

When Miguel presses two fingers onto your clit, the obscene noises that are coming from where the two of you are connected—where the squelch of your mixed fluids are composing a symphony of desire, where you're coating Miguel's cock entirely, where your thighs are slick and sticky with your own wetness—only intensify.

Your eyes rolling back, your teeth digging into your bottom lip, and your eyelids drooping in that pitiful way that makes him smile when you turn to face him.

Your current position has you perfectly spread for him as he spears you with his cock; in his lap, your back pressed to his chest, legs spread out on either side of his knees.

When he walked through the door hours ago, your overjoyed smile and blissful conversation quickly turned into smirks and moans molded against his mouth. His fingers doing the talking—the steady pull of your clothes from your body, the grip on your hips as he pulled you down on top of him on the nearest surface. His claws come out for half a second, digging into your hip to tug your hips forward and back against his hardness.

Letting you know his restraint was holding on by a thread.

“Miss me?” His lips moved along your neck. Your nod answered with a, “gonna show me how much?” which led to you on your knees between his legs with his cock pressed against your tongue and that scowl on his brows morphing into something pleasurable and demanding—demanding of more, to fuck your throat until you forgot how to breathe properly if your lungs weren’t trying to expand around him.

It hadn’t lasted nearly as long as you wished before he was easily pulling you from the floor and into his lap, maneuvering you into the position he wanted, his hand around your throat as he thrust up into you. Your nails digging into his arm at the tight stretch that burned through your lower half at his girth.

And before you could even think to continue the count—before your brain hadn’t become mush from the hammering of his hips and dirty words—you had come three times.

Or was it four?

Five?

It was hard to tell when Miguel gave you half a respite before his fingers were back on your clit and you were squirming in his lap, making his cock hit places inside of you that had you gasping for air and arching your back.

The sensitivity that felt like pleasurable pinpricks to the muscles of your inner thighs—and your fucked swollen walls—made your body go rigid against him. “I've been thinking about this for days,” his mouth sucks at your shoulder. The brush of his teeth makes you whimper, and the nick of one of his fangs makes your back bow. “Fucking you for hours. Making you come until you’re too swollen and sensitive to take me.”

His hips snap up in a hard thrust that has a sob pulling through your weak moans when it’s complemented with his fingers pinching your clit between them for half a second before he continues the same rhythmic pattern that has pulled so many orgasms from your pliant body—your overworked and overfucked body—for the last hour.

“Miguel,” your lungs try to catch the breath that he’s taking from you. By his cock, his fingers, his mouth, and teeth on the pressure points of your upper half that, as always, make you putty in his fingers for him to mold and shape into the perfect little wife waiting for him back at home to use, and take apart with his cock whenever it pleased him to do so.

The words you’re looking to say, to hopefully stop the torture he’s delivering to your swollen clit, catch on a harsh moan at the back of your throat. Miguel chuckles softly against your shoulder blade before pulling his mouth from your skin. The fingers leaving indents against your hip move to your jaw to bring your gaze back to him.

And all you can do is shake your head at the expectant arch of his brows.

If you could curse him for looking so good right now, you would. His heavy breathing, mixed with the growls and grunts he's been doing in your ear each time you're about to come, "that's it, that's it, you're gripping my cock s'good, amorcito," and the indent of his fingers on your thighs and throat when he needs to pull you back from that pleasurable delirium that has your eyes glazing over, are the only indications that he is as much a needy mess as you right now.

That animistic need in him completely taking over.

Miguel brings your mouths together, his tongue laces your taste buds with the taste that’s so distinctively his. “Being away from you is torture. I want you to understand how that feels.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #thots !

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astrophileous · 10 months

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hi! is there any chance you could write a scenario for spencer with a plus sized reader? love your writing! congrats on the milestone and happy birthday month 💕

tyyy so much anon 🥺❤️ I hope you're happy with how this turned out 💞

Warning(s): fem!plus-sized!reader; I legit think there's no warning for this. not even swearing. but pls lmk???

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer looked down when he felt you shuffle against him. "Cold?"

The two of you were lounging on the couch with Spencer sitting on one of its end and your head leaning on his chest. Your legs were curled up on the cushion underneath a tiny blanket, the flimsy material barely doing anything as you pressed yourself even closer towards your boyfriend, trying to chase the warmth from his body heat to combat the chill running down your spine. Spencer noticed what you were trying to do and instantly tugged at the other blanket on his lap, laying the material gently around you and smiling when he heard you sigh in appreciation.

"What about you, Spence?"

"I'll be fine. I run hot."

"Mmh. Can't argue with that."

Spencer squeezed your thigh in response to your cheeky remark, your whole body shaking in laughter before you focused your attention back on the TV screen ahead.

It was a rarity for Spencer to find himself home safely at 8 o'clock on a Friday night, not to mention to have you home at the same time as him instead of at the ER tending to patients. On nights like this, Spencer made sure to always cherish the time with you in whatever way you liked, even if it meant he had to sit through nearly five hours of a Hallmark movie marathon after stuffing his stomach full with greasy Chinese takeouts.

The man was head over heels in love with you, and he would do just about anything to keep that mesmerizing smile permanently on your face.

"That's adorable," you said breathlessly after a few minutes of silence.

Spencer didn't want to admit that he had just spent the last ten minutes getting absolutely gobsmacked by your beauty, so he quickly tore his gaze away and directed it back towards the TV screen. His confusion only tripled in size when he saw that nothing particularly stood out from the scene. It was just another shot of the two main characters having yet another one of their silly little arguments as a cheesy jingle played in the background.

"What is happening?" Spencer asked at last.

You glanced at his question and scoffed. "You weren't paying attention again, were you?"

Spencer had the audacity to grin, and it was pretty lucky of him to have been blessed with such a pretty face that could melt even the hardest ice around your heart.

"Okay, handsome. Listen carefully. So, what happened is, the girl—"

"Bess?"

"Yes, Bess. Well, she and Aidan decided to meet for lunch to talk about the deed to the land, right? But that talk didn't really lead anywhere as they ended up fighting, again, and Bess walked away from the restaurant. Aidan ran after her and they fought again on the sidewalk, but then they got interrupted by the rain."

"Of course. The rain. How original."

You hid your bemused smile before continuing, "The two of them ran for cover in this little bookstore after that. Bess was shivering because she was wearing this little black thing, and Aidan noticed. So like the gentleman he is, he took off his suit jacket and gave it to Bess. They both ended up spending a couple of hours in that little bookstore waiting for the rain to stop, and Bess wore Aidan's jacket for the rest of the day. She didn't notice she still had it until she went home in the evening."

Spencer nodded along as he waited for your recount to finish, expecting to find clarity by the end of it only to be met with an even bigger confusion than before.

"I still don't get it. You thought that it was adorable that... they got caught in the rain?"

"And they call you a genius?" you teased, shrieking when Spencer lunged forward to tickle your sides. "No, silly. Not the rain. The jacket."

"The jacket?"

"Yeah. I think it's nice." You smiled, your eyes crinkling as you turned back towards the TV. "I've always loved that. When the guy gives something of his for the girl to wear. His T-shirt, his jacket, his sweater. Anything. The girl would wear his clothes and they'd usually look too big on her and it all just feels so... domestic. There's a sense of belonging in the gesture itself, sort of a non-verbal way of him claiming the girl as his. A little territorial, perhaps. But I personally find the whole thing adorable."

After he was done hearing your explanation, Spencer found himself at loss for words. "I didn't know that. That's actually a thing?"

"It's a pretty common trope in romance books and movies. One of my favorites, too."

"And you like that? Having your boyfriend lend you his clothes to wear?"

"Well, I don't know. I, uh, I actually never tried it myself." You suddenly grew bashful as you started playing with the hem of your pajamas top. "Everyone I've dated has always been smaller than me, so I never got the chance to experience any of that."

"Sweetheart—"

"Relax, Spencer. It's fine," you assured him. "I'm not sad about it. Do I feel like missing out sometimes? Yes, maybe, but it's not like it's the end of the world. I'll survive just fine. Promise."

You resumed watching the rest of the movie after that, the short conversation being shoved to the back of your mind as you relished in the final scene of the movie where the guy, finally and inevitably, managed to win over the girl with an arduous chase through the airport concluded by a romantic confession in front of gate 4E.

After movie night on Friday, the following week unraveled in a hectic frenzy for you. The ER where you worked saw a full house nearly every single night, forcing you to take not only one, not two, but three extra shifts in a single week. By the time the next Friday rolled around, you were exhausted beyond belief, collapsing face first into bed as soon as you arrived home without even waiting for Spencer to get back from his week-long case in Idaho.

The following morning, you woke up to a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. You followed the scent in your sleepy haze until you came face to face with your boyfriend standing behind the stove, unruly curls and a handsome smile as he glanced up at the sound of your footsteps. You couldn't even imagine how dishelved you looked in that moment—with dried drool around your lips and pillow imprints on your cheek—but the way Spencer assessed you from the distance, it made you feel as though you were meant to be sculpted as a flawless copy of Aphrodite herself.

"Good morning, gorgeous," your boyfriend greeted as he pushed a plate of pancakes across the counter. "Breakfast?"

The two of you spent the entirety of breakfast telling each other about your respective week while enjoying Spencer's pancakes that, surprisingly, tasted even better than they smelled. After the dishes were washed, Spencer grabbed your hand and started leading you back towards your shared bedroom.

"Come with me for a moment. I wanna show you something," he said.

You trailed after Spencer in curiosity, compliantly fulfilling his order to sit on the bed as he vanished into the ensuite. Three minutes later, Spencer reappeared in front of you, donning a grin so enormous that it nearly distracted you from the foreign pair of clothes he had changed himself into.

"What do you think?" Spencer asked enthusiastically.

"What do I think?"

"Yeah!"

"It's cute, Spencer. Is it new?" Spencer nodded eagerly, confirming your suspicion. "I see. It's kinda... too big for you, don't you think?"

The hoodie Spencer was wearing came in your favorite color, but it hung on his lanky frame almost like a poncho. Spencer still looked good in it, though. You admired his talent to still appear attractive even when he was wearing something that didn't fit him properly.

"I picked out a bigger size on purpose," Spencer revealed, taking off the hoodie before extending it towards you. "Here, try it. I went two sizes above your usual so it should feel roomy."

Your perplexed stare zeroed in on the clothing in Spencer's hand. "Wait. I don't understand. Did you buy this for me?"

"Um, no? Well, technically yes." Spencer rubbed his neck, suddenly turning sheepish as his gaze found your eyes. "Remember last week when you told me about girls borrowing their boyfriends' clothes? And how you never got to experience that? Well, I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went ahead and ordered this hoodie for myself but in a larger size. That way, you can steal it from me from time to time. Have something of mine you can wear when you want to."

Silence descended into the room in the wake of Spencer's declaration.

His heart was a sonorous thumping inside his chest. Spencer waited for you to say something, but your voice never came. It wasn't until the first sob broke through the quietude did Spencer realize that you were actually crying.

"Sweetheart? Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?"

The man knelt in front of you in no time, his palm clenching at the side as if he was ready to go into battle to fight whatever or whoever caused the shed tears in your eyes. You lifted your head just enough to see him, smiling shakily when you saw the taut lines above the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe you bought this hoodie for me," you muttered once your sobs had subsided.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's why you cried? Because I bought you a hoodie?"

"It's not just because of a hoodie, Spence. It's the fact that you cared. You listened to my silly thoughts and you remembered." You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling him melt against the touch. "This is the nicest, most considerate thing anyone has ever done for me."

"That just breaks my heart, gorgeous. You deserve so much more. I'm literally doing the bare minimum."

"No, you're not. You're doing so much. You're doing everything, Spencer."

You kissed him, then. Urgently and vehemently; trying to convey just how intensely your heart felt for him. When you pulled away, Spencer was wearing a big smile undoubtedly identical to your own.

"I love you so much, Spencer. You know that, right?"

Spencer's smile blossomed. In his heart, he sketched the way your face looked in that moment to burn your beauty into the depth of his mind.

"Not as much as I love you, sweetheart."

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anon-sect · 3 months

Text

picture source and story requested by: Instagram account @madnikemaster

Daniel had his Instagram account for almost five years and had quite a lager following. There would be so many comments under several of the pictures he had posted on his account. Many of them loved his post and some wanted to come worship his feet. He rather loved the attention that his account got him from so many people.

He kept noticing this one follower sending direct messages to come worship his feet in person. Daniel normally ignored those requests, but this one guy was persistent. He would message every week about being serious about worshipping his feet in person. To see if the guy was legit, he told him to prove it. He messages the guy to send him $50 and he would let him worship his feet in person. Not even five hours later, Daniel had $50 deposited in his cashapp. After seeing how desperate the guy was to be his foot worshipper, he sent him his address and when he would be available. The arrangements were made for the guy to come.

Tom was excited that Daniel was letting him come in person to worship his feet. Since it was on a weekend, he didn't have to schedule to be off from work. He would leave out on Friday evening after work and fly back on Sunday morning. He would be back home in time for work on Monday. It was a simple enough plan. Daniel offered to keep him at his house instead of a hotel since the purpose of the trip was to be his foot worshipping slave for the weekend, which worked out perfect for him.

Tom was excited when he was picked up at the airport by Daniel. He finally was getting the opportunity to worship his feet, especially since following his Instagram account for the past nine months.

Once back at his house, Daniel walked Tom in and shut his front door. "Now you will be staying with me till I take you back to the airport. For now, you do whatever I say, got it?" He spoke to an eager Tom. "Yes Sir," he responded back. He grabbed the collar and leash he had left on the table by the entryway. He put the collar around Tom's neck and used a pad lock to lock it on. He took the leash and attached it to the padlock on the collar. "On your hands and knees like a good dog." He commanded. he watched as Tom obeyed him. "Follow, boy." He added next as Tom crawled on his hands and knees beside him.

Daniel led him to his den and sat down on the couch. "First, kiss and lick my shoes while I play a game for the next hour or so." He spoke as he set up the game system. After a couple of minutes of gaming, he looked down to see Tom continuing to lick and kiss his shoes. Ten minutes later, he wanted Tom to do more. "Now take them off and sniff my socks.' He commanded next. He saw Tom obediently untie and remove his shoes. He began to sniff his rank socks that he was wearing. Daniel thought it was humorous since the sock he was sniffing were on his feet for the past three days. "Smell good, boy?" He asked his foot sub. Tom looked up at him, "Yes, Sir." And went back to sniffing them.

After an hour on the game, Daniel needed to do something on his computer in his room. "Follow, boy." He spoke as he led Tom to his room on the leash. "Get under there. I need a footrest while I look up some things." He spoke, pointing at under the desk.

Tom got under Daniel's desk. He saw him pull his chair forward and rest his feet on top of him without a single thought. HIs foot then slowly went to his face, forcing him to sniff his feet even more. From the way, Daniel was rubbing his feet on his face, he could tell Daniel was enjoying his foot sub under his feet.

Daniel smiled as he knew he was making Tom inhale the stench of his foul socks all over again. It was fun to have a foot sub completely under his control. As he was looking up things on the internet, he saw a pair of shoes he wanted to have, but he didn't want to pay for it. He wanted his foot sub to pay the price. "Hey bitch, I want these cool sneakers. They cost $350. Let me have you card so that I can pay for it." He ordered, waiting for Tom to hand over the bank card.

Tom had a feeling that Daniel might make a request like this. So, he intentionally left his bank card and credit cards at home. He only brought with hm a cash card and it was less than $300 on it. He explained this to Daniel, hoping that would be the end of that conversation.

Daniel realized that Tom intentionally left the credit cards and bank card at home and came to him with minim funds. He thought that was not good of a foot sub to do. But there was a solution to get the shoes he wanted and not pay a single dime for them. "Stay there." He commanded. He went to his closet and pulled out the TF ray device. Came back to his computer and scan the sneaker specs into the device. He pushed his chair back from his desk and pointed the device at Tom under his desk. "Since you can't pay for my new shoes, I found another solution. It's kind of permanent, but I don't mind doing it." He spoke as he fired a beam from the device at Tom.

Tom didn't know what he meant exactly as permanent, but he soon knew why. His skin started to become like leather while he was shrinking in size. Colors of black, white and red began to appear on his body. His hands started to shape into shoestrings. It was then, he knew exactly what he meant by permanent. He was being turned into the very shoes Daniel wanted him to buy for him with his money. Before he could scream out for help, his mouth was sealed shut as he continued to take shape.

Daniel watched as the last of Tom was reduced to a new pair of Nike Sneakers. He then erased the reverse form data in the device so that there was no way to change him back. Tom was his sneakers now. He picked them up off the floor. "You see, i erased the information to return you back to normal. So, even if I had changed my mind, I can't make you normal again. You are permanently my new sneakers. Let's see how you feel on my feet."

Tom was frantic over his new existence. This was not part of the plan. He was to just be a foot sub from Friday to Sunday and return back home. Being Daniel's sneakers were exactly what he was planning on. He saw his feet enter the shoes and get secured on his feet. He felt his shoestring arms used to tie him to Daniel's feet. The foul stench socks pressed down on his insole face with tremendous pressure as Daniel stood up and began to walk around.

Daniel loved the feel of his new shoes. They were a perfect fit for his feet and felt so comfortable to walk in. The level of comfort from the insoles was way better than normal shoes. They were now his favorite pair of shoes in his collection. He pushed out the thought that his sneakers were a former human being. There was no way to reverse his change now. Tom would have to get used to being on his feet. He might grow to love being sneakers at some point. But that was no concern of his, Tom would have to deal with being on feet whether he liked it or not. If he had brought more money with him, this might not have happened. Then again, it might have regardless. The point is that he got the shoes he wanted without paying for them.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #shrinkage #tf story #transformation #Nike Sneaker Transfomation #unwilling permanent transformation #foot Master #foot sub

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icarustypicalfall · 9 months

Text

Cod men in a mall??

I am bored, so i am shoving all of them in a mall. This is supposed to be funny, idk man.

Silly drabbles for TF141, Vaqueros, phil and könig.

warnings: none! fluff :) proofread but might contain some faults

credit to owner for the divider I don't know to who it belongs!!

masterpost • AO3

Ghost

He didn't want to go.

After giving him the cutest puppy eyes he said yes.

"I don't want to spend three hours in makeup stores"

He gave you the Ultimest glare as you passed by the shop in question.

Ended looking around for perfumes and breaking one by accident.

The employee was too scared to confront him.

You tried to convince him into buying an green hoodie with cat ears.

*typical ghost glare*

Was happy when they said they didn't have his size.

Now imagine him wearing the same sweater, looking like a crop top on him while you took pics.

Never went to the mall with you again

"no chance not going"

(he said yes lol)

John Price

Spent good five minutes fighting with an employee over the way a cuppa should be made.

You tried on multiple bucket hats and took pics. He was grinning the whole time. :(

"John, do you think I can buy this mall?"

"Absolutely not Love."

He'd buy it for you if you asked, though.

You thrifted together some vintage sweaters and wore them over hot drinks, the same night.

He is the sanest of them all. (optional)

Gaz :)

He needed to restock, so you went to the mall.

You wanted to sit in the cart, and so did he.

Both of you sat in the cart, ended bumping in the vegetable section and kicked out.

You can't go there together anymore.

For the rest of the afternoon, you ate ice cream and threw a coin in the Fontaine

"Nah but seriously, love, I'd go into that bloody pool and collect all the money. A legit fortune for us, yeah?"

Soap Johnny Mactavish

He wanted to get a weighted blanket, considering the cold weather in the base.

He jokingly wrapped you in it.

You couldn't move and looked like a worm.

"Ya look funny, lassie. Liile worm, go.."

Soap wrapped himself in a weighted blanket as well and you made a race on who'll reach the paying section first. The owners wasn't very happy.

You took pictures in a photobooth, you frowned in annoyance at the first set, with Soap giving you bunny ears behind your back.

Although, it was cute.

That.. until a raccon randomly barged in. The astonishment was priceless and the pictures remain in your wallets.

Soap begged to keep the raccoon.

(It bit him.)

Alejandro Vargas

He wanted to buy you something special.

He didn't mind the price, while your eyes lagged at the series of zeros in the tag.

He shoved everything your eyes laid on in the basquet, calling it a day.

You had to hold him or else he'd buy the whole section.

He ended surprising you with a bracelet, one you always gazed at whenever you came.

He shushed you before you even open your mouth, smiling.

"nonono cariño, no thanks, i am all yours."

:')

Rudy Parra

Sweet boy just wanted to buy a book.

He heard about a certain section in the library and wanted to check it out with you.

(you see where this is going)

You both chose a book, thinking the cute cover was a projection of what lays on the papers.

Wrong.

Two words in, you gazed at each other, put the book on the shelf and went to get a film.

You never entered that section again.

Aside from this, you had so much fun chosing each other fits and trying them on.

Phillip Graves

He is a proud American, of course.

Having his alarm as the national Anthem and riding to the sun with the eagle on his shoulder.

Anyway..

Phil practically begged you to get a certain pyjama, red white and blue to match his own.

He took your no to heart and gave you a cold shoulder (for five minutes only, he trailed afterwards on your feet like a lost puppy.)

He kept a hand around your waist, glaring at men who's gaze lingered on you.

"Eh darlin, there is no point in buying new sweaters, mine are yours. It suits you perfectly, beautiful!"

könig

He wanted new pants, and your opinion, so you went together.

And meanwhile you might think this is an easy task, allow me to say "NUH UH"

Have you seen this man?

He tried a pair of cargo pants, claiming it is his size.

Two steps in, the material ripped apart.

He took it off and, ever so calmly, he returned it in the back of the pile, as if nothing happened.

You left the store, and he uttered, pulling you to his side for warmth

"It's alright, not the first time, Maus.. They should make pants more stretchy, ja?"

#𓆩♡𓆪 faith writes #call of duty #cod incorrect quotes #141 headcanons #cod headcanons #ghost cod #rudy cod #call of duty headcanons #call of duty fanfic #task force 141 #soap cod #cod john price #gaz cod #cod philip graves #könig cod #cod meme #cod fluff

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ambrozjas · 8 months

Note

CadeSibling!reader and Johnny angst

crickets ꨄ︎

johnny cade x sibling!reader (platonic)

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

i legit poured my heart into these guys.. eat up this angst 😋 🍽️

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

johnny’s parents is a warning on their own, mentions of bars and bugs?, lmk if i missed anything 🫶!!

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

784 words, 4276 characters

you jolted awake as you heard another crash in the living room, followed by your mother screaming and yelling at your father, shouting at him to get out.

your breathing quickened as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, a soft scoff leaving your lips out of nervousness.

you immediately looked over to johnny, your brother already sitting upright with his knees to his chest, his dark black hair covering his eyes a bit.

“how long’ve they been doin’ this?” you croaked, a thick layer of sleep still coated your voice.

he looked at you, eyes glossy and wide. you could almost compare him to a puppy dog. he swallowed thickly as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the door before responding, “‘bout half ‘n hour.”

another sound of glass breaking followed johnny’s voice, causing both of your heads to turn.

when you had looked back at johnny, his face was pale and his shoulders were heaving. you could hear him try to breathe normally, taking breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth just like you’d taught him.

“wanna go somewhere else?” you asked him.

his eyes followed you as you got up, your bare feet on the cold floor as goosebumps spread across your legs. you opened the closet door as quietly as you could so as to not let your folks know you were awake.

you grabbed johnny’s jean jacket and your own, putting it over your shoulder and tossing johnny’s jacket over to him.

you winced as another shout was let out in their bedroom, your parents arguing about who-knows-what, as per usual.

you turned to johnny, beckoning him over as you slowly turned the doorknob and poking your head out before tip-toeing through the living room and out the door, your brother hot on your heels.

you crossed roads, passed by a myriad of houses that all look the same on the east side of tulsa. you ran up and down all over town just wanting to get away.

you finally made it to a grassy knoll behind some old buildings, usually where old kids hung out before they were scared off by dallas winston. you looked up to the dark sky, the tip of your nose freezing from the cold night breeze. you closed your eyes and took in all the sounds, the rushing of drag races going on maybe five streets over, the bustling of 24/7 bars. the sound of crickets and various other bugs were loud. any other day you’d find them annoying, but on this night you found comfort in their chirps.

you looked over at johnny. he was seated on the grass, eyes empty and tired. you couldn’t blame him. johnny had been through a lot. you both had, but you took more responsibility with comforting johnny.

you walked over to him, the fresh sound of grass beneath your sneakers was a nice change from the blood pounding in your ears the way you ran.

when you took a seat next to johnny, he sighed. a silence took over the both of you, just the ambience around you filling the void.

“is it like this everywhere?” he finally asked, his voice sounding cracked and on the verge of crying, as if his throat was coated in a thick barbed wire.

“what?”

“with the socs, and the greasers, and us. is it like this everywhere?” he tore some grass out of the ground and threw it in front of him.

“aw, hell if i know johnnycakes. you think i travel?” you chuckled, bringing your knees up to your chest and holding them there, subconsciously rocking yourself.

johnny stayed quiet after that, just tugging more at the grass below him, occasionally flicking a bug off his arm every now and then. in an attempt to further the conversation you opened your mouth to say something again.

“i’s like to think somewhere, this doesn’t exist.”

to that, johnny stopped. he turned to look at you and you kept your gaze above you, glued to the stars in the sky.

“a place with no socs, no greasers, jus’ people. normal people. a place where we can wander around the streets wit’out worryin’ ‘bout bein’ jumped.” you leaned forward and placed your chin on your arms, which were still wrapped around your legs.

“i’d like ‘ta go one day.” he whispers. you nodded your head in acknowledgement as you gave a hum for an answer.

and you two sat there, on that grassy knoll, only accompanied with the presence of each other and the sound of crickets.

johnny leaned his head on your shoulder as you patted his back soothingly.

“one day, johnny.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GUYS TRUST ME IM WORKING IN MY REQUESTS RN OKAY I HAVE 14 IN MY INBOX 😭😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #greasers #fanfiction #x reader #johnny case #johnny cade headcanons #johnny cade fic #johnny cade the outsiders #johnny cade x reader #BUT PLATONICALLY #weirdos #ITS SIBLING LOVE #PLATONIC SIBLINGGGSS #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

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copperbadge · 10 months

Text

Man, guys, I am tired.

I try to get my cleaning tasks done in the morning for the same reason I used to run in the morning, because it's when I have the most energy, but before I did anything else I had to hit the grocery store. It's extremely legit to count both grocery shopping and cooking as "NaClYoHo" tasks if needed because they're part of self care, and you do better when you have good food around you and in you. Still, I never like to do it, because rarely are groceries an urgent emergency in chez Sam.

But it did take a good hour to get prepped, shop, check out, and haul it all home, by which time it was nearly 8:30 when I start work. And because I'm gone most of next week, I had a LOT to get done this week, so the only time I took during the day was to make myself some lunch. I did take the full half hour, even though all I had for lunch was toast and cheese, and spent the rest of the time doing at least a little work -- I made pesto while the bread toasted, then after eating I sewed some on the gift I'm making Mum for Christmas, and I realized that I'd left a shelving unit (which I had intended to hang months ago) on my workbench long enough that I forgot it shouldn't live there, so I moved it to a new place where I'll remember to hang it. I think I'm going to have to dedicate a solid day of cleaning just to assembling and installing it, since it's a little heavy and my walls are made of cement covered in essentially cardboard, neither of which are easy to hang stuff on.

I did check off "purge shoes" and "reorganize bags" but those took all of five minutes each, since the bags were pretty good already and after looking at my shoes the only ones I want to get rid of are the crocs, which I already arranged to give to a friend when I visit in December.

So I did do a lot, but not a lot is visible either in terms of ability to photograph or in terms of any actual changes in the home. But, well, that's why this is a system that allows for humanity within it; imagine being this tired and also feeling guilty about it.

Americans are coming up on Thanksgiving, a very stressful time, and all those who have been with us since November 1st are already more than two weeks in, so it's natural to be tired. Be kind to yourselves, and remember that the goal of all of this is to feel better, not worse. Even when you think you haven't done a lot, you've done what you can.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month

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roadkillremi · 1 year

Text

DuckTape 1

FP Jones X F!Reader

Masterlist

A/N : This was slightly rushed sorry.. but there's more to come!

Summary: After 5 or so years of dating FP you left due to his downfall. You told Jughead to call if he needed anything. And he called asking for your help with FP... (Reader is the age 25+) ((I might have messed with the plot line, I don't regret it))

Warnings : Mentions drinking, Mentions FPs "side hustles", Language, Angst.

One might had called it a cliche love story. FP fell in love with his neighbor at the trailer park. He'd watch her hang dry her clothes on Sunday mornings. He'd tell Jellybean to go over to get her attention. 5 year old Jellybean walked over pulling on your shirt going.

"My daddy thinks you're pretty.."

You'd blush and look down at the girl. You held her hand walking back to the trailer. FP answered the door with a smile.

"Sorry! Her mom lets her roam around the front yard at her house. And uh I guess she got out...".

"You sent me out here-" Jellybean whispered. FP just looked down and then back at you.

That was the beginning of the tragic love story of you and FP. He didn't make enough money to help out with jughead. You tried to help and eventually just moved in. Jughead became fond of your company. He liked your view on things and your stories. For once it seemed like the Jones had a legit family. But FP started having drinking problems and got in and out of jail. You told him you couldn't stay until he cleaned up his act. That was 8 months ago..

"My dad said he'll give your dad a second chance. But only if FP wants it." Archie looked at Jughead intensely. Jughead shook his head, "he won't listen to me...".

"What about Y/N?" Archie asked softly. Jughead stopped in his tracks and looked at Archie.

"Maybe.". Jughead moved to the side of the hallway. He dialed your number and tapped his foot waiting. Archie watched over his shoulder. Jughead brought the phone to his ear, "Y/N?".

"Hey, Jughead! What's up?". Jughead took a deep breath, "I need your help talking to dad.". It went silent, "About what?".

"Getting a job... Getting his life together. He's been a mess..since you left.". Jughead glanced up at Archie.

"Don't pull a god damn parent trap on me, Jughead." You softly warned. There was a soft laugh, "No. But I know he'll listen to you..".

"Okay. Only this time.".

"thank you..".

Which leads you here, waiting in your parked car in front of FPs trailer. Jughead went in to talk to him, he told you to give him five minutes. You sighed getting out of the car and walking to the door.

"Why not?! Maybe Y/N will come back.. and mom will let jellybean visit.."

It went silent. You knocked on the door putting your hands into your pockets. There was scrambling before FP opened and Jughead watched from the side.

"Y/N..." FP looked at you intensely. He studied you up and down, he moved to the side to let you in.

"Jughead you can go..." You say softly. Jughead nods and leaves slamming the door behind him.

"FP... This place is.. a wreck.." you looked around the living room. The trash and beer bottles flooded the ground. Dishes piled up on the counter, FP looked at you.

"Nice to see you too." He muttered. You sighed, "Jughead sent me. He uh.. wants me to convince you to get the job with Fred.".

"No." FP stared into your eyes and then went to get beer.

"FP. This isn't negotiable. Your son needs you! He can't couch surf!"

FP laughed taking a sip of his beer, "why do you care? You left.". You put your hand on your hip, "Because before... Before that night of fighting... I loved you. And we were happy."

"And broke-" FP fussed.

"All you care about is money!" You argued. You shook your head, "Just get the job. And sober up and.. we can talk about.. us." You stormed out the trailer towards your car. Jughead leaned against your car, "Did it work?".

"Give it an hour." You tried to smile.

You drove back to your apartment which was still south of Riverdale. You sighed as you entered the bare apartment. You dragged yourself to the shower hoping it would clear your mind. The hot water rolled down your body. You wanted to give him another chance. You sighed, grabbing your towel to dry yourself off. You walked into your bedroom and checked your phone. You received a message from Jughead. 'Hey. Dad got the job and we're going out to Pops. You're invited.'

You sighed contemplating your choices, you really did miss FP. You missed the two of you cuddled up on the couch. He'd stroke your hair gently and laugh loudly at the jokes in the movie.

'I'll see you there.'

You sat in the parking lot of Pops. Your heartbeat intensed as you looked at the Diner. You found the courage to go inside and look to find the Andrews and Jones. Jughead waved you over, you smiled waking over.

"Hey. I hope I'm not intruding.." you smile glancing at them.

"Of course not, Y/N!" Fred smiled. Jughead scooted over for you giving you a seat. You sat down in front of FP you looked at him before looking over.

"Wow Archie! You look so grown.. I haven't seen you since you were 13.. 14?". Archie smiled, "Thanks.".

"You're embarrassing him." Jughead joked. Fred cleared his throat, "how have you been, Y/N?".

"Uh.. good. I got an apartment. South of Riverdale..." You nodded, "I got a job at a mechanic shop.".

"wow that's great!" Fred smiled.

"Yeah. Real great" FP said looking at you. You glanced at him, "Well you already knew that.. didn't you, FP.". The two of you stared at each other for a moment.

"But jughead called me. He said he wanted me to give FP a talking to. Since he's stubborn as a bull." You smiled. Fred laughed, "You're telling me!".

"so uh, Jugs? Do you still write?" You looked over at him. FP leaned forward, "Yeah! You always were reading a book or typing away!".

"Like that time he took my laptop! He wrote tons of stories on it. And he felt so bad when I found out.".

"Yeah I remember that...". FP studies you.

"He writes for the school paper with Betty." Archie smiled slightly. FP leaned forward, "Betty?" he started tapping on the table.

"Whose Betty?" He asked, "your girlfriend?". Jughead went silent, you gently rubbed his back.

"Don't pry, FP.". Jughead cleared his throat, "Y/N do you still play the drums?". You looked down, "It's been a good while but yeah.".

"You know we have a drum set at our house.. why don't you guys come over for a jam session?" Archie asked. You looked up at FP, "Sure.. why not?". FP grinned, you looked down at the table.

"Y/N do you want anything?" Fred offered. You shook your head, "Oh, No.. I shouldn't-".

"Get her a banana milkshake and she'll be your best friend." FP teased.

"Banana milkshake?" Jughead asked looking at you. You sighed, "It's my favorite milkshake. When I was little on Fridays my mom would let me get a milkshake. But only if I got a decent grade in my test. And so banana is my favorite and i never tried any other flavor.".

"what a touching... Odd story" Jughead grinned.

"Hey, uh Pops?!" FP called. Pops looked up from the counter, "Can you get us a banana milkshake?". Pops nodded, you glared at FP.

"What was that?!" You fussed as you walked towards your car. FP followed you, "A peace offering.". You turned around, "A milkshake is a peace offering for putting a snake in my apartment?!". FP sighed, "I was drunk...".

"As always.." you muttered. He sighed, "I.. I'm driving to Archie's for that jam session. Do you need a ride?". You shook your head, "No.. I can drive myself..".

You all jammed out in Archie's garage. After FP put the guitar down, "You're way better than your dad, Archie.". FP then looked at you, "You were great as always, Y/N."

"Very sweet of you." You say looking at the drum sticks. Archie stood up, "No, you're really good! Do you think I can record you uh playing for some of my songs?". You shrugged, "Sure!". FP walked over to the cooler, "Does your dad keep beer in here?". You tensed up and looked up at Jughead.

"Uh, it's getting late dad.. don't you think?"

FP glanced at you, "Yeah probably.". You started to relax again, "Mr.Jones? What happened between you and my dad?". You glanced over at FP, Jughead whispered to Archie. You closed your eyes bracing yourself.

"Uh.. Me and your dad started Andrews construction. But he wouldn't say we were partners."

"here we go." You mumbled. FP glared at you, "We were broke and i needed some jobs. And those jobs got me in hot water.".

"FP." You warned. He kept complaining about his past, you put your face in your hands. You tried to tune him out but failed.

"FP! Stop!" You yelled. He looked over at you, "You have no one to blame but yourself.". FP took a sip of his flask as a response. You stood up, "Archie it's been great but I think we over stayed our welcome.". FP nods, "Agreed.".

You and Jughead carried him into the trailer. You both laid him down on the couch.

"I got it from here, Jugs." You smile. He nods before leaving, FP sat up lazily.

"Y/N..." You sat down on the edge of the couch. He drank himself to waste in the drive back to his trailer. You sighed and started to help him take off his shoes.

"FP.."

"I'm gonna fix it.... Us.. me.." he mumbled. You glanced at him, "Are you staying?... Please stay.". You sigh, "I don't know.".

"I'll sleep on the couch..". You looked at him, "Jellybean called me the other day..". He looked up at you, "what'd she say?".

"She uh... She misses our game nights.." you softly said. Tears built up in your eyes, "She.. said she wants us to get back together. So her mom will let her spend the night.". FP sat up a bit, "She says she misses our playlists in the car. And she still listens to Pink Floyd." You wiped your tears away. FP just stared at you, you sniffled softly.

"Remember how... You'd cheat in Monopoly?" You smiled. FP nodded, "Yeah..".

"It made Jughead so mad..." You laughed softly. FP smiled, "I.. I miss you..". You looked at him, "You're drunk.".

"I.." he sighed and leaned to the side on the couch.

"I really miss you... You made our family complete.." he dozed off. You stiffened, "our family.". You stood up, "Night FP.".

You left the trailer, Jughead stood by the trailer waiting. You glanced at him, "Good try. Not happening.". You walked towards your car, "Y/N.. I'm not saying what he did was right. But.. he said he's gonna try.".

"I told you no parent trap shit, Jughead.". You said unlocking your car door. Jughead stood there, "So you're leaving?! What about me?".

"Jughead.. I'm not your mom..." You softly say. He tensed up, "But you're the closest thing to a mom I have!". You glanced over, "Jughead.. FP.. he's a mess.".

"You think I don't know that!"

"I'll talk to him tomorrow when he's somehow sober." You sighed.

#fp jones #fp jones x reader #skeet ulrich #riverdale #southside serpents #jughead jones #skeet ulrich x reader #horror #scream #billy loomis #riverdale x reader #riverdale fanfiction

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smolvenger · 1 year

Text

The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V/fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 7K

Summary: As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! SMUT! (We get TWO smut scenes in one onshot! P in V sex, missionary, doggy style, edging, medieval dirty talk, praise, slight degradation and edging breast play, degradation, bits of power play, doing the deed standing up-legit one of the filthiest things I've written in a long time!). Mentions of war and brief mention of sexual assault and death. Lots of angst, but also some fluff.

A/N: Based off of a dream I had. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (you can just skip the wedding night and barn scene and you will be good, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr

You never forgot the day you were introduced to the man you loved.

You were sent there to the castle. An alliance between your father and the new king of England was being considered. Nothing confirmed, you were told by your father. Only consideration.

“He is a single man. And young. He needs more for his army, his lands…and that is secured with a marriage,” he told you.

The one key to sealing it.

You.

A marriage between you and this king. Many men in his army sealed with one woman being brought to his bed. And it might be you.

You had heard he was a wild boy, Harry Monmouth, Prince Hal. But everyone assured you that he had somehow matured. No sooner than his father died but he had been far calmer, more responsible. He spent his hours studying rather than drinking.

But you were still nervous. When the day arrived for this alliance to be discussed, your father asked you to dress in your best. Looking in the mirror as you squeezed your mother’s hand, you wondered; am I good enough for a king’s glance? Perhaps if you had more jewels and walked in with the richest silks like a shining diamond, then he would take note. Still, bedecked in your finery, you headed off and were greeted at the castle. You were stopped, awaiting the signal.

“If the king decides he would like to meet you…then be ready,” he warned.

It might not happen at all, you wondered.

You did hear voices outside the thick door. Seeping through. No doubt there would be advisors and other lords to talk to the king. But there was one voice-he sounded young, indeed. He had a resonant, powerful voice- rich and commanding. But smooth too. The sort to command a legion but could also whisper gentle words to his lover.

As you stood, wondering how long you both could wait, the door opened, and you jumped.

“His Majesty, King Henry the Fifth, would like to meet you,” the servant announced.

Just for consideration. Nothing permanent. Not yet, you thought. You were grateful your dresses were long. They would hide your shaking legs. You nodded, remembering basic etiquette as you gripped your father’s arm.

The door opened and you both walked inside, your steps echoing throughout the stone castle. You took in your surroundings despite the air in your lungs almost stopping. The high windows with the orange sunlight. The long candles for light. The weaving of Saint George on the back wall. A wooden throne with tall, stone steps. There, you saw your father. A few lords in the back-old men with scarves for hats and long cloaks.

And in the center of it, turning towards you, was a young man. A young man with a crown- Henry the Fifth. The young king.

Extremely handsome. A head full of his auburn curls, his small, neat beard. His blue eyes were soft when he looked at you and a red leather doublet framed his lean body well. There were chairs about and you were led to sit in a chair some distance away.

Your father and the king began to talk. Keeping an appropriate distance. But you couldn’t help but admire the handsome, young king. If he were just an ordinary man going down the street, you would have indulged in ogling him. But you could not, you felt yourself get warm as you kept your eyes demurely on the floor when he caught you watching. Their voices became murmurs. Then the king turned to you.

“You are the Lady Y/N…” he began.

He gestured to you to rise from your chair, you gave him a curtsy.

“I am, your grace,” you replied.

He walked up closer. You could hear his footsteps. You made your own breath slower. You could feel yourself sweat like it was July in Italy. You forced your eyes down, feeling your shaking going to your hands.

“You need not be shy, my lady,” he said.

You then looked up. Eyes onto him.

“Could you take two steps closer, my lady?” he asked.

You did. He walked around you in a circle, seeing all of you. You let him, though your heart was roaring in your ears. Feeling his eyes all over his potential bride- you. Once he stepped out, completing his circle, your eyes met his. Perhaps that was bold, considering his position- your lord and sovereign of your country. But nothing in him deterred.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Very well, your grace.” You replied.

Henry turned to your father, looking at him, but only taking a step back.

“Sir…you have not offered me some mortal woman…” he began.

You folded your hands and did your best to mask your dread. Oh no, was he about to Call you something bad? How would you endure the humiliation of being not only rejected but insulted by the king of England mere minutes of meeting him!? You would have to spend your life under a rock in the woods to save your dignity. You looked up to him with big eyes and felt your body brace itself. To hold in the tears and anger of such a moment with as much false calm as you could. Awaiting the blow of the king's insult.

But no blow arrived.

Henry then smiled, eyes turning between you and your father.

“Here before me is an angel from heaven! A woman too lovely for us mere men!” King Henry the Fifth announced.

One did not recover from such a statement quickly. "Shock" was not quite the word fitting for how you felt. No, it was this. Utter and pure delighted surprise. Your breath quickened. You felt a smile grow on you. Your heart picked up again as he walked closer to you.

“Thank you, your grace…do you fear blasphemy from such words?” you asked.

“Not if it is the truth, just as scripture is,” he added with a wink.

Your mind went blank at his wink, his smile. Hot and your mind spinning. Your mouth kept running from the excitement. But still polite.

“You are generous, your grace.”

He went up to you.

“Could you…call me Henry? Or Harry? Hal, even?”

“I could…Henry,” you replied.

You watched Henry turn to your father and shake his hand. The alliance went through. With a flourish, he signed the treaty and the agreement to marry you.

“Ah, my lucky little girl…now about to be queen of England!” your father would say later, kissing your cheek.

Henry (for now he was more than just the king, but your intended!) would often invite you to visit. Giving you tours of every room and corner of the castle.

“After all, it’s going to be your home!” he would claim.

Or, to the most shock of anyone, he would visit your home himself to see you. Fine dinners would be served, and he would sit by you as you sewed, smiling like a schoolboy just to be beside you.

A chaperone was always present, but quiet in the back. A smiling shadow upon you two. Henry wrote you numerous letters and you wrote back to him when he was away. It was easier to like him the more he spent time with you. If not, be infatuated with him. Maybe even love him as the months to the wedding passed. He showered you with gifts and lovers’ tokens. Little ribbons and pieces of jewelry and belts and scraps of paper with love poetry.

The first time he held your hand, you thought you saw him tremble a little. His thumb went over the skin of yours. He was very soft- not pressing or squeezing your own. You felt as if you could float.

The first time he kissed you was the day before the wedding. You were both walking in the gardens. With the sun gentle and the flowers in bloom, it was just like a dream. Your chaperone was in the back, her arms folded before her. Then Henry stopped his steps and turned to you.

“Could I kiss you…on the lips, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes hopeful like a puppy.

You didn’t have the heart to say no. How fortunate that you wanted to. You felt yourself swallow hard and then nod your head.

“Yes,” you answered.

He tipped your chin to meet him and kissed you. It was gentle. Chaste, even. You felt his soft lips and nothing else. But it was…loving. Your knees wobbled again. You felt the breath from his nose. He was so close. So, so close. He felt…good. He let go, the lips clicking as they retracted. Both of your eyes were still closed. When you opened, he relaxed and let out a smile. You opened your mouth a little but had no words.

“Your kiss has a power to it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I will use them with caution, then,” you replied teasingly.

You then returned to wrapping an arm around his and continuing walking. Both you and your chaperone shared a look, giving an appreciative nod. Something was growing inside you for him. Something…more.

You couldn’t deny that Henry was the most handsome man you had ever lain eyes on. His broad back and his slender waist. His winning smile, large, gentle hands, cheekbones, tall height, soft blue eyes- all beautiful.

And desirable.

He was lean and strong-what did he look like beneath his leather and velvet? If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait for your wedding…and your wedding night. You often indulged in secret glances at his codpiece and his behind whenever he turned around-his pants flattered him. And both sides were something to see. The beautiful curls- a mix of red and blonde that he combed back. You wondered what it would be like to touch. Even pull! That was from what you learned from others of what happened between a husband and wife before the big day. Henry’s beard made him look mature and dignified. Not some pranking, whooping boy- a man. A man who knew how to take care of a woman in bed.

Even among your tours of the castle, he never took you to your private chambers. But whenever you passed by the hall with those large, wooden doors right at the end of a small passageway, you couldn’t help but grin.

Already tingly and titillated at the thought of the night, you kept your smile when they dressed you on your wedding day. It was joyous. Your gown was made with the finest while silk with little pearl embellishments and a jeweled belt. No one would doubt you were Queen of England already. Your father led you out. When you were placed on Henry’s left at the door of the chapel, you could see his smile on you- already bedecked in red with his crown. The ceremony felt far too long. But you held yourself together like a giddy child on a festival. The mass and prayers came and went. Henry made his vows before an altar as did you. Then the priest made the sign of the cross over you two.

It was done. You were married to him now. The second the priest let his hand down, bells all over the city- no, not just the city, England itself it-chimed out. Flower petals were tossed your way as you both walked out through the city, presented to the people as a couple.

There were enough guests that it seemed like half the world’s population was there at the feast. Your friends and family, those you loved dearly, were invited. A thankful distraction from your growing physical desire for your husband (to think! Henry was now your husband!!). They embraced you and wished “Y/N, oh much congrats!” to you. You never felt such beaming love from everyone you cared for as that day. You hugged and chatted and celebrated with the people you loved. Henry smiled at you and kissed your hand with such tenderness your heart could burst. The feast tasted sweet, and the music played even sweeter.

The room became darker, and servants lit more candles. Guests were leaving. It was announced that there would be a bedding ceremony. It was finally time, you thought with trepidation. Musicians played songs as the party led you to Henry’s chambers through those stone halls. Henry was adorably nervous. You saw his hands twitch and when you brushed close to him. Oh, no doubt you were nervous too. Any rational person in your situation would be nervous. You considered yourself such. But you were also…excited. Ready.

You entered the bedroom. It was large. Fitting for the king. Once it was your father-in-law’s room- the late Henry the Fourth. Now it was your husband’s. It was full of lit candles with tall stained-glass windows, and a white stone floor with black squares. A large bed with a dark canopy full of gold-colored fleur-de-lys patterns, cream pillows, and thick, dark blankets.

Servants undressed you from that beautiful wedding dress. They undressed Henry too until both of you were in your shifts. You couldn’t help but notice how the collar peeked at a beautiful, broad chest-just open enough to see a peek. It seemed as beautiful as you imagined. It made more shivers of desire run through you. You were given a cup of spiced wine that you both sipped from. It felt as sacred as a Eucharist- he looked at you as you drank and as he drank. An offering of something shared-how now you would be joined as one. The bed was now an altar and lovemaking a rite.

After the bishop blessed the bed, Henry dismissed every courtier. He thanked them for celebrating with him but insisted on privacy. They bowed and left. For the first time, you both were truly alone. He then turned to you.

“How are you, your Highness?” he asked, noting your new title, he took your hands, running a thumb over them.

“It was a long day…but a happy one. I’m a little tired…. but I’m well…,” you answered.

“I’m glad you are, Y/N…” he replied.

Smiling at him, You cupped his cheek and moved his arms to embrace you. He blinked in slight surprise.

“You can hold me…husband,” you said, relishing the taste of the word.

The most you did throughout your betrothal was hold hands. But he obliged and put his long arms around you. He smelled of wine and a bit of incense from the ceremony at the church. With his thumb, he gently traced your face.

“If Satan himself would look at you, he would weep and confess for forgiveness at once…Y/N, Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes- please kiss me,” you replied.

Then he kissed you. But you kept him there. Pressed against you. God’s blood, that beautiful man right near you, against you, on you- feeling his warmth, his body on yours. You wanted more. You then grabbed him and kept kissing him again and again. He felt so warm and soft…except for one part of him you could feel against you. And no codpiece to cover for it. You bit back a giggle at the new feeling, knowing that he really felt the same despite his wide eyes and blushing cheeks. And your body replied in turn. It was as if lightning was coursing through you. It made you wetter than the sea. Preparing yourself for him.

Oh, and you were more than ready. And this was a perfect time for it. You grabbed onto him. Then began to lead him to the bed with a smile, walking up two little elevated steps that led to the bed strewn with flowers and ribbons for this night. For this moment. For this act. Then right before the bed, your fingers went to the strings of your shift on the collar that held it together-the only layer over you.

Henry’s jaw dropped a little, looking down and then back up to your face. Even if you saw an outline of his desire through his shift, his eyes grew wide.

“Y/N …are you…sure?” he asked.

You undid the tie, showing the valley of your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down then forced back up at yours.

“Henry…I want you to take me. Make love to me- make love to your wife tonight!” you insisted quietly.

“I did not wish to…to push you to…to…uh, consummate the marriage before you...you wanted to…” he replied meekly.

The most powerful man in the world and here he was at a loss of words. To think this was once the tavern boy caught with prostitutes!

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Henry…I want you…take me on your bed…you are my king….rule me and have me here then….” You whispered.

You led his hands to push the rest of your shift off. Leaving you bare before him. His eyes finally drank all of you in.

That was enough to persuade him.

He pushed you down and was on top of you. Like an animal released from his cage, his kisses had a little more fire to them. His hands began to roam greedily over your body. Down your chest, feeling one of your breasts as he kissed you. Then down your stomach, over your hip bones- feeling each bit of you. He began to pant heavily, his eyes full of eager joy and a playful lust in his smile.

Then you helped to take off his shift. You nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Henry’s naked body. His strong abdominals and arms. His large chest with a few black hairs. Of course, his own cock was so hard and large you bit back the urge to gasp at the sight of it. You laid down on the bed, smiling at him.

“Please, Henry…I ache for you…” you urged. Splaying your body before him on his bed. Feeling like a siren. Only he was no hesitant prey.

He pulled himself over you, taking one hand of his to position your legs to open, shifting his weight on top of you.

“I always wondered what this night would be like…what it would be like the moment I saw you…” he whispered.

He looked at you, cupping your cheek. Seeking permission as he settled himself, his tip just at your entrance’s beginning.

“Henry…I’m ready…” you urged him.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer. Not able for himself to wait any longer. He then positioned himself. Slowly, he entered you. Inch by agonizing inch. You writhed beneath him, moaning as he got inside.

“Oh! Oh-oh God!” you cried. He was big. You could feel him creeping in deep, almost like your stomach could be penetrated from his largeness. You clung onto the sheets tight, and his own hand went over yours.

He himself let out a grunt when he finally shifted all his cock inside you. There was a little pain, but it fizzled out. You were full-and it was heavenly You held onto him. He pulled his hips back and began to slowly enter you again and again. You groaned with each delicious thrust of his.

“Yes…nrgh-my wife-you-gods-my wife-my sweet wife-“he whispered with each snap.

You opened your arms as well as your legs, holding onto him. He repeated your name again. Kissing you tenderly on the side of your head when he could. A mess of groans and kisses and praise was all the king could say. His arms stretching around to keep you in his embrace.

Then he used one hand and lifted your legs up to a new position- a little deeper. Your knees went up. You let out little cries with each slow, sloppy movement. Each welcome intrusion of him to your insides. You had never known pleasure as much as this.

“Yes…oh gods…Henry…Henry I…oh!” you breathed out.

Your head lay on those cream pillows. Soft as clouds. With the dark bed canopy and the roaring fire, the rain outside pattering the windows, there was never a lovelier, more peaceful night. His curls fell before his face. He kept at it- thrust, thrust, thrust. His shallow breathing above you, and the moans that escaped you that were far from maiden modesty.

He held you. He gave you an open kiss as he thrust forward for one. He began to mutter more.

“Yes…nrgh- yes, -my little queen…doing so well…”

More little noises came out of you. And you heard his voice get only a little higher in pitch. And yet he continued, only barely picking up the pace. You wrapped your hands to him and ran one through the curls on his head- how soft they felt, like little auburn feathers. How soft the bed was-a feathered mattress against your bare skin as it slide back and forth slowly against it with each snap of his kingly hips. Henry slowed one thrust but would give you a little kiss- your cheek, the side of your face.

“God’s blood-my wife-nrg-sweet wife-oh-yes-taking-taking me…”

He kept at it. Then he reached down. He found your entrance, the very beginning where your lips and walls. He talked softly in between thrusts.

“I’m…I’m close, and I think….I think you are too, my little wife- I…yes…come undone, come undone with me…”

He reached inside and you gasped from the feeling. He found your bud, his finger curling with it, stroking it with each thrust. You let out another gasp. He smiled.

“Let go wife-nrgh-let it…let it-“

He began to strum it. Then everything overwhelmed you. You were spinning higher and higher. His kisses and hands already felt your bud and with his playing. You felt yourself winding up, curling up inside. You shook so hard. You wondered if you were going to die from the overwhelm, from the rising feeling, the intensity. His thrusts picked up the pace, you felt it growing, growing, growing.

Then finally, something hit you so suddenly, so hard-your body clenching and releasing all at once you let out a loud cry as the sensation hit you like cold air.

“Ah!”

A last thrust, the king of England came undone and let out his own small shout of pleasure. Then he stopped his thrusts. He stayed inside you, letting his seed rope itself. Then he held you, held you tight as he came inside you. It seemed as if the world itself stopped.

Once it was done, he pulled out but kept close to you. Caressing your cheek. Panting hard, his broad, strong chest rising with his breaths.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I feel…I’ve never felt so good, husband,” you replied with a giggle as you pulled him forward to wrap your arms and kiss him until both fell asleep.

He did turn out to be a good husband. Always listening, gentle, and enthusiastic about his role. He listened to your own advice and always took you seriously. He was aggressively faithful, shutting down even the idea of a mistress if any lord was foolish enough to suggest it. He spent time with you. There were so many times you would hold him to your chest and hum, playing with his curls. You learned from each other and challenged each other to do better each day. Be it in a game of chess or in court. He made you feel…safe. Wanted. Loved, even. Not to mention he was a passionate lover in bed. If your one duty was to bed the king, then being queen was quite a simple task indeed. And a duty you loved to fulfill again. And again. And again. And again.

You managed your own life as queen well. adapting and figuring it out. Attending parliament by his side.

You were sitting by him when the fateful day came. It was found out he had a claim to France. And the French ambassador mocked him by giving him the gift of a box full of tennis balls. Furious at the insult, Henry declared there and then he would begin an invasion of France.

He’s going to leave. He’s going to be gone to war. And who knows how long, you thought sadly. You went to your chambers and began to sob. Then the next day, all were discussing logistics. You sat on your own throne, contemplating it all as they talked.

“Yes, my brother- John shall stay. He will lead…” Henry announced. “And by this day, we will gather the army and set sail for France.”

You couldn’t take it. You sat up at once.

“And I will go with you!” you insisted.

The men’s heads turned to you.

“What?!” cried one lord, stepping forward.

The advisors went around you.

“Your Highness…it is not safe!” advised another.

You walked forward, looking down at the table with the map on it. Then you looked at them and addressed them.

“My husband is a warrior. And when we were married, we were made one. This means I am a warrior too, in my own way. And where he goes, there I must go too- his battles are mine as well. Then I say- I will go with him!” you declared, slamming a firm hand on the table.

There was a second of silence. Then your husband took your hands.

“If we can make it safe for her, she will go with me,” he said.

You went off to France with him. You braved the rollicking ships. You both shared a little cot bed as the ship heaved back and forth at night. One night was a storm and the thunder surprised you so much in your bed, you clung to him. He only laughed a little, rubbing your back in comfort.

“It’s only the voice of God, my dove, He is on our side…and protecting you,” he assured, kissing your forehead.

It was not long before it arrived and the army began to set forth. You traveled through forests, riding your horse by your husband’s side through villages and countryside for entire days. You were a little nervous being the only woman surrounded by men. But they knew how precious a queen you were to their Harry of England, their sovereign. If any of them dared to lay a hand on you, they knew they would face a quick and bloody end on their king’s sword. So, they kept respectful, always greeting you with bows and soft voices. You would set up camp and then live in a tent rather than a palace. Some hours you would give your own counsel as you stood by him for planning the army’s next move. When there was an attack, you were put in a safe place with many guards so none would dare hurt the king’s beloved. Other times, you would volunteer with the food or help with medical needs- helping with injuries, cooling warm foreheads with cloths. You saw this fiercer side already of him. He shouted bold, encouraging speeches as they went and attacked towns.

Though you scolded him for the speech he made to the Governor of a city called Harfleur. When they arrived, to your immense shock, Henry coldly threatened his army would pillage the town, set their infants on spikes, and ravish the village women. That was enough to persuade the governor to open the gates and peacefully let them go through without one shred of violence. But his words still rang and made you see red with anger.

You met him in your tent later, and he jumped at your frown. You crossed your arms.

“Henry- you dare to have your men do these unspeakable things to women! You know better! Have you considered I am a woman as well?! And that is our worst fear!”

“I only wished to scare him. I knew it would move him, my dear. And it does happen during wars…”

“You will not let that happen! You will not let the soldiers force themselves on civilian women-or I shall never speak to you, and you won’t be allowed in my chambers either! I’ll sleep in another tent and not allow you to lay a hand on me!” You chided.

It was a threat which, like his to the governor, worked well. He never made a spoke like that again. And you forgave him.

The many ups and downs. The army was too depleted to move onto Paris so all of you went to Calais. You stopped and fled further realizing the French army was chasing everyone down. You arrived at the small town of Agincourt. The French army had now surrounded you. The Dauphin arrived one cold night. And it was decided-there would be a formal battle tomorrow.

Now here it was- a decisive battle. Only a small handful of soldiers could get a full night’s sleep and Henry himself stayed awake to talk to them. But in your tent, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed under many blankets. You awoke and then fell again. Your worries had haunted you.

They were going to fight the Dauphin’s army. And the Dauphin’s men outnumbered Henry’s. Five French soldiers for every English.

You awoke shivering and dressed. You gathered your cloak for it was a cold day. Opening the flap of one tent, you saw him. Henry. A small distance away, kneeling in the grass. It was so early that the sky was still grey, the sun barely peeking. You could hear his prayer.

“Lord…strengthen my soldier’s hearts…I’ve made my repentance to Richard and his grave…. please strengthen them…and me…”

Five to one, your mind kept repeating to yourself. Five to one. Five to one.

You wondered at the white horse he brought with him. It was with the others chewing on grass in ignorance of what was about to happen. Why would your husband need it? It would be as if he was a target for their practice! A surefire way to signal this was the man to kill.

How fragile he seemed as he kept praying. He was human. Your husband’s mortality dawned on you. His racing heart could stop. His warm skin grow cold. And his shallow breaths of his anxious prayer would end and there would be none anymore. He dressed in a red doublet- red as the blood threatening to spill from him.

You approached him, noticing him making the sign of the cross to end the prayer. He turned his head to see you.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Only as well as I can be…” he asked.

He easily got up from the grass. Then he went over to a of his lords and guards already armored. He whispered something to them. Nodding, they turned back to camp. He then returned, his gloved hands taking yours.

“I’d…I’d like to spend some time with you…. before…before it starts,” he said.

“Of course, dear husband,” you answered with a smile.

Both of you walked into the woods. It was peaceful- you heard the leaves beneath your shoes and the birdsong. The rustling of trees and the mist as gentle as his kisses at your wedding. Disguised in your cloaks, you could have been any ordinary pair of lovers wandering in the forest. Not a king and queen of a whole nation.

“Y/N…do you see that? In the valley?” he asked, pointing at a hand.

It was a barn and An old house. The house was abandoned and burned to where the walls were only halfway stood beside it. The barn was intact. He led you inside- the wood creaking and the wind whistling through it. There wasn’t one living life around. No horses. No pigs. Not even an ant.

“We’re a distance off…are we still safe?” you asked.

“It’s alright- you know the path- find the oak tree with mushrooms and keep walking north…Y/N, I asked the guards to leave us alone for a little. I wanted to…to be with you.”

There were no animals around, much less people. Only you two. Even the sky itself seemed unreal. It was nothing but the grey light of dawn over a cloudy sky. So early, it felt cold. And it was misty and grey.

It was dark and musty in the barn. You saw a wooden bench and stables and troughs. But it was mostly hay- so much hay that there were still tall stalks around the barn.

He then turned to you and kissed you. He took you in his arms. He touched your face, and you realized a tear was rolling down your cheek.

“Y/N…I want this…if this is our last moment together…I….” he began.

He held you closer.

“Yes, Henry….”

He took a deep breath. Then kissed you again, only leaving a trail down your neck. Your heart picked up and you warmed up quickly. He then returned, cupping your face again and looking directly into your eyes, so close. So, there was only him.

“The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us. Y/N I… I…I love you….”

“I love you too,” you replied. You kissed him again. You shivered from feeling the cold. And the growing desperation on his face.

“I know this is not the most romantic place. This is not the most beautiful speech I can think of. But…I say it again because it is simple. It is true- I love you, Y/N. And should I die, I want you to know that…”

He paused. Then blinking back a couple tears, he continued.

“If…If this is the day, I’m killed…it is a prayer for you that will be my last word…I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I married you. I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you…”

You cupped him and kissed him again. You felt him press against you. His hands went from your back to your sides. His gloves went up and began to bunch your skirt. Already, you felt yourself grow wet for him. Feeling the bit of cold air on your skin.

“The guards are away…the army is away…they’re far…my wife…please…. here…. love me one last time, lie with me here-so I can feel you-know it is like inside you, to feel your pleasure one more time…”

You grabbed onto him. Feeling his skin, his breathing in his body-his life. His fire.

“Yes…take me. Henry- use me now. I know you feel so much. Take it out. Take out everything on me…just love me…make love to me, husband. Strongly. Strongly as you feel,” you pleaded.

He gave a small smile, giving a last kiss with tongue. Tasting him. He pressed you close.

“You will?” he asked.

“I will,” you answered.

Then he pushed you roughly and you and you landed with a small laugh against a haystack. One so high it was taller than yourself. He then backed you to the haystalk in a second. His kisses on your neck had added teeth. He was leaving marks against the skin of your exposed neck.

“Do you like this, little wife?” he asked.

“I do!”

He chuckled lightly.

“Gods, you torment me. Each time you are there in my tent, every meeting you look at me and smile, I imagine you without your gown on. If could, I’d have you over that very table the second they left every meeting…”

Then, his hand turned to a grip. He grabbed onto you. You began to grind naturally against him. He gasped at the feeling but kept talking.

“Perhaps I could grab you and have you on the grass. And have every soldier who leered at you to watch. To have them watch as I take you like a beast. So, they know none of them can make you cum like I can. Until your name is all you can say on your lips. So, they all know you are mine.”

He found the blouse of your dress. Desperately, he pulled down the overdress’s shoulders. With one tug, he undid the strap of the shift beneath and pulled it down. Your breasts exposed. He cupped and kissed it. He kept a hand, pinching your nipple as he went to your ear. Then he began to make more biting kisses on your neck You embraced him- touching what you could, kissing what you could.

“Henry…I love you, I love you…” you repeated.

“I love you, and be ready, little wife. You’ve wanted fire-now you have it.”

He lowered his mouth to kiss your breasts. Then he used teeth and tongue. He bit your breasts, licked your nipples, and then used his teeth. You began to moan. It was so loud, that you were grateful not even animals could hear you now.

Then he lightly tossed you around. Then he turned you around, pushing you so that you leaned over a wooden bench that was kept there. Your hands braced onto the wood. He then lifted your skirt up to your hips, your bum exposed to him. He gave you a small smack on your behind. You let out a cry.

“I remember your chiding at Harfleur. That’s what you get, little wife, when you disobey your king. You get punishment.”

He began to undo his pants with a quick click of his belt. He began to thrust into you there- hitting this new angle. It was so obscene; you couldn’t help but give into it. Your own filthy moans and his grunts right behind you.

“There-nrgh-yes-I-I-I-take you, like-like a whore-“

You were moving along, feeling your own body shake with each fast, deep thrust. You let out shouts as he got over. The spinning feeling, coiling in your belly, rising from the delicious degradation.

“Oh…oh gods-Henry-I’m-I’m going to-to cum, I’mgoingtocumI’m-“

Then he stopped. You heard his voice behind you.

“Not yet…. you won’t release yet. I’m not done,” he announced.

He turned you around. His large hands almost ripped off your cloak, and then your dress so it pulled down. If he could rip your dress to shreds, he would. But he only roughly put it all aside. You were fully naked, and he was still clothed. He smiled and licked his lips, his curls freed from his head.

“This- seeing this again- I would fight a hundred battles to see your bare breasts and feel your sweet warmth around my cock again.”

He picked you up. You held onto him. With one hand, he pulled down his pants as you held tighter. Released, his leaking tip is already teasing your entrance. Then he backed you up against the hay. He hooked your leg up to be around him. The hay was so high and sturdy that it held you up.

“My queen among people, but my whore in this barn.”

You gasped a little as he entered you. He was fast, desperate. His thrusts wild. He even freed one hand and slapped your breasts, and you let out a cry.

“How can I not touch these breasts? You make me too hard to even think in this army. Riding my horse when I want to use you like a mare beneath me.”

“Hen-Henry-I-I-“ the words left you.

Your breasts began to bounce with his movement obscenely. He grunted more like an animal. You wrapped your arms around his still-clothed shoulders, trying to keep up.

“I love-love-nrgh-you so much-gods-yes, I love you-nrgh-you’re all I could think about-yes-do you understand-ah!- how hard -yes- it is to speak diplomacy-nrgh- with the French when your cock is raging hard seeing your wife?”

He thrust into you again and your own voice was getting a little higher. Hard, rough, desperate. The spinning, the rising was happening. You held onto him. Then one glove began to reach down and circle your clitoris, you gasped- letting it out. The hard leather on your wet folds, on your bud was going to break you. You heard his words. You bit on, to fight the rise, to not release yet. Hearing each thing he said.

“If I live- I Want you in my tent. On my bed, over the blankets. I want you naked -and I want your legs spread wide for me-so I can ravish you like this again when it’s done. Do that-do that for your king,”

“Yes, yes-I will!”

“I-I-am-nrgh-your king, am I?” he asked as he thrust.

“Y-yes! Yes, you are!”

“Who is your king?”

“Henry! Henry’s my king!”

He then continued at another violent, rougher pace. You wondered how much of this you could even take.

“I want to take you-nrgh- scream-nrgh-so all of France know who belongs to you-you-yes-NRGH- are mine-as-as as France as mine.”

He began to thrust harder. You gasped, as he kept at it.

“Oh-Oh my god-oh god- it’s-it’s happening-Henry I’m-I’m I’mI’mI’m-“

“Yes-Yes-you’re there, little whore-cum-cum for your king-cum for your king-cum for your king!”

Finally, you did too with a last scream. It echoed across to where the sound pattered through the woods. With a breathy, struggled shout he released as well. He kept thrusting, but slower. His hot speed shot forth and went inside you. Both of you panting wildly- you could see your chests heaving. He then held you, shaking a little as he caught his breath.

“Y/N….darling…thank you…I love you…so much…”

He kissed the side of your head as you nestled together. He kissed your cheek and his grip softened.

“Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m not…I have never felt better…” you said.

He helped you back up. Though you felt a little dizzy from the intensity. You could feel his seed inside you-dripping a little down your thighs. You wanted it to stay. Perhaps you would have a child from this and you would have to one day tell them they were conceived on the morn of a battle. Your legs shook. He picked up your discarded clothes and quickly helped you dress back into them. You combed you both wiped the hay off of both of you.

“That was…that was incredible…” you sighed as he clasped the cloak around you.

“And I must agree with you…” he replied.

You walked out soon. Still holding hands. He blushed bright red and there was a prance to his step. Confidence. Even if he was defeated, he would not go down easily. Not without a fight. The sun was now rising higher. The time was approaching. You watched as he was fitted back to his armor by his servants as you stood and watched. Exchanging small looks between you. But before he faced his men, he went back and gave you a passionate kiss. The deepest, and most loving kiss you ever felt him give you.

“Should anything happen to me- the Dauphin out of mercy he shall make sure you are safely brought home to England as an act of diplomacy. I made him promise. And the remaining soldiers will guard you, as well as my uncle.”

“But if…nothing happens to you…” you asked hopefully.

“Then…you remember your promise…” he said with a grin.

“I will see you in our tent…”

He smiled, then he went down and kissed your hand. Tears in his eyes.

“I never knew one soul like yours. Your courage, your kind heart, your wisdom…the greatest of all queens in all nations, and if I had my choice of every woman, it would still be you…”

You embraced him a last time.

“I love you, Y/N. And you will always be loved by me. Thank you…thank you for everything…”

“I love you too, Henry…”

Sharing a brief last kiss on your forehead, he went on his white horse. You felt tears streaming down your face. Then off he went with his men to battle. You never felt prouder of him. Though you felt yourself crying, you were smiling as well. Proud of your king. Your lover. Your husband.

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 1 year

Text

close to home | chapter thirty four

plot: the reader and her group meet a friend, and arrive at Alexandria

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,484 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!!

You slept like you never slept before. You didn’t care if Daryl was mad at you; you didn’t care about what happened. You laid down next to him and slept. When you woke up the following day, he was still there. But it was time to get the barn in order, and you begrudgingly moved to help Carol get your supplies sorted.

It was quiet while everyone worked, and you enjoyed it. You kept glancing over at Daryl while he cleaned his bow, and every now and then, his eyes met yours. You weren’t entirely sure, but you felt he was coming around. Maybe you didn’t ruin your friendship after all.

“Hey…” You heard Maggie say. You hadn’t seen her this morning yet. “Everyone… this is Aaron.”

You grabbed your gun, quickly clicking off the safety and pointing it towards the stranger beside your cousin. You walked forward slowly and took your place beside Rick and Michonne while Daryl went to look outside.

“We met him outside. He’s by himself.” Maggie said. “We took his weapons, and we took his gear.”

“Hi,” Aaron said.

Just then, Judith started crying, and Carl took the baby.

You watched the stranger as Rick talked with the stranger. Your gun was still raised. It was automatic. You were always by Rick’s side for moments like this. He trusted you with his life, with his children’s lives, and it was something you didn’t take likely. You were his cover, and if this stranger made one wrong move, you’d kill him. But Daryl was closer and might beat you to it.

When Aaron started talking about his community, you felt the tension in the room. The idea of a community was appealing to you. It was something you’ve been dreaming about since the prison fell. But this was too weird. This didn’t feel right.

You looked over Rick’s shoulder as he looked through the pictures. But you couldn’t tell if they were legit. He looked clean-cut like he was held up somewhere good. But it was weird.

Rick seemed to think so, too, because soon Aaron was on the ground, and you, Daryl, and Maggie worked at securing the stranger. Rick had everyone else go on watch.

You stood by Daryl as the man woke up, and the conversation continued. You learned he was with another person, and the storm separated them. You were doubtful, but Michonne voiced her hopefulness. When she volunteered to check it out, you stepped forward and were about to volunteer, but Daryl grabbed your arm and pulled you backward. He shook his head no when you looked at him.

You rolled your eyes and looked away, listening as Rick randomly picked a few people to go with Michonne. Before long, they set out to look, and you went to stand watch outside.

An hour later, you were all back in the barn. Aaron’s story checked out, and you listened as the group tried to make a decision.

“We need this,” Michonne said, “So we’re going, all of us. Somebody say something if they feel differently.”

“I don’ know, man. This barn smells like horseshit.” Daryl said.

Rick looked at you, “(Y/N)?”

You glanced at Michonne and Daryl before nodding. “I’m with them.”

Rick nodded slowly. “We’re going.”

***

You left at sundown, precisely as Rick wanted. You’d eaten a decent amount of the food from the RV and were feeling good. Abraham was driving the RV with Rosita up front, and the rest of the group was scattered among the RV.

Rick, Michonne, Glenn, and Aaron were leading the group in a different car, and you were relaxing on the soft cushion of the table. Tara sat across from Maggie, and Carl was next to you. Tora was somewhere sleeping, and for once, you felt at peace.

A deck of cards was spread out, and you carefully hid your cards against your chest.

“(Y/N), got any fives?” Carl asked you, trying to peek at your cards.

“No, go fish,” You nudged him away.

You glanced at Maggie and saw a small smile on her face. Ever since the news of the community, she seemed better. And you made her play, and you could tell she was enjoying herself.

“Oh, shit!”

Everyone turned to look ahead, where a small herd of walkers had spread out on the road. Rick’s car was driving right through them. The RV halted to a stop.

“We can’t go through up.”

“Let’s double-check,” You said, “Try to get ahead of them on the other road and meet at that intersection.”

***

The rest of the night proved eventful. After doubling back, Abraham spotted a flare. But it wasn’t your people. It was one of Aaron’s, and he was injured. You and Daryl made the call to bring him on the RV, and he ended up telling you about a safe house.

You, Daryl, Rosita, and Carol cleared it, but Abraham stood watch. After clearing it, you helped the stranger get comfortable and then had the rest of the group wait in the other room. With Daryl on watch outside, you sat with the stranger and checked over his injury.

“How’d that happen?” You asked.

“Oh, it was a tire.”

You nodded and pulled up his pant leg, looking at the bruises. He winced with every touch. “The bruising suggests it’s broken. I can wrap it and set it if you have anything.” You said.

He nodded towards his bag, and you grabbed it, finding a medkit. As you got to work, you looked back up at him. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Eric, thank you, by the way.”

You nodded and looked over your work once it was done. “We took Aaron’s supplies. Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He shook his head, but you could tell he was lying. “I’ll get you something.”

It only took you a few seconds to grab him some water and canned stew. You gave them to him and told him to holler if he needed anything. Then you checked on everyone else and went to find Daryl.

He was pacing in the dark alley outside, and the warm air hugged you as you stepped outside. He looked at you for a second, nodded, and then continued to pace.

“I’m sure they’re okay,” You said.

“I know.”

You sighed and crossed your arms. “Can we talk?”

Daryl paused at your words and turned back to look at you. “‘Bout what?”

You swallowed and took a few steps toward him. “About the kiss. About yesterday.”

“Don’ need to. I get it.”

“No Daryl, you don’t… I wanted…” You couldn’t find the right words to say. You didn’t want to throw him your heart and have him reject you. You didn’t need any more heartache.

Daryl sighed loudly and shook his head. “I get it. You thought you was dyin’, I was there.”

You immediately shook your head and stepped towards him, trying to find the words to explain how that wasn’t true when you heard Rick’s signal whistle. You turned towards the end of the alley and watched a few figures appear, and Daryl whistled back.

You sighed, thankful that the rest of your group turned up unharmed but stressed after your conversation with Daryl. You knew this was going to be a long night.

***

Despite the pictures, Alexandria wasn’t precisely what you expected. It looked so cookie-cutter from the outside. Even standing at the gate, everything looked like it was out of a photograph or a movie. The grass looked trimmed, and the houses were huge. Without the huge walls surrounding you, you would’ve thought you stepped into a time machine.

You were all to be interviewed first by the group leader, Deanna. Rick was the first to go, and you all were instructed to wait. You thought this was a colossal waste of time and were irritated while waiting. You felt incredibly unsafe and were itching for the gun you’d given up. At least you had your machete.

Rick’s interview didn’t take that long, and then Michonne was called, and then you. Deanna’s house was clean and orderly. It looked like how you used to keep house. And you felt like you didn’t belong. You were covered in sweat, dirt, and blood.

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Rick and Michonne told me a lot about you. I hear that you are one of Rick’s right-hand men. Well, woman. And you come with a cat. Please, sit.” She said with a smile. “Do you mind if I tape this?”

Her words were so abnormal. They reminded you of a past so far away you barely remembered it. But you sat in the chair anyway and looked at the older woman.

“How did you end up with Rick?”

You glanced around at all the books in the room, and Tora walked around the room suspiciously. “I, uh, Daryl actually found me. It was just me and Tora, the cat. He brought me back. Maggie’s my cousin. We reunited that way.”

Deanna smiled, “That must’ve been quite the miracle. How long ago was that?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. Early spring of this year? How do you have all this?”

The community leader explained to you what this place was, how it got here, and how it was still standing. You thought it was all bullshit, and they had luck dripping out of their asses.

“What did you do before?”

You glanced at her. “I was a dog trainer.”

She laughed, “Well, we only have one dog here, and she’s well-trained.” You tried to force yourself to smile out of politeness, but you couldn’t get it. “What is your role in the group?”

“I went on runs; I hunted with Daryl. I don’t know. I did whatever Rick needed me to do.”

“That’s very respectable, (Y/N). I like you. You call it how you see it. I like that in a person. I’m very excited to get to know you, and I hope we can talk more later.”

You took that as a cue that the interview was over and stood. She escorted you out, and Aaron was waiting for you. “I took Rick and Carl down to the houses you’re all given. I can show you the way.” He smiled at you.

You glanced back at Daryl, who was next on the list. He started shaking his head, and you knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted you to stay here. But you shook your head and looked back at Aaron. “Okay.”

***

Rick was standing in the kitchen of one of the nicest houses you’ve ever seen. Tora trotted alongside you, immediately going to investigate the area.

“How was your interview?” Rick asked.

“I didn’t tell them I have medical experience,” You said, looking around the room. “I wanna wait. Figure them out.”

Rick nodded, "I’ll tell the others.”

“This place is nicer than my old condo.”

“It’s nicer than my old house. Come look at this.”

You laughed as you walked over to Rick and watched him turn the sink on. Your eyes widened, and your mouth parted. You looked at Rick in disbelief, and he laughed. He grabbed a glass and filled it, then handed it to you.

“Did we die last night?” You asked, looking at the mircle in your hand. “There’s no way this is real.” You greedily drank the entire glass, and then pushed Rick aside to have another.

“The cabinets are stocked with a few things. Deanna didn’t tell me about how the place rations.” Rick said.

As you drank, you looked through the cabinets. They were full of such ordinary things. Plates, bowls, glasses, cookware, salad bowls, mixing bowls, measuring cups, and tupperware. Everything looked brand new. There were some canned goods in one of the cabinets. You were amazed at what you saw.

“How is this place real?” You muttered to yourself after finishing a second glass of water. “Where’s Carl?”

“He’s looking at the rest of the house.” Rick nodded towards the stairs.

You set the glass down and headed towards the stairs, still in complete disbelief.

***

After you took inventory of the upstairs with Carl, you both decided it was time to shower. He took the bathroom off the second floor while you took the grand bedrooms. You found some fresh clothes that looked like they'd fit and spent forty-five minutes under boiling water, scrubbing down your body.

You used every soap that was in there. Washing your hair four times and your body five. You used a razor to shave your underarms and legs. Then you rewashed your body. After, you wrapped yourself up in fluffy towels and grabbed one of the toothbrushes that you’d found in the bathroom drawers.

A knock on the door sounded, and you opened it to find Michonne. “I heard there were showers.”

You laughed as you brushed and moved aside. “It was amazing.” You tried to say through all the toothpaste.

Michonne didn’t hesitate to strip and get in the shower--it’s not like nudity amongst the women in the group was rare. Especially when it came time to wash up in creaks, which you hadn’t done in what felt like years.

“I forgot to get clothes,” Michonne nearly moaned from inside the shower. You laughed after rinsing your mouth.

“I’ll get you some. There was a bunch.”

You heard many voices and knew most of the interviews were probably done by now. Your group was exploring the house, and you realized you’d stepped into the hallway closet in your towel.

Maggie passed by you with Glenn, and she asked about the showers. You told her where the bathrooms were as you dug through the old boxes of clothes to find something for Michonne.

“(Y/N)?”

You turned to look at Daryl, whose eyes raked over your body. You felt heat burn at your cheeks as you finally grabbed something for her.

“I know, you’ve never seen me so clean before,” You joked before walking away.

After giving Michonne her clothes, you quickly got dressed. Your hair was still very damp when you saw Rick checking outside the house. You slipped into your boots and walked out to meet him. Both Daryl and Carol were there. You ignored the blush on your cheeks when Daryl met your eyes.

“They’re right next to each other, but…” Carol said.

You crossed your arms and looked at Rick. He’d shaved his beard and looked years younger.

“They took our weapons and are splitting us up,” Rick said.

“Yup,” Daryl said.

“We’ll all be staying in the same house tonight."

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

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